Saintes

The city of Saintes sits astride the Charente as it edges closer to the sea. An ancient city from when the Romans used it as their first capital of Aquitaine. Indeed as you approach the eastern bank, as we did, you cannot miss the Arc de Germanicus. The arch sits rather incongruously in a large open space by the bank of the river. It originally sat before the bridge crossing into the old town but was moved when a new, wider bridge was commissioned in the 19th century.

After the Romans, the city was the capital of the province of Saintonge in turn giving its name to Saintongeais, one of the many Langue d'oïl languages spoken throughout the northern part of the Frankish Kingdom as vestiges of linqua romana.

Saint Peters

Steeple of St. Peters

There are several churches in Saintes but Saint Peters is the oldest and nominated as a cathedral. In fact, for centuries, it was the only church named after Peter except for the one in Rome. In its early days, it was the church for the local abbey and has evidently been added to over the years; the steeple and bell tower is adorned now with little minarets on top of the buttresses. Today it is surrounded by little, narrow streets hiding it from view most of the time so it is difficult to really get a sense of it as a whole.

The church is also the origin of the Angelus - the regular pealing of the bells in the morning, at mid-day and in the evening. Originally the bells summoned the monks to their prayers and, as our own church does in Alloue, after ringing the time, the bells peal three times three starting with the smallest; finally the great bell will ring perhaps 60 times or more. Since medieval times, bells were often inscribed with the start of the devotion

Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariæ,
Et concepit de Spiritu Sancto.

or in English

The Angel of the LORD declared unto Mary,
And she conceived of the Holy Ghost.

and so each peal symbolically rings out the prayer, the first word giving a name to the devotion and the peal.

Although the devotion itself originates in Italy, the pattern of the bells has a less certain heritage though it is generally accepted that it originates with Pope Urban II (1035-1099) and with Saint Peters in particular. Pope Urban was visiting Saintes and was much taken with their practice of ringing the bells in the morning 6:00, at mid-day 12:00 and in the evening 18:00. So much so that when the first crusade departed in 1095, he decreed that the bells of all Christian churches should ring so that all Christians might share in prayer with the crusaders as they travelled into battle in the Holy Land. A marvellous idea, despite their inability to synchronise time across Europe and into the Near East.

So it is that Saintes can claim the honour of creating the Angelus. It has been modified several times over the centuries frequently being forgotten about too. Nor has it been the sole preserve of the Roman Church but has drifted into both Anglican and Lutheran churches. Indeed, in a largely secular modern Ireland when RTE attempted to stop their daily ringing of the Angelus at 6pm on its prime TV service, a national uproar ensued demanding its reinstatement; it had become as much a part of Irish identity as the harp on an Irish passport.

Roman Amphitheatre

Above the Arena

When we arrived in Saintes, it was a startlingly bright and hot day. The white stone of the arch, bridge and environs  reflecting the sun, forcing our eyes shut. I think this is why we gave up on the Roman artefacts museum and instead retired to our hotel and later preferred to wander the streets of the old town sipping beer and nibbling tapenades. The next morning, evidently feeling more energetic, we set off in search of the remains of the roman amphitheatre; it wasn't far.

This isn't the only surviving example of roman arenas in France nor is it an especially well preserved example. Nonetheless, as with many French national monuments you can wander and explore as you wish. Given a fertile imagination it is not at all difficult to envisage how the structure worked. Despite our common understanding of these roman arenas - from the film "Gladiator" for example, and even pictures of the Colosseum in Rome - functionally they are not terribly complex structures being made rather quickly and cheaply. And yet they acquire an excellence all their own.

In the Arena looking towards St Eutrope

I suppose modern day stadiums are not much different. We don't see the rough slabs of concrete and coarse reinforced blocks - instead we see the glint of gold medals, silver cups hoisted high, mexican waves and triumphs of passion.

There is definitely something disjoint between these two aspects of sporting arenas.

Keep that thought in mind!

Eglise Saint Eutrope

The exit of the arena leads down the hill fed by the "vomitoriums" - through back yards, vegetable gardens and allotments - even now I can feel the press of bodies, the sounds of tramping feet, the daze of victory or loss as my father led me away from great Windsor Park or the scrambles to get a seat and a pint after a match at Landsdowne Road.

As it was, we were vomited forth - with maybe a couple of other tourists - into the street right outside the great Eglise Saint Eutrope.

Steeple of St Eutrope

This is another old church but with a distinctly austere aspect from the base of its muscular steeple to its imposing entrance porch - the 30 foot tall doors designed to remind you where your place is in the scheme of things.

Inside is a little bit softer. Medieval churches - being in the dark ages - are surprisingly bright; and since most were repossessed after the revolution, 19th century morés have been unable to dim them. There are some fabulous stained glass windows in a very modern style - 20th century to my mind - but don't worry about dates; trying to figure when this one was built is rather difficult - should it matter.

Entrance to Crypt

Its curiosity is that it is built upon the plan of an older church. The guts of the upper building is 15th century whereas what has become the "crypt" dates back to perhaps the 9th century. An anonymous door at the foot of the steeple, below the level of the regular church gives admission to this ancient monument. As you get deeper into the crypt the architecture seems to age before your eyes as you descend into some Dantéan labyrinth.

Deep in the Crypt

And this brings us back to that dichotomy between what is and what has been. The scale of the crypt lit by dimness and concealing perhaps the sarcophagus of Saint Eutrope himself; was this a delicate memorial to medieval Christianity on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compestella? Or was this displaced by the austerity of the church above, lit by the purity of the blue, red and yellow window lights which can only be seen by passing through a 30 foot door of massive wood and steel bolts. And all the time the bells peal above our head linking us with the pilgrims as they slaughter the defenders of Jerusalem.

To be sure religion is complicated but it is rare for a structure to articulate that complexity - in its innocence  striving towards greater "grace". Is this building the converse of the amphitheatre - an exuberance of the mason's art buried by a future sternness - what is that grimness hiding? a self-loathing, corrupt vision of the church as oppressor or perhaps a simple expression of the futility of man.

There are many houses of god in France, most of them frozen in time by a revolution in search of a secular liberté, fraternité, egalité - perhaps one of them has the answer.