Asher Kaufman, age 18, set out on June 28 for a yearlong trip to help spread the Children's Rosary in Europe and Africa. He has been spending the months of July, August and the first two weeks in September in France. He grew up helping the Children's Rosary and participating in it. He now is helping to spread the Children's Rosary to more parishes and schools. He is also discerning a vocation to the priesthood and has applied to the seminary through the Archdiocese of Hartford. Please keep both his trip and his vocation in your prayers. He has been sharing dispatches from the trip. Asher has a love of history so his dispatches are often full of historical details."On August 20, I visited the Louvre Museum for the first time. This is, as many know, one of the most anticipated and one of the most feared places in all of Paris. For many tourists coming to Paris for the first time (or the second or the third time), visiting the Louvre is a necessity, and yet there is something rather intimidating about setting foot inside the great structure. Whether it's the copious crowds, thick with over 20,000 visitors a day, or the idea of examining the nearly 35,000 pieces of art on display, or the idea of traversing the nearly 800,000 square feet that comprise the grounds, there is a feeling of dread that accompanies the average visitor as he approaches the imposing walls and transparent pyramid, like the gladiator approaching the Colosseum or the student approaching the test hall or the triathlon competitor approaching the start line. The Louvre is not for the faint of heart (or the short of breath), and it certainly is not a leisurely stroll through the Jardins de Luxembourg. Most will emerge on the other end dazed, exhausted, aching, and overwhelmed by the sheer quantity and majesty of what they have had the privilege to behold, nothing less than many of the most beautiful and most valuable treasures of Western art and culture.
In many ways, this kind of ordeal, this overwhelming experience is exactly what the museum was designed to provide. It was originally a fortress built by King Philip II in 1191 to defend Paris against English attack while he went off to fight in the Crusades. In the 1300s, Charles V (the French king, not Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, of course) had it renovated to make it into a palace for the king; it was not needed as a fortification anymore as the city had expanded and the walls were moved farther out. In the mid sixteenth century, King Francis I initiated some of the most important changes to the Louvre, redoing much of it in French Renaissance style. The building continued to be a residence for the monarch until King Louis XIV decided in 1682 to move to Versailles, leaving Louvre to house works of art. It was under Louis XV that the royal art gallery was opened for public viewing, and it was during the French Revolution that the museum became truly a public museum. Both during the Revolution and the Napoleonic era, French armies were able to strike deep into foreign territory, snagging valuable pieces of art such as the Apollo Belvedere from the Vatican. This piece of art has since returned to the Vatican. Nevertheless, not all the art captured during the Napoleonic era was given back; Paolo Veronese's Venetian Wedding at Cana was kept after Louis XVIII negotiated for it with the Austrian government. This is an extraordinary work, rich with detail and very ornate that depicts the wedding at Cana as if it were a typical Venetian wedding. Despite Louis XVIII's efforts with the Austrians, relatively few people pay much attention to this painting because it happens to share a room with the Mona Lisa. It was during the Napoleonic era that work continued on the museum and the idea of making it a formidable experience was pursued; it was meant to mount the glory of France, the loot of the Imperial army, the national heritage, and a fittingly imposing building was in order. Thus, the aura I mentioned at the beginning of the post.
I had heard that the lines were very long and that the museum was consistently overcrowded and understaffed, dealing with crowds far beyond what it was designed to handle and fielding a staff that was increasingly burned out and exhausted dealing with the hordes of foreign tourists that flock to the Louvre year after year in ever-increasing numbers. So it didn't help that I got there late or that I found myself walking with everyone else right towards the biggest and most packed entrance, which is of course the big glass pyramid. Once I went through security and had my ticket validated, I decided to start with the most ancient pieces of art and work my way up to the more modern paintings.
I am not going to attempt to profile all of the art in the Louvre of course or give an overview of each floor or each wing or anything like that. One can find much more authoritative and better written texts online that explain all of that in detail. I am certainly not qualified to know anything meaningful about half of what I saw, so I will content myself with highlighting some of the pieces that stood out to me in an attempt to capture some of the amazing artwork on display.
The Louvre boasts an impressive collection of Egyptian and Near Eastern antiquities, including a piece that dates from 7,000 BC. This happens to be the statue of Ain Gazal discovered in Jordan in 1985. It is from the Pre-Pottery Neolithic Period in the Fertile Crescent. It is a figure of a man, and for me it is amazing to look at this figure, obviously a human and to know that it was created so many thousands of years ago. I have included a picture of this figure.
To move along to a little more recently, in addition to sculptures and figures, the Louvre has many tablets with ancient Egyptian inscriptions, such as the ones I have photographed from the Middle Empire (which lasted from roughly 2033 to 1786 BC). If one takes a few moments just to examine the intricacies of the inscriptions, it is really quite astonishing.
After this, I have included an image of the Seated Scribe, a very well known piece of Egyptian art. It dates from 2620 to 2500 BC. The detail and coloring of the scribe is remarkable, and it makes it one of the most recognizable ancient Egyptian artifacts in the world.
Another breathtaking stop in the Louvre is that of the room that houses the crown jewels of the French monarchy. These are the ancient crowns and jewelry of the French monarchs and emperors. The room is itself a sight to behold, and in the center the great artifacts are held in glass cases around which people gather to press their noses against the glass, not much unlike little children first beholding a fish tank at the dentist's office.
After this, I went to visit what might be considered the queen of the Louvre. Yes, every social institution has its hierarchy, and a museum of French art is certainly no exception to such a principle. Considering just how much art there is at the museum, I suppose it is no surprise that a few pieces should emerge as a kind of aristocracy among the milieu. Among this number, one could probably count the crown jewels, Delacroix's Liberte Guidant le Peuple, The Winged Victory of Samothrace, the Venus de Milo, among others. However, even these are not at the top of the social ladder of the Louvre, just as the aristocracy was not at the top of the societal ladder in its time. The veritable monarch of the collection is, of course, the Mona Lisa. Before one even gets to the gallery with the famous painting, one is given a map of the museum with the Mona Lisa's location prominently labeled, and one sees at least five or six signs scattered about the halls pointing visitors in the direction of the Mona Lisa's gallery. The French crown jewels, great triumphs of Greek humanist sculpture, intriguing texts from ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, masterpieces of Rembrandt and Caravaggio, these must all play second fiddle to the rather small painting of Leonardo da Vinci's.
Well, in any case, I saw the Mona Lisa, and I will include a picture of the piece replete with the adoring fans (the painting receives about 20,000 visitors a day).
After this, I spent quite a bit of time with the late Renaissance and early Modern paintings of the likes of Caravaggio and Carracci.
I include a picture of two Caravaggio's (The Death of the Virgin and Portrait of Alof of Wignancourt) next to a painting by Giovanni Serodine (Christ among the Doctors).
Another painting I took a liking to was Alessandro Tiarini's The Repentance of St. Joseph. It depicts St. Joseph begging for the Virgin Mary's pardon after doubting her word that she was with child by the Holy Spirit. It was the first time that I had seen an artist paint this particular scene, and I found St. Joseph's expression to be very touching. It is worth noting that though it is most commonly assumed today that Joseph sought to divorce Mary because of suspicion of infidelity, that was at one point the subject of vigorous debate among the Church Fathers. To be sure, many, like St. Augustine, St. Ambrose, and St. John Chrysostom take the position of suspicion of infidelity. However, St. Jerome, for instance, wrote that St. Joseph sought to distance himself from the Virgin Mary out of incomprehension of what had happened. Others, like Origen, thought he wished to divorce her out of a feeling of reverence for her holiness and the great responsibility of raising the Messiah.
To continue, Bernardino Gatti's The Virgin Crying over the Dead Christ was another painting I quite liked as the scene was so strikingly sad and the illustration of Mary's anguish so touching.
After the gallery with the Italian paintings, I nearly walked right by some of the greatest French masterpieces of the whole museum in my haste to cover more ground. Of these almost forgotten canvasses, I first mention Napoleon on the Battlefield of Eyleau by Antoine-Jean Gros. This of course refers to Napoleon's campaign into Russia, a catastrophic disaster for his military endeavors, as most invasions of Russia are. This is physically quite a large painting, and I find that the depictions of the soldiers frozen to death are quite striking; I almost get a little chilled just looking at them. This presents Napoleon in a very human light, as the kind, caring emperor who concerns himself with the welfare of his freezing troops. It contrasts nicely with David's also giant depiction, The Coronation of Napoleon which I also include. It is very majestic, showing Napoleon in all his glory at his moment of triumph, quite unlike the Russian calamity.
Next, I present the Oath of the Horatii by David. If you grew up with a classical education like me, you likely recognize that painting immediately. It depicts a scene from early Roman history where three brothers who are champions of the Roman army (the Horatii) vow to defend Rome against the three champions of the Alba Longan army (incidentally also three brothers, this time named the Curiatii). The Curiatii kill two of the Horatii before the last remaining one manages against all odds to kill the three Alba Longa soldiers and win the day for Rome. If the story ended there, it would likely be quite a nice little tale, perhaps even worthy of a Disney film. However, as you might notice, there are some women in the right-hand corner of the image. Among them, there is a lady who is in tears; this is Camilla, the sister of the Horatii who happens to be in love with one of the Curiatii; she cries because the impending fight will be a loss for her whichever way it goes. Because of such disloyalty, she is killed by the surviving brother, Publius.
Moving briskly along, we come to another rather gruesome painting of David's, namely The Death of Marat. Now, this is a painting that most people are familiar with, and it needs little explanation. One can see quite clearly that this is Jean-Paul Marat, the French revolutionary, stabbed in a bathtub. Marat was a prominent voice among the Jacobins, the progressive group in French politics in the early 1790s who supported the French revolution and caused the death of the king and thousands of his supporters. After the massacre of over a thousand mostly royalist prisoners in September 1792 that occurred at Marat's instigation, he went into hiding in the sewers.
Once the political winds blew back the other way and the Jacobins were back in the public's good graces, Marat was elected to the Legislative Assembly. He urged the killing of not just the royalists but also the Girondins a faction of moderate revolutionaries who believed in the aristocracy but also in more popular representation. Horrified by such a proposition and the prospect of even deeper and more devastating civil war, a woman named Charlotte Corday killed Marat in his bathtub (where he had become accustomed to spend large amounts of time to soothe a nasty skin infection he had picked up in the sewers) by plunging a knife into his chest. His friend, Jacques-Louis David, painted his famous painting afterward.
The other area in which I spent considerable time was in that of the paintings of the Dutch Golden Age and the Northern Renaissance. I find that the Dutch painters have a real talent for detail, especially in nature, and I quite enjoyed perusing the calm, deliberate pieces on the second floor from that time period.
For instance, Jan van Huysum's A Vase with Putti is remarkable for its attention to detail and the delicate beauty of the flowers it depicts.
Additionally, I was fascinated by the Portrait of a Woman with a Headscarf by Balthasar Denner. The detail of the woman's face is so fine, I think it almost looks like a picture if you look closely enough.
I conclude with two last pictures, one of which is of one of the large galleries of sculptures and the other of which is from the apartments of Napoleon III, several very opulent rooms in which the real furniture of the mid-nineteenth century emperor is shown. Well, voilà, as the French say. Those are my ruminations about the Louvre, truly a captivating place and worth every second I spent there. It is one of the great treasures Paris has to offer the world, in my opinion."
To see all of Asher's dispatches from his journey click HERE