What the Gargoyle Saw: |
Pilgrimage to Chartres hailed
as triumph
for Christ the King |
Michael J. Matt
EDITOR,
The Remnant
HE REALLY IS HIDEOUS! Blackened by time and
ominous by design, he wears an expression which is marked by a sort of
eerie blend of the comical with the maniacal. Wind and years seem to
have done little to soften the baleful pose he strikes day and night,
year after year, century after century. And because he was assigned to
his lofty post partly to fend off evil spirits, one can almost detect a
hint of guilt in his stony scowl at having failed at his fair-weather
task. For indeed, he did not put the evil spirits to flight in recent
decades; in fact, some seem to have demanded sanctuary in the very
places he and his granite regiment were sculpted to guard.
For centuries, Europe itself was like one
great Catholic cathedral filled with saints, virgins and martyrs. In the
old days, the gargoyles rightfully spewed their gutter grime from high
atop flying buttresses down to the ground outside the cathedral walls.
Now, however, Europe is more akin to a Catholic museum bursting with
tourists, where the Protestantized liturgies therein are so offensive
that one could hardly blame a gargoyle for electing to spew the roof
water down on the proceedings inside those walls instead. The old faith
is so forgotten in the heart of Christendom that even the gargoyles seem
ashamed.
From his perch near the Cloucher Neuf (the new tower) of the great
gothic cathedral of Notre Dame de Chartres one can only imagine what
marvels, mysteries and miseries our menacing friend has observed over
the years. He was there when the flowers of Christianity bloomed all
across Europe and civilized the known world. Before his stony visage,
Europe’s greatest popes and bishops and priests made processions and
pilgrimages down through the ages of Faith. In the square beneath the
spires, our mute witness looked on as royal corteges of kings and queens
came to worship God, to see anointed heads crowned, to witness ruling
families united in holy matrimony, and to hear Requiems for history’s
heroes.
The gargoyle saw it all.
But he was also up there when the Parisian
mobs invaded Chartres after 1789. He saw the “citizens” attempt to wreck
the relics and the ancient veil of Our Lady which, to this day, is kept
in the Chartres cathedral and which was miraculously spared the evil
designs of the “liberated” ones. They tried to desecrate the Chartres
cathedral just as they’d done to Notre Dame in Paris, where a
prostitute—the Goddess of Reason—was stripped naked and laid across the
high altar.
The French Revolution—operating under the
satanic benediction of the Protestant Revolt—was the inaugural ball for
a new administration that would spend the next two centuries trying to
drive Christianity from the shores of Catholic Europe.
Think of the myriad horrors our gargoyle must have witnessed since 1789!
The necks of Catholic monarchs severed; queens and princes murdered and
banished; Catholic thrones toppled; priests and bishops martyred.
Was anyone seriously surprised when the
Catholic altars, subjected as they were to the same philosophic erosion
that compromised the thrones, finally crumbled and fell into disrepair,
as well! And without the twin buttresses of altar and throne to support
the steeples of Christendom, it wasn’t long before Catholic culture,
Catholic liturgy and the Catholic family began a freefall from the
heights of Christendom only to crash-land in the modern world.
Today’s zeitgeist is evil incarnate; it has
no more fear of the modern Church than it does of those stone creatures
glaring down from cathedral walls. For forty years the world has been
forced to bear witness to that zeitgeist’s greatest triumph:
Europe—which Hilaire Belloc rightly observed was the Faith—has cast the
Faith aside.
Her priests and bishops and nuns have
disappeared from her streets; instead of being cradled in loving arms at
the baptismal font, millions of her newborn babies are sacrificed at the
altar of freedom of choice and women’s rights; and, of course, her
myriad pilgrims have been replaced by an endless queue of half-naked
tourists. Where once the sound of Gregorian chant reverberated in the
stones that kept the walls and the towers and the gargoyles aloft, there
is now the weird racket of the New Age, of cameras clicking, and of
roaring buses transporting sightseers to famous cathedrals—the elaborate
gravestones of Christendom.
Bedecked in shorts, tank tops, and
flip-flops, the tourist parade makes its way unthinkingly across
those hallowed sanctuary stones where Charlemagne knelt and Joan of
Arc prayed; they shoot their pictures and crane their necks and
marvel at these granite milestones that, for whatever reason (they
know not why), were erected along the road of man’s “great progress”
out from the mists of the “dark ages” and into the “light” of the
modern world.
Where saints, kings, and pilgrims once
beat their breasts and fingered their beads, there are now so many
of those poor souls whom Belloc described as being “convinced by the
study of geology and recorded History, that the Catholic Church is
but one more example of man’s power of self-delusion.” “Catholic”
Europe has become a playground for tourists and a nesting place for
pigeons. Her ancient cathedrals stand as silent memorials to a Faith
that has fallen into ruin.
The traditional Catholic pilgrim,
desolate and somehow out of place as he actually prays inside those
cathedrals, is left to decide for himself whether he’s visiting a
lost battlefield, a Catholic graveyard or a museum of Catholic
history. No matter; what is clear is that Europe is no longer
Catholic, and he wonders if the world has any idea what an awful
price we all will pay for Europe’s “religious freedom.”
Beneath the
Gargoyle’s Gaze
Such were my thoughts in early June this
year, when I again had a chance to renew my acquaintance with my old
friend the gargoyle at the conclusion of the great Pentecost
Pilgrimage of Notre Dame de Chrétienté to Chartres, France. The
midday heat was sweltering in the square just outside the cathedral
by the time we’d limped into Chartres on Pentecost Monday. A crowd
of several thousand pilgrims—not tourists, for a change—prayed in
the open air beneath the spires.
Since the cathedral itself holds 8,000
and was filled to capacity with traditional Catholics, another 7,000
of us had to hear Mass from outside her massive walls. It’s true, we
longed for the cool stone and shadows of the nave, but, after eleven
years of being ushered inside, we—the American Chapter of Our Lady
of Guadalupe—were asked to take our turn outside. After eleven years
of the best seats in the house, we could hardly complain.
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REMNANT TOUR YOUTH FUND
Young people wishing to be
sponsored may apply for sponsorship by sending a letter
explaining why they attend the traditional Latin Mass, and
why they wish to make the pilgrimage to Chartres (please
provide age, telephone number and email address as well).
Sponsorship donations and applications for sponsorships
may
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|
(2006
Report by Michael J. Matt)
(Photo
Story of Chartres
2006) MORE PHOTOS OF CHARTRES...
Here, The Remnant contingent leads
the entire columnVINTAGE CHARTRES:
Traditional Pioneer, Fr. Marchosky, hearing Confessions
Arnaud de Lassus (left)
Chartres Pilgrimage Pioneer
The American Remnant Contingent |