Cherubini in a Crypt

What music was played at Beethoven's funeral? I was surprised to learn that Beethoven requested a requiem written by his contemporary, Luigi Cherubini. Almost forgotten today, Cherubini was once regarded as Beethoven's greatest rival. So, there's quite a story behind the used CD I picked up in a sale at Hastings this weekend!

Luigi Cherubini was born in Florence in 1760. A child prodigy, he was composing by an early age. He enjoyed success in Italy and England before settling in France. He was a court favorite during the last years of the ill-fated regime of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. Somehow, he survived the revolutionary years, even producing suitably bombastic pieces for both the Jacobins and the Girondists. Napoleon thought his music too complex, but he returned to full favor with the restoration of the monarchy. His famous requiem was written for the re-entombment of the bodies of the late king and queen, in 1816, in the crypt of the church of St. Denis, where most of France's monarchs lie buried.

That was what attracted me to the CD in the first place. I've visited the lovely Basilique of St. Denis twice now, once by myself and then with a few intrepid travelers from our church. St. Denis is way out in the Paris suburbs, in an industrial area that has seen some unrest in recent years. The church is less than half a mile from the metro station, through a nasty modern shopping center, just beyond the imposing and rather pompous town hall. It is one of the most evocative buildings I have ever seen, moreso even than Chartres. To step within its walls is to recapture something of the magnificence of medieval France. It's walls are lined with sarcophagi containing the remains of men who changed history: Clovis I is buried there (465-511) as is Charles Martel (686-741). Of course it was defiled by the Luddites during the revolution. Ancient bones were dug up and piled together in a charnel house of abuse. Only at the restoration were the bodies reinterred, together, in an ossuary, since they could no longer be separated. The crypt is quiet, cool, and pregnant with history.

I can barely imagine Cherubini's gentle introit and kyrie echoing through the subterranean passageways of St. Denis. If a rendition of the Dies Irae can make the hair on the back of your neck stand erect when you hear it on a Texas highway, what could it do if, as you listened, you stood beside the plaque marking the place where the mummified heart of the ten year old Dauphin was interred within the wall? How would the majestic Agnus Dei move you if you witnessed it as the sun filtered through 500 year old stained glass, and your eye wandered over the azure tinted fleur de lys?

Which is all to say: I hope I never stop looking for beauty in the most unexpected places; and I hope that, even in a world that can so often be cruel and ugly, I never lose the capacity to be surprised by joy.