Auguste. He was the first to realize that such a complex organism as that which his grandfather had created could not be administered like private family property. Under him, the various organs of state in Paris began to split like amoebas, giving rise to the Grand Conseil, in charge of political matters, the Chambre des Comptes, and the Parlement. (The last had nothing whatever in common with the Parliament of England, created about the same time. It was not a representative assembly but in fact filled the role of the supreme court of appeal in the kingdom.) The royal baillis, administrators and tax collectors, were made subject to audit by enquêteurs. Louis also created the national archives (the first records of which had been destroyed, as we have seen, at the Battle of Fréteval in 1194), in which were preserved all royal acts, treaties, title deeds and judgements. It also first housed the priceless collection of illuminated manuscripts, such as those of Denis the Areopagite, which show in marvellous detail life in medieval Paris, eventually to find their way into the Bibliothèque Nationale. In addition Louis founded Paris’s first hospital for the blind, the Vingt-Quinze, which could offer shelter to 300, and a home for prostitutes, the Filles-Dieu. Throughout his reign finances were healthy, with receipts exceeding expenditures. His organization of resources was such that from Paris he could despatch food to any part of the country that was famine-stricken. The burden of taxation imposed under Philippe Auguste was alleviated, a new middle class came into being in Paris, and, by the end of his reign, the country as a whole had never known such material prosperity.
In 1259 Louis signed a conclusive peace, the Treaty of Paris, with Henry III, designed to bring to an end the age-old struggle with England. National-minded Frenchmen, especially in retrospect, found it hard to comprehend why— negotiating from a position of strength—Louis gave so much away to the defeated, in the shape of territories like Gascony and Guienne in the south-west. Some have claimed that it led to the Hundred Years War. Nevertheless, it was an act of astonishing, modern-minded moderation, and gave the fair-minded King a reputation as a mediator to whom all Europe would resort in his lifetime—including even Henry III when in dispute with his own barons. “Never had a united Christendom come closer to realization,” comments André Maurois.
Louis’s reign also saw a new flowering of thought. Aristotle was rediscovered, and philosophy attained a fresh significance; literature flourished with such works as the Roman de la Rose and its anatomy of courtly love; and the great gothic cathedrals, such as Notre-Dame, were completed. The piety of Saint Louis was also to bequeath to Paris one of its greatest jewels, the Sainte-Chapelle. In 1239, Louis acquired the purported “Crown of Thorns” from the Emperor of Constantinople, Baudouin II. A wily oriental, Baudouin knew a good thing when he saw it coming and charged the King an outrageously high price (more than four times what the whole chapel was to cost). The acquisition of this most priceless relic placed France firmly in the forefront of Christendom. To house it, and further relics subsequently acquired on the Crusades, in 1242 Louis began building the Sainte-Chapelle, completed in the record time of six years.
There it sits to this day, having survived wars and revolutions, protected within the confines of the largely disappeared Palais de la Cité, a miracle of filigree stonework. Dramatically it counterpoints the grimly solid, dark pessimism of the adjacent Conciergerie, with its sad, damp little court, “for the women,” dating back to the Revolution, its open washing trough and huge spikes to prevent intruders from climbing into the Palais de Justice. Inside, the lower chapel, dedicated to the Virgin, with its low ceiling painted with a star-studded sky, is darkly mysterious, its
In 1259 Louis signed a conclusive peace, the Treaty of Paris, with Henry III, designed to bring to an end the age-old struggle with England. National-minded Frenchmen, especially in retrospect, found it hard to comprehend why— negotiating from a position of strength—Louis gave so much away to the defeated, in the shape of territories like Gascony and Guienne in the south-west. Some have claimed that it led to the Hundred Years War. Nevertheless, it was an act of astonishing, modern-minded moderation, and gave the fair-minded King a reputation as a mediator to whom all Europe would resort in his lifetime—including even Henry III when in dispute with his own barons. “Never had a united Christendom come closer to realization,” comments André Maurois.
Louis’s reign also saw a new flowering of thought. Aristotle was rediscovered, and philosophy attained a fresh significance; literature flourished with such works as the Roman de la Rose and its anatomy of courtly love; and the great gothic cathedrals, such as Notre-Dame, were completed. The piety of Saint Louis was also to bequeath to Paris one of its greatest jewels, the Sainte-Chapelle. In 1239, Louis acquired the purported “Crown of Thorns” from the Emperor of Constantinople, Baudouin II. A wily oriental, Baudouin knew a good thing when he saw it coming and charged the King an outrageously high price (more than four times what the whole chapel was to cost). The acquisition of this most priceless relic placed France firmly in the forefront of Christendom. To house it, and further relics subsequently acquired on the Crusades, in 1242 Louis began building the Sainte-Chapelle, completed in the record time of six years.
There it sits to this day, having survived wars and revolutions, protected within the confines of the largely disappeared Palais de la Cité, a miracle of filigree stonework. Dramatically it counterpoints the grimly solid, dark pessimism of the adjacent Conciergerie, with its sad, damp little court, “for the women,” dating back to the Revolution, its open washing trough and huge spikes to prevent intruders from climbing into the Palais de Justice. Inside, the lower chapel, dedicated to the Virgin, with its low ceiling painted with a star-studded sky, is darkly mysterious, its
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