Archive for the ‘Grail Legend’ Category

The Death of the Feminine

Wednesday, March 29th, 2006

Sex Crimes, Celebrity and Sainthood in the Wasteland of the Technological Collective

One

The metaphor of the grail maiden

The “Eludcidations,” an anonymous prologue to Chretien de Troyes’ Le Conte del Graal, relates a curious tale about how the Land of Logres lost the “Voices of the Wells.” This Land of Logres, Merlin’s Isles of Greater Britain, is a curious place, a Celtic kingdom where the inner world and the outer world overlap and intermingle. Beautiful maidens live by the sacred wells and offer travelers sustenance from golden cups; the realm is at peace and life flourishes.

This Celtic paradise was destroyed by a sex crime, we are told. Evil King Amangons (his name suggests “a man of stones,” or a man with balls, an alpha-male deep in the throes of testosterone poisoning) ravished one of the maidens, held her captive and stole her golden bowl. This set an example and soon all the males were out raping the sacred maidens and before too long the peaceful and fertile realm became a wasteland. The springs and wells dried up, the land became infertile, the animals disappeared, flowers withered and the people faded away.

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The Holy Grail: Hermetic Testimony in Stone

Wednesday, March 29th, 2006

By Vincent Bridges, co-author of A Monument to the End of Time

Perhaps the most famous necropolis of the medieval era, the Alyscamps (from Elisii Campi or Elysian Fields) owed its fame to St. Trophimus. Built outside the city walls, as were all Roman cemeteries, and along the Via Aurelia, the main road to Italy and Rome, the Alyscamps was a perfect location for secret meetings. St. Trophimus soon attracted a following and in the year before he died, probably 52 CE, he invoked a blessing on the cemetery. Christ himself attended the ceremony and left the imprint of His knee on a sarcophagus lid. Burial at Alyscamps became so desirable that bodies were shipped from all Europe for burial in its holy grounds. The 12th century chronicle of the Pseudo-Turpin informs us that the peers of Charlemagne, Roland and the other fallen heroes, were transported with great difficulty to the Alyscamps.

Arles therefore is ground zero for whatever version of Christianity it was that swept the region in those early years. If we are looking for the origin of those seditious pages in stone, then Arles is a likely place to look. In Mystery of the Cathedrals, the enigmatic alchemist Fulcanelli directs us here, to Arles, the Alyscamps and to the Cathedral of St. Trophime in particular, with several tantalizing references. He points out to us a rose cross ankh on a sarcophagus lid at St. Honore in the Alsycamps and bids us pay close attention to the tympanum on the Great Portal of St. Trophime.
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High History of the Holy Grail

Wednesday, March 29th, 2006

by Vincent Bridges

Joseph Campbell, in his epic study The Masks of God places Wolfram’s Parzival squarely on the dividing line between ancient and modern. Emma Jung, whose psychological insights are invaluable, identifies the Grail cycle as the beginning of the immanent spirituality of Christianity, in opposition to the more ancient transcendent view. Adolf Hitler considered the Hallows of the Grail to be an important component of his plan for world conquest. Sort of a psychic equivalent to a Panzer battalion.

The Grail would seem to be the ultimate slippery idea. Even the word itself has a half-dozen different derivations: from gradual, gradulis in Latin, to a wide plate or dish, gradule in Old French, to the really strange meanings such as Sang Real or royal blood. A persistent whiff of Sufism lingers on, along with traces of other arcane undercurrents, such as Goddess worship, “witchcraft,” and contact with such megalithic concepts as landscape zodiacs.

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Arthur and the Fall of Rome

Wednesday, March 29th, 2006

by Vincent Bridges

Part One - The Fall of Rome

By the late fourth and early fifth centuries of our Common Era, the Roman Empire in the west was collapsing under the weight of its own decadence. Every historian has their own opinion about what happened to bring about this “decline and fall” of the great empire, but however it happened, by the turn of the fifth century Rome was no longer the Imperial City. Constantinople reigned as the capital of the eastern portion of the Empire, and most western Emperors preferred Milan or Ravenna to the slums and pestilence of the Eternal City.

To her official poets, Rome remained very much the city “whose beauty no imagination can picture, whose praise no voice can sound, who raises a golden head under the neighboring stars, and with her seven hills imitates the seven regions of heaven; mother of arms and law, who extends her sway over all the earth, and was the earliest cradle of justice: this is the city which, sprung from humble beginnings, has stretched to either pole, from one small place extended its power so as to be coterminous with the light of the sun.”
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Empire of the Sun: Ancient Mysteries of Nostradamus

Sunday, September 28th, 2003

quotes by Fredric Mistral

texts and photos by Vincent Bridges (c) 2003

“As far back as I can remember, I have in front of me a barrage of mountains whose hillocks and slopes, cliffs and narrow valleys were blue from dawn ’til dusk; a blue that varied in intensity according to the time of day. This is the chain of the Alpilles, surrounded by olive groves like some mountain of ancient Greece and a lofty keeper of legends and glory…”

“Caius Marius, the savior from Rome still popular throughout the region awaited the barbarians at the foot of this rampart, behind the walls of his camp; his trophies have been gilding under the sun of Les Antiques, near St. Remy, for two thousand years…”

“On the steep rocky cliffs of the the mountain… the princes of Les Baux built their stronghold. The gracious chatelaines held their courts of love in the fragrant vales of Les Baux… at the time of the troubadours.”

“Oh delightful fragrances! Oh light! Oh gentle nature’s peace; what longings of paradise you place in my child’s soul…”

Think of a triangle, with a town and its castle at each of the points. There’s a river on two of the three sides, but the third side drifts so openly toward the marshes of the south and the sea that the delta might as well be an island. Across the center of the triangle, almost due east to west, runs a jagged chain of sharp cliffs and steep valleys known as the Little Alps. In actuality, they look more like an Impressionist version of the mountainsides of ancient Greece, shrunken to a more human scale, and placed like a stage set in the middle of a rocky plain.

A few million years ago, the pressure from the growing Alps and the Pyrenees buckled a portion of the ancient seabed and thrust it straight up into the air. As the sea retreated, the bed on either side of the buckled rock silted up and became a stony and desert-like plain, the little Crau to the north, and the Crau to the south. The chain of limestone peaks that separates them runs roughly 20 miles, from Eyguieres, the eastern edge and the highest peak at just under 1,500 feet, to St. Gabriel in the west. At the widest point, the Alpilles are barely three miles across. Small in scale, but rich, as Frederick Mistral put it, in “legends and glory.”

The legends began six thousand years ago when the Neolithic hunters formed small communities in the safety of the mountain-top caves and springs at Les Baux and Eygaliere. Around three thousand years ago, a proto-Celtic civilization developed, one which welcomed the Greek traders who arrived half a millennium later in the 6th century BCE. Three hundred or so years later when Rome arrived in the first flush of its empire building, the Ligurians were cultured philosophers who had dwelt in peace so long they had virtually forgotten the art of war. Rome saved them from the more nomadic Celts sweeping down from the north, but at the price of their independence. The Salian confederation of Ligurian tribes was defeated by the Romans within a generation and soon thereafter the entire region was annexed as Rome’s first province, the Provincia Narbonenis. A century later, Augustus and Julius having made safe the roads back to Rome - and in doing so made Celtic Gaul Roman - the first province, Provence, became the centerpiece of the transalpine empire.

The ancient city of Glanum Livii, at the foot of its sacred mountain

Nestled in a narrow valley to the north of the Ligurians’ sacred mountain stood the ancient capital of Liguria, the Celto-Greek city of Glanon, Romanized as Glanum Livii. Founded half a millennium before the turn of the common era, Glanum’s authority depended on its closeness with the Druidic priesthood at Les Baux and in the Valley of the Ancients at Cordes. In the Roman era, it was eclipsed by Arelate (Arles), which had wisely backed Julius Caesar in his dispute with Pompey in 49 BCE. Even as Arelate grew, Glanum adhered to its old ways, absorbing first the Romans, and then in the middle of the first century CE, an influx of Jews from Palestine and other parts of the new Roman Empire. Some of these Jews were followers of a rabble-rousing magician, Jesus the Nazorean, who had just claimed the ancient throne of David in Jerusalem, and been executed for treason by the Romans for the attempted restoration of the ancient lineage. The fleeing followers included, perhaps, members of Jesus’ immediate family. As they spread throughout the region preaching their Gospel, the cultured and thoroughly Helenized Druid philosophers were also converted to the new faith. From this unique blend of spiritual influences would grow an alternative version of what, a century or two later, would be called Christianity.

The original lion guardian of the spring at Ste. Maries-de-le-Mer, circa 1st century CE

This blending of spiritual influences began when the Egyptians of the 18th and 19th Dynasties arrived, more than a millennium before Glanum was founded at the foot of its holy mountain. The Egyptians built trading forts off what was then mouth of the Rhone, near the present day Ste. Maries-de-le-Mer, and traveled up the Rhone as far as Lyons. In the Greek era, trade flowed freely from Alexandria by way of Massilia. With the trade came an influx of ideas and philosophies from the east. In the late third century BCE, Buddhist missionaries arrived, dispatched by King Asoka in India to preach the Eight-fold path to all the ends of the earth. For the next three centuries, small enclaves of Buddhist hermits could be found living in the ancient grottoes and caves of the region. Helenized statues of the Buddha have been unearthed in the caves near Lamanon, and in at least one grotto said to have been used by St. Marie Magdalene, north of Nimes. This unique overlapping of influences created the very cosmopolitan and syncretic context from which the new faith emerged, appearing suddenly and full blown with the fervor of a Jewish messianic cult, the compassionate techniques of the early Buddhists, and an emphasis on the Goddess-mother and child, that is pure paganism, recognizable all the way back to the first Neolithic hunters.

Street corner Madonna and Child, St. Remy-de-Provence

St. Remy-de-Provence, where statues of the Virgin and Child still bless every important street corner, grew from the ruins of Glanum’s destruction. Depopulated first by Diocletian’s persecution at the end of the third century CE, there was little left to sack by the time the Visigoths arrived in the early fifth century. At the turn of the sixth century, the area was revitalized and given a new name by one of those odd quirks of fate that seem to drive the history of the Dark Ages. The Visigoths made Arelate their new capital, and Alaric II proclaimed himself king of the new empire of the Goths. They were opposed only by the newly Christianized Merovingian Franks under Clovis. Declaring that it was against God’s will that the fairest portion of Gaul should be ruled by heretics and heathens, Clovis invaded the south and defeated Alaric II at the battle of Vouille. In the bargain, he became the master of southern France all the way to the Pyrenees.

The Municipal Arch at Glanum, Les Antiques

During the campaign, Clovis traveled the ancient Roman road from Arelate to Avenio (Avignon) and camped with his army in the fields north of the ruins of Glanum, around what would come to be called Les Antiques. While camped at Glanum, Clovis experienced a miraculous visitation from his mentor, St. Remy, who prophesied for Clovis the future of his dynasty -”The Kingdom of France is predestined by God for the defense of the… only true Church of Christ. This kingdom shall one day be great among the kingdoms of the earth…” - as well as his personal future - “At the end of his most glorious reign, he shall go to Jerusalem, and shall lay down his Crown and Scepter on the Mount of Olives…” Clovis was so impressed by this experience that he gave the entire area to the church of Rheims, and so the new hamlet that grew on the site was called St. Remy’s town. Clovis went on to become the greatest of the Merovingian Kings, and St. Remy-de-Provence remained ever after woven into the sacred tradition of French kingship.

Hilltop farmhouse or “mas” in Eygaliere

The fortified hilltop villages, such as Eygaliere, fared better in the next few centuries than did the new towns such as St. Remy. Hit hard by the plagues of the sixth century and the Arab invasion of the eighth, a small measure of stability returned to the region with the rise of the Carolingians. The area around St. Remy became virtually independent as a kind of Dark Age city state, and survived in this form until the rise of the Lords of les Baux in the middle of the tenth century CE. Around 950, a local nobleman named Hughes claimed by right of descent, the ancient lineage once again, the old Roman watchtower and Druidic observatory at the entrance to the Valley of the Ancients at Cordes, directly in the center of the Alpilles. Perched like a vast boat - hence the name les Baux, the beam or keel of a ship that would in local usage come to mean any sharp uprising of rock - floating to the south of the sacred mountains, the terrace has an unobstructed view of the entire southern horizon, making it possibly the most significant Neolithic and megalithic astronomical location in all of Europe. Militarily, the site commanded both the Roman road to the north, through the passes it looms above, and the east/west road across the Crau, which ran directly below the rocky fortress. Possession of this site made Hughes and his descendants the masters of the medieval empire of the sun.

Les Baux, as seen from across the Valley of the Ancients

The Lords of les Baux adopted the idea of a semi-divine lineage, proclaimed by Clovis after his vision at St. Remy, and combined it with the ancient local traditions of Druidic astronomers to produce what to their contemporaries was the odd idea that they were descended from the third wise man, Balthazar. But from within the local mythic context, this was the only description possible for a tradition that clearly preceded Christianity, even as it recognized and embraced it. Of course the Druids of the Valley of the Ancients had foreseen the new age in the sky, so why shouldn’t they have sent a wiseman, a magi, in search of the meaning of the Star? The Lords of les Baux took the mythic Star, shown with 16 rays, as their family crest.

St. Trophime, Arles

Right inside portal of St. Trophime, with Magi frieze at the top

At the height of their power and influence, the Lords of les Baux ruled roughly one hundred villages and hilltop keeps on both sides of the Alpilles and by the late twelfth century had taken on a role in international power politics. Their support encouraged Frederick I Barbarossa in his end-run around the Roman church, resulting in his 1179 coronation as King of Arles. The facade of St. Trophime in Arles, designed and sculpted for the occasion, has a frieze depicting the entire story of the Magi as a direct nod to the influence of the Lords of les Baux. It was also the time of the Troubadours, who sang at the courts of love held in Les Baux, Romanin and Roquemartine, and the Cathar heresy, which the Lords of les Baux embraced, as well as the first appearance in written form of the Kabbalah, the transcendent light mysticism of the Jews, whom the Lords of les Baux held as being under their direct protection. The troubadour cited as the source for the original Grail legend by both Chretein de Troyes and Wolfram von Eschenbach, one Guyot de Provence, was a vassal of the Lords of les Baux, and it is therefore not unusual to find images and motifs from the Grail Romances springing to mind as one contemplates the fortress of Les Baux.

Les Baux as Grail Castle

Within a generation, all would be on the verge of ruin, as first the Pope and then the French King launched crusades against the heretics of the south. After invasion and inquisition came the first waves of the Black Death, and the Lordship of les Baux passed to the Counts of Provence. In the fifteenth century, this was Good King Rene D’Anjou, who gave Les Baux to his second wife, the beloved Queen Jeanne. It is fitting that in its final days of independence, Les Baux was ruled by a Queen. After her death, King Louis XI of France destroyed the fortifications, but Les Baux continued to be an important fiefdom. In the sixteenth century, it passed to the Marechal of France, Anne de Montmorency. With the good Marechal, we arrive in the time of the region’s most famous historical figure, Michel de nostra domina, nicknamed Nostradamus by his contemporary, Francois Rabelais. The sixteenth century was a crucial point in the history of France and Europe, and Nostradamus was part of all the conspiracies and diverse intellectual currents of the era. Within his lifetime, his influence would begin to shape the events of European power politics, and after his death his shadow would continue to haunt the future, touching even our own more rational age.

The Rue Hoche, the old Jewish quarter of St. Remy-de-Provence

Michel, eldest son of Jaume de nostra domina, a local grain merchant and notary, was born in mid December 1503 in his grandmother house on the Rue Hoche, the main street of the ancient Jewish section of St. Remy-de-Provence. He spent his first fifteen years in St. Remy, playing in the shadow of Les Antiques and absorbing the region’s legends and history from his two grandfathers. At that period, Glanum was a legendary memory, but one that was accessible to the adventurous. The crypt of the small chapel of St. Jean, a few hundred yards from Les Antiques, opened on to the ancient buried temple of the Goddess of the spring, the nympheum, of Glanum. And from there, miles of underground water chambers and sewers were available, running from Glanum and the monastery of St. Paul de Mausole out to the ancient quarries and beyond. His youth in St. Remy, with its mixture of myths and ancient history, had a profound effect on the future Seer of Provence. In six quatrains of his famous Prophecies, he returned to the scenes of his youth, implying that a great secret, the local myth of the “Silver Goat,” would be discovered there one day.

The Dome of the Rock and the Palace of the Popes at Avignon from across the Rhone

At fifteen, young Michel departed for the university school at Avignon, the scene of the French Captivity of the Church in the fourteenth century and still the center of the region’s intellectual life in the sixteenth century. In September 1521, his studies interrupted by an outbreak of the plague, Michel left Avignon and began his first period of wandering. By 1529, he was in Montpelier where he applied for admission to the medical school. One of his fellow students, the already famous humanist Francois Rabelais, Latinized Michel’s surname as Nostradamus. It is not clear whether Nostradamus ever received his doctorate, but by the early 1530s he had settled in Agen, in southwestern France, in order to study with the Italian humanist Julius Ceasar Scaliger. Nostradamus married a local girl, and quickly had two children. But disaster soon struck, and both his new wife and their two children died of the plague. By 1534, Nostradamus was on the move again.

For a decade, Nostradamus wandered the south of France, from Provence to the Basque coast and Bordeaux and back again. By 1544, we find a contemporary mention of him studying the plague and its treatment with Louis Serres in Marseilles, and then, a year or so later, he was summoned to Aix and Salon to organize the fight against the plague. He was so successful that the next year he was called to Lyon for the same reason. These exploits made him well-known, and along with the division of father’s estate, he found himself wealthy enough to married the most eligible young widow in Salon-de-Provence, Anne Ponsard. But before he could settle down to wedded bliss, Nostradamus found it necessary to make a trip to Italy.

Of all of Nostradamus’ mysterious periods of wanderlust, this last journey to Italy is perhaps the most odd. He married Anne, bought and began to refurbish a house in Salon, and then left for a two-year excursion. It is hard not to consider that he was in some way summoned to Italy, or at least compelled by reasons more powerful than just gathering recipes for his book on cosmetics. His old friend Rabelais was in Italy, and may have been the source of the invitation. Nostradamus alludes in his later works to collecting a number of volumes on occult philosophy during his trip that would later serve as the source of his magickal practices. Soon after the election of Pope Julius III in 1550, Nostradamus returned to Salon-de-Provence and began the work that would make him famous for the next half a millennium.

Salon-de-Provence, Nostradamus’ home for the last decades of his life

Nostradamus was famous almost from the moment of his return, becoming a sixteenth century superstar within the decade when his prediction of Henri II’s death came true. Before his death in 1566, he was the confident of the Queen of France, and officially proclaimed the royal Councilor and Physician in Ordinary to the Crown. He charted the future of French Kings, Henri II and his sons, discovered the founder of the next dynasty, the ten-year old Henri de Bearn, recognized a future Pope, and composed a history of mankind’s possible and alternate futures in the Green Language of the Hermetic adept. And he accomplished all this without having his work placed on the newly developed Index of prohibited books, or even running afoul of the Inquisition. That alone shows that Nostradamus had many friends in powerful places.

Whatever we make of his prophecies, there can be no doubt that they have continued to fascinate us. Each era has seen the reflection of its own time and problems in Nostradamus’ enigmatic verses, but he was right enough, often enough, with his predictions that our fascination is warranted. From a historical perspective, we can see Nostradamus as part of a reformation movement, not just within the church or the state, but an attempt to chart out the reformation of the human spirit through the vehicle of time. Nostradamus saw himself in the larger tradition of the Old Testament prophets and others such as the Sybils of ancient Rome and the more recent Joachim of Flores. But, and here’s the important twist, he also saw himself as a man of the renaissance, a man of science, pragmatic and empirical. His prophetic abilities were to him a kind of future science, known to the ancients, dimly reconstructed by the scholars of his era, but surely to be perfected sometime in the long reach of human history. In that sense, we can see his Prophecies as an attempt to communicate not just across time, but across levels of awareness as well.

St. Michel-de-Apocalypse, Salon-de-Provence

The mystery of Nostradamus is ultimately the mystery of the region itself, the ancient empire of the Sun. From the Druid Seers of Les Baux, the philosophers and early Christians of Glanum, to the Merovingians origins of St. Remy, the Magi of Les Baux, the Cathars, the Kabbalah, the Templars and the legends of the Grail, Nostradamus’ vision rested on a solid basis of local myth and tradition. For example, just out Nostradamus’ back door in Salon-de-Provence, where he would have to have seen it everyday, is the Eglise St. Michel-de-Apocaylpse. On its arched tympanum we find not just St. Michel holding the sealed book of esoteric knowledge, but also posing as Ophiucus, the serpent holding esoteric 13th sign of the zodiac marking the center of the galaxy. Below his central figure is a lamb and shofar horn, the horn of judgment, beneath a Templar cross. Around these central figures are “Green” language images of the Tree of Life along with the Merovingian fleur-de-lis. Nostradamus had but to take a walk in the evening to contemplate, on one church front, the deepest core of his philosophy.

Vincent Bridges

September 28, 2003

The Holy Grail: Hermetic Testimony in Stone

Wednesday, December 1st, 1999

By Vincent Bridges, co-author of A Monument to the End of Time
All photos © copyright Darlene and Aethyrea Books, 1999

In his novel, Notre Dame de Paris, Victor Hugo spends a whole chapter (Chapter II of Book Five) on the idea that architecture is the great book of humanity, and that the invention of printing and the proliferation of mundane books spelled the end of the sacred book of architecture. He reports that the Gothic era was the sacred architect’s greatest achievement, that the cathedrals were expressions of liberty, the emergence of a new sense of freedom. “This freedom goes to great lengths,” Hugo informs us. “Occasionally a portal, a facade, an entire church is presented in a symbolic sense entirely foreign to its creed, and even hostile to the church. In the thirteenth century, Guillaume of Paris, in the fifteenth Nicholas Flamel, both are guilty of these seditious pages.”

Hugo’s basic point is correct. Those medieval artists who created with such exuberance were trying to communicate important truths. They believed with an intensity that allowed them to work patiently for lifetimes on the same symbolic framework. Standing in front of the western front of Notre Dame de Paris and trying to absorb this explosion of imagery and information, our modern sensibilities allow us to see little more than its obvious Christian symbology. But when we look closer, we find that these are indeed unorthodox, if not seditious, pages in stone.

Take for instance that unusual image of a woman with a book and a ladder reaching the clouds behind her. The guidebook calls it philosophy, but why is it on the base of the plinth that leads upward to the image of the Last Judgment? Or those strange images along the sides of the portal.

The guidebook suggests that they are vices and virtues but upon examination they dissolve into a welter of paradox and medieval surrealism.

We recognize the power of the images, but can we understand their message?

Yes, but to do so, we must learn a new language - the ABCs of symbolism. For this purpose, the daunting hermetic libraries in stone of the great cathedrals, Notre Dame de Paris, Amiens, Bourges, are too overwhelming and complex. Before we face such complexity, we need a primer and for that we must turn to the south and the ancient Imperial city of Arles, the Cathedral of St. Trophime and the true origin of the Grail legends.

When Hannibal crossed the Rhone a few miles north of present-day Arles in 218 BCE, the Gallo-Greek settlement of Theline was already a trading post of some note. Under the Romans, who called it Arelate, the city retained its commercial status and flourished. Christianity arrived before the middle of the first century, brought, according to legend, by St. Trophimus. Curiously enough, St. Trophimus dedicated the very first shrine to the Virgin here, even before her death. By the late 1st century CE, Arles had become an ecclesiastical center, a position it would retain for the next four centuries, partly on the strength of its legendary cemetery, the Alyscamps.

Perhaps the most famous necropolis of the medieval era, the Alyscamps (from Elisii Campi or Elysian Fields) owed its fame to St. Trophimus. Built outside the city walls, as were all Roman cemeteries, and along the Via Aurelia, the main road to Italy and Rome, the Alyscamps was a perfect location for secret meetings. St. Trophimus soon attracted a following and in the year before he died, probably 52 CE, he invoked a blessing on the cemetery. Christ himself attended the ceremony and left the imprint of His knee on a sarcophagus lid. Burial at Alyscamps became so desirable that bodies were shipped from all Europe for burial in its holy grounds. The 12th century chronicle of the Pseudo-Turpin informs us that the peers of Charlemagne, Roland and the other fallen heroes, were transported with great difficulty to the Alyscamps.

Arles therefore is ground zero for whatever version of Christianity it was that swept the region in those early years. If we are looking for the origin of those seditious pages in stone, then Arles is a likely place to look. In Mystery of the Cathedrals, the enigmatic alchemist Fulcanelli directs us here, to Arles, the Alyscamps and to the Cathedral of St. Trophime in particular, with several tantalizing references. He points out to us a rose cross ankh on a sarcophagus lid at St. Honore in the Alsycamps and bids us pay close attention to the tympanum on the Great Portal of St. Trophime.

Built in the mid 5th century by St. Hilaire and originally dedicated to St. Stephan, the Cathedral was rebuilt in the 11th century and the Great Portal was finished a century later in time for the coronation of Frederick I Barbarossa as King of Arles in 1178. Rededicated to St. Trophime when the relics of his miracle were moved from the Alyscamps in 1152, the Cathedral failed to retain the sacred cache of its Saint’s miraculous status, probably because the Holy Stone, the sarcophagus lid with the knee print, had disappeared. This missing Stone, which conferred “knowledge of the Living Christ,” to those who beheld it and ” certainty of resurrection and eternal life” to those sacred dead who slept in its embrace, according to the 12th century “Golden Legends,” might just be the origin point of all the later Holy Grail legends.

Consider that, although Chretien de Troyes had invented all the other trappings of the Arthurian legends, the Matter of Britain as it was known in the Middle Ages, in his earlier works before 1180 or so, there is no hint that he had any idea of anything remotely resembling the Grail. Then, he was supposedly given an ancient manuscript “in the Breton tongue” by Phillip of Flanders and asked to render the material into an epic poem, which became Perceval, or the History of the Grail.
So where did Phillip of Flanders come by the story? Chretien doesn’t tell us much and although there have been many suggested sources, we just don’t know. However, Wolfram von Eschenbach, author of Parsival, a complete version of the story that Chretien only began, tells us that he had the true story from its source: one Kyot or Guyot of Provence.

This is an important clue, because there was a Guyot de Provins, a troubadour poet. And there is only one place that a young squire soon to be knight such as Wolfram could have met Guyot de Provins: at the coronation of Frederick I Barbarossa as King of Arles in 1178. Guyot de Provins was there, in the company of the Lords of Baux, a curious clan from the Alpilles north of Arles who claimed descent from Balthazar, one of the three magi. We are less certain that Wolfram was there, but it does seem probable, as it been determined from the texts of his poems that he entered the service of Frederick I Barbarossa at an early age.

We can be certain however that Phillip of Flanders and his sister-in-law Marie de Champagne did attend, as they are prominently listed among the assembled nobles in various sources. Thus, on this one occasion, all of the people involved in the creation and propagation of what would later be the Grail legends crossed paths in Arles. And curiously enough, also in Arles, we find the veneration of a Holy Stone with miraculous properties.

Perhaps this is more than coincidental, as there are political considerations as well. At the treaty of Vienne (another ancient Imperial city up the Rhone) in 1177, Frederick had been forced to acknowledge the authority of Pope Alexander III, effectively ending Frederick’s bid to re-establish an Empire in the West. Accepting the crown of the ancient Imperial province of Arles was for Frederick I Barbarossa, already Holy Roman Emperor, a kind of lateral move that can be considered as a way to establish connections with an even more ancient, and perhaps more legitimate form of Christianity. His coronation in the spring of 1178 at the newly finished Cathedral of St. Trophime signalled a shift in focus, one that would lead, a decade later, to Frederick’s taking charge of the Third Crusade and his death in the wilds of Armenia.

So, let us imagine for a moment that we are standing in the square in front of the Cathedral that bright May Sunday in 1178, waiting for the appearance of the Emperor and examining the almost complete decorations of the Great Portal. (The fact that the Portal has been cleaned and somewhat restored in recent years helps us in this. Its figures and friezes are as vivid today as they would have been in 1178, since these were never painted.)

The first thing we notice is the classical elegance of the Great Portal. It reminds us of other Roman Provencal Arches, most powerfully the one at Glanum. Above the Portal, the front of the Cathedral is plain, pulling our eye upward to the angel at the top. The obtuse angle of the top of the Portal breaks the flow and directs us back to the Portal itself, but the upward pull remains.

However, this triumphal arch is dedicated to the Last Judgment, seen here as a blend of John’s Apocalypse, the Gospel of Matthew, local legends and hermetic wisdom. The 11 small putti that line the angle of the roof of the Great Portal are a perfect example of the hermetic wisdom. They represent the 11 great circles needed to orient the earth, sun and the center of the galaxy, as well as the esoteric higher zodiac of 11 paired signs that would eventually become the Trumps of the Tarot. They can also be seen as a reference to the Tree of Life, with 10 sephirot and one access point, Daat or gnosis. All of these concepts are related, and are symbolised here on the portal as the highest level of wisdom related to the Last Judgment.

From this, our glance is drawn through the three veils of the negative (Ayn, Ayn Soph and Ayn Soph Aur), symbolized by the three receding levels of the arch, to the central arch itself. There, Christ Triumphant is seated on a throne within a vesica piscis holding the Book of Life and surrounded by the kerubic forms of the Evangelists and with a choir of 18 paired angels up in the arch. As we look closer at the Evangels, we notice that they are also the fixed signs of the zodiac, but the arrangement is unusual.

They can be seen as pillars; Leo/Aquarius and Scorpio/Taurus on each side, but note that each of these is actually opposite each other in the zodiac. Properly aligned they cross, making a 90-degree division of the celestial circle. To get any kind of astrological sense out of the arrangement on the tympanum one makes a zig-zag cross pattern that when completed forms two triangles, one up, one down, with points touching. This pattern also reveals to us two out of the three celestial axes.

Keep this in mind, because the entire movement adopted this key symbology. Look for instance at the tympanum of Chartres Cathedral and you will see the same unusual arrangement. The meaning is connected with the Cube of Space/New Jerusalem eschatology of St. John’s Apocalypse and blended with that of the Philosopher’s Stone and even the Holy Grail.

Below on the lintel are the Apostles, flanked by angels and on either side, the Elect and the Damned. Below that is a narrow frieze depicting the story of the Magi and the Massacre of the Innocent. This is interesting because of the support of the Lords of Baux, who claimed descent from Balthazar, one of the Magi, and the importance Fulcanelli, in Le Mystere des cathdrales, puts on these legends.

Under the Magi frieze are the figures of the saints separated by columns. There are six polished marble columns on the front, and four rougher columns facing in toward the portal, our ten sephirot, with the centre pillar making eleven, Daat or gnosis. There are two more pillars on the side, facing out, for a total of thirteen. Under each column is a symbolic figure.
All of these connections are significant and tell a very different story, even superficially, than one would expect. But the symbolic component is unique. Many of the motifs that we will find later explicated in detail on the great cathedrals can be found in symbolic broad strokes on the Great Portal.

One example of this will have to suffice. The two alignments given in the tympanum, Leo/Aquarius and Taurus/Scorpio, recur among the symbolic figures under the columns. Other curious features, including a Greek key on the forehead of a Leo figure, point us in strange directions. But, to make all this work, on any level, we must be given the key of that third celestial alignment, from north to south ecliptic pole.

However, under the figure of St. Trophime as Bishop of Arles, there is an unmistakable figure of that alignment. The north ecliptic pole falls in Draco and the southern pole on the Lesser Magellanic Cloud. Traditionally, this was symbolized as the union of the Dragon/Snake and the Turtle. As can be clearly seen, St. Trophime, holding a curious stone or book, stands on the back of a giant turtle and a snake. The snake in fact is also under the pillar, reinforcing the image of the celestial axis. We find this same key symbol on the front of Notre Dame de Paris in the image of St. Marcel and the Dragon.

From this we can glimpse a larger pattern behind both the Grail legends and the hermetic libraries of the great cathedrals, one that is, as suggested by Wolfram’s source, astronomical in form. Wolfram claimed that Guyot had unravelled the mystery and found a way to create a genealogy of the Grail family. From this information, Wolfram would come to focus on Parsival and a real historical figure - Guillaume de Gellone - whose family takes us back to Septimania and the ancient Jewish Goths of Languedoc.

Perhaps, vicariously and just for a moment, we can share the enthusiasm of the crowd that day as Frederick I, Holy Roman Emperor and the newly crowned King of Arles, stood on the steps in front of the Great Portal, the high gold crown and the flaming red beard catching the clear afternoon sunlight of a Provencal spring. From this point, the larger current of the Gothic Revival would coalesce into the initiatory and chivalric current of the Grail Legends, offering us a dual track glimpse of the alchemical and hermetic wisdoms contained in the Gothic books in stone.
Monty!