From Walmart to Saint Remy

In which I complain about ugly things

File:Eugène Galien-Laloue Reims Cathedral.jpg - Wikimedia Commons

This morning I am perched at the top of an ancient house in Landry, decorated in the grays and blacks of modernity, feeling a touch querulous because I did not sleep a wink. The town enjoyed the pleasure of a Celtic Rock concert last night, the sounds of electric guitar and penny whistle (that’s probably not what it’s called) wafting by our open windows and the sounds of happy music lovers going and coming from the festivities. Much singing along at full volume. Many exclamations of delight. No sleeping for old fogies who don’t want to stay out till 3 am having a fun time.

In the spirit of being a critic and an observer of cultural and theological trends—with a healthy caveat that I am having a really good time and really have nothing at all whatsoever to complain about—I found myself annoyed in the Cathedral of Saint Remy in Riems yesterday.

Saint Remy, of course, is astonishing and gorgeous. It is a high gothic structure of the epoch when all those medieval Christians were getting good at their flying buttresses and soaring windows. It goes up and up, making the jaw nearly drop. But like so many buildings around here, it suffered the effects of World War I. Six of the windows, at least, were destroyed and so, after the Second big War, new windows were commissioned.

And here one comes up against a phenomenon across Europe that most Americans don’t notice much, because we don’t suffer from a surfeit of beautiful architecture. Every American town probably has something nice to look at, a main street or something with a cute courthouse and a lot of old rambling Victorian structures with big porches and, at this time of year, hydrangeas planted here and there. There might be one or two cute old shops where you can buy some soap and a scented candle. But the real life of the town is lived along those long strips of ghastly shopping—Auto Zone, the Dollar Tree, Mcdonalds, Walmart, used car places, new car places, lined up with ample parking. You easily pull in and pull out and then go back to your house which doesn’t look like that, at least not inside.

Europe, of course, is so old and stuffed with old things, so that people do get tired of them and want to go modern minimalist chic, to varying degrees of success. And they suffered these awful wars where so many beautiful things, both tangible, like houses and churches, and intangible, like belief in God, were destroyed. When they cleared away the rubble and started building again, many ugly modern constructions were mashed in between old ones. Which is fine. People have to have places to live. Also, big high rises were built on the edges of town for newcomers. Those look old and shabby now, though many are being built all the time. And now, in the spirit of globalism and everyone getting to basically be the same, a lot of French towns are beginning to have the awful strips that American ones do. Yesterday we passed by something that almost exactly resembles the Vestal Parkway where I live which has a Texas Roadhouse. This one was called Tennessee Beef or something like that. And there was a massive Walmart-esque Carrefour. Carrefour, I am reliably informed, is one of the biggest grocery conglomerations in the world, just behind Walmart I think.

Anyway, back to the windows in Saint Remy.