A Toast to the King!

Thrones overthrown...ancient tradition, upheaval, renewal...winter solstice at the Chateau...

The Three Kings by the Viennese artist Leopold Kupelwieser at the Diocese of Rouen

Chère amie, cher ami,

It was almost nine o’clock in the morning when the sun finally appeared. The wind hurried rosy clouds across a violet backdrop. Streaks of bright blue sky promised a sunny afternoon.
 
It was le jour de l’Epiphanie, January 6, the last day of the Christmas season, la Fête des Rois. Two thousand years ago and more, Gaspard, Melchior, and Balthazar arrived at the cradle of Jesus in Bethlehem. And although the Feast of the Kings now pales in comparison to the Nativity, January 6 was once the principal feast of Christendom after Easter.

Dawn sky over the long barns, "les granges," in the farmyard of the Château

“Mmm,” agreed Monsieur, intent on the local newspaper. We sat around the fire as the afternoon darkened. It was barely half past four.
 
“A baking crisis has stricken Normandy,” he informed us
 
“The boulangers are going to Paris next week to protest. Eggs, beurre d’Isigny, flour, prices all up…not to mention the cost of electricity. The galette des rois is selling for almost 5 euro a slice! There’s going to be a revolution!”
 
Our son Henry lifted his gaze from his sketchpad. He wasn’t particularly interested in the price of galette des rois, the traditional pastry eaten on the feast of the Epiphany, also known as "la Fête des Rois," the Feast of the Kings.
 
“January 6 wasn’t always about the Three Kings,” he stated. “It was set as the date of Christ’s birth by Saint Epiphane, bishop of Cyprus in the 300s.” 
 
“Also, Epiphane said January 6 was the date of Christ’s baptism in the river Jordan. And of the wedding at Cana, where Christ performed his first miracle.”
 
These were “epiphanea,” the Greek word whose root means to “appear “or “become manifest.” Christ appeared in the world, his baptism revealed that he was the anointed one, and the miracle manifested his divine power.
 
We all looked at Henry. And the Three Kings, Henry? La fête des Rois so steadfastly observed in France?
 
Saint Jean Chrysostome, also a Fourth-Century bishop, added the celebration of the Three Kings to the Epiphany feast of January 6. The Kings’ discovery of Christ was also “epiphanea.” Christ is revealed to the peoples of the world.
 
“Where did you learn all this?” asked his father.
 
“Catechism,” replied Henry. Henry and his brothers and sisters attended French schools. A thorough religious education was part of the program.
 
In the Fifth Century, the Roman clergy decided the birth of Christ should be celebrated on December 25 instead of January 6. This aligned Christ’s arrival in the world with the winter solstice and the beginning of the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia. Saturnalia lasted until early January. The two Christian feasts – Christmas and the Epiphany -- thus neatly punctuated the old pagan festivities around the winter solstice.

Saint Jean Chrysostome, called John of the Golden Tongue for his eloquence, depicted on an 11th-century plaque at the Louvre

The Saturnales was a topsy-turvy moment. In Roman households, a Saturnalicus Princeps, the king of Saturnalia, was a servant or a slave. He gave orders and was obeyed by his masters. These Roman customs came to ancient Gaul, which became a Roman province in 27 B.C.
 
“So you see,” said Henry, “Just as the winter solstice marks the reversal of long, dark winter nights into lengthening days, so the Saturnalia celebrates the reversal of roles in human lives. The feast of Epiphany celebrates God being revealed to Man, like the Sun bringing light to the Earth. And the homage paid to the child in his humble manger by the Three Kings is like the reversal of roles in les Saturnales.  The masters bow to the humble servant.”
 
“C’est exacte!” nodded our friend Raynald, approvingly. He had stopped in for an apéro. 
 
“Un bon synthèse!”
 
He and Henry laughed.
 
“Is that funny?” asked Monsieur.
 
“The Romans wore a special toga during Saturnalia, Dad,” explained Henry. “It was made of several pieces and called a “synthesis.””
 
“He that is greatest among you shall be your servant,” quoted Ranehault, bringing the conversation back to more serious matters. She had also joined us around the fire. “And “les humbles heriteront de la terre,” the meek shall inherit the earth.

"The Bible,” she added, in case we had not recognized the citations. “Jesus’ words.”
 
She settled her glasses firmly on her nose. She and Raynald had been to the messe de l”Epiphanie in nearby Seés. We had stayed at the Chateau because the carpet man had come to measure the escalier d’honneur for a runner.
 
“In the fête de l’Epiphanie we see also the Great Schism between East and West,” Raynald relentlessly interjected. Professor of Histoire at the Sorbonne, he relishes les grand thèmes.
 
“Voyez, the Egyptians still celebrate the Christmas Eve on January 6.”
 
“Do they?” asked Monsieur, a glint in his eye.
 
“Les orthodoxes!” Raynald responded, “The Orthodox Churches of the East still celebrate Christmas and Epiphany together. Or perhaps you allude to the fact that most Egyptians today celebrate neither Epiphany nor Noel. 
 
“When one thinks that North Africa was the birthplace of Augustine,” he added, shaking his head.
 
But Ranehault had our full attention.
 
“I stopped at the boulangerie,” she announced. She proffered a parcel wrapped in green paper. Inside was a paper crown and the shiny golden-brown top of a galette des rois. 
 
The aroma of fresh pâte feuilleté and almonds emanated gently into the room.
 
“Henry, the champagne is outside in the cool air,” directed Monsieur.
 
“I wonder what our predecessors toasted back in 1789, on this day?” Henry pondered, coming in with a bottle of our favorite vintage.
 
On January 6, 1789, the previous chatelains had just moved back into the Chateau. They had torn down the old medieval fortress. It was, all agreed, a new era. The gloomy, tumble-down château fort had been replaced with a light-filled edifice worthy of the 18th-century Age of Enlightenment.
 
The Marquis de Courtomer and his wife were probably sharing out parts of the galette des rois. Just as today, whoever had the piece of galette with the “fève,” or favor, was pronounced king and wore a paper crown. Perhaps their youngest child handed out the slices from under the table, as is still the custom today.
 
““Et le roi boît!”” as the old toast goes,” said Raynald.
 
They must have raised a glass as the “roi de la fève,” the king of the favor, drank a toast. And they likely toasted the current monarch, Louis XVI.
 
But five months later, the Bastille fell. By the following January 6, decks of cards no longer had kings. And two weeks after the Feast of the Kings in 1793, le citoyen Louis Capet, formerly king, was guillotined. The world was topsy-turvy.
 
“Père Duchesne, me disait l’autre jour ma Jacqueline, qui lève aussi bien le coude que moi…est-ce que nous n’allons plus faire les rois ?

Non, foutre, lui réponds-je, les rois sont rasés, il faut en effacer jusqu’à la dernière trace, et j’aimerais mieux ce jour-là être réduit à l’eau que d’entendre crier chez moi le roi boît. 

The “Pere Duchesne” was a character created by the revolutionary journalist Hébert.
 
“Father Duchesne,” my Jacqueline asked me the other day, “aren’t we going to fête the Kings anymore?”  She can lift her elbow with the best.
 
“The hell with that!” I told her. “The kings are erased, they’d better be rubbed out to the last trace. I’d rather drink water than hear anyone cry “the king drinks” in my house!”

The choleric visage of Le Père Duchesne, with his sash, "Live free or die, Foutre" and his ribbon, "The Nation, the Law, the King...Foutre!" Foutre is not an expression to be translated in polite company!

Celebrating the Feast of the Kings was outlawed. Bakers found to be making galette de rois were arrested. So were people caught eating it.
 
But revolutionary fervor finally had to bow to popular sentiment. Les sans-culottes were as fondly attached to their tradition as any aristocrat. And perhaps, as the Revolution darkened into the bloody years of la Terreur, all yearned for a festival of light.
 
Rather than continue to imprison the revelers, in January 1793 the Revolutionaries solemnly pronounced that the Feast of the Kings was now "la Fête des Sans-Culottes."
 
“Rather like Epiphane and Chrysostome changing Saturnalia into Christmas and Epiphany,” reflected our thoughtful son.
 
“Exacte!” exclaimed Raynald.
 
Monsieur started to untwine the cork.
 
“If I could have a knife,” suggested Ranehault. 
 
Raynald’s piece of galette held the favor, a funny-looking brown object. Perhaps, Monsieur suggested with a twinkle in his eye, it might be the donkey in the Nativity scene.
 
As we lifted our glasses to “boit le roi,” we glimpsed the solar disk, fleeting below the allée of lindens in the cour d’entrée.
 
We were reminded that the round and golden galette is not only the symbol of the Kings and of the sun, but of light itself.
 
“Let us eat galette!” toasted Monsieur.

Perhaps he was thinking of the royalty’s reputed response to the rising cost of living back in 1789. Or of our bakers marching on Paris to protest the price of eggs and electricity.



                             To the feast, chers amis!

Elisabeth

A little snapshot of evening falling at our "quartier d'hiver," winter quarters, in the  Farmhouse at Chateau de Courtomer

As always, Heather and Beatrice (info@chateaudecourtomer.com and +33 (0) 6 49 12 87 98) will be happy to help you reserve your own holiday or special gathering at the Chateau or just to rent the Chateau, the Farmhouse or both. We have just a few openings for the end of this year and in 2023, and are taking bookings for 2024 and 2025. We look forward to hearing from you. A bientôt!