Napoléon Bonaparte is never far from the cultural imagination; he is arguably the most famous French person of all time.
Ph: Manjik/Dreamstime
But the one-time Emperor of France is back in the news in a big way, thanks to the release of Ridley Scott’s Napoleon.
Joaquin Phoenix as Emperor Napoléon crowning Vanessa Kirby’s Joséphine, with Lincoln Cathedral, England, playing the part of Notre-Dame.
While the movie was mostly filmed in England, Malta, and Morocco, you can relive Napoléon’s Parisian days the next time you’re in the City of Light by visiting the monuments he built, and other sites of Napoleonic significance …
Where Napoléon Stayed & Played
Born in Corsica, Napoléon was sent to military school in Champagne at the age of eight. Seven years later, in 1784, he was awarded a scholarship to attend the prestigious École Militaire in Paris (below). The academy, which still operates today, is located at the southern end of the Champ de Mars (the field where young cadets once drilled), behind the Eiffel Tower.
The École Militaire, as seen from the Eiffel Tower.
Napoléon’s transfer to Paris involved a two-day journey by boat. He disembarked the Seine at a wharf in the Marais and, as he made his way eastwards to his new school, bought a copy of the novel Gil Blas from a quayside bookseller.
In 1787, after having graduated, a young lieutenant Napoléon found himself back in Paris on leave, and gravitated to the gardens of the Palais-Royal, a notorious party central at the time (above). A cash-strapped Duc d’Orléans Louis-Philippe II had redeveloped his palatial backyard into a pleasure ground in 1784. He had the three wings that frame the northern end of the estate built, renting out the ground spaces as shops and restaurants, while filling the upper floors with dance rooms, gaming dens, billiard halls and brothels. In the middle of the garden enclave there was a circus where acrobatic riders thrilled the crowds, and all sorts of puppet shows and dance performances entertained in the groves of fancifully cut trees. Thousands of Parisians strolled, drank, conversed and flirted in these botanical arcades. The Palais-Royal was a fairground, bazaar and dance party, all in one. It was open day and night, and open to all Parisians — except for police. So you can imagine the air of abandon. Much was lost here. Money — although you could always see the various mortgage agents that had set up shop, or pawnbrokers, to sell your precious gold watch if need be. Virginity, too — a future Emperor Napoléon picked up his first female conquest in this very garden. And lives — Louis Philippe II’s heady vision, inaugurated in 1784, struck him gold, but also eventually cost the duke his head, as he had unwittingly laid the fertile ground for the French Revolution. It was here where courtesans passed as countesses, a precursor of a democratic future France; and where, far from the watchful eyes of the authorities, political discussions could gather momentum, morphing into full-blown movements. The sans-culotte Camille Desmoulins gave a particularly impassioned anti-Royalty speech from atop a table of a café terrace; two days later the Bastille was stormed, and the rest is l’histoire …
Napoléon was often in Paris during the revolutionary years, where the now-Republican networked, wheeled-and-dealed, and generally tried not to lose his head. He was by the old Palais des Tuileries on the day it was stormed by a mob that slaughtered the King’s Swiss guard. Napoléon was savvy in both his political and survival instincts, and ambitious to boot, but surely he can’t have had an inkling that day that this palace (which would be later destroyed by the Paris Commune of 1871) would one day be his imperial home. He did aspire extremely high, however, moving in all the right circles, including A-list parties and salons, where he soon met his fate, in the seductive form of the future Empress Joséphine.
Napoléon’s professional fate was secured on 5th October 1795, when he was asked to deal with thousands of Royalist soldiers who were making their way down Rue Saint-Honoré, en route to the National Convention, where they hoped to retake power. In front of the Saint-Roch Church (above), Napoléon commanded, inspired, and led his troops so successfully (the cannon-ball damage bears witness to this day) that the young Corsican became an overnight hero. He received an instant promotion and a plush new office on Place Vendôme for his efforts.
In March 1796, after Joséphine finally agreed to a lovesick Napoléon’s marriage proposal, the couple wed in a civil ceremony at 3 Rue d’Antin. (The building is no longer occupied by the 2nd arrondissement mairie but a plaque marks the momentous event). When not away on duty, Napoléon lived with Joséphine on Rue Chantereine (which was soon renamed Rue de la Victoire).
Ph: Courtesy of Chteau de Malmaison.
Sadly, her elegant manor house no longer exists, but the lovely country estate just west of Paris that she bought for herself while Napoléon was in Egypt — Chteau de Malmaison — remains in all its neo-Classical glory and is a must-visit for lovers of history, gardens, and architecture.
Napoléon’s Architectural Legacy
A coup d’état of late 1799 — generally considered to mark the end of the French Revolution — saw the overthrow of the Directory leadership of France, and the elevation of Napoléon to the autocratic position of First Consul. The future Emperor (he would crown himself in 1804, in Notre-Dame Cathedral) was now in a position to make his physical mark on his capital.
The neo-Classical trend in architecture had been in favour for a while, but Napoléon, with his passion for arches, columns, and temples, took it to whole new heights, for it represented the fabled grandeur he yearned to project. He wanted Paris to be the new Rome, as befitting a leader who saw himself as a future legend of history. But the aesthetically driven ruler was also engineering-minded, and as such he wanted his city to be cleaner, safer, and more practical. To admire the various changes Napoléon made to Paris, visit the following …
Waterways & Bridges
Napoléon’s utilitarian plan included the construction of new bridges. First up was the Pont des Arts (above), built between 1801 and 1804. The visionary leader demanded it be constructed mostly in iron, which was scarce and expensive at the time, and not considered as chic as limestone, Paris’s classic building block. His vision was perfect; the result was a bridge both modern and elegant, one that has stood the aesthetic test of time. The Pont d’Austerlitz and Pont d’Iéna bridges followed.
Ph: Janis Smits/Dreamstime
As First Consul, Napoléon also ordered the construction of the Canal Saint-Martin (above), Bassin de la Villette (Paris’s largest artificial lake), and Canal de l’Ourcq. Intended to boost the city’s supply of drinking water, this was funded, appropriately enough, by a new tax on wine.
He also cleaned up the banks of the Seine, which were more like strips of beach than true working quays required for the trading needs of a major river city. Up on street level, Napoléon had all roads renumbered, starting from the Seine, with even numbers on the right, odd on the left.
And, to bring drinking water to more Parisians, he decorated those streets with various (often grandiose) fountains, including the Fontaine de la Victoire on Place du Chtelet and the Fontaine du Mars, situated by the now-iconic restaurant of the same name (above).
Rue de Rivoli
As the above examples show, Napoléon’s utilitarian plan could overlap into his ornamental plan for the city. This was also the case with his vision for Rue de Rivoli, for which he turned to his favourite architects, Charles Percier and Pierre-François Fontaine (who had so stunningly redecorated Malmaison in the antique style).
Rue de Rivoli was, originally, a project born of necessity. For one, Napoléon wanted to ease the congested traffic on the nearby Rue Saint-Honoré. But an assassination attempt on him in Rue Saint-Niçaise — one of the narrow medieval streets that once criss-crossed this area, cluttering the approach to the Louvre — also gave Napoléon the impetus for change.
Rue Saint-Niçaise, as seen on the 1730s Turgot Map of Paris.
For a little more back-story … on 24th December 1800, Napoléon was in the Palais des Tuileries, waiting for Joséphine and her daughter Hortense who were primping in preparation for a night out at the opera. Napoléon finally gave in to the whims of feminine grooming, and headed out in the first carriage, leaving Joséphine to continue fussing about the best way to wrap on her cashmere shawl. The sartorial delay most likely saved her and Hortense’s lives, for a Royalist-planted gunpowder-filled wagon exploded on Rue Saint-Niçaise just before the second carriage reached its vicinity. Twenty Parisians died in the attack, which also caused major structural damage of nearby buildings. This gave Napoléon both the motivation and excuse for a rebuild; he wanted to clean up the city’s streets, making them safer, wider, and more modern.
While Napoléon’s nephew Emperor Napoléon III, would end up seeing out this city-wide vision (when he hired Baron Haussmann to make over Paris in the mid-century), Napoléon made a great start with Rue de Rivoli (named for one of his Italian victories), which originally stretched from Place de la Concorde to the Place du Palais-Royal. The extensive scope gave Percier and Fontaine a large canvas on which to apply Classical design principles.
Ph: Engin Korkmaz/Dreamstime.
They placed three levels above an arcaded ground floor (the arcades perhaps being inspired by Bologna, which Napoléon had visited in 1796), and minimal decoration beyond shutters and two lines of balconies. (Percier and Fontaine also placed gates opposite the first section of Rue de Rivoli, to line the northern border of the Jardin des Tuileries; they’re still there today.) The seemingly endless perspective projected that Napoléon-adored grandeur, but at the same time, with the continuous arches and curved attic roof (which was added later), the overall effect is charming rather than severe. Rue de Castiglione and Place des Pyramides were also part of the redevelopment, which would go on to influence Haussmann years later.
Colonne Vendôme
Turn from Rue Rivoli into the aforementioned Rue de Castiglione, and you can’t miss the towering verdigris Colonne Vendôme up ahead. The Trajan’s Column-inspired monument was erected in 1806, to replace Place Vendôme’s equestrian statue of Louis XIV, which had been destroyed during the Revolution, and to commemorate the Battle of Austerlitz. Surmounted by a statue of the Emperor, its spiraling bas-relief plates — melted down from 1200 bronze cannons taken from the Russian and Austrian armies — depict Napoléon’s military campaigns.
Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel
The year 1806 — after France’s success at Austerliz — saw Napoléon at the height of his power. He also commissioned this triumphal arch, originally intended as a gate of honour to the Tuileries Palace, as well as a commemoration of his Grande Armée. Fontaine and Percier took inspiration once more from Rome, specifically from the Arch of Constantine. Atop the lovely arch, with its pink-marble Corinthian columns, they placed the horses of St Mark’s in Venice, which Napoléon had taken as a souvenir of his conquest of that city. The current horses are replicas, after the originals were returned in 1815 (along with much other stolen artwork).
Arc de Triomphe
In the same year, Napoléon commissioned this much larger arch, also in commemoration of his army, on the site of the old city gates. At the time, the Avenue des Champs-Élysées was little more than a country road on the outskirts of Paris. Since the destruction of the Palais des Tuileries, the Arc de Triomphe can be viewed from its little sister arch — they’re two bookends of a world-famous vista. The larger arch’s distance from the palace dictated its majestic size, for it needed to be admired from afar. Sadly, Napoléon didn’t get to see this particular dream materialise; the monument required several decades to reach completion. His ghost, however, would surely be happy that it is now a symbol of French pride and a focus of many civic celebrations, with the Flame of Remembrance burning brightly by the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
Église de la Madeleine
Napoléon, in 1806, also announced that the part-built church on this site would be redesigned and repurposed as a temple to the glory of the French army. Cue a rectangular Greco-Roman-style temple with a peristyle of Corinthian columns, styled à la Rome’s Pantheon. View it from the start of Rue Royale, then turn around to locate its twin monument on the other side of the river from Place de la Concorde; Napoléon had this Roman portico façade added to an old palace, Palais Bourbon, to reflect and amplify the overall effect of Classical grandeur on Place de la Concorde. That latter building is now the National Assembly, while the Madeleine has been a church since it was, finally, completed in 1842.
Musée du Louvre
The Louvre — the royal court until Louis XIV moved out to Versailles — found new life as a museum in 1793, which is rather astonishing because this was during some of most the tumultuous days of the Revolution. But it makes sense in the context of liberté and égalité, for it was, among other things, a way to share with everyday French citizens something that had, until now, been exclusive to high society.
Napoléon inspecting the works of Percier and Fontaine, painted by Auguste Couder.
Napoléon continued this mission of the Louvre as a place of art and beauty for all — also, he needed somewhere to store all of the art he had stolen on his various campaigns! (Like the horses atop the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, most would eventually be returned to rightful owners; Veronese’s glorious Wedding Feast at Cana is one that remained at the Louvre.) Napoléon also decreed that it was high time to restore a neglected Louvre, and complete it with a northern wing — which was now an easier job, thanks to the various demolitions that followed the Rue Saint-Niçaise bombing attempt.
Ph: Konstik/Dreamstime
So Percier and Fontaine got to work on beautifying the Louvre in numerous ways, including completing the lovely Cour Carrée. (Much of their interior design no longer exists, but walk through the Salles Percier and Fontaine to admire their gorgeous Empire style.) They were in the midst of constructing the Louvre’s northern wing, which now houses the Musée des Arts Décoratifs (above), when Napoléon was defeated at Waterloo, necessitating a putting-down of tools. The Louvre would finally be completed during the reign of Napoléon’s nephew … although poignantly, the Tuileries Palace, which by now served as the western wing of the complex, burnt down the year after Napoléon III’s abdication.
Also Not-to-Miss for Napoléon Fans …
Debauve & Gallais (30 Rue des Saints-Pères, 75007) is the most historically significant chocolaterie in town, with a classified interior that dates back to its 1817 opening and was designed, no less, by Napoléon’s beloved Percier and Fontaine.
Le Procope (13 Rue de l’Ancienne Comédie, 75006), now a restaurant that serves classic Gallic fare in a glittering olde-worlde setting, was originally — from 1686 — one of Paris’s first cafés, and served coffee along with an inspiring ambience to its philosophically-minded clientele. As the Revolution brewed, the crowds became more politically activist; the now-national motto ‘Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité,’ is said to have been coined here. Napoléon, as an up-and-coming mover and shaker, was by this time a customer, albeit a poor one … One of his famous bicorne hats is on display in a glass cabinet (above), said to have been left here one day by the man himself, in lieu of paying his bill with money.
Le Grand Véfour (17 Rue de Beaujolais, 75001). When Napoléon finally did have money, this jewel box of a restaurant was a favoured dining spot of the imperial couple.
Ph: Mkojot/Dreamstime
While Napoléon’s downfall was brutal, his exile punishing, and his death lonely, his remains made a triumphant return to Paris in 1840. Watched by thousands of Parisians (who had fallen back in love with their former Emperor once more), the horse-drawn hearse made its way from the Arc de Triomphe (which had finally been completed in 1836) down to Place de la Concorde, and then over to Les Invalides, where his tomb still rests under the gilded dome; to visit, buy a ticket to the Musée de l’Armée.
The original Horses inside the St Mark's BasilicaThe replica Horses of Saint Mark
The Horses of Saint Mark (Italian: Cavalli di San Marco), also known as the Triumphal Quadriga or Horses of the Hippodrome of Constantinople, is a set of bronze statues of four horses, originally part of a monument depicting a quadriga (a four-horse carriage used for chariot racing). The horses were placed on the facade, on the loggia above the porch, of St Mark's Basilica in Venice, northern Italy, after the sack and looting of Constantinople in 1204. They remained there until looted by Napoleon in 1797 but were returned in 1815. The sculptures have been removed from the facade and placed in the interior of St Mark's for conservation purposes, with replicas in their position on the loggia.
The sculptures date from classical antiquity. Many scholars believe they were sculpted in the 2nd or 3rd century AD, noting similarities to the Equestrian Statue of Marcus Aurelius in Rome (c. 175 AD).[1] But some say the evident technical expertise and naturalistic rendering of the animals suggest they were made in Classical Greece of the 5th and 4th centuries BC.[2]
In light of their short backs and long legs, it has been argued that they were originally situated above the eye line,[3] probably created to top a triumphal arch or some other grand building. Perhaps commissioned by the Emperor Septimus Severus, they may originally have been made for the Eastern capital of Constantinople, where they were long displayed.[3]
Analysis suggests that the sculptures are at least 96.67% copper,[4] and therefore should be viewed not as made from bronze but of an impure copper. The relatively low tin content increased the casting temperature to 1200–1300 °C.[5] The copper was chosen to give a more satisfactory mercury gilding.
The Return of the Horses of San Marco by Vincenzo Chilone, depicting the return of the horses in 1815.
The horses, along with the quadriga with which they were depicted, were long displayed at the Hippodrome of Constantinople; they may be the "four gilt horses that stand above the Hippodrome" that "came from the island of Chios under Theodosius II" mentioned in the 8th- or early 9th-century Parastaseis syntomoi chronikai.[6] As part of the sack of the capital of the Byzantine Empire in the Fourth Crusade, they were looted by Venetian forces in 1204. That same year, the collars on the four horses were added to obscure where the animals' heads had been severed to allow them to be transported from Constantinople to Venice.[7] Shortly after the Fourth Crusade, DogeEnrico Dandolo sent the horses to Venice, where they were installed on the terrace of the façade of St Mark's Basilica in 1254. Petrarch admired them there.[8]
In 1815, following the final defeat of Napoleon, the horses were returned to Venice by Captain Dumaresq. He had fought at the Battle of Waterloo and was with the Coalition forces in Paris where he was selected, by the Emperor of Austria, to take the horses down from the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel and return them to St Mark's in Venice. For the skillful manner in which he performed this work, the Emperor gave him a gold snuff box with his initials in diamonds on the lid.[9]
The horses remained in place over St Mark's until the early 1980s, when damage from air pollution led them to be removed and put on display inside the basilica. They were replaced on the loggia with replicas.
Saint-Mark Golden Basilica Sanctuary, Domes and Horses, in Venice Italy
St. Mark: A Low-rise Basilica
Saint-Mark TreasureCompared to its European contemporaries, the height of St. Mark's Basilica is remarkably modest.
At the same time, we saw that the construction of this third basilica responded more to political than religious considerations and that it had to be a grandiose building capable of impressing the world.
So why did they make it so modest in terms of its height?
There are several reasons for this.
The first is in Venice itself; it should not be forgotten that everything is built on water and that weight is an element that should be taken into account for any construction on stilts, be it a basilica or any Venetian palace.
Indeed, many bell towers in Venice are close to 90 metres in height, but, as is known, many of them have collapsed, starting with that of Saint Mark, whose collapse of 1902 was not the first.
Saint-Mark Apse's MosaicsThe second reason is that at that time, the current Piazza, between the Doge's Palace and the Marciana Library, did not exist.
It was still a dock that gave directly into the lagoon and stopped on the southern side of St. Mark's Basilica.
In front of the basilica, the dock ended into a canal that met the Rio di Palazzo.
All this meant that the southern part and south-eastern part of the basilica were fully reflected in the water, which “grew” the perspective.
Later, during the 12th century, the dock and canal were filled, questioning the basilica's “visual” appearance by changing its primitive spatial relationship.
The Domes of St. Mark's Basilica
Until the beginning of the 13th century, the basilica was significantly lower, outwardly speaking, than today.
Timber Structures of the cupolasThis interior-outer distinction is essential in the sense that if the domes of St. Mark's Basilica have actually been raised, only the outer "visible" part of it is heightened, without modifying the arches of the internal cupolas.
It simply means that the outer cupolas, made of a wooden frame and lead plates to cover it, just contain emptiness and are standing well above the inner cupolas of the basilica.
By this visual artifice, they were able to fill the lack of “visual” height, born after the disappearance of the canal and the dock and this by artificially heightening the cupolas of the basilica of Saint Mark.
It is true that when you are on St. Mark's Square, at the other end of it, the basilica of St. Mark seems very small in proportion to the square.
Saint-Mark Apse's MosaicsThe church is, in fact, on the outside, significantly wider than tall, which amplifies this visual effect of small size.
And this is perhaps one of the most beautiful surprises St. Mark's Basilica can offer to its visitors.
Crossing its threshold, you expect to enter a “small” church and barely have you entered that you are genuinely grasped by the imposing height of its domes.
Indeed, once inside St. Mark's Basilica, it is suddenly you who feel small.
Since then, it seems no longer so small, and, like many things in Venice, we have to know how to approach them without a priori to be able to see them better and appreciate them.
So let's forget about the lengths, widths and angles! Beauty is not to be measured!
The Horses of St. Mark Basilica: The Quadriga
Saint-Mark Basilica's HorsesThe horses of St. Mark appeared long after the third construction of St. Mark's Basilica.
They were a war trophy stolen in 1204 by the Venetians in Constantinople.
The Doge Enrico Dandolo sent them to Venice at the time of the fourth crusade, which had seen the Crusaders' capture of Constantinople, thanks to the help of the Venetians.
These horses belonged to an imperial quadriga coming from the island of Chios.
Saint-Mark's HorsesThey were then sent to Constantinople, where they were positioned on the high towers of the hippodrome.
On their origin, opinions diverge; some historians consider the Corinthian source, from the 4th or 3rd century BC.
Others say that they were made by Lysippos of Sicyon, a Greek sculptor and bronzer, for Alexander the Great, and that Tiridates I, king of Armenia, owned them and then offered them to Nero, in exchange for the crown he received from his hands.
After this gift, they would have been placed at the four corners of the colossal statue of Nero in Rome.
They were then transported by Emperor Constantine to Byzantium.
When they arrived in Venice, they were first stored at the Arsenal before being installed at the top of the basilica to reinforce its symbolic power.
“Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, Their gilded collars glittering in the sun; But is not Doria's menace come to pass? Are they not bridled !” Lord Byron - Childe Harold Canto IV-XIII
To understand this allusion to Doria, it is worth knowing that the horses of St. Mark had become one of the symbols of Venetian power.
Pietro Doria, the Genoese admiral, promised in 1378 to the Venetians, during the war between Genoa and Venice, that after the Genoese capture of the island close to Chioggia, he would bridle the horses of Venice. What he did not succeed in doing!
Byron's poem was written after the fall of Venice and its occupation by Austrian troops.
“I was looking closely at the four bronze horses placed above the arcades of St. Mark's Church.
What a beautiful hitch!
I would have liked to hear him judge by a real horse connoisseur.
Seen on the terrace that supports these horses, they seem very heavy, but when you look at them from below, that is, from St. Mark's Square, they look light as deer.“ Goethe Memoirs - October 8 1786
These horses are indeed made to be watched from St. Mark's Square, and it is no wonder that Schopenhauer did not appreciate them at their fair value when he had the opportunity to see them in Paris, out of their context, and at a wrong level:
“It is in Paris, in the Tuileries Garden that in front of the castle, there are the famous four horses that Bonaparte brought back from Venice and which have always accompanied the conquerors.
But I don't find them as extraordinary as I imagined.“ Schopenhauer
They had indeed been stolen by Napoleon Bonaparte in Venice on December 7, 1797 and were not returned until 1815, where they return to their place on the Basilica Terrace.
They left their place twice again, but this time to protect them, during the first and last world war.
Finally, the horses you see today on the basilica are copies; the real horses, even more beautiful, are inside the church, in the museum of St. Mark's Basilica, sheltered from the bad weather.
Mosaics of St. Mark's Basilica in Venice
One of the most beautiful things that St. Mark's Basilica can offer to its visitors is undoubtedly its mosaics, both outside and inside it.
Saint-Mark Apse's MosaicsThey were initially highly Byzantine-inspired, and it is even believed that some Byzantine artists would have come to Venice especially to make them.
However, we do not have proof of this, especially since most of the original mosaics of the basilica have been replaced.
Their maintenance was indeed delicate, and most of the original mosaics deteriorated quickly, resulting in near-constant restorations.
Thus, rather than restoring existing mosaics, the Venetians, as they went on, simply replaced them with new mosaics, representing scenes that often correspond more to the moment's artistic tastes and religious themes.
The only original mosaic on St. Mark's facade represents the translation of the remains of Saint Mark on a background that represents the basilica around 1250.
Anteriormente a los romanos, 300 años antes del nacimiento de Jesús, Alejandro Magno murió sin descendencia, por lo que su imperio se dividió entre sus generales, siendo Ptolomeo el que quedó a cargo del país de las pirámides. Con ello se creó un sincretismo entre los antiguos dioses egipcios y los helénicos. Toth pasó a ser Hermes, y su famoso libro dio origen a la famosa Tabla Esmeralda, e Imhotep, dios de la medicina, fue asimilado con Asclepios. Surgieron nuevos dioses como el adorado Serapis, dios artificial creado a partir del dios egipcio Asar-Hapis (Osiris-Apis), que pasó a ser el esposo de Isis, cuyo culto se desarrolló por todo el Mediterráneo. La adoración a Isis llevó consigo la celebración del nacimiento de Horus, conocido como Harpócrates por los griegos e identificado on ÇApolo y el Sol Invictus por los romanos.
San Marcos
Tras la muerte de Cleopatra (30 a.C.), quien fue una alta sacerdotisa de Isis, Egipto se convirtió en una provincia romana. Alejandría, capital cultural de Egipto, reunía una gran cantidad de filósofos griegos, romanos y judíos escapados de Judea, que fueron desarrollando un culto común en la creencia de que la inmortalidad se conseguía gracias a la iniciación de un “Hijo de Dios muerto y resucitado”, en donde la muerte y el renacimiento era simbolizado por el nacimiento de Horus. El Adonis fenicio, el Attis frigio, el Osiris Egipcio, el Serapis alejandrino todos ellos fueron hijos de dios. Los romanos habían importado de Egipto el culto de Mitra, “Hijo de Dios muerto y resucitado”, cuyo cumpleaños se celebraba el 25 de diciembre.
Con este escenario de creencias hace aparición en Alejandría el cristianismo. La fecha del nacimiento de Mitra fue adoptada por los primeros cristianos como fecha del nacimiento de Jesús, hecho asociado a la señal en el cielo que marcaba una estrella de oriente. Pese que el apóstol que evangelizó Egipto fue Marcos, padre de la iglesia copta, es el evangelio de Mateo el único que nos habla del viaje realizado por la Sagrada Familia a Egipto.Los expertos aseguran que dicho evangelio fue escrito en Alejandría entre los años 40 y 80 d.C. por personas que no podían mantenerse ausentes de los acontecimientos astronómicos que se celebraban desde los antiguos egipcios.Por aquellas fechas en la noche del 25 de diciembre se podía ver ascender por el horizonte las tres estrellas del cinturón de Orión, los tres “reyes” que antecedían la salida de la estrella de oriente, Sirio, que si antiguamente simbolizaba a Isis de la que nació Horus, se transformo en época cristiana en la Madona que daba luz al niño Jesús. Las tres estrellas se convirtieron en la tradición en los Reyes Magos de Oriente.
Por el efecto de la precesión de los equinoccios, la estrella Sirio permanece 72 días al año bajo el horizonte, por lo que no se puede ver. Después de este periodo la estrella vuelve a verse, momento en que se conmemoraba en el Antiguo Egipto el año nuevo. La simbología era la del nacimiento del Horus divino desde el vientre de su madre Isis, representada por dicha estrella. El acontecimiento astronómico varía 8,5 días cada 1000 años. Actualmente el orto helíaco de Sirio se produce el día 5 de agosto, mientras que época de Jesús el hecho se producía el 19 de julio. Es por ello por lo que cuando los romanos cambiaron su calendario lunar a otro solar, de la mano del astrónomo alejandrino Sosígenes, se nombró al mes de salida de la estrella de Sirio con el nombre de Julio César, en ese nuevo calendario “juliano” que no era otra cosa que la continuidad que tuvieron los egipcios durante 3300 años a la hora de medir el tiempo.
Fortaleza Babilonia, Iglesia
El misterio del nacimiento de Horus, nacido de la virgen Isis, tenía por tanto continuidad en la liturgia cristiana, ideas tradicionalmente aceptadas que favorecieron la expansión del cristianismo en tierras egipcias. Un concepto de muerte y resurrección que ha llegado hasta nuestros días ya que, por azares del destino o por causalidades misteriosas, en la pasada noche del 31 de diciembre del año 1.999, cuando todo el mundo se preparaba para la festividad de la entrada del tercer milenio, Sirio marcaba su culminación en el meridiano. Si el helicóptero hubiera colocado (cosa que al final no ocurrió) el piramidión dorado sobre la cúspide truncada de la Gran Pirámide, se podría haber visto mirando desde la cara norte del monumento a Sirio colocado sobre la cúspide, alineado correctamente con el canal sur de ventilación de la cámara de la Reina. Es seguro que muchas sociedades secretas, que muchos estudiosos de los cultos isíacos, considerasen ese momento como el que anunciara la segunda venida de Horus, o de Jesucristo.
Resulta curioso que el único de los discípulos que visitó Egipto fuese Marcos, cuando el único que en los evangelios habla de Egipto fuese Mateo. La tradición oculta esotérica, recogida en sectores de librepensadores, afirma que si por un lado Mateo configuraba las normas de la Iglesia Marcos ofrecía un cristianismo que fue acogido por las corrientes gnósticas.
Hasta el nacimiento del cristianismo todos los adeptos a las diferentes liturgias debían pasar por una iniciación más o menos extensa. El cristianismo rompió esa tradición ya que para pertenecer al grupo sólo se debía profesar la creencia como acto de fe. Fue entonces cuando se produjo la ruptura entre los que, como los antiguos egipcios, el conocimiento era el camino hacia la iluminación, y los que dejaban en manos de la incipiente Iglesia su “salvación”. Una diferenciación que, a lo largo del tiempo, se convirtió en verdaderas persecuciones de los poderosos contra los sectarios y produjo el oscurantismo religioso y científico cuyos flecos han llegado hasta nuestros días pese a los esfuerzos realizados durante el Renacimiento.
En Alejandría se gestó, o pudo gestarse el pensamiento que ha predominado los últimos dos milenios. Los sabios que moraban en sus casas tuvieron la capacidad de combinar el hábito por la meditación con el desarrollo de la cosa pública, algo que iba en contra de unos poderes a los que no interesaba que el pueblo tuviera un acceso a la divinidad distinto al que propocionaba sus arcas. Y cuando en marzo del año 415 los cristianos enardecidos por el patriarca de Alejandría asesinaron a Hipatia no sólo acabaron con la mujer más notable de la Antigüedad, sino que obligaron a los herederos de la filosofía griega, a los seguidores de Horus, a refugiar su culto a ojos profanos. En Belén nació Jesús, en Alejandría volvió a nacer, como lo había hecho varias veces a lo largo de los tiempos.
Tema anterior
Ph: Manjik/Dreamstime
Joaquin Phoenix as Emperor Napoléon crowning Vanessa Kirby’s Joséphine, with Lincoln Cathedral, England, playing the part of Notre-Dame.
The École Militaire, as seen from the Eiffel Tower.
Ph: Courtesy of Chteau de Malmaison.
Ph: Janis Smits/Dreamstime
Rue Saint-Niçaise, as seen on the 1730s Turgot Map of Paris.
Ph: Engin Korkmaz/Dreamstime.
Napoléon inspecting the works of Percier and Fontaine, painted by Auguste Couder.
Ph: Konstik/Dreamstime
Ph: Mkojot/Dreamstime
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