The Lady and the Unicorn

The region of France around the town of Limoges has been known since mediaeval times for its weavers, and the art of tapestry-making once flourished there for many generations, passing down from father to son. Today the towns of Aubusson and Felletin are no longer famous for that particular speciality, though remnants of those ancient times are still to be found there in the form of museums and studios. Shops in Aubusson’s main street still display coloured wools of all kinds in their windows for the benefit of the many local hobbyists.

In the castle perched atop the steep precipice overlooking the Creuse river in the nearby town of Boussac one may take a guided tour of the building and sense something of the mediaeval atmosphere that once prevailed there. The grand dining hall, where lavish meals were once served to hundreds of revelers, now stands empty, and the guide is quick to point out that this part of the castle was destroyed by the British in the fourteenth century (whereupon this British visitor felt obliged to apologise). A fascinating book describing the tapestries recently came into my hands, providing with me with an insight into these beautiful works of art.

One of the rooms in the castle, where much of the original furniture may still be found, was occupied by the French writer, George Sand (Aurore Dudevant) in the 1830s. In her novel, Jeanne, she describes the castle and the surrounding countryside, also mentioning the impressive set of tapestries entitled ‘The Lady and the Unicorn’ that adorned the walls at that time. In later years, as the devastation wrought by time, rats and mould threatened to cause irreparable damage to the tapestries, they were purchased for the French nation and hung, after extensive restoration, in the Cluny Museum in Paris. One or two reproductions may still be seen in the castle, but not the originals.

The early history of the six remaining tapestries (there may once have been more), is not absolutely clear. What is known is that they were produced in France for one of the members of the nobility on the basis of designs made by a mediaeval master. In fact, the production of the tapestries required the skills of an artist or artists who could produce the basic design, those who could transfer it onto a cartoon, or basis for the weaver, and extremely skilful weavers who were masters of the intricate art of producing the finished tapestry.

The six huge tapestries, each one different but depicting similar principal figures – a lady, her maidservant, a lion and a unicorn – also show a myriad of smaller animals, as well as birds and flowers of various kinds and sizes in a wealth of colours, covering each tapestry in abundant detail that is both fascinating and a delight to the eye. Contemporary scholars have concluded that each tapestry concerns one of the five senses, smell, taste, touch, sight, hearing, while the last one bears the inscription ‘Mon seul desir,’ which could mean either ‘My one desire’ or ‘Only my will.’ Whether this refers to some concept of romantic love or is a philosophical pronouncement is still an open question. It has been suggested that the tapestries were commissioned for the wedding or betrothal of the son and daughter of two noble families, but no records have been found to verify this assumption.

The lion and the unicorn are well-known heraldic figures, and are even to be found in the royal coat of arms of the United Kingdom, though no association with England is known. The production of the tapestries in the fourteenth or fifteenth centuries connects the traditions of the mediaeval and renaissance periods of art. Be that as it may, the tapestries themselves are works of great beauty and interest, and make a visit to the Cluny Museum a must for my next visit to Paris.

 

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Subservience, Suffering and Sex,

Doing His Will (Osah Kirtzono)

by Esti Weinstein

Published in Hebrew by Kinneret, Zmora-Bitan, Dvir, 2016

The poor woman who wrote this book (she eventually committed suicide) was born into a specific sect – tantamount to a cult – of ultra-orthodox Judaism known as the Gur Hassidim.

As a child and teenager the author accepted the rules, regulations and restrictions (and there were many restrictions) required by the sect. As disciples of the principal rabbi of the sect, the Gur Rabbi, both men and women were subject to strict rules regarding dress, food, prayer, family life and even sex. The key word in all aspects of life was subservience: men were subservient to the rabbi, who was considered the principal purveyor of the word of God, and women were subservient to men – to their father before marriage, and to their husband subsequently.

The author, who seems to have total recall when it comes to recollecting every conversation she had throughout her childhood and every thought that passed through her head, describes all this in almost painful detail, which can become rather tedious after a while. This applies in particular to her imagined conversations with God, whom she appears to have regarded as her best friend. Reciting the appropriate prayers at the appointed times also occupied a prominent place in her life.

The account of her upbringing and home life reveals a spirited youngster who toes the line dictated by the society she grows up in, a line that seems intentionally designed to cramp any individual thought or idea, focusing on preparing girls for marriage and parenthood as soon as they reach the age of sixteen or seventeen, and keeping them protected from and ignorant of life in the wider world outside the sect.

Thus, from an early age the heroine’s thoughts are focused primarily on the search her parents undertake to find her a suitable husband, the  process of considering and being considered by fitting suitors, and her joy at having been found acceptable by the scion of a respectable family. The ‘courtship’ process involved meetings between the two sets of parents, a single meeting between the two candidates, and a period of separation lasting several months while preparations for the wedding went ahead.

Naturally, the main concern of the seventeen-year-old was the fabric and design of her wedding dress, and also the triumph of getting married before her best friend. The actual wedding ceremony was long and arduous, with strict separation between male and female guests, and the inevitable disappointment in bed on the first night.

Nevertheless, the young couple must have overcome their initial shyness, as well as the various constraints imposed by the sect on the nature and frequency of intercourse (no expressions of love or displays of intimacy allowed), as they managed to have eight children in the next fourteen years. Sex is a duty to be undertaken solely in order to fulfill the commandment ‘be fruitful and multiply.’ This took its toll on the author’s body, and after seeing a non-orthodox friend in a swimming suit she felt impelled to undergo surgery to have her breasts enlarged.

Although her husband said he loved and admired her just as she was and did his best to make her happy, the heroine gradually found herself consumed by revulsion at his appearance and physical attentions. Notwithstanding, she did her best to fulfill her marital duty and succumb to his nightly demands. At some stage the couple embarked on visits to hotel spas for massages. These at first were separate, but then together, and this started a train of events that culminated in the husband initiating and encouraging his wife to experience treatment by a male masseur, leading eventually to erotic experiences, which the husband witnessed and apparently enjoyed.

Consumed by guilt and disgust the heroine felt she had lost her faith in her religion, and even her relationship with God. Disillusioned and disgusted by the hypocrisy of the other members of her sect-cum-cult she made an unsuccessful attempt to commit suicide, eventually left her husband, and as a result was prevented from seeing her children. Finally she sank into utter despair and depression, so that her last suicide attempt succeeded.

Her tragic story featured in Israel’s media for a while, but was soon pushed aside by other subjects. It is doubtful whether any lessons were learned from this sorry saga, either by the community which spewed her out or by the wider, secular society. But at least this book, which she must have written over a considerable period of time, constitutes her revenge from beyond the grave.

 

London in Jerusalem

British Mandatory rule of the region known at the time as Palestine but currently the State of Israel lasted only thirty years, from 1917 (the conquest of the region by British forces and the granting of the mandate by the League of Nations) to 1948 (the declaration of independence by Israel). In view of the region’s recorded history, going back several thousands of years, this is a mere blip, nonetheless the effects of that brief interlude can be seen still today.

The exhibition entitled ‘London in Jerusalem’ tracing just some of these effects occupies part of the exhibition space in the ancient Jerusalem structure known as the Tower of David (the rest describes the conquest of Jerusalem and entry into the city by General Allenby). There are those who believe the site to be the burial place of King David, but the archaeological evidence dates the structure to a later period. However, the building is certainly at least one thousand years old, and has yielded many interesting artifacts. It stands at the outer edge of Jerusalem’s Old City, and forms a prominent landmark, constituting part of the wall surrounding it, separating the old from the newer parts of the city.

During the period of the Mandate the Tower of David served as a focal point for cultural and artistic activities, as is attested by posters in the exhibition advertising exhibitions, concerts and art auctions held there. The influence of British rule may be clearly seen still today throughout the newer parts of Jerusalem, as the first Governor-General, Sir Ronald Storrs, issued an order stating that any new building erected in Jerusalem had to be faced with Jerusalem stone, thus preserving the architectural character of the city.

Under British rule Jerusalem flourished both physically and culturally, with the construction of important buildings, among them the YMCA building and the King David hotel, as well as the garden suburbs of Rechavia and Beit Hakerem. The period also saw an influx of new inhabitants, mainly from Europe but also from other parts of the Middle East, so that both the Arab and the Jewish populations grew. It goes without saying that in the 1930s Jews from Germany and other parts of Europe also made Jerusalem their home, although immigration by Jews became increasingly difficult with the restrictions imposed by the Mandatory authorities as they bowed to Arab pressure.

Nonetheless, alongside the surge in residential and public construction, social and cultural life in Jerusalem flourished. One wall of the exhibition is devoted to posters for concerts, recitals, plays, art exhibitions and dances open to the public. Alongside the growth in the population from former European countries, there was a general expansion of life in the cafés and restaurants of the city, and the exhibition contains a life-size reconstruction of an authentic Jerusalem café of the time, as well as of the famous Fink’s bar, where a large number of journalists and others spent many happy hours.

One of the most outstanding legacies of British rule was the establishment of the broadcasting service, known at the time as the Palestine Broadcasting Service (PBS). The broadcasts were in English, Hebrew and Arabic, and members of the three communities served on the programming board, although this did not preclude disputes over content and time slots. ‘Jerusalem Calling,’ as the station was known, played a significant role in fostering local culture, broadcasting news as well as live music, language lessons, radio plays, segments for children and youth and morning exercise programmes.

One intriguing display cabinet contains the delicate bone china tea service used by the King David hotel when VIPs came to stay. In addition, main roads were given English names, some of which have endured to this day. Thus, every Jerusalemite knows where King George street is located, though few remember that its continuation was once known as Princess Mary street. The exhibition notes point out that as well as turning Jerusalem into a financial and cultural centre, the British made it the administrative center of the region, a status it had not enjoyed under Ottoman rule.

All in all, it is possible to look back at that brief period as one of relative peace and harmony between the different cultures, as a time of cultural blossoming and economic stability. It was also the period in which the leaders of the Yishuv, as the Jewish comunity was then known, were able to focus on creating the instruments of self-government and forging the path for the future State of Israel.

 

Music in the Creuse

Summer in the depths of rural France is peaceful in the extreme, providing R&R (rest and relaxation) and constituting balm for the soul.

One does one’s best to take advantage of the quiet time, and even to enjoy the food and wine while endeavouring to maintain a modicum of moderation. This, of course, is particularly hard given the many temptations that surround one on all sides.

Cultural delights such as those we are able to enjoy in the city are rare, however, and one doesn’t expect to encounter first-class entertainment of that kind while in the countryside of any country, and certainly not in France, far away from any centre of any kind.

However, we were able one evening to enjoy music-making on a high standard in a church in one of the nearby villages. An ensemble consisting of a flautist and harp-player, both originally from the Netherlands, entertained the packed hall with a selection of classical music ranging from Bach to very modern pieces, in some cases written especially for these artists. The musicians, who also teach in Dutch music academies, are both members of the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra.

In between the two parts of the concert (which started at the very sensible hour of 6 p.m., leaving time to get home in time for dinner) we were entertained by the local choir of some forty adults, presenting a very eclectic programme of songs sung in a variety of languages. This took us far from the provincial and rural France we have come to know and love, with harmonious arrangements of French folk songs, the orthodox Serbian liturgy, a rendition in French of ‘Let the Sun Shine in,’ from the musical ‘Hair,’ and also of ‘Amazing Grace,’ as well as of Handel’s ‘Lascia ch’io pianga’ and ‘Erlaube mir’ by Brahms. The grand finale, in which the choir was accompanied by the flute and harp ensemble, was Verdi’s ‘Va Pensiero,’ the chorus of the Hebrew slaves from ‘Nabucco.’

The choir seemed to consist mainly of elderly and middle-aged individuals drawn from the various local communities of the region. What was surprising was its particularly strong male section, which added considerably to the quality of the sound as it resonated around the tiny church. The enthusiasm of the lady conductor was also admirable, though I was somewhat distracted by wondering whether the sleeves of her jacket would withstand the strain of her energetic arm movements.

The audience also displayed considerable enthusiasm, and seemed reluctant to let either the players or the choir end the evening without a series of encores of various kinds. However, sitting on hard wooden benches for two hours was starting to get too much for us, so that we felt impelled to leave before the choir embarked on a repeat performance of ‘Va Pensiero.’ It was also becoming apparent that the choristers were also beginning to get tired, having had to stand for most of the evening.

After all, they must have wanted to go home and have dinner, too. They certainly deserved it.