Julia Wojtkowski, Yale University
Within the sacred confines of Sainte-Chapelle, the boundaries between art, spirituality, and political ideology dissolve, creating a space that transcends the bustling city beyond its walls. Designed as both a repository for holy relics and a manifestation of King Louis IX’s vision, Sainte-Chapelle harmonizes ecclesiastical grandeur with royal ambition.[1] Its stained glass windows, monumental in scale and intricacy, serve as vehicles of divine illumination and instruments of cultural memory. Among these, the windows of Judith, a devout Jewish widow turned heroine, stand out, her narrative embodying themes of faith, moral conviction, and the interplay of divine justice and royal power.
Sainte-Chapelle’s glass functioned as both a vessel for cultural memory and a catalyst for artistic and theological innovation. By drawing upon the visual language and narrative techniques of illuminated manuscripts, particularly the Bibles Moralisées, these windows integrate text and image to create an immersive theological experience. While stained glass engages viewers through light and color, the Bibles Moralisées rely on intricate illustrations and moralized annotations to invite intellectual reflection. Together, these media reinforce the crown’s ideological authority and collective devotion.
The differing visual and textual strategies reflect their distinct audiences and functions. The stained glass emphasized spectacle and divine illumination, presenting a public—though tightly controlled— demonstration of religious authority. As the royal chapel openly conveyed the king’s authority and grandeur to a broad and diverse spectators, these windows reinforced the crown’s propaganda.[2] Conversely, the Bibles Moralisées were tailored to the elite members of the court and their patrons, encouraging a private and reflective engagement with the moral and theological complexities of scripture. Though both emerged from the same cultural and political milieu, their contrasting approaches underscore the crown’s dual use of art: public spectacle and private indoctrination. These complementary methods reveal how medieval art and scripture reinforced monarchical authority, shaping religious devotion and societal values.
Sainte-Chapelle: A Jewel of Gothic Architecture
The Gothic period, flourishing from the twelfth to sixteenth centuries, represents a cultural and architectural transformation that sought to embody the divine and elevate the human spirit. Central to Gothic architecture is its interaction with religious and societal values as these ecclesiastical spaces became expressions of celestial aspiration: their soaring heights and intricate designs direct the faithful’s gaze upward, evoking a sense of awe and reverence for the divine. The use of expansive windows allowed light to filter through in a way that seemed to bring the heavens into the earthly realm.[3] This colored, fractured light adds to the sublimity of the space, the combination of these architectural features—the height, the light, and the overwhelming detail—creating an “multisensory appeal”[4] that both humbles and elevates an individual.
The Sainte-Chapelle distinguishes itself from other Gothic structures through its unique conception and purpose. Commissioned by King Louis IX in the mid-thirteenth century, the Sainte-Chapelle was conceived as a private royal chapel and monumental reliquary designed to house the Crown of Thorns and other Passion relics acquired from the emperor of Constantinople.[5] While its soaring spires and intricate ornamentation may invite comparisons to any number of French churches, the Sainte-Chapelle is actually not a cathedral in the conventional sense; it does not serve as the seat of a bishop or a pilgrimage destination with expansive aisles and radiating chapels meant to accommodate large crowds.[6] Positioned within the royal palace complex on the Île de la Cité, the Sainte-Chapelle stands in direct contrast to the Notre-Dame-de-Paris, located just across the island. While the latter epitomizes the traditional cathedral as a site of public worship and pilgrimage—an embodiment of religious life in the Middle Ages—the Sainte-Chapelle was deliberately a private space for the monarchy to connect to the divine, “proclaim[ing its] sacral kingship, asserting royal preeminence and prerogative on a grand scale.”[7] This tension between the cathedral’s communal function and the chapel’s exclusive purpose revealed something deeper: its innate exclusivity enabled the latter to artistically focus more intensely on royal authority, both as a space of worship and as a symbol of the king’s divine right to rule, as reverence for the sacred became inseparable from veneration of the monarchy.[8] In doing so, the Sainte-Chapelle transformed not only the Île de la Cité but also the very framework of sacral kingship into a deliberate architectural and ideological statement, proclaiming the monarchy’s dominance through its grandeur and strategic placement.[9]
The design of the chapel was intentionally extravagant, showcasing soaring architecture and mesmerizing stained-glass windows that evoked awe and reverence. These windows, far from being mere liturgical tools, stood as a direct reflection of royal power. In an era when the monarchy needed to strengthen its image of authority, the chapel synthesized elements from forms previously employed in “utilitarian architecture” and refined through experimentation at Bourges, Chartres, Amiens, and Reims.[10] Every detail, from the chapel’s architectural form to its iconographic program, was meticulously crafted to transcend the material world, guiding both body and soul toward the divine while underscoring the sacred authority of the king and his reign. Best described as a “theological theater,” [11] it was purposefully curated to affirm the monarchy, showcasing the future saint’s devotion while seamlessly uniting Christian narratives of the past with the present. Its design harmoniously merged the sacred and the secular, emphasizing Louis IX’s devotion and role as a Christian monarch, and effectively creating a sensory experience that elevated viewers beyond the mundane and affirmed the monarchy’s legitimacy through its proximity to sacred relics.[12]
The ceremonial “unlayering” of the chapel during religious rituals as participants moved between its lower and upper stories amplified its sensory impact. Ascending from the dim, modest lower chapel to the luminous upper chapel evokes an ascent into the celestial. Here, the architecture transcends earthly constraints, with soaring walls almost entirely replaced by stained glass that transform the space into a kaleidoscope with glowing gilding.[13] The upper chapel stands as one of the most spectacular and influential artistic achievements of the Gothic period. With its precious materials housing the holy relics, it inspired Jean de Jandun to marvel at its unparalleled brilliance in 1323 as the chapel immerses visitors in a profound sense of ethereal beauty where light and color transcend earthly bounds.[14], [15] The windows comprise over 1,100 intricately crafted panels of a complex visual narrative depicting biblical scenes from the Old and New Testaments, embedding within their imagery the aspirations of the French crown. More than mere decoration, these stained-glass stories project onto the sacred relics themselves, intertwining divine history with monarchical authority. Contemporaries went so far as to proclaim that God had “crowned France” with the arrival of the Crown of Thorns.[16] This emphasis on the political significance of the Crown beyond its spiritual power was intentional— Paris had effectively transformed into a new sacred center, adding to the image curated for Louis IX as the “most Christian King” before his first Crusade.[17]
Despite its relatively modest scale compared to surrounding larger churches, the Sainte-Chapelle commands the senses with unmatched potency. Light itself becomes a medium of reverence, refracted through towering windows into hues that span a spectrum of divine radiance. As one’s gaze adjusts to the interplay of color and light, the walls seem to dissolve into panels of jewel-toned glass.
Central to this transcendent experience are its stained glass windows, whose luminous fragments retain their breathtaking vibrancy, radiating deep blues, warm reds, lush greens, rich purples, and gleaming yellows. Achieved through minerals such as cobalt, copper, manganese, and antimony,[18] these colors were carefully selected not only for their brilliance but for their ability to interact with natural light. As sunlight shifts throughout the day, the glass refracts and transforms its surroundings in a dynamic interplay of color and shadow that offers an ever-changing experience of the sacred space.
These windows were carefully designed to affirm the monarchy’s legitimacy, instructing the court and clergy alike in a visual language that transcended literacy. As Meredith Cohen notes, they “expressed through visual means what could not be uttered explicitly in words.”[19] By blending the sacred with the secular, the stained glass program reinforces both the spiritual mission of the chapel and the political aspirations of the French monarchy, presenting a visually stunning sequence of biblical narratives unfolding across multiple panels in a vertical arrangement. This layout presents a tangible visual sequence that, in theory, can be read like text—from left to right and bottom to top—mirroring the act of reading lines on a page, though in an unconventional orientation. The windows’ structure—panels growing smaller in the visual periphery as they ascend, with biblical episodes arranged sequentially within vertically stacked frames—transforms the windows into more than mere narrative devices; the act of ‘reading’ the panels becomes not only intellectual but also spiritual, demanding contemplation of their symbolic depth and visual intricacy.
The Judith Windows: Resurrecting a Narrative
The stained-glass panels in Sainte-Chapelle dedicated to the biblical heroine Judith serve as a profound testament to both artistic and theological intent. Although Judith was not excluded from the biblical canon, her story was often overshadowed in medieval artistic traditions due to her inconsistent inclusion in the Bible, making her prominent representation in Sainte-Chapelle especially remarkable. Far from being a minor or peripheral figure, Judith occupies a central position within the chapel’s visual program—he commands a window across approximately 40 lancets (Figure 1).[20] Her narrative, and its climax with the act of beheading the Assyrian general Holofernes, emerges as a powerful symbol of divine justice and moral righteousness. This emphasis on Judith is not merely a historical reimagining but a deliberate theological and cultural statement embedded within the medieval symbolic framework.
The Book of Judith, a narrative preserved in the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Christian Old Testament as part of the Deuterocanonical books, serves as the textual basis for these windows. Set in a time of crisis, the story chronicles the Jewish people’s resistance to subjugation by the Assyrian general Holofernes. As a last hope, Judith dresses in her finest attire and enters the enemy camp, pretending to betray her native people. She gains Holofernes’ trust and decapitates him with his own sword, returning to Bethulia with his severed head. The sight of their leader’s death demoralizes the Assyrian army and eventually leads to their defeat by the Israelites. This visual translation of the biblical narrative not only captures the essence of the text but elevates it within the sacred space of Sainte-Chapelle, aligning it with the chapel’s dual mission of spiritual edification and royal propaganda.
Panel 136 depicts Judith deep in prayer (Figure 2), seeking divine guidance before undertaking her dangerous mission to save her people. The panel’s background is rendered in an overwhelmingly emotive deep blue, a color symbolic of faith and devotion, contrasting with the vibrant red hues prevalent within the chapel interior, which evoke the aggression of her environment. Red and blue dominate the window’s palette, forming a distinctive tonality in the interplay of the mosaic ground and blue backgrounds of the figural panels.[21] Judith’s drapery, rendered in this same luminous blue, evokes the likeness of the Virgin Mary and underscores her purity and the righteousness of her mission. The delicately cascading folds of her garments catch the light, granting her an ethereal presence that conveys divine favor. Her folded hands and serene expression further emphasize her unwavering determination as she calls upon God’s strength for the task ahead. The choice of blue, the most expensive variety of stained glass,[22] enhances the panel’s symbolic and material richness. The depth of its color allows for nuanced changes in luminosity, transforming the panel into a dynamic interplay of light and shadow. This luxurious use of blue throughout the Judith window not only underscores the wealth and artistry of the chapel, but also heightens the spiritual and emotional resonance of this narrative.
This visual richness is not merely aesthetic but also thematic, reflecting a deliberate iconographic program. Unlike many contemporary Gothic churches, which prominently featured saints, zodiac motifs, or patron windows, the stained glass of Sainte-Chapelle presents a carefully curated selection of biblical narratives profoundly shaped by the influence of Queen Blanche of Castile, King Louis IX’s mother. Her legacy saturates the chapel’s program, from the heraldic symbols of yellow castles on red backgrounds to the thematic focus on stories of resilient women. Notably, Blanche is said to have sat in the alcove on the women’s side of Sainte-Chapelle, positioned beneath the stained glass cycles of Judith and Queen Esther.[23] This placement would have offered a powerful visualization of the challenges she confronted during her regency, including her defiance of rebellious barons seeking to take over the throne while her son was a minor and her unwavering resolve during his crusade.[24] The story of Judith stands out—not as a fellow queen, but as a figure of formidable strength in a time of crisis, mirroring the resilience and determination Blanche herself embodied. This narrative choice reflects more than personal piety; it signals a deliberate royal aspiration to intertwine faith, resilience, and governance. Judith’s story, infused with themes of divine justice and moral fortitude, becomes emblematic of the Queen Mother’s influence, extending her authority and values into the sacred and political functions of the chapel. Her approval of such narratives imbues them with both cultural and royal gravitas, transforming the stained glass into a medium not only of biblical storytelling but also of dynastic affirmation. In this context, Judith transcends her biblical origins to become a symbol of the chapel’s broader vision—a space where divine providence and royal ideology converge in luminous Gothic artistry.
This context is further emphasized in Panel 138 (Figure 3): here, Judith prepares to leave Bethulia, the walls of the city rising behind her. Her calm and composed demeanor against the fortress backdrop signifies the divine favor accompanying her departure, setting the stage for her courage. The panel’s use of rhetorical strategies—such as repetition and visual parallelism dissolves boundaries between temporal and eternal realms reduces the sense of chronological distance and transforms historical events into immediate experiences for viewers.[25] This merging of past and present finds a striking counterpart in Louis IX’s own actions: less than four months after the chapel’s dedication, he embarked on the Seventh Crusade, a campaign imbued with religious symbolism and personal conviction.[26] The windows cast both sacred and secular history into a contemporary narrative style, blending biblical narratives with Louis IX’s own historical legacy.
While Judith’s prominent portrayal in the stained glass presents a figure of remarkable agency and resolve, the medieval context frames her actions not as individual heroism but as divinely ordained necessity.[27] This theological framing becomes especially apparent in the panel depicting the Death of Holofernes, the most dramatic of the panels, which captures the intense moment of Holofernes’ beheading in Panel 113 (Figure 4). Here, the artist employs sharp, angular lines to evoke the violence and immediacy of the act, creating a visceral impact that draws viewers into the scene. Judith is depicted mid-motion, her sword raised high, embodying both strength and resolve. Her face, illuminated by a golden glow, stands in sharp contrast to the chaos of the violent act. This glow symbolizes her divine purpose and inner fortitude, suggesting that her mission is sanctioned by a higher power: Judith XIII:7 states “Strengthen me, O Lord God of Israel… trusting that it might be done by thee.” The calm determination in her expression is juxtaposed with the brutality of the moment, reflecting a warrior’s poise amidst violence. The interior of the tent is bathed in warm tones which suggest intimacy while also foreshadowing the violence to come; the deep crimson hue of Holofernes’ covers and the vivid red of the interior surrounding him symbolize not only bloodshed but also the impending downfall of his power. The glass captures the flickering light of the lamps, adding a dynamic quality that accentuates the scene’s tension, much like the biblical narrative’s buildup to Holofernes’ downfall. This deliberate use of color conveys a sense of urgency and dread, underscoring the stakes involved in Judith’s actions. The biblical text’s description of the stroke that severed his head is translated into a single, powerful visual moment, the darkened background focusing all attention on the action. This choice heightens the sense of shock and finality, effectively freezing a pivotal moment in time that transforms the narrative into a cinematic experience.
In this dynamic scene, Holofernes’ facial features are blurred, contrasting with Judith’s defined contours which elevates her status and highlights her role as heroine. The colors and lines of the top of the tent direct the viewer’s gaze upward, evoking the motif of the hand of God suggesting divine intervention, and further legitimizing Judith’s actions. Such visual cues were common in illuminated manuscripts during this period. In fact, a striking motif within the Bible Moralisée is the visible hand of God, which appears to guide the narrative journey from roundel to roundel throughout the manuscript (Figure 5). This divine presence reinforced by angels depicted in the margins acts as a form of supervision and subtly directs the viewer’s understanding of the sacred stories. The emphasis on divine guidance aligns with the hierarchical structuring of stained glass windows in the Sainte-Chapelle which similarly frame the narrative for a narrow, elite audience.
Judith’s portrayal also carries implications for the way womanhood and gender were understood within the Gothic period. Her story challenges the prevailing gender norms by positioning a woman as the agent of salvation in a patriarchal context. This tension between Judith as a model of piety and her subversion of her contemporary era’s gender expectations adds layers of complexity to the windows’ iconography, calling into question the roles that women could occupy within the sacred and political orders of the time. For the elite royal audience who commissioned and viewed these windows, Judith’s story likely resonated as a reflection of their own ideals of strength, virtue, and divine mission. This depiction of female agency, however, remained largely confined to the rarefied sphere of the royal court and clergy. For women of lower social status, Judith’s story may have been more aspirational or symbolic, filtered through liturgical teachings and other mediated forms of storytelling. The exclusive context of the royal chapel underscores how agency in visual narratives, particularly those involving women, was shaped by and for those in power. As a result, these windows reflect not only religious ideals but also the power dynamics that defined both the spiritual and political life of the time, further distinguishing the commission. The royal patronage of such a project emphasizes the strategic use of art to reinforce the authority and influence of the monarchy, particularly in its portrayal of women like Queen Blanche of Castile, whose agency is highlighted within this highly controlled context.
The stained-glass windows in the Sainte-Chapelle do more than merely depict Judith’s story—they reinterpret it, engaging with the religious and political ideals of the time to create a multifaceted narrative. These windows offer more than static depictions; they invite the viewer to engage with the story on visual, material, and intellectual levels. By reimagining Judith’s role, the artists imbued her narrative with significance that resonated deeply with both ecclesiastical and royal concerns. Through Judith’s prominent placement in the chapel’s iconography, her story becomes a bridge between biblical history and the political realities of the time. Her narrative transcends not only gender boundaries but also temporal ones, embodying enduring ideals of strength, virtue, and divine order.
While Sainte-Chapelle is often celebrated as a symbol of King Louis IX’s fervor for the Crusades,[28] the stained-glass windows introduce a more complex and nuanced narrative. The Crusades, typically framed within the rhetoric of religious triumph and military conquest, are not directly challenged but rather subtly complicated by the juxtaposition of Old Testament violence with the New Testament ideals of mercy, compassion, and divine justice. Judith’s violent act, central to her story, is presented not as a glorification of warfare or conquest, but as an act of moral conviction and divine intervention. The act of beheading Holofernes is not celebrated for its military might, but for the righteousness of the cause behind it—Judith’s defense of her people, inspired by her faith in God. This framing contrasts with the violent imagery and military heroism often associated with the Crusades and presented in the Bible Moralisée. In the Judith window, the use and abuse of military power are explored as a royal responsibility, intertwining with the broader medieval concept of the regnum as patria— “an object of political devotion and semi-religious emotion.”[29] The Sainte-Chapelle, as both a house of the crown and a sacred space, reflects this ideal, presenting the defense of patria and the monarchy as acts of spiritual and political duty. While the windows themselves do not explicitly critique the Crusades, most of Judith’s story unfolds on the battlefield and thus introduces a tension between the ideals of righteous war and the more complex ethical questions raised by the Crusades.[30] This dynamic suggests that the defense of faith and homeland is as much a matter of divine justice as it is of political allegiance.
In this way, the Judith windows in the Sainte-Chapelle become much more than mere representations of a biblical story. They are multi-dimensional works of art that invite the viewer to consider how religious narratives can both reflect and challenge the cultural, political, and social ideals of their time. By foregrounding divine intervention and moral fortitude over raw military might, they offer a subtle counterpoint to the martial rhetoric of the time. The Judith panels thus raise fundamental questions about the righteousness of conquest and the true nature of heroism in biblical and political contexts, adding another layer of depth to their artistic and cultural legacy.
Endnotes
[1] R. Howard Bloch, Paris and Her Cathedrals (W. W. Norton, 2022), 159.
[2] Meredith Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle and the Construction of Sacral Monarchy: Royal Architecture in Thirteenth-Century Paris (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 169.
[3] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 66.
[4] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 147.
[5] Alyce A. Jordan, Visualizing kingship in the windows of the Sainte Chapelle (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2002), 1.
[6] Bloch, Paris and Her Cathedrals, 156.
[7] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 147.
[8] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 167.
[9] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 147.
[10] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 67-147.
[11] Bloch, Paris and Her Cathedrals, 156.
[12] Daniel H. Weiss, “Architectural Symbolism and the Decoration of the Ste.-Chapelle.” The Art Bulletin 77, no. 2 (1995), 308.
[13] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 75.
[14] Weiss, “Architectural Symbolism,” 308; Louis Grodecki, Sainte-Chapelle. 3rd ed. Short Notes on Great Buildings. English edition. (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1979), 3.
[15] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle and the Construction of Sacral Monarchy, 75.
[16] Meredith Cohen, “An Indulgence for the Visitor: The Public at the Sainte-Chapelle of Paris.” Speculum 83, no. 4 (2008), 880.
[17] Weiss, “Architectural Symbolism,” 308.
[18] Theophilus, and Jay I. Kislak Reference Collection (Library of Congress). On Divers Arts: The Treatise of Theophilus. Translated by John G. Hawthorne and Cyril Stanley Smith. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963, 59.
[19] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 169.
[20] “The Stained Glass Windows of Sainte-Chapelle: Judith Window” The Rose Window, https://www.therosewindow.com/pilot/StChapelle/w12.htm.
[21] Jordan, “Material Girls,” 339.
[22] John Gage, “Gothic Glass: Two Aspects of a Dionysian Aesthetic.” Art History, vol. 5, no. 1, 1982, 43.
[23] Bloch, Paris and Her Cathedrals, 191.
[24] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 146.
[25] Jordan, Visualizing kingship, 78.
[26] Weiss, “Architectural Symbolism,” 308.
[27] Cohen, The Sainte-Chapelle, 141.
[28] Bloch, Paris and Her Cathedrals, 156.
[29] Jordan, Visualizing kingship, 27.
[30] Jordan, “Material Girls,” 340.rney, “Tarot as Affective Cartography,” 260.
About the Author
Julia Wojtkowski is a senior graduating from Yale University with degrees in Economics and the History of Art. She will be pursuing a dual-degree Master of Public Administration (MPA), spending her first year at the London School of Economics before completing the program at Columbia University in New York. Her research focuses on the intersections of art, architecture, and political power in medieval Europe. Outside of academics, Julia plays on Yale’s polo team, is active in community-building initiatives like VITA and PSM, and enjoys traveling.