Well, where’s Eva gone? Didn’t she stand by Adam’s side when she found her place in Notre Dame carved life-size in stone? did she. And we can assume that she came along just as lifelike as her partner, graceful in pose, with a facial expression that expresses at the same time paradisiacal bliss and sorrow at the loss of it. Because that is exactly what can be seen in this Adam, who thank God has stood the test of time. Only one restorer from the 19th century thought he had to add a new forearm and hand to it. The latter makes a blessing gesture, as if the sitter were a saint.

But that wasn’t Adam right now. We know from similar sandstone Adams from around 1250 that their hands pointed energetically into the distance, out of paradise, hélas. And the trunk of the tree with the giant leaf that reaches down to the middle of Adam’s body also speaks a different language than was usual in the prudish 19th century. Namely, a clear one that communicates that the fall from grace did not come about by chance.

One immediately asks oneself: how did the medieval creator of this statue create the character of Eve as a temptress, how did he make her attractive? We do not know it. We will never know. The history of medieval art from churches and monasteries is a history of its loss: a great deal of it was brutally destroyed in the wake of the 1789 French Revolution.

Notre Dame de Paris was comparatively lucky. Because she stopped. However, it was desecrated and served as a wine depot for years. Faring worse was the other large, nearby and even older medieval church of Paris, which gave an entire neighborhood its name because it was the center of an abbey with large estates and vast meadows: Saint Germain des Prés. Here the sans-culottes set up an ammunition depot. Explosions destroyed parts of the building. In both cases, moreover, the artistic adornment was scrapped, sold off; disappeared. Until about fifty years later, a man appeared on the scene who collected what was still there on a large scale.

This man, whom we have to imagine as a downright maniacal collector and fan of the Middle Ages, was Alexandre du Sommerard. He worked at the Paris Court of Accounts, was well connected and well-heeled. However, he was so at loggerheads with July Monarchy France under King Louis Philippe that he decided to retire entirely to the Middle Ages, at least domestically. And that’s where it comes into play, the building, the treasury that we’re talking about here: The Hôtel de Cluny, as it was called back then. Today it operates under the name Musée national du Moyen Age (National Museum of the Middle Ages). It can be considered unique in its meaning.

Alexandre du Sommerard moved here in 1833. The place was well chosen. This former Parisian well: second home of the powerful and wealthy Abbot of Cluny is one of the very few surviving city palaces from around 1500, which also produced the most important works of art exhibited here. The idiosyncratic facade with the many turrets and bay windows already points to the Renaissance. However, the elegant chapel with the ingeniously pleated vault is still very much “autumn of the Middle Ages”, to use the term of the Dutch cultural historian Huizinga. Want to say “gothique flamboyant”, a Gothic style that burns off a firework of late-period decoration, wonderfully extravagant in its need for decoration and a radical will to ever new peaks in beauty.

In addition, this Hôtel de Cluny literally stands shoulder to shoulder with another building that represents a pinnacle of comfort culture: the Frigidarium of the once extensive Roman thermal baths from the first centuries AD. Alexandre du Sommerard also designated this architectural gem, with its twelve-meter-high ceiling, for museum use. It has essentially remained so to this day. And this summer, the entire Roman-Gothic building complex between Boulevard St. Germain and the Sorbonne University in Paris’s Latin Quarter, where it is most Latin, reopened to the public after eleven years of renovation.

The general refurbishment takes away a little of the patina from the house. The light grey, the brittle concrete, which now dominate above all in the entrance area and in some halls, often banishes the spiritual aura that was so typical of this museum for a long time. But one understands that such an institution needs up-to-date barrier-free elevators as well as media stations, without which one seems to be unable to get by these days. They also make sense. Please allow visitors to locate the aforementioned Adam at the point of origin in Notre Dame Cathedral.

This also applies to her other sculptures, of which the Gallery of Kings, which first entered the Musée de Cluny in 1977, must be considered spectacular. And the new extension by architect Bernard Desmoulin, completed in 2018, can even be considered aesthetically appealing: it has a golden façade, structured by decorative elements reminiscent of metalwork from the early Middle Ages.

This early Middle Ages is well represented in the 21 new and mainly chronological halls. The outstanding works made of ivory and enamel, wood or stone come mainly from France. But also from Spain, where the Arabic influence comes into play, as well as from today’s Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland and south-west Germany. Spolia and architectural fragments, which used to dominate here, have been greatly reduced. A wonderfully finely chiselled church portal from Saint Germain des Prés, for example, comes into its own all the better. But the main thing are the objects of the “beautiful style” from around 1500.

This was the time when France was recovering from the rigors of the Hundred Years’ War against England. All the pent-up energy, the many newly acquired techniques and skills seemed about to explode in a unique effort of creativity. What is now also being developed as everyday culture shows a civilization at its peak. France is replacing Italy as the aesthetic superpower in Europe. And stays that way. The colorful tapestries, for example, are beginning to emancipate themselves from religious content. On the one hand, they show saints as downright bourgeois heroes, as in the depiction of St. Peter being led out of Herod’s prison by an angel; on the other hand, they also increasingly take up themes such as hunting, games, the grape harvest and domestic life.

The culmination of this development is the series of six wall hangings woven from wool and silk, which enjoy worldwide fame under the name “The Lady with the Unicorn”. She, to whom the darkened room No. 20 is dedicated, can be called the Mona Lisa of the Musée de Cluny. Stunning how the beautiful, mysterious lady and her apparently well tamed mythical creature light up in the middle of a sea of ​​flowers on a red background. Especially since everything has now been cleaned for conservation purposes. However, we would not be in the Middle Ages, i.e. in an epoch still characterized by spirituality, if there were not a superordinate horizon of meaning with so much splendor and sophistication.

So we see how the very worldly-looking, magnificently dressed lady performs activities that symbolize the five senses – this is particularly graceful when she holds up the mirror to the unicorn, who always looks peaceful, which symbolizes seeing. Here, as in the other five-senses depictions, the sad expression of the lady is striking. But in the sixth piece, Madame also seems relaxed and happy. Now there is a tent behind her with the inscription “Mon seul désir” (my only desire). What can it be, this only desire?

There has been much speculation about this. The jewelry box that the lady gets as an attribute in this scene is also a mystery. Does she give it back to her maid, or does she take it from her? As always, a look at the iconography of the painting helps to gain clarity. Note: Women who handle jewelry usually reject their jewelry in painting in order to turn to higher goals: In the depiction of the most famous lovers of the Middle Ages, Heloise and Abélard, it was shown how Héloise leaves her jewelry before she goes to a monastery – as an expression of her farewell to a worldly existence.

This is probably how “My only desire” should be understood: It is aimed at immaterial values. One can read the unicorn series as an early female developmental novel. This woman finds satisfaction the moment she enters the enclosed area of ​​the tent. What will she do there with her five senses, which she previously developed so brilliantly?

The still unknown creator of these tapestries from around 1500 lays a discreet veil over the later life of his female protagonist. Only one thing he leaves in no doubt: the grace, gentleness and affection of his lovingly designed lady with the unicorn represent a single apotheosis of femininity – according to the ideas of femininity of the time, of course.

This was probably only possible in this way around 1500: when the veneration of women in the visual arts also broke away from Mary and martyrs in order to switch to the worldly. And the mundane in a new age awakening to humanism: this is what makes the Musée de Cluny infinitely charming.