Angers

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Next to welcome us was the city of Angers, capital of the historic province of Anjou. That province is now wholly subsumed by the modern region of Pays de la Loire. The earliest known inhabitants of Angers were the Andecavi, a Gallic tribe. Angers was called Juliomagus when it came under Roman rule in 80 BC, and came into the possession of the Counts of Anjou in the 10th century. Angers remained the Plantagenet stronghold in Anjou until John lost the region to Philippe Auguste in 1204.

The town has prospered over the years primarily due to the region's productive slate quarries. Another interesting (and tasty) industry is that of liqueur distillation from fruit; the liqueur Cointreau comes from here. My friend Tee was kind enough to acquire some and share to make the bus ride go more smoothly. Blame any blurry photos from this entry on her.

Photo by Sue O'Dee

We're going to spend most of our time at the château, which fronts the Maine river. The seventeen picturesque towers we see today were built of shale and limestone during the reign of Saint Louis (Eleanor's great-grandson) between 1230 and 1240 to surround the buildings and structures within. The castle was built on his behalf by his mother, the redoubtable Blanche of Castille, when she served as Regent of France. The towers were topped with pepperpot or conical turrets, now gone. The walls themselves are nearly 10 feet thick and cover a total distance of almost a third of a mile.

In 1562, Catherine de Medici undertook restoration of this château. During the Wars of Religion when the Huguenots threatened to take it over, her son King Henri III stripped the ramparts so the château was a less attractive prize. Each tower was once 131 feet high, but Henri III had all but one cut down by 32 feet by removing the charming pepperpot turrets. For a time he maintained the fortress' defensive capabilities by placing artillery on the upper terraces, but decided in 1585 that the château should be completely demolished. Fortunately for history, he died in 1589 and his successor Henri IV (the Bourbon who reputedly said "Paris is well worth a Mass") halted that destruction.

So what we are looking at is nothing like the Angers that Eleanor would have known.

While very little remains of the original Plantagenet dwellings, Angers was nonetheless important to Henry and Eleanor, both politically and personally. Their youngest daughter Joanna was born here in October 1165.

The ruins and remnants of the buildings Eleanor would have known are to the far upper right of this diagram, which can be found on the grounds.

Photo by John Phillips

Legend has it that once upon a time, wild lions and antelope lived in the dry moat to deter interlopers. If so, seems to me to have been a poor deal for the antelope.

The moat itself dates to 1485. Today, a herd of deer roams these formal moat gardens. No lions.

While certainly having undergone its share of reconstruction and repurposing over the centuries, Angers still looks like a serious fortification not to be trifled with. It was re-fortified for military purposes during the Revolution, when it came under major attack but suffered little damage. The château's last military purpose was when it served as a munitions dump for occupying German forces during WWII. The inner grounds sustained considerable damage from an explosion. Restoration began in the 1950s and continues today.

Tour Moulin (the last, darkest tower in the photo to the left, in focus to the right) is the only tower that retains its original height. But it, too, was stripped of its pointy little pepperpot turret by the deconstruction efforts of Henri III.




Once inside, visitors are greeted by the formal gardens in the centre of the château grounds.


I suspect the gardener went on his break in the middle of trimming this archway.


These gardens seem unchanged since my previous visit twenty years ago. I have fond memories of wandering around here one evening during a son et lumière show.

Judging from the photos below, apparently this château is guarded by a chivalrous order of height-challenged knights. They have eschewed armor in favor of cardboard helmets, shorts, and sandals but are ever-vigilant to defend the castle against ubiquitous hordes of Japanese tourists.

 

(My elementary-school-aged son, having seen these photos, has yet to forgive me for not bringing him home a cardboard helmet).

We spent some time wandering the grounds and walls, though I passed on the rampart wall walk in favor of sitting in the garden and remembering my previous visit.

Random photos of a guard pigeon and a Green Man carving on an interior wall.

Portcullis envy, I mean entry.

Long narrow stairway, with modern steps.

Photo by Nicole Benkert

We paid a requisite visit to the sainte chapelle, so-called because it once enshrined a Passion relic (in this case, a splinter from the True Cross).

A fire caused by a malfunctioning portable electric heater resulted in extensive damage to the roof of the royal apartments -- the Logis Royal -- on January 10, 2009. Damage to the collections housed within was minimal and the adjacent Chapelle Sainte-Geneviève was spared. However, the fire truck couldn't pass through the narrow drawbridge entryway, so the roof was destroyed. Repairs were still on-going at the time of this visit, as can be seen by the scaffolding and crane in the photo below.

As of March 2011 the new curator of Château d'Angers is American-born Patricia Corbett, lauded for her work at Carcassonne.

Photo by Sue O'Dee

Of course, no visit to Angers is complete without viewing the Tapisseries de l’Apocalypse.

Photo by Nicole Benkert

Created between 1375 and 1382 in Paris for Duke Louis I of Anjou, these allegorical tapestries portray scenes from the Revelation of St John, but they also include commentary on 14th century politics and the Hundred Years War. There were once 105 individual tapestries measuring 551 feet long by 19 feet high, a woven surface of 10,764 square feet. The tapestries would have adorned the château for special occasions. They were eventually passed to the Cathedral of Angers, and then suffered during the Revolution. After that, their history is fragmented -- used as blankets to protect orange groves from the frost, as wall insulation, saddle covers, and floor rugs. Gradually recollected between 1843 and 1870, a total of 67 panels and 9 fragments were restored.

This modern L-shaped room, built circa 1952, is dimly lit to protect the already-fading vegetable dyes on woolen threads. That ill-conceived wall of windows is now completely covered over inside to keep out the damaging effects of sunlight.

To create what we know as the Apocalypse Tapestries, weavers copied illustrations from a manuscript, working horizontally from the back of the tapestry (checking position via a mirror set below the loom). The tapestry was designed to be viewed from both sides and could thus be used as a partition, which was common in the Middle Ages.

This is one of my favorite depictions, that of The Great Whore of Babylon: "Come hither, I will shew thee the judgment of the great harlot that sitteth upon many waters." (Revelations 17:1).

Photo by Nicole Benkert

Just before leaving the room housing the tapestries, we looked down through this window to see the ruins of this chapel from the original Plantagenet-era palace. At last, something Eleanor would have found familiar! How I would have loved to have seen more of the original dwellings.

Photo by John  Phillips

More from Eleanor's day, much to our delight, was the original Plantagenet aula or Great Hall. These ruins likely predate Eleanor, since we know that Geoffrey and Maude also lived in Angers.

Classic Norman arch. Obviously the interior is a ruin, but it must have once commanded a great view over the Maine River.

Henry established l'hôpital Saint-Jean d'Angers in 1180 across the river from the château in the Doutre district. The royal charter says it was "founded of his own alms in honour of God, for care of the destitute and to relieve their want." Much of this 12th century hospital still exists, and is today the site of the Jean-Lurçat Museum of contemporary tapestry. We unfortunately did not get to visit there but it is likely that Eleanor would have, in the way of royal benefactors inspecting and showing favor to a pet project.

Photo by Sue O'Dee

I love the above photo because even though I suspect this is a modern reproduction, the chevron or zigzag moldings typical of Norman architecture of the 11th century can clearly be seen. Eleanor would have seen a great deal of this kind of ornamentation, all most likely painted.

Here's our merry band of medievalphiles gathered around this architectural witness to Plantagenet history.

I finally had the chance to peer through the great archway to see what remains of the aula: walls, a staircase, hints of a fireplace. Perhaps someday there will be restoration to evoke the structure in Plantagenet times.

The diorama below from Angers shows what the site likely looked like during Eleanor's time. The Plantagenet aula is toward the front.

Photo by John Phillips

Having finished our tour, we were funneled into the gift shop...was oddly situated in the middle of the château grounds so that visitors had to pay to enter before even buying anything -- not the best marketing plan. I had to take a photo of this replica helmet and hauberk for my knight-obsessed son.


We exited the château and walked down the charming Rue Saint-Aignan, heading toward Cathédrale Saint-Maurice d'Angers.

Below is the tall, narrow west front of St-Maurice. At one time there was also a porch, but that was destroyed in 1806. The lowest part of the cathedral dates to 1170 (and is thus something Eleanor would recognize); the twin towers are 15th century; the central tower is 16th century. Right now there is wooden scaffolding over the entrance portal at the bottom. The portal dates to the mid-12th-century and was inspired by Chartres Cathedral.

Because of the construction we didn't get to see the famous portal, so Wikipedia Commons to the rescue here:

Source: Wikipedia Commons

Statues flank either side, including one of the Queen of Sheba on the right. That statue has been claimed by some as having Eleanor for its model. That's possible, but not probable, since there's never been anything to substantiate the claim. To adjust perspective, keep in mind that the inset door to the bottom right is people-sized; that's how we entered the church.

These stained glass windows on the north side of the nave date to the 12th century and portray the Dormition of the Virgin Mary and the Martyrdom of St. Catherine of Alexandria.


In this town so associated with the Plantagenets, one of the east choir windows dating to the 13th century is dedicated to Thomas Becket, that great frenemy of Henry Plantagenet. Unfortunately I didn't get a photo of it but detailed views can be seen HERE on the Kenyon College site.

Photo by Tee McNeill

St-Maurice has a grandiose Baroque high altar that dates to 1758, designed by Henri Gervais. Legend has it that Gervais was carried to the altar while he lay dying so that he could give final construction instructions. I like how this gaudy altar contrasts with the simple lines of the Plantagenet-style vaulting.

It was time for lunch so we wandered into the heart of town. Below is a lovely example of a half-timbered house which greeted us in the square outside the east end of the cathedral. This is Maison d'Adam, at the intersection of la Rue Montault and Place Sainte-Croix. A shop called La Maison des Artisans is on the bottom floor, a kind of artist consortium.

I love this fish-eye view of Place St-Croix, with Maison d'Adam to the far left.

Source: Google Earth

Several of us had a counter lunch at La Gourmandise, then wandered back along Rue Toussaint, ogling closed antique store windows along the way. I'm pretty sure that Wendy left nose-marks as she lusted with heavy breaths after the full set of Quimper pottery she saw inside.

We were originally meant to stay overnight in Angers but in order to cut travel time for our last day of touring tomorrow we had to press on to the city of Orléans. I would have welcomed a longer stay in Angers but was also pleased to visit the city that New Orleans was named for!

So next stop: Orléans.

Fontevraud Abbaye

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Source: John Phillips

 
We had free time that evening to explore Fontevraud. We'd all made advance arrangements through our fabulous tour manager for dinner so as to avoid last night's mealtime fiascos.  After all, it wasn't like we could cook up a meal in the abbey kitchen for ourselves.

Why not? It's a little, uhm, rustic. 

Behold: the ancient abbey kitchen at Fontevraud:

Source: John Phillips

Source: Julia Markovitz

The Romanesque kitchen of Fontevraud sports Byzantine  cupolas and that fish-scaled, pine cone roof characteristic of Plantagenet architecture. It dates to 1105-60 CE and is thus as old as the abbey church. It contains five of its original eight apsides. At one time there were 20 chimneys in all, but the building has been altered and some have been lost.

After Fontevraud Abbey was dissolved, the original function of this building was lost to history. It was variously thought to have been a baptistery, funeral chapel, or round church. The designation of it as a kitchen or smokehouse was based on comparisons with similar structures elsewhere, including in near-by Poitou. Credit has been given to that ubiquitous restoration architect Viollet-le-Duc for identifying it in 1865 as a smokehouse. 

The kitchen was restored in the early 20th century by Lucien Magne (who added a lantern to each chimney for that homey decorator touch).

We had time to wander the grounds before dinner and our late evening tour. The main draw was of course Église Abbatiale, the abbey church dedicated to the Virgin Mary.

 
The first church here was started in 1104 and largely completed in terms of structure by 1115, enough so that Fontevraud community founder Robert d'Arbrissel could be buried there the following year.

This church, like most antique buildings, has seen its share of revisions, but has had a more brutal history than most. When Fontevraud was a prison, between 1804-21 five floors were added within the church to house prisoner workshops and dormitories. Heritage and cultural preservation came into vogue by 1840, so Fontevraud accordingly was officially deemed a national monument. However, restoration on the church was delayed until 1903-10. Architect Lucien Magne supervised the removal of those dormitory floors, replacement of the roof domes (five of six of the abbey church domes had been destroyed), and other restoration.

Work was still being done in 1990 when I first visited. I remember that the church had no floor and that archaeological investigations were on-going. It looks vastly different now than it did even 20 years ago. We can only imagine how it might have appeared in Eleanor's time.

Source: John Phillips

Source: John Phillips

This church has not always been a peaceful place, especially not in the aftermath of the destruction of the religious houses during the Revolution, and most definitely not between 1804 to 1963 when Fontevraud operated as France's second largest maximum security prison. The religious and historical character of the abbey was lost for a long time, causing one of the prison chaplains to recall:

"And in this place where Faith was so strong for so many centuries....not one inmate seems to perceive, through the architecture or the still-visible traces of the former abbey, the smallest sign of faith or of prayer. It's as if the abbey didn't exist any longer."

The bones of those buried here have never been allowed to lie unmolested. Never content with only knowing part of a story, after returning from this trip I felt compelled to read more about the full history of Fontevraud beyond its Planatagent necropolis connections. Learning that thousands of prisoners despaired in this place was humbling. Fontevraud is undoubtedly beautiful and while it will forever be associated with the glory of the Plantagenets, for me there is much sadness about the place.

I suppose some tourists might come here and think they've seen everything exactly as Eleanor of Aquitaine would have known it. But everything has been reconstructed to create a cultural center par excellence, and reflects many centuries of history.

Here, for instance, is the Renaissance-era gallery of the Grand-Moutier cloister. The cloister, constructed over the tenure of two different abbesses between 1519-1560, was later found to be built over Roman remains. It was restored in 1860 by prison labor.

Source: Sue O'Dee

The buildings that surround this outer courtyard were actually barracks built in the 19th century for the garrison in charge of the prison.

Source: John Phillips

We Bastard Babes headed out the main entrance into town for a lovely dinner at Restaurant Brasserie - La Fontaine d'Evraud. 

Later that evening, our entire tour group embarked on a guided visit of the abbey around 10 PM. I'm still not sure why we were scheduled to do this so late....perhaps to add atmospheric flourishes? It was certainly lovely to see the grounds by night.

The area next to the church was an early cemetery for the abbey.  We entered via Salle Capitulaire in the Chapter House, which was the central meeting place of the abbey built between 1543-62.

Source: John Phillips

Source: Julia Markovitz

In the forefront of the above photo is one of two huge pillars which support the vault and divide the space into six bays. The walls of the chapter house were painted by Thomas Pot, an artist from Anjou, in 1563. The paintings represent scenes from the Gospels: Washing of the Feet; Betrayal of Judas; Flagellation; Crowning with Thorns; Crucifixion; Burial; Resurrection; Ascension; Pentecost; and Assumption of Mary. Contemporary portraits of two of the abbesses were included in the Crucifixion painting, and later abbesses decided they might as well have their portraits added into the other scenes. Some of them should have thought better of that decision, because I'm not sure this abbess' memory is well-served by having a bare foot sticking out of her rump:

All of these paintings were covered over when Fontevraud functioned as a prison. (In the above case, that was probably just as well).

So much of the abbey that we know today had its origins in Renaissance times. For instance, the tiled floors in the Salle Capitulaire showcase the initials of the two abbesses who rebuilt the cloister and chapter house: RB (Renee de Bourbon) and L (Louise de Bourbon), arms of the Bourbon family (crowned wings) and those of Francis I (salamander).

Source: John Phillips

We next entered the church, which has become known as the Plantagenet family necropolis. Their  mortal remains were deliberately disinterred and were either lost or destroyed during the Revolution. Here are coats of arms of various family members who once were buried there.

One source I read stated that fifteen Plantagenets in all were buried at Fontevraud, but so far I can only account for twelve. In addition to Eleanor and Henry, Richard I, and John's wife/Queen Consort Isabella d'Angoulême there are:

• The second abbess and Henry's aunt, Matilda of Anjou, who died in 1154. 
• Joanna and her sons, the infant Richard and Raymond VII of Toulouse.
• John, whose heart was buried here at Fontevraud where he and sister Joanna spent much of their childhood. His body is interred at Worcester Cathedral in England.
• Henry III, son of John and Isabella, was represented here by his heart.
• Eleanor 's grand-daughter Alix by her daughter Alix, second child of the marriage to Louis VII. This Alix was an abbess,
• Another Eleanor, a grand-daughter of Henry III and abbess of Fontevraud, was buried here in 1329. 

The exact location of the Plantagenet graves remains unknown, but excavations from 1985-1991 have pinpointed the crypt more decisively.  

It was the discovery of this period painting of Raymond VII on a column, along with comparisons with his will and chronicles of the time that led archaeologists to conclude that his burial place was near this pillar. That narrowed the location of the Plantagenet family crypt to the eastern bay of the nave, where the stone effigies rest today.

It is impossible to determine anything more specific, since construction of a 1638 burial vault for the abbesses obliterated traces of anything built before then, royal or otherwise.

Other medieval stonework and even an effigy thought perhaps to be that of Eleanor's grandson Raymond VII of Toulouse were discovered in the nave. These items are not on display and presumably have not been authenticated.

I think that the selection of Fontevraud as the Plantagenet family necropolis was Eleanor's doing. It was a conscious choice made to establish dynastic continuity, albeit one influenced by circumstances, necessity, and even a medieval equivalent of the desire to 'keep up with the Jones'   -- in this case, the Capets.

It is interesting to look at the historical precedents and influences for Eleanor's decisions related to Fontevraud. There was no centralized English royal necropolis as we know Westminster Abbey to be today. And while Basilica St-Denis in Paris is the final resting place for most French royals, it was not always so. During Eleanor's time queens were not buried at St-Denis, plus there were restrictions on the types of memorials for the kings who were interred there.

It was expected that an English or French royal woman would be buried at the monastic house she was most closely associated with, either as a founder or significant donor. Since it existed within her domains and had as additional cachet its historical respect for female leaders, we can imagine that Fontevraud was high on the list for Eleanor's choice as final resting place.

But Henry? He ended up at Fontevraud largely by accident. His sudden death at near-by Chinon during the exceptionally hot summer in 1189 made it impractical to transport his remains to Grandmont, his preferred burial place and a house he'd actively patronized.  It was the serially-monarchially-monogamously-loyal Greatest Knight William Marshall who is said to have decided on Henry's final journey to Fontevraud. Eleanor likely had no say at all since she was still imprisoned in England at the time of Henry's death.

So, off to Fontevraud Henry went. The chronicler Gerald of Wales opined that there was perhaps divine retribution at play, what with Henry buried at the same abbey he'd 'invited' Eleanor to permanently enter as a nun following the Revolt of 1173. I rather like that idea and I'd prefer to think it wryly amused Eleanor, she who always made the best of her circumstances!   

Ten years later, Eleanor's favorite son Richard requested burial at Fontevraud as he lay dying his wasted death in 1199. Later that same year, her youngest daughter Joanna died in childbirth, taking the veil on her deathbed and thus assuring her burial at Fontevraud.  And after a long life well-lived, Eleanor's own mortality surely loomed large.

So what to do with all these bodies? Well, if you are Eleanor of Aquitaine, you've got lots of examples to fall back on. You've traveled to Byzantium, The Holy Land and Sicily and have seen their examples of Christian dynastic burial traditions. Your daughter Leonora and son-in-law Alphonso of Castile have founded Las Huelgas, a Cistercian convent near Burgos, and established it as their family's royal necropolis; that's a fine example to emulate. The first formidable mother-in-law of the pair you've had, Adelaide of Maurienne, set the bar high with a pre-planned burial site that combined the necessary prayerful devotion in perpetuity by a religious house with a striking personal grave monument.  Your second formidable mother-in-law, the Empress Maude, didn't shrink at sending a message beyond the grave in the form of an emphatic epitaph about the legitimacy of her lineage and that of the royal line you married into and expanded. And perhaps most galling of all, your ex-husband Louis VII was lying beneath the grandest tomb his third wife could give him, a striking life-sized painted and bejeweled stone gisant of his pious self in coronation splendor. That funeral art was the first of its kind, and I think it probably begged to be outdone at Eleanor's hands.

And so it was. She eclipsed them all.

Source: John Phillips

Richard I. Source: John Phillips

Henry II. Source: John Phillips

The gisants of Henry, Richard, and Eleanor are believed to have been carved circa 1200 by the same artist/group of artists, who used the ubiquitous tuffeau of the region. Henry and Richard are both shown lying in state, dressed in recreation of their coronation splendor. These gisants are a nod to the new French iconographic style of presenting an image of the eternally splendid king and his authority that stretches beyond the grave.  

Although she was 80 when she died in 1204, Eleanor's gisant shows her to be a dignified woman of middle age. She is thus forever young -- and very much alive. Eleanor likely never had a coronation per se of her own and therefore was not entitled to the same kind of imagery that she had designed for her son and husband. But her funeral sculpture choice is even more interesting. 

Eleanor's recumbent form is slightly elevated. She is crowned, a symbol of her secular role. But she is reading, not just holding a devotional book in repose like many other high-born woman would portray themselves (including her daughter-in-law Berengaria). She's actively reading what is most likely a psalter. Through this choice, scholars posit that she chose to move beyond a funereal show of secular authority to instead portray herself as very much alive, and clearly forever devoted to matters of a higher realm.

Eleanor of Aquitaine. Source: John Phillips

In other words, Eleanor got the last laugh over both of her husbands, who are forever tied in imagery to their royal roles....even pious Louis.

We can't know exactly how these gisants were arranged, although there are hints as to their relationships to one another in the abbey. Richard asked to be buried at his father's feet, we know that much. Joanna very likely had a monument, perhaps like those of her parents and brother since she died in that same period of time, but perhaps simpler given her final role as a nun. Joanna's son Raymond requested in his will that his tomb be placed at his mother's feet, although archaeological evidence indicates that this wish was not honored. We know from chronicles that when the community decided to make different use of the nave in 1504, the positions of the gisants of the immediate family members were rearranged in a single line, with Raymond's gisant and that of Isabelle d'Angoulême off to the side. 

Work done on the nave in 1638 resulted in the loss of the memorials for Joanna and Raymond. Kneeling figures replaced them for a time, but those have also been lost. In 1810 it was proposed that the gisants, presumably in the way at the new Fontevraud prison, be stored in Tour d'Evrault, which is what we now know were the Romanesque kitchens! The gisants ended up getting shipped to Paris to be repainted between 1846 and 1849. The British government tried to repatriate them to Westminster Abbey, and supposedly in 1866 Napoleon III even offered them to Queen Victoria, but the outcry from the French public caused him to rescind his offer. 

And thus it was that after wandering about throughout the mid/late 1800s, these gisants were returned to the centre of the nave in 1930.

We wandered around a bit more of the abbey and ended the night outside the Tour d'Evrault.  No one provided us with a midnight snack from the kitchens, alas.

The gisant of Louis VII is known to us now only by descriptions and drawings,  since it was lost during the Revolution. But the gisants that Eleanor designed for Henry, Richard and herself remain as powerful reminders of their dynasty. Fontevraud Abbaye itself was dissolved, so there are no more perpetual prayers for these royal departed souls.  Even their royal mortal remains are long gone. But I think there is an eternal respect and historical reverence paid by the tourists who come to gaze upon these stone gisants. 

Certainly there was in our group, as we gathered near midnight to pay our respects. We spent an evening in rarefied company that night.

Sharon Kay Penman's blog entry about our night tour of the abbey can be found HERE.