Chapelle Sainte-Radegonde de Chinon

Friday, June 10, 2011

Having lost my boutique innocence in Chinon, I cheerily boarded the bus. I was basking in a splash of sun like a well-contented cat when it was announced that we had more Plantagenet exploring to do. Off the bus, then, and out for a walk along some troglodyte dwellings high above the city.

Having studied Latin in my youth (or having pretended to), I was transported by the word 'troglodyte' to images of enchanted Hobbit-like creatures living in twee caves far from the soul-numbing influences of civilization. But of course in France, the word troglodyte refers to dwellings dug into the rock faces of the landscape, and to the residents thereof.

Troglodyte caves like the ones that housed the tasting rooms of Domaine Fillitreau maintain a fairly constant 53 degrees Fahrenheit. That sounds nippy to me, but means minimal effort gets expended to heat the home in winter and cool in summer. The soft shellstone that characterizes this region was easily worked, and thus very much in demand for building. Working the stone had a potential double benefit: income from selling the quarried product whilst simultaneously creating living spaces.

There are many examples of inhabited troglodyte caves to be found in the Loire Valley, particularly between Saumur and Angers. These caves, aside from being practical and charming, also provided the region with an underground defense system. The Norman invasions of the 9th and 10th centuries prompted people to create underground passageways as escape routes from the local chateau, so they could hide in caves and forest.

When wandering the town of Chinon, I'd seen winding streets with signs like this one, pointing the way to caves beneath the castle mound.

You can follow a steep path which will take you on a 20 minute walk to the caves which house the Chapelle Sainte-Radegonde de Chinon. Lucky us, our big old bus hauled up the hill. We thus had a short but pleasant walk to the chapel.

There really is something that stirs the inner Hobbit when visiting a cluster of these caves.  Tall people like me would have developed a permanent stoop from passing through the wee doors.

Photo by John Phillips

Knowing that troglodyte dwellings were ubiquitous in these parts, I was not surprised to learn that we'd be visiting the caves, but I didn't realize we were about to see something related to Eleanor. We found ourselves at the site of a 12th century chapel that had been built around the tomb of a hermit known as Jean Le Reclus, or St. John of Chinon. Jean had been spiritual advisor to Saint Radegonde, for whom this chapel was named. As we listened to the tour guide share Radegonde's story, my imaginary solar of favorite women from history shifted to allow a new person to enter the room. 

Born circa 520 CE the kingdom of Thuringia, in what we know now as central Germany, Princess Radegonde and her brother were taken hostage by their uncle who had killed their father to claim the crown of the kingdom. What goes around comes around: this power-hungry uncle refused to honor a treaty with the Merovingians, and so lost kingdom and life when the Franks invaded Thuringia. Without their uncle's protection, Radegonde and her brother were again captured. Radegonde was forced to marry Clothaire, a son of Clovis first King of the Franks.

Marriage did not suit Radegonde but piety did, and she soon assumed the life of an ascetic. Radegonde eventually learned that her brother had led a revolt against her husband's rule of their native lands and been assassinated by order of Clothaire. She repudiated her husband, took sanctuary, and eventually became a nun. Clothaire did not take kindly to his wife's abandonment and Radegonde sought spiritual direction from Jean Le Reclus in the face of obstacles Clothaire placed in her way. She founded L'Abbaye de Saint-Croix at Poitiers, and was revered by the women who joined her there. The convent declined following her death in 587, but Radegonde's personal legend strengthened. One part of her legend credits her with single-handedly killing a marauding, nun-killing dragon. You go, Radegonde! She was consecrated a saint in the 9th century. A number of towns, churches and chapels in both France and England were dedicated to her, including an abbey founded in Dover in her honor in 1191.

I can imagine that the legends surrounding this remarkable woman gave solace to medieval ladies who were betrayed by the men they had married, and that Radegonde's piety and strength of character must have proved inspirational.  Perhaps her story had special resonance for Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was married to a man she felt she no longer knew and whom she felt compelled to challenge on behalf of their sons. Certainly Eleanor would have been intimately familiar with Radegonde's legend given their shared city of Poitiers.

But we're in Chinon, not Poitiers. How does all this connect? Jean was supposedly a refugee from the Saxon raids on Britain, which would have made him a sympathetic figure to our Radegonde. She revered him for his wisdom and spiritual direction, so much so that legend has it that upon his death Radegonde had a chapel built here to honor his remains: 

If we can imagine that Eleanor of Aquitaine considered Radegonde to be a saint of particular personal devotion, then it is not a stretch to consider that Eleanor may have endowed this chapel and even visited it when in Chinon. Perhaps her personal favor was signified by a fresco upon the wall.  

This one:

This so-called Plantagenet mural in the chapel dates to the 12th century.  In The Rough Guide to The Loire, author James McConnachie wrote: 

High on one wall of the chapel, a captivating painting depicts a horseback cortege of regal figures, probably the Plantagenet royal family.  It's uncertain whether it celebrates the marriage of King John in 1200 or marks the end of Eleanor of Aquitaine's captivity in Chinon....The leading figure is probably Henry II...followed by his wife Eleanor (crowned, centre) and their daughter Jeanne....Dated to the end of the twelfth century, it may be the only contemporary portrait of Eleanor in the world - not counting the effigy on her tomb in Fontevraud.

Hmmm, not exactly. The Crucifiction window that we saw at Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Poitiers is another likeness of Eleanor created during her lifetime. 

But this scene is quite different and intriguing.

Is it son John's wedding? Ha, not much to celebrate there, although I suppose if you had to commemorate that event a drawing on a cave in deepest France would do. 

Let's say the main figure is Henry. Then Richard and John must be in the rear. Or maybe it's Young Hal and Richard. But then where are Geoffrey and John?  We might presume Eleanor is in the center, but who's that beside her? Joanna?  Seems strange to exclude Matilda and Leanora, but they were married and far away, so perhaps we're only seeing the kids who are at home. But wait, are Hal and Geoffrey deceased at the time of the mural? Is that maybe a servant beside Eleanor? What if that's Richard in the lead? Eleanor could be riding with Berengaria, but the latter ought to have a crown, right? And who's in the rear -- John and, uhm, Arthur? Nah, not Arthur. Hey, maybe that's Henry in the lead with his four sons on a hunt; Henry the Young King is crowned, then followed by Richard, Geoffrey and John.

Such was the gist of our group's discussion. We wanted to believe that the figure in the green cape was Eleanor. We really wanted to believe that.

Granted, there's plenty of room for doubt. The walls can't talk, after all. For all we know, this mural has nothing Plantagenet to do at all and instead portrays a scene from the cycle of Radegonde.

Our group stood around staring at that section of wall, debating the royal cortege portrayed in the fresco. I'll tell you what, the world could have ended in that moment and we'd not have noticed. 

This chapel had apparently been inhabited as a private residence from the time of the Revolution until 1959, when the Chinon town council took control. The mural was discovered when a bit of plaster fell down during clean-up in 1964.  

After finally tearing ourselves away from the mural, we wandered around inside the caves. The site has been converted to a regional life museum, Musée des Arts et Traditions Populaires. 

There is still a working well dug 15 feet into the cave walls.  Things were rather haphazardly strewn about the walls but it all had a charming effect. The stone head below is wearing the hat I bought in Poitiers. I don't know how that happened. *whistles innocently*

Photo by Nicole Benkert

There is an altar in the chapel nave, which is itself the reputed site of the cell of the hermit Jean.

 Some more 12th century mural work.

 And lastly, here is a 19th century gisant that commemorates Jean.

Photo by Sherill Roberts

We headed back to Fontevraud for our last night in the leper quarters. Outside of St-Lazare are medicinal gardens, such as might have existed near an infirmary.

 

 Also, there were bees. Lots of bees.  I liked this fellow.

That evening before dinner, our group was treated to a private reading by Sharon Kay Penman from Lionheart, which was due out the coming October. We then had a lovely meal in the former St-Lazare refectory, provided by the hotel restaurant. I later spent some quality iPad time in this room, checking in with my family.

Photo by Nicole Benkert

We leave on the morrow. Next stop: Angers. 

Fontevraud Abbaye, Saumur and Chinon

Friday, June 10, 2011

Breakfast was risky business today. I cracked open what I thought was a hard boiled egg only to find a raw one, then nearly choked to death on a kiwi. Between the Kiwi of Doom and my Cheneyesque leper apparition the other night, I am beginning to wonder if there's a malicious presence at Fontevraud. Tonight will be our last night at Fontevraud and I hope to make it out all in one piece, if perhaps not entirely peacefully!

The abbey of Fontevraud was a double monastery for monks and nuns and originally consisted of several self-contained priories:

• Sainte Marie accommodated the choir nuns and the contemplatives.
• La Madeleine was for lay sisters and was comprised of married and widowed women who chose to withdraw from the world (the name reflects its origins as the priory of Robert d'Abrissel's prostitute groupies).
• St-Benoît was an infirmary for the crippled and the sick.
• Saint-Lazare was for lepers and, later, convalescent nuns.
• Saint Jean de l'Habit accommodated priests, monks and lay brothers. 

During their time, patronage of the Plantagenets allowed reconstruction at St-Lazare, St-Jean de l'Habit and La Madeleine.  Today there is nothing left of St-Jean-de-l’Habit and only parts of La Madeleine remain.

The original chapel of the priory we are staying at, St-Lazare, was built around 1160. Much was destroyed or transformed during Fontevraud's prison years, when the chapel (to the left in the photo above) was divided into two levels and its stained glass windows were removed and replaced with barred windows. A dentist's office was installed on the second floor. The building to the back is our hotel, and was added in 1828 as part of the prison. So, no real lepers ever stayed there! 

St-Lazare was actually the first Fontevraud priory to be restored, and it took 8 years to complete the work begun in 1958 with prison labor. At one point during the reconstruction, the skeletal remains of six nuns were discovered and re-interred beneath some paving stones in the choir of the chapel. That's about where the restaurant is, where we ate breakfast! Perhaps their vengeful spirits, unhappy at being interred below a restaurant, were responsible for my Kiwi of Doom incident this morning....

St-Lazare was described by France's Architect for Historical Monuments Henri Enguehard thusly "....for six centuries, it was a house of prayer; for two centuries, a house of thieves; and now, for the future, a house of culture under the direction of the Cultural Center of the West."

The hotel at St-Lazare is scheduled for major refurbishment in 2012. These grounds are alive with history, and it is good to know that the abbey is the focus of continued preservation efforts.

Our first destination was the near-by town of Saumur, familiar to me since I stayed at a near-by youth hostel some twenty years ago. The castle on a hill greeted me like an old friend.

Photo by John Phillips

The original fortress was built in the 10th century as an important stronghold against marauding Normans, and Eleanor's Henry II rebuilt the chateau during his time. It supposedly looks much the same now as it did then. Unfortunately, our time was short in the town and a castle tour didn't fit with our schedule. Our tour was meant to visit Market Day but alas, Market Day in Saumur is Saturday, not Friday!  All was not lost, however, as it was a pretty town to wander about for the brief time we had there. 

Hôtel de Ville on Rue Molière. Photo by John Phillips.

Not much was open so early in the morning, but the butcher shop on Rue St Jean was doing a brisk business.  I went treasure-hunting and bought a few lovely little things at La Dentellière on Rue de la Tonnelle. You can check out that shop at LINK.

I must also admit to buying an item of what is probably of somewhat questionable taste when I stopped in the Office de Tourisme de Saumur: a ten inch resin replica of Eleanor's gisant. Questionable or not, it was the source of several covetous glances back on the tour bus!

We stayed for barely an hour in Saumur before crossing the bridge over the Loire to our next destination. Adieu, Saumur. Another day, perhaps, I will finally get to tour Henry's castle!

 

Photo by John Phillips

As we traveled around the area, we kept passing this little church below. I wish I knew what it was. You can see how overcast the sky is getting...this does not bode well.

We arrived at Chinon, our main destination for the day.  

The town of Chinon dates to Roman times and has a most strategic position along the Vienne River. The chateau we are about to visit can be traced to 5th century fortifications above the old town. Subsequent owners included the Counts of Tours, Blois, and Anjou. Henry Plantagenet dearly loved Chinon and it loomed large in his history. He added impressive and massive fortifications, initially imprisoned Eleanor here following the rebellion of 1173, and died here in 1189 having been betrayed by his sons and vowing in his despair to withhold his soul from God after the firing of Le Mans.



The section of wall shown above was likely built during the reign of Eleanor and Henry's son Richard I. His arch-nemesis, Philippe Auguste, later won Chinon from the youngest and least-able Plantagenet, John. 

Several centuries later, King Charles VII and Jeanne d'Arc began their dance of fate here. The castle fell into ruins beginning in the 1600s. When I visited the town in 1991, we were warned away from exploring its grounds. Fortunately, Chateau Chinon underwent considerable refurbishment from 2003-10.

There are three parts to the chateau. We entered through the remains of Le Fort Saint Georges. We then passed through the 13th century Tour de l'Horloge to the central part called Le Château du Milieu, and ended up at Fort du Coudray.

Photo by John Phillips

Fort St-Georges underwent extensive archaeological explorations from 2003 to 2008. It appears that it was in fact less a fort than a palace, constructed by Henry in 1160 and used by him as a residence and his center of administrative power when he was based in Chinon. The area was private property until 1994 and the Plantagenet ruins were covered by vineyards and orchards (one of the reasons we were warned away when visiting in 1991).  I found an archeological report online that shows the excavated foundations from the work done in 2003-04; you can view that report HERE.

From the Visitor's Center we crossed this bridge across the centuries to begin our tour. The bridge dates to the 19th century and replaced a drawbridge and portcullis gate.

At one time, the three floored Tour de l'Horloge we passed under housed a museum devoted to Jeanne d'Arc. I believe that museum may be permanently closed or repurposed, given the move of some of its displays to elsewhere within the Chinon complex. The tower owes its name to the clock it houses, which dates to 1399. The original bell is called Marie Javelle by the inhabitants of Chinon and has a rather threatening associated rhyme:

Marie Javelle / Je m’appelle / Celui qui m’a mis / M’a bien mis; / Celui qui m’ôtera s’en repentira.

Which translates (more or less, with some embellishments) to:

Mary-Javelle is my name. Whoever set me set me well. Who may remove me the day will rue in Hell.

Moral of the story: don't mess with the clock.

We next walked along the ramparts with the above view of the Vienne and the coutnryside to our left.

The ruins of Château du Milieu constitute the central part of Chinon as we know it today. The U-shaped Logis Royal was built in the 1400s, of which only the southern portion now remains.

Photo by John Phillips

Above is the first floor chimney from Le Grande Salle that was built by Charles VII, whose arms are displayed. It was in this building in 1429 that Jeanne d'Arc identified Charles and inspired him to reclaim his kingdom.

A tent had been set up outside Le Grande Salle for an event and we made use of it to escape the now-relentless drizzle. These grounds were once the site of the priory of Saint-Mélaine, where Henry Plantagenet drew his last breath as he muttered "Shame, shame upon a conquered king." 

We wandered around the atmospheric ruins of the royal lodgings of Château du Milieu.

Maybe it was a sense of unease from my near brushes with death at Fontevraud (for that Cheneysque apparition and the Kiwi of Doom surely could not be coincidental). Perhaps it was the dreary weather and the strain of navigating wet cobblestones with bad knees. Perhaps it was the menacing presence of the immovable Marie-Javelle bell. Or perhaps it was Henry's restless soul, denied to God and too angry for the Devil to handle, doomed to eternal wandering at Chinon, poking me between the shoulder blades.  Causality undetermined, I nevertheless felt a sense of weariness and sadness at Chinon that I could not wait to escape.

It wasn't all gloomy, though. To the right is Tour des Chiens, built by Philippe Auguste to serve as the royal kennel. I must never show this photo to mine own dogs lest they demand such a fine house for themselves.  Fine, aside from being in ruins, that is. Then again, let's face it, dogs aren't bothered by ruins.  

We crossed another stone bridge, itself a replacement for an earlier drawbridge. Here is La Tour de Boissy, an impressive 49 feet long and 10 feet high built into the hillside, with walls that are 9 feet thick in places!


This marks the edge of the section known as Fort Coudray, largely reconstructed and added to in the 13th century by Philippe Auguste.


The tower below is Tour de Moulin, the oldest of the surviving towers. In Henry's time this was a powerful defensive tower. It is here that author Sharon Kay Penman placed Eleanor at the start of her imprisonment, where she remained until Henry moved her to Falaise and then the long years in England.

Photo by Julia Markovitz

I did not venture much into Tour Coudray, where Jeanne d'Arc was once lodged and where 140 Templar knights were imprisoned for three years when that order was suppressed in 1307. They left behind graffiti in parts of the tower.

I was less concerned with graffiti and more with preserving my buckling knees on the wet cobblestones. I decided that having survived the Flaming Dessert Omelette of Doom at Mont St-Michel, a Dick Cheneyesque leper apparition and near Death by Kiwi, I was not about to be done in by Chinon's oppressive spirit and slippery pathways. I decided to visit the (hopefully more easily navigated) town and sit out the rain with a café au lait, so skipped the Templar graffiti and some multi-media exhibits and headed to the Visitor's Centre and the off-limits ruins of Fort St-Georges.

Remains of Fort St-George before Visitor's Centre was built. Source: Wikipedia Commons

 

The St-Georges area was irrevocably demolished in the 17th century when Cardinal Richelieu dismantled the walls and transported the stones for construction in his town of Richelieu, allowing the grounds to decay.  The ruins of a chapel with a crypt were extant until covered over with farming and vegetation.

Once the archaeological excavations were completed in 2008, the ruins were reburied for preservation purposes.  A new building was added to this section in 2010 to house the gift shop  and tourism office, to restore the original role of St-Georges as the entryway into Château de Chinon.

Photo by John Phillips

Oppression literally hovered over Chinon in form of heavy grey sky.

 



After warming up and drying off in the gift shop, I met some other  friends who had decided to escape the tour. We rode the spiffy glass elevator to the town of Chinon and found ourselves drawn to a boutique called Jadis, located at 23 Place Général de Gaulle. We wandered in, found wonderful treasures, bought things, wandered back out, then came back for lunch.  Our host, Sébastien Vallon, found us 'adorable' and we thought he and his boutique and his little Bouledogue Français were absolutely enchanting.  

Refreshed, with sunlight peeking through the clouds, we walked along the Quay Jeanne d'Arc and enjoyed this view of boats on the Vienne.

Photo by Sue O'Dee

I was briefly separated from the group because I was distracted by this incongruous palm tree in a park along Rue Descartes. One of these trees is not like the other....

Next:  Chapelle Sainte-Radegonde de Chinon

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.