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.

Paris: Musée de Cluny

Monday, 6 June, 2011

Destination #2:  Musée de Cluny, officially Musée National du Moyen Age Thermes de Cluny

I take a special delight in visiting museums whose edifices are as interesting as the collections they house. The Musée de Cluny is one such place.

Back when Paris was Lutetia, the area was divided into two sections. The Cité, located on what we known today as the Île de la Cité, was connected to the banks of the Seine on either side by wooden bridges. The open suburbs stretching up Mont Sainte-Geneviéve (now topped by the Panthéon) were populated by villas and vineyards. The Seine was not bounded by concrete embankments and spread over a much wider area, extending into flood plains that stretched as far as what would become the Benedictine Abbey of St-Germain-des-Prés in the 6th century. 

Representation of the Gallo-Roman city of Lutetia, from euratlas.com

Lutetia's aqueduct supplied three public baths. It can be hard to imagine the scale of these Thermae from the current ruins, which represent only about a third of the extent of the baths. It was a dynamic complex that continued to be expanded upon to meet the needs of the public, right up until its destruction by invading barbarians in the middle of the 3rd century.

Exterior shots of Roman ruins married to modern museum. Photos by John Phillips

The complex lay in ruins for roughly a thousand years until the Cluniac monks decided to establish a presence in the growing academic center of Paris in the 13th century. The reformed Benedictine order of Cluny was established in the 10th century by a predecessor of Eleanor's, William I of Aquitaine. In 1334 the order built a townhouse for its abbots abutting the ruins of the Roman Thermae, known thereafter as the Hotel de Cluny. It underwent modifications in the 16th century. Today it is one of the few examples of an intact late-medieval residence in Paris.

Cour d'Honneur of Hôtel de Cluny. Drawn by Gaucherel, steel engraving by Lemaitre, 1845

The building eventually passed into private ownership and an amateur historian named Alexandre Du Sommerard moved in sometime in the 1820s with his ever-expanding collection of medieval objets d'art. His collection soon became famous. It was popularly hoped that a permanent museum would be created, patterned after the Musée des Monuments Française founded by another amateur collector, Alexandre Lenoir (whom I wish I could like more for his preservation efforts but whose treatment of the reputed remains of Abélard and Héloïse left quite a lot to be desired; see my other  blog for details). 

When Du Sommerard died, his house combined with the Thermae become national property. The Cluny museum officially opened in 1844.

Over the years the collection has become more specific and refined, spanning the Roman Empire (28 BCE - 5 CE), Romanesque (1000-1250 CE) and Gothic eras (1251-1500).  The combination of the Cluny house and Thermae allows for a unique exhibition environment that remains dynamic and responsive to public needs. The museum has benefited from consistently responsible curatorship, an example being its closure in 1939 so the exhibits could be moved to a secure place for the duration of WWII. Although the Cluny does not contain any artifacts specifically associated with Eleanor, it is well worth visiting for any medieval history buff due to its history, location, and diverse collection. 

We entered through the medieval-inspired gardens.  I don't remember this space from my previous visit for good reason: the gardens were designed in 2000 by Eric Ossart and Arnaud Mauriéres. The plantings include medicinal and kitchen gardens and a section with mille fleurs. Much as I like gardens, I have to admit to being less than impressed...I'm not sure what medieval era the designers were trying to evoke with modern deck fencing. I guess that's why it's described as 'medieval-inspired."

 

From there we passed into the cobble-stoned Cour d'Honneur courtyard, with its charming old well and Flamboyant Gothic architecture.

I was particularly taken with the scallop shell theme in the Cour d'Honneur. Paris was a medieval gathering point for pilgrimages to the Camino de Santiago in modern-day Spain. Today's pilgrim would be hard-pressed to follow the exact medieval routes from Paris, since they've been covered by modern highways or buildings. But the interested aficionado of Santiago pilgrimages (and I have to admit that I'm rather obsessed) can find scallop shells and other St James symbols in historic places like the Cluny. Their presence conveys a profound sense of the pervasiveness of Chemins de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle to medieval life. The Cluniac order established a series of way houses for pilgrims along the route to Galicia, and the abbot or other prelates residing at Hôtel de Cluny would have blessed pilgrims departing from Paris. 

Photo by John Phillips

Once inside, I was tickled to see a familiar friend waiting for me:

You can just see some of the traces of medieval polychromy decoration on this limestone statue of Saint Denis, who is dressed quite formally. He's probably heading out for a party.

Photo by John Phillips

Perhaps lovely Ariadne here is going to be at the same party? This was a beautifully carved piece of ivory from Constantinople dating to the 6th century...old enough that I can pretend that perhaps Eleanor saw it! 

There was truly an embarrassment of riches in the Cluny of alabaster reliefs, stained glass, choir stalls, and sculpture encompassing a span of some 1500 years. Add to that a marvelous setting incorporating Thermae walls, 16th century Gothic architecture and modern conveniences, and the eye didn't know where to rest.

Photo by John Phillips

And of course, there was the charming and irresistible bookstore!

Photo by John Phillips

Our group spent a lot of time in the Notre-Dame room, where we came face-to-face with those heads of the Kings of Judah that had lined the gallery of the great cathedral, then spent nearly two centuries buried underground until the building of a Metro stop unearthed them. Here are a few:

We couldn't stop staring at beautiful Adam here, circa 1260, who once graced the south transept facade at Notre Dame with Eve. He's been well re-constructed (heh heh) but at one time he also held an apple. Methinks he is over-compensating for his missing, uhm, apple by strategically wearing not just a fig leaf but an entire juvenile fig tree. 

Perhaps he'll party with Denis and Ariadne later?

Photo by John Phillips

There were fragments from Sainte-Chapelle, St-Denis, St-Genévieve, and St-Germaine-des-Prés throughout the museum.  

Photo by John Phillips

I particularly liked this head of the Queen of Sheba from one of the long-gone original portals of St-Denis. She dates to 1137-40 and is likely to have been something Eleanor would have seen when visiting St-Denis. I hope I can be forgiven for imagining the sculptor had Eleanor in mind as his model when he created this fierce, regal queen. But I must admit that her bulbous eyes have me a bit worried about the condition of her thyroid!

Photo by John Phillips

The piéce de résistance of the Cluny Museum is in the Rotunda of the Lady and the Unicorn. 

Photo by John Phillips

Discovered at Chateau de Boussac and acquired in 1882, these six tapestries were commissioned by the Le Viste family from Lyon. The pennants and armor bear the arms of the sponsor, Jean Le Viste, a powerful nobleman in the court of King Charles VII. The tapestries represent the mille-fleurs style, a popular medieval motif which refers to a background consisting of so many little flowers and plants. The five senses plus a sixth sense that eclipses them all, that of love and understanding and perspective, are represented. The room was kept very dark in order to preserve the extraordinary colors of these enormous silk and woolen tapestries. They were woven in Flanders in 1400s and lost to public accounting until the early 19th century. Novelist George Sand brought public attention to the tapestries in her works.

I have had framed postcards of these tapestries hanging in my home for twenty years and it was a thrill to see the real things again! Ranier Marie-Rilke described them precisely:  

....there are six tapestries; come, let us pass slowly in front of them But first o all take a step back and look at them, all together. Are they not tranquil? There is little variety in them. See that blue, oval island in all of them, floating over the soft red background, which is filled with flowers and inhabited by small animals busy with their own activities. There only, in the last panel, the island rises a little, as if it had become lighter. There is always a figure, a woman, wearing different attires, but it is always the same lady. Sometimes, there is beside her a smaller figure, a maidservant, and there are always heraldic creatures: large ones, on the island, which are part of the action. To the left, a lion, and to the right, in light hues, the unicorn; they carry the same banner high above them; three silver moons rising on a blue band on a red field.

The tapestries came to the Cluny in varying stages of neglect and deterioration and have been subject to regular restoration efforts since 1882. 

TOUCH

Photo by John Phillips

 TASTE

Photo by John Phillips

 SMELL

HEARING

SIGHT

À Mon Seul Désir

Photo by John Phillips

Scholarship related to the tapestries has shifted over the years from research into the commissioner of the works and location of the weaving, to more recent concerns about the meaning of the tapestries as related to and personifying themes in medieval literature.

A special 'Swords: Uses, Myths, and Symbols' exhibit included swords from the 5th to the 15th centuries. Joyeuse, the sword of Charlemagne described in the Song of Roland as changing color thirty times a day, had been moved from its customary home in the Louvre for this exhibit. I am saddened to report that I saw no color-changing swordplay that day.  In truth, the sword identified as that of Charlemagne is really a composite of various bits from the 10th to 13th centuries. It was used as a coronation sword for Kings of France from 1270 to 1824.

Photo by John Phillips

Our last stop before leaving the Cluny was a visit to the sublime Flamboyant Gothic chapel. After the death of her husband Louis XII, Francis I kept Mary Tudor at the Cluny to assure that she was not pregnant, as a child would have threatened his succession. To be extra safe, he married her off here to her knight-in-shining-armor, Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk and Viscount Lisle. We were also told that one of the former owners of the Cluny was a physician who used this chapel as a dissection room!

Photo by John Phillips

One piece in the Cluny collection that I can't remember seeing but which would have special relevance to our group was a Limoges reliquary of St. Thomas Becket, dating to 1190-1200. Becket relics were quickly distributed all over Europe following his martyrdom and canonization, and at least fifty surviving Limoges reliquaries of this type were created to house the new saint's relics. Eleanor was kept colossally busy in the last dozen or so years of her life, which is when this reliquary dates to, and I'm pretty sure she had better things to do than visit random Becket shrines. While I doubt she ever saw this particular reliquary, one never knows! It's certainly exemplary of the type that existed in her lifetime, and I'm sorry none of us saw it.

Photo from Wikipedia Commons

Next stop, lunch!  Then, the Louvre.