Exploring Eleanor of Aquitaine’s Realm at Fontevraud Abbey
by Blue Firth, founder of Dohm
If you were a child in the 80’s I can pretty much guarantee a fondness for the swash-buckling blockbuster ‘Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves’. Among the incredible hair of Maid Marian and Alan Rickman’s delicious portrayal of the Sheriff of Nottingham is the surprise appearance of Sean Connery as Richard the Lionheart. This was a formative introduction to the Middle Ages, and an early history lesson which eventually led me to architecture’s 12thc Disneyland, Fontevraud Abbey.
Years later, an obsession with the film soundtracks of John Barry whisked me off again to the 1100s with the film ‘The Lion in Winter’ which again featured Richard Cœur de Lion- who in adulthood, I learned was a terrible King of England and would have despised the Midlands. But this time- as a woman entering her 40s- Kevin Costner no longer cut it, and I immediately formed a girl crush on Katherine Hepburn’s character- resplendent in her silken wimple. Queen of England, Queen of France, mother of courtly love, and the most powerful woman in Western Europe in the high Middle Ages: Eleanor of Aquitaine.
Eleanor was the formidable mother of Richard I. She was both imprisoned in a tower and formed a coup with her sons against one of her husbands. Aside from her thundering grasps for power she became an incredibly important cultural catalyst. Through her patronage of the arts she became seen as a proto-feminist figure who shifted perceptions of women’s capacity through the tales of the troubadours (early poets and musicians).
But leaving my sketchy historical knowledge behind we skip forward to a post-covid world and my crush on Eleanor has turned into a full-blown obsession. One Summer, I find myself in the Nouvelle Aquitaine region of south-west France and my host (now dear friend and owner of Casa Julfa) recommends sites to visit on my three-week residency. While trawling the list of endless places of nearby wonder, I came across an abbey that was not only home to Eleanor but also had her grave. Oh, and Richard’s.
Now a UNESCO World Heritage site, Fontevraud Abbey boasts a hotel, a Michelin-starred restaurant, and an art gallery. The image of an ancient church with a wonky grave was quickly dispersing from my mind. A plan is hatched, a car is rented, and the pilgrimage begins. We stopped along the way to pacify my partner. He wanted to see the church from Ken Russell’s film ‘The Devils’ and the homestead of arch-villain Cardinal Richelieu (some say we are perfectly matched).
Roman roads plunging like roller coasters take us North, but none of the roadside Chateaus could prepare us for the obscene spectacle of monastic delight that was ahead. I had booked a room at the reasonably priced hotel (the price of a Premier Inn in London) and duly followed the signs to the hotel car park, which skirted high walls of towering white stone. Arriving at the car park we were promptly greeted by a dapper gentleman in a golf cart who was there to chauffer us to the hotel. When I said reasonably priced, I really didn’t think a shuttle was part of the deal but we giddily hopped aboard and rattled along. Turning a corner my jaw dropped (maybe I needed a wimple?) and the wind was swept from my lungs. I couldn’t begin to comprehend the gleaming, shimmering ancient wonder that stood before us. How did we not already know about this place? How is it possible? How is it so clean and pearly white?
We arrive at the check-in, still speechless. Our room is in the former dormitory of the nuns, compact but beautiful. A dainty window with shutters overlooking ancient woodland. We put the little TV on for a moment, as is our God-given right when abroad. The pop music jars with the mood, so off it goes. We descended to have dinner (it was my 40th birthday. Talk about entering the Middle Ages…) but didn’t have a reservation at the Michelin restaurant – instead we go to the informal café, which we were advised was simple yet wonderful. (It was. Imagine aeroplane food in heaven.) “Oh, and then you can visit the abbey” the concierge informs us. Wait? What? It was 8.30 pm. Dinner was at 9 pm, how could we visit the abbey – I thought it shut at 6 pm?
“As guests at the hotel, you have 24-hour access.”
He might have added “mon cheri…” but by then, I was gone.
The rest is history – we got to visit Eleanor’s majestic grave alone at midnight (save for the scampering abbey cat) as the bells struck the hour. Her tomb, housed in a vast white chamber, glimmered in the twilight. For an immense church it had none of the oppression that ancient churches can suggest but instead a humble enormity, inviting you in. She is represented by a stone effigy, her brightly painted garments fading, and a book open at her wimpled chin, as if she is too busy reading to ever really die. Tipsy and filled with delicious food it was an immense experience. I never went to Disneyland, and to be honest, I always wanted to befriend Ursula more than the Little Mermaid, but Fontevraud definitely quelled a childhood need for adult fairytales. It was an epic experience of which I am sure will continue to make jaws drop for at least another 900 years.
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