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The largest plane tree in France sits like a beloved grandfather in the square in Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, an ancient village in the Hérault Valley, 27 miles west of Montpellier. Children race around its massive trunk and stop to drink from the multiple spouts of the nearby fountain topped by Liberty. Adults sit in its shade to chat. It’s a beautiful, comfortable spot whose history runs deep, but it was not on our itinerary as we originally skirted this part of the valley on our way from Provence to Toulouse.

A chance encounter with a shop keeper in Pézenas, a wine town among the vineyards between Montpellier and Béziers, however, made us change directions and head north into the Hérault Gorges. The shopkeeper’s excitement about the beauty and history of the village convinced me and my husband that a detour would reward us with a memorable stay. She was right, and at the time we did not realize that we would come face to face with sublime architecture, some of which could be found just a short drive from our home in Pennsylvania.

Approached from the south along the Herault River, Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert is heralded by a striking series of bridges, including the medieval Pont du Diable, arched high above a steep gorge lined with grey-white rocks that look as if they had been drizzled down the cliff.

The village itself is surrounded by chalky limestone mountains stippled with green shrubs. Embedded in the hills are the remains of a Visigoth fortress and a dusty old mule path, portions of which have been traveled for centuries by pilgrims following the sign of the shell that marks routes of the Way of Saint James leading to the cathedral in Santiago de Compostella in Spain where the remains of St. James the Greater are said to be buried. Today this path also affords walkers day hikes that begin at the edge of the village on the rue du Bout-du-Monde, the street of the end of the world.

The graceful, rounded apse of the Abbey of Gellone dominates the pale buildings with tiled roofs that emerged as we drove past a gentle flow of the Verdus, a stream that keeps the area verdant as it runs toward the Herault River. We parked the car and walked a narrow street that led to the main square. Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert can be filled with tourists, but as with any well-known site, arriving off-season allows for less hindered signs of the past and of local life.

Those signs were already clear from the hotel room we found, from which we could hear the bells of the abbey, the greetings of residents on the pavement and watch an old dog make his way from the direction of the square toward the welcome of a water bowl.

As we meandered through the cobbled streets of the village we spotted scallop shells embedded in fountains and near doorways as signs of welcome for pilgrims traveling the Way of Saint James. We wondered if these doors opened as readily today to pilgrims as they had in past centuries.

We were charmed by the personalized doors and windows that reflect the artists who reside in the village; we were also struck by a few handmade signs protesting the possession of the original cloister from the Monastery of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. One poster advertised a meeting where a speaker would ask the question “Qui a Vendu Le Cloitre aux Americains?” Who sold the cloister to the Americans?

The Cloisters, in northern Manhattan, is the branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of Medieval Europe. It sits majestically atop a hill in a lush 66-acre park with wonderful views of the Hudson River. The impressive monastery-like building is, according to the museum’s website, “not a copy of any specific medieval structure but is rather an ensemble informed by a selection of historical precedents, with a deliberate combination of ecclesiastical and secular spaces arranged in chronological order.” The Cloisters developed out of an impressive collection of cloister sections and other medieval art accumulated by American sculptor George Grey Barnard early in the 20th century. That collection was later acquired and curated at the Fort Tryon site through the donation of land and funding by John D. Rockefeller. Among the highlights of its ecclesiastical spaces is a cloister, one of five, created with 140 fragments from the cloister of the Monastery of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert that, according to the museum, Barnard had discovered being used as “grape arbor supports and ornaments in the garden of a justice of the peace in nearby Aniane.”

The monastery in Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert dates to the 9th century when it was founded by Guilhem, Count of Toulouse and grandson of the Duke of Aquitaine. Guilhem was a cousin of Charlemagne and noted in his time as one of the emperor’s most valorous knights for his battles against the Saracens of Spain. For centuries that followed Troubadours sang about his bravery. Charlemagne presented him with a piece of the Holy Cross (it was an age of relics) that he brought with him when he came to establish a home and a monastery in 804 in the remote region that would eventually bear his name, Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert. (“Le Désert” refers not the geography but to the absence of people in the area at the time.) The relic helped make the Abbey of Gellone an important stopping point for pilgrims on the road to Compostella, and it remains there to this day. Despite his life as a warrior, Guilhem was deeply religious and spent his final years at the monastery as a monk from 806 until his death in 812.

Thanks to the traffic of pilgrims, the monastery prospered and most of the Abbey of Gellone visited today dates from the 11th century when it was rebuilt in the Romanesque style. Like many monasteries in France it eventually suffered from the vicissitudes of faith and politics. It was pillaged during the Wars of Religion and vandalized during the French Revolution, losing both furnishings and architectural elements. Each historical trauma, whether natural (e.g. floods) or man-made, led to more decay, and by the 19th century parts of the abbey were dispersed throughout the region, including sections of the cloister later purchased by Barnard.

The interior of the abbey conveys an intimacy and warmth due in part to the variegated rustic tones of the stone. The vault of the soaring apse is punctuated by three high windows that represent the Trinity, and an ornate marble and glass altar presents a stunning contrast with the simplicity of architectural line. Near the altar rests what are said to be the remains of Saint Guilhem and the relic of the Holy Cross given to him by Charlemagne. There are lovely spaces within the abbey, one of which houses an 18th-century organ. The abbey has an atmosphere that suggests mystery and evokes contemplation. It is also a perfect venue for intimate musical performances such as the string and flute ensemble we attended during our visit. The cloister that was rebuilt in the second half of the 20th century, which includes a few original columns, also affords a quiet retreat.

The village of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert appears to flow from the monastery. The narrow streets that begin at the portal of the abbey on the square seem a natural path to the beauty of the tight houses and the chalky tops of the mountains that appear beyond their roofline. An approach to the village offers a lovely view of the rounded apse symmetrically flanked by the round exterior walls of two smaller curved vaults and bordered by a low wall encasing a small garden. The exterior of the monastery, however, does not convey the serenity of the interior. Evidence of the tumultuous past is reflected in the monastery’s outer surfaces in color variation, patched walls, and solid sections that seem almost fortress-like. Still, there is a sense of calm and history as you walk between trees and flowers and enjoy time along a quiet path.

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We drove to The Cloisters Museum in the fall on a radiant day much like the one that welcomed us to Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert. The museum rises from the topmost height of lushly wooded Fort Tryon Park on which it occupies four acres. It conveys medieval perfection through its stone tower, unmarred arches, metal steeple atop a spire such as those found on village churches in the south of France, and the graceful curve of an 11th-century apse from a church in Spain. It may be “an ensemble informed by a selection of historical precedents” but the total effect of The Cloisters is that you have arrived at another time and place. Cobbled paths wind up a hill toward the powerful stone structure, and visitors step into remarkable spaces that belie the 21st century. The statuary, paintings, tapestries and other artifacts humanize the medieval world. Coming so close to medieval art within authentic stone chapels and chambers and gazing into the faces of sublimely painted wooden sculptures makes a connection to ancient life that is transformational.

Four of the cloisters at the museum have outdoor settings with skillfully tended gardens. Everything appears natural and free; the eruption of color and texture suggest a rustic landscape, but the reality is far more calculated. The Cuxa Cloister from a Benedictine Monastery near the Pyrenees in Spain is breathtaking; stone pathways, flowers, trees, and dense foliage frame pink marble columns, a central fountain and low tiled roofs. It is a realization of how we imagine a medieval cloister to have looked and felt.

The reconstructed cloister from the Monastery of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert at The Cloisters is an interior space with a high glass ceiling for natural light and lovely arched windows that overlook the Hudson River behind one side of the cloister. A few potted plants and some large vessels from the period dot the hard pebbled courtyard. The columns are stunning, set in pairs to support the arched stone of the installation. They vary in both the shape of the columns and design of the capitals. Some of the columns are rounded, others hexagonal, still others are ornate with waves from top to bottom, and some are wide and fully sculpted. The capitals are carved with exquisite renderings of acanthus leaves, vines, flowers, honeycombed patterns and both animal and human figures. The passageways behind the columns suggest a sense of contemplation with stone benches for reflection. Care has clearly been taken to respect the extraordinary craftsmanship in the stonework and gracefully echo the serenity of a monastic setting.

I wanted to love this cloister, but I could not. I felt the artifice of museum lighting despite the open ceiling, and I begrudged the closed space that made it more of an exhibit than a setting where imagination might take you back in time. Viewing the columns from multiple perspectives, I tried to place them mentally at the peaceful Monastery of Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, among the trees and flowers, the passageways to the abbey, the prayers of monks and the footsteps of approaching pilgrims. I wanted to see them not as individual elements of interest but as an essential part of an idea, a purpose, a commitment to the necessity of contemplation and prayer. Instead, despite the splendor of The Cloisters and my appreciation for how it celebrates the beauty and humanity of medieval life, makes it accessible to so many and preserves it for the future,  I found myself wishing I had attended the lecture that answered the question, “Who sold the cloister to the Americans?”

© 2013, Elizabeth Esris

Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert, population 265 (2012 figure), is located in the department of Hérault in the region of Languedoc-Roussillon. The village’s official website, which also provides information about the surrounding Hérault Valley, can be found here.  Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert is a member of the association Les Plus Beaux Villages de France.

The Cloisters Museum and Gardens, Fort Tyron Park, New York, New York 10040. The website for The Cloisters contains a wealth of information. In exploring the site you will discover photos that show Barnard’s collection as it was originally displayed in New York City. Worth accessing are wonderful videos that detail the history and construction of the museum in Fort Tryon as well as detailed videos that focus specifically on the reconstructed cloisters, including further information about the cloister from Saint-Guilhem-Le-Désert.

Elizabeth Esris is a teacher and writer. Her poetry has appeared in Wild River Review, Bucks County Writer, and Women Writers. She wrote the libretto for Elegy For A Prince with composer Sergia Cervetti which premiered in excerpts at New York City Opera’s VOX Opera Showcase in 2007. She and Cervetti also collaborated on a one-act chamber opera, YUM!, a celebration of wine, food, and friendship. She teaches English and creative writing at Central Bucks High School South (Pennsylvania).

Other work by Elizabeth Esris on France Revisited include this article and poem about the Luberon and this article and poem about the Abbey of Senanque.

The post Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert: Who’s Minding the Cloister? appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Indeed it is… Lost, but easily found from Paris on a daytrip or better yet an overnight into the Chevreuse Valley.

The town of Chevreuse serves as capital of the Regional Natural Park of the Upper Chevreuse Valley (Haute Vallée de Chevreuse), which encompasses a portion of the valley of the narrow Yvette River.

Regional Natural Park status doesn’t mean that the valley is all forest and wilderness; it’s rather a designation that protects the zone’s landscape, agriculture and woodlands and that controls the development of its towns and villages, all the while allowing its castles to stand out as they have for hundreds of years.

The park’s main tourist office is in the medieval fortress Chateau de la Madeleine that overlooks Chevreuse, a pleasant valley town of 6000 twelve miles southeast of Versailles, 25 miles southeast of Paris. The suburban train line RER B extends south from Paris to Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, 1½ miles from Chevreuse. (See “Logistics” below)

Despite Chevreuse’s attraction for a pleasant stroll, lunching options, and a hike up to the castle, the town isn’t excursion-worthy by itself. But Chateau de Breteuil, several miles away, is.

That may be a standard and easy refrain of the heirs of historical properties open to the public, a post-19th-century form of noblesse oblige. Yet Mr. de Breteuil, born in 1943, has indeed devoted his much of his adult life to safeguarding and sharing the honor and, where possible, the glory of his home. Mr. de Breteuil not only talks the talk but also walks the walk, it seemed to me as he showed me around his chateau one afternoon after lunching together in Chevreuse.

“Call me Henri,” he said, when we first met.

Inside the chateau, visitors encounter assorted ancestors (government ministers, ambassadors, bishops, etc.) and prestigious acquaintances (Louis XVIII, Proust) of the Breteuil family in the form wax figures representing scenes in the life of the chateau or of the family.

As fascinating as it is to an American to learn of a 400-year family connection with a historical property, the most telling aspects of Mr. de Breteuil’s ownership/ trusteeship/ stewardship come from his own lifetime, in particular the difference between his own ties to Breteuil and his late father’s desire to flee such ties.

Mr. de Breteuil’s father saw the ancestral home as a ball and chain prohibiting him from living out his dreams, for not only was he the heir to the Breteuil name but also heir to the New World since his mother was American.

After his mother’s death (his father had died previously), the elder Breteuil went to the United States to settle her estate and decided to settle there himself along with his wife and young Henri. (I call him Henri here only to avoid the confusion with his father but otherwise he’s still Monsieur de Breteuil to me.) But his wife preferred to stay in France, where she directed a theater and where, according to Henri, she envisioned their son’s future. The couple divorced and Henri’s father soon remarried an American, as Henri’s grandfather father had, but this time with the intent of staying in the United States, where he had a second child, Henri’s half-sister. His father wished to sell the chateau, but Henri, in his 20s, decided to take on the full responsibility of restoring and maintaining the ancestral home, joined soon in his devotion but his wife Séverine. Take it if you’re that attached to it, his father more or less said.

(As a youth, Henri spent summers in the United States visiting his father and, rest assured, is quite fond of Americans.)

Together Henri and Séverine restored, renovated and reinvented Chateau de Breteuil to open it and its grounds to the public as we see it today. Séverine de Breteuil passed away in 2009.

The current chateau was built largely in the early 1600s, replacing the ruins of a fortified castle. Of the medieval fortified castle only the dovecote (colombier), with its 3200 pigeon niches, remains, dating from the end of the 15th century. It now houses an exhibit “Breteuil à Table,” with 3D reconstitutions of renowned paintings of mealtime scenes from the Middle Ages to the 19th century.

The chateau itself, built of brick and stone, was then called the Chateau de Bévillers. It took on the Breteuil name when inherited by Claude-Charles le Tonnelier de Breteuil in 1712. Successive partitioning of the property in the 20th century and finally, in 1967, between Henri and his half-sister, have amputated the Breteuil domain of much of its original land, yet the heart of historic Breteuil—the chateau, surrounding buildings and landscaped park—remain as part of the 185 acre estate.

Breteuil, like other private homes open to the public, offers a glimpse into the interplay of historical nobility and contemporary tourism. And if you’re fortunate enough to encounter Henri-Francois de Breteuil along the way—not an unusual occurrence—you will also gain insights into the personal and particularly French sense of heritage and transmission.

Chateau de Dampierre

Dampierre is another private chateau in the Chevreuse Valley, just a few miles from Breteuil. Designed by Jules Hardouin Mansart in the 1680s for the Duc de Chevreuse it is more imposing than Breteuil, as is to be expected from the architect who left major markers of French architecture during reign of Louis XIV, including the Hall of Mirrors and the Grand Trianon among other additions at Versailles, Place Vendome, Place des Victoires, and the dome of the Invalides in Paris. However, it has less the personal, emotive stamp of its owner than Breteuil. Dampierre is open from April to September for guided tours only but makes for a photogenic drive-by at anytime.

Abbey of Vaux de Cernay

For an overnight consistent with the historical and natural theme of a visit to the Chevreuse Valley, look about four miles southeast of Breteuil and Dampierre to the Abbey of Vaux de Cernay.

The hotel is built around the ruins of the abbey, which was founded in the early 12th century by monks from Savigny who then aligned themselves with Cistercian rules. The abbey’s main structures were built as the institution grew from the 12th through 14th centuries. Pillaged during the Revolution, its ruins were later protected and the full domain reconstituted under the ownership of the Baron Rothchild family beginning in 1873.

It is now owned by Les Hotels Particuliers, a hotel group (part of the Savry Group) that transforms formerly more or less abandoned private properties of historical value into hotel complexes. The group currently has fourteen such properties in France, mostly in locations that are, at least for the time being, little known to American visitors.

Remaining usable portions of the abbey have been integrated into the public spaces of the hotel while the roofless, windowless walls of the abbey church testify to both its enormity and the 800 years of history that have passed this way. The public spaces draw inspiration or actual architecture from the Gothic period. The bedrooms of this superior 3-star establishment range from the comfortably monastic (125€) to the expansive apartment (655€). They are decorated without extravagance but in the spirit of restful tradition. The restaurant beneath the Gothic arches serves traditional French cuisine.

If visiting the area by car, Vaux de Cernay, which lies between the chateaux of Breteuil and Rambouillet, is worthy of a coffee/teatime stop even if not spending the night.

Rambouillet

Rambouillet is located just outside of the Regional Natural Park of the Upper Chevreuse Valey, but its close enough (seven miles from Cernay, ten miles from Chevreuse) and green enough to be associated with the above explorations.

The Chateau de Rambouillet has the status of a Presidential Estate, though it’s rarely been used by recent French presidents other than for the occasional meeting with heads of state or international conferences. It is otherwise open to the public on guided tours and is the point of departure for hikes and biking into the Forest of Rambouillet.

At its heart Rambouillet is a fortified castle built in the late 14th century though it has been repeatedly modernized over the centuries. King Louis XVI purchased it in 1783 to take advantage of the hunting grounds of the nearby forest. Though the king was tone-deaf to the troubles that would soon be brewing in his kingdom, he was up to date on the science of selective breeding of farm animals. Under him, Swiss cows, Spanish and African sheep and angora goats grazed here. Napoleon, who also enjoyed Rambouillet, added horses and buffalos to the farm. The National Sheepfold (Bergerie nationale) of Rambouillet still exists.

Louis XVI also had a dairy built for Marie-Antoinette’s pleasure, as with the Queen’s Hamlet at Versalles, and Rambouillet’s Queen’s Dairy, without the cows, can also be visited. Visits of the interior of the castle, the Queen’s Dairy and an exquisite thatched cottage can be visited by guided tour only, departing almost hourly. Closed Tuesday.

Green travels continue in the 50,000 acres of Forest of Rambouillet that spread out beyond the castle’s park. Information on hiking and biking routes on the forest are available at the tourist office near the castle.

Ferme de Coubertin

Exploring the Chevreuse Valley and the Forest of Rambouillet is green enough to make a visitor want to find some fresh goat or cow cheese to make a picnic. And that’s possible at the Ferme de Coubertin, a farm with 60 milk cows and 25 goats along with rabbits and pigs, just a half-mile from the Saint Remy les Chevreuse RER train station, where this report started.

Along with purchasing fresh dairy products, you can visit the farm and watch the cows and goats being milked in late afternoon.

With proper timing you can stop at Coubertin Farm to pick up a dairy picnic before setting out to visit the valley or visit the cows and purchase some cheese before taking the train back to Paris, as I did.

Logistics for visiting the Chevreuse Valley and Rambouillet

Weekending Francilians, as inhabitants of the Paris region (Ile-de-France) are called, are likely to have a car when visiting the Chevreuse Valley and so are able to visit the various sights mentioned in this article without much logistical consideration. If you’ve got wheels, use them.

Using public transportation and taxis requires more forethought but is possible as well as adventuresome.

The easiest way to reach the area by public transportation is to take the RER suburban train line B to Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, then setting off by taxi or by bus (Sundays only April-Oct.). RER B runs north-south through Paris (Gare du Nord, Chatelet, Saint-Michel, Luxembourg, etc.), with one of its branches (verify that you’re on the right one) reaching Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse in 50-55 minutes.

The town of Chevreuse is 1.5 miles from the Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse RER station, so that might be your first stop. There’s regular bus service between Saint-Rémy (from the station) and Chevreuse and less regular to Choisel (then a walk to Breteuil), Dampierre, Cernay and Rambouillet. You can always get somewhere by bus, if not everywhere, and in any case close enough on a nice day to finish on foot (excluding Rambouillet). A sweet smile in the parking lot at Breteuil might also get you a ride to your next destination.

If sans bus (and sans smile) you might take a taxi directly to the Chateau de Breteuil from Saint-Rémy, 3 miles away. Vaux de Cernay Abbey is a few miles beyond it in one direction, Dampierre a few miles in another.

On Sundays and public holidays from the first Sunday in April to the last Sunday in October, a bus service called Baladobus makes the rounds several times per day from the Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse RER station to the Chateau de Breteuil, 20 minutes away, as well as to Chevreuse, Vaux de Cernay, Dampierre. With careful planning by bus (inquire at tourist office for schedule) it’s possible to hit several of the highlights of the immediate area on a leisurely day or a Saturday-Sunday or Sunday-Monday overnight.

An alternative approach without a car is to begin at Rambouillet, reached in a little over an hour by train from Paris leaving from the Montparnasse station. Rambouillet makes for a daytrip on its own.

A 36-hour adventure from Paris can involve arriving at Rambouillet and departing from Saint-Remy-lés-Chevreuse (or vice versa) and visiting the sights in between according to your touring interests.

Official information websites and details

Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse. There’s a tourist information office across from the RER train station, open Wed., Sat., Sun. and holidays.

Regional Natural Park of the Upper Chevreuse Valley 

Chateau de Breteuil, Choisel, 78460 Chevreuse. Tel. 01 30 52 05 02. Guided tours set out at 2:30pm daily, with an additional tour at 11:30am Sunday and holidays. Can be visited without a guided tour. A creperie stand is open early April to late October. Picnics are welcome at any time.

Chateau de Rambouillet 

Forest of Rambouillet 

 Abbey of Les Vaux de Cernay (hotel), 78720 Cernay la Ville. Tel. 01 34 85 23 00.

The Coubertin Farm, Ferme de Coubertin 

Yvelines Tourist Information.  The sights mentioned in this article are all found in the department of Yvelines, which also includes Versailles, Saint-Germain-en-Laye, Maisons-Laffitte, and other towns east and southeast of Paris.

© 2012, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Beyond Versailles: The Chevreuse Valley, Breteuil, Vaux de Cernay, Rambouillet appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

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By Elizabeth Esris

If you buy a calendar for a Francophile around the holidays, the kind in which each month is a spectacular scene from a different region in France, chances are that July or August will feature a view of long, arching rows of lavender running to a gray stone abbey that evokes romantic visions of Provence.

I drove into that very scene on a summer day as I approached the Abbey of Sénanque. The view of the mass of vibrant lavender against the stark eloquence of the 12th century Romanesque monastery took my breath way.

I wasn’t alone. The spectacular scene is shared by many visitors drawn to this rural valley just north of the chic and stunning perched village of Gordes. Walking the dusty path from the parking lot amid the quiet conversation of others, I knew that I needed to move beyond the photo op in order to make my visit a lasting and intimate experience.  When I approached the old stone walls, I wanted to engage my imagination as I learned about their history.

The Abbaye Notre-Dame de Sénanque  was established when local lords donated land to build a Cistercian monastery in 1148, 50 years after the founding of the mother of Cistercian abbeys at Citeaux in Burgundy. At Sénanque, twelve monks were brought to live in huts while construction of the abbey was begun.

The church of the monastery was consecrated in 1178, though it wasn’t until 1250 that other essential buildings such as residences and the refectory (dining hall) were complete. Over time additional structures of a self-sustaining medieval religious community were added, including a cloister, a chapter house for meetings, a scriptorium for writing of manuscripts, and barns and other outbuildings that were part of a series of granges for food production.  Four mills completed a productive agricultural community that enabled the diligent and entrepreneurial Cistercians to lord over a prosperous center of influence in Provence well into the 15th century.

In addition to being an industrious order that worked hard to create efficient agricultural techniques, the Cistercians also established a core group of lay members at the Abbey of Sénanque who toiled at the most arduous manual tasks in the granges and at the mills. These men lived within the monastery, but slept and ate in separate quarters.

Perhaps it was inevitable that with prosperity came exploitation of the Cistercian’s original religious mission. The riches of the agricultural operations afforded temptations that gave way to worldly pleasures and diversion from the precepts of simplicity and service. Profiteers within the order eventually took control of the monastery in the 1400s, and it fell into decline because of mismanagement and corruption.

The Cistercian mission for a life of austerity and manual labor was reinforced once more at Sénanque in 1475 when a new abbot, John Casaletti from Avignon, was appointed to oversee the monastery and return focus to the values of the Cistercians. The abbey prospered again and became an agent for ministering to the poor, including caring for victims of the plague early in the 16th century.

In 1544 the abbey became a victim of the Wars of Religion when it was attacked by the Vaudois whose oppression and slaughter in the region had been sanctioned by the Catholic Church since the 12th century. The Vaudois pillaged the abbey and destroyed the lay quarters. The Abbey of Sénanque never recovered its prosperity and influence, and during the French Revolution the property was nationalized.

In ensuing years the monastery changed hands a number of times until monastic life was again established in 1988 by the small Cistercian order that lives there today. The community is for the most part financially self-sufficient through income from tours of the monastery, production of lavender and honey, sales of related items in the gift shop, and hosting of overnight visitors, though on occasion the French state and the department of Vaucluse have provided financial assistance to keep this historic setting alive and in good condition.

Learning some of the history of the Abbey of Sénanque in guidebooks, in pamphlets, and during a tour led me to ruminate about monastic and rural life in medieval Provence.  I imagined the narrow mountain road (now D177), which leads to the valley from Gordes, as a dusty mountain path upon which novices came by foot, or perhaps on saddle, to begin a life of silence, simplicity, and long hours of labor in the fields.  I asked myself who they were and what drew them to such an austere life. I envisioned them nearing the rugged stone walls that would become their refuge—perhaps their prison—and I tried to sense their last images of home and the anticipation of what awaited them.

The Abbey of Sénanque was built without a main door to the primary façade; this emphasized the aestheticism of the Cistercians and their desire that the monastery be unadorned.  It also reinforced the insular quality of the community and its purpose in sustaining a simple and silent life away from distractions that a grand portal might communicate to those outside the order.

It was in late June, amid the brilliance of the early blossoming of lavender, when I stepped inside the monastery.

When the voice of the tour guide echoed through the severe but beautiful vaulted dormitory where at night the monks once slept fully clothed in marked sections on the hard floor, I asked myself if they slept peacefully, fatigued by the day’s labor or if they were stalked by dreams of life outside their cloister.

In the scriptorium, the chamber where monks in medieval times worked copying manuscripts, I imagined faces bearing down on parchment and the meticulous lines of letters that inched slowly across the page, formed by hands that ached by day’s end and eyes that wearied with the dimming of natural light.  It is the only room with a fireplace—heated so that the monks could perform their delicate work.

The abbey church was and is still a place of prayer and contemplation. (It’s possible for visitors to attend mass here.) Even though it is stark, the symmetry of the nave speaks of artistry—restrained artistry, an aesthetic that denies excess but is unable to deny beauty. The aim might have been austerity, but when the eye follows the arches to the line in the vaulted ceiling, the radiance of sunlight on stone feels like adornment.

The most memorable part of the abbey is outside, where the eye collides with an impossibly beautiful vision: thousands of lavender flowers, growing in even rows, sway with abandon in the valley breeze against the gray walls of the monastery. It’s at once simple and sublime. Large slate tiles top roof lines. Low sections of the abbey emphasize the rustic nature of the setting, while the rounded lines of the apse and the angles leading to the bell tower suggest the divine. How many stories played out in the heat of the Provençal sun and behind the secretive windows of the monastery? The eye returns to the lavender and back again to the monastery.

On a warm summer day, arriving very early or late in the afternoon, one can avoid seeing buses and hordes of tourists with cameras taking the inevitable shots of lavender against the gray stone. It is possible then, to indulge in fantasy of how it was in medieval times—or how it is today among the robed inhabitants. I visited twice, both times in late June before the height of the tourist season but just in time for the lavender. Both times I stooped low to watch large black bees hover over blossoms , and I looked through the lavender to the abbey wondering how villagers viewed this monastery and it inhabitants so long ago. I imagined an alter ego sitting atop the roof in summer, ruminating about the insular monks who lived within.

Those reflections evolved into the poem, “Musing at the Abbey.”

Musing at the Abbey

In a tide of lavender
arms dappled by sun and stem
vie with black bees for nectar.
The stone wall of the abbey
is weary of the artist’s brush and
bleach of lenses.
It breathes them away
with memory of silent skies and
novices on dusty roads.

Women appear on the tiled roof
with gauze skirts draped
between their thighs.
They bathe in the June sun,
listen to the steps of monks
inching toward prayer,
and whisper to them
with attar from the blooms.

I join them in their hopeless vigil,
my arms hungry
for the heat of summer prayer.
They know me from a dozen other churches.
We have stalked robed ghosts before,
seducing ourselves with chants
of hooded profiles
who share lavender
with black bees
in a quiet coupling
of earth and the divine.

© Elizabeth Esris

Poem first published as “At the Abbey” in Women Writers, June, 2009.
Accompanying text first published in France Revisited, Dec. 2011

Also read Elizabeth’s explorations of and poem about the massacre of the Vadois at Mérindol in the Luberon area of Provence.

The post The Abbey of Senanque: Lavender, Old Stones and Poetry in Provence appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.