Next morning a taxi comes to pick us up at the appointed hour (I am part of the party now) to take us to the abbey of Fontenay, founded in 1118 by St. Bernard (who drew up the rule of the Templiers) and classified a UNESCO World Heritage site. An enormous chestnut tree welcomes the visitor in the middle of the Abbey. If only it could talk…

 

It would perhaps tell the story of those dozen breakaways from Cluny who went there at the beginning of the twelfth century to clear a swamp, forgotten at the bottom of a Burgundy valley, and to find themselves, to re-discover the rule of St. Benoit, which they thought those at

 

 

At the revolution the abbey was sold…to a descendant of the famous Montgolfier brothers who turned it into a paper mill. In 1906 the new owners undertook enormous building works to restore Fontenay’s original appearance. They succeeded there! The abbey was nominated a World Heritage site by UNESCO in 1981.

 

 

 

The visit starts with a dovecote, because the monks had the “droit de pigeon”, that’s to say the right of communication, which was quite something in those days. They also had the right of high and low justice on their estates, like the nobles.
The abbey church is one of the oldest Cistercian churches in France. The numerous windows, all with glass of geometric or floral motifs (the rule of St. Benoit dictated total lack of adornment, even for decoration) bathe the building in light. At the time it was lit by only 5 candles (St. Benoit obliging) and it was therefore necessary to place great importance on light.

In the choir, on the ground, paving of enamelled tiles from the thirteenth century give some idea of how the floor of the church was in its time of splendour, before the monks had to sell these tiles in order to survive. Also in the choir are several magnificent tomb-like stones and the vault of Mello of Epoisse and his wife. Finally, a complete marvel, Our Lady of Fontenay and the child Jesus smiling at each other, which is the work of an anonymous sculptor of the late thirteenth century.
A group of Germans has arrived in the vault and start singing several sacred tunes, taking advantage of the extraordinary accoustics of the place. It’s magical, and we linger to reflect on those who sang there, glorifying the Lord, 800 years ago.

We climb up to the dormitory by a stone staircase to admire the rounded oak framework in the room, crafted in the fifteenth century by naval carpenters: in the centre is a round hole. It is where the mast goes.
The charming cloister, where each gallery is composed of eight bays with full span arches, invites one to meditate. The galleries fulfil all functions: to the North, spirituality, to the East, community life (leading to the chapter and chapter house), to the South, bodily functions (to the rooms where the monks washed themselves) and the South was reserved for lay brothers (and sisters).

The chapter house, with its roof of double intersecting ribs, communicates with the scriptorium. From there a little door opens onto the only room apart from the kitchen where a fire could be lit. Crossing the garden one comes to the forge with the river right behind it where the mills (twelfth century) worked bellows and straps to beat out the iron. Looking at the pillars one can see the signs of the builders of the time, humble anonymous signatures of master craftsmen.
In the museum, seat of the former bakery and the visitors’ chapel, is the Papal Bull of Pope Alexander III of 1168, among numerous works of art. It is he who established the Abbey of Fontenay “in all his possessions and privileges”, and that phrase of St. Bernard: “one learns more in the woods than in books. Trees and rocks will teach you about things you wouldn’t know to listen for elsewhere.”… Certainly I, Nénesse Cargo, won’t disagree with that !