The next stop for our travelers was the semi-island fortress church of Saint Michel. At low tide there is land between the rocky hill and the coastal lands some distance away. At high tide, the hill becomes an island. It used to be on dry land in ancient times, but waters change things and now it is a tidal island. Nearby are salt grass marshes on which sheep graze. Pre-salted mutton is said to be quite excellent.
The rock pile has been a fortress as long as people can tell. In the 800’s the Abbey was started. It was built over 400 years! And you think it took a long time to build your house. No comparison. Back in ye old Roman times it was a Gallo-Roman fortress. The Franks took it from them. And just for your information, it was part of the lands in the Asterix stories. That’s important. Eventually a bishop got a message from an angel, Michel himself, to build a church there, but the fellow was either hard of hearing or of understanding until the angel tapped a hole in his head. Then the first church there got built, and over time became the seat of a bishop. There were wranglings with the Vikings, who took the area (remember: Northmen-Normandy? Yes, those) and later with the English in the Hundred Years Wars (1300’s +), who never did, though they tried hard. The French love to tell that to this day, so this Mont is a patriotic place for the French. Not many places they have been undefeated by the Brits.
At the top of the pyramidal rock pile is God. Of course. Meaning, everything points upward. Physically on the top of the rocks is the big abbey. Around the middle of the pile are the great halls, once for nobles. Toward the bottom are the shops and better houses. At the very bottom, at the water’s edge are the fisher and farm folks’ houses. It is all laid out in good feudal fashion, top to bottom in the hierarchy.
While there is an actual town and functioning abbey, the resident population is only a couple of dozen. All the people who work there commute from the inland. But the hordes of pilgrims, tourists, and visiting dignitaries more than make up for the small permanent population.
One has to climb hundreds of steps to get up to the abbey. It’s a good way to get out of crowds. No elevator, cable car, or donkey ride. There is a huge winch at the top that was put there at the time of the French Revolution, to bring supplies to the top. From the nasty Revolution for about sixty years, the Abbey was used as a prison, and not a nice one.
The fairly recent causeway on the left.
All of those stones for building were quarried and transported from across the bay, and carried up for these houses and buildings.
Exception to the rule (a person!, by request, but don’t ask too often).
It is possible that tourists find seagulls as fascinating as wondrous constructions. “God made seagulls, and they have character.”
This is now for a handful of people to rattle around in.
Notice every carving is different.
They TOLD you God was up there.
And Michel himself, slaying the Wicked One. (Often Michael is depicted defeating a demon-man, but sometimes the figurative serpent/dragon is used. To differentiate Michel from St. George, George doesn’t have wings - he was a man, not an angel - and usually he is riding a horse, most often poorly drawn, so when I sketch it, I improve it.) On the tippy top of the tallest spire is a shiny gold Michel in victory. They keep him polished. A French victory is worth it.
Next up, moving across the bay to Brittany. There is an ongoing dispute whether the Mont really belongs to Normandy (“Of course it does,” say the Normans. “It says so in Wiki.”) or to the Bretons (“Is ours and only a Norman would say otherwise,” say the Bretons. “And even the UN said so in an internet article.”) (“But only accidentally, because they have uneducated nincompoops working for them,” say the Normans.) So, take your pick.
No comments:
Post a Comment