Abbaye de Hambye, Normandy
Searching for a little orphan girl
2017
My second WorkAway took place in Normandy. Kiwi Mike picked me up from the train and, on the way home, described the story of the closest village. Apparently, when the Americans liberated Normandy, they had to blow up all the buildings to take care of the enemy. When they approached Villedieu-les-Poêles (village of the copper basins, pots and pans - where they made bells) the mayor said, ‘Let me ride on the front jeep to see if there are any snipers left. If I get shot you can go get ‘em. Otherwise, there will be no need to blow up our beautiful ville.’ He rode into town, a figurehead of doom, and was not shot. Thus, he saved the buildings of Villedieu-les-Poêles.
Mike, Roseann, together with their son, Olivier, have renovated their farmhouse to creating a comfortable rural home. Roseann explained her carvings over the main doorway inspired by Maori symbolism. The journey starts with a koru, new life, and a whale’s tail, illustrating a prosperous journey. Then there’s a hand on a belly symbolising fertility (celebrating Olivier’s arrival) and finished with the dolphin’s tail, playfulness.
Roseann reports:
We have the genealogy for the family that was here to 1670 but yes the original part is probably 16th century.
Star of David in middle, that 3 point symbol you see in the Brittany flag at the top, and the fleur de Lys chipped off during the revolution in the semi circles. The fleur de Lys is a royal symbol and, if left on the house during the revolution, it would have indicated support for the royals ie liable to lead to persecution. The family I have tracked here were seigneurs ie land owners/lords so part of the ruling class. I'd love to know what happened during the revolution.
The roof was crowned by a line of iris and succulents, a local specialty, to root the thatch deeply together. Thatch lasts around forty years as constant rains run off the damp top layer, leaving the thick under-thatch dry.
Mike explained where domestic animals would have lived (now his office, and a bathroom with Milford Sound-inspired mosaics made by Roseann) and how the humans would have lived beside the beasts for warmth. There would have been feed for the animals stacked above.
My task here was fun - stripping upholstery from a three-piece suit and another couch - one of those satisfying tasks where you could see the difference immediately: dissecting, pulling off covers like huge scabs. We labeled, ironed and tried to keep some sort of order, so Roseann could create her new, bold patchwork of complementary fabrics.
On my first day off I went to visit the local Abbey. Our Lady of Hambye Abbey was founded in 1145 by the local Lord. The first monks were Benedictines influenced by Cistercian correctness. Roseann kindly dropped me off at the bottom of a vibrantly lush valley and I fully intended to make my own way back.
Once through the gatehouse, a cross reference of now and then, I walked around the edge of the monasterial buildings to the farm buildings.
Here it was easy to imagine lay monks working to support the religious men who prayed seven times a day. There was a pressing room, I supposed for apples, and places to keep the animals, and stables
As I walked through the lay brother’s house, now housing an exhibition of religious artefacts, I tried to populate the grounds with nuns and Anne’s childhood companions.
The monk’s day room still held whispers of old, and walking through the cloister, even though the columns had been removed, one could imagine quiet conversations on the way to the Chapter House and the sacristy.
The church itself was a skeleton, not from the bombs of Allies, but from neighbours helping themselves to supplies.
Attempts were made to keep the surviving shapes, but over the years much of the stone found new purpose in other local buildings.
A simplified layout based on this Abbey could find purpose in Anne de Brueil’s childhood home in Templemars. How could I find the words to describe these monuments as if they were new?
Sadly, I neglected to get a fix on my WorkAway address on my handy app, maps.me, and, although human error led to my walking a good way in the correct direction, I felt ashamed I had to call poor Roseann to rescue me from Percy!
Once again, my search had found me lost. But perhaps, child Anne de Brueil had found some kind of home. Here, I could imagine Milady growing up. Keep reading Searching For Milady to find out more about the other places that fed into her early life!
Looks like a nice area to get lost in.