who had been minister to the good St. Louis. That was in the thirteenth century. His end was most tragical; he perished on the gibbet, having poisoned the king’s son, and endeavoured to accuse the queen of the crime.
How can we pass unnoticed the far-famed Fontevrault? Though an abbey and not a château, still its associations have so much in common with the subjects of our previous remarks, that I cannot pass it by.
In ancient times it was one of the most opulent institutions of the kind in France, and entirely at variance with all similar places of retreat; it had the peculiarity that monks and nuns were all subject to the control of a lady abbess, and yet it did not owe its foundation to a lady, but to a Breton monk, named Robert d’Arbriseil, so early as in the year 1098. His followers, when he arrived in the dense and magnificent forest which he fixed on for his future home, numbered nearly 3000 persons of all ages and both sexes, and strange to say, though it was in opposition to all known schemes of the sort, for more than nine centuries did this singular convent maintain its existence. This venerable and beautiful abbey was in former times the prison of many royal and celebrated persons, who were entrusted to the safe keeping of the reverend brothers.
Fontevrault is the last resting-place of many royal persons. Our own valiant Richard Cœur de Lion here reposes after his stormy career. As one gazes at his effigy clad in royal robes in lieu of armour, and notices the lofty stature of the figure, more than six feet in height, the fine broad forehead and the finely cut features, how many thoughts crowd into the mind as it contemplates the exact resemblance of this renowned Norman king! The strong natural frame, the hasty, fiery temperament, the chivalric honour, all so in unison with the Norman character, all seemed pourtrayed in this sculptured face—a most interesting monument! And who reposes by his side? His father, Henry II., the wisest, and one of the best kings that England ever saw, the greatest trouble of whose life was the undutiful conduct of this very son. The only one of his sons who accompanied their father’s remains to this last home, was his natural son, Geoffrey; and tradition says that, when Richard afterwards came and stood by his father’s tomb, remorse for his conduct to him quite overcame the iron-hearted prince. How true it is that if “We sow the wind we shall reap the whirlwind.” Nearly the sorest trial of Richard’s life was the treacherous conduct of his brother John.
The monument of Henry is as fine as that of his son. His queen, Eleanor of Guienne, beautiful even in this stone effigy, rests near her husband. That of Isabella d’Angoulême is even more beautiful. She was the widow of King John; her features are of rare and most queenlike loveliness. The body of Henry II. was brought from Chinon, and laid in the sanctuary for some time before interment, and Richard saw it just before the closing of the royal coffin.
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Château de Dampierre.
