Vézelay Abbey

Listen first. The wind moves over the top of this hill, and somewhere below a church bell answers it. Under your feet the cobbles of the main street have climbed all the way up from the valley. Now they flatten out into an open square. In front of you stands a long, pale church of honey-coloured stone. It looks less like it was built on the hill and more like it grew out of it.

This is the Basilica of Saint Mary Magdalene, the heart of Vézelay Abbey. It sits on a ridge above the valley of the river Cure, in northern Burgundy, at the edge of the wooded Morvan hills. The village is tiny. One main street, a handful of lanes, old stone houses with steep roofs. But for a few centuries in the Middle Ages, this hilltop was one of the most visited places in Western Europe.

The reason was a set of bones. The Benedictine monks here, monks who followed the sixth-century Rule of Saint Benedict, claimed to hold the relics of Mary Magdalene. She was the follower of Jesus whom the Gospels place at the empty tomb on Easter morning. By the eleventh century, pilgrims were arriving in great numbers to pray near her remains. Their gifts paid for the church you see now.

The abbey's story begins earlier, in the ninth century. A powerful nobleman, Girart de Roussillon, founded a religious community in this area. That first foundation was in the valley, and it was attacked. The monks moved up onto the hill, where stone walls and steep slopes gave better protection. From that defensive choice came the view you have today, across fields, forests, and the small river far below.

Now, a moment from history that still surprises people. In 1146, at Easter, a famous monk called Bernard of Clairvaux preached on the slope of this hill. The French king, Louis the Seventh, was in the crowd. Bernard called for a new Crusade, the Second Crusade. The response was enormous. A few decades later, in 1190, two kings met here before setting out on the Third Crusade — Richard the Lionheart of England and Philip Augustus of France. This quiet village was a launch point for armies.

It was also a launch point for walkers. Vézelay is the start of one of the four great French routes to Santiago de Compostela, the shrine of Saint James in northwestern Spain. Look down at the pavement and on the buildings around the village. You may see the scallop shell, the symbol of that pilgrimage. Pilgrims still set off from this door with packs and walking sticks. The journey to Spain takes them many weeks on foot.

When you step inside, give your eyes a moment. The nave, the long central hall, is wide and full of soft light. Then look up at the arches that cross the ceiling. Their stones alternate, pale and darker, cream and a rosy brown, like stripes. This is Romanesque building, the round-arched style of Europe around the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The stripes give the hall a steady rhythm, arch after arch, as your eye travels toward the altar.

Much of this nave was built after a disaster. In 1120, a fire broke out in the church during a great feast, and many pilgrims died. The monks rebuilt. The nave you stand in comes from that rebuilding in the early twelfth century. At the far end, the choir behind the altar is different — taller, lighter, with pointed arches. That part came later in the same century, as the new Gothic style spread out from the region around Paris. In one building, you can see one era turning into the next.

Before you go deeper, return to the covered entrance hall, called the narthex, just inside the main doors. Above the central inner doorway is a great carved half-circle of stone, a tympanum. Christ sits at the centre, very large. Lines run from his hands toward the apostles around him. This scene shows the apostles receiving their mission to carry the faith to every people on earth. Around the edges, the sculptors carved those peoples. Some are ordinary. Some are strange — figures with dog heads, figures with enormous ears. Medieval travellers' tales described such nations at the far ends of the world, and the carvers put them here in stone.

Now walk slowly along the nave and look at the tops of the columns. Each capital carries a small carved scene. There are fights, demons, saints, and animals. One of the best known is called the mystic mill. A man pours grain into a mill, and another collects the flour. Scholars usually read it as an image about Old Testament ideas being turned into New Testament teaching. Take your time with these. Many visitors walk straight past them.

By the end of the Middle Ages, the abbey's fortune had changed. In the late thirteenth century, a church in Provence, in southern France, announced that it held the true body of Mary Magdalene. Pilgrims followed that claim south, and Vézelay slowly lost its crowds. Later centuries brought wars and neglect. By the nineteenth century, the great church was in danger of collapse.

The rescue came in the 1840s. A young architect, Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, took on the restoration. He later became the most famous restorer in France, and he also worked on Notre-Dame in Paris. He strengthened the walls and rebuilt damaged sections. Some of what you see on the outer front façade is his work, including the carving above the main outside door. The inner tympanum in the narthex is the medieval original. Today the whole hill is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Here is one last detail to watch for. The church was built so that light falls in a careful way. Around midday at the summer solstice, patches of sunlight land in a line down the middle of the nave floor, leading toward the choir. In winter, the light falls higher, on the capitals. Whatever the season, notice where the light lands right now. A religious community still lives here, and at service times you may hear them singing.

When you leave, walk around the back of the church to the terrace behind the choir. The ground drops away there, and the valley opens beneath you. Stand still for a moment. Pilgrims, kings, monks, and walkers have all looked at this same view. Then let the cobbles carry you back down the hill, slowly.