Who is This Saint?

 Rather than a 'what is this thing?' I'm going for a 'who is this?' post.

This statue in the medieval church of Saint Martin in Prissac is clearly old and looked like it had potential to be interesting. I reckoned it was 17th century, but couldn't immediately identify the saint.

It turns out to be 15th century, so contemporary with much of the church decor, and represents Sainte Radegonde. She's a very common female saint to be featured in these parts, so I should have noticed that this nun was wearing a crown and guessed who she was. The statue has had quite a life but has been treasured in this church for centuries. Radegonde was a popular saint at the French Court, especially during the Hundred Years War, as Poitiers remained loyal to the French King and there are sites dedicated to her in several places from Tours to Poitiers. Charles VII was particularly attached to her cult and named his eldest daughter after her. 

The statue was made by an unknown artist from stone and painted. She was restored in 2017. Anyone who knew her from before this date will barely recognise her. She used to be multicoloured, and I suspect, spent quite a few decades being mistaken for the Virgin Mary (due to the crown).

She came to the attention of the Regional Curator for  Historic Monuments in the course of a major restoration project focused on the wall paintings in the church, which started in 2013. At that time she was in a very degraded state and restoration was recommended, although she was outside the scope of the original project.

Luckily, there was a qualified sculpture conservator, Delphine Bienvenut, who came from the village. The statue was sent to her workshop in Tours.

Sainte Radegonde de Poitiers was a Thuringian princess who married a Frankish king in 536. She died in Poitiers in 587 at the age of about 67. We spent a few days in Thuringia in June, around Wartburg. It's a small centrally located State in modern Germany, once part of the GDR (ie Communist East Germany). Radegonde set up her court in Poitiers and lived as a simple nun, known for her piety and humility. She was sanctified by popular acclaim very quickly after her death.

The Church of Saint Radegonde in Poitiers, where she is buried.

It's thought the sculpture was probably made from a single block of stone originally, but it is now divided into three pieces -- the head, the chest, and the rest of the body and arms. There would have originally been hands too of course, one holding either a sceptre or an abbess' cross. Each of these pieces have been joined at some point using wooden dowels about 2 cm in diameter.

Upon studying the sculpture the conservator discovered that there had been three layers of overpainting covering the first layer. The original paint scheme had been applied over a preparatory base coat of smooth white. The saint's gown was a layer of blue-grey applied very thinly to the preparatory coat. This coat is quite scrappy and slapdash, and is now almost impossible to separate from the layers above and below. The cloak is richly decorated with gold leaf and red lacquer. The crown is quite blingy and also covered in gold leaf, with elements of green and red lacquer. The rosy cheeks on the face are well done and seem well preserved. The eyes are green and the wimple is white.

The first layer of overpainting is strongly adhered to the layer below, making its removal practically impossible. In this layer the gown is a sombre grey-green, but the cloak has become azure blue, decorated with a gold motif. The crown was redone, but repeating the original, as was the face and wimple.

The second layer of overpainting was easy to remove. It had been applied in a slightly thicker coat. The colours are less contrasting, but of very good quality. The veil and cloak were painted in very dark green and the gown in an even more sombre shade of green, virtually black. The wimple was white and the crown ochre and gold. Once again the face has been nicely rendered, but the eye colour has been darkened.

A third layer of overpainting was then applied but it was poor quality and noticeably modified the appearance of the statue. It became a riot of clashing colour and I suspect mistaken at this point for the Virgin Mary.

The conservator opted to remove the most recent overpaint to reveal the finer details of the carving and colouring. She found that the statue was of very good quality, which given its appearance when she received it was a bit of a surprise. Personally, I'm a bit sad that due to the difficulty of taking the paint back to the earliest layer the sculpture has ended up very sombre, rather than the jewel like colours of the original.

Further reading: I wrote about the Chapelle Sainte Radegonde in Chinon some years ago and you can read it here https://daysontheclaise.blogspot.com/2021/09/chapelle-sainte-radegonde-chinon.html

Not a Chateau

In the land of châteaux, this isn't a château. In fact it is hardly even a building any more, just an end wall. I imagine it is pretty old, but we've never managed to find out how old.

It is within 1.6km (1 mile) of la Poste in Preuilly-sur-Claise, and right on the border of the commune. Do you know where it is?

The History of the Brand Family

My father was singularly uninterested in his ancestry. Not just disinterested, uninterested to the point that you could see him switch off when you tried to get him to talk about it. He had his reasons, and to him they were totally valid, so we let it be. Occasionally (and always out of the blue) he would tell something of his past, but he never mentioned his parent's background.

Luckily for those of us who are interested we have my cousin Linda who is Officer in Charge: Family History. She has chased the Brands back to the 17th century, and my paternal grandmother's family tree back to the 16th century. Which is remarkable because it's all in German. This is how Susan and I had the knowledge to be able visit the places we did in Germany.

The house in which my great grandfather was born, Fritzlar.

On the 25th of August Linda will be giving a talk at the Fritzlar Local History Museum about tracing her German roots. If you're in the area, I'm sure she'll have a couple of copies of the talk in english.

Homes for Bees and Wasps

The town hall (rathaus) in Schrozberg has a wildflower meadow which was created to provide a habitat for insects and other small wildlife, including butterflies, wild bees and bumble bees. The idea is to provide food, shelter and breeding areas, helping many species to thrive while also supporting plant biodiversity. To protect this delicate ecosystem, the meadow is mown only twice a year, allowing flowers and grasses to grow naturally. A mixture of different grass heights provides additional shelter and food for wildlife, while seeds and plant stems continue to benefit animals and birds throughout winter.

That's not the most fun part: what really excited Susan was the sandpit for wild bees and solitary bees to nest in. It's right in the middle of the municipal flowerbeds in front of the town hall building.

It can be done, and Susan is pushing for something similar to be done in Preuilly-sur-Claise.

Lean Times in Loches

The War years marked Loches, as they did the rest of the country, with deprivation and rationing. For buying staples, especially food, families were issued with ration cards. The quantities authorised, whether it be for bread, meat, pasta etc were dependent on gender, age and how physical your work was.

In the market in Loches prices soared. At the beginning of the War a dozen eggs cost 9 francs. Two years later they were 19 francs. It was the same for a kilo of butter, which went from 25 francs to 100 francs.

The statue of Alfred de Vigny today, back in his original location.

The restrictions didn't only affect food. Many products became difficult to obtain, such as coffee, heating fuel, shoes, tyres or clothes. To save electricity the opening hours of shops were limited. Lacking petrol, the vet did his rounds on horseback. Certain car and truck owners modified their vehicles to use charcoal gas.

France was suffering a severe lack of raw materials. In 1941 the authorities collected all the non-ferrous metal they could find (lead, copper, tin). The following year anyone who handed in 200g of copper was offered a litre of wine in recompense.

This lack of metal resulted in the loss of numerous works of art. In Tours, several statues, including a famous one of Balzac, were melted down. In 1943 it was announced that the statue of Alfred de Vigny in Loches must also be sacrificed. This news provoked an immediate emotional outburst by the general public. The locals decided to act, and in the early hours of 29 July the bronze sculpture by Sicard was discreetly lifted off its socle by workers from Deschamps Carpentry and transported to a troglodyte cave in rue de la Roche Appert, where, well hidden, it waited in total safety for the end of the War.

A Mystery Cross

This is another "what's that thing" where we don't really know the answer besides the obvious.

We know it's a cross, we know it's immediately next to the church in Prissac (36), and we assume it's old.  How old it is, and its history we do not know, and our online research hasn't turned up any information.

So it's over to the hive mind: what's the history of that thing.

Not What I Expected to See

Yesterday as a treat we went with Niall and Antoinette to explore some of the painted churches of the Anglin Valley. As usual with these expeditions we saw a lot of excellent médiéval art, a lot of which was pretty cryptic. We did a similar trip with my cousin Linda this time last year, and things are no more clear.

We visited Chalais and its Église Saint-Léobon, which has had exploratory work done removing a thick (up to 8cm) layer of plaster removed, revealing intriguing early paintings. Unfortunately the money has run out, so at the moment you only get glimpses of what remains to be discovered.

I imagine the exclamation marks are because the 14th Century artist was as surprised as me to see a Disney Vulture

It was an excellent day out, and I even managed to find an almost sugar free dark chocolate sorbet in a tearoom in Saint-Benoît-du-Sault.

A Foreign Grotte

There are 765 recognised "Lourdes Grotto" in France. In the immediate area surrounding Preuilly-sur-Claise there are at least three: Boussay, Yzeures sur Creuse, and  (most impressively) Paulmy. 

This isn't one of them, in fact it's not even in France. This is the Lourdes Grotto next to the Sankt-Anna-Kapelle near Mulfingen, in Baden-Württemberg, Germany. It's not as picturesque (or old) as those closer to home, but it's the thought that counts.

Les Telots

Another "what's that thing?" from Autun. You can't miss them, two almost perfectly conical hills rising from nowhere. It's instantly obvious what they are, not so obvious the cause.

These are the Les Télots spoil heaps. Autun sits on a large oil shale deposit which by 1837 was being exploited for gas for public lighting. The Les Télots concession was granted in 1865, and production of shale oil gas started in 1881. The refinery constructed an oil distillation plant in 1936, employing several hundred workers who produced automotive fuel. Following closure in 1957, the site was dismantled and partially demolished. Remains of the installations (ruins) and these two large spoil tips still mark the landscape, overgrown with particular vegetation studied for its biodiversity. Les Télots is recognized as a natural zone of ecological, faunistic, and floristic interest (ZNIEFF).

Firebox

What's that thing?

It's a close-up of one of these

The firebox of a steam locomotive is where combustion occurs, generating the heat that boils water into steam. 

The brick arch is a curved wall of firebrick built inside the firebox. Rather than letting hot gases rush straight from the fire into the boiler tubes, the arch forces them to travel a longer, curved path before reaching the flue openings.

This allows more complete combustion of gases and volatile matter released from the coal, which improves efficiency and reducing smoke. It also protects the tube plate from direct flame, preventing localized overheating and leaks. Additionally, the arch helps distribute heat more evenly across the firebox and it slows sparks and unburned particles from being drawn into the tubes, reducing wear and fire risk in the smokebox.

They're not ordinary bricks. Firebricks are refractory bricks made from materials like fireclay or silica, engineered to withstand extreme heat without cracking or melting.

This one is in the Cité du Train in Mulhouse. I knew about them, but I've never seen one up close.

What to do on Sunday

Go for a drive in a classic car, see an ocean of sunflowers, then go to lunch at the guinguette. It sure beats working.

Susan, Connie, Yvonne and Claudette.

Yesterday was the guinguette's classic car and oyster Sunday. Unfortunately the oyster man had a boat accident on Saturday and wasn't there, and there weren't a lot of classic cars either. Neither of those things ruined our Sunday.

The weather is getting a lot more acceptable. It was over 30°C, but at least it wasn't over 40°C!

Wear Your Helmet!

Yesterday's photo was taken on my bike ride yesterday morning. It was only a short ride, partly because it was starting to get warm again, and partly because I'd only gone out to take that photo.

What I didn't say is that I was in such a rush to take the photo and get home to publish it in time that I managed somehow to get my foot tangled in the bike as I dismounted. I landed with an almighty bang, mainly on the back of my head. This ended up with me under the bike and quite puzzled about how I was going to escape. After lying there for a minute or so I collected my thoughts, wriggled my way out, took the *#@*'!! photo and rode home.

Total damage was a bloody and slightly swollen elbow, a bit of gravel rash on my back, and a mashed helmet.

It's annoying, because it's a new helmet bought a week ago to replace my 25 year old helmet, but it could have been a lot worse.

Tomorrow I'll be calling in to Action, and buying another helmet because I've proven that they work. And I promise I'll always wear it 

That Time Of Year

This morning it was cooler, so:

Work (Not) in Progress

I am am so grateful that before my father died I was able to send him an email showing him one of my latest purchases.

In 2008* Dad and I made a shutter for what was at the time the window in our guest bedroom, and is now the shutter hiding insulation behind the hidden window in the pantry alcove. It has stood the test of time well, but now needs a proper repaint. That will happen when the weather calms down and the paint isn't in danger of evaporating from the brush, I'm not in danger of becoming dessicated, or the rain is so heavy I can't see what I'm doing.

Dad and I, proud of small things

As it stands now. I gave it a slapdash coat of a new colour 15 years ago

My new purchase. Everyone else is doing it, why shouldn't I?

*Looking back through our records I see it was actually 2007. I should have checked the blog first.

Not Normal Service Resumed

Today we might have been writing about last night, however:

We haven't been for the past few years, due to either health issues or the fact that July is when we take our holidays. This year's we're here, we're relatively healthy, and it'd be nice to be outdoors and not instantly fry.

I realise this would probably been more useful as yesterday's post, but I didn't get around to it.

Maybe next year.

Track Inspector's Draisine

Here's a "what's that thing" that surprised me and it's a real curiosity: a zoomorphic track inspector's draisine from about 1845. I can't quite work out how you balance it on rails, maybe you always keep your feet on the ground? Why didn't they put another wheel on the other track? Wolf or dragon? So many questions.

The word "draisine" traces back to Karl Drais, the German inventor whose 1817 pedestrian "Laufmaschine" — pushed along by foot, with no pedals — became an unexpected fashion craze in Paris and London under the name vélocipède or dandy horse. The fad faded within a few years, but the name stuck.

The rail version came later and separately: in 1837, Franz Aloys Bernard in Vienna adapted the draisienne concept to run on rails. Both the road and rail versions honor Drais's name, even though the rail draisine was really a different invention built for a different purpose — track inspection and maintenance rather than recreation. In French all track inspection and maintenance rail vehicles are still called draisines.

A Pochette

This is a much smaller "what's that thing?" than the past few days.

This is a pochette, a pocket violin from 1680 (ish). It was used by dancing instructors so that they could play a tune, and then pop the instrument in their pocket when demonstrating complicated steps.

The fiddle players amongst you may be interested to learn that it is tuned a third or fourth above standard, although the information sheet didn't say what the standard was likely to have been. You can bet it wasn't A= 440Hz.

This one is in the Bach Museum in Eisenach 

The Pyramid of Couhard

As we were driving into Autun two weeks ago we literally had a "what's that thing?" moment when we spotted something on top of a hill. The next day we drove up the hill to investigate. 

What we had seen was the Pyramid of Couhard, also known as the Pierre de Couhard, a Gallo-Roman monument likely marking the tomb of a wealthy or prominent citizen of Augustodunum. Rising in a sort of pyramidal form, it was built using a core of rubble and mortar, and originally faced with cut stone. Much of the cut stone has eroded away over the centuries, leaving the rough inner masonry exposed. It stood within a larger necropolis that once extended along the slopes of the area, though most other traces of that burial ground have since disappeared.

The pyramid's unusual shape sets it apart from typical Roman funerary architecture in the region, prompting long-standing debate about its exact function and inspiration. This puts it on equal footing to the more local (to us) Cinq-Mars-la-Pile.

Canal Sans Eau

A second "what's that thing?"

When we were travelling to Germany we spent a night in Troyes so we could visit the stained glass museum - we'd missed it in 2023 on our way up to Amsterdam.

I booked a Premiere Classe hotel just south of Troyes in an industrial area in the village of St Thibault. Looking at it on the map I spotted something. It needed investigation.

The Canal de la Haute-Seine was built in the 19th century to link Troyes with the wider French waterway network, and it had a short, difficult existence. Its planned extension upstream from Troyes toward Bar-sur-Seine was meant to eventually connect with the Canal de Bourgogne, but it was never finished, leaving a stretch known locally as the "canal sans eau" (canal without water). At Saint-Thibault, the unfinished Villebertin lock is a relic of this abandoned ambition.

As you can see, it's incongruous.

The Landungsbrücken Pegelturm

I may have to start a new series of blogs called "what's that thing".

The Landungsbrücken Pegelturm, part of Hamburg's St. Pauli Landungsbrücken pier complex, is a tower which features a striking green copper dome and a clock. It also has a numerical display to measure and show the Elbe River's water level. It was constructed in the early 20th century and is a recognizable landmark along the harbor promenade. The tower historically served a practical maritime function: sailors and dockworkers relied on its readings to track tides and navigate the busy Port of Hamburg safely, since the Elbe is tidally influenced despite being a river. Today, the tower is attached to what is a rather good restaurant serving traditional German brewhouse food: appropriately, because it's Hamburg's only brewery.

We had a good (and, huge) lunch there, and it wasn't until we were leaving the restaurant I noticed the tidal gauge.