Driving for hours through the picturesque, yet challenging, routes of southern France, I embarked on a journey to Limoux and Saint-Hilaire ‒ two enchanting towns that any wine enthusiast must visit. The narrow, winding roads tested my navigation skills and left me questioning every turn. Yet, I faithfully followed the directions provided by my mobile map, determined to reach my destination. Despite the obstacles, excitement filled me as I finally approached the Abbaye de Saint-Hilaire. This historic abbey is not only a site of profound medieval beauty but also the birthplace of the world’s first sparkling wine. The anticipation of exploring this iconic location was palpable, promising an unforgettable experience at the heart of France’s rich wine heritage.
The abbey was one of several abbeys founded in the 9th century that were protected by the powerful Carolingian kings. At that time, it was dedicated to Saint Sernin ‒ the first Bishop of Toulouse. In around 814-828, the abbey received a letter of privilege from Louis the Pious, the successor of Charlemagne. This is the first evidence we have of its existence. Unfortunately, financial difficulties had accumulated over the centuries due to the Hundred Years’ War and the Black Death. The crusade against the Albigensians had further weakened it. It was even stripped of its possessions by the Bishop of Narbonne, who arbitrarily assigned Saint-Martin de Limoux to the Dominicans of Prouilhe. It was during this period that the ancestral method Blanquette de Limoux was discovered by the Benedictine monks in the spring of 1531 in the cellars adjoining the abbey, around 150 years before Dom Perignon “tasted the stars” further north in Champagne. The sparkling wine was loved by the lords of Arques and dukes of Joyeuse who placed countless orders.
As I approached the abbey, its exterior seemed shut away from the outside world, almost afraid of its own austerity. Yet, upon entering, the cloister revealed unexpected dimensions, full of space, light and elegance. The atmosphere was one of silent contemplation, interrupted only by the gentle splash of the fountain in the center. This serene space, with its well-ordered arches, spoke not only of the abbey's prayer life, but also of its political interests and efforts to consolidate power.
Probably built on the site of a Romanesque cloister, the 14th-century cloister seen today is in the Gothic style typical of the Languedoc region. Its arches, supported by double sandstone columns with occasional monolithic stone pillars, feature capitals decorated primarily with foliage, human faces or fantastic animal designs. The cloister, though not a perfect square, embodies earthly perfection through its trapezoidal shape. It features a total of 54 pointed arches ‒ 16 arches on the south side, 14 on the north, and 12 on the east and west, designed to fit on the rock upon which the abbey is built. A 16th century fountain and a well are placed in the centre. The cloister was used as a meditation place, opening out onto an ornamental garden evoking Heaven on earth.
Back in the 14th century, most monks came from noble families and did not engage in manual labour. Instead, other monks, servants, and brothers from lower classes worked diligently, growing crops, crafting goods, and treating people. They moved freely through the cloister, running to mass seven times a day in a space meticulously designed for such movement.
As I stepped inside the 12th-century church beside the cloister, a profound silence enveloped me. The church is at the heart of monastic religious life, therefore this building was constructed first. It is in the shape of a Roman cross, and the choir is located eastward. The ‘cul-de-four’ vault of the chancel, which shaped like a hemisphere, is typically Romanesque, but its doors and windows were made in the 19th century by a famous Toulouse master glass-maker ‒ Louis-Victor Gesta. Back in the 12th century, this place would have been in semi-darkness, lit only by a few candles. The wall at the back of the nave shows an arch on columns that are oddly attached to the capitals of the haunches of the vaults. It was meant to be the beginning of a new space continuing the nave. However, construction of the abbey was never completed. This sandstone building is decorated with foliage and mythological characters on the capitals which support the gothic ribbed vault. The decoration mostly consists of red marble from Caunes-Minervois, Aude. The monks came in to pray eight times a day according to the Rule of Saint Benedict. It has been a parish church since 1758 and is still in use.
In the 12th century, one specific workshop stamped its mark on the golden age of Romanesque art in certain regions in the South of France. It was that of the Master of Cabestany. As at Saint-Papoul, he created a masterpiece here ‒ the sarcophagus of Saint Sernin. According to legend, Saint Sernin was ordered to offer incense to the Roman gods circa 150 AD. Defiantly, he refused, leading to his arrest and subsequent death sentence. He was tied to a bull prepared for sacrifice and dragged through the streets. The “Saintes Puelles” were girls who collected his body for a Christian burial before being flogged and driven out of Toulouse. They sought refuge in a village near Castelnaudary; their sanctuary became known as Mas-Saintes-Puelles, a name it retains to this day.
The Master of Cabestany breathed life into his art, breaking new ground with his dynamic creations. Note how the bull charges forward, seemingly straining to break free from the very marble it is carved from. Observe the tightrope walker on the right, who dances on the rope, capturing a moment of delicate balance and movement. The sarcophagus is read from right to left. The first panel on the side is devoted to Saint Sernin’s mission of evangelisation; he was surrounded by his disciples. Then, on the front, there follow the Toulouse scenes: the displeased oracles, the arrest of Saint Sernin and his martyrdom. Finally, the left-hand register depicts the Saintes Puelles.
Next, I visited the refectory, where the monks used to eat in silence. Heads down, they listened to the Gospels read by a monk from the pulpit. The pilgrims and guests of the abbey once gathered in the adjacent refectory, now lost to time.
Later, I entered the abbot’s private room, a luxurious space starkly contrasting with the austerity of the other buildings. Dating back to the late 15th century, the room boasts an ostentatious ceiling, a testament to the peace enjoyed by the abbey between the end of the Hundred Years’ War and the Wars of Religion, when painted ceilings became fashionable. Restored in the 19th century, the walls now display the coats of arms of various abbots. Between the beams, one can see various scenes: medieval characters, daily life, and even inappropriate scenes, all reflecting the power and position of the host as he welcomed visitors. In 1534, the abbey was entrusted to a layman as financial revenue by the king. The intricate ceiling of this room was rediscovered in 1860 by Canon Boudet, who added his own touches, including floral motifs, a few panels, and some paintings on the wall.
As my visit to the Abbaye de Saint Hilaire drew to a close, I left with a treasured memento: a bottle of Blanquette de Limoux, produced by Sieur d'Arques using the ancestral method and the rare Mauzac grape. On the nose, it offered delightful aromas of apples, while its taste was a harmonious blend of fruity notes, pleasant freshness, and the lively effervescence characteristic of this exceptional wine. The natural sugar added a delicious sweetness, making it extremely refreshing. Whether enjoyed as an aperitif or paired with desserts, this Blanquette de Limoux perfectly encapsulates the rich history and vibrant spirit of the region. My journey to this historic abbey, with its serene cloisters and remarkable heritage, was a truly enriching experience, leaving me with cherished memories and a deeper appreciation for the birthplace of sparkling wine.
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