There are so many wonderful stories and legends associated with the churches we photograph in France, but none is more pleasing than that of Saint Menulphe and his friend, the Simpleton of Mailly-sur-Rose, a town in the Allier.
Menulphe was the son of an Irish king and very devout. He traveled to England, Brittany and France and was recognized for his sanctity. When the Pope heard of this and asked him to come to Rome, Menulphe walked the route in poverty, a mendicant with no possessions. On his return, he stopped in Mailly-sur-Rose, exhausted with his journey. During that time, Menulphe took pity on an innocent named Blaise who was the scapegoat for local children. One day he intervened as the young urchins threw stones at Blaise. He chided the boys and took the young man under his protection. Blaise was described as a simpleton, one who could barely speak, and never left Menulphe’s side. He couldn’t pronounce his protector’s name and “Menulfe” became “Menoux”.
When Menoux died, Blaise thought that the holy man was asleep. He spent his days and nights at the grave, conversing with his friend. One day visitors to the cemetery saw that the coffin had been dug up and that there was a hole in the side. They discovered Blaise laying on his stomach, with his head in the hole, talking to someone. The local people were scandalized but the curé said, “Poor Blaise, he is a better and more faithful friend than we are. Perhaps he is the least crazy of all.”
The Curé placed Menoux’s remains in a sandstone sarcophagus and had an opening cut into one side. Blaise spent the rest of his life conversing with his friend, and miraculously, the troubles of his mind faded to the point that he was able to serve mass. At the time of his death, Blaise had the reputation of being a simple, faithful man, as sensible as anyone.
Thereafter, in memory of the miraculous healing of Blaise, parents led the bredins, the simple-minded, before the tomb of Menoux and placed their heads carefully into the sarcophagus – the débredinoire – hoping for the same healing that Blaise experienced. Eventually the site received such a number of pilgrims that the Benedictines built an abbey on the site under the direction of the Abbess Adalgasie and placed the sarcophagus with Menoux’s relics in the choir. They also changed the name of the village from Mailly-sur-Rose to Saint Menoux. The fairs held by the abbesses attracted vendors and buyers which led to the expansion of the village.
The church gives an idea of the importance of this abbey and the monastics who resided there. It was built in the classic Cluny style in the early part of the twelfth century. The nave has three tall, narrow bays with ogive arches covered with groin vaults.
The side aisles are, as usual, visually stunning. We see the long, uninterrupted flow to the ambulatory in the distance.
The north side aisle, however, has a unique feature. Just to the west of the transept arch is a rather clumsily executed structure that contains a stairway leading to a defensive tower on the exterior. Poking up through the roof, that tower looks almost like a minaret.
The raised apse is perhaps the finest element of the church. The choir has two elegant high bays topped with clerestory windows while the chancel features a seven bay hemicycle with an arcade of windows leading to the oven vault.
The débredinoire of Saint Menoux is found centered behind the altar in the chancel. These reliquaries have been placed between the pillars of the central hemicycle arch and the tomb can be seen just behind.
The oldest part of the church, built in the eleventh century, is the narthex on the west end of the church. This antechamber has beautiful arcades supporting a short barrel vault. Some of the pillars are topped with capitals, but it is clear that the restoration was not complete. Fragments of some of the original statuary are rather casually displayed in the arcades.
Today, the abbey is gone – only the church remains after the destruction of the French Revolution. The town of Saint Menoux is quiet and peaceful for its 1,009 residents. The church is not well tended; there are rat droppings and cobwebs throughout. Dust cakes the benches and the chairs, but pilgrims still frequent the Église Saint Menoux in order to use the débredinoire for relief from feeble-mindedness or headaches.
Lest we think that credulous in the Middle Ages were alone in these workings, look at this passage in “The Invisible Architecture” by George Prat (2000).
“For more than forty years I made fun of the débredinoire which I considered an example of public credulity … My surprise was great to see that the débredinoire works and is not a gimmick. The débredinoire is placed at the geometric center of the apse …. and is located at the junction point of the telluric current and four streams of water. … When one realizes that this is a machine from another age and can be activated by an ‘acupuncture point’ located nearby, we are amazed at the electrical energy released … The débredinoire is actually an instrument of care-giving; when used correctly, the equivalent a high intensity shock is given to the user. This is certainly very effective in the case of some nervous breakdowns.” People will always find a reason to believe if the need is great enough.
Our daughter Sarah suffers from debilitating migraines and PJ placed her own head in the sarcophagus in hopes of helping. I guess it doesn’t hurt to try! But you must be careful not to touch the tomb while inserting your head. You run the risk of absorbing the feeble-mindedness and headaches of all who preceded you!
If you are interested in seeing some other churches in this region, follow this link.
Location: 46.585211° 3.156842°
22 thoughts on “The Saint and the Simpleton (Dennis Aubrey)”
What a wonderful story and pictures. Thank you, Dennis.
Kalli, it is funny how the life of a town can still be centered to such a large degree around a local medieval legend.
May I re-post this article in my blog site “Impressions” with due credit to you?
I am impressed by the article.
May I re-post this in my blog “Impressions”?
With pleasure, you may repost.
love the simple devotion of the 2 men- how kind.kml
Kathryn, I love the detail of how Blaise talked to his protector, day and night, year after year.
A lovely tale; here is care in (for/by) the community. And incomprehensibe, perhaps, to ‘care in the community’ as invented in UK a short generation ago (accompanied by the emptying out of asylums rather than ensuring they were places of asylum).
The ‘simpleton’ I love, however, is the designer of the little helical stair in the aisle – placing it so seemingly arbitrarily, awkwardly, illogically. Flocks of archjitects and conservationists would love to remove its awkward presence. To me it is really beautiful. (I think Le Corbusier might have hugged it on sight, just as he hugged the misplaced column at his Le Tourette convent.)
John, to disguise such a callous move in words is reprehensible. We have the same problem here. As if the truth can be hidden so easily. As far as the stair to the tower, it is such a wonderful anomaly. BTW, I don’t know about Le Courbusier hugging the columns at La Tourette! Details, please!
Oh dear I cannot remember where I first heard this: Corbusier arriving on site at La Tourette during construction, seeing a column squint; and his hug of it (rather than the expected condemnation of it) symbolising his belief – which he stated in these words when occupants changed his houses at Bordeaux – that: Vous savez, c’est la vie qui a raison, l’architecte qui a tort. (It’s life that is right and the architect who is wrong.)
John, thanks for trying to track down the Curbusier anecdote. Look forward to hearing more.
Thank you for a wonderful and touching story, accompanied by your pictures.
Thanks, Viv. As you well know, there are so many stories associated with these churches and cathedrals. Today’s post features yet another!
Dennis, I chose to stay away from email during an annual gathering with old friends in Chicago, but it didn’t stop me from seeing this marvelous post. I shared it with my seminary classmates who were in tears over the tender story of Blaise, whose devotion to his kindly friend moved us deeply. Six quite “rational” children of the Enlightenment,who often scoff at such tales, were moved beyond the coldness of logic and empiricism, into the warmth of the saint and the simpleton. Thank you!
Thanks, Gordon. It is a moving story, one which gives so much more resonance when visiting the church. The history of this town is the history of the relationship between Blaise and Menoux.
With your permission, may I re-post it?
Of course, Gordon. You never need ask.
may i copy and read at church?
Of course, Kathryn. Good luck.
thank you, i am L.D.S.- they will all enjoy the gentle tale…