This is a solemn call. It concerns the Knights Templar chapel called Holy-Magdalena of Resson (Sainte-Madeleine de Resson), at La Saulsotte in the French Aube department, near Provins, a famous medieval town. It is in danger of falling into ruin. We must act quickly. It has been registered since 1930 with the Inventory of Historic Buildings for its choir, steeple and Romanesque gate. Much more than the tradition, a characteristic architecture testifies to its Templar origins: a short transept, reinforced side works, and the duet it forms inside a small commandery with a dwelling nowadays restored. Experts have confirmed the filiation.
In a singular site, Holy-Magdalena, as a grand vessel of stone, the prow turned towards Holy Jerusalem, draws itself up on a man-made hillock. It dominates a small rustic valley, lined by massive boxwood clumps and furrowed by a running brook. Walnut trees, hornbeams and thujas form the background. On the monument itself, several details speak to the rural permanence of the place. At midday, along the nave, a vine clings and a fig tree blooms. On the powerful walls, blue Brie sandstone alternates with the chalky opalescence of Champagne. The area is frontier. In the east, the table land stops short, while in the west, the slope rises in stages to an undulating ridge line, high contrasted at the rising of the sun. We are at the border between Île-de-France and Champagne regions, and everything is born from this land. The tufa-stone of tiny grains supports the structures of the chapel, those of the bell-tower, the porch, and the stoup. It is born from the stream.
But if, on three sides, the chapel appears intact, a cure, built to lodge a priest at the 17th century, has fallen to the ground today. Holy-Magdalena, in that time, was set up for a time as a parish. What remains of the cure is beautiful. This annex could, if rebuilt, house six people. But the tragedy is inside, plural, varied, and very worrying. Main beams are covered with mold and even some started to rot. The roof which seemed unscathed is not tight. Three years ago, the choir ceiling was cracked, then broke down suddenly. Debris have accumulated, getting rid of the crypt site and masking the recently identified Romanesque frescos. The various scattered elements can be distinguished and the ensemble recomposed. It would require restoration specialists. The frame that dominated the chapel, recently rebuilt, appears intact. But if its various components seem healthy, their balance is unstable. The tie-beam, at the two ends, leans on narrow edges. In the center, the would-be hallmark is not vertical. The whole structure, even to the untrained eyes, is in an extremely precarious state. It is an obvious fact.
For centuries, the chapel has been undergone pressures and stretching. Which role can play the structural vice which affects it? It’s that it rests on an artificial mound, made of brought back chalky sands. Previously, there was likely a wooden castle on this site, infinitely lighter and not needing as much base course. Even if the new foundations were more deeply rooted, they unequally settled. In the south in particular, the buttresses rise obliquely, the walls deviate at the top and the arches or vaults are slack. As long as the fundamental reparations to the structure will not be made, all undertaken works will be useless. We will simply be patching up, applying temporary fixes. It is certainly necessary to continue to hope for a full reconstitution of the building: the known cost is high. But for the moment, there are urgent priorities:
In a singular site, Holy-Magdalena, as a grand vessel of stone, the prow turned towards Holy Jerusalem, draws itself up on a man-made hillock. It dominates a small rustic valley, lined by massive boxwood clumps and furrowed by a running brook. Walnut trees, hornbeams and thujas form the background. On the monument itself, several details speak to the rural permanence of the place. At midday, along the nave, a vine clings and a fig tree blooms. On the powerful walls, blue Brie sandstone alternates with the chalky opalescence of Champagne. The area is frontier. In the east, the table land stops short, while in the west, the slope rises in stages to an undulating ridge line, high contrasted at the rising of the sun. We are at the border between Île-de-France and Champagne regions, and everything is born from this land. The tufa-stone of tiny grains supports the structures of the chapel, those of the bell-tower, the porch, and the stoup. It is born from the stream.
But if, on three sides, the chapel appears intact, a cure, built to lodge a priest at the 17th century, has fallen to the ground today. Holy-Magdalena, in that time, was set up for a time as a parish. What remains of the cure is beautiful. This annex could, if rebuilt, house six people. But the tragedy is inside, plural, varied, and very worrying. Main beams are covered with mold and even some started to rot. The roof which seemed unscathed is not tight. Three years ago, the choir ceiling was cracked, then broke down suddenly. Debris have accumulated, getting rid of the crypt site and masking the recently identified Romanesque frescos. The various scattered elements can be distinguished and the ensemble recomposed. It would require restoration specialists. The frame that dominated the chapel, recently rebuilt, appears intact. But if its various components seem healthy, their balance is unstable. The tie-beam, at the two ends, leans on narrow edges. In the center, the would-be hallmark is not vertical. The whole structure, even to the untrained eyes, is in an extremely precarious state. It is an obvious fact.
For centuries, the chapel has been undergone pressures and stretching. Which role can play the structural vice which affects it? It’s that it rests on an artificial mound, made of brought back chalky sands. Previously, there was likely a wooden castle on this site, infinitely lighter and not needing as much base course. Even if the new foundations were more deeply rooted, they unequally settled. In the south in particular, the buttresses rise obliquely, the walls deviate at the top and the arches or vaults are slack. As long as the fundamental reparations to the structure will not be made, all undertaken works will be useless. We will simply be patching up, applying temporary fixes. It is certainly necessary to continue to hope for a full reconstitution of the building: the known cost is high. But for the moment, there are urgent priorities:
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