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Castles and Châteaux of Old Touraine
and the Loire Country
WORKS OF
FRANCIS MILTOUN

Rambles on the Riviera
Rambles in Normandy
Rambles in Brittany
The Cathedrals and Churches of the Rhine
The Cathedrals of Northern France
The Cathedrals of Southern France
The Cathedrals of Italy (In preparation)
Rambles on the Riviera
Rambles in Normandy
Rambles in Brittany
The Cathedrals and Churches of the Rhine
The Cathedrals of Northern France
The Cathedrals of Southern France
The Cathedrals of Italy (In preparation)


L. C. PAGE & COMPANY

Castles and Châteaux
OF
OLD TOURAINE
AND THE LOIRE COUNTRY
By Francis Miltoun
Author of "Rambles in Normandy," "Rambles in Brittany," "Rambles on the Riviera," etc.
With Many Illustrations
Reproduced from paintings made on the spot
By Blanche McManus

L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
By L. C. Page & Company
(Incorporated)
All rights reserved
First Impression, June, 1906
COLONIAL PRESS
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.

By Way of Introduction
This book is not the result of ordinary conventional rambles, of sightseeing by day, and flying by night, but rather of leisurely wanderings, for a somewhat extended period, along the banks of the Loire and its tributaries and through the countryside dotted with those splendid monuments of Renaissance architecture which have perhaps a more appealing interest for strangers than any other similar edifices wherever found.
This book isn't just a collection of typical day trips and nighttime adventures. Instead, it's about taking your time to explore the banks of the Loire and its tributaries, as well as the countryside filled with those stunning Renaissance architectural wonders, which might hold more charm for outsiders than similar structures found elsewhere.
Before this book was projected, the conventional tour of the château country had been "done," Baedeker, Joanne and James's "Little Tour" in hand. On another occasion Angers, with its almost inconceivably real castellated fortress, and Nantes, with its memories of the "Edict" and "La Duchesse Anne," had been tasted and digested en route to a certain little artist's village in Brittany.
Before this book was planned, the usual tour of the château region had been experienced, with Baedeker and Joanne and James's "Little Tour" as guides. On another trip, Angers, with its almost unbelievably real castle fortress, and Nantes, with its history of the "Edict" and "La Duchesse Anne," had been explored along the way to a certain quaint artist village in Brittany.
On another occasion, when we were headed due south, we lingered for a time in the uppervi valley, between "the little Italian city of Nevers" and "the most picturesque spot in the world"—Le Puy.
On another occasion, when we were heading straight south, we spent some time in the uppervi valley, between "the small Italian city of Nevers" and "the most beautiful place in the world"—Le Puy.
But all this left certain ground to be covered, and certain gaps to be filled, though the author's note-books were numerous and full to overflowing with much comment, and the artist's portfolio was already bulging with its contents.
But all this left some areas to be addressed and certain gaps to be filled, even though the author's notebooks were plentiful and overflowing with commentary, and the artist's portfolio was already filled to capacity with its contents.
So more note-books were bought, and, following the genial Mark Twain's advice, another fountain pen and more crayons and sketch-books, and the author and artist set out in the beginning of a warm September to fill those gaps and to reduce, if possible, that series of rambles along the now flat and now rolling banks of the broad blue Loire to something like consecutiveness and uniformity; with what result the reader may judge.
So more notebooks were bought, and, following the friendly advice of Mark Twain, another fountain pen and more crayons and sketchbooks were added. The author and artist set out at the beginning of a warm September to fill those gaps and to try to make their series of walks along the now flat and now rolling banks of the broad blue Loire more connected and consistent; readers can judge the outcome for themselves.
Contents
CHAPTER | PAGE | |
By Way of Introduction | v | |
I. | A General Survey | 1 |
II. | The Orléannais | 30 |
III. | The Blaisois and the Sologne | 56 |
IV. | Chambord | 94 |
V. | Cheverny, Beauregard, and Chaumont | 110 |
VI. | Touraine: The Garden Spot of France | 128 |
VII. | Amboise | 148 |
VIII. | Chenonceaux | 171 |
IX. | Loches | 188 |
X. | Tours and About There | 203 |
XI. | Luynes and Langeais | 221 |
XII. | Azay-le-Rideau, Ussé, and Chinon | 241 |
XIII. | Anjou and Bretagne | 273 |
XIV. | South of the Loire | 301 |
XV. | Berry and George Sand's Country | 313 |
XVI. | The Upper Loire | 330 |
Index | 337 |
List of Illustrationsix
PAGE | ||
A Touraine Peasant Girl | Frontispiece | |
Loire Itinerary (Map) | 1 | |
A Lace Maker from the Upper Loire | 5 | |
The Loire Castles (Map) | 9 | |
The Historic Regions of the Loire Valley and Their Capitals (Map) | 15 | |
The Loire by La Charité | 19 | |
Hats of Amboise and Orléans | 21 | |
The Castles of the Loire (Map) | 31 | |
Orléans Area (Map) | 39 | |
The Loire River | 42 | |
The Loire at Meung | 46 | |
Beaugency | 51 | |
Coat of Arms of the City of Blois | 58 | |
The Riverside in Blois | 59 | |
Signature of François I | 60 | |
Cipher of Anne of Brittany, in Blois | 62 | |
Louis XII's coat of arms. | 65 | |
Central Doorway, Château de Blois | 67 | |
The Châteaux de Blois (Diagram) | 69 | |
Cipher of François Premier and Claude of France, at Blois | 72 | |
Local Species in the Sologne | 89 | |
Castle of Montrichard | 92 | |
Coat of arms of François I, at Chambord | 99 | |
Château de Chambord Floor Plan | 103 | |
xChâteau de Chambord | 105 | |
Cheverny Castle | 110 | |
Cheverny on the Loire | 113 | |
Chaumont | 116 | |
Signature of Diane de Poitiers | 118 | |
The Loire in Tours | 134 | |
The Vintage in Touraine | 142 | |
Amboise Castle | 148 | |
Sculpture from the Chapelle de St. Hubert | 165 | |
Cipher of Anne of Brittany, City Hall, Amboise | 168 | |
Chenonceau Castle | 178 | |
Château de Chenonceau (Diagram) | 179 | |
Loches | 189 | |
Loches and Its Church | 192 | |
Loches Sketch Plan | 198 | |
St. Ours, Loches | 199 | |
Tours | 202 | |
Coats of Arms of the Printers, Lawyers, and Innkeepers, Tours | 205 | |
Scene in the Cathedral Quarter, Tours | 208 | |
Plessis-les-Tours During the Reign of Louis XI. | 213 | |
Tours Area (Map) | 219 | |
A Vouvray Vineyard | 223 | |
Medieval Stairway and the Château de Luynes | 224 | |
Cinq-Mars Ruins | 229 | |
Langeais Castle | 233 | |
Coat of arms of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany. | 237 | |
Azay-le-Rideau Castle | 244 | |
Ussé Castle | 249 | |
The Rooftops of Chinon | 253 | |
Rabelais | 256 | |
Chinon Castle | 259 | |
Cuisines, Fontevrault | 265 | |
xiSaumur Castle | 277 | |
The Ponts-de-Cé | 284 | |
Angers Castle | 289 | |
Nantes Area (Map) | 297 | |
Donjon of the Château de Clisson | 307 | |
Berry (Map) | 313 | |
La Tour, Sancerre | 317 | |
Gien Castle | 318 | |
Valençay Castle | 322 | |
Gateway of Mehun-sur-Yèvre | 324 | |
Le Carriér Doré, Romorantin | 326 | |
Église Saint Aignan, Cosne | 331 | |
Pouilly-sur-Loire | 332 | |
Gate of Croux, Nevers | 335 |
Castles and Châteaux
of Old Touraine
and the Loire Country
CHAPTER I.To ToC
A GENERAL SURVEY
Any account of the Loire and of the towns along its banks must naturally have for its chief mention Touraine and the long line of splendid feudal and Renaissance châteaux which reflect themselves so gloriously in its current.
Any description of the Loire and the towns along its banks must naturally highlight Touraine and the impressive array of feudal and Renaissance châteaux that beautifully mirror themselves in the river’s flow.
The Loire possesses a certain fascination and charm which many other more commercially great rivers entirely lack, and, while the element of absolute novelty cannot perforce be claimed for it, it has the merit of appealing largely to the lover of the romantic and the picturesque.2
The Loire has a unique charm that many of the more commercially successful rivers completely lack. While it may not be completely new, it definitely appeals to those who love the romantic and picturesque.2
A French writer of a hundred years ago dedicated his work on Touraine to "Le Baron de Langeais, le Vicomte de Beaumont, le Marquis de Beauregard, le Comte de Fontenailles, le Comte de Jouffroy-Gonsans, le Duc de Luynes, le Comte de Vouvray, le Comte de Villeneuve, et als.;" and he might have continued with a directory of all the descendants of the noblesse of an earlier age, for he afterward grouped them under the general category of "Propriétaires des fortresses et châteaux les plus remarquables—au point de vue historique ou architectural."
A French writer from a hundred years ago dedicated his work on Touraine to "Le Baron de Langeais, le Vicomte de Beaumont, le Marquis de Beauregard, le Comte de Fontenailles, le Comte de Jouffroy-Gonsans, le Duc de Luynes, le Comte de Vouvray, le Comte de Villeneuve, et als.;" and he could have continued with a list of all the descendants of the noblesse from an earlier era, since he later grouped them under the broad category of "Propriétaires des fortresses et châteaux les plus remarquables—au point de vue historique ou architectural."
He was fortunate in being able, as he said, to have had access to their "papiers de famille," their souvenirs, and to have been able to interrogate them in person.
He was lucky to have been able, as he said, to access their "papiers de famille," their keepsakes, and to have had the chance to ask them questions in person.
Most of his facts and his gossip concerning the personalities of the later generations of those who inhabited these magnificent establishments have come down to us through later writers, and it is fortunate that this should be the case, since the present-day aspect of the châteaux is ever changing, and one who views them to-day is chagrined when he discovers, for instance, that an iron-trussed, red-tiled wash-house has been built on the banks of the Cosson before the magnificent château of3 Chambord, and that somewhere within the confines of the old castle at Loches a shopkeeper has hung out his shingle, announcing a newly discovered dungeon in his own basement, accidentally come upon when digging a well.
Most of the facts and gossip about the personalities of later generations who lived in these magnificent places have been passed down to us through later writers. It’s a good thing this is the case, since the current look of the châteaux is always changing. Those who visit them today may feel disappointed to find, for example, that an iron-framed, red-tiled washhouse has been built on the banks of the Cosson right in front of the magnificent château of3 Chambord. Additionally, somewhere within the old castle at Loches, a shopkeeper has put up a sign announcing the discovery of a newly found dungeon in his basement, which he stumbled upon while digging a well.
Balzac, Rabelais, and Descartes are the leading literary celebrities of Tours, and Balzac's "Le Lys dans la Vallée" will give one a more delightful insight into the old life of the Tourangeaux than whole series of guide-books and shelves of dry histories.
Balzac, Rabelais, and Descartes are the top literary figures of Tours, and Balzac's "Le Lys dans la Vallée" offers a much more enjoyable glimpse into the old life of the Tourangeaux than entire collections of guidebooks and endless shelves of boring histories.
Blois and its counts, Tours and its bishops, and Amboise and its kings, to say nothing of Fontevrault, redolent of memories of the Plantagenets, Nantes and its famous "Edict," and its equally infamous "Revocation," have left vivid impress upon all students of French history. Others will perhaps remember Nantes for Dumas's brilliant descriptions of the outcome of the Breton conspiracy.
Blois and its counts, Tours and its bishops, and Amboise and its kings, not to mention Fontevrault, filled with memories of the Plantagenets, Nantes and its famous "Edict," along with its notorious "Revocation," have made a lasting impact on all students of French history. Others might recall Nantes for Dumas's vivid accounts of the results of the Breton conspiracy.
All of us have a natural desire to know more of historic ground, and whether we make a start by entering the valley of the Loire at the luxurious midway city of Tours, and follow the river first to the sea and then to the source, or make the journey from source to mouth, or vice versa, it does not matter in the least. We traverse the same ground and we meet the4 same varying conditions as we advance a hundred kilometres in either direction.
All of us have a natural desire to learn more about historic places, and whether we start by entering the Loire Valley at the elegant city of Tours and follow the river to the sea first and then back to the source, or travel from the source to the mouth, or the other way around, it doesn't really matter. We cover the same ground and encounter the same diverse conditions as we go a hundred kilometers in either direction.
Tours, for example, stands for all that is typical of the sunny south. Prune and palm trees thrust themselves forward in strong contrast to the cider-apples of the lower Seine. Below Tours one is almost at the coast, and the tables d'hôte are abundantly supplied with sea-food of all sorts. Above Tours the Orléannais is typical of a certain well-to-do, matter-of-fact existence, neither very luxurious nor very difficult.
Tours, for instance, represents everything characteristic of the sunny South. Prune and palm trees stand out in stark contrast to the cider apples of the lower Seine. Just below Tours, you’re nearly at the coast, and the tables d'hôte are filled with all kinds of seafood. Above Tours, the Orléannais exemplifies a certain affluent, practical lifestyle, neither overly luxurious nor particularly challenging.
Nevers is another step and resembles somewhat the opulence of Burgundy as to conditions of life, though the general aspect of the city, as well as a great part of its history, is Italian through and through.
Nevers is another step and is somewhat reminiscent of the wealth of Burgundy in terms of living conditions, even though the overall look of the city, along with much of its history, is completely Italian.
The last great step begins at Le Puy, in the great volcanic Massif Centrale, where conditions of life, if prosperous, are at least harder than elsewhere.
The final big journey starts in Le Puy, in the massive volcanic Massif Centrale, where living conditions, while potentially better, are definitely tougher than in other places.
Such are the varying characteristics of the towns and cities through which the Loire flows. They run the whole gamut from gay to earnest and solemn; from the ease and comfort of the country around Tours, almost sub-tropical in its softness, to the grime and smoke of busy5 St. Etienne, and the chilliness and rigours of a mountain winter at Le Puy.
Such are the different features of the towns and cities along the Loire River. They range from cheerful to serious and somber; from the relaxed and pleasant countryside around Tours, which is almost sub-tropical in its warmth, to the dirt and pollution of bustling St. Etienne, and the cold and harshness of a mountain winter at Le Puy.
These districts are all very full of memories of events which have helped to build up the solidarity of France of to-day, though the Nantois still proudly proclaims himself a Breton, and the Tourangeau will tell you that his is the tongue, above all others, which speaks the purest French,—and so on through the whole category, each and every citizen of a petit pays living up to his traditions to the fullest extent possible.
These districts are filled with memories of events that have shaped the unity of modern France, even though the Nantois still proudly identifies as a Breton, and the Tourangeau will insist that his dialect is the one that speaks the purest French— and so on through the entire spectrum, with every citizen of a petit pays fully embracing their traditions.
In no other journey in France, of a similar length, will one see as many varying contrasts in conditions of life as he will along the length of the Loire, the broad, shallow river which St. Martin, Charles Martel, and Louis XI., the typical figures of church, arms, and state, came to know so well.
In no other journey in France, of a similar length, will one see as many varying contrasts in conditions of life as they will along the length of the Loire, the wide, shallow river that St. Martin, Charles Martel, and Louis XI., the typical figures of church, military, and government, came to know so well.
Du Bellay, a poet of the Renaissance, has sung the praises of the Loire in a manner unapproached by any other topographical poet, if one may so call him, for that is what he really was in this particular instance.
Du Bellay, a Renaissance poet, has praised the Loire in a way that no other topographical poet has matched, if we can refer to him that way, because that's exactly what he was in this case.
There is a great deal of patriotism in it all, too, and certainly no sweet singer of the present day has even approached these lines,6 which are eulogistic without being fulsome and fervent without being lurid.
There's a lot of patriotism in it all, and definitely no modern singer has come close to these lines,6 which are praise-filled without being excessive and passionate without being over-the-top.
The verses have frequently been rendered into English, but the following is as good as any, and better than most translations, though it is one of those fragments of "newspaper verse" whose authors are lost in obscurity.
The verses have often been translated into English, but the following is as good as any and better than most translations, even though it's one of those pieces of "newspaper verse" whose authors remain unknown.
More than immortal marbles unspoiled,
The thin, gloomy tiles that cover my home;
More than your Tiber is my Loire to me,
More Palatine, my little Lyré there; And more than all the winds of all the seas,
"The gentle kindness of the Angevin atmosphere."
In history the Loire valley is rich indeed, from the days of the ancient Counts of Touraine to those of Mazarin, who held forth at Nevers. Touraine has well been called the heart of the old French monarchy.
In history, the Loire Valley is truly rich, from the time of the ancient Counts of Touraine to the era of Mazarin, who was prominent in Nevers. Touraine has often been referred to as the heart of the old French monarchy.
Provincial France has a charm never known to Paris-dwellers. Balzac and Flaubert were provincials, and Dumas was a city-dweller,—and there lies the difference between them.
Provincial France has a charm that Paris residents have never experienced. Balzac and Flaubert were from the provinces, while Dumas lived in the city—and that’s where the difference lies.
Balzac has written most charmingly of Touraine in many of his books, in "Le Lys dans la Vallée" and "Le Curé de Tours" in particular; not always in complimentary terms,7 either, for he has said that the Tourangeaux will not even inconvenience themselves to go in search of pleasure. This does not bespeak indolence so much as philosophy, so most of us will not cavil. George Sand's country lies a little to the southward of Touraine, and Berry, too, as the authoress herself has said, has a climate "souple et chaud, avec pluie abondant et courte."
Balzac has beautifully described Touraine in many of his books, especially in "Le Lys dans la Vallée" and "Le Curé de Tours"; not always in flattering terms, though, as he mentioned that the people of Touraine won’t even bother to seek out pleasure. This doesn’t necessarily point to laziness but rather to a certain philosophy, so most of us won’t complain. George Sand’s region lies just a bit south of Touraine, and Berry, as the author herself noted, has a climate that's "flexible and warm, with abundant and brief rain."
The architectural remains in the Loire valley are exceedingly rich and varied. The feudal system is illustrated at its best in the great walled château at Angers, the still inhabited and less grand château at Langeais, the ruins at Cinq-Mars, and the very scanty remains of Plessis-les-Tours.
The architectural remains in the Loire Valley are incredibly rich and diverse. The feudal system is best represented by the impressive walled château at Angers, the still-inhabited and less grand château at Langeais, the ruins at Cinq-Mars, and the very limited remains of Plessis-les-Tours.
The ecclesiastical remains are quite as great. The churches are, many of them, of the first rank, and the great cathedrals at Nantes, Angers, Tours, and Orléans are magnificent examples of the church-builders' art in the middle ages, and are entitled to rank among the great cathedrals, if not actually of the first class.
The church remains are quite impressive. Many of the churches are top-tier, and the grand cathedrals in Nantes, Angers, Tours, and Orléans are stunning examples of medieval architecture. They deserve to be considered among the great cathedrals, if not actually the best.
With modern civic and other public buildings, the case is not far different. Tours has a gorgeous Hôtel de Ville, its architecture being of the most luxuriant of modern French8 Renaissance, while the railway stations, even, at both Tours and Orléans, are models of what railway stations should be, and in addition are decoratively beautiful in their appointments and arrangements,—which most railway stations are not.
With modern civic and other public buildings, the situation is quite similar. Tours has a stunning City Hall, showcasing some of the most extravagant modern French Renaissance architecture. The railway stations in both Tours and Orléans set a standard for what railway stations should be, and they are also beautifully designed in their decor and layout—something that most railway stations lack.
Altogether, throughout the Loire valley there is an air of prosperity which in a more vigorous climate is often lacking. This in spite of the alleged tendency in what is commonly known as a relaxing climate toward laisser-aller.
Altogether, throughout the Loire valley, there's a sense of prosperity that often goes missing in a more vigorous climate. This is despite the supposed tendency in what's often called a relaxing climate toward laisser-aller.
Finally, the picturesque landscape of the Loire is something quite different from the harder, grayer outlines of the north. All is of the south, warm and ruddy, and the wooded banks not only refine the crudities of a flat shore-line, but form a screen or barrier to the flowering charms of the examples of Renaissance architecture which, in Touraine, at least, are as thick as leaves in Vallambrosa.
Finally, the beautiful landscape of the Loire is completely different from the harsher, duller outlines of the north. Everything feels southern, warm and vibrant, and the tree-lined banks not only soften the roughness of a flat shoreline but also create a backdrop for the stunning examples of Renaissance architecture, which, at least in Touraine, are as abundant as leaves in Vallambrosa.
Starting at Gien, the valley of the Loire begins to offer those monumental châteaux which have made its fame as the land of castles. From the old fortress-château of Gien to the Château de Clisson, or the Logis de la Duchesse Anne at Nantes, is one long succession of florid masterpieces, not to be equalled elsewhere.9
Starting at Gien, the Loire Valley starts to showcase the impressive castles that have made it famous. From the ancient fortress-castle of Gien to the Château de Clisson and the Logis de la Duchesse Anne in Nantes, there’s a continuous line of ornate masterpieces that can't be matched anywhere else.9
The true château region of Touraine—by which most people usually comprehend the Loire châteaux—commences only at Blois. Here the edifices, to a great extent, take on these superfine residential attributes which were the glory of the Renaissance period of French architecture.
The real château region of Touraine—where most people typically think of the Loire châteaux—starts at Blois. This is where the buildings largely adopt the refined residential qualities that were the pride of the Renaissance era in French architecture.
Both above and below Touraine, at Montrichard, at Loches, and Beaugency, are still to be found scattering examples of feudal fortresses and donjons which are as representative of their class as are the best Norman structures of the same era, the great fortresses of Arques, Falaise, Domfront, and Les Andelys being usually accounted as the types which gave the stimulus to similar edifices elsewhere.
Both above and below Touraine, at Montrichard, at Loches, and Beaugency, you can still find various examples of feudal fortresses and keep towers that are just as representative of their type as the best Norman structures from the same period. The great fortresses of Arques, Falaise, Domfront, and Les Andelys are typically seen as the models that inspired similar buildings in other places.
In this same versatile region also, beginning10 perhaps with the Orléannais, are a vast number of religious monuments equally celebrated. For instance, the church of St. Benoit-sur-Loire is one of the most important Romanesque churches in all France, and the cathedral of St. Gatien, with its "bejewelled façade," at Tours, the twin-spired St. Maurice at Angers, and even the pompous, and not very good Gothic, edifice at Orléans (especially noteworthy because its crypt is an ancient work anterior to the Capetian dynasty) are all wonderfully interesting and imposing examples of mediæval ecclesiastical architecture.
In this same diverse area, starting10 perhaps with the Orléannais, there are a huge number of equally celebrated religious monuments. For example, the church of St. Benoit-sur-Loire is one of the most significant Romanesque churches in all of France, and the cathedral of St. Gatien, with its "bejewelled façade," in Tours, the twin-spired St. Maurice in Angers, and even the grand but not particularly impressive Gothic structure in Orléans (noteworthy especially because its crypt is an ancient work predating the Capetian dynasty) are all fascinating and striking examples of medieval church architecture.
Three great tributaries enter the Loire below Tours, the Cher, the Indre, and the Vienne. The first has for its chief attractions the Renaissance châteaux St. Aignan and Chenonceaux, the Roman remains of Chabris, Thézée, and Larçay, the Romanesque churches of Selles and St. Aignan, and the feudal donjon of Montrichard. The Indre possesses the château of Azay-le-Rideau and the sombre fortresses of Montbazon and Loches; while the Vienne depends for its chief interest upon the galaxy of fortress-châteaux at Chinon.
Three major rivers flow into the Loire just below Tours: the Cher, the Indre, and the Vienne. The Cher is known for its main attractions, the Renaissance châteaux of St. Aignan and Chenonceaux, the Roman ruins at Chabris, Thézée, and Larçay, the Romanesque churches of Selles and St. Aignan, and the feudal keep at Montrichard. The Indre is home to the château of Azay-le-Rideau and the imposing fortresses of Montbazon and Loches, while the Vienne is most interesting for the cluster of fortress-châteaux at Chinon.
The Loire is a mighty river and is navigable for nearly nine hundred kilometres of its length, almost to Le Puy, or, to be exact, to11 the little town of Vorey in the Department of the Haute Loire.
The Loire is a powerful river and can be navigated for nearly nine hundred kilometers of its length, almost up to Le Puy, or, to be precise, to11 the small town of Vorey in the Haute Loire region.
At Orléans, Blois, or Tours one hardly realizes this, much less at Nevers. The river appears to be a great, tranquil, docile stream, with scarce enough water in its bed to make a respectable current, leaving its beds and bars of sable and cailloux bare to the sky.
At Orléans, Blois, or Tours, people barely notice this, even less so at Nevers. The river looks like a large, calm, gentle stream, with barely enough water flowing to create a decent current, exposing its banks and bars of sable and cailloux to the sky.
The scarcity of water, except at occasional flood, is the principal and obvious reason for the absence of water-borne traffic, even though a paternal ministerial department of the government calls the river navigable.
The lack of water, except during rare floods, is the main and clear reason for the absence of water-based transportation, even though a caring government department claims the river is navigable.
At the times of the grandes crues there are four metres or more registered on the big scale at the Pont d'Ancenis, while at other times it falls to less than a metre, and when it does there is a mere rivulet of water which trickles through the broad river-bottom at Chaumont, or Blois, or Orléans. Below Ancenis navigation is not so difficult, but the current is more strong.
At the times of the grandes crues, levels of four meters or more are recorded on the large scale at the Pont d'Ancenis, while at other times it drops to less than a meter. When that happens, there's just a small stream of water trickling through the wide riverbed at Chaumont, Blois, or Orléans. Below Ancenis, navigation isn't as challenging, but the current is much stronger.
From Blois to Angers, on the right bank, extends a long dike which carries the roadway beside the river for a couple of hundred kilometres. This is one of the charms of travel by the Loire. The only thing usually seen on the bosom of the river, save an occasional fish12ing punt, is one of those great flat-bottomed ferry-boats, with a square sail hung on a yard amidships, such as Turner always made an accompaniment to his Loire pictures, for conditions of traffic on the river have not greatly changed.
From Blois to Angers, a long dike runs along the right bank, supporting the road next to the river for a couple of hundred kilometers. This is one of the highlights of traveling along the Loire. The only things usually seen on the surface of the river, aside from the occasional fishing boat, are those large flat-bottomed ferries with a square sail rigged in the middle, just like the ones Turner often included in his Loire paintings, since the river's traffic conditions haven't changed much.
Whenever one sees a barge or a boat worthy of classification with those one finds on the rivers of the east or north, or on the great canals, it is only about a quarter of the usual size; so, in spite of its great navigable length, the waterway of the Loire is to be considered more as a picturesque and healthful element of the landscape than as a commercial proposition.
Whenever you see a barge or a boat that could be compared to those found on the rivers in the east or north, or on the major canals, it's usually about a quarter of the typical size; so, despite its significant navigable length, the Loire River should be viewed more as a beautiful and healthy part of the landscape rather than as a business opportunity.
Where the great canals join the river at Orléans, and from Chatillon to Roanne, the traffic increases, though more is carried by the canal-boats on the Canal Latéral than by the barges on the Loire.
Where the major canals meet the river at Orléans, and from Chatillon to Roanne, the traffic picks up, although more is transported by the canal boats on the Canal Latéral than by the barges on the Loire.
It is only on the Loire between Angers and Nantes that there is any semblance of river traffic such as one sees on most of the other great waterways of Europe. There is a considerable traffic, too, which descends the Maine, particularly from Angers downward, for Angers with its Italian skies is usually thought of, and really is to be considered, as a Loire13 town, though it is actually on the banks of the Maine some miles from the Loire itself.
It’s only on the Loire between Angers and Nantes that you’ll find any river traffic resembling that seen on most other major waterways in Europe. There’s also significant traffic on the Maine, especially from Angers downwards, since Angers, with its Italian-like skies, is often regarded as a Loire13 town, even though it's actually situated on the banks of the Maine, a few miles away from the Loire itself.
One thousand or more bateaux make the ascent to Angers from the Loire at La Pointe each year, all laden with a miscellaneous cargo of merchandise. The Sarthe and the Loir also bring a notable agricultural traffic to the greater Loire, and the smaller confluents, the Dive, the Thouet, the Authion, and the Layon, all go to swell the parent stream until, when it reaches Nantes, the Loire has at last taken on something of the aspect of a well-ordered and useful stream, characteristics which above Nantes are painfully lacking. Because of its lack of commerce the Loire is in a certain way the most noble, magnificent, and aristocratic river of France; and so, too, it is also in respect to its associations of the past.
Each year, more than a thousand boats make their way up to Angers from the Loire at La Pointe, all loaded with a mix of goods. The Sarthe and the Loir also bring significant agricultural traffic to the greater Loire, and the smaller tributaries—the Dive, the Thouet, the Authion, and the Layon—contribute to the main river until, when it reaches Nantes, the Loire finally appears as a well-organized and useful waterway, qualities that are sadly absent above Nantes. Due to its lack of commerce, the Loire is in some ways the most noble, magnificent, and aristocratic river in France, and it also carries a rich historical significance.
It has not the grandeur of the Rhône when the spring freshets from the Jura and the Swiss lakes have filled it to its banks; it has not the burning activity of the Seine as it bears its thousands of boat-loads of produce and merchandise to and from the Paris market; it has not the prettiness of the Thames, nor the legendary aspect of the Rhine; but in a way it combines something of the features of all, and has, in addition, a tone that is all its14 own, as it sweeps along through its countless miles of ample curves, and holds within its embrace all that is best of mediæval and Renaissance France, the period which built up the later monarchy and, who shall not say, the present prosperous republic.
It doesn’t have the grandeur of the Rhône when the spring floods from the Jura and Swiss lakes fill it to the brim; it doesn’t have the bustling energy of the Seine as it carries thousands of boatloads of goods to and from the Paris market; it doesn’t have the charm of the Thames, nor the mythical vibe of the Rhine; but it somehow blends features of all these rivers and adds a character that is uniquely its own, flowing through its many wide curves and embracing all that is best of medieval and Renaissance France, the era that shaped the later monarchy and, who can say, our current thriving republic.14
Throughout most of the river's course, one sees, stretching to the horizon, row upon row of staked vineyards with fruit and leaves in luxuriant abundance and of all rainbow colours. The peasant here, the worker in the vineyards, is a picturesque element. He is not particularly brilliant in colouring, but he is usually joyous, and he invariably lives in a well-kept and brilliantly environed habitation and has an air of content and prosperity amid the well-beloved treasures of his household.
Throughout most of the river's length, you can see, reaching to the horizon, row after row of staked vineyards filled with fruit and leaves in vibrant abundance and all the colors of the rainbow. The local farmer, the worker in the vineyards, adds a charming touch to the scene. He may not stand out with brilliant colors, but he is typically cheerful, and he always lives in a well-maintained and beautifully surrounded home, exuding an air of contentment and prosperity among the cherished possessions of his household.
The Loire is essentially a river of other days. Truly, as Mr. James has said, "It is the very model of a generous, beneficent stream ... a wide river which you may follow by a wide road is excellent company."
The Loire is basically a river from another time. Indeed, as Mr. James has mentioned, "It is the perfect example of a generous, helpful stream ... a wide river that you can trace along a broad road makes for great company."
The Frenchman himself is more flowery: "C'est la plus noble rivière de France. Son domaine est immense et magnifique."
The Frenchman himself is more expressive: "It’s the most noble river in France. Its territory is vast and magnificent."
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The Loire is the longest river in France, and the only one of the four great rivers whose basin or watershed lies wholly within French16 territory. It moreover traverses eleven provinces. It rises in a fissure of granite rock at the foot of the Gerbier-de-Jonc, a volcanic cone in the mountains of the Vivarais, a hundred kilometres or more south of Lyons. In three kilometres, approximately two miles, the little torrent drops a thousand feet, after receiving to its arms a tiny affluent coming from the Croix de Monteuse.
The Loire is the longest river in France and the only one of the four major rivers whose entire basin is located within French16 territory. It flows through eleven provinces. It starts in a crack in granite at the base of the Gerbier-de-Jonc, a volcanic cone in the Vivarais mountains, over a hundred kilometers south of Lyon. In just three kilometers, about two miles, this small stream falls a thousand feet, after receiving a small tributary from the Croix de Monteuse.
For twelve kilometres the river twists and turns around the base of the Vivarais mountains, and finally enters a gorge between the rocks, and mingles with the waters of the little Lac d'Issarles, entering for the first time a flat lowland plain like that through which its course mostly runs.
For twelve kilometers, the river winds around the base of the Vivarais mountains, eventually entering a gorge between the rocks and merging with the waters of the small Lac d'Issarles, finally reaching a flat lowland plain similar to the terrain through which it usually flows.
The monument-crowned pinnacles of Le Puy and the inverted bowl of Puy-de-Dôme rise high above the plain and point the way to Roanne, where such activity as does actually take place upon the Loire begins.
The monument-topped peaks of Le Puy and the upside-down bowl of Puy-de-Dôme stand tall above the plain and guide the way to Roanne, where the real action on the Loire begins.
Navigation, classed officially as "flottable," merely, has already begun at Vorey, just below Le Puy, but the traffic is insignificant.
Navigation, officially classified as "flottable," has already started at Vorey, just below Le Puy, but the traffic is minimal.
Meantime the streams coming from the direction of St. Etienne and Lyons have been added to the Loire, but they do not much increase its bulk. St. Galmier, the source dear17 to patrons of tables d'hôte on account of its palatable mineral water, which is about the only decent drinking-water one can buy at a reasonable price, lies but a short distance away to the right.
In the meantime, the streams flowing from St. Etienne and Lyons have joined the Loire, but they don't really add much to its volume. St. Galmier, the source beloved17 by fans of tables d'hôte for its tasty mineral water, which is pretty much the only decent drinking water you can find at a reasonable price, is located just a short distance to the right.
At St. Rambert the plain of Forez is entered, and here the stream is enriched by numberless rivulets which make their way from various sources through a thickly wooded country.
At St. Rambert, you enter the Forez plain, where the stream is fed by countless small streams that flow from various sources through a densely wooded area.
From Roanne onward, the Canal Latéral keeps company with the Loire to Chatillon, not far from Orléans.
From Roanne onward, the Canal Latéral runs alongside the Loire to Chatillon, not far from Orléans.
Before reaching Nevers, the Canal du Nivernais branches off to the left and joins the Loire with the Yonne at Auxerre. Daudet tells of the life of the Canal du Nivernais, in "La Belle Nivernaise," in a manner too convincingly graphic for any one else to attempt the task, in fiction or out of it. Like the Tartarin books, "La Belle Nivernaise" is distinctly local, and forms of itself an excellent guide to a little known and little visited region.
Before reaching Nevers, the Canal du Nivernais branches off to the left and connects the Loire with the Yonne at Auxerre. Daudet describes the life of the Canal du Nivernais in "La Belle Nivernaise," so vividly that no one else would dare take on the challenge, whether in fiction or otherwise. Like the Tartarin books, "La Belle Nivernaise" is very much tied to the local area and serves as a great guide to a little-known and rarely visited region.
At Nevers the topography changes, or rather, the characteristics of the life of the country round about change, for the topography, so far as its profile is concerned, remains much the same for three-fourths the length of this great river. Nevers, La Charité,18 Sancerre, Gien, and Cosne follow in quick succession, all reminders of a historic past as vivid as it was varied.
At Nevers, the landscape shifts, or more accurately, the attributes of the surrounding countryside change, since the overall profile remains largely consistent for about three-fourths of this vast river's length. Nevers, La Charité,18 Sancerre, Gien, and Cosne appear in rapid order, each a reminder of a historic past that is as vibrant as it is diverse.
From the heights of Sancerre one sees a wonderful history-making panorama before him. Cæsar crossed the Loire at Gien, the Franks forded the river at La Charité, when they first went against Aquitaine, and Charles the Bald came sadly to grief on a certain occasion at Pouilly.
From the top of Sancerre, you can see an amazing historical view spread out before you. Cæsar crossed the Loire at Gien, the Franks crossed the river at La Charité when they first attacked Aquitaine, and Charles the Bald sadly faced defeat at Pouilly on one occasion.
It is here that the Loire rises to its greatest flood, and hundreds of times, so history tells, from 490 to 1866, the fickle river has caused a devastation so great and terrible that the memory of it is not yet dead.
It is here that the Loire reaches its highest flood levels, and according to history, from 490 to 1866, the unpredictable river has caused such overwhelming destruction that its memory is still very much alive.
This hardly seems possible of this usually tranquil stream, and there have always been scoffers.
This hardly seems possible for this usually calm stream, and there have always been doubters.
Madame de Sévigné wrote in 1675 to M. de Coulanges (but in her case perhaps it was mere well-wishing), "La belle Loire, elle est un peu sujette à se déborder, mais elle en est plus douce."
Madame de Sévigné wrote in 1675 to M. de Coulanges (but in her case perhaps it was mere well-wishing), "The beautiful Loire, it tends to overflow a bit, but it’s more gentle because of that."
Ancient writers were wont to consider the inundations of the Loire as a punishment from Heaven, and even in later times the superstition—if it was a superstition—still remained.
Ancient writers tended to view the floods of the Loire as a punishment from God, and even in later times, this superstition—if it was a superstition—still persisted.
In 1825, when thousands of charcoal-burners19 (charbonniers) were all but ruined, they petitioned the government for assistance. The official who had the matter in charge, and whose name—fortunately for his fame—does not appear to have been recorded, replied simply that the flood was a periodical condition of affairs which the Almighty brought about as occasion demanded, with good cause, and for this reason he refused all assistance.
In 1825, when thousands of charcoal-burners19 (charbonniers) were nearly crushed, they asked the government for help. The official who was responsible for this issue, whose name—thankfully for his reputation—doesn't seem to have been recorded, simply replied that the flood was a regular situation caused by the Almighty as needed, with good reason, and for this reason, he denied all assistance.
Important public works have done much to prevent repetitions of these inundations, but the danger still exists, and always, in a wet season, there are those dwellers along the river's banks who fear the rising flood as they would the plague.
Important public works have done a lot to prevent these floods from happening again, but the danger still remains, and every wet season, the people living along the riverbanks are afraid of the rising water as if it were a plague.
Chatillon, with its towers; Gien, a busy hive of industry, though with a historic past; Sully; and St. Benoit-sur-Loire, with its unique double transepted church; all pass in rapid review, and one enters the ancient capital of the Orléannais quite ready for the new chapter which, in colouring, is to be so different from that devoted to the upper valley.
Chatillon, with its towers; Gien, a bustling center of industry with a rich history; Sully; and St. Benoit-sur-Loire, featuring its distinctive double transept church; all quickly come into view, leading one to the ancient capital of the Orléannais, fully prepared for the new chapter that will be so different in tone from that focused on the upper valley.
From Orléans, south, one passes through a veritable wonderland of fascinating charms. Châteaux, monasteries, and great civic and ecclesiastical monuments pass quickly in turn.
From Orléans, heading south, you enter a true wonderland of captivating delights. Châteaux, monasteries, and impressive civic and religious monuments quickly come one after another.
Then comes Touraine which all love, the20 river meantime having grown no more swift or ample, nor any more sluggish or attenuated. It is simply the same characteristic flow which one has known before.
Then comes Touraine, which everyone loves, the20 river meanwhile having remained just as fast or wide, not any more slow or narrow. It's just the same familiar flow that one has known before.
The landscape only is changing, while the fruits and flowers, and the trees and foliage are more luxuriant, and the great châteaux are more numerous, splendid, and imposing.
The landscape is changing, with the fruits and flowers, trees and foliage growing more vibrant, and the grand châteaux becoming more numerous, magnificent, and impressive.
Of his well-beloved Touraine, Balzac wrote: "Do not ask me why I love Touraine; I love it not merely as one loves the cradle of his birth, nor as one loves an oasis in a desert, but as an artist loves his art."
Of his beloved Touraine, Balzac wrote: "Don't ask me why I love Touraine; I don't love it just like someone loves the place they were born or like someone loves an oasis in a desert, but as an artist loves their art."
Blois, with its bloody memories; Chaumont, splendid and retired; Chambord, magnificent, pompous, and bare; Amboise, with its great tower high above the river, follow in turn till the Loire makes its regal entrée into Tours. "What a spectacle it is," wrote Sterne in "Tristram Shandy," "for a traveller who journeys through Touraine at the time of the vintage."
Blois, with its bloody memories; Chaumont, grand and secluded; Chambord, magnificent, showy, and empty; Amboise, with its tall tower overlooking the river, follow one after the other until the Loire makes its majestic entrance into Tours. "What a sight it is," wrote Sterne in "Tristram Shandy," "for a traveler passing through Touraine during the vintage season."
And then comes the final step which brings the traveller to where the limpid waters of the Loire mingle with the salty ocean, and what a triumphant meeting it is!
And then comes the final step that takes the traveler to where the clear waters of the Loire mix with the salty ocean, and what a glorious meeting it is!
Most of the cities of the Loire possess but one bridge, but Tours has three, and, as be21comes a great provincial capital, sits enthroned upon the river-bank in mighty splendour.
Most of the cities along the Loire have just one bridge, but Tours has three, and as it becomes a major provincial capital, it stands proudly on the riverbank in impressive splendor.
The feudal towers of the Château de Luynes are almost opposite, and Cinq-Mars, with its pagan "pile" and the ruins of its feudal castle high upon a hill, points the way down-stream like a mariner's beacon. Langeais follows, and the Indre, the Cher, and the Vienne, all ample and historic rivers, go to swell the flood which passes under the bridges of Saumur, Ancenis, and Ponts de Cé.
The feudal towers of the Château de Luynes are almost directly across, and Cinq-Mars, with its pagan "pile" and the remnants of its feudal castle high on a hill, guides the way downstream like a sailor's beacon. Langeais comes next, and the Indre, the Cher, and the Vienne, all significant and historic rivers, contribute to the flow that goes under the bridges of Saumur, Ancenis, and Ponts de Cé.
From Tours to the ocean, the Loire comes to its greatest amplitude, though even then, in spite of its breadth, it is, for the greater part of the year, impotent as to the functions of a great river.
From Tours to the ocean, the Loire reaches its widest point, but even then, despite its size, it is, for most of the year, unable to perform the functions of a major river.
Below Angers the Loire receives its first great affluent coming from the country lying back of the right bank: the Maine itself is a considerable river. It rises far up in the Breton peninsula, and before it empties itself into the Loire, it has been aggrandized by three great tributaries, the Loir, the Sarthe, and the Mayenne.
Below Angers, the Loire gets its first major tributary from the area behind the right bank: the Maine, which is a significant river. It starts far up in the Breton peninsula, and before it flows into the Loire, it is joined by three substantial tributaries: the Loir, the Sarthe, and the Mayenne.
Here in this backwater of the Loire, as one might call it, is as wonderful a collection of natural beauties and historical châteaux as on the Loire itself. Châteaudun, Mayenne, and22 Vendôme are historic ground of superlative interest, and the great castle at Châteaudun is as magnificent in its way as any of the monuments of the Loire. Vendôme has a Hôtel de Ville which is an admirable relic of a feudal edifice, and the clocher of its church, which dominates many square leagues of country, is counted as one of the most perfectly disposed church spires in existence, as lovely, almost, as Texier's masterwork at Chartres, or the needle-like flêches at Strasburg or Freiburg in Breisgau.
Here in this remote part of the Loire, you could say, there's as amazing a collection of natural beauty and historical châteaux as anywhere along the Loire itself. Châteaudun, Mayenne, and 22 Vendôme are historic sites of exceptional interest, and the grand castle at Châteaudun is as stunning in its own way as any of the monuments on the Loire. Vendôme has a City Hall that’s a remarkable remnant of a feudal structure, and the bell tower of its church, which overlooks vast stretches of land, is regarded as one of the most beautifully designed church spires in existence, nearly as lovely as Texier's masterpiece at Chartres or the needle-like spires in Strasbourg or Freiburg in Breisgau.
The Maine joins the Loire just below Angers, at a little village significantly called La Pointe. Below La Pointe are St. Georges-sur-Loire, and three châteaux de commerce which give their names to the three principal Angevin vineyards: Château Serrand, l'Epinay, and Chevigné.
The Maine meets the Loire just south of Angers, in a small village aptly named La Pointe. Below La Pointe are St. Georges-sur-Loire and three châteaux de commerce that lend their names to the three main Angevin vineyards: Château Serrand, l'Epinay, and Chevigné.
Vineyard after vineyard, and château after château follow rapidly, until one reaches the Ponts de Cé with their petite ville,—all very delightful. Not so the bridge at Ancenis, where the flow of water is marked daily on a huge black and white scale. The bridge is quite the ugliest wire-rope affair to be seen on the Loire, and one is only too glad to leave it behind,23 though it is with a real regret that he parts from Ancenis itself.
Vineyard after vineyard, and château after château come quickly into view, until you reach the Ponts de Cé with its charming little town—all very pleasant. Not so for the bridge at Ancenis, where the water level is recorded daily on a large black and white scale. The bridge is easily the ugliest wire-rope structure you’ll find on the Loire, and you’re more than happy to leave it behind,23 even though you truly feel a sense of sadness saying goodbye to Ancenis itself.
Some years ago one could go from Angers to St. Nazaire by boat. It must have been a magnificent trip, extraordinarily calm and serene, amid an abundance of picturesque details; old châteaux and bridges in strong contrast to the prairies of Touraine and the Orléannais. One embarked at the foot of the stupendously towered château of King René, and for a petite heure navigated the Maine in the midst of great chalands, fussy little remorqueurs and barques until La Pointe was reached, when the Loire was followed to Nantes and St. Nazaire.
Some years ago, you could take a boat from Angers to St. Nazaire. It must have been an amazing journey, incredibly calm and peaceful, surrounded by plenty of picturesque details: old châteaux and bridges contrasting sharply with the prairies of Touraine and the Orléannais. You would board at the base of the impressively tall château of King René, and for a petite heure, you would navigate the Maine among large cargo ships, busy little tugboats, and small boats until you reached La Pointe, where you would follow the Loire to Nantes and St. Nazaire.
To-day this fine trip is denied one, the boats going only so far as La Pointe.
To day this great trip is no longer available; the boats only go as far as La Pointe.
Below Angers the Loire flows around and about a veritable archipelago of islands and islets, cultivated with all the luxuriance of a back-yard garden, and dotted with tiny hamlets of folk who are supremely happy and content with their lot.
Below Angers, the Loire flows around a real archipelago of islands and islets, cultivated with the lushness of a backyard garden, and scattered with small villages of people who are extremely happy and content with their lives.
Some currents which run behind the islands are swift flowing and impetuous, while others are practically elongated lakes, as dead as those lômes which in certain places flank the Saône and the Rhône.24
Some currents that flow behind the islands are fast and turbulent, while others are almost like long, still lakes, as lifeless as those lômes that border the Saône and the Rhône in certain areas.24
All these various branches are united as the Loire flows between the piers of the ungainly bridge of the Chemin-de-fer de Niort as it crosses the river at Chalonnes.
All these different branches come together as the Loire River flows between the pillars of the awkward bridge of the Niort railway as it crosses the river at Chalonnes.
Champtocé and Montjean follow, each with an individuality all its own. Here the commerce takes on an increased activity, thanks to the great national waterway known as the "Canal de Brest à Nantes." Here at the busy port of Montjean—which the Angevins still spell and pronounce Montéjean—the Loire takes on a breadth and grandeur similar to the great rivers in the western part of America. Montjean is dominated by a fine ogival church, with a battery of arcs-boutants which are a joy in themselves.
Champtocé and Montjean each have their own unique character. Here, commerce thrives, boosted by the major national waterway known as the "Canal de Brest à Nantes." At the bustling port of Montjean—still spelled and pronounced Montéjean by the locals—the Loire River expands to a width and beauty reminiscent of the great rivers in the western United States. Montjean is marked by a beautiful pointed-arch church, complete with a series of flying buttresses that are a delight on their own.
On the other bank, lying back of a great plain, which stretches away from the river itself, is Champtocé, pleasantly situated on the flank of a hill and dominated by the ruins of a thirteenth-century château which belonged to the cruel Gilles de Retz, somewhat apocryphally known to history as "Barbe-bleu"—not the Bluebeard of the nursery tale, who was of Eastern origin, but a sort of Occidental successor who was equally cruel and bloodthirsty in his attitude toward his whilom wives.
On the other side of the river, behind a vast plain that extends away from the water, lies Champtocé, nicely positioned on the side of a hill and overshadowed by the ruins of a 13th-century castle that belonged to the ruthless Gilles de Retz, somewhat inaccurately remembered in history as "Barbe-bleu"—not the Bluebeard from the nursery rhyme, who was of Eastern descent, but a Western counterpart who was just as cruel and bloodthirsty towards his former wives.
From this point on one comes within the25 sphere of influence of Nantes, and there is more or less of a suburban traffic on the railway, and the plodders cityward by road are more numerous than the mere vagabonds of the countryside.
From this point on, you enter the25sphere of Nantes' influence, where there is a fair amount of suburban traffic on the railway, and the travelers heading cityward by road outnumber the occasional wanderers from the countryside.
The peasant women whom one meets wear a curious bonnet, set on the head well to the fore, with wings at the side folded back quite like the pictures that one sees of the mediæval dames of these parts, a survival indeed of the middle ages.
The peasant women you encounter wear a peculiar bonnet, positioned forward on their heads, with wings at the sides folded back just like the images of the medieval ladies from this region, truly a remnant of the Middle Ages.
The Loire becomes more and more animated and occasionally there is a great tow of boats like those that one sees continually passing on the lower Seine. Here the course of the Loire takes on a singular aspect. It is filled with long flat islands, sometimes in archipelagos, but often only a great flat prairie surrounded by a tranquil canal, wide and deep, and with little resemblance to the mistress Loire of a hundred or two kilometres up-stream. All these isles are in a high state of cultivation, though wholly worked with the hoe and the spade, both of them of a primitiveness that might have come down from Bible times; rare it is to see a horse or a harrow on these "bouquets of verdure surrounded by waves."
The Loire becomes more lively, and sometimes you see a big tow of boats like those that constantly pass on the lower Seine. Here, the Loire takes on a unique appearance. It's filled with long, flat islands, sometimes in clusters, but often it's just a large flat prairie surrounded by a calm canal—wide and deep, looking nothing like the majestic Loire a hundred or two kilometers upstream. All these islands are highly cultivated, though entirely worked with a hoe and a spade, tools that seem like they've been around since biblical times; it's rare to see a horse or a harrow on these "clusters of greenery surrounded by waves."
Near Oudon is one of those monumental26 follies which one comes across now and then in most foreign countries: a great edifice which serves no useful purpose, and which, were it not for certain redeeming features, would be a sorry thing indeed. The "Folie-Siffait," a citadel which perches itself high upon the summit of a hill, was—and is—an amusette built by a public-spirited man of Nantes in order that his workmen might have something to do in a time of a scarcity of work. It is a bizarre, incredible thing, but the motive which inspired its erection was most worthy, and the roadway running beneath, piercing its foundation walls, gives a theatrical effect which, in a way, makes it the picturesque rival of many a more famous Rhine castle.
Near Oudon is one of those impressive26 structures you occasionally find in foreign countries: a large building that serves no practical purpose, and which, if not for some redeeming qualities, would be quite disappointing. The "Folie-Siffait," a fortress that sits high on a hilltop, was—and still is—an amusette created by a community-minded man from Nantes so that his workers would have something to do during a time of job scarcity. It's a strange and extraordinary sight, but the reason it was built is quite commendable, and the road that runs underneath, cutting through its base, adds a dramatic flair that makes it a picturesque rival to many more famous castles along the Rhine.
The river valley widens out here at Oudon, practically the frontier of Bretagne and Anjou. The railroad pierces the rock walls of the river with numerous tunnels along the right bank, and the Vendean country stretches far to the southward in long rolling hills quite unlike any of the characteristics of other parts of the valley. Finally, the vast plain of Mauves comes into sight, beautifully coloured with a white and iron-stained rocky background which is startlingly picturesque in its way, if not27 wholly beautiful according to the majority of standards.
The river valley opens up here at Oudon, almost marking the border between Bretagne and Anjou. The railroad cuts through the rocky walls of the river with multiple tunnels along the right bank, and the Vendean countryside stretches far to the south, featuring long rolling hills that are unlike any other areas in the valley. Eventually, the vast plain of Mauves comes into view, beautifully colored with a striking white and iron-stained rocky backdrop that is quite picturesque in its own way, if not entirely beautiful by most standards.27
Next comes what a Frenchman has called a "tumultuous vision of Nantes." To-day the very ancient and historic city which grew up from the Portus Namnetum and the Condivicnum of the Romans is indeed a veritable tumult of chimneys, masts, and locomotives. But all this will not detract one jot from its reputation of being one of the most delightful of provincial capitals, and the smoke and activity of its port only tend to accentuate a note of colour that in the whole itinerary of the Loire has been but pale.
Next comes what a Frenchman has called a "tumultuous vision of Nantes." Today, the very ancient and historic city that grew from the Portus Namnetum and the Condivicnum of the Romans is truly a chaotic mix of chimneys, masts, and locomotives. But none of this takes away from its reputation as one of the most charming provincial capitals, and the smoke and activity of its port only highlight a vibrant aspect that has been quite dull throughout the entire journey along the Loire.
Below Nantes the Loire estuary has turned the surrounding country into a little Holland, where fisherfolk and their boats, with sails of red and blue, form charming symphonies of pale colour. In the cabarets along its shores there is a strange medley of peasants, sea-farers, and fisher men and women. Not so cosmopolitan a crew as one sees in the harbourside cabarets at Marseilles, or even Le Havre, but sufficiently strange to be a fascination to one who has just come down from the headwaters.
Below Nantes, the Loire estuary has transformed the surrounding area into a little Holland, where fishermen and their boats, with red and blue sails, create charming symphonies of soft colors. In the cabarets along its shores, there's a curious mix of peasants, sea-farers, and fishermen and women. While not as cosmopolitan as the crews seen in the harborside cabarets in Marseilles or even Le Havre, they are interesting enough to captivate someone who has just come down from the headwaters.
The "Section Maritime," from Nantes to the sea, is a matter of some sixty kilometres.28 Here the boats increase in number and size. They are known as gabares, chalands, and alléges, and go down with the river-current and return on the incoming ebb, for here the river is tidal.
The "Section Maritime," from Nantes to the sea, is about sixty kilometers long.28 Here, the number and size of boats increase. They are called gabares, chalands, and alléges, and they go down with the river's current and return on the incoming tide, as this section of the river is tidal.
Gray and green is the aspect at the Loire's source, and green and gray it still is, though of a decidedly different colour-value, at St. Nazaire, below Nantes, the real deep-water port of the Loire.
Gray and green describe the look of the Loire's source, and it remains gray and green but with a noticeably different shade at St. Nazaire, below Nantes, the actual deep-water port of the Loire.
By this time the river has amplified into a broad estuary which is lost in the incoming and outgoing tides of the Bay of Biscay.
By this time, the river has expanded into a wide estuary that blends into the ebb and flow of the tides in the Bay of Biscay.
For nearly a thousand kilometres the Loire has wound its way gently and broadly through rocky escarpments, fertile plains, populous and luxurious towns,—all of it historic ground,—by stately châteaux and through vineyards and fruit orchards, with a placid grandeur.
For almost a thousand kilometers, the Loire has curved gently and widely through rocky cliffs, fertile plains, bustling and elegant towns—all of it historic land—by grand châteaux and through vineyards and fruit orchards, with a serene magnificence.
Now it becomes more or less prosaic and matter-of-fact, though in a way no less interesting, as it takes on some of the attributes of the outside world.
Now it becomes more or less straightforward and realistic, though still interesting in its own way, as it adopts some characteristics of the outside world.
This outline, then, approximates somewhat a portrait of the Loire. It is the result of many pilgrimages enthusiastically undertaken; a long contemplation of the charms of perhaps29 the most beautiful river in France, from its source to its mouth, at all seasons of the year.
This outline, then, somewhat resembles a portrait of the Loire. It is the outcome of many enthusiastically taken journeys; a lengthy reflection on the beauty of perhaps29 the most beautiful river in France, from its source to its mouth, during all seasons of the year.
The riches and curios of the cities along its banks have been contemplated with pleasure, intermingled with a memory of many stirring scenes of the past, but it is its châteaux that make it famous.
The wealth and unique treasures of the cities along its banks have been admired, mixed with memories of many exciting events from the past, but it's the châteaux that really make it famous.
The story of the châteaux has been told before in hundreds of volumes, but only a personal view of them will bring home to one the manners and customs of one of the most luxurious periods of life in the France of other days.30
The story of the châteaux has been told before in countless books, but only a personal perspective on them can truly convey the lifestyle and customs of one of the most extravagant eras in France's history.30
CHAPTER II.To ToC
THE ORLÉANNAIS
Of the many travelled English and Americans who go to Paris, how few visit the Loire valley with its glorious array of mediæval and Renaissance châteaux. No part of France, except Paris, is so accessible, and none is so comfortably travelled, whether by road or by rail.
Of the many English and American travelers who go to Paris, how few actually visit the Loire Valley with its stunning collection of medieval and Renaissance châteaux. No part of France, other than Paris, is so easy to reach, and none is so comfortable to explore, whether by road or by train.
At Orleans one is at the very gateway of this splendid, bountiful region, the lower valley of the Loire. Here the river first takes on a complexion which previously it had lacked, for it is only when the Loire becomes the boundary-line between the north and the south that one comes to realize its full importance.
At Orleans, you find yourself at the entrance to this beautiful, abundant area, the lower valley of the Loire. Here, the river finally adopts a character it didn’t have before, as it’s only when the Loire marks the dividing line between the north and the south that its true significance becomes clear.
The Orléannais, like many another province of mid-France, is a region where plenty awaits rich and poor alike. Not wholly given over to agriculture, nor yet wholly to manufacturing, it is without that restless activity of the31 frankly industrial centres of the north. In spite of this, though, the Orléannais is not idle.
The Orléannais, like many other provinces in central France, is a region where both the rich and the poor can find abundance. It’s not solely focused on agriculture, nor is it entirely centered on manufacturing; it doesn’t have the constant hustle and bustle of the industrial cities in the north. However, even so, the Orléannais is not inactive.
Orleans is the obvious pointe de départ for all the wonderland of the Renaissance which is to follow, but itself and its immediate surroundings have not the importance for the visitor, in spite of the vivid historical chapters which have been written here in the past, that many another less famous city possesses. By this is meant that the existing monuments of history are by no means as numerous or splendid here as one might suppose. Not that they are entirely lacking, but rather that they are of a different species altogether from that array of magnificently planned châteaux which line the banks of the Loire below.
Orleans is clearly the starting point for all the amazing experiences of the Renaissance that are about to unfold, but it and its nearby areas don't hold the same significance for visitors, despite the rich historical stories that have taken place here in the past, as many other less renowned cities do. What this means is that the historical monuments here are not nearly as plentiful or impressive as one might expect. They aren't completely absent, but they belong to a different category altogether compared to the brilliantly designed châteaux that line the banks of the Loire further downstream.
To one coming from the north the entrance to the Orléannais will be emphatically marked. It is the first experience of an atmosphere which, if not characteristically or climatically of the south, is at least reminiscent thereof, with a luminosity which the provinces of old France farther north entirely lack.
To anyone arriving from the north, the entrance to the Orléannais is strikingly noticeable. It offers a first taste of an ambiance that, while not exclusively southern in character or climate, certainly evokes it, featuring a brightness that the northern regions of old France completely lack.
As Lavedan, the Académicien, says: "Here all focuses itself into one great picture, the combined romance of an epoch. Have you not been struck with a land where the clouds, the32 atmosphere, the odour of the soil, and the breezes from afar, all comport, one with another, in true and just proportions?" This is the Orléannais, a land where was witnessed the morning of the Valois, the full noon of Louis XIV., and the twilight of Louis XVI.
As Lavedan, the Académicien, says: "Here everything merges into one great picture, the combined romance of an era. Haven't you noticed a land where the clouds, the atmosphere, the scent of the soil, and the distant breezes all come together in perfect harmony?" This is the Orléannais, a place where we witnessed the dawn of the Valois, the peak of Louis XIV, and the dusk of Louis XVI.
The Orléannais formed a distinct part of mediæval France, as it did, ages before, of western Gaul. Of all the provinces through which the Loire flows, the Orléannais is as prolific as any of great names and greater events, and its historical monuments, if not so splendid as those in Touraine, are no less rare.
The Orléannais was a unique part of medieval France, just like it was, ages earlier, of western Gaul. Of all the provinces along the Loire, the Orléannais is as rich as any in notable figures and significant events, and its historical sites, while not as grand as those in Touraine, are still quite remarkable.
Orleans itself contains many remarkable Gothic and Renaissance constructions, and not far away is the ancient church of the old abbey of Notre Dame de Cléry, one of the most historic and celebrated shrines in the time of the superstitious Louis XI.; while innumerable mediæval villes and ruined fortresses plentifully besprinkle the province.
Orleans has many impressive Gothic and Renaissance buildings, and nearby is the ancient church of the old abbey of Notre Dame de Cléry, one of the most historic and famous shrines during the superstitious reign of Louis XI. Numerous medieval towns and crumbling fortresses are scattered throughout the province.
One characteristic possessed by the Orléannais differentiates it from the other outlying provinces of the old monarchy. The people and the manners and customs of this great and important duchy were allied, in nearly all things, with the interests and events of the capital itself, and so there was always a lack33 of individuality, which even to-day is noticeably apparent in the Orleans capital. The shops, hotels, cafés, and the people themselves might well be one of the quartiers of Paris, so like are they in general aspect.
One characteristic that sets the Orléannais apart from other surrounding provinces of the old monarchy is its close connection to the capital. The people and their customs in this significant duchy were closely tied to the interests and events of the capital itself, resulting in a noticeable lack33 of individuality, which is still evident today in the city of Orléans. The shops, hotels, cafés, and the people themselves could easily belong to a neighborhood in Paris, as they are so similar in overall appearance.
The notable Parisian character of the inhabitants of Orleans, and the resemblance of the people of the surrounding country to those of the Ile of France, is due principally to the fact that the Orléannais was never so isolated as many others of the ancient provinces. It was virtually a neighbour of the capital, and its relations with it were intimate and numerous. Moreover, it was favoured by a great number of lines of communication by road and by water, so that its manners and customs became, more or less unconsciously, interpolations.
The distinctive Parisian vibe of the people in Orleans, along with the similarities between the locals and those from the Ile of France, is mainly because the Orléannais was never as isolated as many other ancient provinces. It was practically a neighbor to the capital, maintaining close and frequent connections. Additionally, it benefited from a wide range of roads and waterways, which led to its customs and traditions blending in, more or less unconsciously.
The great event of the year in Orleans is the Fête de Jeanne d'Arc, which takes place in the month of May. Usually few English and American visitors are present, though why it is hard to reason out, for it takes place at quite the most delightful season in the year. Perhaps it is because Anglo-Saxons are ashamed of the part played by their ancestors in the shocking death of the maid of Domremy and Orleans. Innumerable are the relics and reminders of the "Maid" scattered through34out the town, and the local booksellers have likewise innumerable and authoritative accounts of the various episodes of her life, which saves the necessity of making further mention here.
The biggest event of the year in Orleans is the Fête de Jeanne d'Arc, which happens in May. Usually, there are only a few English and American visitors, and it's hard to understand why, especially since it takes place during one of the most beautiful times of the year. Maybe it's because Anglo-Saxons feel embarrassed about their ancestors' role in the tragic death of the maid from Domremy and Orleans. There are countless reminders and relics of the "Maid" scattered throughout34 the town, and the local booksellers offer numerous detailed and reliable accounts of her life, which means there's no need to go into further detail here.
There are several statues of Jeanne d'Arc in the city, and they have given rise to the following account written by Jules Lemaitre, the Académicien:
There are several statues of Jeanne d'Arc in the city, and they have led to the following account written by Jules Lemaitre, the Académicien:
"I believe that the history of Jeanne d'Arc was the first that was ever told to me (before even the fairy-tales of Perrault). The 'Mort de Jeanne d'Arc,' of Casimir Delavigne, was the first fable that I learned, and the equestrian statue of the 'Maid,' in the Place Martroi, at Orleans, is perhaps the oldest vision that my memory guards.
"I think the story of Jeanne d'Arc was the first one I ever heard (even before the fairy tales by Perrault). 'The Death of Jeanne d'Arc' by Casimir Delavigne was the first fable I learned, and the equestrian statue of the 'Maid' in Place Martroi, Orleans, is probably the oldest image I can remember."
"This statue of Jeanne d'Arc is absurd. She has a Grecian profile, and a charger which is not a war-horse but a race-horse. Nevertheless to me it was noble and imposing.
"This statue of Jeanne d'Arc is absurd. She has a Greek profile, and a horse that isn't a war-horse but a racehorse. Still, to me, it was noble and impressive."
"In the courtyard of the Hôtel de Ville is a petite pucelle, very gentle and pious, who holds against her heart her sword, after the manner of a crucifix. At the end of the bridge across the Loire is another Jeanne d'Arc, as the maid of war, surrounded by swirling draperies, as in a picture of Juvenet's. This to me tells the35 whole story of the reverence with which the martyred 'Maid' is regarded in the city of Orleans by the Loire."
"In the courtyard of the City Hall is a little maid, very gentle and devout, who holds her sword against her heart like a crucifix. At the end of the bridge over the Loire is another Jeanne d'Arc, as the warrior maid, surrounded by flowing drapes, like in a painting by Juvenet. This, to me, tells the35 whole story of the respect with which the martyred 'Maid' is honored in the city of Orleans by the Loire."
One can appreciate all this, and to the full, for a Frenchman is a stern critic of art, even that of his own countrymen, and Jeanne d'Arc, along with some other celebrities, is one of those historical figures which have seldom had justice done them in sculptured or pictorial representations. The best, perhaps, is the precocious Lepage's fine painting, now in America. What would not the French give for the return of this work of art?
One can fully appreciate this because a Frenchman is a harsh critic of art, even that of his own country. Jeanne d'Arc, along with a few other famous figures, is one of those historical characters that have rarely been portrayed accurately in sculpture or paintings. The best representation, perhaps, is the exceptional painting by the young Lepage, which is now in America. What wouldn't the French give to have this artwork back?
The Orléannais, with the Ile de France, formed the particular domain of the third race of French monarchs. From 1364 to 1498 the province was an appanage known as the Duché d'Orleans, but it was united with the Crown by Louis XII., and finally divided into the Departments of Loir et Cher, Eure et Loir, and Loiret.
The Orléannais, along with the Ile de France, made up the unique territory of the third line of French kings. From 1364 to 1498, the region was a fief known as the Duché d'Orleans, but it was merged with the Crown by Louis XII, and eventually split into the Departments of Loir et Cher, Eure et Loir, and Loiret.
Like the "pardons" and "benedictions" of Finistère and other parts of Bretagne, the peasants of the Loiret have a quaint custom which bespeaks a long handed-down superstition. On the first Sunday of Lent they hie themselves to the fields with lighted fagots and chanting the following lines:36
Like the "pardons" and "blessings" of Finistère and other areas of Brittany, the farmers of the Loiret have a charming tradition that reflects an old superstition. On the first Sunday of Lent, they head out to the fields with lit bundles of sticks while singing the following lines:36
Leave, leave these grains; Go, you will find
In the priest's cellar "More to drink than to eat."
Just how far the curé endorses these sentiments, the author of this book does not know. The explanation of the rather extraordinary proceeding came from one of the participants, who, having played his part in the ceremony, dictated the above lines over sundry petits verres paid for by the writer. The day is not wound up, however, with an orgy of eating and drinking, as is sometimes the case in far-western Brittany. The peasant of the Loiret simply eats rather heavily of "mi," which is nothing more or less than oatmeal porridge, after which he goes to bed.
Just how much the priest supports these feelings, the author of this book doesn't know. The explanation of the rather unusual event came from one of the participants, who, after doing his part in the ceremony, dictated the above lines over some petits verres paid for by the writer. However, the day doesn’t end with a feast of eating and drinking, as it sometimes does in far-western Brittany. The farmer from the Loiret just has a hearty serving of "mi," which is nothing more than oatmeal porridge, after which he goes to bed.
The Loire rolls down through the Orléannais, from Châteauneuf-sur-Loire and Jargeau, and cuts the banks of sable, and the very shores themselves, into little capes and bays which are delightful in their eccentricity. Here cuts in the Canal d'Orleans, which makes possible the little traffic that goes on between the Seine and the Loire.
The Loire flows through the Orléannais, from Châteauneuf-sur-Loire and Jargeau, carving the banks of sable and the shores into charming little capes and bays that are wonderfully unique. Here, it meets the Canal d'Orleans, enabling the small amount of traffic that occurs between the Seine and the Loire.
A few kilometres away from the right bank of the Loire, in the heart of the Gatanais, is37 Lorris, the home of Guillaume de Lorris, the first author of the "Roman de la Rose." For this reason alone it should become a literary shrine of the very first rank, though, in spite of its claim, no one ever heard of a literary pilgrim making his way there.
A few kilometers away from the right bank of the Loire, in the heart of the Gatanais, is37 Lorris, the home of Guillaume de Lorris, the first author of "Roman de la Rose." For this reason alone, it should be a top literary destination, yet despite its significance, no one has ever heard of a literary pilgrim going there.
Lorris is simply a big, overgrown French market-town, which is delightful enough in its somnolence, but which lacks most of the attributes which tourists in general seem to demand.
Lorris is just a large, sleepy French market town that is charming in its quietness, but it lacks many of the features that tourists usually look for.
At Lorris a most momentous treaty was signed, known as the "Paix de Lorris," wherein was assured to the posterity of St. Louis the heritage of the Comte de Toulouse, another of those periodical territorial aggrandizements which ultimately welded the French nation into the whole that it is to-day.
At Lorris, a very important treaty was signed, known as the "Paix de Lorris," which guaranteed the descendants of St. Louis the inheritance of the Comte de Toulouse, another one of those periodic territorial expansions that eventually united the French nation into the cohesive entity it is today.
From the juncture of the Canal d'Orleans with the Loire one sees shining in the brilliant sunlight the roof-tops of Orleans, the Aurelianum of the Romans, its hybrid cathedral overtopping all else. It was Victor Hugo who said of this cathedral: "This odious church, which from afar holds so much of promise, and which near by has none," and Hugo undoubtedly spoke the truth.
From the point where the Canal d'Orleans meets the Loire, you can see the rooftops of Orleans gleaming in the bright sunlight, with its hybrid cathedral standing taller than everything else. Victor Hugo once described this cathedral: "This awful church, which looks so promising from a distance, yet has nothing noteworthy up close," and Hugo definitely spoke the truth.
Orleans is an old city and a cité neuve. Where the river laps its quays, it is old but38 commonplace; back from the river is a strata which is really old, fine Gothic house-fronts and old leaning walls; while still farther from the river, as one approaches the railway station, it is strictly modern, with all the devices and appliances of the newest of the new.
Orleans is an old city and a cité neuve. Where the river meets its quays, it's old but 38 ordinary; further back from the river, there's a layer that is truly old, with beautiful Gothic facades and ancient leaning walls; while even farther from the river, as you get closer to the train station, it’s completely modern, equipped with all the latest technologies and amenities.
The Orleans of history lies riverwards,—the Orleans where the heart of France pulsed itself again into life in the tragic days which were glorified by "the Maid."
The Orleans of history is by the river—the Orleans where the heart of France beat back to life during the tragic days made famous by "the Maid."
"The countryside of the Orléannais has the monotony of a desert," said an English traveller some generations ago. He was wrong. To do him justice, however, or to do his observations justice, he meant, probably, that, save the river-bottom of the Loire, the great plain which begins with La Beauce and ends with the Sologne has a comparatively uninteresting topography. This is true; but it is not a desert. La Beauce is the best grain-growing region in all France, and the Sologne is now a reclaimed land whose sandy soil has proved admirably adapted to an unusually abundant growth of the vine. So much for this old-time point of view, which to-day has changed considerably.
"The countryside of the Orléannais has the monotony of a desert," said an English traveler some generations ago. He was wrong. To be fair to him or to his observations, he probably meant that, aside from the riverbanks of the Loire, the vast plain that starts with La Beauce and ends with the Sologne has a relatively dull landscape. This is true, but it is not a desert. La Beauce is the best grain-producing area in all of France, and the Sologne is now a reclaimed land where the sandy soil has proven to be perfectly suited for a particularly rich growth of vines. So much for this outdated perspective, which has changed quite a bit today.
The Orléannais is one of the most populous and progressive sections of all France, and its39 inhabitants, per square kilometre, are constantly increasing in numbers, which is more than can be said of every département. There are multitudes of tiny villages, and one is scarcely ever out of sight and sound of a habitation.
The Orléannais is one of the most populous and forward-thinking areas in all of France, and its39 residents per square kilometer are steadily on the rise, which is more than can be said for every département. There are countless small villages, and you’re rarely out of sight or sound of a home.
In the great forest, just to the west of Orleans, are two small villages, each a celebrated battle-ground, and a place of a patriotic pil40grimage on the eighth and ninth of November of each year. They are Coulmiers and Bacon, and here some fugitives from Metz and Sedan, with some young troops exposed to fire for the first time, engaged with the Prussians (in 1870) who had occupied Orleans since mid-October. There is the usual conventional "soldiers' monument,"—with considerably more art about it than is usually seen in America,—before which Frenchmen seemingly never cease to worship.
In the vast forest just west of Orleans, there are two small villages, each a famous battlefield and a site of patriotic pilgrimage on the eighth and ninth of November every year. They are Coulmiers and Bacon, where some refugees from Metz and Sedan, along with some young soldiers facing combat for the first time, fought the Prussians (in 1870) who had taken over Orleans since mid-October. There's the typical "soldiers' monument," which has a lot more artistic detail than is usually found in America, in front of which French people seem to worship endlessly.
This same Forêt d'Orleans, one of those wild-woods which so plentifully besprinkle France, has a sad and doleful memory in the traditions of the druidical inhabitants of a former day. Their practices here did not differ greatly from those of their brethren elsewhere, but local history is full of references to atrocities so bloodthirsty that it is difficult to believe that they were ever perpetrated under the guise of religion.
This same Forêt d'Orleans, one of those wild woods that are so plentiful throughout France, carries a sad and sorrowful memory in the stories of the druid inhabitants from long ago. Their practices here weren't much different from those of their peers in other places, but local history is filled with accounts of horrors so brutal that it's hard to believe they were ever committed in the name of religion.
Surrounding the forest are many villages and hamlets, war-stricken all in the dark days of seventy-one, when the Prussians were overrunning the land.
Surrounding the forest are many villages and small communities, all scarred by the harsh times of '71, when the Prussians were invading the land.
Of all the cities of the Loire, Orleans, Blois, Tours, Angers, and Nantes alone show any spirit of modern progressiveness or of likeness41 to the capital. The rest, to all appearances, are dead, or at least sleeping in their pasts. But they are charming and restful spots for all that, where in melancholy silence sit the old men, while the younger folk, including the very children, are all at work in the neighbouring vineyards or in the wheat-fields of La Beauce.
Of all the cities along the Loire, only Orleans, Blois, Tours, Angers, and Nantes show any signs of modern progress or similarity to the capital. The others seem to be lifeless or at least stuck in their pasts. However, they are still lovely and peaceful places where the elderly sit in quiet solitude, while the younger people, including the little ones, are busy working in the nearby vineyards or wheat fields of La Beauce.41
Meung-sur-Loire and Beaugency sleep on the river-bank, their proud monuments rising high in the background,—the massive tower of Cæsar and a quartette of church spires. Just below Orleans is the juncture of the Loiret and the Loire at St. Mesmin, while only a few kilometres away is Cléry, famed for its associations of Louis XI.
Meung-sur-Loire and Beaugency rest by the riverbank, their impressive monuments towering in the background—the strong tower of Caesar and four church spires. Just below Orleans is the meeting point of the Loiret and the Loire at St. Mesmin, and only a few kilometers away is Cléry, known for its connection to Louis XI.
The Loiret is not a very ample river, and is classed by the Minister of Public Works as navigable for but four kilometres of its length. This, better than anything else, should define its relative importance among the great waterways of France. Navigation, as it is known elsewhere, is practically non-existent.
The Loiret isn’t a very large river and is classified by the Minister of Public Works as navigable for only four kilometers of its length. This really highlights its relative importance among the major waterways of France. Navigation, as it exists in other places, is practically absent.
The course of the Loiret is perhaps twelve kilometres all told, but it has given its name to a great French département, though it is doubtless the shortest of all the rivers of France thus honoured.
The Loiret River is about twelve kilometers long in total, but it has given its name to a large French département, even though it's probably the shortest of all the rivers in France that have received such recognition.
It first comes to light in the dainty park of42 the Château de la Source, where there are two distinct sources. The first forms a small circular basin, known as the "Bouillon," which leads into another semicircular basin called the "Bassin du Miroir," from the fact that it reflects the façade of the château in its placid surface. Of course, this is all very artificial and theatrical, but it is a pretty conceit nevertheless. The other source, known as the "Grande Source," joins the rivulet some hundreds of yards below the "Bassin du Miroir."
It first appears in the lovely park of42 the Château de la Source, where there are two distinct springs. The first creates a small circular pool, called the "Bouillon," which leads into another semicircular pool known as the "Bassin du Miroir," named for the way it reflects the château's façade on its calm surface. While this is all very artificial and theatrical, it’s still quite a charming idea. The other spring, called the "Grande Source," flows into the stream a few hundred yards downstream from the "Bassin du Miroir."
The Château de la Source is a seventeenth-century edifice, of no great architectural beauty in itself, but sufficiently sylvan in its surroundings to give it rank as one of the notable places of pilgrimage for tourists who, said a cynical French writer, "take the châteaux of the Loire tour à tour as they do the morgue, the Moulin Rouge, and the sewers of Paris."
The Château de la Source is a seventeenth-century building, not particularly impressive in terms of architecture, but its beautiful natural surroundings make it a significant destination for tourists. As a cynical French writer put it, they visit the châteaux of the Loire “one after another” just like they would the morgue, the Moulin Rouge, and the sewers of Paris.
In the early days the château belonged to the Cardinal Briçonnet, and it was here that Bolingbroke, after having been stripped of his titles in England, went into retirement in 1720. In 1722 he received Voltaire, who read him his "Henriade."
In the early days, the château was owned by Cardinal Briçonnet, and it was here that Bolingbroke, having been stripped of his titles in England, retired in 1720. In 1722, he hosted Voltaire, who read him his "Henriade."
In 1815 the invading Prince Eckmühl, with his staff, installed himself in the château, when, after Waterloo, the Prussian and French ar43mies were separated only by a barrier placed midway on the bridge at Orleans. It was here also that the Prussian army was disbanded, on the agreement of the council held at Angerville, near Orleans.
In 1815, the invading Prince Eckmühl and his staff took over the château after Waterloo, when the Prussian and French armies were only separated by a barrier set up in the middle of the bridge at Orleans. This is also where the Prussian army was disbanded, following the agreement made at the council held in Angerville, near Orleans.
There are three other châteaux on the borders of the Loiret, which are of more than ordinary interest, so far as great country houses and their surroundings go, though their histories are not very striking, with perhaps the exception of the Château de la Fontaine, which has a remarkable garden, laid out by Lenôtre, the designer of the parks at Versailles.
There are three other châteaux on the borders of the Loiret that are more than just ordinary; they’re quite interesting when it comes to great country houses and their surroundings. However, their histories aren’t particularly notable, except maybe for the Château de la Fontaine, which has a stunning garden designed by Lenôtre, the same designer who created the parks at Versailles.
Leaving Orleans by the right bank of the Loire, one first comes to La Chapelle-St. Mesmin. La Chapelle has a church dating from the eleventh century and a château which is to-day the maison de campagne of the Bishop of Orleans. On the opposite bank was the Abbaye de Micy, founded by Clovis at the time of his conversion. A stone cross, only, marks the site to-day.
Leaving Orleans along the right bank of the Loire, the first stop is La Chapelle-St. Mesmin. La Chapelle features a church from the eleventh century and a château that now serves as the maison de campagne for the Bishop of Orleans. On the opposite bank was the Abbaye de Micy, which was established by Clovis during his conversion. Today, only a stone cross marks the site.
St. Ay follows next, and is usually set down in the guide-books as "celebrated for good wines." This is not to be denied for a moment, and it is curious to note that the city bears the same name as the famous town in the cham44pagne district, celebrated also for good wine, though of a different kind. The name of the Orléannais Ay is gained from a hermitage founded here by a holy man, who died in the sixth century. His tomb was discovered in 1860, under the choir of the church, which makes it a place of pilgrimage of no little local importance.
St. Ay comes next and is usually listed in travel guides as "famous for good wines." This is certainly true, and it's interesting to note that the city shares its name with the well-known town in the Champagne area, also famous for its excellent wine, though of a different type. The name of the Orléannais Ay comes from a hermitage established here by a holy man who passed away in the sixth century. His tomb was found in 1860, underneath the choir of the church, which makes it a significant pilgrimage site locally.
At Meung-sur-Loire one should cross the river to Cléry, five kilometres off, seldom if ever visited by casual travellers. But why? Simply because it is overlooked in that universal haste shown by most travellers—who are not students of art or architecture, or deep lovers of history—in making their way to more popular shrines. One will not regret the time taken to visit Cléry, which shared with Our Lady of Embrun the devotions of Louis XI.
At Meung-sur-Loire, you should cross the river to Cléry, just five kilometers away, which rarely sees casual travelers. But why? Simply because it gets overlooked in the rush of most travelers—who aren’t art or architecture students, or passionate about history—as they head to more popular destinations. You won’t regret taking the time to visit Cléry, which shared the devotion of Louis XI with Our Lady of Embrun.
Cléry's three thousand pastoral inhabitants of to-day would never give it distinction, and it is only the Maison de Louis XI. and the Basilique de Notre Dame which makes it worth while, but this is enough.
Cléry's three thousand rural residents today wouldn't make it special, and it's only the Maison de Louis XI and the Basilique de Notre Dame that give it value, but that's enough.
In "Quentin Durward" one reads of the time when the superstitious Louis was held in captivity by the Burgundian, Charles the Bold, and of how the French king made his devotions before the little image, worn in his hat, of the45 Virgin of Cléry; "the grossness of his superstition, none the less than his fickleness, leading him to believe Our Lady of Cléry to be quite a different person from the other object of his devotion, the Madonna of Embrun, a tiny mountain village in southwestern France.
In "Quentin Durward," we read about the time when the superstitious Louis was captured by Charles the Bold, the Duke of Burgundy. The French king would make his prayers in front of the small image of the Virgin of Cléry that he kept in his hat. His strong superstition, along with his indecisiveness, caused him to think of Our Lady of Cléry as completely different from his other devotion, the Madonna of Embrun, which is a small mountain village in southwestern France.
"'Sweet Lady of Cléry,' he exclaimed, clasping his hands and beating his breast as he spoke, 'Blessed Mother of Mercy! thou who art omnipotent with omnipotence, have compassion with me, a sinner! It is true I have sometimes neglected you for thy blessed sister of Embrun; but I am a king, my power is great, my wealth boundless; and were it otherwise, I would double my gabelle on my subjects rather than not pay my debts to you both.'"
"'Sweet Lady of Cléry,' he exclaimed, clasping his hands and beating his chest as he spoke, 'Blessed Mother of Mercy! You who hold all power, have compassion on me, a sinner! It’s true I have sometimes overlooked you for your blessed sister of Embrun; but I am a king, my power is great, my wealth is endless; and if it were any different, I would double my gabelle on my subjects rather than not repay my debts to both of you.'"
Louis endowed the church at Cléry, and the edifice was built in the fine flamboyant style of the period, just previous to his death, which De Commines gives as "le samedy pénultième jour d'Aoust, l'an mil quatre cens quatre-vingtz et trois, à huit heures du soir."
Louis donated to the church in Cléry, and the building was constructed in the beautiful flamboyant style of the time, shortly before his death, which De Commines notes as "le samedy pénultième jour d'Aoust, l'an mil quatre cens quatre-vingtz et trois, à huit heures du soir."
Louis XI. was buried here, and the chief "sight" is of course his tomb, beside which is a flagstone which covers the heart of Charles VIII. The Chapelle St. Jacques, within the church, is ornamented by a series of charming sculptures, and the Chapelle des46 Dunois-Longueville holds the remains of the famous ally of Jeanne d'Arc and members of his family.
Louis XI was buried here, and the main attraction is obviously his tomb, next to which is a flagstone that covers the heart of Charles VIII. The Chapelle St. Jacques, inside the church, is decorated with a series of beautiful sculptures, and the Chapelle des46 Dunois-Longueville contains the remains of the famous ally of Jeanne d'Arc and his family members.
In the choir is the massive oaken statue of Our Lady of Cléry (thirteenth century); the very one before which Louis made his vows. There is some old glass in the choir and a series of sculptured stalls, which would make famous a more visited and better known shrine. There is a fine sculptured stone portal to the sacristy, and within there are some magnificent old armoires, and also two chasubles, which saw service in some great church, perhaps here, in the times of Louis himself.
In the choir stands the large oak statue of Our Lady of Cléry (thirteenth century); the exact one where Louis made his vows. There’s some old glass in the choir and a set of beautifully carved stalls that would make a lesser-known shrine famous. There’s also a magnificent carved stone entrance to the sacristy, which holds some stunning old armoires, along with two chasubles that were used in a grand church, possibly here, during the time of Louis himself.
The "Maison de Louis XI.," near the church, is a house of brick, restored in 1651, and now—or until a very recent date—occupied by a community of nuns. In the Grande Rue is another "Maison de Louis XI.;" at least it has his cipher on the painted ceiling. It is now occupied by the Hôtel de la Belle Image. Those who like to dine and sleep where have also dined and slept royal heads will appreciate putting up at this hostelry.
The "Maison de Louis XI," close to the church, is a brick house that was renovated in 1651 and has recently been home to a group of nuns. On Grande Rue, there’s another "Maison de Louis XI," marked by his cipher on the painted ceiling. It's now the Hôtel de la Belle Image. People who enjoy dining and sleeping where royal figures have also dined and slept will appreciate staying at this hotel.
Meung-sur-Loire was the birthplace of Jehan Clopinel, better known as Jean de Meung, who continued Guillaume de Lorris's "Roman de la Rose," the most famous bit of verse produced47 by the trouvères of the thirteenth century. The voice of the troubadour was soon after hushed for ever, but that thirteenth-century masterwork—though by two hands and the respective portions unequal in merit—lives for ever as the greatest of its kind. In memory of the author, Meung has its Rue Jehan de Meung, for want of a more effective or appealing monument.
Meung-sur-Loire was the birthplace of Jehan Clopinel, better known as Jean de Meung, who continued Guillaume de Lorris's "Roman de la Rose," the most famous piece of verse produced47 by the trouvères of the thirteenth century. The voice of the troubadour was soon silenced forever, but that thirteenth-century masterpiece—though created by two authors with unequal contributions—lives on as the greatest of its kind. In honor of the author, Meung has its Rue Jehan de Meung, since there’s no better or more appealing monument.
Dumas opens the history of "Les Trois Mousquétaires" with the following brilliantly romantic lines anent Meung: "Le premier lundi du mois d'Avril, 1625, le bourg de Meung, où naquit l'auteur du 'Roman de la Rose.'" (One of the authors, he should have said, but here is where Dumas nodded, as he frequently did.)
Dumas begins the story of "The Three Musketeers" with these wonderfully romantic lines about Meung: "The first Monday of April, 1625, in the town of Meung, where the author of 'The Romance of the Rose' was born." (One of the authors, he should have said, but this is where Dumas missed a detail, as he often did.)
Continuing, one reads: "The town was in a veritable uproar. It was as if the Huguenots were up in arms and the drama of a second Rochelle was being enacted." Really the description is too brilliant and entrancing to be repeated here, and if any one has forgotten his Dumas to the extent that he has forgotten D'Artagnan's introduction to the hostelry of the "Franc Meunier," he is respectfully referred back to that perennially delightful romance.48
Continuing, one reads: "The town was in a complete uproar. It felt like the Huguenots were on the attack, and it was as if a second Rochelle was unfolding." Honestly, the description is too vivid and captivating to repeat here, and if anyone has forgotten Dumas to the point of not remembering D'Artagnan's first visit to the inn of the "Franc Meunier," they are kindly referred back to that timelessly enjoyable romance.48
Meung was once a Roman fortress, known as Maudunum, and in the eleventh century St. Liphard founded a monastery here.
Meung was once a Roman fortress called Maudunum, and in the 11th century, St. Liphard established a monastery here.
In the fifteenth century Meung was the prison of François Villon. Poor vagabond as he was then, it has become the fashion to laud both the personality and the poesy of Maître François Villon.
In the fifteenth century, Meung was the prison of François Villon. Once a poor wanderer, it has become trendy to praise both the character and the poetry of Master François Villon.
By the orders of Thibaut d'Aussigny, Bishop of Orleans, Villon was confined in a strong tower attached to the side of the clocher of the parish church of St. Liphard, and which adjoined the château de plaisance belonging to the bishop. Primarily this imprisonment was due to a robbery in which the poet had been concerned at Orleans. He spent the whole of the summer in this dungeon, which was overrun with rats, and into which he had to be lowered by ropes. As his food consisted of bread and water only, his sufferings at this time were probably greater than at any other period in his life. Here the burglar-poet remained until October, 1461, when Louis XI. visited Meung, and, to mark the occasion, ordered the release of all prisoners. For this delivery, Villon, according to the accounts of his life, appears to have been genuinely grateful to the king.
By the orders of Thibaut d'Aussigny, Bishop of Orleans, Villon was locked up in a solid tower next to the bell tower of the parish church of St. Liphard, which was connected to the bishop's country house. This imprisonment was mainly due to a robbery that the poet was involved in at Orleans. He spent the entire summer in this dungeon, which was infested with rats, and he had to be lowered in by ropes. Since his meals consisted of just bread and water, his suffering during this time was probably worse than at any other point in his life. The burglar-poet stayed there until October 1461, when Louis XI visited Meung and decided to celebrate the occasion by ordering the release of all prisoners. Villon, according to the accounts of his life, seemed to be genuinely grateful to the king for this freedom.
At Beaugency, seven kilometres from Meung,49 one comes upon an architectural and historical treat which is unexpected.
At Beaugency, seven kilometers from Meung,49 you'll encounter an architectural and historical surprise that is totally unexpected.
In the eleventh century Beaugency was a fief of the bishopric of Amiens, and its once strong château was occupied by the Barons de Landry, the last of whom died, without children, in the thirteenth century. Philippe-le-Bel bought the fief and united it with the Comté de Blois. It was made an independent comté of itself in 1569, and in 1663 became definitely an appanage of Orleans. The Prince de Galles took Beaugency in 1359, the Gascons in 1361, Duguesclin in 1370 and again in 1417; in 1421 and in 1428 it was taken by the English, from whom it was delivered by Jeanne d'Arc in 1429. Internal wars and warfares continued for another hundred and fifty years, finally culminating in one of the grossest scenes which had been enacted within its walls,—the bloody revenge against the Protestants, encouraged doubtless by the affair of St. Bartholomew's night at Paris.
In the eleventh century, Beaugency was a fief of the bishopric of Amiens, and its once strong château was held by the Barons de Landry, the last of whom died without children in the thirteenth century. Philippe le Bel purchased the fief and merged it with the Comté de Blois. It became an independent comté in 1569 and officially became an appanage of Orleans in 1663. The Prince of Wales took Beaugency in 1359, followed by the Gascons in 1361, Duguesclin in 1370 and again in 1417; in 1421 and 1428, it was captured by the English, from whom it was liberated by Jeanne d'Arc in 1429. Internal conflicts and wars continued for another one hundred and fifty years, ultimately leading to one of the most brutal events that occurred within its walls—the bloody retaliation against the Protestants, likely spurred by the St. Bartholomew's night incident in Paris.
The ancient square donjon of the eleventh century, known as the Tour de César, still looms high above the town. It must be one of the hugest keeps in all France. The old château of the Dunois is now a charitable institution, but reflects, in a way, the splendour of its fourteenth-century inception, and its Salle50 de Jeanne d'Arc, with its great chimneypiece, is worthy to rank with the best of its kind along the Loire. The spiral staircase, of which the Loire builders were so fond, is admirable here, and dates from 1530.
The ancient square keep from the eleventh century, known as the Tour de César, still towers over the town. It must be one of the largest keeps in all of France. The old château of the Dunois is now a charitable institution, but it still reflects, in a way, the splendor of its fourteenth-century beginnings, and its Salle50 de Jeanne d'Arc, with its impressive chimneypiece, is worthy of being among the best of its kind along the Loire. The spiral staircase, which the builders along the Loire loved so much, is remarkable here and dates back to 1530.
The Hôtel de Ville of Beaugency is a charming edifice of the very best of Renaissance, which many more pretentious structures of the period are not. It dates from 1526, and was entirely restored—not, however, to its detriment, as frequently happens—in the last years of the nineteenth century. Its charm, nevertheless, lies mostly in its exterior, for little remains of value within except a remarkable series of old embroideries taken from the choir of the old abbey of Beaugency.
The Hôtel de Ville of Beaugency is a charming building that represents the best of the Renaissance, unlike many more showy structures from that time. It was built in 1526 and was completely restored in the late nineteenth century—yet, thankfully, this did not lessen its appeal, as often happens. Its beauty largely comes from its exterior, as there’s not much of value left inside except for a remarkable collection of old embroidery from the choir of the old abbey of Beaugency.
The Église de Notre Dame is a Romanesque structure with Gothic interpolations. It is not bad in its way, but decidedly is not remarkable as mediæval churches go.
The Église de Notre Dame is a Romanesque building with Gothic additions. It's okay in its own way, but it's definitely not extraordinary compared to other medieval churches.
The old streets of Beaugency contain a dazzling array of old houses in wood and stone, and in the Rue des Templiers is a rare example of Romanesque civil architecture; at least the type is rare enough in the Orléannais, though more frequently seen in the south of France. The Tour St. Firmin dates from 1530, and is all that remains of a church which stood51 here up to revolutionary times. The square ruined towers known as the Porte Tavers are relics of the city's old walls and gates, and are all that are left to mark the ancient enclosure.
The old streets of Beaugency feature a stunning collection of old wooden and stone houses, and on Rue des Templiers, there’s a rare example of Romanesque civil architecture; it’s definitely uncommon in the Orléannais, though you see it more often in southern France. The Tour St. Firmin was built in 1530 and is the only remnant of a church that stood51 here until the revolutionary period. The crumbling towers known as the Porte Tavers are remnants of the city's old walls and gates, and they’re all that remain to signify the ancient enclosure.
The Tour du Diable and the house of the ruling abbot remain to suggest the power and magnificence of the great abbey which was built here in the tenth century. In 1567 it was burned, and later restored, but beyond the two features just mentioned there is nothing to indicate its former uses, the remaining structures having passed into private hands and being devoted to secular uses.
The Tour du Diable and the house of the ruling abbot still hint at the power and grandeur of the great abbey that was built here in the tenth century. It was burned in 1567 and later restored, but apart from those two features, there's nothing left to show its past purposes. The other buildings have been taken over by private ownership and are now used for secular purposes.
The old bridge which crosses the Loire at this point is most curious, and dates from various epochs. It is 440 metres in length, and is composed of twenty-six arches, one of which dates from the fourteenth century, when bridge-building was really an art. Eight of the present-day arches are of wood, and on the second is a monolith surmounted by a figure of Christ in bronze, replacing a former chapel to St. Jacques. A chapel on a bridge is not a unique arrangement, but few exist to-day, one of the most famous being, perhaps, that on the ruined bridge of St. Bénezet at Avignon.
The old bridge that crosses the Loire here is quite fascinating and has origins from different periods. It measures 440 meters long and is made up of twenty-six arches, one of which dates back to the fourteenth century, when building bridges was considered an art. Eight of the current arches are wooden, and on the second arch sits a monolith topped with a bronze figure of Christ, replacing a former chapel dedicated to St. Jacques. Having a chapel on a bridge isn't unique, but there are few left today, with one of the most well-known being the ruined bridge of St. Bénezet in Avignon.
Altogether, Beaugency, as it sleeps its life away after the strenuous days of the middle52 ages, is more lovable by far than a great metropolis.
Altogether, Beaugency, as it quietly lives its life away after the busy days of the middle52 ages, is much more charming than a big city.
The traveller is well repaid who makes a stop at Beaugency a part of a three days' gentle ramble among the usually neglected towns and villages of the Orléannais and the Blaisois, instead of rushing through to Blois by express-train, which is what one usually does.
The traveler is well rewarded who takes a break in Beaugency during a three-day leisurely stroll through the often overlooked towns and villages of the Orléannais and Blaisois, instead of hurrying through to Blois on the express train, which is what most people typically do.
Southward one's route lies through pleasant vineyards, on one side the Sologne, and on the other the Coteau de Guignes, which latter ranks as quite the best among the vine-growing districts of the Orléannais.
Southward, the path goes through beautiful vineyards, with the Sologne on one side and the Coteau de Guignes on the other, which is considered the best among the wine-growing regions of the Orléannais.
Near Tavers is a natural curiosity in the shape of the "Fontaine des Sables Mouvants," where the sands of a tiny spring boil and bubble like a miniature geyser.
Near Tavers is a natural wonder called the "Fontaine des Sables Mouvants," where the sands of a small spring churn and bubble like a tiny geyser.
Mer, another small town, follows, twelve kilometres farther on. Like Beaugency it is a somnolent bourg, and the life of the peasant folk round about, who go to market on one day at Beaugency and on another at Blois, and occasionally as far away as Orleans, is much the same as it was a century ago.
Mer, another small town, comes up twelve kilometers further along. Like Beaugency, it's a sleepy little place, and the lives of the local farmers, who head to market one day in Beaugency and another in Blois, sometimes even as far as Orleans, are pretty much the same as they were a hundred years ago.
There is a Boulevard de la Gare and a Grande Rue at Mer, the latter leading to a fine Gothic church with a fifteenth-century tower, which is admirable in every way, and forms53 a beacon by land for many miles around. The primitive church at Mer dates from the eleventh century, the side walls, however, being all that remain of that period. There is a sculptured pulpit of the seventeenth century, and a great painting, which looks ancient and is certainly a masterful work of art, representing an "Adoration of the Magi."
There is a Boulevard de la Gare and a Grande Rue in Mer, with the latter leading to a beautiful Gothic church that has a fifteenth-century tower, which is impressive in every way and serves53 as a landmark for many miles around. The original church in Mer dates back to the eleventh century, though only the side walls are left from that time. There's a carved pulpit from the seventeenth century and a grand painting that looks old and is definitely a remarkable piece of art, depicting an "Adoration of the Magi."
When all is said and done, it is its irresistible and inexpressible charm which makes Mer well-beloved, rather than any great wealth of artistic atmosphere of any nature.
When everything is taken into account, it’s its irresistible and indescribable charm that makes Mer so loved, rather than any significant richness in artistic atmosphere of any kind.
Away to the south, across the Loire to Muides, runs the route to Chambord, through the Sologne, where immediately the whole aspect of life changes from that on the borders of the rich grain-lands of the Orléannais and La Beauce.
Away to the south, across the Loire to Muides, runs the route to Chambord, through the Sologne, where immediately the whole feel of life changes from that on the edges of the lush grain fields of the Orléannais and La Beauce.
All the way from Beaugency to Blois the Loire threads its way through a lovely country, whose rolling slopes, back from the river, are surmounted here and there by windmills, a not very frequent adjunct to the landscape of France, except in the north.
All the way from Beaugency to Blois, the Loire winds through a beautiful countryside, where the gentle hills behind the river are dotted with windmills — a sight that's not very common in the landscapes of France, except in the north.
Near Mer is Menars, with its eighteenth-century château of La Pompadour; Suèvres, the site of an ancient Roman city; the lowlands lying before Chambord; St. Die; Montlivault;54 St. Claude, and a score of little villages which are entrancing in their old-world aspect even in these days of progress. This completes the panorama to Blois which, with the Blaisois, forms the borderland between the Orléannais and Touraine.
Near Mer is Menars, which has the 18th-century château of La Pompadour; Suèvres, the site of an ancient Roman city; the lowlands in front of Chambord; St. Die; Montlivault;54 St. Claude, and a bunch of charming little villages that still have their old-world charm even in these modern times. This wraps up the view towards Blois, which, along with the Blaisois, makes up the border between the Orléannais and Touraine.
Before reaching Blois, Menars, at any rate, commands attention. It fronts upon the Loire, but is practically upon the northern border of the Forêt de Blois, hence properly belongs to the Blaisois. Menars was made a rendezvous for the chase by the wily and pleasure-loving La Pompadour, who quartered herself at the château, which afterward passed to her brother, De Marigny.
Before reaching Blois, Menars definitely stands out. It faces the Loire River but is almost on the northern edge of the Forêt de Blois, so it rightfully belongs to the Blaisois region. Menars was chosen as a meeting spot for hunting by the clever and fun-loving La Pompadour, who stayed at the château, which later went to her brother, De Marigny.
Before the Revolution, Menars was the seat of a marquisate, of which the land was bought by Louis XV. for his famous, or infamous, maîtresse. The property has frequently changed hands since that day, but its gardens and terraces, descending toward the river-bank, mark it as one of those coquette establishments, with which France was dotted in the eighteenth century.
Before the Revolution, Menars was the home of a marquisate, the land of which was purchased by Louis XV for his well-known, or perhaps notorious, maîtresse. Since then, the property has changed hands many times, but its gardens and terraces, sloping down toward the riverbank, make it one of those coquette establishments that dotted France in the eighteenth century.
These establishments possessed enough of luxurious appointments to be classed as fitting for the butterflies of the time, but in no way, so far as the architectural design or the55 artistic details were concerned, were any of them worthy to be classed with the great domestic châteaux of the early years of the Renaissance.56
These places had enough luxurious features to be seen as suitable for the socialites of the time, but in terms of architectural design or artistic details, none of them were deserving of being compared to the great homes of the early Renaissance.
CHAPTER III.To ToC
THE BLAISOIS AND THE SOLOGNE
The Blésois or Blaisois was the ancient name given to the petit pays which made a part of the government of the Orléannais. It was, and is, the borderland between the Orléannais and Touraine, and, with its capital, Blois, the city of counts, was a powerful territory in its own right, in spite of the allegiance which it owed to the Crown. Twenty leagues in length by thirteen in width, it was bounded on the north by the Dunois and the Orléannais, on the east by Berry, on the south by Touraine, and on the west by Touraine and the Vendomois.
The Blésois or Blaisois was the old name given to the petit pays that was part of the Orléannais region. It was, and still is, the border area between Orléannais and Touraine, and with its capital, Blois, known as the city of counts, it was a significant territory in its own right, despite its loyalty to the Crown. Stretching twenty leagues in length and thirteen in width, it was bordered to the north by Dunois and Orléannais, to the east by Berry, to the south by Touraine, and to the west by Touraine and Vendomois.
Blois, its capital, was famed ever in the annals of the middle ages, and to-day no city in the Loire valley possesses more sentimental interest for the traveller than does Blois.
Blois, its capital, has always been famous in the history of the Middle Ages, and today no city in the Loire Valley holds more sentimental value for travelers than Blois.
To the eastward lay the sands of the Sologne, and southward the ample and fruitful Touraine, hence Blois's position was one of su57preme importance, and there is no wonder that it proved to be the scene of so many momentous events of history.
To the east were the sands of the Sologne, and to the south was the fertile and bountiful Touraine. Because of this, Blois was extremely important, and it's no surprise that it was the site of so many significant historical events.
The present day Department of the Loir et Cher was carved out from the Blaisois, the Vendomois, and the Orléannais. The Baisois was, in olden time, one of the most important of the petits gouvernements of all the kingdom, and gave to Blois a line of counts who rivalled in power and wealth the churchmen of Tours and the dukes of Brittany. Gregory of Tours is the first historian who makes mention of the ancient Pagus Blensensis.
The current Department of Loir-et-Cher was created from the Blaisois, Vendomois, and Orléannais regions. The Blaisois was, in the past, one of the most significant of the petits gouvernements in the entire kingdom, providing Blois with a line of counts who matched the power and wealth of the clergy in Tours and the dukes of Brittany. Gregory of Tours is the first historian to mention the ancient Pagus Blensensis.
One must not tell the citizen of Blois that it is at Tours that one hears the best French spoken. Everybody knows this, but the inhabitant of the Blaisois will not admit it, and, in truth, to the stranger there is not much apparent difference. Throughout this whole region he understands and makes himself understood with much more facility than in any other part of France.
One shouldn't tell the people of Blois that the best French is spoken in Tours. Everyone knows this, but the locals won't admit it, and honestly, to a stranger, there isn't much noticeable difference. In this entire area, communication is easier and more fluent than in any other part of France.
For one thing, not usually recalled, Blois should be revered and glorified. It was the native place of Lenoir, who invented the instrument which made possible the definite determination of the metric system of measurement.
For one thing, it's often overlooked, but Blois should be honored and celebrated. It was the hometown of Lenoir, who created the instrument that made it possible to accurately define the metric system of measurement.
One reads in Bernier's "Histoire de Blois"58 that the inhabitants are "honest, gallant, and polite in conversation, and of a delicate and diffident temperament." This was written nearly a century ago, but there is no excuse for one's changing the opinion to-day unless, as was the misfortune of the writer, he runs up against an unusually importunate vender of post-cards or an aggressive garçon de café.
One reads in Bernier's "Histoire de Blois"58 that the people are "honest, brave, and polite in conversation, and of a sensitive and shy temperament." This was written nearly a century ago, but there's no reason to change that opinion today unless, like the writer's unfortunate experience, one encounters a particularly pushy postcard seller or an aggressive waiter.

Blois, among all the cities of the Loire, is the favourite with the tourist. Why this should be is an enigma. It is overburdened, at times, with droves of tourists, and this in itself is a detraction in the eyes of many.
Blois, more than any other city along the Loire, is the top choice for tourists. Why that is remains a mystery. At times, it gets overwhelmed by crowds of visitors, which many see as a downside.
Perhaps it is because here one first meets a great château of state; and certainly the Château de Blois lives in one's memory more than any other château in France.
Perhaps it's because this is where you first encounter a grand state château; and definitely, the Château de Blois stays in your memory more than any other château in France.
Much has been written of Blois, its counts, its château, and its many and famous hôtels of the nobility, by writers of all opinions and abilities, from those old chroniclers who wrote59 of the plots and intrigues of other days to those critics of art and architecture who have discovered—or think they have discovered—that Da Vinci designed the famous spiral staircase.
A lot has been said about Blois, its counts, its château, and its various renowned hôtels for the nobility, by writers of all kinds and skills, from the old chroniclers who documented59 the plots and intrigues of the past to art and architecture critics who have found—or believe they have found—that Da Vinci designed the famous spiral staircase.
From this one may well gather that Blois is the foremost château of all the Loire in popularity and theatrical effect. Truly this is so, but it is by no manner of means the most lovable; indeed, it is the least lovable of all that great galaxy which begins at Blois and ends at Nantes. It is a show-place and not much more, and partakes in every form and feature—as one sees it to-day—of the attributes of a museum, and such it really is. All of its former gorgeousness is still there, and all the banalities of the later period when Gaston of Orleans built his ugly wing, for the "personally conducted" to marvel at, and honeymoon couples to envy. The French are quite fond of visiting this shrine themselves, but usually it is the young people and their mammas, and detached couples of American and English birth that one most sees strolling about the courts and apartments were formerly lords and ladies and cavaliers moved and plotted.
From this, one can easily see that Blois is the most popular château in all of the Loire in terms of fame and spectacle. And while that's true, it's definitely not the most charming; in fact, it's the least charming of all the magnificent castles stretching from Blois to Nantes. It’s more of a tourist attraction than anything else, and it really reflects the characteristics of a museum—it has that vibe. All its past grandeur is still there, along with the clichés from the later period when Gaston of Orleans built his unattractive wing for tourists to gawk at and honeymooners to envy. The French enjoy visiting this landmark, but mostly it’s young people and their mothers, along with American and English couples who you see wandering around the courtyards and rooms where lords, ladies, and knights once moved and schemed.
The great château of the Counts of Blois is built upon an inclined rock which rises above60 the roof-tops of the lower town quite in fairy-book fashion,—
The grand château of the Counts of Blois is perched on a sloping rock that towers over60 the rooftops of the lower town just like in a fairy tale,—
"White and square at the bottom of the green hill."
Commonly referred to as the Château de Blois, it is really composed of four separate and distinct foundations; the original château of the counts; the later addition of Louis XII.; the palace of François I., and the most unsympathetically and dismally disposed pavillon of Gaston of Orleans.
Commonly known as the Château de Blois, it actually consists of four separate and distinct parts: the original château of the counts, the later addition by Louis XII, the palace of François I, and the rather unappealing and gloomy pavillon of Gaston of Orleans.

The artistic qualities of the greater part of the distinct edifices which go to make up the château as it stands to-day are superb, with the exception of that great wing of Gaston's, before mentioned, which is as cold and unfeeling as the overrated palace at Versailles.61
The artistic qualities of most of the distinct buildings that make up the château today are outstanding, except for that large wing of Gaston's, which is as cold and unwelcoming as the overrated palace at Versailles.61
The Comtes de Chatillon built that portion just to the right of the present entrance; Louis XII., the edifice through which one enters the inner court and which extends far to the left, including also the chapel immediately to the rear; while François Premier, who here as elsewhere let his unbounded Italian proclivities have full sway, built the extended wing to the left of the inner court and fronting on the present Place du Château, formerly the Place Royale.
The Comtes de Chatillon built that part just to the right of the current entrance; Louis XII. constructed the building you enter to access the inner courtyard, which extends far to the left and includes the chapel directly behind it; while François Premier, who indulged his strong Italian tastes here as he did elsewhere, built the extended wing to the left of the inner courtyard facing what is now the Place du Château, which was formerly called the Place Royale.
Immediately to the left, in the Basse Cour de Château, are the Hôtel d'Amboise, the Hôtel d'Épernon, and farther away, in the Rue St. Honore, the Hôtel Sardini, the Hôtel d'Alluye, and a score of others belonging to the nobility of other days; all of them the scenes of many stirring and gallant events in Renaissance times.
Immediately to the left, in the Basse Cour de Château, are the Hôtel d'Amboise, the Hôtel d'Épernon, and farther away, on Rue St. Honoré, the Hôtel Sardini, the Hôtel d'Alluye, and several others owned by nobles from earlier times; all of them the sites of many exciting and heroic events during the Renaissance.
This is hardly the place for a discussion of the merits or demerits of any particular artistic style, but the frequently repeated expression of Buffon's "Le style, c'est l'homme" may well be paraphrased into "L'art, c'est l'époque." In fact one finds at all times imprinted upon the architectural style of any period the current mood bred of some historical event or a passing fancy.62
This isn't really the right place to discuss the pros and cons of any specific artistic style, but Buffon's saying "Le style, c'est l'homme" could definitely be rephrased as "L'art, c'est l'époque." In fact, you can always see the mood of a particular time reflected in the architectural style, shaped by historical events or fleeting trends.62
At Blois this is particularly noticeable. As an architectural monument the château is a picturesque assemblage of edifices belonging to many different epochs, and, as such, shows, as well as any other document of contemporary times, the varying ambitions and emotions of its builders, from the rude and rough manners of the earliest of feudal times through the highly refined Renaissance details of the imaginative brain of François, down to the base concoction of the elder Mansart, produced at the commands of Gaston of Orleans.
At Blois, this is especially clear. The château serves as a beautiful collection of buildings from various periods, showcasing, like any other record from that time, the changing ambitions and feelings of its builders. It ranges from the crude and harsh styles of early feudal times to the elegantly detailed Renaissance designs created by the imaginative François, and finally to the less inspired work of the elder Mansart, crafted under the orders of Gaston of Orleans.
The whole gamut, from the gay and winsome to the sad and dismal, is found here.
The full range, from the cheerful and charming to the gloomy and bleak, is present here.
The escutcheons of the various occupants are plainly in evidence,—the swan pierced by an arrow of the first Counts of Blois; the63 ermine of Anne de Bretagne; the porcupine of the Ducs d'Orleans, and the salamander of François Premier.
The coat of arms of the different residents are clearly visible—the swan shot by an arrow representing the first Counts of Blois; the ermine of Anne of Brittany; the porcupine of the Dukes of Orleans, and the salamander of Francis I.
In the earliest structure were to be seen all the attributes of a feudal fortress, towers and walls pierced with narrow loopholes, and damp, dark dungeons hidden away in the thick walls. Then came a structure which was less of a fortress and more habitable, but still a stronghold, though having ample and decorative doorways and windows, with curious sculptures and rich framings. Then the pompous Renaissance with escaliers and balcons à jour, balustrades crowning the walls, arabesques enriching the pilasters and walls, and elaborate cornices here, there, and everywhere,—all bespeaking the gallantry and taste of the roi-chevalier. Finally came the cold, classic features of the period of the brother of Louis XIII., decidedly the worst and most unlivable and unlovely architecture which France has ever produced. All these features are plain in the general scheme of the Château de Blois to-day, and doubtless it is this that makes the appeal; too much loveliness, as at Chenonceaux or Azay-le-Rideau, staggers the modern mortal by the sheer impossibility of its modern attainment.
In the earliest structure, you could see all the features of a feudal fortress: towers and walls with narrow openings, and damp, dark dungeons hidden within the thick walls. Then came a building that was less of a fortress and more livable, but still a stronghold, featuring wide and decorative doorways and windows, with interesting sculptures and rich frames. Next was the grand Renaissance period, with staircases and balconies, balustrades topping the walls, arabesques enhancing the pilasters and walls, and elaborate cornices everywhere—showing off the elegance and style of the knight-king. Finally came the cold, classic style of the era of Louis XIII’s brother, undeniably the least appealing and least comfortable architecture that France has ever produced. All these features are evident in the overall design of the Château de Blois today, and it’s probably this mix that makes it appealing; too much beauty, as seen at Chenonceaux or Azay-le-Rideau, overwhelms the modern person with the sheer impossibility of replicating it.
In plan the Château de Blois forms an irreg64ular square situated at the apex of a promontory high above the surface of the Loire, and practically behind the town itself. The building has a most picturesque aspect, and, to those who know, gives practically a history of the château architecture of the time. Abandoned, mutilated, and dishonoured from time to time, the structure gradually took on new forms until the thick walls underlying the apartment known to-day as the Salle des États—probably the most ancient portion of all—were overshadowed by the great richness of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. One early fragment was entirely enveloped in the structure which was built by François Premier, the ancient Tour de Château Regnault, or De Moulins, or Des Oubliettes, as it was variously known, and from the outside this is no longer visible.
In terms of layout, the Château de Blois has an irregular square shape situated at the tip of a cliff, high above the Loire River and just behind the town itself. The building has a striking appearance and, for those who understand, reflects the history of château architecture from that era. Over the years, it has been abandoned, damaged, and disrespected at times, gradually taking on new forms. The thick walls beneath what is now known as the Salle des États—likely the oldest part of the château—were eventually overshadowed by the rich designs of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. One early fragment was completely enclosed in the structure built by François Premier, known as the ancient Tour de Château Regnault, or De Moulins, or Des Oubliettes, as it was called at various times, and this is no longer visible from the outside.
From the platform one sees a magnificent panorama of the city and the far-reaching Loire, which unrolls itself southward and northward for many leagues, its banks covered by rich vineyards and crowned by thick forests.
From the platform, you can see a stunning view of the city and the wide Loire River, which stretches south and north for many miles, its banks lined with lush vineyards and topped with dense forests.
The building of Louis XII. presents its brick-faced exterior in black and red lozenge shapes, with sculptured window-frames, squarely upon the little tree-bordered place of to-day, which65 in other times formed a part of that magnificent terrace which looked down upon the roof of the Église St. Nicolas, and the Jesuit Church of the Immaculate Conception, and the silvery belt of the Loire itself.
The building from the time of Louis XII features a brick exterior in black and red diamond shapes, with carved window frames, standing right on the small tree-lined place of today, which65 used to be part of that grand terrace that overlooked the roof of the Église St. Nicolas, the Jesuit Church of the Immaculate Conception, and the shimmering Loire River itself.
On the west façade of this vast conglomerate structure one sees the effigy of the porcupine, that weird symbol adopted by the family of Orleans.
On the west side of this huge building, you can see the image of a porcupine, that strange symbol chosen by the Orleans family.
The choice of this ungainly animal—in spite of which it is most decorative in outline—was due to the first Louis, who was Duc d'Orleans. In the year 1393 Louis founded the66 order of the porcupine, in honour of the birth of Charles, his eldest son, who was born to him by Valentine de Milan. The legend which accompanied the adoption of the symbol—though often enough it was missing in the sculptured representations—was Cominus et eminus, which had its origin in the belief that the porcupine could defend himself in a near attack, but that when he himself attacked, he fought from afar by launching forth his spines.
The choice of this awkward animal—despite being quite decorative in shape—was made by the first Louis, who was Duc d'Orleans. In 1393, Louis established the66 order of the porcupine to celebrate the birth of Charles, his eldest son, born to him by Valentine de Milan. The legend associated with the symbol—although often absent in the carved representations—was Cominus et eminus, which came from the belief that the porcupine could defend itself in close combat, but when it attacked, it fought from a distance by shooting out its quills.
Naturalists will tell you that the porcupine does no such thing; but in those days it was evidently believed that he did, and in many, if not all, of the sculptured effigies that one sees of the beast there is a halo of detached spines forming a background as if they were really launching themselves forth in mid-air.
Naturalists will tell you that porcupines don't do that; but back then, people clearly believed they did. In many, if not all, of the carved figures of the animal, there's a halo of separated quills in the background, making it look like they're actually launching themselves into the air.
Above this central doorway, or entrance to the courtyard, is a niche in which is a modern equestrian statue of Louis XII., replacing a more ancient one destroyed at the Revolution. This old statue, it is claimed, was an admirable work of art in its day, and the present statue is thought to be a replica of it.
Above this main doorway, or entrance to the courtyard, there’s a niche that holds a modern equestrian statue of Louis XII, which replaced an older one that was destroyed during the Revolution. It is said that the old statue was an outstanding piece of art in its time, and the current statue is believed to be a replica of it.
It originally bore the following inscription—a verse written by Fausto Andrelini, the king's favourite poet. 67
It originally had this inscription—a verse written by Fausto Andrelini, the king's favorite poet. 67
Held the royal scepter with honor; Felix, the light that shines so brightly, is the messenger of the King;
Gaul was not worthy of any other ruler. FAUSTUS 1498.
According to an old French description this old statue was: "très beau et très agréable ainsy que tous ses portraits l'ont représenté, comme celui qui est au grand portail de Bloys."
According to an old French description, this statue was: "very beautiful and very pleasing, just like all its portraits have depicted, including the one at the great gate of Bloys."
Above rises a balustrade with fantastic gargoyles with the pinnacles and fleurons of the window gables all very ornate, the whole topped off with a roofing of slate.
Above is a railing with amazing gargoyles, with the peaks and decorations of the window gables all very elaborate, all topped off with a slate roof.
Blois, in its general aspect, is fascinating; but it is not sympathetic, and this is not surprising when one remembers men and women who worked their deeds of bloody daring within its walls.
Blois, overall, is captivating; but it lacks warmth, and that’s not surprising when you think about the men and women who carried out their acts of bloody bravery within its walls.
The murders and other acts of violence and treason which took place here are interesting enough, but one cannot but feel, when he views the chimneypiece before which the Duc de Guise was standing when called to his death in the royal closet, that the men of whom the bloody tales of Blois are told quite deserved their fates.
The murders and other acts of violence and betrayal that happened here are fascinating, but one can't help but feel, when looking at the fireplace where the Duc de Guise was standing when he was summoned to his death in the royal chamber, that the individuals involved in the grim stories of Blois truly got what was coming to them.
One comes away with the impression of it68 all stamped only upon the mind, not graven upon the heart. Political intrigue to-day, if quite as vulgar, is less sordid. Bigotry and ambition in those days allowed few of the finer feelings to come to the surface, except with regard to the luxuriance of surroundings. Of this last there can be no question, and Blois is as characteristically luxurious as any of the magnificent edifices which lodged the royalty and nobility of other days, throughout the valley of the Loire.
One walks away with the impression that it's all impressed only in the mind, not deeply felt in the heart. Political intrigue today, while still pretty crass, is less degrading. Back then, bigotry and ambition kept most of the finer emotions buried, except when it came to the opulence of surroundings. There's no doubt about this, and Blois is just as characteristically luxurious as any of the magnificent buildings that housed the royalty and nobility of the past, throughout the Loire Valley.
A numismatic curiosity, connected with the history of the Château de Blois, is an ancient piece of money which one may see in the local museum. It is the oldest document in existence in which, or on which, the name of Blois is mentioned. On one side is a symbolical figure and the legend Bleso Castro, and on the other a croix haussée and the name of the officer of the mint at Blois, Pre Cistato, monetario.
A numismatic curiosity related to the history of Château de Blois is an ancient coin that you can see in the local museum. It is the oldest document that mentions the name of Blois. On one side, there's a symbolic figure and the inscription Bleso Castro, and on the other side, there's a croix haussée along with the name of the mint officer at Blois, Pre Cistato, monetario.
The plan of the Château de Blois here given shows it not as it is to-day, but as it was at the death of Gaston d'Orleans in 1660. The constructions of the different epochs are noted on the plan as follows:
The plan of the Château de Blois shown here depicts it not as it is today, but as it was at the death of Gaston d'Orleans in 1660. The structures from different periods are marked on the plan as follows:
Built by the Counts of Chatillon1. Tour de Donjon, Château-Regnault, Moulins, or des Oubliettes.69
1. Donjon Tower, Château-Regnault, Moulins, or the Dungeons.69
2. Salle des États.
2. Hall of States.
3. Tour du Foix or Observatory.
3. Foix Tower or Observatory.
Built by the Dukes of Orleans4. Portico and Galerie d'Orleans. (Destroyed in part by the military.)
4. Portico and Orleans Gallery. (Partially destroyed by the military.)
5. Galerie des Cerfs. (Built in part by Gaston, but made away with by the city of Blois when the Jardins du Roi were built.)
5. Deer Gallery. (Partially constructed by Gaston, but taken over by the city of Blois when the King's Gardens were created.)
Built by Louis XII.6. Chapelle St. Calais. (Destroyed in part by the military.)
6. St. Calais Chapel. (Partially destroyed by the military.)
7. La Grande Vis, or Grand Escalier of Louis XI.
7. The Grand Staircase, or Grand Escalier of Louis XI.
8. La Petite Vis, or Petit Escalier, in one chamber of which the corpse of the Duc de Guise was burned.
8. The Little Staircase, or Petit Escalier, in one room of which the body of the Duc de Guise was cremated.
9. Portico and Galerie de Louis XII.
9. Portico and Gallery of Louis XII.
10. Portico.
10. Portico.
11. Salle des Gardes,—of the queen on the ground floor and of the king on the first floor.
11. Guard Room—for the queen on the ground floor and for the king on the first floor.
12. Bedchamber,—of the queen on the ground floor and of the king on the first floor.
12. Bedroom—the queen's on the ground floor and the king's on the first floor.
13. Corps de Garde.
13. Guardhouse.
14. Kitchen. (To-day Salle de Réception for visitors.)
14. Kitchen. (Now the Reception Hall for visitors.)
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__Built from the time of François I to Henri III.15 and 16. Portico and Terrace Henri II. (In part built over by Gaston.)
15 and 16. Henri II Portico and Terrace. (Partially built over by Gaston.)
17. Grand Staircase.
17. Grand Staircase.
18. Galerie de François I.
18. François I Gallery.
19. Staircase of the Salle des États. (Destroyed by the military.)
19. Staircase of the Hall of States. (Destroyed by the military.)
20. First floor, Salle des Gardes of the queen; second floor, Salle des Gardes of the king.
20. First floor, queen's guard room; second floor, king's guard room.
21. Staircase leading to the apartments of the queen mother. Here also Henri III. had made the cells destined for70 the use of the Capucins, and here were closeted "pour s'assurer de leur discretion," the "Quarante-Cinq" who were to kill the Duc de Guise.
21. Staircase leading to the queen mother's apartments. Here, Henri III also created rooms for the Capucins, where the "Quarante-Cinq" gathered "to ensure their discretion," who were to assassinate the Duc de Guise.
22. Cabinet Neuf of Henri III. (Second floor.)
22. Henry III’s Cabinet Neuf. (Second floor.)
23. Gallery where was held the reunion of the Tiers Etats of 1576.
23. Gallery where the meeting of the Third Estate was held in 1576.
24. First floor, bedchamber of the king; second floor, bedchamber of the queen.
24. First floor, king's bedroom; second floor, queen's bedroom.
25. Oratory.
25. Oratory.
26. Cabinet.
26. Cabinet.
27. Passage to the Tour de Moulins.
27. Passage to the Moulins Tower.
28. Passage to the Cabinet Vieux, where the Duc de Guise was struck down.
28. Passage to the Cabinet Vieux, where the Duke of Guise was attacked.
29. Cabinet Vieux.
29. Cabinet Vieux.
30. Oratory, where the two chaplains of the king prayed during the perpetration of the murder.
30. Oratory, where the king's two chaplains prayed during the murder.
31. Garde-robe, where was first deposited the body of De Guise.
31. Dressing room, where the body of De Guise was first placed.
Built by Gaston D'Orleans32. Peristyle. (Destroyed by the military.)
32. Peristyle. (Demolished by the military.)
33. Dome.
33. Dome.
34. Pavilion des Jardins.
34. Garden Pavilion.
35. Pavilion du Foix.
35. Foix Pavilion.
36. Petit Pavilion of the Méridionale façade. (Destroyed in 1825.)
36. Small Pavilion of the Southern facade. (Destroyed in 1825.)
37. Terraces.
37. Terraces.
38. Bastions du Foix and des Jardins.
38. Bastions of Foix and the Gardens.
39. L'Eperon.
39. L'Eperon.
40. Le Jardin Haut, or Jardin du Roi.
40. The Upper Garden, or King’s Garden.
The interior court is partly surrounded by a colonnade, quite cloister-like in effect. At the right centre of the François I. wing is that wonderful spiral staircase, concerning the in72vention of which so much speculation has been launched. Leonardo da Vinci, the protégé of François, has been given the honour, and a very considerable volume has been written to prove the claim.
The interior courtyard is partly surrounded by a colonnade, giving it a cloister-like feel. At the right center of the François I wing is the amazing spiral staircase, which has generated a lot of speculation about its creation. Leonardo da Vinci, who was mentored by François, is credited with its design, and a significant amount of writing has been produced to support this claim.
Within this "tour octagone"—"qui fait à ses huit pans hurler un gorgone"—is built this marvellous openwork stairway,—an escalier à jour, as the French call it,—without an equal in all France, and for daring and decorative effect unexcelled by any of those Renaissance motives of Italy itself. Its ascent turns not, as do most escaliers, from left to right, but from right to left. It is the prototype of those supposedly unique outside staircases73 pointed out to country cousins in the abodes of Fifth Avenue millionaires.
Within this "octagonal tour"—"which makes its eight sides scream like a gorgon"—is built this amazing openwork staircase,—an escalier à jour, as the French call it,—without equal in all of France, and unmatched in boldness and decorative flair even by those Renaissance designs from Italy itself. Its ascent doesn't turn, like most escaliers, from left to right, but from right to left. It is the model for those supposedly unique outdoor staircases73 pointed out to country cousins in the homes of Fifth Avenue millionaires.
It is as impossible to catalogue the various apartments and their accessories here, as it is to include a chronology of the great events which have passed within their walls. One thing should be remembered, and that is, that the architect Duban restored the château throughout in recent years. In spite of this restoration one may readily enough reconstruct the scene of the murder of the Duc de Guise from the great fireplace on the second floor before which De Guise was standing when summoned by a page to the kingly presence, from the door through which he entered to his death, and from the wall where hung the tapestry behind which he was to pass. All this is real enough, and also the "Tour des Oubliettes," in which the duke's brother, the cardinal, suffered, and of which many horrible tales are still told by the attendants.
It’s just as impossible to list all the different rooms and their features here as it is to provide a timeline of the major events that have happened within these walls. One thing to remember is that the architect Duban completely restored the château in recent years. Despite this restoration, you can still easily piece together the scene of the murder of the Duc de Guise from the large fireplace on the second floor where De Guise stood when a page called him to the king, from the door through which he walked to his death, and from the wall where the tapestry hung that he was meant to pass behind. All of this is quite real, as is the "Tour des Oubliettes," where the duke’s brother, the cardinal, suffered, and many terrifying stories about it are still shared by the staff.
Duban, the architect, came with his careful restorations and pictured with a most exact fidelity the decorations and the furnishings of the times of François, of Catherine, and of Henri III. The ornate chimneypieces have been furbished up anew, the walls and ceilings covered with new paint and gold; nothing74 could be more opulent or glorious, but it gives the impression of a city dwelling or a great hotel, "newly done up," as the house renovators express it.
Duban, the architect, arrived with his meticulous restorations and accurately depicted the decorations and furnishings from the times of François, Catherine, and Henri III. The elaborate chimneypieces have been polished anew, and the walls and ceilings are covered in fresh paint and gold; nothing74 could be more luxurious or impressive, but it feels more like a city apartment or a grand hotel, "newly renovated," as home remodelers would say.
One contrasting emotion will be awakened by a contemplation of the two great Salles des Gardes and the apartments of Catherine de Medici; here, at least for the moment, is a relief from the intrigues, massacres, and assassinations which otherwise went on, for one recalls that, at one period, "danses, ballets et jeux" took place here continuously.
One contrasting emotion will be stirred up by thinking about the two grand Salles des Gardes and the rooms of Catherine de Medici; here, at least for now, is a break from the intrigues, massacres, and assassinations that usually happened, as we remember that, at one time, "danses, ballets et jeux" took place here all the time.
In the apartments of Catherine there is much to remind one of "the base Florentine," as it has been the fashion of latter-day historians to describe the first of the Medici queens. Nothing could be more sumptuous than the Galerie de la Reine, her Cabinet de Toilette, or her Chambre à Coucher, with its secret panels, where she died on the 5th of January, 1589, "adored and revered," but soon forgotten, and of no more account than "une chèvre mort," says one old chronicler.
In Catherine's apartments, there is a lot that reminds one of "the base Florentine," as modern historians have taken to calling the first of the Medici queens. Nothing is more opulent than the Galerie de la Reine, her Cabinet de Toilette, or her Chambre à Coucher, with its hidden panels, where she passed away on January 5, 1589, "adored and revered," but quickly forgotten and considered no more significant than "une chèvre mort," according to one old chronicler.
The apartments of Catherine de Medici were directly beneath the guard-room where the Balafré was murdered, and that event, taking place at the very moment when the75 "queen-mother" was dying, cannot be said to have been conducive to a peaceful demise.
The apartments of Catherine de Medici were right below the guard room where the Balafré was killed, and that event, which happened at the exact moment when the 75 "queen-mother" was passing away, definitely didn’t help for a calm death.
Here, on the first floor of the François Premier wing, the reine-mère held her court, as did the king his. The great gallery overlooked the town on the side of the present Place du Château. It was, and is, a truly grand apartment, with diamond-paned windows, and rich, dark, wall decorations on which Catherine's device, a crowned C and her monogram in gold, frequently appears. There was, moreover, a great oval window, opposite which stood her altar, and a doorway, half concealed, led to her writing-closet, with its secret drawers and wall-panels which well served her purposes of intrigue and deceit. A hidden stairway led to the floor above, and there was a chambre à coucher, with a deep recess for the bed, the same to which she called her son Henri as she lay dying, admonishing him to give up the thought of murdering Guise. "What," said Henri, on this embarrassing occasion, "spare Guise, when he, triumphant in Paris, dared lay his hand on the hilt of his sword! Spare him who drove me a fugitive from the capital! Spare them who never spared me! No, mother, I will not."
Here, on the first floor of the François Premier wing, the reine-mère held her court, just like the king did. The grand gallery looked out over the town where the current Place du Château is located. It was, and still is, a truly magnificent apartment, with diamond-paned windows and rich, dark wall decorations featuring Catherine's symbol—a crowned C and her gold monogram—often displayed. Additionally, there was a large oval window in front of which her altar stood, and a doorway, partially hidden, led to her writing-room, complete with secret drawers and wall panels that served her schemes of intrigue and deception well. A concealed staircase led to the floor above, where there was a chambre à coucher, with a deep alcove for the bed, the same one she called her son Henri to as she lay dying, urging him to abandon the idea of killing Guise. "What," Henri said in that awkward moment, "spare Guise, who, victorious in Paris, dared to lay his hand on his sword! Spare the one who drove me into exile from the capital! Spare those who never showed me mercy! No, mother, I will not."
As the queen-mother drew near her end,76 and was lying ill at Blois, great events for France were culminating at the château. Henri III. had become King of France, and the Balafré, supported by Rome and Spain, was in open rebellion against the reigning house, and the word had gone forth that the Duc de Guise must die. The States General were to be immediately assembled, and De Guise, once the poetic lover of Marguerite, through his emissaries canvassed all France to ensure the triumph of the party of the Church against Henri de Navarre and his queen,—the Marguerite whom De Guise once professed to love,—who soon were to come to the throne of France.
As the queen-mother neared her end,76 and was sick in Blois, major events for France were unfolding at the château. Henri III had become King of France, and the Balafré, backed by Rome and Spain, was openly rebelling against the ruling family, with orders that the Duc de Guise must die. The States General were to be called together immediately, and De Guise, once the romantic partner of Marguerite, was sending agents all over France to guarantee the victory of the Church's faction against Henri de Navarre and his queen—the Marguerite whom De Guise once claimed to love—who were soon to take the throne of France.
The uncomfortable Henri III. had been told that he would never be king in reality until De Guise had been made away with.
The uneasy Henri III had been informed that he would never truly be king until De Guise was eliminated.
The final act of the drama between the rival houses of Guise and Valois came when the king and his council came to Blois for the Assembly. The sunny city of Blois was indeed to be the scene of a momentous affair, and a truly sumptuous setting it was, the roof-tops of its houses sloping downward gently to the Loire, with the chief accessory, the coiffed and turreted château itself, high above all else.
The final act of the drama between the rival houses of Guise and Valois unfolded when the king and his council arrived in Blois for the Assembly. The sunny city of Blois was set to be the backdrop for a significant event, and it was an incredibly lavish setting, with the rooftops of its buildings gently sloping down to the Loire, highlighted by the grand château with its coiffed towers standing tall above everything else.
Details had been arranged with infinite77 pains, the guard doubled, and a company of Swiss posted around the courtyard and up and down the gorgeous staircase. Every nook and corner has its history in connection with this greatest event in the history of the Château of Blois.
Details had been organized with endless77 care, the guard was doubled, and a group of Swiss soldiers were stationed around the courtyard and along the beautiful staircase. Every nook and cranny has its story related to this biggest event in the history of the Château of Blois.
As Guise entered the council-chamber he was told that the king would see him in his closet, to reach which one had to pass through the guard-room below. The door was barred behind him that he might not return, when the trusty guards of the "Forty-fifth," under Dalahaide, already hidden behind the wall-tapestry, sprang upon the Balafré and forced him back upon the closed door through which he had just passed. Guise fell stabbed in the breast by Malines, and "lay long uncovered until an old carpet was found in which to wrap his corpse."
As Guise entered the council chamber, he was informed that the king would see him in his private room, which required passing through the guard room below. The door behind him was locked to prevent his return when the loyal guards of the “Forty-fifth,” under Dalahaide, who were already concealed behind the wall tapestry, suddenly attacked the Balafré and pushed him back against the closed door he had just come through. Guise was stabbed in the chest by Malines and "lay long uncovered until an old carpet was found to wrap his body."
Below, in her own apartments, lay the queen-mother, dying, but listening eagerly for the rush of footsteps overhead, hoping and praying that Henri—the hitherto effeminate Henri who played with his sword as he would with a battledore, and who painted himself like a woman, and put rings in his ears—would not prejudice himself at this time in the eyes of78 Rome by slaying the leader of the Church party.
Below, in her own rooms, the queen-mother lay dying, but eagerly listened for the sound of footsteps above, hoping and praying that Henri—the previously effeminate Henri who treated his sword like a toy, painted his face like a woman, and wore earrings—wouldn’t tarnish his reputation with78 Rome by killing the leader of the Church party.
Guise died as Henri said he would die, with the words on his lips: "A moi, mes amis!—trahison!—à moi, Guise,—je me meurs," but the revenge of the Church party came when, at St. Cloud, the monk, Jacques Clément, poignarded the last of the Valois, and put the then heretical Henri de Navarre on the throne of France.
Guise died just as Henri predicted, with the words on his lips: "A moi, mes amis!—trahison!—à moi, Guise,—je me meurs," but the Church party got their revenge when, at St. Cloud, the monk Jacques Clément stabbed the last of the Valois and put the then heretical Henri de Navarre on the throne of France.
Within the southernmost confines of the château is the Tour de Foix, so called for the old faubourg near by. The upper story and roof of this curious round tower was the work of Catherine de Medici, who installed there her astrologer and maker of philtres, Cosmo Ruggieri.
Within the southernmost part of the château is the Tour de Foix, named after the old neighborhood nearby. The top floor and roof of this unusual round tower were created by Catherine de Medici, who set up her astrologer and potion maker, Cosmo Ruggieri, there.
Ruggieri was a most versatile person; he was astrologer, alchemist, and philosopher alike, besides being many other kinds of a rogue, all of which was very useful to the Medici now that she had come to power.
Ruggieri was a highly versatile individual; he was an astrologer, alchemist, and philosopher, along with being various other kinds of trickster, all of which proved very useful to the Medici now that they had come to power.
Catherine built an outside stairway up to the platform of this tower, and a great, flat, stone table was placed there to form a foundation for Ruggieri's cabalistic instruments. Even this stone table itself was an uncanny affair, if we are to believe the old chronicles. It rang79 out in a clear sharp note whenever struck with some hard body, and on its surface was graven a line which led the eye directly toward the golden fleur-de-lys on the cupola of Chambord's château, some three leagues distant on the other side of the Loire. What all this symbolism actually meant nobody except Catherine and her astrologer knew; at least, the details do not appear to have come down to enlighten posterity. Over the doorway of the observatory were graven the words, "Vraniæ Sacrum," i. e., consecrated to Uranius.
Catherine built an outdoor staircase leading up to the platform of this tower, and a large, flat stone table was set there to serve as a base for Ruggieri's mystical instruments. Even the stone table itself had an eerie quality, if we are to trust the ancient records. It emitted a clear, sharp sound whenever hit with something solid, and across its surface was etched a line that directed the gaze straight toward the golden fleur-de-lys on the dome of Chambord's château, about three leagues away on the opposite side of the Loire. What this symbolism truly represented was known only to Catherine and her astrologer; at least, the specifics don't appear to have been passed down to inform future generations. Above the doorway of the observatory were carved the words, "Vraniæ Sacrum," i. e., dedicated to Uranius.
Wherever Catherine chose to reside, whether in Touraine or at Paris, her astrologer and his "observatoire" formed a part of her train. She had brought Cosmo from Italy, and never for a moment did he leave her. He was a sort of a private demon on whom Catherine could shoulder her poisonings and her stabs, and, as before said, he was an exceedingly busy functionary of the court.
Wherever Catherine decided to live, whether in Touraine or in Paris, her astrologer and his "observatoire" were always with her. She had brought Cosmo from Italy, and he never left her side. He was like a personal demon that Catherine relied on for her poisons and her plots, and, as mentioned earlier, he was a very active member of the court.
That part of the structure built by Mansart for Gaston d'Orleans appears strange, solemn, and superfluous in connection with the sumptuousness of the earlier portions. With what poverty the architectural art of the seventeenth century expressed itself! What an inferiority came with the passing of the six80teenth century and the advent of the following! One finds a certain grandeur in the outlines of this last wing, with its majestic cupola over the entrance pavilion, but the general effect of the decorations is one of a great paucity of invention when compared to the more brilliant Renaissance forerunners on the opposite side of the courtyard.
That part of the building designed by Mansart for Gaston d'Orleans seems odd, serious, and excessive compared to the lavishness of the earlier sections. How limited the architectural art of the seventeenth century was! There’s a clear decline with the end of the six80teenth century and the arrival of the next. You can see a certain grandeur in the lines of this last wing, with its impressive dome over the entrance pavilion, but the overall look of the decorations feels very lacking in creativity when you compare it to the more dazzling Renaissance works on the other side of the courtyard.
It was under the régime of Gaston d'Orleans that the gardens of the Château de Blois came to their greatest excellence and beauty. In 1653 Abel Brunyer, the first physician of Gaston's suite, published a catalogue of the fruits and flowers to be found here in these gardens, of which he was also director. More than five hundred varieties were included, three-quarters of which belonged to the flora of France.
It was during the reign of Gaston d'Orleans that the gardens of the Château de Blois reached their peak of excellence and beauty. In 1653, Abel Brunyer, Gaston's chief physician, published a catalog of the fruits and flowers found in these gardens, which he also managed. The catalog included over five hundred varieties, three-quarters of which were native to France.
Among the delicacies and novelties of the time to be found here was the Prunier de Reine Claude, from which those delicious green plums known to all the world to-day as "Reine Claudes" were propagated, also another variety which came from the Prunier de Monsieur, somewhat similar in taste but of a deep purple colour. The pomme de terre was tenderly cared for and grown as a great novelty and delicacy long before its introduction to general cultivation by Parmentier. The tomato was81 imported from Mexico, and even tobacco was grown; from which it may be judged that Gaston did not intend to lack the good things of life.
Among the tasty treats and new things of the time found here was the Reine Claude plum tree, which produced the delicious green plums now known worldwide as "Reine Claudes." There was also another variety from the Monsieur plum tree, which was similar in flavor but had a deep purple color. The pomme de terre was carefully tended to and cultivated as a great novelty and delicacy long before Parmentier introduced it for general farming. The tomato was imported from Mexico, and even tobacco was grown; so it’s clear that Gaston aimed to enjoy the best things in life.
All these facts are recounted in Brunyer's "Hortus Regius Blesensis," and, in addition, one Morrison, an expatriate Scotch doctor, who had attached himself to Gaston, also wrote a competing work which was published in London in 1669 under the title of "Preludia Botanica," and which dealt at great length with the already celebrated gardens of the Château de Blois.
All these facts are detailed in Brunyer's "Hortus Regius Blesensis," and, additionally, a Scottish doctor named Morrison, who had moved away from his homeland and paired up with Gaston, wrote a competing book that was published in London in 1669 titled "Preludia Botanica." This work extensively covered the already famous gardens of the Château de Blois.
Morrison placed at the head of his work a Latin verse which came in time to be graven over the gateway of the gardens. This—as well as pretty much all record of it—has disappeared, but a repetition of the lines will serve to show with what admiration this paradise was held:
Morrison put a Latin verse at the beginning of his work that eventually got engraved over the entrance to the gardens. This—as well as most of the record of it—has vanished, but repeating the lines will illustrate how much admiration this paradise was held in:
If anything in the paradise-like fields (without sin) Blaesis, look at the amazing sight. The work of the magnificent Gaston! In a land that can hold ...
. . . . . . . . . . .
JACOBUS METELANUS SCOTUS.
Not merely in history has the famous château at Blois played its part. Writers of fic82tion have more than once used it as an accessory or the principal scenic background of their sword and cloak novels; none more effectively than Dumas in the D'Artagnan series.
Not just in history has the famous château at Blois made its mark. Fiction writers have often used it as a backdrop or the main setting for their swashbuckling novels; none more effectively than Dumas in the D'Artagnan series.
The opening lines of "Le Vicomte de Bragelonne" are laid here. "It should have been a source of pride to the city of Blois," says Dumas, "that Gaston of Orleans had chosen it as his residence, and held his court in the ancient château of the States."
The opening lines of "Le Vicomte de Bragelonne" are laid here. "It should have been a source of pride to the city of Blois," says Dumas, "that Gaston of Orleans had chosen it as his home and held his court in the old château of the States."
Here, too, in the second volume of the D'Artagnan romances, is the scene of that most affecting meeting between his Majesty Charles II., King of England, and Louis XIV.
Here, too, in the second volume of the D'Artagnan romances, is the scene of that most touching meeting between his Majesty Charles II, King of England, and Louis XIV.
Altogether one lives here in the very spirit of the pages of Dumas. Not only Blois, but Langeais, Chambord, Cheverny, Amboise, and many other châteaux figure in the novels with an astonishing frequency, and, whatever the critics may say of the author's slips of pen and memory, Dumas has given us a wonderfully faithful picture of the life of the times.
Altogether, one lives here in the true spirit of Dumas's pages. Not just Blois, but Langeais, Chambord, Cheverny, Amboise, and many other châteaux appear in the novels with surprising regularity, and no matter what the critics say about the author's mistakes, Dumas has provided us with an incredibly accurate portrayal of life during that era.
In 1793 all the symbols and emblems of royalty were removed from the château and destroyed. The celebrated bust of Gaston, the chief artistic attribute of that part of the edifice built by him, was decapitated, and the statue of Louis XII. over the entrance gateway83 was overturned and broken up. Afterward the château became the property of the "domaine" and was turned into a mere barracks. The Pavilion of Queen Anne became a "magasin des subsistances militaires," the Tour de l'Observatoire, a powder-magazine, and all the indignities imaginable were heaped upon the château.
In 1793, all the symbols and emblems of royalty were taken down from the château and destroyed. The famous bust of Gaston, a key artistic feature of that part of the building he constructed, was decapitated, and the statue of Louis XII over the entrance gate83 was toppled and shattered. Later, the château became part of the "domaine" and was transformed into a simple barracks. The Pavilion of Queen Anne turned into a "magasin des subsistances militaires," the Tour de l'Observatoire became a powder magazine, and all sorts of humiliations were inflicted on the château.
In 1814 Blois became the last capital of Napoleon's empire, and the château walls sheltered the prisoners captured by the imperial army.
In 1814, Blois became the final capital of Napoleon's empire, and the château walls sheltered the prisoners taken by the imperial army.
Blois's most luxurious church edifice was the old abbey church of St. Sauveur, which was built from 1138 to 1210. It lost the royal favour in 1697, when Louis XIV. made Blois a city of bishops as well as of counts, and transferred the chapter of St. Sauveur's to the bastard Gothic edifice first known as St. Solenne, but which soon took on the name of St. Louis. In spite of the claims of the old church, this cold, unfeeling, and ugly mixture of tomblike Renaissance became, and still remains, the bishop's church of Blois.
Blois's most luxurious church was the old abbey church of St. Sauveur, built from 1138 to 1210. It lost royal favor in 1697 when Louis XIV made Blois a city of bishops as well as counts and moved the chapter of St. Sauveur's to the bastard Gothic building initially called St. Solenne, which soon became known as St. Louis. Despite the legacy of the old church, this cold, unfeeling, and unattractive blend of tomb-like Renaissance architecture became—and still is—the bishop's church of Blois.
One must not neglect or forget the magnificent bridge which crosses the Loire at Blois. A work of 1717-24, it bears the Rue Denis Papin across its eleven solidly built masonry84 piers. Above the central arch is erected a memorial pyramid and tablet which states the fact that it was one of the first works of the reign of Louis XV.
One must not overlook or forget the impressive bridge that spans the Loire at Blois. Built between 1717 and 1724, it carries Rue Denis Papin across its eleven sturdy masonry84 piers. Above the central arch stands a memorial pyramid and tablet that notes it was one of the first projects of Louis XV's reign.
Blois altogether, then, offers a multitudinous array of attractions for the tourist who makes his first entrance to the châteaux country through its doors. The town itself has not the appeal of Tours, of Angers, or of Nantes; but, for all that, its abundance of historic lore, the admirable preservation of its chief monument, and the general picturesqueness of its site and the country round about make up for many other qualities that may be lacking.
Blois, then, presents a wide variety of attractions for the tourist entering the châteaux region through its gates. The town itself may not be as appealing as Tours, Angers, or Nantes, but its rich history, the excellent preservation of its main monument, and the overall charm of its location and surrounding countryside make up for many other qualities that might be missing.
The Sologne, lying between Blois, Vierzon, and Châteauneuf-sur-Loire, is a great region of lakelets, sandy soil, and replanted Corsican pines, which to-day has taken on a new lease of life and a prosperity which was unknown in the days when the Comtes de Blois first erected that maison de plaisance, on its western border which was afterward to aggrandize itself into the later Château de Chambord. The soil has been drained and the vine planted to a hitherto undreamed of extent, until to-day, if the land does not exactly blossom like the rose, it at least somewhat approaches it.
The Sologne, located between Blois, Vierzon, and Châteauneuf-sur-Loire, is a vast area of small lakes, sandy soil, and replanted Corsican pines, which today has experienced a revival and prosperity that wasn’t seen when the Counts of Blois first built that maison de plaisance on its western edge, which eventually evolved into the later Château de Chambord. The land has been drained and vineyards planted to an extent previously unimaginable, so today, while the land might not exactly bloom like a rose, it at least comes close.
The chaumières of the Sologne have disap85peared to a large extent, and their mud walls and thatched roofs are not as frequent a detail of the landscape as formerly, but even now there is a distinct individuality awaiting the artist who will go down among these vineyard workers of the Sologne and paint them and their surroundings as other parts have been painted and popularized. It will be hot work in the summer months, and lonesome work at all times, but there is a new note to be sounded if one but has the ear for it, and it is to be heard right here in this tract directly on the beaten track from north to south, and yet so little known.
The chaumières of Sologne have mostly vanished, and their mud walls and thatched roofs are no longer a common sight in the landscape as they once were. However, there’s still a unique character waiting for an artist who will venture among these vineyard workers in Sologne, capturing them and their surroundings in the same way other areas have been depicted and popularized. It will be tough work during the summer, and often lonely as well, but there’s a fresh perspective to discover if you’re open to it, and it can be found right here in this region, which lies directly on the well-traveled route from north to south, yet remains quite unknown.
The peasant of the Sologne formerly ate his soupe au poireau and a morsel of fromage maigre and was as content and happy as if his were a more luxurious board, as it in reality became when a stranger demanded hospitality. Then out from the armoire—that ever present adjunct of a French peasant's home, whether it be in Normandy, Touraine, or the Midi—came a bottle of vin blanc, bought in the wine-shops of Romorantin or Vierzon on some of his periodical trips to town.
The peasant of the Sologne used to enjoy his soupe au poireau and a piece of fromage maigre and felt as content and happy as if he were at a more luxurious table, which it actually became when a guest asked for hospitality. Then, from the armoire—a constant feature of a French peasant's home, whether in Normandy, Touraine, or the Midi—he would pull out a bottle of vin blanc, bought from the wine shops in Romorantin or Vierzon during his occasional trips to town.
To-day all is changing, and the peasant of the Sologne nourishes himself better and trims his beard and wears a round white collar on fête-days. He is proud of his well-kept appear86ance, but his neighbours to the north and the south will tell you that all this hides a deep malice, which is hard to believe, in spite of the well recognized saying, "Sot comme un Solognat." The women have a physiognomy more passive; when young they are fresh and lip-lively, but as they grow older their charms pass quickly.
Today everything is changing, and the peasant of the Sologne takes better care of himself, trims his beard, and wears a round white collar on festive days. He takes pride in his well-groomed appearance, but his neighbors to the north and south will tell you that this hides a deep malice, which is hard to believe, despite the well-known saying, "Sot comme un Solognat." The women have a more passive look; when they are young, they are fresh and lively, but as they grow older, their charms fade quickly.
The Sologne in most respects has changed greatly since the days of Arthur Young. Then this classic land was reviled and vehement imprecations were launched upon the proprietors of its soil,—"those brilliant and ambitious gentlemen" who figure so largely in the ceremonies of Versailles. To-day all is changed, and the gentleman farmer is something more than a bourgeois parisien who hunts and rides and apes "le sport" of the English country squire.
The Sologne has changed a lot since the days of Arthur Young. Back then, this classic land was looked down upon, and harsh curses were directed at the landowners—"those flashy and ambitious gentlemen" who played such a big role in the ceremonies at Versailles. Today, everything is different, and the gentleman farmer is more than just a bourgeois parisien who hunts, rides, and imitates "le sport" of the English country squire.
The jack-rabbit and the hare are the pests of the Sologne now that its sandy soil has been conquered, but they are quite successfully kept down in numbers, and the insects which formerly ravaged the vines are likewise less offensive than they used to be, so the Sologne may truly be said to have been transformed.
The jackrabbit and the hare are now pests in the Sologne since its sandy soil has been tamed, but their numbers are being effectively controlled. The insects that used to destroy the vines are also less of a problem than they once were, so we can say that the Sologne has truly been transformed.
To-day, as in the days of the royal hunt, when Chambord was but a shooting-box of the87 Counts of Blois, the Sologne is rife with small game, and even deer and an occasional sanglier.
Today, just like in the days of the royal hunt, when Chambord was just a hunting lodge for the87 Counts of Blois, the Sologne is full of small game, and even deer and the occasional wild boar.
"La chasse" in France is no mean thing to-day, and the Sologne, La Beauce, and the great national forests of Lyons and Rambouillet draw—on the opening of the season, somewhere between the 28th of August and the 2d of September of each year—their hundreds of thousands of Nimrods and disciples of St. Hubert. The bearer of the gun in France is indeed a most ardent sportsman, and in no European country can one buy in the open market a greater variety of small game,—all the product of those who pay their twenty francs for the privilege of bagging rabbits, hares, partridges, and the like. The hunters of France enjoy one superstition, however, and that is that to accidentally bag a crow on the first shot means a certain and sudden death before the day is over.
"Hunting" in France is quite the event today, and the Sologne, La Beauce, and the vast national forests of Lyons and Rambouillet attract—when the season opens, sometime between August 28 and September 2 each year—hundreds of thousands of hunters and followers of St. Hubert. The person with the gun in France is truly a passionate sportsman, and in no other European country can you find a greater variety of small game available for purchase in the open market—all harvested by those who pay their twenty francs for the chance to hunt rabbits, hares, partridges, and so on. French hunters do hold one superstition, though, and that is that accidentally shooting a crow on the first shot guarantees a certain and sudden death before the day's end.
La Motte-Beuvron is celebrated in the annals of the Sologne; it is, in fact, the metropolis of the region, and the centre from which radiated the influences which conquered the soil and made of it a prosperous land, where formerly it was but a sandy, arid desert. La Motte-Beuvron is a long-drawn-out bourgade, like some of the populous centres of the great88 plain of Hungary, and there is no great prosperity or "up-to-dateness" to be observed, in spite of its constantly increasing importance, for La Motte-Beuvron and the country round about is one of the localities of France which is apparently not falling off in its population.
La Motte-Beuvron is well-known in the history of Sologne; it is, in fact, the main town of the area, serving as the hub from which the influences that transformed the land into a thriving area originated, a place that was once just a dry, sandy wasteland. La Motte-Beuvron is an elongated town, similar to some of the dense centers in the vast plain of Hungary, and although its significance is steadily growing, there isn't a noticeable level of prosperity or modernity. Nonetheless, La Motte-Beuvron and the surrounding region is one of the places in France that isn’t seemingly losing population.
La Motte has a most imposing Hôtel de Ville, a heavy edifice of brick built by Napoleon III.—who has never been accused of having had the artistic appreciation of his greater ancestor—after the model of the Arsenal at Venice.
La Motte has a very impressive City Hall, a solid brick building constructed by Napoleon III—who has never been criticized for having the artistic taste of his more renowned ancestor—modeled after the Arsenal in Venice.
This is all La Motte has to warrant remark unless one is led to investigate the successful agricultural experiment which is still being carried out hereabouts. La Motte's hôtels and cafés are but ordinary, and there is no counter attraction of boulevard or park to place the town among those lovable places which travellers occasionally come upon unawares.
This is all La Motte has to note unless one is encouraged to look into the successful agricultural experiment still happening around here. La Motte's hotels and cafés are just average, and there's no appealing boulevard or park to make the town one of those charming places that travelers occasionally discover by surprise.
To realize the Sologne at its best and in its most changed aspect, one should follow the roadway from La Motte to Blois. He may either go by tramway à vapeur, or by his own means of communication. In either case he will then know why the prosperity of the Sologne and the contentment of the Solognat is assured.
To experience the Sologne at its finest and in its most transformed state, one should take the road from La Motte to Blois. You can either take the steam tram or travel by your own means. Either way, you'll understand why the prosperity of the Sologne and the happiness of the Solognat are guaranteed.
Romorantin, still characteristic of the Sologne and its historic capital, is famous for its89 asparagus and its paternal château of François Premier, where that prince received the scar upon his face, at a tourney, which compelled him ever after to wear a beard.
Romorantin, still typical of the Sologne and its historic capital, is famous for its89 asparagus and its fatherly château of François Premier, where that prince received the scar on his face during a tournament, which made him wear a beard for the rest of his life.
To-day the Sous-Préfecture, the Courts and their prisoners, the Gendarmerie, and the Theatre are housed under the walls that once formed the château royal of Jean d'Angoulême; within whose apartments the gallant François was brought up.
Today, the Sous-Préfecture, the Courts and their prisoners, the Gendarmerie, and the Theatre are located within the walls that once made up the royal château of Jean d'Angoulême, where the brave François was raised.
The Sologne, like most of the other of the petits pays of France, is prolific in superstitions and traditionary customs, and here for some reason they deal largely of the marriage state. When the paysan solognais marries, he90 takes good care to press the marriage-ring well up to the third joint of his spouse's finger, "else she will be the master of the house," which is about as well as the thing can be expressed in English. It seems a simple precaution, and any one so minded might well do the same under similar circumstances, provided he thinks the proceeding efficacious.
The Sologne, like many other small regions of France, is full of superstitions and traditional customs, particularly when it comes to marriage. When the local farmer gets married, he makes sure to slide the wedding ring all the way up to the third joint of his spouse's finger, "or else she will be the one in charge of the house," which is about as well as this can be expressed in English. It seems like a simple precaution, and anyone interested could easily do the same in similar situations, as long as they believe the practice is effective.
Again, during the marriage ceremony itself, each of the parties most interested bears a lighted wax taper, with the belief that whichever first burns out, so will its bearer die first. It's a gruesome thought, perhaps, but it gives one an inkling of who stands the best chance of inheriting the other's goods, which is what matches are sometimes made for.
Again, during the wedding ceremony itself, each of the parties most involved holds a lit wax candle, believing that whichever one burns out first, its holder will die first. It’s a grim thought, perhaps, but it gives you an idea of who has the best chance of inheriting the other’s belongings, which is sometimes what marriages are about.
The marriage ceremony in the Sologne is a great and very public function. Intimates, friends, acquaintances, and any of the neighbouring populace who may not otherwise be occupied, attend, and eat, drink, and ultimately get merry. But they have a sort of process of each paying his or her own way; at least a collection is taken up to pay for the entertainment, for the Sologne peasant would otherwise start his married life in a state of bankruptcy from which it would take him a long time to recover.
The wedding ceremony in Sologne is a large and very public event. Close friends, family, acquaintances, and anyone from the nearby community who isn't busy comes together to eat, drink, and celebrate. However, there’s a kind of system where everyone covers their own expenses; a collection is taken to fund the party because otherwise, the Sologne farmer would begin his married life in financial debt that would take a long time to recover from.
The collection is made with considerable91 éclat and has all the elements of picturesqueness that one usually associates with the wedding processions that one sees on the comic-opera stage. A sort of nuptial bouquet—a great bunch of field flowers—is handed round from one guest to another, and for a sniff of their fragrance and a participation in the collation which is to come, they make an offering, dropping much or little into a golden (not gold) goblet which is passed around by the bride herself.
The collection is made with considerable91 éclat and has all the elements of charm that people typically link to the wedding processions seen on the comic-opera stage. A sort of wedding bouquet—a large bunch of wildflowers—is passed around from one guest to another, and for a whiff of their fragrance and a share in the meal that’s about to come, they make a contribution, dropping various amounts into a golden (not gold) goblet that the bride herself passes around.
In the Sologne there is (or was, for the writer has never seen it) another singular custom of the marriage service—not really a part of the churchly office, but a sort of practical indorsement of the actuality of it all.
In the Sologne, there is (or was, since the writer has never seen it) another unique custom related to the marriage service—not exactly a part of the church ceremony, but more a kind of practical acknowledgment of the reality of it all.
The bride and groom are both pricked with a needle until the blood runs, to demonstrate that neither the man nor the woman is insensible or dreaming as to the purport of the ceremony about to take place.
The bride and groom are both poked with a needle until they bleed, to show that neither the man nor the woman is unaware or dreaming about the meaning of the ceremony that is about to happen.
As every French marriage is at the Mairie, as well as being held in church, this double ceremony (and the blood-letting as well) must make a very hard and fast agreement. Perhaps it might be tried elsewhere with advantage.
As every French marriage takes place at the town hall, in addition to being held in church, this double ceremony (and the associated stress) must create a very strict agreement. Maybe it could be beneficial to try this approach in other places.
Montrichard, on the Cher, is on the border92land between the Blaisois and Touraine. Its donjon announces itself from afar as a magnificent feudal ruin. The town is moreover most curious and original, the great rectangular donjon rising high into the sky above a series of cliff-dwellers' chalk-cut homes, in truly weird fashion.
Montrichard, located on the Cher, sits on the border92land between Blaisois and Touraine. Its donjon stands out from a distance as a stunning feudal ruin. The town is also quite unique and original, with the tall rectangular donjon towering above a series of homes carved into the cliffs, in a truly strange way.
There is nothing so very remarkable about cliff-dwellers in the Loire country, and their aspect, manners, and customs do not differ greatly from those of their neighbours, who live below them.
There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the cliff-dwellers in the Loire region, and their appearance, behavior, and customs aren’t significantly different from those of their neighbors living below them.
Curiously enough these rock-cut dwellings appear dry and healthful, and are not in the least insalubrious, though where a cave has been devoted only to the storage of wine in vats, barrels, and bottles the case is somewhat different.
Curiously enough, these rock-cut homes seem dry and healthy, and they are not at all unhealthy. However, if a cave has been used solely for storing wine in vats, barrels, and bottles, the situation is a bit different.
Montrichard itself, outside of these scores of homes burrowed out of the cliff, is most picturesque, with stone-pignoned gables and dormer-windows and window-frames cut or worked in wood or stone into a thousand amusing shapes.
Montrichard itself, aside from these many homes carved into the cliff, is quite picturesque, with stone-pitched gables and dormer windows, and window frames crafted in wood or stone into a thousand entertaining shapes.
Montrichard, with Chinon, takes the lead in interesting old houses in these parts; in fact, they quite rival the ruinous lean-to houses of Rouen and Lisieux in Normandy, which is say93ing a good deal for their picturesque qualities.
Montrichard, along with Chinon, stands out for its fascinating old houses in this area; in fact, they nearly compare to the crumbling lean-to houses of Rouen and Lisieux in Normandy, which is saying a lot about their charming appearance.
One-third of Montrichard's population live underground or in houses built up against the hillsides. Even the lovely old parish church backs against the rock.
One-third of Montrichard's population lives underground or in houses built against the hillsides. Even the beautiful old parish church is backed by the rock.
Everywhere are stairways and petits chemins leading upward or downward, with little façades, windows, or doorways coming upon one in most unexpected and mysterious fashion at every turn.
Everywhere there are stairways and petits chemins leading up or down, with small facades, windows, or doorways appearing in the most unexpected and mysterious ways at every turn.
The magnificent donjon is a relic of the work of that great fortress-builder, Foulques Nerra, Comte d'Anjou, who dotted the land wherever he trod with these masterpieces of their kind, most of them great rectangular structures like the donjons of Britain, but quite unlike the structures of their class mostly seen in France.
The impressive donjon is a remnant of the efforts of the great fortress-builder, Foulques Nerra, Count of Anjou, who left his mark on the land with these architectural masterpieces. Most of them are large rectangular structures similar to the donjons found in Britain, but they are quite different from the typical buildings of their kind mostly seen in France.
Richard Cœur de Lion occupied the fortress in 1108, but was obliged to succumb to his rival in power, Philippe-Auguste, who in time made a breach in its walls and captured it. Thereafter it became an outpost of his own, from whence he could menace the Comte d'Anjou.94
Richard the Lionheart took control of the fortress in 1108 but had to give in to his rival, Philip Augustus, who eventually broke through its walls and seized it. After that, it became a stronghold for him, from where he could threaten the Count of Anjou.94
CHAPTER IV.To ToC
CHAMBORD
Chambord is four leagues from Blois, from which point it is usually approached. To reach it one crosses the Sologne, not the arid waste it has been pictured, but a desert which has been made to blossom as the rose.
Chambord is about four leagues from Blois, which is the usual starting point. To get there, you travel through the Sologne, which isn’t the barren wasteland it’s often described as, but a landscape that has been transformed into something beautiful.
A glance of the eye, given anywhere along the road from Blois to Chambord, will show a vineyard of a thousand, two thousand, or even more acres, where, from out of a soil that was once supposed to be the poorest in all wine-growing France, may be garnered a crop equalling a hundred dozen of bottles of good rich wine to the acre.
A quick look along the road from Blois to Chambord reveals a vineyard spanning a thousand, two thousand, or even more acres, where, from soil that was once thought to be the worst in all of wine-growing France, a harvest of up to a hundred dozen bottles of excellent, rich wine can be produced per acre.
This wine of the Sologne is not one of the famous wines of France, to be sure, but what one gets in these parts is pure and astonishingly palatable; moreover, one can drink large portions of it—as do the natives—without being affected in either his head or his pocket-book.95
This wine from Sologne may not be one of the famous wines of France, but what you get here is pure and surprisingly enjoyable; plus, you can drink a lot of it—just like the locals do—without it affecting your head or your wallet.95
From late September to early December there is a constant harvest going on in the vineyards, whose labourers, if not as picturesque and joyous as we are wont to see them on the comic-opera stage, are at least wonderfully clever and industrious, for they make a good wine crop out of a soil which previously gave a living only to charcoal-burners and goat-keepers.
From late September to early December, there's a continuous harvest happening in the vineyards. The workers, while not as colorful and cheerful as we often see them in comic operas, are exceptionally skilled and hardworking. They produce a great wine crop from soil that used to support only charcoal burners and goat herders.
François was indeed a rare devotee of the building mania when he laid out the wood which surrounds Chambord and which ultimately grew to some splendour. The nineteenth century saw this great wood cut and sold in huge quantities, so that to-day it is rather a scanty copse through which one drives on the way from Blois.
François was truly a unique enthusiast of construction when he designed the forest that surrounds Chambord, which eventually became quite magnificent. In the nineteenth century, this large forest was cut down and sold in massive amounts, so today it’s more of a sparse thicket that one passes through on the way from Blois.
The country round about is by no means impoverished,—far from it. It is simply unworked to its fullest extent as yet. As it is plentifully surrounded by water it makes an ideal land for the growing of asparagus, strawberries, and grapes, and so it has come to be one of the most prosperous and contented regions in all the Loire valley.
The surrounding countryside is definitely not poor—far from it. It's just not fully utilized yet. With plenty of water around, it's perfect for growing asparagus, strawberries, and grapes, making it one of the most successful and happy areas in the entire Loire Valley.
The great white Château de Chambord, with its turrets and its magnificent lantern, looms large from whatever direction it is approached,96 though mostly it is framed by the somewhat stunted pines which make up the pleasant forest. The vistas which one sees when coming toward Chambord, through the drives and alleys of its park, with the château itself brilliant in the distance, are charming and fairy-like indeed. Straight as an arrow these roadways run, and he who traverses one of those centring at the château will see a tiny white fleck in the sunlight a half a dozen kilometres away, which, when it finally is reached, will be admitted to be the greatest triumph of the art-loving monarch.
The impressive white Château de Chambord, with its towers and stunning lantern, stands out from any direction it's approached, though it's mostly surrounded by the somewhat small pines that make up the lovely forest. The views when coming toward Chambord, through the paths and lanes of its park, with the château shining in the distance, are truly enchanting and fairy-tale-like. These roads are straight as an arrow, and anyone traveling along one that leads to the château will spot a tiny white dot in the sunlight about six kilometers away, which, when finally reached, will be recognized as the greatest achievement of the art-loving king.96
François Premier was foremost in every artistic expression in France, and the court, as may be expected, were only too eager to follow the expensive tastes of their monarch,—when they could get the means, and when they could not, often enough François supplied the wherewithal.
François Premier was at the forefront of every artistic expression in France, and the court, as expected, was more than happy to indulge in the expensive tastes of their king—when they could afford it, and when they couldn’t, François often provided the funds.
François himself dressed in the richest of Italian velvets, the more brilliant the better, with a preponderant tendency toward pink and sky blue.
François wore the finest Italian velvets, the more vibrant the better, with a strong preference for pink and sky blue.
A dozen years after François came to the throne, a dozen years after the pleasant life of Amboise, when mother, daughter, and son lived together on the banks of the Loire in that97 "Trinity of love," the monarch and his wife, Queen Claude of France, the daughter of Louis XII. and Anne of Brittany, came to live at Chambord on the edge of the sandy Sologne waste.
A dozen years after François took the throne, a dozen years since the happy days in Amboise, when mother, daughter, and son lived together by the Loire in that97 "Trinity of love," the king and his wife, Queen Claude of France, the daughter of Louis XII and Anne of Brittany, moved to Chambord on the edge of the sandy Sologne plains.
Here, too, came Marguerite d'Alençon, the ever faithful and devoted sister of François, the duke, her husband, and all the gay members of the court. The hunt was the order of the day, for the forest tract of the Sologne, scanty though it was in growth, abounded in small game.
Here, too, came Marguerite d'Alençon, the ever faithful and devoted sister of François, the duke, her husband, and all the lively members of the court. The hunt was on for the day, as the forest area of Sologne, though sparse in growth, was full of small game.
Chambord at this time had not risen to the grand and ornate proportions which we see to-day, but set snugly on the low, swampy banks of the tiny river Cosson, a dull, gloomy mediæval fortress, whose only aspect of gaiety was that brought by the pleasure-loving court when it assembled there. In size it was ample to accommodate the court, but François's artistic temperament already anticipated many and great changes. The Loire was to be turned from its course and the future pompous palace was to have its feet bathed in the limpid Loire water rather than in the stagnant pools of the morass which then surrounded it.
Chambord at this time hadn’t yet become the grand and ornate structure we see today. Instead, it was nestled on the low, swampy banks of the small Cosson River, resembling a dull, gloomy medieval fortress. The only cheerful vibe came from the pleasure-loving court when they gathered there. It was spacious enough to accommodate the court, but François’s artistic vision was already looking forward to many significant changes. The Loire would be redirected, and the future impressive palace was meant to have its feet bathed in the clear waters of the Loire rather than the stagnant pools of the marshes that surrounded it back then.
As a triumph of the royal château-builder's art, Chambord is far and away ahead of Fon98tainebleau or Versailles, both of which were built in a reign which ended two hundred years later than that which began with the erection of Chambord. As an example of the arts of François I. and his time compared with those of Louis XIV. and his, Chambord stands forth with glorious significance.
As a masterpiece of royal architecture, Chambord clearly surpasses Fontainebleau and Versailles, both of which were built during a reign that ended two hundred years after Chambord was constructed. As an illustration of the arts from the time of François I compared to those of Louis XIV, Chambord stands out with remarkable significance.
On the low banks of the Cosson, François achieved perhaps the greatest triumph that Renaissance architecture had yet known.
On the low banks of the Cosson, François achieved what might have been the greatest triumph that Renaissance architecture had seen so far.
It was either Chambord, or the reconstruction by François of the edifice belonging to the Counts of Blois, which resulted in the refinement of the Renaissance style less than a quarter of a century after its introduction into France by Charles VIII.,—if he really was responsible for its importation from Italy. François lacked nothing of daring, and built and embellished a structure which to-day, in spite of numerous shortcomings, stands as the supreme type of a great Renaissance domestic edifice of state. Every device of decoration and erratic suggestion seems to have been carried out, not only structurally, as in the great double spiral of its central stairway, but in its interpolated details and symbolism as well.
It was either Chambord or the restoration by François of the building that belonged to the Counts of Blois, which led to the refinement of the Renaissance style just under twenty-five years after it was first brought to France by Charles VIII. — if he really was the one who imported it from Italy. François was incredibly bold and constructed and decorated a structure that today, despite many flaws, stands as the ultimate example of a grand Renaissance state residence. Every decorative feature and unconventional idea seems to have been implemented, not just in terms of structure, like the impressive double spiral of its central staircase, but also in its added details and symbolism.
It was at this time, too, that François began to introduce the famous salamander into his99 devices and ciphers; that most significant emblem which one may yet see on wall and ceiling of Chambord surrounded by the motto: "Je me nourris et je meurs dans le feu."
It was during this time that François started to incorporate the famous salamander into his99 devices and codes; that highly significant symbol that you can still see on the walls and ceiling of Chambord, surrounded by the motto: "Je me nourris et je meurs dans le feu."
Chambord, first of all, gives one a very high opinion of François Premier, and of the splendours with which he was wont to surround himself. The apartments are large and numerous and are admirably planned and decorated, though, almost without exception, bare to-day of furniture or furnishings.
Chambord, first of all, really boosts your impression of François Premier and the grandeur he surrounded himself with. The rooms are spacious and plentiful, designed and decorated beautifully, although, almost without exception, they're empty today of furniture or decor.
To quote the opinion of Blondel, the celebrated French architect: "The Château de Chambord, built under François I. and Henri II., from the designs of Primatice, was never achieved according to the original plan. Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. contributed a cer100tain completeness, but the work was really pursued afterward according to the notions of one Sertio."
To quote the opinion of Blondel, the famous French architect: "The Château de Chambord, built under François I and Henri II, based on the designs of Primatice, was never completed according to the original plan. Louis XIII and Louis XIV added a certain completeness, but the project was mostly continued later based on the ideas of one Sertio."
The masterpiece of its constructive elements is its wonderful doubly spiralled central staircase, which permits one to ascend or descend without passing another proceeding in the opposite direction at the same time. Whatever may have been the real significance of this great double spiral, it has been said that it played its not unimportant part in the intrigue and scandal of the time. It certainly is a wonder of its kind, more marvellous even than that spiral at Blois, attributed, with some doubt perhaps, to Leonardo da Vinci, and certainly far more beautiful than the clumsy round tower up which horses and carriages were once driven at Amboise.
The highlight of its construction is the stunning double spiral staircase, which allows people to go up or down without crossing paths with someone heading the other way. Regardless of its true significance, this impressive double spiral is said to have played a significant role in the intrigues and scandals of the era. It truly is a marvel in its own right, even more amazing than the spiral staircase at Blois, which is sometimes attributed to Leonardo da Vinci, and definitely more beautiful than the awkward round tower where horses and carriages used to be driven at Amboise.
At all events, it probably meant something more than mere constructive ability, and a staircase which allows one individual to mount and another to descend without knowing of the presence of the other may assuredly be classed with those other mediæval accessories, sliding panels, hidden doorways, and secret cabinets.
At any rate, it likely meant something more than just building skills, and a staircase that lets one person go up while another goes down without knowing the other is there can definitely be grouped with those other medieval features, like sliding panels, hidden doorways, and secret cabinets.
Beneath the dome which terminates the staircase in the Orleans wing are three caryatides101 representing—it is doubtfully stated—François Premier, La Duchesse d'Étampes, and Madame la Comtesse de Châteaubriand,—a trinity of boon companions in intrigue.
Beneath the dome that ends the staircase in the Orleans wing are three caryatides101 representing—though it’s uncertain—François Premier, La Duchesse d'Étampes, and Madame la Comtesse de Châteaubriand—a trio of close friends in scheming.
In reality Chambord presents the curiously contrived arrangement of one edifice within another, as a glance of the eye at the plan will show.
In reality, Chambord presents the oddly designed layout of one building inside another, as a quick look at the plan will reveal.
The fosse, the usual attribute of a great mediæval château—it may be a dry one or a wet one, in this case it was a wet one—has disappeared, though Brantôme writes that he saw great iron rings let into the walls to which were attached "barques et grands bateaux," which had made their way from the Loire via the dribbling Cosson.
The moat, a common feature of a large medieval castle—it could be dry or wet; in this case, it was wet—has vanished, although Brantôme wrote that he saw large iron rings embedded in the walls to which were tied "barques et grands bateaux," that had come from the Loire via the trickling Cosson.
The Cosson still dribbles its life away to-day, its moisture having, to a great part, gone to irrigate the sandy Sologne, but formerly it was doubtless a much more ample stream.
The Cosson still flows its life away today, its water mostly gone to water the sandy Sologne, but it was definitely a much larger stream in the past.
From the park the ornate gables and dormer-windows loom high above the green-swarded banks of the Cosson. It was so in François's time, and it is so to-day; nothing has been added to break the spread of lawn, except an iron-framed wash-house with red tiles and a sheet-iron chimney-pot beside the little river,102 and a tin-roofed garage for automobiles connected with the little inn outside the gates.
From the park, the fancy gables and dormer windows rise high above the grassy banks of the Cosson. It was like this in François's time, and it still is today; nothing has been added to disrupt the expanse of lawn, except for an iron-framed washhouse with red tiles and a metal chimney next to the little river,102 and a tin-roofed garage for cars that is linked to the small inn outside the gates.
The rest is as it was of yore, at least, the same as the old engravings of a couple of hundreds of years ago picture it, hence it is a great shame, since the needs of the tiny village could not have demanded it, that the foreground could not have been left as it originally was.
The rest is just like it was back in the day, at least as the old engravings from a couple of hundred years ago show it. So, it’s really a shame that, despite the tiny village not needing much, the foreground couldn’t have been kept as it originally was.
The town, or rather village, or even hamlet, of Chambord is about the most abbreviated thing of its kind existent. There is practically no village; there are a score or two of houses, an inn of the frankly tourist kind, which evidently does not cater to the natives, the aforesaid wash-house by the river bank, the dwellings of the gamekeepers, gardeners, and workmen on the estate, and a diminutive church rising above the trees not far away. These accessories practically complete the make-up of the little settlement of Chambord, on the borders of the Blaisois and Touraine.
The town, or rather village, or even hamlet, of Chambord is about the most condensed version of its kind that exists. There’s practically no village; there are a couple dozen houses, a tourist inn that clearly doesn’t serve the locals, the aforementioned wash-house by the riverbank, the homes of the gamekeepers, gardeners, and workers on the estate, and a small church rising above the trees nearby. These elements practically complete the setup of the little settlement of Chambord, on the borders of Blaisois and Touraine.
Chambord has been called top-heavy, but it is hardly that. Probably the effect is caused by its low-lying situation, for, as has been intimated before, this most imposing of all of the Loire châteaux has the least desirable situation of any. There is a certain vagueness and foreignness about the sky-line that is almost103 Eastern, though we recognize it as pure Renaissance. Perhaps it is the magnitude and lonesomeness of it all that makes it seem so strange, an effect that is heightened when one steps out upon its roof, with the turrets, towers, and cupolas still rising high above.
Chambord has been called top-heavy, but that’s not really accurate. The impression probably comes from its low-lying location because, as mentioned earlier, this most impressive of all the Loire châteaux has the least appealing setting of any. There’s a certain vagueness and foreignness to the skyline that feels almost Eastern, even though we recognize it as distinctly Renaissance. Maybe it’s the sheer size and isolation of it that make it seem so unusual, an effect that’s intensified when you step out onto its roof, with the turrets, towers, and cupolas still rising high above.

The ground-plan is equally magnificent, flanked at every corner by a great round tower, with another quartette of them at the angles of the interior court.
The layout is equally impressive, with a large round tower at each corner and another four at the angles of the inner courtyard.
Most of the stonework of the fabric is brilliant and smooth, as if it were put up but yes104terday, and, beyond the occasional falling of a tile from the wonderful array of chimney-pots, but little evidences are seen exteriorly of its having decayed in the least. On the tower which flanks the little door where one meets the concierge and enters, there are unmistakable marks of bullets and balls, which a revolutionary or some other fury left as mementoes of its passage.
Most of the stonework of the building is striking and smooth, as if it were built just yesterday, and aside from the occasional falling tile from the impressive collection of chimney pots, there’s hardly any sign of decay on the outside. On the tower beside the small door where you meet the concierge and enter, there are clear marks from bullets and cannonballs, which a revolutionary or some other conflict left as reminders of its history.
Considering that Chambord was not a product of feudal times, these disfigurements seem out of place; still its peaceful motives could hardly have been expected to have lasted always.
Considering that Chambord wasn't a product of feudal times, these distortions seem out of place; still, its peaceful intentions could hardly have been expected to last forever.
The southern façade is not excelled by the elevation of any residential structure of any age, and its outlines are varied and pleasing enough to satisfy the most critical; if one pardons the little pepper-boxes on the north and south towers, and perforce one has to pardon them when he recalls the magnificence of the general disposition and sky-line of this marvellously imposing château of the Renaissance.
The southern façade is unmatched by any residential building from any era, and its shapes are diverse and attractive enough to please even the most discerning eye; if one can overlook the small, cramped designs on the north and south towers, which one must do when remembering the grandeur of the overall layout and skyline of this impressively magnificent Renaissance château.
François Premier made Chambord his favourite residence, and in fact endowed Pierre Nepveu—who for this work alone will be considered one of the foremost architects of the105 French Renaissance—with the inspiration for its erection in 1526.
François I made Chambord his favorite home, and actually gave Pierre Nepveu—who for this project alone will be seen as one of the top architects of the105 French Renaissance—the inspiration to build it in 1526.
A prodigious amount of sculpture by Jean Cousin, Pierre Bontemps, Jean Goujon, and Germain Pilon was interpolated above the doorways and windows, in the framing thereof, and above the great fireplaces. Inside and out, above and below, were vast areas to be covered, and François allowed his taste to have full sway.
A huge amount of sculpture by Jean Cousin, Pierre Bontemps, Jean Goujon, and Germain Pilon was added above the doorways and windows, in the framing, and above the large fireplaces. Inside and out, above and below, there were massive spaces to fill, and François let his taste guide everything.
The presumptuous François made much of this noble residence, perhaps because of his love of la chasse, for game abounded hereabouts, or perhaps because of his regard for the Comtesse Thoury, who occupied a neighbouring château.
The arrogant François greatly admired this grand residence, possibly due to his passion for hunting, since there was plenty of game in the area, or maybe because of his fondness for the Comtesse Thoury, who lived in a nearby château.
For some time before his death, François still lingered on at Chambord. Marguerite and her brother, both now considerably aged since the happier times of their childhood in Touraine, always had an indissoluble fondness for Chambord. Marguerite had now become Queen of Navarre, but her beauty had been dimmed with the march of time, and she no longer was able to comfort and amuse her kingly brother as of yore. His old pleasures and topics of conversation irritated him, and106 he had even tired of poetry, art, and political affairs.
For a while before he passed away, François stayed on at Chambord. Marguerite and her brother, both now much older since their happier childhood days in Touraine, always held a deep affection for Chambord. Marguerite had become Queen of Navarre, but her beauty had faded with time, and she could no longer comfort and entertain her royal brother like before. His old interests and topics of conversation annoyed him, and106 he had even grown weary of poetry, art, and politics.
Above all, he shamefully and shamelessly abused women, at once the prop and the undermining influence of his kingly power in days gone by. There is an existing record to the effect that he wrote some "window-pane" verse on the window of his private apartment to the following effect:
Above all, he shamefully and brazenly abused women, who were both the support and the destructive force of his royal power in the past. There's a record that says he wrote some "window-pane" poetry on the window of his private apartment that went like this:
If this be not apocryphal, the incident must have taken place long years before that celebrated "window-pane" verse of Shenstone's, and François is proven again a forerunner, as he was in many other things.
If this isn't a made-up story, the incident must have happened many years before Shenstone's famous "window-pane" verse, and François is once again shown to be a pioneer, as he was in many other areas.
Without doubt the Revolution did away with this square of glass, which—according to Piganiol de la Force—existed in the middle of the eighteenth century. Perhaps François's own jealous humour prompted him to write these cynical lines, and then again perhaps it is merely one of those fables which breathe the breath of life in some unaccountable manner, no one having been present at its birth, and hearsay and tradition accounting for it all.
Without a doubt, the Revolution got rid of this square of glass, which—according to Piganiol de la Force—was around in the mid-eighteenth century. Maybe François's own jealousy inspired him to write these cynical lines, or perhaps it's just one of those stories that somehow comes to life, with no one knowing how it started, and rumors and tradition explaining everything.
François, truly, was failing, and he and his sister discussed but sorrowful subjects: the107 death of his favourite son, Charles, the inheritor of the throne, at Abbeville, where he became infected with the plague, and also the death of him whom he called "his old friend," Henry VIII. of England, a monarch whose amours were as numerous and celebrated as his own.
François was really struggling, and he and his sister talked about only sad topics: the107 death of his favorite son, Charles, who was to inherit the throne, in Abbeville, where he caught the plague, as well as the death of the man he called "his old friend," Henry VIII of England, a king known for his many and famous romances, just like François himself.
Henri II. preferred the attractions of Anet to Chambord, while Catherine de Medici and Charles IX. cared more for Blois, Chaumont, and Chenonceaux. Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. only considered it as a rendezvous for the chase, and the latter's successor, Louis XV., gave it to the illustrious Maurice de Saxe, the victor of Fontenoy, who spent his old age here, amid fêtes, pleasures, and military parades. Near by are the barracks, built for the accommodation of the regiment of horse formed by the maréchal and devoted to his special guardianship and pleasure, and paid for by the king, who in turn repaid himself—with interest—from the public treasury. The exercising of this "little army" was one of the chief amusements of the illustrious old soldier.
Henri II preferred the charm of Anet over Chambord, while Catherine de Medici and Charles IX were more fond of Blois, Chaumont, and Chenonceaux. Louis XIII and Louis XIV mainly saw it as a spot for hunting, and his successor, Louis XV, gave it to the notable Maurice de Saxe, the victor of Fontenoy, who spent his later years there, enjoying festivities, pleasures, and military parades. Nearby are the barracks that were built to accommodate the horse regiment created by the marshal, dedicated to his special protection and enjoyment, funded by the king, who in turn reimbursed himself—with interest—from the public treasury. The training of this "little army" was one of the main pastimes of the famous old soldier.
wrote the Abbé de Lille in contemporary times.
wrote the Abbé de Lille in modern times.
King Stanislas of Poland lived here from108 1725 to 1733, and later it was given to Maréchal Berthier, by whose widow it was sold in 1821.
King Stanislas of Poland lived here from108 1725 to 1733, and later it was given to Maréchal Berthier, who’s widow sold it in 1821.
It was bought by national subscription for a million and a half of francs and given to the Duc de Bordeaux, who immediately commenced its restoration, for it had been horribly mutilated by Maréchal de Saxe, and the surrounding wood had been practically denuded under the Berthier occupancy.
It was purchased through national fundraising for a million and a half francs and given to the Duc de Bordeaux, who quickly started its restoration, as it had been badly damaged by Maréchal de Saxe, and the surrounding forest had been nearly stripped bare during the Berthier occupation.
The Duc de Bordeaux died in 1883, and his heirs, the Duc de Parme and the Comte de Bardi, are now said to spend a quarter of a million annually in the maintenance of the estate, the income of which approximates only half that sum.
The Duc de Bordeaux died in 1883, and his heirs, the Duc de Parme and the Comte de Bardi, are now said to spend about $250,000 a year maintaining the estate, which only brings in about half that amount.
There are thirteen great staircases in the edifice, and a room for every day in the year. On the ground floor is the Salle des Gardes, from which one mounts by the great spiral to another similar apartment with a barrel-vaulted roof, which in a former day was converted into a theatre, where in 1669-70 were held the first representations of "Pourceaugnac" and "Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme," and where Molière himself frequently appeared.
There are thirteen grand staircases in the building, and a room for every day of the year. On the ground floor is the Salle des Gardes, from which you can climb the grand spiral staircase to another similar room with a barrel-vaulted ceiling. In the past, this space was turned into a theater, where the first performances of "Pourceaugnac" and "Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme" took place in 1669-70, and where Molière himself often performed.
The second floor is known as the "grandes terrasses" and surrounds the base of the great109 central lantern so admired from the exterior. On this floor, to the eastward, were the apartments of François Premier. The chapel was constructed by Henri II., but the tribune is of the era of Louis XIV. This tribune is decorated with a fine tapestry, made by Madame Royale while imprisoned in the Temple. At the base of the altar is also a tapestry made and presented to the Comte de Chambord by the women of the Limousin.
The second floor is known as the "grandes terrasses" and wraps around the base of the beautiful109 central lantern that’s so admired from the outside. On this floor, to the east, were the apartments of François Premier. The chapel was built by Henri II., but the tribune dates back to the time of Louis XIV. This tribune is adorned with a lovely tapestry, created by Madame Royale while she was imprisoned in the Temple. At the base of the altar, there’s also a tapestry made and given to the Comte de Chambord by the women of Limousin.
The apartments of Louis XIV. contain portraits of Madame de Maintenon and Madame de Lafayette, a great painting of the "Bataille de Fontenoy," and another of the Comte de Chambord on horseback.110
The apartments of Louis XIV have portraits of Madame de Maintenon and Madame de Lafayette, a huge painting of the "Battle of Fontenoy," and another of the Comte de Chambord on horseback.110
CHAPTER V.To ToC
CHEVERNY, BEAUREGARD, AND CHAUMONT
From Chambord and its overpowering massiveness one makes his way to Chaumont, on the banks of the Loire below Blois, by easy stages across the plain of the Sologne.
From Chambord and its impressive scale, you can easily travel to Chaumont, located on the banks of the Loire below Blois, through the flat lands of the Sologne.
One leaves the precincts of Chambord by the back entrance, as one might call it, through six kilometres of forest road, like that by which one enters, and soon passes the little townlet of Bracieux.
One leaves the grounds of Chambord through the back entrance, as it might be called, along a six-kilometer forest road, just like the way in, and soon passes the small town of Bracieux.
One gets glimpses of more or less modern residential châteaux once and again off the main road, but no remarkably interesting structures of any sort are met with until one reaches Cheverny. Just before Cheverny one passes Cour-Cheverny, with a curious old church and a quaint-looking little inn beside it.
One occasionally sees more or less modern residential châteaux off the main road, but there aren't any particularly interesting buildings until you get to Cheverny. Just before you reach Cheverny, you'll pass through Cour-Cheverny, where there's a fascinating old church and a charming little inn next to it.
Cheverny itself is, however, the real attraction, two kilometres away. Here the château is opened by its private owners from April to111 October of each year, and, while not such a grand establishment as many of its contemporaries round about, it is in every way a perfect residential edifice of the seventeenth century, when the flowery and ornate Renaissance had given way to something more severely classical, and, truth to tell, far less pleasing in an artistic sense.
Cheverny itself is, however, the real attraction, two kilometers away. Here the château is opened by its private owners from April to111 October each year, and while it's not as grand as many of its contemporaries nearby, it is a perfect residential building from the seventeenth century. At that time, the elaborate and decorative Renaissance style had transitioned to something more strictly classical, which, to be honest, is much less appealing artistically.
Cheverny belongs to-day to the Marquis de Vibraye, one of those undying titles of the French nobility which thrive even in republican France and uphold the best traditions of the noblesse of other days.
Cheverny today belongs to the Marquis de Vibraye, one of those enduring titles of the French nobility that continue to exist even in republican France and uphold the best traditions of the noblesse of the past.
The château was built much later than most of the neighbouring châteaux, in 1634, by the Comte de Cheverny, Philippe Hurault. It sits green-swarded in the midst of a beautifully wooded park, and the great avenue which faces the principal entrance extends for seven kilometres, a distance not excelled, if equalled, by any private roadway elsewhere.
The château was built much later than most of the nearby châteaux, in 1634, by Comte de Cheverny, Philippe Hurault. It is set in a lush green park and the grand avenue leading to the main entrance stretches for seven kilometers, a distance that isn't surpassed, if matched, by any other private road.
In its constructive features the château is more or less of rectangular outlines. The pavilions at each corner have their openings à la impériale, with the domes, or lanterns, so customary during the height of the style under Louis XIV. An architect, Boyer by name, who came from Blois, where surely he had the op112portunity of having been well acquainted with a more beautiful style, was responsible for the design of the edifice at Cheverny.
In its design, the château has a mostly rectangular shape. The pavilions at each corner feature à la impériale openings, complete with domes or lanterns that were popular during the peak of the style under Louis XIV. An architect named Boyer, who came from Blois—where he must have been familiar with more elegant styles—designed the building at Cheverny.
The interior decorations in Cordovan leather, the fine chimneypieces, and the many elaborate historical pictures and wall paintings, by Mosnier, Clouet, and Mignard, are all of the best of their period; while the apartments themselves are exceedingly ample, notably the Appartement du Roi, furnished as it was in the days of "Vert Galant," the Salle des Gardes, the library and an elaborately traceried staircase. In the chapel is an altar-table which came from the Église St. Calais, in the château at Blois.
The interior decor in Cordovan leather, the elegant chimneypieces, and the numerous detailed historical paintings and wall art by Mosnier, Clouet, and Mignard are all top-notch for their time. The rooms themselves are quite spacious, especially the Appartement du Roi, which is furnished just like it was in the days of "Vert Galant," along with the Salle des Gardes, the library, and a beautifully designed staircase. In the chapel, there's an altar table that originated from the Église St. Calais at the château in Blois.
Just outside the gates is a remarkable crotchety old stone church, with a dwindling, toppling spire. It is poor and impoverished when compared with most French churches, and has a most astonishing timbered veranda, with a straining, creaking roof running around its two unobstructed walls. The open rafters are filled with all sorts of rubbish, and the local fire brigade keeps its hose and ladders there. 113 A most suitable old rookery it is in which to start a first-class conflagration.
Just outside the gates is a remarkable, grumpy old stone church with a shrinking, falling spire. It looks poor and run-down compared to most French churches and has an astonishing timbered porch with a sagging, creaking roof running around its two clear walls. The open rafters are filled with all kinds of junk, and the local fire department keeps its hose and ladders stored there. 113 It's a perfectly suitable old place to start a serious fire.
Within are a few funeral marbles of the Hurault family, and the daily offices are con114ducted with a pomp most unexpected. Altogether it forms, as to its fabric and its functions, as strong a contrast of activity and decay as one is likely to see in a long journey.
Within are a few funeral tombstones of the Hurault family, and the daily services are conducted with a pomp that is quite unexpected. Altogether, it creates, in terms of its structure and its functions, a striking contrast of activity and decay that one is likely to see on a long journey.
The town itself is a sleepy, unprogressive place, where automobilists may not even buy essence à pétrole, and, though boasting—if the indolent old town really does boast—a couple of thousand souls, one still has to journey to Cour-Cheverny to send a telegraphic despatch or buy a daily paper.
The town itself is a quiet, backward place, where drivers can't even buy gasoline, and, even though it claims—if the lazy old town really does claim—to have a couple of thousand residents, you still have to travel to Cour-Cheverny to send a telegram or buy a daily newspaper.
Between Cheverny and Blois is the Forêt de Russy, which will awaken memories of the boar-hunts of François I., which, along with art in all its enlightening aspects, appears to have been one of the chief pleasures of that monarch. Perhaps one ought to include also the love of fair women, but with them he was not so constant.
Between Cheverny and Blois is the Forêt de Russy, which will bring back memories of the boar hunts of François I., which, along with art in all its inspiring forms, seems to have been one of the main pleasures of that king. Maybe we should also mention his love for beautiful women, but he wasn't as consistent with them.
On the road to Blois, also, one passes the Château de Beauregard; that is, one usually passes it, but he shouldn't. It is built, practically, within the forest, on the banks of the little river Beauvron. An iron grille gives entrance to a beautiful park, and within is the château, its very name indicating the favour with which it was held by its royal owner. It was in 1520 that François I. established it as115 a rendezvous de chasse. Under his son, Henri II., it was reconstructed, in part; entirely remodelled in the seventeenth century; and "modernized"—whatever that may mean—in 1809, and again, more lately, restored by the Duc de Dino. It belongs to-day to the Comte de Cholet, who has tried his hand at "restoration" as well.
On the way to Blois, you will pass the Château de Beauregard; that is, you usually pass it, but you really shouldn’t. It's almost hidden in the forest, alongside the little river Beauvron. An iron grille leads into a lovely park, and inside is the château, whose very name reflects how much it was valued by its royal owner. It was in 1520 that François I. designated it as 115 a rendezvous de chasse. Under his son, Henri II., it was partly rebuilt; it was completely remodeled in the seventeenth century; and “modernized”—whatever that means—in 1809, and more recently, it was restored by the Duc de Dino. Today, it belongs to the Comte de Cholet, who has also attempted his own version of “restoration.”
The history of this old château is thus seen to have been most varied, and it is pretty sure to have lost a good deal of its original character in the transforming process.
The history of this old château has certainly been quite diverse, and it's likely that it has lost much of its original character during the transformation.
The interior is more attractive than is the exterior. There is a grand gallery of portraits of historical celebrities, more than 350, executed between 1617 and 1638 by Paul Ardier, Counsellor of State, who thus combined the accomplishment of the artist with the sagacity of the statesman.
The interior is more appealing than the exterior. There’s a stunning gallery with over 350 portraits of historical figures, created between 1617 and 1638 by Paul Ardier, Counsellor of State, who skillfully blended the talent of an artist with the wisdom of a statesman.
The ceilings of the great rooms are mostly elaborate works in enamel and carved oak, and there is a tiled floor (carrelage) in the portrait gallery, in blue faïence, representing an army in the order of battle, which must have delighted the hearts of the youthful progeny who may have been brought up within the walls of the château. This pavement is moreover an116 excellent example of the craftsmanship of tile-making.
The ceilings of the grand rooms are mostly intricate designs in enamel and carved oak, and there's a tiled floor (carrelage) in the portrait gallery, made of blue faïence, showing an army in formation, which must have thrilled the young children raised within the château's walls. This flooring is also an116excellent example of tile-making craftsmanship.
One gains admission to the château freely from the concierge, who in due course expects her pourboire, and sees that she gets it. But what would you, inquisitive traveller? You have come here to see the sights, and Beauregard is well worth the price of admission, which is anything you like to give, certainly not less than a franc.
One can enter the château easily through the concierge, who eventually expects her pourboire and makes sure she receives it. But what about you, curious traveler? You've come here to check out the sights, and Beauregard is definitely worth the price of admission, which is whatever you want to give, but certainly not less than a franc.
One may return to Blois through the forest, or may continue his way down the river to Chaumont on the left bank.
One can go back to Blois through the forest, or continue along the river to Chaumont on the left bank.
At Chaumont the Loire broadens to nearly double the width at Blois, its pebbles and sandbars breaking the mirror-like surface into innumerable pools and étangs. There is a bridge which connects Chaumont with the railway at Onzain and the great national highway from Tours to Blois. The bridge, however, is so hideous a thing that one had rather go miles out of his way than accept its hospitality. It is simply one of those unsympathetic wire-rope affairs with which the face of the globe is being covered, as engineering skill progresses and the art instinct dies out.
At Chaumont, the Loire widens to almost double the width it has at Blois, with its pebbles and sandbars breaking the smooth surface into countless pools and étangs. There’s a bridge that connects Chaumont with the railway at Onzain and the main highway from Tours to Blois. However, this bridge is so ugly that you'd rather go miles out of your way than use it. It’s just one of those unattractive wire-rope structures that are popping up everywhere as engineering improves and the artistic touch fades away.
The Château de Chaumont is charmingly situated, albeit it is not very accessible to117 strangers after one gets there, as it is open to the public only on Thursdays, from July to December. It is exactly what one expects to find,—a fine riverside establishment of its epoch, and in architectural style combining the well-recognized features of late Gothic and the early Renaissance. It is not moss-grown or decrepit in any way, which fact, considering its years, is perhaps remarkable.
The Château de Chaumont is beautifully located, though it's not very accessible to117 visitors once you get there, as it’s only open to the public on Thursdays, from July to December. It’s exactly what you would expect to find—a lovely riverside place from its time, featuring a blend of late Gothic and early Renaissance architectural styles. It’s neither overgrown with moss nor dilapidated in any way, which is quite impressive given its age.
The park of the château is only of moderate extent, but the structure itself is, comparatively, of much larger proportions. The ideal view of the structure is obtained from midway on that ungainly bridge which spans the Loire at this point. Here, in the gold and purple of an autumn evening, with the placid and far-reaching Loire, its pools and its bars of sand and pebble before one, it is a scene which is as near idyllic as one is likely to see.
The park of the château is not very large, but the building itself is much bigger in comparison. The best view of the structure can be seen from halfway across that awkward bridge that crosses the Loire here. In the golden and purple light of an autumn evening, with the calm and expansive Loire, its pools, and its sand and pebble bars in front of you, it’s a scene that’s as close to idyllic as you’re likely to find.
The town itself is not attractive; one long, narrow lane-like street, lined on each side by habitations neither imposing nor of a tumble-down picturesqueness, borders the Loire. There is nothing very picturesque, either, about the homes of the vineyard workers round about. Below and above the town the great highroad runs flat and straight between Tours and Blois on either side of the river, and auto118mobilists and cyclists now roll along where the state carriages of the court used to roll when François Premier and his sons journeyed from one gay country house to another.
The town itself isn’t appealing; there’s just one long, narrow street lined with homes that are neither impressive nor quaintly run-down, next to the Loire. The houses of the vineyard workers nearby aren't very picturesque either. The major road runs flat and straight between Tours and Blois on both sides of the river, where drivers and cyclists now travel on the same path that the royal carriages once took when François Premier and his sons moved from one lively country house to another.
It is to be inferred that the aspect of things at Chaumont has not changed much since that day,—always saving that spider-net wire bridge. The population of the town has doubtless grown somewhat, even though small towns in France sometimes do not increase their population in centuries; but the topographical aspect of the long-drawn-out village, backed by green hills on one side and the Loire on the other, is much as it always has been.
It can be assumed that things in Chaumont haven’t changed much since that day, except for the spider-web wire bridge. The town’s population has likely increased a bit, even though small towns in France can go centuries without growing; however, the landscape of the stretched-out village, with green hills on one side and the Loire on the other, remains pretty much the same as it always has been.

The château at Chaumont had its origin as far back as the tenth century, and its proprietors were successively local seigneurs, Counts of Blois, the family of Amboise, and Diane de Poitiers, who received it from Catherine in exchange for Chenonceaux. This was not a fair exchange, and Diane was, to some extent, justified in her complaints.
The château at Chaumont traces its origins back to the tenth century, with its owners being local lords, the Counts of Blois, the Amboise family, and Diane de Poitiers, who received it from Catherine in exchange for Chenonceaux. This wasn't a fair trade, and Diane was, to some extent, justified in her grievances.
Chaumont was for a time in the possession119 of Scipion Sardini, one of the Italian partisans of the Medici, "whose arms bore trois sardines d'argent," and who had married Isabelle de la Tour, "la Demoiselle de Limieul" of unsavoury reputation.
Chaumont was for a time owned119 by Scipion Sardini, one of the Italian supporters of the Medici, "whose coat of arms featured three silver sardines," and who had married Isabelle de la Tour, "the young lady of Limieul" with a questionable reputation.
The "Demoiselle de Limieul" was related, too, to Catherine, and was celebrated in the gallantries of the time in no enviable fashion. She was a member of that band of demoiselles whose business it was—by one fascination or another—to worm political secrets from the nobles of the court. One horrible scandal connected the unfortunate lady with the Prince de Condé, but it need not be repeated here. The Huguenots ridiculed it in those memorable verses beginning thus:
The "Demoiselle de Limieul" was also connected to Catherine and was famously known for the romantic intrigues of the time in quite an infamous way. She was part of a group of young women whose job was to extract political secrets from the nobles at court, using various charms. One terrible scandal linked the unfortunate woman to the Prince de Condé, but it doesn't need to be mentioned again. The Huguenots mocked it in those memorable lines that started like this:
After the reign of Sardini and of his direct successors, the house of Bullion, Chaumont passed through many hands. Madame de Staël arrived at the château in the early years of the nineteenth century, when she had received the order to separate herself from Paris, "by at least forty leagues." She had made the circle of the outlying towns, hovering about Paris as a moth about a candle-flame; Rouen, Auxerre, Blois, Saumur, all had entertained her, but now120 she came to establish herself in this Loire citadel. As the story goes, journeying from Saumur to Tours, by post-chaise, on the opposite side of the river, she saw the imposing mass of Chaumont rising high above the river-bed, and by her good graces and winning ways installed herself in the affections of the then proprietor, M. Leray, and continued her residence "and made her court here for many years."
After the rule of Sardini and his immediate successors, the Bullion family, Chaumont changed hands multiple times. Madame de Staël arrived at the château in the early 1800s, having been ordered to distance herself from Paris by “at least forty leagues.” She had already visited the nearby towns, flitting around Paris like a moth to a flame; Rouen, Auxerre, Blois, and Saumur had all welcomed her, but now120 she planned to settle in this Loire fortress. According to the story, while traveling from Saumur to Tours in a post-chaise, she saw the impressive structure of Chaumont towering above the riverbed. With her charm and appealing personality, she won over the then owner, M. Leray, and remained there, “making her court for many years.”
Chaumont is to-day the property of the Princesse de Broglie, who has sought to restore it, where needful, even to reëstablishing the ancient fosse or moat. This last, perhaps, is not needful; still, a moated château, or even a moated grange has a fascination for the sentimentally inclined.
Chaumont is now owned by the Princesse de Broglie, who has aimed to restore it, where necessary, even going as far as to recreate the old moat. This last part might not be essential; however, a castle with a moat, or even a farm with a moat, has a certain charm for those who are sentimental.

Georges d'Amboise, the first of the name, was born at Chaumont in 1460, the eighth son of a family of seventeen children. It was a far cry, as distances went in those days, from the shores of the shallow, limpid Loire to those of the forceful, turgent Seine at Rouen, where in the great Cathedral of Notre Dame, this first Georges of Amboise, having become an archbishop and a cardinal, was laid to rest beneath that magnificent canopied tomb before which visitors to the Norman capital stand in wonder. The mausoleum bears this epitaph, which in some small measure describes the activities of the man.
Georges d'Amboise, the first of his name, was born in Chaumont in 1460 as the eighth child in a family of seventeen. It was quite a distance, by the standards of those times, from the banks of the clear, shallow Loire to the powerful, turbulent Seine at Rouen, where in the grand Cathedral of Notre Dame, this first Georges of Amboise was laid to rest beneath an impressive canopied tomb that leaves visitors in awe in the Norman capital. The mausoleum has this epitaph, which somewhat reflects the man's accomplishments.
"And virtue, unaware of death, thrives beyond death."
His was not by any means a life of placidity and optimism, and he had the air and reputation of doing things. There is a saying, still current in Touraine: "Laissez faire à Georges."
His life was far from calm or optimistic, and he had the demeanor and reputation of someone who got things done. There is a saying, still common in Touraine: "Laissez faire à Georges."
The second of the same name, also an Arch122bishop of Rouen and a cardinal, succeeded his uncle in the see. He also is buried beneath the same canopy as his predecessor at Rouen.
The second of the same name, also an Arch122bishop of Rouen and a cardinal, took over from his uncle in that position. He is also buried under the same canopy as his predecessor in Rouen.
The main portal of the château leads to a fine quadrilateral court with an open gallery overlooking the Loire, which must have been a magnificent playground for the nobility of a former day. The interior embellishments are fine, some of the more noteworthy features being a grand staircase of the style of Louis XII.; the Salle des Gardes, with a painted ceiling showing the arms of Chaumont and Amboise; the Salle du Conseil, with some fine tapestries and a remarkable tiled floor, depicting scenes of the chase; the Chambre de Catherine de Medici (she possessed Chaumont for nine years), containing some of the gifts presented to her upon her wedding with Henri II.; and the curious Chambre de Ruggieri, the astrologer whom Catherine brought from her Italian home, and who was always near her, and kept her supplied with charms and omens, good and bad, and also her poisons.
The main entrance of the château opens up to a beautiful rectangular courtyard with an open gallery overlooking the Loire, which must have been an amazing playground for the nobles of the past. The interior decorations are impressive, with some of the standout features being a grand staircase in the style of Louis XII; the Salle des Gardes, featuring a painted ceiling that shows the coats of arms of Chaumont and Amboise; the Salle du Conseil, with beautiful tapestries and a striking tiled floor illustrating hunting scenes; the Chambre de Catherine de Medici (who owned Chaumont for nine years), filled with some of the gifts she received when she married Henri II; and the intriguing Chambre de Ruggieri, the astrologer Catherine brought from Italy, who was always by her side, providing her with charms and omens, both good and bad, as well as her poisons.
Ruggieri's observatory was above his apartment. It was at Chaumont that the astrologer overstepped himself, and would have used his magic against Charles IX. He did go so far as to make an image and inflict certain indig123nities upon it, with the belief that the same would befall the monarch himself. Ruggieri went to the galleys for this, but the scheming Catherine soon had him out again, and at work with his poisons and philtres.
Ruggieri's observatory was above his apartment. It was at Chaumont that the astrologer went too far and tried to use his magic against Charles IX. He even went as far as creating an image and putting it through certain humiliations, believing the same would happen to the king himself. Ruggieri ended up in prison for this, but the scheming Catherine quickly got him released, and back to working with his poisons and potions.
Finally there is the Chambre de Diane de Poitiers, Catherine's more than successful rival, with a bed (modern, it is said) and a series of sixteenth-century tapestries, with various other pieces of contemporary furniture. A portrait of Diane which decorates the apartment is supposed to be one of the three authentic portraits of the fair huntress. The chapel has a fine tiled pavement and some excellent glass.
Finally, there is the Chambre de Diane de Poitiers, Catherine's highly successful rival, featuring a bed (reportedly modern) and a collection of sixteenth-century tapestries, along with various other pieces of contemporary furniture. A portrait of Diane adorns the apartment and is believed to be one of the three authentic portraits of the beautiful huntress. The chapel boasts a beautiful tiled floor and some remarkable stained glass.
Chaumont is eighteen kilometres from Blois and the same distance from Amboise. It has not the splendour of Chambord, but it has a greater antiquity, and an incomparably finer situation, which displays its coiffed towers and their mâchicoulis and cornices in a manner not otherwise possible. It is one of those picture châteaux which tell a silent story quite independent of guide-book or historical narrative.
Chaumont is eighteen kilometers from Blois and the same distance from Amboise. It may not have the grandeur of Chambord, but it is older and has a much better location, showcasing its stylish towers and their mâchicoulis and cornices in a way that nowhere else can. It’s one of those picturesque castles that tells a silent story completely separate from any guidebook or historical account.
It was M. Donatien Le Ray de Chaumont, the superintendent of the forests of Berry and the Blaisois, under Louis XVI., who gave hospitality to Benjamin Franklin, and turned over124 to the first American ambassador to France the occupancy of his house at Passy, where Franklin lived for nine consecutive years.
It was M. Donatien Le Ray de Chaumont, the superintendent of the forests of Berry and the Blaisois, under Louis XVI, who hosted Benjamin Franklin and allowed the first American ambassador to France to stay in his house in Passy, where Franklin lived for nine straight years.
Of this same M. de Chaumont Americans cannot have too high a regard, for his timely and judicious hospitality has associated his name, only less permanently than Franklin's, with the early fortunes of the American republic.
Of this same M. de Chaumont, Americans cannot hold in higher regard, as his timely and thoughtful hospitality has connected his name, almost as permanently as Franklin's, with the early successes of the American republic.
Besides his other offices, M. de Chaumont was the intendant of the Hôtel des Invalides, at Paris, holding confidential relations with the ministry of the young king, and was in the immediate enjoyment of a fortune which amounted to two and a half million of francs, besides owning, in addition to Chaumont on the Loire, another château in the Blaisois. This château he afterward tendered to John Adams, who declined the offer in a letter, written at Passy-sur-Seine, February 25, 1779, in the following words: "... To a mind as much addicted to retirement as mine, the situation you propose would be delicious indeed, provided my country were at peace and my family with me; but, separated from my family and with a heart bleeding with the wounds of its country, I should be the most miserable being on earth...."
Besides his other roles, M. de Chaumont was the manager of the Hôtel des Invalides in Paris, maintaining close ties with the government of the young king. He was enjoying a fortune of two and a half million francs and also owned, in addition to Chaumont on the Loire, another château in the Blaisois. He later offered this château to John Adams, who turned down the offer in a letter written at Passy-sur-Seine on February 25, 1779, stating: "... For someone like me, who prefers solitude, the location you suggest would be truly wonderful, if my country were at peace and my family were with me; but being separated from my family and with a heart aching for my country, I would be the most miserable person on earth...."
The potteries, which now form the stables125 of the château at Chaumont, are somewhat reminiscent of Franklin. M. de Chaumont had established a pottery here, where he had found a clay which had encouraged him to hope that he could compete with the English manufacturers of the time. Here the Italian Nini, who was invited to Chaumont, made medallions much sought for by collectors, among others one of Franklin, which was so much admired as a work of art, and became so much in demand that in later years replicas were made and are well known to amateurs.
The pottery workshops that now serve as the stables125 of the château at Chaumont are somewhat reminiscent of Franklin. M. de Chaumont started a pottery operation here, having discovered a type of clay that led him to believe he could compete with English manufacturers of that time. The Italian artist Nini, who was invited to Chaumont, created medallions that collectors coveted, including one of Franklin. This piece was so admired as a work of art that it became highly sought after, leading to replicas being made in later years, which are well-known among enthusiasts.
The family of Le Ray de Chaumont were extensively known in America, where they became large landholders in New York State in the early nineteenth century, and the head of the family seems to have been an amiable and popular landlord. The towns of Rayville and Chaumont in New York State still perpetuate his name.
The Le Ray de Chaumont family was well-known in America, where they became significant landowners in New York State in the early 1800s, and the head of the family was apparently a friendly and liked landlord. The towns of Rayville and Chaumont in New York still carry on his name.
The two male members of the family secured American wives; Le Ray himself married a Miss Coxe, and their son a Miss Jahel, both of New York.
The two men in the family found American wives; Le Ray himself married a Miss Coxe, and their son married a Miss Jahel, both from New York.
From an anonymous letter to the New York Evening Post of November 19, 1885, one quotes the following:
From an anonymous letter to the New York Evening Post of November 19, 1885, one quotes the following:
"It was in Blois that I first rummaged126 among these shops, whose attractions are almost a rival to those of the castle, though this is certainly one of the most interesting in France. The traveller will remember the long flight of stone steps which climbs the steep hill in the centre of the town. Near the foot of this hill there is a well-furnished book-shop; its windows display old editions and rich bindings, and tempt one to enter and inquire for antiquities. Here I found a quantity of old notarial documents and diplomas of college or university, all more or less recently cleared out from some town hall, or unearthed from neighbouring castle, and sold by a careless owner, as no longer valuable to him. This was the case with most of the parchments I found at Blois; they had been acquired within a few years from the castle of Madon, and from a former proprietor of the neighbouring castle of Chaumont (the calvus mons of mediæval time), and most of them pertained to the affairs of the seigneurie de Chaumont. Contracts, executions, sales of vineyards and houses, legal decisions, actes de vente, loans on mortgages, the marriage contract of a M. Lubin,—these were the chief documents that I found and purchased."
"It was in Blois that I first searched126 through these shops, whose appeal is almost as strong as that of the castle, which is definitely one of the most fascinating in France. Travelers will recall the long flight of stone steps that leads up the steep hill in the center of town. At the base of this hill, there's a well-stocked bookstore; its windows exhibit old editions and ornate bindings, drawing you in to ask about antiques. Here, I found a large number of old notarial documents and diplomas from colleges or universities, all recently cleared out from some town hall or dug up from a nearby castle, sold by a careless owner who no longer considered them valuable. This was true for most of the parchments I found in Blois; they had been acquired within the last few years from the castle of Madon and from a former owner of the nearby castle of Chaumont (the calvus mons of medieval times), and most were related to the affairs of the seigneurie de Chaumont. Contracts, executions, sales of vineyards and houses, legal decisions, actes de vente, mortgage loans, the marriage contract of a M. Lubin—these were the main documents that I found and bought."
CHAPTER VI.To ToC
TOURAINE: THE GARDEN SPOT OF FRANCE
Each of his castles, marked with the royal seal, He puts on a lace stone outfit. "And its splendid river is a mirror of crystal."
It is difficult to write appreciatively of Touraine without echoing the words of some one who has gone before, and it is likely that those who come after will find the task no easier.
It’s hard to write positively about Touraine without repeating what someone else has said before, and it’s probably true that future writers will find it just as challenging.
Truly, as a seventeenth-century geographer has said: "Here is the most delicious and the most agreeable province of the kingdom. It has been named the garden of France because of the softness of its climate, the affability of its people, and the ease of its life."
Truly, as a seventeenth-century geographer said: "This is the most delightful and enjoyable province of the kingdom. It has been called the garden of France because of its mild climate, friendly people, and relaxed lifestyle."
The poets who have sung the praises of Touraine are many, Ronsard, Remy Belleau, Du Bellay, and for prose authors we have at the head, Rabelais, La Fontaine, Balzac, and Alfred de Vigny. Merely to enumerate them all would129 be impossible, but they furnish a fund of quotable material for the traveller when he is writing home, and are equally useful to the maker of guide-books.
The poets who have praised Touraine are numerous, including Ronsard, Remy Belleau, Du Bellay, and for prose writers, we have Rabelais, La Fontaine, Balzac, and Alfred de Vigny at the forefront. Listing them all would129 be impossible, but they provide a wealth of quotes for travelers when they're writing home and are also valuable for guidebook creators.
One false note on Touraine, only, has ever rung out in the world of literature, and that was from Stendahl, who said: "La Belle Touraine n'existe pas!" The pages of Alfred de Vigny and Balzac answer this emphatically, and to the contrary, and every returning traveller apparently sides with them and not with Stendahl.
One false note about Touraine has ever been sounded in the world of literature, and that was from Stendhal, who said: "La Belle Touraine n'existe pas!" The writings of Alfred de Vigny and Balzac respond emphatically to this, and every returning traveler apparently agrees with them rather than Stendhal.
How can one not love its prairies, gently sloping to the caressing Loire, its rolling hills and dainty ravines? The broad blue Loire is always vague and tranquil here, at least one seems always to see it so, but the beauty of Touraine is, after all, a quiet beauty which must be seen to be appreciated, and lived with to be loved.
How can anyone not love its prairies, gently sloping down to the gentle Loire, its rolling hills, and little ravines? The wide blue Loire always feels calm and peaceful here, or at least it seems that way, but the beauty of Touraine is a quiet beauty that needs to be seen to be appreciated and experienced to be loved.
It is a land of most singular attractions, neither too hot nor too cold, too dry nor too damp, with a sufficiency of rain, and an abundance of sunshine. Its market-gardens are prolific in their product, its orchards overflowing with plenitude, and its vineyards generous in their harvest.
It’s a land full of unique attractions, not too hot or cold, not too dry or wet, with enough rain and plenty of sunshine. Its market gardens are highly productive, its orchards filled with abundance, and its vineyards yield generously.
Touraine is truly the region where one may130 read history without books, with the very pages of nature punctuated and adorned with the marvels of the French Renaissance. Louis XI. gave the first impetus to the alliance of the great domestic edifice—which we have come to distinguish as the residential château—with the throne, and the idea was amplified by Charles VIII. and glorified by François Premier.
Touraine is definitely the place where you can130 experience history without needing books; the natural landscape is filled with the wonders of the French Renaissance. Louis XI started the connection between the grand family home—what we now call the residential château—and the throne, a concept that was developed further by Charles VIII and celebrated by François Premier.
In the brilliant, if dissolute, times of the early sixteenth century François Premier and his court travelled down through this same Touraine to Loches and to Amboise, where François's late gaoler, Charles Quint, was to be received and entertained. It was after François had returned from his involuntary exile in Spain, and while he was still in residence at the Louvre, that the plans for the journey were made. To the Duchesse d'Étampes François said,—the duchess who was already more than a rival of both Diane and the Comtesse de Châteaubriant,—"I must tear myself away from you to-morrow. I shall await my brother Charles at Amboise on the Loire."
In the vibrant, yet indulgent, early sixteenth century, François Premier and his court traveled through the same Touraine to Loches and Amboise, where François's former jailer, Charles Quint, was to be welcomed and entertained. This happened after François returned from his forced exile in Spain, while he was still living at the Louvre, during which plans for the trip were organized. To the Duchesse d'Étampes—who was already more than a rival to both Diane and the Comtesse de Châteaubriant—François said, "I have to leave you tomorrow. I will be waiting for my brother Charles in Amboise on the Loire."
"Shall you not revenge yourself upon him, for his cruel treatment of you?" said the wily favourite of the time. "If he, like a fool,131 comes to Touraine, will you not make him revoke the treaty of Madrid or shut him up in one of Louis XI.'s oubliettes?"
"Are you going to get back at him for treating you so badly?" said the cunning favorite of the day. "If he, like an idiot,131 comes to Touraine, won’t you force him to cancel the treaty of Madrid or lock him away in one of Louis XI's oubliettes?"
"I will persuade him, if possible," said François, "but I shall never force him."
"I'll try to convince him, if I can," François said, "but I will never force him."
In due time François did receive his brother king at Amboise and it was amid great ceremony and splendour. His guest could not, or would not, mount steps, so that great inclined plane, up which a state coach and its horses might go, was built. Probably there was a good reason for the emperor's peculiarity, for that worthy or unworthy monarch finally died of gout in the monastery of San Juste.
In time, François welcomed his brother king to Amboise, and it was a grand affair filled with ceremony and splendor. His guest couldn't or wouldn't climb the steps, so a long ramp was built for the state coach and its horses. There was likely a good reason for the emperor's odd behavior, as that notable or infamous ruler ultimately died of gout at the monastery of San Juste.
The meeting here at Amboise was a grand and ceremonious affair and the Spanish monarch soon came to recognize a possible enemy in the royal favourite, Anne de Pisselieu. The emperor's eyes, however, melted with admiration, and he told her that only in France could one see such a perfection of elegance and beauty, with the result that—as is popularly adduced—the susceptible, ambitious, and unfaithful duchess betrayed François more than once in the affairs attendant upon the subsequent wars between France, England, and Spain.
The meeting at Amboise was a big and formal event, and the Spanish king quickly saw a potential rival in the royal favorite, Anne de Pisselieu. However, the emperor was captivated by her beauty and told her that only in France could one find such perfection of elegance and beauty. As people often say, the impressionable, ambitious, and unfaithful duchess ended up betraying François more than once in the events surrounding the later wars between France, England, and Spain.
From Touraine, in the sixteenth century,132 spread that influence which left its impress even on the capital of the kingdom itself, not only in respect to architectural art, but in manners and customs as well.
From Touraine, in the sixteenth century,132 that influence spread and made its mark even on the capital of the kingdom itself, impacting not just architectural art but also behaviors and traditions.
Whatever may be the real value of the Renaissance as an artistic expression, the discussion of it shall have no place here, beyond the qualifying statement that what we have come to know as the French Renaissance—which undeniably grew up from a transplanted Italian germ—proved highly tempting to the mediæval builder for all manner of edifices, whereas it were better if it had been confined to civic and domestic establishments and left the church pure in its full-blown Gothic forms.
Whatever the actual value of the Renaissance as an artistic expression, that discussion won’t fit here, apart from the note that what we now recognize as the French Renaissance—which definitely stemmed from an Italian influence—proved very appealing to medieval builders for all types of structures. It would have been better if it had been limited to civic and residential buildings, leaving the church to remain in its complete Gothic style.
Curiously enough, here in Touraine, this is just what did happen. The Renaissance influence crept into church-building here and there—and it is but a short step from the "gothique rayonnant" to what are recognized as well-defined Renaissance features; but it is more particularly in respect to the great châteaux, and even smaller dwellings, that the superimposed Italian details were used. A notable illustration of this is seen in the Cathedral of St. Gatien at Tours. It is very beautiful and has some admirable Gothic features, but there are occasional constructive details, as133 well as those for decorative effect alone, which are decidedly not good Gothic; but, as they are, likewise, not Renaissance, they hence cannot be laid to its door, but rather to the architect's eccentricity.
Interestingly, here in Touraine, that's exactly what happened. The Renaissance influence gradually made its way into church-building here and there—and it's just a small step from the "gothique rayonnant" to what are recognized as clear Renaissance features. However, it's especially in the grand châteaux and even smaller homes where Italian details were added. A good example of this is the Cathedral of St. Gatien in Tours. It's very beautiful and has some impressive Gothic features, but there are occasional structural details, as133 well as those meant for decoration only, that are definitely not good Gothic. Since these elements aren’t Renaissance either, they can’t really be attributed to that style, but rather to the architect's uniqueness.
In the smaller wayside churches, such as one sees at Cormery, at Cheverny, and at Cour-Cheverny, there is scarcely a sign of Renaissance, while their neighbouring châteaux are nothing else, both in construction and in decoration.
In the smaller roadside churches, like those found in Cormery, Cheverny, and Cour-Cheverny, there’s hardly any sign of the Renaissance, while the nearby châteaux are nothing but that, both in their building and in their decor.
The Château de Langeais is, for the most part, excellent Gothic, and so is the church near by. Loches has distinct and pure Gothic details both in its church and its château, quite apart from the Hôtel de Ville and that portion of the château now used as the Sous-Préfecture, which are manifestly Renaissance; hence here in Touraine steps were apparently taken to keep the style strictly non-ecclesiastical.
The Château de Langeais is mostly excellent Gothic, and so is the nearby church. Loches features clear and distinct Gothic details in both its church and château, aside from the Hôtel de Ville and the part of the château now used as the Sous-Préfecture, which are clearly Renaissance; therefore, in Touraine, efforts seem to have been made to maintain a strictly non-ecclesiastical style.
A glance of the eye at the topography of this fair province stamps it at once as something quite different from any other traversed by the Loire. Two of the great "routes nationales" cross it, the one via Orleans, leading to Nantes, and the other via Chartres, going to Bordeaux. It is crossed and recrossed by innumerable "routes secondaires," "départementales,"134 "vicinales" and "particulières," second to none of their respective classes in other countries, for assuredly the roads of France are the best in the world. Many of these great ways of communication replaced the ancient Roman roads, which were the pioneers of the magnificent roadways of the France of to-day.
A quick look at the landscape of this beautiful region immediately shows that it's unlike any other area along the Loire. Two major "routes nationales" run through it: one from Orleans to Nantes, and the other from Chartres to Bordeaux. It's crisscrossed by countless "routes secondaires," "départementales,"134 "vicinales," and "particulières," all of which are top-notch compared to similar roads in other countries, as the roads in France are undoubtedly the best in the world. Many of these important highways have taken the place of the ancient Roman roads, which were the forerunners of today’s remarkable French roadways.
Almost invariably Touraine is flat or rolling, its highest elevation above the sea being but a hundred and forty-six metres, scarce four hundred and fifty feet, a fact which accounts also for the gentle flow of the Loire through these parts.
Almost always, Touraine is flat or gently rolling, with its highest point being just a hundred and forty-six meters, barely four hundred and fifty feet. This is also why the Loire flows gently through this region.
All the fruits of the southland are found here, the olive alone excepted. Mortality, it is said, and proved by figures, is lower than in any other part of France, and for this reason many dwellers in the large cities, if they may not all have a mediæval château, have at least a villa, far away from "the madding crowd," and yet within four hours' travel of the capital itself.
All the fruits from the south are found here, except for the olive. It's been shown by statistics that the mortality rate is lower than in any other part of France. Because of this, many people living in big cities, if they don't all have an old château, at least have a villa, far away from "the madding crowd," yet still just four hours away from the capital itself.
Touraine, properly speaking, has no natural frontiers, as it is not enclosed by rivers or mountains. It is, however, divided by the Loire into two distinct regions, the Méridionale and the Septentrionale; but the dress, the physiognomy, the language, and the predilec135tions of the people are everywhere the same, though the two sections differ somewhat in temperament. In the south, the Tourangeau is timid and obliging, but more or less engrossed in his affairs; in the north, he is proud, egotistical, and a little arrogant, but, above all, he likes his ease and comfort, something after the manner of "mynheer" of Holland.
Touraine, to be precise, doesn’t have natural borders since it isn’t surrounded by rivers or mountains. However, it is divided by the Loire River into two distinct areas: the Southern and the Northern regions. Still, the clothing, appearance, language, and preferences of the people are generally the same, although the two areas have slightly different temperaments. In the south, a person from Touraine is timid and accommodating but somewhat absorbed in their own business; in the north, they are proud, self-centered, and a bit arrogant, but above all, they appreciate their comfort, much like the Dutch "mynheer."
These are the characteristics which are enumerated by Stanislas Bellanger of Tours, in "La Touraine Ancienne et Moderne," and they are traceable to-day, in every particular, to one who knows well the by-paths of the region.
These are the characteristics that Stanislas Bellanger of Tours lists in "La Touraine Ancienne et Moderne," and you can still see them today, in every detail, if you know the backroads of the area well.
Formerly the peasant was, in his own words, "sous la main de M. le comte," but, with the coming of the eighteenth century, all this was changed, and the conditions which, in England, succeeded feudalism, are unknown in Touraine, as indeed throughout France.
Formerly the peasant was, in his own words, "under the authority of Count," but with the arrival of the eighteenth century, everything changed, and the conditions that followed feudalism in England are unknown in Touraine, as they are throughout France.
The two great divisions which nature had made of Touraine were further cut up into five petits pays; les Varennes, le Veron, la Champeigne, la Brenne, and les Gâtines; names which exist on some maps to-day, but which have lost, in a great measure, their former distinction.136
The two main regions that nature created in Touraine were further divided into five petits pays: les Varennes, le Veron, la Champeigne, la Brenne, and les Gâtines; names that still appear on some maps today, but have largely lost their previous significance.136
There is a good deal to be said in favour of the physical and moral characteristics of the inhabitants of Touraine. Just as the descendants of the Phoceans, the original settlers of Marseilles, differ from the natives of other parts of France, so, too, do the Tourangeaux differ from the inhabitants of other provinces. The people of Touraine are a mixture of Romans, Visigoths, Saracens, Alains, Normans and Bretons, Anglais and Gaulois; but all have gradually been influenced by local conditions, so that the native of Touraine has become a distinct variety all by himself. The deliciousness of the "garden of France" has altered him so that he stands to-day as more distinctly French than the citizen of Paris itself.
There’s a lot to appreciate about the physical and moral traits of the people from Touraine. Just as the descendants of the Phoceans, who originally settled in Marseilles, are different from the locals in other parts of France, the Tourangeaux also stand apart from those in other provinces. The people of Touraine are a mix of Romans, Visigoths, Saracens, Alains, Normans, Bretons, English, and Gauls; yet, over time, they've all been shaped by local conditions, leading to a unique identity for the people of Touraine. The charm of the "garden of France" has transformed them so that today, they embody a distinctly French character, even more so than residents of Paris.
Touraine, too, has the reputation of being that part of France where is spoken the purest French. This, perhaps, is as true of the Blaisois, for the local bookseller at Blois will tell one with the most dulcet and understandable enunciation that it is at Blois that one hears the best accent. At any rate, it is something found within a charmed circle, of perhaps a hundred miles in diameter, that does not find its exact counterpart elsewhere. As Seville stands for the Spanish tongue, Florence for137 the Italian, and Dresden for the German, so Tours stands for the French.
Touraine is known as the part of France where the purest French is spoken. This might also be true for the Blaisois, as the local bookseller in Blois will tell you with the sweetest and clearest pronunciation that it’s in Blois where you hear the best accent. In any case, it’s something found within a special area, about a hundred miles wide, that doesn’t exactly match anything else. Just like Seville represents the Spanish language, Florence represents the Italian, and Dresden represents the German, Tours represents the French.
The history of the Loire in Touraine, as is the case at Le Puy, at Nevers, at Sancerre, or at Orleans, is abundant and vivid, and the monuments which line its banks are numerous and varied, from the fortress-château of Amboise to the Cathedral of St. Gatien at Tours with its magnificent bejewelled façade. The ruined towers of the castle of Cinq-Mars, with its still more ancient Roman "pile," and the feudal châteaux of the countryside are all eloquent, even to-day, in their appeal to all lovers of history and romance.
The history of the Loire River in Touraine, just like at Le Puy, Nevers, Sancerre, or Orleans, is rich and vibrant, with countless monuments along its banks. These range from the fortress castle of Amboise to the stunning Cathedral of St. Gatien in Tours, which features a beautiful bejeweled façade. The crumbling towers of the castle of Cinq-Mars, along with its even older Roman structure, and the feudal castles scattered throughout the countryside still speak volumes today, attracting all who appreciate history and romance.
There are some verses, little known, in praise of the Loire, as it comes through Touraine, written by Houdon des Landes, who lived near Tours in the eighteenth century. The following selection expresses their quality well and is certainly worthy to rank with the best that Balzac wrote in praise of his beloved Touraine.
There are some lesser-known verses that celebrate the Loire as it flows through Touraine, written by Houdon des Landes, who lived near Tours in the eighteenth century. The following selection captures their essence well and definitely deserves to be mentioned alongside the finest praises Balzac wrote for his beloved Touraine.
And crowns its edges with enchanted hills;
In its happy valleys, along its beloved shores,
The meadows have spread their fragrant skirts; The willow, soft and flexible, extends its branches there. His hills are populated, and the rock is compliant. To the man who digs it, a rural refuge is offered.138 From our ancient Gaul, oh fatherly river!
River of gentle climates! Vallière and Sorel
On your fortunate shores, glory was born, "To one, love was necessary, to the other, victory."
Again and again Balzac's words echo in one's ears from his "Scène de la Vie de Province." The following quotations are typical of the whole:
Again and again, Balzac's words resonate in one's ears from his "Scène de la Vie de Province." The following quotes are representative of the entire work:
"The softness of the air, the beauty of the climate, all tend to a certain ease of existence and simplicity of manner which encourages an appreciation of the arts."
"The softness of the air and the beauty of the climate create a sense of ease in life and a straightforward way of being that fosters an appreciation for the arts."
"Touraine is a land to foster the ambition of a Napoleon and the sentiment of a Byron."
"Touraine is a place that nurtures the ambition of a Napoleon and the feelings of a Byron."
Another writer, A. Beaufort, a publicist of the nineteenth century, wrote:
Another writer, A. Beaufort, a publicist from the nineteenth century, wrote:
"The Tourangeaux resemble the good Adam in the garden of Eden. They drink, they eat, they sleep and dream, and care not what their neighbour may be doing."
"The people of Tours are like the good Adam in the Garden of Eden. They drink, they eat, they sleep, and they dream, and they don’t care what their neighbors are doing."
Touraine was indeed, at one time, a veritable Eden, though guarded by fortresses, hallebardes, and arquebuses, but not the less an Eden for all that. In addition it was a land where, in the middle ages, the seigneurs made history, almost without a parallel in France or elsewhere.
Touraine was once a true Eden, though protected by fortresses, halberds, and arquebuses, but it was still an Eden regardless. Additionally, it was a place where, during the Middle Ages, the lords created history, almost unmatched in France or anywhere else.
Touraine, truly enough, was the centre of the139 old French monarchy in the perfection of its pomp and state; but it is also true that Touraine knew little of the serious affairs of kings, though some all-important results came from events happening within its borders.
Touraine was, indeed, the heart of the139 old French monarchy at the height of its glory and status; however, it’s also true that Touraine was mostly unaware of the serious matters of kings, even though significant outcomes stemmed from events that took place within its boundaries.
Paris was the law-making centre in the sixteenth century, and Touraine knew only the domestic life and pleasures of royalty. Etiquette, form, and ceremony were all relaxed, or at least greatly modified, and the court spent in the country what it had levied in the capital.
Paris was the center of law-making in the sixteenth century, while Touraine was only familiar with the everyday life and pleasures of royalty. Etiquette, form, and ceremony were all relaxed, or at least significantly changed, and the court spent time in the countryside enjoying what it had taken from the capital.
Curiously enough, the monarchs were omnipotent and influential here, though immediately they quartered themselves in Paris their powers waned considerably; indeed, they seemed to lose their influence upon ministers and vassals alike.
Curiously enough, the monarchs were all-powerful and influential here, but as soon as they settled in Paris, their power diminished significantly; in fact, they appeared to lose their influence over ministers and vassals alike.
Louis XIII., it is true, tried to believe that Paris was France,—like the Anglo-Saxon tourists who descend upon it in such great numbers to-day,—and built Versailles; but there was never much real glory about its cold and pompous walls.
Louis XIII, it's true, tried to convince himself that Paris was France—just like the many Anglo-Saxon tourists flocking there today—and built Versailles; but there was never much true glory in its cold and pompous walls.
The fortunes of the old châteaux of Touraine have been most varied. Chambord is vast and bare, elegant and pompous; Blois, just across the border, is a tourist sight of the first rank whose salamanders and porcupines have been140 well cared for by the paternal French government. Chaumont, Chenonceaux, Langeais, Azay-le-Rideau, and half a dozen others are still inhabited, and are gay with the life of twentieth-century luxury; Amboise is a possession of the Orleans family; Loches is, in part, given over to the uses of a sous-préfecture; and Chinon's châteaux are but half-demolished ruins. Besides these there are numerous smaller residential châteaux of the nobility scattered here and there in the Loire watershed.
The fortunes of the old châteaux in Touraine have varied greatly. Chambord is huge and empty, elegant and showy; Blois, just across the border, is a top tourist attraction whose salamanders and porcupines have been140 well looked after by the caring French government. Chaumont, Chenonceaux, Langeais, Azay-le-Rideau, and several others are still lived in, filled with the vibrancy of twenty-first-century luxury; Amboise belongs to the Orleans family; Loches is partly used as a local government office; and Chinon's châteaux are mostly crumbling ruins. In addition to these, there are many smaller residential châteaux of the nobility scattered throughout the Loire watershed.
There have been writers who have sought to commiserate with "the poor peasant of Touraine," as they have been pleased to think of him, and have deplored the fact that his sole possession was a small piece of ground which he and his household cultivated, and that he lived in a little whitewashed house, built with his own hands, or those of his ancestors. Though the peasant of Touraine, as well as of other parts of the countryside, works for an absurdly small sum, and for considerably less than his brother nearer Paris, he sells his produce at the nearest market-town for a fair price, and preserves a spirit of independence which is as valuable as are some of the things which are thrust upon him in some other lands141 under the guise of benevolent charity, really patronage of a most demeaning and un-moral sort. At night the Touraine peasant returns to his own hearthstone conscious that he is a man like all of his fellows, and is not a mere atom ground between the upper and nether millstones of the landlord and the squire. He cooks his "bouillie" over three small sticks and retires to rest with the fond hope that on the next market-day following the prices of eggs, chickens, cauliflowers, or tomatoes may be higher. He is the stuff that successful citizens are made of, and is not to be pitied in the least, even though it is only the hundredth man of his community who ever does rise to more wealth than a mere competency.
There have been writers who have tried to connect with "the poor peasant of Touraine," as they liked to call him, and have lamented that his only possession is a small piece of land that he and his family farm, and that he lives in a little whitewashed house built with his own hands or those of his ancestors. Even though the peasant from Touraine, like those from other rural areas, earns an absurdly small amount—much less than his counterpart closer to Paris—he sells his produce at the nearest market town for a fair price and maintains a sense of independence that is just as valuable as some of the things that are imposed on him in other countries under the guise of well-meaning charity, which is really a form of degrading and immoral patronage. At night, the Touraine peasant returns to his own home, aware that he is just as much a man as anyone else, and not just a cog caught between the grind of the landlord and the squire. He cooks his "bouillie" over three small sticks and goes to bed hoping that on the next market day, the prices of eggs, chickens, cauliflowers, or tomatoes will be higher. He is the kind of person who can make a successful citizen, and he should not be pitied at all, even though only one in a hundred from his community ever rises to more wealth than just enough to get by.
Touraine, rightly enough, has been called the garden of France, but it is more than that, much more; it is a warm, soft land where all products of the soil take on almost a subtropical luxuriance. Besides the great valley of the Loire, there are the valleys of the tributaries which run into it, in Touraine and the immediate neighbourhood, all of which are fertile as only a river-bottom can be. It is true that there are numerous formerly arid and sandy plateaux, quite unlike the abundant plains of La Beauce, though to-day, by care and skill,142 they have been made to rival the rest of the region in productiveness.
Touraine has rightly been called the garden of France, but it’s much more than that; it’s a warm, gentle land where all the crops thrive with almost a subtropical richness. Alongside the vast Loire Valley, there are the valleys of its tributaries that flow into it, in Touraine and the nearby areas, all of which are as fertile as only riverbanks can be. It's true that there are many previously dry and sandy plateaus, quite different from the lush plains of La Beauce, but today, through care and skill,142 they have been transformed to match the productivity of the rest of the region.
The Département d'Indre et Loire is the richest agricultural region in all France so far as the variety and abundance of its product goes, rivalling in every way the opulence of the Burgundian hillsides. Above all, Touraine stands at the head of the vine-culture of all the Loire valley, the territoire vinicole lapping over into Anjou, where are produced the celebrated vins blancs of Saumur.
The Département d'Indre et Loire is the richest agricultural region in all of France when it comes to the variety and abundance of its products, rivaling the wealth of the Burgundian hills. Above all, Touraine leads the wine production of the Loire valley, with its wine territory extending into Anjou, where the famous white wines of Saumur are made.
The vineyard workers of Touraine, in the neighbourhood of Loches, have clung closely to ancient customs, almost, one may say, to the destruction of the industry, though of late new methods have set in, and, since the blight now some years gone by, a new prosperity has come.
The vineyard workers of Touraine, near Loches, have held tightly to old traditions, nearly leading to the decline of the industry. However, recently, new techniques have emerged, and since the blight that occurred a few years ago, a new wave of prosperity has arrived.
The day worker, who cares for the vines and superintends the picking of the grapes by the womenfolk and the children, works for two francs fifty centimes per day; but he invariably carries with him to the scene of his labours a couple of cutlets from a young and juicy brebis, or even a poulet rôti, so one may judge from this that his pay is ample for his needs in this land of plenty.
The day laborer, who takes care of the vines and oversees the grape picking done by the women and children, earns two francs and fifty centimes a day; but he always brings along a couple of cutlets from a young, juicy sheep, or even a roasted chicken, so one can tell that his wages are enough to meet his needs in this land of abundance.
In the morning he takes his bowl of soup and a cup of white wine, and of course huge hunks143 of bread, and finally coffee, and on each Sunday he has his rôti à la maison. All this demonstrates the fact that the French peasant is more of a meat eater in these parts than he is commonly thought to be.
In the morning, he has his bowl of soup and a cup of white wine, along with big chunks143 of bread, and finally coffee. Every Sunday, he enjoys his rôti à la maison. This shows that the French peasant in this area eats more meat than people usually think.
Touraine has no peculiar beauties to offer the visitor; there is nothing outré about it to interest one; but, rather, it wins by sheer charm alone, or perhaps a combination of charms and excellencies makes it so truly a delectable land.
Touraine doesn’t have any unique attractions for visitors; there’s nothing extraordinary about it to spark interest. Instead, it captivates with its sheer charm, or maybe it's the mix of charms and qualities that makes it such a delightful place.
The Tourangeaux themselves will tell you, when speaking of Rabelais and Balzac, that it is the land of "haute graisse, féconde et spirituelle." It is all this, and, besides its spirituelle components, it will supply some very real and substantial comforts. It is the Eden of the gourmandiser of such delicacies as truffes, rilettes, and above all, pruneaux, which you get in one form or another at nearly every meal. Most of the good things of life await one here in abundance, with kitchen-gardens and vineyards at every one's back door. Truly Touraine is a land of good living.
The people of Touraine will tell you, when discussing Rabelais and Balzac, that it's the land of "haute graisse, féconde et spirituelle." It really is all that, and in addition to its spiritual aspects, it offers some very real and substantial pleasures. It’s a paradise for food lovers, with delicacies like truffes, rilettes, and especially pruneaux, which you can find in one form or another at almost every meal. Most of life's goodies are here in abundance, with kitchen gardens and vineyards right outside everyone’s door. Truly, Touraine is a place of good living.
Life runs its course in Touraine, "facile et bonne," without any extremes of joy or sorrow, without chimerical desires or infinite despair, and the agreeable sensations of life pre144dominate,—the first essential to real happiness.
Life goes on in Touraine, "easy and good," without any highs or lows, without unrealistic hopes or endless despair, and the pleasant feelings of life prevail—the first key to true happiness.
Some one has said, and certainly not without reason, that every Frenchman has a touch of Rabelais and of Voltaire in his make-up. This is probably true, for France has never been swept by a wave of puritanism such as has been manifest in most other countries, and le gros rire is still the national philosophy.
Someone has said, and certainly not without reason, that every Frenchman has a bit of Rabelais and Voltaire in their makeup. This is probably true, as France has never experienced a wave of puritanism like that seen in most other countries, and le gros rire is still the national philosophy.
In a former day a hearty laugh, or at least an amused cynicism, diverted the mind of the martyr from threatened torture and even violent death. Brinvilliers laughed at those who were to torture her to death, and De la Barre and Danton cracked jokes and improvised puns upon the very edge of their untimely graves.
In the past, a good laugh, or at least some amused sarcasm, distracted the martyr's mind from the fear of torture or even death. Brinvilliers mocked those who were going to torture her to death, and De la Barre and Danton made jokes and created puns right at the brink of their early graves.
Touraine has the reputation of being a wonderfully productive field for the book collector, though with books, like many other treasures of a past time, the day has passed when one may "pick up" for two sous a MS. worth as many thousands of francs; but still bargains are even now found, and if one wants great calf-covered tomes, filled with fine old engravings, bearing on the local history of the pays, he can generally find them at all prices here in old Touraine.
Touraine is known as a fantastic place for book collectors, although the days are gone when you could pick up a manuscript worth thousands of francs for just two sous. However, there are still great deals to be found. If you're looking for large, leather-bound books full of beautiful old engravings that relate to the local history of the pays, you can usually find them at a variety of prices in old Touraine.
There was a more or less apocryphal story145 told us and the landlady of our inn concerning a find which a guest had come upon in a little roadside hamlet at which he chanced to stop. He was one of those omnipresent commis voyageurs who thread the French provinces up and down, as no other country in the world is "travelled" or "drummed." He was the representative for a brandy shipper, one of those substantial houses of the cognac region whose product is mostly sold only in France; but this fact need not necessarily put the individual very far down in the social scale. Indeed, he was a most amiable and cultivated person.
There was a somewhat questionable story145 shared with us and the innkeeper about a discovery a guest made in a small roadside village where he happened to stop. He was one of those ever-present traveling salesmen who crisscross the French countryside in a way that no other country really does. He represented a brandy distributor, one of those reputable companies from the cognac region whose products are mainly sold only in France; but that doesn’t necessarily mean he was low on the social ladder. In fact, he was a very friendly and cultured individual.
Our fellow traveller had come to a village where all the available accommodations of the solitary inn were already engaged; therefore he was obliged to put up with a room in the town, which the landlord hunted out for him. Repairing to his room without any thought save that of sleep, the traveller woke the next morning to find the sun streaming through the opaqueness of a brilliantly coloured window. Not stained glass here, surely, thought the stranger, for his lodging was a most humble one. It proved to be not glass at all; merely four great vellum leaves, taken from some ancient tome and stuck into the window-framing146 where the glass ought to have been. Daylight was filtering dimly through the rich colouring, and it took but a moment to become convinced that the sheets were something rare and valuable. He learned that the pages were from an old Latin MS., and that the occupant of the little dwelling had used "the paper" in the place of the glass which had long since disappeared. The vellum and its illuminations had stood the weather well, though somewhat dimmed in comparison with the brilliancy of the remaining folios, which were found below-stairs. There were in all some eighty pages, which were purchased for a modest forty sous, and everybody satisfied.
Our fellow traveler arrived in a village where all the rooms at the only inn were already booked, so he had to settle for a room in town that the landlord found for him. Heading to his room without a thought other than sleep, the traveler woke up the next morning to sunlight pouring through a brilliantly colored window. Surely this isn’t stained glass, he thought, since his accommodation was quite humble. It turned out not to be glass at all; just four large vellum leaves taken from some ancient book and stuck into the window frame where glass should have been. Daylight streamed softly through the rich colors, and it quickly became clear that the sheets were something rare and valuable. He discovered the pages were from an old Latin manuscript, and the previous tenant had used "the paper" in place of the glass that had long since vanished. The vellum and its illustrations had weathered well, though they were a bit dim compared to the brightness of the other pages found downstairs. In total, there were about eighty pages, which were bought for a reasonable forty sous, leaving everyone happy.
The volume had originally been found by the father of the old dame who then had possession of it in an old château in revolutionary times. Whether her honoured parent was a pillager or a protector did not come out, but for all these years the possession of this fine work meant no more to this Tourangelle than a supply of "paper" for stopping up broken window-panes.
The book had originally been discovered by the father of the elderly woman who later kept it in an old castle during the revolutionary period. It wasn’t clear whether her respected parent was a looter or a defender, but all these years, owning this great piece meant nothing more to this Tourangelle than a source of “paper” for patching up broken windows.
"She parted readily enough with the remaining leaves," said our Frenchman, "but nothing would induce her to remove those which filled the window." "No, we have no more147 glass, and these have answered quite well for a long time now," she said. And such is the simplicity of the French provincial, even to-day—sometimes.148
"She was willing to let go of the extra leaves," our Frenchman said, "but nothing would convince her to take out the ones cluttering the window." "No, we don’t have any more glass, and these have worked perfectly fine for a long time now," she replied. And that’s the straightforwardness of rural France, even today—sometimes.148
CHAPTER VII.To ToC
AMBOISE
As one approaches Amboise, he leaves the comparatively insalubrious plain of the Sologne and the Blaisois and enters Touraine.
As one gets closer to Amboise, they leave behind the relatively unhealthy plain of Sologne and Blaisois and enter Touraine.
Amboise! What history has been made there; what a wealth of action its memories recall, and what splendour, gaiety, and sadness its walls have held! An entire book might be written about the scenes which took place under its roof.
Amboise! What history has been made there; what a wealth of action its memories recall, and what splendor, joy, and sadness its walls have held! An entire book could be written about the events that took place under its roof.
To-day most travellers are content to rush over its apartments, gaze at its great round tower, view the Loire, which is here quite at its best, from the battlements, and, after a brief admiration of the wonderfully sculptured portal of its chapel, make their way to Chenonceaux, or to the gay little metropolis of Tours.
Today, most travelers are happy to quickly go through its rooms, look at its impressive round tower, enjoy the Loire River, which is stunning here, from the battlements, and after a short admiration of the beautifully sculpted portal of its chapel, head off to Chenonceaux or the vibrant little city of Tours.
No matter whither one turns his steps from Amboise, he will not soon forget this great fortress-château and the memories of the petite bande of blondes and brunettes who followed in the wake of François Premier.149
No matter where you go from Amboise, you won't quickly forget this impressive fortress-château and the memories of the group of blondes and brunettes who followed in the footsteps of François Premier.149
Here, and at Blois, the recollections of this little band are strong in the minds of students of romance and history. Some one has said that along the corridors of Amboise one still may meet the wraiths of those who in former days went airily from one pleasure to another, but this of course depends upon the mood and sentiment of the visitor.
Here, and in Blois, the memories of this small group are vivid for students of romance and history. Someone once said that in the halls of Amboise, you can still encounter the spirits of those who used to flit from one enjoyment to another, but this, of course, depends on the visitor's mood and feelings.
Amboise has a very good imitation of the climate of the south, and the glitter of the Loire at midday in June is about as torrid a picture as one can paint in a northern clime. It is not that it is so very hot in degree, but that the lack of shade-trees along its quays gives Amboise a shimmering resemblance to a much warmer place than it really is. The Loire is none too ample here, and frets its way, as it does through most of its lower course, through banks of sand and pebbles in a more or less vain effort to look cool.
Amboise has a great imitation of the southern climate, and the sparkle of the Loire at noon in June creates a scene that's as sweltering as you can get in a northern region. It's not that it's incredibly hot in temperature, but the absence of shade trees along its banks makes Amboise seem like a much warmer place than it actually is. The Loire isn’t very wide here either, and it winds its way, like it does through most of its lower course, through banks of sand and pebbles in a somewhat futile attempt to appear cool.
Amboise is old, for, under the name of Ambatia, it existed in the fourth century, at which epoch St. Martin, the patron of Tours, threw down a pagan pyramidal temple here and established Christianity; and Clovis and Alaric held their celebrated meeting on the Ile St. Jean in 496. It was not long after this, according to the ancient writers, that some sort150 of a fortified château took form here. Louis-le-Bègue gave Amboise to the Counts of Anjou, and Hughes united the two independent seigneuries of the château and the bourg. After the Counts of Anjou succeeded the Counts of Berry, Charles VII., by appropriation, confiscation, seizure, or whatever you please to call it,—history is vague as to the real motive,—united Amboise to the possessions of the Crown in 1434. Louis XI. lived for a time at this strong fortress-château, before he turned his affections so devotedly to Plessis-les-Tours. Charles VIII. was born and died here, and it was he who added the Renaissance details, or at least the first of them, upon his return from Italy. Indeed, it is to him and to the nobles who followed in his train during his Italian travels that the introduction of the Renaissance into France is commonly attributed.
Amboise is ancient, as it was known as Ambatia in the fourth century. During this time, St. Martin, the patron of Tours, destroyed a pagan pyramid temple here and established Christianity. Clovis and Alaric held their famous meeting on Ile St. Jean in 496. Not long after that, ancient writers note that some kind of fortified château began to take shape here. Louis-le-Bègue granted Amboise to the Counts of Anjou, and Hughes merged the two independent estates of the château and the town. After the Counts of Anjou came the Counts of Berry, and in 1434, Charles VII joined Amboise to the royal possessions through appropriation, confiscation, or seizure—history is unclear on the true reason. Louis XI spent some time at this strong fortress-château before he devoted his affections to Plessis-les-Tours. Charles VIII was both born and died here, and he was the one who added the Renaissance elements, or at least the first ones, upon his return from Italy. In fact, he and the nobles who traveled with him during his Italian journeys are often credited with bringing the Renaissance to France.
It was at Amboise that Charles VIII., forgetful of the miseries of his Italian campaign, set about affairs of state with a renewed will and vigour. He was personally superintending some alterations in the old castle walls, and instructing the workmen whom he brought from Italy with him as to just how far they might introduce those details which the world has come to know as Renaissance, when, in151 passing beneath a low overhanging beam, he struck his head so violently that he expired almost immediately (April 17, 1498).
It was at Amboise that Charles VIII, putting aside the troubles of his Italian campaign, dove into state matters with renewed determination and energy. He was personally overseeing some renovations to the old castle walls, directing the workers he had brought from Italy about how far they could incorporate the features that are now recognized as Renaissance, when, in151 passing under a low-hanging beam, he hit his head so hard that he died almost immediately (April 17, 1498).
Louis XII., the superstitious, lived here for some time, and here occurred some of the most important events in the life of the great François, the real popularizer of the new architectural Renaissance.
Louis XII, who was quite superstitious, lived here for a while, and some of the most significant events in the life of the great François, the true promoter of the new architectural Renaissance, took place here.
It was in the old castle of Amboise, the early home of Louis XII., that his appointed successor, his son-in-law and second cousin, François, was brought up. Here he was educated by his mother, Louise de Savoie, Duchesse d'Angoulême, together with that bright and shining light, that Marguerite who was known as the "Pearl of the Valois," poetess, artist, and court intriguer. Here the household formed what in the early days François himself was pleased to call a "trinity of love."
It was in the old castle of Amboise, the early home of Louis XII, that his chosen successor, his son-in-law and second cousin, François, grew up. Here, he was educated by his mother, Louise de Savoie, Duchesse d'Angoulême, along with the brilliant Marguerite, known as the "Pearl of the Valois," who was a poet, artist, and court intriguer. This household created what François himself fondly referred to in those early days as a "trinity of love."
Throughout the structure may yet be seen the suggestions of François's artistic instincts, traced in the window-framings of the façade, in the interior decorations of the long gallery, and on the terrace hanging high above the Loire.
Throughout the building, you can still see hints of François's artistic instincts, reflected in the window frames of the façade, in the interior design of the long gallery, and on the terrace that hangs high above the Loire.
In the park and in the surrounding forest François and his sister Marguerite passed many happy days of their childhood. Mar152guerite, who had already become known as the "tenth muse," had already thought out her "Heptameron," whilst François tried his prentice hand at love-rhyming, an expression of sentiment which at a later period took the form of avowals in person to his favourites.
In the park and the nearby forest, François and his sister Marguerite spent many joyful days of their childhood. Marguerite, who was starting to be called the "tenth muse," had already planned her "Heptameron," while François was trying his hand at writing love poems, a way of expressing his feelings that later turned into personal confessions to the ones he admired.
One recalls those stanzas to the memory of Agnes Sorel, beginning:
One remembers those lines in honor of Agnes Sorel, starting:
François was more than a lover of the beautiful. His appreciation of architectural art amounted almost to a passion, and one might well claim him as a member of the architectural guild, although, in truth, he was nothing more than a generous patron of the craftsmen of his day.
François was more than just someone who loved beauty. His appreciation for architectural art bordered on a passion, and you could almost consider him a member of the architectural community, even though, in reality, he was just a generous supporter of the artisans of his time.
François was the real father of the French Renaissance, the more splendid flower which grew from the Italian stalk. He had no liking for the Van Eycks and Holbeins of the Dutch school, reserving his favour for the frankly languid masters from the south. He brought from Italy Cellini, Primaticcio, and the great Leonardo, who it is said had a hand in that153 wonderful shell-like spiral stairway in the château at Blois.
François was the true father of the French Renaissance, the more vibrant blossom that emerged from the Italian roots. He didn't care for the Van Eycks and Holbeins of the Dutch school, preferring the openly soft masters from the south. He brought artists from Italy like Cellini, Primaticcio, and the great Leonardo, who is said to have had a part in that153 amazing shell-like spiral staircase in the château at Blois.
By just what means Da Vinci was inveigled from Italy will probably never be known. The art-loving François visited Milan, and among its curiosities was shown the even then celebrated "Last Supper" of Leonardo. The next we know is that, "François repasse les Alpes ayant avec lui Mon Sieur Lyonard, son peintre." Leonardo was given a pension of seven ecus de France per year and a residence near Amboise. Vasari recounts very precisely how Leonardo expired in the arms of his kingly patron at Amboise, but on the other hand, the court chronicles have said that François was at St. Germain on that day. Be this as it may, the intimacy was a close one, and we may be sure that François felt keenly the demise of this most celebrated painter of his court.
By what means Da Vinci was lured from Italy will probably never be known. The art-loving François visited Milan, and among its attractions was the already famous "Last Supper" by Leonardo. The next thing we know is that, "François repasse les Alpes ayant avec lui Mon Sieur Lyonard, son peintre." Leonardo was granted a pension of seven ecus de France a year and a home near Amboise. Vasari tells us in detail how Leonardo passed away in the arms of his royal patron at Amboise, but the court records state that François was in St. Germain that day. Regardless, their relationship was a close one, and we can be sure that François felt deeply the loss of this most renowned painter of his court.
It was during those early idyllic days at Amboise that the character of François was formed, and the marvel is that the noble and endearing qualities did not exceed the baser ones. To be sure his after lot was hard, and his real and fancied troubles many, and they were not made the less easy to bear because of his numerous female advisers.
It was during those early wonderful days at Amboise that François's character was developed, and the amazing thing is that his noble and charming qualities didn't outweigh the negative ones. Of course, his later life was tough, and he faced a lot of real and imagined troubles, which were made even harder to handle because of his many female advisors.
In his youth at Amboise his passions still154 slumbered, but when they did awaken, they burst forth with an unquenchable fury. Meantime he was working off any excess of imagination by boar-hunts and falconry in the neighbouring forest of Chanteloup, and had more than one hand-to-hand affray with resentful citizens of the town, when he encroached upon what they considered their traditional preserves. So he grew to man's estate, but the life that he lived in his youth under the kingly roof of the château at Amboise gave him the benefits of all the loyalty which his fellows knew, and it helped him carry out the ideas which were bequeathed to him by his uncle.
In his youth at Amboise, his passions were still154 dormant, but when they finally stirred, they erupted with an unstoppable intensity. Meanwhile, he channeled his excess imagination through boar hunts and falconry in the nearby forest of Chanteloup, and he had more than one confrontation with angry townspeople when he trespassed on what they considered their traditional hunting grounds. As he grew into adulthood, the life he experienced in his youth under the royal roof of the château at Amboise earned him the loyalty of his peers, which helped him pursue the ideas passed down to him by his uncle.
It was at a sitting of the court at Amboise, when François was still under his mother's wing,—at the age of twenty only,—that the Bourbon affair finally came to its head. Many notables were mixed up in it as partisans of the ungrateful and ambitious Bourbon, Charles de Montpensier, Connétable de France. It was an office only next in power to that of the sovereign himself, and one which had been allowed to die out in the reign of Louis XI. The final outcome of it all was that François became a prisoner at Pavia, through the treachery of the Connétable and his followers, who went over155 en masse to François's rival, Charles V., who, as Charles II., was King of Spain.
It was during a court session in Amboise, when François was still under his mother's care—only twenty years old—that the Bourbon situation finally escalated. Many prominent figures were involved as supporters of the ungrateful and ambitious Bourbon, Charles de Montpensier, Connétable de France. This position was only second in power to that of the sovereign himself, a role that had been allowed to fade away during Louis XI's reign. Ultimately, François ended up a prisoner at Pavia, due to the betrayal of the Connétable and his followers, who switched sides to François's rival, Charles V., who was known as Charles II, King of Spain.
Of the subsequent meeting with the Emperor Charles on French soil, François said to the Duchesse d'Étampes: "It is with regret that I leave you to meet the emperor at Amboise on the Loire." And he added: "You will follow me with the queen." His queen at this time was poor Eleanor of Portugal, herself a Spanish princess, Claude of France, his first wife, having died. "These two," says Brantôme, "were the only virtuous women of his household."
Of the meeting with Emperor Charles on French soil, François said to the Duchesse d'Étampes: "I regret leaving you to meet the emperor at Amboise on the Loire." He added, "You will join me with the queen." His queen at that time was poor Eleanor of Portugal, who was a Spanish princess, since Claude of France, his first wife, had died. "These two," says Brantôme, "were the only virtuous women in his household."
The Emperor Charles was visibly affected by the meeting, though, it is true, he had no love for his old enemy, François. Perhaps it was on account of the duchess, for whom François had put aside Diane. At any rate, the emperor was gallant enough to say to her: "It is only in France that I have seen such a perfection of elegance and beauty. My brother, your king, should be the envy of all the sovereigns of Europe. Had I such a captive at my palace in Madrid, there were no ransom that I would accept for her."
The Emperor Charles was clearly moved by the meeting, even though he had no fondness for his old rival, François. Maybe it was because of the duchess, whom François had chosen over Diane. In any case, the emperor was courteous enough to tell her, "It's only in France that I've seen such perfection of elegance and beauty. My brother, your king, should be the envy of all the rulers in Europe. If I had such a captive at my palace in Madrid, there wouldn’t be a ransom I'd accept for her."
François cared not for the lonely Spanish princess whom he had made his queen; but he was somewhat susceptible to the charms of156 his daughter-in-law, Catherine de Medici, the wife of his son Henri, who, when at Amboise, was his ever ready companion in the chase.
François didn't care for the lonely Spanish princess he had made his queen; however, he was somewhat drawn to the charms of156 his daughter-in-law, Catherine de Medici, the wife of his son Henri, who was always his willing companion during hunts at Amboise.
François was inordinately fond of the hunt, and made of it a most strenuous pastime, full of danger and of hard riding in search of the boar and the wolf, which abounded in the thick underwood in the neighbourhood. One wonders where they, or, rather, their descendants, have disappeared, since nought in these days but a frightened hare, a partridge, or perhaps a timid deer ever crosses one's path, as he makes his way by the smooth roads which cross and recross the forest behind Amboise.
François was extremely passionate about hunting, turning it into an intense pastime filled with danger and challenging rides in pursuit of boars and wolves, which used to thrive in the dense underbrush nearby. It's surprising to think about where they, or rather their descendants, have vanished to, since nowadays, the only creatures one might encounter are a scared hare, a partridge, or maybe a timid deer while traveling along the smooth trails that weave through the forest behind Amboise.
When François II. was sixteen he became the nominal king of France. To Amboise he and his young bride came, having been brought thither from Blois, for fear of the Huguenot rising. The court settled itself forthwith at Amboise, where the majestic feudal castle piled itself high up above the broad, limpid Loire, feeling comparatively secure within the protection of its walls. Here the Loire had widened to the pretensions of a lake, the river being spanned by a bridge, which crossed it by the help of the island, as it does to-day.
When François II was sixteen, he became the nominal king of France. He and his young bride arrived in Amboise, having been brought there from Blois due to concerns about the Huguenot uprising. The court quickly settled in Amboise, where the grand feudal castle rose high above the wide, clear Loire, feeling relatively safe within its walls. Here, the Loire had expanded to the size of a lake, with a bridge spanning the river, just as it does today.
Over this old stone bridge the court approached the castle, the retinue brilliant with157 all the trappings of a luxurious age, archers, pages, and men-at-arms. The king and his new-found bride, the winsome Mary Stuart, rode well in the van. In their train were Catherine, the "queen-mother" of three kings, the Cardinal de Lorraine, the Duc de Guise, the Duc de Nemours, and a vast multitude of gay retainers, who were moved about from place to place like pawns upon the chess-board, and with about as much consideration.
Over this old stone bridge, the court made its way to the castle, the entourage dazzling with157 all the symbols of a lavish era—archers, attendants, and soldiers. The king and his new bride, the charming Mary Stuart, rode at the front. Following them were Catherine, the "queen-mother" of three kings, Cardinal de Lorraine, Duke de Guise, Duke de Nemours, and a large crowd of cheerful followers, who were shuffled around like pieces on a chessboard, receiving about as much thought.
The gentle Mary Stuart, born in 1542, at Linlithgow, in stern Caledonia, of a French mother,—Marie de Lorraine,—was doomed to misfortune, for her father, the noble James V., prophesied upon his death-bed that the dynasty would end with his daughter.
The gentle Mary Stuart, born in 1542, at Linlithgow, in stern Scotland, of a French mother—Marie de Lorraine—was destined for misfortune, as her father, the noble James V., predicted on his deathbed that the dynasty would end with his daughter.
At the tender age of five Mary was sent to France and placed in a convent. Her education was afterward continued at court under the direction of her uncle, the Cardinal de Lorraine. By ten she had become well versed in French, Latin, and Italian, and at one time, according to Brantôme, she gave a discourse on literature and the liberal arts—so flourishing at the time—before the king and his court. Ronsard was her tutor in versification, which became one of her favourite pursuits.
At the young age of five, Mary was sent to France and placed in a convent. Her education was later continued at court under the guidance of her uncle, Cardinal de Lorraine. By the age of ten, she was fluent in French, Latin, and Italian, and at one point, as noted by Brantôme, she delivered a talk on literature and the liberal arts—so thriving at the time—before the king and his court. Ronsard was her tutor in poetry, which became one of her favorite pursuits.
Mary Stuart's charms were many. She was158 tall and finely formed, with auburn hair shining like an aureole above her intellectual forehead, and with a skin of such dazzling whiteness—a trite saying, but one which is used by Brantôme—"that it outrivalled the whiteness of her veil."
Mary Stuart had many charms. She was158 tall and elegantly shaped, with auburn hair that glowed like a halo above her thoughtful forehead, and her skin was so brilliantly white—a cliché, but one that Brantôme used—"that it outshone the whiteness of her veil."
In the spring of 1558, when she was but sixteen, Mary Stuart was married to the Dauphin, the weak, sickly François II., himself but a youth. He was, however, sincerely and deeply fond of his young wife.
In the spring of 1558, when she was just sixteen, Mary Stuart married the Dauphin, the frail, sickly François II, who was also just a youth. However, he sincerely and deeply loved his young wife.
Unexpectedly, through the death of Henri II. at the hands of Montgomery at that ever debatable tournament, François II. ascended the throne of France, and Mary Stuart saw herself exalted to the dizzy height which she had not so soon expected. She became the queen of two kingdoms, and, had the future been more propitious, the whole map of Europe might have been changed.
Unexpectedly, with the death of Henri II at the hands of Montgomery during that controversial tournament, François II took the throne of France, and Mary Stuart found herself elevated to a position she hadn’t anticipated so soon. She became the queen of two kingdoms, and if the future had been more favorable, the entire layout of Europe could have changed.
Disease had marked the unstable François for its own, and within a year he passed from the throne to the grave, leaving his young queen a widow and an orphan.
Disease had claimed the unstable François as its own, and within a year he went from the throne to the grave, leaving his young queen a widow and an orphan.
Shortly afterward "la reine blanche" returned to her native Scotland, bidding France that long, last, sad adieu so often quoted:159
Shortly after, "la reine blanche" went back to her home in Scotland, saying a long, final, sad goodbye to France that’s often quoted:159
Best homeland,
The beloved strand
That cared for my early years! Goodbye to my happy childhood! The bark that carries me away like this, Bears the poorer half from this point on, The nobler part stays with you,
I leave it up to your confidence, "But to remind you still of me!"
The young sovereigns had had a most stately suite of apartments prepared for them at Amboise, the lofty windows reaching from floor to ceiling and overlooking the river and the vast terrace where was so soon to be enacted that bloody drama to which they were to be made unwilling witnesses.
The young rulers had a grand set of rooms arranged for them at Amboise, with tall windows stretching from floor to ceiling that looked out over the river and the large terrace where that tragic scene was soon to unfold, making them unwilling spectators.
This gallery was wainscoted with old oak and hung with rich leathers, and the lofty ceiling was emblazoned with heraldic emblems and monograms, as was the fashion of the day. Brocades and tapestries, set in great gold frames, lined the walls, and, in a boudoir or retiring-room beyond, still definitely to be recognized, was a remarkable series of embroidered wall decorations, a tapestry of flowers and fruits with an arabesque border of white and gold, truly a queenly apartment, and one that well became the luxurious and dainty160 Mary, who came from Scotland to marry the youthful François.
This gallery was paneled with old oak and adorned with rich leather, and the high ceiling was decorated with heraldic symbols and monograms, which was the style of the time. Brocades and tapestries, framed in large gold frames, covered the walls, and in a boudoir or private room beyond, still clearly visible, was an impressive series of embroidered wall decorations, a tapestry of flowers and fruits with a white and gold arabesque border, truly a regal space, perfectly suited for the luxurious and delicate Mary, who came from Scotland to marry the young François.160
Mary Stuart knew little at the time as to why they had so suddenly removed from Blois, but François soon told her, something after this wise: "Our mother," said he, "is deeply concerned with affairs of state. There is some conspiracy against her and your uncles, the Guises."
Mary Stuart didn’t know much at the time about why they had left Blois so suddenly, but François soon explained it to her like this: “Our mom,” he said, “is really worried about state matters. There’s some plot against her and your uncles, the Guises.”
"Tell me," she demanded, "concerning this dreadful conspiracy."
"Tell me," she insisted, "about this terrible conspiracy."
"Were you not suspicious," he asked, querulously, "when we left for Amboise so suddenly?"
"Weren't you suspicious," he asked, grumpily, "when we left for Amboise so suddenly?"
"Ah, non, mon François, methought that we came here to hold a jousting tourney and to hunt in the forest...."
"Ah, no, my François, I thought we came here to have a jousting tournament and to hunt in the forest...."
"Well, at any rate, we are secure here from Turk, or Jew, or Huguenot, my queen," replied the king.
"Well, anyway, we are safe here from Turks, Jews, or Huguenots, my queen," replied the king.
Within a short space a council was called in the great hall of Amboise, which the Huguenot chiefs, Condé, Coligny, the Cardinal de Chatillon,—who appears to have been a sort of a religious renegade,—were requested to attend. A conciliatory edict was to be prepared, and signed by the king, as a measure for gaining161 time and learning further the plans of the conspirators.
Within a short time, a council was convened in the great hall of Amboise, and the Huguenot leaders—Condé, Coligny, and Cardinal de Chatillon, who seems to have been somewhat of a religious renegade—were asked to attend. A conciliatory decree was to be prepared and signed by the king as a way to buy time and gather more information about the conspirators' plans.161
This edict ultimately was signed, but it was in force but a short time and was a subterfuge which the youthful king deep in his heart—and he publicly avowed the fact—deeply resented. Furthermore it did practically nothing toward quelling the conspiracy.
This decree was eventually signed, but it was only effective for a short time and was a cover-up that the young king secretly—and he openly admitted this—resented. Additionally, it did almost nothing to stop the conspiracy.
Through the plains of Touraine and over the hills from Anjou the conspirators came in straggling bands, to rendezvous for a great coup de main at Amboise. They halted at farms and hid in vineyards, but the royalists were on the watch and one after another the wandering bands were captured and held for a bloody public massacre when the time should become ripe. In all, two thousand or more were captured, including Jean Barri de la Renaudie. This man was the leader, but he was merely a bold adventurer, seeking his own advantage, and caring little what cause employed his peculiar talents. This was his last affair, however, for his corpse soon hung in chains from Amboise's bridge. Condé, Coligny, and the other Calvinists soon learned that the edict was not worth the paper on which it was written.
Through the plains of Touraine and over the hills from Anjou, the conspirators arrived in scattered groups to meet up for a big surprise attack at Amboise. They stopped at farms and hid in vineyards, but the royalists were on high alert, and one by one, the wandering groups were caught and held for a brutal public execution when the time was right. In total, over two thousand were captured, including Jean Barri de la Renaudie. He was the leader, but just a daring opportunist, looking out for his own interests and not caring much about the cause that used his unique skills. This was his final mission, as his body would soon be displayed in chains from Amboise's bridge. Condé, Coligny, and the other Calvinists quickly realized that the edict wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on.
After the two thousand had been dispersed162 or captured the "queen-mother" threw off the mask. She led the trembling child-king and queen toward the southern terrace, where, close beneath the windows of the château, was built a scaffold, covered with black cloth, before which stood the executioner clothed in scarlet. The prisoners were ranged by hundreds along the outer rampart, guarded by archers and musketeers. The windows of the royal apartment were open and here the company placed themselves to witness the butchery to follow.
After the two thousand had been scattered162 or captured, the "queen-mother" removed her disguise. She guided the frightened child-king and queen to the southern terrace, where, just below the windows of the château, a scaffold draped in black cloth had been set up, and an executioner dressed in red stood ready. The prisoners were lined up by the hundreds along the outer wall, guarded by archers and musketeers. The windows of the royal apartment were open, and the onlookers took their places to witness the impending slaughter.
Speechless with horror sat the young king and queen, until finally, as another batch of mutilated corpses were thrown into the river below, the young queen swooned.
Speechless with horror sat the young king and queen, until finally, as another batch of mutilated bodies was thrown into the river below, the young queen fainted.
"My mother," said François, "I, too, am overcome by this horrible sight. I crave your Highness's permission to retire; the blood of my subjects, even of my enemies, is too horrible to contemplate."
"My mother," François said, "I’m also overwhelmed by this terrible sight. I ask for your Highness's permission to leave; the blood of my people, even my enemies, is too awful to see."
"My son," said the bloodthirsty Catherine, "I command you to stay. Duc de Guise, support your niece, the Queen of France. Teach her her duty as a sovereign. She must learn how to govern those hardy Scots of hers."
"My son," said the bloodthirsty Catherine, "I command you to stay. Duc de Guise, support your niece, the Queen of France. Teach her her duty as a ruler. She needs to learn how to govern her tough Scots."
It was on the very terraced platform on which one walks to-day that, between two ranks163 of hallebardiers and arquebusiers, moved that long line of bareheaded and bowed men whose prayers went up to heaven while they awaited the fate of the gallows.
It was on the same terraced platform you walk on today that, between two lines of hallebardiers and arquebusiers, moved that long line of bareheaded and bowed men whose prayers rose to heaven as they awaited the fate of the gallows.163
Either the cord or the sword-blade quickly accounted for the lives of this multitude, and their blood flowed in rivulets, while above in the gallery the willing and unwilling onlookers were gay with laughter or dumb with sadness.
Either the cord or the sword quickly took the lives of this crowd, and their blood flowed in streams, while above in the gallery, the eager and reluctant spectators were either laughing or quietly mourning.
When all this horrible murdering was over the Loire was literally a reeking mass of corpses, if we are to believe the records of the time. The chief conspirators were hung in chains from the castle walls, or from the bridge, and the balustrades which overhang the street, which to-day flanks the Loire beneath the castle walls, were filled with a ribald crew of jeering partisans who knew little and cared less for religion of any sort.
When all this terrible killing was finally over, the Loire was basically a stinking pile of bodies, if we can trust the accounts from that time. The main conspirators were hung in chains from the castle walls or from the bridge, and the railings that overlook the street alongside the Loire beneath the castle walls were crowded with a rowdy group of mocking supporters who knew very little and cared even less about any kind of religion.
Some days after the execution of the Calvinists the "Protestant poet" and historian passed through the royal city with his précepteur and his father, and was shown the rows of heads planted upon pikes, which decorated the castle walls, and thereupon vowed, if not to avenge, at least to perpetuate the infamy in prose and verse, and this he did most effectually.164
A few days after the execution of the Calvinists, the "Protestant poet" and historian passed through the royal city with his teacher and his father. They were shown the rows of heads on pikes that decorated the castle walls. He vowed, if not to seek revenge, at least to immortalize the disgrace in prose and verse, and he did so very effectively.164
An odorous garden of roses, lilacs, honeysuckle, and hawthorn framed the joyous architecture of the château, then as now, in adorable fashion; but it could not purify the malodorous reputation which it had received until the domain was ceded by Louis XIV. to the Duc de Penthièvre and made a duché-pairie.
An aromatic garden of roses, lilacs, honeysuckle, and hawthorn surrounded the cheerful architecture of the château, just like it does today, in a charming way; but it couldn't erase the unpleasant reputation it had until the land was given by Louis XIV to the Duc de Penthièvre and made a duché-pairie.
It would be possible to say much more, but this should suffice to stamp indelibly the fact that Touraine, in general, and the château of Amboise, in particular, cradled as much of the thought and action of the monarchy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as did the capital itself. At any rate the memory of it all is so vivid, and the tangible monuments of the splendour and intrigue of the court of those days are so very numerous and magnificent, that one could not forget the parts they played—once having seen them—if he would.
It could be said that there’s a lot more to discuss, but this should be enough to firmly establish that Touraine, in general, and the château of Amboise, in particular, nurtured just as much royal thought and action in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as the capital itself. Regardless, the memory of it all is so vivid, and the physical monuments of the splendor and intrigue of the court from those days are so numerous and impressive, that once you've seen them, you couldn't forget the roles they played—even if you wanted to.
After the assassination of the Duc de Guise at Blois, Amboise became a prison of state, where were confined the Cardinal de Bourbon and César de Vendôme (the sons of Henri IV. and Gabrielle d'Estrées), also Fouquet and Lauzun. In 1762 the château was given by Louis XV. to the Duc de Choiseul, and the great Napoleon turned it over to his ancient colleague, Roger Ducos, who apparently cared165 little for its beauties or associations, for he mutilated it outrageously.
After the assassination of the Duc de Guise at Blois, Amboise turned into a state prison, where Cardinal de Bourbon and César de Vendôme (the sons of Henri IV and Gabrielle d'Estrées), as well as Fouquet and Lauzun, were confined. In 1762, Louis XV gave the château to the Duc de Choiseul, and the great Napoleon handed it over to his former colleague, Roger Ducos, who seemed to have little appreciation for its beauty or history, as he severely damaged it.
In later times the history of the château and its dependencies has been more prosaic. The Emir Abd-el-Kader was imprisoned here in 1852, and Louis Napoleon stayed for a time within its walls upon his return from the south. To-day it belongs to the family of Orleans, to whom it was given by the National Assembly in 1872, and has become a house of retreat for military veterans. This is due to the generosity of the Duc d'Aumale into whose hands it has since passed. The restoration which has been carried on has made of Amboise an ideal reproduction of what it once was, and in every way it is one of the most splendid and famous châteaux of its kind, though by no means as lovable as the residential châteaux of Chenonceaux or Langeais.
In more recent times, the history of the château and its surroundings has become more straightforward. The Emir Abd-el-Kader was held captive here in 1852, and Louis Napoleon spent some time within its walls after returning from the south. Today, it belongs to the Orleans family, who were given it by the National Assembly in 1872, and it has turned into a retreat for military veterans. This is thanks to the generosity of the Duc d'Aumale, who now oversees it. The restoration efforts have transformed Amboise into an ideal replica of its former self, and in every way, it stands out as one of the most magnificent and renowned châteaux of its type, although it isn’t quite as charming as the residential châteaux of Chenonceaux or Langeais.
The Chapelle de St. Hubert, which was restored by Louis Philippe, is the chief artistic attraction of Amboise; a bijou of full-blown Gothic. It is a veritable architectural joy of the period of Charles VIII., to whom its erection was due. Its portal has an adorable bas-relief, representing "La Chasse de St. Hubert," and showing St. Hubert, St. Christopher, and St. Anthony, while above, in the tym166panum, are effigies of the Virgin, of Charles VIII., and of Anne de Bretagne. The sculpture is, however, comparatively modern, but it embellishes a shrine worthy in every way, for there repose the bones of Leonardo da Vinci. Formerly Da Vinci's remains had rested in the chapel of the château itself, dedicated to St. Florentin.
The Chapelle de St. Hubert, restored by Louis Philippe, is the main artistic highlight of Amboise; a gem of full-blown Gothic style. It's a true architectural treasure from the time of Charles VIII., who was responsible for its construction. The entrance features a lovely bas-relief depicting "La Chasse de St. Hubert," showing St. Hubert, St. Christopher, and St. Anthony, while above, in the tym166panum, are figures of the Virgin, Charles VIII., and Anne de Bretagne. Although the sculpture is relatively modern, it adorns a shrine that is truly significant, as it holds the remains of Leonardo da Vinci. Previously, Da Vinci's remains were housed in the chapel of the château itself, which was dedicated to St. Florentin.
Often the Chapelle de St. Hubert has been confounded with that described by Scott in "Quentin Durward," but it is manifestly not the same, as that was located in Tours or near there, and his very words describe the architecture as "of the rudest and meanest kind," which this is not. Over the arched doorway of the chapel at Tours there was, however, a "statue of St. Hubert with a bugle-horn around his neck and a leash of greyhounds at his feet," which may have been an early suggestion of the later work which was undertaken at Amboise.
Often, the Chapelle de St. Hubert has been confused with the one described by Scott in "Quentin Durward," but it's clearly not the same, as that one was located in Tours or nearby, and his exact words describe the architecture as "of the rudest and meanest kind," which this is not. Above the arched doorway of the chapel in Tours, there was, however, a "statue of St. Hubert with a bugle-horn around his neck and a leash of greyhounds at his feet," which might have been an early inspiration for the later work that was done at Amboise.
All vocations came to have their protecting saints in the middle ages, and, since "la chasse" was the great recreation of so many, distinction was bestowed upon Hubert as being one of the most devout. The legend is sufficiently familiar not to need recounting here, and, anyway, the story is plainly told in this167 sculptured panel over the portal of the chapel at Amboise.
All professions had their patron saints in the Middle Ages, and since "la chasse" was a popular pastime for many, Hubert was recognized as one of the most devoted. The legend is well-known enough not to need repeating here, and besides, the story is clearly depicted in this167 sculpted panel above the entrance of the chapel at Amboise.
In this Chapel of St. Hubert was formerly held "that which was called a hunting-mass. The office was only used before the noble and powerful, who, while assisting at the solemnity, were usually impatient to commence their favourite sport."
In this Chapel of St. Hubert, there used to be what was known as a hunting mass. The service was only performed for the noble and powerful, who, while attending the ceremony, were typically eager to start their favorite sport.
The ancient Salle des Gardes of the château, with the windows giving on the balcony overlooking the river, became later the Logis du Roi. From this great chamber one passes on to the terrace near the foot of the Grosse Tour, called the Tour des Minimes. It is this tower which contains the "escalier des voitures." The entrance is through an elegant portico leading to the upper stories. Above another portico, leading from the terrace to the garden, is to be seen the emblem of Louis XII., the porcupine, so common at Blois.
The old Salle des Gardes of the château, with windows opening onto the balcony that overlooks the river, later became the Logis du Roi. From this large room, you can move on to the terrace near the base of the Grosse Tour, known as the Tour des Minimes. This tower houses the "escalier des voitures." The entrance features an elegant portico that leads to the upper floors. Above another portico that connects the terrace to the garden, you'll see the emblem of Louis XII, the porcupine, which is often found at Blois.
In the fosse, which still remains on the garden side, was the universally installed jeu-de-paume, a favourite amusement throughout the courts of Europe in the middle ages.
In the ditch, which still exists on the garden side, was the universally installed jeu-de-paume, a popular pastime across the courts of Europe during the Middle Ages.
At the base of the château are clustered numerous old houses of the sixteenth century, but on the river-front these have been replaced168 with pretentious houses, cafés, automobile garages, and other modern buildings.
At the bottom of the château, there are many old houses from the sixteenth century, but along the riverfront, these have been replaced168 with flashy houses, cafés, car garages, and other modern structures.
Near the Quai des Violettes are a series of subterranean chambers known as the Greniers de César, dating from the sixteenth century.
Near the Quai des Violettes are a series of underground chambers known as the Greniers de César, which date back to the sixteenth century.
Even at this late day one can almost picture the great characters in the drama of other times who stalked majestically through the apartments, and over the very flagstones of the courts and terraces which one treads to-day; Catherine de Medici with her ruffs and velvets; Henri de Guise with all his wiles; Condé the proud; the second François, youthful but wise; his girl queen, loving and sad; and myriads more of all ranks and of all shades of morality,—all resplendent in the velvets and gold of the costume of their time.169
Even now, you can almost imagine the great figures from the past who strode proudly through these rooms and across the very flagstones of the courtyards and terraces we walk on today: Catherine de Medici in her ruffs and velvets; Henri de Guise with all his cunning; Condé, who was so proud; the second François, young yet wise; his sorrowful but loving queen; and countless others from all walks of life and varying morals—all shimmering in the velvets and golds of their era.169
Near the château is the Clos Luce, a Gothic habitation in whose oratory died Leonardo da Vinci, on May 2, 1519.
Near the château is the Clos Luce, a Gothic house where Leonardo da Vinci died in the oratory on May 2, 1519.
Immediately back of the château is the Forêt d'Amboise, the scene of many gay hunting parties when the court was here or at Chenonceaux, which one reaches by traversing the forest route. On the edge of this forest is Chanteloup, remembered by most folk on account of its atrocious Chinese-like pagoda, built of the débris of the Château de la Bourdaisière, by the Duc de Choiseul, in memory of the attentions he received from the nobles and bourgeois of the ville upon the fall of his ministry and his disgrace at the hands of Louis XV. and La Du Barry. It is a curious form to be chosen when one had such beautiful examples of architectural art near by, only equalled, perhaps, in atrociousness by the "Royal Pavilion" of England's George IV.
Immediately behind the château is the Forêt d'Amboise, where many lively hunting parties took place when the court was here or at Chenonceaux, which you can reach by taking the forest route. At the edge of this forest is Chanteloup, remembered by most people for its terrible Chinese-style pagoda, built from the debris of the Château de la Bourdaisière by the Duc de Choiseul, in memory of the support he received from the nobles and bourgeois of the town after the fall of his ministry and his disgrace at the hands of Louis XV and La Du Barry. It's an odd choice of style when there are such beautiful examples of architectural art nearby, only perhaps rivaled in awfulness by England's George IV's "Royal Pavilion."
La Bourdaisière, near Amboise, of which only the site remains, if not one of the chief tourist attractions of the château country, has at least a sentimental interest of abounding importance for all who recall the details of the life of "La Belle Gabrielle."
La Bourdaisière, near Amboise, where only the site is left, may not be one of the main tourist attractions in the château region, but it certainly holds significant sentimental value for anyone who remembers the life of "La Belle Gabrielle."
Here in Touraine Gabrielle d'Estrées was born in 1565. She was twenty-six years old170 when Henri IV. first saw her in the château of her father at Cœuvres. So charmed was he with her graces that he made her his maîtresse forthwith, though the old court-life chronicles of the day state that she already possessed something more than the admiration of Sebastian Zamet, the celebrated financier.171
Here in Touraine, Gabrielle d'Estrées was born in 1565. She was twenty-six years old170 when Henri IV first saw her at her father's château in Cœuvres. He was so taken with her beauty that he immediately made her his maîtresse, although the old court chronicles say she already had more than just the admiration of Sebastian Zamet, the famous financier.171
CHAPTER VIII.To ToC
CHENONCEAUX
Francis I.
Henry II.
The average visitor will come prepared to worship and admire a château so praised by two luxury-loving Kings of France.
The average visitor will arrive ready to worship and admire a château that was highly regarded by two luxury-loving Kings of France.
Chenonceaux is noted chiefly for its château, but the little village itself is charming. The houses of the village are not very new, nor very old, but the one long street is most attractive throughout its length, and the whole atmosphere of the place, from September to December, is odorous with the perfume of red-purple grapes. The vintage is not the equal of that of the Bordeaux region, perhaps, nor of Chinon, nor Saumur; but the vin du pays of the Cher and the Loire, around Tours, is not to be despised.172
Chenonceaux is mostly known for its château, but the little village itself is delightful. The houses in the village aren't very new or very old, but the long street is really appealing all along its length, and the whole vibe of the place, from September to December, is filled with the scent of red-purple grapes. The harvest might not compare to that of the Bordeaux region, or Chinon, or Saumur; however, the vin du pays from the Cher and the Loire, around Tours, is definitely worth appreciating.172
Most tourists come to Chenonceaux by train from Tours; others drive over from Amboise, and yet others come by bicycle or automobile. They are not as yet so numerous as might be expected, and accordingly here, as elsewhere in Touraine, every facility is given for visiting the château and its park.
Most tourists arrive in Chenonceaux by train from Tours; some drive from Amboise, while others come by bike or car. They aren't as many as you might expect, so, as in other places in Touraine, all the services for visiting the château and its park are readily available.
If you do not hurry off at once to worship at the abode of the fascinating Diane, one of the brightest ornaments of the court of François Premier and his son Henri, you will enjoy your dinner at the Hôtel du Bon Laboureur, though most likely it will be a solitary one, and you will be put to bed in a great chamber overlooking the park, through which peep, in the moonlight, the turrets of the château, and you may hear the purling of the waters of the Cher as it flows below the walls.
If you don’t rush off right away to pay your respects at the residence of the captivating Diane, one of the brightest stars of the court of Francis I and his son Henry, you’ll have your dinner at the Hôtel du Bon Laboureur. However, it will probably be a lonely meal, and you’ll be tucked into a large room with a view of the park, where the turrets of the château peek through the moonlight. You might also hear the gentle sound of the Cher River flowing beneath the walls.
Jean Jacques Rousseau, like François I., called Chenonceaux a beautiful place, and he was right; it is all of that and more. Here one comes into direct contact with an atmosphere which, if not feudal, or even mediæval, is at least that of several hundred years ago.
Jean Jacques Rousseau, like François I, referred to Chenonceaux as a beautiful place, and he was correct; it truly is that and more. Here, you can experience an atmosphere that, while not feudal or even medieval, is at least reminiscent of several hundred years ago.
Chenonceaux is moored like a ship in the middle of the rapidly running Cher, a dozen miles or more above where that stream enters173 the Loire. As a matter of fact, the château practically bridges the river, which flows under its foundations and beneath its drawbridge on either side, besides filling the moat with water. The general effect is as if the building were set in the midst of the stream and formed a sort of island château. Round about is a gentle meadow and a great park, which give to this turreted architectural gem of Touraine a setting which is equalled by no other château.
Chenonceaux is anchored like a ship in the middle of the swiftly flowing Cher, about twelve miles or so upstream from where it meets173 the Loire. In fact, the château almost spans the river, which flows under its foundations and beneath its drawbridge on both sides, while also filling the moat with water. The overall effect is as if the building is situated in the middle of the stream, creating a kind of island château. Surrounding it is a gentle meadow and a large park, which provide this turreted architectural gem of Touraine with a unique setting that can't be matched by any other château.
What the château was in former days we can readily imagine, for nothing is changed as to the general disposition. Boats came to the water-gate, as they still might do if such boats still existed, in true, pictorial legendary fashion. To-day, the present occupant has placed a curiosity on the ornamental waters in the shape of a gondola. It is out of keeping with the grand fabric of the château, and it is a pity that it does not cast itself adrift some night. What has become of the gondolier, who was imported to keep the craft company, nobody seems to know. He is certainly not in evidence, or, if he is, has transformed himself into a groom or a chauffeur.
What the château was like in the past is easy to imagine, as nothing has changed in its overall layout. Boats used to arrive at the water gate just as they could today, if such boats still existed, in a true, picturesque legendary way. Nowadays, the current owner has added a curiosity to the ornamental waters in the form of a gondola. It doesn’t fit with the grand structure of the château, and it’s a shame it hasn’t drifted away one night. No one seems to know what happened to the gondolier who was brought in to keep the boat company. He is certainly not around, or if he is, he has turned into a stable hand or a chauffeur.
The Château of Chenonceaux is not a very ample structure; not so ample as most photo174graphs would make it appear. It is not tiny, but still it has not the magnificent proportions of Blois, of Chambord, or even of Langeais. It was more a habitation than it was a fortress, a maison de campagne, as indeed it virtually became when the Connétable de Montmorency took possession of the structure in the name of the king, when its builder, Thomas Bohier, the none too astute minister of finances in Normandy, came to grief in his affairs.
The Château of Chenonceaux isn't a huge building; it's not as big as most photographs might suggest. It’s not small, but it doesn’t have the grand size of Blois, Chambord, or even Langeais. It served more as a home than a fortress, a maison de campagne, which is basically what it became when the Connétable de Montmorency took control of it on behalf of the king, after its creator, Thomas Bohier, the not-so-bright finance minister in Normandy, ran into problems with his business affairs.
François I. came frequently here for "la chasse," and his memory is still kept alive by the Chambre François Premier. François held possession till his death, when his son made it over to the "admired of two generations," Diane de Poitiers.
François I often came here for "la chasse," and his legacy is still remembered through the Chambre François Premier. François owned it until his death, after which his son gifted it to the "admired of two generations," Diane de Poitiers.
Diane's memory will never leave Chenonceaux. To-day it is perpetuated in the Chambre de Diane de Poitiers; but the portrait by Leonardo da Vinci, which was supposed to best show her charms, has now disappeared from the "long gallery" at the château. This portrait was painted at the command of François, before Diane transferred her affections to his son.
Diane's memory will always be a part of Chenonceaux. Today, it lives on in the Chambre de Diane de Poitiers, but the portrait by Leonardo da Vinci, which was thought to best capture her beauty, has now vanished from the "long gallery" at the château. This portrait was painted on the orders of François, before Diane shifted her affections to his son.
No one knows when or how Diane de Poitiers first came to fascinate François, or how or why her power waned. At any rate, at the175 time François pardoned her father, the witless Comte de St. Vallier, for the treacherous part he played in the Bourbon conspiracy, he really believed her to be the "brightest ornament of a beauty-loving court."
No one knows when or how Diane de Poitiers first captivated François, or how or why her influence faded. At any rate, at the175 time François forgave her father, the clueless Comte de St. Vallier, for his role in the Bourbon conspiracy, he genuinely thought of her as the "brightest gem of a beauty-loving court."
Certainly, Diane was a powerful factor in the politics of her time, though François himself soon tired of her. Undaunted by this, she forthwith set her cap for his son Henri, the Duc d'Orleans, and won him, too. Of her beauty the present generation is able to judge for itself by reason of the three well-known and excellent portraits of contemporary times.
Certainly, Diane was a major player in the politics of her time, even though François soon lost interest in her. Undeterred by this, she immediately set her sights on his son Henri, the Duke of Orleans, and won him over as well. The current generation can judge her beauty for themselves thanks to the three famous and excellent portraits from that period.
Diane's influence over the young Henri was absolute. At his death her power was, of course, at an end, and Chenonceaux, and all else possible, was taken from her by the orders of Catherine, the long-suffering wife, who had been put aside for the fascinations of the charming huntress.
Diane had complete control over the young Henri. When he died, her influence ended, and Catherine, the patient wife who had been cast aside for the allure of the charming huntress, ordered that Chenonceaux and everything else be taken away from her.
It must have been some satisfaction, however, to Diane, to know that, in his fatal joust with Montgomery, Henri really broke his lance and met his death in her honour, for the records tell that he bore her colours on his lance, besides her initials set in gold and gems on his shield.176
It must have been some satisfaction, however, to Diane, to know that, in his fateful duel with Montgomery, Henri truly broke his lance and lost his life in her honor, because the records say that he carried her colors on his lance, along with her initials set in gold and gems on his shield.176
Catherine's eagerness to drive Diane from the court was so great, that no sooner had her spouse fallen—even though he did not actually die for some days—than she sent word to Diane, "who sat weeping alone," to instantly quit the court; to give up the crown jewels—which Henri had somewhat inconsiderately given her; and to "give up Chenonceaux in Touraine," Catherine's Naboth's vineyard, which she had so long admired and coveted. She had known it as a girl, when she often visited it in company with her father-in-law, the appreciative but dissolute François, and had ever longed to possess it for her own, before even her husband, now dead, had given it to "that old hag Diane de Poitiers, Duchesse de Valentinois."
Catherine was so eager to drive Diane out of the court that as soon as her husband fell—though he wouldn’t actually die for a few days—she sent word to Diane, "who was sitting alone and crying," to leave the court immediately; to hand over the crown jewels—which Henri had rather thoughtlessly given her; and to "give up Chenonceaux in Touraine," Catherine's prized vineyard that she had admired and coveted for so long. She had known it since she was a girl, often visiting it with her father-in-law, the appreciative yet dissolute François, and had always wanted to possess it for herself, even before her husband, now deceased, had given it to "that old hag Diane de Poitiers, Duchesse de Valentinois."
Diane paid no heed to Catherine's command. She simply asked: "Is the king yet dead?"
Diane didn’t pay any attention to Catherine's order. She just asked, "Is the king dead yet?"
"No, madame," said the messenger, "but his wound is mortal; he cannot live the day."
"No, ma'am," said the messenger, "but his wound is fatal; he won't survive the day."
"Tell the queen, then," replied Diane, "that her reign is not yet come; that I am mistress still over her and the kingdom as long as the king breathes the breath of life."
"Tell the queen, then," Diane replied, "that her time has not yet arrived; that I still hold power over her and the kingdom as long as the king is alive."
Henri was more or less an equivocal character, devoted to Diane, and likewise fond177one says it with caution—of his wife. He caused to be fashioned a monogram (seen at Chenonceaux) after this wise:
Henri was a somewhat ambiguous character, devoted to Diane, and also, it could be said cautiously, fond of his wife. He had a monogram created (seen at Chenonceaux) like this:

supposedly indicating his attachment for Diane and his wife alike. The various initials of the cipher are in no way involved. Diane returned the compliment by decorating an apartment for the king, at her Château of Anet, with the black and white of the Medici arms.
supposedly showing his affection for both Diane and his wife. The different initials in the code are not relevant. Diane reciprocated by decorating an apartment for the king at her Château of Anet, using the black and white colors of the Medici coat of arms.
The Château of Chenonceaux, so greatly coveted by Catherine when she first came to France, and when it was in the possession of Diane, still remains in all the regal splendour of its past. It lies in the lovely valley of the Cher, far from the rush and turmoil of cities and even the continuous traffic of great thoroughfares, for it is on the road to nowhere unless one is journeying cross-country from the lower to the upper Loire. This very isolation resulted in its being one of the few monuments spared from the furies of the Revolution, and, "half-palace and half-château," it glistens178 with the purity of its former glory, as picturesque as ever, with turrets, spires, and roof-tops all mellowed with the ages in a most entrancing manner.
The Château of Chenonceaux, highly desired by Catherine when she first arrived in France and during its time with Diane, still stands in all its past grandeur. It’s nestled in the beautiful valley of the Cher, far from the hustle and bustle of cities and the constant flow of major roads, as it’s on a route to nowhere unless someone is traveling cross-country from the lower to the upper Loire. This very seclusion meant it was one of the few landmarks spared from the chaos of the Revolution, and, “half-palace and half-château,” it shines178 with the purity of its former glory, as picturesque as ever, with turrets, spires, and rooftops all softened by time in a truly enchanting way.
Even to-day one enters the precincts of the château proper over a drawbridge which spans an arm of the Loire, or rather, a moat which leads directly from the parent stream. On the opposite side are the bridge piers supporting five arches, the work of Diane when she was the fair chatelaine of the domain. This ingenious thought proved to be a most useful and artistic addition to the château. It formed a flagged promenade, lovely in itself, and led to the southern bank of the Cher, whence one got charming vistas of the turrets and roof-tops of the château through the trees and the leafy avenues which converged upon the structure.
Even today, you enter the main part of the château over a drawbridge that crosses a channel of the Loire, or rather, a moat that connects directly to the river. On the other side, there are bridge piers supporting five arches, designed by Diane when she was the beautiful chatelaine of the estate. This clever idea turned out to be a really useful and artistic addition to the château. It created a paved walkway, lovely in its own right, that led to the southern bank of the Cher, where you could enjoy beautiful views of the château’s turrets and rooftops through the trees and the leafy paths that led up to the building.
When Catherine came she did not disdain to make the best use of Diane's innovation that suggested itself to her, which was simply to build the "Long Gallery" over the arches of this lovely bridge, and so make of it a veritable house over the water. A covering was made quite as beautiful as the rest of the structure, and thus the bridge formed a spacious wing of two stories. The first floor—known as the179 "Long Gallery"—was intended as a banqueting-hall, and possessed four great full-length windows on either side looking up and down stream, from which was seen—and is to-day—an outlook as magnificently idyllic as is possible to conceive. Jean Goujon had designed for the ceiling one of those wonder-works for which he was famous, but if the complete plan was ever carried out, it has disappeared, for only a tiny sketch of the whole scheme remains to-day.
When Catherine arrived, she eagerly embraced Diane's idea to enhance the structure, which involved building the "Long Gallery" over the arches of this beautiful bridge, essentially creating a real house over the water. A covering was crafted to be as stunning as the rest of the building, transforming the bridge into a spacious two-story wing. The first floor—called the 179 "Long Gallery"—was designed as a banquet hall, featuring four large full-length windows on each side that offered views both upstream and downstream, showcasing a view that is still today incredibly picturesque. Jean Goujon had designed an exquisite ceiling that he was known for, but if the entire plan was ever completed, it has since vanished, leaving only a small sketch of the original design.

180Catherine came in the early summer to take possession of her long-coveted domain. Being a skilful horsewoman, she came on horseback, accompanied by a "petite bande" of feminine charmers destined to wheedle political secrets from friends and enemies alike,—a real "escadron volant de la reine," as it was called by a contemporary.
180Catherine arrived in early summer to claim her long-desired territory. A talented horse rider, she rode in on horseback, joined by a group of charming ladies who were there to extract political secrets from both allies and rivals—a true "flying squad of the queen," as one contemporary referred to it.
It was a gallant company that assembled here at this time,—the young King Charles IX., the Duc de Guise, and "two cardinals mounted on mules,"—Lorraine, a true Guise, and D'Este, newly arrived from Italy, and accompanied by the poet Tasso, wearing a "gabardine and a hood of satin." Catherine showed the Italian great favour, as was due a countryman, but there was another poet among them as well, Ronsard, the poet laureate of the time. The Duc de Guise had followed in the wake of Marguerite, unbeknownst to Catherine, who frowned down any possibility of an alliance between the houses of Valois and Lorraine.
It was a brave group that gathered here at this moment—the young King Charles IX, the Duc de Guise, and "two cardinals on mules"—Lorraine, a true Guise, and D'Este, who had just come from Italy and was accompanied by the poet Tasso, dressed in a "gabardine and a satin hood." Catherine showed the Italian great favor, as was appropriate for a fellow countryman, but there was another poet present as well, Ronsard, the poet laureate of the time. The Duc de Guise had followed Marguerite, without Catherine’s knowledge, who frowned upon any chance of an alliance between the Valois and Lorraine families.
A great fête and water-masque had been arranged by Catherine to take place on the Cher, with a banquet to follow in the Long Gallery in honour of her arrival at Chenonceaux.
A big festival and water show had been organized by Catherine to happen on the Cher, followed by a banquet in the Long Gallery to celebrate her arrival at Chenonceaux.
When twilight had fallen, torches were ig181nited and myriads of lights blazed forth from the boats on the river and from the windows of the château. Music and song went forth into the night, and all was as gay and lovely as a Venetian night's entertainment. The hunting-horns echoed through the wooded banks, and through the arches above which the château was built passed great highly coloured barges, including a fleet of gondolas to remind the queen-mother of her Italian days,—the ancestors perhaps of the solitary gondola which to-day floats idly by the river-bank just before the grand entrance to the château. From parterre and balustrade, and from the clipped yews of the ornamental garden, fairy lamps burned forth and dwindled away into dim infinity, as the long lines of soft light gradually lost themselves in the forest. It was a grand affair and idyllic in its unworldliness. One may not see its like to-day, for electric lights and "rag-time" music, which mostly comprise the attractions of such al fresco pleasures, will hardly produce the same effect.
When twilight fell, torches were lit, and countless lights shone brightly from the boats on the river and from the windows of the château. Music and singing echoed into the night, creating a scene as cheerful and beautiful as a Venetian night out. The hunting horns resonated through the wooded banks, and colorful barges, including a fleet of gondolas to remind the queen mother of her Italian days, passed under the arches supporting the château—perhaps ancestors of the lone gondola that now floats lazily by the riverbank just outside the grand entrance of the château. From the parterre and balustrade, as well as the trimmed yews of the ornamental garden, fairy lights glimmered and faded into the dim infinity, as the long lines of soft light gradually dissolved into the forest. It was a magnificent event and idyllic in its otherworldliness. You might not see anything like it today, as electric lights and "rag-time" music, which mainly make up the attractions of such al fresco outings, likely won't create the same impact.
Among the great fêtes at Chenonceaux will always be recalled that given by the court upon the coming of the youthful François II. and Mary Stuart, after the horrible massacres at Amboise.182
Among the great celebrations at Chenonceaux, the one thrown by the court to welcome the young François II and Mary Stuart, following the terrible massacres at Amboise, will always be remembered.182
All the Renaissance skill of the time was employed in the erection of pompous accessories, triumphal arches, columns, obelisks, and altars. There were innumerable tablets also, bearing inscriptions in Latin and Greek,—which nobody read,—and a fountain which bore the following:
All the Renaissance skills of the time were used to create grand features, like triumphal arches, columns, obelisks, and altars. There were countless plaques as well, with inscriptions in Latin and Greek—none of which anyone read—and a fountain that had the following:
Apollo, the great god,
Aux humides nyades,
"I dedicated this place."
Of Chenonceaux and its glories what more can be said than to quote the following lines of the middle ages, which in their quaint old French apply to-day as much as ever they did:
Of Chenonceaux and its glories, what more can be said than to quote these lines from the Middle Ages, which in their charming old French are just as relevant today as they ever were:
He stands tall, like a giant,
In the riverbed,
On a bridge "Who is a hundred toises long."
The part of the edifice which Bohier erected in 1515 is that through which the visitor makes his entrance, and is built upon the piers of an old mill which was destroyed at that time.
The section of the building that Bohier constructed in 1515 is the one through which visitors enter, and it’s built on the foundations of an old mill that was demolished at that time.
Catherine bequeathed Chenonceaux to the wife of Henri III., Louise de Vaudémont, who died here in 1601. For a hundred years it still belonged to royalty, but in 1730 it was sold to183 M. Dupin, who, with his wife, enriched and repaired the fabric. They gathered around them a company so famous as to be memorable in the annals of art and literature. This is best shown by the citing of such names as Fontenelle, Montesquieu, Buffon, Bolingbroke, Voltaire, and Rousseau, all of whom were frequenters of the establishment, the latter being charged with the education of the only son of M. and Madame Dupin.
Catherine gave Chenonceaux to the wife of Henri III, Louise de Vaudémont, who passed away here in 1601. For a hundred years, it remained in royal hands, but in 1730, it was sold to 183 M. Dupin, who, along with his wife, enhanced and restored the estate. They surrounded themselves with a group so renowned that it became legendary in the histories of art and literature. This is best highlighted by names like Fontenelle, Montesquieu, Buffon, Bolingbroke, Voltaire, and Rousseau, all of whom often visited the place, with Rousseau being tasked with educating the only son of M. and Madame Dupin.
Considering Rousseau's once proud position among his contemporaries, and the favour with which he was received by the nobility, it is somewhat surprising that his struggle for life was so hard. The Marquise de Créquy wrote in her "Souvenirs:" "Rousseau left behind him his Mémoires, which I think for the sake of his memory and fame ought to be much curtailed." And undoubtedly she was right. Rousseau wrote in his "Confessions:" "In 1747 we went to spend the autumn in Touraine, at the Château of Chenonceaux, a royal residence upon the Cher, built by Henri II. for Diane de Poitiers, whose initials are still to be seen there.... We amused ourselves greatly in this fine spot; the living was of the best, and I became fat as a monk. We made a great deal of music and acted comedies."184
Considering Rousseau's once proud position among his peers and the favor he received from the nobility, it's a bit surprising that his struggle for survival was so difficult. The Marquise de Créquy wrote in her "Souvenirs": "Rousseau left behind his Mémoires, which I think, for the sake of his memory and reputation, should be significantly shortened." And she was definitely correct. Rousseau wrote in his "Confessions": "In 1747 we went to spend the autumn in Touraine, at the Château of Chenonceaux, a royal residence on the Cher, built by Henri II for Diane de Poitiers, whose initials are still visible there... We had a great time in this beautiful place; the food was excellent, and I got as fat as a monk. We made a lot of music and performed comedies."184
One might imagine, from a stroll through the magnificent halls and galleries of Chenonceaux, that Rousseau's experiences might be repeated to-day if one were fortunate enough to be asked to sojourn there for a time. The nearest that one can get, however, to becoming personally identified with the château and its life is to sign his name in the great vellum quarto which ultimately will rest in the archives of the château.
One might think, after walking through the stunning halls and galleries of Chenonceaux, that Rousseau's experiences could be repeated today if someone were lucky enough to be invited to stay there for a while. However, the closest anyone can come to personally connecting with the château and its life is by signing their name in the large vellum book that will eventually be kept in the château's archives.
It is doubtless very wrong to be covetous; but Chenonceaux is such a beautiful place and comes so near the ideal habitation of our imagination that the desire to possess it for one's own is but human.
It’s definitely wrong to be greedy; but Chenonceaux is such a stunning place and is so close to the perfect home we imagine that wanting to make it yours is only natural.
In the "Galerie Louis XIV." were given the first representations of many of Rousseau's pieces.
In the "Galerie Louis XIV," the first performances of many of Rousseau's works were held.
One gathers from these accounts of the happenings in the Long Gallery that it formed no bridge of sighs, and most certainly it did not. Its walls resounded almost continually with music and laughter. Here in these rooms Henri II. danced and made love and intrigued, while Catherine, his queen, was left at Blois with her astrologer and his poisons, to eat out her soul in comparative neglect.
One can see from these accounts of what happened in the Long Gallery that it was definitely not a place of despair; in fact, it was anything but. Its walls were nearly always filled with music and laughter. It was here in these rooms that Henri II danced, flirted, and engaged in schemes, while Catherine, his queen, stayed behind at Blois with her astrologer and his poisons, suffering in relative neglect.
Before the time of the dwelling built by Bohier for himself and family on the founda185tions of the old mill, there was yet a manorhouse belonging to the ancient family of Marques, from whom the Norman financier bought the site. The tower, seen to-day at the right of the entrance to the château proper,—an expressive relic of feudal times,—was a part of the earlier establishment. To-day it is turned into a sort of kiosque for the sale of photographs, post-cards, and an admirable illustrated guide to the château.
Before Bohier built his home for himself and his family on the site of the old mill, there was a manor house owned by the ancient Marques family, from whom the Norman financier purchased the property. The tower, visible today to the right of the entrance to the main château—a striking reminder of feudal times—was part of the earlier establishment. Today, it has been converted into a kind of kiosque for selling photographs, post cards, and an excellent illustrated guide to the château.
The interior of the château to-day presents the following remarkable features: The dining-room of to-day, formerly the Salle des Gardes, has a ceiling in which the cipher of Catherine de Medici is interwoven with an arabesque. To the left of this apartment is the entrance to the chapel, which to-day seems a bit incongruously placed, leading as it does from the dining-room. It is but a tiny chapel, but it is as gay and brilliant as if it were still the adjunct of a luxury-loving court, and it has some glass dating from 1521, which, if not remarkable for design or colouring, is quite choice enough to rank as an art treasure of real value.
The interior of the château today showcases several remarkable features: The dining room today, previously known as the Salle des Gardes, has a ceiling where the initials of Catherine de Medici are woven into an intricate design. To the left of this room is the entrance to the chapel, which today feels a bit out of place, as it leads directly from the dining room. It’s a small chapel, but it’s as vibrant and stunning as if it were still part of a lavish court. It has some stained glass from 1521 that, while not particularly unique in design or color, is still special enough to be considered a true art treasure.
According to Viollet-le-Duc each feudal seigneur had attached to his château a chapel, often served by a private chaplain, and in some instances by an entire chapter of prelates.186 These chapels were not simple oratories surrounded by the domestic apartments, but were architectural monuments in themselves, and either entirely isolated, as at Amboise, or semi-detached, as at Chenonceaux.
According to Viollet-le-Duc, every feudal lord had a chapel connected to his château, usually looked after by a private chaplain, and sometimes by a whole group of clergy members.186 These chapels weren't just simple prayer rooms near the living spaces; they were significant architectural landmarks on their own, either completely separate, like the one at Amboise, or partially attached, like at Chenonceaux.
Below, in the sub-basement, at Chenonceaux, are the original foundations upon which Bohier laid his first stones. Here, too, are various chambers, known respectively as the prison, the Bains de la Reine, the boulangerie, etc.
Below, in the sub-basement at Chenonceaux, are the original foundations where Bohier placed his first stones. Here, you'll also find various rooms, known as the prison, the Bains de la Reine, the boulangerie, and so on.
Chenonceaux to-day is no whited sepulchre. It is a real living and livable thing, and, moreover, when one visits it, he observes that the family burn great logs in their fireplaces, have luxurious bouquets of flowers on their dining-table, and use great wax candles instead of the more prosaic oil-lamps, or worse—acetylene gas. Chenonceaux evidently has no thoughts of descending to steam heat and electricity.
Chenonceaux today is not a lifeless monument. It’s a vibrant, livable place, and when you visit, you notice that the family burns big logs in their fireplaces, has beautiful bouquets of flowers on the dining table, and uses large wax candles instead of the more ordinary oil lamps or, even worse, acetylene gas. Chenonceaux clearly has no intention of switching to steam heat and electricity.
All this is as it should be, for when one visits a shrine like this he prefers to find it with as much as possible of the old-time atmosphere remaining. Chambord is bare and suggestive of the tomb, in spite of the splendour of its outline and proportions; Pierrefonds, in the north, is more so, and so would be Blois except for its restored or imitation decorations; but here at Chenonceaux all is different, and187 breathes the spirit of other days as well as that of to-day. It is, perhaps, not exactly as Diane left it, or as Rousseau knew it under the régime of the Dupins, since, after many changings of hands, it became the property of the Crédit Foncier, by whom it was sold in 1891 to Mr. Terry, an American.
All this is as it should be, because when someone visits a shrine like this, they prefer to experience as much of the old-time atmosphere as possible. Chambord feels empty and reminds one of a tomb, despite its grand shape and size; Pierrefonds in the north is even more so, and Blois would be too if it weren't for its restored or imitation decorations. But at Chenonceaux, everything is different, and187 it exudes the spirit of both the past and the present. It might not be exactly as Diane left it or as Rousseau knew it during the Dupins’ time, since after many changes of ownership, it became the property of the Crédit Foncier, which sold it in 1891 to Mr. Terry, an American.
Chenonceaux has two other architectural monuments which are often overlooked under the spell of the more magnificent château. In the village is a small Renaissance church—in which the Renaissance never rose to any very great heights—which is here far more effective and beautiful than usually are Renaissance churches of any magnitude. There is also a sixteenth-century stone house in the same style and even more successful as an expression of the art of the time. It is readily found by inquiry, and is known as the "Maison des Pages de François I."188
Chenonceaux has two other architectural monuments that often get overlooked because of the more impressive château. In the village, there’s a small Renaissance church—where the Renaissance never really reached its peak—but it's much more striking and beautiful than most Renaissance churches of any size. There's also a sixteenth-century stone house in the same style, which is even more successful in showcasing the art of the time. You can easily find it by asking around, and it’s known as the "Maison des Pages de François I."188
CHAPTER IX.To ToC
LOCHES
Much may be written of Loches, of its storied past, of its present-day quaintness, and of its wealth of architectural monuments. Its church is certainly the most curious religious edifice in all France, judging from a cross-section of the vaults and walls. More than all else, however, Loches is associated in our minds with the memory of Agnes Sorel.
Much can be said about Loches, its rich history, its charming vibe today, and its abundance of architectural landmarks. Its church is definitely the most interesting religious building in all of France, based on a look at its vaults and walls. Above all, though, Loches is linked in our minds with the memory of Agnes Sorel.
Within the walls of the old collegiate church the lovely mistress of Charles VII. was buried in 1450; but later her remains and tomb were removed to one of the towers of the ancient castle of Loches, where they now are. She had amply endowed the church, but they would no longer give shelter to her remains, so her bones were removed five hundred years later. The statue which surmounts her tomb, as seen to-day, represents the "gentille Agnes" in all her loveliness, with folded hands on breast, a kneeling angel at her head and a couchant189 lamb at her feet,—a reminder of her innocence, said Henry James, but surely he nodded when he said it. Lovely she was, and good in her way, but innocent she was not, as we have come to know the word.
Within the walls of the old collegiate church, the beautiful mistress of Charles VII was buried in 1450; however, later her remains and tomb were moved to one of the towers of the ancient castle of Loches, where they are now located. She had generously endowed the church, but they would no longer provide shelter for her remains, so her bones were relocated five hundred years later. The statue that stands over her tomb, as seen today, depicts the "gentille Agnes" in all her beauty, with her hands folded on her chest, a kneeling angel at her head, and a resting lamb at her feet—a reminder of her innocence, as Henry James said, but it’s certain he was just being polite. She was lovely and good in her own way, but innocent she was not, as we have come to understand the term.
It is fitting to recall that Charles VII. was not the only monarch who sang her praises, for it was François I. who, many years later, wrote those lines beginning:
It’s worth remembering that Charles VII wasn’t the only king who praised her, as it was François I who, many years later, wrote those lines starting with:
Whether one comes to Loches by road or by rail, the first impression is the same; he enters at once into a sleepy, old-world town which has practically nothing of modernity about it except the electric lights.190
Whether you arrive in Loches by car or by train, the first impression is the same; you immediately step into a quiet, old-fashioned town that has almost no signs of modernity apart from the electric lights.190
There is but one way to realize the immense wealth of architectural monuments centred at Loches, and that is to see the city for the first time, as, perhaps, François Premier saw it when he journeyed from Amboise, and came upon it from the heights of the forest of Loches. The city has not grown much since that day. Then it had three thousand eight hundred souls, and now it has five thousand.
There’s only one way to appreciate the incredible architectural landmarks in Loches, and that’s to see the city for the first time, just like François Premier probably did when he traveled from Amboise and first spotted it from the heights of the Loches forest. The city hasn’t changed much since then. Back then, it had three thousand eight hundred residents, and now it has five thousand.
Here, in the Forêt de Loches, Henry II. of England built a monastery,—yet to be seen,—known as the Chartreuse du Liget, in repentance, or, perhaps, as a penance for the murder of Becket. Over the doorway of this monastery was graven:
Here, in the Forêt de Loches, Henry II of England constructed a monastery—still visible today—called the Chartreuse du Liget, as an act of repentance, or maybe as a form of penance for the murder of Becket. Above the entrance of this monastery was inscribed:
THOMÆ CŒDE CRUENTUS,
LIGETICOS FUNDAT CARTUSIA MONAKOS.
To-day the monastery is the property of a M. de Marsay, and therefore not open to the public; but the Chapelle du Liget, near by, is a fine contemporary church of the thirteenth century, well worth the admiration too infrequently bestowed upon it.
To day the monastery is owned by M. de Marsay, so it’s not open to the public; however, the Chapelle du Liget nearby is a beautiful contemporary church from the thirteenth century, definitely worthy of the admiration that is too rarely given to it.
The first view of Loches must really be much as it was in François's time, except, perhaps, that the roadway down from the forest has improved, as roads have all over France, and191 fruit-trees and vineyards planted out, which, however, in no way change the aspect when the town is first seen in the dim haze of an early November morning.
The first glimpse of Loches is probably quite similar to what it was during François's time, except maybe that the road from the forest has gotten better, like roads have all across France, and191fruit trees and vineyards have been planted. However, these changes don’t affect how the town looks when you see it for the first time in the gray mist of an early November morning.
It is the sky-line ensemble of the châteaux of the Renaissance period which is their most varied feature. No two are alike, and yet they are all wonderfully similar in that they cut the sky with turret, tower, and chimney in a way which suggests nothing as much as the architecture of fairy-land.
It’s the skyline ensemble of the Renaissance châteaux that showcases their most diverse characteristic. No two are the same, yet they all share a magical similarity as they pierce the sky with their turrets, towers, and chimneys, resembling something straight out of a fairy tale.
The artists who illustrated the old fairy-tale books and drew castles wherein dwelt beautiful maidens could nowhere have found more real inspiration than among the châteaux of the Loire, the Cher, and the Indre.
The artists who illustrated the old fairy-tale books and drew castles where beautiful maidens lived could have found no better inspiration than in the châteaux of the Loire, the Cher, and the Indre.
Loches is a veritable mediæval town, and it is even more than that, for its history dates back into the earliest years of feudal times. Loches is one of those soi-disant French towns not great enough to be a metropolis, and yet quite indifferent to the affairs of the outside world.
Loches is a true medieval town, and it's even more than that, as its history goes back to the early years of feudal times. Loches is one of those so-called French towns that isn't big enough to be a metropolis, yet remains pretty uninterested in the happenings of the outside world.
The only false notes are those sounded by the various hawkers and cadgers for the visitor's money, who have hired various old mediæval structures, within the walls, and assure one that in the basement of their establishment192 there are fragments "recently discovered,"—this in English,—quite worth the price of admission which they charge you to peer about in a gloomy hole of a cellar, littered with empty wine-bottles and rubbish of all sorts.
The only false notes come from the various vendors and beggars trying to get money from visitors. They’ve rented out several old medieval buildings within the walls and claim that in the basement of their place192 there are “recently discovered” fragments—in English—totally worth the admission price they charge you to peek into a dark, messy cellar filled with empty wine bottles and all kinds of junk.
All this is delightful enough to the simon-pure antiquarian; but even he likes to dig things out for himself, and the householders can't all expect to find cachots in their sub-cellars or iron cages in their garrets unless they manufacture them.
All of this is quite enjoyable for the true antiquarian; however, even he prefers to uncover things on his own, and homeowners can’t all expect to discover cachots in their basements or iron cages in their attics unless they create them.
The old town, in spite of its lack of modernity, is full of surprises and contrasts that must make it very livable to one who cares to spend a winter within its walls. He may walk about on the ramparts on sunny days; may fish in the Indre, below the mill; and, if he is an artist, he will find, within a comparatively small area, much more that is exceedingly "paintable" than is usually found in the fishing-villages of Brittany or on the sand-dunes of the Pas de Calais, "artist's sketching-grounds" which have been pretty well worked of late.
The old town, despite its lack of modern amenities, is full of surprises and contrasts that make it quite livable for anyone willing to spend a winter inside its walls. You can stroll along the ramparts on sunny days, fish in the Indre below the mill, and if you're an artist, you'll discover a surprisingly compact area with much more that is incredibly “paintable” than what's typically found in the fishing villages of Brittany or on the sand dunes of Pas de Calais, “artist’s sketching grounds” that have been pretty well covered lately.
The history of Loches is so varied and vivid that it is easy to account for the many remains of feudal and Renaissance days now existing. The derivation of its name is in some doubt. Loches was unquestionably the Luccæ of the193 Romans, but the Armorican Celts had the word loc'h, meaning much the same thing,—un marais,—which is also wonderfully like the loch known to-day in the place-names of Scotland and the lough of Ireland. Partisans may take their choice.
The history of Loches is so diverse and vivid that it's easy to understand the many remnants from the feudal and Renaissance periods that still exist today. The origin of its name is somewhat uncertain. Loches was undoubtedly the Luccæ of the193 Romans, but the Armorican Celts had the word loc'h, which means pretty much the same thing—a marsh—and is also reminiscent of the loch found in place names in Scotland and the lough in Ireland. Supporters can choose their preference.
In the fifth century a monastery was founded here by St. Ours, which ultimately gave its name to the collegiate church which exists to-day. A château, or more probably a fortress, appeared in the sixth century. The city was occupied by the Franks in the seventh century, but by 630 it had become united with Aquitaine. Pepin sacked it in 742, and Charles le Chauve made it a seat of a hereditary government which, by alliance, passed to the house of Anjou in 886, to whom it belonged up to 1205. Jean-sans-Terre gave it to France in 1193. Richard Cœur de Lion apparently resented this, for he retook it in the year following. In 1204, Philippe-Auguste besieged Chinon and Loches simultaneously, and took the latter after a year, when he made it a fief, and gave it to Dreux de Mello, Constable of France, who in turn sold it to St. Louis.
In the fifth century, St. Ours founded a monastery here, which eventually gave its name to the collegiate church that exists today. A château, or more likely a fortress, appeared in the sixth century. The Franks occupied the city in the seventh century, but by 630, it had become part of Aquitaine. Pepin sacked it in 742, and Charles the Bald made it a seat of hereditary government, which passed through alliance to the house of Anjou in 886, where it remained until 1205. John Lackland gave it to France in 1193. Richard the Lionheart apparently resented this, as he retook it the following year. In 1204, Philip Augustus besieged Chinon and Loches at the same time, capturing the latter after a year, when he made it a fief and gave it to Dreux de Mello, Constable of France, who then sold it to St. Louis.
The château of Loches became first a fortress, guarding the ancient Roman highway from the Blaisois to Aquitaine, then a prison,194 and then a royal residence, to which Charles VII. frequently repaired with Agnes Sorel, which calls up again the strangely contrasting influences of the two women whose names have gone down in history linked with that of Charles VII.
The château of Loches started as a fortress, protecting the ancient Roman road from Blaisois to Aquitaine, then became a prison,194 and later a royal residence, where Charles VII often visited with Agnes Sorel. This brings to mind the oddly contrasting influences of the two women whose names are forever connected with Charles VII in history.
"Louis XI. aggrandized the château," says a French authority, "and perfected the prisons," whatever that may mean. He did, we know, build those terrible dungeons far down below the surface of the ground, where daylight never penetrated. They were perfect enough in all conscience as originally built, at least as perfect as the celebrated iron cage in which he imprisoned Cardinal Balue. The cage is not in its wonted place to-day, and only a ring in the wall indicates where it was once made fast.
"Louis XI increased the château's grandeur," says a French expert, "and improved the prisons," whatever that means. We know he built those horrifying dungeons deep underground, where sunlight never reached. They were quite complete as originally constructed, at least as complete as the famous iron cage where he imprisoned Cardinal Balue. The cage isn't in its usual spot today, and only a ring in the wall shows where it was once secured.
Charles VIII. added the great round tower; but it was not completed until the reign of Louis XII. François I., in a not too friendly meeting, received Charles Quint here in 1539, just previous to his visit to Amboise. Marie de Medici, on escaping from Blois, stopped at the château at the invitation of the governor, the Duc d'Epernon, who sped her on her way, as joyfully as possible, to Angoulême.
Charles VIII added the large round tower, but it wasn't finished until Louis XII's reign. François I had a rather unfriendly meeting with Charles Quint here in 1539, just before his visit to Amboise. Marie de Medici, after escaping from Blois, stopped at the château at the invitation of the governor, the Duc d'Epernon, who happily sent her on her way to Angoulême.
The château itself is the chief attraction of interest, just as it is the chief feature of the195 landscape when viewed from afar. Of course it is understood that, when one speaks of the château at Loches, he refers to the collective châteaux which, in more or less fragmentary form, go to make up the edifice as it is to-day.
The château is the main point of interest, just as it dominates the195 landscape from a distance. It's clear that when someone mentions the château at Loches, they are talking about the various châteaux that, in their more or less incomplete forms, combine to create the structure we see today.
Whether we admire most the structure of Geoffrey Grise-Gonelle, the elegant edifice of the fifteenth century, or the additions of Charles VII., Louis XI., Charles VIII., Louis XII., or Henri III., we must conclude that to know this conglomerate structure intimately one must actually live with it. Nowhere in France—perhaps in no country—is there a château that suggests so stupendously the story of its past.
Whether we most admire the structure of Geoffrey Grise-Gonelle, the elegant building from the fifteenth century, or the additions made by Charles VII, Louis XI, Charles VIII, Louis XII, or Henri III, we must conclude that to truly understand this complex structure, one has to actually live with it. Nowhere in France—perhaps in any country—does a château convey the story of its past as dramatically.
The chief and most remarkable features are undoubtedly the great rectangular keep or donjon, and the Tour Neuf or Tour Ronde. The first, in its immensity, quite rivals the best examples of the kind elsewhere, if it does not actually excel them in dimensions. It is, moreover, according to De Caumont, the most beautiful of all the donjons of France. As a state prison it confined Jean, Duc d'Alençon, Pierre de Brézé, and Philippe de Savoie.
The main and most impressive features are definitely the large rectangular keep or donjon, and the Tour Neuf or Tour Ronde. The first, with its massive size, is comparable to the best examples of its kind found elsewhere, if it doesn't actually surpass them in size. Additionally, according to De Caumont, it is the most beautiful donjon in all of France. As a state prison, it held Jean, Duc d'Alençon, Pierre de Brézé, and Philippe de Savoie.
The Tour Ronde is a great cylinder flanked with dependencies which give it a more or less irregular form. It encloses the prison where196 were formerly kept the famous cages, the invention of Cardinal Balue, who himself became their first victim. The Tour Ronde is reminiscent of two great female figures in the mediæval portrait gallery,—Agnes Sorel and Anne de Bretagne. The tomb of Agnes Sorel is here, and the Duchesse Anne made an oratory in this grim tower, from which she sent up her prayer for the success and unity of the political plans which inspired her marriage into the royal family of France. It is a daintily decorated chamber, with the queen's family device, the ermine with its twisted necklet, prominently displayed.
The Tour Ronde is a large cylindrical structure with irregular extensions that give it a unique shape. It houses the prison where196 the famous cages, invented by Cardinal Balue, were once kept; he himself became their first prisoner. The Tour Ronde brings to mind two significant female figures from medieval history—Agnes Sorel and Anne de Bretagne. Agnes Sorel’s tomb is located here, and Duchesse Anne created a chapel in this somber tower, where she offered prayers for the success and unity of the political ambitions that motivated her marriage into the French royal family. The chamber is delicately decorated, prominently featuring the queen’s family emblem, the ermine with its twisted collar.
In the passage which conducts to the dungeons of this great round tower, one reads this ironical invitation: "Entrés, messieurs, ches le Roy Nostre Mestre" (O.F.).
In the passage that leads to the dungeons of this great round tower, one reads this ironic invitation: "Entrés, messieurs, ches le Roy Nostre Mestre" (O.F.).
That portion of the collective châteaux facing to the north is now occupied by the Sous-Préfecture, and is more after the manner of the residential châteaux of the Loire than of a fortress-stronghold or prison. Before this portion stands the famous chestnut-tree, planted, it is said, by François I., "and large enough to shelter the whole population of Loches beneath its foliage," says the same doubtful authority.197
That part of the group of châteaux that faces north is now home to the Sous-Préfecture and resembles the residential châteaux of the Loire more than a fortress or prison. In front of this area stands the famous chestnut tree, which, according to some unreliable sources, was planted by François I. It’s said to be large enough to shade the entire population of Loches beneath its leaves.197
Under a fifteenth-century structure, called the Martelet, are the true dungeons of Loches. Here one is shown the cell occupied for nine years by the poor Ludovic Sforza, who died in 1510, from the mere joy of being liberated. More deeply hidden still is the famous Prison des Évêques of the era of François I. and the dungeon of Comte de St. Vallier, the father of the fascinating Diane, who herself was the means of securing his liberation by "fascinating the king," as one French writer puts it. This may be so. St. Vallier was liberated, we know, and the susceptible François was fascinated, though he soon tired of Diane and her charms. She had the perspicacity, however, to transfer her affections to his son, and so kept up a sort of family relationship.
Under a 15th-century structure known as the Martelet are the actual dungeons of Loches. Here, you can see the cell where poor Ludovic Sforza was held for nine years, dying in 1510 from the sheer joy of being freed. Even more hidden is the famous Prison des Évêques from the time of François I and the dungeon of Comte de St. Vallier, the father of the captivating Diane, who managed to secure his release by "captivating the king," as one French writer puts it. This may be true. St. Vallier was released, we know, and the impressionable François was captivated, though he soon lost interest in Diane and her charms. However, she had the insight to shift her affections to his son, maintaining a sort of familial connection.
Like the historic "prisoner of Gisors," the occupants of the dungeons at Loches whiled away their lonely hours by inscribing their sentiments upon the walls. Only one remains to-day, though fragmentary stone-carved letters and characters are to be seen here and there. He who wrote the following was certainly as cheerful as circumstances would allow:
Like the famous "prisoner of Gisors," the people held in the dungeons at Loches spent their lonely hours carving their feelings into the walls. Only one remains today, although you can find broken stone-carved letters and symbols scattered about. The person who wrote the following was definitely trying to stay cheerful despite their situation:
198And the cruel fate that I endure, Il y a encore des biens pour moi,
"The tender love and sweet hope."
Most of these formidable dungeons of Loches were prisons of state until well into the sixteenth century.
Most of these impressive dungeons of Loches were state prisons until well into the sixteenth century.
Beneath, or rather beside, the very walls of the château is the bizarre collegiate church of St. Ours. One says bizarre, simply because it is curious, and not because it is unchurchly in any sense of the word, for it is not. Its low nave is surmounted by an enormous tower with a stone spire, while there are two other pyramidal erections over the roof of the choir which make the whole look, not like an elephant, as a cynical Frenchman once wrote, but rather199 like a camel with two humps. This strange architectural anomaly is, in parts, almost pagan; certainly its font, a fragment of an ancient altar on which once burned a sacred fire, is pagan.
Beneath, or rather next to, the very walls of the château is the peculiar collegiate church of St. Ours. It's called peculiar simply because it's interesting, and not because it lacks any churchly quality, because it doesn't. Its low nave is topped by a massive tower with a stone spire, while there are two other pyramid-shaped structures above the roof of the choir that make the whole building look, not like an elephant, as a sarcastic Frenchman once said, but rather 199 like a camel with two humps. This strange architectural oddity is, in places, almost pagan; definitely its font, a fragment of an ancient altar where a sacred fire once burned, is pagan.
There is a Romanesque porch of vast dimensions which is the real artistic expression of the fabric, dressed with extraordinary primitive sculptures of saints, demons, stryges, gnomes, and all manner of outré things. All these details, however, are chiselled with a masterly conception.
There is a large Romanesque porch that truly showcases the artistry of the structure, adorned with incredible primitive sculptures of saints, demons, strange creatures, gnomes, and all sorts of unusual things. All these details, however, are carved with exceptional skill.
Behind this exterior vestibule the first bays of the nave form another, a sort of an inner vestibule, which carries out still further the unique arrangement of the whole edifice. This portion of the structure dates from a consecration of the year 965, which therefore classes it as of very early date,—indeed, few are earlier. Most of the church, however, is of the twelfth century, including another great pyramid which rises above the nave and the two smaller ones just behind the spire. The side-aisles of the nave were added between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries, while only the stalls and the tabernacle are as recent as the sixteenth. The eastern end is triapsed, an unusual feature in France. From this one realizes, quite to the200 fullest extent possible, the antiquity and individuality of the Église de St. Ours at Loches.
Behind this outer entrance, the first sections of the main hall create another area, almost like an inner vestibule, which further develops the unique design of the entire building. This part of the structure dates back to the consecration in 965, which makes it very old—indeed, few are older. However, most of the church is from the twelfth century, including another large pyramid that rises above the nave and the two smaller ones just behind the spire. The side aisles of the nave were added between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries, while only the seating and the tabernacle are from the sixteenth century. The eastern end is triapsed, which is an unusual feature in France. From this, one fully appreciates the age and uniqueness of the Église de St. Ours in Loches.
The quaint Renaissance Hôtel-de-Ville was built by the architect Jean Beaudoin (1535-1543), from sums raised, under letters patent from François I., by certain octroi taxes. From the fact that through its lower story passes one of the old city entrances, it has come to be known also as the Porte Picoys. In every way it is a worthy example of Renaissance civic architecture.
The charming Renaissance Hôtel-de-Ville was built by architect Jean Beaudoin between 1535 and 1543, funded by certain Octroi taxes authorized by François I. Since one of the old city entrances runs through its lower level, it is also referred to as the Porte Picoys. In every respect, it serves as an excellent example of Renaissance civic architecture.
In the Rue de Château is a remarkable Renaissance house, known as the Chancellerie, which dates from the reign of Henri II. It has most curious sculptures on its façade interspersed with the devices of royalty and the inscription:
In the Rue de Château stands a remarkable Renaissance house, known as the Chancellerie, dating back to the reign of Henri II. Its façade features some very interesting sculptures, along with royal emblems and the inscription:
The Tour St. Antoine serves to-day as the city's belfry. It is all that remains of a church, demolished long since, which was built in 1519-30, in imitation of St. Gatien's of Tours. Doubtless it was base in many of its details, as is its more famous compeer at Tours; but, if the old tower which remains is any indication, it must have been an elaborate and imposing work of the late Gothic and early Renaissance era.201
The Tour St. Antoine serves today as the city's bell tower. It's all that's left of a church that was demolished long ago, built between 1519 and 1530, inspired by St. Gatien's in Tours. It was probably lacking in many details, just like its more famous counterpart in Tours; however, if the old tower that's still standing is any indication, it must have been an elaborate and impressive structure from the late Gothic and early Renaissance period.201
As a literary note, lovers of Dumas's romances will be interested in the fact that in the Hôtel de la Couroirie at Loches a body of Protestants captured the celebrated Chicot, the jester of Henri III. and Henri IV.
As a literary note, fans of Dumas's romances will be interested to know that at the Hôtel de la Couroirie in Loches, a group of Protestants captured the famous Chicot, the jester of Henri III and Henri IV.
Loches has a near neighbour in Beaulieu, which formerly possessed an ardent hatred for its more progressive and successful contemporary, Loches. Its very name has been perverted by local historians as coming from Bellilocus, "the place of war," and not "le lieu d'un bel aspect."
Loches has a close neighbor in Beaulieu, which used to have a deep resentment for its more advanced and successful counterpart, Loches. The name itself has been twisted by local historians to mean Bellilocus, "the place of war," rather than "le lieu d'un bel aspect."
The abbey church at Beaulieu was built by the warlike Foulques Nerra (in 1008-12), who usually built fortresses and left church-building to monks and bishops. It is a remarkable Romanesque example, though, since the fifteenth century, it has been mostly in ruins. Foulques Nerra himself, whose countenance had "la majesté de celui d'un ange," found his last resting-place within its walls, which also sheltered much rich ornament, to-day greatly defaced, though that of the nave, which is still intact, is an evidence of its former worth.
The abbey church at Beaulieu was built by the warrior Foulques Nerra (from 1008 to 1012), who typically focused on building fortresses and left church construction to monks and bishops. It's a notable example of Romanesque architecture, although since the fifteenth century, it’s mostly been in ruins. Foulques Nerra himself, whose face had “la majesté de celui d'un ange,” found his final resting place within its walls, which also housed a lot of beautiful decorations that are now mostly damaged, though the nave's ornamentation, which is still intact, shows its former glory.
The abbatial residence, still existent, has a curious exterior pulpit built into the wall, examples of which are not too frequent in France.
The abbey residence, still standing, features a unique exterior pulpit built into the wall, which isn’t that common in France.
Agnes Sorel, the belle of belles, lived here for202 a time in a house near the Porte de Guigné, which bears a great stone panonceau, from which the armorial bearings have to-day disappeared. It is another notable monument to "the most graceful woman of her times," and without doubt has as much historic value as many another more popular shrine of history.
Agnes Sorel, the beauty of all beauties, lived here for202 a while in a house near the Porte de Guigné, which has a large stone sign on it, from which the coat of arms have now vanished. It stands as another remarkable monument to "the most graceful woman of her times," and undoubtedly holds as much historical significance as many other more famous historical sites.
In connection with Agnes Sorel, who was so closely identified with Loches and Beaulieu, it is to be recalled that she was known to the chroniclers of her time as "la dame de Beauté-sur-Marne,"—a place which does not appear in the books of the modern geographers. It may be noted, too, that it was the encouragement of the "belle des belles" of Charles VII. that, in a way, contributed to that monarch's success in politics and arms, for her sway only began with Jeanne d'Arc's supplication at Gien and Chinon. Tradition has it, indeed, that it was the "gentille Agnes" who put the sword of victory in his hands when he set out on his campaign of reconquest. Thus does the Jeanne d'Arc legend receive a damaging blow.
In connection with Agnes Sorel, who was closely associated with Loches and Beaulieu, it's worth noting that she was known to the historians of her time as "la dame de Beauté-sur-Marne,"—a place that doesn't appear in modern geography books. It's also important to mention that the support of the "belle des belles" of Charles VII helped contribute to his success in politics and war, as her influence really began with Jeanne d'Arc's appeal at Gien and Chinon. Tradition has it that it was the "gentille Agnes" who placed the sword of victory in his hands when he set off on his campaign for reconquest. This certainly undermines the Jeanne d'Arc legend.
The château of Sausac, an elegant edifice of the sixteenth century, completely restored in later days, is near by.203
The château of Sausac, a beautiful building from the sixteenth century, has been fully restored in more recent times and is nearby.203
CHAPTER X.To ToC
TOURS AND ABOUT THERE
Tours, above all other of the ancient capitals of the French provinces, remains to-day a ville de luxe, the elegant capital of a land balmy and delicious; a land of which Dante sung:
Tours, more than any other ancient capital of the French provinces, is still today a ville de luxe, the stylish capital of a pleasant and delightful land; a land that Dante praised:
It is not a very grand town as the secondary cities of France go; not like Rouen or Lyons, Bordeaux or Marseilles; but it is as typical a reflection of the surrounding country as any, and therein lies its charm.
It’s not a particularly impressive town compared to other cities in France; not like Rouen or Lyon, Bordeaux or Marseille; but it perfectly represents the surrounding countryside, and that’s where its charm lies.
One never comes within the influence of its luxurious, or, at least, easy and comfortable appointments, its distinctly modern and up-to-date railway station, its truly magnificent modern Hôtel de Ville, its well-appointed hotels and cafés and its luxurious shops, but that he realizes all this to a far greater extent than in any other city of France.
One always feels the impact of its luxurious, or at least, easy and comfortable amenities, its distinctly modern and up-to-date train station, its truly magnificent modern City Hall, its well-equipped hotels and cafés, and its upscale shops, making it clear that all of this is more pronounced than in any other city in France.
And again, referring to the material things204 of life, everything is most comfortable, and the restaurants and hotels most attractive in their fare. Tours is truly one provincial capital where the cuisine bourgeoise still lives.
And once more, talking about the material aspects of life204, everything is very comfortable, and the restaurants and hotels are really appealing in what they offer. Tours is definitely one provincial capital where the cuisine bourgeoise is still thriving.
Touraine, and Tours in particular, besides many other things, is noted for its hotels. Their praises have been sung often and loudly, not forgetting Henry James's praise of the Hôtel de l'Univers, which is all one expects to find it and more. The same may be said of the Hôtel du Croissant, with the added opinion that it serves the most bountiful and excellent déjeuner to be had in all provincial France. It is difficult to say just what actually causes all this excellence and abundance, except that the catering there is an easy and pleasurable occupation.
Touraine, especially Tours, is known for its hotels. Their praises have been sung often and loudly, including Henry James's appreciation of the Hôtel de l'Univers, which meets all expectations and more. The same goes for the Hôtel du Croissant, with the added note that it offers the most generous and excellent breakfast available in all of provincial France. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what makes all of this quality and abundance happen, but catering there seems to be an enjoyable and effortless task.
The Rue Nationale—"toujours et vraiment royale"—is the great artery of Tours running riverwards. On it circulates all the life of the city.
The Rue Nationale—"always and truly royal"—is the main street of Tours that runs toward the river. It's where all the life of the city flows.
To the right is the Quartier de la Cathédrale, where are assembled the great houses of the nobility—or such of them as are left—and of the old bourgeoisie tourangelle.
To the right is the Quartier de la Cathédrale, where the grand houses of the nobility—or what’s left of them—and the old bourgeoisie tourangelle are gathered.
To the left are the streets of the workers, a silk-mill or two, and the printing-offices. Tours is and always has been celebrated for the num205ber and size of its imprimeries, with which, in olden times, the name of the great Christopher Plantin, the master printer of Antwerp, was connected. To-day, Tours's greatest establishment is that of Alfred Mame et Fils, known throughout the Roman Catholic world.
To the left are the streets where workers live, a couple of silk mills, and the printing offices. Tours has always been famous for the number and size of its imprimeries, which were once linked to the name of the great Christopher Plantin, the master printer of Antwerp. Today, Tours's biggest establishment is Alfred Mame et Fils, recognized throughout the Roman Catholic world.
The printers and booksellers of the middle ages were favoured persons, and their rank was high. In the days of solemn processions the booksellers led the way, followed by the paper-makers, the parchment-makers, the scribes,—who had not wholly died out,—the binders and the illuminators. In these days the printers were granted an emblazoned arms, which was characteristic and distinguished. The same was true of the avocats, who bore upon their escutcheon a gowned figure, with something very like a halo surrounding its head. The innkeepers went one better, and had a bishop with an undeniable halo. This is206 curious and inexplicable in the light of our modern conception of similar things, but it's better than a shield with quarterings representing half a canal-boat and half a locomotive, which was recently adopted by an enterprising watering-place which shall be nameless.
The printers and booksellers of the Middle Ages were respected individuals with high status. During formal processions, the booksellers took the lead, followed by the paper-makers, parchment-makers, scribes—who hadn’t completely disappeared—binders, and illuminators. Back then, printers were awarded a unique and notable coat of arms. The same applied to the avocats, who displayed a gowned figure on their shield, with something resembling a halo around its head. The innkeepers went a step further, featuring a bishop with a clear halo. This is206odd and hard to understand when viewed through our modern perspective, but it’s certainly more impressive than a shield with designs of half a canal-boat and half a locomotive, which was recently adopted by a certain ambitious seaside resort that shall remain unnamed.
In the same ancient quarter are the old towers of Charlemagne and St. Martin. This part of the town is the nucleus of the old foundation, the site of the oppidum of the Turones, the Cæsarodunum gallo-romain, and of the life which centred around the old abbey of St. Martin, so venerated and so powerful in the middle ages.
In the same historic area are the old towers of Charlemagne and St. Martin. This part of town is the heart of the old settlement, the site of the oppidum of the Turones, the Cæsarodunum gallo-romain, and the life that revolved around the old abbey of St. Martin, which was so revered and influential in the Middle Ages.
To the inviolable refuge of this old abbey came multitudes of Christian pilgrims from the world over; the Merovingians to undergo the penances imposed upon them by the bishops and clerics in expiation of their crimes. Under Charlemagne, the Abbé Alcuin founded great schools of languages, history, astronomy, and music, from which founts of learning went forth innumerable and illustrious religious teachers.
To the sacred sanctuary of this old abbey came many Christian pilgrims from around the world; the Merovingians came to fulfill the penances set by the bishops and clergy to atone for their sins. Under Charlemagne, Abbé Alcuin established great schools of languages, history, astronomy, and music, from which countless famous religious teachers emerged.
All but the two towers of this old religious foundation are gone. The years of the Revolution saw the fall of the abbey; a street was cut through the nave of its church, and the two207 dismembered parts stand to-day as monuments to the sacrilege of modern times.
All but the two towers of this old religious foundation are gone. The years of the Revolution saw the fall of the abbey; a street was cut through the main part of its church, and the two207 dismembered parts stand today as reminders of the sacrilege of modern times.
To-day a banal faubourg has sprung up around the site of the abbey, with here and there old tumble-down houses either of wood and stone, such as one reads of in the pages of Balzac, or sees in the designs of Doré, or with their sides covered with overlapping slates.
Today, a dull suburb has emerged around the site of the abbey, with a mix of old, dilapidated houses made of wood and stone, like those described in Balzac's works or depicted in Doré's illustrations, or with their sides layered in overlapping shingles.
Amid all these is an occasional treasure of architectural art, such as the graceful Fountain of Beaune, the work of Michel Colombe, and some remains of early Renaissance houses of somewhat more splendid appointments than their fellows, particularly the Maison de Tristan l'Hermite, the Hôtel Xaincoings, and many exquisite fragments now made over into an auberge or a cabaret, which make one dream of Rabelais and his Gargantua.
Amid all this, there's the occasional gem of architectural art, like the elegant Fountain of Beaune, designed by Michel Colombe, and some remnants of early Renaissance homes that are a bit more elegant than the others, especially the Maison de Tristan l'Hermite, the Hôtel Xaincoings, and many beautiful fragments that have now been turned into an auberge or a cabaret, evoking dreams of Rabelais and his Gargantua.
It is uncertain whether Michel Colombe, who designed this fountain and also that masterwork, the tomb of the Duc François II. and Marguerite de Foix, at Nantes, was a Tourangeau or a Breton, but Tours claims him for her own, and settles once for all the spelling of his name by producing a "papier des affaires" signed plainly "Colombe." The proof lies in this document, signed in a notary's office at Tours, concerning payments which were made208 to him on behalf of the magnificent sepulchre which he executed for the church of St. Sauveur at La Rochelle. In his time—fifteenth century—Colombe had no rivals in the art of monumental sculpture in France, and with reason he has been called the Michel Ange of France.
It’s unclear whether Michel Colombe, who designed this fountain and the stunning tomb of Duc François II and Marguerite de Foix in Nantes, was from Tours or Brittany, but Tours claims him as one of their own and settles the spelling of his name by presenting a "papier des affaires" that simply says "Colombe." The evidence is in this document, signed in a notary’s office in Tours, about payments made208 to him for the magnificent tomb he created for the church of St. Sauveur in La Rochelle. During his time in the fifteenth century, Colombe had no rivals in the field of monumental sculpture in France, and he has rightly been called the Michelangelo of France.
The cathedral quarter has for its chief attraction that gorgeously florid St. Gatien, whose ornate façade was likened by a certain monarch to a magnificently bejewelled casket. It is an interesting and lovable Gothic-Renaissance church which, if not quite of the first rank among the masterpieces of its kind, is a marvel of splendour, and an example of the "caprices d'une guipure d'art," as the French call it.
The cathedral quarter's main attraction is the stunningly ornate St. Gatien, whose elaborate façade was compared by a certain king to a beautifully jeweled box. It's an intriguing and charming Gothic-Renaissance church that, while not quite among the top masterpieces of its kind, is a marvel of beauty and an example of the "caprices d'une guipure d'art," as the French say.
Bordering the Loire at Tours is a series of tree-lined quays and promenades which are the scenes, throughout the spring and summer months, of fêtes and fairs of many sorts. Here, too, at the extremity of the Rue Nationale, are statues of Descartes and Balzac.
Bordering the Loire in Tours is a stretch of tree-lined riverbanks and walkways that come alive with festivals and fairs of all kinds during the spring and summer months. Also, at the end of Rue Nationale, you can find statues of Descartes and Balzac.
The Tour de Guise on the river-bank recalls the domination of the Plantagenet kings of England, who were Counts of Anjou since it formed a part of the twelfth-century château built here by Henry II. of England.
The Tour de Guise by the riverbank reminds us of the rule of the Plantagenet kings of England, who were Counts of Anjou since it was part of the twelfth-century castle built here by Henry II of England.
At the opposite extremity of the city is another other tower, the Tour de Foubert, which pro209tected the feudal domain of the old abbey of St. Martin. The history of days gone by at Tours was more churchly than political.
At the other end of the city is another tower, the Tour de Foubert, which protected the feudal estate of the old abbey of St. Martin. The history of the past at Tours was more about the church than politics.
Once only—during the reign of Louis XII.—did the States General meet at Tours (in 1506). Then the deputies of the bourgeoisie met alone for their deliberations, the chief outcome of which was to bestow upon the king the eminently fitting title of "Père du Peuple." One may question the righteousness of Louis XII. in throwing over his wife, Jeanne de France, in order to serve political ends by acquiring the estates of Anne of Brittany for the Crown of France for ever, but there is no doubt but that he did it for the "good of his people."
Once, during the reign of Louis XII, the States General convened in Tours (in 1506). The delegates of the bourgeoisie gathered alone to discuss matters, leading to the significant decision to grant the king the fitting title of "Père du Peuple." One might question the morality of Louis XII in abandoning his wife, Jeanne de France, to pursue political goals by acquiring the estates of Anne of Brittany for the Crown of France permanently, but there's no doubt he did it for the "good of his people."
The principal literary shrine at Tours is the house, in the Rue Nationale, where was born Honoré de Balzac.
The main literary landmark in Tours is the house on Rue Nationale where Honoré de Balzac was born.
One could not do better than to visit Tours during the "été de St. Martin," since it was the soldier-priest of Tours who gave his name to that warm, bright prolongation of summer which in France (and in England) is known as "St. Martin's summer," and which finds its counterpart in America's "Indian summer."
One can’t go wrong with a visit to Tours during the "été de St. Martin," because it was the soldier-priest of Tours who inspired the name for that warm, sunny extension of summer that’s known in France (and England) as "St. Martin's summer," similar to what we call "Indian summer" in America.
The legend tells us that somewhere in the dark ages lived a soldier named Martin. He was always of a charitable disposition, and210 none asked alms of him in vain. One November day, when the wind blew briskly and the snow fell fast, a beggar asked for food and clothing. Martin had but his own cloak, and this he forthwith tore in half and gave one portion to the beggar. Later on the same night there came a knocking at Martin's door; the snow had ceased falling and the stars shone brightly, and one of goodly presence stood with the cloak on his arm, saying, "I was naked and ye clothed me." Martin straightway became a priest of the church, and died an honoured bishop of Tours, and for ever after the anniversary of his conversion is celebrated by sunny skies.
The legend tells us that somewhere in the dark ages, there lived a soldier named Martin. He was always generous, and210 no one who asked him for help was turned away empty-handed. One November day, with the wind blowing cold and the snow falling heavily, a beggar came asking for food and clothing. Martin only had his own cloak, so he immediately tore it in half and gave one part to the beggar. Later that same night, there was a knock at Martin's door; the snow had stopped, and the stars were shining bright. A man of noble appearance stood there with the cloak on his arm, saying, "I was naked, and you clothed me." Martin then became a priest of the church and later died as an honored bishop of Tours. From then on, the anniversary of his conversion is celebrated with sunny skies.
We owe a double debt to St. Martin. We have to thank him for the saying, "All my eye" and the words "chapel" and "chaplain." The full form of the phrase, "All my eye and Betty Martin," which we all of us have often heard, is an obvious corruption of "O mihi beate Martine," the beginning of an invocation to the saint. The cloak he divided with a naked beggar, which, by the way, took place at Amiens, not at Tours, was treasured as a relic by the Frankish kings, borne before them in battle, and brought forth when solemn oaths were to be taken. The guardians of this cloak211 or cape were known as "cappellani," whence "chaplain," while its sanctuary or "cappella" has become "chapel."
We owe a double debt to St. Martin. We have to thank him for the saying, "All my eye" and the words "chapel" and "chaplain." The full form of the phrase, "All my eye and Betty Martin," which we all have often heard, is an obvious twist on "O mihi beate Martine," the start of a prayer to the saint. The cloak he shared with a naked beggar, which, by the way, happened in Amiens, not Tours, was cherished as a relic by the Frankish kings, carried before them in battle, and presented when important oaths were made. The keepers of this cloak211 or cape were called "cappellani," which is where we get "chaplain," while its place of worship or "cappella" has turned into "chapel."
For their descriptions of Plessis-les-Tours modern English travellers have invariably turned to the pages of Sir Walter Scott. This is all very well in its way, but it is also well to remember that Scott drew his picture from definite information, and it is not merely the product of his imaginary architectural skill. In this respect Scott was certainly far ahead of Carlyle in his estimates of French matters.
For their descriptions of Plessis-les-Tours, modern English travelers have always looked to the works of Sir Walter Scott. This is fine in its own way, but it's also important to remember that Scott based his depiction on solid information and not just his imagination or architectural flair. In this regard, Scott was definitely more advanced than Carlyle in his views on French affairs.
"Even in those days" (writing of "Quentin Durward"), said Scott, "when the great found themselves obliged to reside in places of fortified strength, it" (Plessis-les-Tours) "was distinguished for the extreme and jealous care with which it was watched and defended." All this is substantiated and corroborated by authorities, and, while it may have been chosen by Scott merely as a suitable accessory for the details of his story, Plessis-les-Tours unquestionably was a royal stronghold of such proportions as to be but meanly suggested by the scanty remains of the present day.
"Even back then," said Scott, while writing "Quentin Durward," "when the powerful had to live in fortified places, it" (Plessis-les-Tours) "was known for the extreme and careful way it was monitored and protected." This is backed up by various sources, and although Scott may have picked it just as a fitting backdrop for his story, Plessis-les-Tours was definitely a royal fortress of such significance that its current meager ruins hardly do it justice.
Louis XI. dreamed fondly of Plessis-les-Tours (Plessis being from the Latin Plexitium, a name borne by many suburban villages of212 France), and he sought to make it a royal residence where he should be safe from every outward harm. It had four great towers, crenelated and machicolated, after the best Gothic fortresses of the time. At the four angles of the protecting walls were the principal logis, and between the lines of its ramparts or fosses was an advance-guard of buildings presumably intended for the vassals in time of danger.
Louis XI dreamed fondly of Plessis-les-Tours (with Plessis coming from the Latin Plexitium, a name used by many suburban villages of212 France), and he wanted to turn it into a royal residence where he could be safe from any outside threats. It featured four large towers, with crenellations and machicolations, designed in the style of the best Gothic fortresses of the era. At each corner of the protective walls were the main living quarters, and situated between the lines of its ramparts or moats was a row of buildings likely meant for vassals during times of danger.
This was the castle as Louis first knew it, when it was the property of the chamberlain of the Duchy of Luynes, from whom the king bought it for five thousand and five hundred écus d'or,—the value of fifty thousand francs of to-day.
This was the castle as Louis first knew it, when it belonged to the chamberlain of the Duchy of Luynes, from whom the king bought it for five thousand five hundred écus d'or,—the equivalent of fifty thousand francs today.
Its former appellation, Montilz-les-Tours, was changed (1463) to Plessis. All the chief features have disappeared, and to-day it is but a scrappy collection of tumble-down buildings devoted to all manner of purposes. A few fragmentary low-roofed vaults are left, and a brick and stone building, flanked by an octagonal tower, containing a stairway; but this is about all of the former edifice, which, if not as splendid as some other royal residences, was quite as effectively defended and as suitable to its purposes as any.
Its former name, Montilz-les-Tours, was changed in 1463 to Plessis. Most of the main features are gone, and today it’s just a haphazard collection of run-down buildings used for various purposes. A few broken low-roofed vaults remain, along with a brick and stone structure that has an octagonal tower and a staircase; but that's about it for the old building, which, while not as grand as some other royal residences, was just as well defended and practical for its needs.
It had, too, within its walls a tiny chapel214 dedicated to Our Lady of Cléry, before whose altar the superstitious Louis made his inconstant devotions.
It also had a small chapel214 dedicated to Our Lady of Cléry, where the superstitious Louis performed his inconsistent devotions.
Once a great forest surrounded the château, and was, as Scott says, "rendered dangerous and well-nigh impracticable by snares and traps armed with scythe-blades, which shred off the unwary traveller's limbs ... and calthrops that would pierce your foot through, and pitfalls deep enough to bury you in them for ever." To-day the forest has disappeared, "lost in the night of time," as a French historian has it.
Once, a vast forest surrounded the château, and, as Scott puts it, "made dangerous and almost impossible to navigate with snares and traps armed with scythe blades, which would slice off the limbs of unsuspecting travelers... and caltrops that would pierce your foot, and deep pits that could bury you forever." Today, the forest has vanished, "lost in the night of time," as a French historian puts it.
The detailed description in "Quentin Durward" is, however, as good as any, and, if one has no reference works in French by him, he may well read the dozen or more pages which Sir Walter devotes to the further description of the castle.
The detailed description in "Quentin Durward" is as good as any, and if you don't have any reference works in French by him, you might want to read the dozen or more pages that Sir Walter dedicates to further describing the castle.
Perhaps, after all, it is fitting that a Scot should have written so enthusiastically of it, for the castle itself was guarded by the Scottish archers, "to the number of three hundred gentlemen of the best blood of Scotland."
Perhaps, after all, it makes sense that a Scot wrote so passionately about it, since the castle itself was defended by Scottish archers, "to the number of three hundred gentlemen of the best blood of Scotland."
An anonymous poet has written of the ancient glory of this retreat of Louis's as follows:215
An unknown poet wrote about the ancient glory of this retreat of Louis like this:215
The entrance is secured by iron doors;
The walls are thick, and the moats are deep;
It features battlements, towers, and bastions,
"And armed soldiers guard its walls."
Frame this with such details as the surrounding country supplies, the Cher on one side, the Loire on the other, and the fertile hills of St. Cyr, of Ballon, and of Joué, and one has a picture worthy of the greatest painter of any time.
Frame this with details like the surrounding countryside, the Cher on one side, the Loire on the other, and the lush hills of St. Cyr, Ballon, and Joué, and you have a scene that could impress even the greatest painter of any era.
Louis XI. died at Plessis, after having lived there many years. Louis XII. made of it a rendezvous de chasse, but François II. confided its care to a governor and would never live in it. Louis XIV. gave the governorship as a hereditary perquisite to the widow of the Seigneur de Sausac.
Louis XI died at Plessis, where he had lived for many years. Louis XII turned it into a hunting lodge, but François II entrusted its management to a governor and never stayed there. Louis XIV granted the governorship as a hereditary benefit to the widow of the Seigneur de Sausac.
In 1778 it was used as a sort of retreat for the indigent, though happily enough Touraine was never overburdened with this class of humanity. Under Louis XV. a Mademoiselle Deneux, a momentary rival of La Pompadour and Du Barry, found a retreat here. Later it became a maison de correction, and finally a dépôt militaire. At the time of the Revolution it was declared to be national property, and on the nineteenth Nivoise, Year IV., Citizen Cormeri, justice of the peace at Tours, fixed its216 value at one hundred and thirty-one thousand francs.
In 1778, it was used as a kind of retreat for those in need, though luckily Touraine was never overwhelmed by this group of people. Under Louis XV, a Mademoiselle Deneux, a temporary rival of La Pompadour and Du Barry, found a refuge here. Later, it became a maison de correction, and eventually a dépôt militaire. During the Revolution, it was declared national property, and on the nineteenth Nivoise, Year IV., Citizen Cormeri, a justice of the peace in Tours, assessed its216 value at one hundred thirty-one thousand francs.
To-day it is as bare and uncouth as a mere barracks or as a disused flour-mill, and its ruins are visited partly because of their former historical glories, as recalled by students of French history, and partly because of the glamour which was shed over it, for English readers, by Scott.
Today it is as empty and unrefined as a basic barracks or an abandoned flour mill, and its ruins attract visitors partly due to their former historical significance, as noted by students of French history, and partly because of the allure that Scott created for English readers.
Sixty years ago a French writer deplored the fact that, on leaving these scanty remains of a so long gone past, he observed a notice nailed to a pillar of the porte-cochère reading:
Sixty years ago, a French writer lamented that, upon leaving these sparse remnants of a long-gone past, he saw a notice nailed to a pillar of the porte-cochère reading:
To-day some sort of a division and rearrangement of the property has been made, but the result is no less mournful and sad, and thus a glorious page of the annals of France has become blurred.
Today, some division and rearrangement of the property has taken place, but the outcome is still mournful and sad, leaving a glorious chapter in the history of France marred.
It is interesting to recall what manner of persons composed the household of Louis XI. when he resided at Plessis-les-Tours. Commines, his historian, has said that habitually it consisted of a chancellor, a juge de l'hôtel,217 a private secretary, and a treasurer, each having under him various employees. In addition there was a master of the pantry, a cupbearer, a chef de bouche and a chef de cuisine, a fruitier, a master of the horse, a quartermaster or master-at-arms, and, in immediate control of these domestic servants, a seneschal or grand maître. In many respects the household was not luxuriously conducted, for the parsimonious Louis lived fully up to the false maxim: "Qui peu donne, beaucoup recueille."
It’s interesting to remember who made up the household of Louis XI when he lived at Plessis-les-Tours. Commines, his historian, noted that it typically included a chancellor, a juge de l'hôtel,217 a private secretary, and a treasurer, each overseeing various staff. Additionally, there was a master of the pantry, a cupbearer, a chef de bouche, a chef de cuisine, a fruitier, a master of the horse, a quartermaster or master-at-arms, and directly supervising these domestic servants, a seneschal or grand maître. In many ways, the household wasn’t run luxuriously, as the frugal Louis stuck closely to the false saying: "Qui peu donne, beaucoup recueille."
Louis himself was fond of doing what the modern housewife would call "messing about in the kitchen." He did not dabble at cookery as a pastime, or that sort of thing; but rather he kept an eagle eye on the whole conduct of the affairs of the household.
Louis himself enjoyed what the modern housewife would refer to as "messing about in the kitchen." He didn’t just dabble in cooking as a hobby or something like that; instead, he maintained a close watch on the overall management of the household’s affairs.
One day, coming to the kitchen en négligé, he saw a small boy turning a spit before the fire.
One day, walking into the kitchen in his pajamas, he saw a little boy turning a spit in front of the fire.
"And what might you be called?" said he, patting the lad on the shoulder.
"And what should I call you?" he asked, giving the boy a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Etienne," replied the marmiton.
"Etienne," replied the chef.
"Thy pays, my lad?"
"Your pay, my dude?"
"Le Berry."
"Berry."
"Thy age?"
"Your age?"
"Fifteen, come St. Martin's."
"Fifteen, meet at St. Martin's."
"To be as great as the king" (he had not recognized his royal master).
"To be as great as the king" (he hadn't recognized his royal master).
"And what wishes the king?"
"And what does the king want?"
"His expenses to become less."
"His expenses to decrease."
The reply brought good fortune for the lad, for Louis made him his valet de chambre, and took him afterward into his most intimate confidence.
The response brought good luck for the young man, as Louis made him his valet de chambre and later included him in his closest circle of trust.
Louis was fond of la chasse, and Scott does not overlook this fact in "Quentin Durward." When affairs of state did not press, it was the king's greatest pleasure. For the royal hunt no pains or expense were spared. The carriages were without an equal elsewhere in the courts of Europe, and the hunting establishment was equipped with chiens courants from Spain, levriers from Bretagne, bassets from Valence, mules from Sicily, and horses from Naples.
Louis loved hunting, and Scott doesn't miss this detail in "Quentin Durward." When state matters weren't urgent, it was the king's greatest joy. No effort or expense was spared for the royal hunt. The carriages were unmatched anywhere else in the courts of Europe, and the hunting team was stocked with hounds from Spain, greyhounds from Brittany, basset hounds from Valence, mules from Sicily, and horses from Naples.
The attractions of the environs of Tours are many and interesting: St. Symphorien, Varennes, the Grottoes of Ste. Radegonde, and the site of that most famous abbey of Marmoutier, also a foundation of St. Martin. Here, under the name Martinus Monasterium, grew up an immense and superb establishment. From an old seventeenth-century print one quotes the following couplet:219
The attractions around Tours are numerous and fascinating: St. Symphorien, Varennes, the Grottoes of Ste. Radegonde, and the site of the renowned abbey of Marmoutier, which was also founded by St. Martin. Here, under the name Martinus Monasterium, a vast and impressive establishment developed. An old print from the seventeenth century quotes the following couplet:219
Marmoutier: census and rent.
From this one infers that the abbey's original functions are performed no more.
From this, we can infer that the abbey's original functions are no longer being carried out.
In the middle ages (thirteenth century) it was one of the most powerful institutions of its class, and its church one of the most beautiful220 in Touraine. The tower and donjon are the only substantial remains of this early edifice.
In the Middle Ages (thirteenth century), it was one of the most powerful institutions of its kind, and its church was one of the most beautiful220 in Touraine. The tower and keep are the only significant remnants of this early building.
A curious chapel, called the "Chapelle des Sept Dormants," is here cut in the form of a cross into the rock of the hillside, where are buried the remains of the Seven Sleepers, the disciples of St. Martin, who, as the holy man had predicted, all died on the same day.
A curious chapel, called the "Chapelle des Sept Dormants," is carved into the hillside rock in the shape of a cross, where the remains of the Seven Sleepers are buried. They were disciples of St. Martin, who had predicted that they would all die on the same day.
Beyond Marmoutier, a stairway of 122 steps, cut also in the rock, leads to the plateau on which stands the gaunt and ugly Lanterne de Rochecorbon, a fourteenth-century construction with a crenelated summit, an unlovely companion of that even more enigmatic erection known as "La Pile," a few miles down the Loire at Cinq-Mars.221
Beyond Marmoutier, a stairway of 122 steps, also carved into the rock, leads to the plateau where the gaunt and unattractive Lanterne de Rochecorbon stands. This fourteenth-century structure features a crenelated top and is an unappealing companion to the even more mysterious structure called "La Pile," located a few miles down the Loire at Cinq-Mars.221
CHAPTER XI.To ToC
LUYNES AND LANGEAIS
Below Tours, and before reaching Saumur, are a succession of panoramic surprises which are only to be likened to those of our imagination, but they are very real nevertheless.
Below Tours, and before getting to Saumur, there are a series of stunning views that can only be compared to those in our imagination, but they are very real nonetheless.
As one leaves Tours by the road which skirts the right bank of the Loire, he is once more impressed by the fact that the cailloux de Loire are the river's chief product, though fried fish, of a similar variety to those found in the Seine, are found on the menus of all roadside taverns and restaurants.
As you leave Tours along the road that runs alongside the right bank of the Loire, you can't help but notice that the cailloux de Loire are the river's main product, even though fried fish, similar to those in the Seine, appear on the menus of all the roadside taverns and restaurants.
Still, the effect of the uncovered bed of the Loire, with its variegated pebbles and mirror-like pools, is infinitely more picturesque than if it were mud flats, and its tree-bordered banks are for ever opening great alleyed vistas such as are only known in France.
Still, the view of the exposed bed of the Loire, with its colorful pebbles and shiny pools, is way more scenic than if it were just muddy flats, and its tree-lined banks constantly reveal grand, tree-lined views that are only found in France.
The hills on either bank are not of the stupendous and magnificently scenic order of those of the Seine above and below Rouen; but, such222 as they are, they are of much the same composition, a soft talcy formation which here serves admirably the purposes of cliff-dwellings for the vineyard and wine-press workers, who form practically the sole population of the Loire villages from Vouvray, just above Tours, to Saumur far below.
The hills on either side aren’t as grand and picturesque as those along the Seine near Rouen; but, they’re similar in composition, a soft, talc-like material that works perfectly as cliffs for the vineyard and wine-press workers, who make up almost the entire population of the Loire villages from Vouvray, just above Tours, to Saumur much farther down.
On the hillsides are the vineyards themselves, growing out of the thin layer of soil in shades of red and brown and golden, which no artist has ever been able to copy, for no one has painted the rich colouring of a vineyard in a manner at all approaching the original.
On the hillsides are the vineyards themselves, growing from the thin layer of soil in shades of red, brown, and gold, which no artist has ever been able to replicate, because no one has painted the vibrant colors of a vineyard in a way that even comes close to the real thing.
Not far below Tours, on the right bank, rise the towers and turrets of the Château de Luynes, hanging perilously high above the lowland which borders upon the river. An unpleasant tooting tram gives communication a dozen times a day with Tours, but few, apparently, patronize it except peasants with market-baskets, and vineyard workers going into town for a jollification. It is perhaps just as well, for the fine little town of Luynes, which takes its name from the château which has been the residence of a Comte de Luynes since the days of Louis XIII., would be quite spoiled if it were on the beaten track.223
Not far below Tours, on the right bank, rise the towers and turrets of Château de Luynes, precariously high above the lowlands that border the river. An annoying tram connects to Tours about a dozen times a day, but it seems that only peasants with market baskets and vineyard workers heading into town for a good time use it. This may be for the best, because the charming little town of Luynes, named after the château that has been home to a Count de Luynes since the time of Louis XIII, would be completely ruined if it were on a busy route.223
The brusque façade of the Château de Luynes makes a charming interior, judging from the descriptions and drawings which are to be met with in an elaborately prepared volume devoted to its history.
The stark exterior of the Château de Luynes hides a lovely interior, based on the descriptions and illustrations found in a detailed book dedicated to its history.
The stranger is allowed to enter within the gates of the courtyard, beneath the grim coiffed towers; but he may visit only certain apartments. He will, however, see enough to indicate that the edifice was something more than a mere maison de campagne. All the attributes of an important fortress are here, great, round, thickly built towers, with but few exterior windows, and those high up from the ground. There is nothing of luxurious elegance about it, and its aspect is forbidding, though imposing.
The stranger is allowed to enter the courtyard, beneath the imposing towers; but he can only visit certain areas. However, he will see enough to show that the building is more than just a maison de campagne. It has all the features of a significant fortress: large, round, solidly built towers with very few windows, and those are placed high up. There’s nothing luxurious about it, and while it looks intimidating, it’s also impressive.
The château belies its looks somewhat, for it was built only in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when, in most of its neighbours, the more or less florid Renaissance was in vogue. A Renaissance structure in stone and brick forms a part of that which faces on the interior court, and is flanked by a fine octagonal "tour d'escalier."
The château is a bit misleading in its appearance, as it was built only in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, during a time when most of its neighbors were embracing the more or less elaborate Renaissance style. A Renaissance building made of stone and brick is part of the section that looks out onto the interior courtyard and is complemented by a beautiful octagonal "tour d'escalier."
From the terrace of the courtyard one gets an impressive view of the Loire, which glides by two or more kilometres away, and of the224 towers and roof-tops of Tours, and the vine-carpeted hills which stretch away along the river's bank in either direction.
From the terrace of the courtyard, you get a stunning view of the Loire, which flows by two or more kilometers away, along with the224 towers and rooftops of Tours, and the vine-covered hills that extend along the riverbank in both directions.
The château of Luynes is still in the possession of a Duc de Luynes, through whose courtesy one may visit such of the apartments as his servants are allowed to show. It is not so great an exhibition, nor so good a one, as is to be had at Langeais; but it is satisfactory as far as it goes, and, when it is supplemented by the walks and views which are to be had on the plateau, upon which the grim-towered château sits, the memory of it all becomes most pleasurable.
The château of Luynes is still owned by a Duc de Luynes, who allows visitors to see some of the rooms his staff can show. It’s not as impressive or as good as what you’ll find at Langeais; but it’s enjoyable enough, and when combined with the walks and views available on the plateau where the imposing château stands, the whole experience is really satisfying.
The former Ducs de Luynes were continually appearing in the historic events of the later Renaissance period, but it was only with Louis XIII., he who would have put France under the protection of the Virgin, that the chatelain of Luynes came to a position of real power. Louis made Albert, the Gascon, both Duc de Luynes and Connétable de France, and thereby gave birth to a tyrant whom he hated and feared, as he did his mother, his wife, and his minister, Richelieu.
The former Dukes of Luynes kept showing up in the major events of the late Renaissance period, but it was only with Louis XIII., who aimed to place France under the protection of the Virgin, that the lord of Luynes gained true power. Louis made Albert, the Gascon, both Duke of Luynes and Constable of France, thus giving rise to a tyrant whom he hated and feared, just like he did with his mother, his wife, and his minister, Richelieu.
The site occupied by the château of Luynes is truly marvellous, though, as a matter of fact, there is no great magnificence about the pro225portions of the château itself. It is piled gracefully on the top of a table-land which rises abruptly from the Loire and has a charmingly quaint old town nestled confidingly below it, as if for protection.
The location of the Luynes château is absolutely stunning, even though the château itself isn't particularly grand. It's nicely perched on top of a plateau that rises steeply from the Loire, with a charming, old town comfortably settled below it, almost as if seeking its protection.
One reaches the château by any one of a half-dozen methods, by the highroad which bends around in hairpin curves until it reaches the plateau above, by various paths across or around the vineyards of the hillside, or by a quaintly cut mediæval stairway, levelled and terraced in the gravelly soil until it ends just beneath the frowning walls of the château itself. From this point one gets quite the most imposing aspect of the château to be had, its towers and turrets piercing the sky high above the head, and carrying the mind back to the days when civilization meant something more—or less—than it does to-day, with the toot of a steam-tram down below on the river's bank and the midday whistles of the factories of Tours rending one's ears the moment he forgets the past and recalls the present.
One can reach the château in several ways: via the main road that twists in sharp turns until it reaches the plateau above, through various trails across or around the vineyard-covered hillside, or through a charming, medieval staircase that has been leveled and terraced into the gravelly land, ending just beneath the imposing walls of the château itself. From here, one gets the most striking view of the château, with its towers and turrets soaring into the sky above, evoking memories of a time when civilization meant something different than it does today, interrupted only by the sound of a steam tram along the riverbank and the midday whistles from the factories in Tours that pierce the silence as soon as one shifts focus from the past to the present.
To-day the Château de Luynes is modern, at least to the extent that it is lived in, and has all the refinements of a modern civilization; but one does not realize all this from an exterior contemplation, and only as one strolls226 through the apartments publicly shown, and gets glimpses of electrical conveniences and modern arrangements, does he wonder how far different it may have been before all this came to pass.
Today, the Château de Luynes feels modern, at least in the sense that it’s inhabited and has all the comforts of contemporary life. However, you don’t really notice this from just looking at the outside. It’s only when you walk through the publicly shown rooms and see the electrical amenities and modern setups that you start to wonder how different it must have been before all of this happened.
Built in early Renaissance times, the château has all the peculiarities of the feudal period, when window-openings were few and far between, and high up above the level of the pavement. In feudal and warlike times this often proved an admirable feature; but one would have thought that, with the beginning of the Renaissance, a more ample provision would have been made for the admission of sunshine.
Built in the early Renaissance, the château has all the characteristics of the feudal era, when window openings were rare and located high above the ground level. In feudal and warlike times, this was often a useful feature; however, you would think that with the start of the Renaissance, there would have been more effort to let in sunlight.
The chef-d'œuvre of this really great architectural monument is undoubtedly the façade of the beautiful fifteenth-century courtyard. There is nothing even remotely feudal here, but a purely decorative effect which is as charming in its way as is the exterior façade of Azay-le-Rideau. "A poem," it has been called, "in weather-worn timber and stone," and the simile could hardly be improved upon.
The chef-d'œuvre of this impressive architectural monument is definitely the façade of the lovely fifteenth-century courtyard. There’s nothing even slightly feudal here, just a purely decorative effect that is as delightful in its own way as the exterior façade of Azay-le-Rideau. It has been described as "a poem in weather-worn timber and stone," and that comparison is hard to beat.
The town, too, or such of it as immediately adjoins the château, is likewise charming and quaint, and sleepily indolent as far as any great activity is concerned.
The town, or what's right next to the château, is also charming and quaint, and it feels pretty lazy when it comes to any kind of hustle and bustle.
Luynes was the seat of a seigneurie until227 1619, when it became a possession of the Comte de Maillé. Finally it came to Charles d'Albert, known as "D'Albert de Luynes," a former page to Henri IV., who afterward became the favourite and the Guardian of the Seals of Louis XIV.; and thus the earlier foundation of Maillé became known as Luynes.
Luynes was the center of a seigneurie until227 1619, when it was acquired by the Comte de Maillé. Eventually, it came into the hands of Charles d'Albert, known as "D'Albert de Luynes," who was a former page to Henri IV. He later became the favorite and the Keeper of the Seals for Louis XIV.; and so, the earlier foundation of Maillé became known as Luynes.
Except for its old houses of wood and stone, its old wooden market-house, and its tortuous streets of stairs, there are few features here, except the château, which take rank as architectural monuments of worth. The church is a modern structure, built after the Romanesque manner and wholly without warmth and feeling.
Except for its old wooden and stone houses, its old wooden market house, and its winding stair streets, there aren't many noteworthy features here, aside from the château, that qualify as valuable architectural monuments. The church is a modern building, constructed in the Romanesque style and completely lacking warmth and emotion.
From the height on which stands the château of Luynes one sees, as his eye follows the course of the Loire to the southwestward, the gaunt, unbeautiful "Pile" of Cinq-Mars. The origin of this singular square tower, looking for all the world like a factory chimney or some great ventilating-shaft, is lost far back in Carlovingian, or perhaps Roman, times. It is a mystery to archæologists and antiquarians, some claiming it to be a military monument, others a beacon by land, and yet others believing it to be of some religious significance.
From the height where the château of Luynes stands, you can see, as your gaze follows the Loire River to the southwest, the stark, unappealing "Pile" of Cinq-Mars. The origin of this unusual square tower, which looks for all the world like a factory chimney or a big ventilation shaft, is lost in the distant past, possibly dating back to Carolingian or even Roman times. It's a mystery to archaeologists and historians, with some saying it’s a military monument, others thinking it’s a land beacon, and yet others believing it has some religious significance.
At all events, all the explanations ignore the228 four pyramidions of its topmost course, and these, be it remarked, are quite the most curious feature of the whole fabric.
At any rate, all the explanations overlook the228 four pyramidions at the very top, and these are, just so you know, the most fascinating aspect of the entire structure.
To many the name of the little town of Cinq-Mars will suggest that of the Marquis de Cinq-Mars, a court favourite of Louis XIII. It was the ambitious but unhappy career at court of this young gallant which ultimately resulted in his death on the scaffold, and in the razing, by Richelieu, of his ancestral residence, the castle of Cinq-Mars, "to the heights of infamy." The expression is a curious one, but history so records it. All that is left to-day to remind one of the stronghold of the D'Effiats of Cinq-Mars are its two crumbling gate-towers with an arch between and a few fragmentary foundation walls which follow the summit of the cliff behind "La Pile."
To many, the name of the small town of Cinq-Mars brings to mind the Marquis de Cinq-Mars, a favorite at the court of Louis XIII. The ambitious yet troubled career of this young noble ultimately led to his execution and the destruction, ordered by Richelieu, of his family home, the castle of Cinq-Mars, "to the heights of infamy." It's an interesting phrase, but that's how history records it. Today, all that remains to remind us of the D'Effiats stronghold at Cinq-Mars are its two decaying gate towers connected by an arch and a few scattered foundation walls that trace the top of the cliff behind "La Pile."
The little town of not more than a couple of thousand inhabitants nestles in a bend of the Loire, where there is so great a breadth that it looks like a long-drawn-out lake. The low hills, so characteristic of these parts, stretch themselves on either bank, unbroken except where some little streamlet forces its way by a gentle ravine through the scrubby undergrowth. Oaks and firs and huge limestone cliffs jut out from the top of the hillside on229 the right bank and shelter the town which lies below.
The small town, home to just a few thousand residents, is situated in a bend of the Loire, where it widens enough to resemble a long, drawn-out lake. The low hills typical of the area stretch along both banks, uninterrupted except where a small stream carves its way through a gentle ravine in the scrubby underbrush. Oak and fir trees, along with massive limestone cliffs, protrude from the hillside on229the right bank, providing shelter to the town below.
Cinq-Mars is a miniature metropolis, though not a very progressive one at first sight; indeed, beyond its long main street and its houses, which cluster about its grim, though beautiful, tenth and twelfth century church, there are few signs of even provincial importance.
Cinq-Mars is a small city, although it doesn't seem very advanced at first glance; in fact, aside from its long main street and the houses that gather around its austere, yet beautiful, church from the tenth and twelfth centuries, there are few signs of even regional significance.
In reality Cinq-Mars is the centre of a large and important wine industry, where you may hear discussed, at the table d'hôte of its not very readily found little inn, the poor prices which the usually abundant crop always brings. The native even bewails the fact that he is not blessed with a poor season or two and then he would be able to sell his fine vintages for something more than three sous a litre. By the time it reaches Paris this vin de Touraine of commerce has aggrandized itself so that it commands two francs fifty centimes on the Boulevards, and a franc fifty in the University quarter.
In reality, Cinq-Mars is the center of a large and important wine industry, where you can hear discussions at the table d'hôte of its not-so-easy-to-find little inn about the low prices that the usually abundant harvest always brings. Locals even lament that if they had a poor season or two, they’d be able to sell their excellent vintages for more than three sous a liter. By the time it reaches Paris, this vin de Touraine of commerce has multiplied in value so that it sells for two francs fifty centimes on the Boulevards and a franc fifty in the University quarter.
The fall of Henri Cinq-Mars was most pathetic, though no doubt moralists will claim that because of his covetous ambitions he deserved nothing better.
The downfall of Henri Cinq-Mars was quite sad, although moralists will likely argue that due to his greedy ambitions, he deserved nothing better.
He went up to Paris from Touraine, a boy of twenty, and was presented to the king, who was230 immediately impressed by his distinguished manners. From infancy Cinq-Mars had been a lover of life in the open. He had hunted the forests of Touraine, and had angled the waters of the Loire, and thus he came to give a new zest to the already sad life of Louis XIII. Honour after honour was piled upon him until he was made Grand Seneschal of France and Master of the King's Horse, at which time he dropped his natal patronymic and became known as "Monsieur le Grand."
He traveled from Touraine to Paris as a twenty-year-old boy and was introduced to the king, who was230 immediately taken by his impressive manners. Since he was a child, Cinq-Mars had loved the outdoors. He had hunted in the forests of Touraine and fished in the waters of the Loire, bringing a fresh energy to the already somber life of Louis XIII. He received honor after honor until he became Grand Seneschal of France and Master of the King's Horse, at which point he dropped his birth name and became known as "Monsieur le Grand."
Cinq-Mars fell madly in love with Marion Delorme and wished to make her "Madame la Grande," but the dowager Marquise de Cinq-Mars would not hear of it: Mlle. Marion Delorme, the Aspasia of her day, would be no honour to the ancestral tree of the Effiats of Cinq-Mars.
Cinq-Mars fell head over heels for Marion Delorme and wanted to make her "Madame la Grande," but the dowager Marquise de Cinq-Mars wouldn’t allow it: Mlle. Marion Delorme, the Aspasia of her time, would bring no honor to the family line of the Effiats of Cinq-Mars.
Headstrong and wilful, one early morning, Monsieur le Grand and his beloved, then only thirty, took coach from her hotel in the Rue des Tournelles at Paris for the old family castle in Touraine, sitting high on the hills above the feudal village which bore the name of Cinq-Mars. In the chapel they were secretly married, and for eight days the proverbial marriage-bell rang true. Their Nemesis appeared on the ninth day in the person of the dowager,231 and Cinq-Mars told his mother that the whole affair was simply a passe temps, and that Mlle. Delorme was still Mlle. Delorme. His mother would not be deceived, however, and she flew for succour to Richelieu, who himself was more than slightly acquainted with the charms of the fair Marion.
Headstrong and determined, one early morning, Monsieur le Grand and his beloved, who was only thirty at the time, took a coach from her hotel on Rue des Tournelles in Paris to the old family castle in Touraine, sitting high on the hills above the feudal village named Cinq-Mars. In the chapel, they got married in secret, and for eight days, their marital bliss was genuine. Their trouble showed up on the ninth day in the form of the dowager,231 and Cinq-Mars told his mother that the whole thing was just a casual fling and that Mlle. Delorme was still Mlle. Delorme. However, his mother would not be fooled, and she sought help from Richelieu, who was already somewhat familiar with the charms of the beautiful Marion.
This was Cinq-Mars's downfall. He advised the king "by fair means or foul, let Richelieu die," and the king listened. A conspiracy was formed, by Cinq-Mars and others, to do away with the cardinal, and even the king, at whose death Gaston of Orleans was to be proclaimed regent for his nephew, the infant Louis XIV.
This was Cinq-Mars's downfall. He advised the king, "by any means necessary, let Richelieu die," and the king listened. A conspiracy was formed by Cinq-Mars and others to eliminate the cardinal, and even the king, at whose death Gaston of Orleans would be named regent for his nephew, the infant Louis XIV.
The court went to Narbonne, on the Mediterranean, that it might be near aid from Spain; all of which was a subterfuge of Cinq-Mars. The rest moves quickly: Richelieu discovered the plot; Cinq-Mars attempted to flee disguised as a Spaniard, was captured and brought as a prisoner to the castle at Montpellier.
The court moved to Narbonne, by the Mediterranean, to be closer to support from Spain; this was all a ruse by Cinq-Mars. The rest unfolds rapidly: Richelieu uncovered the scheme; Cinq-Mars tried to escape dressed as a Spaniard, was caught, and taken as a prisoner to the castle in Montpellier.
Richelieu had proved the more powerful of the two; but he was dying, and this is the reason, perhaps, why he hurried matters. Cinq-Mars, "the amiable criminal," went to the torture-chamber, and afterward to the scaffold.
Richelieu had shown himself to be the more powerful of the two; but he was dying, and maybe that's why he rushed things. Cinq-Mars, "the charming criminal," went to the torture chamber and then to the scaffold.
"Then," say the old chronicles, "Richelieu ordered that the feudal castle of Cinq-Mars, in232 the valley of the Loire, should be blown up, and the towers razed to the height of infamy."
"Then," say the old chronicles, "Richelieu ordered that the feudal castle of Cinq-Mars, in232 the Loire Valley, should be blown up, and the towers torn down to the height of disgrace."
From Cinq-Mars to Langeais, whose château is really one of the most appealing sights of the Loire, the characteristics of the country are topographically and economically the same; green hills slope, vine-covered, to the river, with here and there a tiny rivulet flowing into the greater stream.
From Cinq-Mars to Langeais, where the château is truly one of the most beautiful sights in the Loire, the landscape is both topographically and economically similar; green hills, covered in vines, gently slope down to the river, and now and then, a small stream flows into the larger one.
As at Cinq-Mars, the chief commodity of Langeais is wine, rich, red wine and pale amber, too, but all of it wine of a quality and at a price which would make the city-dweller envious indeed.
As in Cinq-Mars, the main product of Langeais is wine—rich, red wine and pale amber as well—but all of it is of a quality and at a price that would definitely make city dwellers envious.
There are two distinct châteaux at Langeais; at least, there is the château, and just beyond the ornamental stone-carpet of its courtyard are the ruins of one of the earliest donjons, or keeps, in all France. It dates from the year 990, and was built by the celebrated Comte d'Anjou, Foulques Nerra, "un criminel dévoyé des hommes et de Dieu," whose hobby, evidently, was building châteaux, as his "follies" in stone are said to have encumbered the land in those old days.
There are two different castles in Langeais; at least, there’s the castle, and just beyond the decorative stone-covered courtyard are the ruins of one of the earliest keeps in all of France. It dates back to the year 990 and was built by the famous Count of Anjou, Foulques Nerra, "an outlaw from men and God," whose apparent hobby was building castles, as his "follies" in stone are said to have littered the land in those ancient times.
Taken and retaken, dismantled and in part razed in the fifteenth century, it gave place to the present château by the orders of Louis XI.233
Taken and retaken, dismantled and partially destroyed in the fifteenth century, it was replaced by the current château under orders from Louis XI.233
The Château de Langeais of to-day is a robust example of its kind; its walls, flanked by great hooded towers, have a surrounding "guette," or gallery, which served as a means of communication from one part of the establishment to another and, in warlike times, allowed boiling oil or melted lead, or whatever they may have used for the purpose, to be poured down upon the heads of any besiegers who had the audacity to attack it.
The Château de Langeais today is a solid example of its type; its walls, adorned with large hooded towers, have a surrounding "guette" or gallery, which served as a way to communicate between different parts of the building and, in times of conflict, allowed boiling oil or melted lead, or whatever else they might have used, to be poured down on the heads of any attackers who dared to assault it.
There is no glacis or moat, but the machicolations, sixty feet or more up from the ground, must have afforded a well-nigh perfect means of repelling a near attack.
There’s no glacis or moat, but the machicolations, sixty feet or more up from the ground, must have provided an almost perfect way to fend off a close attack.
Altogether Langeais is a redoubtable little château of the period, and its aspect to-day has changed but very little. "It is the swan-song of expiring feudalism," said the Abbé Bossebœuf.
Altogether, Langeais is a remarkable little château from that era, and its appearance today has changed very little. "It is the swan song of fading feudalism," said Abbé Bossebœuf.
One gets a thrill of heroic emotion when he views its hardy walls for the first time: "a mountain of stone, a heroic poem of Gothic art," it has with reason been called.
One feels a rush of heroic emotion when seeing its sturdy walls for the first time: "a mountain of stone, a heroic poem of Gothic art," it has rightly been called.
Jean Bourré, the minister of Louis XI., built the present château about 1460. The chief events of its history were the drawing up within its walls of the "common law" of Touraine, by the order of Charles VII., and the234 marriage of Charles VIII. with Anne de Bretagne, on the 16th of December, 1491.
Jean Bourré, the minister of Louis XI, built the current château around 1460. The main events in its history include the drafting of the "common law" of Touraine within its walls, commissioned by Charles VII, and the marriage of Charles VIII to Anne de Bretagne on December 16, 1491.
The land belonged, in 1276, to Pierre de Brosse, the minister of Philippe-le-Hardi; later, to François d'Orleans, son of the celebrated Bâtard; to the Princesse de Conti, daughter of the Duc de Guise; to the families Du Bellay and D'Effiats, Barons of Cinq-Mars; and, finally, to the Duc de Luynes, in whose hands it remained up to the Revolution.
The land belonged, in 1276, to Pierre de Brosse, the minister of Philippe-le-Hardi; later, it passed to François d'Orleans, son of the famous Bâtard; then to the Princesse de Conti, daughter of the Duc de Guise; to the Du Bellay and D'Effiats families, Barons of Cinq-Mars; and finally, to the Duc de Luynes, who held it until the Revolution.
Honoré de Balzac, who may well be called one of the historians of Touraine, gave to one of his heroines the name of Langeais. To-day, however, the family of Langeais does not exist, and, indeed, according to the chronicles, never had any connection with either the donjon of Foulques Nerra or the château of the fifteenth century. The present owner is M. Jacques Siegfreid, who has admirably restored and furnished it after the Gothic style of the middle ages.
Honoré de Balzac, often regarded as one of the historians of Touraine, named one of his heroines Langeais. Today, however, the Langeais family no longer exists and, in fact, according to historical records, never had any ties to either the donjon of Foulques Nerra or the fifteenth-century château. The current owner is M. Jacques Siegfreid, who has beautifully restored and furnished it in the Gothic style of the Middle Ages.
The château of Langeais, like that of Chenonceaux, is occupied, as one learns from a visit to its interior. A lackey of a superior order receives you; you pay a franc for an admission ticket, and the lackey conducts you through nearly, if not quite all, of the apartments. Where the family goes during this process it is235 hard to say, but doubtless they are willing to inconvenience themselves for the benefit of "touring" humanity.
The château of Langeais, just like Chenonceaux, is still lived in, as you'll discover during your visit inside. An impressive servant greets you; you pay a franc for your entry ticket, and the servant shows you around nearly all the rooms. It's unclear where the family goes while this is happening, but they probably don’t mind stepping aside for the benefit of visitors.
The interior, no less than the exterior, impresses one as being something which has lived in the past, and yet exists to-day in all its original glory, for the present proprietor, with the aid of an admirable adviser, M. Lucien Roy, a Parisian architect, has produced a resemblance of its former furnishings which, so far as it goes, is beyond criticism.
The inside, just like the outside, gives the impression of having a history, yet it still stands today in all its original beauty. The current owner, with the help of an excellent advisor, M. Lucien Roy, a Parisian architect, has created a likeness of its former furnishings that is, as far as it goes, beyond critique.
There is nothing of bareness about it, nor is there an over-luxuriant interpolation of irrelevant things, such as a curator crowds into a museum. In short, nothing more has been done than to attempt to reconstitute a habitation of the fifteenth century. For seventeen years the work has gone on, and there have been collected many authentic furnishings contemporary with the fabric itself, great oaken beds, tables, chairs, benches, tapestries, and other articles. In addition, the decorations have been carried out after the same manner, copied in many cases from contemporary pictures and prints.
There’s nothing sparse about it, nor is there an overwhelming addition of irrelevant items, like what a curator squeezes into a museum. In short, all that’s been done is to try to recreate a home from the fifteenth century. For seventeen years, this work has continued, and many genuine furnishings from that time have been gathered—big oak beds, tables, chairs, benches, tapestries, and other items. Additionally, the decorations have been done in the same way, often copied from contemporary paintings and prints.
To-day, the general aspect is that of a peaceful household, with all recollections of feudal times banished for ever. All is tranquil, re236spectable, and luxurious, and it would take a chronic faultfinder not to be content with the manner with which these admirable restorations and refurnishings have been carried out.
Today, the overall vibe is that of a peaceful home, with all memories of feudal times gone for good. Everything is calm, respectable, and luxurious, and it would take a constant critic not to be pleased with how these amazing restorations and furnishings have been done.
One notes particularly the infinite variety and appropriateness of the tiling which goes to make up the floors of these great salons—modern though it is. The great chimneypieces, however, are ancient, and have not been retouched. Those in the Salle des Gardes and the Salle where was celebrated the marriage of Charles VIII. and Anne de Bretagne, with their ornamentation in the best of Gothic, are especially noteworthy.
One especially notices the endless variety and suitability of the tiles that make up the floors of these grand salons—modern as they are. The grand fireplaces, however, are old and haven’t been altered. Those in the Salle des Gardes and the room where the marriage of Charles VIII and Anne of Brittany was celebrated, with their ornamentation in the finest Gothic style, are particularly remarkable.
This latter apartment is the chief attraction of the château and the room of which the present dwellers in this charming monument of history are naturally the most proud. To-day it forms the great dining-hall of the establishment. Mementos of this marriage, so momentous for France, are exceedingly numerous along the lower Loire, but this handsome room quite leads them all. This marriage, and the goods and lands it brought to the Crown, had but one stipulation connected with it, and that was that the Duchesse Anne should be privileged to marry the elderly king's successor, should she survive her royal husband.237
This latter apartment is the main attraction of the château and the room that the current residents of this charming historical site are understandably the most proud of. Today, it serves as the grand dining hall of the establishment. Reminders of this marriage, which was so significant for France, are extremely numerous along the lower Loire, but this beautiful room stands out among them all. This marriage, along with the wealth and territories it brought to the Crown, had only one condition attached to it: that Duchesse Anne would have the right to marry the old king's successor if she outlived her royal husband.237
238Louis XII. was not at all opposed to becoming the husband of la Duchesse Anne after Charles VIII. had met his death on the tennis-court, because this second marriage would for ever bind to France that great province ruled by the gentle Anne.
238Louis XII was completely open to marrying Duchess Anne after Charles VIII passed away on the tennis court, as this second marriage would permanently tie that significant province governed by the gentle Anne to France.
In the Salle des Gardes are six valuable tapestries representing such heroic figures as Cæsar and Charlemagne, surrounded by their companions in arms.
In the Salle des Gardes, there are six valuable tapestries depicting heroic figures like Caesar and Charlemagne, along with their companions in arms.
From the towers, on a clear day, one may see the pyramids of the cathedral at Tours rising on the horizon to the northward. Below is the Château de Villandry, where Philippe-Auguste met Henry II. of England to conclude a memorable peace. To the right is Azay-le-Rideau, and to the extreme right are the ruined towers of Cinq-Mars and its Pile. Nothing could be more delicious on a bright summer's day than the view from the ramparts of Langeais over the roof-tops of the charming little town in the foreground.
From the towers, on a clear day, you can see the pyramids of the cathedral in Tours rising on the horizon to the north. Below is the Château de Villandry, where Philippe-Auguste met Henry II of England to finalize a notable peace. To the right is Azay-le-Rideau, and far right are the ruined towers of Cinq-Mars and its Pile. Nothing could be more enjoyable on a bright summer day than the view from the ramparts of Langeais overlooking the rooftops of the charming little town in the foreground.
Some time after the Revolution there was found, in the gardens of the château, the remains of a chapelle romaine which historians, who have searched the annals of antiquity in Touraine, claim to have been the chapel in honour of St. Sauveur which Foulques V., called239 le Jeune, one of the five Counts of Anjou of that name, constructed upon his return from his voyage to Palestine in the twelfth century. To-day it is overgrown with a trellised grapevine and is practically not visible, still it is another architectural monument of the first rank with which the not very ample domain of the Château de Langeais is endowed.
Some time after the Revolution, the remains of a chapelle romaine were discovered in the gardens of the château. Historians who have explored the history of Touraine believe it to be the chapel dedicated to St. Sauveur, which Foulques V., known as239 le Jeune, one of five Counts of Anjou with that name, built when he returned from his journey to Palestine in the twelfth century. Today, it's covered in a trellised grapevine and is nearly invisible, but it remains a significant architectural monument that adds to the not-so-large estate of the Château de Langeais.
From the courtyard the walls of the château take on a Renaissance aspect; a tiny doorway beside the great gate is manifestly Renaissance; so, too, are the polygonal towers, with their winding stairs, the pignons and gables of the roof, and what carved stone there is in evidence. Three stone stairways which mount by the slender tourelles serve to communicate with the various floors to-day as they did in the times of Charles VIII.
From the courtyard, the château's walls have a Renaissance look; a small door next to the large gate clearly reflects the Renaissance style; the polygonal towers, with their spiral staircases, the gables and peaks of the roof, and the visible carved stone also show this influence. Three stone staircases that rise through the narrow tourelles connect the different floors just like they did in the times of Charles VIII.
The courtyard itself, with its formal carpet design in stone, its shaded walls, its stone seats, and its Roman sarcophagus, is a pleasant retreat, but it has not the seclusion of the larger park, delightful though it is.
The courtyard itself, with its patterned stone floor, shaded walls, stone benches, and Roman sarcophagus, is a nice getaway, but it lacks the privacy of the larger park, even though that is lovely too.
Just before the drawbridge of the old château, that mediæval gateway by which one enters to-day, one sees the Maison de Rabelais, who is the deity of Langeais and Chinon, as is Balzac that of Tours. It is a fine old-time240 house of a certain amplitude and grandeur among its less splendid fellows, now given over, on the ground floor, to a bakery and pastry-shop. Enough is left of its original aspect, and the Renaissance decorations of its façade are sufficiently well preserved to stamp it as a worthy abode for the "Curé de Chinon," who lived here for some years.
Just before the drawbridge of the old château, that medieval gateway you enter today, you can see the Maison de Rabelais, who is considered the patron of Langeais and Chinon, just as Balzac is for Tours. It’s a beautiful old house with a sense of space and grandeur among its less impressive neighbors, now housing a bakery and pastry shop on the ground floor. There's still enough of its original appearance left, and the Renaissance details of its façade are well preserved enough to mark it as a fitting home for the "Curé de Chinon," who lived here for several years.240
Two other names in literature are connected with Langeais: Ronsard, the poet, who lived here for a time, and César-Alexis-Chichereau, Chevalier de la Barre, who was a poet and a troubadour of repute.
Two other names in literature are connected with Langeais: Ronsard, the poet, who lived here for a while, and César-Alexis-Chichereau, Chevalier de la Barre, who was a well-known poet and troubadour.
The main street of Langeais is still flanked with good Gothic and Renaissance houses, neither pretentious nor mean, but of that order which sets off to great advantage the walls and towers and porches of the château and the church. This street follows the ancient Roman roadway which traversed the valley of the Loire through Gaul.
The main street of Langeais is still lined with beautiful Gothic and Renaissance houses, neither flashy nor shabby, but just right to complement the walls, towers, and porches of the château and the church. This street follows the ancient Roman road that passed through the Loire Valley in Gaul.
The river is here crossed by one of those too frequent, though useful, suspension-bridges, with which the Loire abounds. The guide-books call it beau, but it is not. One has to cross it to reach Azay-le-Rideau, which lies ten kilometres or more away across the Indre.241
The river is crossed here by one of those too common, yet handy, suspension bridges that the Loire has plenty of. The guidebooks describe it as beautiful, but it's not. You have to cross it to get to Azay-le-Rideau, which is more than ten kilometers away across the Indre.241
CHAPTER XII.To ToC
AZAY-LE-RIDEAU, USSÉ, AND CHINON
From Langeais, one's obvious route lies towards Chinon, via Azay-le-Rideau and Ussé. These latter are practically within the forest, though the Forêt de Chinon proper does not actually begin until one leaves Azay behind, when for twenty kilometres or more one of the most superb forest roads in France crosses many hills and dales until it finally descends into Chinon itself.
From Langeais, the clear path leads to Chinon, passing through Azay-le-Rideau and Ussé. These two are almost right in the forest, although the actual Forêt de Chinon doesn’t start until you leave Azay behind. For over twenty kilometers, one of the most beautiful forest roads in France winds through hills and valleys until it eventually descends into Chinon itself.
Like most forest roads in France, this highway is not flat; it rises and falls with a sheer that is sometimes precipitous, but always with a gravelled surface that gives little dust, and which absorbs water as the sand from the pounce-box of our forefathers dried up ink. This simile calls to mind the fact that in twentieth-century France the pounce-box is still in use, notably at wayside railway stations, where the agent writes you out your ticket and dries it off in a box, not of sand, but of sawdust.242
Like most forest roads in France, this highway isn’t flat; it rises and falls sharply at times, but it always has a gravel surface that produces little dust and absorbs water like the sand from our ancestors' pounce-boxes soaked up ink. This comparison reminds us that in twenty-first-century France, the pounce-box is still in use, especially at train stations, where the ticket agent prints your ticket and dries it off in a box filled with sawdust instead of sand.242
To partake of the hospitality of Azay-le-Rideau one must arrive before four in the afternoon, and not earlier than midday. From the photographs and post-cards by which one has become familiar with Azay-le-Rideau, it appears like a great country house sitting by itself far away from any other habitation. In England this is often the case, in France but seldom.
To enjoy the hospitality of Azay-le-Rideau, you need to arrive before 4 PM and not before noon. From the pictures and postcards that people have seen of Azay-le-Rideau, it looks like a large country house standing alone, far from any other homes. This is often the case in England, but rarely in France.
Clustered around the walls of the not very great park which surrounds the château are all manner of shops and cafés, not of the tourist order,—for there is very little here to suggest that tourists ever come, though indeed they do, by twos and threes throughout all the year,—but for the accommodation of the population of the little town itself, which must approximate a couple of thousand souls, all of whom appear to be engaged in the culture of the vine and its attendant pursuits, as the wine-presses, the coopers' shops, and other similar establishments plainly show. There is, moreover, the pleasant smell of fermented grape-juice over all, which, like the odour of the hop-fields of Kent, is conducive to sleep; and there lies the charm of Azay-le-Rideau, which seems always half-asleep.
Clustered around the walls of the not-so-great park that surrounds the château are all kinds of shops and cafés, not the typical tourist spots—since there’s very little here to suggest that tourists ever visit, even though they do come in small groups throughout the year—but for the convenience of the local population of the little town, which is probably about two thousand people. Everyone seems to be involved in grape-growing and related activities, as evidenced by the wine presses, cooperages, and other similar establishments. Additionally, there’s a pleasant smell of fermented grape juice everywhere, which, like the scent of hop fields in Kent, is relaxing; and that’s the charm of Azay-le-Rideau, which always feels a bit drowsy.
The Hôtel du Grand Monarque is a wonder243fully comfortable country inn, with a dining-room large enough to accommodate half a hundred persons, but which, most likely, will serve only yourself. One incongruous note is sounded,—convenient though it be,—and that is the electric light which illuminates the hotel and its dependencies, including the stables, which look as though they might once have been a part of a mediæval château themselves.
The Hôtel du Grand Monarque is a wonderfully comfortable country inn, with a dining room large enough to seat fifty people, but which will probably just serve you. One odd detail stands out— even though it's convenient— and that's the electric light that brightens the hotel and its surroundings, including the stables, which seem like they could have once been part of a medieval castle themselves.
However, since posting days and tallow dips have gone for ever, one might as well content himself with the superior civilization which confronts him, and be comfortable at least.
However, since the days of posting letters and tallow candles are long gone, one might as well be satisfied with the advanced civilization that surrounds him and find some comfort in it.
The Château d'Azay-le-Rideau is one of the gems of Touraine's splendid collection of Renaissance art treasures, though by no means is it one of the grandest or most imposing.
The Château d'Azay-le-Rideau is one of the gems in Touraine's impressive collection of Renaissance art treasures, although it isn't among the largest or most striking.
A tree-lined avenue leads from the village street to the château, which sits in the midst of a tiny park; not a grand expanse as at Chambord or Chenonceaux, but a sort of green frame with a surrounding moat, fed by the waters of the Indre.
A tree-lined street leads from the village to the château, which is located in the middle of a small park; not a vast area like Chambord or Chenonceaux, but more like a green border with a surrounding moat, filled by the waters of the Indre.
The main building is square, with a great coiffed round tower at each corner. The Abbé Chevalier, in his "Promenades Pittoresques en Touraine," called it the purest and best of French Renaissance, and such it assuredly is,244 if one takes a not too extensive domestic establishment of the early years of the sixteenth century as the typical example.
The main building is square, with a large, stylish round tower at each corner. The Abbé Chevalier, in his "Promenades Pittoresques en Touraine," described it as the finest and most authentic example of French Renaissance, and it definitely is,244 especially when you consider a modest domestic residence from the early sixteenth century as a typical example.
Undoubtedly the sylvan surroundings of the château have a great deal to do with the effectiveness of its charms. The great white walls of its façade, with the wonderful sculptures of Jean Goujon, glisten in the brilliant sunlight of Touraine through the sycamores and willows which border the Indre in a genuinely romantic fashion.
Undoubtedly, the wooded surroundings of the château play a significant role in its charm. The striking white walls of its façade, adorned with the beautiful sculptures by Jean Goujon, shine in the bright sunlight of Touraine through the sycamores and willows that line the Indre in a truly romantic way.
Somewhere within the walls are the remains of an old tower of the one-time fortress which was burned by the Dauphin Charles in 1418, after, says history, "he had beheaded its governor and taken all of the defenders to the number of three hundred and thirty-four." This act was in revenge for an alleged insult to his sacred person.
Somewhere within the walls are the remains of an old tower from the once-mighty fortress that was set on fire by Dauphin Charles in 1418, after, according to history, "he had beheaded its governor and taken all of the defenders, totaling three hundred and thirty-four." This act was in retaliation for a supposed insult to his sacred person.
There are no remains of this former tower visible exteriorly to-day, and no other bloody acts appear to have attached themselves to the present château in all the four hundred years of its existence.
There are no remnants of this old tower visible from the outside today, and no other violent events seem to have been associated with the current château in all the four hundred years it has existed.
Gilles Berthelot erected the present structure early in the reign of François I. He was a man close to the king in affairs of state, first conseiller-secrétaire, then trésorier-général des245 finances, hence he knew the value of money. Among the succeeding proprietors was Guy de Saint Gelais, one of the most accomplished diplomats of his time. He was followed by Henri de Beringhem, who built the stables and ornamented the great room known as the Chambre du Roi from the fact that Louis XIV. once slept there, with the magnificent paintings which are shown to-day.
Gilles Berthelot built the current structure early in the reign of François I. He was close to the king in state affairs, first as a conseiller-secrétaire, then as trésorier-général des245 finances, so he understood the importance of money. Among the later owners was Guy de Saint Gelais, one of the most skilled diplomats of his time. He was succeeded by Henri de Beringhem, who constructed the stables and decorated the grand room known as the Chambre du Roi because Louis XIV once slept there, with the stunning paintings that are displayed today.
Everywhere is there a rich, though not gross, display of decoration, beginning with such constructive details as the pointed-roofed tourelles, which are themselves exceedingly decorative. The doors, windows, roof-tops, chimneypieces, and the semi-enclosed circular stairways are all elaborately sculptured after the best manner of the time.
Everywhere, there's a rich, though not excessive, display of decoration, starting with decorative elements like the pointed-roofed tourelles, which are very ornate themselves. The doors, windows, rooftops, chimneypieces, and the semi-enclosed circular stairways are all intricately sculpted in the finest style of the era.
The entrance portico is a wonder of its kind, with a strong sculptured arcade and arched window-openings and niches filled with bas-reliefs. Sculptured shells, foliage, and mythological symbols combine to form an arabesque, through which are interspersed the favourite ciphers of the region, the ermine and the salamander, which go to prove that François and other royalties must at one time or another have had some connection with the château.
The entrance portico is a marvel in its own right, featuring a sturdy sculpted arcade, arched window openings, and niches filled with bas-reliefs. Sculpted shells, leaves, and mythological symbols come together to create an intricate design, interspersed with the region's favorite symbols, the ermine and the salamander, suggesting that François and other royals must have had some connection to the château at some point.
History only tells us, however, that Gilles246 Berthelot was a king's minister and Mayor of Tours. Perhaps he thought of handing it over as a gift some day in exchange for further honours. His device bore the words, "Ung Seul Desir," which may or may not have had a special significance.
History only tells us, though, that Gilles246 Berthelot was a king's minister and Mayor of Tours. Maybe he considered giving it as a gift someday in exchange for more honors. His emblem had the words, "Ung Seul Desir," which might or might not have had a special meaning.
The interior of the edifice is as beautiful as is its exterior, and is furnished with that luxuriance of decorative effect so characteristic of the best era of the Renaissance in France.
The inside of the building is just as stunning as the outside, and it’s decorated with the rich ornamental style that’s typical of the finest period of the Renaissance in France.
Until recently the proprietor was the Marquis de Biencourt, who, like his fellow proprietors of châteaux in Touraine, generously gave visitors an opportunity to see his treasure-house for themselves, and, moreover, furnished a guide who was something more than a menial and yet not a supercilious functionary.
Until recently, the owner was the Marquis de Biencourt, who, like other château owners in Touraine, kindly allowed visitors to explore his treasure house for themselves, and, on top of that, provided a guide who was more than just a servant but also wasn't a snobby official.
Within a twelvemonth this "purest joy of the French Renaissance" was put upon the real estate market, with the result that it might have fallen into unappreciative hands, or, what a Touraine antiquarian told the writer would be the worse fate that could possibly befall it, might be bought up by some American millionaire, who through the services of the house-breaker would dismantle it and remove it stone by stone and set it up anew on some asphalted avenue in some western metropolis. This ex247traordinary fear or rumour, whatever it was, soon passed away and as a "monument historique" the château has become the property of the French government.
Within a year, this "purest joy of the French Renaissance" was listed on the real estate market, leading to the possibility of it ending up in unappreciative hands or, as a Touraine antiquarian told the writer, facing an even worse fate of being bought by some American millionaire, who, with the help of a demolisher, would take it apart brick by brick and reassemble it on some paved street in a western city. This extraordinary fear or rumor, however it was viewed, soon faded, and as a "monument historique" the château has become the property of the French government.
Less original, perhaps, in plan than Chenonceaux, less appealing in its ensemble and less fortunate in its situation, Azay-le-Rideau is nevertheless entitled to the praises which have been heaped upon it.
Less original, perhaps, in design than Chenonceaux, less attractive in its overall appearance and less lucky in its location, Azay-le-Rideau still deserves the praise that has been given to it.
It is but a dozen kilometres from Azay-le-Rideau to Ussé, on the road to Chinon. The Château d'Ussé is indeed a big thing; not so grand as Chambord, nor so winsome as Langeais, but infinitely more characteristic of what one imagines a great residential château to have been like. It belongs to-day to the Comte de Blacas, and once was the property of Vauban, Maréchal of France, under Louis XIV., who built the terrace which lies between it and the river, a branch of the Indre.
It’s only about twelve kilometers from Azay-le-Rideau to Ussé, on the way to Chinon. The Château d'Ussé is quite impressive; it’s not as grand as Chambord or as charming as Langeais, but it’s much more representative of what you might imagine a grand residential château was like. Today, it belongs to the Comte de Blacas and was once owned by Vauban, Marshal of France, under Louis XIV, who constructed the terrace that lies between the château and the river, a branch of the Indre.
Perched high above the hemp-lands of the river-bottom, which here are the most prolific in the valley of the Indre, the château with its park of seven hundred or more acres is truly regal in its appointments and surroundings. This park extends to the boundary of the national reservation, the Forêt de Chinon.
Perched high above the hemp fields of the river bottom, which are the most productive in the Indre valley, the château with its park of more than seven hundred acres is truly regal in its features and surroundings. This park stretches to the edge of the national reserve, the Forêt de Chinon.
The Renaissance château of to-day is a recon248struction of the sixteenth century, which preserves, however, the great cylindrical towers of a century earlier. Its architecture is on the whole fantastic, at least as much so as Chambord, but it is none the less hardy and strong. Practically it consists of a series of pavillons bound to the great fifteenth-century donjon by smaller towers and turrets, all slate-capped and pointed, with machicolations surrounding them, and above that a sort of roofed and crenelated battlement which passes like a collar around all the outer wall.
The Renaissance château of today is a reconstruction from the sixteenth century, which still retains the impressive cylindrical towers from a century earlier. Its architecture is quite fantastical, at least as much as Chambord, but it's still robust and strong. Essentially, it comprises a series of pavillons connected to the grand fifteenth-century donjon by smaller towers and turrets, all capped with slate and pointed, featuring machicolations around them, and above that, a kind of roofed and crenelated battlement that wraps around the entire outer wall.
The general effect of the exterior walls is that of a great feudal stronghold, while from the courtyard the aspect is simply that of a luxurious Renaissance town house, showing at least how the two styles can be pleasingly combined.
The overall impression of the outer walls is like a grand feudal fortress, while from the courtyard, it looks just like an elegant Renaissance townhouse, demonstrating how the two styles can be beautifully blended.
Crenelated battlements are as old as Pompeii, so it is doubtful if the feudality of France did much to increase their use or effectiveness. They were originally of such dimensions as to allow a complete shelter for an archer standing behind one of the uprights. The contrast to those of a later day, which, virtually nothing more than a course of decorative stonework, give no impression of utility, is great, though249 here at Ussé they are more pronounced than in many other similar edifices.
Crenelated battlements are as old as Pompeii, so it's questionable whether the feudal system in France really did much to enhance their use or effectiveness. Originally, they were designed to provide full cover for an archer standing behind one of the uprights. The difference compared to later designs, which are mostly just decorative stonework and offer no sense of practicality, is significant. However, here at Ussé, they are more prominent than in many other similar buildings.249
The interior arrangements here give due prominence to a fine staircase, ornamented with a painting of St. John that is attributed to Michel Ange.
The interior layout here highlights a beautiful staircase, decorated with a painting of St. John that is believed to be by Michel Angelo.
The Chambre du Roi is hung with ancient embroideries, and there is a beautiful Renaissance chapel, above the door of which is a sixteenth-century bas-relief of the Apostles. Most of the other great rooms which are shown are resplendent in oak-beamed ceilings and massive chimneypieces, always a distinct feature of Renaissance château-building, and one which makes modern imitations appear mean and ugly. To realize this to the full one has only to recall the dining-room of the pretentious hotel which huddles under the walls of Amboise. In a photograph it looks like a regal banqueting-hall; but in reality it is as tawdry as stage scenery, with its imitation wainscoted walls, its imitation beamed ceiling of three-quarter-inch planks, and its plaster of Paris fireplace.
The Chambre du Roi is decorated with antique embroideries, and there's a stunning Renaissance chapel, featuring a sixteenth-century bas-relief of the Apostles above the door. Most of the other grand rooms on display have impressive oak-beamed ceilings and large chimneypieces, which are hallmark traits of Renaissance castle architecture and make modern replicas seem cheap and unattractive. To fully appreciate this, one only needs to think of the dining room in the pretentious hotel that sits against the walls of Amboise. In a photo, it looks like a grand banquet hall; but in reality, it’s as shabby as theater props, with its fake wainscoted walls, its fake beamed ceiling made of three-quarter-inch planks, and its plaster fireplace.
Near Ussé is the Château de Rochecotte which recalls the name of a celebrated chieftain of the Chouans. It belongs to-day, though it is not their paternal home, to the family of250 Castellane, a name which to many is quite as celebrated and perhaps better known.
Near Ussé is the Château de Rochecotte, which is named after a famous leader of the Chouans. Today, it belongs to the Castellane family, which, although not their ancestral home, is just as renowned and possibly even better known to many.
The château contains a fine collection of Dutch paintings of the seventeenth century, and in its chapel there is a remarkably beautiful copy of the Sistine Madonna. The name of Talleyrand is intimately connected with the occupancy of the château, in pre-revolutionary times, by Rochecotte.
The château has an impressive collection of seventeenth-century Dutch paintings, and in its chapel, there’s a stunning copy of the Sistine Madonna. The name Talleyrand is closely associated with Rochecotte's residence in the château before the revolution.
On the road to Chinon one passes through, or near, Huismes, which has nothing to stay one's march but a good twelfth-century church, which looks as though its doors were never opened. The Château de la Villaumère, of the fifteenth century, is near by, and of more than passing interest are the ruins of the Château de Bonneventure, built, it is said, by Charles VII. for Agnes Sorel, who, with all her faults, stands high in the esteem of most lovers of French history. At any rate this shrine of "la belle des belles" is worthy to rank with that containing her tomb at Loches.
On the way to Chinon, you pass through or near Huismes, which doesn’t have much to pause for except a nice twelfth-century church that looks like its doors have never been opened. Nearby is the Château de la Villaumère from the fifteenth century, and the ruins of the Château de Bonneventure are also noteworthy. It's said this was built by Charles VII for Agnes Sorel, who, despite her flaws, is highly regarded by most fans of French history. In any case, this shrine of "la belle des belles" deserves to be mentioned alongside the one that holds her tomb in Loches.
As one enters Chinon by road he meets with the usual steep decline into a river-valley, which separates one height from another. Generally this is the topographic formation throughout France, and Chinon, with its silent guardians, the fragments of three non-con251temporary castles, all on the same site, is no exception.
As you drive into Chinon, you encounter the typical steep drop into a river valley that separates one hill from another. This landscape is common throughout France, and Chinon, with its quiet protectors—the remains of three ancient castles on the same site—is no different.
"We never went to Chinon," says Henry James, in his "Little Tour in France," written thirty or more years ago. "But one cannot do everything," he continues, "and I would rather have missed Chinon than Chenonceaux." A painter would have put it differently. Chenonceaux is all that fact and fancy have painted it, a gem in a perfect setting, and Chinon's three castles are but mere crumbling walls; but their environs form a petit pays which will some day develop into an "artists' sketching-ground," in years to come, beside which Etretat, Moret, Pont Aven, Giverny, and Auvers will cease to be considered.
"We never visited Chinon," says Henry James in his "Little Tour in France," written thirty or more years ago. "But you can't do it all," he continues, "and I would rather have missed Chinon than Chenonceaux." A painter would have said it differently. Chenonceaux is everything that reality and imagination have made it, a jewel in a perfect setting, while Chinon's three castles are just crumbling walls; but their surroundings create a petit pays that will someday become an "artists' sketching ground," in the coming years, overshadowing places like Etretat, Moret, Pont Aven, Giverny, and Auvers.
At the base of the escarped rock on which sit the châteaux, or what is left of them, lies the town of Chinon, with its old houses in wood and stone and its great, gaunt, but beautiful churches. Before it flows the Vienne, one of the most romantically beautiful of all the secondary rivers of France.
At the bottom of the steep rock where the castles, or what's left of them, stand, is the town of Chinon, with its old wooden and stone houses and its tall, striking, yet beautiful churches. In front of it flows the Vienne, one of the most charmingly beautiful of all the smaller rivers in France.
From the castrum romanum of the emperors to the feudal conquest Chinon played its due part in the history of Touraine. There are those who claim that Chinon is a "cité antédiluvienne" and that it was founded by Cain,252 who after his crime fled from the paternal malediction and found a refuge here; and that its name, at first Caynon, became Chinon. Like the derivation of most ancient place-names, this claim involves a wide imagination and assuredly sounds unreasonable. Caino may, with more likelihood, have been a Celtic word, meaning an excavation, and came to be adopted because of the subterranean quarries from which the stone was drawn for the building of the town. The annalists of the western empire give it as Castrum-Caino, and whether its origin dates from antediluvian times or not, it was a town in the very earliest days of the Christian era.
From the castrum romanum of the emperors to the feudal conquest, Chinon played an important role in the history of Touraine. Some people say that Chinon is a "cité antédiluvienne" and that it was founded by Cain,252 who, after his crime, fled from his father’s curse and found refuge here; that its name, originally Caynon, evolved into Chinon. Like the origins of most ancient place-names, this story requires a lot of imagination and definitely sounds unreasonable. Caino is more likely to have been a Celtic word meaning an excavation, and it may have been adopted because of the underground quarries from which the stone was taken for building the town. The historians of the western empire refer to it as Castrum-Caino, and whether its origins go back to before the flood or not, it was a town in the very early days of the Christian era.
The importance of Chinon's rôle in history and the beauty of its situation have inspired many writers to sing its praises.
The significance of Chinon's role in history and the beauty of its location have motivated many writers to celebrate it.
Small town, big reputation
Sitting on old stone "Up in the woods, down by the Vienne."
The disposition of the town is most picturesque. The winding streets and stairways are "foreign;" like Italy, if you will, or some of the steps to be seen in the towns bordering upon the Adriatic. At all events, Chinon is not253 exactly like any other town in France, either with respect to its layout or its distinct features, and it is not at all like what one commonly supposes to be characteristic of the French.
The layout of the town is really charming. The winding streets and staircases feel "foreign," like Italy, or some of the steps found in the towns along the Adriatic. In any case, Chinon is not253 exactly like any other town in France, whether it’s about its design or its unique features, and it doesn't resemble what most people typically think of as French.
Dungeons of mediæval châteaux are here turned into dwellings and wine-cellars, and have the advantage, for both uses, of being cool in summer and warm in winter.
Dungeons of medieval castles are now converted into homes and wine cellars, benefiting both uses by being cool in the summer and warm in the winter.
Already, in the year 371, Chinon's population was so considerable that St. Martin, newly elected Bishop of Tours, longed to preach Christianity to its people, who were still idolators. Some years afterward St. Mesme or Maxime, fleeing from the barbarians of the north, came to Chinon, and soon surrounded himself with many adherents of the faith, and in the year 402 consecrated the original foundation of the church which now bears his name.
Already, in the year 371, Chinon's population was so large that St. Martin, newly elected Bishop of Tours, wanted to preach Christianity to its people, who were still idol worshipers. A few years later, St. Mesme or Maxime, escaping from the northern barbarians, came to Chinon and quickly gathered many followers of the faith. In the year 402, he consecrated the original foundation of the church that now carries his name.
Clovis made Chinon one of the strongest fortresses of his kingdom, and in the tenth century it came into the possession of the Comtes de Touraine. Later, in 1044, Thibaut III. ceded it to Geoffroy Martel. The Plantagenets frequently sojourned at Chinon, becoming its masters in the twelfth century, from which time it was held by the Kings of France up to Louis XI.254
Clovis turned Chinon into one of the strongest fortresses in his kingdom, and in the tenth century, it was taken over by the Counts of Touraine. Later, in 1044, Thibaut III handed it over to Geoffroy Martel. The Plantagenets often stayed at Chinon and took control of it in the twelfth century, after which it remained with the Kings of France until Louis XI.254
The most picturesque event of Chinon's history took place in 1428, when Charles VII. here assembled the States General, and Jeanne d'Arc prevailed upon him to march forthwith upon Orleans, then besieged by the English.
The most picturesque event in Chinon's history took place in 1428, when Charles VII gathered the States General here, and Jeanne d'Arc convinced him to march immediately to Orleans, which was then under siege by the English.
Memories of Charles VII., of Jeanne d'Arc, and of François Rabelais are inextricably mixed in the guide-book accounts of Chinon; but their respective histories are not so involved as would appear. There is some doubt as to whether the Pantagruelist was actually born at Chinon or in the suburbs, therefore there is no "maison natale" before which literary pilgrims may make their devotions. All this is a great pity, for Rabelais excites in the minds of most people a greater curiosity than perhaps any other mediæval man of letters that the world has known.
Memories of Charles VII, Joan of Arc, and François Rabelais are all blended together in the travel guides about Chinon, but their individual stories are not as complicated as they seem. There’s some debate about whether the Pantagruelist was actually born in Chinon or in the nearby suburbs, so there isn’t a "maison natale" for literary fans to visit and pay their respects. It’s unfortunate because Rabelais stirs up more curiosity in most people than perhaps any other medieval writer the world has known.
Though one cannot feast his eye upon the spot of Rabelais's birth, historians agree that it took place at Chinon in 1483. Much is known of the "Curé de Chinon;" but, in spite of his rank as the first of the mediæval satirists, his was not a wide-spread popularity, nor can one speak very highly of his appearance as a type of the Tourangeau of his time. His portraits make him appear a most supercilious character, and doubtless he was. He certainly was256 not an Adonis, nor had he the head of a god or the cleverness of a court gallant. Indeed there has been a tendency of late to represent him as a buffoon, a trait wholly foreign to his real character.
Though you can’t visit the exact spot where Rabelais was born, historians agree that it was in Chinon in 1483. A lot is known about the "Curé de Chinon," but despite being the first major medieval satirist, he wasn’t very popular, nor can we really say he represented the typical Tourangeau of his time. His portraits make him look quite arrogant, and he probably was. He certainly wasn’t a handsome man, nor did he have the charm of a socialite. In fact, recently there’s been a trend to portray him as a clown, a characterization that doesn’t fit his true nature at all.
As for Charles VII. and Jeanne d'Arc, Chinon was simply the meeting-place between the inspired maid and her sovereign, when she urged him to put himself at the head of his troops and march upon Orleans.
As for Charles VII and Jeanne d'Arc, Chinon was just the place where the inspired maiden met her king, as she encouraged him to lead his troops and march on Orleans.
Chinon is of the sunny south; here the grapes ripen early and cling affectionately, not only to the hillsides, but to the very house-walls themselves.
Chinon is in the sunny south; here the grapes ripen early and cling lovingly, not just to the hillsides, but to the very walls of the houses themselves.
Chinon's attractions consist of fragments of three castles, dating from feudal times; of three churches, of more than ordinary interest and picturesqueness; and many old timbered and gabled houses; nor should one forget the Hôtel de France, itself a reminder of other days, with its vine-covered courtyard and tinkling bells hanging beneath its gallery, for all the world like the sort of thing one sees upon the stage.
Chinon's attractions include remnants of three castles from feudal times, three churches that are especially interesting and picturesque, and many old timber-framed and gabled houses. Don't forget the Hôtel de France, which itself is a nod to the past, with its vine-covered courtyard and the sound of tinkling bells hanging under its gallery, just like something you would see on stage.
There is not much else about the hotel that is of interest except its very ancient-looking high-posted beds and its waxed tiled floors, worn into smooth ruts by the feet of countless257 thousands and by countless polishings with wax. It is curious how a waxed tiled floor strikes one as being something altogether superior to one of wood. Though harder in substance, it is infinitely pleasanter to the feet, and warm and mellow, as a floor should be; moreover it seems to have the faculty of unconsciously keeping itself clean.
There isn’t much else about the hotel that stands out except its really old-looking high-post beds and its waxed tiled floors, smoothed into grooves by the feet of countless257 thousands and by endless polishing with wax. It’s interesting how a waxed tiled floor feels like something way better than one made of wood. Even though it’s harder, it’s so much nicer to walk on, warm and soft, just like a floor should be; plus, it seems to have this ability to stay clean without any effort.
The Château de Chinon, as it is commonly called, differs greatly from the usual Loire château; indeed it is quite another variety altogether, and more like what we know elsewhere as a castle; or, rather it is three castles, for each, so far as its remains are concerned, is distinct and separate.
The Château de Chinon, as it's commonly known, is very different from the typical Loire château; in fact, it's a completely different type altogether, more like what we typically consider a castle. Or rather, it's three castles, since each, based on what remains, is unique and separate.
The Château de St. Georges is the most ancient and is an enlargement by Henry Plantagenet—whom a Frenchman has called "the King Lear of his race"—of a still more ancient fortress.
The Château de St. Georges is the oldest and was expanded by Henry Plantagenet—who a Frenchman called "the King Lear of his lineage"—from an even older fortress.
The Château du Milieu is built upon the ruins of the castrum romanum, vestiges of which are yet visible. It dates from the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, and was restored under Charles VI., Charles VII., and Louis XI.
The Château du Milieu is built on the ruins of the castrum romanum, remnants of which are still visible. It dates back to the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries, and was restored during the reigns of Charles VI, Charles VII, and Louis XI.
One enters through the curious Tour de l'Horloge, to which access is given by a modern bridge, as it was in other days by an ancient258 drawbridge which covered the old-time moat. The Grand Logis, the royal habitation of the twelfth to fifteenth centuries, is to the right, overlooking the town. Here died Henry II. of England (1189) and here lived Charles VII. and Louis XI. It was in the Grand Salle of this château that Jeanne d'Arc was first presented to her sovereign (March 8, 1429). From the hour of this auspicious meeting until the hour of the departure for Orleans she herself lived in the tower of the Château de Coudray, a little farther beyond, under guard of Guillaume Bélier.
One enters through the intriguing Tour de l'Horloge, which is now accessible via a modern bridge, just as it was in the past by an ancient258 drawbridge that spanned the old moat. The Grand Logis, the royal residence from the twelfth to fifteenth centuries, is on the right, overlooking the town. This is where Henry II of England died (1189) and where Charles VII and Louis XI lived. It was in the Grand Salle of this château that Jeanne d'Arc was first presented to her king (March 8, 1429). From the moment of this pivotal meeting until she left for Orleans, she stayed in the tower of the Château de Coudray, a little further away, under the watch of Guillaume Bélier.
The meeting between the king and the "Maid" is described by an old historian of Touraine as follows: "The inhabitants of Chinon received her with enthusiasm, the purpose of her mission having already preceded her.... She appeared at court as 'une pauvre petite bergerette' and was received in the Grande Salle, lighted by fifty torches and containing three hundred persons." (This statement would seem to point to the fact that it was not the salle which is shown to-day; it certainly could not be made to hold three hundred people unless they stood on each other's shoulders!) "The seigneurs were all clad in magnificent robes, but the king, on the contrary,259 was dressed most simply. The 'Maid,' endowed with a spirit and sagacity superior to her education, advanced without hesitation. 'Dieu vous donne bonne vie, gentil roi,' said she...."
The meeting between the king and the "Maid" is described by an old historian of Touraine like this: "The people of Chinon welcomed her enthusiastically, as news of her mission had already spread.... She came to court as 'a poor little shepherdess' and was received in the Grand Hall, lit by fifty torches and filled with three hundred people." (This suggests that the hall shown today could not possibly hold three hundred people unless they stood on each other's shoulders!) "The lords were all dressed in magnificent robes, but the king, on the other hand,259 was dressed very simply. The 'Maid,' possessing a spirit and wisdom beyond her education, moved forward without hesitation. 'God grant you a long life, gentle king,' she said...."
The Grand Logis is flanked by a square tower which is separated from the Château de Coudray and the Tour de Boissy by a moat. In the magnificent Tour de Boissy was the ancient Salle des Gardes, while above was a battlemented gallery which gave an outlook over the surrounding country. This watch-tower assured absolute safety from surprise to any monarch who might have wished to study the situation for himself.
The Grand Logis is next to a square tower that's separated from the Château de Coudray and the Tour de Boissy by a moat. The impressive Tour de Boissy housed the old Salle des Gardes, and above it was a battlemented gallery that offered a view of the surrounding area. This watchtower guaranteed complete safety from surprise for any monarch who wanted to survey the situation for themselves.
The Tour du Moulin is another of the defences, more elegant, if possible, than the Tour de Boissy. It is taller and less rotund; the French say it is "svelt," and that describes it as well as anything. It also fits into the landscape in a manner which no other mediæval donjon of France does, unless it be that of Château Gaillard, in Normandy.
The Tour du Moulin is another one of the defenses, even more elegant, if that's possible, than the Tour de Boissy. It's taller and less rounded; the French call it "svelte," which fits perfectly. It also blends into the landscape in a way that no other medieval keep in France does, except maybe Château Gaillard in Normandy.
The primitive Château de Coudray was built by Thibaut-le-Tricheur in 954, and its bastion and sustaining walls are still in evidence.
The original Château de Coudray was built by Thibaut the Cheat in 954, and its bastion and supporting walls are still visible.
The Vienne, which runs by Chinon to join the Loire above Saumur, is, in many respects, a re260markable river, although just here there is nothing very remarkable about it. It is, however, delightfully picturesque, as it washes the tree-lined quays which form Chinon's river-front for a distance of upward of two kilometres. In general the waterway reminds one of something between a great traffic-bearing river and a mere pleasant stream.
The Vienne, which flows past Chinon to meet the Loire above Saumur, is, in many ways, a noteworthy river, although at this point, it isn’t particularly special. However, it is beautifully scenic, as it flows along the tree-lined quays that make up Chinon's riverfront for over two kilometers. Overall, the waterway gives the impression of being somewhere between a major shipping river and just a nice little stream.
The bridge between Chinon and its faubourg is typical of the art of bridge-building, at which, in mediæval times, the French were excelled by no other nation. To-day, in company with the Americans, they build iron and steel abominations which are eyesores which no amount of utility will ever induce one to really admire. Not so the French bridges of mediæval times, of the type of those at Blois on the Loire; at Chinon on the Vienne; at Avignon on the Rhône; or at Cahors on the Lot.
The bridge between Chinon and its neighborhood is a great example of bridge-building, a skill in which no other nation surpassed the French during medieval times. Today, along with the Americans, they construct iron and steel monstrosities that are so unattractive that no amount of practicality will ever make anyone truly admire them. That's not the case with the French bridges from medieval times, like those at Blois on the Loire, at Chinon on the Vienne, at Avignon on the Rhône, or at Cahors on the Lot.
If Rabelais had not rendered popular Chinon and the Chinonais the public would have yet to learn of this delightful pays, in spite of that famous first meeting between Charles VII. and Jeanne d'Arc.
If Rabelais hadn't made Chinon and the people of Chinon popular, the public would still be unaware of this lovely pays, despite that famous first meeting between Charles VII and Jeanne d'Arc.
If the modern founders of "garden-cities" would only go as far back as the time of Richelieu they would find a good example to follow in the little Touraine town, the chef-lieu of the261 Commune, which bears the name of Richelieu. When Armand du Plessis first became the seigneur of this "little land" he resolutely set about to make of the property a town which should dignify his name. Accordingly he built, at his own expense, after the plans of Lemercier, "a city, regular, vast, and luxurious." At the same time the cardinal-minister replaced the paternal manor with a château elaborately and prodigally royal.
If today's founders of "garden cities" would look back to the time of Richelieu, they would find a great example to follow in the small town of Richelieu in Touraine, which serves as the capital of the261 Commune. When Armand du Plessis first became the lord of this "little land," he set out to turn the property into a town that would honor his name. He built, at his own expense and according to Lemercier's plans, "a city that is organized, vast, and luxurious." At the same time, the cardinal-minister replaced the family manor with an extravagantly royal château.
Richelieu was a sort of "petit Versailles," which was to be to Chinon what the real Versailles was to the capital.
Richelieu was like a "small Versailles," meant to be to Chinon what the actual Versailles was to the capital.
To-day, as in other days, it is a "ville vaste, régulière et luxueuse," but it is unfinished. One great street only has been completed on its original lines, and it is exactly 450 metres long. Originally the town was to have the dimensions of but six hundred by four hundred metres; modest enough in size, but of the greatest luxury. The cardinal had no desire to make it more grand, but even what he had planned was not to be. Its one great street is bordered with imposing buildings, but their tenants to-day have not the least resemblance to the courtiers of the cardinal who formerly occupied them.
Today, just like on other days, it’s a "vast, regular, and luxurious city," but it’s still not finished. Only one major street has been completed according to the original design, and it's exactly 450 meters long. Originally, the town was supposed to measure just six hundred by four hundred meters; modest in size, but incredibly luxurious. The cardinal didn't want to make it any grander, but even what he had planned didn't come to fruition. Its one major street is lined with impressive buildings, but the people living there now are nothing like the courtiers who once filled them.
Richelieu disappeared in the course of time, and work on his hobby stopped, or at least262 changed radically in its plan. Secondary streets were laid out, of less grandeur, and peopled with houses without character, low in stature, and unimposing. The plan of a ville seigneuriale gave way to a ville de labeur. Other habitations grew up until to-day twenty-five hundred souls find their living on the spot where once was intended to be only a life of luxury.
Richelieu disappeared over time, and the work on his project came to a halt, or at least262 changed drastically in its design. Smaller streets were created, less grand, filled with characterless, low, and unimpressive houses. The vision of a ville seigneuriale shifted to a ville de labeur. Other homes were built until today, two thousand five hundred people make their living in the place that was once meant only for a life of luxury.
Of the monuments with which Richelieu would have ornamented his town there remains a curious market-hall and a church in the pure Jesuitic style of architecture, lacking nothing of pretence and grandeur.
Of the monuments that Richelieu wanted to decorate his town, there’s a fascinating market hall and a church in the pure Jesuit style of architecture, full of pretentiousness and grandeur.
Not much can be said for the vast Église Notre Dame de Richelieu, a heavy Italian structure, built from the plans of Lemercier. However satisfying and beautiful the style may be in Italy, it is manifestly, in all great works of church-building in the north, unsuitable and uncouth.
Not much can be said about the massive Église Notre Dame de Richelieu, a heavy Italian building designed by Lemercier. No matter how satisfying and beautiful the style may be in Italy, it is clearly unsuitable and awkward for all major church constructions in the north.
There was also a château as well, a great Mansart affair with an overpowering dome. Practically this remains to-day, but, like all else in the town, it is but a promise of greater things which were expected to materialize, but never did.
There was also a château, a grand Mansart-style building with an impressive dome. It still stands today, but like everything else in the town, it only hints at the greater things that were hoped for but never came to be.
At the bottom of a little valley, in a fertile263 plain, lies Fontevrault, or what there is left of it, for the old abbey is now nothing more than a matter-of-fact "maison de détention" for criminals. The abbey of yesterday is the prison of to-day.
At the bottom of a small valley, in a fertile263 plain, lies Fontevrault, or what's left of it, because the old abbey is now just a straightforward "maison de détention" for criminals. The abbey of the past is the prison of today.
Fontevrault is an enigma; it is, furthermore, what the French themselves call a "triste et maussade bourg." Its former magnificent abbey was one of the few shrines of its class which was respected by the Revolution, but now it has become a prison which shelters something like a thousand unfortunates.
Fontevrault is a mystery; it is, in fact, what the French refer to as a "triste et maussade bourg." Its once magnificent abbey was one of the few shrines of its kind that the Revolution honored, but now it has turned into a prison that houses around a thousand unfortunate souls.
For centuries the old abbey had royal princesses for abbesses and was one of the most celebrated religious houses in all France. It is a sad degeneration that has befallen this famous establishment.
For centuries, the old abbey had royal princesses as abbesses and was one of the most celebrated religious houses in all of France. It is a sad decline that has happened to this famous establishment.
In the eleventh century an illustrious man of God, a Breton priest, named Robert d'Arbrissel, outlined the foundation of the abbey and gathered together a community of monks. He died in the midst of his labours, in 1117, and was succeeded by the Abbess Petronille de Chemille.
In the eleventh century, a remarkable man of God, a Breton priest named Robert d'Arbrissel, laid out the foundation of the abbey and brought together a community of monks. He passed away during his work in 1117 and was succeeded by Abbess Petronille de Chemille.
For nearly six hundred years the abbey—which comprised a convent for men and another for women—grew and prospered, directed, not infrequently, by an abbess of the264 blood royal. It has been claimed that, as a religious establishment for men and women, ruled over by a woman, the abbey of Fontevrault was unique in Christendom.
For almost six hundred years, the abbey—which included a convent for men and one for women—thrived and expanded, often led by an abbess from the264 royal family. It's been said that the abbey of Fontevrault, as a religious institution for both men and women governed by a woman, was unique in Christendom.
It is an ample structure with a church tower of bistre which forms a most pleasing note of colour in the landscape. The basilica was begun in 1101, and consecrated by Pope Calixtus II. in 1119. Its interior showed a deep vaulting, with graceful and hardy arches supported by massive columns with quaint and curiously sculptured capitals.
It is a spacious building with a brown church tower that adds a beautiful splash of color to the landscape. The basilica started construction in 1101 and was consecrated by Pope Calixtus II in 1119. Inside, it features high vaults, elegant yet strong arches supported by large columns with unique and intricately carved capitals.
The twelfth-century cloister was indeed a masterwork among those examples, all too rare, existing to-day. Its arcade is severely elegant and was rebuilt by the Abbess Renée de Bourbon, sister of François I., after the best of decorative Renaissance of that day. The chapter-house, now used by the director of the prison, has in a remarkable manner retained the mural frescoes of a former day. There are depicted a series of groups of mystical and real personages in a most curious fashion. The refectory is still much in its primitive state, though put to other uses to-day. Its tribune, where the lectrice entertained the sisters during their repasts, is, however, still in its place.
The twelfth-century cloister is truly a masterpiece among the few surviving examples today. Its arcade is beautifully simple and was rebuilt by Abbess Renée de Bourbon, sister of François I., following the best decorative Renaissance style of that time. The chapter-house, now used by the prison director, has remarkably preserved the mural frescoes from a previous era. These frescoes portray a series of mystical and real figures in a striking way. The refectory is still largely in its original condition, although it serves different purposes now. Its tribune, where the lector entertained the sisters during meals, remains intact.
The curious, bizarre, kilnlike pyramid,266 known as the Tour d'Evrault, has ever been an enigma to the archæologist and antiquarian. Doubtless it formed the kitchens of the establishment, for it looks like nothing else that might have belonged to a great abbey. It has a counterpart at the Abbey of Marmoutier near Tours, and of St. Trinité at Vendôme; from which fact there would seem to be little doubt as to its real use, although it looks more like a blast furnace or a distillery chimney.
The strange, kiln-like pyramid,266 called the Tour d'Evrault, has always puzzled archaeologists and historians. It likely served as the kitchens for the establishment, since it resembles nothing else that would belong to a grand abbey. There’s a similar structure at the Abbey of Marmoutier near Tours and another at St. Trinité in Vendôme; this strongly suggests its true purpose, even though it more closely resembles a blast furnace or a distillery chimney.
This curious pyramidal structure is like the collegiate church of St. Ours at Loches, one of those bizarre edifices which defy any special architectural classification. At Fontevrault the architect played with his art when he let all the light in this curious "tour" enter by the roof. At the extreme apex of the cone he placed a lantern from which the light of day filtered down the slope of the vaulting in a weird and tomblike manner. It is a most surprising effect, but one that is wholly lost to-day, since the Tour d'Evrault has been turned into the kitchen for the "maison de détention" of which it forms a part.
This unusual pyramidal structure is reminiscent of the collegiate church of St. Ours in Loches, one of those strange buildings that can't be easily classified architecturally. At Fontevrault, the architect played with his craft by allowing all the light in this unique "tour" to come through the roof. At the very top of the cone, he placed a lantern that let the daylight filter down the slopes of the vault in an eerie, tomb-like way. It creates a surprising effect, but it's completely lost today since the Tour d'Evrault has been converted into the kitchen for the "maison de détention" of which it is now part.
The nave of the church of the old abbey of Fontevrault has been cut in two and a part is now used as the dormitory of the prison, but the choir, the transepts, and the towers remain267 to suggest the simple and beautiful style of their age.
The main area of the old abbey church of Fontevrault has been divided, with one section now serving as the prison dormitory, but the choir, transepts, and towers still stand267 to reflect the simplicity and beauty of their time.
In the transepts, behind an iron grille, are buried Henry II., King of England and Count of Anjou, Éléanore of Guienne, Richard Cœur de Lion, and Isabeau of Angoulême, wife of Jean-sans-Terre. Four polychromatic statues, one in wood, the others in stone, lying at length, represent these four personages so great in English history, and make of Fontevrault a shrine for pilgrims which ought to be far less ignored than it is. The cemetery of kings has been shockingly cared for, and the ludicrous kaleidoscopic decorations of the statues which surmount the royal tombs are nothing less than a sacrilege. It is needless to say they are comparatively modern.
In the transepts, behind an iron grille, are buried Henry II, King of England and Count of Anjou, Éléanore of Aquitaine, Richard the Lionheart, and Isabeau of Angoulême, wife of John Lackland. Four colorful statues, one made of wood and the others of stone, lie down and represent these four significant figures in English history, turning Fontevrault into a shrine for pilgrims that deserves much more attention than it currently gets. The royal cemetery has been poorly maintained, and the ridiculous, colorful decorations on the statues above the royal tombs are nothing short of sacrilege. It goes without saying that they are relatively modern.
At Bourgueil, near Fontevrault, are gathered great crops of réglisse, or licorice. It differs somewhat in appearance from the licorice roots of one's childhood, but the same qualities exist in it as in the product of Spain or the Levant, whence indeed most of the commercial licorice does come. It is as profitable an industry in this part of France as is the saffron crop of the Gâtinais, and whoever imported the first roots was a benefactor. At the juncture of the Vienne and the Loire are two tiny towns268 which are noted for two widely different reasons.
At Bourgueil, near Fontevrault, there are large harvests of réglisse, or licorice. It looks a bit different from the licorice roots you remember from childhood, but it has the same qualities as the products from Spain or the Levant, which is where most commercial licorice comes from. It's just as profitable an industry in this area of France as the saffron crop in the Gâtinais, and whoever brought the first roots here did a great service. At the point where the Vienne and the Loire meet are two small towns268 known for two very different things.
These two towns are Montsoreau and Candes, the former noted for the memory of that bloodthirsty woman who gave a plot to Dumas (and some real facts of history besides), and the other noted for its prunes, Candes being the chief centre of the industry which produces the pruneaux de Tours.
These two towns are Montsoreau and Candes. Montsoreau is known for its infamous history connected to that ruthless woman who inspired Dumas (and some real historical facts as well), while Candes is famous for its prunes, being the main hub for the production of pruneaux de Tours.
Descending the Vienne from Chinon, one first comes to Candes, which dominates the confluence of the Vienne with the Loire from its imposing position on the top of a hill.
Descending the Vienne from Chinon, you first reach Candes, which overlooks the point where the Vienne meets the Loire from its impressive position atop a hill.
Candes was in other times surrounded by a protecting wall, and there are to-day remains of a château which had formerly given shelter to Charles VII. and Louis XI. It has, moreover, a twelfth-century church built upon the site of the cell in which died St. Martin in the fourth century. The native of the surrounding country cares nothing for churches or châteaux, but assumes that the prune industry of Candes is the one thing of interest to the visitor.
Candes was once surrounded by a protective wall, and today there are remnants of a château that once sheltered Charles VII and Louis XI. It also has a twelfth-century church built on the site where St. Martin died in the fourth century. The locals don't care much about churches or châteaux; they believe that the prune industry in Candes is the only thing worth a visit.
Be this as it may, it is indeed a matter of considerable importance to all within a dozen kilometres of the little town. All through the region round about Candes one meets with the269 fruit-pickers, with their great baskets laden with prunes, pears, and apples, to be sent ultimately to the great ovens to be desiccated and dried. Fifty years ago, you will be told, the cultivators attended to the curing process themselves, but now it is in the hands of the middle-man.
Be that as it may, it’s truly a significant issue for everyone within a dozen kilometers of the small town. All around the area near Candes, you come across the269 fruit pickers, with their large baskets full of prunes, pears, and apples, which will eventually be sent to the big ovens to be dried out. Fifty years ago, you’d hear that the farmers handled the drying process themselves, but now it’s left to the middleman.
At Montsoreau much the same economic conditions exist as at Candes, but there is vastly more of historic lore hanging about the town. In the fourteenth century, after a shifting career the fief passed to the Vicomtes de Châteaudun; then, in the century following, to the Chabots and the family of Chambes, of which Jean IV., prominent in the massacre of St. Bartholomew's night, was a member. It was he who assassinated the gallant Bussy d'Amboise at the near-by Château of Coutancière (at Brain-sur-Allonnes), who had made a rendezvous with his wife, since become famous in the pages of Dumas and of history as "La Dame de Montsoreau."
At Montsoreau, the economic conditions are pretty similar to those in Candes, but the town has a lot more historical stories attached to it. In the fourteenth century, after a series of changes, the fief was passed to the Vicomtes de Châteaudun; then, in the following century, it went to the Chabots and the Chambes family, which included Jean IV., who played a significant role in the massacre on St. Bartholomew's night. He was the one who killed the brave Bussy d'Amboise at the nearby Château of Coutancière (in Brain-sur-Allonnes), where Bussy had arranged a meeting with his wife, who later became famous in the works of Dumas and in history as "La Dame de Montsoreau."
To-day the old bourg is practically non-existent, and there is a smugness of prosperity which considerably discounts the former charm that it once must have had. But for all that, there is enough left to enable one to picture270 what the life here under the Renaissance must have been.
Today, the old town is almost gone, and there's a sense of prosperity that really overshadows the charm it once had. But despite that, there’s still enough left to help one imagine what life here must have been like during the Renaissance.270
The parish church—that of the ancient Paroisse de Retz—still exists, though in ruins, and there are very substantial remains of an old priory, an old-time dependency of the Abbey of St. Florent, now converted into a farm.
The parish church—once the ancient Paroisse de Retz—still stands, though in ruins, and there are significant remnants of an old priory, which used to be a dependency of the Abbey of St. Florent, now turned into a farm.
Beside the highroad is the fifteenth-century château. It has a double façade, one side of which is ornamented with a series of mâchicoulis, great high window-openings, and flanking towers; and, in spite of its generally frowning aspect, looks distinctly livable even to-day.
Beside the main road is the fifteenth-century château. It has a double façade, one side of which is decorated with a series of mâchicoulis, large high window openings, and flanking towers; and, despite its generally grim appearance, it still looks quite livable even today.
The ornamental façade of the courtyard is somewhat crumbled but still elegant, and has incorporated within its walls a most ravishing Renaissance turret, smothered in exquisite moulures and arabesques. On the terminal gallery and on the panels which break up the flatness of this inner façade are a series of allegorical bas-reliefs, representing monkeys, surmounted with the inscription, "Il le Feray."
The decorative front of the courtyard is a bit worn but still looks elegant, featuring a stunning Renaissance turret covered in beautiful moldings and intricate designs. On the upper gallery and on the panels that add dimension to this inner facade, there are a series of symbolic bas-reliefs showing monkeys, topped with the inscription, "Il le Feray."
The interior of this fine edifice is entirely remodelled, and has nothing of its former fitments, furnishings, or decorations.
The inside of this impressive building has been completely remodeled and has none of its original fixtures, furniture, or decor.
Near Port Boulet, almost opposite Candes, is the great farm of a certain M. Cail. Communication is had with the Orleans railway by271 means of a traction engine, which draws its own broad-wheeled wagons on the regular highway between the gare d'hommes and the tall-chimneyed manor or château which forms the residence of this enterprising agriculturist.
Near Port Boulet, almost across from Candes, is the large farm of a certain Mr. Cail. Communication is established with the Orleans railway by271 means of a traction engine, which pulls its own broad-wheeled wagons on the regular road between the gare d'hommes and the tall-chimneyed manor or château that serves as the home of this ambitious farmer.
The property consists of nearly two thousand acres, of which at least twelve hundred are under the process of intensive cultivation, and is divided into ten distinct farms, having each an overseer charged directly with the control of his part of the domain. These farms are wonderfully well kept, with sanded roadways like the courtyard of a château. There are no trees in the cultivated parts, and the great grain-fields are as the western prairies.
The property spans almost two thousand acres, with at least twelve hundred acres being intensely cultivated. It is divided into ten separate farms, each managed by an overseer responsible for their section of the land. These farms are exceptionally well-maintained, featuring sanded roads similar to those in a chateau’s courtyard. There are no trees in the cultivated areas, and the vast grain fields resemble the western prairies.
The estate bears the generic name of "La Briche." On one side it is bordered by the railroad for a distance of nearly forty kilometres, and it gives to that same railway an annual freight traffic of two thousand tons of merchandise, which would be considerably more if all the cattle and sheep sent to other markets were transported by rail.
The estate is called "La Briche." On one side, it runs alongside the railroad for almost forty kilometers, providing that same railway with an annual freight volume of two thousand tons of goods, which would be much higher if all the cattle and sheep sent to other markets were transported by train.
As might be expected, this domain of "La Briche" has given to the neighbouring farmers a lesson and an example, and little by little its influence has resulted in an increased activity272 among the neighbouring landholders, who formerly gave themselves over to "la chasse," and left the conduct of their farms to incompetent and more or less ignorant hirelings. 273
As you might expect, the area of "La Briche" has served as a lesson and an example for the neighboring farmers, and gradually its influence has led to increased activity among the local landowners, who previously focused on hunting and left the management of their farms to unskilled and somewhat ignorant workers. 273
CHAPTER XIII.To ToC
ANJOU AND BRETAGNE
As one crosses the borderland from Touraine into Anjou, the whole aspect of things changes. It is as if one went from the era of the Renaissance back again into the days of the Gothic, not only in respect to architecture, but history and many of the conditions of every-day life as well.
As you cross the border from Touraine into Anjou, everything feels different. It’s like you’ve stepped from the Renaissance era back into the Gothic days, not just in terms of architecture, but also in history and many aspects of everyday life.
Most of the characteristics of Anjou are without their like elsewhere, and opulent Anjou of ancient France has to-day a departmental etiquette in many things quite different from that of other sections.
Most of the features of Anjou are unique, and the lavish Anjou of ancient France today has a local etiquette in many respects that is quite different from that of other areas.
A magnificent agricultural province, it has been further enriched by liberal proprietors; a land of aristocracy and the church, it has ever been to the fore in political and ecclesiastical matters; and to-day the spirit of industry and progress are nowhere more manifest than here in the ancient province of Anjou.
A stunning agricultural region, it has been further enhanced by generous landowners; a place of aristocracy and the church, it has always been prominent in political and religious affairs; and today the spirit of innovation and advancement is more evident here than in any other part of the historic province of Anjou.
The Loire itself changes its complexion but274 little, and its entrance into Saumur, like its entrance into Tours, is made between banks that are tinged with the rainbow colours of the growing vine. What hills there are near by are burrowed, as swallows burrow in a cliff, by the workers of the vineyards, who make in the rock homes similar to those below Saumur, in the Vallée du Vendomois, and at Cinq-Mars near Tours.
The Loire itself changes very little, and its entry into Saumur, like its entry into Tours, is flanked by banks that are painted with the rainbow colors of the growing vines. The nearby hills are dug into, like swallows nesting in a cliff, by the vineyard workers, who create homes in the rock similar to those below Saumur, in the Vallée du Vendomois, and at Cinq-Mars near Tours.
Anjou has a marked style in architecture, known as Angevin, which few have properly placed in the gamut of architectural styles which run from the Byzantine to the Renaissance.
Anjou has a distinct style in architecture, known as Angevin, which not many have accurately categorized within the range of architectural styles that span from the Byzantine to the Renaissance.
The Romanesque was being supplanted everywhere when the Angevin style came into being, as a compromise between the heavy, flat-roofed style of the south and the pointed sky-piercing gables of the north. All Europe was attempting to shake off the Romanesque influence, which had lasted until the twelfth century. Germany alone clung to the pure style, and, it is generally thought, improved it. The Angevin builders developed a species that was on the borderland between the Romanesque and the Gothic, though not by any means a mere transition type.
The Romanesque style was being replaced everywhere when the Angevin style emerged, creating a balance between the heavy, flat-roofed architecture of the south and the tall, pointed gables of the north. All of Europe was trying to move away from the Romanesque influence, which had persisted until the twelfth century. Germany, however, held on to the pure style and is generally believed to have enhanced it. The Angevin builders created a version that was on the edge between Romanesque and Gothic, but it was definitely not just a transitional style.
The chief cities of Anjou are not very great275 or numerous, Angers itself containing but slightly over fifty thousand souls. Cholet, of thirteen thousand inhabitants, is an important cloth-manufacturing centre, while Saumur carries on a great wine trade and was formerly the capital of a "petit gouvernement" of its own, and, like many other cities and towns of this and neighbouring provinces, was the scene of great strife during the wars of the Vendée.
The main cities in Anjou aren't very big or many, with Angers having just over fifty thousand people. Cholet, which has thirteen thousand residents, is a key center for cloth manufacturing, while Saumur is known for its significant wine trade and was once the capital of a "petit gouvernement" of its own. Like many other cities and towns in this area and nearby provinces, it experienced intense conflict during the Vendée wars.
In ancient times the Andecavi, as the old peoples of the province were known, shared with the Turonii of Touraine the honour of being the foremost peoples of western Gaul, though each had special characteristics peculiarly their own, as indeed they have to-day.
In ancient times, the Andecavi, as the old tribes of the province were known, shared the honor of being the leading peoples of western Gaul with the Turonii of Touraine, although each had distinct characteristics unique to them, just like they do today.
After one passes the junction of the Cher, the Indre, and the Vienne, he notices no great change in the conduct of the Loire itself. It still flows in and out among the banks of sand and those little round pebbles known all along its course, nonchalantly and slowly, though now and then one fancies that he notes a greater eddy or current than he had observed before. At Saumur it is still more impressed upon one, while at the Ponts de Cé—a great strategic spot in days gone by—there is evidence that at one time or another the Loire must be a276 raging torrent; and such it does become periodically, only travellers never seem to see it when it is in this condition.
After you pass the junction of the Cher, the Indre, and the Vienne, you won’t notice much change in the behavior of the Loire itself. It continues to flow in and out among the sandy banks and those little round pebbles that have always marked its path, casually and slowly, although now and then you might think you notice a stronger eddy or current than before. At Saumur, this impression becomes even clearer, and at the Ponts de Cé—a significant strategic location in the past—it’s evident that the Loire must have once been a276raging torrent; and it does become one from time to time, but travelers never seem to witness it when it’s in that state.
When Candes and Montsoreau are passed and one comes under the frowning walls of Saumur's grim citadel, a sort of provincial Bastille in its awesomeness, he realizes for the first time that there is, somewhere below, an outlet to the sea. He cannot smell the salt-laden breezes at this great distance, but the general appearance of things gives that impression.
When you pass Candes and Montsoreau and reach the dark walls of Saumur's imposing fortress, which feels like a regional Bastille because of its intimidating presence, you suddenly understand that, somewhere below, there's a way out to the sea. You can't catch the salty sea breeze from this far away, but everything around you suggests that it's there.
From Tours to Saumur by the right bank of the Loire—one of the most superb stretches of automobile roadway in the world—lay the road of which Madame de Sévigné wrote in "Lettre CCXXIV." (to her mother), which begins: "Nous arrivons ici, nous avons quitté Tours ce matin." It was a good day's journey for those times, whether by malle-post or the private conveyance which, likely enough, Madame de Sévigné used at the time (1630). To-day it is a mere morsel to the hungry road-devouring maw of a twentieth-century automobile. It's almost worth the labour of making the journey on foot to know the charms of this delightful river-bank bordered with historic shrines almost without number, and peo277pled by a class of peasants as picturesque and gay as the Neapolitan of romance.
From Tours to Saumur along the right bank of the Loire—one of the most stunning stretches of road for driving in the world—was the route Madame de Sévigné mentioned in "Lettre CCXXIV." (to her mother), which starts: "Nous arrivons ici, nous avons quitté Tours ce matin." It was a good day's travel back then, whether by malle-post or the private carriage that Madame de Sévigné probably used at the time (1630). Today, it’s just a small bite for the insatiable appetite of a twentieth-century car. It’s almost worth the effort to walk the journey to appreciate the beauty of this charming riverbank lined with countless historic sites, populated by peasants as colorful and lively as those in romantic Naples.
"Saumur est, ma foi! une jolie ville," said a traveller one day at a table d'hôte at Tours. And so indeed it is. Its quays and its squares lend an air of gaiety to its proud old hôtel de ville and its grim château. Old habitations, commodious modern houses, frowning machicolations, church spires, grand hotels, innumerable cafés, and much military, all combine in a blend of fascinating interest that one usually finds only in a great metropolis.
"Saumur is, I swear! a lovely city," said a traveler one day at a table d'hôte in Tours. And it really is. Its riverbanks and squares give a cheerful vibe to its impressive old hôtel de ville and its stern castle. Old buildings, spacious modern homes, intimidating battlements, church steeples, fancy hotels, countless cafés, and a strong military presence all come together in a mix of captivating interest that you usually only find in a major city.
The chief attraction is unquestionably the old château. To-day it stands, as it has always stood, high above the Quai de Limoges, with scarce a scar on its hardy walls and never a crumbling stone on its parapet.
The main draw is definitely the old château. Today, it stands, just as it always has, high above the Quai de Limoges, with hardly a mark on its sturdy walls and not a single crumbling stone on its parapet.
The great structure was begun in the eleventh century, replacing an earlier monument known as the Tour du Tronc. It was completed in the century following and rebuilt or remodelled in the sixteenth. Outside of its impressive exterior there is little of interest to remind one of another day.
The impressive building started in the 11th century, taking the place of an earlier structure called the Tour du Tronc. It was finished in the following century and renovated or redesigned in the 16th. Besides its stunning outside, there isn’t much else to evoke memories of the past.
To literary pilgrims Saumur suggests the homestead of the father of Eugenie Grandet, and the bon-vivant reveres it for its soft pleasant wines. Others worship it for its wonders278 of architecture, and yet others fall in love with it because of its altogether delightful situation.
To literary tourists, Saumur brings to mind the home of Eugenie Grandet's father, while food enthusiasts appreciate it for its smooth, enjoyable wines. Others admire it for its architectural marvels, and still others are enchanted by its charming location.278
Below Saumur are the cliff-dwellers, who burrow high in the chalk cliff and stow themselves away from light and damp like bottles of old wine. The custom is old and not indigenous to France, but here it is sufficiently in evidence to be remarked by even the traveller by train. Here, too, one sees the most remarkable of all the coiffes which are worn by any of the women along the Loire. This Angevin variety, like Angevin architecture, is like none of its neighbours north, east, south, or west.
Below Saumur are the cliff-dwellers, who dig into the high chalk cliffs and hide themselves away from light and moisture like bottles of old wine. This custom is ancient and not native to France, but here it is noticeable enough to catch the attention of even a train traveler. Here, too, you can see the most striking of all the coiffes worn by the women along the Loire. This Angevin style, like Angevin architecture, is unlike that of its neighbors to the north, east, south, or west.
Students of history will revere Saumur for something more than its artistic aspect or its wines, for it was a favourite residence of the Angevin princes and the English kings, as well as being the capital of the pape des Huguenots.
Students of history will respect Saumur for more than just its art or its wines, as it was a favored home for the Angevin princes and English kings, in addition to being the capital of the pape des Huguenots.
While Nantes is the real metropolis of the Loire, and Angers is singularly up-to-date and well laid out, neither of these fine cities have a great thoroughfare to compare with the broad, straight street of Saumur, which leads from the Gare d'Orleans on the left bank and crosses the two bridges which span the branches of the Loire, to say nothing of the island between, and finally merges into the great national highway which runs south into Poitou.279
While Nantes is the actual hub of the Loire, and Angers is particularly modern and well-planned, neither of these impressive cities has a major road that can rival the wide, straight street of Saumur. This street starts from the Gare d'Orleans on the left bank, crosses the two bridges over the branches of the Loire, passes by the island in between, and ultimately connects to the main national highway heading south into Poitou.279
Fine houses, many, if not most of them, dating from centuries ago, line the principal streets of the town, which, when one has actually entered its confines, presents the appearance of being too vast and ample for its population. And, in truth, so it really is. Its population barely reaches fifteen thousand souls, whereas it would seem to have the grandeur and appointments of a city of a hundred thousand. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes cut its inhabitants down to the extent of twenty or twenty-five thousand, and it has never recovered from the blow.
Nice houses, many of which are centuries old, line the main streets of the town, which, once you’re inside, feels too big for its population. And, in reality, it really is. Its population barely hits fifteen thousand people, while it looks like it could support a city of a hundred thousand. The revocation of the Edict of Nantes reduced its residents to around twenty or twenty-five thousand, and the town has never fully bounced back from that hit.
In the neighbourhood of Saumur, for a considerable distance up and down the Loire, the hills are excavated into dwelling-houses and wine-caves, producing a most curious aspect. One continuous line of these cliff villages—like nothing so much as the habitations of the cliff-dwelling Indians of America—extends from the juncture of the Vienne with the Loire nearly up to the Ponts de Cé.
In the Saumur area, for quite a stretch along the Loire River, the hills are carved out into homes and wine caves, creating a really interesting sight. A continuous line of these cliffside villages—resembling the homes of the cliff-dwelling Native Americans—stretches from where the Vienne meets the Loire all the way to the Ponts de Cé.
The most curious effect of it all is the multitude of openings of doorways and windows and the uprising of chimney-pots through the chalk and turf which form the roof-tops of these settlements.
The most interesting effect of it all is the many doorways and windows that have opened up, along with the rise of chimney-pots through the chalk and turf that make up the rooftops of these communities.
In many of these caves are prepared the280 famous vin mousseux of Saumur, of which the greater part is sold as champagne to an unsuspecting and indifferent public, not by the growers or makers, but by unscrupulous middlemen.
In many of these caves, the280 famous vin mousseux of Saumur is made, most of which is sold as champagne to an unsuspecting and indifferent public, not by the growers or producers, but by dishonest middlemen.
Saumur, like Angers, is fortunate in its climate, to which is due a great part of the prosperity of the town, for the "Rome of the Huguenots" is more prosperous—and who shall not say more content?—than it ever was in the days of religious or feudal warfare.
Saumur, like Angers, is lucky with its climate, which contributes significantly to the town's prosperity, because the "Rome of the Huguenots" is more prosperous—and who can say it's not happier?—than it ever was during the times of religious or feudal wars.
Near Saumur is one shrine neglected by English pilgrims which might well be included in their itineraries. In the Château de Moraines at Dampierre died Margaret of Anjou and Lancaster, Queen of England, as one reads on a tablet erected at the gateway of this dainty "petit castel à tour et creneaux."
Near Saumur is a shrine often overlooked by English pilgrims that could easily be part of their travel plans. At the Château de Moraines in Dampierre, Margaret of Anjou and Lancaster, Queen of England, passed away, as noted on a plaque at the entrance of this charming "petit castel à tour et creneaux."
Asile et dernière demure
de l'heroine de la guerre des deux roses
Marguerite d'Anjou de Lancastre, reine d'Angleterre
La plus malheureuse des reines, des éspouses, et des mères
Qui Morut le 25 Aout 1482
Agée de 53 Ans.
281The Salvus Murus of the ancients became the Saumur of to-day in the year 948, when the monk Absalom built a monastery here and surrounded it with a protecting wall. Up to the thirteenth century the city belonged to the "Angevin kings of Angleterre," as the French historians proudly claim them.
281The Salvus Murus of the ancients became the Saumur of today in 948, when the monk Absalom built a monastery here and surrounded it with a protective wall. Up until the thirteenth century, the city belonged to the "Angevin kings of England," as the French historians proudly claim.
The city passed finally to the Kings of France, and to them remained constantly faithful. Under Henri IV. the city was governed by Duplessis-Mornay, the "pape des Huguenots," becoming practically the metropolis of Protestantism. Up to this time the chief architectural monument was the château, which was commenced in the eleventh century and which through the next five centuries had been aggrandized and rebuilt into its present shape.
The city eventually came under the control of the Kings of France, and they remained loyal to them. Under Henri IV, the city was led by Duplessis-Mornay, the "pape des Huguenots," effectively becoming the center of Protestantism. Until that point, the main architectural landmark was the château, which began construction in the eleventh century and had been expanded and remodeled into its current form over the next five centuries.
The church of Notre Dame de Nantilly dates from the twelfth century and was frequently visited by Louis XI. The oratory formerly made use of by this monarch to-day contains the baptismal fonts. One of the columns of the nave has graven upon it the epitaph composed by King René of Anjou for his foster-mother, Dame Thiephanie. Throughout, the church is beautifully decorated.
The church of Notre Dame de Nantilly dates back to the twelfth century and was often visited by Louis XI. The oratory that this king once used now holds the baptismal fonts. One of the columns in the nave has engraved on it the epitaph written by King René of Anjou for his foster-mother, Dame Thiephanie. Overall, the church is beautifully decorated.
The Hôtel de Ville may well be called the chief artistic treasure of Saumur, as the chât282teau is its chief historical monument. It is a delightful ensemble of the best of late Gothic, dating from the sixteenth century, flanked on its façade by turrets crowned with mâchicoulis, and lighted by a series of elegant windows à croisillons. Above all is a gracious campanile, in its way as fine as the belfry of Bruges, to which, from a really artistic standpoint, rhapsodists have given rather more than its due.
The Hôtel de Ville can definitely be considered the main artistic gem of Saumur, while the château is the city's primary historical monument. It’s a charming mix of late Gothic architecture from the sixteenth century, featuring turrets topped with decorative battlements on its facade and illuminated by a series of elegant crossbar windows. Dominating the scene is a lovely campanile, which is just as impressive as the belfry of Bruges and, from an artistic perspective, has received more praise than it perhaps deserves.
The interior is as elaborate and pleasing as is the outside. In the Salle des Mariages and Salle du Conseil are fine fifteenth-century chimneypieces, such as are only found in their perfection on the Loire. The library, of something over twenty thousand volumes, many of them in manuscript, is formed in great part from the magnificent collection formerly at the abbeys of Fontevrault and St. Florent. Doubtless these old tomes contain a wealth of material from which some future historian will perhaps construct a new theory of the universe. This in truth may not be literally so, but it is a fact that there is a vast amount of contemporary historical information, with regard to the world in general, which is as yet unearthed, as witness the case of Pompeii alone, where the283 area of the discoveries forms but a small part of the entire buried city.
The interior is just as detailed and beautiful as the outside. In the Salle des Mariages and Salle du Conseil, there are impressive fifteenth-century fireplaces that can only be found in their finest form along the Loire. The library, which holds over twenty thousand volumes, many of them in manuscript, is largely made up of the stunning collection that was once at the abbeys of Fontevrault and St. Florent. These old books definitely contain a wealth of information from which some future historian might develop a new theory of the universe. While this may not be literally true, it's a fact that a huge amount of contemporary historical information about the world, in general, is still undiscovered, as seen in the case of Pompeii alone, where the283 area of the discoveries is just a small part of the entire buried city.
At Saumur numerous prehistoric and gallo-romain remains are continually being added to the museum, which is also in the Hôtel de Ville. A recent acquisition—discovered in a neighbouring vineyard—is a Roman "trompette," as it is designated, and a more or less complete outfit of tools, obviously those of a carpenter.
At Saumur, many prehistoric and gallo-romain artifacts are continuously being added to the museum, which is located in the Hôtel de Ville. A recent addition—found in a nearby vineyard—is a Roman "trompette," as it is called, along with a mostly complete set of tools, clearly belonging to a carpenter.
The notorious Madame de Montespan—"the illustrious penitent," though the former description answers better—stopped here, in a house adjoining the Church of St. John, to-day a maison de retrait, on her way to visit her sister, the abbess, at Fontevrault.
The infamous Madame de Montespan—“the famous penitent,” although the first description fits better—stopped here, in a house next to the Church of St. John, now a maison de retrait, on her way to visit her sister, the abbess, at Fontevrault.
From Saumur to Angers the Loire passes an almost continuous series of historical guide-posts, some in ruins, but many more as proudly environed as ever.
From Saumur to Angers, the Loire flows by an almost constant lineup of historical landmarks, some in ruins, but many still standing proudly as ever.
At Treves-Cunault is a dignified Romanesque church which would add to the fame of a more popular and better known town. It is not a grand structure, but it is perfect of its kind, with its crenelated façade and its sturdy arcaded towers curiously placed midway on the north wall.
At Treves-Cunault, there is a beautiful Romanesque church that would enhance the reputation of a more well-known town. It isn’t a massive building, but it is impeccable for its style, featuring a crenelated façade and robust arcaded towers interestingly located halfway up the north wall.
Here one first becomes acquainted with men284hirs and dolmens, examples of which are to be found in the neighbourhood, not so remarkable as those of Brittany, but still of the same family.
Here, you first get to know about men284hirs and dolmens, examples of which can be found nearby. They may not be as impressive as those in Brittany, but they’re still from the same family.
The Ponts de Cé follow next, still in the midst of vine-land, and finally appear the twin spires of Angers's unique Cathedral of St. Maurice. Here one realizes, if not before, that he is in Anjou; no more is the atmosphere transparent as in Touraine, but something of the grime of the commercial struggle for life is over all.
The Ponts de Cé come next, still surrounded by vineyards, and finally, you see the twin spires of Angers' unique Cathedral of St. Maurice. Here, you realize, if you hadn’t before, that you are in Anjou; the atmosphere is no longer as clear as in Touraine, but instead carries a bit of the dirtiness from the hustle of everyday life.
Here the Maine joins the Loire, at a little village called La Pointe: "the Charenton of Angers," it was called by a Paris-loving boulevardier who once wandered afield.
Here, the Maine meets the Loire, in a small village called La Pointe: "the Charenton of Angers," as it was referred to by a Parisian who once explored the area.
Much has been written, and much might yet be written, about the famous Ponts de Cé, which span the Loire and its branches for a distance considerably over three kilometres. This ancient bridge or bridges (which, with that at Blois, were at one time, the only bridges across the Loire below Orleans) formerly consisted of 109 arches, but the reconstruction of the mid-nineteenth century reduced these to a bare score.
Much has been written, and there’s still a lot to say, about the famous Ponts de Cé, which cross the Loire and its tributaries for over three kilometers. This ancient bridge or bridges (which, along with the one at Blois, used to be the only crossings of the Loire south of Orleans) originally had 109 arches, but the reconstruction in the mid-nineteenth century cut these down to just twenty.
As a vantage-point in warfare the Ponts de Cé were ever in contention, the Gauls, the Romans, the Franks, the Normans, and the Eng285lish successively taking possession and defending them against their opponents. The Ponts de Cé is a weirdly strange and historic town which has lost none of its importance in a later day, though the famous ponts are now remade, and their antique arches replaced by more solid, if less picturesque piers and piling. They span the shallow flow of the Loire water for three-quarters of a league and produce a homogeneous effect of antiquity, coupled with the city's three churches and its château overlooking the fortified isle in mid-river, which looks as though it had not changed since the days when Marie de Medici looked upon it, as recalled by the great Rubens painting in the Louvre. Since the beginning of the history of these parts, battles almost without number have taken place here, as was natural on a spot so strategically important.
As a strategic point in warfare, the Ponts de Cé has always been contested, with the Gauls, the Romans, the Franks, the Normans, and the English all taking control of it and defending it against their rivals. The Ponts de Cé is an oddly fascinating town that has not lost its significance over time, even though the famous bridges have been rebuilt and their ancient arches replaced with sturdier, though less charming, piers and piling. They cross the shallow flow of the Loire River for three-quarters of a league and create a cohesive look of history, alongside the city's three churches and its château overlooking the fortified island in the middle of the river, which appears unchanged since the days when Marie de Medici gazed upon it, as depicted in the famous Rubens painting in the Louvre. Throughout the history of this region, countless battles have taken place here, which makes sense given how strategically important the location is.
There is a tale of the Vendean wars, connected with the "Roche-de-Murs" at the Ponts de Cé, to the effect that a battalion, left here to guard any attack from across the river, was captured by the Vendeans. Many of the "Bleus" refused to surrender, and threw themselves into the river beneath their feet. Among these was the wife of an officer, to whom the Vendeans offered life if she surren286dered. This was refused, and precipitately, with her child, she threw herself into the flood beneath.
There’s a story from the Vendean wars about the "Roche-de-Murs" at the Ponts de Cé. It goes that a battalion stationed there to defend against any attacks from across the river was captured by the Vendeans. Many of the “Bleus” refused to surrender and jumped into the river below. Among them was the wife of an officer, who was offered her life by the Vendeans if she surrendered. She refused and, in a hurry, threw herself and her child into the rushing water below.
On the largest isle, that lying between the Louet and the Loire, is one vast garden or orchard of cherry-trees, which produce a peculiarly juicy cherry from which large quantities of guignolet, a sort of "cherry brandy," is made. The Angevins will tell you that this was a well-known refreshment in the middle ages, and was first made by one of those monkish orders who were so successful in concocting the subtle liquors of the commerce of to-day.
On the largest island, located between the Louet and the Loire, there is a sprawling garden or orchard filled with cherry trees, which yield a uniquely juicy cherry used to make large amounts of guignolet, a type of "cherry brandy." The locals, known as the Angevins, will tell you that this was a popular drink in the Middle Ages, originally crafted by one of those monastic orders that were skilled at creating the refined liquors we see in commerce today.
It is with real regret that one parts from the Ponts de Cé, with La Fontaine's couplet on his lips:
It is with genuine sadness that one leaves the Ponts de Cé, with La Fontaine's couplet on their lips:
"How nice it is to be a bridge over the Loire."
Some one has said that the provinces find nothing to envy in Paris as far as the transformation of their cities is concerned. This, to a certain extent, is so, not only in respect to the modernizing of such grand cities as Lyons, Marseilles, or Lille, but in respect to such smaller cities as Nantes and Angers, where the improvements, if not on so magnificent a scale, are at least as momentous to their immediate environment.287
Someone has said that the provinces have nothing to envy in Paris when it comes to transforming their cities. This is somewhat true, not only regarding the modernization of grand cities like Lyon, Marseille, or Lille, but also for smaller cities such as Nantes and Angers, where the improvements, while not on such a grand scale, are still significant to their immediate surroundings.287
For the most part these second and third class cities are to-day transformed in exceedingly good taste, and, though many a noble monument has in the past been sacrificed, to-day the authorities are proceeding more carefully.
For the most part, these second and third-class cities have transformed themselves today with excellent taste, and although many impressive monuments were sacrificed in the past, the authorities are being more cautious now.
Angers, in spite of its overpowering château and its unique cathedral, is of a modernity and luxuriousness in its present-day aspect which is all the more remarkable because of the contrast. Formerly the Angevin capital, from the days of King John up to a much later time Angers had the reputation of being a town "plus sombre et plus maussade" than any other in the French provinces. In Shakespeare's "King John" one reads of "black Angers," and so indeed is its aspect to-day, for its roof-tops are of slate, while many of the houses are built of that material entirely. In the olden time many of its streets were cut in the slaty rock, leaving its sombre surface bare to the light of day. One sees evidences of all this in the massive walls of the great black-banded castle of Angers, and, altogether, this magpie colouring is one of the chief characteristics of this grandly historic town.
Angers, despite its impressive château and unique cathedral, has a modern and luxurious vibe today that stands out even more because of the contrast. Once the capital of Anjou, from the days of King John and well beyond, Angers was known for being "darker and gloomier" than any other town in France. In Shakespeare's "King John," it’s referred to as "black Angers," and it still has that look today, with slate rooftops and many houses made entirely of that material. In the past, many of its streets were carved into the slate rock, leaving the dark surface exposed to the light. You can see reminders of this in the massive walls of the grand black-banded castle of Angers, and overall, this striking color contrast is one of the main features of this historically rich town.
Both the new and the old town sit proudly on a height crowned by the two slim spires of the288 cathedral. In front, the gentle curves of the river Maine enfold the old houses at the base of the hillside and lap the very walls of the grim fortress-château itself, or did in the days when the Counts of Anjou held sway, though to-day the river has somewhat receded.
Both the new and old towns sit proudly on a hill topped by the two slender spires of the 288 cathedral. In front, the gentle curves of the Maine River wrap around the old houses at the foot of the hillside and touch the walls of the imposing fortress-château itself, or did back when the Counts of Anjou were in charge, even though today the river has somewhat receded.
Beyond the ancient ramparts, up the hill, have been erected the "quartiers neufs," with houses all admirably planned and laid out, with gardens forming a veritable girdle, as did the retaining walls of other days which surrounded the old château and its faubourg. To-day Angers shares with Nantes the title of metropolis of the west, and the Loire flows on its ample way between the two in a far more imposing manner than elsewhere in its course from source to sea.
Beyond the ancient walls, up the hill, are the new neighborhoods, with houses all well-designed and organized, surrounded by gardens that form a true belt, just like the old retaining walls that once encircled the old château and its outskirts. Today, Angers shares the title of the west's metropolis with Nantes, and the Loire River flows majestically between the two, more impressively than in any other part of its journey from source to sea.
Angers does not lie exactly at the juncture of the Maine and Loire, but a little way above, but it has always been considered as one of the chief Loire cities; and probably many of its visitors do not realize that it is not on the Loire itself.
Angers isn't exactly located at the confluence of the Maine and Loire, but a little upstream. Still, it's always been regarded as one of the main cities along the Loire, and likely, many of its visitors don't realize it's not actually on the river itself.
The marvellous fairy-book château of Angers, with its fourteen black-striped towers, is just as it was when built by St. Louis, save that its chess-board towers lack, in most cases, their coiffes, and all vestiges have disappeared of289 the charpente which formerly topped them off.
The amazing fairy-tale castle of Angers, with its fourteen black-striped towers, is just as it was when built by St. Louis, except that most of its chessboard towers are missing their caps, and all traces of the charpente that used to top them have vanished.289
Beyond the rocky formation of the banks of the Loire, which crop out below the juncture of the Maine and the Loire, below Angers, are Savennières and La Possonière, whence come the most famous vintages of Anjou, which, to the wines of these parts, are what Château Margaux and Château Yquem are to the Bordelais, and the Clos Vougeot is to the Bourguignons.
Beyond the rocky banks of the Loire River, where it meets the Maine near Angers, are Savennières and La Possonière, the sources of the most renowned vintages of Anjou. These wines are to this region what Château Margaux and Château Yquem are to Bordeaux, and what Clos Vougeot is to Burgundy.
The peninsula formed by the Loire and the Maine at Angers is the richest agricultural region in all France, the nurseries and the kitchen-gardens having made the fortune of this little corner of Anjou.
The peninsula created by the Loire and the Maine at Angers is the most fertile agricultural area in all of France, with nurseries and kitchen gardens that have brought wealth to this small part of Anjou.
Angers is the headquarters for nursery-garden stock for the open air, as Orleans is for ornamental and woodland trees and shrubs.
Angers is the main hub for outdoor nursery plants, while Orleans specializes in ornamental and forest trees and shrubs.
The trade in living plants and shrubs has grown to very great proportions since 1848, when an agent went out from here on behalf of the leading house in the trade and visited America for the purpose of searching out foreign plants and fruits which could be made to thrive on French soil.
The trade in living plants and shrubs has expanded significantly since 1848, when an agent from here was sent by the leading company in the industry to America to look for foreign plants and fruits that could thrive in French soil.
Both the soil and climate are very favourable for the cultivation of many hitherto unknown290 fruits, the neighbourhood of the sea, which, not far distant, is tempered by the Gulf Stream, having given to Anjou a lukewarm humidity and a temperature of a remarkable equality.
Both the soil and climate are very favorable for growing many previously unknown290 fruits. The nearby sea, not too far away, is warmed by the Gulf Stream, providing Anjou with a mild humidity and a remarkably consistent temperature.
Some of the nurseries of these parts are enormous establishments, the Maison André Leroy, for example, covering an extent of some six hundred acres. A catalogue of one of these establishments, located in the suburbs of Angers, enumerates over four hundred species of pear-trees, six hundred varieties of apple-trees, one hundred and fifty varieties of plums, four hundred and seventy-five of grapes, fifteen hundred of roses, and two hundred and nineteen of rhododendrons.
Some of the nurseries in this area are huge operations, like the Maison André Leroy, which spans about six hundred acres. A catalog from one of these establishments, found in the suburbs of Angers, lists over four hundred species of pear trees, six hundred varieties of apple trees, one hundred and fifty varieties of plums, four hundred and seventy-five types of grapes, fifteen hundred types of roses, and two hundred and nineteen types of rhododendrons.
Each night, or as often as fifty railway wagons are loaded, trains are despatched from the gare at Angers for all parts. When the choux-fleurs are finished, then come the petits pois, and then the artichauts and other légumes in favour with the Paris bon-vivants.
Each night, or as often as fifty railway wagons are loaded, trains are sent out from the gare in Angers to various destinations. After the choux-fleurs are done, the petits pois follow, and then the artichauts and other légumes that are popular with the Paris bon-vivants.
Near Angers is one of those Cæsar's camps which were spread thickly up and down Gaul and Britain alike. One reaches it by road from Angers, and, until it dawns upon one that the vast triangle, one of whose equilateral sides is formed by the Loire, another by the Maine, and the third by a ridge of land stretching be291tween the two, covers about fourteen kilometres square, it seems much like any other neck or peninsula of land lying between two rivers. One hundred thousand of the Roman legion camped here at one time, which is not so very wonderful until it is recalled that they lived for months on the resources of this comparatively restricted area.
Near Angers is one of those camps that Julius Caesar established, scattered throughout Gaul and Britain. You can get there by road from Angers, and it doesn't hit you right away that the large triangle—formed by the Loire on one side, the Maine on another, and a ridge of land stretching between the two—covers about fourteen square kilometers. At first glance, it looks just like any other piece of land wedged between two rivers. At one point, one hundred thousand Roman soldiers camped here, which doesn't seem so surprising until you remember they lived for months off the resources of this relatively small area.
Before coming to Nantes, Ancenis and Oudon should claim the attention of the traveller, though each is not much more than a typically interesting small town of France, in spite of the memories of the past.
Before arriving in Nantes, Ancenis and Oudon should catch the attention of the traveler, even though each is just a typically interesting small town in France, despite their historical significance.
Ancenis has an ancient château, remodelled and added to in the nineteenth century, which possesses some remarkably important constructive details, the chief of which are a great tower-flanked doorway and the corps de logis, each the work of an Angevin architect, Jean de Lespine, in the sixteenth century. Within the walls of this château François II., Duc de Bretagne, and Louis XI. signed one of the treaties which finally led up to the union of the Duché de Bretagne with the Crown of France.
Ancenis has an old château that was remodeled and expanded in the nineteenth century, featuring some notably significant architectural details. The most prominent are a grand doorway flanked by towers and the corps de logis, both created by an Angevin architect, Jean de Lespine, in the sixteenth century. Inside the walls of this château, François II, Duc de Bretagne, and Louis XI signed one of the treaties that ultimately led to the union of the Duchy of Brittany with the Crown of France.
Oudon possesses a fine example of a mediæval donjon, though it has been restored in our day.
Oudon has a great example of a medieval keep, even though it has been restored in modern times.
One does not usually connect Brittany with292 the Loire except so far as to recollect that Nantes was a former political and social capital. As a matter of fact, however, a very considerable proportion of Brittany belongs to the Loire country.
One doesn't typically link Brittany with292 the Loire, except to remember that Nantes used to be a political and social hub. However, a significant part of Brittany is actually part of the Loire region.
Anjou of the counts and kings and Bretagne of the dukes and duchesses embrace the whole of the Loire valley below Saumur, although the river-bed of the Loire formed no actual boundary. Anjou extended nearly as far to the southward as it did to the north of the vine-clad banks, and Bretagne, too, had possession of a vast tract south of Nantes, known as the Pays de Retz, which bordered upon the Vendée of Poitou.
Anjou, associated with counts and kings, and Bretagne, linked to dukes and duchesses, cover the entire Loire valley below Saumur, although the river's banks didn't create a real border. Anjou stretched nearly as far south as it did north of the vine-covered banks, and Bretagne also held a large area south of Nantes, known as the Pays de Retz, which bordered the Vendée of Poitou.
All the world knows, or should know, that Nantes and St. Nazaire form one of the great ports of the world, not by any means so great as New York, London, or Hamburg, nor yet as great as Antwerp, Bordeaux, or Marseilles, but still a magnificent port which plays a most important part with the affairs of France and the outside world.
All the world knows, or should know, that Nantes and St. Nazaire make up one of the great ports in the world, not quite as prominent as New York, London, or Hamburg, nor as significant as Antwerp, Bordeaux, or Marseilles, but still a remarkable port that plays a crucial role in the dealings of France and the wider world.
Nantes, la Brette, is tranquil and solid, with the life of the laborious bourgeois always in the foreground. It is of Bretagne, to which province it anciently belonged, only so far as it forms the bridge between the Vendée and the293 old duchy; literally between two opposing feudal lords and masters, both of whom were hard to please.
Nantes, la Brette, is calm and sturdy, with the busy lives of the hardworking middle class always taking center stage. It's a part of Brittany, which it used to belong to, only in that it acts as a link between the Vendée and the293old duchy; literally sitting between two rival feudal lords and masters, both of whom were difficult to satisfy.
The memoirs of this corner of the province of Bretagne of other days are strong in such names as the Duchesse Anne, the monk Abelard, the redoubtable Clisson, the infamous Gilles de Retz, the warrior Lanoue, surnamed "Bras de Fer," and many others whose names are prominent in history.
The memoirs from this part of the province of Brittany from earlier times feature notable figures like Duchess Anne, the monk Abelard, the formidable Clisson, the notorious Gilles de Retz, the warrior Lanoue, nicknamed "Iron Arm," and many others who are well-known in history.
"Ventre Saint Gris! les Ducs de Bretagne n'étaient pas de petits compagnons!" cried Henri Quatre, as he first gazed upon the Château de Nantes. At that time, in 1598, this fortress was defended by seven curtains, six towers, bastions and caponieres, all protected by a wide and deep moat, into which poured the rising tide twice with each round of the clock.
"Holy Saint Gray! The Dukes of Brittany weren’t just any small fries!" cried Henry IV as he first looked at the Château de Nantes. Back in 1598, this fortress was guarded by seven walls, six towers, bastions, and caponnières, all secured by a wide and deep moat that filled up twice with each round of the clock as the tide came in.
To-day the aspect of this château is no less formidable than of yore, though it has been debased and the moat has disappeared to make room for a roadway and the railroad.
To day, the look of this château is just as impressive as it was in the past, even though it has been diminished and the moat is gone to make way for a road and the railroad.
It was in the château of Nantes, the same whose grim walls still overlook the road by which one reaches the centre of the town from the inconveniently placed station, that Mazarin had Henri de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz and co-adjutor of the Archbishop of Paris, imprisoned294 in 1665, because of his offensive partisanship. Fouquet, too, after his splendid downfall, was thrown into the donjon here by Louis XIV.
It was in the château of Nantes, the same one whose dark walls still loom over the road leading from the poorly located station to the center of town, that Mazarin had Henri de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz and co-adjutor of the Archbishop of Paris, imprisoned294 in 1665 due to his troublesome support for certain factions. Fouquet, after his glorious downfall, was also thrown into the dungeon here by Louis XIV.
De Gondi recounts in his "Mémoires" how he took advantage of the inattention of his guards and finally evaded them by letting himself over the side of the Bastion de Mercœur by means of a rope smuggled into him by his friends. The feat does not look a very formidable one to-day, but then, or in any day, it must have been somewhat of an adventure for a portly churchman, and the wonder is that it was performed successfully. At any rate it reads like a real adventure from the pages of Dumas, who himself made a considerable use of Nantes and its château in his historical romances.
De Gondi shares in his "Mémoires" how he capitalized on the negligence of his guards and managed to escape by lowering himself over the side of the Bastion de Mercœur using a rope that his friends had snuck in for him. This accomplishment might not seem that impressive today, but back then, or in any era, it must have been quite an adventure for a hefty clergyman, and it’s astonishing that he succeeded. At the very least, it reads like a thrilling tale from the works of Dumas, who frequently referenced Nantes and its château in his historical novels.
Landais, the minister and favourite of François II. of Bretagne, was arrested here in 1485, in the very chamber of the prince, who delivered him up with the remark: "Faites justice, mais souvenez-vous que vous lui êtes redevable de votre charge."
Landais, the minister and favorite of François II of Brittany, was arrested here in 1485, in the very chamber of the prince, who handed him over with the remark: "Do justice, but remember that you owe him your position."
There is no end of historical incident connected with Nantes's old fortress-château of mediæval times, and, in one capacity or another, it has sheltered many names famous in history, from the Kings of France, from Louis295 XII. onward, to Madame de Sévigné and the Duchesse de Berry.
There’s an endless list of historical events linked to Nantes's old fortress-castle from medieval times, and in various ways, it has hosted many famous figures in history, from the Kings of France starting with Louis295 XII to Madame de Sévigné and the Duchesse de Berry.
Nantes's Place de la Bouffai (which to lovers of Dumas will already be an old friend) was formerly the site of a château contemporary with that which stands by the waterside. The Château de Bouffai was built in 990 by Conan, first Duc de Bretagne, and served as an official residence to him and many of his successors.
Nantes's Place de la Bouffai (which fans of Dumas will already know well) was once the location of a château that was contemporary with the one by the waterside. The Château de Bouffai was built in 990 by Conan, the first Duke of Brittany, and served as an official residence for him and many of his successors.
In Nantes's great but imperfect and unfinished Cathedral of St. Pierre one comes upon a relic that lives long in the memory of those who have passed before it: the tomb of François II., Duc de Bretagne, and Marguerite de Foix. The cathedral itself is no mean architectural work, in spite of its imperfections, as one may judge from the following inscription graven over the sculptured figure of St. Pierre, its patron:
In Nantes's impressive but flawed and unfinished Cathedral of St. Pierre, you encounter a relic that sticks in the minds of those who have visited: the tomb of François II, Duke of Brittany, and Marguerite de Foix. The cathedral itself is quite an architectural achievement, despite its flaws, as you can see from the inscription carved above the sculpted figure of St. Pierre, its patron:
A my-avril without much discount:
At the entrance of this church,
"Was the first cornerstone."
Within, the chief attraction is that masterwork of Michel Colombe, the before-mentioned tomb, which ranks among the world's art-treasures. The beauty of the emblematic figures which flank the tomb proper, the fine chiselling296 of the recumbent effigies themselves, and the general ensemble is such that the work is bound to appeal, whatever may be one's opinion of Renaissance sculpture in France. The tomb was brought here from the old Église des Carmes, which had been pillaged and burned in the Revolution.
Inside, the main attraction is the masterpiece by Michel Colombe, the aforementioned tomb, which is considered one of the world's art treasures. The beauty of the symbolic figures that flank the tomb, the exquisite detail of the reclining effigies themselves, and the overall composition are such that the work is sure to impress, no matter what one thinks of Renaissance sculpture in France. The tomb was moved here from the old Église des Carmes, which was looted and burned during the Revolution.
The mausoleum was—in its old resting-place—opened in 1727, and a small, heart-shaped, gold box was found, supposed to have contained the heart of the Duchesse Anne. The coffer was surmounted by a royal crown and emblazoned with the order of the Cordelière, but within was found nothing but a scapulary. On the circlet of the crown was written in relief:
The mausoleum was—at its original location—opened in 1727, and a small, heart-shaped gold box was discovered, believed to have held the heart of Duchesse Anne. The box was topped with a royal crown and decorated with the order of the Cordelière, but inside was nothing but a scapular. Engraved around the crown was the following:
And on the box beneath one read:
And on the box below, one could read:
"In this small vessel, made of pure and refined gold,
Rests a greater heart than any lady has ever had in the world.
Her name was Anne, twice Queen in France
. . . . . . . . . . .
And this earthly part remains in great mourning for us.
January 9th, 1533."
In one respect only has Nantes suffered through the march of time. Its magnificent Quai de la Fosse has disappeared, a long façade which a hundred or more years ago was297 bordered by the palatial dwellings of the great ship-owners of the Nantes of a former generation. The whole, immediately facing the river where formerly swung many ships at anchor, has disappeared entirely to make way for the railway.
In one way, Nantes has been affected by time. Its beautiful Quai de la Fosse is gone, a long front that over a hundred years ago was297 lined with grand homes of the prominent shipowners of the Nantes of the past. The entire area, which used to face the river where many ships were once anchored, has completely vanished to give space for the railway.
The islands of the Loire opposite Nantes are an echo of the life of the metropolis itself. The298 Ile Feydeau is monumental, the Ile Gloriette hustling and nervous with "affaires," and Prairie-au-Duc busy with industries of all sorts.
The islands of the Loire across from Nantes reflect the life of the city itself. The298 Ile Feydeau is impressive, the Ile Gloriette bustling and energetic with "business," and Prairie-au-Duc filled with various industries.
Couëron, below Nantes on the right bank, is sombre with gray walls surrounding its numberless factories, and chimney-stacks belching forth clouds of dense smoke. Behind are great walls of chalky-white rock crowned with verdure. Nearly opposite is the little town of Le Pellerin graciously seated on the river's bank and marking the lower limit of the Loire Nantaise.
Couëron, located below Nantes on the right bank, is gloomy with gray walls surrounding its countless factories, and smokestacks emitting thick clouds of smoke. Behind it are large walls of chalky-white rock topped with greenery. Almost directly across is the small town of Le Pellerin, elegantly positioned on the riverbank and marking the lower boundary of the Loire Nantaise.
Another hill, belonging to the domain of Bois-Tillac and La Martinière, where was born Fouché, the future Duc d'Otranta, comes to view, and the basin of the Loire enlarges into the estuary, and all at once one finds himself in the true "Loire Maritime."
Another hill, part of the Bois-Tillac and La Martinière area, where Fouché, the future Duke of Otranto, was born, comes into view, and the Loire River widens into the estuary, and suddenly you find yourself in the real "Loire Maritime."
At Martinière is the mouth of the Canal Maritime à la Loire, which, from Paimbœuf to Le Pellerin, is used by all craft ascending the river to Nantes, drawing more than four metres of water.
At Martinière is the mouth of the Canal Maritime à la Loire, which, from Paimbœuf to Le Pellerin, is used by all vessels traveling up the river to Nantes, requiring more than four meters of water.
At the entrance of the Acheneau is the Canal de Buzay, which connects that stream with the more ambitious Loire, and makes of the Lac de Grand Lieu a public domain, instead of a pri299vate property as claimed by the "marquis" who holds in terror all who would fish or shoot over its waters. All this immediate region formerly belonged to the monks of the ancient Abbey of Buzay, and it was they who originally cut the waterway through to the Loire. About half-way in its length are the ruins of the ancient monastery, clustered about the tower of its old church. It is a most romantically sad monument, and for that very reason its grouping, on the bank of the busy canal, suggests in a most impressive manner the passing of all great works.
At the entrance of the Acheneau is the Canal de Buzay, which links that stream with the more significant Loire, and turns the Lac de Grand Lieu into a public area instead of the private property claimed by the "marquis" who intimidates anyone trying to fish or hunt over its waters. This entire area used to belong to the monks of the ancient Abbey of Buzay, and they were the ones who originally created the waterway to the Loire. About halfway along its length are the ruins of the old monastery, gathered around the tower of its ancient church. It’s a beautifully melancholic monument, and because of that, its arrangement along the banks of the busy canal powerfully evokes the decline of all great works.
The prosperity of Nantes as a deep-sea port is of long standing, but recent improvements have increased all this to a hitherto unthought-of extent. Progress has been continuous, and now Nantes has become, like Rouen, a great deep-water port, one of the important seaports of France, the realization of a hope ever latent in the breast of the Nantais since the days and disasters of the Edict and its revocation.
The prosperity of Nantes as a deep-sea port has been established for a long time, but recent improvements have taken it to levels previously unimagined. Progress has been steady, and now Nantes has become, like Rouen, a major deep-water port, one of the key seaports in France, fulfilling a hope that has always lived in the hearts of the people of Nantes since the days and troubles of the Edict and its revocation.
Below Nantes, in the actual "Loire Maritime," the aspect of all things changes and the green and luxuriant banks give way to sand-dunes and flat, marshy stretches, as salty as the sea itself. This gives rise to a very consider300able development of the salt industry which at Bourg de Batz is the principal, if not the sole, means of livelihood.
Below Nantes, in what's now called "Loire Maritime," the scenery shifts dramatically. The lush green banks turn into sand dunes and flat, marshy areas that are as salty as the ocean. This leads to a significant growth of the salt industry, which in Bourg de Batz is the main, if not the only, source of income.
St. Nazaire, the real deep-water port of Nantes, dates from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when it was known as Port Nazaire. It is a progressive and up-to-date seaport of some thirty-five thousand souls, but it has no appeal for the tourist unless he be a lover of great smoky steamships and all the paraphernalia of longshore life.
St. Nazaire, the actual deep-water port of Nantes, originated in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries when it was called Port Nazaire. It’s a modern and developed seaport with around thirty-five thousand residents, but it doesn't attract tourists unless they have a passion for large, smoky steamships and everything that comes with dockside life.
Pornichet, a "station de bains de mer très fréquentée;" Batz, with its salt-works; Le Croisic, with its curious waterside church, and the old walled town of Guérande bring one to the mouth of the Loire. The rest is the billowy western ocean whose ebb and flow brings fresh breezes and tides to the great cities of the estuary and makes possible that prosperity with which they are so amply endowed.301
Pornichet, a "popular seaside resort;" Batz, known for its salt pans; Le Croisic, with its unique waterside church, and the historic walled town of Guérande lead you to the mouth of the Loire. Beyond that is the rolling western ocean, whose tides and currents bring fresh breezes to the major cities of the estuary, contributing to the prosperity they enjoy.301
CHAPTER XIV.To ToC
SOUTH OF THE LOIRE
The estuary of the Loire belongs both to Brittany and to the Vendée, though, as a matter-of-fact, the southern bank, opposite Nantes, formed a part of the ancient Pays de Retz, one of the old seigneuries of Bretagne.
The estuary of the Loire is shared by Brittany and the Vendée, although, in reality, the southern bank, across from Nantes, was part of the ancient Pays de Retz, one of the old lordships of Brittany.
It was Henri de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, who was the bitter rival of Mazarin. French historians have told us that when the regency under Anne of Austria began, Mazarin, who had been secretary to the terrible Richelieu, was just coming into his power. He was a subtle, insidious Italian, plodding and patient, but false as a spring-time rainbow. Gondi was bold, liberal, and independent, a mover of men and one able to take advantage of any turn of the wind, a statesman, and a great reformer,—or he would have been had he but full power. It was Cromwell who said that De Retz was the only man in Europe who saw through his plans.
It was Henri de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, who was the fierce opponent of Mazarin. French historians have told us that when the regency began under Anne of Austria, Mazarin, who had served as secretary to the formidable Richelieu, was just starting to gain power. He was a cunning, deceptive Italian, persistent and patient, but as unreliable as a spring rainbow. Gondi was bold, open-minded, and independent, a leader who could adapt to any change in circumstances, a statesman, and a great reformer—although he could have achieved more if only he had had full power. It was Cromwell who remarked that De Retz was the only person in Europe who understood his plans.
Gondi had entered the church, but he had no302 talents for it. His life was free, too free even for the times, it would appear, for, though he was ordained cardinal, it was impossible for him to supplant Mazarin in the good graces of the court. As he himself had said that he preferred to be a great leader of a party rather than a partisan of royalty, he was perhaps not so very greatly disappointed that he was not able to supplant the wily Italian successor of Richelieu in the favour of the queen regent. Gondi was able to control the parliament, however, and, for a time, it was unable to carry through anything against his will. Mazarin rose to power at last, barricaded the streets of Paris, and decided to exile Gondi—as being the too popular hero of the people. Gondi knew of the edict, but stuck out to the last, saying: "To-morrow, I, Henri de Gondi, before midday, will be master of Paris." Noon came, and he was master of Paris, but as he was still Archbishop-Coadjutor of Paris his hands were tied in more ways than one, and the plot for his supremacy over Mazarin, "the plunderer," fell through.
Gondi had entered the church, but he had no302 talent for it. His life was free, even too free for the times, it seems, because although he was made a cardinal, he couldn’t replace Mazarin in the favor of the court. As he had said himself, he preferred to be a great leader of a party rather than a supporter of the royalty, so he might not have been too disappointed that he couldn’t displace the crafty Italian who succeeded Richelieu in the queen regent’s favor. Gondi, however, managed to control the parliament, and for a while, it couldn't do anything against his wishes. Eventually, Mazarin rose to power, barricaded the streets of Paris, and decided to exile Gondi, seeing him as the too-popular hero of the people. Gondi was aware of the edict but held out until the end, declaring: "Tomorrow, I, Henri de Gondi, will be the master of Paris by noon." Noon arrived, and he was the master of Paris, but since he was still the Archbishop-Coadjutor of Paris, his hands were tied in more ways than one, and his plan to dominate Mazarin, "the plunderer," fell apart.
The whole neighbouring region south of the Loire opposite Nantes, the ancient Pays de Retz, is unfamiliar to tourists in general, and for that reason it has an unexpected if not a303 superlative charm. It was the bloodiest of the battle-grounds of the Vendean wars, and, though its monumental remains are not as numerous or as imposingly beautiful as those in many other parts, there is an interest about it all which is as undying as is that of the most ornate or magnificent château or fortress-peopled land that ever existed.
The entire neighboring area south of the Loire across from Nantes, the historic Pays de Retz, is mostly unknown to tourists, and for that reason, it has an unexpected, if not a303 superlative charm. It was the bloodiest battleground of the Vendean wars, and while its historical remains are not as numerous or as impressively beautiful as those in many other regions, there’s an interest about it that is as enduring as that of the most ornate or magnificent château or fortress-filled land that ever existed.
Not a corner of this land but has seen bloody warfare in all its grimness and horror, from the days when Clisson was pillaged by the Normans in the ninth century, to the guerilla warfare of the Vendean republicans in the eighteenth century. The advent of the railway has changed much of the aspect of this region and brought a twentieth-century civilization up to the very walls of the ruins of Clisson and Maulévrier, the latter one of the many châteaux of this region which were ruined by the wars of Stofflet, who, at the head of the insurgents, obliged the nobility to follow the peasants in their uprising.
Not a corner of this land hasn't experienced bloody warfare in all its grimness and horror, from the days when Clisson was looted by the Normans in the ninth century, to the guerrilla warfare of the Vendean republicans in the eighteenth century. The arrival of the railway has transformed much of this area and brought a twentieth-century civilization right up to the walls of the ruins of Clisson and Maulévrier, the latter being one of the many châteaux in this region that were destroyed by the wars of Stofflet, who, leading the insurgents, forced the nobility to join the peasants in their uprising.
Now and then, in these parts, one comes upon a short length of railway line not unlike that at which our forefathers marvelled. The line may be of narrow gauge or it may not, but almost invariably the two or three so-called carriages are constructed in the style (or lack304 of style) of the old stage-coach, and they roll along in much the same lumbering fashion. The locomotive itself is a thing to be wondered at. It is a pigmy in size, but it makes the commotion of a modern decapod, or one of those great flyers which pull the Southern Express on the main line via Poitiers and Angoulême, not fifty kilometres away.
Now and then, in this area, you come across a short stretch of railway line that resembles what our ancestors admired. The track might be narrow gauge or not, but almost always the two or three so-called carriages are designed in the style (or lack of style) of the old stagecoach, and they move along in a similar clumsy way. The locomotive itself is something to marvel at. It's tiny, but it creates the ruckus of a modern decapod or one of those big trains that pull the Southern Express on the main line through Poitiers and Angoulême, not fifty kilometers away.
There is a little tract of land lying just south of the Loire below Angers which is known as "le Bocage Vendéen." One leaves the Loire at Chalonnes and, by a series of gentle inclines, reaches the plateau where sits the town of Cholet, the very centre of the region, and a town whose almost only industry is the manufacture of pocket-handkerchiefs.
There is a small piece of land located just south of the Loire River, below Angers, known as "le Bocage Vendéen." You leave the Loire at Chalonnes and, through a series of gentle slopes, reach the plateau where the town of Cholet sits, the very center of the region, and a town whose primary industry is the making of pocket handkerchiefs.
The aspect of the Loire has changed rapidly and given way to a more vigorous and varied topography; but, for all that, Cholet and the surrounding country depend entirely upon the great towns of the Loire for their intercourse with the still greater markets beyond. Like Angers, Cholet and all the neighbouring villages are slate-roofed, with only an occasional red tile to give variety to the otherwise gray and sombre outlook.
The landscape of the Loire has changed quickly and has become more dynamic and diverse; however, Cholet and the nearby areas rely completely on the major towns of the Loire for their connection to even larger markets beyond. Like Angers, Cholet and all the surrounding villages have slate roofs, with only an occasional red tile to add some variety to the otherwise gray and dreary scenery.
En route from Chalonnes one passes Chemillé almost the only market-town of any size305 in the district. It is very curious, with its Romanesque church and its old houses distributed around an amphitheatre, like the loges in an opera-house.
On the way from Chalonnes, you pass through Chemillé, which is almost the only sizable market town 305 in the area. It's quite interesting, featuring its Romanesque church and old houses arranged around an amphitheater, like the loges in an opera house.
This is the very centre of the Bocage, where, in Revolutionary times, the Republican armies so frequently fought with the bands of Vendean fanatics.
This is the heart of the Bocage, where, during the Revolution, the Republican armies often battled the groups of Vendean fanatics.
The houses of Cholet are well built, but always with that grayness and sadness of tone which does not contribute to either brilliancy of aspect or gaiety of disposition. Save the grand street which traverses the town from east to west, the streets are narrow and uncomfortable; but to make up for all this there are hotels and cafés as attractive and as comfortable as any establishments of the kind to be found in any of the smaller cities of provincial France.
The houses in Cholet are well-constructed, but always have that grayness and somberness that doesn't add to their brightness or cheerful vibe. Except for the main street that runs through the town from east to west, the streets are narrow and uncomfortable; however, to make up for all this, there are hotels and cafés that are as appealing and cozy as any found in the smaller cities of provincial France.
The handkerchief industry is very considerable, no less than six great establishments devoting themselves to the manufacture.
The handkerchief industry is quite significant, with no fewer than six major companies dedicated to manufacturing.
Cholet is one of the greatest cattle markets, if not the greatest, in the land. The farmers of the surrounding country buy bœufs maigres in the southwest and centre of France and transform them into good fat cattle which in every way rival what is known in England as306 "best English." This is accomplished cheaply and readily by feeding them with cabbage stalks.
Cholet is one of the largest cattle markets, if not the largest, in the country. Farmers from the nearby areas buy bœufs maigres from the southwest and center of France and turn them into well-fattened cattle that can compete with what is known in England as306 "best English." They do this easily and affordably by feeding them cabbage stalks.
On Saturdays, on the Champ de Foire, the aspect is most animated, and any painter who is desirous of emulating Rosa Bonheur's "Horse Fair" (painted at the great cattle market of Bernay, in Normandy) cannot find a better vantage-ground than here, for one may see gathered together nearly all the cattle types of Poitou, the Vendée, Anjou, Bas Maine, and of Bretagne Nantaise.
On Saturdays, the Champ de Foire is really lively, and any artist looking to replicate Rosa Bonheur's "Horse Fair" (created at the major livestock market in Bernay, Normandy) won't find a better spot than here, as you can see almost all the cattle breeds from Poitou, Vendée, Anjou, Bas Maine, and Bretagne Nantaise gathered together.
In earlier days Cholet was far more sad than it is to-day; but there remain practically no souvenirs of its past. The wars of the Vendée left, it is said, but three houses standing when the riot and bloodshed was over. Two of the greatest battles of this furious struggle were fought here.
In the past, Cholet was much sadder than it is today; however, there are hardly any reminders of its history. It is said that the wars of the Vendée left only three houses standing when the chaos and bloodshed ended. Two of the biggest battles of this intense conflict were fought here.
On the site of the present railroad station Kleber and Moreau fought the royalists, and the heroic Bonchamps received the wound of which he died at St. Florent, just after he had put into execution the order of release for five thousand Republican prisoners. This was on the 17th October, 1793. Five months later Stofflet possessed himself of the town and burned it nearly to the ground. Not much is307 left to remind one of these eventful times, save the public garden, which was built on the site of the old château.
On the site of the current train station, Kleber and Moreau fought against the royalists, and the brave Bonchamps received the fatal wound that led to his death at St. Florent, just after he had carried out the order to free five thousand Republican prisoners. This happened on October 17, 1793. Five months later, Stofflet took control of the town and nearly burned it to the ground. Not much is307 left to remind us of these significant times, except for the public garden, which was built on the site of the old château.
La Moine, a tiny and most picturesque river, still flows under the antique arches of the old bridge, which was held in turn by the Vendeans and the Republicans.
La Moine, a small and beautiful river, still flows beneath the old arches of the ancient bridge, which was once controlled by the Vendeans and the Republicans.
To the west of Cholet runs another line of railway, direct through the heart of the Sèvre-Nantaise, one of those petits pays whose old-time identity is now all but lost, even more celebrated in bloody annals than is that region lying to the eastward. Here was a country entirely sacked and impoverished. Mortagne was completely ruined, though it has yet left substantial remains of its fourteenth and fifteenth century château. Torfou was the scene of a bloody encounter between the Vendean hordes and Kleber's two thousand héroiques de Mayence. The able Vendean chiefs who opposed him, Bonchamps, D'Elbée, and Lescure, captured his artillery and massacred all the wounded.
To the west of Cholet runs another railway line, going straight through the heart of the Sèvre-Nantaise, one of those petits pays whose historic identity is now nearly forgotten, even more notorious in its bloody history than the region to the east. This was a land that was completely pillaged and left destitute. Mortagne was utterly destroyed, although it still has some significant remnants of its fourteenth and fifteenth-century château. Torfou was the site of a brutal clash between the Vendean forces and Kleber's two thousand héroiques de Mayence. The skilled Vendean leaders who faced him—Bonchamps, D'Elbée, and Lescure—seized his artillery and slaughtered all the wounded.
At the extremity of this line was the stronghold of Clisson, which itself finally succumbed, but later gave birth to a new town to take the place of that which perished in the Vendean convulsion.308
At the end of this line was the fortress of Clisson, which eventually fell but later led to the creation of a new town to replace the one that was destroyed in the Vendean upheaval.308
Throughout this region, in the valleys of the Moine and the Sèvre-Nantaise, the rocks and the verdure and the admirable, though ill preserved, ruins, all combine to produce as unworldly an atmosphere as it is possible to conceive within a short half-hundred kilometres of the busy world-port of Nantes and the great commercial city of Angers. One continually meets with ruins that recall the frightful struggle of Revolutionary times; hence the impression that one gets from a ramble through or about this region is well-nigh unique in all France.
Throughout this area, in the valleys of the Moine and the Sèvre-Nantaise, the rocks, greenery, and the remarkable, though poorly preserved, ruins all come together to create an almost otherworldly atmosphere just fifty kilometers from the bustling port of Nantes and the major commercial city of Angers. As you wander through this region, you'll frequently encounter ruins that evoke the terrifying struggles of the Revolutionary era; thus, the impression you get from exploring this area is truly unique in all of France.
The coast southward, nearly to La Rochelle, is a vast series of shallow gulfs and salt marshes which form weirdly wonderful outlooks for the painter who inclines to vast expanses of sea and sky.
The coast heading south, almost to La Rochelle, is an extensive array of shallow gulfs and salt marshes that create strangely beautiful views for artists who are drawn to expansive stretches of sea and sky.
Pornic is a remarkably picturesque little seaside village, where the inflowing and outflowing tides of the Bay of Biscay temper the southern sun and make of it—or would make of it if the tide of fashion had but set that way—a watering-place of the first rank.
Pornic is an incredibly charming little seaside village, where the incoming and outgoing tides of the Bay of Biscay balance the southern sun and turn it into—or would turn it into if trends had favored it—a top-notch vacation spot.
It is an entrancing bit of coast-line which extends for a matter of fifty kilometres south of the juncture of the Loire with the ocean, with an aspect at times severe with a waste309 of sand, and again gracious with verdure and tree-clad and rocky shores.
It’s an enchanting stretch of coastline that runs about fifty kilometers south of where the Loire meets the ocean, sometimes appearing harsh with barren stretches of sand, and at other times charming with greenery and tree-covered, rocky shores.
The great Bay of Bourgneuf and its enfolding peninsula of Noirmoutier form an artist's sketching-ground that is not yet overrun with mere dabblers in paint and pencil, and is accordingly charming.
The beautiful Bay of Bourgneuf and its surrounding peninsula of Noirmoutier create a perfect place for artists to sketch that hasn’t been overwhelmed by amateur painters, which makes it all the more enchanting.
The Bay of Bourgneuf has most of the characteristics of the Morbihan, without that severity and sternness which impress one so deeply when on the shores of the great Breton inland sea.
The Bay of Bourgneuf has many of the features of Morbihan, but lacks the harshness and seriousness that really stand out when you're on the shores of the large Breton inland sea.
The little town of Bourgneuf-en-Retz, with its little port of Colletis, is by no means a city of any artistic worth; indeed it is nearly bare of most of those things which attract travellers who are lovers of old or historic shrines; but it is a delightful stopping-place for all that, provided one does not want to go farther afield, to the very tip of the Vendean "land's end" at Noirmoutier across the bay.
The small town of Bourgneuf-en-Retz, with its little port of Colletis, isn't particularly artistic; in fact, it's almost devoid of the attractions that appeal to travelers who seek out historic places. However, it's a lovely place to stop, as long as you don't want to venture further, like to the very tip of the Vendean "land's end" at Noirmoutier across the bay.
Three times a day a steamer makes the journey to the little island town which is a favourite place of pilgrimage for the Nantais during the summer months. Once it was not even an island, but a peninsula, and not so very long ago either. The alluvial deposits of the Loire made it in the first place, and the sea, back310ing in from the north, made a strait which just barely separates it to-day from the mainland.
Three times a day, a steamer travels to the small island town that is a popular destination for people from Nantes during the summer. It wasn’t always an island; it used to be a peninsula, and that wasn’t too long ago. The sediment from the Loire created it initially, and the sea, receding from the north, formed a narrow channel that barely separates it from the mainland today.
On this out-of-the-way little island there are still some remains of prehistoric monuments, the dolmen of Chiron-Tardiveau, the menhirs of Pinaizeaux and Pierre-Levée, and some others. In the speech of the inhabitants the isle is known as Noirmoutier, a contraction of "Nigrum Monasterium," a name derived from the monastery founded here in the seventh century by St. Philibert.
On this secluded little island, there are still some remnants of ancient monuments, like the dolmen of Chiron-Tardiveau, the menhirs of Pinaizeaux and Pierre-Levée, among others. In the local dialect, the island is referred to as Noirmoutier, a shortening of "Nigrum Monasterium," a name that comes from the monastery established here in the seventh century by St. Philibert.
In the town is an old château, the ancient fortress-refuge of the Abbé of Her. It is a great square structure flanked at the angles with little towers, of which two are roofed, one uncovered, and the fourth surmounted by a heliograph for communicating with the Ile de Yeu and the Pointe de Chenoulin. The view from the heights of these château towers is fascinating beyond compare, particularly at sundown on a summer's evening, when the golden rays of the sinking sun burnish the coast of the Vendée and cast lingering shadows from the roof-tops and walls of the town below. To the northwest one sees the Ilot du Pilier, with its lighthouse and its tiny coast-guard fortress; to the north is clearly seen Pornic and the neighbouring coasts of the Pays de Retz and of311 Bouin with its encircling dikes,—all reminiscent of a little Holland. To the south is the narrow neck of Fromentin, the jagged Marguerites, which lift their fangs wholly above the surface of the sea only at low water, and the towering cliffs of the Ile de Yeu, which rise above the mists.
In the town stands an old château, the ancient fortress-home of the Abbé of Her. It's a large square building with little towers at each corner, two of which have roofs, one is open, and the fourth has a heliograph for communicating with the Ile de Yeu and the Pointe de Chenoulin. The view from the heights of these château towers is absolutely captivating, especially at sunset on a summer evening, when the golden rays of the setting sun illuminate the Vendée coast and cast long shadows from the rooftops and walls of the town below. To the northwest, you can see the Ilot du Pilier, with its lighthouse and small coast-guard fortress; to the north, there's clear visibility of Pornic and the surrounding shores of the Pays de Retz and Bouin, with its surrounding dikes—all reminiscent of a little Holland. To the south lies the narrow neck of Fromentin, the jagged Marguerites, which only show their peaks above the sea at low tide, and the towering cliffs of the Ile de Yeu, which rise above the mist.
Just south of the Loire, between Nantes and Bourgneuf, is the Lac de Grand-Lieu, in connection with which one may hear a new rendering of an old legend. At one time, it is said, it was bordered by a city, whose inhabitants, for their vices, brought down the vengeance of heaven upon them, even though they cried out to the powers on high to avert the threatened flood which rose up out of the lake and overflowed the banks and swallowed the city and all evidences of its past. In this last lies the flaw in the legend; but, like the history of Sodom, of the Ville d'Ys in Bretagne, and of Ars in Dauphiné, tradition has kept it alive.
Just south of the Loire, between Nantes and Bourgneuf, is Lac de Grand-Lieu, where you can hear a new version of an old legend. Once, it’s said, there was a city nearby whose people, due to their wrongdoings, brought down the wrath of heaven upon themselves, even as they begged the higher powers to stop the looming flood that surged from the lake, overflowed the banks, and consumed the city along with all signs of its existence. This is where the legend has its flaw; however, like the stories of Sodom, the Ville d'Ys in Brittany, and Ars in Dauphiné, tradition has kept it alive.
This wicked place of the Loire valley was called Herbauge or Herbadilla, and, from St. Philibert at the southern extremity of the lake, one looks out to-day on a considerable extent of shallow water, which is as murderous-looking and as uncanny as a swamp of the Everglades.312
This sinister spot in the Loire valley was called Herbauge or Herbadilla, and from St. Philibert at the southern edge of the lake, one can currently see a large area of shallow water that looks as deadly and eerie as a swamp in the Everglades.312
From the central basin flow two tiny rivers, the Ognon and the Boulogne, which are charming enough in their way, as also is the route by highroad from Nantes, but the gray monotonous lake, across which the wind whistles in a veritable tempest for more than six months of the year, is most depressing.
From the central basin flow two small rivers, the Ognon and the Boulogne, which are pretty in their own way, as is the highway route from Nantes. However, the gray, monotonous lake, where the wind howls like a real storm for over six months each year, is extremely depressing.
There are various hamlets, with some pretence
at advanced civilization about them, scattered
around the borders of the lake, St. Leger,
St. Mars, St. Aignan, St. Lumine, Bouaye, and
La Chevrolière; but in the whole number you
will not get a daily paper that is less than
forty-eight hours old, and nothing but the most
stale news of happenings in the outside world
ever dribbles through. St. Philibert is the
metropolis of these parts, and it has no competitors
for the honour.
There are a few small villages, each with a bit of character.
of advanced civilization around them, scattered
along the shores of the lake: St. Leger,
St. Mars, St. Aignan, St. Lumine, Bouaye, and
La Chevrolière; but among all of them, you
won't find a daily newspaper that's less than
forty-eight hours old, and only the most
stale news about events in the outside world
ever trickles in. St. Philibert is the
main town in this area, and it has no rivals
for that title.
At the entrance of the Ognon is the little village of Passay, built at the foot of a low cliff which dominates all this part of the lake. It is a picturesque little village of low houses and red roofs, with a little sandy beach in the foreground, through which little rivulets of soft water trickle and go to make up the greater body.313
At the entrance of the Ognon is the small village of Passay, situated at the base of a low cliff that overlooks this part of the lake. It’s a charming little village with low houses and red roofs, featuring a small sandy beach in the foreground, where little streams of soft water flow and contribute to the larger body of water.313
CHAPTER XV.To ToC
BERRY AND GEORGE SAND'S COUNTRY
Whether one enters Berry through the valley of the Cher or the Indre or through the gateway of Sancerre in the mid-Loire, the impression is much the same. The historic province of Berry resounds again and again with the echoes of its past, and no province adjacent to the Loire is more prolific in the things that interest the curious, and none is so little known as the old province which was purchased for the Crown by Philippe I. in 1101.
Whether you enter Berry through the valley of the Cher or the Indre, or through the gateway of Sancerre in the mid-Loire, the impression is pretty much the same. The historic province of Berry constantly resonates with echoes of its past, and no province near the Loire is more abundant in things that intrigue the curious, and none is so little known as the old province that was bought for the Crown by Philippe I. in 1101.
With the interior of the province, that por314tion which lies away from the river valleys, this book has little to do, though the traveller through the region would hardly omit the episcopal city of Bourges, and its great transeptless cathedral, with its glorious front of quintupled portals. With the cathedral may well be coupled that other great architectural monument, the Maison de Jacques Cœur. At Paris one is asked, "Avez-vous vu le Louvre?" but at Bourges it is always, "Êtes-vous allé à Jacques Cœur?" even before one is asked if he has seen the cathedral.
With the interior of the province, that portion which lies away from the river valleys, this book has little to do, though the traveler through the region would hardly skip the episcopal city of Bourges and its impressive cathedral without a transept, with its stunning front featuring five portals. Alongside the cathedral, one should definitely mention the other great architectural landmark, the Maison de Jacques Cœur. In Paris, people ask, "Have you seen the Louvre?" but in Bourges, it’s always, "Have you been to Jacques Cœur?" even before anyone asks if you've seen the cathedral.
From the hill which overlooks Sancerre, and forms a foundation for the still existing tower of the château belonging to the feudal Counts of Sancerre, one gets one of the most wonderfully wide-spread views in all the Loire valley. The height and its feudal tower stand isolated, like a rock rising from the ocean. From Cosne and beyond, on the north, to La Charité, on the south, is one vast panorama of vineyard, wheat-field, and luxuriant river-bottom. At a lesser distance, on the right bank, is the line of the railroad which threads its way like a serpent around the bends of the river and its banks.
From the hill that overlooks Sancerre, where the still-standing tower of the château belonging to the feudal Counts of Sancerre is located, you can enjoy one of the most amazing panoramic views in the entire Loire valley. The height and its feudal tower stand alone, like a rock rising from the ocean. From Cosne and beyond to the north, down to La Charité in the south, there's a vast panorama of vineyards, wheat fields, and lush riverbanks. Closer in, on the right bank, you can see the railroad winding like a serpent around the bends of the river and its banks.
Below the hill of Sancerre is a huge overgrown hamlet—and yet not large enough to315 be called a village—surrounding a most curious church (St. Satur), without either nave or apse. The old Abbey of St. Satur once possessed all the lands in the neighbourhood that were not in the actual possession of the Counts of Sancerre, and was a power in the land, as were most of the abbeys throughout France. The church was begun in 1360-70, on a most elaborate plan, so extensive in fact (almost approaching that great work at La Charité) that it has for ever remained uncompleted. The history of this little churchly suburb of Sancerre has been most interesting. The great Benedictine church was never finished and has since come to be somewhat of a ruin. In 1419 the English sacked the abbey and stole its treasure to the very last precious stone or piece of gold. A dozen flatboats were anchored or moored to the banks of the river facing the abbey, and the monks were transported thither and held for a ransom of a thousand crowns each. As everything had already been taken by their captors, the monks vainly protested that they had no valuables with which to meet the demand, and accordingly they were bound hand and foot and thrown into the river, to the number of fifty-two, eight only escaping with their lives. A bloody memory indeed for316 a fair land which now blossoms with poppies and roses.
Below the hill of Sancerre is a large overgrown hamlet—and yet not big enough to315 be called a village—surrounding a very peculiar church (St. Satur), which lacks both a nave and an apse. The old Abbey of St. Satur used to own all the surrounding lands that weren’t held by the Counts of Sancerre and was a significant power in the area, like many abbeys across France. Construction of the church started between 1360 and 1370, on a very elaborate plan so extensive (almost rivaling the grand project at La Charité) that it has forever remained unfinished. The history of this little church suburb of Sancerre is quite fascinating. The grand Benedictine church was never completed and has since become somewhat of a ruin. In 1419, the English invaded the abbey and stole its treasures down to the last precious gem and piece of gold. A dozen flatboats were anchored or tied to the riverbank across from the abbey, and the monks were taken there and held for a ransom of a thousand crowns each. Since everything had already been taken by their captors, the monks desperately claimed they had no valuables to offer, and as a result, they were bound hand and foot and thrown into the river, totaling fifty-two, with only eight escaping with their lives. A bloody memory indeed for316 a beautiful land that now blooms with poppies and roses.
Sancerre, in spite of the etymology of its name (which comes down from Roman times—Sacrum Cæsari), is of feudal origin. Its fortress, and the Comté as well, were under the suzerainty of the Counts of Champagne, and it was the stronghold and refuge of many a band of guerilla warriors, adventurers, and marauding thieves.
Sancerre, despite the origin of its name (which traces back to Roman times—Sacrum Cæsari), has feudal roots. Its fortress and the county were under the control of the Counts of Champagne, serving as a stronghold and refuge for various groups of guerrilla fighters, adventurers, and roaming thieves.
At the end of the twelfth century a certain Comte de Sancerre, at the head of a coterie of bandits called Brabaçons, marched upon Bourges and invaded the city, killing all who crossed their path, and firing all isolated dwellings and many even in the heart of the city.
At the end of the twelfth century, a guy named Comte de Sancerre led a group of bandits called Brabaçons and marched into Bourges. They invaded the city, killing everyone in their way and burning down isolated houses, as well as many right in the middle of the city.
Sancerre was many times besieged, the most memorable event of this nature being the attack of the royalists in 1573 against the Frondeurs who were shut up in the town. The defenders were without artillery, but so habituated were they to the use of the fronde that for eight months they were able to hold the city against the foe. From this the fronde came to be known as the "arquebuse de Sancerre."
Sancerre was besieged many times, with the most notable event being the royalist attack in 1573 against the Frondeurs who were trapped in the town. The defenders had no artillery, but they were so accustomed to using the fronde that they managed to hold the city against their enemies for eight months. This experience led to the fronde being referred to as the "arquebuse de Sancerre."
Sancerre is to-day a ruined town, its streets unequal and tortuous, all up and down hill and318 blindly rambling off into culs-de-sac which lead nowhere. Above it all is the fine château, built in a modern day after the Renaissance manner, of Mlle. de Crussol, proudly seated on the very crest of the hill. Within the grounds, the only part of the domain which is free to the public, are the ruins of the famous citadel which was bought by St. Louis, in 1226, from the Comte Thibaut. The only portion of this feudal stronghold which remains to-day is known as the "Tour des Fiefs."
Sancerre is now a deserted town, with its streets uneven and winding, going up and down steeply and318 meandering off into dead ends that lead nowhere. Above it all stands the elegant château, built in a contemporary style after the Renaissance by Mlle. de Crussol, proudly located at the very top of the hill. Within the grounds, the only area accessible to the public, are the ruins of the famous citadel that St. Louis purchased in 1226 from Comte Thibaut. The only part of this feudal fortress that still exists today is known as the "Tour des Fiefs."
One may enter the grounds and, in the company of a concierge, ascend to the platform of this lone tower, whence a wonderful view of the broad "ruban lumineux" of the Loire spreads itself out as if fluttering in the wind, northward and southward, as far as the eye can reach. Beside it one sees another line of blue water, as if it were a strand detached from the broader band. This is the Canal Latéral de la Loire, one of those inland waterways of France which add so much to the prosperity of the land.
One can enter the grounds and, accompanied by a concierge, go up to the platform of this solitary tower, where a stunning view of the wide "ruban lumineux" of the Loire stretches out like it's waving in the wind, both north and south as far as the eye can see. Next to it, there’s another strip of blue water, as if it's a ribbon pulled away from the larger band. This is the Canal Latéral de la Loire, one of those inland waterways of France that contribute greatly to the prosperity of the region.
Above Sancerre is Gien, another gateway to Berry, through which the traveller from Paris through the Orléannais is bound to pass.
Above Sancerre is Gien, another entry point to Berry, which travelers coming from Paris through the Orléannais must go through.
At a distance of five kilometres or more, coming from the north, one sees the towers of319 the château of Gien piercing the horizon. The château is a most curious affair, with its chainbuilt blocks of stone, and its red and black—or nearly black—brique, crossed and recrossed in quaint geometrical designs. It was built in 1494 for Dame Anne de Beaujeau, who was regent of the kingdom immediately after the death of Charles VIII. This building replaced another of a century before, built by Jean-sans-Peur, where was celebrated the marriage of his daughter with the Comte de Guise. Gien's château, too, may be said to be a landmark on Jeanne d'Arc's route to martyrdom and fame, for here she made her supplication to Charles VII. to march on Reims. In Charlemagnian times this old castle had a predecessor, which, however, was more a fortress than a habitable château; but all remains of this had apparently disappeared before the later structure made its appearance. Louis XIV. and Anne of Austria, regent, held a fugitive, impoverished court in this château, and heard with fear and trembling the cannon-shots of the armies of Turenne and Condé at Bleneau, five leagues distant.
From five kilometers away, coming from the north, you can see the towers of319 the château of Gien rising above the horizon. The château is quite an odd sight, made of stone blocks and red and black—or almost black—brick, arranged in unique geometric patterns. It was built in 1494 for Dame Anne de Beaujeau, who was the regent of the kingdom right after the death of Charles VIII. This building replaced an earlier one from a century earlier, built by Jean-sans-Peur, where the wedding of his daughter and the Comte de Guise was celebrated. Gien's château is also a landmark on Jeanne d'Arc's journey to martyrdom and fame, as this is where she urged Charles VII. to march on Reims. In Charlemagne's time, this old castle had a predecessor that was more of a fortress than a livable château; however, any traces of it had seemingly vanished before the later structure was built. Louis XIV. and Anne of Austria, the regent, held a makeshift, struggling court in this château, and listened with fear to the cannon fire from the armies of Turenne and Condé at Bleneau, five leagues away.
At Nevers or at La Charité one does not get the view of the Loire that he would like, for, in one case, the waterway is masked by a row320 of houses, and in the other by a series of walled gardens; but at Gien, where everything is splendidly theatrical, there is a tree-bordered quay and innumerable examples of those coquettish little houses of brick which are not beautiful, but which set off many a French riverside landscape as nothing else will.
At Nevers or La Charité, you don’t get the view of the Loire that you might hope for. In one case, the river is blocked by a row320 of houses, and in the other, by a bunch of walled gardens. But at Gien, where everything is beautifully dramatic, there’s a tree-lined quay and countless examples of those charming little brick houses. They might not be beautiful on their own, but they enhance the French riverside landscape like nothing else.
In Gien's main street there are a multitude of rare mellowed old houses with sculptured fronts and high gables. This street twists and turns until it reaches the old stone and brick château, with its harmoniously coloured walls, making a veritable symphony of colour. Each turn in this old high-street of Gien gives a new vista of mediævalism quite surprising and eerielike, as fantastic as the weird pictures of Doré.
In Gien's main street, there are many beautifully aged houses with intricate facades and tall gables. The street winds and curves until it arrives at the old stone and brick château, with its beautifully blended walls creating a stunning display of color. Each curve in this ancient high street of Gien reveals a new view of medieval charm that is both surprising and eerie, as fantastical as the strange illustrations by Doré.
Gien and its neighbour Briare are chiefly noted commercially for their pottery. Gien makes crockery ware, and Briare inundates the entire world with those little porcelain buttons which one buys in every land.
Gien and its neighbor Briare are primarily known for their pottery. Gien produces crockery, while Briare floods the world with those small porcelain buttons that you can find in every country.
Crossing the Sologne and entering Berry from the capital of the Orléannais, or coming out from Tours by the valley of the Cher, one comes upon the little visited and out-of-the-way château of Valençay, in the charming dainty valley of the Nahon.321
Crossing the Sologne and entering Berry from the capital of the Orléannais, or coming out from Tours through the Cher valley, you arrive at the little-known and secluded château of Valençay, nestled in the lovely, quaint valley of the Nahon.321
There is some reason for its comparative neglect by the tourist, for it is on a cross-country railway line which demands quite a full day of one's time to get there from Tours and get away again to the next centre of attraction, and if one comes by the way of the Orléannais, he must be prepared to give at least three days to the surrounding region.
There’s a good reason why tourists tend to overlook it. It’s located on a cross-country railway line that requires almost a whole day to travel to and from Tours before heading to the next hot spot. If you’re coming from the Orléannais, you should be ready to spend at least three days exploring the area around it.
This is the gateway to George Sand's country, but few English-speaking tourists ever get here, so it may be safely called unknown.
This is the entrance to George Sand's territory, but very few English-speaking tourists ever make it here, so it can definitely be considered undiscovered.
It is marvellous how France abounds in these little corners all but unknown to strangers, even though they lie not far off the beaten track. The spirit of exploration and travel in unknown parts, except the Arctic regions, Thibet, and the Australian desert, seems to be dying out.
It’s amazing how France is filled with these little spots that are mostly unknown to outsiders, even though they’re not far from the main roads. The spirit of exploration and travel in unknown places, except for the Arctic regions, Tibet, and the Australian desert, seems to be fading away.
The château of Valençay was formerly inhabited by Talleyrand, after he had quitted the bishopric of Autun for politics. It is seated proudly upon a vast terrace overlooking one of the most charming bits of the valley of the Nahon, and is of a thoroughly typical Renaissance type, built by the great Philibert Delorme for Jacques d'Étampes in 1540, and only acquired by the minister of Napoleon and Louis XVIII. in 1805.322
The château of Valençay was previously home to Talleyrand, after he left the bishopric of Autun to enter politics. It sits proudly on a large terrace overlooking one of the most beautiful parts of the Nahon valley and is a classic example of Renaissance architecture, constructed by the renowned Philibert Delorme for Jacques d'Étampes in 1540, and was only acquired by the minister of Napoleon and Louis XVIII in 1805.322
The architect, in spite of the imposing situation, is not seen at his best here, for in no way does it compare with his masterwork at Anet, or the Tuileries. The expert recognizes also the hands of two other architects, one of the Blaisois and the other of Anjou, who in some measure transformed the edifice in the reign of François I.
The architect, despite the impressive setting, doesn't shine here as much, since it doesn't compare to his masterpiece at Anet or the Tuileries. Experts also notice the contributions of two other architects, one from Blois and the other from Anjou, who somewhat reshaped the building during the reign of François I.
The enormous donjon,—if it is a donjon,—with its great, round corner tower with a dome above, which looks like nothing so much as an observatory, is perhaps the outgrowth of an earlier accessory, but on the whole the edifice is fully typical of the Renaissance.
The massive keep—if it's even a keep—features a large, round corner tower topped with a dome that resembles an observatory. It may have developed from an earlier structure, but overall, the building is a perfect example of Renaissance architecture.
The court unites the two widely different terminations in a fashion more or less approaching symmetry, but it is only as a whole that the effect is highly pleasing.
The court brings together the two very different endings in a way that's somewhat balanced, but it's really only when viewed as a whole that the overall effect is truly satisfying.
Beyond a balustrade à jour is the Jardin de la Duchesse, communicating with the park by a graceful bridge over an ornamental water. In general the apartments are furnished in the style of the First Empire, an epoch memorable in the annals of Valençay.
Beyond a balustrade à jour is the Duchess's Garden, connecting to the park by an elegant bridge over a decorative water feature. Overall, the apartments are decorated in the First Empire style, a period that stands out in the history of Valençay.
By the orders of Napoleon many royalties and ambassadors here received hospitality, and in 1808-14 it became a gilded cage—or a "golden prison," as the French have it—for 323the Prince of the Asturias, afterward Ferdinand VII. of Spain, who consoled himself during his captivity by constructing wolf-traps in the garden and planting cauliflowers in the great urns and vases with which the terrace was set out.
By Napoleon's orders, many royals and ambassadors were given shelter here, and from 1808 to 1814, it turned into a gilded cage—or a "golden prison," as the French say—for 323 the Prince of the Asturias, who later became Ferdinand VII of Spain. He kept himself occupied during his confinement by building wolf traps in the garden and growing cauliflowers in the large urns and vases that adorned the terrace.
There is a great portrait gallery here, where is gathered a collection of portraits in miniature of all the sovereigns who treated with Talleyrand during his ministerial reign, among others one of the Sultan Selim, painted from life, but in secret, since the reproduction of the human form is forbidden by the Koran.
There is a fantastic portrait gallery here, featuring a collection of miniature portraits of all the rulers who negotiated with Talleyrand during his time as a minister, including one of Sultan Selim, painted from life, but secretly, as the reproduction of the human form is forbidden by the Koran.
In the Maison de Charité, in the town, beneath the pavement of the chapel, is found the tomb of the family of Talleyrand, where are interred the remains of Talleyrand and of Marie Thérèse Poniatowska, sister of the celebrated King of Poland who served in the French army in 1806. In this chapel also is a rare treasure in the form of a chalice enriched with precious stones, originally belonging to Pope Pius VI., the gift of the Princess Poniatowska.
In the Maison de Charité in the town, under the chapel's pavement, lies the tomb of the Talleyrand family, where the remains of Talleyrand and Marie Thérèse Poniatowska, sister of the famous King of Poland who served in the French army in 1806, are buried. This chapel also houses a rare treasure: a chalice adorned with precious stones, which originally belonged to Pope Pius VI and was gifted by Princess Poniatowska.
The Pavillon de la Garenne,—what in England would be called a "shooting-box,"—a rendezvous for the chase, built by Talleyrand,324 is some distance from the château on the edge of the delightful little Forêt de Gatine.
The Pavillon de la Garenne—what they’d call a "hunting lodge" in England—a meeting spot for hunting, built by Talleyrand,324 is located a bit away from the château on the edge of the lovely little Forêt de Gatine.
Varennes, just above Valençay, is thought by the average traveller through the long gallery of charms in the château country to be wholly unworthy of his attention. As a matter of fact, it does not possess much of historical or artistic interest, though its fine old church dates from the twelfth century.
Varennes, located just above Valençay, is regarded by the typical traveler exploring the beautiful château region as completely unworthy of their attention. In reality, it doesn't have much historical or artistic significance, even though its beautiful old church dates back to the twelfth century.
Ascending the Cher from its juncture with the Loire, one passes a number of interesting places. St. Aignan, with its magnificent Gothic and Renaissance château; Selles; Romorantin, a dead little spot, dear as much for its sleepiness as anything else; Vierzon, a rich, industrial town where they make locomotives, automobiles, and mechanical hay-rakes, copying the most approved American models; and Mehun-sur-Yevre, all follow in rapid succession.
Ascending the Cher from where it meets the Loire, you'll come across several interesting places. St. Aignan, with its stunning Gothic and Renaissance château; Selles; Romorantin, a quiet little place that's loved for its tranquility; Vierzon, a prosperous industrial town known for making locomotives, cars, and mechanical hay rakes, modeled after the best American designs; and Mehun-sur-Yevre, all come one after the other.
Mehun-sur-Yevre, which to most is only a name and to many not even that, is possessed of two architectural monuments, a grand ruin of a Gothic fortress of the time of Charles VII. and a feudal gateway of two great rounded cone-roofed towers, bound by a ligature through which a port-cullis formerly slid up and down like an act-drop in a theatre.
Mehun-sur-Yevre, which most people only know by name and many don't recognize at all, is home to two architectural landmarks: the impressive ruins of a Gothic fortress from the time of Charles VII and a feudal gateway featuring two large, rounded, cone-roofed towers connected by a structure through which a portcullis used to slide up and down like a theater curtain.
Wonderfully impressive all this, and the326 more so because these magnificent relics of other days are unspoiled and unrestored.
Wonderfully impressive, all of this, and the326 even more so because these amazing relics from the past are untouched and in their original condition.
Charles VII. was by no means constant in his devotions, it will be recalled, though he seems to have been seriously enamoured of Agnes Sorel—at any rate while she lived. Afterward he speedily surrounded himself with a galaxy of "belles demoiselles vêtues comme reines." They followed him everywhere, and he spent all but his last sou upon them, as did some of his successors.
Charles VII wasn't exactly faithful in his affections, as we remember, but he genuinely seemed to be in love with Agnes Sorel—at least while she was alive. After that, he quickly gathered around him a group of "belles demoiselles vêtues comme reines." They accompanied him everywhere, and he spent nearly all of his money on them, just like some of his successors did.
One day Charles VII. took refuge in the strong towers of the château of Mehun-sur-Yevre, which he himself had built and which he had frequently made his residence. Here he died miserable and alone,—it is said by history, of hunger. Thus another dark chapter in the history of kings and queens was brought to a close.
One day, Charles VII took refuge in the strong towers of the château of Mehun-sur-Yèvre, which he had built himself and often called home. Here, he died miserable and alone—it’s said by history, from hunger. Thus, another dark chapter in the history of kings and queens came to an end.
If one has the time and so desires, he may follow the Indre, the next confluent of the Loire south of the Cher, from Loches to "George Sand's country," as literary pilgrims will like to think of the pleasant valleys of the ancient province of Berry.
If you have the time and want to, you can follow the Indre, the next river that flows into the Loire south of the Cher, from Loches to "George Sand's country," as literary travelers like to refer to the beautiful valleys of the historic province of Berry.
The history of the province before and since Philippe I. united it with the Crown of France was vivid enough to make it fairly well known,327 but on the whole it has been very little travelled. It is essentially a pastoral region, and, remembering George Sand and her works, one has refreshing memories of the idyls of its prairies and the beautiful valleys of the Indre and the Cher, which join their waters with the Loire near Tours.
The history of the province before and after Philippe I united it with the Crown of France is intriguing enough to be fairly well-known,327 but overall, it hasn’t been traveled much. It’s primarily a pastoral area, and thinking of George Sand and her works brings to mind the charming scenes of its prairies and the lovely valleys of the Indre and the Cher, which merge their waters with the Loire near Tours.
If one would love Berry as one loves a greater and more famous haunt of a famous author, and would prepare in advance for the pleasure to be received from threading its highways and byways, he should read those "petits chefs-d'œuvre of sentiment and rustic poesy", the romances of George Sand. If he has done this, he will find almost at every turning some long familiar spot or a peasant who seems already an old friend.
If someone wants to love Berry like they love a more well-known place associated with a famous author, and wants to get ready for the joy of exploring its roads and trails, they should read those "petits chefs-d'œuvre of sentiment and rustic poesy," the novels of George Sand. If they've done this, they'll find at almost every corner some familiar place or a local who feels like an old friend.
Châteauroux is the real gateway to the country of George Sand.
Châteauroux is the true gateway to the land of George Sand.
Nohant is the native place of the great authoress, Madame Dudevant, whom the world best knows as George Sand; a little by-corner of the great busy world, loved by all who know it. Far out in the open country is the little station at which one alights if he comes by rail. Opposite is a "petite route" which leads directly to the banks of the Indre, where it joins the highway to La Châtre.328
Nohant is the hometown of the renowned writer, Madame Dudevant, better known as George Sand; it's a quiet corner of the bustling world, cherished by everyone who knows it. Way out in the countryside is the small station where you arrive if you're coming by train. Across from it is a "petite route" that leads straight to the banks of the Indre, where it connects to the main road to La Châtre.328
Nohant itself, as a dainty old-world village, is divine. Has not George Sand expressed her love of it as fervidly as did Marie Antoinette for the Trianon? The French call it a "bon et honnête petit village berrichon." Nude of artifice, it is deliciously unspoiled. A delightful old church, with a curious wooden porch and a parvise as rural as could possibly be, not even a cobblestone detracting from its rustic beauty, is the principal thing which strikes one's eye as he enters the village. Chickens and geese wander about, picking here and there on the very steps of the church, and no one says them nay.
Nohant itself, as a charming old-world village, is heavenly. Hasn't George Sand declared her love for it just as passionately as Marie Antoinette did for the Trianon? The French refer to it as a "bon et honnête petit village berrichon." Lacking any pretense, it is wonderfully untouched. A lovely old church, with an interesting wooden porch and a countryside charm as rural as it gets—without even a cobblestone to interrupt its rustic beauty—is the main feature that catches your eye upon entering the village. Chickens and geese roam freely, pecking here and there right on the church steps, and no one bothers them.
The house of George Sand is just to the right of the church, within whose grounds one sees also the pavilion known to her as the "théâtre des marionettes."
The house of George Sand is just to the right of the church, where you can also see the pavilion she called the "théâtre des marionettes."
In a corner of the poetic little cemetery at Nohant, one sees among the humble crosses emerging from the midst of the verdure, all weather-beaten and moss-grown, a plain, simple stone, green with mossy dampness, which marks the spot where reposes all that was mortal of George Sand. Here, in the midst of this land which she so loved, she still lives in the memory of all; at the house of the well-lettered for her abounding talent—second only329 to that of Balzac—and in the homes of the peasants for her generous fellowship.
In a corner of the quaint little cemetery at Nohant, you can see among the simple crosses rising up from the greenery, all weathered and covered in moss, a plain, unadorned stone, green with damp moss, that marks the place where all that was mortal of George Sand rests. Here, in this land she cherished so much, she still lives on in everyone's memory; in the homes of the well-read for her incredible talent—second only 329 to that of Balzac—and in the homes of the peasants for her generous friendship.
Through her ancestry she could and did claim relationship with Charles X. and Louis XVIII.; but her life among her people had nought of pretence in it. She was born among the roses and to the sound of music, and she lies buried amid all the rusticity and simple charm of what may well be called the greenwood of her native land. 330
Through her ancestry, she could and did claim a relationship with Charles X and Louis XVIII; but her life with her people was completely genuine. She was born among the roses and to the sound of music, and she is buried amidst the rustic beauty and simple charm of what can truly be called the greenwood of her homeland. 330
CHAPTER XVI.To ToC
THE UPPER LOIRE
The gateway to the upper valley may be said to be through the Nivernais, and the capital city of the old province, at the juncture of the Allier and the Loire.
The entrance to the upper valley can be considered through the Nivernais, and the main city of the former province, located at the meeting point of the Allier and the Loire.
After leaving Gien and Briare, the Loire passes through quite the most truly picturesque landscape of its whole course, the great height of Sancerre dominating the view for thirty miles or more in any direction.
After leaving Gien and Briare, the Loire flows through the most genuinely scenic landscape of its entire route, with the towering Sancerre overlooking the view for thirty miles or more in every direction.
Cosne is the first of the towns of note of the Nivernais, and is a gay little bourg of eight or nine thousand souls who live much the same life that their grandfathers lived before them. As a place of residence it might prove dull to the outsider, but as a house of call for the wearied and famished traveller, Cosne, with its charming situation, its tree-bordered quays, and its Hôtel du Grand Cerf, is most attractive.
Cosne is the first notable town in the Nivernais and is a cheerful little place with eight or nine thousand residents who live much like their ancestors did. It might seem boring to someone from outside, but for a tired and hungry traveler, Cosne, with its lovely location, tree-lined quays, and the Hôtel du Grand Cerf, is quite appealing.
Pouilly-sur-Loire is next, with three thou332sand or more inhabitants wholly devoted to wine-growing, Pouilly being to the upper river what Vouvray is to Touraine. It is not a tourist point in any sense, nor is it very picturesque or attractive.
Pouilly-sur-Loire is next, with over three thousand inhabitants completely dedicated to wine-growing, Pouilly being to the upper river what Vouvray is to Touraine. It isn’t a tourist destination in any way, nor is it particularly picturesque or appealing.
Some one has said that the pleasure of contemplation is never so great as when one views a noble monument, a great work of art, or a charming French town for the first time. Never was it more true indeed than of the two dissimilar towns of the upper Loire, Nevers, and La Charité-sur-Loire. The old towers of La Charité rise up in the sunlight and give that touch to the view which marks it at once as of the Nivernais, which all archæologists tell one is Italian and not French, in motive as well as sentiment.
Someone once said that the joy of contemplation is never as strong as when you see a stunning monument, an amazing piece of art, or a beautiful French town for the first time. This is especially true for the two very different towns of the upper Loire, Nevers and La Charité-sur-Loire. The old towers of La Charité stand tall in the sunlight and add a unique touch to the view that immediately marks it as part of the Nivernais, which all archaeologists agree has Italian influences, not just in style but also in feeling.
It is remarkable, perhaps, that the name La Charité is so seldom met with in the accounts of English travellers in France, for in France it is invariably considered to be one of the most picturesque and famous spots in all mid-France.
It’s interesting that the name La Charité rarely comes up in the writings of English travelers in France, because in France, it is always regarded as one of the most picturesque and well-known places in central France.
It is an unprogressive, sleepy old place, with streets mostly unpaved, whose five thousand odd souls, known roundabout as Les Caritates, live apparently in the past.
It’s a stagnant, sleepy old town with mostly unpaved streets, where the roughly five thousand residents, commonly referred to as Les Caritates, seem to be stuck in the past.
Below, a stone's throw from the windows of333 your inn, lies the Loire, its broad, blue bosom scarcely ruffled, except where it slowly eddies around the piers of the two-century-old dos d'ane bridge; a lovely old structure, built, it is recorded, by the regiment known as the "Royal Marine" in the early years of the eighteenth century.
Below, just a short distance from the windows of333 your inn, lies the Loire, its wide, blue surface barely disturbed, except where it gently swirls around the piers of the two-century-old dos d'ane bridge; a beautiful old structure, built, as noted, by the regiment known as the "Royal Marine" in the early years of the eighteenth century.
The town is terraced upon the very edge of the river, with views up and down which are unusually lovely for even these parts. Below, almost within sight, is Nevers, while above are the heights of Sancerre, still visible in the glowing western twilight.
The town is built right on the edge of the river, with views both upstream and downstream that are unusually beautiful, even for this area. Below, almost in sight, is Nevers, and above are the heights of Sancerre, still visible in the warm glow of the western twilight.
Beyond the bridge rises a giant column of blackened stone, festooned by four ranges of arcades, the sole remaining relic of the ancient church standing alone before the present structure which now serves the purposes of the church in La Charité.
Beyond the bridge stands a massive column of dark stone, adorned with four rows of arches, the last remaining remnant of the ancient church, standing alone in front of the current building that now serves as the church in La Charité.
The walls which surrounded the ancient town have disappeared or have been built into house walls, but the effect is still of a self-contained old burg.
The walls that used to surround the old town are gone or have been incorporated into house walls, but the vibe still feels like a contained, old town.
In the fourteenth century, during the Hundred Years' War, the town was frequently besieged. In 1429 Jeanne d'Arc, coming from her success at St. Pierre-le-Moutier, here met with practically a defeat, as she was able to334 sustain the siege for only but a month, when she withdrew.
In the fourteenth century, during the Hundred Years' War, the town was often under siege. In 1429, after her victory at St. Pierre-le-Moutier, Jeanne d'Arc faced almost a defeat here, as she could only hold off the siege for about a month before she pulled back.
La Charité played an important part in the religious wars of the sixteenth century, and Protestants and Catholics became its occupants in turn. Virtually La Charité-sur-Loire became a Protestant stronghold in spite of its Catholic foundation.
La Charité played a significant role in the religious wars of the sixteenth century, with Protestants and Catholics taking turns occupying it. Essentially, La Charité-sur-Loire became a Protestant stronghold despite its Catholic foundation.
In 1577 it bade defiance to the royal arms of the Duc d'Alençon, as is recounted by the following lines:
In 1577, it stood up against the royal forces of the Duc d'Alençon, as described in the following lines:
I'm sorry, but there is no text provided to modernize. Please provide the text you would like me to work on. The cannon is powerless against Charity,
Plus will destroy you with plague and famine,
"Because you'll never have Charity without Faith."
In spite of this defiance it capitulated, and, on the 15th of May, at the château of Plessis-les-Tours on the Loire, Henri III. celebrated the victory of his brother by a fête "ultra-galante," where, in place of the usual pages, there were employed "des dames vestues en habits d'hommes...." Surely a fantastic and immodest manner of celebrating a victory against religious opponents; but, like many of the customs of the time, the fête was simply a fanatical debauch.335
Despite this defiance, it surrendered, and on May 15th, at the château of Plessis-les-Tours on the Loire, Henri III celebrated his brother's victory with an "ultra-galante" party, where instead of the usual pages, there were "des dames vestues en habits d'hommes...." It was certainly a bizarre and inappropriate way to celebrate a victory over religious opponents; however, like many customs of the time, the event was merely a wild and excessive celebration.335
At Nevers one meets the Canal du Nivernais, which recalls Daudet's "La Belle Nivernaise" to all readers of fiction, who may accept it without question as a true and correct guide to the region, its manners, and customs.
At Nevers, you'll find the Canal du Nivernais, which brings to mind Daudet's "La Belle Nivernaise" for all fiction readers, who might take it as an accurate and reliable guide to the area, its culture, and traditions.
The chief characteristic of Nevers is that it is Italian in nearly, if not quite all, its aspects; its monuments and its history. Its ancient ducal château, part of which dates from the feudal epoch, was the abode of the Italian dukes who came in the train of Mazarin, the last of whom was the nephew of the cardinal, "who himself was French if his speech was not."
The main feature of Nevers is that it is Italian in almost every aspect, from its monuments to its history. Its ancient ducal château, a part of which goes back to the feudal era, was home to the Italian dukes who followed Mazarin, the last of whom was the cardinal's nephew, "who was French even if his accent wasn't."
Nevers has also a charming Gothic cathedral (St. Cyr) with a double Romanesque apse (in itself a curiosity seldom, if ever, seen out of Germany), and, in addition to the cathedral, can boast of St. Etienne, one of the most precious of all the Romanesque churches of France.
Nevers also has a beautiful Gothic cathedral (St. Cyr) featuring a double Romanesque apse (a rare sight outside Germany). Alongside the cathedral, it proudly includes St. Etienne, one of the most valuable Romanesque churches in France.
The old walls at Nevers are not very complete, but what remain are wonderfully expressive. The Tour Gouguin and the Tour St. Eloi are notable examples, but they are completely overshadowed by the Porte du Croux, which is one of the best examples of the city gates which were so plentiful in the France of another day.336
The old walls in Nevers aren’t fully intact, but what’s left is incredibly striking. The Tour Gouguin and the Tour St. Eloi are important examples, but they’re completely outshined by the Porte du Croux, which is one of the finest examples of the city gates that used to be common in France.336
Above Nevers, Decize, Bourbon-Lancy, Gilly, and Digoin are mere names which mean nothing to the traveller by rail. They are busy towns of central France, where the bustle of their daily lives is of quite a different variety from that of the Ile de France, of Normandy, or of the Pas de Calais.
Above Nevers, Decize, Bourbon-Lancy, Gilly, and Digoin are just names that don’t mean anything to train travelers. They are active towns in central France, where the hustle and bustle of daily life is completely different from that of the Ile de France, Normandy, or the Pas de Calais.
From Digoin to Roanne the Loire is followed by the Canal Latéral. Roanne is a not very pleasing, overgrown town which has become a veritable ville des ouvriers, all of whom are engaged in cloth manufacture.
From Digoin to Roanne, the Loire is accompanied by the Canal Latéral. Roanne is not a very attractive, overgrown town that has turned into a true ville des ouvriers, where everyone is involved in textile manufacturing.
Virtually, then, Roanne is not much more than a guide-post on the route to Le Puy—"the most picturesque place in the world"—and the wonderfully impressive region of the Cevennes and the Vivaris, where shepherds guard their flocks amid the solitudes.
Virtually, Roanne is just a signpost on the way to Le Puy—"the most beautiful place in the world"—and the stunningly impressive area of the Cevennes and the Vivarais, where shepherds watch over their flocks in the quiet landscapes.
Far above Le Puy, in a rocky gorge known as the Gerbier-de-Jonc, near Ste. Eulalie, in the Ardeche, rises the tiny Liger, which is the real source of the mighty Loire, that natural boundary which divides the north from the south and forms what the French geographers call "la bassin centrale de France."
Far above Le Puy, in a rocky gorge called the Gerbier-de-Jonc, near Ste. Eulalie in the Ardeche, rises the small Liger, which is the true source of the great Loire, that natural boundary separating the north from the south and creating what French geographers refer to as "la bassin centrale de France."
INDEXTo ToC
- Abbeville, 107.
- Abd-el-Kader, Emir, 165.
- Abelard, 293.
- Absalom, 281.
- Acheneau, The, 298.
- Adams, John, 124.
- Alaric, 149.
- Alcuin, Abbé, 206.
- Alençon, Ducs d', 195, 334.
- Alençon, Marguerite d', 97, 150, 151-152.
- Allier, The, 330.
- Amboise and Its Château, 3, 20, 82, 96, 100, 123, 130-131, 137, 140, 148-169, 172, 181, 186, 194, 249.
- Amboise, Family of, 118, 120-122.
- Amboise, Forêt d', 169.
- Amiens, 210.
- Ancenis and Its Château, 11, 21-23, 291.
- Andrelini, Fausto, 66.
- Anet, Château d', 107, 177, 322.
- Ange, Michel, 208, 249.
- Angers and Its Château, 7, 10-13, 15, 21-23, 40, 84, 275, 278, 280, 283-284, 286-290, 304, 308.
- Angoulême, 194, 304.
- Angoulême, Isabeau d', 267.
- Angoulême, Jean d', 89.
- Angoulême, Louise de Savoie, Duchesse d' (See Savoie, Louise de).
- Anjou, 15, 26, 142, 161, 273, 274, 284, 289-290, 292, 306, 322.
- Anjou, Counts of, 150, 193, 208, 232, 239, 267, 288.
- Anjou, Foulques Nerra, Comte d' (See Foulques Nerra).
- Anjou, Margaret of, 280.
- Anne of Austria, 301-302, 319.
- Aquitaine, 18, 193.
- Arbrissel, Robert d', 263.
- Arc, Jeanne d', 202, 254-256, 258-260.
- Ardier, Paul, 115.
- Arques, Château d', 9.
- Aumale, Duc d', 165.
- Aussigny, Thibaut d', 48.
- Authion, The, 13.
- Autun, 321.
- Auvergne, 15.
- Auvers, 251.
- Auxerre, 17, 119.
- Avignon, 51, 260.
- Azay-le-Rideau and Its Château, 10, 63, 140, 226, 238, 240-247.
- Bacon, 40.
- Ballon, 215.
- Balue, Cardinal, 194, 196.
- Balzac, Honoré de, 3, 6, 20, 128-129, 137-138, 143, 207-209, 234, 239, 329.338
- Bardi, Comte de, 108.
- Barre, De la, 144, 240.
- Barry, Madame du, 169, 215.
- Beaudoin, Jean, 200.
- Beaufort, A., 138.
- Beaugency and Its Château, 9, 41, 48-53.
- Beaujeau, Anne de, 319.
- Beaulieu, 201-202.
- Beauregard, Château de, 114-116.
- Beauvron, The, 114.
- Becket, 190.
- Bélier, Guillaume, 258.
- Bellanger, Stanislas, 135.
- Bellay Family, Du, 5, 128, 234.
- Belleau, Remy, 128.
- Beringhem, Henri de, 245.
- Bernay, 306.
- Bernier, 57.
- Berry, 7, 15, 56, 123, 313-314, 318, 320, 326-329.
- Berry, Counts of, 150.
- Berry, Duchesse de, 295.
- Berthelot, Gilles, 244, 246.
- Berthier, Maréchal, 108.
- Beuvron, 87-88.
- Biencourt, Marquis de, 246.
- Blacas, Comte de, 247.
- Blaisois, The, 52, 54, 56-84, 102, 123-124, 136, 148, 193, 322.
- Bleneau, 319.
- Blésois, The (See Blaisois, The).
- Blois and Its Château, 3, 9, 11, 20, 40, 52-54, 56-84, 88, 94-95, 98, 100, 107, 110-112, 116-117, 119, 123, 125-126, 136, 139, 149, 156, 160, 164, 167, 174, 184, 186, 194, 260, 284.
- Blois, Comtes de, 57-59, 62, 84, 87, 98, 118.
- Blois, Forêt de, 54.
- Blondel, 99.
- Bocage, The, 304-305.
- Bohier, Thomas, 174, 182, 184-186.
- Bois-Tillac, 298.
- Bolingbroke, 42, 183.
- Bonchamps, 306-307.
- Bonheur, Rosa, 306.
- Bonneventure, Château de, 250.
- Bontemps, Pierre, 105.
- Bordeaux, 133, 171, 203, 292.
- Bordeaux, Duc de, 108.
- Bossebœuf, Abbé, 233.
- Bouaye, 312.
- Bouin, 311.
- Boulogne, The, 312.
- Bourbon, Cardinal de, 164.
- Bourbon, Renée de, 264.
- Bourbon-Lancy, 336.
- Bourbonnais, 15.
- Bourdaisière, Château de la, 169.
- Bourg de Batz, 300.
- Bourges, 15, 314, 316.
- Bourgneuf-en-Retz, 309, 311.
- Bourgogne, 4, 15, 142.
- Bourgueil, 267.
- Bourré, Jean, 233.
- Boyer, 111.
- Bracieux, 110.
- Brain-sur-Allonnes, 269.
- Brantôme, 101, 155, 157, 158.
- Brenne, 135.
- Bretagne, 15, 26, 35-36, 57, 192, 218, 284, 291-293, 301.
- Bretagne, Anne de, 63, 97, 120, 168, 196, 209, 234, 236-238, 293, 296.
- Bretagne, Conan, Duc de, 295.
- Bretagne, François II., Duc de, 291, 294-296.
- Brézé, Pierre de, 195.
- Briare, 320, 330.
- Briçonnet, Cardinal, 42.
- Brinvilliers, 144.
- 339 Brittany (See Bretagne).
- Broglie, Princesse de, 120.
- Brosse, Pierre de, 234.
- Bruges, 282.
- Brunyer, Abel, 80, 81.
- Buffon, 61, 183.
- Bullion, 119.
- Bussy d'Amboise, De, 269.
- Buzay, Abbey of, 299.
- Byron, 138.
- Cæsar, 18, 290.
- Cahors, 260.
- Cail, M., 270-272.
- Cain, 251.
- Calixtus II., 264.
- Canal de Brest à Nantes, 24.
- Canal de Buzay, 298.
- Canal d'Orleans, 36-37.
- Canal du Nivernaise, 17, 335.
- Canal Lateral, 12, 17, 318, 336.
- Canal Maritime, 298.
- Candes, 268-270, 276.
- Castellane Family, 250.
- Caumont, De, 195.
- Cellini, 152.
- Chalonnes, 24, 304.
- Chambord and Its Château, 2-3, 20, 53, 79, 82, 84, 86, 94-110, 123, 139, 174, 186, 243, 247-248.
- Chambord, Comte de, 109.
- Chambris, 10.
- Champagne, Counts of, 316.
- Champeigne, 135.
- Champtocé, 24.
- Chanteloup, 154, 169.
- Charlemagne, 206.
- Charles I. (the Bald), 18, 193.
- Charles II. of England, 82.
- Charles V., Emperor, 130-131, 155, 194.
- Charles VI., 257.
- Charles VII., 150, 188-189, 194-195, 202, 233, 250, 254-256, 257-260, 268, 319, 324, 326.
- Charles VIII., 45, 98, 130, 150, 165, 194-195, 234, 236, 238-239, 319.
- Charles IX., 107, 122, 180.
- Charles X., 329.
- Charles Martel, 5.
- Charles the Bold of Burgundy, 44.
- Chartres, 22, 133.
- Chartreuse du Liget, 190.
- Châteaubriand, Comtesse de, 101, 130.
- Château Chevigné, 22.
- Château de la Fontaine, 43.
- Château de la Source, 42-43.
- Châteaudun and Its Castle, 21-22.
- Châteaudun, Vicomtes de, 269.
- Château Gaillard, 259.
- Château l'Epinay, 22.
- Châteauneuf-sur-Loire, 36, 84.
- Châteauroux, 327.
- Château Serrand, 22.
- Chatillon, 12, 17, 19.
- Chatillon, Cardinal de, 160.
- Chatillon, Comtes de, 61, 68.
- Chaumont and Its Château, 11, 20, 107, 110, 116-126, 140.
- Chaumont, Charles de, 120.
- Chaumont, Donatien Le Ray de, 123-125.
- Chemillé, 304-305.
- Chemille, Petronille de, 263.
- Chenonceaux and Its Château, 10, 63, 107, 118, 140, 148, 165, 169, 171-187, 234, 243, 247, 251.
- Cher, The, 10, 21, 91, 171-173, 177-178, 180, 183, 191, 215, 340275, 313, 320, 324, 326-327.
- Chevalier, Abbé, 243.
- Cheverny and Its Château, 82, 110-114, 133.
- Cheverny, Philippe Hurault, Comte de, 111.
- Chicot, 201.
- Chinon and Its Châteaux, 10, 92, 140, 171, 193, 202, 239, 241, 247, 250-261, 268.
- Chinon, Forêt de, 241, 247.
- Chiron-Tardiveau, 310.
- Choiseul, Duc de, 164, 169.
- Cholet, 275, 304-307.
- Cholet, Comte de, 115.
- Cinq-Mars and Its Ruins, 7, 21, 137, 220, 227-232, 238, 274.
- Cinq-Mars, Henri, Marquis de, 228, 229-231, 234.
- Cinq-Mars, Marquise de, 230, 231.
- Claude of France, 72, 80, 97, 155.
- Clément, Jacques, 78.
- Clermont-Ferrand, 15.
- Cléry, 32, 41, 44-46, 214.
- Clisson and Its Château, 8, 303, 307.
- Clisson, 293.
- Clopinel, Jehan (See Jean de Meung).
- Clouet, 112.
- Clovis, 43, 149, 253.
- Cœuvres, 170.
- Coligny, 160-161.
- Colletis, 309.
- Colombe, Michel, 207-208, 295.
- Commines, De, 45.
- Condé, Prince de, 119, 160-161, 168, 319.
- Conti, Princesse de, 234.
- Cormeri, Citizen, 215.
- Cormery, 133.
- Cosne, 18, 314, 330.
- Cosson, The, 2, 97-98, 101.
- Coteau de Guignes, 52.
- Couëron, 298.
- Coulanges, M. de, 18.
- Coulmiers, 40.
- Cour-Cheverny, 110, 114, 133.
- Cousin, Jean, 105.
- Coutancière, Château of, 269.
- Coxe, Miss, 125.
- Créquy, Marquise de, 183.
- Croix de Monteuse, 16.
- Cromwell, 301.
- Crussol, Mlle. de, 318.
- Dalahaide, 77.
- Dampierre, 280.
- Dante, 203.
- Danton, 144.
- Daudet, 17, 335.
- Decize, 336.
- Delavigne, Casimir, 34.
- Delorme, Marion, 230-231.
- Delorme, Philibert, 321.
- Deneux, Mlle., 215.
- Descartes, 3, 208.
- Digoin, 336.
- Dijon, 15.
- Dino, Duc de, 115.
- Dive, The, 13.
- Domfront, Château de, 9.
- Doré, 207, 320.
- Duban, 73.
- Ducos, Roger, 164-165.
- Dudevant, Madame (See Sand, George).
- Duguesclin, 49.
- Dumas, 3, 6, 47, 82, 201, 268-269, 294-295.
- Dunois, The, 56.
- Dupin, M. and Mme., 183, 187.
- Duplessis-Mornay, 281.
- Eckmühl, Prince, 42.
- Effiats Family, D' (See Cinq-Mars).
- 341Elbée, D', 307.
- Eleanor of Portugal, 155.
- Éléanore of Guienne, 267.
- Embrun, 44, 45.
- Epernon, Duc d', 194.
- Este, Cardinal d', 180.
- Estrées, Gabrielle d', 164, 169-170.
- Étampes, Duchesse d', 101, 130-131, 155.
- Étampes, Jacques d', 321.
- Etretat, 251.
- Eure et Loir, Department of, 35.
- Falaise, Château de, 9.
- Ferdinand VII. of Spain, 323.
- Finistère, 35.
- Flaubert, 6.
- Foix, Marguerite de, 295-296.
- Folie-Siffait, 26.
- Fontainebleau, 97.
- Fontaine des Sables Mouvants, 52.
- Fontenelle, 183.
- Fontenoy, 107.
- Fontevrault, Abbey of, 3, 263-267, 282.
- Force, Piganiol de la, 106.
- Forez, Plain of, 17.
- Fouché, 298.
- Foulques Nerra, 93, 201, 232, 234.
- Foulques V., 238.
- Fouquet, 164, 294.
- François I., 60-64, 69-70, 72-73, 75, 89, 94-99, 101, 104-107, 109, 114, 118, 130, 148, 151-156, 171-172, 174-176, 189-190, 194, 196-197, 200, 244-245, 264, 322.
- François II., 156-162, 168, 181, 215.
- Franklin, Benjamin, 123-124, 125.
- Freiburg, 22.
- Fromentin, 311.
- Galles, Prince de, 49.
- Gaston of Orleans, 59-60, 62, 68-70, 79-82.
- Gatanais, The, 36.
- Gatine, Forêt de, 324.
- George IV., 169.
- Gerbier-de-Jonc, 16, 336.
- Gien and Its Château, 8, 18, 19, 202, 318-320, 330.
- Gilly, 336.
- Giverny, 251.
- Gondi, Henri de, 293-294, 301-302.
- Goujon, Jean, 105, 179, 244.
- Gregory of Tours, 57.
- Grise-Gonelle, Geoffroy, 195.
- Grottoes of Ste. Radegonde, 218.
- Guérande, 300.
- Guise, Henri, Duc de (Le Balafré), 67, 69-70, 73-78, 157, 160, 162, 164, 168, 180, 234.
- Haute Loire, Department of, 11.
- Henri II., 69, 99, 107, 109, 115, 156, 158, 171-172, 174-177, 183-184, 197, 200.
- Henri III., 69-70, 73, 75-78, 182, 195, 201, 334.
- Henri IV. (de Navarre), 78, 164, 170, 201, 281, 293.
- Henry II. of England, 190, 208, 238, 257-258, 267.
- Henry VIII. of England, 107.
- Holbein, 152.
- Hugo, Victor, 37.
- Huismes, 250.
- Hurault, Philippe, 111, 112.
- Ile de Yeu, 310-311.
- Ile Feydeau, 298.
- Ile Gloriette, 298.
- Ile St. Jean, 149.
- Ilot du Pilier, 310.342
- Indre, The, 10, 21, 191-192, 240, 243-244, 247, 275, 313, 326-327.
- Indre et Loire, Département d', 142.
- Jahel, Miss, 125.
- James V. of Scotland, 157.
- James, Henry, 14, 189, 204, 251.
- Jargeau, 36.
- Jean de Meung, 46-47.
- Jean-sans-Peur, 319.
- Jean-sans-Terre, 193, 267.
- Jeanne d'Arc, 33-35, 38, 49, 319, 333.
- Jeanne of France, 209.
- John, King, 287.
- Joué, 215.
- Juvenet, 34.
- La Beauce, 38, 41, 53, 87, 141.
- "La Briche," 270-272.
- Lac de Grand Lieu, 298-299, 311-312.
- Lac d'Issarles, 16.
- La Chapelle, 43.
- La Charité, 17-18, 314-315, 319, 332-334.
- La Châtre, 327.
- La Chevrolière, 312.
- Lafayette, Madame de, 109.
- La Fontaine, 128, 286.
- La Martinière, 298.
- La Motte, 87-88.
- Landais, 294.
- Landes, Houdon des, 137.
- Langeais and Its Château, 7, 21, 82, 133, 140, 165, 174, 224, 232-241, 247.
- Languedoc, 15.
- Lanoue, 293.
- Lanterne de Rochecorbon, 220.
- La Pointe, 13, 22-23, 284.
- La Possonière, 289.
- Larçay, 10.
- La Rochelle, 208, 308.
- Lauzun, 164.
- Lavedan, 31-32.
- Layon, The, 13.
- Le Croisic, 300.
- Le Havre, 27.
- Lemaitre, Jules, 34.
- Lemercier, 261-262.
- Lenoir, 57.
- Lenôtre, 43.
- Lepage, 35.
- Le Pellerin, 298.
- Le Puy, 4-5, 10, 16, 137, 336.
- Leray, M., 120.
- Les Andelys, Château de, 9.
- Lescure, 307.
- Lespine, Jean de, 291.
- Liger, The, 336.
- Lille, 286.
- Lille, Abbé de, 107.
- "Limieul, La Demoiselle de" (See Tour, Isabelle de la).
- Limousin, The, 109.
- Lisieux, 92.
- Loches and Its Châteaux, 3, 9-10, 130, 133, 140, 142, 188-202, 250, 266, 326.
- Loches, Forêt de, 190.
- Loir, The, 13, 21.
- Loir et Cher, Department of the, 35, 57.
- Loire, The, 1, 3-30, 32, 34-38, 40-41, 43, 50-51, 53-54, 56, 58, 64-65, 68, 92, 95-97, 101-102, 110, 116-118, 120-122, 124, 129, 133, 134, 137, 140-142, 148-149, 156, 163, 171, 173, 177-178, 191, 196, 208, 215, 220-223, 225, 227-228, 232, 236, 240, 257, 259-260, 267, 273, 275-276, 278-279, 282-286, 288-290, 292-293, 297-302, 304, 308-309, 311, 313-314, 343 318-319, 324, 326-327, 330, 332-334, 336.
- Loiret, The, 41-43.
- Loiret, Department of the, 35-36.
- Lorraine, Cardinal de, 157, 180.
- Lorraine, Marie de, 157.
- Lorris, 37.
- Lorris, Guillaume de, 37, 46.
- Lot, The, 260.
- Louet, The, 286.
- Louis II. (Le Bègue), 150.
- Louis IX. (See St. Louis).
- Louis XI., 5, 32, 41, 44-46, 48, 69, 130-131, 150, 154, 194, 195, 211-212, 214-218, 232-233, 253, 257-258, 268, 281, 291.
- Louis XII., 60-61, 64, 66, 83, 97, 120, 122, 151, 167, 194-195, 209, 215, 238, 294.
- Louis XIII., 63, 99, 107, 139, 222, 224, 228, 230-231.
- Louis XIV., 32, 82-83, 98-99, 107, 109, 111, 164, 215, 227, 232, 245, 247, 294, 319.
- Louis XV., 54, 84, 107, 164, 169, 215.
- Louis XVI., 32, 123.
- Louis XVIII., 321, 329.
- Louis Philippe, 165.
- Louvre, The, 130, 285.
- Lubin, M., 126.
- Luynes and Its Château, 21, 222-227.
- Luynes Family, 222, 224, 227, 234.
- Lyonnais, 15.
- Lyons, 16, 203, 286.
- Lyons, Forêt de, 87.
- Madon, 126.
- Maillé, Comte de, 227.
- Maine, The, 12-13, 21-23, 284, 288-290.
- Maintenon, Madame de, 109.
- Malines, 77.
- Mame et Fils, Alfred, 205.
- Mansart (elder), 62, 79.
- Marguerites, The, 311.
- Marie Antoinette, 328.
- Marigny, De, 54.
- Marmoutier, Abbey of, 218-220, 266.
- Marques, Family of, 185.
- Marsay, M. de, 190.
- Marseilles, 27, 136, 203, 286, 292.
- Martel, Geoffroy, 253.
- Maulévrier, Château of, 303.
- Mauves, Plain of, 26.
- Mayenne, 21.
- Mayenne, The, 21.
- Mazarin, 6, 293, 301-302, 335.
- Medici, Catherine de, 73-79, 107, 118-119, 122-123, 156-157, 160-162, 168, 175-182, 184-185.
- Medici, Marie de, 194, 285.
- Mehun-sur-Yevre and Its Château, 324-326.
- Mello, Dreux de, 193.
- Menars and Its Château, 53-54.
- Mer, 52-53.
- Metz, 40.
- Meung-sur-Loire, 41, 44, 46-48.
- Micy, Abbaye de, 43.
- Mignard, 112.
- Moine, The, 307-308.
- Molière, 108.
- Montbazon, 10.
- Montespan, Madame de, 283.
- Montesquieu, 183.
- Montgomery, 158, 175.
- Montjean, 24.
- Montlivault, 53.
- Montmorency, Connétable de, 174.
- 344Montpellier, Castle of, 231.
- Montpensier, Charles de, 154-155.
- Montrichard and its Donjon, 9-10, 91-93.
- Montsoreau, 268-270, 276.
- Moraines, Château de (See Dampierre).
- Moreau, 306.
- Moret, 251.
- Morrison, 81.
- Mortagne, 307.
- Mosnier, 112.
- Moulins, 15.
- Muides, 53.
- Nahon, The, 320-321.
- Nantes and Its Château, 3, 7-8, 12-13, 23, 25-28, 40, 59, 84, 133, 207, 278-279, 286, 288, 291-302, 308, 311-312.
- Napoleon I., 83, 138, 164, 321-322.
- Napoleon III., 88.
- Napoleon, Louis, 165.
- Narbonne, 231.
- Navarre, Marguerite of (See Alençon, Marguerite d').
- Nemours, Duc de, 157.
- Nepveu, Pierre, 104.
- Nevers, 4, 6, 11, 15, 17, 137, 319, 332-333, 335-336.
- Nini, 125.
- Nivernais, The, 15, 330, 332.
- Nohant, 327-329.
- Noirmoutier, 309-310.
- Normandy, 85, 92, 306.
- Ognon, The, 312.
- Onzain, 116.
- Orléannais, The, 4, 10, 15, 19, 23, 30-57, 318, 320-321.
- Orléans, 7-8, 10-12, 15, 17, 19, 30-35, 37-41, 43, 52, 133, 137, 256, 258, 270, 284, 289.
- Orleans Family, 63, 65-66, 69, 140, 165, 231, 234 (See also Gaston of Orleans).
- Orleans, Forêt d', 39-40.
- Oudon, 25-26, 291.
- Paimbœuf, 298.
- Paris, 13, 30, 33, 42, 79, 119, 124, 136, 139-140, 229-230, 284, 302, 314.
- Parme, Duc de, 108.
- Parmentier, 80.
- Pas de Calais, 192.
- Passay, 312.
- Passy-sur-Seine, 124.
- Pays de Retz, 292, 301-302, 310.
- Penthièvre, Duc de, 164.
- Pepin, 193.
- Philippe I., 313, 326.
- Philippe II. (Auguste), 93, 193, 238.
- Philippe III. (Le Hardi), 234.
- Philippe IV. (Le Bel), 49.
- Pierrefonds, Château of, 186.
- Pierre-Levée, 310.
- Pilon, Germain, 105.
- Pinaizeaux, 310.
- Pius VI., 323.
- Plantagenet, Henry (See Henry II. of England).
- Plantin, Christopher, 205.
- Plessis, Armand du (See Richelieu, Cardinal).
- Plessis-les-Tours, 7, 150, 211-218, 334.
- Pointe de Chenoulin, 310.
- Poitiers, 304.
- Poitiers, Diane de, 118, 123, 130, 155, 172, 174-178, 183, 187, 197.
- Poitou, 278, 292, 306.
- Pompadour, La, 215.
- Poniatowska, Marie Thérèse, 323.
- 345Pont Aven, 251.
- Ponts de Cé, 21-22, 275, 279, 284-286.
- Pornic, 308, 310.
- Pornichet, 300.
- Port Boulet, 270.
- Pouilly, 18, 330-332.
- Prairie-au-Duc, 298.
- Primaticcio, 152.
- Primatice, 99.
- Puy-de-Dôme, 16.
- Rabelais, François, 3, 128, 143-144, 239-240, 254-256, 260.
- Rambouillet, Forêt de, 87.
- Reims, 319.
- Renaudie, Jean Barri de la, 161.
- René, King, 23, 281.
- Rennes, 15.
- Retz, Cardinal de (See Gondi, Henri de).
- Retz, Gilles de, 24, 293.
- Rhine, The, 13, 26.
- Rhône, The, 13, 23, 260.
- Richard Cœur de Lion, 93, 193, 267.
- Richelieu, 260-262.
- Richelieu, Cardinal, 224, 228, 231-232, 260-262, 301-302.
- Roanne, 12, 16-17, 336.
- Rochecotte, 250.
- Rochecotte, Château de, 249-250.
- Romorantin and Its Château, 85, 88-89, 324.
- Ronsard, 128, 157, 180, 240.
- Rouen, 92, 119, 121-122, 203, 221, 299.
- Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 172, 183-184, 187.
- Roy, Lucien, 235.
- Royale, Madame, 109.
- Rubens, 285.
- Ruggieri, Cosmo, 78-79, 122-123.
- Russy, Forêt de, 114.
- Saint Gelais, Guy de, 245.
- Sancerre and Its Châteaux, 18, 137, 313-318, 330, 333.
- Sancerre, Counts of, 314-316.
- Sand, George, 7, 321, 326-329.
- San Juste, Monastery of, 131.
- Saône, The, 23.
- Sardini, Scipion, 119.
- Sarthe, The, 13, 21.
- Saumur and Its Château, 21, 119-120, 142, 171, 221-222, 259, 274-283, 292.
- Sausac, Château of, 202.
- Sausac, Seigneur de, 215.
- Savennières, 289.
- Savoie, Louise de, 151.
- Savoie, Philippe de, 195.
- Saxe, Maurice de, 107-108.
- Scott, Sir Walter, 166, 211, 216, 218.
- Sedan, 40.
- Seine, The, 4, 13, 25, 36, 121, 221.
- Selles, 10, 324.
- Sertio, 100.
- Sévigné, Madame de, 18, 276, 295.
- Sforza, Ludovic, 197.
- Shenstone, 106.
- Siegfreid, Jacques, 234.
- Sologne, The, 38, 52-53, 56, 84-94, 97, 101, 110, 148, 320.
- Sorel, Agnes, 152, 188-189, 194, 196, 201-202, 250, 326.
- Staël, Madame de, 119-120.
- St. Aignan and Its Château, 10, 312, 324.
- Stanislas of Poland, King, 107-108.
- St. Ay, 43-44.
- St. Benoit-sur-Loire, 10, 19.
- St. Claude, 54.
- St. Cyr, 215.
- St. Die, 53.
- 346Ste. Eulalie, 336.
- Stendahl, 128.
- St. Etienne, 5, 16.
- St. Florent, Abbey of, 282, 306.
- St. Galmier, 16.
- St. Georges-sur-Loire, 22.
- St. Leger, 312.
- St. Liphard, 48.
- St. Louis, 37, 193, 288, 318.
- St. Lumine, 312.
- St. Mars, 312.
- St. Martin, 5, 149, 209-211, 218, 220, 253, 268.
- St. Mesme, 253.
- St. Mesmin, 41, 43.
- St. Nazaire, 23, 28, 292, 300.
- Stofflet, 303, 306.
- St. Ours, 193.
- St. Philibert, 311-312.
- St. Philibert, 310.
- St. Pierre-le-Moutier, 333.
- St. Rambert, 17.
- St. Sauveur, 238.
- Strasburg, 22.
- St. Symphorien, 218.
- St. Trinité, Abbey of, 266.
- Stuart, Mary, 157-162, 168, 181.
- St. Vallier, Comte de, 175, 197.
- Suèvres, 53.
- Sully, 19.
- Talleyrand, 250, 321, 323.
- Tasso, 180.
- Tavers, 52.
- Terry, Mr., 187.
- Texier, 22.
- Thézée, 10.
- Thibaut-le-Tricheur, 259.
- Thibaut III., 253.
- Thiephanie, Dame, 281.
- Thouet, The, 13.
- Thoury, Comtesse, 105.
- Torfou, 307.
- Toulouse, 15.
- Tour, Isabelle de la, 119.
- Touraine, 1-4, 6-9, 15, 19-21, 23, 32, 54, 56, 79, 85, 92, 102, 105, 121, 128-148, 161, 164, 169, 172-173, 176, 183, 204, 215, 220, 229-230, 233-234, 238, 243-244, 246, 251, 260, 273, 275, 284, 332.
- Touraine, Comtes de, 253.
- Tours, 3, 4, 7, 8, 10-11, 20-21, 40, 57, 84, 116-117, 120, 132-133, 137, 148-149, 166, 171-172, 200, 203-211, 215, 221-222, 224-225, 238-239, 246, 253, 266, 274, 276-277, 320-321, 327.
- Treves-Cunault, 283-284.
- Turenne, 319.
- Turner, 12.
- Valençay and Its Château, 320-324.
- Valentine de Milan, 66.
- Valentinois, Duchesse de (See Poitiers, Diane de).
- Vallée du Vendomois, 274.
- Valois, Marguerite de (sister of François I.) (See Alençon, Marguerite d').
- Valois, Marguerite de (de Navarre), 180.
- Van Eyck, 152.
- Varennes, 218, 324.
- Varennes, The, 135.
- Vasari, 153.
- Vauban, 247.
- Vaudémont, Louise de, 182.
- Vendôme, 22, 266.
- Vendôme, César de, 164.
- Vendomois, The, 56-57.
- Veron, 135.
- Versailles, 43, 60, 86, 98, 139, 261.
- Vibraye, Marquis de, 111.
- 347Vienne, The, 10, 21, 251, 259-260, 267-268, 275, 279.
- Vierzon, 84-85, 324.
- Vigny, Alfred de, 128-129.
- Villandry, Château de, 238.
- Villaumère, Château de la, 250.
- Villon, François, 48.
- Vinci, Leonardo da, 59, 72, 100, 152-153, 166, 169, 174.
- Viollet-le-Duc, 185.
- Vivarais Mountains, 16.
- Voltaire, 42, 142, 183.
- Vorey, 11, 16.
- Vouvray, 222, 332.
- Zamet, Sebastian, 170.
Transcriber's Notes
1. Replaced chateau(x) with château(x) throughout the text (title pages and pp. xi, 1, 9, 62, 72, 327).
1. Replaced château(x) with château(x) throughout the text (title pages and pp. xi, 1, 9, 62, 72, 327).
2. P. 36: added quotes after a verse.
2. P. 36: added quotes after a verse.
3. P. 67: replaced "três" with "très" ("très beau et très agréable ainsy que tous ses portraits l'ont représenté...").
3. P. 67: replaced "três" with "très" ("très beau et très agréable ainsi que tous ses portraits l'ont représenté...").
4. P. 83: added quotes after the phrase "magasin des subsistances militaires".
4. P. 83: added quotes after the phrase "military supply store".
5. P. 86: added quotes after a phrase "those brilliant and ambitious gentlemen".
5. P. 86: added quotes after the phrase "those brilliant and ambitious gentlemen."
6. P. 94: "potions" are replaced with "portions" ("... moreover, one can drink large portions of it...").
6. P. 94: "portions" are replaced with "portions" ("... moreover, one can drink large portions of it...").
7. P. 108: "know" is replaced with "known" ("The second floor is known as the...").
7. P. 108: "know" is replaced with "known" ("The second floor is known as the...").
8. All instances of "Francois" are replaced with "François" (pp. 69, 171, 304, 338, 346).
8. All instances of "Francois" are replaced with "François" (pp. 69, 171, 304, 338, 346).
9. P. 187: "Credit Foncier" is replaced by "Crédit Foncier".
9. P. 187: "Credit Foncier" is replaced by "Crédit Foncier".
10. P. 235: Replaced "irrelevent" with "irrelevant" ("...an over-luxuriant interpolation of irrelevant things...").
10. P. 235: Replaced "irrelevent" with "irrelevant" ("...an over-luxuriant interpolation of irrelevant things...").
11. P. 290: Replaced "Andre" with "André" ("Maison André Leroy").
11. P. 290: Replaced "Andre" with "André" ("Maison André Leroy").
12. P. 296: Added quotes after a verse "Cueur de vertus orné Dignement couronné."
12. P. 296: Added quotes after a verse "Heart of virtues adorned Dignifiedly crowned."
13. P. 314: Replaced "Etes-vous" with "Êtes-vous" ("Êtes-vous allé à...").
13. P. 314: Replaced "Etes-vous" with "Êtes-vous" ("Êtes-vous allé à...").
14. P. 322: Replaced "Valencay" with "Valençay" ("Château de Valençay").
14. P. 322: Replaced "Valencay" with "Valençay" ("Château de Valençay").
15. Replaced "Eglise" with "Église" (illustration caption: "Église S. Aignan, Cosne").
15. Replaced "Eglise" with "Église" (illustration caption: "Église S. Aignan, Cosne").
16. Innkeepers, manorhouse, sandbar, Bellilocus, seaside, harbourside, headwaters, stairway, and waterways are chosen to be written without a hyphen.
16. Innkeepers, manor house, sandbar, Bellilocus, seaside, harborside, headwaters, stairway, and waterways are selected to be written without a hyphen.
17. Dining-table, wine-shops, and quatre-vingtz are chosen to be written with a hyphen.
17. Dining table, wine shops, and quatre-vingts are chosen to be written with a hyphen.
18. P. 338: Replaced "Bréze" with "Brézé" (Brézé, Pierre de).
18. P. 338: Replaced "Bréze" with "Brézé" (Brézé, Pierre de).
19. P. 269: Replaced "Chateaudun" with "Châteaudun" ("... the fief passed to the Vicomtes de Châteaudun...").
19. P. 269: Replaced "Chateaudun" with "Châteaudun" ("... the fief passed to the Vicomtes de Châteaudun...").
20. Pp. 12, 17, and 339: Replaced "Canal Lateral" with "Canal Latéral".
20. Pp. 12, 17, and 339: Replaced "Canal Lateral" with "Canal Latéral".
21. P. 344: Replaced "Orléans" with "Orleans".
21. P. 344: Replaced "Orléans" with "Orleans".
22. P. 286: Quotes after the verse added ("... sur la Loire.").
22. P. 286: Quotes after the line added ("... on the Loire.").
23. P. 327: The (missing) closing quotes are added ("_petits chefs-d'oeuvre_ of sentiment and rustic poesy").
23. P. 327: The (missing) closing quotes are added ("_petits chefs-d'oeuvre_ of sentiment and rustic poetry").
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