AZAY-LE-RIDEAU, USSE, AND CHINON
From Langeais, one's obvious route lies towards Chinon, via
Azay-le-Rideau and Usse. These latter are practically within the forest,
though the Foret 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.
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.
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.
Clustered around the walls of the not very great park which surrounds
the chateau are all manner of shops and cafes, 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.
The Hotel du Grand Monarque is a wonderfully 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 mediaeval
chateau 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.
The Chateau 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.
A tree-lined avenue leads from the village street to the chateau, 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.
The main building is square, with a great coiffed round tower at each
corner. The Abbe Chevalier, in his "Promenades Pittoresques en
Touraine," called it the purest and best of French Renaissance, and such
it assuredly is, if one takes a not too extensive domestic
establishment of the early years of the sixteenth century as the typical
example.
Undoubtedly the sylvan surroundings of the chateau have a great deal to
do with the effectiveness of its charms. The great white walls of its
facade, 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.
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.
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
chateau in all the four hundred years of its existence.
[Illustration: _Chateau d'Azay-le-Rideau_]
Gilles Berthelot erected the present structure early in the reign of
Francois I. He was a man close to the king in affairs of state, first
_conseiller-secretaire_, then _tresorier-general des 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.
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.
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 Francois
and other royalties must at one time or another have had some connection
with the chateau.
History only tells us, however, that Gilles 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.
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.
Until recently the proprietor was the Marquis de Biencourt, who, like
his fellow proprietors of chateaux 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.
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
extraordinary fear or rumour, whatever it was, soon passed away and as
a "_monument historique_" the chateau 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.
It is but a dozen kilometres from Azay-le-Rideau to Usse, on the road to
Chinon. The Chateau d'Usse 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 chateau to have been like. It
belongs to-day to the Comte de Blacas, and once was the property of
Vauban, Marechal of France, under Louis XIV., who built the terrace
which lies between it 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 chateau 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 Foret de Chinon.
The Renaissance chateau of to-day is a reconstruction 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 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.
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, though
here at Usse they are more pronounced than in many other similar
edifices.
[Illustration: _Chateau d'Usse_]
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 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
chateau-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.
Near Usse is the Chateau 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 of Castellane, a name which to many
is quite as celebrated and perhaps better known.
The chateau 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 chateau, in pre-revolutionary times,
by Rochecotte.
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 Chateau de la
Villaumere, of the fifteenth century, is near by, and of more than
passing interest are the ruins of the Chateau 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.
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-contemporary castles, all
on the same site, is no exception.
"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.
At the base of the escarped rock on which sit the chateaux, 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.
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 "_cite antediluvienne_" and that it was founded
by Cain, 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.
The importance of Chinon's role in history and the beauty of its
situation have inspired many writers to sing its praises.
"... Chinon
Petite ville, grand renom
Assise sur pierre ancienne
Au haute le bois, au bas la 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 not 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.
[Illustration: _The Roof-tops of Chinon_]
Dungeons of mediaeval chateaux are here turned into dwellings and
wine-cellars, and have the advantage, for both uses, of being cool in
summer and warm in 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.
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.
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.
Memories of Charles VII., of Jeanne d'Arc, and of Francois 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 mediaeval man of letters that 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 "Cure de Chinon;" but, in spite of his rank as the first of the
mediaeval 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 was 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.
[Illustration: RABELAIS]
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.
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'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 Hotel 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.
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 countless 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.
_The Chateau de Chinon_, as it is commonly called, differs greatly from
the usual Loire chateau; 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 Chateau 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 Chateau 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.
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 ancient
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
chateau 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 Chateau de
Coudray, a little farther beyond, under guard of Guillaume Belier.
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, 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...."
[Illustration: _Chateau de Chinon_]
The Grand Logis is flanked by a square tower which is separated from the
Chateau 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 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 mediaeval donjon
of France does, unless it be that of Chateau Gaillard, in Normandy.
The primitive Chateau de Coudray was built by Thibaut-le-Tricheur in
954, and its bastion and sustaining walls are still in evidence.
The Vienne, which runs by Chinon to join the Loire above Saumur, is, in
many respects, a remarkable 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 bridge between Chinon and its faubourg is typical of the art of
bridge-building, at which, in mediaeval 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 mediaeval times, of the type of those at Blois on the Loire; at Chinon
on the Vienne; at Avignon on the Rhone; 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 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 the 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 chateau elaborately and prodigally royal.
Richelieu was a sort of "petit Versailles," which was to be to Chinon
what the real Versailles was to the capital.
To-day, as in other days, it is a "_ville vaste, reguliere 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.
Richelieu disappeared in the course of time, and work on his hobby
stopped, or at least 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.
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.
Not much can be said for the vast Eglise 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.
There was also a chateau 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.
At the bottom of a little valley, in a fertile 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 detention_" for criminals. The abbey of
yesterday is the prison of to-day.
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.
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.
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.
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 the 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.
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.
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 Renee de Bourbon, sister of Francois 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.
[Illustration: _Cuisines, Fontevrault_]
The curious, bizarre, kilnlike pyramid, known as the Tour d'Evrault,
has ever been an enigma to the archaeologist 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. Trinite at Vendome; 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.
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 detention_" of which it forms a 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 remain to suggest the simple and
beautiful style of their age.
In the transepts, behind an iron grille, are buried Henry II., King of
England and Count of Anjou, Eleanore of Guienne, Richard Coeur de Lion,
and Isabeau of Angouleme, 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.
At Bourgueil, near Fontevrault, are gathered great crops of _reglisse_,
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 Gatinais, and whoever imported the first roots
was a benefactor. At the juncture of the Vienne and the Loire are two
tiny towns which are noted for two widely different reasons.
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_.
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.
Candes was in other times surrounded by a protecting wall, and there are
to-day remains of a chateau 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
chateaux, but assumes that the prune industry of Candes is the one thing
of interest to the visitor.
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 the 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.
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 Chateaudun; 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 Chateau of Coutanciere (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."
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 picture what the life here under the Renaissance must
have been.
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.
Beside the highroad is the fifteenth-century chateau. It has a double
facade, one side of which is ornamented with a series of _machicoulis_,
great high window-openings, and flanking towers; and, in spite of its
generally frowning aspect, looks distinctly livable even to-day.
The ornamental facade 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 facade are a series of allegorical bas-reliefs, representing
monkeys, surmounted 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.
Near Port Boulet, almost opposite Candes, is the great farm of a certain
M. Cail. Communication is had with the Orleans railway by 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
chateau which forms the residence of this enterprising agriculturist.
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
chateau. There are no trees in the cultivated parts, and the great
grain-fields are as 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.
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 activity 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.