THE CHÂTEAUX OF TOURAINE
Tours made a convenient headquarters for our explorations in Touraine,
where along the banks of the Loire and the Indre were enacted the most
important events in French history from Charles VII to Henry IV. Every
one would be interested in an historical course having for subjects
these Renaissance homes of France's gallantry and beauty. One lingers,
and imagines the scenes of magnificent revel, the court life of kings
and queens when the artistic and architectural glory of France was at
its zenith.
It was easy to plan our one-day trips so as to include on the same
circuit several of the most famous châteaux. The first day we motored to
Azay-le-Rideau, Chinon, Rigny-Ussé, and Langeais, in the order named.
The distances were short, perhaps one hundred and twenty-five kilometers
in all, so that we could go leisurely and yet return to Tours before
dark.
With this wonderful program before us, we crossed the Loire, and
traversing a wooded country with areas of vineyards and gardens, came to
Azay-sur-Indre. There were not even hints of a château, nothing but the
aimless cobbled streets of the typical French town. We halted beside a
long wall which holds back the encroaching village and betrays no sign
of the surprise in store within. Any one about to see his first château
would do well to visit Azay-le-Rideau, a veritable gem of Renaissance
style. This graceful pile of white architecture, as seen to-day, belongs
to the early part of the sixteenth century. François I built it. That
patron of the _beaux arts_ has placed our twentieth century under
lasting obligation. Every line is artistic. There is the picture of airy
lightness in the turrets and carven chimneys that rise from the high
sloping roofs of blue slate. In gratitude for the preservation of this
perfect work one forgets the ravages of the French Revolution. Passing
over a small bridge, we followed the _gardien_ through the sculptured
doorway and up the grand staircase so often ascended by François and his
Parisian favorites. We were permitted to see the ancient kitchen and
old kitchen utensils of wrought iron. Paintings and Flemish tapestries
adorned the billiard room. The king's bedroom has a fine specimen of
rare mediæval flooring. The ballroom, with its Gobelin tapestries,
suggested the artistic luxury of the age. From nearly every window there
were pleasing outlooks on a green woodland and on the sunny branch of
the Indre, which surrounds the château on three sides. It was all a
picture of peace. Azay-le-Rideau is a château of elegance, instead of
defense. One could imagine it built by a king who had leisure to collect
beautiful works of art and whose throne was not seriously threatened by
invading armies.
Quite different from it is the château of Chinon, an immense ruined
fortress built on a hill above the Vienne River. The walls are as
impregnable as rocky cliffs. Chinon was the refuge of a king who had
need of the strongest towers. Charles VII, still uncrowned, assembled
here the States-General while the English were besieging Orléans. It was
a time of despair. The French were divided, discouraged, helpless,
their richest provinces overrun by English armies. At this lowest ebb of
French history, a simple peasant girl came to Chinon. Only a solitary
gable and chimneypiece remain of the Grande Salle du Trône where Jeanne
d'Arc told the king of her visions from heaven and of mysterious voices
commanding her to save the nation. We entered the tower, her rude
quarters till she departed a few weeks later to lead the French troops
to the victory of Orléans.
After lunch we motored through the gardens of Touraine to the
magnificent château of Ussé. The elegant grounds and surrounding woods
formed an appropriate setting. Terraces descended to the wall below,
where our view swept over a wide range of picturesque country, watered
by the Indre. Much to our regret, we were not permitted to visit the
château, which is now occupied by a prominent French family.
Langeais, a few miles away, gave us a more hospitable welcome. It is a
superb stronghold upon the Loire, and has dark, frowning towers and a
heavy drawbridge which looks very mediæval. The widow of M. Siegfried,
a Parisian millionaire, lives here part of the year with her daughter.
M. Siegfried, who bought the château, was interested in art as well as
in ships. He lavished his wealth to furnish the different rooms with
furniture and _objets d'art_ peculiar to the period. His will provides
that after the wife's death the château is to belong to the Institute of
France, and that a sum equal to six thousand dollars is to be devoted to
its upkeep. Other tourists had arrived. The _concierge_ conducted our
party through the many different rooms, lavishly furnished and decorated
in the period of Louis XI and Charles VIII. There were wide, open
fireplaces. We were interested in the Grand Salon, where the marriage of
Charles VIII and Anne of Brittany was celebrated in 1491.
The return to Tours led along the banks of the Loire. Rain was falling,
a cold drizzle which the rising wind dashed in our faces. The wide
sweeps of the river grew indistinct. There were few carts to check our
homeward spurt through the darkening landscape. We were fortunate in
having so comfortable a hostelry for a goal. The dinner, equal to the
best French cuisine, proved a pleasant ending to a memorable day.
[Illustration: Copyright by Underwood & Underwood
_The Chateau of Loches behind its imposing entrance_ _Page 187_]
The next morning ushered in one of those golden fall days that seemed
made for "châteauing." The swift kilometers soon carried us to Loches,
that impressive combination of state prison, Château Royal, and grim
fortress overlooking the valley of the Indre. So many horrible memories
are linked with the prisons of Loches that we almost hesitate to record
our impressions. We have seen the dungeon cells of the Ducal Palace in
Venice and the equally gruesome chambers of the Castle of Chillon, but
the dungeons of Loches are the most fear-inspiring that we have ever
penetrated. Perhaps a part of this impression was due to the _concierge_
who showed us the prisons where famous captives were incarcerated and
tortured at the will of monarchs. There was one dark cell with a deep
hole, purposely fashioned that the victims should stumble headlong to
their fate. Our guide gave us a graphic description of this method of
execution. In that gloomy hole, his sudden climax of "_Très horrible_,"
would have made any one shiver. Some of these cells extend an
interminable distance underground. It is not the most cheerful
experience to descend deeper and deeper into this subterranean darkness,
to see the daylight growing fainter, to hear the trickle of water from
the cold rocks, and then to imagine the slow, frightful death of many a
political captive. Louis XI, not satisfied with the capacity of the
dungeon, built a great round tower, the Tour Neuve, where he imprisoned
the rebellious barons whose lives could not be taken.
Some one has written of this amiable king that "his reign was a daily
battle, carried on in the manner of savages, by astuteness and cruelty,
without courtesy and without mercy." In the cell occupied by Ludovico
Sforza, the Duke of Milan, may be seen the paintings, sun dial, and
inscriptions with which he tried to ward off approaching madness. This
prisoner is said to have died from the joy of regaining his liberty.
Louis XI was resourceful in his method of imprisonment. In a
subterranean room of the Tour Neuve we were shown where the Cardinal
Balue was suspended in a small cage. One reads that he "survived so much
longer than might have been expected this extraordinary mixture of
seclusion and exposure." Almost as horrible was the window cell in one
of the torture chambers. The prisoner was confined on a narrow stone
ledge between two rows of bars. There was barely space to stand up or
lie down. A handful of straw served for a bed. On the one side, he was
exposed to the elements, and on the other, he viewed the torments of
fellow prisoners.
We turned with relief to less hideous scenes, to the apartments of the
Château Royal, occupied by the irresolute Charles VII, the terrible
Louis XI, and their successors; to the tower, from the top of which we
had a commanding view of the quaint, mediæval town and the wandering
Indre. Our guide did not forget to show us the tomb of Agnes Sorel, the
beautiful mistress of Charles VII. Two little angels kneel at her head,
while her feet rest on two couchant lambs, symbols of innocence. The
monument would have made an appropriate resting place for a martyred
saint.
From Loches, we motored through a deep forest to the château of
Montrésor, well protected on its rocky height by a double encircling
wall, flanked with towers. Once within these formidable barriers, we
were delighted with the pleasant grounds and green arbors above the
valley of the Indrois. The building dates from the commencement of the
sixteenth century, and was small enough to look more like a home than a
palace. The _concierge_ spoke of a distinguished Polish family who
occupied it part of the year. This was the first "home château" we had
seen. Everything looked livable; there was warmth and coziness and
refinement in the different rooms. We felt almost like intruders into
this domestic atmosphere. Some of the paintings were by great artists.
One was Fleury's "The Massacre of the Poles at Warsaw," on April 8,
1861. There were rare specimens of antique furniture, and, most
interesting of all, the "Treasury of the Kings of Poland," consisting in
part of the large gold dish and silver soup tureen presented to John
Sobieski by the city of Vienna, and of the silver-gilt services of
Sobieski and of Sigismond II, King of Poland. The château has a rich
collection of works of art and souvenirs relating to the history of
Poland.
[Illustration: Copyright by Underwood & Underwood
_The Chateau of Chenonceaux_ _Page 191_]
The Hôtel de France nearby spread before us a ménu so good that we
confiscated the _carte du jour_ as a souvenir.
Eagerly we looked forward to Chenonceaux, built on the Cher, most
exquisite of the French châteaux and for centuries the rendezvous of wit
and beauty. Motor cars lined the roadside by the gates of the park. Some
of the visitors had driven in carriages from the nearest railway
stations. We sauntered down an avenue of trees to a large garden, rather
a formal piece of landscape work. The drawbridge offered access to the
château. François I purchased it. Later, Henry II, ascending the throne,
gave it to his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. The French women of that day
had a big share in the shaping of history; the conversations of the
boudoir were often more influential than state councils. Diane built a
bridge which connected the castle with the other side of the river.
Twelve years later, the death of Henry II gave his widow, Catherine de'
Medici, a chance to relieve her embittered feelings. She forced Diane to
exchange Chenonceaux for another château. Upon the bridge built by her
rival, Catherine erected a long gallery, surmounted by a banqueting
hall. This fairy-like structure is so strangely placed, one is reminded
of a fantastic ship moored in the river. It is remarkable for its
celebrated Renaissance architecture and for the absence of bloody
traditions. "Blois is stained with the blood of Guise; Amboise was the
scene of massacre; Loches stands upon unnumbered dungeons; Chenonceaux
alone has no bloodstain on its stones and no groan has ever risen from
its vaults. Eight generations of kings took their pleasure there, and a
long line of brilliant and beautiful women makes its history like a rope
of pearls." Even the gloomy, plotting Catherine did nothing to disturb
the peaceful records and gorgeous _fêtes_ of Chenonceaux. In the
"_chambre de Diane de Poitiers_" we saw a painting representing
Catherine. Those cold, brooding eyes looked capable of anything, from
the murder of the Duc de Guise to the massacre of St. Bartholomew.
Two other châteaux of our itinerary still remained, Amboise and Blois,
the latter perhaps the most famous of them all. We decided to visit
these châteaux _en route_ down the valley of Loire to Orléans. The
following morning we bade farewell to Tours. The road swept us along the
left bank of the Loire, all aglitter in the September sunshine. What a
wonderful stream it is, the longest river in France, with its basin
embracing one fourth of that country! There is not a river in the world
like it. One feels the breath of romance, the spell of historical
associations, the beauty of its curves sweeping through a smiling land.
"Perhaps no stream, in so short a portion of its course, has so much
history to tell."[6] Along its banks flourished for three centuries the
court of the Valois kings. There are vineyards, the remains of mediæval
forests, little villages that have scarcely changed in a hundred years,
and splendid châteaux like those of Blois, Chaumont, Chambord, and
Amboise, almost reflecting their towers in the water and rich in the
wonders of the French Renaissance.
[6] _Old Touraine_, by T. A. Cook.
Of all the châteaux along the Loire, Amboise enjoys the finest
situation. From across the river we could see this dark Gothic mass
rising from its cliff-like walls to dominate the town and far-winding
stream. The panorama from the high terrace is one of the indescribable
views of France. The real treasure of Amboise is the exquisite Chapelle
de Saint Hubert, due to Charles VIII. His artistic zeal was tragically
interrupted. We saw the low doorway where, according to tradition, he
struck his head and killed himself while hastening to play tennis. On
the terrace is a bust of Leonardo da Vinci, who died here in 1519. The
name of Catherine de' Medici is connected with a frightful scene that
occurred in the courtyard. A Huguenot conspiracy to capture the youthful
François II was discovered. The fierce Catherine not only witnessed the
executions from a balcony, but insisted upon the company of her
horrified daughter-in-law, Mary Stuart. Twelve hundred Huguenots were
butchered. One writer[7] makes the following grim comment: "It was a
long job, of course, to kill so many, and the company could hardly be
expected to watch it all, but the noble victims were reserved for their
special entertainment after dinner." Catherine seems to have had a
peculiar fondness for these innocent and edifying spectacles. We
descended the spiral roadway of the colossal tower up which Emperor
Charles V rode on horseback when he visited François I. This inclined
plane was so perfect and gradual that our motor car could have climbed
it with ease.
[7] Sir Henry Norman, M. P., in "The Alpine Road of France," in
_Scribner's Magazine_, February, 1914.
[Illustration: Copyright by Underwood & Underwood
_The Chateau of Amboise on the Loire_]
Recrossing the Loire, we rode on to Blois for lunch at that famous
hostelry, the Hôtel d'Angleterre, close by the river's edge. To the
château of Blois belongs historical preëminence. This great castle was
the center of French history in the sixteenth century. Elaborate and
imposing, Blois recalls the splendor of the age as well as its crimes.
Such fireplaces and such ceilings! The colors are crimson and gold. Amid
this gloomy grandeur moved Catherine de' Medici. The memory of her
presence alone is enough to make the air heavy with intrigue and murder,
with all the passions that inflamed the religious wars. Joining the
usual tourist crowd, we visited her apartments, including the bedroom
where she died in 1589, at the age of seventy, the most infamous of
French queens. To us, the strangest fact in the life of this fierce,
blood-loving queen is that she was permitted to die a natural death. In
one of the chambers were curious secret cupboards where she may have
concealed her jewels. The floor above suggested a terribly realistic
picture of the assassination of the Duc de Guise, whose popularity and
influence had aroused the jealousy of Catherine and Henry III. The
_concierge_ explained all the tragic details. This was the _salle du
conseil_, where, on the morning of the assassination, the duke was
summoned by the queen to a council; that, the _cabinet neuf_, where the
king remained while the fatal blows were being struck. And there, in the
king's chamber, at the foot of the bed, the spot where the body lay when
the king exclaimed, "He seems greater in death than in life."