Les châteaux de la Loire
- tmatson
- Oct 24, 2014
- 3 min read
I arrived in Amboise unhappy and frustrated. I had just left my cell phone on the last train bound for Tours. After a period of mourning for my precious iPhone, during which I trudged through the pedestrian walkways, paying absolutely no attention to the imposing Château d’Amboise in the center square and occasionally stubbing my toe on purpose in order to have a real reason for the tears pooling in my eyes, I finally found myself on the doorstep of Clos Lucé.
Château Clos Lucé was the final resting place of Leonardo Da Vinci. Leonardo Da Vinci arrived at the château in 1516 with his favorite paintings (including the Mona Lisa!) in order to escape an imploding Rome. France’s Renaissance king, François I was so enamored with Da Vinci, that he gave him the position of official engineer, architect and painter to the king. Supposedly, the château survived the French Revolution because the quick-talking noble who owned it was sympathetic to the cause and convinced the Revolutionaries that, philosophically, Da Vinci would have on their side.
A tour of the very small château takes you through most of the rooms in the house, including the bedroom where he died, the salon where he worked and the cellars where his inventions have been brought to life (all built according to his notes). Recreations of his sketches and miniature models of early tanks, flying machines, gear systems, water pumps and even the first life vest are on display. His ideas were well beyond his time, and seeing such remarkable creativity shook me from my state of self-pity. If Da Vinci can dream up a series of coils to pump water uphill, I certainly can figure out how to survive without the internet… Goodness knows, I could write postcards and use maps to navigate!
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The next morning, my mom and I rent bikes to cycle to the Château Chenonceau. The country road ride was picturesque and reminded me of the roads surrounding Walla Walla. About 15 km and 37 hills later, we get our first peek at the château shrouded by old oak trees and fields of purple cyclamen. The château, itself, is straight out of your favorite fairy tale. The 16th century Renaissance palace arches gracefully over the river Cher. And Chenonceau has everything a proper castle ought to have: THREE moats, TWO classical gardens, a hedge maze (labyrinth), a working farm and flower garden, a precariously old and crumbling mill tower predating the château, an elegant chapel, a secret landing bay for boats under the kitchens and a tragic history.
Nicknamed the “Château of the Ladies,” Chenonceau housed many famous women. In fact, the château’s original architect was away for so much of the time, his wife made most of the design decisions during construction. Later, King Henry II donated Chenonceau to his favorite lady, Diane de Poitiers, who was 20 years his senior but, with a kiss, left a lasting impression when he was a young boy. After Henri II died in combat, his widow Catherine de’ Medici obviously removed Diane (bitch, please…). Catherine governed France from this castle as Regent while her son was still to young to influence political matters. She transformed Chenonceau into THE place to see and be seen by local aristocracy. Years later, the elite writers, poets, scientists and philosophers of the Age of Enlightenment were invited to the château by sharp-minded owner, Louise Dupin. By doing so, she managed to save Chenonceau during the Revolution.
Although my history lesson is almost done, one of my favorite things about Chenonceau was the role it played in both world wars. In WWI, it was transformed into a hospital for wounded soldiers (a plot point straight out of Downtown Abby). This was done at the urging of the matron of the château and at the expense of her family. In WWII, it was used to secretly transport members of the Resistance from the Vichy government and Nazi-controlled France to free France in the south. The river the château bridges marked this territorial border.
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Upon arriving back in Amboise, I hear by a chorus of
“Bonjour”
“Bonjour”
“Bonjour”
greetings from locals to one another, as if straight out Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I look around the country town and am charmed by the quaintness of it all. Children just released from school race each other down the street, an old woman leaving the boulangerie has filled her basket with eggs and baguettes, and the locals all seem to know one another, pausing in the middle of the rue to catch up on the latest gossip.
Perhaps it’s just the châteaux or the lyrical ring of the French language, but I feel as if I’ve just stepped into a story book.
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