Three Chateaus, One Day

Chenonceau

             Leaving at 8:00 in the morning and returning at 8:00 at night, our group of international students spent Saturday touring three chateaus – Azay-le-Rideau,  Chenonceau, and Chambord. In three tour buses, we threaded through narrow streets of country towns, and past at least another half dozen chateaus we didn’t stop at, although a guide informed us of their presence over a bad speaker system. Our route took us by many examples of Anjou troglodytique dwellings – houses built in, or sometimes emerging from freestone rock faces. Beyond resort hotels, I hadn’t realized that this was a practiced mode of living, but many of the houses I saw seemed well maintained and occupied.

            Our first stop was Azay-le-Rideau, a small chateau built in the 1500s (as were Chenonceau and Chambord), and complete with all the intricate engravings of dragons, cherubs, and gargoyles that are required of a proper castle. Although different rooms are furnished in different period styles, I didn’t grasp how old it was until I walked up a spiral staircase and could feel the dip under my feet where centuries of shoes had worn away the rock. I also didn’t realize at the time that, in terms of size and trimmings, Azay-le-Rideau is only a modest chateau.

The Caryatids

            Chenonceau, in contrast, is a sprawling creation, introduced by a long, tree-lined drive. Numerous trails sprout off of this lane, one of which leads to a labyrinth (commissioned by Catherine de Médicis) and the caryatids, a group of mysterious pillar-figures whose expressions and appendages have crumbled with time. The chateau itself extends out into the river Cher in a series of arches, and the building’s underbelly offers a glimpse into a medieval kitchen (in which one apparently did a lot of cleaving, if the contents of the racks on the walls are anything to go by). Much of the furnishings in the three chateaus seem to run toward a similar taste (opulence), with reds and golds, tapestries and heavy drapes (the exception being the bedroom of Louise de Lorraine in Chenonceau, which has walls and ceiling painted a gloomy black).

            Chambord, although its interior is barer, does not fail to express a clear message of wealth. It is a behemoth. Crowned with hundreds of chimneys and towers, the feeling I had upon seeing this last chateau was probably exactly what its past owners had in mind – awe and inferiority. It is located in a hunting reserve the size of Paris proper, and has gaping, drafty halls. Ascending the central spiral staircase, the roof looks and feels as if it is its own miniature city. Columns, domes, and crosses abound, and sculptures, many of them in varying degrees of anguish, peer down at the crowds below.

The Roof of Chambord

            The bus ride home was a long one, but I had a lot of food for thought. What would it be like to be able to get up in the morning and decide on a whim that your roof needs another tower, or two, or fifty?