Traveling Back in Time: The French Renaissance Firsthand
Chateaus of Blois, Chambord, Chaumont Sur-Loire and Amboise
Hello! This is the first part of a multi-part series on my time biking the Loire Valley from Blois to Saumur. If you would like to read more about my travel, with a particular focus on the history of the Loire Valley, read on! If you would not like to, read on anyways.
Packing is an exercise in sacrifice. I have learned over the last few years of traveling that traveling isn’t about what you bring with you, it’s about what you can leave behind. Travel and you will realize how much of your identity is tied up in your possessions, and how strange an arrangement that is. Pieces of clothing you never wear, trinkets that you used once and never again, become suddenly items of high value when the sheer mathematical fact of the number of arms you have mean you will have to leave something behind.
My packing experience is especially ironic because on this vacation I’m visiting the castles of the kings of Renaissance France — perhaps the most famous owners of worldly possessions the world has ever seen.
Day 0: Arrival in Blois
It’s raining in Blois when the train pulls in, but I still can’t stop smiling. Maybe it’s because the words “bienvenue a France” never really lose their luster. Maybe it’s because Blois is a beautiful town even in the dreary rain. Or maybe it’s because I’m delirious after traveling for 14 hours straight. Either way.
As you approach Blois, the Middle Ages and the Renaissance step up to meet you. There are mains streets in Blois, and paved areas, but they aren’t fooling anyone — this is a city where the bones go deep and buildings three hundred years old are newcomers to the city’s history.
And what a history it is — Blois has been an important part of France since the very beginning. The Counts of Blois were powerful landowners, and the province’s rich land and proximity to France meant they were frequent obstacles to royal power. This power continued until Blois was absorbed into the royal holdings in the late 14th century.
But, when Blois was taken in, it’s importance didn’t recede. Instead, Blois’ importance only grew when the future king Louis XII was born in Blois castle. When he became king, Louis XII made Blois the focal point of his court, and Blois would continue to be the focal point of the court until the construction of Amboise and Chambord. Eight kings would live there — Louis XII, Francis I, Louis XIII, Henry II, Charles XI, Henry III and Henry IV. Successive monarchs expanded Blois further and further, emphasizing their royal power and drawing more and more nobles towards Blois.
Blois castle can be properly seen as the monarchy beginning to flex its muscles. Emerging from the Hundred Years’ War battered but invigorated, with a stronger financing system and quasi-professional armies, the French monarchs of the Renaissance were ready to establish themselves and set a strong hold over the nobility. Blois was an important first part of that step, the beginning of a process that would culminate with the absurd excess of Versailles.
I walk along the narrow, cobblestoned streets, occasionally taking a picture of a preserved building, or the panoramas of the street, or anything at all. I walked past St. Louis, gaping up at its steeples and oohing in wonder. The real treat, however, was in the gardens of the church. There, carefully hidden away from almost every eye in the city, was a huge row of terrace gardens.
The terraced gardens look down onto the city, and after the city the river. Beautiful old houses line both sides of the river. Birds were flying through the air, snatching up bugs, while even the bugs seemed to placidly hang out and enjoy the weather.
The nice thing about traveling by yourself is you can set the pace for absolutely everything, untroubled by the desires of your companions. For what felt like an eternity, I sat there on that bench, watching the swallows dive through the air. I looked at the fading light that touched the brown rooftops as the sky slowly tucked itself away from prying eyes. Most of all, I watched the Loire Valley, the brown river turning golden as it wound placidly down the valley. I closed my eyes, hearing the cry of birdsong as the sun slowly set over the Loire.
Day 1: Blois and Chambord
The castle of Blois serves as an excellent entry point into the history of the French kings and the Loire Valley, because it so neatly bridges the Feudal and Renaissance periods. Originally, the castle had been built to defend against marauding Vikings sailing up the River Loire and had the huge, necessary stone walls and defensive towers. Louis XII looked at the massive walls, the protruding towers and the chapel where Joan of Arc was blessed before heading off to battle, and tore most of it down. The king of France had no need for huge defensive fortifications in the middle of his realm, not in the late 15th/early 16th century. This was the Renaissance, and what the Renaissance needed was splendor.
Blois delivers on splendor. The Louis XII wing is a spectacular 15th century example of Flamboyant Gothic architecture, with soaring dormers, exquisite gargoyles and intricate carvings of animals. Next to it is the 16th century Renaissance wing developed by Francis I, with a magnificent carved exterior staircase. And behind it is the wing of Gaston d’Orleans, in a 17th century architecture that closely anticipates Versailles.
Blois castle is the perfect place to explore Renaissance architecture, history and politics. And, oh, were there politics. As the seat of the king, Blois was site to some of the craziest scheming in the royal court. The most memorable event in Blois castle’s history occurred in 1588. Henry III, one of the worst kings France has ever had, was king. Indecisive and weak, Henry III would have been bad enough in normal times, but France was facing one of its greatest challenges — The Wars of Religion. The Protestant Reformation had swept through Europe and France, with the weak Henry III on the throne, was torn apart by civil war.
The perfect man to take advantage of the unrest was Henry, Duke of Guise. The head of the powerful, ultraconservative Catholic League, the Duke of Guise was a strong, charismatic, popular war hero. The polar opposite of Henry III, all signs pointed to the Duke of Guise seizing the throne. He had the support, the men and the willpower, and a (“recently discovered”) royal lineage. Most importantly, the Duke of Guise had a good reason to motivate his men to depose Henry III — Henry III’s heir to the throne was his cousin, the Protestant Henry of Navarre, an intolerable prospect for the Catholic League.
(Also yes, they were all named Henry. This war is sometimes called “The War of Three Henrys,” a war destined to confuse students).
So, when Henry III called the Estates General to Blois in 1588 to raise more funds for the government, it was clear to all what was going to happen. The nobility made it eminently clear to Henry III how much they supported the Duke of Guise. The ground was set for the Duke of Guise’s coup.
But, sometimes history works in strange ways. Henry III stunned everyone by striking first. He invited the Duke of Guise to his apartment to discuss matters privately. When the Duke of Guise arrived, the king’s bodyguards ambushed him and cut him to pieces.
Henry III’s triumph didn’t last long — eight months later he was murdered by a fanatical Catholic monk. The carnage at Blois cleared the way for Henry of Navarre, the future Henry IV, to take the crown as the first of the Bourbon kings. Henry IV converted to Catholicism (famously declaring “Paris is worth a Mass”), and issued the Edict of Nantes, one of the first Western European open declarations of religious liberty, ending the Wars of Religion and bringing to a close this bloody chapter in Blois and France’s history.
In the background of all this maneuvering was Catherine de Medici. The widow of Henry II, this woman would have a profound impact on all of France and has a controversial reputation among historians. Traditionally vilified as a scheming, low-born, ugly, Machiavellian manipulator, other historians have focused instead on her stabilizing hand and moderate influence on her sons.
She was a key factor in Henry II’s reign, despite her husband’s obsession with his mistress. Her sons ruled France as, in order, Francis II, Charles IX and then Henry III. Her daughter Elisabeth would also rule as Elisabeth, Queen of Spain. When Henry IV of Bourbon ascended to the throne, he married Princess Marguerite, who was the daughter of — Catherine de Medici. In Blois you can walk through her green-draped bedrooms, and most interestingly, her study, where hidden footpedals reveal cleverly concealed cabinets. Legend has it that these are were Catherine de Medici’s poisons were hidden. Today, the guide explains that these were probably used for her to store jewelry, but I choose to believe these were for poisons. Of course, there’s no evidence she ever poisoned anyone — but her enemies did have a strange habit of dying mysteriously!
Turning away from the rooms of Catherine de Medici, Henry III and Henry IV, I leave the rich politics of Blois behind and head towards Chambord, the height of Renaissance splendor.
Chambord
As I biked from Blois to Chambord, I realized that I was retracing the steps of the Renaissance kings. They had traveled frequently from Blois to Chambord and Amboise, their courtiers packing up all the furniture into heavy trunks and throwing them into carriages whenever the seasons changed, the king was entertaining visitors, or if the king just felt like hunting (This is one of the reasons why very little actual royal Renaissance furniture has survived to this day).
I didn’t have the court train with me, but the “horse” I was on was more than adequate — a 27-speed bike, with a saddlebag to hold the day’s provisions. As I biked through small villages, rolling fields and splendid vineyards, my royal persona started to make a lot more sense. I was surveying small villages such as Huisseau-Sur-Cosson and Artigny, ensuring that my domains were in order. If they were staring at my clothes (I was wearing the most ridiculous frisbee jerseys the United States can produce), it was because they were understandably awed at my royal splendor. When an unfortunate truck driver made the mistake of blocking my path, I swore to have him executed immediately. Then I remanded that order, realizing that I was trying to be a virtuous ruler, and this man undoubtedly did something important within my kingdom. I passed him by with a wave, and he waved back cheerily, no doubt unaware how close he had come to oblivion.
I also took time to appropriate some fresh cherries from the trees of one of my subjects. They were extremely delicious and went well with the picnic lunch I had brought for myself on my way to Chambord.
Both Francis I and Louis XII had built their castles on sites with existing fortifications. When Louis XII built Blois, he had torn down a lot of the older buildings, but he had still built on the bones of the Feudal castle, and had remained relatively true to its origins with his Flamboyant Gothic wing. Francis I razed the old castle to the ground. He would build his castle from scratch, on a completely blank canvas.
This was entirely in character. If Louis XII was the gateway to the Renaissance, Francis I was unabashed Renaissance exuberance and splendor.
Everything Francis I did was larger than life. When he was first crowned king at the age of eighteen, he immediately charged off to war against the unbeatable Swiss in Milan. Francis I crushed the Swiss in a decisive battle. The Renaissance was about patronizing artists as well, so Francis I lavished funds on writers, artists and poets, making his court the most glorious in the Western world. Francis I even convinced the legendary Leonardo da Vinci to join him, which he eventually did for the last years of his life.
Chambord is a fitting legacy of a man who did nothing by half-measures, who even when he failed, failed spectacularly. In truth, I found Chambord overwhelming — partly this is due to the huge crowds of teenagers there on a school trip, partly due to an audio guide that lacked a coherent narrative, and partly due to being chateau’d out after Blois (a real issue for me for the entirety of my trip).
But there are two aspects of Chambord that really stood out to me and blew me away. The first is Chambord’s double staircase. At first glance, this looks like a standard, straightforward staircase. But in fact this is two staircases curving in different directions, constantly overlapping but never touching. This means two people starting on opposite ends of the room could climb all the way to the top, seeing each other from the interior stairwells, but never actually crossing paths. Impressive enough in theory, in practice the effect is mindblowing — a stunning effect of architectural brilliance and arrogance. The actual designer of this staircase is unknown, but everyone’s favorite fan theory is that it came from the absurd genius of Leonardo da Vinci himself.
The second thing is the gardens and scale of Chambord. Looking up from the ground at the castle, you’re overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place. This is even more true at the top of the castle, where you can see out over the castle grounds and gardens.
As you look out over perfectly sculped gardens and landscapes that stretch as far as the eye can see, you realize that this truly is the palace of the most glorious king in the entire Western world.
Day 2: Chaumont Sur-Loire and Amboise
The next day I set off down the road towards Amboise, passing Chaumont-Sur-Loire on the way. Chaumont Sur-Loire’s exterior is stunning. The chateau itself sparkles in the light, a bright and airy fairytale castle, with defensive towers adorned with graceful towers, untouched by war. Even more impressive are the views of the Loire and the garden from the castle, as the building towers over the town.
With Chaumont Sur-Loire, our focus shifts entirely from the kings to the women who shaped Renaissance France. Chaumont Sur-Loire was the property of two of the most important women in the 16th century — Catherine de Medici and Diane of Poitiers. We’ve already met Catherine de Medici, so who is Diane of Poitiers? Diane was the mistress of Henry II (Catherine de Medici’s husband), and she kept the king wrapped around her finger for his entire life. A woman of great beauty, seduction and refinement, scandalous gossip whispered that she had also been the mistress of the king’s father, Francis I. The king doted on her every word, and she became one of Catherine’s biggest rivals.
The highlight of the interior for me is the original sixteenth century fireplace — at the top of the fireplace is a carved symbol of a triangle ringed by three circles. Depending on who you ask, that symbol is either Catherine’s (three mirrors displaying the fates of her three sons, done by her astrologist Ruggieri) or Diane of Poitiers (three moons for Diane’s namesake, Diana, goddess of the moon). The best part of the chateau displays the interlocking fates of these two women and their rivalry.
Catherine de Medici acquired Chaumont Sur-Loire first, in 1550. As I gazed at this deeply romantic, beautiful and seductive castle, the audioguide explains to me that Catherine probably bought the castle for its valuable tax income, as the castle received taxes from all of the trade that floated down the Loire. This made sense to me — I could imagine the practical, calculating Catherine seeing the romantic beauty of Chaumont Sur-Loire, then focusing in on the cold economic rationale.
The castle’s gardens are also worth exploring, particularly when the International Garden Festival is occurring. Personal highlights include an exhibit of a thousand suspended dandelions, a meditation garden with a yarn walk, the impossible garden (where a tree is grown in the middle of a deep pool of water), and the valleys of mist.
In the valleys of mist, a deep and wild forest and a series of sprinklers around the entire garden give the impression of a wild temperate forest, far away from civilization.
Only steps away is one of the greatest castles of the Renaissance. That’s how close the line is between wilderness and civilization.
That’s how close the line between power and humiliation was for Diane. During the height of her powers, the castle of Chenonceau (which we’ll get to later) was the gem of the French kingdom. Diane pressured the king to seize the property on her behalf, which he did. Diane resided gloriously in Chenonceau for twelve years while Catherine fumed, because love is power.
When Henry II died, Catherine de Medici acted quickly. She seized Chenonceau from Diane of Poitiers and relegated her to the less-impressive Chaumont Sur-Loire. Diane never saw her beloved Chenonceau again, because power is power.
Amboise
By bike ride continues on to Amboise, which serves as a further step back into royal history, in some ways even further back than Blois.
Unfortunately, much of the Renaissance castle was destroyed by the French Revolution and World War II, but what remains is fascinating.
Unlike Chambord, where Francis I completely demolished the existing castle, or Blois, where Louis XII razed most of the existing fortifications, Charles VIII kept almost all of Amboise’s fortifications. In the middle of the castle he demolished the existing structures and built something new, but the fortifications are still there to this day. Amboise looms above the town, with huge, thick stone walls encircling the castle.
The main entrance is through a forbidding, steep dark tunnel, where no less than seven major traps are installed. At the pull of a lever, a guard could turn the gateway to this gorgeous Renaissance palace into a charnel house. The interior of Amboise is gorgeous, but the exterior is not messing around. This was built by a king who wanted to do something new and exciting, but who knew he had to keep himself protected as well, just in case.
Amboise is also the beginning of two very important trends in French culture. The first is Italian influence — Charles VIII had returned from his wars with Italy enamored of the culture, and Amboise is the first Italianate castle in all of France.
This trend of Italian influence is also present in the castle chapel’s most famous occupant. Leonardo Da Vinci spent his last three years nearby at the Clos Luce, and he is buried here. The most famous man of the Renaissance is buried next to the beginning of the French Renaissance, which seems particularly fitting.
The second trend was more of a feature of Francis I, and that is the expansion of the royal court. Francis I expanded the royal court of Amboise to include powerful and influential nobility within the realm. The nobles positioned and jockeyed with each other to get to court, and to get closer to the king himself. This, of course, also meant that the nobles were close at home and easy to monitor, instead of far away on their estates getting up to mischief.
The Council Chambers at Amboise easily convey this new sense of grandeur and majesty within the kingdom. A large, beautiful white stone room with high, elegant arches and decorations everywhere of the fleur-de lis, it is easy to get the sense of the court from directly in this room. Stand close enough and you can hear the games of flattery and gossip, generations before Versailles, establishing the framework for the Sun King.
The walls of Amboise came in very handy during the Wars of Religion. Francis II was the target, attacked by Protestants furious at the Duke of Guise’s influence in the royal court. Over a thousand angry Protestants charged into Amboise to kidnap the king. The surprised nobles immediately summoned the royal guard, who butchered the conspirators.
Outside the elegant, genteel Council Chambers, there is a long balcony facing the river Loire. After the Amboise attack, the royal guards tied rough nooses around the necks of the main captured conspirators, tied the other end of the ropes to the balcony, and threw the Protestants off the balcony to hang. Below one of the most elegant rooms in all of France, men were executed right in front of the eyes of Catherine de Medici. It was a brutal reminder, like the walls outside of Amboise, that no matter how refined and Renaissance the French monarchy became, it could still be a brutal institution when necessary.
That’s all for part 1! Stay tuned for part 2, covering Chenonceau, Clos Luce and the wines of Touraine.