Today, I took the bus to Azay-le-Rideau, another chateau in the Loire Valley. Like so many other chateaux I have visited, Azay-le-Rideau passed through the hands of Francois I, although he only slept there for two nights (he also spent an afternoon there). I arrived just in time for the guided tour -- in French, naturally, but French for genuine francophones, rather than the slow, simple French of the genial professor of civilization at the Institute. Therefore, I’m not entirely certain that I correctly understood everything he said: I have decided, for this reason, not to copy from my notes certain facts, such as the construction of the façade by purple elephants, and the secret passageway to San Francisco.
In 1510 Gilles Berthelot, an important courtier at the courts of both Charles VIII and Francois I, acquired the old stronghold of Azay, and decided to build himself a new castle in its place, in the Italian style. Berthelot was not a nobleman, but a banker, and when the bankers suffered royal persecution -- prosecution, of course, I mean -- in 1528, and his personal protector at court was executed, Berthelot fled, and Francois I happily took possession of the chateau, handing it over to Antoine Raffin, whose family possessed it until you-know-what in 1791. The state has owned Azay-le-Rideau since 1901. A token of its original owner, the façade still bears a pair of prominent sculpted Gs, for Gilles. Now converted into bathrooms and a gift shop are the old stables. There were originally two: one for workhorses, the other for riding-horses. Horses, and thus the buildings they inhabited, were an enormous mark of prestige.
With all of the campaigns in Italy of Charles VIII, continued by Francois, Italian architecture had begun to interest the French, especially the bourgeoisie, of which Berthelot was a member. While there are many Italian features of architecture in Azay-le-Rideau -- such as pillars and pilasters in classical orders, and a square staircase -- there are many older features as well. However, one Italian feature in is evident: the preeminence of the design of the inside over the design of the outside. It may seem obvious to us that, seeing as houses are meant to be lived in, living space is more important than outward appearance, but this has not been the architectural consensus in all times and places. For this reason, a few parts of the façade are irregular on the outside, because the living spaces they covered took priority. Unfortunately, Berthelot never finished the chateau’s exterior, and for this reason, there are many empty niches; however, he remembered to include a salamander, symbol of Francois I. The two towers that flank the main building are also somewhat newer.
The 2nd floor (in France, the 1st) contains the bedchambers of the residents, as well as the party room: for this reason, the guides call it the floor of nobility. The party room (the word is used somewhat differently chez JD) is still available for rental, for a mere 3,000 Euros a night. The decorations of the whole floor are quite magnificent, many dating from the 16th century. There were several magnificent tapestries depicting biblical scenes; particularly good was the tapestry showing the Queen of Sheba’s visit to King Solomon. Other tapestries showed the complete love-affair of Cupid and Psyche. Unlike the el-cheapo tapestry from Amboise, these tapestries had many characters (all of whose hands were visible), and what were once vibrant reds. Imported from Mexico, red dyes were quite precious. The quickest-fading color on tapestries, apparently, is yellow. Many of the tapestries were wholly Gothic in style; what differentiates a Gothic tapestry from a Renaissance tapestry? A Medieval Gothic tapestry depicts many people, but no perspective; a Renaissance tapestry depicts relatively fewer people, but puts them in perspective (I believe it was Brunelleschi who developed perspective).
There were quite a few pieces of highly-prized furniture, including a French tortoiseshell cabinet, and 1620 Portuguese ebony cabinet, and a 16th-century Spanish cabinet. The latter were part of a huge craze in the early 16th century -- all of the nobles had to have their Spanish cabinets. I wasn’t quite certain about this, and the guide gave me a very exasperated why-do-you-anglophones-need-to-bother-my-tour look when I asked about it, but one Spanish cabinet was involved in some sort of poisoning plot in the reign of Francois I. One room was filled with portraits of several generations of French monarchs, from the late middle ages through the early modern period. One particularly striking full-length portrait of Louis XIII had an unusual history: it had originally depicted a different patron, who decided not to pay. Therefore, the artist simply repainted the face, and sold it to the king. Louis XIII himself inhabited the chateau for some time, while he was ill, but was eventually restored by means of some cherry syrup. Meanwhile, the 3rd floor, meanwhile contains a real historical treasure: the degree of skill in the carpentry of the roof was an enormous novelty at the time, at least according to the historian of carpentry who recently visited the chateau.
On the way out, I learned that Balzac had visited the chateau, and it had served as the model for the setting of one of his stories, in which he depicted the castle as a jewel. I had to leave fairly quickly, in order to catch my bus back to town. Tomorrow, I plan to visit another chateau, perhaps Villandry. Misaki, with whom I sat at the guinguette last night, described Azay-le-Rideau as mignon, meaning cute. This is a good way to sum up the castle: it is not enormous like Chambord, as beautiful as Chenonceau, or as historically fascinating as Notre-Dame de Chartres, but it is an important part of the pattern of the chateaux of the Loire Valley.
~JD
“Aux coups d’Etat ‘type 18 fructidor’ succedaient les coups d’Etat de droite (’22 floreal’) suivis, eux-memes, par une deuxieme vague jacobine, contemporaine des evenements de prairial an VII” [The coups d’Etat in the style of Fructidor 18th were succeeded by rightist coups (22 Floreal), which were themselves followed by a second wave of Jacobinism, contemporary to the events of June 1799] (Denis Woronoff, La republique bourgeoise, p. 181).
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