We make Chenonceaux our objective for the afternoon. It lies a little more than twenty miles east of Tours and the road follows the course of the Cher almost the whole distance. The palace stands directly above the river, supported on massive arches which rest on piles in the bed of the stream. A narrow drawbridge at either end cuts the entrances from the shore, though these bridges were never intended as a means of defense. Chenonceaux was in no sense a military fortress—its memories are of love and jealousy and not of war or assassination. It was built early in the sixteenth century by a receiver of taxes to King Francis, but so much of the public funds went into the work that its projector died in disgrace and his son atoned as best he could by turning the chateau over to the king.
CHENONCEAUX—THE ORIENTAL FRONT
And here, in the heart of old France, we come upon another memory of Mary Stuart, for here, with Francis II., she spent her honeymoon—if, indeed, we may style her short loveless marriage a honeymoon—coming direct from Amboise, where she had unwillingly witnessed the awful scenes of the massacre of the Huguenots. What must have been the reveries of the girl-queen at Chenonceaux! In a foreign land, surrounded by a wicked, intriguing court, with scenes of bloodshed and death on every hand and wedded to a hopeless imbecile, foredoomed to early death—surely even the strange beauty of the river palace could not have driven these terrible ghosts from her mind.
Chenonceaux has many memories of love and intrigue, for here in 1546 Francis I. and his mistress, the famous Diane of Poitiers, gave a great hunting party; but the heir-apparent, Prince Henry, soon gained the affections of the fair Diane and on his accession to the throne presented her with the chateau, to which she had taken a great fancy. She it was who built the bridgelike hall connecting the castle with the south bank of the river and she otherwise improved the palace and grounds; but on the death of the king, twelve years later, the queen—the terrible Catherine de Medici—compelled Diane to give up Chenonceaux and to betake herself to the older and less attractive Chaumont. The chateau escaped serious injury during the fiery period of the Revolution, but the insurrectionists compelled the then owner, Madame Dupin, to surrender her securities, furniture, priceless paintings and objects of art—the collection of nearly three centuries—and all were destroyed in a bonfire.
Chenonceaux is now the property of a wealthy Cuban who has spent a fortune in its restoration and improving the grounds, which accounts for the trim, new appearance of the place. The great avenue leading from the public entrance passes through formal gardens brilliant with flowers and beautified with rare shrubbery and majestic trees. It is a pleasant and romantic place and the considerateness of the owner in opening it to visitors for a trifling fee deserves commendation.
AMBOISE FROM ACROSS THE LOIRE