How to House a Mistress in Style

Onzain, France

April 18, 2000

Light streamed thru the window as if poured from an open faucet. Accompanying it was a cacophony of chirping birds, and a more distant rumbling of farm equipment plying and pruning our extensive terrain. 

After a long day yesterday, we were happy to sleep in, and to let the sun gently coax us from our bed. Outside, it brightened an expanse of fertile fields that filled our view, and that for centuries have fed tourists and kings in the valley of the Loire.

Downstairs, bits of this local bounty awaited. A small buffet sat in the center of the salle à manger, offering the expected assortment of coffee, juice, fruit, and cheese. The room, like the rest of this château, exudes old world charm. And, like the night before, we had it to ourselves. 

High windows and elevated ceilings permit and accommodate an abundance of light, accentuated by a large mirror atop a small fireplace. The building’s molding, floors, and furniture are of antique wood, the subtle cracks and creaks of which are – like the first wrinkles and grey hairs on a beautiful woman – more emblematic of dignified aging than of deteriorating decrepitude. 

The Château des Tertres is wonderful, just what we wanted. After a single night and only one morning, we already love our rural retreat. We were tempted to remain for the day, and enjoy the grounds. But we have less than a week here, and ours is not the only château adorning these parts. 

Pierre fetched our fragile Renault, and we climbed in, wary after its unreliability the previous evening. With the apprehension of an FBI mob informant, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and turned the key. The engine cranked and, to our momentary relief, the car started. It carried us up the Loire toward Amboise, where we turned south, arriving after a lovely thirty minute drive at the village of Chenonceaux, and its charming château across the Cher.

The structure spans the stream with the apparent fragility of a Ming vase, and the soft delicacy of Sancerre on a Sunday afternoon. Its supporting arches glide gracefully over the water, reflecting the transitional beauty of late Gothic architecture into early Renaissance design.

We will spend much of this week amid the political intrigue, marital machinations, and Machiavellian strife of 16th century France. This place is emblematic of each, and is noted for being perhaps the greatest “Mistress Apartment” of all time. 

This was in large measure due to the mistress herself, but also to France’s church bells, upon each of which the King levied a tax of two livres to sustain his lady, prompting Rabelais to quip that “the King has hung all the bells of the kingdom around the neck of his mare.”

The original château occupied the north bank of the Cher. King François I claimed it in 1535. On his death a dozen years later, the castle fell to his son King Henri II, who gave it as a gift to his favorite paramour, Diane de Poitiers.

Diane was twenty years older than her melancholy king, who likely fell less for her looks than for her grace, manners, and wit. In successive strokes, she applied each to her château during the decade she oversaw or owned Chenonceau. The place remains replete with her fingerprints.

The distinctive emblem of the royal romance…back-to-back Ds separated by a dash to form the letter H…adorns most every choir stall, porcelain dish, piece of art, or coat of arm within this charming château. 

The structure and its surroundings owe their finer features to the lady of the mansion. It was Diane who commissioned the signature extension across the river, and began the triangular gardens of flowers, fruits, vegetables and trees by which the original edifice remains surrounded, and for which it is justifiably renowned.

When Henri went the way of all kings, his widow forced Diane from Chenonceau to Chaumont, and made the castle her own. As Queen Regent, Catherine de Medici used it as a principle retreat, if not the primary residence, from which she essentially ruled France. 

Catherine appended additional gardens around the corps de logis, and her name is now affixed to those. She extended a grand gallery the length of the distinctive bridge astride the Cher. From one end to the other we repeatedly walked, and then wandered extensively thru her converted grand ballroom. We strolled and knelt within the restored chapel, before wandering appreciatively among the pristine elegance of the extensive choreographed gardens. 

The “Ladies’ Château” is the product of two influential women sharing the same timid man. We marveled at the Queen’s castle, and at the unwitting contributions her unwilling subjects made to its luxurious enhancements. We couldn’t help but notice how they sowed seeds for more than ornamental gardens, and that the results would be reaped a couple hundred years later.

But for several hours, Rita and I felt as if dropped into a Disney fable…and a fairy tale requires a happy ending. We found ours in Le Cave de Dômes, the château wine cellar. Under 16th century vaulted ceilings, rows of barrels tempt an extended stay. We prolonged ours with a tour of the cave and refreshing fortification from one the estate vines. 

We then made our way to Amboise.

JD