The Loire Valley
In which I take A Little Tour in France with the 19th-century American novelist Henry James.
The word is full of mysteries and wonders, waiting to be discovered by those who have the courage to seek them out.
- Henry James
The American novelist Henry James first visited France when he was twelve years old. The year was 1855, and his parents - both from privileged backgrounds - had brought their small family to Europe for an extended stay. The James family would spend the years 1855-1860 in Europe, with Henry and his siblings being educated via a series of private tutors. Henry James returned in his twenties for an extended tour of the continent. He found that Europe agreed with him, and moved to Paris in 1875, before finally settling in England the following year. He spent the rest of his life in England, never returning to the United States save for a few short trips, but traveled extensively in Europe spending months at a time in Venice and other European cities. In 1882 he embarked on an extended tour of France, purposefully avoiding the capital to travel through the French countryside.
France may be Paris, but Paris is not France…
-Henry James
He started his tour in Touraine and the Loire Valley, before moving on to southern France and Provence, and finally looping his way back up to Burgundy. He wrote about his journey in installments for the Atlantic Monthly in 1883, and the following year published his writings in book form. A Little Tour in France was the result. Henry James’s detailed and descriptive writing style is particularly well suited to travel writing, and A Little Tour in France is considered a classic of Victorian travel literature.
This is, moreover, the heart of the old French monarchy; and as that monarchy was spendid and picturesque, a reflection of the splendor still glitters in the current of the Loire.
-Henry James
The Loire River runs for over 600 miles through France, but the stretch just southwest of Paris is the most famous. It was here that French monarchs built grand castles - chateaux in French - starting at the height of the French Renaissance. Of course, where the kings went others followed, and the Loire Valley soon filled with castles and country houses built by members of the nobility and wealthy merchants. In all, over 1,000 chateaux - large and small, royal and private - were built in the region, most in the 15th and 16th centuries.
The beautiful, restrained elegance of the Renaissance chateaux of the Loire Valley fell out of fashion in the 17th & 18th centuries, replaced by the over-the-top opulence of palaces like Versailles. Slowly, the monarchy left the valley, and even the royal castles fell into private hands. In scenes that are reminiscent of Elizabeth Bennett knocking on the door of Pemberley when she believes Mr. Darcy is out of town in Pride and Prejudice, Henry James writes of approaching these grand houses at night, to appeal to the housekeepers for entry, and for a private tour.
It is the land of Rabelais, of Descartes, of Balzac, of good books and good company, as well as good dinners and good houses.
-Henry James
Today, this stretch of the Loire Valley is a UNESCO World Heritage Site - there’s no knocking on private doors these days, the most famous and historic chateaus are freely open to the public. Visitors come to enjoy the beautiful landscape and graceful architecture of the valley, but also to drink wine made from vineyards planted when the kings of France called the Loire Valley home.
In 1882 Henry James chose the city of Tours as his home base, but on my visit I stay in the smaller city of Blois, a bit further east down the river and home to a royal castle, the cleverly named Chateau de Blois. It is a national holiday when I arrive in Blois: La Fête du Travail - Labor Day, the first of May.
The long facade, consisting only of balconied windows deeply recessed, erects itself on the summit of a considrable hill, which gives a fine, plunging movement to its foundation…The deep niches of the windows are all aglow with coloor. They have been repainted with red and blue, relieved with gold figures; and each of them loooks more like the royal box at a theatre than like the aperture of a palace daark with memories.
-Henry James
{Blois, France}
If there’s anything prettier than spring in the heart of France, I’m not sure I’ve seen it. Endless flowers bloom under the bluest of skies, filling the new air of spring with their welcome scent. Rivers and streams flow at a purposeful gate towards their destinations, birdsong abounds, and the streets are filled with people happy to be able to eat outside again after a long winter.
The first day of May is a brilliant, crisp morning. There is a small boulangerie down the street from the hotel, and I buy a croissant and café crème and then walk to a park just a few blocks away to relax for a few moments: to sit on a bench and watch locals walking their dogs and chatting with friends. The park is at the base of the royal castle, and as I sit on my bench looking up at its colorful facade, I think about another great American writer - Ernest Hemingway - who spent several years of his young married life in Paris, and who wrote that when spring came to France there were no problems except where to be happiest.