Symbols of power

Medieval castles, five of them in this small town of Chauvigny, all symbols of power of a bygone age.

Chauvigny is situated on a high promontory over the River Vienne, the only medieval settlement of its kind in Europe, so the promotional literature says.  The five fortresses are grouped inside a single outer wall and overlooked by the belfry of St Peter's Church.

Left to right in the view above: Château Baronial, Château d'Harcourt, St Peter's Church, Château de Gouzon, The other two fortresses, Flins and Montléon don't show on this picture.  The tower of Flins is now a private residence while Montléon has all but disappeared by being incorporated into more recent buildings.

But as with many symbols of power, they have crumbled over time.

Taken over gradually by vegetation ...

 ... and other wildlife.

A two-in-one post for the Photo Hunts. 

It was a bright and sunny morning ...

... one day last week.  An unusual event this winter, so to celebrate I decided a visit to Chauvigny was a good idea.  The old part of Chauvigny was a medieval town which grew up on a high rocky outcrop overlooking the river Vienne.  Uniquely, it had five different fortresses within the ramparts, along with an imposing church.  The idea was to visit it and return via Saint Savin.  By the the half way point, it was fairly clear that there was no bright and sunny morning in Chauvigny.

The top of the imposing church was lost in the mists.

As was the Château de Gouzon.  Everywhere was deserted, probably because it was bitterly cold.

The Château baronial, they helpfully said on a nearby noticeboard, the least well preserved of the five fortresses. Preservation isn't a word I'd associate with this "château", at all.

I had a look at the much vaunted panorama over the town and river (I think the river was there).

I sat down to have a think but I was stone cold by this time and decided to go home, not stopping in Saint Savin for any length of time because it turned out to be shut.  I'll return on a sunny day.

The hurdy gurdy man (and woman)

The weather recently has been changeable to say the least. Heavy rain, light rain, thunderstorms, interspersed by occasional glimpses of blue sky. So today when it looked as if there might be occasional glimpses of blue sky, I headed off to the local castle where they were having an exhibition, international no less, of basketry and wicker-work. I'm not frantically interested in wicker-work but I most certainly am interested in blue sky.

There were glimpses of blue sky and the sun did shine but as you can see, there were black clouds around just to make sure nobody became too complacent.

In the midst of wandering around all the exhibits, I suddenly noticed music playing and a troupe of folk dancers appeared.

They are a troupe specialising in the local Berry Region music, song and dance.  The Berry is one of the old French provinces, now split into the Cher, Indre and part of Vienne.  The capital used to be Bourges.

The tradition is to wear clogs and most of the dancers were, to my surprise.  It seems to me to be a very special accomplishment to be able to dance in clogs.  They very sensibly wore thick woolly socks inside the clogs. 

The dances seemed relatively sedate.  This one seemed to consist of several steps and a little jump.  I would have loved to have managed a shot of all dancers in the air, but that requires some co-operation from the dancers.

All the dancing was accompanied by players on the vielle à roue, a medieval instrument.  There is an annual festival of music each year of Maîtres-Sonneurs or master players.

Carvings on a nearby church, showing a vielle à roue being played.  I'm not sure of the significance of that, nor of the donkey playing a harp.

After that they disappeared back into the catle, with me in pursuit, taking photos wherever I could.  To follow.

Bruniquel

Approaching the Bruniquel, it looks much the same as any or many other hilltop villages in France.  By the time we had spent a couple of days in the Tarn, in the south west of France, I felt I knew hilltop villages.  I had hilltop village fatigue.

To some extent then, it was possibly fortunate that this was the first one I saw.  Later in the day I was less inclined to take pictures, so at least my visit to Bruniquel was recorded.  And it was well worth the visit.

The original church was destroyed during the religious wars of the 16th century but rebuilt during the 17th using the stones from the former Protestant church.  It has a simple "clocher-mur" or bell wall typical of the south west of France.  When the bells ring, they are incredibly loud, deafening, if you are nearby.

Up the hill to the clock tower, also with a bell, at an entrance through one of the fortified walls.  It has two, and two castles, the old and the new.  "Old" and "new" are relative terms because the new one dates from the 15th century.

Porte Méjane, through the old walls with a view of a medieval house, the tribunal house.

An arch and a doorway.  Plenty of photo opportunities for me.

Place de l'Horloge, recently restored.

The new entrance, la Porte Neuve, with the only remaining vestiges of the "new" walls.

 The "young" castle, currently undergoing extensive restoration.

A plaque on the wall with a quotation from Fréderi Mistral who wrote in Occitan.  The plaque reads, "The route of St Jacques leads us to Paradise".  It is a reference to the fact that Bruniquel is one of the stopping points on the Way of St Jacques (St James), also known as the Route of Santiago de Compostela.

Leaving the village, you get a better idea of just how dominant the castles must have been and a view of their positions - the old castle on the right and the new on the left. 

They have recently found  caves below the castles which have paintings and carvings dating from the Mesolithic era.  The caves are unfortunately, but probably understandably, not open to the public.

I probably spent no longer than two hours there, maximum, maybe not even as much as that, and with hindsight it really wasn't long enough.  I'd happily go back, this time armed with a good map.

Josselin

The mediaeval castle of Josselin, in Morbihan, Brittany viewed from the bank of the river Oust.

It is entered from the opposite side, over an old bridge where the drawbridge once was.

The old moat...

... now guarded by stone lions.

The French garden - formal.

The "English" garden.

The castle from the other side looks completely different because the original structure was largely destroyed and rebuilt in a Renaissance style but retaining four of the old towers and the walls on the river side. During World War II, it was requisitioned and occupied by Germans.

The granite facade is fantastically carved.

Some of the stone work has been restored and replaced, but there is quite a lot remaining to be done. All the balustrades between the windows are different.

This one has the words "à plus", the owner's family motto, meaning none better. Nowadays à plus is a casual abbreviation of "à plus tard" or "until later"/ "see you later", further abbreviated in text messaging and emails to a+. The first time I saw it I thought I was being awarded a grade :)

The isolated tower, with the church tower in the background. It looks exactly as I imagined Rapunzel's tower when I was a child. In fact it has often been used to imprison people, including English prisoners in 1758, and if my memory is right, 79 members of the French resistance were held and executed there during WWII.

Villandry 20 years ago

I was looking through some old photos and was delighted to find some of the gardens at Villandry taken some 20 or more years ago. I was especially pleased to find one taken at exactly the same spot as one taken in June of this year. The gardens haven't changed so very much in that tie, but the trees and hedges have filled out and thickened (haven't we all!) and you can see that the creepers covering the walls have spread considerably.

Finally a postcard from the same time which shows the extent of the gardens. Several people remarked in my last post that they hadn't realised how large they were.