투아르 오디오 투어: 상트르 앙시앙-페르트볼트-미세의 전설과 유산

Look for a large, creamy yellow stone church with a tall, square bell tower topped by a pointed slate roof, right next to the city hall and fenced gardens on your right. Welcome to the Church of Saint-Laon! Take a deep breath and imagine you’re standing at this very spot nearly a thousand years ago. The year is 1021, the air smells of fresh-cut stone, and the town is just a small patchwork of houses. Right in front of you, Achard, the mighty local lord, is founding a modest abbey for a handful of canons-just four, so you can picture their dinner parties were never crowded. The church becomes a treasure chest almost from the start, with a rather unusual relic: the mummified arm of Saint Laon himself. Yes, you heard that right! If you thought your family kept some strange heirlooms, well, these guys were keeping actual saintly body parts in the church. Now, fast forward a few centuries. Picture the 1400s, a time when noblewomen made grand gestures. Marguerite of Scotland, a true VIP for the area, decided to have a chapel built here-just for her future grave. She got a bit sidetracked, though, since after her death she was buried somewhere else and only later brought back here. That’s dedication-some people have elaborate travel plans even after they’re gone. As you gaze up at the church’s tower, notice how its lower parts have that sturdy Romanesque style from the 1100s-round arches, little windows, and walls so thick they could survive a siege. But then, as centuries rolled on, Thouars’s rulers wanted to impress the neighbors. They called in stone masons, who got a bit ambitious, adding soaring vaults and even more windows, poking extra holes in the ancient walls for heavenly light. If these stones could talk, they’d complain about all the drafts. But it wasn’t all peace and hymn-singing. In the stormy 1700s, a massive hurricane swept through, toppling the spire with a crash that echoed through town. Tragically, it even claimed a life. Imagine the townsfolk rushing out in the howling wind and rain, staring at the fallen steeple, muttering, “Well, that’s going to be expensive.” And it didn’t stop there-the church suffered more bruises from storms in the 1800s, a true test of architectural stamina. The Revolution turned everything upside down. The abbey disappeared, the monks left, and the church became a regular parish, its old companions-monks’ houses and stone cloisters-soon replaced by schools and then the city hall, which you see to your right. But Saint-Laon’s story has always been a mix of faith, fortune, and just a touch of chaos. Even restoration work in the 1800s accidentally stripped it of its historic title-like getting a new haircut and losing your ID! So as you stand here, listen for the wind whistling between ancient stones, and imagine all those generations: monks mumbling Latin, noblewomen planning dramatic funerals, and townsfolk ducking for cover from surprise storms. You, my friend, are part of this church’s ever-growing story-no relics required!

In front of you, you'll spot a massive, pale stone wall with chunky towers looming off to the left-look for the steep staircase beside a bunch of pink flowers to be sure you're at the right spot. Imagine, it’s the end of the 12th century and these ramparts are rising up, stone by heavy stone, to shield Thouars and its noble castle. With up to 58 mighty towers poking out like a crown, these walls were the town’s superhero cape! Picture lookouts peering from the Porte au Prévost in the north or the Prince-of-Wales tower to the south, while the wide, 25-meter moat below yawns massively-imagine trying to leap that with medieval shoes! Out to the west, the river Thouet adds a slippery layer of defense, while an arched bridge, later renamed Chouan Bridge, connects you daringly to Saint-Jean-de-Thouars. These stones saw action too, especially during the wild days of the Vendée armies in 1793. Fast forward to today, and archaeologists are still uncovering secrets-like the remains discovered near the ancient hospice in 2018. So as you stand here, just think: these walls faced centuries of sieges, mystery, and more than a few grumpy invaders.

Right in front of you is the Church of Saint-Médard, an impressive stone building with a tall square bell tower and pointed Gothic windows-just look across the open square for its pale yellow and weathered walls rising above the trees. Imagine you’re standing here on Place Saint-Médard, the year is 988, and this very spot has just received its first recorded mention-thanks to a generous donation from Countess Aldegarde of Angoulême. But even before that, treasure hunters unearthed coins from the reign of Louis the Pious, buried in ancient stone coffins beneath these grounds. Just don’t go digging-those mysteries have already been uncovered! Now, picture local villagers from tiny rural hamlets trudging through wildflower-filled fields on a misty morning, seeking sanctuary at Saint-Médard-des-Champs, as it was nicknamed because it stood beyond the city’s earliest walls. Life must have been lively, with priests like Pereginus and Thibaut sharing news and stories under the care of the distant Abbey of Saint-Jean de Bonneval. But here’s where things get truly dramatic-in 1158, the city was swept up in fierce battles and the church all but crumbled when Henry II Plantagenet’s forces stormed through. The English king, whether out of guilt or generosity, actually helped rebuild it! Imagine scaffolding, the smell of fresh mortar, and builders arguing about the placement of the carved apostles over the decorated west portal. Fast forward a few centuries, and Saint-Médard gets a bit of a makeover in the late Middle Ages: the three naves become one enormous open space, rose windows bloom in the stone, and chapels appear along the north side. By the 1500s, new shops-yes, actual butcher and fishmonger stalls-hug the porch. If you’d been here, you could have bought fish, said a quick prayer, and maybe got splashed by an overexcited vendor. These stalls stuck around until 1866, though their less-than-holy activities left some damage. Through wars, neglect, and even bombings in 1944 that shattered its stained glass, the church survived. Its main arms were restored in the 1800s, and no, the planned spire never made it-so the bell tower looks just a bit squarish, like it’s perpetually ready for a game of architectural Tetris. Today, shining contemporary stained glass from Limoges brightens the southern wall, a nod to the future layered right onto those thousand years of stories.

To spot the Collegiate Church of Our Lady of Thouars, look right ahead for a tall, pale stone church with an ornate pointed facade, grand arched doorway, and a delicate spire reaching into the sky-like the local castle’s fancy neighbor that just had a glow-up. Now, step closer and let’s take a journey back in time-no time machines required, only a little imagination. Picture the year 1500. The Lords and Ladies of Thouars, the impressive house of La Trémoille, have just returned from Paris, maybe with some fresh fashion and a dream... not for a new wardrobe, but for a brand-new chapel. Sounds simple, right? Except the old parish church standing here was so run-down that even the pope (well, a few years later) declared it needed a serious makeover. So, the La Trémoille family, especially the formidable Gabrielle de Bourbon, decided to build not just any chapel, but one that would make the neighbors' porches pale in comparison. Imagine the whirl of hammers and shouts of masons as stone after stone was lifted, the walls growing taller by the day. Payments flew around, debates with the local clergy filled the air-some thought, “Patch the old church!” but Gabrielle insisted, “No way, let’s go big!” And big they went. The finishing touches weren’t done until 1515, but by 1512, locals could already step inside, marveling at the bright colored windows-installed in 1509-and the sheer scale of this three-level marvel. It wasn’t just a simple church. The upper chapel linked straight into the castle-imagine the local lords sneaking in for midnight prayers without getting their feet muddy! There was even a “seigneur’s door,” which I imagine was perfect for a dramatic entrance. Below, parishioners found their place in the lower chapel, and deep underneath, a crypt held members of the La Trémoille family. Their tombs would later be lost to the chaos of the French Revolution, when the chapel’s windows were shattered and treasures stolen. Through the centuries, this building saw many makeovers-it was a war hospital, a prison camp shelter, and even a student bike garage (you heard that right-if those ancient walls could talk, they might complain about all the flat tires). Yet time and history couldn’t wipe away its beauty. In 1840, facing the wrecking ball, it was saved by its new title: a listed historic monument. And let’s be honest, French paperwork has saved quite a few beautiful places! But what you’re standing before is a masterpiece of late Gothic style with Renaissance flair. Notice how the grand facade pulls your eyes straight up to that pointy gable-no transept here, just three vast naves and a truly unique window-portal combination that soars toward the sky. And hey, behind that beautiful window is a loggia-think of it as Thouars’ fanciest balcony-looking out over the valley below. Stone from nearby quarries was carved into every detail, from soaring arches to statues gazing down at centuries of visitors just like you. The stained glass you see up high is a relatively recent addition, completed in 1957 after two previous sets were destroyed-one by revolutionaries, another by bombing in 1944. The two southern bays? They stay dark because the castle wall hugs close, as if trying to keep the church’s secrets safe. Today, it’s a private chapel, yet open for visits, echoing with both old stories and new footsteps. So, whether you’re marveling at the architectural genius, tracing the lords and ladies’ intrigue, or just picturing a hundred bicycles squeezed inside, this church has a story for everyone. Now, take in that view-imagine the bells ringing high above and let yourself drift for just a moment across six centuries of history. Eager to learn more about the historical, architecture and organization or the historiography? Simply drop your inquiries in the chat section and I'll provide the details you need.

Look ahead and you’ll spot a sturdy stone bridge stretching across the calm river, its two arches mirrored in the water, framed by trees and the sweeping view of Thouars’ old town above. Welcome to the Chouan Bridge-though, be warned, this crossing has more names than a secret agent! Built back in the 1200s to link Thouars and Saint-Jean-de-Bonneval, it was crafted to outdo its predecessor, making travel from east to west much less splashy. By the 1400s, things got a tad more dramatic: defenses were added and a mighty gatehouse, the porte Maillot, rose smack in the middle. I can only imagine the toll collectors liked to think of themselves as bridge trolls. Fast-forward to May 1793-the smell of musket smoke and clamor of battle fills the air! The Vendée armies surge over the bridge during fierce fighting in Thouars, and overnight, the old bridge sheds its former names to become the “Chouan Bridge.” Then, in a twist worthy of a thriller, German forces blast it in August 1944 during World War II. If you look closely, you can almost picture the chaos and the resilience it has seen. But worry not, modern magic restored it in 1984 and again in 2022, with fresh railings and new decking. Notice the triangular ‘beaks’ on those piers-these help break up the river’s current, smart engineering from medieval times! Standing here, you’re part of a long chain of travelers-foot soldiers and families, rebels and residents-who relied on these stones. And, since 1938, the bridge has even had the fancy status of a historical monument. Not bad for a bridge with so many identities, eh?

Right in front of you is a massive, stately cream-colored stone building with a striking symmetrical façade, tall arched windows, and a great slate roof crowned by a central dome-just follow the cobblestones, look for the grand entrance, and you can’t miss it! Ah, welcome to the grand finale: the Castle of the Dukes of the Trémoille! Pause and let your imagination run wild for a moment. You're now standing where history piled up like the bricks in these sturdy walls, overlooking the winding Thouet river from a natural promontory. Picture the scene centuries ago: the sound of hooves on stone, the rush of banners flapping in the wind, and the ever-watchful eyes of guards peering down. The story of this castle could fill a thousand storybooks, but let’s start way back-like, REALLY back-in the year 762. The first fortress here was stomped out by none other than Pepin the Short, father of Charlemagne. Over the years, a fortified castle took its place, acting as the strong shield of Thouars during the skirmishes and sieges of the Hundred Years’ War. The legendary knight Bertrand du Guesclin even stormed the place in 1372. Bet he made a grand entrance-no need for a reservation in those days! For a time, this land shuttled between royal hands and noble families, until it ultimately landed with the mighty La Trémoille family. The kings of France held their noses up high when bestowing little gifts, and Charles IX turned the local viscounty into a full-fledged duchy. That’s how important Thouars became: crown on, pinky out. But enough knightly tales-let’s sneak into the golden age of the 1600s. Here’s where the drama really heats up. Imagine it’s winter. The castle is drafty and icy, and the grand duchess, Marie de La Tour d’Auvergne, is NOT having it. She gave her husband an ultimatum: either build me a comfy, beautiful mansion, or I’m gone! Not one to risk sleeping on the medieval couch, the duke and their clever architect, Jacques Lemercier, demolished the old fortress. They reused the ancient stones to erect the elegant palace that stands before you now, blending strength with grace and stretching over 110 meters wide-enough to fit quite a few of Marie’s friends (and a few frenemies, too). You might notice the sober lines and lack of showy decoration. The duchess preferred a clean, Protestant style-no fluff, just beauty and balance. The main building is flanked by two taller pavilions, and a grand dome in the center shelters a marble staircase fit for sweeping swoops down to dinner-if you like to make an entrance, this is your kind of place! There’s even more to this castle than meets the eye. Attached is a double chapel built in the 1500s, commissioned by Gabrielle de Bourbon for ceremonies and a parish displaced by ruined churches. The orangerie, once abuzz with sweet fruit and gossip, is said to have inspired the one at Versailles. Imagine gardeners hustling past, Le Nôtre himself grumbling about pruning. Of course, history rarely sits still. After being “liberated” and looted during the French Revolution, the castle became everything from a prefecture to a barracks, a school, and-get this-a prison for rebellious Parisians after 1871. Imagine the echoing clang of cell doors where ducal parties used to echo! These days, students fill the halls and artists haunt the former stables with their paints and ideas, carrying the old stories forward. So, as you gaze up at these dignified stones, think of all the feet that have hurried across these cobbles: fierce knights, exasperated duchesses, unlucky prisoners, and everyday townsfolk-a parade through centuries, all under this very roof. Not bad for a house with such a long memory, right? For a more comprehensive understanding of the historical, architecture or the castle chapel (16th century), engage with me in the chat section below.