A 16th-century power couple comes undone...

"Marianne," the image of liberty, guides the French people, in the painter Eugène Delacroix' famous depiction of the founding of the French République.

Dear Friend,

We returned to the Chateau as evening fell. Trees and fields vanished into the dark, lights gleamed out from windows of the familiar longuères, the long, low farmhouses of our region, where our neighbors have lodged for generations. The little children slept in the car, their heads rocking to one side or the other as we swept around the curves of the road.

Our expedition to the town of Laval, to the west of Courtomer, had been a strenuously satisfactory outing; now little legs and brains were tired out. We had delved into the town’s tumultuous history, a very microcosm of the story of France. Laval has a Roman road and a medieval Chateau. Streets of ancient half-timbered houses, a cathedral and churches have been built and rebuilt, ornamented and decorated over the centuries. A museum presents artifacts from local prehistory to paintings by les Fauves. The children had raced down the cobblestones, clambered up stairs, and puzzled over the iconography of statues and paintings. They had consumed a hearty goûter of chocolat chaud and warm brioche.

We drove in through the farm entrance of the Chateau, past the maison de gardien, and over the stone bridge to the cour d’honneur. The pebbles crunched as the car drew to a stop in front of the perron. Madame Francine had turned on the lanterns to light the steps. A halo of mist clung to the glass.

“I would have liked to be Dame Guyonne de Laval,” said Clara, as she shepherded her sleepy young cousins out of the car.

“But,” she proclaimed with a toss of her long curls, “I wouldn’t have let my husband lock me up in the first place!”

Madame Francine, who had stopped in to see if we needed anything, cocked her head.

“Chacun fait son lit comme il se couche,” she commented. Each makes his bed as he sleeps.

“Why, do you know that story?” exclaimed Clara, astonished.

Our gardienne looked at her as only a French dame can do. Clara blushed. She hadn’t meant to be impertinent.

Like most of her generation, Madame Francine received a thorough education in the French national saga, beginning with “Nos ancêtres les Gaulois,” (our ancestors the Gauls) and culminating in the glories of the Revolution, the Napoleonic Code, and the Third République, which had ended shortly before Madame Francine’s birth. The story of Noble Uprisings and the French Wars of Religion, in which Guyonne de Laval played a stirring but minor role, forms the theme of Liberté, one of the three core principles of modern-day France which are to be found above the doorway of every public school and mairie in the country.

“And,” went on Madame Francine, thoroughly asserting her authority in matters of local and French history, “Dame Guyonne was related to la famille de Courtomer. Distantly,” she admitted.

“Xavier l’a trouvé!”

Madame Francine and her husband Monsieur Xavier have been our gardiens at Chateau de Courtomer for over a decade. They live next to the Chateau in their cozy maison du haras, the two-storied farmhouse facing the stables.

In days of yore, the régisseur, or farm manager, lived here. But things are not exactly as they used to be these days…the châtelaine manages the farm herself, with the invaluable aid of Monsieur Jean-Yves and his wife and son, and her horses mostly live with a trainer. Sunny windows on both sides of their house allow Madame Francine to grow her African violets and Monsieur Xavier to survey the stables entrance and the driveway over the moats to the Chateau.

Monsieur Xavier is a retired customs officer. Not only does this give him an air of unshakeable confidence when dealing with promeneurs trying to picnic amid the cattle or hunters who have strayed into the confines of our park, his lively esprit of inquiry is applied to the history of the Chateau and its families.

The other day, for instance, he informed me that he had déniché a 19th-century “vieux papier” – an original document -- detailing one of the farms once belonging to the Chateau. Kindly and generous despite his fierce, protective loyalty to the Chateau, he bought the deed from an internet vendor and gave it to our neighbor, a widow who had lost her only son. She is today’s owner of La Godardière, part of the original domains of our Courtomer.

I thought I’d seen Dame Guyonne’s family name in one of the genealogies of the Saint-Simon de Courtomer, the direct descendants of the founder of the Chateau back in 1047.

Monsieur Xavier smiled and touched his forehead with a knowing index finger. He thought so, too.

Dame Guyonne de Laval by the famous François Clouet at the time of her marriage in 1555.

Dame Guyonne of Laval was born in the far distant 16th century, in 1524. At first, she was simply Renée de Rieux, daughter of a Breton seigneur whose family had been powerful nobles since the days of the Breton kings, in the 9th century. At 21, she married Louis de Saint-Maure, Comte de Joigny, a 24-year-old aristocrat to whom King François 1er had given the title of Marquis de Nesle. The new title was probably a reward for loyal service from Louis and his father during the king’s interminable wars with the great Spanish Emperor Charles Quint.

Two fine portraits were made of the newlyweds, executed by the fashionable Renaissance portraitist François Clouet. Guyonne's is above. Clouet’s portraits of the French kings, queens and royal mistresses can be seen today in museums around the world; the choice of the portraitist shows the elevated status of our heroine and her husband. They were a 16th-century power couple.

Louis, Dame Guyon's husband, drawn by the famous Renaissance portraitist François Clouet.

All might have gone differently between Renée and Louis had the bride not suddenly become the heir of her uncle, Comte de Laval, and of her brother, Comte de Rieux. According to the archival records still in the public library of Laval, Renée was determined to manage her extensive estates. Her husband objected. And, typical of the legalistic framework that had characterized European society since Roman times, he took her to court.

Boldly, he titled himself Comte Guy XVIII de Laval jure uxoris, by right of his wife’s inherited title. Undeterred, Renée sued for the right to manage her own affairs. She received the required authorization from the king to be Comtesse de Laval suo jure – by right of her own inheritance -- and took the name Guyonne de Laval. Wisely, she then retired behind the thick walls of her family’s chateau de Laval.

For the next few years, the rival seigneurs of Laval – Guyonne and Guy XVIII – fought for dominion over Laval and its privileges, prestige and rents. When a seat in the family collègiale of Saint-Tugal became vacant, Guy appointed a new chanoine. Guyonne swiftly appointed another. Quoi donc! Had not Guyonne’s ancestress Emma laid the chapter’s first foundation in 1183! The administration of the domains, which included law courts, suffered from the same turbulent one-upmanship.

At last, the wily Guy XVIII lured his wife into a reconciliation. Her whisked her off to his own chateau de Joigny, 200 miles away in Burgundy. Here she remained a prisoner for several years.

As you might judge by her portrait above, Guyonne possessed a certain charm…and she escaped her husband’s clutches with the aid of a sympathetic guard. In 1557, the Dame de Laval once again took possession of the family stronghold at Laval. A private army of Lavallois stood between Guyonne and her designing husband.

But Guy XVIII was not to be so easily separated from his wife’s riches.

He asked for an arrêt de Parlement. Guyonne flouted the parliament’s bidding to return to her husband. Tout naturellement for the times, Guy XVIII turned to the pope.

Paul IV, recently appointed to the papal see, had a grim outlook on disobedience and unorthodoxy.

“Even if my own father were a heretic,” he gloomily uttered, “I would gather up the wood to burn him alive.”

Guy sought a Papal Bull.

In the midst of this intricate account, Monsieur Xavier tapped on the open doorway of the office. He had brought the relevant papers with yesterday’s mail, photocopied from the Archives of our Chateau. The Rieux family were indeed part of the story of Chateau de Courtomer.

“But first,” insisted Clara, “what happened to Guyonne?”

“And the Bull!” added young James who, drowsing before the fire, had caught the last words of our discussion. The splendid sire of our young cattle inspires a terrified fascination in Clara’s little cousin.

Clara turned to him with a superior air. But it was time to pause from our didactic labors…Madame Francine had brought a golden quatre-quarts, still warm, made with eggs of her own hens.

The tale of Courtomer’s heroic cousine lointaine must wait until next week…along with Christmas preparations in the Chateau…

We look forward to hearing from you!

P.S. Here's my favorite recipe for "4 x 4," France's delicious golden quatre-quarts.

P.P.S. Heather and Beatrice (info@chateaudecourtomer.com) will be happy to help you with your own family vacation or Christmas (2022 and onwards) gathering at the Chateau. They can help arrange and recommend expeditions and meals as well. Please feel free to call or write us.