The D232 goes direct from La Flèche right into the heart of Durtal, a small town with a population of around 3,000 inhabitants that sits astride the river Le Loir and about 32 kilometres northeast of the city of Angers. As you approach the town, the campsite is on the left, and a little further on is the imposing château, which overlooks the river. The road turns left at this point and across the bridge above the river, and that’s where I’m taking you first. The views of the river, both up- and down-stream, are beautiful.
The château dates from the 1500s and, from its commanding position, overlooks the river, the forêt de Chambiers, which covers about 1300 hectares to the south, and the racecourse, which attracts the local racegoers.
This fabulous building was the home of François de Scépceaux, maréchal de Vieilleville being only one of his many titles during his lifetime. Born in 1509, he became the first Comte de Durtal, a governor, diplomat, ambassador, Conseillé du Roi (King’s Councillor) and ultimately marshal – one of the most important administrative roles in medieval France. During his long career, he served four kings, fought in the Italian Wars, and served the crown then held by Charles 9, mainly as a peacemaker during the early religious wars. At the château, he received such eminent guests as Henry 2, Charles 9 and Catherine de Medici. He died at the age of 62 on November 30th, 1571. He was allegedly poisoned by enemies, but he was sufficiently well-regarded in his lifetime to warrant a portrait in oils by François Clouet, which now hangs in the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Besançon.
After his death, the seigneurial home had a chequered future. During the revolution, the interior apartment’s murals and Louis 13 furnishings and decorations were damaged. Later, the castle was taken over and occupied as a retirement home. Luckily, today, it is open to the public as a monument, and for a small fee, you can wander around the fabulous rooms from the dungeons and kitchens right up the lookout tower.
There is a market here regularly, and, quite fittingly, in my opinion, all the stalls cluster around the foot of the château walls. As I meander past the various sellers of cheese, bread, meat, honey, eggs, and all sorts of other produce, I can’t help but wonder how much this mirrors what François de Scépceaux and his family would have seen had they looked out from one of the windows above.
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