Un dessin de Sabine Baring-Gould

Le révérend Sabine Baring-Gould (1834-1924) a écrit plusieurs milliers d’ouvrages et d’articles, avec un intérêt prononcé pour l’étrange. On lui doit des romans de fantômes, un Curious Myths of the Middle Ages fort apprécié par H. P. Lovecraft, une histoire de la lycanthropie (Le Livre des loups-garous, 1865), etc.

En 1911, à presque 80 ans il livre Cliff Castles and Cave Dwellings of Europe, une étude des châteaux de coteau et des troglodytes d’Europe, avec de superbes illustrations.

Le dessin qu’il fait du fort du Gué du Loir est ressemblant dans ses textures... mais me paraît un peu inventif dans sa géométrie.

Le rocher, avec sa forme caractéristique d’éperon, est indubitablement le colombier. L’entrée de la salle à manger de Roc-en-bas est bien visible. Le bâti à côté du colombier a disparu depuis cette époque, laissant place à une terrasse (mais la cheminée dessinée peut-être correspondre à celle du four à pain subsistant ? j’en doute !). L’entrée de grotte avec les quelques marches semble correspondre à ce qui est désormais la fenêtre de la salle de bains ; la fenêtre en bas à droite me laisse perplexe, et la forme du bâti de Roc-en-bas, avec ses deux pentes de toit, ne correspond pas à l’existant, qui n’en a qu’une (ou alors — en tirant un peu les perspectives — il s’agit de la maison).

Le livre scanné à l’université de Toronto a été mis à disposition par archive.org à l’adresse http://www.archive.org/details/clif... ; tournez quelques pages, ça vaut le coup d’œil.

Ce qui nous concerne se trouve page 163, l’illustration étant face à la page 164 (voir la traduction plus bas) :

In the broad valley of Le Loir below Vendôme, the great elevated chalk plateau of Beauce has been cut through, leaving precipitous white sides. At one point a buttress of rock has been thrown forward that dominates the road and also the ford over the river. Its importance was so obvious that it was seized upon in the Middle Ages and converted into a fortress. The place is called Le Gué du Loir. Not far off is the Château of Bonnaventure, where Antoine de Bourbon idled away his time drinking Surène wine, and carrying on an intrigue with a wench at le Gué, whilst his wife, Jeanne d’Albret, was sending gangs of bandits throughout her own and his territories to plunder, burn, and murder in the name of religion. But Antoine cared for none of these things. At Bonnaventure he composed the song :—

Si le roi m’avait donné

Paris, sa grande ville,

Et qu’il me fallait quiter

L’amour de ma mie,

Je dirai au roi Henri (III.)

Reprenez votre Paris,

J’aime mieux ma mie

 Au Gué,

J’aime mieux ma mie.

Molière introduced a couplet of this lay into his Alceste.

The rock has been excavated throughout, and in places built into, and on to. Two flights of steps cut in the cliff give access to the main portion of the castle. That on the right leads first of all to the Governor’s room, hewn out of a projecting portion of the rock floored with tiles, with a good fireplace and a broad window, commanding the Loir and allowing the sun to flood the room. The opening for the window formerly contained a casement. There is a recess for a bed, and there are in the sides numerous cupboards and other excavations for various purposes. This chamber is entered through that of the sentinel, which was also furnished with a fireplace. The stair leads further up to a large hall artificially carved out of the chalk, but not wholly, for there had been originally a natural cavern of small dimensions, which had a gaping opening. This opening had been walled up with battlements and loopholes, but the old woman to whom the rock or this portion of the rock belongs, and who is a cave-dweller at its foot, has demolished the wall to breast-height, so as to let the sun and air pour in, for she uses the cave as a drying place for her wash. From this hall or guard-room two staircases cut in the rock lead to other chambers also rock-hewn higher up.

The second main stair outside gives access to a second series of chambers.

Unfortunately, some rather lofty modern buildings have been erected in front of this cliff castle, so as to render it impossible to make of it an effective sketch or to take a satisfactory photograph.

La visite de l’auteur au coteau Saint-André — et donc, j’imagine, au Gué, où il a rencontré cette vieille habitante — est très récente quand il écrit sa préface, qu’il termine par ces mots :

In France more people live underground than most suppose. And
they show no inclination to leave their dwellings. Just one
month ago from the date of writing this page, I sketched
the new front that a man had erected to his paternal cave
at Villiers in Loir et Cher. The habitation was wholly
subterranean, but then it consisted of one room alone.
The freshly completed face was cut in freestone, with door
and window, and above were sculptured the aces of hearts,
spades, and diamonds, an anchor, a cogwheel and a fish.
Separated from this mansion was a second, divided from it
by a buttress of untrimmed rock, and this other also was
newly fronted, occupied by a neat and pleasant-spoken
woman who was vastly proud of her cavern residence.
« Mais c’est tout ce qu’on peut désirer. Enfin on s’y trouve
très bien. »