History Doesn't Repeat Itself

The chateau in Villebois-Lavalette has an interesting and varied history, but not as diverse as I’d made it sound when we lived in the town.

Constructed in the 12th century, it stands on the site of much older fortifications. A palace, added in the 17th century, is currently undergoing a transformation from ruin to something resembling its former glory. All in all, it’s a wonderful place to absorb local history.

If only my French had been up to the task of interpreting the tour guide’s explanations, our visitors could have returned to the UK full of interesting facts. Instead they received the Mace translation service and, if questioned on the hundred years’ war, are sure to lose at trivial pursuit as a result.

The first people we took to the site were very interested in the archaeological finds. Stone walls had been uncovered, unearthing a crypt, the lower floor of a double-storey chapel (used by pilgrims en-route to Compostella), a dungeon and a mediaeval three-person lavatory set in an outer wall.

Obviously our guests wanted to know more, but the tour guide spoke very little English. I offered to translate, little realising I was about to change history.

All went well initially, as I knew a little about the chateau. But once the guide started on dates and family members I quickly lost track of who was married to whom and when. The hundred years’ war caused major problems as the French and English had pretty much chased each other in and out at regular intervals. The difficulty was in translating the dates quickly enough before the guide moved on to the next topic of interest.

Nothing daunted, I realised my guests hadn’t a clue they were being misinformed and would probably forget everything I’d told them once we left anyway. Without shame, I gave my own rendition of the chateau’s history. Duchesses became countesses, dukes were demoted to lords, and kings (who probably weren’t even aware of the chateau’s existence) visited to confer favours. Historians would have been amazed at the outcome of battles under my interpretation.

Several times I escorted guests to the chateau, regaling them with a mixture of fact and fiction. On the last visit, to my relief, there was a stand-in guide who spoke immaculate English. We were about to start off when a coach party arrived, all French speaking. The young man explained he would have to give the tour in French, could I translate for my small group? Mais, oui, but of course.

We started out and, as before, I gave a loose translation of what was being said, only this time the guide stopped mid-sentence to say: “The duchess was the duke’s mother, not his wife.” Oops.

As the tour progressed my voice dropped ever lower, until I was almost whispering, but the guide still heard my faux pas and stopped his talk to correct each of them. At his switch to English every French head swivelled in our direction. They waited patiently until I’d translated the names and dates to the guide’s satisfaction, married the right people, correctly identified their descendants and sorted out who was where during the hundred years’ war. I hadn’t felt so much pressure since I left school. Had it been an exam I’d have failed miserably.

After that I was prepared and practised on Derek, churning out facts, dates and family members at will. He swore if I told him one more thing about the chateau he was going to ask for refuge in the dungeon. Now, it’s an interesting thing about that dungeon …

This example of how to make a fool of yourself in one easy lesson was brought to you by the author of The Greatest Moving Abroad Tips in the World