The immense hôtel-Dieu, or general hospital, of the little town of Baugé in the Anjou region of the Loire valley, is a building of perhaps surprising magnificence. Constructed to serve the local poor back in the 17th century, it’s been closed since 2001 and, with the exception of a few timid restoration attempts, has since, sadly, lain empty. That’s not to say, however, that this fine landmark is free from surprises. The hôtel-Dieu retains one perfectly preserved room, left intact since its creation in 1675: the hospital’s original apothecary, one of the most beautiful in France.
The story of this listed pharmacy is, in part, the story of two pious women. In 1643, Marthe de la Beausse, a penniless nun born in Baugé, set herself the mission of building a hôtel-Dieu for the poorer of the town’s 3,000 inhabitants. A lack of funding quickly brought the project to a standstill; undaunted, in 1650 De la Beausse sought the support of the Religious Hospitallers of St Joseph, who had recently finished construction in a neighbouring town. It was here that she met Anne de Melun, the Princess of Epinoy, a noblewoman originally from Flanders who had, after a bout of severe illness, renounced luxury to devote herself to charity. The princess, who was not a nun but lived as one, enthusiastically invested in De la Beausse’s project and financed the Hôtel-Dieu of Baugé. Thanks to her wealth, the building rapidly became a more ornate affair, fitted with a chapel, a convent and some 30 private hospital beds. The princess soon bought the surrounding land too, to provide an income stream for the institution and to allow it to grow its own medicinal plants. The pièce de résistance, however, was still to come: in keeping with the status of the project’s patron, the apothecary became a shrine to French craftsmanship.
Seated beside the kitchen and the hospital ward, this little oak-panelled room – just six by three metres in size – is decked out in floor-to-ceiling woodwork; lit by a large window, eight levels of shelves with oak balusters line the walls. Four Louis XIII- style sideboards, with elegantly twisted walnut columns, reach up ten shelves high – princely adornments for the room’s two doors, one of which leads out to an old laboratory. Baroque form and medical function converge: a small door, half decorated in openwork, for instance, was designed for use as a dispensing hatch. Meanwhile, Versailles parquet spreads out the heavens underfoot: an inlaid sun shines at its centre, matching the marble-effect coffered ceiling, dotted with golden stars.
This sophisticated little universe is home to more than 650 objects, all of which date back to at least the late 16th century. (The nuns, who ran the apothecary until the 1940s, were precious about their earliest treasures, and reluctant to accumulate more modern tools of the trade.) The pride of this collection, though, are the 140 cylindrical chestnut boxes called silènes, arranged together on the lower shelves. Painted locally, these practical beauties are adorned with floral decorations and an inset label, inscribed with the name of the medicinal ingredient stored within. Earthenware receptacles, meanwhile, sit proudly on the upper shelves; rows of tubular jars containing ointments and creams are ordered neatly beside chevrettes, or spouted jugs, once used to hold natural oils and syrups. The blue-and-white jars were made in Nevers, while others in different colours were the work of artisans from late Medieval Lyon. Smaller pillboxes are displayed more centrally, carefully arranged on the space’s many baroque sideboards. Laid out on the table, pestles and mortars, scales and time-worn pharmaceutical utensils add the finishing touches to the scene.
Most of the receptacles still contain the contents described by their original labels: simples, for instance, were the basis for many treatments at the time, and continue to be grown in the little garden beside the hôtel-Dieu. One might also discover minerals and animal derivatives – powdered precious stones, say, or dried goat’s blood. Among the more outrageous findings, crayfish eyes peer out of one box, once used to make toothpaste; another contains mummified fingers, valued for their disinfectant properties.
A period of transition between traditional practices and modern medicine, the 17th century was a fertile time for scientific discovery in France. Blood was found to circulate about the body, and new imports from the Americas, such as cinchona, had made it possible to cure widely fatal illnesses – a young Louis XIV, afflicted with a serious fever in 1649, owed his life to a preparation derived from the plant. But these new ideas had not yet usurped the old ways: theriac, for instance, was still a popular cure-all, concocted from dozens of plants macerated in wine, its potency further increased through the additions of opium and viper flesh.
The pharmacy was run by the ‘apothecary sister’, who was responsible for keeping the dispensary well stocked, preparing remedies and teaching apprentices. Only she and her assistant were allowed to enter the room. A doctor would come regularly to visit the sick and write prescriptions, which would be prepared by the sister with the aid of vast codices teeming with ingredient properties and remedy formulations. Uncommonly for the time, patients were served three meals a day – which, given the fact that many of the local people were farmers who worked long days and ate little, would have seemed a rare luxury – and had individual beds. Across the country, by contrast, several people would be expected to bunk up together, which rapidly spread disease. The Hôtel-Dieu of Baugé, meanwhile, only accepted the poor, and sought to increase comfort by other restrictions. They did not, for instance, admit pregnant patients – the sisters did not want responsibility for newborn babies – nor did they take in people with terminal illnesses or contagious diseases. Daily life was organised around religious services, and thanks to windows in the ward overlooking the chapel, patients could attend mass from their beds.
It wasn’t until after World War II, when the apothecary had finally closed after almost 300 years of service, that the nuns allowed visitors to enter it. Otherwise, it had been kept in conclave, lovingly tended all the while under the watchful gaze – in portrait form, at least – of the hôtel-Dieu’s two visionary founders.
Château and Hôtel-Dieu de Baugé, Place de l’Europe, 49150 Baugé-en-Anjou, France. Details: chateau-bauge.fr
A version of this article appears in the May 2023 issue of The World of Interiors, on newsstands on 6 April 2023. Learn about our subscription offers
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