Friday, September 5, 2008

History in 3-dimensional splendour



Visited the magnificent Chateau de Fontainebleau today. It was grand, imposing, palatial... just about all the adjectives that one can think of to describe a castle which housed royalty for seven centuries. The 'horseshoe' entrance was especially magnificent. Could almost imagine kings and queens of yore sweeping down the stairway in their ermine, silks and sables, trailed by their royal court on the way to their carriage or mounts.

Its first stone was actually laid before the 12th Century A.D., but only part of it remains, as the existing castle was built on the original foundations by Francois I in 1528, and further enlarged by his son, Henri II. Following the latter's example, their descendants have also extensively modified and redecorated the place, hence resulting in a hodge podge of style and architecture, from the 16th (when Henry II and Catherine de Medici commissioned architects to build a new palace on the site to the 19th Century, Renaissance to Baroque (and even Turkish, in one boudoir) throughout the castle.

Proclaimed by Napoleon Bonaparte as "the true house of kings, true house of the centuries", this chateau was used as a hunting lodge by the Bourbons, and though the building itself was spared during the French Revolution, many of the original furnishings were sold. Neverthless, within a decade, Napoleon had begun to fill it up again - probably because it is not directly associated with any particular king, unlike Versailles. In fact, it was right here that he bade farewell to his old guard before going into exile.



Besides its imposing architecture, the sheer amount of effort that went into decorating the place strikes the eye. Everywhere one looks are gorgeous paintings, delicate frescoes, intricate carvings and what appears to be tons of gold leaf applied on doors, pillars, paintings, mirrors, mantelpieces, statuettes, chandeliers, cornices, ceilings... everywhere! I really wonder if the courtiers had a permanent head tilt. Maybe that sparked the trend for the uppity look commonly associated with the aristocracy?

Guess the precedent of "maximalism" was set by the founder, since the Gallery of Francois I is the first great decorated gallery built in France, and later kings simply adhered to this tradition.



The royal bedrooms were especially gilded and decorated from top to toe. Guess the monarch isn't allowed to rest his eyes on plebian empty spaces as he sinks into repose. Even Napoleon's "small bedroom" (a.k.a. study) had a "camp bed" that would have looked luxurious in any home. Sadly for Marie Antoinette, though, she did not have a chance to use the boudoir which she had lavishly draped in expensive silks. It was left to Napoleon's wife, Catherine, to "inaugurate" the room, as our audio guide delicately put it.



There was even a stuffed elephant propped up on its trunk in the Athena Room (at least that's what I think it's called. Just remember it was dedicated to Athena). Would have loved to explore it, but it was strictly off limits.


What truly annoyed me, though, were the ubiquitous plaques labelling each room, with corresponding numbers to its details on the audio guide. True, they were very informative, but did they have to be placed in such prominent positions? Many a time, I had gotten the perfect angle for a perfect shot of the room - only to be foiled by a white-mounted pedestal that simply looked out of place in my photo. Argh!

Still, I couldn't help feeling saddened as I toured the palace. Such an immense place for one man and his wife/mistresses to use as a hunting lodge for part of the year seems more than a little excessive to me, especially as the peasants were literally starved into uprising at the tail-end of the dynasty.



Not surprisingly, the grounds, and the lake in particular, were even beautiful, as far as I was concerned. Looking at the surroundings, one can easily see just why anyone would want to keep coming back to this tranquil spot.



Really loved the lake. It was raining throughout the day when we were there (by the way, I seriously recommend climbing out of bed early so you can be at Fontainebleau when it opens at 9.30 am. We reached there at about 11, and had to leave by 3.30pm - the time was really too short! And if you didn't bring a picnic lunch, drop by the city of Fontainebleau and rest your tired feet at the many little cafes there instead of the overpriced one in the chateau, which offers lunch on the grounds as its only attraction. You can return to the Chateau with the same ticket you bought in the morning, so don't lose it) but we managed to catch sight of some ducks lazily swimming across the lake.

There were even some boats there, so one could take them out and simply meditate in the middle of this extremely idyllic spot.

The city of Fontainebleau, which grew up around the keep (and not the other way around as is traditional) is worth a visit. We even saw a working carousel there! Sadly, my camera battery had died by then, or I would have taken one of a little girl riding her favourite mount in circles during the lunch hour. Many of the stores seemed to target the tourist crowd - we even found a store selling 'exotic' items from Kenya, Madagascar, Thailand and Indonesia! There was even an Indian restaurant selling curry - right in the heart of the French kings' country retreat. Wonder what they would have thought of it.

2 comments:

WookieeMachine said...

Doesn't anyone else read your blog? :p Should I make up different aliases so that it seems more well-received? Heheheh

WookieeMachine said...

Fine, sorry about the earlier comment; you know it feels odd to give you a verbal reply then have to type it out here... it's like I'm expected to be your biggest blog fan :p

But still, that was a very informative writeup of the chateau, given that most tourists would probably just go "Ooh! Ahh!" and then write about what they had for lunch. Well, ok you did include that last as well, but at least the content was meatier, hehe.

Nice pix accompanying the post too. Interior shots seem colourful and moody at the same time, as if hinting as the chateau's darker associations.