Of pastorals and palaces

After investigating the possibility of an extra-Paris excursion on Sunday night, I found that one could get a package deal to visit the château of Fontainebleau; for 22 euros, one can get a round-trip train ticket, entrance to the chateau and grounds, an audio guide, and a little guidebook. What a deal! Plus, all the websites said that Fontainebleau was worth the visit. So, after waking up at a very unvacation-ish hour to get to Gare de Lyon, Dad and I quitted Paris for the country.

There is something very romantic about a train. Maybe it’s a genuine love of history, maybe it’s due to all those American Girl books as a child; I’m not sure. But there is something unescapably beautiful about watching the scenery right beyond your fingertips change from industrial electrical wiring to unsculpted woods and post-card towns, seeing the color transform from placid gray to a mixture of burnished red and forest green, noticing, even approaching at high speed, the very air around you slow its pace. A big city is magical; this is most certainly true of Paris. But until you leave the Eiffel Tower-hawking vendors and the car-packed boulevards, you never realize how much you miss the silence of a walnut lane, the fragrance of a rose bush, the expanse of a sky devoid of buildings, the greeting of a caroling bird that is NOT a pigeon, and the caress of a breeze not created by a metro tunnel, but by the simple breath of God.

I found this to be true in visiting both Chantilly and Fontainebleau. Those who come to France and never outstrip their zones 1 and 2 metro tickets are missing out on one of the beautiful passages (in the literal sense of the word): the realization that the best of man is only a dim reflection of the glory to come. To some this may seem like it would by a dreary, depressing realization. On the contrary, though, I find that these bursts of the country have a purifying, uplifting effect that acts as preparation back into that other, city world.

I must say, though, that Fontainebleau is hardly the antithesis of the best of Parisian achievement. Exactly the opposite, in fact. The stunning architecture, immaculate furnishings, marble sculptures, and roaming gardens impressed me much more than any other palace I have seen, including Versailles. Every time we entered a room, I thought, “Wow, this is beautiful! Surely this is the height of extravagance and taste; the following rooms can only be a disappointment.”

This never happened. Each successive room brought a newly-distended jaw, as the 16th-century castle revealed itself in all its Baroque, Renaissance, and Napoleonic splendor. The castle was begun by François I in 1538, but unlike many other royal residences, it was maintained right up through 19th century. This means that Napoleon’s throne room is only a few rooms away from the blue and gold embroidery of Marie Antoinette’s private sitting room, which looks out onto the Grand Canal begun by Henry IV, which is not far from the gilded marble columns of the chapel begun by François I. Somehow, the castle escaped the ravages of the Revolution, and instead pays homage to the always beautiful, yet inescapably transient periods of French history.

My favorite room was either the throne room, simply because it was so stunning with its gold plumes and scarlet velvet it looked like a movie set, or the chapel, which was covered floor to ceiling in paintings, and featured a magnificent organ in the back of the sanctuary. My favorite artifact was definitely the nearly four-foot, fully-sculpted urn featuring scenes of Leonardo da Vinci painting at the court of François I. The colors were so brilliant and the carving so detailed that I had to block traffic for several minutes in an effort to find the perfect camera setting.

If the gaud of this château, though, is overwhelming for you, you can always do as Dad and I did and have a picnic overlooking the extensive gardens and fountain before heading out into the woods for a stroll. Imagine ancient figures emerging from behind forty-foot chestnut trees as you escape all unnatural noise. And if you get tired, you can always sit on one of the stone benches ensconced in the glade, perhaps watch a Springer Spaniel play in a stream, sigh at an octogenarian couple hobble down the path, or take pictures of a passing horse-drawn carriage.

As I do not have the cord to upload my photos, I am unable to furnish proof of the magnificence of this château and its grounds, but I encourage you to Wikipedia it or go to the official website (which has a really neat virtual tour thing) at http://www.musee-chateau-fontainebleau.fr/. It is the next best thing to actually visiting