A near neighbour of Vincennes is Conflans, another poor, rent relic of monarchial majesty. The Chateau de Conflans was situated at the juncture of the Seine and Marne, but, to-day, the immediate neighbourhood is so very unlovely and depressing that one can hardly believe that it ever pleased any one's fancy, least of all that of a kingly castle builder.
Banal dwellings on all sides are Conflans' chief characteristics to-day; but the old royal abode still lifts a long length of roof and wall to mark the spot where once stood the Chateau de Conflans in all its glory.
Conflans was at first the country residence of the Archbishops of Paris, and Saint Louis frequently went into retreat here. When Philippe-le-Bel acquired the property, he promptly gave it to the Comtesse d'Artois who made of it one of the "_plus beaux castels du temps_." She decorated its long gallery, the portion of the edifice which exists to-day in the humble, emasculated form of a warehouse of some sort, in memory of her husband Othon. Here the countess held many historic receptions and ceremonies during which kings and princes frequently partook of her hospitality.
[Illustration: CONFLANS from an OLD PRINT.]
After the death of the countess, the French king made his residence at Conflans, and Charles VI, when dauphin, was also lodged here that he might be near the capital in case of events which might require his presence. A contemporary account mentions the fact that his _valet de chambre_ was killed by lightning at Conflans while serving his royal master.
Conflans was the preferred suburban residence of the Princes and the Ducs de Bourgogne, and Philippe-le-Hardi there organized his tourneys and his _passes d'armes_ with great eclat, on one occasion alone offering one hundred and fifteen thousand _livres_ in prizes to the participants.
This castle, for it was more castle than palace, was reputed one of the most magnificent in the neighbourhood of the Paris of its time, surrounded as it was with a resplendent garden and a forest in miniature, really a part of the Bois de Vincennes of to-day, where roamed wild boar and wolves which furnished sport of a kingly kind.
The view from the terrace of the chateau must have been wonderfully fine, the towers and roof-tops of old Paris being silhouetted against the setting sun, its windows dominating the swift-flowing current of the two rivers at the foot of the fortress walls.
The greatest event of history enacted under the walls of Conflans was the battle and the treaty which followed after, between Louis XI and the Comte de Charolais, in 1405.
Commynes recounts the battle as follows: "Four thousand archers were sent out from Paris by the king, who fired upon the castle from the river bank on both sides."
Bows and arrows were hardly effective weapons with which to shoot down castle walls, but stragglers who left themselves unprotected were from time to time picked off on both sides and much carnage actually ensued.
Finally a treaty of peace was arranged, by which, at the death of Charles-le-Temeraire, according to usage, Louis XI absorbed the proprietary rights in the castle and made it a _Maison Royale_, bestowing it upon one of his favourites, Dame Gillette Hennequin.
The kings of France about this time developed a predilection for the chateaux on the banks of the Loire, and Conflans was offered for sale in 1554. Divers personages occupied it from that time on, the Marechal de Villeroy, the Connetable de Montmorency and, for a brief time, Cardinal Richelieu.
It was in the Chateau de Conflans that was planned the foundation of the French Academy; here Moliere and his players first presented "La Critique de l'Ecole des Femmes"; and here, also, was held the marriage of La Grande Mademoiselle with the unhappy Lauzan.
At the end of the reign of Louis XIV Fr. de Harlay-Chauvallon, Archbishop of Paris, bought the property of Richelieu, and, with the aid of Mansart and Le Notre, considerably embellished it within and without. Madame de Sevigne, in one of her many published letters, writes of the splendours which she saw at Conflans at this epoch.
Saint-Simon, the court chronicler, mentions that the gardens were so immaculately kept that when the Archbishop and "La Belle" Duchesse de Lesdiguieres used to promenade therein they were followed by a gardener who, with a rake, sought to remove the traces of each footprint as soon as made.
Later, the Cardinal de Beaumont, the persecutor of the Jansenists, resided here.
"Notre archeveque est a Conflans C'est un grand solitaire C'est un grand so C'est un grand so C'est un grand solitaire."
The above verse is certainly banal enough, but the cardinal himself was a _drole_, so perhaps it is appropriate. At any rate it is contemporary with the churchman's sojourn at Conflans.
CHAPTER XI
FONTAINEBLEAU AND ITS FOREST
[Illustration: ORIGINAL PLAN OF FONTAINEBLEAU]
Of all the French royal palaces Fontainebleau is certainly the most interesting, despite the popularity and accessibility of Versailles. It is moreover the cradle of the French Renaissance. Napoleon called it the Maison des Siecles, and the simile was just.
After Versailles, Fontainebleau has ever held the first place among the suburban royal palaces. The celebrated "Route de Fontainebleau" of history was as much a _Chemin du Roi_ as that which led from the capital to Versailles. Versailles was gorgeous, even splendid, if you will; but it had not the unique characteristics, nor winsomeness of Fontainebleau, nor ever will have, in the minds of those who know and love the France of monarchial days.
[Illustration: From Paris to Fontainebleau]
Not the least of the charm of Fontainebleau is the neighbouring forest so close at hand, a few garden railings, not more, separating the palace from one of the wildest forest tracts of modern France.
The Forest of Fontainebleau is full of memories of royal rendezvous, the carnage of wild beasts, the "_vraie image de la guerre_," of which the Renaissance kings were so inordinately fond.
It was from the Palace of Fontainebleau, too, that bloomed forth the best and most wholesome of the French Renaissance architecture. It was the model of all other later residences of its kind. It took the best that Italy had to offer and developed something so very French that even the Italian workmen, under the orders of Francois I, all but lost their nationality. Vasari said of it that it "rivalled the best work to be found in the Rome of its time."
A charter of Louis-le-Jeune (Louis VII), dated at Fontainebleau in 1169, attests that the spot was already occupied by a _maison royale_ which, according to the Latin name given in the document was called Fontene Bleaudi, an etymology not difficult to trace when what we know of its earlier and later history is considered.
Actually this _fontaine belle eau_ is found to-day in the centre of the Jardin Anglais, its basin and outlet being surrounded by the conventional stone rim or border. After its discovery, according to legend, this fountain became the rendezvous of the gallants and the poets and painters and the "sweet ladies" so often referred to in the chronicles of the Renaissance. Rosso, the painter, perpetuated one of the most celebrated of these reunions in his decorations in the Galerie Francois I in the palace, and Cellini represented the fair huntress Diana, amid the same surroundings.
Under Louis-le-Jeune in 1169 was erected, in the Cour du Donjon, the chapel Saint-Saturnin, which was consecrated by Saint Thomas a Becket, then a refugee in France.
Philippe Auguste and Saint Louis inhabited the palace and Philippe-le-Bel died here in 1314. From a letter of Charles VII it appears that Isabeau de Baviere had the intention of greatly adding to the existing chateau because of the extreme healthfulness of the neighbourhood. The work was actually begun but seemingly not carried to any great length.
Such was the state of things when Francois I came into his own and, because of the supreme beauty of the site, became enamoured of it and began to erect an edifice which was to outrank all others of its class.
The king and court made of Fontainebleau a second capital. It was a model residence of its kind, and gave the first great impetus to the Renaissance wave which rose so rapidly that it speedily engulfed all France.
Aside from its palace and its forest, Fontainebleau early became a noble and a gracious town, thanks to the proximity of the royal dwelling. In spite of the mighty scenes enacted within its walls, the palace has ever posed as one of the most placid and tranquil places of royal residence in the kingdom.
All this is true to-day, in spite of the coming of tourists in automobiles, and the recent establishment of a golf club with the usual appurtenances. Fontainebleau, the town, has a complexion quite its own.
Its garrison and its little court of officialdom give it a character which even to-day marks it as one of the principal places where the stranger may observe the French dragoon, with _casque_ and breastplate and boots and spurs, at quite his romantic best, though it is apparent to all that the cumbersome, if picturesque, uniform is an unwieldy fighting costume. There was talk long ago of suppressing the corps, but all Fontainebleau rose up in protest. As the popular _chanson_ has it: "_Laissez les dragons a leur Maire_." This has become the battle cry and so they remain at Fontainebleau to-day, the envy of their fellows in the service, and the glory of the young misses of the boarding schools, who each Saturday are brought out in droves to see the sights.
Many descriptions of Fontainebleau have been written, but the works of Poirson, Pfnor and Champollion-Figeac are generally followed by most makers of guidebooks, and, though useful, they have perpetuated many errors which were known to have been doubtful even before their day.
The best account of Fontainebleau under Francois I is given in the manuscript memoir of Abbe Guilbert. Apparently an error crept into this admirable work, too, for it gives the date of the commencement of the constructions of Francois as 1514, whereas that monarch only ascended the throne in 1515. The date of the first works under this monarch was 1528, according to a letter of the king himself, which began: "We, the court, intend to live in this palace and hunt the _'betes rousses et noirs qui sont dans la foret.'_"
An account of Francois I and his "young Italian friends" makes mention of the visit of the king, in company with the Duchesse d'etampes, to the studio of Serlio who was working desperately on the portico of the Cour Ovale. He found the artist producing a "melody of plastic beauty, garbed as a simple workman, his hair matted with pasty clay." He was standing on a scaffolding high above the ground when the monarch mounted the ladder. Up aloft Francois held a conference with his beloved workman and, descending, shouted back the words: "You understand, Maitre Serlio; let it be as you suggest." After the porticos, Serlio decorated the Galerie d'Ulysse which has since disappeared owing to the indifference of Louis XV and the imbecility of his friends; and always it was with Francois: "You understand, Maitre Serlio; it is as you wish." The _motif_ may have been Italian, but the impetus for the work was given by the _esprit_ of the French.
The defeated monarch was not able to bring away from Padua any trophies of war; but he brought plans of chateaux, and gardens as well. He did more: he took the very artists and craftsmen who had produced many of the Italian masterpieces of the time.
The tracing of the gardens at Fontainebleau, practically as they exist to-day, was one of Francois I's greatest pleasures. In their midst, on the shores of the etang aux Carpes, was erected a tiny rest-house where the royal mistresses might come to repose and laugh at the jests of Triboulet.
The edifice of Francois I is of modest proportions and of perfect unity; but it is with difficulty that it presents its best appearance, overpowered as it is by the heavier masses of the time of Henri IV, and suffering as it does because of the eliminations of Louis XIV and Louis XV when they made their additions to the palace.
Under the Convention, later on, Fontainebleau's palace again suffered.
Under the Consulate it became a barracks and a prison, and finally, not less terrible, were the restorations of Napoleon and Louis Philippe. A castle may sometimes suffer less from a siege than from a restoration.
From every point of view, however, Fontainebleau remains an architectural document of the most profound interest and value, and, from the tourists' point of view, it is the most appealing of all European palaces of this or any other age. The expert, the artist and the mere curiosity-seeker all unite in their admiration in spite of the fact that the fabric has been denuded of many of its original beauties.
[Illustration: _Palais de Fontainebleau_]
First, this royal dwelling is of the most ample and effective proportions; second, it possesses a remarkable series of luxurious apartments; third, it still contains some of the finest examples of furniture and furnishings of Renaissance and Napoleonic times; and, in addition, there is also to be seen that admirable series of paintings which represent the School of Fontainebleau. With such an array of charms what does it matter if the unity of the Renaissance masterpiece of Francois I is qualified by later interpolations? General impression is the standard by which one judges the workmanship of a noble monument, and here it is good to an extraordinary degree.
The palace of to-day sits at one end of the aristocratic little town of Fontainebleau. Beyond is the forest and opposite are many hotels which depend upon the palace as the source from which they draw their livelihood.
The principal entrance to the palace opens out from the Place Solferino and gives access immediately to the Cour du Cheval Blanc of Chambiges, which, since that eventful day in Napoleonic history nearly a hundred years ago, has become better known as the Cour des Adieux. At the rear rises the famous horseshoe stair, certainly much better expressed in French as the _Escalier en Fer a Cheval_, from which the emperor took his farewell of his "Vieux Grognards" lined up before him, biting savagely at their moustaches to keep down their emotions.