French Language Blog

Everyone knows le Louvre.

And I’m sure it is safe to assume that everyone has at least heard of Versailles.

But how about Fontainebleau, the château (castle) that is both classique and Renaissance?

It’s actually not that far from Paris, about soixante kilomètres (60 kms) South East of the French capital.

Of course, you can also choose to go to the nearby Disneyland Paris instead.

If it’s more “your thing”, that is.

But then, you would be missing out on what Napoleon Bonaparte has famously qualified as la Maison des Siècles (The House of the Centuries.)

Indeed, successive generations of French monarchs have resided in what has progressively become a full-fledged palace, at a time when most of Versailles could only offer mosquito-infected swamps and oozing marshland.

The early traces of a castle erected in Fontainebleau go back to at least the 12th century.

Before that, the whole place was dominated by a massive forest, known then as la forêt de Bière.

Now, don’t think that this name referred to a “beer forest festival”, or something of the sort.

True, the term bière usually means “beer” in French.

In this case, however, bière comes from bruyère, meaning “heather.“

Today, the forest surrounding the old royal palace is known as la forêt de Fontainebleau, and is above all famed to be the inspiration of several impressionist painters as well as the so-called School of Barbizon.

Besides, it is a highly popular destination among escalade (climbing) fans!

But let’s go back to the early days of the château, shall we?

Among the earliest known people to have resided there is the celebrated archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket, who (maybe thanks to his timely French escapade) started spelling his name as Thomas à Becket.

About a century after hosting Saint Thomas of Canterbury (for he had by then died a martyr in his native England), the château witnessed the birth of Philippe le Bel, aka “Philippe the Fair.”

“Fair”, however, was a bit of a misnomer.

In fact, there was very little “fair” about this Philippe (unless perhaps intended in the sense of “handsome” rather than “just”, but even that was open for debate.)

This was indeed the French King who, in cahoots with the Pope of that time (Clement V, yet another awkward misnomer you might add), ordered les Templiers (the Knights Templar) to be burned at the stake.

Pourquoi?

It probably had something to do with their vast amount of wealthy possessions.

In any case, a curse attributed to one of the Grand Masters of the monastic order is said to have caused greedy Philippe to perish in the course of a “freak accident”, only a few months later.

And where did Philippe meet his “fair” demise, so to speak?

Precisely at his birthplace, the château of Fontainebleau.

But the Templar’s curse did not seem to stop there.

During most of la guerre de Cent Ans (the Hundred Years’ War) that soon ensued, the castle had to be fully evacuated.

Wisely enough, the Royal family deemed it safer to withdraw even further south of Paris, towards the Loire and Bourges.

It was not until four successive monarchs had left the French throne that Fontainebleau experienced its first period of gloire (glory.)

This was during the reign of François Ier (in English Francis I), the King and patron of the arts who imported la Renaissance to France from its Italian cradle.

We will be picking up exactly from here in the next post of the Transparent French Blog.

Be sure not to miss it.

Tel père, tel fils (as father, as son), says the popular adage.

We previously saw how the father, in this case François Ier (or Francis I in English), was le responsable numéro 1 of introducing la Renaissance to France, by inviting the likes of Rosso Fiorentino and le Primatice to his court.

There, the Italian masters launched what was to be known as l’École de Fontainebleau, the most celebrated art school of the time.

The son of Francois Ier, the French King Henri II (spelled “Henry” in English) continued the architectural work initiated during his father’s reign.

However, the son seemed to favor the local main-d’œuvre (workforce.)

Most of his court artists operated under the aegis of Philibert Delorme (also spelled De l’Orme), who distinguished himself in decorating his father’s tomb at the Saint Denis Basilica.

Delorme paid a first visit to Fontainebleau in 1548. He was tasked to start working there immediately after.

A large part of the palace, including la salle de bal (the ball rooom) that can still be visited today, is entirely his doing.

From the union with Catherine de Medicis, the not-so-easy-to-handle “femme fatale” (pictured on the left), Henri II had eight children.

Six of them came to the world in Fontainebleau, while the other two were born in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where Delorme was commissioned to build its Château Neuf (literally “New Castle”), later the birthplace of the spoiled “Sun King” Louis XIV.

At least two of the Fontainebleau children turned out to be French King material: François II, the eldest who was named after his grandpa, and Henri III, who was obviously named after his daddy.

Only two days after the accidental death (or now was it?) of her king-husband, Catherine de Medicis sent good old Delorme packing.

The reason is often said to be that Delorme was the protégé of Catherine’s all-time bête noire, Diane de Poitiers, for long the King’s “favorite.”

Like Catherine, the man who replaced Delorme hailed from Italy. His French name is le Primatice, just mentioned above.

Primaticcio (that would be his Italian name), enjoyed the precious assistance of a skilled craftsman named Niccolò dell’Abbate, whose remarkable paysage (landscape) work is said to have yielded at least a partial influence upon Nicolas Poussin.

But things did not always go as planned by Catherine de Medicis, especially after she died.

Her son, Henri III, who spent very little time in the Fontainebleau of his early youth, suffered a tragic demise. He died childless, victim of a ruthless assassination plot.

This spelled the end for the Valois dynasty, which reigned over France for more than two centuries.

Who was next?

Henry of Navarre took over, thus establishing the dynasty of Bourbon.

Now called Henry IV, the French King nurtured a keen interest in the artistic makeover of Fontainebleau.

Inspired by the example set by his old predecessor on the throne, Francois Ier, he launched a Second School of Fontainebleau. Unfortunately, nearly everyone agreed that this new École paled in comparison with the original.

Undaunted, Henry IV directed his sight outside of the palace. There, he created a large wooded park filled with trees of various species.

He also dug a vast canal, where people still go fishing to this day.

Other than that, the King was such an avid fan of Tennis (known then as le jeu de paume) that he built in the palace what is still one of the largest Tennis courts au monde (in the world), if not the largest.

“Une cour sans femmes est comme un jardin sans fleurs” (“a court without women is like a garden without flowers.”)

Thus spoke François Ier (Francis I in English), like a true Frenchman some would say.

But contrary to some other French monarchs, female company was not his only preoccupation.

In fact, the lifetime dream of François was to bring the fledgling Italian Renaissance to the French soil.

“Une nouvelle Rome” (a “New Rome“) was to emerge in the French capital.

With that goal in mind, the French King invited to his court several Italian artists, whose task was to establish l’École de Fontainebleau.

This proved to be the most prolific and most influential of art schools in France at the time.

The École‘s first uncontested leader was a Florence-born artist by the name of Rosso Fiorentino, literally meaning in Italian “the red from Florence“, an obvious reference to his hair color.

By all accounts, “Il Rosso” was a highly eccentric figure. “Out of his time”, so to speak.

His work has in many ways prefigured modern tendencies that were to be found in art schools throughout the following centuries.

Unsurprisingly, his immediate successor was also fellow Italiano, called in French “Le Primatice“, who enjoyed the precious assistance of a skilled disciple, Niccolò dell’Abbate.

In turn, these masters, or maestros, if you will, yielded a tremendous influence on the works of many other artists, most prominent of which is perhaps Jean Goujon, whose Allegories can still be seen on the façade of the Louvre.

Jean Goujon, as well as many other Protestant artists, had a deep impact on the French artistic scene of the 16th century and beyond.

That is, until the Edict of Nantes was revoked in the following century by Louis XIV, when they all had to leave the French kingdom en masse.

Although Versailles was known to be the Sun King‘s favorite palace, the sudden decision of declaring French Protestants personas non gratas was not taken there, but rather in Fontainebleau.

The statement could not have been made any clearer, indeed.

But back to François Ier.

If “la Jeconde“, or “la Mona Lisa” (as it is better known in the non-Francophone world), is today a French property, it is no doubt he who ought to receive the credit.

Why so?

Because if it were not for François Ier, Leonardo da Vinci would probably never have felt compelled to set foot in France and bother to bring his still unfinished tableau (painting) in his suitcase.

In other words, that would have been one flower that le Roi would have been particularly sorry to miss in his jardin.