RAMBOUILLET AND ITS FOREST

Rambouillet is one of the most famous of the minor royal chateaux of France. Built under the first of the monarchies, in the midst of the vast forest of Yveline, it has always formed a part of the national domain. Even now, under Republican France, it is still the scene of the hunts organized for visiting monarchs, and, within the last half dozen years alone, the monarchs of Spain and Belgium, Italy and England have shot hares and stags and pheasants in company with a Republican president.

The occasions have lacked the picturesque costumes of the disciples of Saint Hubert in other times; but the huntsman still winds his horn to the same traditional tune and the banquets given in the chateau on such occasions are, in no small measure, an echo of what has gone before.

It was in the old chateau of Rambouillet that Francis I died. In the month of March, 1547, Francis, coming from Chambord in the south, crossed the “accursed bridge” and arrived at the foot of the ivy-grown donjon which one sees to-day, the last remaining relic of the mediaeval fortress. For a year the monarch had led a wandering life, revisiting all the favourite haunts of his kingdom, and, though scarce turned fifty, was prematurely aged and gray.

He was lifted tenderly from his royal coach, and by the winding stair, carried slowly to his apartments on the second floor, overlooking the three canals and the “accursed bridge” and the tangled forest beyond.

Jacques d’Angennes, to whose ancestors Rambouillet one day belonged, acted as host to his royal master and cared for him as a brother, but Francis was dispirited, and growing weaker every moment. He complained bitterly of the death of his favourite son from the plague, and of that of the gay monarch across the channel, his old friend, Henry VIII of England.

He was restless and wished to move on to Saint Germain, but his condition made that impossible. After a feeble attempt to rouse himself for a hunt in the forest, he took to his bed again, with the admonition to his friend d’Angennes, who never left him: “I am dying, send for my son, Henri.”

The prince joined the mourners around the royal bedside and heard his father’s confession thus: “My son, I have sinned greatly; I have been led away by my passions; follow that which I have done that is accredited good, and ignore the evil; above all, cherish France; be good to my people.”

That was all except the final counsel to “beware of the Guises; they are traitors.” After that he spoke no more. Francis I, the gallant, art-loving monarch, the father of the Renaissance in France, was dead.

In 1562, Catherine de Medici, accompanied by her son Charles IX, here awaited the results of the momentous battle of Dreux. In 1588, Henri III, fleeing Paris after the “journee des barricades” came here to rest, and so fatigued was he on his arrival that he went to bed “tout botte.”

The son of Louis XIV and Madame de Montespan came into possession of “the palace and lands” and in his honour the property was made, in spite of its limited area, a Duche-Pairie.

Louis XIV and Madame de Maintenon, as was but natural, because of its proximity to Maintenon and to Paris, frequently honoured Rambouillet with their presence; and, a little later, Louis XV and the beautiful Comtesse de Toulouse followed suit.

The Duc de Penthievre, to whom the property had by this time descended, at the instance of Louis XVI, ceded to that monarch the domain of Rambouillet.

Louis XVI built vast commons and outbuildings, all with some architectural pretence, to house the appanage of the royal hunt, and also built the Laiterie de la Reine and the model farm where, in 1786, he established the first national sheepfold.

To-day this is the famous Ecole de Bergers, where is quartered the largest flock of moutons a laine (merino sheep) in France, they having been brought chiefly from Spain.

The Laiterie de la Reine was a tiny sandstone temple with interior fittings chiefly of white marble, and with a great, round centre-table, and smaller tables in each corner, equally of marble, as becomes a hygienically fitted dairy. It was restored by Louis Napoleon during the Second Empire, and is still to be seen in all its pristine glory.

In addition, Louis XVI had at Rambouillet a private domain of a considerable extent which only the Constitution of 1791 united to the Civil List. This property, except the palace, the park and the forest, was sold later by the State. The Imperial Civil List, formed in 1805 by Napoleon, included these dependencies specifically, and the emperor frequently hunted in the neighbouring forest, though, compared to his predecessors, he had little time to devote to that form of sport. Here, too, was signed, in 1810, the decree which united Holland with the Empire.

Rambouillet has fallen sadly since the Revolution. A decree of the Representants du Peuple, of October 14, 1793, provided that “the furnishings of this palace, heretofore royal, shall be sold.” Under the Consulate and Empire a certain citizen, Trepsat by name, received an injury in protecting Napoleon in an attack and, as recompense, was made the official Architect and Conservator of the Palace of Rambouillet.

Hardly had Trepsat entered upon his functions when he suggested the demolition of the chateau. Napoleon hesitated, but finally partially agreed, insisting, however, that enough should be left to form a comfortable hunting-lodge. Trepsat would have torn down all and rebuilt anew. Napoleon made an appointment with his architect to visit the property and discuss the matter in detail the following year (1805), but at that moment he was campaigning in Austria, so the interview was not held. This was Trepsat’s chance, and he found a pretext to overthrow the entire east wing, but was stopped before he was able to further carry out his ignorant act of vandalism. Trepsat was severely reprimanded by the emperor himself, and was ordered to put things back as he found them. “Even the most battered and sickly architect who ever lived could hardly have had a worse inspiration,” said Napoleon. Trepsat, be it recalled, had lost a leg.

The restoration was commenced, but Trepsat, committing one fault after another, and finally juggling with the accounts, was obliged to take on a collaborator by the name of Famin, a young pensionnaire of the Academie des Beaux Arts, recently returned from Rome. It was he who saved Rambouillet from utter destruction.

The apartments of Napoleon, which were those given over to public functions in the time of the Comte de Toulouse, had been, and were, most luxuriously appointed. That which shows most clearly the imprint of the imperial regime is the curious Salle de Bains which was in direct communication with the study, or Cabinet de Travail.

It might have been a room in a Pompeian house so classic were its lines and decorations. There was a series of medallions painted on the wall representing portraits of members of the imperial family. These were chiefly portraits of the female sex, and Napoleon, the first time he entered his bath, in an excess of modesty and fury cried out: “Who is the ass that did this thing?” Immediately they were painted out, and, for the sum of nine hundred and fifty francs, another artist was found who filled the frames of the medallions with sights and scenes associated less intimately with Napoleonic history.

Under the Empire the architect Famin was commissioned to furnish a series of architectural embellishments to the gardens of Rambouillet. Various stone statues were added and an octagon pavilion on the Île des Roches was restored and redecorated. Two great avenues were cut through the parterre, and, as if fearing indiscretions on the part of his entourage, the emperor caused to be planted long rows of lindens and tulip trees, which were again masked by two rows of poplars. The peloux of the Jardin Francais were reestablished and the curves and sweeps of the paths of the Jardin Anglais laid out anew.

This ancient government property, arisen anew from its ruins, now bore the name of the Pavillon du Roi de Rome, after the son of Napoleon. The Ecuries, or stables, which had been built by Louis XVI, were transformed into kennels, and various “posts,” or miniature shooting-boxes, were distributed here and there through the park.

Under the Restoration the transformation of the chateau, which had been projected ever since the time of Louis XVI, undertaken and then abandoned by Napoleon, was again commenced, but on a less ambitious scale than formerly. Chiefly this transformation consisted of opening up windows, thus making practically a new façade. It was not wholly a happy thought, and the spirit of economy of Louis XVIII, no less, perhaps, than other motives, arrested this mutilation and the architect was discharged from his functions.

Again the hand of fate fell hard upon Rambouillet and its definite eclipse as a royal abode came with the abdication of Charles X. The abdication was actually signed at Rambouillet, and here, in the same Salle du Conseil, the dauphin renounced the throne in favour of the young Duc de Bordeaux.

It was at Rambouillet that Charles X passed those solemn last days before the abdication. He had been unmercifully harassed at Paris and sought a quiet retreat, “not too far from the Tuileries,” where he might repose a moment and take counsel. In view of later events this was significant; perhaps it was significant at the time, for the king speedily repented his abdication. It was too late, for he had classed as rebels all the royalists who would have accepted the “infant king” as their monarch, even though the following Revolution prevented this.

It was on the third of August that the commissioners, deputies of the Provisionary Government, were brought before the king at Rambouillet. They announced that twenty-five thousand armed Parisians were marching on the chateau to compel him to quit his kingdom. It was not a matter for debate, and at nine o’clock on the same night the monarch gave assent to being conducted to Cherbourg, where he embarked upon his fatal exile.

After 1830, with a business-like instinct, the authorities rented the property for twelve years to the Baron Schickler, and, at the end of the Revolution of 1848, its career became more plebeian still; it was rented to a man who converted the palace into an elaborately appointed road-house, and the lawns and groves into open-air restaurants and dancing places.

Under the Gouvernement du Juillet the chateau, the park and the forest were removed from the Civil List, and entered upon the inventory of the Administration des Domaines.

Under the Second Empire Rambouillet appeared again on the monarchial Civil List. Napoleon III came here at times to hunt, but not to live, and of his rare appearances at the chateau but little record exists. Since 1870 Rambouillet has belonged to the Republican Government, and, since royalties no longer exist in France, Republican chiefs of state now take the lead in Rambouillet’s national hunts.

The property, as it stands to-day, is divided readily into four distinct parts, the palace, the parterre, the Jardin Anglais and the park. The grove of lindens is remarkable in every respect, the ornamental waters are gracious and of vast extent, and the Laiterie and the Ferme are decidedly models of their kind; but the Chaumiere des Coquillages, a rustic summer-house of rocks and shells and questionable debris of all sorts, is hideous and unworthy.

Not the least of the charming features of the park is the great alley of Louisiana cypresses, one of the real sights, indeed, perfecting the charm of the great body of water to the left of the chateau.

Of the structure which existed in the fourteenth century, the chateau of Rambouillet retains to-day only a great battlemented tower, and some low-lying buildings attached to it. Successive enlargements, restorations and mutilations have changed much of the original aspect of the edifice, and modern structures flank and half envelop that which, to all eyes, is manifestly ancient. The debris of the old fortress, which was the foundation of all, adds its bit to the conglomerate mass of which the chief and most imposing elements are the two tall corps de logis in the centre.

Within, a rather banal Salle de Bal is shown as the chief feature, but it is conventionally unlovely enough to be passed without emotion, save that its easterly portion takes in the cabinet, or private apartment, where Charles X signed his abdication. Adjoining this is the bedroom occupied by that monarch, and a dining-room which also served His Majesty, and which is still used by the head of the government on ceremonious occasions. Its decorative scheme is of the period of Louis XV.

The Salle de Conseil is of the period of Charles X, and has some fairly imposing carved wainscotings showing in places the monograms of Marie Sophie and the Comtesse de Toulouse.

A great map, or plan, of the Forest of Rambouillet covers the end wall, and, if not esthetically beautiful, is at least useful and very interesting.

It was executed under Louis XVI and doubtless served its purpose well when the hunters gathered after a day afield and recounted anecdotes of their adventures.

There is another apartment on the ground floor which is known as the Salle a Manger des Rendezvous de Chasse, whose very name explains well its functions.

The Cabinet de Travail of Marie Antoinette and the Salle de Bain of Napoleon have something more than a mere sentimental interest; they were decidedly practical adjuncts to the royal palace.

Napoleon’s bath took the form of a rather short, deep pool. Its fresco decorations, as seen to-day replacing that family portrait gallery which Napoleon caused to be painted out are after the pseudo-antique manner and represent bird’s-eye views of various French cities and towns, while a series of painted armorial trophies decorates the ceiling.

On the second floor are the apartments occupied by the Duchesse de Berry and those of the Duchesse d’Angoulême.

In the great round tower is the circular apartment where Francis I breathed his last. It is this great truss-vaulted room that most interests the visitor to Rambouillet.

On the ground floor is another Salle de Bain, quite as theatrically disposed as that of Napoleon. Its construction was due to the Comte de Toulouse whose taste ran to Delft tiles and polychrome panels, framing two imposing marines, also worked out in tiles.

The parterre, extending before the main building, is of an ampleness scarcely conceivable until once viewed. It is purely French in design and is of the epoch of the tenancy of the Comte de Toulouse. Before the admirably grouped lindens was a boathouse, and off in every direction ran alleys of acacias, while here and there tulip beds, rose gardens and hedges of rhododendrons flanked the very considerable ornamental waters. This body of water, in the form of a trapezoid, is divided by four grass-grown islets and separates the Jardin Anglais from the Jardin Francais. One of the islets is known as the Île des Roches and contains the Grotte de Rabelais, so named in honour of the Cure of Meudon, when he was presented at Rambouillet by the Cardinal du Bellay. It was on this isle that were given those famous fêtes in honour of the “beaux esprits” who formed the assiduous cortege of Catherine de Vivonne, mythological, pagan and outre.

The Jardin Anglais at Rambouillet is the final expression of the species in France. Designed under the Duc de Penthievre, it was restored and considerably enlarged by Napoleon and, following the contours of an artificial rivulet, it fulfils the description that its name implies.

More remote, and half hidden from the precincts of the chateau, are the Chaumiere and the Ermitage and they recall the background of a Fragonard or a Watteau. It is all very “stagy” but, since it exists, can hardly be called unreal.

The park proper, containing more than twelve hundred hectares, is one of the largest and most thickly wooded in France. Between the parterre and the French and English garden and the park lie the Farm and the Laiterie de la Reine, the caprice of Louis XVI when he would content Marie Antoinette and give her something to think about besides her troubles. Napoleon stripped it of its furnishings to install them, for a great part, at Malmaison, for that other unhappy woman Josephine. Later, to give pleasure to Marie Louise, he ordered them brought back again to Rambouillet, but it was to Napoleon III that the restoration of this charming conceit was due.

In the neighbourhood of Rambouillet was the famous Chateau de Chasse, or royal shooting-box, which Louis XV was fond of making a place of rendezvous.

On the banks of the Etang de Pourras stood this Chateau de Saint Hubert, named for the patron saint of huntsmen, and within its walls was passed many a happy evening by king and courtiers after a busy day with stag and hound.

The hunt in France was perhaps at the most picturesque phase of its existence at this time. The hunt of to-day is but a pale, though bloody, imitation of the real sport of the days when monarchs and their seigneurs in slashed doublet and hose and velvet cloaks pursued the deer of the forest to his death, and knew not the maitre d’equipage of to-day.