Vaux le Vicomte - endnotes

Here's a few last shots of Vaux le Vicomte. The Chateau from the entry-side:


Looking back, about halfway to the canal & grotto:



The two drawings below were part of an exhibit for how the Chateau and specifically the Dome, were built:


And finally, horsechestnuts lining the canal:

Vaux Le Vicomte, Continued

As promised, here's more about Vaux le Vicomte. Let's start with a shot from the top of the chateau's dome.


Le Nôtre took advantage of the natural change in grade and two nearby rivers to create a garden that is rich with water and seems to get bigger, and unfold in front of you, as you progress through the landscape. He amplified the natural slope by dropping grades even more as one advances closer to the grotto at the end of the central path.


Of course, when you first view the garden from the chateau, you don't realize the grade drops at all. The gravel paths appear to be a continuous, flat band extending towards the grotto, but in reality the paths step down.


Take a look two photos up -- see the grotto at the end of the central axis? It looks like it's at the same elevation of the chateau, right? But, progressing along the axis, you realize the grotto is much lower.


Even here you haven't really understood that a canal is present in the landscape. You see water, but assume it's another pool. That's because the canal widens into a square-shaped form when it is in front of the grotto. On either side of the grotto, the canal is narrower and thus not visible in the photo above.



The canal is a kilometer wide and is basically a constructed river. A brook fills the canal on one side and on the other, water spills over a weir and connects to a natural steam. (Sidenote: in order to out-do his work at Vaux le Vicomte, Le Nôtre made the Grand Canal at Versailles a mile long. Since the site for Versailles had been selected not by Le Nôtre but by Louis XIV, Le Nôtre had considerably more trouble routing water through those gardens and the Grand Canal.)



Beyond the grotto, a green pasture cuts a swath through a forest of linden and horsechestnut (though this was all farmland or fill when the gardens were first built). A statue of Hercules stands in the centerline. You can imagine how massive this sculpture is, when you consider it's visible as a faint dot in your first view from the Chateau steps. (Full disclosure: I was running late so I never made it to the statue's base though you can see a shot of it here.)


And on your return to the building, a final piece of magic: Heading back to the Chateau, as you leave the canal behind you, you approach a body of water called the "Great Water Mirror." Here, you are more than 400 meters away from the Chateau and are at a considerably lower elevation. Yet, Le Nôtre (mathematician that he was) knew the water would be able to reflect the Chateau as if it were adjacent to the building. If you saw the picture below, you'd never assume the water was nearly a half kilometer away from the structure.


This is probably my longest blog post, ever. Hopefully it made sense to someone who hasn't visited this amazing place. I definitely recommend you visit, though check the website first as getting there is complicated. You take the SNCF train to Melun and on weekends and holidays you can get a shuttle bus to the Chateau. But, if you are a bad planner (ahem, like me), you are stuck taking a taxi for about 15 Euros each way, which is a bit pricey (damn exchange rate).

...Then again, when you consider the colossal scale of this magnificent place, the years of planning and construction, the almost-obsessive attention to detail and the two hundred plus years of upkeep, it only seems fair that one is a touch extravagant when planning one's arrival and departure!

Andre Le Notre

Before Olmsted, before Capability Brown, there was André Le Nôtre.




Le Nôtre was born in 1613 and continued a strong family tradition of gardening. His father and grandfather -- and later André himself -- were charged with caring for the Tuileries in Paris. Le Nôtre studied painting and architecture and excelled at math as well. Some suspect his interest in math is largely responsible for Le Nôtre's use of warped perspectives in his designs (more on that later).

Le Nôtre became a sort of public figure early on in his life. He was responsible for updating the gardens at Fontainebleau and was appointed as state draughtsman for gardens by the Queen Mother, Anne of Austria. But his influence on landscape architecture was not inevitable until he met Nicolas Fouquet.

Fouquet was the Treasurer for Louis XIV and was also a very very wealthy individual. In Louis XIV's reign, the king depended largely on financing from private individuals -- who he then rewarded with 'cabinet' positions. Fouquet helped fund many of France's activities, but he used some of his money for his own personal pleasure. He hired Le Nôtre, along with the architect Louis Le Vau and painter Charles Brun, to build a grand chateau that would be called Vaux-le-Vicomte.



When the work was complete, Fouquet held a grand party -- with a guest list that obviously included the King. When Louis XIV saw the gardens and the chateau he was, legend has it, overwhelmed with jealousy. It didn't help Fouquet very much that his political rival, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, was plotting Fouquet's downfall by supplying the king with false information about Fouquet and his loyalties.

Three weeks later, Fouquet was arrested for myriad reasons too complicated for a blog post about plants. After three years in court, he was sentenced to life imprisonment. The king was disappointed and attempted to overrule the sentence in favor of Fouquet's death, but was unsuccessful. Fouquet lived in a prison for 19 years before dying.



With Fouquet out of the way, Louis XIV had Le Nôtre and his team all to himself. He demanded they create a gardens even more beautiful and more grand than Vaux le Vicomte and offered them to work on an old dilapidated chateau in the village of Versailles. Of course, the Palace of Versailles, which kept Le Nôtre busy for thirty years (!), has eclipsed Fouquet's chateau in scale and reputation, but many - myself included - prefer the proportions and design techniques employed at Vaux le Vicomte.

More on the chateau and Le Nôtre's design in the days to come.

The Father of the Fairy Tale

Shortly after I took a few photos of the lovely black hollyhocks I posted a few days ago, I wandered further east in the Tuileries and noticed palm trees hidden among the horsechestnuts and lindens. Upon further investigation, I found this statue:



The sculpture had a plaque, citing the artist, Gabriel Edouard Baptiste Pech, and the piece's name, Le Monument À Charles Perrault. I assumed from the statue that Charles Perrault was some kind of children's author. When I got back to New York, I found that yes, he was indeed an author. Evidently Monsieur Perrault was considered the 'Father of the Fairy Tale' and adapted various folk tales into the stories we know today as Little Red Riding Hood, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella.


I always associated these stories with the Brothers Grimm, but it turns out that they had adapted Perrault's stories in the early 19th Century (Perrault himself died in 1703, about a hundred years earlier).

And yes; there's at least one other story I failed to credit to Perrault. He also wrote Puss in Boots, who figures prominently in the sculpture.


I cannot overstate how much this makes me smile. The courageous pose, the proud set to his feline face, the little rat tied to his belt, well and of course the fabulous footwear - it's fantastic. To me, it also seems to capture the wonder that a child would have had the first time he or she heard about this industrious, though somewhat manipulative little cat.

Hollyhocks on the Tuileries

In the posts to come, you will see that I was in Paris and Barcelona for the past two weeks. I have lots and lots of photos to share. But we'll start back with a somewhat brief post.

I love these dark, almost perfectly-black hollyhocks (Alcea rosea) growing in the parterre gardens at the west side of the Tuileries.



The last hollyhock I posted, though very tall, was not the best specimen of this wonderful perennial.

You may notice the staminal column in the flower and realize that this is a Malvaceae family plant and is related to Hibiscus syriacus and H. moscheutos.



Now then, but why the great name hollyhock? I was hoping to find some clever story about the origin of the common name, but unfortunately I have been able to dig up was that it's derivative of the old English word holyoke. Ah well.

Sophora Blooms

So, the Sophora is in bloom in Manhattan now. Which is bittersweet for me, because it means that that summer is winding down. ...August is great in New York; the subways aren't too crowded, the restaurants aren't packed and, generally, work isn't too crazy, either. But the sad part is that after August, it's September and before we know it, the weather starts to turn cold. And I really, really hate the cold.

ANYWAY, back to the Sophora. Despite the personal symbolism, Sophora is a lovely tree. It's large enough to be a street tree, but has showy flowers and fruit. Chances are, even if you don't know the tree, you've walked down a sidewalk lately that looks like this:


Sophora japonica (technically it's Styphnolobium japonicum now, but for sentimental reasons, I'll call it Sophora) is a legume, thus it's related to Lupinus, Gleditsia, Robinia and Cercis. You can see the similarity among these cousins by noting the somewhat pea-like flower and the long bean-like seed pods they produce.


I tell my students the Sophora seed pods are easy to spot because they look like edamame.



Below is a great specimen on Second Avenue. The flowers make quite a show and last for a while. To me, when this tree is in full bloom, it reminds me of a fireworks finale full of chyrsanthemums. Though I'm not sure my students would really get that visual. I doubt you would, either, really.


While the above tree is great, it's still no match for what I must assume is the largest Sophora in existence. That's surely the specimen at the Jardin du Plantes in Paris.

Papaver somniferum

Below is the notorious Papaver somniferum or opium poppy, growing in Giverny, France. Most people probably know that this plant is responsible for the drugs morphine, codeine and of course, heroin.

Poppies were first recorded as a cultivated plant by Sumerians around 4000BC. They called it the 'plant of joy' presumably due to the narcotic effects the plant had on them.



The seed pods themselves are quite sculptural in the garden but no, you probably won't be able to do much with this plant in its rare form. (Not that you'd try.) The process of converting the milky sap of the fruit into a drug is fairly complicated, as I recently learned in an article on PBS Frontline. But you can enjoy the lovely flower of this annual, self-seeding plant. You can also enjoy poppyseed muffins, but remember what happened to Elaine on Seinfeld.



There are over 100 species of Papaver. Though I cannot find out why this plant was given the genus name Papaver, somniferum refers to the sleep-inducing qualities of this plant.

Fontainebleau

I try to keep these posts seasonal, so I have been waiting for autumn to arrive before posting any photos of my trip to Fontainebleau last October.


Fontainebleau Palace is a short train ride away from Paris, and is one of the larger French chateaux. It abuts the Fontainebleau forest, and thus was a popular destination for royals to hunt game.


The site demonstrates most of the classical design fundamentals you would experience in the more famous chateaux of Versailles or Vaux le Vicomte.


Long allees or canals are sited on axis with fountains and other similar punctuation marks.



There's a very clear line between the landscape that has been contained or controlled by man and the woods that are kept at bay beyond.


And of course, sculpture and topiary -- essentially a sculpture of plants -- are utilized in the formal gardens.

Finally, tiers of varying elevation create the experience of limitless landscape.


It's a beautiful landscape and on the other side of the chateau more intimate gardens exist, complete with plant ID tags, which is always helpful when you are among potentially unfamilar plants.

Velib Velos

I recently was talking to someone who was en route for Paris. It made me recall my trip there this time last year and I had told him about the public bicycle system. I posted the following description on my mac pages last year. I decided to post it here now.


This public transit system is amazing! I paid five euros for unlimited bike access. That buys you unlimited use of a bicycle, in thirty minute increments. If you are late returning it to a station (any one in the city), you are charged an additional euro per half hour. The bikes are hefty - like beach cruisers - but have three gears. They aren’t set up to go too fast - my Schwinn’s much faster - but that may be a good safety feature for the system. Finding the kiosks when you need to return a bike can be tricky - I’m sure you develop a mental inventory fairly quickly. While I am sure that France has the same issues as New York, regarding the threat of vandalism and theft, Americans are probably more litigious and the city is reluctant to take any risk of liability. Anyway, just some thoughts I’m sharing, as I have been thinking about this all week.

Now, let’s get a bike...Sebastian, a friend of mine in Paris, is going to help us.


A typical bike stand and kiosk (kiosk is in the midground):


Sign for an ID & PIN number.

It may be frustrating at times, figuring out how to set up an account,


It's more fun if you smile.


After you get an ID & PIN number, you can select your bike by entering its number in the kiosk. But before you make your selection, check the tires, and see if the chain is loose.

For the most part, the bikes were very well-maintained.


Once you find a good bike, enter the bike's number, and the electronic lock will release so you can retrieve the bike.


Voila! You’re ready to go...

London Planes

I have been meaning to do a post on London plane tree (Platanus x. acerifolia) for a while, now. Being at Bryant Park last Saturday buoyed my enthusiasm for the tree so I am finally posting some photos of Platanus being used to its best effect -- in an allée.


Plane trees don't have a dense canopy which helps create perfectly dappled light beneath their limbs. The exfoliating bark (in sand, green, white and beige) also reflects this light.

In late summer, they do get Anthracnose (not Discula anthracnose, another kind of fungal disease that afflicts dogwoods) and their leaves may drop completely, though this disease's effects are only cosmetic and the following spring the trees recover.


Perhaps one of the most famous uses of a plane tree allée is in Versailles. I once had a wonderful photo of this -- 100 feet high specimens lined a drive on axis with the Apollo fountain -- alas, it seems that I have lost this pictuure in a computer snafu.

Instead, I will post a similar French use in Fontainebleau:


The other thing that makes a plane tree allée enchanting is the way they lean away or into the path. I am not sure why this happens; I could guess that compaction affects the root system, which then affects how the tree is anchored, but it would be an uneducated hypothesis -- to say the least.

Instead, here's a shot of the bark up close (on the left):


Plane trees are closely related to the native sycamore (Platanus occidentalis), though sycamores have larger leaves, a coarser branching habit and the presence of a dark, woody scaly bark that grows around the lower 10 feet of the tree. Above the scales, the exfoliating bark is much whiter. Finally, they set seed in groups of one or two, not two to four. You might recognize a sycamore more easily as they feature prominently in the landscapes of Andrew Wyeth:

More Giverny, and summer perennials

I love these two plant combinations - the yellow on yellow and below that picture, the pink on pink.

First, we have Lilies and this other perennial (I don't know yet what it is. If you know, please comment. Eventually I will look it up):


Next, Phlox and Hibiscus with Hollyhocks (Alcea) in the background:



ADDED: the yellow perennial is yellow loosestrife, Lysimachia puntata.