Back to the future at Chateau de Trevarez

West Australian

2 days ago

Imagine this: A relative dies and you inherit some money. You already own a block of land, and decide to build a house on it.
An engineer friend says he can help design the house. You ask for the latest in modern technologies to be included, and the tradies turn up, but delays with materials mean it takes 14 years to build. When it is finally finished, you move in and have a large housewarming party.
Now shift the scene to Saint-Goazec, in Brittany, western France. The year is 1893, the block of land is 210 acres, the engineer employs the same techniques used to build the Eiffel Tower, and the modern technologies include electricity, a lift, hot water baths, flushing toilets, fire extinguishers on each floor, and an internal telephone. The house is four storeys tall, and the housewarming lasts a month. Welcome to Domaine de Trevarez, a chateau that took 14 years to build and was completed in 1907.
The first building you see looks very grand — and large enough to be a chateau in its own right. However, this is the stables, once home to the horses and carriages that brought guests to the main house for hunting parties. It had quarters for some of the servants and one of the largest glass ceilings installed at the time.
The chateau is a 350m walk from the stables and takes you through exceptional gardens planted in 1900. Hydrangeas from the Americas, camellias and rhododendrons complement the natural forest. An Italian garden was constructed to the left of the chateau, and your eye is drawn towards a large fountain. This garden was designed in such a way as to collect water from hillside run-off and store it in stone pool chambers. It is then gravity-fed to ornate fountains.
The house itself, constructed of pink brick and stone, is a sight to behold with its soaring pointed turrets, grand arches, detailed stonework and enormous chimneys. The level of detail in the rooms is magnificent, the skill in construction evident, and the cost of materials irrelevant.
The owner, James de Kerjegu, was born into a Breton family with many political connections. He began a career in the diplomatic service, married a wealthy banker's daughter, and progressed up the social ladder while stationed at embassies from Buenos Aires to Vienna. In 1892, he inherited a fortune and succeeded his father as a councillor for Quimperle.
In 1893, now wealthy and harbouring grand aspirations, James hired a prestigious architect to build a home worthy of his status. He required every modern convenience and stipulated that an iron frame be used to speed up construction. Comparable to the Eiffel Tower, the chateau would be lighter than conventional buildings and less expensive than a wooden-framed one, and it provided the community a talking point that would please its owner immensely — it was held together by rivets, a novelty at the end of the 19th century.
When guests arrived, they entered the Grand Salon which reflected Kerjegu's enthusiasm for the arts, with nature and plant motifs decorating the wood panels, a stucco ceiling and soaring marble columns. In the dining room, with its false-beamed ceiling, enormous fireplace and dining table, guests would enjoy sumptuous meals. The servants were concealed behind unheard-of sliding, ornate frosted-glass doors.
You can listen to an imagined dinner party with a seven-course meal in progress through speakers placed on the dining table. It must have been an experience to be invited here. Now on Sunday afternoons, Belle Epoque-style picnics are held. Men wear cream suits and straw hats, women dress in white lace and twirl parasols, and children play 1920s games on the manicured lawn.
Photographers with tripods dive under black cloaks to take their shots. For the extra-keen, afternoon tea with a countess is also available.
Sadly, James' life at the chateau was not a long one, as he was the master of Trevarez for only a year before his unexpected death. His only daughter, Francoise, inherited Trevarez and stayed here during the hunting seasons with her husband. On the outbreak of World War II, the chateau was used to store precious works of art removed for safekeeping from Calais museums. When the German high command chose the site for a recuperation base for its submarine crews, the art was quickly taken further south for safekeeping.
In 1944, British aircraft attacked the chateau as German officers were occupying Trevarez causing significant damage and turning much of the Grand Salon to rubble. The chateau stood in disrepair until 1968, when the Consul-General of Finisterre took control of the property and restoration work began. Three years later the estate was opened to the public, and with visitor funding, the damaged roof was repaired. More repair work is under way, and some of the upper floors are now accessible.
Built at a time when most people still used oil lamps for light, Domaine de Trevarez and its grounds were a luxurious and futuristic vision of the conveniences we take for granted today — bathing indoors with running hot water, electric lights and no bedpans — all good news for the long-suffering servants. Thanks to the foresight of James de Kerjegu, we can look back in time to have a glimpse of the future.