Sintra's Pena Palace and the Artist King Who Built It
With two Great Danes standing rib cage height next to Mark and me, we assembled on the grass terrace. Our hostess, Joana, pointed to each of the three visible castles on the Serra de Sintra sloping away and up above her guest house in the valley. We had reached the hub of Portugal’s Romantic Era, Sintra, abundant with castles sheathed in vivid ceramic tiles, Gothic architecture and palatial gardens bearing flowers and foliage from faraway lands.
Guest house co-host Barao kept watch and kept us entertained by his enormousness.
Joana pointed to the 8th century Castle of the Moors. “I love that castle because when you are there you can feel the natural energy of the earth right here,” she said, with the palm of her other hand flat on her core. “We could pack you a lunch and give you a map to hike there from this side of the hill, up through the trees. It takes about an hour and is a beautiful hike.”
Seeing dense, ascending forest between the guest house and the vertical outcrop topped by the ruins, I hoped Mark wouldn’t be moved by the grandeur of the view and spontaneously accept the mountain climbing invitation as our choice for transportation. He did not.
The dramatic brick red and ochre hues of the Pena Castle punched off the ridge next. The royal summer palace, full of fancy pie-crust architectural ornaments, watch tower shapes and domes appeared lavish and dreamy in the cotton candy clouds. Next, the medieval notched-top keep of the Quinta da Regaleira was full of Knights Templar secrets, Joana explained. She hushed her tone as if Tom Hanks might lean out from the night-blooming jasmine tree at her Casa do Valle guest house spouting plot twists from the Da Vinci Code trilogy. And beyond that, although not in view from that valley vantage point, was Monserrat, adored for its intimate, lush landscape and striking Casbah-like manse.
Tuk, Tuk and Away to Pena Palace
Over fruit, cheese, bread and coffee on our room’s balcony the next morning, I made kissy noises at Pandora and Barão, one steel colored dog and one like coal, as they galloped onto the yard below. We inhaled the 55-degree morning and the tippy-top-of-the-hill technicolor sight of Pena Palace, our morning destination by way of tuk tuk. Thanks to Joana’s contact, Mark and I climbed into the three-wheeled taxi outside the hotel gate. I rattled the canvas-sheathed back door closed, buckled in and we buzzed up the hill. Our tuk tuk sucked the wind into our open cab and climbed into town. Pedestrians glanced at us as if we were Portuguese royalty—or loud commuters—as we zipped through the medieval town center.
From a vantage point in the heart of Sintra's historic center, the Moorish Castle on the hill marks the parade of scenic viewpoint palaces and mansions.
We eked around parked cars along the narrow roads and chugged further up the hill side through the switch backs to the lower entrance gate to Pena Palace. Not quite there, on foot we climbed another 15-minute uphill zigzag. The cardio rush of that hike was good for me after all the pillowy, filled Travesseiro and Queijada tart-like pastries and the Alentejo region’s wine. The castle we’d seen from below materialized, now magnified and in fire-rich coloring.
The Artist King's Greatest Creation
Cultured, multi-lingual and lauded as the artist king, King Ferdinand II built Pena Palace around the cloister of a 16th century monastery as its nucleus, having purchased the decaying religious property in 1838 with plans to refurbish the ruins and gardens at the highest point in the Sintra Hills. The monastery had been built in Portugal’s Age of Discovery by King Manuel I, who was hunting in the mountains when he spotted out in the ocean the return from India the armada of the explorer Vasco da Gama. In thanks for another successful expedition in amassing the wealth of the Eastern exotic spice trade, King Manuel I commissioned the construction of the monastery. The exoticism conjured by year-long ocean journeys to collect cinnamon, clove and pepper—and the commemoration of its venerated king, called Manuel the Fortunate—dovetailed well with King Ferdinand II’s desire to usher into Portugal the period of self-discovery and a passion for culture and the arts. Emoting across Central Europe, this was the Era of Romanticism.
King Ferdinand II was the first cousin of England’s Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s husband, and he grew up immersed in fine art, performance and the luxury of Central Europe. He painted watercolors and ceramics, created sculpture and etchings. He collected engravings, ceramics and stained-glass windows. Had King Ferdinand II not become King, he would have, according to Pena Palace materials, no doubt become one of the world’s greatest artists, a proclamation I will leave for debate among art scholars.
So rare were three dimension tiles, but the king, himself a ceramic painter, implemented the applied arts, such as vivid tile work into many of Pena Palace's exterior and interior spaces.
From the exterior’s architectural ornamentations to the interior artful wall treatments throughout, Pena Palace materialized the King’s vision and depth of artistic enthusiasm. A product of that seafaring Age of Discovery, Manueline architectural detailing incorporated in the stone carving and tile all things ocean bound, navigational and nautical, under the sea and ship like. On the visitor’s approach, centerstage on the Terrace of the Triton and looming above the portal to the original palace entrance was carved in stone mythical sea god, Triton, with his man and fish combo body crouched on a fabulously ridged shell floating on a delicate coral bed. Palace history conveyed assorted grand interpretations of the Triton’s crabby presence—either scientific or Manueline design in meaning—but I found the winning explanation to be that his likeness once inhabited an area beach cave.
The sea Triton on the half shell, floating on a coral reef, proved so stunningly intricate in the stone carving onlookers barely noticed his grouchy demeanor.
Will This Centerpiece Fit in My Purse?
I adored the royal family’s private dining room that had been the monastery’s refectory (dining hall), and it was not simply because I wanted to steal all the tableware within it. The original rib-vaulted ceiling had been restored and infilled by white tiles bearing origami looking pinwheels that alternated in cranberry and jade.
Palace curators had set the oak table for 12 but it could accommodate a crowd of 20. Red and green crystal stemware exactly matching the pattern on the tile colorized an otherwise white tablescape, complete with the white royal crest Limoges dishware in a gilt edge. I bent over the rope railing to get a closer look at the place settings and the magnificent three-foot-tall sterling silver ship centerpiece. Could I make it over the stanchions, sneak the “designated Portuguese National Treasure” from 1885 into my purse and out of the castle without notice? It might work wrapped in my blue puffer jacket.
“Ready?” Mark poked me from my fantasy heist day dream. Last to leave from our clump of onlookers, regrettably, I moved along.
Originally the refectory of the 16th century Manueline monastery, the dining room of Pena Palace boasted classic Manueline rib vaults in the ceiling and the tile, which was added later, seemingly brought the porcelain element from the table and sideboards onto the walls and ceiling.
Exotic, Romantic Heart of Pena Palace
Standing in the King’s chambers I realized the wall and ceiling treatment that appeared to be intricate patterned tile was gold-painted lattice wood pieces mounted in a geometric pattern atop a blue and red motif. King Ferdinand II wanted the Neo-Mudejar décor to show how the exotic near and far east that the Age of Discovery pushed to explore had a strong influence on Romantic culture.
The view out the bedroom’s windows framed the ruins of the neighboring old Moorish Castle. Drawn to the beauty of that castle’s vast surrounding landscape, the King purchased it for enjoyment as well as its preservation.
King Ferdinand purchased the 8th century Castle of the Moors and had it restored for the enjoyment of Portugal's people as well as his own view from the royal apartment.
Exotic, Romantic Heart of Pena Palace
Standing in the King’s chambers I realized the wall and ceiling treatment that appeared to be intricate patterned tile was gold-painted lattice wood pieces mounted in a geometric pattern atop a blue and red motif. King Ferdinand II wanted the Neo-Mudejar décor to show how the exotic near and far east that the Age of Discovery pushed to explore had a strong influence on Romantic culture.
After passing the wall of Moorish Castle-view windows, the bobbin-turned post bed and glancing away from the faux-tile wall treatments in the King’s private rooms, the walls and ceilings in the Arabic and Music Rooms and the Great Hall transformed into sculptor, plasterer and craftsmen canvases, full of elongated arches, dramatic vaults and coffered ceilings. In cream and caramel, they chiseled out plant motifs and spindles. Scarf-swaddled Arabic heads angled down from the ceiling. Powder puff pink with white fretwork overlays and bursting medallions topped the door frames. Diamond patterned floors in wood parquet and marble. Two pairs of dark walnut Turkish lamp holder men flanked the pathway of the Great Hall, and each figure anchored his stance with an oversized gold-plated brass candelabra gripped like a scepter. One leaned noticeably askew—the imperfect charm of an antique, really—and I felt relieved the fixtures were not lit by an open flame. I quieted my urge to step over and straighten the fellow’s torchiere.
Two pairs of dark walnut Turkish lamp holder men flanked the pathway of the Great Hall, and each figure anchored his stance with an oversized gold-plated brass candelabra gripped like a scepter.
Historic Architecture A Storybook to the Past
King Ferdinand II’s love of art and culture also spurred him as the driving force to preserve and restore several extravagant monasteries of Manueline architecture around Portugal, including Monastery of Batalha in Batalha, Monastery of the Jerónimos in Belem and the Convent of Christ in Tomar. Their preservation would further the revival of Portugal’s greatest innovation in architecture, Manueline design, in addition to his directed application of those design elements anew at the Pena Palace.
King Ferdinand II devoted his years as King and after the death of his wife, Queen Maria II, in other civic roles to work that furthered the Romantic sensibility, that focus on nature, the arts and education. Romanticism favored individualism, yet King Ferdinand II’s creation of Pena Palace and his passion for preserving the past, in part, through Portugal’s iconic architecture has benefitted so many.
Much of the copper cookware in the kitchen belonged to King Ferdinand II's original collection, identified by his royal seal of an F topped by a crown and above the letters PP for Pena Palace. The stoves are two of the original three that remain. Wouldn't it be a thrill to cook in this kitchen?
