This past summer I stayed close to home, in Belgium, and took the opportunity to revisit old favorites. Chateau of Freÿr holds a special place in my heart. I’ve been here many times —but the spell never breaks.
Perched gracefully along the River Meuse, Freÿr is a captivating marriage of symbolism, geometry, history, and playfulness. At first glance, its formal layout whispers of classical French style, but look closer and you’ll find a deeply personal, almost meditative intimacy that sets it apart from the grand pomp of French stalwarts such as Versailles or Vaux-le-Vicomte.
It’s a garden that speaks—sometimes in the language of faith, sometimes of fashion, sometimes simply of joy.
Guillaume’s Meditative Garden: A Spiritual Blueprint
The original heart of the gardens was designed by Guillaume de Beaufort-Spontin (1708-1766), who happened to be a canon at the collegiate church of Notre Dame in nearby Namur. Every element was loaded with spiritual symbolism—this was a space as much for contemplation as for admiration.
The garden is divided into three parts, echoing the Holy Trinity. Seven pools may call to mind the seven days of creation or the seven sacraments. At the intersection of the garden’s axes lies a circular pool—without beginning or end, like eternity itself—surrounded by linden trees forming a cloister. Four groups of trees represent the four evangelists, but also the four continents known at the time, hinting at the universality of the Christian message.
At the end of the garden is the orangerie, a building that dates to the 18th century and which, as its name implies, is used to store a collection of citrus trees in the winter. Freyr´s citrus trees are some of the oldest in Europe, with some dating back to the 1740`s.
in the mild season when all danger of frost is past the collection of citrus trees, in elegant white cubic planters, line the garden's geometric alleys.
They are an essential element in Guillaume´s spiritual design: they’re a quiet nod to paradise itself: golden apples worthy of Eden, with the rare gift of bearing leaves, flowers, and fruit all at once—just like the fabled Tree of Life.
Philippe’s Vision: From Meditation to Optical Magic
When Guillaume’s brother Philippe (1724-1799) took over in 1766, the spirit of the Enlightenment was in full swing. A Freemason and an intellectual, Philippe wanted the garden to reflect the fashionable taste for perspective tricks and optical illusions. So, he expanded the grounds, stretching them up the slope, and emphasized the transverse axis leading toward the river.
The result was a clever interplay between the upper and lower gardens—two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces, one contemplative and serene, the other designed for playful exploration.
Where an orchard once stood, Philippe planted eight hornbeam labyrinths, their patterns inspired by playing cards—spades, hearts, clubs, and diamonds. Walking through them feels intimate, the tall hedges curving in gentle diagonals, leading you toward new surprises.
At the very top sits the Frederic Hall, built in 1775 for Philippe’s nephew. This elegant Baroque pavilion became a hub of social life—hosting, among other events, a glittering ball for Archduchess Marie-Christine in 1785. From here, the true genius of Philippe’s design becomes clear: the garden’s optical illusion.
An Illusion in Green and Water
From the Frederic Hall, your eye is drawn along perfectly calculated lines. Hedges and paths create converging perspectives, pulling your gaze to the opposite bank of the Meuse. The effect? The garden feels larger than it is—a clever trick of geometry and Baroque design.
Water plays a starring role here. Eight basins, a small waterfall, and the great natural backdrop of the Meuse itself combine into a symphony of stillness and movement. Ingeniously, the basins are fed by a spring nearly a kilometer away, using nothing more than gravity and underground channels to keep the fountains flowing year-round.
Survival Through Storms
Freÿr has weathered more than just the changing fashions of garden design. During the French Revolution, the château and gardens escaped destruction thanks—so the story goes—to its orange trees.
A would-be plunderer from a nearby town was so taken with them that he delayed his plans until carts could be fetched for transport. By the time they arrived, the political tide had turned, and the estate was spared.
Remarkably, Freÿr has remained in the same family for over 20 generations. Maintaining its six kilometers of hedges and intricate waterworks is a monumental task, yet the current heirs still do much of the work themselves—a testament to the enduring love this family has for their home.
Why Freÿr Feels Different
Though it’s often called “the most French of all gardens in Belgium,” Freÿr doesn’t intimidate. It welcomes. The scale is human, the spaces intimate, and the integration with the surrounding landscape—especially the Meuse—makes it feel as though the garden and river have always belonged together.
It’s this combination of symbolism, play, history, and sheer beauty that makes Freÿr more than just a garden. It’s a living inheritance, quietly evolving yet timeless in its appeal. And for visitors, it offers something rare: the chance to wander through history without losing the sense that this is, above all, a place made for pleasure.
A must-see on any garden tour to Belgium!
Ready to plan your trip to Freÿr?
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