A Bed Story, Not a Bedtime Story

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Announcer: This is a Getty podcast.

[Theme music begins]

Host: You might have heard a bedtime story, but have you ever heard a bed tell a story? Welcome to If Objects Could Talk, the podcast where art and artifacts come alive and tell their side of the story. At the end of a long day, I am ready to curl up with all my pillows and blankets, and maybe even a few of my favorite stuffed animals. And people in the past were no different, except some of their beds were quite a bit fancier.

[Light classical music begins]

Our guest today is a bed. Not just any bed, a lit à la turque. That’s French, and we’ll let her explain what it means. She was made in Paris between 1750 and 1760 by many, many different craftspeople. Who knew beds were such hard work? Luckily, she knows a thing or two about rest and recovery, and hopefully she can stay awake long enough to share that with us.

Bed: [deep, feminine voice yawns] Oh, hello. Yes, I’m awake. Completely awake. I was just resting my eyes. [yawns again] I am the lit à la turque. Lit, that’s French for bed. À la turque, that means “in the Turkish style”. I guess I am here to tell you a bedtime story.

[Classical music plays]

Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince [man’s voice laughs] whose father gave him three impossible tasks [Man says “Eh?”] to prove himself worthy.

[music abruptly ends] Um, what’s this? I’m not sharing a bedtime story? [voice whispers “nope”] I am telling a story about myself…the bed. [bed creaks] Oh, I am so sorry. [yawns] I’m just so sleepy. I must have misheard you.

Well, what is there to tell about me? I am a bed. Impressive and gorgeous, to be certain. [bells chime] I am unusually large, even for a bed of my time. I am so high off the ground that you would have needed a small stool just to climb into me. My frame is beautifully carved with all the swirls and flourishes of the Rococo style.

[Classical music plays]

Rococo was the great passion of mid-18th century France, and it was all about an abundance of elegance and the beauty of nature. My two ends scroll outward like unfurling scrolls of paper, and that, actually, is the reason I am called “in the Turkish style”. In the 1700s, anything that seemed exotic was wildly fashionable in France. Turkey, China, Egypt, all the rage. [voice says “Ooh la la”] Craftsmen and designers loved to borrow shapes and feelings from these distant lands [lute music] to capture a sense of mystery, luxury, and the faraway, like living in a fairy tale.

I was designed to lie with my back against the wall, like a very elegant sofa, but grander. Above me would have hung a baldachin, that’s a fabric canopy. Textiles would hang from the canopy and go to each side of the bed, making the whole space feel more dramatic. [opera singers] My baldaquin is gone now, sadly. Oh, but I still remember the feeling of all that silk overhead. I also have large wheels at my base. Practical. The servants would pull my body out from the wall [heavy object dragging] to make me up with fresh linens while my tall back stayed in place. Then they’d push me right back in. Neat as you please. Thank you.

I loved being the center of attention, and lucky for me, there were often guests. [voices chatter] You know how at a sleepover everyone stays up late whispering and giggling in the dark? [giggles] Well, imagine a sleepover, but in reverse. [child says “Huh?”] Instead of late at night, all the fun happens first thing in the morning. Friends arrive while you’re still getting ready, doing hair, lacing dresses, picking out the perfect accessories. [voices over low music] Everyone is chatting and laughing, sharing gossip from the night before. Hot chocolate is being sipped, because in France, in those days, hot chocolate wasn’t just a treat. It was how fashionable people started their mornings.

Can you imagine starting every single morning that way? [child exclaims “Mmm!”] And I was practically the guest of honor. [sighs] Of course, not everything in life can be a party. Eventually, the guests went home. [voices say goodbye] Thank you very much for coming. The hot chocolate was finished. I’m so glad you could come. And then, bliss, sleep, my very favorite. [lullaby music] Sleep is very important, you know. You probably have a bedtime, and with great fortune and care, you don’t wake up until your alarm goes off.

However, in 18th-century France, people practiced something called biphasic sleep: bi, meaning two; phasic, meaning phases, so two phases of sleep. They would have a first sleep starting around dusk and then wake up around midnight [voice yawns] to read, [page turns] to pray, [voice murmurs] to do a spot of cleaning, [sweeps] to visit the neighbors. [voices say hello]

Could you imagine waking in the middle of the night to do your homework or clean your room, let alone head to your neighbor’s house to borrow a cup of milk? [voice says “No way.”] But for hundreds of years, that is how people did it. [yawn] Oh, are you getting sleepy? [voice says “Uh-huh.”] Talking about sleep tends to do that. Shall I tell you the story of how I was made? It’s a long story, but I’ll try to keep it brief so that you won’t fall asleep. That’s only charming when I do it.

[Classical music plays]

A bed like me does not simply appear. I was the work of many hands—many very skilled, very particular, very serious hands. There was a menuisier—that’s French for the woodworker. Mine was Monsieur Jean-Baptiste Tilliard, a master and head of his own workshop. In his workshop, my frame was built. [hammering and sawing] But Monsieur Tilliard and his team could not do everything themselves. Oh, no. In Paris at this time, furniture making was governed by the guilds, [voices chatter] groups of craftsmen with very strict rules about who was allowed to do what. And so I passed through many, many hands.

There was a sculpteur, the sculptor, who carved the elaborate ornament on my frame. [sawing] The acanthus leaves, the flowing curves, each one cut by hand, one careful chisel stroke at a time. Then came the doreur, the gilder. [chimes] Gilding means applying a thin layer of gold to a surface. My frame was first covered in a special paint called gesso to smooth it, [paint sloshing] and then the doreur would go back over every carved detail and sharpen it up again before applying the gold. All of that done by hand, by eye, by feel. And then my very favorite, the tapissier. Say it with me, tap-ee-see-ay, the upholsterer, the person responsible for my cushions, my padding, my fabric. [pats surface] Fabrics like silk, cotton, or wool, sometimes in combination, on enormous looms called draw looms. Weavers wove fabrics with patterns of flowers, vines, and leaves so intricate they looked like paintings.

[Classical music plays]

The fabric for my cushions and bolsters, those are the long pillow rolls at my scrolled ends, would have been woven in Lyon, dyed in deep, rich colors, then sewn and stretched and fitted by the tapissier with absolute precision. There is a sad little secret about fabric, though. [sighs] It is the first thing to go. [voice says “no way.”] No, it’s true! Wood lasts for centuries, gold as well, but fabric…fabric is fragile. It fades, it frays, it falls to pieces, just like me. When someone wakes me from a deep slumber [yawns] We have many beds from my era. We have very little of their original fabric. So alas, my original fabric is gone. The material on me now was made much later to give you a sense of my former glory. But in my time, the upholstery would’ve been changed out regularly, even with the seasons.

[Classical music plays]

Can you imagine, a new look every few months? Hmm. I rather liked that.

How about one more story before bedtime? I mean, my bedtime, of course. I told you a story about myself, the bed. Now, perhaps you would like to hear that bedtime story after all, which, as it turns out, is also a story about fairy tales.

[Slow, piano music plays]

Once upon a time, there was a woman named Madame d’Aulnoy, Marie-Catherine d’Aulnoy. She lived in France about 100 years before I was made, but her books were still very popular in my youth, and she did something no one had done before: she gave fairy tales their name, contes de fées, tales of fairies. Folktales and legends have existed forever, but we can thank Madame d’Aulnoy for inventing the term fairy tales for them, and doesn’t “fairy tale” just sound more magical?

My favorite of her stories is called “The White Cat”. In it, three princes must complete impossible tasks set by their father, the king, to prove which one is worthy to rule the kingdom. On one of the prince’s travels, he arrives at an enchanted castle filled with invisible hands that serve him, and he is welcomed by a beautiful white cat [cat meow] who is really a princess under a spell. [cat purrs] The prince is given a room to sleep in, and the bed is covered in quilts embroidered with gold and silver thread [bells chime] and curtains of the finest silk, because the cat princess knows that a guest deserves the very best, and a truly beautiful bed is a kindness. [voice yawns]

Eventually, the prince breaks the spell. The cat turns back into a princess. [woman’s voice says hello] They return to the kingdom, [crowd cheers] and it turns out the other two brothers have also completed their challenges [voices say “woah.”] and found brides. [laughter] Three weddings! Oh, that’s a lot of cake, and a lot of silk. I’m sure everyone was exhausted after, and gladly turned to their beautiful beds. [group yawns]

My favorite part of that story is how everyone came together for one big, happy ending, just like so many people came together to make me. Well, [yawns] I cannot keep my eyes open any longer. I simply cannot. It was lovely telling you my bed story, and my bedtime story. Nighty night.

[Lullaby music fades out]

[Theme music begins]

I hope you enjoyed learning about beds and fairy tales. Join us next time when a little guy talks about something really big. To see photographs of the bed, visit our website at getty dot edu slash IOCT. We’ve also got a listening guide with discussion questions and related activities there.

This episode was written by Tocarra Elise and produced by Zoe Goldman.  Shani Jamila voiced the bed. Theme music, mixing, and sound design by Alexandra Kalinowski. Christopher Sprinkle is executive producer. Special thanks to curators Anne-Lise Desmas and Miriam Schefzyk, as well as Rebekkah Hart.

These stories are historical fiction. They’re based on historical facts and deep research, but we’ve filled in the gaps to make a good story. If you have questions about what you’ve heard, write to us at podteam at getty dot edu. Catch you next time.