VERSAILLES: THE GLORY OF FRANCE
"_Glorieuse, monumentale et monotone
La facade de pierre effrite, au vent qui passe
Son chapiteau friable et sa guirlande lasse
En face du parc jaune ou s'accoude l'automne._
* * *
_Mais le soleil, aux vitres d'or qu'il incendie
Y semble rallumer interieurement
Le sursaut, chaque soir de la Gloire engourdi._"
These lines of Henri de Regnier explain the aspect of the Versailles of
to-day better than any others ever written.
Versailles is a medley of verdure, a hierarchy of bronze and a forest of
marble. This is an expression full of anomalies, but it is strictly
applicable to Versailles. Its waters, jets and cascades, its monsters,
its Tritons and Valhalla of marble statues set off the artificial
background in a manner only to be compared to a stage setting--a
magnificent stage setting, but still palpably unreal.
Yes, Versailles is sad and grim to-day; one hardly knows why, for its
memories still live, and the tangible evidences of most of its great
splendour still stand.
"_Voici tes ifs en cone et tes tritons joufflus
Tes jardins composes ou Louis ne vient plus,
Et ta pompe arborant les plumes et les casques._"
It is not possible to give here either an architectural review or a
historical chronology of Versailles; either could be made the _raison
d'etre_ for a weighty volume.
The writer has confined himself merely to a more or less correlated
series of patent facts and incidents which, of itself, shows well the
futility of any other treatment being given of a subject so vast within
the single chapter of a book.
The history of Versailles is a story of the people and events that
reflected the glory and grandeur of the Grand Monarque of the Bourbons
and made his palace and its environs a more sublime expression of
earthly pomp than anything which had gone before, or has come to pass
since.
Versailles, after its completion, became the perfect expression of the
decadence and demoralization of the old regime. It can only be compared
to the relations between du Barry and the young Marie Antoinette, who
was all that was contrary to all for which the former stood.
That the court of Louis XV was artificially brilliant there is no doubt.
It was this that made it stand out from the sombre background of the
masses of the time. It was a dazzling, human spectacle, and Versailles,
with its extravagant, superficial charms, carried it very near to the
brink of ruin, though even in its most banal vulgarities there was a
certain sense of ambitious sincerity. The people of the peasant class
lived as animals, "black, livid and scorched by the sun." The sense of
all this penetrated readily even to Versailles, so that La Pompadour or
Louis, one or the other of them, or was it both together, cried out
instinctively: "_Apres nous le deluge._"
The intricacies of the etiquette of the daily life of the king, his
follies and fancies, made the history of Versailles the most brilliant
of that of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries--certainly it was
the most opulent. The manners of the time were better than the morals,
and if good taste in art and architecture had somewhat fallen there is
no doubt but that a charming fantasy often made up for a lack of
estheticism.
The story of the palace, the park, the king and his court are so
interwoven that no _resume_ of the story of one can ignore that of any
of the others. The king and court present themselves against this
background with an intimacy and a clearness which is remarkable for its
appeal to one's curiosity. It is a long, long day of life which begins
with the _petit lever_ and only ends with the _grand coucher_.
If there was ever a Castle of Indolence and Profligacy it was
Versailles, though indeed it is regarded as the monarchy's brilliant
zenith. The picture is an unforgetable one to any who have ever read its
history or seen its stones.
In the year 1650, Martial de Lomenci, one of the ministers of Charles
IX, was the Seigneur of Versailles, but at the will of Catherine de
Medici he was summarily strangled that she might get possession of the
property and make a present of it to her favourite, Albert de Gondi,
Marechal de Retz.
About 1625 Louis XIII had caused a small hunting pavilion to be built
near by and, by degrees, acquiring more land took it into his head to
erect something more magnificent in the way of a country-house, though
the real conception of a suburban Paris palace only came with Louis XIV.
Levau, the latter's architect, made the necessary alterations to the
structure already existing, and little by little the more magnificent
project known in its completed form to-day was evolved. War not being
actually in progress, or imminent, great bodies of soldiery were set at
work with pick and shovel, and at one time thirty thousand had laid
aside their sabres and muskets for the more peaceful art of
garden-making under the direction of Le Notre.
In three decades the sum total of the chief roll of expenses of the
palace and its dependencies reached eighty-one million, one hundred and
fifty-one thousand, four hundred and fourteen _livres_, nine _sols_ and
two _deniers_. It is perhaps even more interesting to know that of this
vast sum more than three millions went for marble, twenty-one millions
for masonry, two and a half millions for the rougher woodwork and a like
sum for marquetry. Other additional "trifling" embellishments of
Versailles and the Trianon during the same period counted up another six
million and a half.
The expense of these works was enormous on all sides. Water being
required for the purpose of supplying the fountains it was proposed that
the waters of the Eure should be turned from their original bed and made
to pass through Versailles, and the enterprise was actually begun.
Beyond the gardens was formed the Little Park, about four leagues
around, and beyond this lay the Great Park, measuring twenty leagues
around and enclosing several forest villages. The total expenses of
these works may never have been exactly known, but they must have been
immense, that is certain, and have even been estimated at as much as one
billion francs. The works were so far completed in 1664 that the first
Versailles fete was given to consecrate the palace. In honour of this
event Moliere composed "La Princesse d'Elide."
The improvements, however, were continued, and in 1670, Levau, dying,
was succeeded by his nephew, Jules Hardouin Mansart, who wished to
destroy the chateau of Louis XIII and erect one uniform building. Louis
XIV, out of respect to his father, would not allow Mansart's project to
be carried out and therefore alterations were only made in the court by
surrounding it on the western side with the magnificent buildings now
forming the garden front. The southern wing was subsequently added for
the accommodation of the younger members of the royal family. In 1685
the northern wing was erected to meet the requirements of the attaches
of the court. The chapel was commenced in 1699 and finished in 1710.
Louis XIV took up his residence in the palace in 1681 with Madame de
Montespan, and, thirty-five years afterwards, died there, the reigning
favourite then being Madame de Maintenon. During this time Versailles
was the theatre of many extraordinary scenes. Louis XV was born here
but did not take up his residence here until after he was of age. Here
it was that his favourites Madame de Chateauroux, Madame de Pompadour
and Madame du Barry found themselves most at home. It was under the
direction of this monarch that the theatre was built in the northern
wing, and was formally opened on the occasion of the marriage of the
dauphin, Louis XVI, in 1770.
Towards the end of the reign of Louis XV a new wing and pavilion were
added on the northern side of the principal court, and it was proposed
to build across the court a new front in the same uniform style. The
idea could not be carried out in consequence of the troublous times of
Louis XVI and the enormous estimated expense. The Revolution intervened
and Versailles remained closed until it was reopened by the first
Napoleon, who, however, was unable to take up his residence in it on
account of his frequent campaigns afield.
At the Restoration Louis XVIII, as the representative of the ancient
monarchy, wished to make Versailles the seat of the court, but was
deterred from doing so by the appalling previous expense. During the
reigns of both Napoleon and Louis XVIII considerable sums were expended
in its refurbishing so that it was not wholly a bygone when finally the
French authorities made of it, if not the chief, at least the most
popular _monument historique_ of all France.
And yet the aspect of Versailles is sadly wearying. To-day Versailles is
lonely; one is haunted by the silence and the bareness, if not actual
emptiness. Only once in seven years does the old palace take on any air
of the official life of the Republic, and that is when the two
legislative bodies join forces and come to Versailles to vote for the
new president. For the rest of the time it is deserted, save for the
guardians and visitors, a memory only of the splendours imagined and
ordained by Louis XIV.
For nearly a century the master craftsmen of a nation conspired to its
beatification, and certainly for gorgeousness and extravagance
Versailles has merited any encomiums which have ever been expended upon
it. It was made and remade by five generations of the cleverest workers
who ever lived, until it took supreme rank as the greatest storehouse of
luxurious trifles in all the world.
One wearies though of the straight lines and long vistas of Versailles,
the endless repetition of classical motives, which, while excellent,
each in its way, do pall upon one in an inexplicable fashion. It
possesses, however, a certain dignity and grace in every line. This is a
fact which one can not deny. It is expressive of--well, of nothing but
Versailles, and the part it played in the life of its time.
The millions for Versailles were obtained in ways too devious and
lengthy to follow up here. Even Louis XIV began to see before the end
the condition into which he had led the nation, though he punished every
one who so much as hinted at his follies. Vauban, "the hero of a hundred
sieges," published a book on the relations between the king and court
and the tax-paying masses and was disgraced forever after, dying within
a few months of a broken heart that he should have been so impotent in
attempting to bring about a reform.
The life of the king at Versailles had little of privacy in it. From his
rising to his going to bed he was constantly in the hands of his valets
and courtiers, even receiving ambassadors of state while he was still
half hidden by the heavy curtains of his great four-poster. They had
probably been waiting hours in the Salon de l'OEl de Boeuf before
being admitted to the kingly presence.
It was at this period that Michael Chamillard, the Minister of War,
introduced billiards into France by the way of Versailles. He played
with Louis XIV and pleased him greatly, but Chamillard was no
statesman, as history and the following lines from his epitaph point
out.
"_Ci git le fameux Chamillard
De son Roy le pronotaire
Qui fut un heros au billard
Un zero dans le Ministere._"
This apartment of the OEil de Boeuf was the ancient Cabi du Conseil.
It is a wonderfully decorated apartment, and its furnishings, beyond
those which are actually built into the fabric, are likewise of a
splendour and good taste which it is to be regretted is not everywhere
to be noted in the vast palace of Louis XIV. The garnishings of the
chimney-piece alone would make any great room interesting and well
furnished, and the great golden clock, finely chiselled and brilliantly
burnished, is about the most satisfactory French clock one ever saw,
marking, as it does, in its style, the transition between that of Louis
XIV and Louis XV.
Versailles, in many respects, falls far short to-day of the ideal; its
very bigness and bareness greatly detract from the value of the historic
souvenir which has come down to us. Changes could undoubtedly be made to
advantage, and to this point much agitation has lately been directed,
particularly in cutting out some of the recently grown up trees which
have spoiled the classic vistas of the park, and the removal of those
ugly equestrian statues which the Monarchy of July erected.
Versailles only came under Napoleon's cursory regard for a brief moment.
He hardly knew whether he would care to make his home here or not, but
ordered his architects to make estimates for certain projects which he
had conceived and when he got them was so staggered at their magnitude
that he at once threw over any idea that he may have had of making it
his dwelling.
The Revolution had stripped the palace quite bare; no wonder that the
emperor balked at the cost of putting it in order. Napoleon may have had
his regrets for he made various allusions to Versailles while exiled at
Saint Helena, but then it was too late.
Louis Philippe took a matter-of-fact view of the possible service that
the vast pile might render to his family and accordingly spent much
money in a great expanse of gaudy wall decorations which are there
to-day, thinking to make of it a show place over which might preside the
genius of his sons.
These acres of meaningless battle-pieces, Algerian warfare and what not
are characteristic of the "Citizen-King" whose fondness for red plush,
green repp and horsehair sofas was notable. What he did at Versailles
was almost as great a vandalism against art as that wrought by the
Revolution.
Last scene of all:--Under Lebrun's magnificent canopied ceiling, where
the effigy of Louis XIV is being crowned by the Goddess of Glory, and
the German eagle sits on a denuded tree trunk screaming in agony and
beating his wings in despair, William of Prussia was proclaimed Emperor
of United Germany. It was almost as great an indignity as France ever
suffered; the only greater was when the Prussians marched through the
Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile. That was, and is, the Frenchman's--the
Parisian's, at all events--culminating grief.
The apartment referred to is the Grand Galerie des Glaces (or Galerie
Louis XIV), which is accredited as one of the most magnificently
appointed rooms of its class in all the world. It is nearly two hundred
and fifty feet in length, nearly forty feet in width, and forty-three
feet in height. It is lighted by seventeen large arched windows, which
correspond with arched niches on the opposite wall filled with
mirrors--hence the name.
Sixty Corinthian columns of red marble with bases and capitals of gilt
bronze fill up the intervening wall spaces. The vaulted ceiling by
Lebrun is divided into eighteen small compartments and nine of much
larger dimensions, in which are allegorically represented the principal
events in the history of Louis XIV, from the Peace of the Pyrenees to
that of Nymeguen.
It was in this splendid apartment that Louis XIV displayed the grandeur
of royalty in its highest phase and such was the luxury of the times,
such the splendour of the court, that its immense size could hardly
contain the crowd of courtiers that pressed around the monarch.
Several splendid fetes took place in this great room, of which those of
the marriage of the Duc de Bourgogne in 1697 and that given on the
arrival of Marie Antoinette were the most brilliant.
Following are three pen-pictures of this historic palace.
THE VERSAILLES OF LONG AGO. It was to Versailles that the _Grand Roi_
repaired after his stern chase of the Spaniards across Flanders; through
the wood of Saint Germain and over those awful cobblestones which
Parisians know so well to-day rolled the gilded _carrosse_ of the king.
He had already been announced by a runner who had also brought news of
the latest victory. Courtiers and populace alike crowded the streets of
the town in an effort to acquire a good place from which to see the
arrival of the king. Intendants and servitors were giving orders on all
sides, frequently contradictory, and gardeners were furbishing up the
alleyed walks and flower beds in readiness for _Sa Majeste Louis
Quatorze_ and all his little world of satellites. A majestic
effervescence bubbled over all, and the _bourgeoisie_ enjoyed itself
hugely, climbing even on roof-tops and gables in the town without the
palace gates.
The _Roi Soleil_ came at last to his "well-beloved city of Versailles."
"He arrived in a cloud of golden dust," said a writer of the time, and
any who have seen Versailles blazing and treeless in the middle of a
long, hot summer, will know what it was like on that occasion.
Cannons roared, and the sound of revelry and welcoming joy was
everywhere to be heard.
THE VERSAILLES OF YESTERDAY. The lugubrious booming of cannons came
rolling over the meanderings of the Seine from the capital. The
hard-heads of Paris would understand nothing; they would make flow
never-ceasing rivers of blood. The national troops were well-nigh
impotent; it was difficult to shoot down your own flesh and blood at any
time; doubly so when your native land has not yet been evacuated by a
venturesome enemy. It was the time of the Commune. Traffic at
Versailles was of that intensity that circulation was almost impossible.
In spite of a dismal April rain the town was full of all sorts and
conditions of men. The animation of the crowd was feverish, but it was
without joy. A convoy of prisoners passed between two lines of soldiers
with drawn bayonets. They were Frenchmen, but they were Communards. It
was but a moment before they were behind the barred doors of the
barracks which was to be their prison, packed like a troop of sheep for
the slaughter. Versailles itself, the palace and the town, were still
sad. The rain still fell in torrents.
THE VERSAILLES OF TO-DAY. Roses, begonias, geraniums, the last of a long
hot summer, still shed their fragrant memories over the park of
Versailles. In the long, sober alleys a few leaves had already dropped
from the trees above, marking the greensward and the gravel like a
_tapis d'orient_, red and green and gold.
Flora and Bacchus in their fountains seemed less real than ever before,
more sombre under the pale, trickling light through the trees. A few
scattered visitors were about, sidling furtively around the Trianon, the
Colonnade and the _Bosquet d'Apollon_; and the birds of the wood were
even now bethinking of their winter pilgrimage. Versailles was still
sad. The last rays of the setting sun shot forth reflected gold from the
windows of the chateau and soon the silver blue veil of a September
twilight came down like a curtain of gauze.
Versailles, the Versailles of other days, is gone forever. Who will
awaken its echoes in after years? When will the Trianon again awake with
the coquetries of a queen? When will the city of the _Roi Soleil_ come
again into its own proud splendour?
The sun has set, the great iron gates of the courtyard are closed, the
palace and all therein sleeps.
"_Allon nous en d'ici: laissons la place aux ombres._"