I’m not sure when my transformation from dread of Versailles to curiosity occurred—while listening to our guide, while visiting the Little Theater, while strolling through the bucolic Hamlet, while having an enjoyable lunch at La Petite Venise in the garden of the chateau, while having tea and pastries at the Hotel Trianon Palace with a view of royal pastures, or after dinner in Paris when Lolly told me this was the best birthday she ever had—but by the end of the day I actually looked forward to returning again.
You may imagine that my newfound appreciation for Versailles derives from having had a private tour, off-season access, and a good meal while accompanied by a dear and appreciative friend. Well, you’re right. Rather, you’re right that my private Marie-Antoinette/Lolly Winston visit gave me second thoughts about Versailles.
On previous visits my approach had been wrong. I’d kept trying to wrap my brain around a single Versailles whereas there is no single Versailles to wrap it around. Versailles is a massive backdrop for serious and less serious games of power, luxury, lust, and top-down entertainment. But one can connect with it only through those who inhabited it, their pleasures and policies, their triumphs and failures, and the echo of their history and cautionary tales in France and around the world.
So maybe the s in Versailles should be pronounced after all, not only because it’s so big Versize but also because it’s so plural (Verighs).
Versailles, Versigh, Versighs, Versize, and even Versace is/are manageable only a grouping of overlapping sights to be examined layer by layer until eventually, having examined them separately, you put the pieces together and see why some people still want to live in their own private ancien régime… while others dream of revolution.
For the first-time visitor, the layer to begin with is that of its creator, Louis XIV, especially now that the Hall of Mirrors has been fully restored.
In the past year I’ve been tasting little bits of Versailles, digesting it layer by layer. I’ve yet to join the Société des Amis de Versailles or even the American Friends of Versailles, but one year and half a dozen visits after touring Versailles with Lolly I would consider joining Society of Curious Acquaintances. During that time, Versailles has pursued its own transformation, expanding its touring space, restoring major sections, and attempting to become more visitor-friendly while in the midst of a 17-year, 390-million euro plan, begun in 2002.
The Purgatory Wing
Visiting in the spring I found that the entire northern wing of the chateau had been reopened to the public as a portrait gallery. I no longer dreaded going to the Hell, I mean the Hall of Mirrors, but I wasn’t prepared to spend time in purgatory, which is clearly the role of the new portrait gallery.
Purists, i.e. the rare French adults who visit the domain of Versailles, accuse the powers that be of turning Versailles into Louisland Historical and Amusement Park, though that’s what it actually was from the start, with, as its logo, the gilt sun radiating around a secure, peaceful child’s face with wavy hair. The powers that be are actually frustrated that more people can’t distinguish a Louis XIV armchair from a Louis XV. You’d think that the solution would then be to put some furniture in easy view. Instead, reluctant to occupy precious floor space during the crowded spring-summer season, they’ve hung a dense collection of paintings of men wearing tights and wigs, pale-faced women with generous décolleté, and prime ministers dressed as cardinals.
The purgatory wing is basically punishment for believing that we could get away with visiting Versailles without recognizing Louis XIV and his entourage. In summer, guards near the entrance will tell you in 8 languages that you can’t gain direct access to the Great Apartments and Hall of Mirrors until you’ve viewed every single painting. You’ll then enter thinking you’ll just rush through this section, only to find that the pace through the wing is set by a 90-year-old couple arguing as to whether the gardens seen out the window mean that they’ve arrived at Giverny already.
On subsequent visits I’ve realized that life in purgatory is actually worthwhile if viewed not as simple punishment but as foreplay, a punishment of enrichment. The succession of rooms presents a fascinating and important history lesson for those about to enter the “real” sections of Versailles, particularly concerning Louis XIV the Sun King. I’m well aware that as Americans we have a tendency to bristle against the notion that French would try to teach us anything other than how to make crepes, still, my new appreciation for Versailles leads me to recommend spending the intellectual energy necessary to get a sense of the chronology of the Bourbon dynasty to which these kings Louis belong.
In short, the history lesson goes something like this.
- The Boubons took power with Henri IV (b. 1553) when the Valois line petered out without a direct heir to the throne. He reigned 1589-1610 but had no role at Versailles.
- His son became Louis XIII (b. 1601), who reigned 1610-1643 and built a hunting lodge here, surrounding the current Marble Courtyard. His queen was Anne of Austria and his prime minister was Richelieu.
- His son became Louis XIV (b. 1638), who reigned 1643-1715 and set out to create the great Versailles. I use the term reign loosely since of course he did not run affairs of state when he was five, hence the portraits of his mother and Mazarin, Richelieu’s success as prime minister. Louis XIV firmly took the reins of his kingdom after Mazarin’s death and appointed Colbert prime minister.
- Louis XIV’s queen was Maria Theresa of Austria, who was actually from Spain and who was doubly his first cousin; her mother was his father’s sister while her father was his mother’s brother. Likely as a result of that inbreeding, three of their 6 children died in infancy and only one lived beyond the age of 5. Louis XIV nevertheless sired a good many offspring through various official and unofficial mistresses. His main squeezes were Louise de la Vallière, Marie Angélique de Fontanges, Madame de Montespan, and Marquise de Maintenon, whom he married in secret after the queen’s death in 1683.
- Louis XIV’s Versailles is actually a series of Versighs, including the developmental years (~1660-1678) with the initial, monumental work of Le Vau, the architect, Le Brun, the interior decorator, and Le Notre, the garden landscaper; the staging of power (~1678-1700) with Versailles becoming the official residence of the Court of France in 1682 (that title had previously been held by the Louvre and Saint-Germain-en-Laye), the creation of the Hall of Mirrors, construction of the Grand Trianon, and major development of the gardens; the beauty and drama of the setting Sun King (~1700-1715), with the king’s new bedroom, construction of a new chapel, completion of major fountains, and eventually the grey atmosphere of the end of a reign. Louis XIV outlived his son and available grandson. A second grandson was no longer in line for the French throne because he’d sworn it off in becoming king of Spain (current Spanish King Juan Carlos is a Bourbon, a direct descendant of Louis XIV).
- His great-grandson, therefore, became Louis XV (b. 1710), who reigned 1715-1774.Louis XV spent much of his youth in Paris, so his mark on Versailles mostly begins around 1745. He oversaw construction of new apartments for the royal family and mistresses, the Petit Trianon, and the Royal Opera. His queen was Maria Leszcinska. They had 10 children, of which 6 girls and 1 boy reached adulthood. His prime minister was Fleury. Madame de Pompadour and Madame du Barry were, successively, his favorite mistresses. He outlived his son.
- His grandson, therefore, became Louis XVI (b. 1754), who reigned 1774-1792 and was sent to the guillotine on Jan. 21, 1793. His Versailles is visible in private apartments, the opera built by his grandfather, the Queen’s Bedchamber, and Marie-Antoinette’s Domain. His queen was Marie-Antoinette (b. 1755), who was led to the guillotine on Oct. 16, 1793. They had 4 children: two daughters—the first was the only family member to survive past the Revolution, having been exchanged for French prisoners in Austria, the second died at 11 months—and two sons—the first died at age 8 just prior to the Revolution, the second died in prison in 1795, having become Louis XVII in the mind’s of royalists after his father was executed. For happier times, see the portrait of the children with their mother in the Queen’s Apartment.
- After the fall of Napoleon, Louis XVI’s brothers restored the Bourbon throne as Louis XVIII (reigned 1814-1824) and Charles X (reigned 1824-1830) but as kings largely stayed away from Versailles.
There, now that wasn’t so painful, was it?
Versace’s curators generally work towards restoring the central portions of the chateau to its pre-revolutionary aura, i.e. up to 1789, but there’s plenty of squabbling among the cognoscenti as to what that truly means. Meanwhile, out in the garden, the historical line in the sand has been drawn at the time of their radiance toward the end of the reign of Louis XIV.
Purgatory doesn’t mention this, but the story continues with:
The Revolution: The approach of the Revolution, its history and its heritage hover over any visit to Versailles. In fact, the period between the birth of Louis XIV and the execution of Louis XVI in 1793 is about all the French politics and culture one needs to know for a basic understanding of France since everything that comes after is just variations on a theme. Nevertheless, there’s also:
Napoleon’s Versailles at the Grand Trianon.
King Louis Philippe’s Versailles with the opening in 1837 of a portion of the palace transformed into the Museum of the History of France.
Versailles of French republics.
And the American Versailles,subject of Part III of this article.
(Note: The purgatory wing has since closed, giving rise to new use of the space, including a restaurant.)
Welcome to Louisland
It’s often said that being at Versailles in high season along with 10,000 other visitors gives a sense of the atmosphere at Versailles back in the day, but that ignores the fact that there was an actual king living here at the time and that those hoards, unlike these, were seeking to rub shoulders with power and take part in rumor, fashion, intrigue, and boredom, whereas we’re rubbing shoulders with each other, wearing tourist basics, and wondering if maybe we shouldn’t have stayed in Paris today.
The crowds can indeed be overwhelming at Versailles from May into September, particularly on weekends and holidays, but sometimes, even then, in the early morning or late afternoon you can actually walk through the palace with tolerable claustrophobia. Off-season truly does have its advantages, however the greater advantage at any time of year is knowing something about what you’ve come to visit. Those willing to make the effort to read up on Louis XIV prior to visiting his Versailles will obviously have a heads up in imaging these rooms during his reign, a time when he defined the grandeur of France by anchoring the pettiness of the French. The audio-guide certainly helps, but if you’re like me you can only stand listening to such things for more than 15 minutes, which is about the time it takes to get past 2 or 3 rooms.
The Royal Chapel
A stroll through the Royal Chapel actually precedes purgatory, and one passes the chapel again, this time via the king’s entrance on the second floor, on the way to the King’s Great Apartment. The Royal Chapel (1710), among the final major projects of Louis XIV’s Versailles, is by definition the decorative reflection of the marriage of Church and State during the Ancien Régime. Louis XIV associated himself with Apollo but nonetheless saw himself as ruling by divine right. Today the main reason to look into the chapel is to begin to accustom the eye to the over-the-top Baroque décor that awaits in the King’s Great Apartment.
The Hercules Room
The chapel was created at the same time as the vast Hercules Room, which leads into the Great Apartment. With its tremendous chimney, wall-length paintingChrist at Supper with Simon by Vernonese (the room was created to fit the painting, a gift from the Republic of Venice, rather than the other way around), and overstated décor, the Hercules Room is enough to make a visitor flee, but take a deep breath of opulence and push on.
The effusive décor in the rooms that follow echoes the overall atmosphere of Louis XIV’s Versailles. It’s important to remember when visiting the chateau that these rooms had various uses over the reigns of its three central inhabitants in their 130-year march from glory to guillotine. The King’s Great Apartment served too many purposes during Louis XIV’s reign alone to want to concern oneself (or at least myself) with the specific events that conscientious guides will say took place here. Suffice it to say that soon after the Court moved to Versailles the king moved into more intimate quarters behind the Hall of Mirrors. The Great Apartment was then largely a public space. As a whole it speaks lushly of the glory of the Sun King, while each room is dedicated to a different god and heavenly body—Venus, Diane, Mars, Mercury, Apollo—hence its original name Apartment of the Planets. Even Louis tired of ordering the creation of in-your-face allegory in the latter decades of his life.
In high season, the lack of furniture gives the visitor no access to any particular goings-on, despite the presence of the throne to note that the king stopped there. However, the curators are celebrating off-season elbow room this year by mounting an exhibit of 150 pieces of silver furniture created for various Courts of Europe in the early 18th century, to be displayed in the King’s Great Apartment from Nov. 20, 2007 to March 9, 2008. The exhibit, a rarity at Versailles, will recall the perfusion of silver furnishings that decorated Versailles, particularly the Hall of Mirrors, in its early years. Louis XIV ordered his silver furniture to be melted down in 1689 so as help finance his wars.
The Hall of Mirrors
The Hall of Mirrors, which fully emerged in 2007 after years of restoration, brilliantly stretches between the Drawing Room of War (which leads to/from the King’s Apartment) to the Drawing Room of Peace (leading to/from the Queen’s). The images of war and peace are a remarkable, ostentatious display of royal propaganda and high art circa 1680. Though typically overwhelmed by the wow power of the adjacent hall (“Harold, what are you look at? The Hall of Mirrors is over here!”), the kitsch drama of the Drawing Rooms of War and Peace deserves more than a bit of rubbernecking while caught in heavy traffic to either side of the great hall.
The Hall of Mirror, absolute and unrestrained in its expression of splendor and power, art and craft, is the piece de resistance of France’s Golden Century. It was created 1678-1684, designed by Jules Hardouin-Mansart. With its effusion of marble, gilded bronze, crystal, glass, images of grandeur, busts of Roman emperors, its lack of furnishings is entirely excusable. The Hall of Mirrors did at times have more furnishings—silver (Louis XIV), gilt wood (Louis XIV revisited), and late Louis XV—but furniture, apart from the occasional throne, was and is largely irrelevant in a gallery intended to impress and awe. Between War and Peace, Le Brun gave image on canvas to the triumphs of the Louis XIV during his 17 years of power prior to its construction. The view of the gardens, the Grand Canal, and the perspective trailing off to infinity are further reminders of that triumph.
The Queen’s Great Apartment
A bottleneck sometimes occurs in the Drawing Room of Peace as the crowds round the corner to enter the Queen’s Apartment, beginning with the Queen’s Bedchamber. It’s a wonder that on warm summer days that the crowd of visitors doesn’t work itself into the kind of mob that bust into the chateau on October 6, 1789 causing Marie-Antoinette to flee from this bedroom. Except that at this point visitors are less interested in strangling the queen then in getting the hell out of here. But wait! The bedchamber, restored as Marie-Antoinette knew it—styles and fine fabrics from her era combined with the energetic Louis XV rococo décor of her predecessor Marie Leszczinska—is a magnificent, regal room that almost makes you want to attend a royal birthing. (See description in Part I: Marie-Antoinette’s Versailles.)
The other rooms of the Queen’s Apartment are largely charming disappointment after the bedchamber since at this point one wants above all to get some fresh air. But not before passing through an echo of the purgatory wing with a collection of portraits of the women of Versailles.
The Gardens and the Fountain Display
While the Hall of Mirrors presents a reflection of personal and national power, glory, influence, and art at the height of Louis XIV’s reign, the gardens give breath to control, majesty, and courtly entertainment in the decades that followed. Louis loved this showy, rational, vast, theatrical, symbolic, and, as far as a very public king could be, intimate garden. Whether strolling, picnicking, partying, or, toward the end of his life, being pushed in a wheelchair through the gardens, they remained one of the major attractions of Versailles for the Sun King.
The gardens are the work of André Le Nôtre who arrived at inhospitable terrain of Versailles fresh from the triumph of the gardens he created at Vaux-le-Vicomte. Under Louis XIV’s command, attention to detail, and input, Le Nôtre transformed a swampy land into terraces and canals and fountains that only the Sun King could inspire and afford. The king was prepared to redirect the Eure River this way so as to feed his fountains and gardens, but he finally agreed with his engineers that the level of the river was too low. He then ordered hydraulic engineering of mythological proportions.
While the English garden attempts to imitate nature, the French garden as developed in the 17th century seeks to tame, even perfect, nature. It molds and channels water, earth, and vegetation into flowerbeds, thickets, fountains, canals, alleys, orderly trees and tapis verts (lawns). If all roads once led to Rome, all alleys now led to Louis. The very sun seems to have been positioned to honor him as it enters through the Marble Courtyard and the King’s Bedchamber and set beyond the Apollo Fountain and the Grand Canal at the far end of the garden’s unimpeded central perspective.
Previously, I had seen the gardens mostly as a nice idea blown out of proportion. Indeed it is. But this year, having attended the fountain display three times (with twisted arm only once), I find that visiting Versailles on a fountain day (weekends and holidays from Easter through September) is the best way to get to know Louis XIV’s Versailles.
The fountain display, called Les Grandes Eaux, The Great Waters, is an authentic presentation of royal entertainment and high engineering circa 1700. They show Versailles, Louis XIV’s Versailles, that is, at its most expressive. The variety and surprise of wandering around the gardens during the fountain display is rivaled only by the overwhelming nature of the crowds in summer, but with the right mind-set the fountains win out as a living, water breathing entrance into the world of Louis XIV, his courtiers, his gardeners, and his engineers. It takes little imagination to get into the spirit of the times as you walk about discovering the fountains hidden behind the bosquet or groves while accompanied by the sounds of Baroque and Classical pageantry over the loudspeakers. It’s here more than in the chateau (where those same crowds can actually overwhelm the décor) that you feel and know that you’re walking in the footsteps of the king.
The massive crowd of visitors—and come July/August it can be tremendous—actually spreads out manageably during the fountain display, and visitors tend to enjoy themselves in a far more courtly fashion than when being herded through the palace.
With the fountains spouting from the mouths of turtles, frogs, horses, gods, and monsters, and spilling over rocks, basins, and steps, each fountain tells a different story. A map is provided at the entrance, and Louis XIV himself outlined his preferred promenade, though getting lost in the maze of the thickets is actually part of the fun. This is surprisingly effective entertainment, including for teenage and preteen travelers who might otherwise have little reason to find French gardens entertaining.
There are remarkably few places to sit down to enjoy the fountains, and garden guards will quickly whistle away any thought you might have of getting too comfortable. I suppose that’s part of it being authentic since you weren’t expected to be seated when the king strolled by. In any case, the energetic visitor wants to keep moving to discover the dozen or so major fountains, many of which hide behind a maze of thickets. One is finally allowed to sit on damp grass by the Neptune Basin, where the grand finale takes place for the last 10 minutes of the display.
Secondary Tours
After spending three to five hours visiting the grander portions of Versailles—the Great Apartments, the gardens, perhaps a Trianon Palace or two—most first-time visitors are too exhausted by foreign and historical opulence to want to go back inside the chateau to visit its more intimate royal quarters. In winter, however, when the gardens have less appeal and the Petit Trianon is shut, first-timers might well consider further explorations in the chateau.
Return visitors, meanwhile, might opt more readily for one or two of the small-group tours to the back rooms. There, you’ll find the settings for family intimacy that lies beyond the public splendor and the personal history that lies beyond the public power play. Numerous small-group tours go out to various sections of the chateau on any given day, including tours in English.
French tours are also worth joining even if your French isn’t strong enough for the details because they offer a glimpse not only of the intimate back rooms but, perhaps more interestingly, of French visitors themselves.
I especially enjoy the French tours for the insightful cultural experience of witnessing the French face to face with the physical representation of their national self-esteem. It’s like hearing American pride in the halls of the White House or British ooing at Buckingham Palace or Italian mama-mia when spaghetti is served at home. Where else would you have the opportunity to encounter Frenchmen and women who regret that they weren’t born during the reign of Louis XV in the 18th century. (Louis XIV’s elegance is too oppressive for their tastes.) The thought of wishing to live in the last half-century of France’s Ancien Régime is in itself an exotic concept for Americans, who generally associate the 18th century with the First Thanksgiving and the Civil War, but it remains a powerful draw for culturally ambitious French.
To observe Frenchmen and women and their guide in the private apartments of Louis XV and Louis XVI is more than to watch them connect with their national history. It’s also to imagine them on a class trip from some well-disciplined high school. Listening intently to their teacher/guide, they’ll nod knowingly at the rumor of a catfight between Madame de Montespan and Madame Maintenon in this room or that, before the guide disappoints the lot of them by declaring that it probably never happened. But my favorite moment is when, within 5 minutes, three or four members of the group start trying to show how studious and learned they are. They’ll then try to outdo each other and the guide by asking obscure and self-aggrandizing questions. When the guide informs them about a Jacques Dubois table recently purchased at auction, one of the star pupils will look closely at its delicate in-lay and declare, “This must be where Louis XV had his famous mutton dinner in February 1752, n’est ce pas?” The guide, as any French teacher or cultural host, plays his part in encouraging students to try harder by letting them know how clearly they’ve failed. “March, 1753,” he will respond with gentle condescension.
Americans will simply want to know how much the table cost.
I’ve become quite fond of Louis XIV and his French visitors at Versailles over the past year. I find him both distinguished and endearing, and them too. He is as worth getting to know as they are because of the way each defines so much about French culture—etiquette, art, language, fashion, pettiness, dalliance, cuisine—and therefore so much of what we love to visit, experience, learn about, and despise.
(Continued on Part III: The American Versailles)
© 2007 by Gary Lee Kraut
Links and Opening Times
Chateau de Versailles: www.chateauversailles.fr. Open daily except Tuesday, 9am-6:30pm April-Oct., 9am-5:30pm Nov.-March. Information about small-group tours is currently available only a day-to-day basis directly at the palace. The day’s program can be found at the information booth by the front gate. After checking the schedule you go inside to reserve then return to the appointed door at the appointed time later in the morning or afternoon.
The Petit Trianon is open daily noon-6pm April-Oct. The rest of Marie-Antoinette’s Domain (Queen’s Theater, surrounding gardens, Queen’s Hamlet) is open until 7:30pm.
The Grand Trianon is open noon-6:30pm April-Oct., noon-5:30pm Nov.-March.
Fountain Display: www.chateauversailles-spectacles.fr. The fountain display, called Les Grandes Eaux Musicales, takes place April-Sept. on weekends and holidays from 11am-noon and from 3:30-5:30pm, with the grand finale (water pressure permitting) at the Neptune Fountain from 5:20-5:30pm. About two dozen golf carts are available for thousands of visitors; they’re particularly intended for handicapped visitors, but others are free to wait in line for an hour or two if they’d like one. A nighttime version of the fountain display, Les Grandes Eaux Nocturne, takes place six Saturday evenings in July and August. It has the added spectacle of light and fireworks and can be spectacular and romantic on a warm summer’s night. The major drawback is that it runs 9:30-11:30pm, making for a late return to Paris. See Versailles website for details and for advance tickets.