Conservators have just finished refurbishing Marie Antoinette's refuge at Versailles, the Petit Trianon. It is the property Louis XVI gave her upon their accession to the throne, a play palace where she could escape the rigors of court etiquette. Only those invited by Marie Antoinette could be admitted to the Trianon, and she lavished impossible sums turning it into her vision of an idyllic paradise. Interestingly--and perhaps fittingly for a woman born to privilege--she preferred to play at being a milkmaid. Things were simple at the Trianon, but sumptuously so. She built a tiny farm village, a theatre, and a dairy--places where she could throw off the trappings of monarchy and imagine for a little while that she was someone other than the Queen of France. (Of course she would have loathed the reality of rural life had she been forced to hoe weeds, milk cows, and churn butter, but it is easy to understand why gentrified rustic pastimes would have appealed to her. In this case I suppose the grass really WAS greener...)
In any event, they have restored the Petit Trianon to precisely how it was on that fateful day in October of 1789 when the queen left for the last time to return to the chateau where a Parisian mob was marching toward the gates. There are dishes in the pantry, fruit and flowers on the tables. The visitor is supposed to feel as though Marie Antoinette has just stepped out.
The Petit Trianon, like the rest of Versailles, has been open to the public for ages, but many of the service rooms were closed off, used for administration and maintenance. Now they have been refurbished and thrown open, and imagine they enhance the experience considerably. I have only been to Versailles once, many years ago, on a busy July Sunday. It was sunny and hot and very still, thronged with tourists and Parisian families. I ought to have been thrilled to be there. I have been fascinated by Marie Antoinette ever since I was eleven and read Victoria Holt's The Queen's Confession. Visiting the palace where she lived was a lifelong dream for me.
And yet. I have to say, it was one of the saddest places I have ever been in my life. It was opulent and beautiful without a doubt, but over it all was an almost palpable atmosphere of dread. I'm sure it was just my overworked imagination. I remember walking through the Galerie des Glaces, the sunlight streaming in through a bank of open windows to sparkle on endless mirrors. It was magnificent beyond belief, and yet it was absolutely oppressive. Not a single breath of wind stirred through the treetops of the woods outside, and inside it was completely, horribly still. It felt as if something was just waiting, and all I could think about was what it must have felt like to stand in that palace and feel the mob moving ever closer from Paris.
The mood in the Petit Trianon was different, but no better. It was melancholy, as if something profoundly sad had settled in its walls, and I roamed from room to room, wondering if I would have felt the same had I not known who lived there. (I will tell you that the Grand Trianon didn't excite any particular feeling whatsoever.) I didn't even particularly like walking the forest paths, although the palace grounds are beautiful. I felt short of breath the entire time and didn't relax again until we returned to Paris. Bizarre, I know.
In any event, I would love to see the Trianon after its refurbishment. Here's a link to check out the restoration.
