‘How many actual gardeners work here in the grounds?’ I enquire.
‘Today we have forty-eight permanent gardeners tending in excess of two-thousand acres, with as many as ten private companies supplying additional labour as the seasons dictate. During the reign of Louis XIV, it is said that seven thousand people were employed to work on the gardens alone.’
Solange is very knowledgeable and it’s a lot to assimilate as she steers us between two buildings. We follow a path skirting the exterior of the palace. As we are drawn away from the crowd of people milling around, the snaking queue of ticket holders slowly shuffles forwards to gain entry to the palace itself. Leading us through a stone archway, Solange unlocks a tall wrought-iron gate. As it swings open, in front of us the vast panoramic spectacle extends out seemingly endlessly.
Words fail me as we walk forward, and I struggle to take in the sheer scale. My eyes automatically sweep across to our right, to gaze out over the beauty and grandeur of the famous canal and the various fountains.
‘Les Jardins de Versailles.’ Solange’s voice is low as she watches my reaction with interest.
‘It’s… incredible, staggering.’ I gasp.
Elliot has a little coughing fit and I glance at him anxiously. He recovers after a few moments and then chuckles at my initial reaction.
‘Sorry. I must get some cough mixture. I’ve probably stood here surveying this view more than fifty times over the past few years and the sight of the Grand Canal still stops me in my tracks every single time,’ he admits.
‘I’m overwhelmed by it. I’ve studied the guidebooks and read so much about the palace and the gardens, but nothing prepared me for how commanding it is up close.’
Solange and Elliot exchange indulgent smiles.
‘I know. I feel the same way, Lexie. And I get to see this every day of my working life now,’ Solange adds. I can see that she is in love with Versailles.
I’m well aware from the research I’ve carried out that the Sun King’s vision was audacious; many thought it was bordering on madness because of the problems that had to be overcome here. As Elliot said, turning useless, boggy land into acre upon acre of manicured gardens and parks seemed like an impossible task. But the creation of the Grand Canal and the ornate fountains was an even more staggering project by anyone’s standards. Clearly, it was way beyond any possible definition of extravagance.
‘The King’s desire to move his court and government here to escape Paris saw him taking on the role of architect to give life to a vision few could grasp. The original cost was phenomenal – money was no object at all, it seemed, in the pursuit of the glorification of a king. Louis built a power base, distancing himself from his people and forcing the nobility to spend time at court, each year. His desire to establish absolute monarchy depended upon preventing anyone from establishing their own regional power. It was a clever move and it worked,’ Solange explains.
‘As fate determined, Versailles was only the centre of political power for just over a century. Some five thousand courtiers lived here at the very peak of its power, but Versailles was more than the overpowering beauty and grandeur of it all. There is still a tangible sense of the passions that have filled the air here throughout its turbulent lifetime. Political plotting, trysts and impossible love affairs; poisoning, jealousy and people’s lives held in the balance on a whim. At court, being in, or out, of favour could result in either riches or ruin. Sometimes imprisonment, or even death for treason.’
We cross the lightly gravelled area, walking along, adjacent to the rear of the main palace building.
‘The extensive renovation programme in recent years has brought the building back to its former glory.’ She slows to a halt a short distance away to stand and admire the rear façade.
At ground and first-floor levels it comprises a long row of double French doors set within beautiful stone arches that seems to stretch out forever. Room, after room, after room.
‘There are seven hundred rooms, in excess of two thousand windows and sixty-seven staircases,’ she confirms.
At first-floor level it’s slightly set back to accommodate a stonework balcony, only broken by blocks of staunch pilasters, which are rectangular projections. Above each of these is a wide plinth displaying a series of marble statues depicting Roman deities and emperors. Some are netted, undergoing renovation work still, and even from this level it’s clear to see how damaging exposure to the elements has been over time. It serves only to make the condition of the building even more astonishing and a credit to the army of people who work tirelessly to preserve it.
Yet another floor houses a series of smaller rooms with matching windows in line with the full-length French doors below. These smaller rooms would be the quarters for the retinues and attendants accompanying the courtiers. I step back a few paces, tilting my head to get a glimpse of the roofline. In perfect symmetry to the low stonework of the first-floor balcony, slender stone urns are evenly spaced between clusters of statues that, once again, seem to mirror the outline of a King’s bejewelled crown. In between, carved stone trophies are interspersed with slender flame pots to accentuate the elegant profile.
Feeling a little embarrassed when I realise that Solange and Elliot are now a few paces away and patiently waiting for me to catch up with them, I pull myself together.
‘Sorry. It’s beyond amazing. I’ve dreamt about coming here for so many years and now I’m here…’ I tail off, rather pathetically.
‘Lexie’s grandma, Viv, was a horticultural student and spent some time here in the sixties,’ Elliot explains.
‘How wonderful! It is a real connection for you, then, Lexie. That was before l’École Nationale Supérieure de Paysage was set up in 1976, so one of the early programmes, no doubt. Sadly, that is not my area of expertise, though. I note that you will be using the services of Ronan O’Byrne when you are filming. He is very knowledgeable about the history of the gardeners who have worked here since the early 1900s.’
I nod. ‘Yes. He said he knew a few people here.’
She raises an eyebrow. ‘Indeed. He has worked on a number of projects, even in the time I’ve been around. Ronan will, I’m sure, know if any of the gardeners working here during that period are still alive. He has researched and written two books about different periods in the history of the gardens and the park, and is currently bringing it up to the present day in his latest book.’
‘I wasn’t aware of that. How fascinating. I suspect that once people come to Versailles, if they are captured by its spell, they find a reason to stay,’ I muse, speaking more to myself than to Solange. But that wasn’t true for my grandma and again I wonder why, because I know she would have been captivated by this.
To her dying day her windowsills were full of seedlings and cuttings; her garden was a joy to behold. As children we all spent time with her, weeding and planting, but I more so than my siblings. She said that communing with nature was good for one’s soul.
I sigh. Being here must have been such a wonderful time for her and, now I’m here too, I feel a great sadness washing over me. I would have dearly loved to have heard her thoughts and learnt what she did on a daily basis. It would have been her dream; of that I have no doubt at all.