For The Glory of All Man
Returning to the original dream of true public space
The first thing to notice about royal interior design is its complete disregard for negative space. Next to the painting of a royal hunting expedition is a stone relief of a Bible story. Every wallpaper has a pattern, every slab of marble a flurry of red lines. The gold alone will blind you. It is a wonder how any person, of high or low birth, could spend an entire day (never mind a lifetime) surrounded by so many items vying for attention. But as I walk through the royal apartments, windows give view to the garden, where my hesitations are sent out to dissipate among the trees.
Leaving the palace, I enter the landing facing the “Grand Perspective,” a green strip with a line of evenly spaced statues flanked on both sides by dirt walkways. Beyond, the Grand Canal stretches a mile or so in the distance with little white boats sprinkled about the water. As I walk through the groves, a restaurant appears, then a marble amphitheatre with a statue at the center. The designs on the marble are the same as inside yet now appear less harsh. The viewing is no longer tedious; it’s superb.
In the comparatively smaller space of the Palace, the hoarding of beautiful things is an eyesore. Across 800 hectares it is an asset. There is too much room to clutter and with the backdrop of the sky one would need the Tower of Babel to overcompensate. The gardens are soft on the eyes. I find myself no longer anxiously scanning my surroundings and could rest my vision wherever it happened to fall.
“For the glory of all France” reads the inscription atop Versailles. Assuming he could read, a peasant circa 1700 might agree to such a declaration. The brilliant gold-leaf domes, imposing marble figures, and decorative masonry all affirm it. The peasant may have thought, “If my King can build this, then my country is without equal.”
Neither the peasant nor his Louis could have foreseen the transformation of Versailles from the seat of political power to an exhibition of middle class voyeurism. The river of occidental and oriental bodies clamoring to catch a glimpse of the royal bedchambers would have struck both peasant and King as a horrifying curiosity. People from all stations gawk at the Sun King’s gaudy retreat. The palace opens herself up for the price of a modest dinner. Today, Versailles has achieved a truly international fame, but fame as a golden harlot. For the glory of all France.
Most plaques in Paris bear a date between 1789 and 1793 — from the birth to the zenith of the French Revolution. The details following those dates read “such and such building was opened to the public,” or “such and such estate was turned into a museum.” It wasn’t until the July Revolution of 1830 and the rise of King Louis Phillipe that Versailles was added to the national public estate. Still, it was only in the aftershock of the Great Revolution that the constitutional monarch needed to abandon Versailles to France to save it from France.
The idea of a public space is the natural outgrowth of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité. The cost of entry is participation in society — citizenship. What the Kings may have held as a breach of their natural superiority, the revolutionaries saw as unleashing the power of the Third Estate. When those that work can enter into the spaces of those that fight as equals before the law, a new relationship is formed between the political history of the nation and its former subjects.
The citizen now confronts the slogan “For the glory of all France”. The palace is no longer his master’s accomplishment, for he has no master. It is his and his fellow citizens’. He no longer debases himself before Versailles, but inherits it as an object to admire, critique, consume, or reject. Where his grandfather could only share the nation’s history vicariously, the citizen can engage with his history in totality. The citizen has a broad, dynamic vision; he can see what was always there and yet never existed before.
I did not consciously enter the palace with this perspective. It was handed down to me by history. I am a few generations removed from peasantry and monarchy; what was fresh for the citizen of 1793 has become latent for his counterpart of 2019. Though I am doubtful that this later age allows me to see more clearly, I am sure that what is hidden in plain sight is still hidden, offering the opportunity for rediscovery.
There is joy to be had in watching blue jeans and fanny packs move through the most exclusive of residences. The fact that thousands of people choose this aristocratic abode to spend their summer afternoon is a small but meaningful victory in the course of human progress. Though our citizen of 1793 might be appalled at the lack of reverence in the glory of all France, even he may be intrigued by the fast fashion of his political progeny.
I have a fondness for man-maintained natural space. Modern environmental discourse fetishizes “wild” nature, putting it in contrast to manicured lawns. Untouched land has charm and beauty, but to oppose these gardens to a forest would be like juxtaposing the Brazilian rainforest to the Sahara desert. The rainforest and the desert are opposites in a sense; they share little in terms of flora, fauna, or weather patterns. Yet they are part of the same contiguous whole, coexisting in the vast ecosystem of Earth. Human-created spaces are part of that whole too. What gives man-made spaces their unique, if not superior, quality is their intention through human agency. Unlike the rest of Earth, they were built by us with us in mind.
It is beautiful that places were made with the intention to evoke feelings in creatures like me. The well-distributed benches provide places for rest without the concern of insects or snakes, and the walkways are clearly demarcated to prohibit getting lost. The garden layout discourages excitement — exactly what any anxiety-ridden body needs from time to time.
The project of an authentically public place is still incomplete. It remains an ideal that one must only be a civil participant to enter the place; in reality, a one day pass will cost you 20 Euros. For us international citizens, there’s also the matter of getting here. If I only came to France for this one purpose, I’d be out at least 1000 dollars — a steep price for those who work.
If we put out of our minds the challenging logistics of a society that does not require such expense , we can at least return to the original dream of a public space. It is a place where all are welcome, surrounded by man’s works — our works. It is a place of rest for the industrious and a place of comfort for the indolent.
Unfortunately, we are as far from that dream as ever. Only those fortunate in geography or income can stroll into the palace with ease. This is man’s consolation prize. In Versailles we see 1789 calcified, a movement with no momentum. In 2019 history moves beneath our feet. We are neither able to grasp nor shape our future; we are atop an asteroid in space with no direction or destination.
King Louis Phillipe had to abandon Versailles in order to save it. We have to make the world Versailles to save ourselves.