Miss Lamont’s Account of her Second Visit to the Petit Trianon
January, 1902
On January 2nd, 1902, I went for the second time to Versailles. It was a cold and wet day, but I was anxious not to be deterred by that, as it was likely to be my only possible day that winter. This time I drove straight to the Petit Trianon, passing the Grand Trianon. Here I could see the path up which we had walked in August. I went, however, to the regular entrance, thinking I would go at once to the Temple de l’Amour, even if I had time to go no further. To the right of the cour d’honneur was a door in the wall; it led to the Hameau de la Reine and to the gardens. I took this path and came to the Temple de l’Amour, which was not the building we had passed in the summer. There was, so far, none of the eerie feeling we had experienced in August. But, on crossing a bridge to go to the Hameau, the old feeling returned in full force; it was as if I had crossed a line and was suddenly in a circle of influence. To the left I saw a tract of park-like ground, the trees bare and very scanty. I noticed a cart being filled with sticks by two labourers, and thought I could go to them for directions if I lost my way. The men wore tunics and capes with pointed hoods of bright colours, a sort of terra-cotta red and deep blue.[[5]] I turned aside for an instant—not more—to look at the Hameau, and when I looked back men and cart were completely out of sight, and this surprised me, as I could see a long way in every direction. And though I had seen the men in the act of loading the cart with sticks, I could not see any trace of them on the ground either at the time or afterwards. I did not, however, dwell upon any part of the incident, but went on to the Hameau. The houses were all built near a sheet of water, and the old oppressive feeling of the last year was noticeable, especially under the balcony of the Maison de la Reine, and near a window in what I afterwards found to be the Laiterie. I really felt a great reluctance to go near the window or look in, and when I did so I found it shuttered inside.
Coming away from the Hameau I at last reached a building, which I knew from my plan to be the smaller Orangerie; then, meaning to go to the Belvédère, I turned back by mistake into the park and found myself in a wood, so thick that though I had turned towards the Hameau I could not see it. Before I entered I looked across an open space towards a belt of trees to the left of the Hameau some way off, and noticed a man, cloaked like those we had seen before, slip swiftly through the line of trees. The smoothness of his movement attracted my attention.
I was puzzling my way among the maze of paths in the wood when I heard a rustling behind me which made me wonder why people in silk dresses came out on such a wet day; and I said to myself, “just like French people.” I turned sharply round to see who they were, but saw no one, and then, all in a moment, I had the same feeling as by the terrace in the summer, only in a much greater degree; it was as though I were closed in by a group of people who already filled the path, coming from behind and passing me. At one moment there seemed really no room for me. I heard some women’s voices talking French, and caught the words “Monsieur et Madame” said close to my ear. The crowd got scarce and drifted away, and then faint music as of a band, not far off, was audible. It was playing very light music with a good deal of repetition in it. Both voices and music were diminished in tone, as in a phonograph, unnaturally. The pitch of the band was lower than usual. The sounds were intermittent, and once more I felt the swish of a dress close by me.
I looked at the map which I had with me, but whenever I settled which path to take I felt impelled to go by another. After turning backwards and forwards many times I at last found myself back at the Orangerie, and was overtaken by a gardener.[[6]] I asked him where I should find the Queen’s grotto, that had been mentioned in De Nolhac’s book which I had procured while in Paris. He told me to follow the path I was on, and, in answer to a question, said that I must pass the Belvédère, adding that it was quite impossible to find one’s way about the park unless one had been brought up in the place, and so used to it that “personne ne pourrait vous tromper.” The expression specially impressed me because of the experience I had just had in the wood. He pointed out the way and left me. The path led past the Belvédère, which I took for granted was the building we had seen in August, for coming upon it from behind, all the water was hidden from me. I made my way from there to the French garden without noticing the paths I took.
On my return to Versailles I made careful enquiries as to whether the band had been playing there that day, but was told that though it was the usual day of the week, it had not played because it had played the day before, being New Year’s Day.
I told my French friends of my walk, and they said that there was a tradition of Marie Antoinette having been seen making butter within the Laiterie, and for that reason it was shuttered. A second tradition they mentioned interested me very much. It was that on October 5th, 1789—which was the last day on which Marie Antoinette went to Trianon—she was sitting there in her grotto, and saw a page running towards her, bringing the letter from the minister at the palace to say that the mob from Paris would be at the gates in an hour’s time. The story went on that she impulsively proposed walking straight back to the palace by the short cut through the trees. He would not allow it: but begged her to go to the “maison” to wait whilst he fetched the carriage by which she was generally conveyed back through the park, and that he ran off to order it.
F. L.
January, 1902.