Having ordered dinner to be prepared in a small room, once celebrated as the luxurious boudoir of the ill fated queen, we proceeded to view the curiosities of Versailles. The park has lost some trees, and has been neglected. In other respects, it is not much altered. The orangerie[63] still retains, unimpaired, all its beauty. We walked through long avenues of orange trees, all of which are in high health and rich foliage. The gardener assured us, that some of those which were of very large dimensions, had been planted in the reign of Francis I.
We next visited the private library of the former kings of France, situate in a separate house in the town. There is nothing very particular in the building; but there were, above the several doors of the library, extremely pretty paintings of the different capitals of Europe. We were here shown a very beautiful collection of illuminated paintings, representing the splendid fête and tournaments given by the magnificent Lewis XIV.
Thence our guide wished to take us to the national manufactory of fire arms, which is carried on with great activity in this town; but having seen many acknowledgedly superior works of the same kind in England, we declined visiting it, and proceeded at once to the palace. This superb building has not suffered at all during the revolution; though, from being neglected and uninhabited, it has contracted a kind of gloom, which forcibly recals the misfortunes of its last possessors, and the uncertainty of human grandeur. The magnificent furniture, which the apartments once contained, has been removed; but the walls are not without ornament, for the palace having been made (probably with the view of preserving it from popular violence) a musée central, or dépôt of the works of art, now possesses several valuable pictures, and a few excellent statues. Among the former, I remarked some good Claude Loraines, and two beautiful portraits by Vincent. The subject of one was Henry IV of France; and the other, that of the celebrated president, Molé. The latter is painted in his parliamentary robes, heroically exposing his breast to the violence of the mob, and doing his duty, unmoved by the poniards raised against him. You seem to hear him exclaim, as history records he did, “La distance est grande de la main d’un assassin au cœur d’un honnête homme[64].”
We walked through the vast suite of rooms, which, once the seat of gayety, splendour, luxury, and royal magnificence, are now the abode of solitude, and the monument of fallen grandeur.
It is unnecessary to state the many reflections which this spot created. We failed not to visit the apartment which the unfortunate Lewis XVI occupied on the 6th of october, and in which Marie Antoinette took refuge. We were also shown the balcony window (now stopped up), where that virtuous and ill fated princess, madame Elizabeth, with a magnanimity truly heroic, presented herself, when the queen was called for, and being taken for her, voluntarily subjected herself to all the brutal violence of an irritated mob.
We likewise saw the opera house, built for the wedding of Lewis XVI, when dauphin, and which, during the last reign, was sometimes used as a theatre, and sometimes as a ball room. The apartment is still perfect, but the scenes and decorations have been removed.
On leaving the palace, we visited several jets d’eau; but were prevented from viewing the garden as particularly as we could have wished, a violent shower of rain having overtaken us.
The waterworks and pleasure grounds appear to have been much neglected.
We dined at the Little Trianon, and slept there. The room, which fell to my share, was that which the unhappy Lewis formerly occupied, and the key of the door had attached to it a label, on which could still be discovered, though half effaced, the words, “appartement du roi[65].”