Mischievous marionnettes, misbehaving males.... and Maurice Sand.

Roll up, roll up, roll up! The cry to muster spectators to witness and participate in perennial domestic and social battles, an integral part of one of the older shows on earth - Punch and Judy....

Punch Magazine.

While I had always assumed that you could hardly get more 'English' than the diminutive belligerent puppet Mr Punch and his entourage, the reality is rather different.

Far from being simply a stalwart of seaside resort entertainment, with a heyday in the Victorian period, some of the origins of the Punch and Judy show trace back to the Classical Greek era and Mr Punch finds distant roots in the 4th century B.C in far-flung Naples.

At this time the masked actors performing in Atellan farce (from Atella near Naples) also had to draw in an audience, not unlike Punch later, using rowdy, burlesque scenes and stereotyped characters to attract and keep hold of a public which was greatly sollicited by other open-air performances, and accustomed to the violence and action of the gladiatorial arenas. The performing artists from Atella followed a printed text a 'canvas' but used their skills of improvisation to create an art form that was highly appreciated yet was ultimately to fall into decline on the demise of the Roman Empire. Acting reappeared later in public places, church squares and castles in the Middle Ages when performers would enact the Mystery plays to educate and entertain a largely illiterate audience.

 Often puppets would be used to interpret stories, thus drawing on a tradition dating back to the decadent end of the Empire. Marionnettes - Marions or Mary dolls would present religious themes, but gradually more secular ones were introduced. In this way elements drawn, yet improvised, from the Bible accompanied scenes from daily life and all these were interpreted in differing ways from performance to performance.
In mid-16th century Padua actors started to sign contracts and in so doing left behind their dilettante status to become recognised professionals from the Commedia dell'arte, henceforth paid for their work. The themes of their performances were similar to those treated before this change of status, further animated with acts of juggling, mime and acrobatics and with improvisation still playing a large part. Little by little however, the work performed would reflect the social background and its movements and so it was that the reigning instability, a distrust or disregard for the leading classes were portrayed in ironic anecdotes and mimicry.

Jacques Callot: Balli di Sfessania, 1622.

Maurice Sand

 Valets, servants, young maids would be presented 'getting the upper hand' often through turbulent scenes using disrespectful means with regard to their superiors and providing great mirth in so doing. More and more troups of actors criss-crossed Europe until the mid-18th century, leaving the influence of their themes, characters and interpretations on audiences and fellow artists alike. Pulcinello, anglicised to Punchinello and finally Punch, was one of these personnages - along with Columbine, Pierrot, Arlequin.

Colombine Maurice Sand

Molière, the French playwright was heavily influenced by the work of the Italian actors seen Paris and with whom he shared the Palais Royal from 1662-1673 and was particularly marked by the interpretations of the actor Tiberi Fiorelli. The misunderstandings, chance happenings, disguises and role reversal, prefered by the commedia dell'arte were to be reflected and developed in the works of Molière....
Despite the initial wit and sophistication of dialogue, the performances became increasingly burlesque, even obscene and in spite of the efforts of the Italian Carlo Goldini to refine the form in the mid-18th century the commedia dell'art all but disappeared in the 19th. At the end of the 18th century the English performer Joseph Grimaldi introduced the first modern clown to the world of the circus and this would finally eclipse the Italian art form that had already fallen into disrepute.

It had long been recognised that marionnettes could express the same themes of the commedia dell'arte instead of 'expensive' actors and offer artists greater flexibility, impunity and therefore greater freedom of expression in public places. In addition, the relatively small, easily dismantled puppet theatres - the castelets, offered significant mobility and enabled performers to travel from district to district, city to city with greater ease - "That's the way to do it!" as Punch would say...

Mr Punch was first officially sighted and named in Restoration England in 1662 when Samuel Pepys wrote of  a puppet show he had seen in Covent Garden.

The Puritan reign had finally come to an end and Punch, like an irreverent, gaudy Elizabethan jester, was here to mark the event as Charles II gave patronage to actors' performances. Early Punch was rather like Old Vice from Medieval morality plays, acting out the battle between good and evil, with the Devil as a fixture in the performances. In a rapid sequence of events Punch would be confronted by numerous situations that would reflect the social concerns and spirit of the time. Gradually, however, Punch became increasingly individualistic and defensive of his own interests, taking on the forces of law, order, convention and above all his shrew-like wife, Judy. His outrageous behaviour in response to events assumed a farcical quality as it led to mayhem and buffoonery.
Dressed in his fool's motley and a sugarloaf hat, bearing a hunched back, hooked nose and prominent boot chin Punch looks like the ultimate anti-hero who gloats on his bad behaviour ("Pleased as Punch") and loves to flout and outwit all rules and norms. He gleefully brandishes his stick - the noisy weapon that gave rise to the expression slapstick comedy - and doesn't hesititate to wield it against his harridan wife, or even their baby.

The nature of puppetry itself, along with the comic element of the theme, was such that less emphasis was placed on developing dialogue and speech in general and more was devoted to the gesture, especially perhaps when glove puppets took precedence over the stringed variety. Body movement tended to be largely limited and somewhat uncoordinated, dependant on the skill of the operanti or manipulator to bring it to life, often using exaggerated gestures to animate the story line. This exaggerated element was further enhanced in Punch's case by the use of a device that gave him a cackling voice - the swazzle - operated by the puppeteer. The puppeteer or 'Professor' would give a running commentary on the action taking place - helping the audience understand the nuances and also encouraging them to participate in the ambience and proceedings through their responses. Indeed, the call-and-response approach became increasingly common, leading to the "Oh yes, I can/Oh no you can't" catchphrases so familiar to us today, not just through Punch and Judy shows but also through the pantomime tradition.
The performances did not follow a set 'definitive' text, and consequently improvisation and intereaction with the audience led to livelier, up-tempo shows which featured a group of characters and props. These extras would vary but staples beyond the dysfunctional family itself would include the Devil, the Mistress, the Policeman, Toby the Dog, the String of sausages and the Ghost....
Below is the link to a show in Covent Garden.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6LmZ0A1s9U&feature=related
Themes covered in the performances would include current social issues, but often focused on the eternal demands of domestic life, and particulary the exigencies of the role of father which weighed heavily on Punch who would prefer to cavort with  Pretty Polly, his mistress, than to look after the baby.... Eternal themes indeed!.... Punch's fortunes and the nature of his misadventures were to change in the wake of the Industrial Revolution at the end of the 1800's and the social changes this brought about. Indeed, Bank Holidays were introduced to encourage a healthier work force and the seaside resort suddenly gained in popularity with the arrival of the working masses, aided by the advent of a nascent railway network. Seaside entertainment and amusement was the order of the day, and consequently the Punch and Judy show had its field day - Mr Punch's theme song was to be "Oh I do like to be beside the seaside". Here's an extract of the song 'featuring' Edith Piaf....Hmmm!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2IOD2Qm1KG0
Nevertheless the prevailing morality meant that certain aspects of the show changed to suit the sensitivities of the audience - which  included more and more children. The Mistress and the Devil, soon deemed inappropriate, figured less in the shows but increasing numbers of real Toby dogs wearing a trademark ruff would sit on the front of the characteristic stripey booths, trained to participate in the action. The enthusiasm for Punch and Judy shows grew; even Dickens mentioned their importance and the storyline of The Old Curiosity Shop is said to reflect their influence. Despite dips in popularity due to changing tastes and waves of political correctness the Punch and Judy show survived and has become one of the traditional 'English' institutions. Unfortunately the same cannot be said of Punch the magazine, launched in the mid-19th century and yet with its publication ending in 2002. Based on the satirical French paper Charivari, the Punch magazine was outspoken and outraged figures of authority just like its namesake...

 Punch does in fact have many relatives - Polichinelle in France (dressed in his trademark Neapolitan white shirt and black mask); Petruschka in Russia, Kaspar in Germany, Pulcinello in Italy - of course. Here in France Polichinelle has unwittingly lent his name to several expressions to indicate poorly hidden secrets and surprises "Avoir un polichinelle dans le tiroir" means to be pregnant, whilst "un secret de Polichinelle" refers to a secret that is a secret for nobody! However it is probably the distant cousin of Polichinelle and Mr Punch's - a certain Guignol who has best maintained the tradition of French puppetry.

 Guignol and his predecessor Gnafron, were created at the very beginning of the 19th by Laurent Mourguet who wished to distract clients from the real task in hand - toothpulling. Born into a family of silkworkers in 1769, in Lyon, les canuts,  Mourguet presented his puppet to the public to entertain and inform them of the social issues of the day. Whilst the resultant performances of social drama could be humourous, like the Punch and Judy shows, Guignol was far more socially committed than his English counterpart and did not descend into buffoonery. Often dressed like a silk weaver, with his hair tied back in the typical canut fashion (le salisfis), Guignol became a chronicler of the daily news, speaking in the canut accent and dialect. At a time of  limited communication, the Guignol show represented a good means to transmit information especially via sailors travelling along the Rhône and Saone river. The fact that there were no set texts (les canevas) and that each perfomance was largely based on the impromptu meant that the authorities were unable to censor or suppress the shows which would frequently reflect the social injustice of the bourgeois system. With his caustic humour and satirical engagé vision of society Guignol appeared to be a social rebel - a frondeur - who sought to demonstrate how good could triumph over evil or adversity.
I have to say that despite all of that, I prefer good old pugnacious Punch, mad, bad and surely dangerous to know and wholly selfish with it, but endearing nevertheless.

Maurice Sand

And this brings me to another Frenchman, son of the famous 19th century writer, George Sand, yet apparently little acknowledged for his own contribution to art - above all to the world of the marionnette. Perhaps Maurice Sand remained partly in the shadow of his mother, George. She was indeed a leading figure in the literary world, yet equally well known for her lovers (Alfred de Mussy, Frédéric Chopin amongst others...) and a wide circle of artistic acquaintances, her masculine clothes, her involvement in politics and her defiance of social conventions.

George Sand

Devoted to his mother, Maurice was highly influenced by her interests in the arts and particularly the theatre. He wrote an extensive study of  the Commedia dell'arte titled Masques et Buffons in 1860 and as a gifted artist like his mother (even shortly the pupil of Delacroix), illustrated its pages himself, portraying each character of the Italian theatre. In addition to that he set up his own puppet theatre in the family home at Nohant, in the Berry region, and for many years dedicated himself to perfecting techniques - from the puppets themselves (expertly dressed by George herself) to stage management and story lines.

A Sand Marionnette.

The term dilettante is sometimes used to describe Maurice Sand but this seems unjust and fails to recognise his worth and his contribution to puppetry. I haven't yet visited Nohant, but will be delighted to see the magnificent collection of marionnettes (well over a hundred). In the meantime,  here in the Champagne-Ardenne region we have the Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Arts de la Marionnette at Charleville-Mézières (also birthplace to the poet Arthur Rimbaud)..... Every two years the Festival des Marionnettes takes place in the city and I shall certainly be going this year when it opens in September.

http://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.fr/2011/12/marionette-feast-at-charleville.html
In this manner, the world of puppetry is perpetuated, although economical considerations and the foibles of taste sometimes lead to strange arrangements, with the most bizarre stage couplings as can be seen from this Guignol poster I came across!

Here's the link for the school - I noticed that the students will be studying the Punch and Judy show in the autumn!
That's the way to do it!
http://www.marionnette.com/

And finally, two years after writing this post in 2011, I finally made it to Nohant.... Here's the post:
The marionettes of Maurice Sand

Bad Blood and Books...

Bad Blood 2001Published by Fourth Estate.

In preparation for the final and ultimate domestic downsizing I've been going through my possessions, sorting out the articles that  seemed so all-important, life-enhancing and attractive when I had first obtained them, one way or another, and are now in need of an appraisal. First on the list were the books which had overrun shelves, stacked themselves up in corners and cluttered bedsides... 

Books have always seemed so civilised and sacred, by their very nature objects of value, whatever their size, shape and to a certain degree even content. A bookshelf was naturally a sacrosanct space. 

 However, I have gradually learnt to be a little less sentimental, in fact I've become downright sacrilegious. All of these books had been parked up on shelves, looking down on me. Their titles, authors and names of publishing houses had been weighing down on me and my heavy conscience because many of these works were still waiting to be read, despite being transported from home to home over the years. This time 'home' is going to change considerably and so I've got to grips with the task, sifting and shifting in the most radical mannner, having had a preliminary session two years ago. Passing on to new homes hundreds of books that I had never read, and knew realistically that I was unlikely to read, along with others I'd never really want to read again  initially felt rather ruthless, but soon felt most therapeutic. After that first step of literary selection and purging, following years of manic stashing, I've now reached a more interesting stage. Ironically, I've decided to read the books that I am happy to read but feel unlikely to keep. I may be a magpie, but even they must have doubts over the worth of their swag and must tire of wading through heaps of suspect articles. And indeed many of the inviting titles and alluring dustcovers that had taunted and tempted me in the past didn't seem to deliver the literary goods that they had appeared to offer. However, some of the works that looked a little lack-lustre or gloomy (to the point that I couldn't work out why I'd even bought them!) have turned out to be glowing jewels worthy of any magpie's covetious eye and will certain follow me to the next abode, wherever that is. A perfect example of this was Lorna Sage's 'Bad Blood', published by Fourth Estate in 2001, a copy of which I'd picked up in a charity shop some years ago. While the title and cover must have caught my attention at the time, I didn't feel the same enthusiasm this time and held little faith in it as it seemed to belong to the category of  'hardship' stories that even have their own shelf space at WH Smith's and do not really appeal to me right now. However, Bad Blood soon revealed itself to be in its very own category since in spite of dealing with a difficult childhood bogged down in a dynamics of a dysfunctional family in full bloom, or decay, the vitality of the text and the life that radiates out from each page in turn draws the reader in. The bad blood in question is not some  inter-generational melodramatic element, or a gruesome hereditary flaw flowing through veins. Although many of the family traits are borne down the family line in varying degrees of concentration and quirkiness the term 'bad blood' refers to enmity between individuals (or groups), in this case the author's maternal grandparents.

 In Bad Blood the marital relationships (and extra-marital relations) in the book are all unusual, to say the least. With regard to the grandparents, the marriage is almost farcically grotesque, built on age-old mutual bitterness and disappointment; the parents offer another vision of a marital set-up, founded on contrast and contradiction; finally the author's premature marriage as a pregnant teenager offers another facet to married life, bearing lifelong friendship and a daughter. Wholly mismatched in matrimony the grandparents are shackled together by their animosity, their mutual loathing fanned by waves of passive-agressive words and gestures that taint everything else in this toxic sphere, housed in a vicarage of Gothic squalor. With a lavish showman streak the grandfather, a vicar, believes his existence to be one of "thwarted ambition" while his wife feels that the pampered, perfumed life destined for her has been snatched away by this brutish word-wielding commoner. "The old devil, my grandfather had talked her into marriage and the agony of bearing two children and should never be forgiven for it."

 After much infidelity and long-term imbibing on his part, matched by gleeful spite and mulled resentment from the spouse embodying 'trouble and strife', the grandfather finally dies. The widow is finally left alone, yet remains ever- engrossed in this marital game.... "Death could not part them anymore than life already had". .

The parents, meanwhile, have a very different, albeit a most particular marriage which nevertheless fails to impress the young Lorna..."Gail and I were determined never to marry or have children thanks to our parents' example". Here the realist husband and the dreamer child-wife form a complement and fuse in a marital haze of 1950's domesticity that binds them together in a fractured, yet functional whole..."In truth they were more than one flesh, they had formed and sustained each other, they had one story between them and it wasn't at all easy for me or my brother to inhabit it".

The relationship between the teenage author and her peer boyfriend which results in marriage and a child marks the end of the book yet offers new life and perspective as new blood lines are intertwined with aspects of the old, leaving a few loose threads along the way. Although this marriage did not apparently last, the  communion and mutual respect appear to have done so and the wit and warmth that run through the book's account leading to this final union shine through the whole. I was sad to learn that Lorna Sage died at a relatively young age in 2001, having just been awarded the Whitbread Biography of the Year prize for Bad Blood.

The caustic wit and comic observation used to reflect the tragic yet vicious platitude of  failed marriage in Bad Blood remind me of a classic Punch and Judy show wherein the protagonists instigate or undergo a series of grotesque events until the final curtain sweeps down. This in turn reminded me of a track I used to listen to in the 80's, at great volume, swearing that no one could possibly lose sight of the essential, fall into such domestic drudge, and fall so dramatically out of love. I still think that the lyrics of Punch and Judy by Marillion are clever and should serve as a cautionary tale...

         
          Punch and Judy. 
      Washing machine, pinstripe dream,

      Stripped the glow from the beauty queen,

      Punch and Judy, Judy...

      Found our nest in the Daily Express,

      Met the vicar in his Holy vest,

      Punch and Judy...

      Brought the children up, church C of E,

      Now I vegetate with a colour TV,

      Worst thing that ever happened to me,

      Oh for D.I.V.O.R.C.E, Oh Judy...

      Whatever happened to pillow fights?

      Whatever happened to jeans so tight, Friday nights?

      Whatever happened to Lover's Lane?

      Whatever happened to passion games?

      Sunday walks in the pouring rain?

      Punch and Judy...

      Curling tongs, Mogadons...

     "I got a headache baby, don't take so long",

      Single beds, middle-age dread,

      Losing the war in the waist-land spread,

     "Who left the cap off the toothpaste tube?"

     "Who forgot to flush the loo?",

     "Leave your sweaty socks outside the door",

     "Don't walk across my polished floor!"

      Oh Judy...

      Whatever happened to morning smiles?

      Whatever happened to wicked wiles, permissive styles?

      Whatever happened to twinkling eyes?

      Whatever happened to hard, fast drives?

      Compliments of an unnatural size?

      Punch and Judy...

      Propping up a bar, family car,

      Sweating out a mortgage as a balding clerk,

      Punch and Judy...

      World War Three, suburbanshee,

      Just slip her these pills and I'll be free.

      No more Judy, 

      Judy no more. 

      Goodbye Judy!

Here's the link to a video of the song on Top of The Tops dating back to the good old 80's, complete with very big, bushy hair!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5W9nXlbc9ag&feature=related

Even if the domestic ivory tower/ house of cards and books may very well come tumbling down through marriage meltdown and the legal battles of divorce we can still learn lessons, learn to re-assess what really counts in life and pass on by the things that blur our vision and bear down on us with unnecessary weight. We can truly understand that the life generated by our own blood lines, our children, the pulse of life around us and the beauty and vitality to be found therein are the most important things. Losing sight of this through ill-adjusted expectations and priorities, then the subsequent blurring of tears and self-absorption may lead to impaired vision but finally gives rise to greater clarity. Maybe I would have liked to have kept hold of my greedy magpie hoard of hardbacks etc but as I make my selection it's been a great pleasure to find and focus on the real treasures.  I am no longer buffered up by a misplaced feeling of well-being from being surrounded and buried alive by reproachful unread paperbooks and neglected heavy-weight tomes... 

On that note, before I go off to do some reading, here is another song by Marillion, Lavender, based on a favourite nursery rhyme of my children. It has a slightly wistful tone that I used to love, however no cryptic messages are intended in this choice; some doors slam shut much to our dismay, but are meant to remain shut so that you may open new doors to new houses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q7sIzWKHGwQ&feature=related

Surprisingly decorative door knocker from a very unassuming street in town.

Fair Maids and Shrinking Violets...

A recent walk in the woods led along paths shrewn with blanched fallen leaves, dried-up grasses and lined by bracken fronds in the undergrowth.

 Meanwhile the trees and thickets were draped with Old Man's Beard, floating like ethereal patches of smoke or mist seen from a distance...











Branches were clad in vibrant lichen and clumps of moss had jacketed rocks and logs like crazy natural insulation. 
















On the outskirts of the woods white pockets of snowdrops had appeared in typically shady places, scattered below the trees and nearby hedges. The relative darkness and seclusion of these discreet sites seem to make the white of the flowers even brighter.

The very presence of the snowdrops seems all the more surprising when we stumble across them with childlike amazement. This year I paid more attention to the flowers after having listened to a radio programme describing the huge world of this seemingly modest little plant and the enthusiasm it fires during the cold winter months - and beyond. The field of the 'Galanthophile', these confirmed amateurs of the snowdrop - the Galanthus - is indeed very widespread and seems to be addictive since the diversity seems to belie the humble elegance of this flower that braves the harshest winter elements.

The biological name for the genus Galanthus comes from the Greek gala, meaning 'milk', referring of course to the white colour (cf. the Milky Way - the Galaxy), and then anthus for 'flower'.

However, snowdrops are also referred to as 'Fair Maids of February' and 'Christmas Bells' (some varieties emerge in December), but  with its 19 Galanthus species and 150 cultivars (cultivated to enhance specific features) there is no shortage of name to reflect different characteristics.... Bright Eyes, Ding Dong, Green Finch, Grumpy, Heffalump, Three Ships Come Sailing, Blewbury Tart, Padoga, Ophelia, Magnet, Reginae Olgae of Greece (in honour of Prince Philip's grandmother) are just some..... Although not widely known for its perfume, the snowdrop does have a honey scent that can be magical and this too, not surprisingly, is greatly appreciated by the galanthophile.

Snowdrops in our garden

Cultivars offer green or even yellow-tipped tepals (inner petals) of differing patterns, a variety of shade and shape for the outer petals - from extrovert upturned types, to gentle parachute forms or shy-and-retiring 'droopers'; from burlesque furling double petals like petticoats which contrast with more austere blooms that look like a nun's wimple! The basic snowdrop is the Galanthus Nivalis, said to have its origins in the Balkans, and introduced to England in the 17th century. Soldiers in the Crimean war also brought plants back with them and the Victorians were so entranced by the perceived innocence and purity of the snowdrop that a conference was devoted to the plant in 1891. However, the snowdrop has a far older and much richer symbolism  than that conferred to it by Victorian Britain. In Homer's Odyssey, Mercury (Hermes) supplied Ulysses with a herb Moly ( the Galanthus) to shield him from the poison used by the witch Circe to lead men to a state of amnesia and finally perdition. It is now recognised that the snowdrop contains the alkaloid Galanthamine which may act as an neuralgesic and could be beneficial to sufferers of Alzheimer's disease..... In Christianity the snowdrop represented the passing of sorrow - the harshest seasons of life, just as it reflects the end of the cold winter months. It is said that an angel turned falling snowflakes into flowers to give to Adam and Even after they were cast from the Garden of Eden. For others, however, the snowdrop could be seen as an unlucky force as many white flowers were considered to represent death and as such could not be brought into the house...

Today the snowdrop is so sought after that a bulb recently fetched a price of £350 - a little reminiscent of the Tulip Fever that gripped 17th century Holland. These fluctuations in popularity and perception also remind me of another winter flower, that is also to be found scattered in the undergrowth and on grassy banks... the violet. Whilst the snowdrop catches our attention with its long-stemmed elegance and its demurely bowed head it is always the violet that really catches my breath. Clustered together the violets seem modest in their colouring - the beautiful purple isn't immediately apparent - but then it is set off by the vibrant green of the young heart-shaped leaves.

Then the flower seems to play an optical illusion on your eyes which suddenly become aware of just how many purple-blue flecks are scattered out in front of you. All the other violet clumps surrounding the first one that your vision detected lead your eyes on and on as if looking over a vast piece of woven cloth bearing rich threads, here and there, that pick up the light and draw you in. The rich colour of the flower changes from dense majestic purple to flashes of a vibrant blue shade, all of which assumes a more modest tone when you examine the flowerhead at close quarters when the humble simplicity of the petal shape and the yellow-flecked centre seem to contrast the depth and variation of colour.
Of the same family as the Pansy and the Viola, there are hundreds of violet species worldwide and even if it is often associated with mild Northern Hemisphere zones it can be found in more extreme, far-flung places such as the Andes and Australia. Needless to say, with a bit of British chauvinism I always think of the violet as being intrinsically linked to all things English, but that of course is an illusion. The violet is the flower symbol for several states in the U.S, such as Rhode Island and Illinois and is so prevalent that it is sometimes regarded as a weed!  Moreover the violet isn't necessarily even purple-blue as the jaunty yellow varieties attest.

Pansies and violets from the garden.

Just as the violet seems to defy boundaries, visual and geographical, it always seem to operate a certain magic on our sense of smell too. Valued for its sweet scent, the violet odorata has been used as the base for innumerable perfumes of varying prestige. The very names themselves conjure up a certain magic.... Après L'Ondée by Guerlain; Violette Précieuse, Caron; Violette Divine, Berdoues are just a few...

Parma violets and those of Toulouse are often cited but England also cultivated the flower, to the extent that at the beginning of the 20th century trains would run from Dawlish in Devon to London to supply Convent Garden Market - memorably seen with Audrey Hepburn's violet seller in My Fair Lady.
Here's a clip of Miss Eliza Doolittle singing 'Wouldn't it be loverly?'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEcX9gNVg1U&feature=related
My first encounter with violet scent was a little less glamourous and was more of a cheap-and-cheerful nature - namely the Cornish Violet type that targeted tourists, presumably the same ones who bought effigies of the Cornish Pixie (me!). The perfume in question was presented in a small bottle decorated with a bright purple bow that set off the suspect vibrant green colour of the scent. The smell was perhaps predictably sweet, sickly and cloying - impossibly so - but what really floored me years later was that the real flower really does have a very similar perfume, it wasn't just some synthetic concoction.

On the actual flower this sweet scent seems to be in total brazen defiance of the violet's modest size and the harsh conditions of the flowering season - with very few insects to attract (but irresistible to ants) and this gives the plant a mesmerizing quality. My rather limited experience of  manufactured violet scent has led me to feel simultaneously attracted and slightly repelled in a see-saw motion that leaves me queasy so that I can never quite define my opinion of it. I think I will buy another bottle of the Cornish perfume this summer (although I may give the pixie a miss this time!)...
The defiant, enigmatic aspect of the violet does not end there as it has been remarked that the flower possesses the chemical ionone that can temporarily alter our olfactory capacity - literally the performance of our nose receptors. From its surprisingly heady perfume, the violet suddenly assumes a modest, virtually scent-free presence as it plays with our senses in a capricious, most un-shrinking violet way.
Despite the virginal innocence it was later thought to represent the violet was the symbol of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, and more notably her son Priapus ( yes, that one!); likewise in Hindu mythology the flower had a grip on sexuality itself as it symbolised the phallus of the God Shiva.

Pale lilac violets and celandines.

This same alluring, elusive nature of the violet's grasp was often reflected when the flower was used by Gods to draw in or hold onto the female object of their desire, be they consenting or otherwise. Zeus created the violet to give to his lover Io before turning her into a heiffer, a clever shape-shifting ploy to disguise their relationship and so in theory (only) avoid the suspicious eyes of his wronged consort Hera. Meanwhile Hades, God of the Underworld, lured Persephone to the depths of the earth using violets to entice her.
This duality in the flower's imagery is reflected in the writings of Freud who is said to have seen an association between violets, and sexual violence (viol), both words based on the Greek word for the flower - io. The emblem of the violet for love and power are combined in the figure of Napoleon for whom the flower was used as a secret code for his planned spring-time return from the Isle of Elba, and the image of his love for Josephine. In addition to this, the pure violet was also linked to remarkably bloody events. It  was associated with Attis, a seasonally-dying god who was left to bleed to death, and was also the symbolic flower of St Valentine who was persecuted and executed in the 14th century. It perhaps comes as no surprise then that the notion of death was pursued in Christianity. However the violet gradually changed again to become symbol of mourning as the flower's colour was reputed to have been transformed from its  initial white to purple through the tears of the Virgin Mary. A virginal innocence was conveyed in many Christian paintings as the violet was used to symbolize the Immaculate Conception. This was partly due to the violet's capacity for self-fertilisation - thus purity (due to the cleistogamus process wherein it is the late-season flowers that reproduce through self-pollination).

Pedro with Forget-me-nots and Violets.

Continuing this shift in perception the violet started to assume its shrinking, unassuming aspect, becoming the symbol of Our Lady's modesty and humility - an image that was embraced by the Victorians - for whom it was a sign of purity of love and spirituality. However the dangerous duality was never far...In Madame Bovary, the purple prose of Flaubert conveys the platitudes of Emma Bovary's life and more particularly the futility and irony of her attempts to flee it and enter the violet tones of her imagined, sensorially-heightened world. When Emma's lover, Léon, buys her a bouquet of violets the act becomes one of empty gesturing, and one which reflects the shallowness of sentiment..."He puffed up with pride, as if this hommage that was destined for another (Emma) turned itself back towards him". On her death bed, Emma sees the violet material of the priest's robe and feels "the lost voluptuousness of her first mystic thoughts" and yet her death is devoid of all spirituality and is of base physicality.
For me the violet simply has a magical duality, an image of hope and all things positive yet with a touch of sadness too. I found a single violet, against all odds, on the day my cat died and decided to see it as a message that life still goes on, and beauty with it. And so now, just as Pedro before him, our new kitten readily nibbles the heads off any violets that make their way into the house. Life indeed goes on.
And to end here's the famous song by Billie Holiday, Violets for My Furs, although I do prefer my furs to be wrapped around the living animal they were intended for...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RoLScooKguA

Primroses.

Collage and scraps, bits and pieces....

Scrap butterflies.

Holiday time, however the days have been eaten into by colds, flu and good old school work so that there have only been scraps of vacation time to savour, and strong doses of cabin fever to tolerate in between times. Despite all that, there have been some very healthy positive moments, Spring is on its way and the blackbirds have started to sing in the early morning.

Tin butterfly badge.

Over the last few days my attention has also turned to scrap effects since I am a 'sucker' for things related to collage effects/altered art imagery and mixed media visuals. In addition, I've been looking into the world of digital scrapbooking....

My butterfly mirror.

 This appears to be a marvellous garden of virtual delights just waiting to be explored and cultivated - computer-savviness permitting (or rather the lack of it...).Copies of Victorian cut-out sheets of scrapbook flowers, animals and insects seemed to be quite commonplace when I was little and available enough for me to take a rather blasé attitude to them. How I wish I'd held on to some of the more exuberant and decorative ones today!

Crabtree and Evelyn Soap.

These in turn seemed to influence collage-themed decorated boxes and packaging. Although I keep hold of the Crabtree and Evelyn box above mostly for its sentimental value, I used to love its design which enclosed a beautiful heart-shaped soap...many years ago.

  At the time they simply seemed to be just scrap...I can't now remember where I obtained the card butterflies in the first photo, but they seem to go well with another childhood staple - embossed tin insect badges. Apparently they were made in Japan; the specimens here have followed me around for years now.

Tin dragonfly badge.

I recently decided to use some vintage-style scraps that I'd collected in order to do a collage. Had I known that my favourite haunts for picking up scrap supplies were going to cut down on their stocks due to changes in taste and the economic climate I would have hoarded far more. My magpie instinct certainly failed me this time!






My last remaining ivy scraps I used up to decorate the collage as I love ivy in all its forms. Apparently it had its own language and signification in the Victorian period....Namely eternity and fidelity.
 

Perhaps we tend to think that scrapbooking was 'invented' by the Victorians as an appropriate genteel pastime for young ladies, thus providing a livelier alternative to embroidered samplers. However, scrapbooks have a far older, and more varied history.  Indeed the precursors of the scrapbook date back to the 15th century with the 'Commonplace books', used as a means to gather material such as recipes, verses, quotes etc. These books gradually led to the emergence of 'friendship albums' and took on a more personal tone as texts, illustrations and souvenirs were included.

 Interestingly, what is considered today to be a largely female pursuit was initially established by male figures in history - some of whom being well-known individuals.... It was a certain James Granger who encouraged personal annotations in books in 1775 with his publication of a historical book bearing blank pages at the end to be used by readers to record their own personal history. This is said to have set off a trend for books with extra pages, labelled 'grangerizing', as people took an interest in tracking their life stories.

My seashell collage mirror.

The first 'real' scrapbooks of the early 1800's did not preserve or embellish  photographs since the camera was yet to be invented. These albums could thus be collections of scrap mementos, calling cards, religious verses, newspaper cuttings, engraved images, sentimental poems and letters... Thomas Jefferson, no less, is said to have been one of the first famous scrapboard enthusiasts, filling his albums with newspaper clippings tracing his term of office as president. In 1825 'The Scrapbook' was published and offered advice on how to use one's scraps to fill an album. It was to be yet another man, a certain John Poole, who was to leave his influence on the development of the scrapbook through his publication 'Manuscript Gleanings and Literary Scrapbook' in 1826. As interest grew in scrapbooking albums were printed in order to meet market requirements and likewise differing scrap was produced to satisfy this enthusiasm. These scraps were generally highly decorative illustrations and texts that could be cut and pasted into place.

We may know Mark Twain for his 'Adventures of Huckleberry Finn', from the latter part of the 19th century, however it was his patented invention 'The Mark Twain Adhesive Scrapbook' with its pre-glued pages that was to be one of his most popular books and proved to be a highly lucrative venture. Victorian scraps were brightly coloured lithographs that replaced earlier scraps that had been black-and-white engravings tinted by hand. Many later models, often from England and Germany were pre-cut sheet designs, sometimes relief stamped and embossed to produce a certain texture and realism. These images would generally have different themes and the pre-printed pages in the scrapbooks would encourage enthusiasts to collect more scraps to fill their own albums.

A hoard/herd of cameras!

 
Naturally it was the advent of the camera, and its subsequent entry into mainstream social practices that would truly personalize the scrapbooks of each individual scrapbooker. Although photography was introduced by Louis Daguerre in 1837 with his daguerréotype, this photographic process took some years to establish itself. The introduction of paper photographs in the latter part of the 1800's and the mass production of the Kodak Brownie camera with its roll film at the end of the century democratized photography, making it more accessible to the masses. Not surprisingly the photograph was to be an integral part of the scrapbooking creative process.

In This House: Quarry Books 2007

Interest in scrapbooking grew and evolved right up to the First World War when interest declined a little and the economic situation in the aftermath of the war years was such that many scrapbook-associated businesses went bust. This slump in scrapbooking activity was reflected in the Second World War when enthusiasts declined in number again.

Today, of course scrapbooking has a worldwide popularity and is multi-facetted since a myriad of possibilities has been opened up by old techniques that have been updated and revamped combined with all that digital representation has to offer, alongside the internet. I just can't wait to experiment a little!

Glass, light, mirrors and ice.... Versailles!

Chandelier - Versailles

Today the sun was almost radiant however it has been bitterly cold here recently. Nevertheless it has been much worse, namely when I visited Versailles, during a particularly harsh spell. This was a little ironic since Versailles is the resplendant palace of the Louis XIV - the Sun King.

Le Roi Soleil dances...

The palace grounds had been closed to the public as everything was cloaked in slushy snow and ice, yet the day I went people were being admitted again to wander around the vast gardens.




















And so it was that we were able to see Versailles in another light Whilst the fountains were exposed, denuded of their cascades of water, the statues in the grounds were largely shrouded by protective covers like billowing shadows to avoid structural damage. The result was rather eery...

The Fountain of Apollo -  J-B Tuby

 Nevertheless, according to records it was during the winter months of 1709 that Versailles experienced the most extreme cold and despite the magnificence of the chateau, the inhabitants suffered.

River God with the Hall of Mirrors in the background

Indeed, it is said that wine froze in glasses, dying birds plummeted from the skies, whilst in Paris the city dwellers were able to cross the ice-bound surface of the Seine river as they pleased.









 Versailles today is certainly adequately heated, even for the most chill-averse visitor, yet despite the warmth indoors, with the golden, luminous majesty of the interiors it was the lure of the magical ice-glazed gardens that seemed to lead the tourist outside to brave the freezing temperatures.

Another of the river gods and goddesses

It was in the vast grounds of Versailles that Louis XIV (1638-1715), had sought, and largely succeeded in mastering unruly, anarchic Nature, imposing his vision and world-view, of which he, as le Roi Soleil, was the centre.Versailles, palace and gardens were the mirror and magnifying glass of Louis XIV's splendour, reflecting and glorifying the power of this demi-god on Earth.

With his garden à la française Louis successfully laid out his classical vision of art, with vigorous geometric lines of composition highlighting  perspective so that the palace looked out onto seemingly unlimited space. Everything within the grounds reflected the strict adherence to these absolutist laws and in turn everything focused and pivoted on the axis of this centrist world - Louis XIV himself.

Plan of Versailles grounds

The central Grand Canal is thus offset by numerous ornamental ponds, fountains, decorative alleys, gardens, groves and mazes of all sorts yet even if the visitor feels overwhelmed by the size and complexity of these elements all of these observe the clarity and precision of established laws of composition.




The grounds are, of course, lavishly decorated with sculpture alluding to the king in this heliocentric universe. Indeed, Louis XIV was mirrored in the obvious allegorical and mythological references.













 Frequently Louis XIV is represented as Hercules or Apollo and later in his reign the historical figures of  Marcus Curtius and Alexander the Great.

G-L Bernini - the Louvre

Girardon - the Louvre

 The great Baroque sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680) produced the exuberant work of Louis astride his horse. Apparently Louis did not like the resultant work and so had it altered and relegated to the gardens! The above version is in front the Louvre. François Girardon (1628-1715) also presented the king in a similar manner. This small bronze model was at the Louvre in a 'tactile' display room that encourages visitors to touch the sculpted forms with the result that both Louis and his stead have well-worn noses! The original statue was melted down during the Revolution.


Voluptuous forms and writhing figures also abound in the numerous fountain sculptures that I saw during my visit. The Fountain of Latona, by the Marsy brothers, was particularly striking - if not frightening with the strange frogs and lizards surrounding Latona, the mother of Apollo (the Sun God) and his twin, Diana (the Moon Goddess). This was a indirect reference to the 'mud-slinging' of La Fronde which was so abhorent to Louis XIV.

Fountain of Latona - the Marsy brothers

As seen above, the magnificent Fountain of Apollo (1670) by the sculptor Jean-Baptiste Tuby (1635-1700) was magical with all the forms set in ice, and the whole scene itself set against a backdrop of carefully aligned trees.

Fountain of Apollo

Pierre Puget (1620 -1694), a rather lesser-known French sculptor worked in a style reminiscent of Bernini - his works were taken to the Louvre to conserve them in the early 19th century. The Salle Puget was inaugurated in 1993 and it was here that these photos were taken...So much easier to do now than when I studied Puget at university in the 80's before the existence of the salle, mainstream use of the internet and digital cameras!

Milo de Crotona - Pierre Puget

Alexander and Diogenes - Puget

Puget's most famous work destined for Versailles is the Milo de Crotona (1683), followed by Perseus and Andromeda and Alexander and Diogenes which as a sculpted relief was to adorn the king's grand apartments.

Perseus and Andromeda - Puget

 The famous médaillon relief of the Triomphe de Louis by Coysevox is to be found in the Salon de la Guerre - next to the Hall of Mirrors of which the sculptor was set the task of decorating.

Louis XIV - Coysevox

He strove to compete with the art of Girardon - and many of works (or their replicas) can be seen  in the gardens - one of the most elegant in its antique style being the Vénus à la coquille.

Venus with a shell - Coysevox

This indeed can be seen in Louvre along with Coysevox's  most renowned work that was destined for the chateau at Marly - the equestrian figures of Fame and Mercury.

Mercury - Coysevox

My favourite statue is this one however... I just love the rump on this fine fiery horse!

Marly horse - Coysevox

What Versailles was felt to be lacking at the outset was soon amply provided; whole woods were transported from Normandy and Flanders to populate the Versailles grounds, around 200 swans were imported from Denmark to grace the water courses with their elegance whilst miniature sea vessels and genuine Venetian gondolas animated the Grand Canal. A Baroque-style menagerie presented all kinds of exotic beasts to the spectators and was, much later, to house the sheep, duck and cockerel who had nobly served the incumbent king by assisting in the virgin flight of the Montgolfier brothers' hot-air balloon in 1783!



Initially the land of Versailles had been dominated by forests interspersed with water-logged plains and mosquito-ridden marshes that encouraged malaria. Yet here were Louis XIII's preferred hunting grounds - so much so that in 1622 the king acquired an area of the Versailles forest for his own personal hunting needs.


Several years later Louis
XIII bought more land and promptly ordered the construction of a hunting pavillion on the top of a hill. With the black, white and red colouring of its building materials the pavillion was referred to as "Le chateau de cartes" as the colours resembled those of a deck of cards. It was around the original building that the Versailles that we know today was born, thus conserving the beloved hunting pavillion of Louis XIII  thanks to the Le Vau 'envelope' and paying a modicom of respect to the concerns of the finance minister, Colbert, who wished to limit costs.



Needless to say, this cost-saving wish was outrageously flouted since the building of the palace of the new Versailles and its grounds, started in 1661, was to devour 4 times the budget of France and was to last more than half a century.....

Whilst the conservative Colbert praised the virtues of the Louvre as the official residence of the king and court, the young Louis XIV hated it, surrounded as it was by dirty streets, the noise of city life and the throngs of people populating the area, embodying above all the memories of the insurrection of La Fronde. Thus it was that at the beginning of his reign Louis demanded the architect Le Vau, the landscape architect Le Nôtre and the painter Le Brun to design and oversee the construction and decoration of the palace of Versailles.

Gold stucco

Although work continued right up to 1710 with the plans for the realisation of the chapel, this did not prevent the king, court and government from settling in the palace from 1682. Indeed nothing would deter Louis XIV from occupying this ultimate theatrical stage - to play out the majesty and ostentation of his reign to a wide European audience.



Great artists and architects would succeed each other so that on the death of Le Vau it was Mansart who resumed the work at hand. The materials used at Versailles would themselves highlight and magnify the power and efficency of the Royal machine commanded by Colbert. Under Colbert, the Manufactures of the French state provided the king and his country with articles of unequalled quality and quantity. The Manufactures d'Etat of the Gobelins, Beauvais, and La Savonnerie were accompanied by private manufactures - such as that of Saint Gobain.

In this manner, Versailles was decorated with lavish tapestries, glass and mirrors hailing from the state factories in unprecedented opulence, so that reliance on foreign materials was lessened or ended; Venitian glass was no longer deemed necessary.Versailles therefore became the reference. The work of the cabinet-maker André-Charles Boulle (1642-1732) with its distinctive bronze detail and marquetry became a source of inspiration across Europe - he is even said to have introduced the innovative chest of drawers! The arts were equally highlighted in the grand siècle which was indeed punctuated by the work of Molière, La Bruyère and Boileau, Bossuet, La Fontaine, Saint Simon and Lully, finding a stage in Versailles - quite literally so in the case of Molière. The great paintings that adorned the walls of Versailles were moved around the palace regularly in order to reflect the full wealth of the Louis' collection. It is said that even the Mona Lisa had graced its walls.

Here to put you in the mood to appreciate the atmosphere of the époque - some of the music of Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687), who, of Italian origin,  took on the French nationality in 1661 and became the chief composer of French Baroque music.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVKxkRwPSPs&feature=related

Another means to articulate the glory of Louis XIV was through the innumerable lavish fêtes, dances, festivities and plays that were held in the setting of the palace and grounds. This was covered in part by the 2003 film, Le Roi Danse, by Gérard Corbiau, and below is the link in order to watch a short extract.

Title image from the film

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KyBqf4s4O8w&feature=related

The expenses run up through such events met with much disapproval from Colbert, ever-conscious of costs, yet this did little to deter the king, who even appeared in person on stage presenting the dance of the Sun King, both figuratively and literally. In May 1664 Les Plaisirs de l'Ile Enchantée was composed by Molière and Lully thus combining theatre, opera and ballet whilst the king himself rode in the equestrian parade.

J-B Lully

These great public demonstrations were accompanied by breath-taking water and firework displays that showed how the illustrious king could dominate the elements. Indeed, such was the demand for water that a solution had to found. Despite the fact that Versailles had initially been a marshy area, the supply of water was limited and could certainly not satisfy such demands; Versailles had 1400 fountains alone!



The machine à Marly was the outcome of this enormous water-supply problem. It was thus hoped that the water of the Seine could be led to the palace, with a pump system that would enable Versailles to "drink the water of the Seine", even if the domain was 100 metres above the level of the river.

Machine à Marly

One initial plan to build an enormous Pont du Gard-style aquaduct to supply water was drawn up but this was left unfinished due to lack of funds. In spite of the dedication of his engineers, who promised that "water will rise up to the heavens if it so pleases your Majesty" Louis XIV was not to win the water war....

At the same time the town of Versailles itself was being built up and so from that moment until 1789 Versailles was to be the true capital of France, even if Paris maintained the official title. The palace of Versailles certainly reflected this prestigious status.... The immensity of the palace cannot be overlooked as succession after succession of galeries and rooms lead on from one another. However, the gleaming jewel in the Versailles crown is surely the Hall of Mirrors, decorated by Le Brun....

Hall of Mirrors (avoiding the heads of all the other visitors...!)

The long Galérie des Glaces of 73m glows and sparkles with the gold and glass decor which in turn is reflected in the huge mirrors set in 17 arcades. The hall looks out onto the sweeping landscape of the grounds featuring the Grand Canal, all of which is in turn reflected in the hall mirrors.

















Each arcade bears references which reflect the glory of Louis XIV. Here in the Hall of Mirrors Versailles reflected its own image and luminosity, in turn a symbol of the Sun King with the illuminous rays of his power and influence.

Like the sun, the days of Louis followed established trajectories and likewise the life of the palace reflected and traced the order and routine of the Sun King's day. Each hour of the day was thus orchestrated to run like clockwork according to a rigid schedule - one that was later to be abandonned by Louis XV and XVI who found the regime too repressive.

Louis XIV himself felt the need to escape his gilded cage and in 1687 Hardouin-Mansart built the Grand Trianon on the site of the Porcelain Trianon which the king had had constructed in 1670 as a place to relax with his mistress, Madame de Montespan. Meanwhile the laws of étiquette of the court governed the life of each and every individual so that the slightest gesture and figure of speech was codified and scrutinized. A strict timetable was established around the activities of the king and courtiers, in rigid order of hierarchy, would present themselves to assist and punctuate each event of the day, however intimate or banal these may have been.

Blurry light reflected in a blurry mirror from a blurred photo!

A special rail was set up around the king's bed to prevent those present from getting too close to his Majesty on his waking, La Levée, and then during the bedtime procedure when he retired to his chambers. Whilst the king's daily routine was observed through each stage of his life, court life was strangely static. Apart from the king's offspring - few children were present at Versailles, nor were elderly people since they could serve little purpose in court where elegance, wit and beauty were so revered.

As Louis XIV matured his image and representations changed too, passing from innumerable mythological references to those of history as the king came to equal the gods of antiquity in power and importance and seemed to embody them; likewise, latin texts were replaced by French ones.

Little by little the sun began to set on the Sun King and the illustrious reign of Louis XIV came to an end in 1715 on his death. The chapel and opera were finally finished under Louis XV yet even if Versailles continued to shine, it no longer had the same radiance. Later its glow was to be equated with pure decadence - leading to its demise with the Revolution in 1789. Indeed, after Louis XIV, it would appear that today only the ill-fated queen Marie-Antoinette comes to mind today when we think of Versailles...

Temple d'Amour

Marie-Antoinette's reputation and influence have been largely re-assessed, and so we are perhaps more sympathetic to her life and failings. In part due to Sofia Coppola's film from 2006, Marie-Antoinette is now considered to have been avant-garde in her refinement and taste. In the gift shops of the Louvre today there are innumerable Marie-Antoinette objects - which in their pink frothiness seem to run a mockery of past criticism...

Petit Trianon

She was certainly the only queen to lay  her own personal style on Versailles since the Petit Trianon , The Hamlet, the Temple of Love (1774) are today synonymous with her name.
Seeking refuge from the strict court étiquette and the libertinage, Marie-Antoinette devoted herself to the domain given to her by Louis XVI in 1774. Even if the Petit Trianon had, in fact, been constructed some years previously for Madame de Pompadour, a favourite of Louis XV, we associate it with the queen.



Apart from the graceful belvederes and groves Marie-Antoinette also installed a fully-functioning farm which provided the royal table with fruit, vegetables and wine. She herself enjoyed bucolic pleasures and would tend to the animals which were all, nevertheless, meticulously cleaned before the queen's arrival!






The arts were also greatly appreciated and Marie-Antoinette had a marked pleasure in acting and watching plays in her own small theatre - although only those personally invited could attend.

The Hamlet

Not surprisingly, such whims and pleasures could not meet with approval from a starving population and finally in 1789 a horde of Parisians envaded the palace, forcing the family to return to Paris to meet their end.

Façade near the Place des Armes, overlooking Versailles town

On this demise, Versailles lost its privileged status, ironically been re-labelled the 'Cradle of Freedom' - the Berceau de liberté by the revolutionaries whilst Paris recovered its position as capital of France. Ransacked during these temptestuous times Versailles was abandonned but in 1833 Louis Philippe turned it onto a museum housing collections "To all the glories of France" thus giving Versailles a new role in the 19th century.

Today palace and grounds have recovered their glory - though rather more as a reflection of the artistic endeavours of the grand siècle rather than its political statement so that whatever your affinities and view of the monarchy you cannot dismiss the huge exploit that Versailles represents. At the end of the First World The Treaty of Versailles was signed in the Hall of Mirrors in 1919 and for over 30 years now Versailles has been recognized by UNESCO as part of the World Heritage. So, even when the sun had gone down on my visit to Versailles, the palace still threw out light and glory - I can't wait to visit again during the summer - alongside the several thousand other daily visitors!

Louis XIV - Coysevox - Musée Carnavelet. 1689. Paris