Even the soil has been
"molded into new forms" at a monarch's caprice. Versailles is the
expression of monarchy, as conceived by Louis XIV. It is the only epic
produced in his reign--a reign so fertile in the other forms of poetry,
and in talent of all kinds. What epic ever chronicled the destiny of
an epoch in a manner more brilliant and complete? In this poem of
stone the manners of heroic and familiar life mingle at every step.
Besides the halls and galleries, the theaters of royal estate, there
are mysterious passages and sequestered nooks that whisper a thousand
secret histories. The palace has two voices, one grave and one gay and
trifling. It is full of truths and fictions, tears and smiles. The
personages of its drama are as various as life itself; kings, poets,
ministers, courtiers, confessors, courtesans, queens without power, and
queens with too much power; ambassadors, generals, little abbes and
great ladies; nobles, clergy, even the people. For two centuries did
this crowd continue to pass and re-pass over these marble floors and
under these gilded vaults; and every day its flood became more
impetuous, every day it gave way more and more to the whims and
passions. And the palace heard all, saw all, spied all--and has
retained all, each action in its acted hour, each word in its place.
During the two centuries of absolute monarchy, nothing took place that
Versailles did not either originate or answer.
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