Versailles

THE Palace of Versailles served as France's seat of government for just a century: Louis XIV moved his court there in 1682, there was a short break during Louis XV's childhood and, in 1789, Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were driven out by the swelling revolution. Yet ever since, in its various guises of museum, ceremonial court and tourist attraction, the palace - the French call it a chateau, although it is not a fortified castle - has remained a symbol of French grandeur. Today's elected governments see no contradiction in spending heavily to conserve this monument to absolute power. And let's face it, it is impressive. Even if acres of Baroque decoration are not to the taste of all six million annual visitors, its breathtaking scale is soon achingly felt by anyone on an official tour. This is still more apparent when the palace is viewed from the perspective of magnificent gardens more than twice the size of Central Park. In any event, no one can aspire to see it all. In fact, I'd wager that the Sun King himself could not have found his way around the place. Not that he needed to: people came to him. A far less exhausting visit is promised by "Versailles," a new illustrated book that, while not coffee table in size, still weighs close to four pounds. Short texts by Valérie Bajou, smoothly translated by Antony Shugaar, provide a potted history of the palace and its gardens as well as of the smaller adjacent chateaus, the Grand Trianon and the Petit Trianon. But some 300 exquisite color photographs serve as the real guides to the palace's royal apartments, its great reception halls and its artworks, in addition to its gardens and the two Trianons. It took time for Versailles to become Versailles. In 1623, Louis XIII ordered construction of a hunting lodge there, but it was not until the 1660s that his son set about building a palace fit for Europe's most powerful monarch. Among those put to work were the great landscape artist André Le Nôtre and two architects, Louis Le Vau and Jules Hardouin-Mansart, who gave the palace new wings, courtyards and facades. And before Louis XIV died in 1715, a large chapel, the Hall of Mirrors and the Grand Trianon had been added. "On the exterior, the palace a visitor sees today is not very different from the palace that Louis XIV knew, but the interior is quite another matter," Bajou, a curator at Versailles, writes. While Louis XV was only 5 when he succeeded his greatgrandfather, he eventually reorganized the royal apartments and bedrooms. He also built the Royal Opera for the marriage of the future Louis XVI to Marie Antoinette as well as the Petit Trianon, later Marie Antoinette's private retreat. In contrast, poor Louis XVI's main contribution to the history of Versailles was his humiliating exit. The palace that we see today - and is portrayed in this book - aspires to look much as it did on the eve of the revolution, with the addition of many 19th-century paintings (how could Napoleon be omitted from French gloire?). In some rooms closed to the public, paintings are hung simply as storage. Elsewhere, barely an inch of wall is overlooked. Typically, the bedroom of the queen has gilt boiserie and mirror frames; embroidered silk wall coverings; wall and ceiling paintings; chandeliers; and luxurious furnishings. And so it is with other royal apartments. The 220-foot-long Hall of Mirrors, with its 357 mirrors, marble walls, chandeliers, ceiling paintings and 17 windows looking over the gardens, is of course a must for every visitor (the 1919 Treaty of Versailles was signed here). The Hall of Battles is still longer - 394 feet - and is lined with huge paintings of French victories through the ages, including oils by Delacroix and Fragonard. The Royal Opera, on the other hand, is a jewel of intimacy that, happily, is again home to music. The images in this book also do justice to the palace gardens, with their canal, lakes, fountains, statues, Orangerie and potager du roi, the king's vegetable garden. If only one could complete the picture by Photoshopping in one of the glorious garden parties given by Louis XIV. Indeed, a predictable shortcoming of a visit through photographs is that there is not a person in sight. So there is still something to be said for going to Versailles: as you elbow your way through the crowds, you can close your eyes and imagine yourself as, well, perhaps not the Sun King or Marie Antoinette, but at least as a royal servant. Alan Riding is a former European cultural correspondent for The Times. His most recent book is "And the Show Went On: Cultural Life in Nazi-Occupied Paris."