Royal Comeback

The Grand Trianon, a mile and a half from the vast palace of Versailles, was built as a royal hideaway. Ordered by the Sun King, Louis XIV, in 1687, it was a delight in pink and green Languedoc marble and, for all its 70 rooms, was considered intimate by a King's standards at that time. Even royal princes had to ask permission to visit. "Delicious gardens!" exclaimed that great collector of court gossip, the Duc de Saint-Simon. And in Louis XIV's day, the gardens did not stop at the doors; his mistress, Madame de Maintenon, liked to change color and perfume by rearranging the Trianon's million flower pots daily.

Louis XV offered it to his Queen in 1741, only to take it back a few years later and install Madame de Pompadour in the apartment next to his. An amateur botanist, he made its garden famous throughout Europe for its hothouse pineapples, coffee and figs. Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette preferred the nearby, smaller Petit Trianon, but this did not spare either building when revolutionaries carted off their contents.

Bed for Snuggling. It took the upstart Napoleon to bring it back to its former glory. In 1805, he had the palace redecorated in Empire style for himself and Josephine. The day of his divorce from her, Napoleon returned to the Trianon, spent the night there alone. His remorse was short lived: he was soon back with his new Queen, Marie-Louise, each with a separate wing. Last King of France to reside there was the bourgeois Louis Philippe, who raised a chuckle when he widened the bed in the Queen's chamber by a foot (overleaf) so that he and Queen Marie-Amelie could snuggle in together.

Because the Grand Trianon was used more for affairs of the heart than of state, it has featured little in history, and since 1963, has been closed even as a museum. The reason was not government indifference. Charles de Gaulle and his Minister of Culture, Andre Malraux, had quietly decided between them that it was time for the Grand Trianon to stage a royal comeback, this time as a museum and guest house where De Gaulle could feast and confer with visiting heads of state.

Triumph of Turgidity. Last week the results were unwrapped, and with a flourish De Gaulle invited France's 120-member Academie des Sciences and all living Nobel prizewinners for the first preview. The effect was staggering. France's huge official warehouse had been combed through for the original Empire-style furniture (only De Gaulle's eight-room suite has been done in Louis XVI); provincial and national museums were searched for the original paintings. To weave the 24 Aubusson rugs, carefully kept facsimiles of the original patterns were used; Lyon silk-makers simply followed swatches saved from Napoleon's purchases to reproduce the curtains and upholstery. To bring the Trianon up to date, air conditioning, 350 telephones, 27 bathrooms have been added, along with TV outlets in every room.

The first official guest has yet to be announced, and the price of restoration is equally confidential. Said Versailles Curator Gerald Van der Kemp: "Let's just say that it cost a little more than a Caravelle [about $3,000,000]." For most observers, the price, whatever it might be, was worth it. Even to the rare critics, a Versailles curator had an answer: "We've done everything exactly the way it was. It's Napoleon's taste, not ours." It is also, apparently, De Gaulle's.

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