Versailles, ordre et chaos by Michel Jeanneret, and: Les Fêtes de Versailles by André Félibien (review)

Focusing on the period 1660–80, ‘le moment classique par excellence’ (p. 9), Michel Jeanneret proposes in Versailles, ordre et chaos to promote an element of French classicism that, he claims, has largely been overlooked. Jeanneret’s classicism abounds in dungeons and dragons, monsters, murky grottoes, and wild animals, and, above all, in diverse manifestations of the dangerous bestiality that lurks inside every one of us. The buildings and gardens of Versailles are not, then, all about symmetry, order, and rationality; rather, they are rife with peculiar and often ominous figures. As Jeanneret rightly reminds us, the Versailles in question is a building site, a chateau and a concept under construction, bold in its ambition but sometimes hesitant in its outcomes. Many of the examples are of designs, notably those by Le Brun, that never even came to fruition but are given due consideration here as evidence of a cultural moment; other examples that did see the light of day, such as the Grotte de Thétis, have since been demolished; further examples have survived to this day. What is important about all of them is that they are in some way shadowy. As Jeanneret explains, sinister elements must be present for peace to be restored; they speak of a triumph not just of order, but of order amidst the omnipresent threat of chaos. Just as Louis XIV’s monarchy triumphed over the disorder of the Fronde, so also did the chateau of Versailles triumph over the inhospitable marshes on which it was built. But another Fronde might yet occur, just as the chateau could one day sink back down into the marshy ground. In this context, some of the quirkier (one might be tempted to say ‘baroque’) entertainments of the period, such as court ballet with its weird and wonderful array of characters, make more sense. And, as Jeanneret makes clear, their function is not merely symbolic; there is a cathartic purpose to many of his examples, as they re-enact or narrate the process of a struggle. Classicism is thus a process and not merely a statement. Jeanneret’s dialectical approach is perfectly convincing, and it invites a welcome nuancing of a period that is sometimes all too familiar. It also provides a useful structure and coherence to a large part of this wide-ranging book. However, the book’s title is somewhat misleading, as only the first third deals explicitly with Versailles and court spectacle, while the remainder deals with the literature and thought of the period more generally. Many of the usual suspects appear (La Fontaine, La Bruyère, La Rochefoucauld, and Pascal) alongside one or two less obvious choices (Hobbes and Saint-Simon). Diverse aspects of man’s animality come across very clearly, and the very nature of humanity is interrogated in some fascinating ways (the juxtaposition of Hobbes and Pascal is particularly successful), but Versailles becomes lost amid the bigger picture. For that reason, it might have been better to have begun with these broader questions and to have worked inwards towards the more specific case of Versailles and the French court. The bibliography is a little thin for something so all-encompassing, and experts will no doubt find some key references missing from the sections devoted to their particular areas. Yet overall this is an interesting and intelligent book, and one cannot fail to be impressed by its vast scope and by Jeanneret’s ability to handle such a wealth of material. The task is considerably easier in his charming critical edition of André Félibien’s formal accounts of two great court fêtes held at Versailles in 1668 and 1674 respectively, complete with the eleven official engravings by Jean Le Pautre and François Chauveau. Moli...