Power, Innovation and Art Collide in ‘Versailles: Science and Splendour’
“L’état, c’est moi” is a phrase attributed to French king Louis XIV, the Sun King, though it is considered by historians to be apocryphal: meaning “I am the state,” it speaks to the king’s absolute and divinely ordained power. Three kings ruled from the Palace of Versailles: Louis XIV until his death in 1715, then Louis XV from 1722 until 1774 and finally, Louis XVI until the Revolution of 1789. Louis XV was among the best-educated royals of his age, and his knowledge was of a mostly scientific nature. From the age of seven, he was passionate about cartography, and at age eleven, he discovered astronomy. “In addition to his core education, he touched upon anatomy and surgery, and from medicine, he went on to study botany. He read a great deal, assiduously consulted the maps in his geography gallery, attended dissections, studied plants at Trianon [a smaller building at Versailles] and observed the heavens, following every astronomical event,” writes French art historian Beatrix Saule in the book that accompanies the London Science Museum’s exhibition, “Versailles: Science and Splendour.” While Versailles and its kings have always been regarded as sumptuous and somewhat decadent against a backdrop of the then-starving French peasantry, the scientific pursuits of the kings are not at the top of public consciousness. Until, that is, this show was put together.
Where the kings of France are concerned, a focus must always fall upon the French Revolution, the most monumental regicide in history. I was surprised, therefore, that the revolution was mentioned only briefly in this exhibition: while it is written on plaques that scientific instruments were destroyed or stolen during the riots, it is not explained at length, nor is it explained fully as to whether the republic that followed adopted the scientific discoveries of their forebears. This, I feel, is a glaring omission, and one that will leave visitors wanting to know more: while the exhibition book mentions that “documents and scientific instruments were scattered at the time of the revolutionary sales in 1793-94, when Versailles was emptied of all its furnishings” and that objects were taken to various institutions, it does not feel thorough. True, the exhibition is entitled “Versailles” rather than “France: Science and Splendour,” but more background wouldn’t be out of place.
The star of the show is Louis XV’s rhino. The male Indian rhinoceros presented to Louis XV in 1769 by Jean-Baptiste Chevalier de Conan, the governor of Chandernagore (now Chandannagar) in Bengal, has pride of place in the exhibition’s main room. The plaque reads that he was killed during the revolution, possibly drowning in the fountains or after being stabbed with a sword. While he lived, the rhinoceros was among thousands of animals from Europe, Asia, Africa and America in the royal menagerie. They were a source of inspiration for many artists, such as the Flemish animal painter Pieter Boel, whose studies included a painting of one of the rarest birds in the menagerie, the cassowary, sent to Versailles in 1671 from Madagascar.
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The other star of the show is the Clock of the Creation of the World (the Pendule de la Création du monde). At the time of its manufacture—1754—clocks were considered to be the most sophisticated and most prestigious devices ever made. Its design and mechanisms are a spectacle to behold: at the top, a shining sun banishes the darkness, which is represented in the form of clouds. It really is marvelous to look at: like jewelry, it gleams brilliantly in the light, and the meteorological forms are very stunningly depicted. “In the lower part, held in a patinated bronze rock surrounded by raging waves, sits a terrestrial globe engraved with the different countries. This globe rotates on its axis in 24 hours, and the inclination of the poles varies according to the seasons. A long ray of sun indicates midday in the countries situated on the same latitude,” the exhibition book explains further.
A portrait of Emilie du Châtelet (1706–1749) is also included in the exhibition—she who was deemed by her lover Voltaire to be “a great man whose only fault was being a woman.” While living with and supporting the writer financially, she accumulated a very large library, carried out scientific experiments and wrote a great number of books. One of the first to appear, in 1738, was Elémens de la philosophie de Neuton (translated colloquially, A Beginner’s Guide to Newtonianism), which was thought to be by Voltaire but was, in fact, a collaborative effort. In addition to her literal translation of Newton’s prose, du Châtelet provided more accessible explanations of his arguments with clear examples: “She transformed his geometrical expositions into modern calculus, and also summarised the latest mathematical research and experimental vindications of his theories,” says Versailles: Science and Splendour. I would have liked to have some space dedicated to the position of women in France at the time. Of the scientific community, how many were women? What level of education could a middle- or working-class woman attain? Sadly, this wider context is missing.
The construction of the magnificent fountains at Versailles, which still function gloriously today, is given space. The plans for the mechanisms and piping that would deliver the requisite 9,500 cubic meters of
“Versailles: Science and Splendour” is at London’s Science Museum through April 21, 2025.