It has been said that Louis XIV built Versailles for his court, Trianon for himself, and Marly for his friends.

To that end, Marly consisted of a main house for the King and his immediate family, and 12 guest pavilions.  Each pavilion contained 2 apartments, one on each floor.  If each guest was married, as many as 48 people could be accommodated.  The pavilions faced each other across a water feature in two rows of 6.  As the picture below shows, Marly was surrounded by forested hills, which must have given it a pleasing sense of privacy.

The Domaine de Marly as it appeared in 1724. Credit: fr.wikipedia.org.

Apart from the Queen, and later the King’s second wife, Mme de Maintenon, only his brother, Monsieur, and his son, the Dauphin, had the right to accompany the King to Marly without being invited and had their own permanent rooms there.  Everyone else, even other members of the royal family and the Princes of the Blood (i.e. the King’s cousins), had to apply for an invitation, either to the King’s private secretary, or directly to the King himself.  As the day for a departure to Marly approached, courtiers would murmur, “Sire, Marly?” as the Grand Monarque made his way from his bedroom at Versailles through the Hall of Mirrors to the chapel.  If the King invited a lady to Marly, her husband was automatically included, unlike at Trianon, where he was not.  Naturally, invitations were highly sought after.

The UNESCO-listed historic centre of the Mexican city of Queretaro, about 2 hours north of Mexico City, is a treasure house of New World baroque architecture, of which the chief secular jewel is the Casa de la Marquesa.

The façade of the Casa de la Marquesa.

Built in the mid-18C as an aristocratic residence, it’s now run as an elegant boutique hotel.  I didn’t stay there, but I went for a meal in the excellent restaurant.

We’ll get to my favourite bookshop in Lisbon, Livraria Sà da Costa, in a minute.

First, a word on Portuguese secondhand and antiquarian bookshops in general (called albufarristas in Portuguese) — I’ve never seen so many!  In both Lisbon and Porto, there seemed to be one everywhere I looked.  I’ve previously written about my favourite albufarrista in Porto, Livraria Moreira da Costa.

Livraria Moreira da Costa in Porto.  

I’ve since been informed by a Portuguese friend via Instagram that book publishing was an expensive undertaking in times past, and subject to heavy censorship for much of the 20th century while Portugal groaned under the Salazar dictatorship.  As a result, most people could only afford to buy secondhand books.  If anyone has another explanation, I’d love to hear from you in the comments below.

It was on this day in 1830 that Louis-Philippe, Duc d’Orléans, took power in the wake of the so-called July Revolution that toppled his cousin, Charles X, who had abdicated in favour of his grandson.  Charles had intended for Louis-Philippe to rule as regent for the little boy, but the latter had other ideas and raised no objection when the National Assembly offered to make him king in his own right.  Departing from tradition, he proclaimed himself Louis-Philippe, King of the French, rather than Louis XIX (or XX, depending on your point of view), King of France.

Louis-Philippe as photographed in 1842. Credit: By Lerebours et Claudet – page, image, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8462011

Here at Versailles Century we take a dim view of this wily monarch, mainly because of his ham-handed interventions at Versailles.  Three years into his reign, Louis-Philippe decided to undertake a partial restoration of the Château de Versailles and also to create a museum of French history in it.  We’ve previously touched on one of his modifications, namely the eponymous staircase in the King’s private apartments.

The Louis-Philippe Staircase in March, 2017.

I actually like this staircase, which brings some much-needed light into this part of the Château.

Following on from last week’s post about the house, today we visit the beautiful gardens of the Palacio Fronteira in Lisbon.

The most famous part of the gardens is undoubtedly the tile-lined water tank.

The water tank at the Palacio Fronteira, Lisbon, in April, 2016.

The upper walk is known as the Gallery of Kings, after the busts of Portugal’s monarchs set in the niches of the blue-tiled wall.

The Leal Senado building in Macau isn’t quite as iconic as the ruins of the church of São Paulo, but it comes close.  The square in front of it is perhaps more famous.

  Senado Square in Macau as seen from a window on the upper floor of the Leal Senado building, 2014.

The building itself is a handsome Portuguese baroque-style edifice.  Nowadays a busy thoroughfare runs directly in front of it, which you have to cross to get to the square, and vice-versa.

The Palacio Fronteira is perhaps my favourite stately home anywhere.

The Palace of the Marquises of Fronteira, seen from the famous water tank in April, 2016.

I like stately homes a lot, so that’s a big statement.  I prefer occupied stately homes, and if they’re still occupied by the descendants of the builder, so much the better.  It’s very much in the Palacio Fronteira’s favour that the 13th Marquis of Fronteira, the direct descendant of the 1st Marquis who built the place, lives in it with his family.

Our friends at the official Château de Versailles website have published this stunning rooftop view from the centre block (I assume) down the central axis of the gardens to the Tapis Vert and the Grand Canal beyond.

View from the roof of the Château de Versailles towards the Grand Canal. Credit: http://www.chateaudeversailles.com

Looking at this view makes me feel quite kingly.  Why?  Because Louis XV is known to have enjoyed spending time on the roof of the Château.

The French furniture in the Gulbenkian Museum is impressive.  The collection includes pieces by two great masters: Séné and van Risen Burgh (also spelled van Risamburgh).

In a previous post, we looked at a set of Beauvais-upholstered chairs by Séné.

Pair of fauteuils by J.B.C. Séné in the Gulbenkian Foundation museum in Lisbon.

Today we’ll examine four pieces by van Risen Burgh/van Risamburgh.

When you visit the gardens of Versailles today, the plantings you see are not those of Louis XIV and Le Nôtre.

The Sun King and his great gardener together oversaw the design and planting of the gardens in a series of campaigns that was largely completed by the late 1680s, though the King continued to tinker with various elements until the end of his life.  The only major alteration in the reign of Louis XV was the construction of the Bassin de Neptune in the northeastern corner of the gardens.  Le Bien Aimé otherwise concentrated his gardening efforts on the Petit Trianon.

The Bassin de Neptune on a rainy day in late March, 2016.

The layout of the gardens as we see them today, then, is still more or less as it was at the death of Louis XIV in 1715.  Plants are living things, however, and though some live long, none are eternal.  According to ‘The Gardens’ page on the Château’s official website, it was understood from the start that the gardens would have to be replanted once every hundred years or so.