Until 1770 Versailles had no theatre. The king, it is true, had long been pondering the matter. His architect, Gabriel, prepared schemes and lis­tened to learned advice from travelers who had seen Vicenza, Parma and Turin. He was by now an old man, with a highly successful career behind him. His taste was for Neoclassicism tempered by a certain softness and ease of proportion that recalls the English Palladians. What finally made up Louis’ mind was the forthcoming marriage of his grandson, the future Louis XVI, to Marie Antoinette. A new theatre that could also serve as a banqueting hall must be prepared. Gabriel, after twenty years of royal indecision, was told to have it ready in twenty months.

The contrast between Gabriel’s Opera and Cuvillies’ Residenztheater is highly instructive. At Munich the eye goes at once to the decoration and the details, at Versailles to the noble symmetry of the whole. At Munich, it is the swirling arabesque line, the unending play of surface that first claim the attention; at Versailles simplicity, restraint and immediate grandeur. The last is deceptive. Gabriel would doubtless have liked to build the whole theatre in marble. Shortage of time and money prohibited that, so he used painted wood disguised as marble—a loss, perhaps, in authenticity, but a gain in comfort and acoustics.

Gabriel’s design is a good deal more sophisticated than that of Cuvillies [Pis. 90, 91], For the auditorium he chose the oval dying into straight lines where it joins the stage. Whereas Cuvillies’ galleries simply rise one above the other, differing only in their decoration, Gabriel creates a real architectural sequence, spreading back in widening circles, as well as rising vertically. Behind the seats of the parterre runs a continuous balustraded section (the amphitheatre). Behind and above that is a row of boxes; above that (on corbels) another row, including the king’s own box. This row is slightly narrower than the row below, since it does not completely overhang it, so to give it the necessary depth the wall behind it is set back in a series of square niches. At the uppermost level, dominating the whole room, is a semi-circle of Ionic columns forming, behind it, a gallery backed by mirrors. The cornice which these columns support, and which is interrupted in the centre, over the king’s box, by a coffered niche, is surmounted by a coved ceiling with oval windows and finally by the flat ceiling containing a huge oval painting. The effect is extremely subtle, combining a sense of enclosure with one of spaciousness. The stage is empha­sized by giant Corinthian columns rising the whole height of the room, whileabove theflatprosceniumarch two flying angels hold the royalfleur-de-lys.

The decorative details are full of interest, providing a sort of cross-section pf current styles. The ceiling, painted by Durameau, is still entirely Rococo. The panels in the royal box, on the other hand, while still light-hearted in mood, show a definite awareness of Pompeii, plus an element of chinoiserie; while Pajou’s carving, with its chaste medallion profiles, its eagles with outstretched wings and its sphinxes beside the round windows in the coving, looks forward to the Empire style.

The theatre was officially opened on 16 May 1770 with a banquet to celebrate the wedding. The next day its theatrical inauguration took place with a performance of Persee, an opera by Quainault and Lully, described in