iers so lighted as to give the impression that they
glowed with interior names.

In the summer of 1674, Moliere "was no longer alive to arrange dramatic
performances among the green and flowery coppices of Versailles. But
there was no lack of entertainment at the splendid fetes that marked
that year. We have the recital of Felebien, a fastidious chronicler of
Court doings, referring to this period of merry-making, which lasted
during most of the summer and fall.

"The King," says Felebien, "ordained as soon as he arrived at
Versailles that festivities be arranged at once, and that, at
intervals, new diversions should be prepared for the pleasure of the
Court. The things most noticeable at such times as these were the
promptitude, minute pains and silent ease with which the King's orders
were invariably executed. Like a miracle--all in a moment--theaters
rose, wooded places were made gay with fountains, collations were
spread, and a thousand other things were accomplished that one would
have supposed would require a long time and a vast bustle of workers."

The "Grand Fetes" occupied six days of the months of July and August.
The celebrations of the fourth of July began with a feast laid on the
verdant site later usurped by the basin called the Baths of Apollo.
Here the beauty of nature was enhanced by an infinity of ornate vases
filled with garlands of flowers. Fruits of every clime were served on
platters of porcelain, in silver baskets and in bowls of priceless
glass. In the evening the Court attended a production of
_"Alceste_"--an opera by Quinault and Lully, executed by artists from
the Royal Academy of Music. The stage was set in the Marble Court.
The windows facing the court were ablaze with two rows of candles. The
walls of the chateau were screened with orange trees, festooned with
flowers, illumined by candelabra made of silver and crystal. The
marble fountain in the center of the court was surrounded by tall
candlesticks and blossoming urns. The spraying waters escaped through
vases of flowers, that their falling should not interrupt the voices of
those on the stage. Artificial waters, silver-sconced tapers, bowers
of fragrant shrubs united to create the richest of settings for this
outdoor theater.

It was the King's wish that the grounds of the little "porcelain house"
at Trianon be chosen as the scene of the second fete, which took place
a week later. In an open-air enclosure, decorated by