The Glassblower of Murano - Marina Fiorato [83]
Le Brun himself was a constant presence at the site, relentlessly questioning Corradino about the direction of light, the angle of reflection, and the implications for his painting. Slowly, Le Brun's wondrous panels came to life - high above, gesso doves fluttered in the stratosphere, and bare-breasted beauties reclined on fat clouds while they watched the golden triumphal chariots of the King. Corradino recognized a kindred talent, but felt the weight of the task presented to him. His glass must reflect these glories.
Even the designer of the great gardens, Andre Le Notre, visited the hall to inspect how his artistry would be reflected in the mirrored wall.
Despite his reservations, however, Corradino found that all help was there at his disposal - conferences with carpenters and masons, the assistance of the latest measuring equipment, mathematicians from Paris. The fornace - purpose built in the kitchen gardens of the palace - was well equipped, and Jacques Chauvire worked hard and progressed well. As Corradino taught Jacques his secret method the boy blossomed, and together master and apprentice began to make larger and larger panes. Corradino gradually had to remelt less ofJacques' work, and by the end of Corradino's first month in Paris Jacques had made his first passable square mirror pane.
At night Corradino went back to his well furnished house in the nearby village of Trianon. With six chambers, a maid and a small vegetable garden, it afforded greater luxury than he had known since leaving the Palazzo Martin. He began to relax - to feel, for the first time in years, that he was not being watched. Sometimes, in the dying sunlight when he stood at the end of his garden watching the enormous palace grow, with a goblet of fine French wine in his hand, thinking of Leonora, he was almost happy.
This new sense of ease was destined to be short-lived.
On the momentous day that the first silvered panes were set in place in the Hall of Mirrors, Corradino stood, arms akimbo, supervising the work as the last glass was set in place. Quite a gaggle had formed to watch the work, including Hardouin-Mansart and Le Notre. Privileged company indeed, and at length they were rewarded as the mirror was complete and the crowd stood back in awe. A hush descended as the men surveyed their handiwork - the mirror arched above them, high and clear, gilded struts crossing the panes like light caged with gold. As well as their own reflections, the assembly saw the half-completed gardens, and the half-filled lakes stretching out into the distance, as far as the eye could see, in an optical miracle of design. The thing was truly a marvel, and all assembled could see what wonders they could expect when the hall was complete. No one moved, unable to tear their eyes away. Talk, once hushed, died into silence. But not just through admiration, or respect for the craftsmanship they all witnessed. They were silent for the presence of royalty. The King had entered the room.
Louis strode toward the mirror, and those gathered bowed to the floor instantly. Corradino bent low, his heart thudding.
Will this capricious King approve of my work?
Soon he had greater anxiety to reckon with - his lowered eyes raked the royal slippers, then moved to the pair of shoes next to them - Bauta slippers with red laces, sold only on the Rialto.
Venetian shoes.
Corradino's hair crisped on his scalp. He dared not raise his eyes, but as the crowd around him straightened up he contrived to shuffle to the back of the throng, as HardouinMansart and Le Notre moved forward to be presented. The King was speaking. Blood thrummed in Corradino's ears so loudly that he could not, at once, hear what was said.
`So Ambassador, pas mal, hero? Perhaps even you will be forced to admit that my little chateau, when complete, will rival your crumbling palazzi?'
The Ambassador bowed politely, but Corradino could see that his eyes were hooded, and their gaze cool and guarded. He thought he knew the man slightly, a member of the Venetian Guilini