The famous mechanical dining table or table volante is one of the most evocative relics of the lost Court of Lorraine. Both ingenious and, at the same time absurd, it occupies an uncertain imaginative space on the cusp between Baroque love of novelty and the newer 18th-century values of privacy and domesticity.
A "machine pour servir à manger" was first installed by the Duchess Élisabeth-Charlotte as early as 1705-6 in her private dining room in the south wing of the old château, overlooking her kitchen garden.
An ingenious system of beams, pulleys and counterweights allowed the table to be raised and lowered directly into the basement below, where it could be set and cleared out of view. It would disappear seemingly of its own accord and reappear, fully laden, as if by magic. As well as providing a pleasing novelty, this contrivance avoided the intrusion of servants into the intimacy of the private dining room.
The mechanism was probably designed by Philippe Vayringe (1684–1746), known in his lifetime as the ‘Archimedes’ of Lorraine, who was ‘machiniste’ to the Duke (designing, for instance, a hydraulic pump for the gardens at Lunéville), and later professor at the Académie de Lunéville.
After the fire of 1719 the table was relocated to the private dining room at the far end of the new South-West wing. The opening in the floor where the table once stood was revealed in 2017, when the ducal apartments were handed over to the control of the Musée du Château. The emplacement of the mechanism is also visible from the basement below. (Photos from L'Est Républicain).
A virtual reality film, commissioned to accompany the 2015 exhibition "Tous à Table", recreates the "secrets of the flying table" as it appeared about 1730. The film was the work of the firm Artefacto (Agence de Réalité Augmentée).
Restitution de la salle à manger du chateau de Lunéville vers 1730, film réalisé dans le cadre de l'exposition "Tous à Table", du 13.06 au 30.09.2015 au Château des Lumières, à Lunéville.
On the occasion of the exhibition, Thierry Franz, now director of the Musée du Château, discussed the table in the article in L'Est Républicain:
According to Thierry Franz, there was an early version of the table, about which little is known we beyond the fact that the carpenter François Parmentier received payment for it in 1706: "We know that it was at least in part mobile and that it communicated via the floor with the basement below where the servants were relegated. At the signal of the Duchess dishes would appear as though by magic, like the deus ex machina of contemporary operas. This theatrical dimension is no surprise since Élisabeth-Charlotte cultivated a lifelong passion for the stage. Privacy, improved service, dedicated dining spaces, all these represent a search for comfort and convenience which became the mantra of the new century."
This use of mechanical contrivance to satisfy a desire for greater intimacy, was a pioneering initiative at least as far as France was concerned. Moveable tables of a sort first made their appearance in Italy, where they are recorded as early as 1600 at the wedding feast of Marie de Medici in Florence. They were in permanent use in royal residences in Denmark by the 1690s.
The "machine" de Lunéville - after that of Fouquet at Vaux-le-Vicomte - featured prominently in the early diffusion of the fashion, which spread rapidly throughout Europe, and even as far away as Russia.
From their arrival in Lunéville Elisabeth-Charlotte and Léopold separated their official and private lives. The Duchess's apartment occupied part of the ground floor of the South wing (approximately where the chapel is now). It overlooked a small kitchen garden, where she could see her fruit and vegetables from the windows. According to Thierry Franz, some of the produce was no doubt destined for the kitchen of the private apartments, for Élisabeth-Charlotte, like her brother the Regent, was fond of cooking and could sometimes be found personally behind the oven.
In 1719 the ducal apartments were destroyed by fire. However, in his new plans the architect Boffrand did not neglect to provide a replacement "chambre de la machine". In 1720 the carpenter Humbert La Veuve furnished a table top, with a hole in the centre for the "valet", the moving part which communicated with the basement via a system of pulleys and counterweights. Today nothing remains of the original mechanism apart from the opening where it was sited. A dozen or so diners could be accommodated.
Leopold was very proud of the contraption and commissioned several models, from Philippe Vayringe, and also from a carpenter who furnished a variant with two moving tables. These scale models were displayed in the Château's scientific cabinet, the famous "salle des machines".
When Stanislaw arrived at Lunéville in 1737 the table volante was still functioning. In the following year his architect Emmanuel Héré created a rising table for the central salon of the Kiosque, the first of Stanislaw's garden pavilions built in the Parc des Bosquets. This table was conceived as a novelty, and featured a particularly extravagant centrepiece with figurines and jets of scented water.
The table volante in the Kiosque - detail from a plate published by Emmanuel Héré.
Thierry Franz notes that the enthusiasm for such mechanical marvels declined, even as the mechanisms themselves began to seize up. The table volante de Lunéville disappears from surviving inventories of the Château after 1764.
Catherine Ambrosi, "Meurthe-et-Moselle : la « machine » de Lunéville", L'Est Républicain 28.11.2015.
Well, a lot more than I first thought, thanks largely to an excellent blog post by the Swedish researcher Lasse Brundin who has tracked down evidence for the existence of no fewer than forty so-called "confidence tables", ranging in date from the late 17th century right through to the time of Ludwig II of Bavaria and beyond. His post includes photos of two particularly well-preserved Swedish examples from the 1760s: a reconstruction in the Court Theatre at Ulriksdal and an intact original in its own pavilion in the Drottningholm Palace Park.
Lasse Brundin confirms that the first tables probably originated in Denmark. The Danish art historian Mogens Bencard discovered records for a hoistable table constructed in 1694 for the hunting lodge Hubertushuset in Jaegersborg Dyrehave north of Copenhagen, which was perhaps the invention of the Danish astronomer and engineer Ole Rømer (1644-1710). The latter was certainly responsible for a number of hoistable chairs (one of which is preserved at the Frederiksborg Palace). Another early table was built in St Petersburg, significantly enough shortly after Peter the Great had visited Copenhagen in 1716.
Lasse Brundin, "Table set thyself - the Confidence Table in Europe", El Brundino (blog), post of 2015.
A later, particularly noteworthy mechanical table was installed by Frederick the Great in his private dining room, the so-called "Konfidenztafelzimmer", in the Potsdam City Palace. It was around this table, sequestered from the prying eyes of the servants, that Frederick and his inner circle of courtiers famously cultivated enlightened discussion. Sadly, the palace was destroyed in 1945, although the table - a relatively modest affair - can still be seen in old photographs:
Konfidenztafelzimmer, Stadtschloss Potsdam in 1912 (Wikimedia)
We learn that the young Frederick had first come across a the idea of the flying table during a visit to Dresden with his father in 1728. It is no great surprise to learn that Augustus of Saxony, lover all things ingenious and excessive, possessed such a novelty; shortly afterwards, in a typically extravagant gesture, he had made the present of a similar table to the Prussian king. In 1745, Frederick had a first Konfidenztafelzimmer installed in his new apartment at the Berlin City Palace (first floor, south and Spree wings), which became the direct predecessor of the room at Potsdam. It seems even Frederick found it hard to resist the opportunity for showmanship: in March 1746, during his mother's birthday celebrations he is said to have had the table decked with jewels and objets de vertu as gifts for those present.
In all probability it was Frederick's sister, Queen Lovisa Ulrika (1720-1782), who introduced the fashion of "confidence tables" to Sweden.
Flying tables in France
Despite the fact that mechanical tables have French names - "table volante", "table machinée" or "table de confidence" - there are no certain examples in France before the mid 18th-century. Thierry Franz mentions an earlier table at Vaux-le-Vicomte, but I haven't been able to track this one down. According to Lasse Brundin another early French table was seen by a Swedish diplomat at the Maison de Chatemesle in Essonne in 1701, but again there no further details available. Confusingly, the term "table volante" was sometimes used for simple folding tables which could be set up temporarily in the days before dedicated dining rooms.
On the other hand, as the 2010 exhibition '"Sciences et curiosités: la Cour de Versailles" amply demonstrated, princely and aristocratic culture in France was hungry for technical novelty, particularly if it enhanced domestic convenience. Numerous chairs, sideboards, small tables and mirrors folded elaborately or even occasionally "flew". The "flying chair", a sort of primitive lift worked by pulleys, had been installed in the late 17th century at Chantilly and Versailles for the prince de Conti. Saint-Simon describes the misadventure of the duchesse de Bourbon who was trapped for three hours between two floors of her hotel in Versailles and could only be rescued by demolishing the walls. In 1743 Louis had a lift installed in the petits appartements at Versailles for the use of Madame de Châteauroux, and later Mme de Pompadour. There was also a "flying buffet" at La Muette.
Sciences et Curiosités à la Cour de Versailles (26th October 2010-27th February 2011) - exhibition press release.
However, a true flying table on the scale of the one installed at Lunéville was an extremely ambitious project - and, as Lasse Brundin points out, one of little interest to the Sun King, who preferred more public displays of splendour. Louis XV, on the other hand, sought every opportunity to escape the burdensome ceremonial of Versailles. Influenced by Mme de Pompadour, he retreated to the petits appartements, where he received a select society. The duc de Cröy describes intimate supper parties which were attended by only two or three valets who withdrew as soon as everyone had been served. To such a monarch, the "flying table", with its promise of privacy combined with convenience, was almost bound to appeal.....
The table at Choisy
The first well-attested "flying table" in France was installed for Louis XV between 1754 and 1756 for the pavilion known as the Petit Château at Choisy.
Interestingly enough the inspiration for the project came directly from Lunéville.
A memoir by the engineer Jean-Étienne Guérin addressed to the Royal Superintendant of Buildings, the Marquis de Marigny in 1758, informs us that in 1740 Louis XV had received a model of a mechanical table from his father-in-law, King Stanislaw. Guérin had been charged to perfect this design and had produced a model of his own, six times larger in scale, on which a full-sized table was to be based. Further progress on the project was halted for some time due to the lack of a suitable location. It was not until the construction of the Petit Château by Jacques-Ange Gabriel in the 1750s that a large basement could be furnished to accommodate the mechanism.
The manufacture and installation of the table was fraught with difficulty. Guérin lacked practical expertise since he was not a professional carpenter or locksmith, but a surgeon with a passion for mechanical invention. He did not draw profit from the commission but was forced to abandon his own affairs - he had been developing medicinal baths, including indeed a "baignoire volante" - and even after the table's completion, was obliged to accompany the king to Choisy to oversee the mechanism. He died in 1763, pursued by his creditors.
The names of a number of the craftsmen who were also associated with the project have come down to us. The most noteworthy was the royal cabinetmaker Gilles Joubert (1689-1775), who worked for the Garde-Meuble of Louis XV for two and a half decades, beginning in 1748. Joubert was to become ébeniste du roi on the death of Jean-François Oeben in 1763.
Guérin's table attracted much interest at the time, and it general operation can be gleaned from the descriptions of contemporary observers. Situated in the antechamber to the dining room of the Petit Château, it was round in shape and could accommodate twelve place settings. It would rise as if by magic from the parquet, piled high with food and candles. The table top consisted of two moving parts, an outside ring where the settings were laid and a central circle attached to a system of pulleys, ratchets and counterweights, which could be lowered independently into the basement to receive the dishes. According to some accounts, there were in fact two central portions which could be raised one after the other to avoid confronting the diners with an unsightly hole. In addition four side-tables (known as "servantes" or "dessertes") moved up and down independently.
The only known contemporary representation, in the Musée Carnavalet, depicts the basement immediately below the dining room, where the table was loaded and cleared. The drawing shows the grooves at ground level which allowed the table to be slid out laterally for access. The four "servantes" and their raising mechanism are also clearly depicted.
Here is the table, digitally recreated as part of a 3D reconstruction of the interiors of the Château created by the firm Aristeas for the Ville de Choisy-le-Roi in 2017:
It is worth pointing out that, in reality, the installation of the table volante did little to reduce the number of servants Thanks to the table, the paraphernalia of service could be hidden from the King's eyes, but the staff still required their kitchens, offices and lodgings. The Petit Château, which was not that small - the facade measured almost forty-two metres -, had a substantial Communs, camoflaged behind trellises and linked to the main pavilion by a corridor. As Barbier complained, when the King was at Choisy, the normal "officiers de la bouche" were replaced by specially selected cooks and waiting staff from Paris - which not only subverted the privilege of the grand officials of the Crown but also proved ruinously expensive. [Chronique, IV, p.395. October 1749]. See See Christophe Morin, Au service du château: L'architecture des communs en Île-de-France au XVIIIe siècle (2008), p.160.
The Château at Choisy and its pavilion were demolished in 1839, though traces of the table long remained (see Readings)
At the Petit Trianon
In the 1760s the construction of the Petit Trianon provided the opportunity for the installation of a second table. Work on the new building began in 1762, the pavilion was roofed in 1764 and the four succeeding years were devoted to its interior decoration.
On the first floor the small and large dining rooms were both to be equipped with tables volantes, of eight and sixteen places respectively.
On the ground floor, to the west of the réchauffoir where food was reheated, two service rooms were set aside to hold the mechanism. Gabriel made provision for four massive masonry blocks to be installed in the basement below to receive the counterweights. A plan of 1762 shows the two tables, framed by hollow pillars to allow the passage of the weights. Each tabletop is flanked by two additional tables which were intended for the preparation of the next courses.
Plan of the ground floor of the Petit Trianon, showing the placement of the tables volantes. Published by Gustave Desjardin, Le Petit-Trianon, histoire et description (1885) Plate VII. https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k841368w/f67.item
In 1767 the Marquis de Marigny, directeur général des Bâtiments du roi, charged the engineer Antoine-Joseph Loriot, with the design of the new tables
In his guide to the area around Paris, published in 1768, Dézallier d'Argenville announced that the dining room of the Petit Trianon was to contain "a moving table, like that at Choisy" The models were presented by Marigny to the King at Choisy in May 1769 and subsequently placed on public exhibition. There are several flattering accounts of the new mechanical marvel. In May 1769 Bachaumont informed his readers that there was to be seen at the Louvre, "a flying table, of marvellous construction" to be sited at the Trianon; the new table, which was the work of the engineer Loriot, was considered to be much superior to that of Choisy because of the simplicity of its mechanism (Mémoires sécrets, 31st May 1769). The Mercure de France also gave a appreciative and detailed description (see Readings) Loriot's main innovation was the provision of a metal rose which covered the hole when the centre of the table was lowered, so removing the need for a second table top.
On 28th December 1769 Loriot presented an estimate for the work of 60,000 livres, with two years for completion. Loriot himself was awarded 12,000 livres "en contrats sur les rentes et gabelles" and on 7th May 1770, he acquired the apartment in the Louvre previously occupied by the abbé Nollet. A vast area in the galleries of the Louvre was given over to the project. The locksmiths Gamain and the mécanicien Richer are listed as having been involved. Further preparation was also undertaken at the site, where additional outbuildings were constructed to house the displaced kitchen and service staff. This work was carried out in the course of 1770 and 1771.
Pastel portrait of Loriot by Jean Valade. Musée Antoine Lécuyer, Saint-Quentin Wikimedia
Loriot is a much better known figure than the unfortunate Guérin. A protegé of Marigny, he was famous above all for a method of fixing pastels, for which he received a pension of 1,000 livres in December 1756. Full details, with a comprehensive biographical sketch, are supplied by Neil Jeffares in the Dictionary of Pastellists
A letter published in the Mercure for 1778 lists his numerous inventions, which included a folding table which could be progressively expanded from eight to twenty-four places. At the time of the flying table, he was working on a hydraulic machine for Marigny's estate in Ménar.
Pastel portrait of Loriot by Jean Valade. Musée Antoine Lécuyer, Saint-Quentin. Wikimedia
Until recently it was assumed by historians that the installation of the tables was carried through to completion. However, in 1982 Christian Baulez, then head curator of the Petit Trianon, published a set of plans which proved conclusively that the project was never in fact realised. It seems that the royal coffers were unable to bear the burden. On 16th March 1772 Marigny wrote to Loriot that "circumstances" no longer permitted continued work on the tables. Loriot was awarded a generous annuity in compensation and, after his death, his son Claude-Antoine was permitted to sell his father's cabinet de machines to the Crown for a pension of 700 livres.
Nowadays modest vestiges of the preliminary work are still visible in the restored Petit Trianon. In the grandesalle à manger on the first floor, a rose pattern in the parquet flooring shows where the table was intended to rise up. The two rooms on the ground floor which were to receive the workings of the table reverted to ordinary service rooms, but in the larger, known today as the Fruiterie, glass tiles in the floor reveal the grooves which were part of the mechanism. A narrow staircase leads down to two small cellars, which still contain the heavy masonry pillars intended to receive the counterweights. In one the hole for placement of the table is marked out on the ceiling.
Site for the table volante in the cellar of the Petit Trianon (Wikimedia)
At the "Garde-Meuble"
There is only one "flying table" in 18th-century France which is documented as the property of a private individual. This was the table which belonged to Pierre-Elisabeth de Fontanieu, intendant et contrôleur général du Garde-Meuble de la Couronne française from 1767 until his death in 1784. It was Fontanieu who was responsible for the redesign of the magnificent Hôtel du Garde-Meuble in the Place Louis XV, now Place de la Concorde, refurbished to satisfy the needs of his administration, with impressive exhibition rooms and an equally sumptuous private apartment. The flying table was installed in 1772 as the centrepiece of his personal dining room in the entre-sol, which communicated with a service room in the basement below. The room itself was decorated to create the illusion of an interior garden.
At the end of 2015 the Hôtel du Garde-Meuble, later the Hôtel de la Marine, became the subject of a major restoration project undertaken by the Centre des Monuments Nationaux with funding from the royal family of Qatar. In an interview in 2018 the president of the CMN, Philippe Bélaval, declared a desire to recreate the table volante, but admitted that it would be a "very complex" undertaking. In October of this year BFM Île-de-France published a short video showing the unrestored room with vestiges of the table in the parquet - so apparently the project is still on the agenda.
Bourgeois tables fly - The "Mechanical Café" of Port-Royal
The final example from France of a mechanical table (or rather tables) is a much more plebeian affair - the famous Café mécanique at the Palais-Royal. This establishment, which opened its doors in 1785, was said to have excited great public curiositydue to its ingenious mechanical mode of service "after the example of the famous table at Choisy". According to the Almanach du Palais-Royal for 1786, "the feet of the tables consist of two hollow cylinders which communicate with the workroom beneath the room. To be served one simply pulls on a ring at the front of each cylinder. The ring sounds a bell below and a valve opens in the table to deliver one's drink." Another source clarified that the order would be communicated via a speaking tube at each table. There is probably a useful lesson to be drawn here concerning the growth of the public sphere and the democratisation of technology - but what is certain, is that the crowds in the Palais-Royal enjoyed the novelty and, at least for a time, the café prospered.
References
Henry Harvard, Dictionnaire de l'ameublement et de la décoration..vol.4 (1890) p.1202-3: TABLE MACHINÉ.TABLE MÉCANIQUE, TABLE VOLANTE, TABLE A TRANSFORMATIONS.
Georgina Letourmy Bordie, "Le Café mécanique au Palais-Royal" in Paris et ses cafés Action Artistique de la Ville de Paris (2004). Available on Academia.
In 2023 both "flying chairs and flying tables" were the subject of a new book Chaises et tables volantes au XVIIIe siècle, by the art historianStéphane Castelluccio, director of research at the Centre André Chastel in Paris. I don't have access to this book, but the contains lists chapters on four different French tables - Louis XV's table at Choisy-le-Roi and for the Petit Trianon (designed but never executed), plus the hôtel du Garde-Meuble built by ..... and the "Café mécanique" at Port-Royal. According to the publisher, the author painstakingly reconstructs the technical details on the basis of all sorts of sources - plans, memoirs and official correspondence, descriptions by contemporary observers. There are also illustrations from 3D virtual reconstructions created by Hubert Naudeix/Aristeas.
In an interview posted on YouTube Stéphane Castelluccio amplifies:
The first tables were indeed the work of Scandanavian and German engineers at the end of 17th century. In France manufacturers were reluctant to publish the secrets of the mechanisms. Articles which publicise them, such as those which appeared in the Mercure de France, describe the effects rather than the technical details. Stéphane Castelluccio himself has been obliged to try to recreate the mechanisms largely from the memoirs of the artisans who made them.
The tables were very expensive and mostly confined to royal residences. There are no working examples in France. The table from Choisy has disappeared; that at the Marine was sold off in 1825; the project for the Trianon was never realised. A few examples remain in Northern Europe, in Denmark and Russia, and also in Italy, where some are still functioning. A system of pulleys made the tables move up and down. The most difficult technical problem designers faced was how to deal with the hole left in front of the guests when the table-top was lowered. In France there was usually a fixed exterior ring where the place settings were are laid and could remain static. At the end of the meal the whole table would be lowered and cleared, and finally both the central portion and the ring could be reintegrated into the floor. We have only a few names for the engineers: Guérin who created the table at Choisy; l'Oreo, who designed the table for the Petit Trianon. Abroad names are not really known, because the tables were mainly the work of artisans.
In 1725 Louis d'Orléans, the Duchess Élisabeth-Charlotte's nephew, was anxious to experience the novelty. One of his entourage reported: The table is made to bring up food, plates, bottles and everything required for meals, so that one can serve ones self without pages or footmen.
The sieur Guérin of Montpellier has constructed at Choisy, for the King, a table with 12 places, the mechanism of which is an ingenious design. The form of the table is round; the centre is a mobile platform which holds the dishes and 56 candles. This can descend in an instant below the room, and return laden with new dishes and yet more candles. Spaced evenly around the table, are four little sideboards which they call "servantes" which, besides plates, wine, water etc., hold pen, ink and cards to order in writing the wine and drinks required. These sideboards move in the same way as the table and are replenished at the sound of different bells that the guests pull by the cord. In this way the royal table is relieved of the presence of the crowd of servants, who too often cause only embarrassment and constraint.
Annonces, affiches et avis divers, 10th November 1756. Quoted in Dictionnaire de l'ameublement et de la décoration, vol.4 (1890) p.1202-3.
The chateau that the King has had constructed here is called LE PETIT CHOISY. The dining room in particular must be seen, due to the table in the centre. This has been built with a mechanism so that, at certain times in the meal, it descends by itself with everything on it and disappears beneath floor, whilst at the same time another table laden with a new course mounts and takes its place.
Georges-Louis Le Rouge, Curiosités de Paris...et des environs, vol.2 (1771) p.324.
This table, which sinks into the floor; the servantes which rise from the parquet and the "postilion" tables that detach to return laden with food; the table that you can turn to review all the different dishes - all this is magical... or at least it would be provided you did not descend into the basement and sub-basement to see the play of counterweight put into motion by pulleys turned by heavy steel straps.
Nicolas Duchesne in 1786.Quoted in Georges Poisson, Le Val-de-Marne: art et histoire, p.180
When the Baroness d'Oberkirch visited Choisy (in?) the glory days of the table were already long past.
We also saw the celebrated magic table, the springs of which were become rusty from disuse; it was placed in the centre of a room, where none were allowed to enter but the invited guests of Louis XV; it would accommodate thirty persons. In the centre was a cylinder of gilded copper, which could be pressed down by springs. It would return with the top, which was surrounded by a band, covered with dishes. around this were placed four dumb waiters, on which would could be found everything else that was necessary. At the time I write, 1789, this table no longer exists, having been long since destroyed, with everything that could recall the last sad years of a monarch who would have been good if he had not be perverted by evil counsels. Memoirs of the Baroness D'Oberkirche, vol. 2 (1852) p.52-53. https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=_gGwSyrePjIC&pg=PA52#v=onepage&q&f=false
The remains of the table apparently survived into the later 19th century. Pierre Mille recalled seeing it as a child in the late 1870s.
I sometimes used to go into a desolate park that was being swallowed up little by little by industrial buildings. By the light of candles, we would explore the old cellars of the palace, long vaulted galleries which went on forever. However, near a labyrinth of bushes, there was a pavilion with gables, which was exquisite in its grace. The delicate tracery of its windows, the shells and garlands of the plaster friezes had turned the delicate pink colour of seashells, and we liked to believe that this was the result of a fire - for grown-ups described this chateau as a sort of Sodom. When the gardener was there, we would ask him, "Père Didat, show us the secret". Then the old man would pull some pulley or other on the outside of the building and a table, ancient and worm-eaten, would rise up in the middle of the room inside the pavilion.
Le Temps, 4th May 1912. Quoted in Poisson, Le Val-de-Marne: art et histoire, p.180
The table at Choisy - the tribulations of the Jean-Étienne Guérin The construction of this mechanical wonder took years; the king took a personal interest in it and was impatient to see it completed.....
In 1740 the king of Poland had sent Louis XV a little model of a moving table with a particular and ingenious mechanism. It was decided at Versailles to build a second model six times larger, and this was ordered from Léchaudé, carpenter in the rue Notre-Dame. The creation of a full size table, which demanded a vast site, was suspended for some time, for it was not until the construction of the Petit Chateau at Choisy in 1754 that a large enough underground area could be put aside to accommodate the mechanism.
Soon after receiving the model from King Stanislas, Louis XV instructed the duc de Richelieu and the artist Bachelier to ask the engineer Guérin if he could invent the mechanism for a moving table which would improved upon that of Stanislas. Léchaudé executed the second model under Guérin's orders.....
In order to avoid the costs of travel Guérin, who confined himself to the role of advisor, recommended that the table should be built in Paris, either in the workshop of the carpenter Sandrier or in that of the locksmith Parent, since these were the two artisans most involved with the project. In summer 1755, the partly finished table was transported to Choisy. The work progressed very slowly and the King grew impatient; he asked Gabriel when they were likely to see the table in place. But Guérin had only the mechanism in the parquet to show. Although Guérin was charged personally, by order of His Majesty and M. le marquis de Marigny , with the design and installation of the moving table, he only deigned to offer general direction. Misunderstandings multiplied: Guérin tried to blame the artisans for his lack of success. The architect Billaudel reproached him for his lack of theoretical knowledge - he was "an inventor who dabbled in the mechanical arts"; he could produce neither plans, costings nor a coherent allocation of tasks, but progressed only by trial and error using models. Nonetheless, on 17th September 1756, Guérin was finally able to write to Marigny, that the moving table had been completed to the King's satisfaction. It had been used for seven meals, at two of which Marigny himself had been present ... .. A petition from Guérin, dated 10th March 1760, informs us that he had committed himself totally to the table, since the means of success had not been entirely clear in his head. For several years he had abandoned all his own affairs, notably his medicinal baths in Paris. He had moved with his household to Choisy and, since part of the work had been carried out by master artisans in Paris, he had been obliged to spent prodigious amounts on carriages. At the same time he was charged with working on the "armoire volante" at La Muette. Once the table was finished he still had to be present for all the King's trips to Choisy, in order to supervise its operation - which again entailed great costs and expense on his part.
To make good the engineer's lost fortune, Gabriel proposed to Marigny that he be awarded a gratification of 20,000 livres in contract with the Estates of Brittany, which would yield him the equivalent of a pension of 1,500 to 1,800 livres. In spite of this compensation, Guérin was assailed by creditors and, after his death on 11th April 1763, his daughter was obliged to surrender the 20,000 livres to meet his debts. Le Château de Choisy by Mlle B. Chamchine (1910)
"Tables volantes", so-called, are tables which, by being raised and lowered, appear or disappear in a dining room. Several have already been made but none has the advantages of the design of M. Loriot, who is well known for his inventions. The larger table features a "dormant" (fixed outer ring) and four "servantes" or guéridons (side tables or buffets). The whole thing is raised at one time by a machine so that the top of the table, both the middle section and the "dormant", and the "servantes", all rise up simultaneously from the parquet flooring. In order to cover the hole left in the parquet, the dormant brings up with it a second identical piece which fills the space. The pedestal of the dormant contains a screw mechanism which allows the different tables to be raised and lowered. The same movement which raises the dormant also raises the servantes, but these go higher so that the dishes are more accessible to the diners.
M. Loriot has made of his design a sort of magical table. When the guests enter the room, not a single trace of the table is visible; they see only a parquet floor with an ornamental rose at the centre. At the slightest signal, the petals withdraw under the parquet and the serving table springs up, accompanied by its four servantes. For the second course, the centre of the table descends and mounts. After the meal the table can be completely dispensed with if desired, since at a signal it may be lowered to leave only the parquet floor.
This table, the model of which is one of the principal adornments of the Cabinet of M. Loriot, is singularly remarkable in its mechanism. It serves as if by magic, without the need for any servant whatsoever to be present during the meal. At the slightest signal, the parquet opens; the table, with place settings and dishes, rises up from the ground, accompanied by four "servantes" or postilion tables, equally laden. At each course, the centre of the table disappears, leaving only an outer ring with the plates. What is most remarkable, is that the moment the middle of the table descends to fetch the next course, a metal rose extends its petals and closes the opening that has been left behind. Them the instant the new course is ready to appear, the metal rose retracts its petals and allows the table-centre passage. Once the meal is finished, the table and its table descends again in its entirety and the panels of the parquet reposition themselves again, with such accuracy that you need to have seen them to realise that they move.
The mechanism for this marvellous table demanded a considerable amount of time devoted to trial and experiment. To achieve his design M.Loriot created two compasses, one described not only perfect regular circles but also an infinite number of curves, both regular and irregular, and the other describing ellipses of all sorts, which could be lengthened or shortened at will.
"Lettres sur les découvertes de M. Loriot, par M. Patte, architecte du duc régnant de Deux-Ponts". Mercure de France, February 1778, p.190
Unsurprisingly, in the eyes of hostile commentators, Louis XV's fondness for flying tables only enhanced his reputation for debauchery:
This king, surrounded by corrupt courtiers, gave himself over to excesses similar to those which had sullied the Regency. He indulged in vile orgies - witness the "private apartments" which he had built in several of his palaces, and the "flying tables" set up in the little châteaux at Choisy and the Trianon. At each meal, these tables would descend through a hole in the floor of the dining room to be laid or cleared. Without the inconvenient eyes of the servants, the guests found themselves freed from all inhibition and without any need to blush at their turpitude...
Jacques Antoine Dulaure, Histoire physique, civile et morale de Paris, 2nd. ed. (1824).Vol. viii, p.217-8.
The café Mécanique, opened in 1785 or 1786, was situated on the corner of the rue de Valois and was entered by a peristyle. It had been founded by a certain Belleville, who ceded it to a sieur Tanrès, in order to run the Variety Theatre in Bordeaux, which ruined him. The marble tables were supported by hollow columns which communicated with the cellar. The limonadiere would use a speaking tube to give orders to the waiters in the basement; a little iron door on level with the table would immediately open, and the drinks would appear on a plate, to cries of amazement from those who visited the café for the first time. This childish novelty did not prevent the establishment from falling into ruin during the Revolution, which was also disastrous for its proprietor in another way. Demagogy took up residence, so to speak, on his premises. One day, when he was trying to silence some fanatics yelling the Ça ira, a ultra-patriot dealt him a sabre cut to the arm and almost slashed open the belly of his wife, who was pregnant.
The "flying table" offered writers of titillating tales an irresistible mixture of decadent luxury, magical illusion and dangerous intimacy.
Jean-François de Bastide's "architectural seduction" La petite maison, was first published in 1758, when the table at Choisy was newly constructed. In this strange novella, the unexpected appearance of a flying table brings about the final triumph over feminine virtue.
Mélite smiled, but did not speak. He awaited dessert. When the moment arrived, the table plunged down to into the kitchens in the cellars, and from the upper floor she saw a new table suddenly descend to take its place. It filled the opening left in the flooring, protected by a balustrade of gilded iron. This marvel, unbelievable to her, led her insensibly to consider the beauty and decoration of the surrounding where it had been offered for to her admiration ...
Here is another scene of seduction, from a novel by Claude-Joseph Dorat:
After this musical prelude, the supper arose from below the parquet, on a table of kingwood illuminated by a candelabra hung with crystals. As you may well imagine, there was never a more delectable meal ... Whilst it endured the music was lively and gay...then it slowed down gradually and indicated to us the moment to enter into the boudoir.
In Alfred de Musset's The Two Mistresses (1837), the protagonist, finds himself alone in the summer house of his mistress, the Marquise de Parnes:
Valentin thought of the festivals which the soubrette had said this pavilion had witnessed , and at the sight of the beautiful round table which occupied the centre of the room, wished he could evoke the spectre of those little suppers of the defunct marquis. "How nice it would be here, " he said to himself, "on an evening, or a summer night, the windows open, the Venetian blinds closed, the candles lighted and the table served. What happy times those were when our ancestors had only to strike the floor with the foot in order to have a good repast spring, as it were, from the ground." And in speaking thus Valentin struck his foot; but nothing responded except the echo of the arched roof and the moaning of an unstrung harp....
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