HISTORIC PARIS

LA TOUR DE L’HORLOGE, LES “TOURS POINTUES”
DE LA CONCIERGERIE ET LE MARCHÉ AUX FLEURS

[Frontispiece

HISTORIC PARIS

BY JETTA S. WOLFF
WITH FIFTY-NINE ILLUSTRATIONS



LONDON
JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD LIMITED
NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXXI

The Mayflower Press, Plymouth, England. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.

TO

LA FRANCE

THE BEAUTIFUL—THE VALOROUS

PREFACE

THIS book, begun many years ago, was laid aside under the stress of other work, which did not, however, hinder the sedulous amassing of notes during my long and continuous residence in Paris. The appearance of the Marquis de Rochegude’s exhaustive work, on somewhat the same lines in a more extensive compass, took me by surprise, and I thought for a moment that it would render my book superfluous. The vast concourse of English-speaking people brought hither by the great war, people keen to learn the history of the beautiful old buildings they find here on every side, made me understand that an English book of relatively small compass was needed, and I set to work to finish the volume planned and begun so long ago.

I had made the personal acquaintance and consequent notes of most of the ancient “Stones of Paris” before looking up published notes concerning them. When such notes were looked up, I can only say their sources were far too numerous and too scattered to be recorded here. I must beg every one who may have published anything worth while on Old Paris to receive my thanks, for I have doubtless read their writings with interest and benefit. But I must offer special thanks to M. de Rochegude, for—writing under pressure to get the book ready for press—his work as a reference book, while pursuing my own investigations, has been invaluable.

To my readers I would say peruse what I have written, but use your own eyes, your own keen observation for learning much more than could be noted here. Look into every courtyard in the ancient quarters, look attentively at every dwelling along the old winding streets, and fail not to look up to their roofs. The roofs are never alike. They are strikingly picturesque. Old world builders did not work mechanically, did not raise streets in machine-like style, each structure exactly like its neighbour, one street barely distinguishable from the street running parallel or crossing it, according to the habit of to-day. The builders of les jours d’antan loved their craft; every single house gave scope for some artistic trait. The roofs offered a fine field for architectural ingenuity: wonderfully planned windows, chimneys, balconies, gables are to be seen on the roofs often in most unexpected corners, in every part of the Vieux Paris. Look up!—I cannot urge this too strongly. And within every old hôtel—the French term for private house or mansion—examine each staircase. In the erection of a staircase the architect of past ages found grand scope for graceful lines, and exquisite workmanship. Thus walks even through the dimmest corners of la Ville Lumière will be for lovers of old-time vestiges a joy for ever.

This was an iconoclastic age even before the destructiveness of the awful war just over. Precious architectural and historical relics were swept away to make room for brand-new buildings. As it has been impossible during the past months to verify in every instance the up-to-date accuracy of notes made previously, it is probable that some old structures referred to in these pages as still standing may no longer be found on the spot indicated. But whether in such cases their site be now an empty space, or occupied by newly built walls, it cannot fail to be interesting as the site where a vanished historic structure stood erewhile.

JETTA SOPHIA WOLFF.

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

CHAPTER I

THREE PALACES

Lutetia grew in importance, and the royal hunting-lodge in its vicinity was made into a fortress. The city of mud was soon known by the tribe name only, Parisii-Paris, and the Louvre, freed from surrounding forest trees, came within the city bounds. It was gradually enlarged and strengthened. A white circle in the big court shows the site of the famous gate between two Grosses Tours built in the time of the warrior-king Philippe-Auguste. Twelve towers of smaller dimensions were added by Charles V. Each tower had its own special battalion of soldiers. The inner chambers of each had their special use. In the Tour du Trésor, the King kept his money and portable objects of great value. In the Tour de la Bibliothèque were stored the books of those days, first collected by King Charles V, and which formed the nucleus of the National Library. Charles V made many other additions and adornments, and the first clocks known in France were placed in the Louvre in the year 1370. About the same time a primitive stove—a chauffe-poële—was first put up there. The grounds surrounding the fortress were laid out with care, the chief garden stretching towards the north. A menagerie was built and peopled; nightingales sang in the groves. The palace became a sumptuous residence. Sovereigns from foreign lands were received by the Kings of France with great pomp in “Notre Chastel du Louvre, où nous nous tenons le plus souvent quand nous sommes en notre ville de Paris.”

The Louvre was the scene of two of the most important political events of the fourteenth century. In the year 1303, when Philippe-le-Bel was King, the second meeting of that imposing assembly of barons, prelates and lesser magnates of the realm which formed, as a matter of fact, the first états généraux took place there. In 1358, at the time of the rising known as the Jacquerie, Étienne Marcel, Prévôt des Marchands, made the Louvre his headquarters. In the fourteenth century a King of England held his court there: Henry V, victorious after Agincourt, kept Christmas in great state in Paris at the Louvre.

LE VIEUX LOUVRE

The royal palaces of those days, like great abbeys, were fitted with everything that was needed for their upkeep and the sustenance of their staff. Workmen, materials, provisions were at hand, all on the premises. A farm, a Court of Justice, a prison were among the most essential elements of palace buildings and domains. Yet the Louvre with its prestige and its immense accommodation was never inhabited continuously by the Kings of France, and in the sixteenth century the Palace was so completely abandoned as to be on the verge of ruin. Then François I, looking forward to the state visit of the Emperor Charles-Quint, sent workmen in haste and in vast numbers to the Louvre, to repair and enlarge. Pierre Lescot, the most distinguished architect of the day, took the great task in hand. The Grosse Tour had already been razed to the ground. The ancient walls to the south and west were now knocked down. One wall of the Salle des Cariatides, and the steps leading from the underground parts of the palace to the ground floor, are all that remain of the Louvre of Philippe-Auguste.

THE LOUVRE OF TO-DAY

The grand Colonnade, on the side facing the old church, St-Germain-l’Auxerrois, was built between the years 1667-80 by Claude Perrault. The façade facing the quay to the south was then added. After the death of the King’s active statesman, Colbert, work at the Louvre stopped. The fine palace fell from its high estate. It may almost be said to have been let out in tenements. Artists, savants, men of letters, took rooms there—logements! The Louvre was, as a matter of fact, no longer a royal palace. Its “decease” as a king’s residence dates from the death of Colbert. The Colonnade was restored in 1755 by the renowned architect, Gabriel, and King Louis XVI first put forward the proposition of using the palace as a great National Museum. It was the King’s wish that all the best-known, most highly valued works of art in France should be collected, added to the treasures of the Cabinet du Roi, and placed there. The Revolutionary Government put into effect the guillotined King’s idea. The names of its members may be read inscribed on two black marble slabs up against the wall of the circular ante-chamber leading to the Galerie d’Apollon, where are preserved and shown the ancient crown jewels of France, the beautiful enamels of Limoges and many other precious treasures once the possession of royalty. This grand gallery, planned and begun by Lebrun in the seventeenth century, is modern, built in the nineteenth century by Duban.

Within its walls the Louvre has undergone drastic changes since its conversion from a royal palace to a National Museum. The Salle des Fêtes of bygone ages has become the Salle Lacaze with its fine collection of masterpieces. What was once the King’s Cabinet, communicating with the south wing, where in her time Marie de’ Medici had her private rooms, is known as the Salle des Sept Cheminées, filled with examples of early nineteenth-century French art.

In the Salle Carrée, where Henri IV was married, and where the murderers of President Brisson met their fate by hanging—swung from the beams of the ceiling now finely vaulted—masterpieces of all the grandest epochs in art are brought together; from among them disappeared in 1911 the now regained Mona Lisa. Painting, sculpture, works of art of every kind, every age and every nation fill the great halls and galleries of the Louvre. We cannot attempt a description of its treasures here. Let all who love things of beauty, all who take pleasure in learning the wonderful results of patient work, go and see[A].

Nor can I recount here the numberless incidents, the historic happenings of which the Louvre was the scene. It is customary to point out the gilded balcony from which Charles IX is popularly supposed to have fired upon the Huguenots, or to have given the signal to fire, on that fatal night of St-Bartholemew, 1572. But the balcony was not yet there. Nor is it probable the young King fired from any other balcony or window. Shots were fired maybe from the palace by men less timorous.

On the Seine side of the big court is the site of the ancient Gothic Porte Bourbon, where Admiral Coligny was first struck and Concini shot through the heart. In our own time we have the startling theft of the Joconde from the Salle Carrée, its astonishing return, and the hiding away of the treasures in the days of war, of air-raids and long-range guns and threatened invasion, to strike our imagination. “The great black mass,” which the enemy aviator saw on approaching Paris, and knew it must be the Louvre, grand, majestic, undisturbed, is the most notable monument of Paris and of France.

The site of that big tile-yard was in those days outside the city boundary. The architect, Philibert Delorme, set to work with great ardour. A rough road was made leading from the bac, i.e. the ford across the Seine, now spanned near the spot by the Pont Royal, to the quarries in the neighbourhood of Notre-Dame-des-Champs and Vaugirard, whence stone was brought. Thus was born the well-known Rue du Bac. The palace was from the first surrounded by a fine garden, separated until the time of Louis XIV from the Seine on the one side, from the palace on the other, by a ruelle; i.e. a narrow street, a lane.

PALAIS DES TUILERIES

Catherine took up her abode at the new palace as soon as it was habitable; but the Queen-Mother was restless and oppressed, haunted by presentiments of evil. An astrologer had told her she would meet her death beneath the ruins of a mansion in the vicinity of the church, St-Germain-l’Auxerrois. She left her new palace, therefore, bought the site of several houses, appropriated the ground and buildings of an old convent in the neighbourhood of St-Eustache, had erected on the spot a fine dwelling: l’hôtel de la Reine, known later as l’hôtel de Soissons, where we see to-day the Bourse de Commerce. One column of the Queen’s palace still stands there, within it a narrow staircase up which she was wont to climb with her Italian astrologer.

The Garden was not accessible to the public in those days. Until the outbreak of the Revolution, the noblesse or their privileged associates alone had the right to pace its alleys. Soldiers were never permitted to walk there. Once a year only, a great occasion, its gates were thrown open to the peuple.

A period of neglect followed upon the fine work done under Louis XIV. His successor cared nothing for the Tuileries palace and grounds. They fell into a most lamentable state; and, when in the troublous days of the year 1789, Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette and their little son took up their abode at the Tuileries, the Dauphin looked round in disgust. “Everything is very ugly here, maman,” he said. It was the Paris home of the unhappy royal family thenceforth until they were led from the shelter of its walls to the Temple prison. It was from the Tuileries they made the unfortunate attempt to fly from France. Stopped at Varennes, the would-be fugitives were led back to the palace across the swing-bridge on the south-western side. Beneath the stately trees of the garden the Swiss Guards were massacred soon afterwards. The Revolutionary authorities had taken possession of the Riding-School, a band of tricolour ribbon was stretched along its frontage and the Assemblée Nationale, which had sat first in the old church, St-Pol, then at the archevêché, installed itself there. There, under successive governments, were decreed the division of France into departments, the suppression of monastic orders, the suspension of the King’s royal power after his flight. And there, in 1792, Louis XVI was tried, and after a sitting lasting thirty-seven hours condemned to death. The Terrace was nicknamed the Jardin National; sometimes it was called the Terre de Coblentz, a sarcastic reference to emigrated nobles who erewhile had disported there. In 1793, potatoes and other vegetables—food for the population of Paris—grew on Le Nôtre’s flower-beds, replacing the gay blossoms of happier times, even as in our own dire war days beans, etc., are grown in the park at Versailles, and the government of the day sat in the Salle des Machines within the Palace walls.

Louis XVIII died there in 1824. In 1848, Louis-Philippe, flying before the people in revolt, made his escape along the hidden passage cut in 1811 for Marie-Louise. The palace was then used as an ambulance for the wounded and for persons who fell fainting in the Paris streets during the tumults of that year. Its last royal master was Napoléon III. The new Emperor set himself at once to restore, beautify and enlarge. The great iron railing and the gates on the side of the Orangery were put up in 1853. A buvette for officers was built in the garden. The Prince Imperial was born at the Tuileries in 1854. During the twenty years of Napoléon’s reign, the Tuileries was the scene of gay, smart life. The crash of 1870 was its doom. The Empress Eugénie fled from its shelter after Sedan. The Commune set fire to its walls. Crumbling arches, blackened pillars remained on the site of the palace until 1883. Then they were razed, cleared away and flower-beds laid out, where grand halls erewhile had stood. The big clock had been saved from destruction. It was placed among the historic souvenirs of the Musée Carnavalet. The Pavillon de Marsan of the Louvre, built by Louis XIV, and the Pavillon de Flore joining the Tuileries, were rebuilt in 1874.

Crossing the Rue de Rivoli in the vicinity of the Louvre, we come to another palace—the Palais-Royal—of less ancient origin than the Louvre or the Tuileries, and never, strictly speaking, a royal palace. Built in the earlier years of the seventeenth century by Louis XIII’s powerful statesman, Cardinal Richelieu, it was known until 1643 as the Palais-Cardinal. Richelieu had lived at 20 and 23 of the Place-Royale, now Place des Vosges, and at the mansion known as the Petit Luxembourg, Rue de Vaugirard. The great man determined to erect for himself a more splendid residence, and made choice of the triangular site formed by the Rue des Bons-Enfants, Rue St-Honoré and the city wall of Charles V, whereon to build. Several big mansions encumbered the spot. Richelieu bought them all, had their walls razed, gave the work of construction into the hands of Jacques de Merrier. That was in the year 1629. The central mansion was ready for habitation four years later; additions were made, more hôtels bought and razed during succeeding years. Not content with mere courts and gardens around his palace, the Cardinal acquired yet another mansion, the hôtel Sillery, in order to make upon its site a fine square in front of his sumptuous dwelling. He did not live to see its walls knocked down. A few days after the completion of this purchase the famous statesman lay dead. It was then—a month or two later—that the Palais-Cardinal became the Palais-Royal. By his will, Richelieu bequeathed his palace to his King, Louis XIII, who died a few months later. Anne d’Autriche, mother of the young Louis XIV, was living at the Louvre which, in a continual state of reparation and enlargement, was not a comfortable home. Richelieu’s fine new mansion tempted her. It was truly of royal aspect and dimensions, and was fitted with all “the modern conveniences and comforts” of that day. To quote the words of a versifier of the time: