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A WANDERER IN PARIS
* * * * *
OTHER WORKS BY E. V. LUCAS
Mr. Ingleside
Over Bemerton's
Listener's Lure
London Lavender
One Day and Another
Fireside and Sunshine
Character and Comedy
Old Lamps for New
The Hambledon Men
The Open Road
The Friendly Town
Her Infinite Variety
Good Company
The Gentlest Art
The Second Post
A Little of Everything
A Swan and Her Friends
A Wanderer in Florence
A Wanderer in London
A Wanderer in Holland
The British School
Highways and Byways in Sussex
Anne's Terrible Good Nature
The Slowcoach
Sir Pulteney
The Life of Charles Lamb
and
The Pocket Edition of the Works of Charles
Lamb: I. Miscellaneous Prose; II. Elia;
III. Children's Books; IV. Poems and
Plays; V. and VI. Letters
* * * * *
[Illustration: HOTEL DE SENS
THE RUE DE L'HOTEL DE VILLE]
A WANDERER IN PARIS
by
E. V. LUCAS
With Sixteen Illustrations in Colour by Walter Dexter
and Thirty-Two Reproductions from Works of Art
"I'll go and chat with Paris"
_--Romeo and Juliet_
TENTH EDITION
Methuen & Co. Ltd.
36 Essex Street W.C.
London
_First Published (Crown 8vo)_ _August 5th 1909_
_Second Edition ( " )_ _September 1909_
_Third Edition ( " )_ _October 1909_
_Fourth Edition ( " )_ _January 1910_
_Fifth Edition ( " )_ _June 1910_
_Sixth Edition ( " )_ _December 1910_
_Seventh Edition, revised (Fcap. 8vo)_ _September 1911_
_Eighth Edition (Crown 8vo)_ _October 1911_
_Ninth Edition ( " )_ _March 1912_
_Tenth Edition ( " )_ _February 1913_
PREFACE
Although the reader will quickly make the discovery for himself, I
should like here to emphasise the fact that this is a book about Paris
and the Parisians written wholly from the outside, and containing only
so much of that city and its citizens as a foreigner who has no French
friends may observe on holiday visits.
I express elsewhere my indebtedness to a few French authors. I have
also been greatly assisted in a variety of ways, but especially in the
study of the older Paris streets, by my friend Mr. Frank Holford.
E. V. L.
NOTE
Since this new edition was prepared for the press the
devastating theft of Leonardo da Vinci's "Monna Lisa" was
perpetrated. Pages 81-87 therefore--describing that picture
as one of the chief treasures of the Louvre--must change
their tense to the past.
E. V. L.
CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER I
THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS 1
CHAPTER II
THE ILE DE LA CITE 9
CHAPTER III
NOTRE DAME 31
CHAPTER IV
SAINT LOUIS AND HIS ISLAND 54
CHAPTER V
THE MARAIS 61
CHAPTER VI
THE LOUVRE: I. THE OLD MASTERS 78
CHAPTER VII
THE LOUVRE: II. MODERN PICTURES AND OTHER
TREASURES 97
CHAPTER VIII
THE TUILERIES 114
CHAPTER IX
THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE, THE CHAMPS
ELYSEES AND THE INVALIDES 132
CHAPTER X
THE BOULEVARD ST. GERMAIN AND ITS
TRIBUTARIES 158
CHAPTER XI
THE LATIN QUARTER 170
CHAPTER XII
THE PANTHEON AND SAINTE GENEVIEVE 188
CHAPTER XIII
TWO ZOOS 199
CHAPTER XIV
THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: I. THE
MADELEINE TO THE OPERA 214
CHAPTER XV
A CHAIR AT THE CAFE DE LA PAIX 227
CHAPTER XVI
THE GRANDS BOULEVARDS: II. THE OPERA TO THE
PLACE DE LA REPUBLIQUE 244
CHAPTER XVII
MONTMARTRE 260
CHAPTER XVIII
THE ELYSEE TO THE HOTEL DE VILLE 276
CHAPTER XIX
THE PLACE DES VOSGES AND HUGO'S HOUSE 299
CHAPTER XX
THE BASTILLE, PERE LACHAISE AND THE END 306
INDEX 321
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN COLOUR
THE RUE DE L'HOTEL DE VILLE _Frontispiece_
THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR _To face page_ 6
THE ILE DE LA CITE FROM THE PONT DES ARTS " 40
NOTRE DAME " 58
THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DE L'ETOILE " 74
THE PARC MONCEAU " 116
THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE DU CARROUSEL " 124
THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE " 140
THE PONT ALEXANDRE III. " 160
THE FONTAINE DE MEDICIS " 180
THE MUSEE CLUNY " 200
THE RUE DE BIEVRE " 222
THE BOULEVARD DES ITALIENS " 240
THE PORTE ST. DENIS " 258
THE SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTRE FROM THE
BUTTES-CHAUMONT " 280
THE PLACE DES VOSGES, SOUTHERN ENTRANCE " 300
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
IN BLACK AND WHITE
MAP. From a Drawing by B. C. Boulter _front Cover_
THE NATIVITY. Luini (louvre) _to face page_ 16
From a Photograph by Mansell
GIOVANNA TORNABUONI AND THE CARDINAL
VIRTUES--Fresco from the Villa Lemmi.
Botticelli (Louvre) " 20
LA VIERGE AUX ROCHERS. Leonardo da Vinci
(Louvre) " 26
From a Photograph by Neurdein
SAINTE ANNE, LA VIERGE, ET L'ENFANT JESUS.
Leonardo da Vinci. (Louvre) " 36
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA PENSEE. Rodin (Luxembourg) " 46
From a Photograph by Neurdein
BALTHASAR CASTIGLIONE. Raphael (Louvre) " 52
From a Photograph by Neurdein
L'HOMME AU GANT. Titian (Louvre) " 64
From a Photograph by Neurdein
PORTRAIT DE JEUNE HOMME. Attributed to Bigio
(Louvre) " 70
From a Photograph by Alinari
THE WINGED VICTORY OF SAMOTHRACE. (Louvre) " 80
From a Photograph by Giraudon
LA JOCONDE: MONNA LISA. Leonardo da Vinci
(Louvre) " 86
From a Photograph by Neurdein
PORTRAIT D'UNE DAME ET SA FILLE. Van Dyck
(Louvre) " 94
From a Photograph by Mansell
LE VALLON. Corot (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
Collection) " 106
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LE PRINTEMPS. Rousseau (Louvre, Thomy-Thierret
Collection) " 120
From a Photograph by Neurdein
VIEUX HOMME ET ENFANT. Ghirlandaio (Louvre) " 136
From a Photograph by Mansell
VENUS ET L'AMOUR. Rembrandt (Louvre) " 146
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LES PELERINS D'EMMAUES. Rembrandt (Louvre) " 154
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA VIERGE AU DONATEUR. J. van Eyck (Louvre) " 166
From a Photograph by Neurdein
PORTRAIT DE SA MERE. Whistler (Luxembourg) " 176
LA BOHEMIENNE. Franz Hals (Louvre) " 186
From a Photograph by Neurdein
STE. GENEVIEVE. Puvis de Chavannes (Pantheon) " 190
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA LECON DE LECTURE. Terburg (Louvre) " 206
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA DENTELLIERE. Vermeer of Delft (Louvre) " 216
From a Photograph by Woodbury
GIRL'S HEAD. Ecole de Fabriano (Louvre) " 228
From a Photograph by Mansell
LE BENEDICITE. Chardin (Louvre) " 234
From a Photograph by Giraudon
MADAME LE BRUN ET SA FILLE. Madame Le Brun
(Louvre) " 246
From a Photograph by Hanfstaengl
LE PONT DE MANTES. Corot
(Louvre, Moreau Collection) " 252
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA PROVENDE DES POULES. Troyon (Louvre,
Thomy-Thierret Collection) " 266
From a Photograph by Alinari
THE WINDMILL. R. P. Bonington (Louvre) " 274
L'AMATEUR D'ESTAMPES. Daumier (Palais des
Beaux Arts) " 286
LE BAISER. Rodin (Luxembourg) " 294
From a Photograph by Neurdein
LA BERGERE GARDANT SES MOUTONS. Millet
(Louvre, Chauchard Collection) " 308
LE MONUMENT AUX MORTS. A. Bartholome (Pere
la Chaise) " 316
From a Photograph by Neurdein
A WANDERER IN PARIS
CHAPTER I
THE ENGLISH GATES OF PARIS
The Gare du Nord and Gare St. Lazare--The Singing
Cabman--"Vivent les femmes!"--Characteristic Paris--The Next
Morning--A Choice of Delights--The Compas d'Or--The World of
Dumas--The First Lunch--Voisin wins.
Most travellers from London enter Paris in the evening, and I think
they are wise. I wish it were possible again and again to enter Paris
in the evening for the first time; but since it is not, let me hasten
to say that the pleasure of re-entering Paris in the evening is one
that custom has almost no power to stale. Every time that one emerges
from the Gare du Nord or the Gare St. Lazare one is taken afresh by
the variegated and vivid activity of it all--the myriad purposeful
self-contained bustling people, all moving on their unknown errands
exactly as they were moving when one was here last, no matter how long
ago. For Paris never changes: that is one of her most precious
secrets.
The London which one had left seven or eight hours before was populous
enough and busy enough, Heaven knows, but London's pulse is slow and
fairly regular, and even at her gayest, even when greeting Royalty,
she seems to be advising caution and a careful demeanour. But
Paris--Paris smiles and Paris sings. There is an incredible vivacity
in her atmosphere.
Sings! This reminds me that on the first occasion that I entered
Paris--in the evening, of course--my cabman sang. He sang all the way
from the Gare du Nord to the Rue Caumartin. This seemed to me
delightful and odd, although at first I felt in danger of attracting
more attention than one likes; but as we proceeded down the Rue
Lafayette--which nothing but song and the fact that it is the high
road into Paris from England can render tolerable--I discovered that
no one minded us. A singing cabman in London would bring out the Riot
Act and the military; but here he was in the picture: no one threw at
the jolly fellow any of the chilling deprecatory glances which are the
birthright of every light-hearted eccentric in my own land. And so we
proceeded to the hotel, often escaping collision by the breadth of a
single hair, the driver singing all the way. What he sang I knew not;
but I doubt if it was of battles long ago: rather, I should fancy, of
very present love and mischief. But how fitting a first entry into
Paris!
An hour or so later--it was just twenty years ago, but I remember it
so clearly--I observed written up in chalk in large emotional letters
on a public wall the words "Vivent les femmes!" and they seemed to me
also so odd--it seemed to me so funny that the sentiment should be
recorded at all, since women were obviously going to live whatever
happened--that I laughed aloud. But it was not less characteristic of
Paris than the joyous baritone notes that had proceeded from beneath
the white tall hat of my cocher. It was as natural for one Parisian to
desire the continuance of his joy as a lover, even to expressing it in
chalk in the street, as to another to beguile with lyrical snatches
the tedium of cab-driving.
I was among the Latin people, and, as I quickly began to discover, I
was myself, for the first time, a foreigner. That is a discovery which
one quickly makes in Paris.
But I have not done yet with the joy of entering and re-entering Paris
in the evening--after the long smooth journey across the marshes of
Picardy or through the orchards of Normandy and the valley of the
Seine--whichever way one travels. But whether one travels by Calais,
Boulogne, Dieppe or Havre, whether one alights at the Gare du Nord or
St. Lazare, once outside the station one is in Paris instantly: there
is no debatable land between either of these termini and the city, as
there is, for example, between the Gare de Lyons and the city. Paris
washes up to the very platforms. A few steps and here are the foreign
tables on the pavements and the foreign waiters, so brisk and clean,
flitting among them; here are the vehicles meeting and passing on the
wrong or foreign side, and beyond that, knowing apparently no law at
all; here are the deep-voiced newsvendors shouting those magic words
_La Patrie!_ _La Patrie!_ which, should a musician ever write a Paris
symphony, would recur and recur continually beneath its surface
harmonies. And here, everywhere, are the foreign people in their
ordered haste and their countless numbers.
The pleasure of entering and re-entering Paris in the evening is only
equalled by the pleasure of stepping forth into the street the next
morning in the sparkling Parisian air and smelling again the pungent
Parisian scent and gathering in the foreign look of the place. I know
of no such exuberance as one draws in with these first Parisian
inhalations on a fine morning in May or June--and in Paris in May and
June it is always fine, just as in Paris in January and February it is
always cold or wet. His would be a very sluggish or disenchanted
spirit who was not thus exhilarated; for here at his feet is the
holiday city of Europe and the clean sun over all.
And then comes the question "What to do?" Shall we go at once to
"Monna Lisa"? But could there be a better morning for the children in
the Champs-Elysees? That beautiful head in the His de la Salle
collection--attributed to the school of Fabriano! How delightfully the
sun must be lighting up the red walls of the Place des Vosges! Rodin's
"Kiss" at the Luxembourg--we meant to go straight to that! The wheel
window in Notre Dame, in the north transept--I have been thinking of
that ever since we planned to come.
So may others talk and act; but I have no hesitancies. My duty is
clear as crystal. On the first morning I pay a visit of reverence and
delight to the ancient auberge of the Compas d'Or at No. 64 Rue
Montorgeuil. And this I shall always do until it is razed to the
earth, as it seems likely to be under the gigantic scheme, beyond
Haussmann almost, which is to renovate the most picturesque if the
least sanitary portions of old Paris at a cost of over thirty millions
of pounds. Unhappy day--may it be long postponed! For some years now I
have always approached the Compas d'Or with trembling and foreboding.
Can it still be there? I ask myself. Can that wonderful wooden hanger
that covers half the courtyard have held so long? Will there be a
motor-car among the old diligences and waggons? But it is always the
same.
From the street--and the Rue Montorgeuil is as a whole one of the most
picturesque and characteristic of the older streets of Paris, with its
high white houses, each containing fifty families, its narrowness, its
barrows of fruit and green stuff by both pavements, and its crowds of
people--from the street, the Compas d'Or is hardly noticeable, for a
butcher and a cutler occupy most of its facade; but the sign and the
old carvings over these shops give away the secret, and you pass
through one of the narrow archways on either side and are straightway
in a romance by the great Dumas. Into just such a courtyard would
D'Artagnan have dashed, and leaping from one sweating steed leap on
another and be off again amid a shower of sparks on the stones. Time
has stood still here.
There is no other such old inn left. The coach to Dreux--now probably
a carrier's cart--still regularly runs from this spot, as it has done
ever since the beginning of the sixteenth century. Rows of horses
stand in its massive stables and fill the air with their warm and
friendly scent; a score of ancient carts huddle in the yard, in a
corner of which there will probably be a little group of women
shelling peas; beneath the enormous hanger are more vehicles, and
masses of hay on which the carters sleep. The ordinary noise of Paris
gives way, in this sanctuary of antiquity, to the scraping of hoofs,
the rattle of halter bolts, and the clatter of the wooden shoes of
ostlers. It is the past in actual being--Civilisation, like Time, has
stood still in the yard of the Compas d'Or. That is why I hasten to it
so eagerly and shall always do so until it disappears for ever. There
is nothing else in Paris like it.
And after? Well, the next thing is to have lunch. And since this
lunch--being the first--will be the best lunch of the holiday and
therefore the best meal of the holiday (for every meal on a holiday in
Paris is a little better than that which follows it), it is an
enterprise not lightly to be undertaken. One must decide carefully,
for this is to be an extravagance: the search for the little
out-of-the-way restaurant will come later. To-day we are rich.
[Illustration: THE COURTYARD OF THE COMPAS D'OR, RUE MONTORGEUIL]
This book is not a guide for the gastronome and gourmet. How indeed
could it be, even although when heaven sends a cheerful hour one would
scorn to refrain? Yet none the less it would be pleasant in this
commentary upon a city illustrious for its culinary ingenuity and
genius to say something of restaurants. But what is one to say here on
such a theme? Volumes are needed. Every one has his own taste. For me
Voisin's remains, and will, I imagine, remain the most distinguished,
the most serene, restaurant in Paris, in its retired situation at the
corner of the Rue Saint-Honore and the Rue Cambon, with its simple
decoration, its unhastening order and despatch, its Napoleonic
head-waiter, its Bacchic wine-waiter (with a head that calls for vine
leaves) and its fastidious cuisine. To Voisin's I should always make
my way when I wished not only to be delicately nourished but to be
quiet and philosophic and retired. Only one other restaurant do I know
where the cooking gives me the satisfaction of Voisin's--where
excessive richness never intrudes--and that is a discovery of my own
and not lightly to be given away. Voisin's is a name known all over
the world: one can say nothing new about Voisin's; but the little
restaurant with which I propose to tantalise you, although the resort
of some of the most thoughtful eaters in Paris, has a reputation that
has not spread. It is not cheap, it is little less dear indeed than
the Cafe Anglais or Paillard's, to name the two restaurants of renown
which are nearest to it; its cellar is poor and limited to half a
dozen wines; its two rooms are minute and hot; but the idea of
gastronomy reigns--everything is subordinated to the food and the
cooking. If you order a trout, it is the best trout that France can
breed, and it is swimming in the kitchen at the time the solitary
waiter repeats your command; no such asparagus reaches any other Paris
restaurant, no such Pre Sale and no such wild strawberries. But I have
said enough; almost I fear I have said too much. These discoveries
must be kept sacred.
And for lunch to-day? Shall it be chez Voisin, or chez Foyot, by the
Senat, or chez Laperouse (where the two Stevensons used to eat and
talk) on the Quai des Augustins? Or shall it be at my nameless
restaurant?
Voisin's to-day, I think.