THE LUXEMBOURG, THE ELYSEE AND THE PALAIS BOURBON
The kings and queens of France were not only rulers of the nation, but
they dominated the life of the capital as well. Upon their crowning or
entry into Paris it was the custom to command a gift by right from the
inhabitants. In 1389 Isabeau de Baviere, of dire memory, got sixty
thousand _couronnes d'or_, and in 1501, and again in 1504, was presented
with six thousand and ten thousand _livres parisis_ respectively.
The king levied personal taxes on the inhabitants, who were thus forced
to pay for the privilege of having him live among them, those of the
professions and craftsmen, who might from time to time serve the royal
household, paying the highest fees.
It was during the period of Richelieu's ministry that Paris flowered the
most profusely. The constructions of this epoch were so numerous and
imposing that Corneille in his comedy "Le Menteur," first produced in
1642, made his characters speak thus:
Dorante: Paris semble a mes yeux un pays de roman
* * *
En superbes palais a change ses buissons
* * *
Aux superbes dehors du palais Cardinal
Tout la ville entiere, avec pomp batie
* * *
In 1701, Louis XIV divided the capital into twenty _quartiers_, or
wards, and in 1726-1728 Louis XV built a new city wall; but it was only
with Louis XVI that the faubourgs were at last brought within the city
limits. Under the Empire and the Restoration but few changes were made,
and with the piercing of the new boulevards under Napoleon III and Baron
Haussmann the city came to be of much the same general plan that it is
to-day.
In the olden time, between the Palais de la Cite and the Louvre and the
Palais des Tournelles, extending even to the walls of Charenton, was a
gigantic garden, a carpet embroidered with as varied a colouring as the
_tapis d'orient_ of the poets, and cut here and there by alleys which
separated it into little checker-board squares.
Within this maze was the celebrated Jardin Dedalus that Louis XI gave to
Coictier, and above it rose the observatory of the savant like a signal
tower of the Romans. This centered upon what is now the Place des
Vosges, formerly the Place Royale.
To-day, how changed is all this "intermediate, indeterminate" region!
How changed, indeed! There is nothing vague and indeterminate about it
to-day.
The earliest of the little known Paris palaces was the Palais des
Thermes. It may be dismissed almost in a word from any consideration of
the royal dwellings of Paris, though it was the residence of several
Roman emperors and two queens of France. A single apartment of the old
palace of the Romans exists to-day--the old Roman Baths--but nothing of
the days of the Emperor Constantius Chlorus, who founded the palace in
honour of Julian who was proclaimed Emperor by his soldiers in 360 A.D.
The Frankish monarchs, if they ever resided here at all, soon
transferred their headquarters to the Palais de la Cite, the ruins
falling into the possession of the monks of Cluny, who built the present
Hotel de Cluny on the site.
Of all the minor French palaces the Luxembourg and the Elysee are the
most often heard of in connection with the life of modern times. The
first is something a good deal more than an art museum, and the latter
more than the residence for the Republican president, though the
guide-book makers hardly think it worth while to write down the facts.
The Palais du Luxembourg has been called an imitation of the Pitti
Palace at Florence, but, beyond the fact that it was an Italian
conception of Marie de Medici's, it is difficult to follow the
suggestion, as the architect, Jacques Debrosse, one of the ablest of
Frenchmen in his line, simply carried out the work on the general plan
of the time of its building, the early seventeenth century.
Its three not very extensive pavilions are joined together by a
colonnade which encloses a rather foreboding flagged courtyard, a
conception, or elaboration, of the original edifice by Chalgrin, in
1804, under the orders of Napoleon. The garden front, though a
restoration of Louis Philippe, is more in keeping with the original
Medici plan; that, at any rate, is to its credit.
To-day the Luxembourg, the Republican Palais du Senat, is but an echo of
the four centuries of aristocratic existence which upheld the name and
fame of its first proprietor, the Duc de Piney-Luxembourg, Prince de
Tigry, who built it in the sixteenth century. From 1733 to 1736 the
palace underwent important restorations and the last persons to inhabit
it before the Revolution were the Duchesse de Brunswick, the Queen
Dowager of Spain and the Comte de Provence, brother of Louis XVI, to
whom it had been given by Letters Patent in 1779.
[Illustration: _Palais du Luxembourg_]
In 1791 the Convention thought so little of it that they made it a
prison, and a few years later it was called again the Palais du
Directoire, and, before the end of the century, the Palais du Consulat.
This was but a brief glory, as Napoleon transferred his residence in
accordance with his augmenting ambitions, to the Tuileries in the
following year.
By 1870 the edifice had become known as the Palais du Senat, then as the
headquarters of the Prefecture of the Seine, and finally, as to-day, the
Palais du Luxembourg, the seat of the French Senate and the residence of
the president of that body.
The principal public apartments are the Library, the "Salle des
Seances," the "Buvette"--formerly Napoleon's "Cabinet de Travail," the
"Salle des Pas Perdus"--formerly the "Salle du Trone," the Grand Gallery
and the apartments of Marie de Medici. The chapel is modern and dates
only from 1844.
The Palais du Petit Luxembourg is the official residence of the
president of the Senate and dates also from the time of Marie de Medici.
The picture gallery is housed in a modern structure to the west of the
Petit Luxembourg.
[Illustration]
The facade of the Palais du Senat is not altogether lovely and has
little suggestion of the daintiness of the Petit Luxembourg, but,
for all that, it presents a certain dignified pose and the edifice
serves its purpose well as the legislative hall of the upper house.
[Illustration: _The Petit Luxembourg_]
The gardens of the Luxembourg form another of those favourite Paris
playgrounds for nursemaids and their charges. It is claimed that the
children are all little Legitimists in the Luxembourg gardens, whereas
they are all Red Republicans at the Tuileries. One has no means of
knowing this with certainty, but it is assumed; at any rate the
Legitimists are a very numerous class in the neighbourhood. Another
class of childhood to be seen here is that composed of the offsprings of
artists and professors of the Latin quarter, and of the active tradesmen
of the neighbourhood. They come here, like the others, for the fresh
air, to see a bit of greenery, to hear the band play, to sail their
boats in the basins of the great fountain and enjoy themselves
generally.
One notes a distinct difference in the dress and manners of the children
of the gardens of the Luxembourg from those of the Tuileries and wonders
if the breach will be widened further as they grow up.
The Jardin du Luxembourg is all that a great city garden should be,
ample, commodious, decorative and as thoroughly typical of Paris as the
Pont Neuf. Innumerable, but rather mediocre, statues are posed here and
there between the palace and the observatory at the end of the long,
tree-lined avenue which stretches off to the south, the only really
historical monument of this nature being the celebrated Fontaine de
Medicis by Debrosse, the architect of the palace. It was a memorial to
Marie de Medici.
While one is in this quarter of Paris he has an opportunity to recall a
royal memory now somewhat dimmed by time, but still in evidence if one
would delve deep.
As a matter of fact, royalty never had much to do with this hybrid
quarter of Paris, though, indeed, its past was romantic enough,
bordering as it does upon the real Latin Quarter of the students.
Bounded on one side by the immense domain of the Luxembourg, it
stretched away indefinitely beyond Vaugiraud, almost to Clamart and
Sceaux.
[Illustration: _The Luxembourg Gardens_]
At No. 27 Boulevard Montparnasse is an elaborate seventeenth house-front
half hidden by the "modern style" flats of twentieth century Paris. This
relic of the _grand siecle_, with its profusion of sculptured details,
was the house bought by Louis XIV about 1672 and given to the "widow
Scarron," the "young and beautiful widow of the court," as a
recompense for the devotion with which she had educated the three
children of the Marquise de Montespan, who, in 1673, were legitimatized
as princes of the royal house--the Duc de Maine, the Comte de Vexin and
Mademoiselle de Mantes.
Madame Scarron, who became in time Madame de Maintenon, the "_vraie
reine du roi_," died in 1719, and the house passed to La Tour
d'Auvergne.
On this same side of the river are the Palais de l'Institut and the
Palais Bourbon. The Palais de l'Institut, or Palais Mazarin, is hardly
to be considered one of the domestic establishments, the dwellings of
kings, with which contemporary Paris was graced. It was but a creation
of Mazarin, the minister, on the site of the Hotel de Nesle, and was
first known as the Palais des Quatre Nations, where were educated, at
the expense of the Cardinal, sixty young men of various nationalities.
The old chapel has since been transformed into the "Salle des Seances"
of the Institut de France, the Five French Academies. The black, gloomy
facade of the edifice, to-day, in spite of the cupola which gives a
certain inspiring dignity, is not lovely, and tradition and sentiment
alone give it its present interest, though it is undeniably
picturesque.
An inscription used to be on the pedestal of one of the fountains
opposite the entrance which read:
"Superbe habitant du desert
En ce lieu, dis moi, que fais tu
--Tu le vois a mon habit vert
Je suis membre de l'institut."
If the inscription were still there it would save the asking of a lot of
silly questions by strangers who pass this way for the first time. The
Palais de l'Institut is one of the sights of Paris, and its functions
are notable, though hardly belonging to the romantic school of past
days, for at present poets often make their entree via Montmartre's
"Chat Noir," or are elected simply because some other candidate has been
"_blackbouled_."
Still following along the left bank of the Seine one comes to the Palais
Bourbon, the Chambre des Deputes, as it is better known. This edifice,
where now sit the French deputies, was built by Girardini for the
Dowager Duchesse de Bourbon in 1722, and, though much changed during
various successive eras, is still a unique variety of architectural
embellishment which is not uncouth, nor yet wholly appealing. Napoleon
remade the heavily imposing facade, so familiar to all who cross the
river by the Pont de la Concorde, but its grimness is its charm rather
than its grace.
The structure cost its first proprietor twenty million or more francs,
and since it has become national property the outlay has been constant.
Everything considered it makes a poor showing; but its pseudo-Greek
facade, were it removed, would certainly be missed in this section of
Paris.
The principal apartments are the "Salle des Pas Perdus," the "Salle des
Seances," and the "Salle des Conferences"--where, in 1830, the Duc
d'Orleans took the oath as king of France.
A recent discovery has been made in the lumber room of this old Palais
Bourbon, where deputies howl and shout and make laws as noisily as in
any other of the world's parliaments.
[Illustration: The THRONE of the PALAIS-BOURBON]
This particular "find" was the throne constructed in 1816 for Louis
XVIII, with its upholstering of velvet embroidered with the golden
fleur-de-lis. The records tell that this throne also served Louis
Philippe under the Second Empire, and also was used under the Monarchy
of July. It was after the momentous "Quatre Setembre" that it was
finally relegated to the garret, but now, as a historical souvenir of
the first rank, it has been placed prominently where all who visit the
Palais Bourbon may see it.
The history of the Palais de l'Elysee has not been particularly vivid,
though for two centuries it has played a most important part in the life
of the capital. In later years it has served well enough the
presidential dignity of the chief magistrate of the French Republic and
is thus classed as a national property. Actually, since its
construction, it has changed its name as often as it has changed its
occupants. Its first occupant was its builder, Louis d'Auvergne, Comte
d'Evreux, who built himself this great town house on a plot of land
which had been given him by Louis XV. Apparently the young man had no
means of his own for the construction of his luxurious city dwelling,
for he refilled his coffers by marriage with the rich daughter of the
financier Crozat.
The new-made countess's mother-in-law apparently never had much respect
for her son's choice as she forever referred to her as "the little gold
ingot."
"The ingot" served to construct the palace, however, though at the death
of its builder, soon after, it came into the proprietorship of La
Pompadour, who spent the sum of six hundred and fifty thousand _livres_
in aggrandizing it. It became her town house, whither she removed when
she grew tired of Versailles or Bagatelle.
History tells of an incident in connection with a fete given at the
Palais de l'Elysee by La Pompadour. It was at the epoch of the
"_bergeries a la Watteau_." The blond Pompadour had the idea of
introducing into the salons a troop of living, sad-eyed sheep, combed
and curled like the poodles in the carriages of the fashionables in the
Bois to-day. The quadrupeds, greatly frightened by the flood of light,
fell into a panic, and the largest ram among them, seeing his duplicate
in a mirror, made for it in the traditional ram-like manner. He raged
for an hour or more from one apartment to another, followed by the whole
flock, which committed incalculable damage before it could be turned
into the gardens. Such was one of the costly caprices of La Pompadour.
She had many.
La Pompadour's brother, the Marquis de Menars et de Marigny, continued
the work of embellishment of the property up to the day when Louis XV
bought it as a dwelling for the ambassadors to his court. Its somewhat
restricted park, ornamented with a grotto and a cascade, was at this
time one of the curiosities of the capital.
In 1773, the financier Beaujon bought the property from the king and
added considerably to it under the direction of the architect Boullee,
who also re-designed the gardens. Thanks to Beaujon, the wonderful
Gobelins of to-day were hung upon the walls, and many paintings by
Rubens, Poissin, Van Loo, Von Ostade, Murillo, Paul Potter and Joseph
Vernet were added.
The death of the financier brought the property into the hands of the
Duchesse de Bourbon, the sister of Louis Philippe, and the mother of the
Duc d' Enghien, who died so tragically at Vincennes a short time after.
The duchess renamed her new possession Elysee-Bourbon and there led a
very retired and sad life among surroundings so splendid that they
merited a more gay existence.
At the Revolution the palace became a national property, and, under the
Consulate, was the scene of many popular fetes, it having been rented to
a concern which arranged balls and other entertainments for the pleasure
of all who could afford to pay. Its name was now the Hameau de
Chantilly, and, considering that the entrance tickets cost but fifteen
sous--including a drink--it must have proved a cheap, satisfying and
splendid amusement for the people.
This state of affairs lasted until 1805, when Murat bought it and here
held his little court up to his departure for Naples, when, in
gratefulness for past favours, he gave it to Napoleon. The emperor
greatly loved this new abode, which he rechristened the Elysee-Napoleon.
After his defeat at Waterloo Napoleon, limping lamely Parisward, down
through the Forests of Compiegne and Villers-Cotterets, sought in the
Elysee-Napoleon the repose and rest which he so much needed, the throng
meanwhile promenading before the palace windows, shouting at the tops of
their voices "Vive l'Empereur!" though, as the world well knew, his
power had waned forever; the eagle's wings were broken. The throng still
crowded the precincts of the palace, but the emperor fled secretly by
the garden gate.
On the return of the Duchesse de Bourbon from Spain the magnificent
structure became again the Elysee-Bourbon. The duchess ceded the palace
to the Duc and Duchesse de Berry but, at the duke's death, in 1820, his
widow abandoned it.
Some time after it was occupied by the Duc de Bordeaux, and, in 1830,
it became one of the long list of establishments whose maintenance
devolved upon the Civil List, though it remained practically uninhabited
all through the reign of Louis Philippe.
In 1848, the National Assembly designated the palace as the official
residence for the presidents of the French Republic. Three years after,
on the night of the first of December, as the last preparations were
being made by Louis Bonaparte for the Coup d' Etat and the final
strangling of the young republic, the residence of the president was
transferred to the Tuileries, and the palace of the Faubourg Saint
Honore was again left without a tenant, and served only to give
hospitality from time to time to passing notables.
After the burning of the Tuileries, and the coming of the Third
Republic, the Elysee Palace again became the presidential residence, and
so it remains to-day.
One of the most notable of modern events connected with the Elysee
Palace was the _diner de ceremonie_ offered by the president of the
Republic and Madame Fallieres to Mr. and Mrs. Roosevelt in April, 1910.
The dinner was served in the "Grand Salle des Fetes" and the music which
accompanied the repast was furnished by the band of the _Garde
Republicain_, beginning with the national anthem of America and
finishing with that of France. Never had a private citizen, a foreigner,
been so received by the first magistrate of France. The toast of
President Fallieres was as follows: "Before this repast terminates I
wish to profit by the occasion offered to drink the health of Monsieur
Theodore Roosevelt, an illustrious man, a great citizen and a good
friend of France and the cause of peace. I raise my glass to Madame
Roosevelt who may be assured of our respectful and sympathetic homage,
and I am very glad to be able to say to our guests that we count
ourselves very fortunate in being allowed to meet them in person and
show them this mark of respect."