Episode 21 - The New Windows of Notre Dame and the Repeated Destruction of History

The restoration of Notre Dame after the 2019 fire was nothing short of a miracle. In just over five years, the cathedral opened its doors once more to the faithful, but in reality to millions of tourists. However, with any major project in France or anywhere in the world, there will always be a political or self-serving edge that sneaks in.

On December 8, 2023, President Macron announced, at the so-called urging of Bishop Laurent Ulrich, his intention to add new contemporary windows to the cathedral to reflect the fire and the Renaissance. At the time, it was thought that the windows might reflect the craftsmen and women and even the fire itself, but that was not at all what we would eventually see. 

Ulrich was named bishop of Paris on April 26, 2022, and oversaw the restoration of the cathedral's interior, including its furniture and decoration. We were told by the diocese that whatever had been inside the cathedral on April 14, 2019, the day before the fire, would return. That has been far from true and a flat-out lie.

Over the last 161 years, since Viollet-le-Duc's restoration was completed in 1865, bishops and church officials have continued to erase his contributions. 

In creating this week's podcast episode, I wanted to take a deeper look at the controversy surrounding the new windows at Notre Dame, but, as with anything, it led me down another road. The systematic vandalism of Notre Dame was done by the church officials who should be there to protect it. 

Eugene Viollet le Duc, the man behind the restorations of many of the French monuments, including the Basilique Saint Denis.  Notre-Dame de Paris. Built in the 13th century, barely survived the many conflicts and the Revolution, but was thankfully saved when Victor Hugo wrote Notre Dame de Paris in 1831. Suddenly, a light shone upon this cathedral, and a cry to save it from destruction sparked a competition among architects. 

Viollet-le-Duc, the self-taught architect, and his partner, Jean-Baptiste Lassus, had just finished restoring Sainte-Chapelle and were primed to take on the monumental task. Viollet was just 29 years old and already had extensive experience with Gothic churches. They wanted to preserve as many 13th-century details as possible and restore each element and style.

Viollet wasn’t just an architect but also an artist, creating meticulous drawings of each statue, chimera, king, and stained-glass window. By hiring the best craftsmen in France, they could recreate each element lost over the years. Lassus died in 1857 during construction, leaving Viollet with the huge task and the voices of critics, which to this day have never been silenced. 

The commission was awarded on March 31, 1844, and the project was completed in 1865. For over 20 years, VLD had the spire rebuilt, redesigned the lead roof, and the 16 statues of the Apostles & Evangelists. Added the gargoyles, returned the statues of the kings to the facade, and rebuilt much of the statuary around the doors of the cathedral. 

The inside is where his brilliance really shines, none more so than in the chapels, or the chapels before 1950, I should say. Viollet looked at each chapel as a canvas, one that would incorporate all elements and combine them to tell a story, including a translucent, colored tapestry of stained glass. 

When Viollet took on this massive endeavor, the cathedral had suffered through the Revolution, the destruction of the original stained glass under Louis XV, and the near-total loss when the city tried to sell the cathedral off for parts. Thankfully, there weren’t any takers. Breathing new life also meant a return to color.  

The overall theme of a Gothic cathedral is light. The appearance of lightness that you see on the exterior, the capturing of light that fills the interior, and the guiding principles of Viollet le Duc. 

In the words of the architect himself: “First, the cathedral of Paris, as is well known, is oriented in such a way that one entire side of the monument faces south and the other north. One of these sides, therefore, receives a brighter and more colorful light than the other. It seemed necessary to take advantage of this arrangement to establish overall harmony. Rather than counteracting this orientation, it was deemed necessary to reinforce it. Thus, firstly, all the windows of the chapels facing south are decorated with grisaille in warm tones, while those facing north have grisaille in pearly and cool tones. From this, it follows that upon entering the monument, one sees one side in light, one side in shadow, one side warm and bright, and one side cold. This instinctively produces a generally tranquil effect on the eye. Nothing is more tiring for the eyes than an interior lit by contrasting light of similar qualities in terms of light intensity, tonal value, and color. The painting of the chapels had to naturally correspond to the system of light distribution. Following a general rule, the tonality of the paintings on the north side is cooler than that on the south side. However, as unity must be maintained, from distance to distance, on the south side, gray tones, green tones, and cool tones recall the general harmony of the north side, and, on the northern side, warm tones recall the general harmony of the southern side.”

Some look at the windows of the north and south nave that are predominantly grey or grisaille and might think they aren’t as beautiful as the type of colored stained glass you see in the chevet or Sainte Chapelle.  

Here is VLD explaining the theory. “Indeed, the colored light from the stained-glass windows, even if they are, as we say, only grisaille, breaks down the pure colors, such as vermilion, yellow, and intense blue, weighing them down; it is necessary to counteract this influence by seeking tones that, on the contrary, acquire value from the translucent coloring of the stained-glass windows. Thus, for example, if the stained-glass windows spread a light lilac glaze with a slightly azure tint, and one wishes to obtain a blue tone, one must green the blue; a purple tone, one must warm this lacquered tone with a yellow; a green tone, one must keep this tone very light and transparent. If, on the contrary, these stained-glass windows color the light in a very slightly purplish yellow, the green tones must be almost blue; the blues, azure; the yellows, greenish; the reds, lacquered When these muted tones have the proper value due to the light illuminating them, the touches of pure color take on their true value and are not, or rather do not appear to be, decomposed by the quality of the day. It is, therefore, useful, we believe, to consider the examples we give in this collection of paintings in light of the location of the chapels and consequently the light they receive. Thus, one will have the explanation of certain harmonies of muted tones.

It is, of course, hard to envision this today in 2026 because the painted walls of the nave chapels were destroyed in the mid-20th century, less than 100 years after they were created. 

The bishop of Paris, Marie-Dominique-Auguste Sibour, wanted to restore the chapels and launched a fundraising campaign within the parish. Viollet, a lifelong atheist, was surprisingly close with the bishop, and the two developed a deep trust. The two developed a plan for the names of the chapels and the themes of each. Picking saints, figures, and those who had been attached to the church. 

The chapels of the nave were never a part of the original plan of the 12th-century church. During construction, wealthy guilds and families approached the church and said they would pay to have a chapel built. Next thing they know, the wall of the nave and transept was destroyed and bumped out, creating fourteen chapels. It was up to the owner to decorate and maintain the interior, and most had carved wooden walls to close off from onlookers. To get an idea of this, visit Saint Eustache. High above each chapel are the family crests of the original owner, and one chapel still has its lovely carved entrance. 

Once the church took over the chapels, there weren’t enough funds to pay for the decoration or to bring it into the style of the rest of the church. That wouldn’t be done until over 600 years after they were created. 

Each and every chapel of Notre Dame was treated as its own little stage with every element working together, just as Viollet had described. From the altar to the gate to every painted element, and of course, the windows. Visit the chevet chapels at the eastern end of the church to get an idea of his vision. 

For over 80 years, Notre Dame basked in its colorful glory. Weaving the stories of the saints and figures of the church with a beautiful motif that would inspire Art Nouveau and an American named Walt Disney. 

Then came the 1950s. A familiar story of neglect or poor cleaning led to a few loud voices claiming that the decor wasn’t up to the standard of the great cathedral and needed to be removed. Moisture, humidity, candle soot, and dirt, a problem churches still fight today, can have lasting effects that are hard to recover from. 

The fight was led by Pierre Maire Auzas, the inspector general of historic monuments, who claimed the work was “unworthy”. The first victim was the wall of the north nave just before the first chapel. A beautiful statue of the Virgin and Child that now greets you at the entrance was once against this wall painted with a light yellow, blue and brown motif with stylized fleur de lis, lilies, and reliquaries. 

Auzas felt it took away from the statue, when in fact VLD painted it to enhance it. In 1951, it was the first work to be erased. Prior to the fire, this was where a large gift shop was set up for visitors leaving the cathedral. When the walls were stripped, there must have been some heavy furniture in the way that they couldn’t or didn’t want to remove. Lucky for us it has left a few reminders of what once was. 

The lower part, painted with brown and black squares, remains and was found and restored after the fire. 

Bolstered by the success of their destruction, the chapels of the nave were next. One thing that VLD did during his restoration was to remove all of the Les Mays paintings that had remained in the church. Created in the mid-17th century, the Goldsmith Guild of Paris donated a large painting each year on May 1 for over 70 years. At one time, all 76 hung in the church. In the 1950s, Auzes wanted to reunite many with the cathedral for which they were created, and would clash with the 19th-century painted walls. 

The chapels of the nave were covered from the roof to the floor with decorative paint, something that wouldn’t work with the reimagined chapels of Auzes. A unanimous verdict by the historical group was that the “artistic work, especially religious, during the Second Empire was considered uninteresting and without creative genius”. There is always a political and self-serving angle that weaves its way in. 

So between 1959 and 1963, the fourteen chapels of the nave were whitewashed of any color or decor. Entire chapels stripped down to the stone, including the altars. 

Today, in the 2nd chapel of the north nave and the 4th, there is a little reminder of what once was. Today’s chapel of Abrahm, once Saint Charles, holds a bit of the green-and-burgundy harlequin pattern behind the statue of Saint Francois-Xavier baptizing. In the 4th chapel of Isiah, below a statue of Saint Landry, bishop of Paris, who founded the Hotel Dieu, forest green “stones” outlined in cream, in what once was the chapel of Saint Vincent de Paul. 

I have photos on my website, along with the original designs from a fantastic book by Viollet le Duc and Maurice Ouradou, featuring each of the chapels' designs and ornaments. I have a link to the original online version from 1870.

Although this systematic destruction and vandalism occurred in the 1950s and 60s there is very little photographic evidence that remains. Much like Chanel and their founders ties to Nazism, Notre Dame seems to want to also hide this period. I have many books about the history of Notre Dame, and only a few even mention this episode. Neither the original painting nor the destruction.  

All of this brings us to the new controversy, but the past is a very important factor. 

Notre Dame was designated a historic monument on December 31, 1862, during Viollet-le-Duc's work. A classification that protects all of the elements of the structure, including the art and decoration, whether it is original 12th or 13th century or created prior to the distinction. This also oversees how a restoration is handled and how it must be overseen by a national architect, and the respect taken to its heritage. Above all others. 

This, along with another incredibly important distinction, should protect the cathedral. On May 31, 1964, the Venice Charter was adopted by conservators and outlined the rules governing historic monuments and buildings. The thirteen resolutions outline the protection, but also “ applies not only to great works of art but also to more modest works of the past which have acquired cultural significance with the passing of time,” as article 1 states. 

The Venice Charter is one of the most important documents in the art world. It has been adopted as the rule not only for historic buildings but also for the restoration of paintings and sculptures. (listen to episode 13 Venus de Milo & 20 Delactoix’s Constantinople) 

Two of the standout hits of the charter that apply heavily in the conversation today. 

Article 8. Items of sculpture, painting, or decoration which form an integral part of a monument may only be removed from it if this is the sole means of ensuring their preservation.

Article 11. The valid contributions of all periods to the building of a monument must be respected, since unity of style is not the aim of a restoration. When a building includes the superimposed work of different periods, the revealing of the underlying state can only be justified in exceptional circumstances and when what is removed is of little interest, and the material which is brought to light is of great historical, archaeological, or aesthetic value, and its state of preservation is good enough to justify the action. Evaluation of the importance of the elements involved and the decision on what may be destroyed cannot rest solely with the individual in charge of the work.

You can read the full Venice Charter here

Since Notre Dame reopened in December 2024, the attacks on the chapels have continued. Before the fire, chapels were filled with numerous paintings,  statues, candlesticks, reliquares and crucifixes. Today, they are devoid of any character, and nothing ties them to the names given for the reopening. 

The idea of replacing the windows in the southern nave of Notre Dame was first discussed in 2021, after the fire. Michel Aupetit, archbishop at the time of the fire, placed Pere Giles Drouin in charge of the redesign of the cathedral interior. In a YouTube video I found recorded March  22, 2022, Drouin talks about the chapels that have very little use, “dead space,” and giving them more life. (They are far from that now.) It was also at this time that the idea of new contemporary windows for the south nave was first brought by Drouin.  

When this idea reached the then-Minister of Culture, Roselyne Bachelot, she said NO and based her decision on the Venice Charter. 

On April 23, 2023. General Gerorgelin and President Macron visited the Notre Dame worksite along with Bishop Ulrich. Macron brought up his wish for new stained-glass windows and said that “it must come from you,” or it will never happen. 

On December 4, 2023, four days before Macron visited the site again, Ulrich sent a letter regarding the window. Four days later, Macron announced his interest in replacing the windows. 

Exactly one year before the re-opening on December 8, 2023, Macron first spoke of the desire to “mark the 21st century.”  It was first said that the windows would also mark the five years since the fire.  (hoping it would be something like ND de Reims)

At the same time, Macron announced their intent to replace the windows. He also expressed his wish to have a museum dedicated to Notre Dame opened at the Hotel Dieu, just outside the cathedral's doors. The removed Viollet-le-Duc windows would be placed there. (more on that in a minute)

Shortly thereafter, on March 11, 2024, the Ministry of Culture, now under Rachida Dati, named Bernard Blistène, former director of the Centre Pompidou, in charge of the international competition for the artist to create the new windows. 

It was swiftly brought to the floor of the national assembly on December 19, 2023, by Caroline Colombier after Macron’s announcement. On May 21, 2024, they concluded that the replacement under the governing bodies was accepted.

On July 11, 2024, the National Heritage and Architectural Commission unanimously issued a negative opinion, a very rare occurrence. 

On December 18, 2024, President Macron announced the selection of French artist Claire Tabouret to create a set of six new windows. Born in 1981 in the south of France, she attended the École des Beaux Arts in Paris for a year, then the Union School of Arts in New York. She now lives in Los Angeles. 

On that date, we saw our first glimpse of what the windows would look like. 

Windows for the Chapel St Vincent de Paul & Chapel Saint Genevieve

The chapels of the south nave were renamed before the 2024 reopening. Representing Pentecost, the visitor is to walk out of the cathedral “in the light”. Although the chapels take the names of saints or figures tied to Paris, well, kind of. Saint Joseph, Saint Thomas d’Aquin, Sainte Clotilde, Saint Vincent de Paul, my girl Sainte Genevieve, and fellow patron saint of Paris, Saint Denis, and ending with the real head scratcher, Saint Paul Chen. A wonderful story of an amazing man, but one that never came to Paris until his remains were transferred after he was beatified in 1908. 

This past winter, the artist's final designs were on display at the Grand Palais. The full-size painted version on paper of each window, along with a behind-the-scenes look at how they were created.  Hung on a white wall, the window was reimagined, including the top of the window, to pay homage to Viollet-le-Duc and the glass designer Alfred Gérente. 

I visited the exhibit the day it opened on December 10, and of course, I went in with the idea of hating everything about their existence. On their own, they are lovely, they are bright and colorful, and the talent of the artist shines through. That said, I still disagree with the idea of replacing the windows, if you haven’t figured that out yet. 

The Archbishop of Paris chose the theme of Pentecost and specific texts from the Book of Acts were given to the artist.  

Window for the Chapel Saint Deni

Chapel Saint Joseph  "All gathered together in one place." The apostles stand in a circle in front of the historic windows that are being removed. 

Chapel Saint Clothilde "Suddenly a sound came from heaven." The windows are a rush of turbulent water, while calm in the lower section

Saint Vincent de Paul, "Like a violent gust of wind" represented by a tree bending in the wind against a bright orange background. 

Chapel Saint Genevieve "Then tongues of fire appeared to them and rested on each of them." At first, I was excited because I thought she depicted Sainte Genevieve, as that would make sense, but it is the Virgin Mary dressed in her signature blue is depicted with long, loose hair, often more associated with Mary Magdeline. 

Chapel Saint Deni:s "Those who heard had their hearts pierced." The Holy Spirit now appears as a dove above the design of the former windows. Mary in blue stands and looks above as the apostles are on their knees below. 

Chapel Saint Paul-Chen  "They spoke according to the gift of the Spirit." A long procession made up of many people winds its way through th windows and into the future.

I’ve added a link to the exhibit information on my website; it is in French. 

The fight against the windows sped up at the start of the year.  Didier Rykner of La Tribune de l’Art, leading the fight, created a petition on December 12, 2023, and, as of today, it has more than 352,000 signatures. You too can sign it here

Notre Dame gave their overall approval on Feb 24, 2026 (an email sent that day from the recteur), they have no standing on anything outside of what is involved and affects worship

On April 17, 2026, the regional prefecture authorized the public establishment to remove the Viollet-le-Duc windows. 

On May 5, 2026, two heritage-defense associations brought a case before the Paris administrative court to halt the project as a matter of urgency. They had to show the urgency of the situation, the legality, and raise doubt on the legality of the project 

At 3 p.m. on May 12, 2026, Didier Rykner  & Paul Lacaze of Sites et Monuments and SOS Paris had their day in the Paris Administrative Court, pleading that the replacement of the windows be stopped. 

On May 19, the Administrative Court rejected the suspension of work by the Sites & Monuments and SOS Paris 

The judge didn’t see the urgency since the structure itself will not be altered, and the windows can be removed. The lawyers for the project argued that  “121 m2 out of 2050m2”, 6% of the 19th-century windows, 5% of the overall windows are what is at stake here. When a high percentage of those windows are high above and out of view of visitors, it’s a weak argument.

Not all hope is lost, and they, siding with the historical interest, remain optimistic that they can prevail, even if it is long after the windows are replaced. 

On May 22, it was announced that the windows will now be displayed at the Château de Pierrefonds and the Cité de l’Architecture at Trocadéro. 

The Château de Pierrefonds was renovated by Viollet-le-Duc under Napoleon III from 1857 to 1879. Four of the windows are said to be installed with an explanation of their creation.  The other two at the Trocadero, where the remains and copies of historic cathedrals and chateaux make sense. 

In May 2026, the chapels of the south nave began to show signs of work. Paintings were covered and then protected in a metal cage, statues were covered, and the wood-carved walls of the chapel of Saint Vincent de Paul were hidden behind plywood. 

Removal work will begin on June 22, and installation of new glass will not begin until October and will be completed by the 2nd anniversary

The new windows designed and painted by Tabouret will be created by the Atelier Saint-Marq. The oldest atelier de vitraux, which opened in 1640, will take on the project this summer.

The new stained glass windows will be placed into the existing framework, and the exact dimensions of the Viollet-le-Duc windows will be used, so the judges deem there is no emergency to stop the project, which also leaves this open. 

Once the windows are in place within the state-owned cathedral, they become a public work, which will also make them very difficult to change or remove. 

And the cost of all of this, at least 4 million euros, is paid by the state 

This is not the first time the stained-glass windows of Notre Dame have sparked controversy. In many ways, the two cases are very similar, but the earlier one is never mentioned in the press or in Notre Dame's history. 

In 2020, a remarkable discovery was made in the gallery above the Notre Dame nave: long-lost stained-glass panels dating to 1935. These fragments were sent to the Manufacture Vincent Petit for analysis, reigniting interest in a lesser-known chapter of the cathedral's history.

In the 1930s, stained-glass artist Louis Baillet was tasked with selecting artists for Notre Dame's new stained-glass windows. However, the project faced resistance. The 19th-century Viollet-le-Duc windows were criticized for being too pale and not aligning with the cathedral's Gothic aesthetic. Despite these challenges, twelve artists took on the project, funding much of it themselves in hopes of leaving a lasting mark on one of the world’s most iconic landmarks.

The artists exhibited their designs at the Pontifical Pavilion in 1937 to garner support, yet the Commission for Historical Monuments rejected them, citing inconsistencies in design, proportion, and color. World War II further derailed the project, leaving much of the work incomplete.

While plans were initially made to replace Viollet-le-Duc’s windows in Notre Dame, including updates to its 13th-century Rose Windows, fragments of these windows remain today. Of the original twelve windows, only a few pieces, a complete rose window, and an almost-complete bay survive. Notably, Jacques Le Chevallier’s designs were among the few that were retained and reinstalled in 1965.

Not everyone agreed to replace the VLD windows. Gabriel Rupinich-Robert, Grand Inspector of Historical Monuments, believed they were in fine condition and did not require replacement. Similarly, Aléette de Maille, Vice President of La Sauvegarde de l’Art Français, opposed the removal of these unique art pieces.

Following the devastating 2019 fire, all stained-glass windows were found intact, aside from minor heat damage to the small rose windows. Restoration efforts began, focusing on cleaning, analyzing, and re-firing the glass using modern techniques. Of the twelve original artists, only works by Le Chevallier and Hébert-Stevens are known to exist today.

Le Chevallier’s family returned one of his windows to Notre Dame in 2013 to commemorate the cathedral’s 850th anniversary, later donating it to the Cité du Vitrail in Troyes. Additionally, crates of never-fired glass panels were discovered post-fire, offering a glimpse into these artists' incomplete vision.

I have photos and a video I made of the exhibition of these windows at the Stained Glass Museum in Troyes in the summer of 2025. 

As for the museum dedicated to Notre Dame, I mentioned earlier.  On the same day in December 2023 when Macron announced his wish for new windows, he also mentioned the creation of a museum dedicated to Notre Dame. A fantastic idea in my opinion. There are thousands of items not on display within the cathedral and scattered across museums in France, not to mention all the items they removed and never returned after the restoration. 

Just across the parvis is the Hotel Dieu, the oldest hospital in Europe, which covers a massive city block all the way to the Seine. Only a fraction is used for emergencies. 

However, the project did not make it very far. The Paris city council didn’t even tee up the project, as it would have to go through a lengthy process of changing the Local Urban Planning Scheme.  There has been little to no word since March 2025

The work was to begin this year, with completion and opening in 2028. They haven’t even opened the competition for an architect. This project will most likely never happen. Maybe they should use the 4 million euros that the windows are costing for the start of the project. 

Notre Dame has a difficult line to follow. It is once again the most visited monument in France. Following the fire, the crowds have returned in record numbers. However, Notre Dame is also still a cathedral and a religious structure. It is also a State-owned structure, but the interior is run by the church. These days, they are leaning further toward tourism, with a heavy dash of self-interest. I love Notre Dame and have been obsessed with the history and architecture of this beautiful cathedral long before I ever set foot inside. I just hope that history can survive a few more generations before it is completely erased. 

In France, the country's history and heritage are among its greatest gifts. Every year, hundreds of French people line up for a glimpse inside the many buildings opened for one weekend only. That is why this systematic destruction is so surprising. All wrapped up in a few people's egos and self-interest, that will destroy something meant to be seen by future generations.

Listen to the full episode HERE

Episode 20 - The Restoration of Delacroix's Constantinople

Over the last seven years, the Louvre has undertaken the massive restoration of five of Eugène Delacroix’s large paintings, many of which hang side by side in the Salle Mollien.

On May 20th, the last of the restored large-format paintings was unveiled, revealing a masterpiece hidden beneath layers of varnish.  The Capture of Constantinople by the Crusaders might be unknown to most people, and quite frankly, it is usually ignored in the Mollien as people gather in front of the Liberty Leading the People instead. Hopefully, with its refreshing facelift,  it will garner a bit more attention. 

Before, taken May 4, 2024

In the spring of 2018, the Louvre held a retrospective exhibit dedicated to the Romantic master, and at that point, they realized many of his paintings were in desperate need of restoration. Most paintings need a bit of love every 80 to 100 years, but as you can imagine, for the Louvre that isn’t a very easy schedule to keep or to fund, for that matter. 

The vast majority of the 20th century was consumed by world wars in its first half. The 80s and 90s were dominated by the Grand Louvre project, which gave us the Pyramid and the Richelieu wing, taking all the focus away from restorations, though that might have been a good thing. 

Restoration is an art form in itself. Over time, the focus of restoration has changed many times. We can look back at the “restoration” of the Mona Lisa in the early 1600s.  Artists Jean de Hoey and his son Claude were in charge of the Royal Collection of Louis XIV and decided to cover the painting with a thick layer of varnish. This was done without cleaning the Renaissance masterpiece painted on wood that had spent two decades of her life in a bathroom. This has left the world's most famous painting in a precarious position. She desperately needs cleaning, and the varnish continues to darken to this day.

After Restoration, May 20, 2026

Restorations today involve multiple X-rays, testing of the substances they will use, and even an inspection of the multiple sheets of canvas below the pictorial layer we see. Their role is to return the painting to the artist's intent, removing the varnish that dulls the colors and repairing any spots damaged by time. By abiding by the ultimate rule for whatever they do, they must be able to reverse it in the future if needed. 

In the process, restorers have found paintings that have been altered, with elements added that were never the artist's intent, and at times added hundreds of years later.  They can be removed without a trace. There are some incredible examples that I will share in an upcoming episode. I would love to spend a day with these talented individuals, although they may be tired of my questions after 20 minutes. 

Eugéne Delacroix was the king of the Romantic movement. His use of color was inspired by Rubens, and he would later inspire the Impressionists and Picasso. He was the perfect subject of the large project that began in 2019. These projects come at a very high cost, with restoration of just one painting costing up to a million euros. 

The Salle Mollien, just a few steps from the Mona Lisa, was created under Napoleon III. Between 1852 and 1870, he doubled the size of the Palais du Louvre for his government, while the Grande Galerie served as the museum. The room originally held the French masters of the 17th and 18th centuries, as attested by the names inscribed on the walls above. Today, the same room painted in Pompei red houses the paintings of Delacroix and the Romantic period, which were placed here in 1995.

One by one, five of Delacroix's paintings have been restored. Starting with the Scenes from the  Massacre at Scio, painted in 1824, depicting the destruction by the Ottoman Empire of the people on the Greek island of Scio in 1822, 

In 2021, a painting that also inspired Picasso to copy many times, The Women from Algiers in their Apartment, was painted in 1834. The colors in the women's clothes came to life after the restoration.  

Delacroix liked to push the envelope with his paintings and the themes he chose. The Death of Sardanapalus, painted in 1827 for the 1828 Salon, drew a crowd, but most were shocked by the theme of the mythical Assyrian king surrounded by all his favorite things just before his death.

You can’t restore the tableaux of Delacroix without touching his most famous, Liberty Leading the People, in 2023. It was completed in time for the 2024 Olympics. More on that in July.

Last week, on May 20th, the fifth and final from the master of color was revealed. The Capture of Constantinople by the Crusaders, April 12, 1204. Before the restoration, the painting was very dark. The architectural background of the city and the Bosphorus Straight had almost disappeared under multiple layers of varnish.  

The restoration was sponsored and paid for by Madame Isabelle Ealet Corbani. She also supported the cleaning of the  Death of Sardanapalus and is helping with the Rubens Medici project. 

Constantinople was last restored in 1948 by Paul Maridat & Edgar Aillet. The newest restoration included strengthening the canvas and its edges, and the full cleaning of the pictorial layer. Led by the amazing restorers Bénédicte Trémolières, Laurence Mugniot,  Alice Aurand, and Alice Panhard, who cleaned, reintegrated, and added a new clear layer of varnish to once again bring out its colorful glory. The support, backing canvas, and frame were restored by Jean-Pascal Viala and Luc Harter. The project lasted 11 months from May 2025 to April 2026. I have been fortunate enough to attend a few lectures given by Bénédicte and Laurence, two fascinating and talented women.

A special space was created steps away under the Salon Denon after the gift shop was removed in 2025. Complete with a window that was added so we could watch the restoration process. That never happened, and the window was never opened. Would have been amazing to watch. 

Louis Philippe rose to power after the Three Glorious Days Revolution of July 1830, another event that Delacroix captured. Louis Philippe set himself apart from his predecessors by calling himself the King of the French, a real man of the people. After a few Napoleons and Bourbons who did their best to alter the pages of history, it would be Louis Philippe who would do all he could to restore them. We already talked about his goal of reuniting the banks of the Seine with Napoleon Bonaparte in 1840 in episode 17. 

The King OF the French didn’t stop there. At the Chateau de Versailles, Louis Philippe created a museum dedicated to the glories of France, filling its walls with works by the greatest French artists, as well as many battles and scenes from French history. 

On April 30, 1838, Eugene Delacroix was commissioned for 10,000 francs by Alphonse de Cailleux, Director of the Beaux Arts and later director of the Musée du Louvre. It would be his third and last creation for Versailles. 

From the mid 1830s to his death in 1863, Delacroix focused more on public- and government-commissioned pieces. At the time, Paris had the Musée du Louvre and the Musée du Luxembourg. When it came to large art centers, there were very few. He believed that to be remembered, he should dedicate his time and energy to these large-scale installations that could be seen for generations to come, and tried to encourage his fellow artists to do the same. Little did he know what the museum and gallery landscape would be today. 

At the time of his commission in 1838, he was also working in the Chamber of Deputies in the Palais Bourbon of the National Assembly. Before Constantinople was finished, he also took on the major project for the library of the Chamber of Peers in the Senate of the Palais du Luxembourg, multiple salon paintings, and the Eglise Saint Denys du Saint-Sacrement. 

In February of 1840, Delacroix sent a letter to his friend and head of the Beaux Arts, Cailleux, asking for a meeting. It is thought that this was when he presented the sketch held at the Château de Chantilly and in the collection of the Duc d’Aumale, which, sadly, was not on display when I was last there. There are more characters in this version that didn’t make it into the final piece, and a slightly more chaotic-looking scene.

With this commission, Cailleux told him that Louis-Philippe wanted the painting to be less in the style of Delacroix.  After hearing that, he made the figures more prominent, dwarfing the surrounding architectural elements. 

The view reimagined by Delacroix, over six hundred thirty years after the crusade, is likely near the Blachernai palace, with the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus Strait below

The fourth siege of Constantinople was first spearheaded by Pope Innocent III, who was elected in 1198. Although the Byzantine capital was not in the plans. The Pope wanted to return Jerusalem to Christianity and out of the hands of the Muslims. Led by Baldwin I of Flanders and Boniface of Montferrat, who decided to fight for the cross and the return of Christianity.

Without a massive army of their own, the Pope asked the Venetian Doge Enrico Dandolo to assist. Launching the crusade in 1202 with the help of the Venetian ships and the army of Baldwin and Boniface, they were supposed to go to Egypt, but things didn’t go as planned.  

The Byzantine throne had been anything less than solid for quite some time. Family fights between brothers and sons led Alexios IV, son of Emperor Isaac II to offer the crusaders 200,000 silver marks, supplies, and even the island of Crete if they helped to rescue his father from prison and return him to the throne.  

The ships made a hard turn and headed for the Byzantine capital, which was also one of the most powerful and richest, and held many of the most priceless relics and treasures. 

When word reached the Pope, he was enraged and later excommunicated all of the soldiers involved. On July 19, 1203, Isaac II regained his throne once more, although not in his finest form. He had been imprisoned by his brother, Alexios III, and had his eyes gouged out.  However, Isaac’s son, Alexios IV, hadn’t followed through on his promises to the Venetians, and they took matters into their own hands. 

From April 8 to 13, 1204, the Byzantine capital of Constantinople and the head of the Eastern Roman Empire would be attacked and changed forever. 

Soldiers used the masts of their ships to reach the top of the wall, while those below, armed with pick axes, bored through and crawled in to terrorize the citizens. The first days were a mess of looting, attacking, raping, and killing. On the 12th, the same day captured by Delacroix, they began a far more organized looting. 

In the aftermath of the siege, the country would be split into four parts, and Constantinople would fall under the new Latin Empire, naming Baldwin of Flanders the first Latin Emperor on May 9, 1204. 

Delacroix was no stranger to controversy or shocking subjects. He was commissioned to paint this subject specifically for the Hall of Crusades in Louis Philippe’s museum. 

At some point in the 1830s, Delacroix was walking down the Champs Élysées and was struck by a scene he saw on the scaffolding on the north side of the street. The sun covered one of the workers while the others were in the shadows. It was something he would beautifully incorporate into this painting, putting the attention on the victims and not the attackers. 

The center of the tableaux is dominated by the soldiers on horseback dressed in armor and helmets. Baldwin, the Count of Flanders, led the French soldiers in an attack through the city's streets. Sits high on his horse and looks down at the man begging for his clemency.

Behind Baldwin on the left, the head of Venetian doge Enrico Dandolo, who controlled the siege through the port, can be barely spotted between the staffs of the banners. Boniface I, the Marquis of Montferrat as well as Louis I of Blois, are also represented on horseback. Louis I wasn’t actually there that day as he had been ill, but was involved in the lead-up and aftermath. 

The older man reaches up to Baldwin, imploring him to stop the attacks. His hand shows his age, while the young lady, her face turned toward his chest, has hands that are young and smooth. Painting hands and feet is quite difficult. Gericault had such a hard time with the foot of one of the men on the Raft of the Medusa that he finally gave up and covered it with a sock. Da Vinci, Ingres, and Delacroix excelled at capturing hands and featuring them prominently in many of their pieces.

After Restoration

Quite possibly the greatest part of the painting is the group of two women at the lower right edge. Possibly a mother and daughter, the younger woman in a pink-and-grey dress that has fallen, revealing her entire back, leans forward, her blonde hair hanging over the other woman, who lies in her arms. Grieving the loss of the woman, she appears clearly upset, even without being able to see her face. The woman in her arms, wearing a blue and grey dress and a blue veil covering her head, with her skin tinged the slightest shade of blue, tells us she has died. 

Before

Above, the horse of Baldwin appears to come to a running stop as it pulls his head away from the women, giving us a bit of compassion that wasn’t there in the actual moments of the siege of 1204.  Delacroix sketched many elements of the painting, but by far the most stunning and complete is that of the two women.

The horse of Baldwin steps over a banner, helmet, quiver, and other weapons of war. During the restoration process, X-rays revealed that Delacroix had painted the body of a soldier. At some point, he changed his mind and covered the soldier with the banners. It would have changed the idea of the horse halting to avoid the soldier instead of the woman. 

In the far left of the painting, a priest under the porch of his church is grabbed by the throat by a soldier who attempts to stop the man's quick actions to charge towards Baldwin and his men. Below, his daughter was left to die after soldiers had taken advantage of her.

The mix of all walks of life was something Delacroix excelled at. With his use of shadows, he placed the important elements, the people in the glow of light, and the attackers and soldiers in the dark. 

The architectural elements are now thought to be designed by friend Louis Boulangé. Below, smoke begins to form as the soldiers destroy the city in their wake 

The painting was finished and first displayed in the 1841 Salon in the Salon Carré of the Musée du Louvre. Opening on March 15, 1841, it received a mixed reaction. Listed as no 509, the official description was  "Baldwin, Count of Flanders, commanded the French who had launched the assault from the landward side, and the old Doge Dandolo, at the head of the Venetians, and on the ships, had attacked the port. The principal leaders travel through the various districts of the city, and the grieving families come along their route to plead for their mercy."

Louis Peisse reviewed the piece in the Revue des Deux Mondes in 1841. 

“Delacroix conceives everything, sees everything, and renders everything with the eyes of a painter and for the eyes of a painter. Everything in the conception and execution of his works is subordinated to the effect of painting itself, abstracting from the objects represented. He is less concerned with representing a fact or expressing an idea than with painting a canvas. The subject is less an end in itself than a pretext for him. And this is what so greatly confounds the public, who, understanding and judging a painting only from a literary point of view, want above all to find in it what they seek in a novel or a poem: a dramatic or historical meaning.

In 1855, it was exhibited again at the Universal Exposition to a more favorable response. Charles Baudelaire was a big fan of Delacroix and had to speak out after seeing the masterpiece. 

"But the painting of the Crusaders is so profoundly penetrating, quite apart from the subject matter, by its stormy and somber harmony! What a sky and what a sea! Everything is tumultuous and tranquil, like the aftermath of a great event. The city, spread out behind the Crusaders who have just crossed it, stretches out with a prestigious realism. And always those shimmering, undulating flags, their luminous folds unfurling and snapping in the transparent atmosphere!"

Transferred to the Louvre at the start of May 1885 for its exquisite quality and hung in the Salle des États. It remained until September of 1939, when it was rolled up and evacuated to the Château de Louvigny, then to the Château de Sourches, and was safely returned to the Louvre on May 31, 1946, almost exactly 80 years ago. 

The painting was copied by Henri Charles de Serres in 1883 and is still in place at Versailles to this day. 

In 1852, Delacroix returned to the same theme. This time, pulling away from the scene a bit and increasing the architectural perspective. The characters are smaller, dwarfed in the majestic scenery. Given the constraints placed on him in 1840, he later wrote that this smaller version was more to his liking. 

In the 2nd floor of the Sully wing in salle 950, the collection of Etienne Moreau-Nelaton. One of my favorite collectors was the third generation in his family to amass many of the greatest paintings of Corot, Delacroix, and the Impressionists. This version was purchased by his grandfather, Adolph Moreau, for 3,350 francs on February 19, 1853. It would be passed down to Etienne and donated to the Louvre in 1906. A donation that would change the acceptance of Impressionism. More on that another day. 

The painting was also copied by Fantin-Latour in September 1854 and Degas in 1860. 

E Albertine painted a scene of the Delacroix exhibit organized after his death in 1864, held at the Galerie Martinet at 26 Boulevard des Italiens. Painting held in the Carnavalet (reserves)

Listen to the full episode, out now

Episode 19 - The 1887 Sale of the Crown Jewels of France

The fall of Napoleon III in 1871 also marked the end of the throne. No more kings, no more emperors, and the new government wanted to be sure it would never happen again. And what might inspire a young man with dreams of royal power? JEWELS, lots and lots of jewels. 

The political climate of the years after the fall of the last emperor was shaky at best. The Third Republic began on September 4, 1870, but the descendant of Charles X and monarchists still had their eyes on the prize: returning to the throne of France. There are still three descendants who believe that even today, that is for another day, I promise Susan. :) 

During the Siege of Paris by the Prussians and the Commune of 1871, the vast number of jewels belonging to the crown and former rulers were moved from Paris for safekeeping. On August 10, 1870, the jewels were placed in a box labeled “assembly crates, special projectiles” and hidden on a boat off the coast of Brest. Returning in 1872, they fell under the protection of the Ministry of Finance, which just so happened to be located in the Palais du Louvre in what is the Richelieu wing today. 
The events of 1870 & 1871 took a massive toll on Paris and the rest of France. In Paris alone, government buildings include the Hotel de Ville, the Palais des Tuileries, the Palais d’Orsay, and many on the Rue de Rivoli were destroyed during the Bloody Week of May 1872.  The country was running out of money and needed to rebuild the government. 

In 1875, with the jewels locked away, it was decided they needed a full inventory. The last one was done in 1832 during the reign of Louis Philippe, and if you listened to the first episode of the podcast, you know that Napoleon III added quite a few gems to the royal jewel box.  

What the Ministry of Finance had in its possession far exceeded the property of the crown in 1875. Many of the pieces were retained after the hasty escape of Napoleon III and Eugenie and would be returned to the Empress in cash. 

In 1875, the inventory totaled 77,486 gems, which included diamonds, pearls, emeralds, amethysts, opals, turquoise, rubies, and topazes. Worth a vast fortune, one that the country could really use. 

As early as the 18th century, the Revolutionists sought to sell the crown jewels in their effort to rid France of anything associated with the monarchy, but the massive theft from the Garde Meuble in 1792 helped save many of the jewels, which were recovered. 

In 1848, François-Vincent Raspail ran for the presidency of France. He was overwhelmingly defeated by Louis Napoleon, later known as Napoleon III. The same year, he encouraged anyone who would listen that the jewels needed to be sold. Incredibly outspoken, he served time in prison, and upon his release, he and his family were exiled to Belgium. 

In 1876, his son Benjamin was elected as a French deputy for the Seine. In 1882, he once again took up the family cause of destroying the jewels of the crown, just as the last ruling emperor destroyed his family. Benjamin Raspail took it a step further and wanted everything melted down, sold, or destroyed, and the money used for social causes 

In 1878, the jewels returned to the Universal Exposition one last time. Many of the jewels that once belonged to Napoleon III and Eugenie were created for the 1855 Exposition.  A specially designed octagonal case with eight compartments, covered in red velvet, was created. 

The case was equipped with a winch, and the jewels sat on an iron plate that would be lowered into a reinforced stone “basement”. Equipped with an alarm system that would warn of a break-in or any sudden strikes. The case was topped with a red-and-gold canopy designed to resemble the custom leather boxes that held each jewel. A few of the boxes were on display in the Galerie d’Apollon prior to the theft. 

Not to be outdone, the British brought a few of their own crown jewels, including the infamous 105-carat oval Koh-I-Noor diamond that was set in the tiara of Queen Victoria. 

The last time they would be viewed by the public was on May 31, 1884, in the Salle des États, as a benefit for the School of Industrial Arts. Hundreds of people lined up three hours before the event opened to see the Crown Jewels. The clamor to see the treasures also led to their demise. The far-right politicians took it as a warning sign. If the people wanted to see the jewels, what would stop those in hopes of returning to power?  

The President of France, Jules Grévy, and his advisors became increasingly aware that they needed to rid themselves of these gems, which meant much more than an exquisite necklace or brooch. There were, of course, other political agendas pushing the sale and deciding where the money should go, and everyone involved had their own agenda.  Each year, it was proposed before the National Assembly and the Senate, but didn’t reach a majority and was shelved until the next year, until 1886. 

On December 7, 1886, the law was passed that the jewels would be put up for auction.  When the announcement was made, it brought a mix of reactions from royalists, historians, and, of course, wealthy collectors. 

An 1882 inspection of the jewels resulted in a plan on what, if any, jewels would be kept and where. The rest would be sold or melted down to avoid becoming a focal point for those seeking the return of the monarchy.  

The saved Reliquary brooch. Safe from the 1887 sale, but not from the thieves on October 19, 2025

Group A items to be kept and displayed in the Louvre

Group B Items transferred to the Natural History Museum and School of Mines

Group C items intended for casting

The official proclamation for the “alienation of a portion of the crown jewels”, dated January 11, 1887, stated that the “diamonds, precious stones and jewels forming part of the collection known as the crown Diamonds and not listed in schedules A, B or C shall be sold at public auction. 

To prepare for the sale, many of the historic settings were torn apart, melted down, and destroyed, destroying any significance they once held. The community of jewelers and historians was outraged with the idea of the sale and the loss and destruction of such an important heritage. A letter sent to the minister of finance asked that this be reconsidered, and, if that wasn’t an option, that high-quality photos be taken of all the pieces before they are destroyed or sold. Luckily, they took some photos, but not of every single item.  

The sale would be held in the Salle des États in the western end of the Denon wing  above the Seine, where the Spanish painting collection is today. The location held its own political weight. The room of state under Napoleon III served as his throne room. What better place to send a message than to sell the items that set the monarchy apart from the French population in the very room the last Emperor ruled from? 

Side note, that same room later would house the 24 paintings of the Medici cycle in beautiful gold frames hanging on red leather-covered walls. 

Before the sale, it was decided to open the collection to the public.  Opened from April 21 to May 8 for previews by the major jewelry houses that had sent representatives to buy on their behalf, government officials, and the general public.  Six thousand people came each day to view the jewels on display before the auction. The auction itself was the most coveted invitation in Paris. 

Beginning May 11, the Salle des États was transformed for the auction itself. Platforms for the auctioneer, chairs for the audience, and a table for the inspector of the jewels, who would weigh and verify each purchase. 

The same display case that was created for the Universal Exhibition was reupholstered in thick blue velvet by M. Giraudon. The cement “basement” used to safely store the jewels was built into the floor. The security was incredible and involved the prefecture, the gendarmes, and the staff of the Louvre.  (The security of 1887 was better than that of 2025). The walls were covered with Gobelins tapestries, once created under the Bourbon kings, although they didn’t seem to be upset about that. 

At 2 pm on May 12, before a packed house, the auction began with auctioneer Eugene Escribe calling the items. Jewelers from all over Europe and America came to bid on items for themselves and their wealthy clients. Jewelers representing the royalty of Europe, including England, Germany, and the Habsburgs of Hungary. Sitting alongside was every Parisian jeweler, and a few like the Bapst brothers, who wanted to purchase the pieces their earlier generations created for the crown. 

All sales had to be paid in cash within 48 hours of the sale, or the lot went to the runner-up. 

Sold over 9 sessions, a few exceeded, but many fell far below. Had these items been sold today, they would each go for millions and millions of dollar,s especially if kept intact. 

The first, Thursday, May 12, 1887, produced   505,700 fr.

The second, Friday, May 13, 44,500 fr.

The third, Saturday, May 14, 652,000 fr.

The fourth, Monday, May 16, 636,700 fr.

The fifth, Tuesday, May 17, 360,000 fr.

The sixth, Wednesday, May 18, 839,100 fr.

The seventh, Friday, May 20, 1,564,900 fr.

The eighth, Saturday, May 21: 991,100 fr.

The ninth, Monday, May 23, 668,050 fr

The sale yielded a total.   6,864,050 fr

Plus 5 euros imposed on the purchasers, 343,203.50 francs

Gross proceeds   7,107,350 francs

Expenses of 293,851 francs 

Louis Comfort Tiffany purchased a third of the lots, spending more than 1.4 million francs, including four Mazarin diamonds. Many items were intended for the new money Americans of the Gilded age, like Katherine Pulitzer and Cornelia Bradly Martin, Countess of Craven, and Marjorie Merriweather Post. 

Garrard, the jeweler to the British crown, was there on behalf of Albert, the Prince of Wales, known as Dirty Birtie here in Paris for his debauchery. Garrard won lot 32, Diadème Russe of Maison Bapst for Eugenie, for 180,000 francs for the prince.

Bonynge Jeweler purchased the lot of seven anguilettes and culots in the style of Marie Antoinette, created for Empress Eugenie of 222 brilliant-cut diamonds by Bapst for Queen Victoria, for the bargain price of 25,100 francs. 

The government officials in charge of the sale labeled it a triumphant success, but it was anything but. After covering expenses, they raised 6,927,509 francs, which is around 15,982,117 euros today. Just one of the pieces attached to Marie Antoinette would sell for more than that at auction. 

In 1895, funds were allocated to the old-age pension, and the Reunion des Musées Nationaux was founded that year.

Of the Emperor’s crown, the cross from the top, and the remaining diamonds were sold in 1887. The frame was broken, sent to the Monnaie to be melted down, and used for the 20 franc coin of the Republic.  (more on that in episode 1) 

Since the theft of the jewels from the Louvre on October 19, 2025, the term “Crown Jewels” has been repeated millions of times. Technically, only one of the eight stolen pieces could be called a Crown Jewel. The reliquary brooch created for Eugenie included two of the Mazarin diamonds that were given to Louis XIV after the Cardinal's death in 1661. 

The 1887 sale was the destruction of France's history. The true pieces labeled crown jewels would have been worn by multiple kings, queens, emperors, and empresses. Luckily, the Regent, the most historic of them all, was saved although Raspail wanted it sold. 

Since the sale, the Louvre has done what it can to find and return many of the pieces to France. The one rule they must follow is that they have to be set in their original setting prior to the sale. Since 1973, seven items sold in the auction have returned to the Louvre with five of those in just the last twenty-five years. Sadly, two were stolen on that horrible morning seven months ago.

In 1973, Paul-Nicolas Menière redesigned a set of ruby bracelets for the Duchess d’Angoulême, the daughter of Marie Antoinette. The rubies originally belonged to Empress Marie Louise, Napoleon's second wife. Jeweler Jacques-Evrard Bapst used 24 rubies, 451 brilliant diamonds, and 60 rose-cut diamonds. The set also included a diadem, necklace, comb, crown, earrings, bracelets, and belt. Sold on May 20 in lot number 45 for 42,000 F to Tiffany, who bought it on behalf of Bradley Martin for his daughter Cornelia, Countess of Craven. Later sold at Sotheby’s on November 30, 1961, and donated to the Louvre in 1973.

Two of the belt pieces are also now in the Louvre. The forty-four pieces were sold in lots of 2, 4, or 6 plaques. The first was purchased by the Louvre in 2019. The second donation in 2025 by Sabine Fèral-Dubrac.

Lot number 37 was the complete set that once belonged to Marie-Louise and had been a gift from Napoleon to his new bride in 1810.  Francois-Régnault Nitot designed the very delicate and exceptional gold leaves and clusters of grapes separated by ten small glass mosaics of ancient Roman ruins. Pierre-Antoine Chadat worked with Nitot on the fine details of the set, which includes a comb, necklace, earrings, and two bracelets.  

The mosaics, created in Rome from engravings by Domenico Pronti, depict many Roman ruins, including the Forum.  The original lot also included two amethyst and diamond dress clasps and belt pieces. 

After Marie Louise fled France following Napoleon's expulsion, the jewels were returned to the government and sold in lot 37 to jeweler Henri Bain for 6200 F, who kept them in their original state. Sold again in 1964 and in 2001, when purchased by the Amis du Louvre and entered the Louvre collection on June 7, 2001. 

Placed on the southern end of the central case that was breached in the theft, they were within reach, but the thieves must not have thought they were worth as much as the emeralds and sapphires. Thank goodness

Another item once owned by the daughter of Marie Antoinette, the Madame Royale was the beautiful emerald and diamond tiara created by Christophe-Frédéric Bapst and Jacques-Evrard Bapst, from a family of jewelers dating back to Louis XV. The tiara was also worn by Empress Eugenie. 

Sold on May 14 to Hungarian jeweler Bachruch for Count Andrássy. It stayed in the family until sold at Sotheby’s in 1954. It arrived at the Louvre in 2002 when it was purchased by the state. 

A beautiful diamond-and-pearl brooch, created in 1853 for the Empress Eugenie, narrowly escaped theft.  Designed by her personal jeweler, François Kramer, it was inspired by the designs of Gilles Légardé in 1663. After the death of Madame Royale in 1851, her diamond-and-pearl set was dismantled and repurposed. A tiara containing 212 pearls and 1,998 diamonds was born from the original jewels, the same tiara that was stolen on that horrible morning. 

The remaining diamonds and pearls were used to create five brooches. Two large button pearls, surrounded by 8 diamonds, form two rosettes. Two pear-shaped pearls hang from the delicate scrolls covered in diamonds of the top rosette and three from the lower. 

The five brooches were sold on May 17 in lot 39to the Bapst et Fils jeweler, who had also made other pieces for the Empress. It belonged to Marie Louise de Bourbon-Parme, the daughter-in-law of Clémentine d’Orleans. In 2015, it was purchased and returned to the Louvre. 

The brooch was located next to the pearl and diamond tiara, but was not stolen. From video footage, it looks like it might have been out of reach, but also odd that it wasn’t grabbed in their hasty attack. 

The last two items that have returned after the 1887 auction that destroyed the heritage of the crown jewels met the same fate on October 19, 2025

The stunning pearl-and-diamond tiara created for Eugénie by Alexandre-Gabriel Lemonnier, who also made the Imperial Crown, which was luckily recovered. Commissioned in 1853, shortly after the wedding to Napoleon III.  Designed using many of the Crown pearls from a set that once belonged to the Duchess d’Angouleme, Madame Royale

Lemonnier’s contemporary design of the time featured natural elements, including diamond-covered “leaves” and 17 large pear-shaped pearls, totaling 212 pearls and 1998 diamonds. Eugénie wore it often, including at the opening of the 1855 Universal Exhibition, where her other jewels, including the Imperial Crown, were on display. 

The tiara was sold in lot 41 on May 12, 1887, to jeweler Julius Jacoby for 78,100 francs, who sold it to Prince Albert of Thurn et Taxis for his wedding to Archduchess Marguerite. For over 100 years, it remained in the family until sold by Sotheby’s in 1992 and purchased by the Amis du Louvre. 

The last piece was the first violently grabbed from the case on that Sunday morning. 

I always loved getting as close to the glass as possible to take in the details of this gorgeous brooch, literally covered in diamonds. The jaw-dropping item was the Grand Corsage Bow Brooch of Eugénie. Napoleon III ordered four pieces from jeweler François Kramer to be completed for the 1855 Universal Exhibition and for his wife. Although the piece was originally designed as a belt with the bow and tassels, and a staggering 4,790 diamonds totaling 386 carats. 

Eugénie loved the history of Marie Antoinette, and the bow was designed to emulate the fashion of the former queen and her love of bows and ribbons. 

The bow was sold in lot 5 on the first day of the sale, May 12, 1887, and purchased by jeweler Emile Schlessinger for Caroline Astor. In  1902, it was sold to the Duke of Westminster for his daughter, Lady Lettice Grosvenor. It passed through many hands until purchased on April 16, 2008, by the Amis du Louvre with a large bequest from Mr. and Mrs. Rauffet. 

Sadly, we may never see the tiara or bow brooch again.

And hot off the press, the Ministry of Culture announced at 10 am on May 18 the winning architects for the Louvre Nouvelle Renaissance project that was first soft-launched in January 2023 by Laurence des Cars on French radio. Two years later, it was presented in the Salle des États in front of the Mona Lisa on January 25, 2025, by President Macron, and the press ran with it as a brand new idea.

The project would create a new space for the Mona Lisa as well as a new entrance below the eastern end at the Collonade to help alleviate the pressure on the pyramid, which, as we know from episode 16, The Pyramid was created to handle 4 million people a year, and the Louvre now gets close to 10 million. A second exhibition space is also planned, along with a restaurant and a gift shop. 

The project was originally said to cost 400 million euros for the Mona Lisa space, and 400 million euros for the entrance. The court of auditors released its report in November, stating that the project would cost more than 1.1 billion euros and that it should be shelved. 

Well, we got a little surprise yesterday with the announcement of the architects as well as a new amount of 600 million euros. 

The panel of 21 judges, including Louvre president Christophe Leribault, Paris mayor Emmanuel Grégoire, and minister of culture Catherine Pégard. My favorite is that they also included Li Chung “Sandy” Pei, son of IM Pei. 

"The project submitted by New York’s  STUDIOS Architecture Paris and NY based German Selldorf Architects was selected for the quality of its architectural proposal and its heritage, urban and landscape integration, fully integrating the issues of public reception quality, clarity of the paths, sobriety and vegetation, all with a relevant consideration of security issues," said the ministry in a statement.

President of the Louvre Christophe Leribault said just two weeks ago "We are not going to make a good entrance to arrive in a museum subject to all kinds of damage and embolism. But we cannot repair the Louvre without opening new access points to address the flow issue. The Louvre is a whole. His construction site is a whole."

If it is "imperative to review the infrastructures, redo the roofs and technical installations in the perimeter of the Cour Carrée", the Louvre-Nouvelle Renaissance is a "capital and necessary project for the Louvre".

The winning architectural firm STUDIOS includes two entrances on either side with a sloping ramp along the edges and the center filled with green space and “contemplation”. Sure, guys… that’s going to happen.

The new access will allow visitors to go directly to the Mona Lisa, which will require a separate timed ticket at no additional cost. When 90% of visitors each day come to see just the Mona Lisa, you are just changing one clogged entry for another. The Pyramid will then become the ideal entry for everyone else. 

The start of construction might be as early as 2028, with a portion of the money coming from the January 2026 increase in price for foreign visitors as well as the 150 million euros from the state for the project, but a lot more is needed. It will take at least five years to finish.

Mayor of the central district, Ariel Weil, was a “little disappointed,” saying that it looks like endless concrete walls. Check out the photos on my website 

It is needed, but the project will destroy a large part of the Egyptian collection rooms, especially with the addition of a new double entrance. 

I will be following this very closely and will keep you all updated.

Episode 18 - The End of the Beloved King Henri IV

On May 13, 1610, after finally giving in, Henri IV watched his wife, Marie de Medici, be crowned as the queen of France in the Basilique Saint Denis. 

The next day, his life would end

A matter of coincidence, or did Marie follow in her cousin Catherine's footsteps, who loved to dabble in poison? OR could it have been a religious zealot who had one goal in mind?

In the late afternoon of Monday, May 14, King Henri IV jumped into his open carriage inside the Cour Carrée of the Palais du Louvre and headed out to see his friend and minister, Maximilien de Béthune, Duc de Sully, at the hotel de l’Arsenal.  The two men met before the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre in 1572, and Sully became one of the king's closest advisors.

For the coronation, the streets of Paris had been decorated, lining the route to the Basilique Saint Denis. Temporary arches covered with plaster statues and flags filled Paris, and on this Monday afternoon, Henri wanted to take a look on his way to the Arsenal. In a tragic decision, they removed the shutters from the carriage's windows, leaving the king and his entourage sitting ducks. 

The Paris traffic of over 400 years ago was just as big a mess as it is today. Just after 3:30 p.m., the carriage left the palace. Turning first at the Croix du Trahoir ust outside the Louvre, to the Rue Saint Honoré, then onto the very narrow Rue de la Ferronnerie alongside the massive cemetery of Les Innocents and the large Les Halles market, the royal carriage ran into a traffic jam that severely narrowed the 13-foot-wide street.  A large wagon of hay blocked traffic at the same time a cart of wine barrels filled much of the street. To help clear the way, the king's guards jumped from the carriage, and seconds later, the unthinkable happened. 

In a split second, François Ravaillac stepped onto the right rear wheel of the carriage, leaned in, and stabbed the king twice with a knife he had taken from a tavern table and sharpened on the days leading up to the attack. Striking the king between his second and third rib and directly severing his aorta, and then in his stomach. Ravaillac had waited outside the Palais du Louvre and followed the carriage and mixed in with the crowd until he found his perfect moment to attack. Quickly, the carriage made its way back to the Louvre where they screamed out for the king's doctor, Antoine Petit, as they carried the king to the queen's bedroom on the ground floor. Henri blinked three times as the doctor arrived. Before he could be examined, he was gone. Henri IV was just 56 years old. 

Assassination of Henry IV and arrest of Ravaillac on May 14, 1610 by Charles-Gustave Housez

Henri IV was born on December 13, 1553, and was baptized in the Catholic church but raised under the Protestant Reformation. In 1572, as the marriage to Marguerite de Valois was negotiated, his mother, Jean d’Albret, had to promise Catherine de Medici that they would never convert Marguerite. The wedding itself was used to bring hundreds of Protestants to Paris to be killed in the Saint Bartholomew's Day massacre just days later. That’s a long story coming in August.

Henri III, King of France, died on August 2, 1589. On his deathbed, he named his brother-in-law, Henri III, King of Navarre, as his successor, and was advised that he return to Catholicism. Henri III of Navarre was now Henri IV, king of France. As the Wars of Religion raged, Henri IV announced on April 4, 1592, that he would convert to Catholicism. Baptized on July 25, 1593, in the Basilique Saint Denis, it took a bit longer to win people over, especially one man who would never be convinced.

The assassin, François Ravaillac, was born in 1577 in Angouleme, France, on December 13, the same birthday as Henri IV and the duc de Sully. How about that for a strange twist. Ravaillac was raised under strict Catholic teaching with a chaser of strong distrust and dislike for Protestants. 

At 29, Ravaillac followed his calling and joined the Cistercian order of the Feuillants, but lasted barely a month before he was asked to leave after his odd rantings were discovered. The next day, the Jesuit church wouldn’t even entertain the idea of admitting him. For a brief period, he taught catechism to children, and at the same time, his visions became more frequent and darker. 

As a dedicated Catholic, Ravaillac felt that Henri IV hadn’t done enough for the church. Voices told him that the king was the Antichrist, opposed the Pope, and must be dealt with. In 1609, on two separate occasions, Ravailliac tried to reach out to the king directly to plead his case and advise him, but was, of course, turned away, all leading him to his final action on May 14th. 

Immediately following the incident, Ravaillac didn’t run; he stood almost in shock while Henri’s guards apprehended him and took him to the Hotel de Retz. Upon his arrest, they found his pockets filled with scraps of paper inscribed with biblical passages and rantings. The next day, he was locked in the Conciergerie and questioned.  For days, the assailant was tortured and interrogated on who else could be involved in this plot to kill the king, followed by a ten day trial.

The timing of the death brought the queen herself into question, after all, she was a Medici, and her distant cousin and former mother-in-law to the king loved to dabble in the dark arts and poisoning people. Marie was off the hook with this one, but this did work to her advantage.

On May 27, Ravaillace was found guilty of Regicide, which is the killing of the sovereign, and was sentenced to immediate death. He was taken to the cathedral Notre Dame, where he could make amends in front of the door of the Last Judgment and pray once more before his date with death. The same day,  at the Place de Grave, today's Place de Hotel de Ville, public enemy number one would meet a rather grisly end in front of thousands of angry onlookers.

The official decree of the Parliament of Paris describes the method of his death. "[be] gripped to the udders, arms, thighs, and fat of the legs, his right hand, which held the knife with which he committed the said regicide, will be burned with sulfur fire, dipped in molten lead, boiling oil, urine, burning resin, the wax and sulfur melted together. Then his body will be pulled and quartered by four horses. The members of his body will be consumed by fire, reduced to ashes, and thrown to the wind"

On May 15, the autopsy of the king was performed, and his heart and entrails were removed to be sent to the Basilique Saint Denis and College de La Fleche. The king was embalmed, herbs stuffed into his mouth to mask any odors, wrapped in gold cloth, and placed in a hastily decorated chapel. For eighteen days, the family attended more than six masses a day with the body of the king. 

On June 10th, the coffin was moved into the Salle des Caryatides, and a life-size straw figure of the king, topped with a wax effigy bust created from the death mask made within hours of his death by Matthew Jacquet. Two of these wax effigies survive today. In the Carnavalet museum, attributed to Michel Bourdin, the wax head sits on a terracotta sculpted body and dates to 1623, years after his death. 

At the Chateau de Chantilly, I was so excited to find a handsome Henri looking back at me against a wall painted with fleur de lis and crowns. The effigy of Chantilly dates to the time of his death and was created by Guillaume Dupré. It’s unknown what happened to the one used in the Salle des Caryatides. 

It is one of my favorite historical facts because it is so odd. For eleven days, dressed in his coronation robes, he was propped up, hands clasped in prayer, while ministers and those close to him ate their lunch and dinner with the king. 

On June 29 and 30, the king was held in Notre Dame de Paris, where he was blessed by the bishop, and hundreds attended the multiple daily masses.  On July 1, 1610, the king was entombed in the Basilique Saint Denis, where he would remain for the next 183 years.

On June 5, as promised, the king had his heart sent to the College de La Fleche, which he founded in 1603. A lavish procession of over 400 men from Paris to La Fleche in the Sarthe department, southwest of Paris. The Duc de Montbazon, who was sitting next to the King on the fateful day, accompanied his heart to a place that was dear to him. Later in 1643, the queen’s heart would be added, but both were destroyed in the Revolution.

The loss of the beloved king was a blow to the people of France and, even more so, to his beloved children. Henri wasn’t the typical royal father who kept the kids away and treated the heir to the throne like an adult before they took their first step. Henri was a hands-on father who spent time with them, played with them, and even had his children call him 'father' rather than 'king'. Marie de Medici was not the loving and caring maternal figure in the least, which was also normal, but something that would come as a rather tough blow to the royal children after the loss of their father.

Henry IV Receiving the Spanish Ambassador by Ingres 1817

Louis XIII was just 8 years and 7 months old the day of his father's death and had been at the Order of the Knights of the Holy Spirit at the edge of the left bank on the Rue des Grands Augustins at the moment of his father's death. Advisors rushed to his side as he was now the king of France, even if he was still a child.  Today, Le Relais Louis XIII restaurant is near the location that has the date inscribed on its wall, just opposite the former home of Pablo Picasso.

Crowned on October 17, 1610, at the Cathedral Notre Dame de Reims, he would need to wait until he turned 13 to actually rule. His mother, Marie de Medici, served as Regent, acting in his place and holding that power in her iron fist as long as she could. Deciding he was too weak to actually take the throne in 1614, she held on a little longer until the Coup de Force on April 24, 1617, and mommy dearest’s closest advisor, Concino Concini, was killed, and she was locked away in the Chateau de Bois for two years. 

For almost two hundred years, Henri peacefully rested amongst his fellow former kings and queens in the Basilique Saint Denis until 1793. On August 1, the National Convention voted that all royal effigies and tombs needed to be destroyed. Partially to erase any memory of the former kings of France, and to also obtain all lead and metal to make bullets and cannons.

On October 12, 1793, the first grave opened was that of  Good King Henri IV, as it was the crowd's favorite, and he was perfectly preserved. While he may have been gone since 1610, he looked fresh as a daisy. His wife, Marie de Medicis, was yelled at by workers, and her hair was torn out as they thought she was behind the death of Henri.  Henri, so beloved, they propped him up for two days, much like the lithograph drawing printed on glass of the image of the king in the lower crypt of Saint Denis today.

A few things surprised the onlookers as the tombs were opened.  Louis XIII was easily recognizable by his still-perfect black mustache. Louis XIV, the Sun King, was now “black as ink”. Many of them kept little keepsakes. Fingernails, hair, the leg of Catherine de Medicis, and maybe even the head of Henri IV. 

The history and validity of Henri IV's skull raise many questions, but it remains interesting nonetheless. The head of the king was removed at some point between 1793 and 1817. When the large pits were opened in 1817 by Louis XVIII, the head was gone.  

Fittingly, on October 31, 1919, at the Hotel Drouot, photographer Joseph Emile Bourdais purchased three mummified skulls from the estate of artist Emma Nallet-Poussin, no relation to Nicolas Poussin, but she did take lessons from Susan Valadon. Joseph had no idea who the skulls might belong to, but for 3 francs (about 450 euros today), it was a pretty good deal.  In 1924, Joseph came across an article in La Gazette des Arts that led him to believe he might have the head of the beloved king.  For twenty years, he spent a fortune on X-rays and research and even tried to donate it to the Musée du Louvre, which declined the offer.  

After his death in 1946, Madame Gaillard, Bourdais's sister, inherited his estate, including the skulls. In 1955, Gaillard sold the skull believed to be Henri IV to Jacques Bellanger, a retired tax collector, for 5,000 francs (13,000 € today). For 55 years, Bellanger and his wife kept the skull of the “monarch,” as they called him, a secret. Even their own children had no idea the head of the king was kept in their parents' closet. 

Bellanger thought he would investigate the skull's provenance on his own but decided to share the story with two journalists, Pierre Belet and Stéphane Gabet, on January 22, 2010. Henri’s head was taken to Dr. Philippe Charlier and historian Jean-Pierre Babelon. The skull still had a few red and white hairs of his beard intact, which could be tested against other hairs of the king held at the Pau museum. On close inspection, his nose was broken, and his right ear had been pierced. One of the most telling marks was the damage to his jaw when stabbed by Jean Chatel on December 27, 1594. Henri was no stranger to assassination attempts.

On December 15, 2010, four hundred years after his death, scientists matched the skull to the Bourbon line. One scientist says it was a 99.9% match, yet others think that .01% is a big deal. Tested as well against the blood of Louis XVI on a napkin from the day of his execution. Bellanger gave it to the descendant of the former king, Louis-Alphonse de Bourbon, duc d’Anjou. After the head was confirmed as belonging to one of France's most beloved kings, it was to be returned to the Basilique Saint Denis in 2012 in a special ceremony, but that still hasn’t happened. As far as we know, poor Henri is locked away in a bank vault awaiting his return to the rest of his remains. 

Years ago, I met the handsome descendant at a mass for Louis XVI, and I sure wish I knew this story then so I could ask him where the head is. 

The streets and monuments of Paris include many famous figures, but one is easier to find than any others. Henri IV had a very distinct, pointed chin and beard, and he usually has a somewhat goofy yet adorable expression.  

In the center of the city, one of the best depictions of the king is on the Pont Neuf

Henri III laid the first stone in 1578, but due to wars and other factors, construction stalled until Henri IV resumed building in 1599. Finally finished in 1606, it was the widest bridge in Paris, allowing traffic and pedestrians to walk on the city's first sidewalks. It was also the first bridge to be built without houses, so that whoever crossed it would also have a view of the Louvre and the Grand Galerie, which he had built. The equestrian statue of Henri IV was built under the orders of his wife, Marie de Médicis, but his untimely murder would come before the statue was finished. Completed in Italy and set out from the port of Genoa to Paris, the ship was attacked by pirates and sank off the coast of Sardinia. 

Many months later, in 1614, the wreckage was discovered, and the statue finally rode to Paris on a barge from Le Havre, down the Seine, and was placed on the Pont Neuf. Sitting on a pedestal, it was surrounded by the Four Captives statues that can now be seen in the Musée du Louvre in the Richelieu wing. Like many monuments in Paris, it would not survive the Revolution. Broken and melted, it was all but destroyed, but a few pieces of the statue survived and are now in the Carnavalet.

Many years later, during the Restoration, Louis XVIII ordered a replacement and returned it to the Pont Neuf. Henri would rise again in 1818 and be cast from the original mold using bronze from other statues in Paris. Inside the statue, a closely kept secret is hidden. A workman named Mesnel, a loyal Bonapartist, stuffed Henri with anti-royalist papers as he was being built. It was a myth until 2004, when it was restored, and metal cylinders were found hidden in his elbow and leg filled with the very papers. Before the restoration was finished, they returned the hidden treasures to the king.

Medici cycle in the Musée du Louvre

In 1621, Marie de Medicis commissioned Peter Paul Rubens to create four paintings telling the story of her life to fill the walls of her palace in the Jardin du Luxembourg. She loved the first four so much that she asked him to create twenty more based on major moments of her life. Rubens wanted to please his royal patron, so he redesigned her life a bit, and some of the less-than-lovely events were given a new rosy outlook. Filling the paintings with allegories, royal icons, and adding the color red to direct your attention, it is an amazing walk through her life.  

Inaugurated on May 11, 1625, in the Palais du Luxembourg, Marie wanted Rubens to also paint 24 paintings dedicated to the life of Henri IV. They would never come to fruition, sadly. I would have died to see that, but a few of Marie’s, of course, include Henri. 

Henri first appears in the seventh painting, “The Presentation of the Portrait”. Henri IV, dressed in armor, is presented with the actual portrait that was sent to the king in 1599 of his future wife by Cupid and Hymen. Behind the king, an allegory of France whispers her approval.

Henri reappears in painting number 10, depicting their final meeting in Lyon on November 9, 1600. Married by proxy on October 5, 1600, in Florence, with her uncle standing in for Henri. Marrie arrived in Lyon, but had to wait a week to meet her new husband as he was busy with one of his many mistresses. In the painting, Rubens added the Roman gods, Jupiter and Juno, who represent marriage, this time with the faces of Henri and Marie. 

Number 12 showcases his legs in The Preparation for the War, also known as the Regency of the Queen. The episode took place on March 12, 1610, a very important date, as it would be the reason she was named regent two months later after his death. 

Number 13 takes place on May 13, 1610, in the Basilique Saint Denis, the coronation of the queen. Marie sits center stage, while the king looks down from above. 

The last painting that includes our man Henri is no 14, titled the Apotheosis of Henri IV. On the left, Henri, dressed in armor and wearing a laurel wreath representing immortality, is lifted to the heavens by Jupiter, his eagle, and Time. Above the gods, including Hercules, Mercury, and Venus with Cupid in her arms, looking towards the next painting, and at the top, Juno looking down at Marie. 

We will go deeper into the full cycle of the paintings over the next few months, before they disappear for five years of restoration in the fall.

Oh, how I wish they had 24 paintings of Henri IV's life. It would be interesting to see how his love life would be depicted. 

Now, I would be very remiss if I didn’t mention one of my very, very favorite paintings of Hot Legs Henri, as I affectionately call him. 

Le Bon Roi Henri as Hercules with some rather lovely legs. Henry IV is Hercules crushing the Hydra of Lerne (lairen) by the Entourage de Toussaint Dubreuil in 1600, depicting the king as the mythological hero known for his strength and often associated with the Bourbon kings. He is seen with the pelt of a lion over his shoulders, a slight smile on his face, and holding a club in his hand.

The King stands triumphantly over the slain l’hydre de lerne, which symbolizes the Catholic League, which had major problems with the one-time Huguenot king. However, what stands out about this painting is his legs. I mean, really, oh la la Henri la Grande, the little flick of the hip on his kicky little silvery blue satin shorts really adds to his pose, and it is easy to see why he may have had so many mistresses. After all, he wasn’t nicknamed the Vert Galant for nothing. 

Today, a marble plaque marks the spot on the Rue de la Ferronnerie where the king was killed. Complete with the coat of arms of Navarre, featuring chains, and the Fleur de Lis of France. A few doors down, a white plaque above the passage also remembers the tragic event and even names his killer. 

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Episode 17 - The Final Days and Return of Napoleon

On May 5, 1821, 205 years ago, at 5:49 pm on the remote island of Saint Helene, Napoleon Bonaparte took his last breath at the young age of 51. 

Napoleon’s grand return to power in 1815 didn’t turn out as he had hoped. On June 18 at Waterloo in Belgium, the once great general was defeated, crushing all of his dreams. He thought he could hand over his title to his four-year-old son, the King of Rome, but that was quickly denied as he had fled France with his mother, Marie-Louise, in 1814. Although France was also finished with the Bonapartes, at least for a few years. 

Napoleon’s first exile resulted from the Treaty of Fontainebleau on April 11, 1814. The next day, his wife, Marie-Louise, and his son left his side. Napoleon hoped they would later be reunited, but Marie-Louise headed straight home to Austria and didn’t look back. Overnight in his bedroom, the fallen emperor tried to kill himself by drinking a mixture of opium and water, but was found the next morning alive after vomiting all night. 

At noon on the 20th, after a heartfelt speech on the horseshoe steps of Fontainbleau to his guard, he said goodbye and thanked them for their never-ending support. On May 4, 1814, Napoleon arrived on the small island of Elba, just 10 km off the coast of Italy and 50 km from his Corsican birthplace. Madame Mère and his sister, Pauline, stayed with him on the small island he ruled like a king. Still in tune with many of his loyal soldiers, he heard rumblings that the people were unhappy with Louis XVIII, and his time was ripe for a return. 

On February 26, 1815, the French Inconstant ship picked him up in the dark of night and headed to France. Arriving on March 1 in the Côte d’Azur town of Golfe-Juan, he and his men headed to Grenoble, arriving March 7. In Paris on March 20, he garnered enough troops to travel to Belgium and take on the British, Dutch, and German troops at Waterloo. 

On June 18 at 9:15 pm, Napoleon was defeated and rode back to Paris to find everyone had turned on him. His great love, Josephine, had died on May 29, 1814, while he was on Elba, and the news left him devastated. On June 2,5 he visited the place she loved most, the Chateau Malmaison, one last time and stayed for a few days until he heard the Prussians had an order to find him, dead or alive. Fleeing to Rochefort, Napoleon thought he would flee to America, but the British had blocked the port. There was nowhere to go. The man who once had the dream to conquer Europe was now surrendering to the British Rear Admiral Frederick Maitland.  

For his next exile, this time by the British, they weren’t messing around; they found one of the most remote locations in the world, and he wasn’t going to escape under their watch. The island of Saint Helena sits in the middle of the Atlantic, over one thousand miles off the coast of Angola and three times as far as Buenos Aires. The journey took nine weeks and arrived on October 15, 1815. 

Upon arrival, he moved into a small building of the Briars estate owned by William Balcombe, where he would stay for seven weeks. On December 10, the much larger Longwood house was ready, or at least somewhat. Complete with forty rooms but in a state of decline, with drafty rooms, damp, and infested with all kinds of island critters. All that would have adverse effects on the emperor, but maybe that was the plan? 

Napoleon's Exile on Saint Helena by Franz Josef Sandman

On the island, Napoleon wanted to still carry out his day-to-day life as he did at Fontainebleau or even on Elba, but British Governor Lowe was not going to play along. Napoleon became depressed and despondent, spending most of his time indoors, only leaving for walks to the valley of geraniums. 

Napoleon's health began to fail in the summer of 1817, and it was diagnosed that he suffered from chronic hepatitis. Refusing to see the British-appointed doctor, he stayed in his room away from anyone but a trusted few. 

On March 18, 1818, Napoleon wrote to his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, and his mother, hoping they could send him a chaplain and a doctor to the island. It would take a year and a half, but on September 21, 1819, the Abbé Antonio Buonavita and Angelo Vignali arrived. Just days before on September 18 Dr Francesco Antommarchi arrived and would be with Napoleon until the end.  Napoleon’s health and mood slightly improved, but the decline and end of his life were coming. 

Spending more time in his room reading each day, when walking became more difficult. Watching everywhere he went, even for a short walk to the edge of the yard, annoyed him, and he preferred to stay inside with his books. 

Over his five years in captivity, Napoleon’s movements and days were documented by many of the men on the island who had access to him. One of his most loyal friends, Grand Marshal Henri-Gabien Bertrand, and his wife Elisabeth and their children were close with the emperor, and the children would spend time reading with him every day. 

Napoleon Sur Son Lit de Mort, Carl von Steuben 1828

Napoleon was not an ideal patient. He refused to take medication or follow the doctor's pleas to exercise or get fresh air. On April 4, 1821, suffering a high fever, he finally agreed to take pills and a chaser of quinine. Weeks would go by with the same concoction, as well as quite a few enemas. When up to it he dictated his will and his last words in between lashing out at the Bertrands and anyone else near him. 

On April 17, Napoleon asked doctor Archibald Arnott to give him stronger medication, which was refused as his health wouldn’t be able to handle it. Napoleon said, “I am so weak that it’s not a cannonball that would be needed to kill me; just a single grain of sand would be enough.” Napoleon’s greatest fear is that he would die of the same thing that took his father in 1785 at just 38 years old, stomach cancer. 

On April 22, the last Easter of the Emperor, he dictated his wishes on where he would be buried on the island, although he wished to return to France.  "Have me buried in the shade of the willows where I used to rest on the way to see you at Hutt’s Gate, near the fountain where they go to fetch my water every day". 

The same bed Napoleon took his last breath on, in the Musée de l’Armée

By the end of April, he could no longer hold down food, his memory suffered, and his dreams, the few times he slept, were filled with visions of his former marshals and Josephine. On May 3, his breath became shallow, and a round-the-clock vigil began with Abbé Vignali, Marshall Charles Tristan de Montholon, Bertrand, and valet Louis Marchand at his side. Abbé Vignali gave him the last rites, but he wasn’t strong enough to take communion. 

On May 5 at 6 am, they knew the end was near. Becoming more still, Napoleon sighed and groaned and closed his eyes. Sixteen people surrounded him in the last hours of his life, just before 5:30 pm, he spoke his last words, “France, l’Armée, tete d’Armée, and lastly, Josephine. At 5:49 p.m., Napoleon was gone. 

On May 6, Dr. Francesco Antommarchi performed the autopsy at 2 pm in the Billiards room of the Longwood house. The room was filled with British and French doctors and witnesses, many of whom later wrote down their observations. The cause of death was, in fact, stomach cancer, just like his father. Years later, any surviving accounts and autopsy records were examined by a team of doctors, who found that he died of an advanced stage of sporadic gastric carcinoma. With a large tumor that had essentially destroyed his stomach but had not spread throughout his body, it was likely caused by an infection, gallstones, and ulcers, and not from genetics. 

The news of Napoleon's death took months to reach France and the world. On May 6, 1821, Captain William Hendry departed Saint Helene for England with the news. Arriving in England on July 4, the London Star evening edition was the first to mention, with only a bi-line. It would be weeks before the news really spread with the details of his death, funeral, and even an engraving of Bonaparte on his deathbed. 

On May 7, two days after his passing,  a death mask was finally created. Due to the isolation of the island, the items needed to create a death mask were hard to obtain and were not on hand at the time of his death. Dr. Antommarchi quickly traveled to the nearby town of Jameson and purchased more than one-hundred small plaster figurines. Smashing and grinding to powder and water to create a paste to apply to the sunken face of the former Emperor. The crushed powder wouldn’t set, and his face continued to show the damage of the heat and humidity. The second option was to find raw gypsum used in plaster. British officers were sent to the beach to find sedimentary rocks, the natural source of gypsum. Returning victoriously, they were able to successfully create a death mask, but the drama wasn’t over yet.  

The mask was created in three separate pieces and needed days to dry once placed on the decomposing face of Napoleon. In the last decade of his life, Marshal Henri Gatien Bertrand was at his side. From Elba to Waterloo and the final exile on Saint Helene, Bertrand and his family were always there. Bertrand’s wife, the Countess Elisabeth “Fanny”, was a cousin of Josephine and very loyal to the fallen emperor.  

Fanny sat next to Bonaparte’s body as the plaster dried, but in the dark of night decided to remove the front piece covering his nose, eyes, and mouth, and flee with or without the help of Doctor Antommarchi. Later, the doctor made hundreds of copies from the mold and sold them across Europe and North America. Today, many can be found in museums across Europe, including the Château de Malmaison and the Musée de l’Armée in Paris. 

Masque Bertrand, Chateau de Malmaison

After the autopsy, Napoleon was dressed in the uniform of the Chasseurs de la Garde. Gericault captures the same uniform in a 1812 painting hanging in the Louvre next to an iconic painting of Napoleon by Gros. After the bloody linens were cut up and given to those close to him. 

Napoleon’s final wish was to lie on the banks of the Seine in Paris, but that would have to wait for a closer location. When more active, he would take walks to the nearby Sane Valley, which he affectionately called the Valley of the Geraniums. 

A grave was dug, then lined with bricks and a stone slab at the bottom in the center of the small meadow, with the shade of a willow tree. On May 9,  Bonaparte and two silver vases holding his heart and stomach was first placed in a tin coffin constructed by Abraham Millington of the East India Company, upholstered by Andrew Darling, and sealed. Then placed inside a mahogany coffin and screw shut, then into a lead coffin soldered shut, and finally into another mahogany coffin. 

A tall tale of the island claims that Captain James Bennett offered his mahogany dining room table, which was cut to make one of the two mahogany caskets needed. It is just that, a tall tale, but it's a pretty fun one. 

At 9 am, a full mass was led by Abbé Vignali with British officials and those close to Bonaparte in attendance. Given full military honors of a  “non-commissioned” general, the funeral procession began at 11 am from the Longwood house to the burial space less than 2 miles away. The procession brought out the entire island as they said goodbye to their famous or infamous neighbor. 

The final moments were documented by Bertrand. “The body was lowered into the tomb with pulleys, the burial chamber was covered over with a large stone… The stone that covered the body was bricked in, and afterward, everything was covered with a layer of cement. The top opening, which was about seven by four feet, was closed off and protected with a wooden base over which we secured the black drapery.”

After the ceremony, attendees drank from a nearby spring in silver cups, something Napoleon loved. 

His coffin was covered with a stone slab, three feet of dirt, another stone slab, cement, and, the next day, a grave marker. Although the French and British officials couldn’t agree on what it would say, it was left blank. 

Le Tombeau de Napoleon, Horace Vernet 1821

For the next nineteen years, the tomb sat undisturbed. There are also a few conspiracy theories that it was opened after his burial, and the body was replaced with that of his loyal valet. 

Quickly after news of his death spread through France, there were calls to bring his body back to Paris or even Corsica. While many of the French looked at his memory a bit more fondly than others, there is one thing the French love: their heritage. The British turned down every request; they kept him in exile the rest of his life. 

“It is my wish that my ashes (body) may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well.” 

When Louis-Philippe came to power in 1830, he vowed to return "all the glories of France". While the Bourbon kings Louis XVIII and Charles X erased Napoleon from the Paris bridges, the facade of the Louvre and the street signs. Louis Philippe set his eyes on the ultimate prize, Napoleon himself. 

Napoleon Sortont de Son Tombeau, De Rossi, apres Horace Vernet; Micro-mosaique

Ten years later, the French requested the return of the Emperor from the British government. On July 7, 1840, the frigate ship Belle Poule left for the south of France with former officials, including many who had spent time on Saint Helene with Napoleon during his exile. The ship had been transformed to include a chapel covered in black velvet, embroidered with silver bees. 

Once it was finally approved in the dark of night on October 14, 1840, the work began to unearth Napoleon from his slumber. At 9:30 am on October 15, his coffin was opened. In front of British and French officials, the Emperor dressed in his colonel's uniform, and his sash of the Legion d'honneur across him and his hat lying on his legs was once again a part of this world.  if only for a brief moment. He was in fairly good shape after nineteen years. Former servants and those who once knew him stood near, weeping at the sight of the man they knew.

After the quick viewing, the four layers of the coffin were closed and resealed, and then lowered into an ebony sarcophagus. 

Detour des Cendres de Napoleon, Jacques Guiaud 1841

Before he was to leave the island, he was placed in a large oak coffin for protection and transport back to France. Covered in a velvet fabric embroidered with gold bees and eagles, Napoleon was taken in a funeral procession to the Belle Poule and, once again, followed by the Saint Helene residents, now wishing him a fond farewell.  

The long return finally arrived in France in the harbor of Cherbourg on December 9, 1840. Transferred to a smaller boat, La Dorade, for its travel down the Seine to Paris. All of Paris was waiting to catch a glimpse. Two months to the day of the reopening on December 14, the ship docked at the Quai de Courbevoie. 

In 1806, Napoleon Bonaparte was fresh off his victory at Austerlitz and wanted to erect a monument, as he said, "men are only as great as the monuments they leave behind." He had promised his soldiers on December 2, 1805, "you will return home under triumphal arches".  Upon his return to Paris, he instructed a grand arc to be built. Originally planned for the site where the Bastille prison was torn down, but later decided to build it on the muddy hill of Chaillot, just outside Paris, looking down the Champs-Élysées toward the Palais des Tuileries. Napoleon would die before the arch was ever finished.  

On December 15, with much fanfare, "les retour des cendres" was underway. A funeral carriage draped in fabric pulled by sixteen black horses carrying a mausoleum designed by Henri Labrouste. Complete with 14 caryatids, one for each of his victories, held up the coffin that was topped with an imperial mantle complete with crown, sword, and scepter, and weighed 14 tons and stood more than 32 feet high. It would travel under the finished and glorious Arc de Triomphe that had been his greatest wish to see finished. 

Napoleon’s wishes of being laid to rest on the banks of the Seine came with some challenges. The Basilique Saint Denis, north of Paris, is the final resting place of many former kings and queens of Paris, but it was too far.  How about under the Vendome column, topped with a statue of the Emperor, the only one in Paris at the time, or even the Madeleine church. Finding a place for him was caught up in political mindfields 

The Hotel Les Invalides was built in 1671 by Louis XIV for injured soldiers and took over 30 years to finish. His architect, Louvois, placed special emphasis on the royal chapel, where the King and the royal family could attend mass.  In June 1840 it was the winning location and transformed for the creation of Napoleon's tomb. While the journey from Saint Helene took two months, the final resting place would take much longer and wasn’t ready when Napoleon arrived. Placed in the Chapel of Saint Jerome, where he would remain until the crypt was complete. 

 It took many years to complete his crypt, including opening up the center of the floor so light could flood the sarcophagus and visitors could gaze down at the vast tomb. 

Architect Louis Visconti, who would go on to design the Louvre of Napoleon III and the fountain of Saint Sulpice, among many other things. The dome of the Église Saint Louis was once the part of the church that the King and his family used. It was Napoleon himself who turned the dome into a tomb in 1808. 

Visconti would cut a hole in the floor under the dome, adding to the dome's impressive size. You will never forget the first time you see it. As you enter the crypt below, a huge gate greets you at the entrance, with two bronze statues by Joseph Duret representing Justice on the left, holding a crown and sword, and on the right, Imperial Power, with a sword and sphere topped with a crowd, an emblem of the world. Above it is inscribed in French his final wishes, "On the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people whom I loved so much." 

On April 2, 1861, Napoleon was finally placed in the large sarcophagus imagined by Visconti before his death in 1853. Using the burials of great Roman emperors, Visconti chose red stone, which proved harder to find. It was in northwest Russia, near Lake Onega, that he found one of the oldest stones on Earth. Standing over 16 feet high, the impressive tomb holds the emperor's body, resting on green Vosges marble.

Napoleon’s final resting place is guarded by the twelve allegorical figures representing his many victories, sculpted by James Pradier and standing tall. Along the outer walls are ten bas-reliefs by François Jouffroy and Auguste Dumont that depict his many achievements, including civil peace, the Civil Code, and the Legion of Honor. Complete with scrolls listing all the things he implemented in France. Dumont and Jouffroy were very kind when they designed the body of Napoleon; not sure he ever looked quite that muscular, but who wouldn’t want a little alteration to their physique? 

As you make your way back up the stairs, you can stand in the center and look back down at his tomb; it really is an amazing place.

May 6, 2026

Les Invalides is still a hospital and retirement home for veterans, but includes the Musée de l'Armée and the Musée des Plans-Relief. It is an incredible museum that spans from the 13th century, with armor worn by Francois I, to the tent used by Napoleon and even his horse, which is now stuffed and on display.  Everything is done chronologically, including a wing dedicated to WW I & II. This isn’t your typical museum dedicated to fighting forces; it features amazing art, multimedia displays, memorabilia, and even vehicles.  Every trip my grandfather made to Paris included a few days at this vast museum. I always suggest a visit to clients who want to dig a little deeper into French history. 

The Legion of Honor museum, opposite the Musée d’Orsay, holds paintings and the emblem he created. 

And I encourage everyone to visit the beautiful Chateau de Malmaison. The attic has many items that belonged to Napoleon at the end of his life, including tools used for his autopsy. 

And of course, the Louvre where you can find many of the large paintings dedicated to the retelling of his story. 

Saint Helene Gravestone under two willow trees at Musée de l’Armée

Napoleon.org resource for anything Napoleon 

https://www.buzzsprout.com/2557975/episodes/19127746

Episode 16 - The Louvre Pyramid and I M Pei

Today, the Pyramid of the Musée du Louvre is the museum's icon. From every exit sign, map, and photo used in the photo, the glass pyramid by IM Pei is the de facto image of the world's largest museum. Even one of the Crown Jewel thieves thought the pyramid was all the Louvre was. 

There are still a handful of people who have strong feelings against the icon, but what doesn’t these days? However, compared to how many despised the idea when it was announced before a single pane of glass was created, it is quite beloved these days. 

The 1980s saw an upheaval in the world of Parisian museums. The collection of the Louvre was expanding quickly from its small space, and the Impressionists of the Jeu de Paume were overflowing, resulting in the creation of a new museum of art beginning in 1848. The Musée d’Orsay opened in 1986, solving just a fraction of the problem. 

The Louvre before the pyramid was spread across the 1st floor of the Denon wing, a small portion of its ground floor, and two floors of the Sully wing. A far cry from the Louvre we know today. Yet the collection of what was hidden from display was incredible. The Louvre had seven departments at the time. Paintings, Sculpture, Objets d’art, Prints & Drawings, Egyptian, Greek & Roman Antiquities.

What would be seven separate, incredible, large museums anywhere else were all housed in one historic palace.  Admission to the Louvre had skyrocketed in the late 70s, and the former entrance under the Pavillon Denon became inadequate to handle the crowds, forcing people to take one route to reach everything. 

During World War II, as art was scattered and hidden throughout France, curators and officials had time to consider the layout of the Louvre. Once the art returned, the paintings and sculptures area was rethought and designed within each room. Each director after would have lofty ideas of adding more space to the museum, but it took a French president to bring it to fruition. 

François Mitterand was elected on May 21, 1981, and came into office with the idea of redesigning and expanding Paris's architectural history. A scope that hadn’t been seen since Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann.  Two months later, on July 27, 1981, the “Grand Project” of Paris was born, which would include the Arc of La Defense, Opera Bastille, Buren Columns of the Palais Royal, Library of Bercy, and of course, the Louvre Pyramid. “TonTonKhamon,” as Mitterand was nicknamed, did have a love of Egyptian history and antiquities, but he wasn’t behind the choice of a pyramid, which would be designed by the Chinese-American architect Ieoh Ming Pei. 

Born on April 26, 1917, in China, IM Pei enrolled at the University of Pennsylvania to study architecture but later decided to go to MIT to study engineering. Noticing his talents for design, he is later convinced to return to his first vocation, but the two combined to create the amazing architect we know today. Through engineering, he learned how things worked and the intricate ways materials like glass and concrete can interact. 

Projects undertaken by the French State must go through an open competition, with a committee picking the architect or designers. Each and every company used for Notre Dame had to go through the process, but Mitterand decided to skip this step when it came to his grand design of the Louvre. 

Mitterand placed Emile Biasini in charge of overseeing the project, who spent his career within and around the Ministry of Culture. Biasini was familiar with Pei’s work on the JFK presidential library in Boston and the East Wing of the National Gallery of Art in DC, and liked Pei’s adaptation of a contemporary building in the heart of historic structures. 

The Grand Louvre project was more than just the Pyramid and entry; it was a massive reorganization of the museum itself. For the monumental undertaking, Biasini brought in each of the head curators of the Louvre to draw up their wish list of everything they could want. A smart move to get them on the side of Biasini and Mitterand.

Pei made his first of numerous secret trips to Paris in November 1982. Shrouded in mystery, even the Louvre officials weren’t told of the clandestine visits. For days, Pei walked the Tuileries garden designed by Andre Le Notre and inside the Louvre following visitors as they made their way to the big hits of the museum. 

The courtyard before the mid-19th century still includes houses along the Rue de Rivoli. Under Napoleon III, with architects Louis Visconti and Hector Lefuel, the Richelieu wing was built, the houses were all removed, and the courtyard became a parking lot for ministry officials and a garden. A statue to Leon Gambetta was erected in 1888, and in 1900, a statue to Lafayette, a gift from American schoolchildren, was erected in the Cours la Reine. 

IM Pei had been involved in the competition to create  La Défense in the early 1970s and lost out to Emile Aillaud. After that, he said he wouldn’t take on all that work and devote that much time again. Pei was in his 60s, and if he was wanted, he needed to be the first choice. Mitterand and Biasini knew who they wanted and would deal with the fallout later.  The fact that the design would be so controversial outweighed the rogue choice, with just about every Parisian uniting behind one thing: hatred of the project. 

Under strict secrecy, Pei worked out a few ideas that wouldn’t alter the historic structure. The building encompassing the Cour Napoleon dates to the mid-19th century, under Napoleon III, including his covering of the oldest remaining part of the Louvre, the Sully wing. I can’t even imagine the outrage people would have had if he had touched the building itself. 

IM Pei saw himself as more of a landscape designer than an architect on this project. The structure needed to blend into the historic building, enhancing it while also bringing a modern use to address the issues of the time. It had been decided that the Louvre would take over more of the building, including the Richelieu wing, allowing the display area to double in size and potentially more than doubling daily admissions. To bring them all through the Denon entry would have been a disaster. 

How would he do it? The courtyard was the best option, but it still met with major challenges. Being so close to the Seine was the largest factor and excluded Pei from going too deep into the earth before reaching the water table.  Keeping any of these ideas to himself, he came up with a few options. The first was a glass cube, then a bubble-like dome, both of which looked odd. Then three pyramids in varying sizes. One with a 30° slope that reached the top of the first floor; a second, a bit higher, with a 45° slope, reaching the top of the second level; however, both appeared a bit too flat, and the museum itself loomed over them. The third and final was the pyramid we see today.  Reaching to the tip of the timpanum of each of the three pavilions. 

One of the biggest questions that many visitors have is why a pyramid? There are many reasons that I will share, but did you know that this wasn’t the first or even second pyramid built here at the Louvre? 

In 1792, after the storming of the Tuileries, a celebration was held on August 25, the feast day of Saint Louis, and included a large wooden pyramid by architect Bernard Poyet. It was built just outside the Louvre, covered in black cloth, and set on fire. 

150 years before Mitterrand launched his “Grands Travaux,” Napoléon III also had a wooden pyramid built.  The nephew of Napoléon Bonaparte wanted a monument built for his uncle commemorating his Egyptian campaign. On August 15, 1839, it was once the feast day of “Saint Napoleon” (not a real thing) and was set afire in the shadows of the Louvre. 

I’m sure many would have liked to set fire to Pei’s creation after it was announced, but luckily, that hasn’t happened. 

Pei first had the idea of a pyramid when he designed the John F. Kennedy Library in Boston, but decided against it. Incorporating glass and concrete into his many creations became his signature in the second part of his career, and his best work was still ahead. 

The Louvre project wasn’t just about creating a new entrance. It would involve a massive underground city dedicated to exhibition space, offices, storage, workshops, and not to mention shops, restaurants, massive parking, an expo center, and auditoriums for the Ecole de Louver and an atelier for the greatest restoration group in the world. The pyramid, you can say, is just the tip of the iceberg. 

When it came time for Pei to put pen to paper, he said he became more of a landscape architect than a building architect, and that is exactly where he got his inspiration. The Palais du Louvre sits in the center of Paris, at the time the first fortress was built at the end of the 12th century, it was just outside the wall of Philippe Auguste. Over the centuries, the building changed, was destroyed, and rebuilt in the 16th century. The Palais des Tuileries, built by Catherine de Medici in the 16th century, would eventually be joined by the Louvre and would include the large garden around it. 

In the 18th century, Louis XIV had garden designer Andre Le Nôtre create a lovely park and, more importantly, lay out the Grand Axis point. A straight line that would cut through the center of the garden and later stretch to the outside of Paris and La Defense, and begin at the Arc du Triomphe de Carrousel. 

One of the most important aspects of a French garden is its geometric lines, and every detail is carefully thought out. Le Notre would create the gardens of Vaux-le-Vicomte, Versailles, the Tuileries, and many more, all with his clean lines and design. It would be the biggest inspiration for Pei, who even extended the grand axis to link with his own project. 

Pei’s creation would not only give the museum a new entrance but also bring the outdoors and light in, uniting the two once inside. How can one create a massive entrance that, at the time, would be used by a little over 4 million people a year and also highlight the building's history and beauty? Pei approached the project as a palace rather than a museum. Perhaps the greatest thing about the pyramid itself is how it can almost disappear, whether you are under it or just outside looking through it. From every angle, the building can be seen, and from behind the Jardin des Tuileries and the Arc de Triomphe de Carrousel. He also pulled in the “faceted plan of the roof” and the Luxor Obelisk that sits along the axis line.

Pei’s background in not only architecture but also engineering, along with some pretty big dreams, brought the structure to life. 

Future president Jacques Chirac was the mayor of Paris at the time and hadn’t weighed in on the idea either way. Pei believed 90% of Parisians hated the idea, and as soon as the plan was presented on January 24, 1984, the headlines of every French paper were filled with their objections. Even the NY Times called it “an architectural joke.”

Chirac had the idea that if they showed what the pyramid would look like in the courtyard, maybe they could garner a bit of support. Just in time for the May 1st holiday in the Cour Napoleon, one of the largest cranes in France held teflon cables stretched out to each corner, forming the shape the actual pyramid would take. Without glass and using only cables, they showed that the structure itself would not block the beautiful buildings around it. Thousands of visitors arrived each of the four days it was in place, and in the end, many changed their minds, resulting in a 56% approval rating. 

The next step was to bring Pei’s vision to life, all while adhering to his very exacting standards.   

The most important part, the glass, took the most time to create. Pei wanted the glass to be perfectly clear and white. That is without any bubbles or color, and will not oxidize over time, turning yellow, then brown. Many companies were considered, but only one could pull off this daring job, which also has links to a rather famous mirrored hall. 

In 1665, Jean Baptiste Colbert founded the Royal Manufacture of Mirror Glass to compete with Venice, which cornered the market in the craft. After all, a king couldn’t order glass from another country to cover the walls of his gallery. Between 1678 and 1684, the beautiful Gallery des Glaces was created at Versailles. Look closely and see how the mirrors are made of several pieces rather than one large piece. France still hadn’t created the ability to make large sheets of glass. 

That same Royal Manufacture would become the Saint-Gobain company that still exists today, and one that was up to the technical challenges of Pei’s glass. Glass normally contains ferric oxide and other substances that can solarize and change its color. Pei also wanted the glass to be thicker at 21 mm (⅞ of an inch), which can help absorb heat. Tell that to the agents working at the door on a 90° sunny day; they may disagree. 

675 diamond shapes make up the four outdoor pyramids with 118 triangles along the lower edges. Each piece of glass was stretched vertically, as they did long ago, rather than flattened in a machine, which would damage the fragile panes. After, the entire order was shipped to just outside of London to be polished. 
The glass of the Pyramid, as well as the three small ones surrounding it, was placed inside aluminum frames that fit together tightly like a puzzle. Much like the creation of a Gothic Cathedral in the Middle Ages, Pei wanted to capture as much light as he possibly could with the least obstruction. 

The glass defines the pyramid, but it's the intricate rigging system that holds it all together, creating a web-like structure.  How to hold this all together was the big question. Pei found his answer on a sailboat of all places. 2,150 joints were created, much like you find in the rigging system of a sailboat. Wax molds were made that hot steel was poured into, then shot blasted to polish, and then dipped in a diluted miric acid chemical bath. The 6000 shiny tensile steel bars between could be adjusted to keep the entire structure in place. It’s quite a sight to see up close from outside the pyramid. 

How to fit this massive structure of glass, aluminum, and steel, and have it almost float above the entrance was another story. Originally,  Pei considered a long, sloping entry from the sidewalk straight into the lower entrance, but it would cast part of the space into darkness. 

Because the Louvre is located so close to the Seine, they could only go down so far. It would be all about the ceiling itself that would hold up the pyramid. Pei loved working with concrete because he could shape it and control where it went. The pyramid itself covers 10,764 square feet and weighs over 220 tons. The edges of the pyramid are seated in a complex envelope that includes a supply vent and a shutter that can be opened to release the air,  with suspension cables bracing the structure even deeper, all encased in concrete, but from below it looks like fine Burgundy marble. 

The smooth concrete was mastered between Pei and the Dumez firm and was the same kind he used in other projects, including the National Gallery in DC and JFK Library. To create the design of deep-set boxes with angled walls, Jean-Pierre Aury, the concrete whisperer, used Oregon pine to create a mold. Oregon pine is loved for its hardwood that resists bending and can be sanded to a very smooth finish. 

Carefully selected, the pine was free of knots or blemishes, cut into slender strips, and glued together.  Once together, they were covered in resin, then white cement lacquer, before being sanded and stripped, becoming as smooth as glass. Each of the massive sections was filled with tinted concrete while workers hung from scaffolding to keep anything from shifting.  Look up today after you enter the Louvre at this masterpiece, and a little wink to Oregon. 

To hold the entire thing in place, Pei placed four large pillars under each corner of the pyramid that almost disappear. The entry through the pyramid is supported in the center with a truncated column that was intended to hold a sculpture, but the powers that be couldn’t decide on what it would be. Winged Victory was an option, thank goodness that never happened. Other ideas included the bronze Mercury Abducting Psyché, the lead Mercury by Pigalle, and even Rodin’s Thinker. 

On the south side, a set of double escalators takes visitors to the center of the pyramid, but it's the spiral staircase that surrounds the elevator that is really a show stopper. Pei created an elevator whose shaft disappears into the floor as it comes down, and the beauty of the staircase is on full display. Once it rises to the top, the entire shaft is revealed, and a small platform pops out to connect to the upper floor, allowing visitors to enter. 

For the inner walls, Pei used his favorite stone, a yellow Magny limestone that is now known as Magny Le Louvre stone. From the Côte d’Or - Burgundy region, 23 kilometers SE of Chatillon-sur-Seine. For the floors, Chassagne-Beauharnais stone is similar in color to that from the same region. All three blend perfectly together. 

Surrounding the pyramid are three smaller three-sided pyramids that let light in and guide visitors to the entrance of each of the three wings. I love to stop under them and catch a view of the top of the Richelieu and Denon pavilions. Constructed with the same method minus the rigging, as they were easier to stabilize with only 10 panes of glass on each side. 

Since the entire Grand Louvre project also included the vast underground area, Pei included another pyramid as you exit. An inverted pyramid made from the same glass but without the rigging system is balanced below by a small stone pyramid, almost as if it is peeking out, and the entire pyramid lies beneath.

You might know this pyramid from the end of the Da Vinci Code, as Tom Hanks runs through the streets of Paris to stand above and look down through the magic of Hollywood to find the final resting place of Mary Magdeline. Sorry to report that the only thing below is the parking lot. That scene filled me with the dream to do the same thing on my first trip to Paris, only to find there is no way to walk above unless I wanted to scale over the rat-infested bushes. 

Last summer, one of those creatures found its way into the inverted pyramid and was captured on video trying to escape. 

Did you know that there was, in fact, a sixth pyramid planned for the center of the Cour Carrée? To balance out and create Pei’s own axis line, the project was going to stretch deep under the far courtyard. However, when the archaeological dig revealed the medieval foundations of the original fortress and the 18th-century wall by Louis Le Vau, plans were altered. 

Today, the pyramid is more loved than hated, but I still hear a few grumblings from time to time. I, for one, love it, and the pyramid is strongly imprinted on one of my most memorable moments. It was ten years ago, in September 2016, on my very first visit, when I went to the Louvre on a late Wednesday afternoon. Walking through the rooms alone with the beautiful art in front of me, I could have danced on air. When it was time to leave to meet a friend, I exited the Denon wing and entered the center of the pyramid. Looking up towards the Richelieu Pavillon, I saw it colored the most beautiful pinkish orange and knew I had to get out quickly. I left and rushed through the center of the Tuileries and found my way to the end with all of Paris laid out in front of me.  The sky was stunning, and before me were the Eiffel Tower, Obelisk, Arc de Triomphe, and the Pegasus statues over the entrance. It was in that moment that I knew that everything that had turned in my life led me to that very moment, and this is where I belonged. 

This past Sunday morning, on our birthday, I visited the Louvre and looked more closely at every detail of Pei’s creation. Loads of people were filing in through the pyramid door, making their way down the escalator and following the path to the Mona Lisa. 

IM Pei died on May 16, 2019, at 102, just weeks after the 30th anniversary of the pyramid on March 29. Watching people take their photos in front of it or pretending to touch the tip brought a little tear to my eye. If only Pei could see the pyramid now. 

When created, it was intended to manage 5 million people a year; in over 35 years, that number has doubled. 

One of my favorite things is arriving in the Cour Napoleon on the bi-monthly cleaning days of the pyramid. A special rhumba-like contraption connected to a hose slowly climbs up and down the pyramid, slowly washing and scrubbing the glass, while a few men stand below, watching and “driving” the little washer. It normally takes two days, and the front entrance is only done on the Tuesday closing day. I longed for years to see this, and now I know the slight humming of the cleaner before I enter the Cour Napoleon. 

As for The Da Vinci Code, the opening and final scenes have incredible views of the pyramid and interior. 

Listen to the full episode here

Episode 15 - The Louvre Heist Six Months Later

It was 6 months ago, on October 19, 2025, on a Sunday morning in Paris, that a brazen heist of the French Crown jewels struck the  Musée du Louvre.  

In this week’s episode of the Paris in Bleu Blonde Rouge podcast, we go deep into the details of the theft, the history of the stolen jewels, where they are in the investigation, and what has changed at the Louvre. 

It’s 7:37 am in the north of Paris, while most people were still asleep, when four thieves began orchestrating the crime of the century. Two suspects left Aubervilliers in the Seine-Saint-Denis region, both wearing helmets: one driving a Burgman scooter, the other at the wheel of a white Citroën Berlingo utility vehicle. The two drove to Ivry-sur-Seine and parked the van on the quai along the Seine and returned on the

motorcycle together to Aubervillier. 

At 8:30 am, back in Aubervillier, the Burgman scooter leaves, followed by the Nacelle lift truck, and heads to Bercy in the 12th 

The third member on a BMW scooter travels from Aubervillier to Pantin, abandons the BMW, and jumps on a Yamaha scooter driven by a 4th man. All four take different routes, obeying the speed limits and all traffic signals. 

At 9:10 am, they all meet at the Avenue des Terroirs de France in Bercy and then head to the Louvre. The Nacelle and two scooters traveled along the quai of the left bank, past Notre Dame, the Fontaine Saint Michel, the Pont des Arts, and finally turning right on the Pont Royale. 

Captured on CCTV cameras, the grainy images were released by TF1 news, showing the four thieves calmly walking the streets of Paris. With one scooter in front and one behind the truck, they drove alongside the Louvre as they headed to the scene of the crime.

At 9:30 am, they arrive below the Petit Galerie, built in the 16th century as a connection from the King’s Pavilion of the Palais du Louvre. The two on the motorcycle block the light traffic on the Quai François Mitterand and place orange cones around the truck to add to the illusion of construction workers. Over the next 3 minutes, the driver of the truck turns around and parks on the sidewalk facing the oncoming traffic. 

At 9:34 am, two thieves, we will come to known as Abdoulaye N, wearing a yellow vest, and Ayed G, dressed in black and wearing a grey motorcycle helmet, hop onto the flat lift of the truck, intended for furniture, not people. On the ground, Rachid operates the lift, taking them to the balcony of the Galerie d’Apollon. 

At 9:34 and 11 seconds, the thieves attack the lower right window with the large angle saw and trigger alarm no. 13 that rings at the command post, and not aloud in the room or outside the building.

At 9:35 am, the two quickly enter through the window. Ayed G, in the grey helmet thief, pretends to rush toward the guards at the door to Salon Carré. The guards quickly get the few visitors out of the jewel box of a room, and one of them places the first radio call to the office as the thieves run to the first two cases.

9:35 am, call to police from Louvre security 

At 9:35 and 11 seconds, the alarm of the first case of the jewels of Empress Eugenie rings within the room at Abdoulaye N., in the yellow vest, who attempts to cut a large rectangular hole in the case. The case fights back, and it takes several passes with the saw and a few hard blows to the shoulder to get inside.  He violently grabs the beautiful bow brooch, then the true crown jewel, the Reliquary brooch, crushes the Imperial crown, and jumps a bit to reach the tiara. The only saving grace was the pearl and diamond brooch left behind, which he wasn’t able to reach. 

At 9:35 and 20 seconds, Ayed G, with the second saw attacks the south end of the central case. The alarm rings out, but he has trouble breaking into the case. 

9:36 Police telesecurity, aka Ramses button, which is connected to the Ministry of the Interior. Agents at the Salon Carré door, one tries to advance towards the thieves with a stanchion pole 

9:37 Internal theft procedure 33.33 initiated, and all doors closed. Many doors automatically release and shut. 

9:37 As soon as Abdoulaye finishes the destruction of the first case, he helps smash through the glass and quickly grabs the set of emeralds and sapphires; thankfully, the pearl drops of Josephine are out of reach.  

At 9:38, they begin fleeing in panic. Abdoulaye in the yellow vest, dropped a few of the jewels and a glove and stopped to pick up the gems, but left the glove behind.

9:38 they flee out the same window they entered and ride down the lift to the awaiting scooters. The thieves said they handed the jewels to the awaiting drivers as soon as they reached the ground. 

On foot, Louvre security agents run down the quai, causing the thieves to flee and preventing them from setting fire to the lift and evidence, much to the advantage of investigators.

While the two thieves were inside, one of them punctured the gas tank below. Security agents arrived at the overwhelming smell of gas, discarded blow torch, circular saws, helmet, vest, and gloves, all covered with DNA. 

All four are now on two scooters and speeding away from the crime scene. If you have been in Paris, you know how the motorcycles bob and weave through traffic even as cars are at a standstill, including a police car that was not far behind. They head back to the Quai in Ivry-sur-Seine, where a white van is waiting. They separate into two groups. Two on scooters and two in a van with two rotating beacons. All go in separate directions. 

At 10:27 am, the two scooters with Abdalaye N, who violently ripped the jewels from the cases in the Gallerie d’Apollon, and getaway driver Slimane K were seen entering an underground parking lot of an apartment building on the Rue Léopold Rechossière

in the Fort d’Aubervilliers district. Not realizing there was a camera they two thieves could be seen pulling out part of the stolen jewels and passing them to each other. Officials who view the video note that not all eight pieces appear to be there. “Holding a large jewel, a piece seems to be missing.” 

The van was lost in Vexin, between the Yvelins and the Eure, and at 11:20 am, the white van arrived with Ayed G, the other Apollo intruder and getaway driver, Rachid H. Ayed attempted to hide the scooters, and they removed the orange lights from the van. 

By 10:45 a.m., the news began spreading on social media and across every French news site. I had been visiting the Basilique Saint Denis with a friend, and we returned to walk around the Ile de la Cité when I happened to look at my phone and a message from a friend asking if I had seen the news.  I opened Instagram, and the first thing that came up was the theft. At first, I thought the jewels in the gift shop had been stolen. How could they possibly steal the crown jewels?

Heading straight to the Louvre, the ladder of the truck could be seen from blocks away. Even watching the police working the crime scene and the numerous news cameras already in place, it was still unbelievable.  

Hours later, the worst news arrived: the Ministry of Culture released the full list of items stolen. It’s unknown whether the specific items stolen were specifically targeted or if they were just the two closest cases to the window. Eight pieces that once belonged to a queen and two empresses of France. 

The first case contained the pieces that belonged to the last Empress of France, Eugene, the wife of Napoleon III. 

The Reliquary Brooch of Empress Eugénie is the only piece of the stolen loot that can also link itself back to Louis XIV. Rocaille in style to that of the time of Louis XV and inspired by an 18th-century brooch created by Paul-Alfred Bapst. 

Called the Reliquary brooch in name only, and may have once been intended to hold a relic of a saint for the very pious Empress.  The back side of the brooch is engraved with a floral motif. Just under the pin, the word “reliquaire” adds to the confusion. 

Napoleon III ordered this, along with three other designs by Bapst, for the 1855 Universal Exposition. Created using 94 diamonds, some of which were purchased for the design, and many from the crown collection. 

The two rose-cut diamonds in the center, pointed end to end, are the most historic. After Mazarin’s death on March 9, 1661, his entire collection of diamonds was given to Louis XIV with the caveat that they must be called the Mazarin diamonds. Many were recut and used in the settings of the royal gems. 

Originally one large diamond it was split into two even 21 carats and known as the Mazarin 17 & 18. Many of the jewels were stolen in 1792, and most were recovered only to be sold off in 1887. Making the two held in the Reliquary brooch that much more special. 

These diamonds were worn by Louis XIV in the buttonholes of his jacket, on the handle of the sword of Louis XVI, on a belt for Empress Josephine, in the baldric buckle of Napoleon, and in many others' settings. 

The almond-shaped diamond below had a perfect twin at one point, each over 15 carats, and had been worn by Marie Antoinette as earrings and by Louis XIV in buttonholes—the lower diamond in a casket shaped with a slightly brown color. 

Of the eight pieces stolen, this might be the hardest to come to terms with. Stunning in its design, from the historic diamonds to the engraved gold setting. Wherever they are today, I hope they are at least being appreciated for the beauty they hold.

The gorgeous pearl-and-diamond tiara of Empress Eugénie, until six months ago, sat perfectly perched in a glass case under the gilded ceiling of the Galerie d’Apollon. 

Created for Eugénie by Alexandre-Gabriel Lemonnier, who also made the Imperial Crown, which was luckily recovered. Commissioned in 1853, shortly after the wedding to Napoleon III.  Designed using many of the Crown pearls from a tiara that once belonged to the Duchess d’Angouleme. 

Lemonnier’s contemporary design of the time featured natural elements, including diamond-covered “leaves” and 17 large pear-shaped pearls, totaling 212 pearls and 1998 diamonds. Eugénie wore it often, including at the opening of the 1855 Universal Exhibition, where her other jewels, including the Imperial Crown, were on display. 

While the tiara is gone and we await its return, you can still see Eugénie wearing it in the large portrait of the Empress by Pierre-Desire Guillemet, painted in 1857 and copied from the original by Franz Winterhalter, which hangs in the Appartements Napoleon III of the Louvre. 

In 1855, the Imperial couple visited Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle, a moment captured by Edward Matthew Ward with Eugénie in her tiara. A beautiful 1860 bust of the Empress by Georges Diébolt, located in a small garden in Monaco, surrounded by flowers, looking out to sea. 

The tiara was part of the sale of the Crown jewels of France on May 12, 1887, to jeweler Julius Jacoby, who sold it to Prince Albert of Thurn et Taxis. For over 100 years, it remained in the family until sold by Sotheby’s in 1992 and purchased by the Amis du Louvre. 

One of the jaw-dropping items was the Grand Corsage Bow Brooch of Eugénie. Napoleon III ordered four pieces from jeweler François Kramer to be completed for the 1855 Universal Exhibition and for his wife. However, the piece was originally designed as a belt, with a bow and tassels, and a staggering 4,790 diamonds totaling 386 carats. 

Eugénie loved the history of Marie Antoinette, and the bow was designed to emulate the former queen's love of bows and ribbons. 

Worn by the Empress for Queen Victoria's visit on August 25, 1855, she would later have it altered into the corsage bow we see today in 1864.  The bow would attach to the bodice of a dress, and the tassels hanging down to her waist would be reduced to 2,438 diamonds and 196 rose-cut diamonds. 

The bow was part of the sale of more than 77,000 crown jewels in May 1877 and was purchased for Caroline Astor and passed through many hands until purchased on April 16, 2008, by the Amis du Louvre with a large bequest from Mr. and Mrs. Rauffet. 

Marie-Amélie de Bourbon-Siciles was born on April 26, 1782, in the Kingdom of Naples. She was one of the 18 children of King Ferdinand of Naples and Queen Marie-Caroline of Austria, sister of Marie Antoinette. On November 28, 1809, she married Louis-Philippe, duc d’Orleans and the last King of the French from 1830-1848. 

Marie-Amélie never met her aunt Marie Antoinette or her husband Louis XVI, but after their deaths in 1793, she had a fear of dying a violent death. She rarely wore jewelry or did anything that would appear as outlandish or showy. As her husband decided to be the King OF the French and more a man of the people, she also wanted to be the anti-Marie, Antoinette. 

Napoleon was very fond of and close to his adopted daughter, and he married her off to his brother, Louis Napoleon; she wasn’t so thrilled about the idea. 

In 1814, when Napoleon went into his first exile and the empire fell, Hortense fled France and took her jewelry with her. Hortense acquired many jewels from her mother and her husband's family. When times were tight, she would sell off pieces to support herself and her two remaining sons. 

In 1821, Louis-Philippe was flush with cash and purchased a large set of sapphire jewelry from Hortense for 160,000 francs. A gift to his wife, Queen Marie-Amélie, who had the settings changed, including reducing the size of the tiara. 

The set remained in the Orleans family until July 3, 1985, when purchased by the Amis du Louvre. 

Forty-four sapphires surrounded by more than 2,500 diamonds in six pieces that glisten in the light. The Ceylon sapphires were not heated, so the blue is a tad lighter than the deep sapphires you see in current jewelry. 

On Sunday, October 19, 2025, the thieves took the tiara, necklace, and one earring, but left the three brooches behind and another set of earrings. 

At the south end of the middle case, next to the sapphires, was a stunning collar of diamonds and emeralds, one of my very favorites. 

Napoleon’s first wife, Joséphine, was unable to produce the all-important heir to the throne; they were divorced in 1809. 

Napoleon was on the hunt for a new wife. He wanted to marry the Grand Duchess Anna Pavlovna of Russia, sister of the Tsar Alexander I, but she was promised to someone else. In the next episode of the Emperor Bachelor, the Vienna Archduchess Marie-Louise, daughter of Archduke Francis of Vienna, was presented with a rose. 

The grand niece of Marie Antoinette had spent many years despising the French for her death during the French Revolution. But the deal was set, and on March 11, 1810, Napoleon and Marie Louise were married by proxy, with her uncle standing in as the Emperor. A few weeks late, she arrived in France and met Napoleon at Compiegne, on April 2, the two traveled to Paris for their wedding at the Louvre in the Salon Carré, steps away from where her necklace once was.

Napoleon Bonaparte wanted to shower his new bride with gifts and jewels and commissioned two sets from his personal jeweler, François-Regnault Nitot. Ten large Colombian pear-shaped drop emeralds were purchased by Nitot, specifically for the piece, and chosen by the Emperor for their exquisite quality. They were suspended in a diamond frame and surrounded by 1138 diamonds. 874 brilliant cut and 264 rose cut, which is one of the oldest cuts, going back to the 16th century. Beloved but rarely seen, cut with a flat base and a rounded top, with facets that give the illusion of a rose.

Matching earrings rounded out the initial set that later also included a tiara, comb, and belt plaque. They remained in the Empress's collection until they were passed to her cousin after her death in 1847, and eventually found their way to the American heiress Margie Merriweather Post in 1953, after being purchased from Van Clef & Arpels. In 2004, they were acquired by the Louvre, where they remained before the theft. 

The tiara, also in Margie Merriweather Post's collection, replaced the emeralds with turquoises and later gave the piece to the Smithsonian in DC, where it can still be seen today. 

As the thieves fled the Galerie d’Apollon, Abdoulaye N dropped the Imperial Crown of Empress Eugenie in the ditch below the street. The crown had been crushed as it was pulled from its base, leaving it heavily damaged. 

The Imperial Crowns were created in 1855 for the Universal Exhibition. What makes this crown so special is that the Emperor's crown was dismantled in 1887. Both crowns were created by Alexandre-Gabriel Lemonnier, working with sculptors Auguste & Joseph Fannière on the eight eagle ribbons of the Imperial coat of arms. Comprised of 1354 diamonds, 1136 rose-cut diamonds, and 56 emeralds in exquisite detail. 

One of the eight diamond-encrusted palmettes fell off in the Galerie d’Apollon and was recovered, but one of the Imperial eagles is missing. 

Of the 1354 diamonds, a “dozen” of the small stones along the band are missing. After the theft, many of France's historic jewelry houses reached out to the Louvre for assistance.

After a thorough investigation, the Imperial Crown can be restored. An advisory committee of Louvre officials, including Anne Dion, deputy director of the Objets d’Art department. They will decide between the houses of Chaumet, Cartier, Boucheron, Van Cleef & Arpels, and Maellerie. 

Listen to the full episode here

Episode 14 -Notre Dame, 7 Years After the Fire

Seven years ago this week, a moment few will ever forget. At 6:18 pm on Monday, April 15, 2019, flames erupted in the roof of the Cathedral Notre-Dame de Paris, and over the following hours, the 12th- and 13th-century forest would be destroyed.

When the fire struck, the cathedral was just about to begin a restoration on the 19th-century spire. In a stroke of luck, the 16 statues lining the roof were removed on April 11 for restoration, and the scaffolding was built that would soon become a glowing web of melted metal.

In the last seven years, no definitive cause of the fire has been identified. After the theft of the crown jewels from the Louvre which we will go into more detail next week, multiple investigations and audits were conducted through the Louvre from every angle. That wasn’t done for the fire of Notre Dame. However, a few detailed reports have been uncovered, giving us a closer look and a glimpse into what actually happened that April evening. 

The Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris is governed by several entities. Owned by the State and managed by the Ministry of Culture, the DRAC, and the Catholic Diocese.

In 2010, the Ministry of Culture tasked Benjamen Mouton, the cathedral's chief architect, with installing a new fire system. By 2014, Siemens had installed the system, which included more than 160 smoke detectors that communicated with a complex security panel located in the Presbytery on the bedside of the cathedral.  What did they skimp on for the project, you might ask? Well, that was the sprinklers and any firestop partitions deemed unnecessary by the architect. 

The DRAC, the Regional Cultural Affairs Department, oversees the fire alarm system that was installed. The system itself covered four spaces, including the roof, crypt, towers, and the presbytery, although multiple locations were covered within the four zones. A security staff member was to sit in front of the large panels controlling the system of over 160 smoke detectors. 
After the installation, the DRAC awarded the contract to maintain the fire system to Elytis, located in the South of France, rather than to one in Paris. When there was a problem, a subcontractor was used since they didn’t have an office located in Paris. From the installation, malfunctions and false alarms were recurring issues without a quick solution.  

In the months before that dreadful day, the alarms in the towers and on the roof sounded more than a dozen times a day, prompting the DRAC to place the system in standby.  A guard went on record to say, When we reported malfunctions to our boss, who was in charge of passing each alarm to the Ministry of Culture, it often caused tension, so we reported them less and less. 

In 2016, the French National Center for Scientific Research alerted the Ministry of Culture that the cathedral's fire alarm system was not up to standard for protecting the structure and was vulnerable. “There was a risk that the roof could go up in flames,” said the author of the report. He continued, “There was no protection for the roof frame”. The report was never addressed or followed up on. In fact, the same year, DRAC decided to cut the daily security team that monitored the system from two people per shift to only one, during the cathedral's opening hours.

April 20, 2019

The Fire - Moment by Moment on April 15, 2019 

April 15, 2019, was a sunny and beautiful Monday in Paris. At 6 p.m. on the first weekday of Holy Week, the nave below was filled with more than a thousand people. It started out like any other mass, with the cathedral priest delivering the sermon. 

At 6:18 p.m., in the presbytery's security office, the alarm rang with the code ZDA-110-3-15-1 and the message “fire roof nave sacristy”. The Elytis security guard contacted the cathedral's security, Jean Paul B., and gave him the message. 

Earlier, I mentioned there were four zones of the security system. Both the sacristy and the presbytery were in separate buildings from the cathedral, but the sacristy, where the treasury is held, is within the “roof zone” of the system. Adding confusion for people who weren’t intimately familiar with the system. 

At 6:19 p.m., Jean Paul B makes his way to the roof of the sacristy and reports back a minute later that he didn’t see any smoke or fire and radios the security office. The on-site manager joins Jean Paul and confirms there is no fire, then visits the security room and asks the agent to contact his boss to find out what the alarm code means and where it could mean.

At 6:23 p.m., the fire alarm inside the cathedral sounded, and the parishioners and visitors were calmly evacuated. And the Elytis agent tries to reach his manager, Emmanuel, but there is no answer, and he left a message. 

First photo of the fire in the roof; Le Figaro

6:32 p.m. Emmanuel calls his agent back and will look in the book to find out the meaning of the codes.   (are you cringing yet) 

Inside the cathedral, the crowd returned, and mass began once again. 

6:43 p.m., 25 minutes after the fire started, Emmanuel calls Jean Paul and tells him to go to the cathedral's roof. 

6:45 p.m., the alarm sounds once again inside the cathedral, and the cathedral is evacuated for the last time. 

6:48 p.m., now 30 minutes after the fire ignited, Jean Paul and the manager climbed the 300 steps to reach the nave, and at that moment found the fire burning in the southeast side of the transept. 

6:51 p.m., more than 30 minutes after the fire broke out, the call went out to the fire department. Due to the time of day and the restricted roads in the city center, it would be very difficult and take additional minutes to reach the cathedral. 

At 6:55 p.m., the first black smoke plumes could be seen coming from below the spire. 

At 7:03 p.m., the first station is on site and rushes to the roof, 45 minutes after the fire started in the 13th-century roof, made up of 1,300 oak beams dating back to the 8th & 9th centuries. 

7:10 p.m. Captain Marc Porret Blanc of the 2nd company with the Louvre firemen arrives to protect and rescue the precious items of the church, including the most important Crown of Thorns and tunic of Saint Louis. They would have to wait until the fire is better under control to pull the items out. Thankfully, Abbé Jean Marc Fourner, the fire department's chaplain, was the man to do it, and a human chain of firefighters passed the precious relics out of the cathedral to safety at the Hotel de Ville and eventually the Louvre. 

7:30 p.m. General Jean Claude Gallet of the Paris fire brigade orders 150-200 firefighters, 30-40 machines, including the fire boats on the Seine.

At 7:40 p.m., the fire is now burning the spire from the inside. 

At 7:57 p.m., the spire engulfed in flames breaks in two, pierces the roof, and crashes onto the altar of the transept below. The threat of the burning embers destroying the interior was a real concern. 

8:20 p.m. Firefighters ordered to get off the roof as it is far too dangerous

At 9:23 p.m., the firefighters return to the roof now with a new objective: the towers.  After the flames engulfed and devoured the roof, the wind blew its fiery embers toward the towers, threatening utter disaster. It was announced at that moment that if the fire wasn’t controlled, it could burn the northern belfry and the eight bells, weighing a total of 36,733 pounds, would crash through the facade and take the church with them. 

Twenty firefighters risking their lives climbed the south tower to reach the central platform and fight the flames, saving the belfry, the tower, and the entire cathedral in just under 20 minutes. 

At 10:47 p.m., President Macron, Archbishop Aupetit, and Monsignor Patrick Chauvet walked into the entry of the church. Chauvet said, “It's a miracle.” 

It wasn't until 3:30 a.m. on April 16th that officials declared the fire under control, even though some spots continued to smolder for hours.

In the light of day, the rest of the 1,350 pieces of the treasury were emptied, and many of the paintings were placed in the chapels. It would take weeks to safely remove the painting and statue of the Virgin at the altar.  

Where the fire started 

The fire started in the lower part of the roof below the SE valley of the spire, where the statues are.  “The sandpit of the drip wall of the choir, at the SE corner of the transept cross.” 

Rémi Desalbres, heritage architect, believes the fire could have been smoldering for hours or even days before combustion when it came into contact with oxygen through a small opening burrowed through from the fire.  “A hundred hours are needed for a pyrolysis to overcome a 5-meter-long wooden beam,” Desalbres said. A synopsis that General Jean Claude Gallet of the Paris fire brigade said could not be excluded. Pyrolysis is a type of fire that “follows the path of termites, insects, and jumps from nail to nail and needs little oxygen.” 

What could have been the tipping point? Remember the removal of the statues, which seemed to be a bit of divine intervention, on April 11th? Saving the statues just 4 days before the fire broke out might have actually been what sparked it.

The statues were created and installed during Viollet-le-Duc's restoration in the mid-19th century. Generous benefactors stepped in to restore the statues, and the SOCRA company was under a tight timeline to remove them from the roof. The skyline has been dotted with cranes for seven years now. In 2019, the crane on site was a temporary installation to bring the scaffolding to the roof and was utilized to remove the statues. 

Work began on the Apostles in 1848, and they were a bit more than meets the eye. The inner structure was created with iron and then covered with copper sheets, making for a much lighter statue that could stand far above the streets. In 1861, the 16 statues of the apostles and the tétramorphs of the evangelists were welded onto a base where they remained until April 11, 2019. 

The statues of the SE valley begin at the edge with the eagle of St Jean, followed by Saint Paul, Saint Jacques Majeur, and topped by Saint Thomas, the patron saint of architects, with the face of Viollet-le-Duc looking towards the spire.  Yet another shocking coincidence if this was the reason for the fire. A fire even St. Thomas and Viollet-le-Duc could not stop or even imagine. 

Beginning March 25, 2019, teams prepared the statues for their removal. Their heads were first cut off so a large hook could attach to the inner structure before each of the apostles flew through the sky about the cathedral. The job took two weeks to complete. 

Could a spark from cutting away at the copper-covered statues or bases find its way into the rafters of the roof and smolder for the next four days? 

The head of SOCRA vehemently denies this, reminding every journalist, once a year, when called, that there were over twenty people on the scaffolding that day, including journalists documenting the moment the statues were removed. 

We may never know. In an interview with Bishop Ullrich on the occasion of the cathedral's 2024 opening, he said it was time to move on. It doesn’t matter what the reason for the fire and it's time to turn the page. Since the church and its various entities in charge could be at least partly to blame for the reaction time, disregard for safety, and haphazard electrical installations, we can see why they may want to move past it.

The day after the fire, the world sprang into action. The largest & wealthiest companies in France donated more than 600 million of the total amount raised.  Luxury giant LVMH gave 200 million euros, as did L’Oréal Paris and the Bettencourt Family. The Pinault family gave 100 million euros, and numerous other French companies contributed, totaling more than 3/4 of the total 864 million euros raised. A total of 350,000 donations rolled in over the first few months from just about every country in the world. The US was the next-largest contributor, but not the largest, according to 60 Minutes. 

Many questions arose as the embers still smoldered and in the days that followed. How would the historic cathedral be restored? Was there enough lumber in France to recreate the roof,  and were there even people who knew how to do it? 

Immediately after the fire, the Notre Dame architectural team issued a call for donations of lumber. They had to be at least 100 m in length and 13 m wide. Oak and more than 2000 trees would be needed.  A third of France is covered in forests, both privately and publicly owned. Within days, calls came in from hundreds of families with trees that fit the bill. In a few months, the trees began to be cut down, shaped, dried, and stored for their important role in the reconstruction of the roof and spire of Notre Dame. 

From 2019 to the reopening on December 7, 2024, over 2,000 artisans brought the cathedral back to life, from teenagers working during their summer apprenticeships to carpenters and stonemasons marking their last job before they retire. There is never a shortage of highly skilled jobs. 

The night of President Macron called for the cathedral to be reopened in five years. A lofty goal, especially if you know how things work in France. It took a few months longer, but we did have a pandemic and multiple lockdowns for COVID and lead contamination.

During the closure, the entire interior of the cathedral was cleaned, the first time since the completion of the restoration of Viollet le Duc, 162 years ago.. Architects found revolutionary techniques used by VLD, markings from the 12th-century workers, and, in the most amazing discovery, the jubé screen destroyed in the 17th century. Under the marble floor of the transept heavily damage when the spire fell from the roof. Archaeologists were excited to find 1,035 fragments of the former screen created in th 13th century. Researchers are cleaning and cataloging each piece and will create a 3D rendering of what the jubé wall of the Passion once looked like. Can’t wait for that. 

The roof and spire were finally completed last summer and recreated exactly as it was. 4000 m2 of lead was needed to recover the roof and additional lead to encase the spire once again. The statues that were left just days before the fire were all returned to their perch in June and July 2025. 

One of the most important elements of the restoration is one that you won’t even see.  While the security and fire system before the fire was incredibly lacking, Notre Dame is now the most state-of-the-art church in the world. Thousands of flame-resistant cables, more than 300 sensors located throughout the cathedral and roof, are analyzing the air at every moment of the day. On the roof and spire, a massive fogging and misting system was installed, along with two large fire-resistant trusses on either side of the transept. 

There are still years of work to go on the cathedral, and the surrounding area is far from finished.  Phase 3 began in the summer of 2025 and is essentially phase 1 if there hadn’t been a fire. 

Work on the rear apse of the church, including restoring the 22 buttresses, five of which need to be completely rebuilt. 

Pinnacles and gables restored or recreated. 

Stained glass on the mid-level has been removed and is being cleaned and checked for damage

Northern and southern nave exterior and stained glass cleaned and gargoyles restored, and many need to be rebuilt on the northern side

Both the sacristy and presbytery buildings, built under VLD, have never been cleaned or restored since construction. The gothic sacristy needs a new lead roof, and pinnacles and sculptures will be recreated and replaced. The presbytery will also be cleaned.

The exterior walls and doors of the north and south transepts will be cleaned and restored. Unsure if the many sculptural elements of the doors, many damaged in the Revolution and not restored by VLD, will now be rebuilt. The three stained-glass rose windows of the cathedral, created in the 13th century, were checked after the fire and found undamaged, but they will all be removed, cleaned, and a new protective clear glass layer will be added for extra protection.  The western facade window was damaged during the June 2025 hailstorm. 

French artist Claire Tabouret was chosen to carry out the designs based on the theme chosen by the Archbishop of Pentecost. Tabouret draws on her love of portraits, nature, and faces, and combines them with light colors that will blend into the cathedral's walls.

This project isn’t without significant controversy. 

The 1964 Venice Charter states that “Items of sculpture, painting, or decoration which form an integral part of a monument may only be removed if this is the sole means of ensuring their preservation.” And that “the valid contribution of all periods to the building of a monument must be respected.”

The windows of Viollet-le-Duc should not be removed or replaced, but we can still appreciate the designs of Claire Tabouret. 

Painted examples of each window was on view at the Grand Palais until March 10. Each set of four tall windows features a scene set before the grisaille windows of Gérente. A blending of the old and the new. 

Saint Joseph, the apostles gather after praying for 50 days 

Sainte Clotilde, a wave of light and color, and the “sounds of many waters”. 

Sainte Vincent de Paul, the sudden breath and movement of the spirit and wind blowing through the tree. 

Sainte Geneviève, the Virgin Mary, with hair down and arms raised up. Twelve flames refer to Pentecost. 

Saint Denis, Mary, and the apostles look up as the Holy Spirit descends. 

Saint Paul Chen, children lead a long procession representing faith, hope, and charity. Tabouret blends different cultures and periods 

The loose recreation of the Gérente windows can be seen at the top of each of the four long windows. The very top will also be replaced, but in accordance with the original design. 

The new windows designed and painted by Tabouret will be created by the Atelier Saint-Marq. The oldest atelier de vitraux, which opened in 1640, will take on the project this summer and will be installed on the 2nd anniversary on December 8, 2026

Episode 13 - The Venus de Milo

On April 8, 1820, Greek farmer Yorgos Kentrots was searching his property on the island of Mélos in the south Aegean Sea, part of the Cycladic archipelago, today’s Greece, when he uncovered the torso of a statue.  Looking for some stones to build a fence, he made a discovery that would alter the attendance of the Louvre long before the Mona Lisa and became the first celebrity of the museum.

There are many questions that surround the statue to this day, over 200 years after her discovery. Sifting through the accounts to find the most accurate information  of her discovery has been a struggle to say the least. Who created her, why is she so famous, and more importantly, who she actually is are even bigger questions we will dive into.

The small island of Mélos, which had been inhabited since 3000 BC, was known for its fine Obsidian marble. In 1820, the islands were still under Ottoman control, another important factor in how this scene will play out. What we know as Greece today was simmering, about to boil over into a Revolution that would begin on February 21, 1821, a year after the discovery of Venus.

France and the Ottoman Empire had close ties since the early 16th century, nurtured by François I.  The first Greek antiquities arrived in France in the 17th century, under Louis XIV, on behalf of the Marquis de Nointel. Under Louis XVI, the duc de Choiseul raided the many islands, taking anything he wanted. He didn’t get very far, and everything was confiscated and returned to the rightful owners. 

Napoleon cut his way through Europe, taking anything that lay in his path and damaging relations between France and many European countries. He had stayed away from the islands but his damage was widespread.

Following the fall of Bonaparte, the French military presence in Greece and the fleet in the Cyclades after 1816 focused on a diplomatic mission and rebuilding relationships.

The island's location in the south Aegean Sea and the large harbor on the route from Malta and northern Africa brought great prosperity to Mélos beginning in the 4th century BC. In the northeastern upper edge of the harbor, a large amphitheater was built overlooking the sea, surrounded by pavilions, churches, porticos, and, of course, statues.  In 1810, archaeological exploration began on the island of Mélos, and in 1814, Carl Haller von Hallerstein, on behalf of the Prince of Bavaria, excavated the amphitheater, but not the surrounding land.

On this spring day, Yorgos had walked a little over a thousand feet from his home and a short walk above the amphitheater in hopes of finding stones for a fence. Digging into the earth, he found a carved sculpture, heavily covered in dirt and a little over 3 feet tall. He took the statue home and kept it safely in his kitchen until he decided what to do. 

There are many figures that play into this moment and the ones that follow, and there doesn’t seem to be a concise decision on which one is accurate. How easy it must have been to create your own story or description of events, especially when the publication and dissemination of the details didn’t reach very far. 

Many men aligned themselves with the discovery of the Greek statue, from viewing its discovery, to purchasing and even transporting Venus to Paris. Some of the accounts weren’t released until decades after the discovery, and they were heavily embellished.

Our first, and the man most closely tied to the discovery, is Olivier Voutier, a young officer on the L’Estafette schooner that had been anchored in the Milo harbor since February 1820.  He claimed to be digging not far from Yorgos and saw the very moment she was lifted from the earth and ordered the farmer to keep digging. While he watched, he sketched her torso, lower body, draping, and two pillars. Although these drawings never saw the light of day until 1892, more than seventy years after her discovery. 

Louis Brest, vice-council of France, was told of the discovery immediately and wrote a letter to the French Ambassador of Constantinople, the Marquis de Riviére.  Charles-François de Riffardeau de Riviére was chosen in February 1815 by Louis XVIII and appointed on June 4, 1816, to help rehabilitate the relationship between France and the Ottoman Empire. Falling out of favor and almost out of a job, he was ordered to return to France, and in fear of losing his job, he thought a little gift for the king would work in his favor. 

Riviére asked his embassy secretary, Louis de Martin du Tyrac de Marcellus, who knew how to negotiate and deal with Ottoman officials, to broker a deal.

Our other player in the story, who claimed to play a large part in the discover is Jules Dumont d’Urville. In 1819, he joined the expedition to the Greek islands with Captain Pierre Henri-Gauttier du Parc. Dumont d’Urville claimed that he, not Louis Brest, was the one to alert the Marquise de Riviére of the discovery and advised him to purchase it immediately, as it would be of great glory for the French. 

Dumont d’Urville described what he saw in great detail "The statue whose two separate parts I measured was about six feet high; it represented a naked woman, whose raised left hand held an apple, and the right supported a belt skillfully draped and falling carelessly from the kidneys to the feet: moreover, they were both mutilated, and are currently detached from the body. The hair is curled from behind and held by a headband. The figure is very beautiful and would be well preserved if the tip of the nose had not been damaged. The only foot that remains is bare: the ears were pierced and had to receive pendants[4]. "

He rode the wave of this story until his death and into the afterlife. A visit to the Montparnasse cemetery in the 15th division, near the western edge, is the final resting place of the Dumont d’Urville family, who tragically died on the same day in a train accident in Meudon. I first spotted this grave years ago and noticed the Venus de Milo carved in relief on the side. She is there beside a ship with a lone figure who is pointing at the statue. Way to hold onto your story long after you are gone. 

The fight to own Venus was down to the wire. Oikonomos Verghi, a monk from Milo, said he purchased the statue from Yorgos, who discovered it.  Verghi had the statue loaded onto his ship, bound for Constantinople. 

A storm rolled in and prevented the ship from leaving the harbor, and thus one of the tallest tales of her discovery.

In 1874, Victor Jean Aicard published a piece in the Paris Temps paper and later a book based on the account of embassy secretary Marcellus and  Dumont d’Urville, and that when the statue was unearthed, she had both arms intact.  His account reached the New York Times on April 28, 1874, claiming that the statue had been dragged across the rocks in a fight for control between Ottomans and the French.  Aicard said that a battle between fifty Frenchmen against fifty Ottoman soldiers ended in a blood fight, some even say it was closer to over two hundred men that died. 

Threatened that if Venus wasn’t given to the French officials immediately, they would invade and capture the island.  In 1912, the entire episode was found to be made up, but that doesn’t stop it from being retold to this day. 

After two days of negotiations, the Ottomans agreed to sell the statue to the French ambassador for 1,000 piastres; he tossed in another 300, bringing the price to less than $50, or about $2,000 today. 

On May 25, 1820, the upper and lower bodies of Venus and a scattering of smaller pieces, including a hand holding an apple, the chignon of her hair, a forearm, and pillars, were packed and loaded onto the L’Estafette schooner and began its very slow journey to France. 

Stops in Santorini, Rhodes, and Athens, where they remained for over a month and took every chance they could to show her off before changing and moving to a larger ship In Constantinople and picking up the Marquise Riviére.

On October 29, 1820, Venus and the Marquise left his post in Constantinople and headed to Paris via Toulon, finally arriving and presenting the statue to Louis XVIII on March 1, 1821, in the Palais des Tuileries. 

The very next day, the pieces of  Venus were placed in the Musée du Louvre. Now the question was how to restore her. 42 years later, when Winged Victory was discovered in more than 115 pieces, it was difficult to determine who the statue represented. They didn’t have the same problem with Venus, which was in two large pieces that could easily be placed together. Even the pieces were easy to understand, except for the hand. 

The curator of antiquities, Charles de Clarac, and restorer Bernard Lange were the first to get their hands on the statue with a complete investigation into her condition as well as when she might have been created. 

The rules of restoration, as far back as the 17th century was to fully restore any broken part of a statue. This would change drastically after 1860, but in 1821, with the arrival of Venus, it was a heavily debated question: how to repair and recreate the new Greek treasure. 

A fight between the curator Clarac and the director Forbin, who himself had visited Milo just a few years before, when he uncovered a helmet and vase that were brought to the Louvre.  Exactly who was she, and how should she be restored?

Greek and Roman statuary of mythological figures can be very easy to decipher if they are created with their attributes. Zeus or Jupiter has an eagle and thunderbolt, Diane or Artemis has her tiara, bow, and arrow or dog, Juno or Hera has a peacock, Neptune or Poseidon has a triton, and Hermes or Mercury has a caduceus, winged shoes, and helmet.   

Venus, the goddess of love and beauty, was known to be the most beautiful goddess in the world. The mother of Cupid was the personification of beauty and the image of the perfect woman. When she was first discovered, a hand holding an apple was unearthed within a few feet of the larger pieces. In the recount of Dumont d’Urville, he said: “It represented a naked woman, whose raised left hand held an apple”. And with that statement, they called her Venus. 

One of the more famous mythological tales of Aphrodite/Venus is the great contest between Aphrodite, Paris, Athena, and Hera. A wedding feast of the gods, a golden apple inscribed “to the fairest,” was tossed into the center of the table by Eris, the goddess of discord. She was upset that she wasn’t invited to the party. 

Zeus wanted nothing to do with it and instead ordered Hermes/Mercury to take them all to Mount Ida with Paris, the Trojan prince who would have to decide which of the three goddesses was the most beautiful. He chose Aphrodite/Venus because she promised Paris that she would bring him the beautiful Helena to marry.  The story is known as the Judgment of Paris and would be the impetus of the Trojan War.

Venus is often depicted holding the golden apple, which is why our beautiful statue was given this name. However, since she was found on a Greek island, shouldn’t she actually be Aphrodite? 

Some scholars believe she actually represents Amphitrite, a Greek sea nymph and the wife of Poseidon. In 1877, a large statue of Poseidon was found in Milo, in the same area where Venus had been found 57 years earlier. Carved from the same Paros marble and roughly the same size, there is much more evidence pointing to her being Amphitrite. 

We can date the sculpture to the Hellenistic period based on the marble used and the island's great prosperity at that time. The Hellenistic period covered over 300 years from the death of Alexander the Great to the death of Cleopatra in 30 BC. It was a period when the Greek islands and culture were at their peak. It is also the same period we were blessed with the creation of Winged Victory, the true queen of the Louvre. 

Further investigation dates her having been created between 150 and 125 BC.  Winged Victory is a bit older to 200 to 175 BC. 

Michelangelo is well known for saying the stone block would tell him what it wanted to become. Massive statues sculpted from one large piece, but long before the Renaissance, these large statues were created in pieces and joined together. 

Venus was carved from two large blocks of Paros marble, a nearby island known for its translucent quality and one of the finest marbles in Greece. Her lower body was covered with draped fabric, and her upper body and head. The sculptors of the time conserved every inch of marble, which might give us some clues about her arms. Her right arm was sculpted and placed close to her body. As for her left arm, which is missing today, it would have been a separate piece attached to her shoulder with a mortise-and-tenon joint, creating a perfect fit without any glue or cement. 

Using other statues of the goddess of love as a base, the restorers imagined different scenarios of what she would have looked like.  Venus stands at 6”6’and was most likely placed inside a niche. She stands contrapposto, meaning her weight is on one leg, the other bent at the knee. This was an aesthetic choice to allow the fabric to drape and fold over her legs. 

It’s thought that her right arm rested against her stomach, holding the drapes of the fabric between her fingers. If you look closely, southwest of her belly button, you can see a rough patch where her arm would have lain.

As for the other arm, there are many hypotheses. Was it holding the golden apple like in the portion discovered? Likely not, as the fragment is of lesser quality than the statue itself. Was it straight out to her side, holding a shield, that she was looking at her reflection? Also unlikely, as her head is looking straight and not down. Could it have been resting on one of the pillars discovered nearby as well? Doubtful, as each pillar is topped with a head, and the size doesn’t line up. Many ideas drawn from other statues of Venus/Aphrodite inform the scenario. 

In the end, they showed great restraint in her restoration, an uncommon practice at the time. Instead of adding in their own interpretation of the statue, they left her as she was discovered with the smallest bit of surgery.  The tip of her nose, lower lip, big toe of her left foot, a few of the edges on the folds, and her right foot were restored or replaced in record time. Louis XVIII wanted her on display as quickly as possible. 

Held together in the center by metal rods of her upper body, which slide into two mortises of her lower body. Her body went through a lot between its discovery and transport to the various boats and arrival in Paris. Considering her age, she was in relatively good condition. Close up, you can really see the damage on her upper back and near her stomach of layers of stone that have disappeared. 

A portion of a base with Greek lettering that was found near her was believed by the men who found her to include the name of the artist. Incomplete and missing the first letters, it reads “andros son Menides, from the city of Antioch of the Meander made.” 

It wasn’t until quite recently in the scope of time that artists began to sign their work. Prior to the Renaissance, in art and architecture, it was more about the person who commissioned or donated it. This is why we still don’t know the name of the first architect of  Notre Dame de Paris, but we know it was paid for by Maurice de Sully.  

Obviously, the artist had to be talented, but it wasn’t about the celebrity of the artist. That all changed during the Renaissance, and it’s still difficult to find many paintings from that period with signatures. For statuary, signatures appeared in the 17th century.  

In the 2nd century BC, Venus/Aphrodite wasn’t just the representation of beauty and the ideal woman; she was also decked out in jewelry. This might be my favorite part of the story.  As far back as the 5th century BC, the figures weren’t just statuettes of white marble in a corner; they were painted and even bejeweled. 

Rosy cheeks, red lips, blonde hair, and wrapped in red fabric? Was that what Venus looked like? We actually don’t know, but that’s how I would color her. Under even the most powerful xrays they have never found any remains of color. 

However, we can see that she loved a bit of jewelry.  Hard to see from the ground, but her hair, pulled back into a chignon, is held by a thin headband. Four small holes suggest that gold or bronze jewelry was once attached, perhaps even a diadem tiara. Sadly, her earlobes are broken, but if you look closely at her left earlobe, you can see a hole where pendant earrings once hung. The easiest to see is on her right arm. Just above the cut of her arm, two distinct holes remain where an upper arm bracelet would have been attached.

The biggest question might be, Why is she so famous? Much like the Mona Lisa, it's based a bit more on circumstances than on the art itself. 

There are many men who inserted themselves into her story, but it was one man who never laid eyes on her who, in a roundabout way, created the global celebrity that is Venus de Milo. As Napoleon Bonaparte rose in power and marched through Europe, he took anything he wanted. Paintings, sculptures, manuscripts, and books, anything and left treaties behind claiming it was on the up and up. In 1814, after his fall and before his return, the countries and the Pope came calling, demanding the return of their treasures. 

In the following few years,  95% of the items he had taken were returned. The 5% that remained was given as a gift to France by Italy and the Pope, or traded for, like Vernoes’s Wedding Feast at Cana. 

By 1821, the rumor had spread throughout the world that the Louvre was filled with stolen items, which wasn’t true by that time. Fast forward 90 years to 1911, and an Italian glass worker, spending his days at the Louvre placing glass over paintings, has an idea to take an Italian painting back to his homeland because he thinks all of them have been stolen. I have even had friends who thought this was true, and we are 200 years after the fact.

In 1821, people didn’t want to come to the Louvre because they thought everything was stolen, so the Louvre had a PR disaster on its hands. Oh, for it to be that simple again. 

Greek antiquities, especially those of the Hellenistic period, were just beginning to see the light of day in museums. Roman copies of Greek statues had already been transported across Europe, including to Versailles and the Musée du Louvre. But an actual Greek sculpture, one left in the form in which she was discovered, was a big deal.

Suddenly, the Louvre realized this and, over the next thirty years, began creating copies of her in various sizes, selling photographs and books featuring her likeness, and sending them across Europe and the Western world.  At the same time as the discovery of Venus in 1820, the era of transatlantic travel by ship from North America really began. A perfect storm of circumstances.

By 1874, the numerous altered versions of her story, especially those contributed by Victor Jean Aicard, spread far and wide, as in the NYT article of April 28, 1874. This gathered even more fame surrounding our armless heroin 

The new star of the Louvre was hard at first to work into the collection of antiquities, mostly dedicated to Roman statuary. She was first placed in the Museum of Antiquities, created under Napoleon Bonaparte, and then in the summer apartments of Anne of Austria from May 1821 to April 1822.  The rooms were far too crowded for our goddess, so she was moved to the Salle Diana, where she remained until her move to her forever home, the Salle Tiber, later renamed the Salle Venus de Milo.  Once placed on a rotating base, she spun, allowing people to take her in without moving. T

Today, she remains in this room, which gets natural light from the sun mid-morning, flooding the red Languduc marble walls. A few items also found on Milo are in a nearby case, including a hand holding an apple, part of an arm, and a foot with a sandal and three pillars. 

Just past her is a fantastic painting by Joseph Warlencourt, painted in 1824, showing Venus in the room she remains in until this day. 

On the first floor in the Salle des Verres, just past the Gallerie d’Apollon, look up at the painting by Jean-Baptiste Mauzaisse, Le Temps, showing the ruins he brings and the masterpieces he leaves to discover, 1822.

She is found again in the ceiling of the Salon Denon, just outside of the Salle des États, home of the Mona Lisa. On the west side, the allegory of Taste holds Venus in her hand. 

Venus has inspired many artists since her discovery.  Theodore Chasseriau, Cézanne, and Eugène Delacroix are just a few who sketched her many times. Delacroix had never visited Greece, but the Revolution that began as soon as she arrived had everyone captivated and on the side of the Greek people. In 1823,  he painted the large Massacre at Scio painting held in the Louvre just across from Liberty Leading the People.  Look closely at Liberty. Does she remind you of anyone?  Delacroix was inspired by the draping, stance, her strong face, and of course the bare breasts and idea of what her arm might be holding. 

Napoleon III declared war on Prussia on July 18, 1870. By the end of August, the Louvre decided to remove the most important works from the museum for safety. In the first evacuation of its kind, but not the last. One hundred twenty-three crates were shipped to Brest in Brittany in the first convoy and would continue for months. Venus remained behind in the Louvre, but as the siege entered Paris and created chokepoints on all routes in or out, they had to find a new hiding place for Venus.  

In the dark of night on January 6, 1871, Venus slowly made her escape from the Louvre to the nearby Prefecture at the Palais de Justice on ile de la Cité

Placed in a hidden coridor she was covered in plaster, and a brick wall was built to hide her. Clever workers rubbed the wall with garbage to look like it had always been there, stacked piles and boxes of documents, and then built another wall. The thought was that if they broke through the wall, they would discover the documents and then move on. 

The Siege came to an end on January 28, and just when the art was about to return to the Louvre one of the most destructive periods in Paris history began. On May 21 and for the next ten days, the Communards set fire and destroyed many of the government buildings within the center of the city. 

On May 23, the Palais des Tuileries was torched, and the fire reached the Grande Galerie and was quickly contained. In July, it was time to remove Venus from her hiding place at the Prefecture. During her seven-month slumber, a water pipe had been leaking over her head and had slowly softened the plaster that covered her as well as the plaster used to join her upper body to her legs in 1821 after her arrival in Paris. 

Once she returned safely to the Louvre the 2nd restoration began, the base and the plaster left foot was removed but plaster and even two new large metal dowels were drilled into her body where she was attached. This would all be fixed in her 3rd restoration in 2009.

This was all a test run for what would happen again in 1914 with the advent of World War I. At the end of August, the most important pieces of art were once again packed up as the Great War began. Venus and more than 900 other works of art were packed in crates in a frenzied few days and taken to the Gare d’Austerlitz to be taken to the large Église de Jacobins in Toulouse as German planes flew above Paris. Venus returned once again in December 1918, but her biggest move was yet to come. 

The evacuations of 1870 and 1914 paled in comparison to what the Louvre would go through in 1939. Once again, it was the last week of August when the Louvre would close, and hundreds of people from the École du Louvre, department stores, and the Louvre staff quickly removed the art from the walls and built crates for the statues. Beginning September 1, convoys left the Louvre day and night, but Venus and her friends, Winged Victory and the Dying Slaves, remained securely in the Louvre. 

When they realized the intentions of Hitler and his greedy henchmen, they decided the rest of the Louvre needed to be emptied.  At the end of October on the 29th, Victory, Venus, and the Slaves left in a convoy of 29 trucks for the Chateau de Valencay in the Loire. Former curator Gérald van der Kemp oversaw the precious items, including the Crown Jewels, stored in a hidden wall safe. 

The week before the Liberation of Paris, the Venus de Milo and other works almost became the subject of a tragic event. Between August 10 and 16, the German SS officers and the Milice members, made up of extreme French and European members, came to a head with the FFI and resistance in front of the chateau. Curator André Leroi-Gourhan asked them to move on, but they didn’t take kindly to the suggestion. They eventually broke in and set fire to the stables located next to a small building where Venus was stored. The fire was quickly extinguished as it reached the roof. Four days later, they returned and entered the chateau to question Van der Kemp about his involvement with the FFI. He admitted they were hiding Venus here, and the FFI was helping to protect the treasures. 

The Nazi soldier said they weren’t interested in art and went on their way. Had that been a year or two before, Venus, Victory, the Dying Slaves of Michel Ange, and the Crown Jewels could have been taken. 

On June 29, 1945, Van der Kemp himself drove the truck holding the statues back to the Louvre and they were once again on display on July 10, 1945, within the Louvre.
Venus left the Louvre one more time, less than twenty years later, this time on a diplomatic mission. In 1963, the same year the Mona Lisa traveled across the Atlantic to DC and New York, Venus was going to visit Tokyo.  André Malraux orchestrated the visit of the Greek statue in recognition of the Tokyo Summer Olympics.  

Packed carefully with straw, cardboard, rubber, and encased in lead in a wooden crate, she left Marseilles on the high seas. A month later, she arrived in Tokyo after a ship, train, and finally a truck. Upon arrival, four pieces had broken off: three were plaster from her 1821 reconstruction, and one was an original marble piece from her draped fabric.  Displayed at the National Museum of Western Art in Tokyo starting April 8, 1964, and then to the National Museum in Kyoto. On August 3, 1964, she was safely back within the marble walls of the Louvre. 

Episode 12 - Renior, the Sunday Painter

On February 25, 1841, Pierre-Auguste Renoir was born in Limoges, France, into a large family.  Moving to Paris in 1844, the Renoir’s lived on the Rue de la Bibliothèque, steps away from the Louvre. The street was removed during the construction of the Rue de Rivoli, where the Fondation Cartier is today. 

At just 13, he entered Lévy Frères porcelain co as an apprentice, learning to paint tiny floral elements on porcelain to help support his family.  In the evenings, he took free drawing lessons from sculptor Louis-Denis Caillouette. He would go on to paint fans and window blinds and work with his brother Henri, who painted heraldic coats of arms.  Throughout his adolescence, he also took singing and music lessons and once thought that would be the creative direction he would take, but, as we know, it was not. 

In 1860, he entered the Musée du Louvre as a copyist, where he was drawn to Renoir, Watteau, and Boucher, artists who would have a major impact on future Impressionists.  I am often asked what time in history I would want to travel back to, and I think it would be the 19th century, and of course, to be inside the Louvre. Manet, Morisot, Monet, Degas, Sisley, Renoir, and so many more spent their days in the Louvre copying the paintings of the masters as they perfected their own technique. 

Self Portrait 1875

In 1843, Swiss artist Charles Greyer taught classes at the École des Beaux-Arts and opened his own studio on the Rue de Vaugirard, blocks from the Jardin du Luxembourg. In 1861, Renoir walked through his door and met fellow artists Claude Monet, Frederic Bazille, and Alfred Sisley

Renoir and Sisley ventured out to the forest of Fontainebleau, painting landscapes, but unlike his fellow future Impressionsts he didn’t take the countryside and en plein air painting. A close friendship with Claude Monet led the two artists to paint together, including portraits of each other. A Renoir portrait of Monet is often on display on the 5th floor of the Orsay. 

Renoir's first submission to the academic Salon was in 1863 and was quickly rejected, as were most of the soon-to-be Impressionists. The same year, artists' complaints reached Napoleon III, who commissioned a new exhibition, the Salon des Refusés.  In 1864, accepted for his painting of Esmeralda from Victor Hugo's Notre Dame de Paris. Immediately after the exhibition, he destroyed it as it was critically panned.

 In 1865, the jurists of the Salon relaxed the rules and accepted a few more Impressionists, including Manet’s Olympia and Renoir's, Portrait of Madame M.W.S., and Summer Evening.  In 1868, he exhibited in the Salon at the Musée du Louvre.  Lise with a Parasol appeared but brought him very little recognition. After a decade of strife, the famed Salon began to fight back against the Impressionists, and in response, they banded together to create their own show, the Impressionist Exhibition of 1874.  

On December 27, 1873, Renoir and his fellow snubbed artists met for the first time to organize an exhibit of their works. The Société Anonyme des artistes peintres, sculpteurs, graveurs, etc., was a group of artists who were being turned away from the official Salon. In the spring, the first exhibition of the artists would be held at 35 Boulevard des Capucines, in the former studio of the photographer Nadar.

On April 15, 1874, thirty-one artists exhibited, including Renoir, Monet, Degas, Pissarro, Sisley, Cézanne, and Morisot, but not Manet. The exhibit ran for one month, concluding on May 15, and 3,510 visitors mostly visited to make fun of the event. Renoir exhibited six paintings and a pastel, including La Danseuse and La Parisienne, that opened the exhibit. Both figures, seen head to toe, something Renoir rarely did in portraits, have a softness that Renoir captured so well. 

Renoir was one of the few artists who continued to participate and be accepted at the Academic Salon and Impressionist exhibits. 

The early years spent in the Louvre influenced his paintings and resurrected the “galanterie” style of the Rococo period. 

Watteau, Voyage to Cythera

Growing up during the reign of Napoleon III as president, then Emperor, and the extravagance of the Second Empire led to the Siege of Prussia and the Commune that brought incredible hardship for everyone. 

On August 26, 1870, Renoir was drafted into the 10th regiment of the French Army in the Franco-Prussian War, serving until March 10, 1871. Following the fall of Napoleon III and the Bloody Week of the Commune in May 1871, Paris slowly crawled out of the darkness into the Belle Époque. Everything began to change. 

Parisians returned to the cafes and music halls once again. There was a lightness to the city, and the social rules began to relax. 

The year 1876 was a few years into what we call the Belle Epoque, the beautiful era in France. The gayest of times in Paris. Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris depicts the period at Maxime’s with Gauguin and Toulouse-Lautrec living it up at a can-can. Traveling back to that night, Adriana says it was the best time to be in Paris, and she wanted to stay. 

One hundred and fifty years ago, in the spring of 1876, Renoir rented a house on the slope of th Butte Montmartre, behind Sacré-Cœur, on the Rue Cortot. Today, it is the Musée de Montmartre, and you can visit and step right into one of his famous paintings, La Balançoire (The Swing), which was painted in the Jardin Renoir. The location was chosen by the artists for its proximity to the Moulin de la Galette, a guinguette just five minutes away. 

In the 17th & 18th centuries, the hill of Montmartre, outside the city of Paris, was covered with more than 30 windmills used to grind flour, pepper and spices. As early as 1622, on the rue Lepic that snakes up the hill, two windmills sat. The Bluefin and Radet. In 1809, the Debray family purchased the plot of land that stretched a few blocks further than the restaurant sits today. 

The Radet windmill, which still stands today, has been in many places on the hill. Dismantled and moved a few times, including once by the Debay family, who moved it into a garden, and again in 1924, when it became nothing more than a decoration installed on the roof of the restaurant. 

Head down Rue Lepic a few doors, and you will find a white stone wall that holds back the lush green trees and bushes. Rarely open to the public, the garden hides the Moulin Blue-Fin inside and shows how far the guingette stretched and was filled with artists and working-class residents of Montmartre on Sunday afternoons. 

Nicolas-Charles Debray turned the slightly run-down location into the Bal Debray in 1833. Each Sunday afternoon, people would gather and eat small cakes made from the flour of the mill with a glass of donkey milk. The attraction became quite popular, featuring music and dance lessons, and the milk eventually gave way to the wine made nearby. A platform was built by Moulin Blue-Fin, where they could even take in all of Paris while listening to the music below. 

Only open on Sundays and public holidays, everyone from van Gogh to Toulous Lautrec and the dancers of the Moulin Rouge could be found. The weekly event was a break from the once-rigid rules of society. Women were now seen dancing with men they weren’t married to and even arriving on their own. Something they couldn’t do on the streets of Paris. A new “free love” and a new way for people to meet were beginning to emerge in Paris and would find its way onto the canvases of Renoir. 

Many had painted the famous windmill include Vincent van Gogh and Maurice Utrillo, but Renoir captured a different view without the blades. 

In his young formative years, Renoir often visited the largest painting in the Louvre by Veronese, the Wedding Feast at Cana. Painted in 1563, Veronese filled the large canvas with as many figures as possible against an architectural background.  Of the more than 130 figures, we see Christ in the center, but Veronese purposely didn’t leave a legend of the whos who. It was also the paintings of Watteau who captured the scenes of the “fetes galantes” of the Rococo period of excess and pleasure under the Regency and later Louis XV. The famous Voyage to Cythera, painting by Watteau in 1717, combined with the idea of the Wedding Feast rootted an idea within Renoir. 

n the late spring of 1876, Renoir set up a large canvas and an easel on a staircase overlooking the garden under the moulin and painted a scene of his friends enjoying a sunny Sunday afternoon. The current exhibit at the Orsay, which just opened on March 17th, has done a great job of sharing more insight on three of his group paintings.  

In the Bal du Moulin de la Galette, he captured the Sunday afternoon gathering of his fellow artists enjoying a day of drinks, dances, and dancers as far as you can see. Models Margot and Jeanne, who also posed for The Swing, and her sister Estelle, in a blue striped dress, modeled the numerous female figures.  For the many male figures, artists Georges Rivière, Henri Gervex, Franc-Lamy, and Norbert Goeneutte, who also posed for The Swing. Journalist, close friend, and frequent model Paul Lhote, as well as Pierre-Eugene Lestringuez, all stand out in this masterpiece by Renoir. 

Look closely at the main figures; Renoir purposely connected them to each other through a glance or touch. In 1879, his brother Edmond said that “Auguste would settle down there for six months, building relationships with all the people of this little world, and their unique style… he will convey its frenzied motion with dazzling energy.”

Renoir showed it at the 3rd Impressionist Exhibition in 1877. No. 186 in the catalog received a lukewarm reception. Later that same year, wealthy artist, friend, and supporter of the Impressionists, Gustave Caillebotte, purchased the painting and kept it in his studio until his death in 1894, when his collection, or at least part of it, was accepted by the French State. 

A recent acquisition of the Orsay of a self-portrait of Caillebotte, painted in 1879, includes a partial view of the Moulin painting in the background. This painting stayed within the family until sold at public auction in 1986 

With his friend Claude Monet, Renoir would often visit the many lakes, ponds, and rivers surrounding Paris. His Impressionist friends would paint the scenery devoid of people, while he liked to imagine the banks of the Seine, or an island, filled with people enjoying a lazy, warm afternoon. In the 1870s, he discovered Chatou, the small town west of Paris, across the river from Reuil-Malmaison, with a small island that sits in the Seine.  In 1837, the train line from Paris extended out to Chatou, opening the area to boating enthusiasts and artists. Between 1875 and 1881, Renoir produced thirty paintings, including his most famous, Le Déjeuner des Canotiers (Luncheon of the Boating Party). 

In 1857, Alphonse Fournaise struck while the iron was hot and bought a small building on the island we know today as l’Île des Impressionnistes, to build and rent boats from. Over the years, he added to the house, including a restaurant and hotel, with the help of his wife and children.

Renoir discovered the island and wrote to friends saying it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen. Frequenting staying in the Fournaise hotel and bringing friends to model for him, including the entire Fournaise family. 

The balcony of the restaurant, with its tomato-red and white-striped awning, was added in 1877 and immortalized in Renoir’s painting.  The well-known scene of figures follows the end of a long, leisurely Sunday lunch. Unlike the Moulin de la Galette, Renoir had not set up his canvas on the balcony for endless days, forcing his figures to hold the same pose; instead, it was pieced together one figure at a time, and we would never know that by looking at it. 

Leaning on the railing are the owner's two children, Alphonse Jr and Alphonsine Fournaise. Aline Charigot, model and future wife of Renoir, plays with her dog at the table with model Ellen Andrée and a man who could be Gustave Caillebotte, while journalist Adrien Maggiolo leans over, rather closely. 

Seated at the table behind with his back to the viewer is Raoul Baron Barbier, and model Angèle. Standing above, left to right, are poet and art critic Jules Laforgue and Charles Ephrussi, a wealthy banker, collector, and supporter of Renoir, who commissioned many paintings, including one of his daughter, stolen by the Nazis in WWII, and with quite a story. There are a few familiar characters that also posed for the Moulin painting, including Pierre Lestringuez, Paul Lhote and Jeanne Samary. 

Again, he creates groups within the piece that interact with each other, giving it the very realistic look of an after-lunch gathering and perhaps a few bottles of rosé. 

The painting was purchased on February 14, 1881, by Paul Durand-Ruel and featured at the 7th Impressionist Exhibition in March 1882. It remained with Durand-Ruel until his death in 1922 and was purchased the next year by Duncan Phillips and is held in the Phillips Collection in Washington DC. 

The boating excursions took a hit at the advent of the bicycle at the end of the 19th century, drastically damaging the Fournaise business. The restaurant would close in 1905, and after the death of Alphonsine Fournaise in 1937, the property was split into rental units and fell into disrepair. The city of Chatou stepped in and purchased the building in 1979, saving it from destruction and continuing its heritage. 

You can visit the fantastic restaurant at the Maison Fournaise on the Île des Impressionists, sit on the balcony, and see the same view that has barely changed in one hundred and forty-six years. Take a walk under the beautiful blooming wisteria and find a handful of plaques placed in the same location Renoir once painted, including a rendition of the piece, many of which are on display at the exhibit. 

Most visitors are excited to see the Boating Party, which rarely leaves DC, but the one I had to find as soon as I walked in was the third of Renoir's trio of paintings, painted in 1883, known as The Dances.  I was first drawn to these paintings after researching Suzanne Valadon's life many years ago. The model-turned-artist who had quite a time in Montmartre, modeling for Toulouse-Lautrec, Jean-Jacques Henner, Berthe Morisot, Théophile Steinlin to name a few, and a lengthy roster of lovers. 

She first met Renoir in 1882 in Montmartre. The two would spend endless days in his apartment on Rue Saint Georges, and there might have been a more romantic involvement as well. Renoir imagined three life-size paintings featuring two figures dancing in different settings, inspired by his own Moulin de la Galette, painted six years earlier. Suzanne was originally going to pose for all three, but there was a bit of a disagreement with Aline, the then mistress but future wife of Renoir. 

In the very elegant Dance in the City, Suzanne’s back is turned to us, showing the details of her beautiful, billowy white dress. The very formal setting of a high-society event includes only the couple, unlike the more informal paintings in the series.  Paul Lhote, a close friend of Renoir, also appears in each of the group paintings I shared today, posing as the tall gentleman whose face is hidden. 

Two of these paintings are held in the permanent collection of the Orsay. The Dance in the City and the Dance in the Country. In the Country, our female dancer is looking out and appears more engaged with someone in the distance. Renoir wasn’t known for his dancing abilities, but his mistress, Aline, loved to dance under the trees of the many guingettes of Paris. Jean Renoir recalls the story his father once told him about watching her dance for hours, and it brought him true happiness. 

In the Dance in the Country, which looks like it was straight out of the Moulin de la Galette, Aline dances with model Paul Lhote, revealing a bit more of his face. The two appear to have just finished their lunch on a balcony where the music sweeps them into a dance. His hat is discarded on the floor, and a female figure watches from below. 

The third painting in the series, the Dance at Bougival, was first called the Dance at Chatou before it was displayed, and it now lives in Boston at the Museum of Fine Arts. It had always been my dream to see the three together, and that dream comes true in this exhibit. 

The Dance at Bougival was the last to be done, and missed the exhibition at the Durand-Ruel gallery in April 1883. The couple are captured mid-spin and held tightly together while others behind them enjoyed a chat, drink, and smoke on a warm autumn day. The female model is a bit of both Suzanne and Aline combined, and the male figure is thought to be Alphonse Fournaise Jr. Take a look back at the Boating party at the figure at the railing, the two both share the same reddish beard. The yellow straw hat we saw discarded in the Dance in the County is now on the male dancer's head.

Aline was a bit fed up with the lovely Suzanne in his studio for days and weeks on end, and one day walked in and attacked the painting, almost destroying it. Renoir had to recreate much of it and changed the face to look a little less like Suzanne. 

The fantastic exhibits held at the Musée d’Orsay this year, dedicated to Renoir and Love, featuring the paintings I mentioned, are wonderful. However, do not miss the second exhibit dedicated to his drawings. 

Of the three dances, Renoir only sketched out one of them, Dance in the Country. Many variations of Lhote’s hair and Aline's face were made with the smallest changes. 

In November 1883, Renoir recreated the Dance in Bougival for Paul Lhote’s story, Mademoiselle Zélia, in La Vie Moderne, with slight changes to the figures. Many of these graphite drawings and the actual printing of Mademoiselle Zélia are on display, and I urge you not to skip it. The drawings exhibit is even better than the paintings exhibit. 

Orsay Renoir exhibits Renoir and Love until July 19 and Drawings until July 5 

Episode 11 - La Fontaine Medici

The city of Paris is filled with thousands of stone buildings that line its historic streets and boulevards. In the mid-19th century, under Emperor Napoleon III and Baron Haussmann, the city was transformed. Streets were widened, buildings adopted a unifying design aesthetic, and every neighborhood would have a green oasis in the shadows of its limestone facades. 

The once-large Hotel Particulares, owned by a singular family, would become multiple apartments, some very small with little space to gather and relax. In Napoleon III's plan, he wanted a park within a ten-minute walk of every neighborhood. Some are quite small with a singular bench, like the Jardin Alice Saunier Seïté on the Rue Visconti, the smallest in Paris. Then there are the larger parks: the Jardin des Tuileries, the Bois de Boulogne, and, most beautiful of all, the Jardin du Luxembourg. 

I first discovered the Left Bank garden on my first trip to Paris a decade ago. With a few of the photos my grandfather took in the 1970s and 80s, I would walk through the garden looking for the same thing he captured on those early spring and autumn mornings. It was September 20, 2016, that I first discovered and sat under the historic plane trees of the Fontaine Medici, taking in the ivy swags, cascading water, and the dotted sunlight through the leaves. At that very moment, I knew I had to return and, dare I dream, live in Paris. 

The Jardin du Luxembourg was created under Marie de Medici, the Florentine wife of King Henri IV. After his death on May 14, 1610, she wanted to create a home that reminded her of her childhood in Florence, at the Medici Palazzo Pitti and its Boboli Gardens. 

Purchasing the land in 1611, once owned by the Duc de Luxembourg, which seemed far from the walls of the Palais du Louvre, Marie first asked Italian architects to create a palace reminiscent of the Pitti. Serving as the Regent of France while Louis XIII was too young to rule, her advisors recommended that it wasn’t the best idea for the head of France to use foreign designers. 

In turn, she sent French architects to Florence to soak up everything they could, then returned to Paris to bring her vision to life. The palace would take quite some time, and Marie never saw it fully finished, as she was often sent away from Paris because she was constantly at odds with her son, Louis XIII, and plotting to end Richelieu's power over him. In the end, she lost when Louis sent her away on “vacation,” which really was an exile. She died in Cologne on July 3, 1642, ten months before Louis XIII died. 

The garden came to life in 1612 under Jacques Boyceau, gardener to Henri IV and Marie, who would have a great influence on the early work of Andre Le Nôtre, who often gets credit for the great gardens of Paris and Versailles. Keeping with the classic French style of very deliberate placement and adding low, boxed shrubs to create spaces for colorful flowers. 

While the garden, even today, is heavily influenced on French design, one aspect is very Italian: the fountain or its first intention, the grotto of Marie de Medici, just east of the palace. 

In the 16th and 17th centuries, running water for decorative fountains, or even for water fountains, wasn’t a high priority. While the city was born in the center of the Seine, capturing the water was a different story. Under Henri IV, the Samaritan pump was built at the Pont Neuf to bring water to the Louvre and the right bank, but it didn’t have the power to reach Marie’s garden. 

In 1612, the project for what would go by many names, including the Medici Acqueduct, began in the Val-de-Marne region. Louis XIII laid the first stone on July 17, 1613, but it would take fifteen years for the water to flow into the Jardin du Luxembourg. This is partially why the beautiful oasis we call the Fontaine Medici today was once just an Italian grotto, and the basin we know today was only created in the 1860’s.

Marie’s distant cousin, the former Queen Catherine de Medici, commissioned the Palais des Tuileries in 1564 after the death of her husband, Henri II, on July 10, 1559. The palace, once considered outside Paris, included a large garden and a grotto created by Bernard Palissy, a great naturalist and ceramist of the 16th century, whose work remains relevant today.

Not to be outdone, the next Florentine Medici wanted her own country estate and grotto, although with her own taste. Marie was able to skirt the rules a bit when asking Florentine garden designer and engineer Tommaso Francini to create a fountain for her. Once the designer to her uncle Ferdinand I de Medici, he was brought to Paris by Henri IV in 1599, a year before he ever intended to marry a Medici himself. Francini and his two brothers moved to France and became French citizens, and worked on Saint Germain-en-Laye, Fontainebleau, Saint Cloud, and the Luxembourg, where his engineering of water came in handy.

The original fountain sat against a wall that formed the eastern edge of the garden, about 98 feet from its current location. It was aligned with the southern edge of the palace and stretched to what is today Boulevard Saint Michel. It was much wider, with niches that extended on either side of the current configuration we know, and topped with decorative urns and fire pots that weren’t able to survive the 18th-century Revolution. 

Francini worked with Solomon de Brosse, often identified as Jacques, who carried out the work and added the most Italianate moniker of the “frosting” or dripping water to just about every surface of the grotto. Tuscan columns that are a bit larger on the bottom than at the top, while banded columns were reserved for the palace itself. 

In the very center above the niche, the personal arms of Marie de Medici were added. The left holding the dots or coins of the Medici family, and the right holding the fleur-de-lis reserved for the royal Bourbons. Normally, the Medici side also has large banned stripes, and it’s unknown if the original relief held that or not, since it was destroyed in the Revolution. 

On either side are allegories of the Seine and Rhone, specifically chosen by Marie. On the left, a water nymph representing the Seine, and on the right, a water god of the Rhone with a cornucopia of produce found along its banks. Both by Pierre II Biard. 

Marie never saw her fountain filled with water, and after her exile, it was given to her other son, Gaston, the Grand Monsieur. It then passed to his daughter Anne-Marie Montpensier, the Grande Mademoiselle, who was once the richest woman in Europe. It then went to her younger sister, Elisabeth, who, in turn, gave it to Louis XIV. It remained under the crown until the Revolution, when, in 1799, it became the seat of the Senate of France and remains so to this day. 

During the Revolution, the fountain wall was attacked and the royal markings removed, and the statues of the Seine and Rhone were badly damaged. The palace itself had been used as a prison during the Terror and held Jacques Louis David behind its lavish walls. At the start of the 19th century, Napoleon ordered the palace and gardens restored. 

Architect Jean-Francois Chalgrin restored the damaged elements with sculptor Claude Ramey bringing the Seine water nymph back to life, and Francisque Duret was  tasked with the Rhone. They opted not to recreate the arms of Marie de Medici and added a statue of Venus into the central niche. 

The largest transformation would take place between 1860 and 1862, under Haussmann and Napoleon III.  As they carved through the city, widening the streets, the fountain was directly in the crosshairs. The plan was to destroy it, but a few thousand Parisians took offense and stood their ground. A tense few years of fighting resulted in the entire fountain being taken apart stone by stone and moved. The adjoining walls would not be so lucky or the building it stood against, but I think we won in the end. 

Architect Alphonse de Gisors led the project as well as the restoration of the palace, Theatre l’Odeon, and the Observatory. You can say this entire area around the garden looks the way it does because of Gisors. 

Once the fountain was reconstructed in its new location, the one we know today, de Gisors returned the arms of Marie de Medici, as well as topping it with the Bourbon crown. It was at this time that the fountain’s wildest dreams came true, and water flowed from the base into the large basin before it. 

While the elements dating to Marie returned, new additions were added, rounding out the decoration of the facade. 

It’s hard to miss the center statuary of Polyphemus  Surprising Galetea in the arms of Acis”. Depicting the mythological story of the cyclops giant Polyphemus, who is in love with the marine nymph Galatea, whose heart belongs to the Sicilian shepherd Acis. The story has been told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses and in countless plays and operas. 

In white Carrara marble, Galatea lies in the arms of Acis, who has his left hand on his panpipes; perhaps he is about to play her a little tune. Above Polyphemus in bronze looks down on the lovers. His left hand is reaching out to what we can imagine to be a large stone he will remove from Mount Etna and strike the young shepherd, killing him in his fit of jealousy, or maybe a reaction to his pan pipe. 

The beautiful Galatea is devastated and cries and screams out to the gods. Neptune and other water nymphs arrive and bring Acis back to life, but as a river running red at the base of Mount Etna. Acis would be immortal, and Galatea would visit and lie by the water every day for the rest of her life. The river would be named Acis, and its modern name is Jaci, although it no longer runs red. 

The story became quite popular and was performed at Versailles at the court of Louis XV, with the beautiful Madame de Pompadour playing the lovely Galatea. 

The piece was created by Auguste Louis Marie Ottin in 1866, and the two figures were added on either side. On the left, Faunus, god of the forest and father of Acis, holds a pan flute and looks on at the nude couple. On the right, Diane, the goddess of hunting and of the moon,is  one of my favorites. 

Today, it’s hard to imagine the fountain without them, but when the finished fountain was revealed in 1867, the naked marble couple offended many, causing one outraged gentleman to throw a bottle of black ink, striking and covering them in ink. 

When you visit Paris, be sure to walk around to the back of this lovely, lush garden and fountain.

The Medici Fountain wasn’t the only one on the brink of destruction at the start of the 1860s. Thousands of homes, structures, and fountains were under the wrecking ball of Haussmann, including a small fountain not far from the Jardin du Luxembourg. 

During the reign of Marie de Médicis, an aqueduct was extended to the southern bank of Paris. Napoleon Bonaparte brought water to the people. On May 2, 1806 ,he signed a decree that water should flow day and night at the fountains of Paris.  He also had more than twenty fountains added, including the Fountain of the Rue de Regard. The fountain was built in 1636 and fed from the same aqueduct as the Medici fountain, and was demolished in 1792. 

Napoleon ordered a new fountain in 1806, and sculptor Achille Valois was chosen to create a bas-relief design for the small structure. Vallois had his idea for the budget he needed, and the city official had their own idea, which included a smaller number, almost half of what the artist wanted. 

Negotiations went on for over a year, and Valois only backed down when he was threatened with rescinding the entire commission and choosing another artist. Vallois had already started on the project and gave in, making the 5375 francs work instead of the 8742 francs he had asked for. 

Vallois was heavily influenced by the Renaissance master Jean Goujon, who created the Fontaine des Innocents as well as the Louvre of Henri II, and incorporated the same feeling into his bas-relief.

Leda and the Swan, from Greek mythology, was a couple adored by many artists since the Renaissance, especially sculptors. At times, the scene can be quite risque and not for the younger viewers, but this one keeps it pretty low-key until you know the story. 

Léda was a beautiful mortal Spartan queen whom Zeus saw and wanted. The Greek gods couldn’t appear before a mortal in their god-like form, so he had to transform himself into a creature. Zeus chose the elegant swan and appeared before the lovely Léda, who was lying on the banks of the Eurotas River.

She was clearly taken by the sultry swan, and the two had a romantic encounter. Later that same day, she also slept with her husband. The story continues on many months later when the lovely Léda gives birth to two large eggs. One of which has a set of twins of Zeus, Helen and Pollux, and the other a set of twins of her husband, King Tyndareus, Castor and Clytemnestra.  

Zeus’ daughter, Helen, later known as Helen of Troy, was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. Often a subject of art, Jacques-Louis David captures her in his painting, "Helen & Paris," at the Louvre.  Her brother Polydeuces, more often known as Pollux, and his half-brother Castor are also the Gemini twins, stars in the sky, and once the namesakes of the two elephants at the Jardin des Plantes, which didn’t have a very storybook ending during the Commune of 1871. 

Castor, the son of King Tyndareus and his sister Clytemnestra, was remembered for having two husbands and a penchant for ending the lives of men, who were both mortal but raised with their half-mortal siblings. 

A few years ago, Léda was making the rounds of the outraged on the internet when they wanted to “cancel” the story of the woman attacked by a man. However, I think we need to keep the entire story in mind and remember that it included a swan and gave birth to two large eggs with two different fathers. 

Everyone from Leonard da Vinci to Cézanne has reimagined the scene, and she has even taken to the runways of Paris in the 2021 Dior show. 

In the Vallois version, the beautiful Léda is depicted within the reeds and tall grasses of the river Eurotas, and Zeus, as the swan, lies on her lap, his neck and beak pointing down into the basin below the fountain. The two lovers aren’t alone. On the left edge, Cupid appears to be leaving the scene and putting his arrow back into his quiver, as he is clearly not needed at this time. 

Even the somewhat erotic story of Léda couldn’t keep her from her impending destruction by Haussmann. Thankfully saved by the quick thinking of Gabriel Davioud, who had the bas relief set aside for another use. 

In 1862, when the Medici fountain was moved to its new spot, it no longer sat against a wall, and suddenly, the perfect spot for Léda was created. 

Much smaller than the Medici fountain, it sits on the back side that was mostly hidden from view until two years ago. Executed by Alphonse de Gisors with the help of sculptor Jean Baptiste Klagmann. The bas relief of Léda is bordered on either side with a triton and dolphins on the left and an oar with dolphins on the right. 

Added at the top is a pediment with a laurel wreath and oak leaves, and two water nymphs by Klagmann looking down onto the sexy scene. 

At the very top, the crown of Marie de Medici is over a plaque marking the two major stages of the fountain in its 1620 creation and 1863 renaissance, and the artists who brought it to life. 

The size of the garden has changed over time since the 17th century. Marie's garden was sliced and died, and changed many times. Under Louis Philippe, the garden grew to what we see today, except for the eastern corner, altered by Haussmann. 

Either way, it's one of the greatest spots in all of Paris to sit, and it's even been voted one of the most beautiful gardens in the world. 

Visit on an early Sunday morning, just after it opens, and walk the beautiful park completely alone. Grab a croissant and a coffee and sit in one of the iconic Luxembourg green chairs under the plane trees of the garden and transport yourself back in time. 

However, keep an eye out for any randy-looking swans. 

Episode 10 - The Crown of Thorns

Each Friday afternoon,  the most important relic in the world makes an appearance for the faithful to see once again at the Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris. After the fire on April 15, 2019, the Crown of Thorns had been safely hidden away at the Louvre and displayed during Lent and Holy Week at the Eglise Saint Germain l’Auxerrois. In January 2025, the famed crown returned once again to Notre Dame. 

But why is it in Paris, you ask? The Crown of Thorns and other instruments of the Passion were purchased in 1238 by King Louis IX, later known as Saint Louis. However, let’s back up a little further. 

The crown, of course, is deeply rooted in Christianity, but it is also an important piece of history. I have had many people scoff, laugh, and ask if it is the “real” crown of thorns, and I always reply, “That is for you to decide, and that is what faith is.”  As a historian, I love sharing the story behind an object, a piece of art, or a historic building, and the people who make each of these subjects so interesting.

After the Romans arrested the man being called the new king, they created a “crown” of woven branches covered in thorns and placed it onto his head with the  large 2 to 3 inch thorns drawing blood as they dug into his skin. A red cloth representing a royal mantle was tossed around his shoulders, and a reed for a scepter was mockingly placed in his bound hands. The crown remained on his head until his mother, Mary, removed it after he was taken down from the cross.  The story is recalled in the New Testament by Mark, Matthew, and John. 

What the crown is made of has always been a matter of debate, with a few possible answers. It is two separate plants: a reed that is braided into a crown, and a thorny branch wrapped around and bent inwards. The thorny branch is thought to be from a Judea buckthorn shrub found in Jerusalem. It could also be Hawthorne, a Mediterranean shrub dotted with thorns. 

The crown was said to have been discovered in the 4th century after Emperor Constantine ordered the search of the Holy Land for the tomb of Christ. His mother, Sainte Hélène, led the expedition, and the legend tells us that she was looking on as the True Cross was uncovered along with the Crown of Thorns and Nails, all part of the Instruments of the Passion.  

The first mention of the Crown being venerated dates to 409 in Jerusalem, when witnessed by bishop Paulinos of Nola in Campania in a letter sent to bishop Macarius. Between 530 and 560, the Crown was safely kept in the basilica of Mount Zion. Visitors and historians report that the vines would turn green and even grow at times. There are also reports of the thorns still held today, which have turned green or even bled. There isn’t any scientific evidence of that. 

Between 614 and 637, when the city of Jerusalem was captured, the relics began their voyage to Constantinople. Dating the exact moment the Crown arrived is a bit harder. Frequent mentions of the thorns themselves date to the 7th century, but many had already been cut off in Jerusalem and obtained by leaders throughout Europe. We can be sure it arrived in the city of Byzantium by the end of the 10th century and was housed in the Palatine Chapel of the Pharos. The Sainte Chapelle, the Holy Chapel built in the palace of the Byzantine Emperors, held many holy relics, including items from the Passion.

For centuries, they remained until the Byzantine city was conquered at the beginning of the 13th century and pawned to the Latin Emperor in hopes that it would protect the now fractured capital. 

Cousin to Saint Louis, Baldwin II, Emperor of Constantinople, came to France in 1236, asking him to help with a massive debt he had incurred by borrowing from the Venetians and giving the crown as collateral. From November 10, 1238, to February 1239, the Crown resided in Venice at Saint Mark’s Cathedral.  Baldwin II, in return for his help, would give Louis and France the Crown of Thorns.  

In December 1238, a letter was sent to Quirino stating that the French were sending a delegation to cover the debt of Constantinople and, in return, would receive the Crown. Brothers Jaques and André de Longjumeau of the Order of the Preachers were sent to Venice on behalf of King Louis IX, with Nicolas de Sorello. André had resided in the Dominican convent of Constantinople and had seen the Crown many years before, a fact that will come in handy later in the authentication of the relic. The man later known as Saint Louis and his devotion to the church played a big part in the agreement to settle the debt. When the option of also obtaining the Crown of Thorns came up, he had to do all he could to protect and care for it.

This wasn’t an easy transaction; the Venetian barons were in desperate need of money they borrowed against the relics and sped up the clock. The French envoy had to race to Venice to retrieve them in time.  The deadline was June 18 and the Feast of Saint Gervais and Protais.  if not purchased by that day, it would forever be the property of Venice. 

Jacques and André arrived a day before on June 17, 1238, and were met with a new challenge and price tag. 

King Louis IX, who was 24 years old at the time, had already paid 21,000 pounds to free the Crown, but as Jacques and André arrived, they were given a new bill for 137,000 pounds! It was half the French monarchy's budget, but Louis would pay and agreed to allow the Venetians to hold onto the Crown for the faithful to see one last time in Saint Mark's. 

Negotiations took six months, and in January 1239, the Crown finally made its way through Italy and Germany to reach France. Due to the relic's fame and fragility, it had to be protected at every step. Before it travled Louis IX sent a letter to Emperor Frederick II of Germany asking for his help in protecting the soldiers, relic, and housing the men along the way. 

The relic first arrived in the medeival city of Troyes, then was taken to the Maulny-le-Repos manor, close to the small town of Villeneuve-l’Archeveque. The manor is no longer there, but a cross and a plaque mark the spot of the historic event. 

Jacques and André de Longjumeau carried the relic and a sealed letter from Baldwin authenticating the crown. On August 10, 1239, Louis IX arrived, and Archbishop Gauthier Cornout placed the Crown of Thorns into his hands. 

The scene is depicted in a painting by Jean André and is housed at the Eglise Saint-Thomas-d’Aquin in Paris. André, also known as Brother André of Saint Dominic at the Jacobin convent on Rue de Bac.  Painted around 1710 for the convent he was a member of. Seized during the Revolution and sold in 1798. In 2010, the friends of St. Thomas ' Church purchased the painting.  

The next day, Saint Louis, his mother, Blanche de Castille, and his brother, Robert d’Artois, walked to the nearby town of Sens. Louis and Robert carried the crown on their shoulders into the abbey of Saint Pierre-le-Vif. The entire town lined the streets and filled the abbey for a glimpse of the relic and the king. 

On August 11, the crown and its guardians traveled by boat on the Yonne and Seine to Paris. Stopping along the way in Melun and Montereau, they finally arrived in Vincennes a week later.  Louis stepped out of the boat with the bishops of France, who waited with the nuns, priests, and clerics for a glimpse of the precious item.

On August 18, Louis, in a simple tunic and barefoot, walked the Crown into Paris. The path was lined with thousands of the faithful holding torches to light the way. Upon arrival, a mass was held at Notre Dame before taking the Crown to the Palais de la Cité and placing it in the Chapel de St Nicolas on August 19 until a suitable reliquary could be created. 

Not just any building would do for one of the most important relics in the world. Two years later, in the autumn of 1241, the construction of the Sainte Chapelle began. The same year, Louis acquired a large piece of the Holy Cross, a vial of the Holy Blood, and the Tombstone. The following year, the Holy Sponge and Spear came into his possession and were all placed in Sainte Chapelle after it was finished and consecrated on April 26, 1248. The cost to build the chapel was a third of what was spent to obtain the crown.

They would remain in the Jewel Box Church until March 1789. In 1791, the Conseil d’État suppressed the church and sequestered the relics; on March 12, they were removed for safekeeping and placed in a cardboard box at the Abbey of Saint-Denis. They were the property of the crown until 1791. 

 In the dark of night between November 11 & 12, 1793, the relics were taken to the mint, melted down, and destroyed. Only the Crown, a piece of the True Cross, and a nail survived. On April 25, 1794, which also happened to be the birthday of Saint Louis, the crown was moved to the Bibliothèque Nationale, or at least one piece was there. During the Revolution, in order to protect the crown, it was cut into three pieces and separated for safekeeping. Thankfully, all three pieces are united today

On December 6, 1804, just four days after his coronation, Napoleon had the relics transferred to Notre Dame, and on August 10, 1806, they would be seen by the public for the first time in more than five hundred years. 

On July 29, 1830. During the Three Glorious Days, Archbishop Hyacinthe Louis de Quélen fled the church with the relics under his arm while an angry mob broke into the Cathedral. The Archbishop fled to Normandy, where the relics were safely hidden in a chateau until 1843. Many of the cathedral's relics were stolen, melted down, or thrown into the Seine.  In 1855, the Crown, nail, and piece of the True Cross were safely back in Notre Dame.

The current reliquary that surrounds the crown was made by goldsmith Maurice Poussielgue-Rusand and placed inside on March 20, 1896, from a design by architect Jules-Godefroy Astruc.  Maurice’s father, Placide, created the former reliquary. The crown is enclosed in a hollow rock crystal tube, encased in a gold garland of flowers, leaves, fruits, and thorns on two of the three sections. They are joined with a gold clasp and topped with enamel plaques. On the front, the seals are of Saint Denis, Sainte Genevieve, and the Virgin Mary. On the back are the crests of Saint Louis, Paris, and an effigy of Christ being crowned in thorns. 

On the night of the fire in April 2019, after we watched the spire and the rooster fall from the sky, the next fear was the relics of the Sacristy and the Crown. The very tight security around the crown made it difficult in that high-pressure moment. Tucked away into the floor of the chapel was a series of combination key locks that required two keys. The keys are normally never together. That night, in a state of panic, the two key holders had to fight through the crowd to reach Notre Dame. The keys were handed to the chaplain of the Pompiers de Paris, Jean-Marc Fournie, who put his life on the line and rushed into the cathedral to save the Crown of Thorns. 

Many of the bishops of Paris have left their mark on Notre Dame, not always for the better, and many want to wipe out Viollet-le-Duc's influence. In 2005, Cardinal Lustiger reached out to architect and artist  Sylvain Dubuisson to create a new reliquary to hold the Crown of Thorns. The Cardinal passed away less than two years later, and the project died with him. In 2023, the current bishop, Ulrich, called Dubuisson out of the blue and asked the artist to pick up where he left off. 

Dubuisson happily accepted this great honor and continued his research into the history of the Crown.  From its origin to its Byzantine journey to the reliquary church of Sainte Chapelle, created for it.

The wall is made of cedar to emulate the True Cross; cut into the wall are three hundred sixty openings, each holding a gilded bronze thorn. The gilded gold is reminiscent of the Byzantine churches where the Crown of Thorns was kept until the 13th century.  

The openings are more significant at the top than at the bottom, allowing natural light to stream in. In the center are  396 glass cabochons, each etched with a cross and backed with 24-karat gold. When on view, they surround the Crown of Thorns, which hangs over the Klein blue center, which frames and glows in the light. 

Standing just over 11 feet tall, the center was placed above eye level for viewing from every angle. The three-ton sculpture sits on a Carrera marble base that holds a safe where the Crown lies when not on display, and it is topped with 100 LED “candles.” 

Dubuisson worked with the Atelier Saint Jacques, Fonderie de Coubertin, Glassmaker Olivier Juteau, Light Sculptor Patrick Rimoux, and the Atelier de Rocou for the gilding. The entire team worked simultaneously, and the project took over 4700 hours to complete. 

Upon the reopening of the Cathedral, the crown was moved to the central chapel of the axial. The Chapel of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem places it in a direct line from the baptistry at the entrance to the altar, the tabernacle of the host on the high altar, the pietà, and then the holy relics. 

I have to admit that in the original renderings, I wasn’t in love with it, but seeing it up close, I changed my tune. It radiates a beautiful golden glow and pulls together centuries of history.  It’s gorgeous even without the most significant relic in the world hanging from it.  

The previous reliquary created by Viollet-le-Duc is a real showstopper. In 1862, Viollet produced with goldsmith Placide Poussielgue-Rosand and sculptor of Notre Dame Adolphe-Victor Geoffroy-Dechaume.

First used on Palm Sunday, March 29, 1863, and used in processions prior to the fire. Surrounding the top are the French Fleur-de-lis and the twelve apostles. Below are the three figures that played a role in the journey of the Crown. Baldwin II,  Saint Hélèna, and Saint Louis is seen holding the crown. You can see the Reliquary in the Treasury of Notre Dame.

Prior to the fire, the Crown came out on the first Friday of each month and each Friday of Lent. The veneration ceremony for the Crown of Thorns was designed by Saint Louis himself, not the Catholic Church. The very specific ceremony and the showing of the relic can only happen during Easter, as established over 785 years ago to celebrate the resurrection. Since its return to Notre Dame, due to the high demand of visitors, the Crown is now brought out every Friday of the year, with the veneration on the first Friday of each month from 3 pm to 5 pm, and displayed each Friday from 3 pm to 6:30 pm

August 11 was chosen by Louis for the annual feast day in celebration of the date the Crown was first placed in his hands. 

Open to the faithful,  historians, and anyone who wants to see the priceless relic. Standing nearby are the Knights of the Holy Sepulcher of Jerusalem, who guard the crown and honor the wishes first established in the 13th century. 

You can visit Sainte Chapelle today; it is no longer an active church, and none of the relics remain, but it's a must-see for the 1,113 stained glass scenes, including the last set on the south side. The 171 windows of the last section cover the discovery of the relics with Sainte Helene, Saint Louis in adoration of the Crown, at the very top. 

The former reliquaries, including my favorite with figures of Louis, Baldwin, and Hélène, as well as other reliquaries attached to the Crown, thorns, and even a few that once held pieces of the True Cross, can be found in the Treasury of Notre Dame. The Tunic worn by Saint Louis that survived the Revolution and was held in the treasury of Charles VI in 1418. A sleeve and some of the fabric is missing that was cut away, and a parchment note that was attached authenticating the item to have belonged to Saint Louis.  Was this the one worn when he carried the Crown? We don’t know, but he always wore a simple tunic when he prayed before the relic.

The Crown can be spotted throughout Paris, in many churches and, of course, the Musée du Louvre. From the Italian masters in the Grande Gallerie to the French painting floor in the Sully wing. I love finding paintings and sculptures that include the crown.

Inside the Basilica Sainte Clotilde, in the 7th, in the Chapel of the Sacred Heart, the fresco on the right by François-Édouard Picot depicts Helene’s discovery of the True Cross. The next chapel over at Saint Louis tells his story through the crown in the stained-glass window and the fresco.

The small Saint Louis-en-l’Île on Île Saint-Louis, dedicated to the saintly king of France, has many reminders of the Crown, including a wonderful bronze statue as you enter. 

Many of the churches of Paris include a chapel of Saint Louis, such as Saint Sulpice, with a fantastic central stained-glass window of the king holding the crown.

Episode 9 - The Wedding of Napoleon & Josephine

On March 9, 1796, Marie Josèphe Rose de Tascher stood in the drawing room of the second floor of the Hotel de Mondragon and watched a taper candle melt to the end of its wick. 

It was 7 pm, and the civil wedding of Napoleon Bonaparte and Rose, as she was known at the time, was to start, but things didn’t go quite as planned. You might know her more as Josephine, a woman whom Napoleon would love until his last breath. 

The Paris of 1795 was a mix of living under the Revolution's rules, those who survived the Terror, and figuring out how to forge ahead and survive, especially for a woman. 

Marie Josèphe Rose was first married to a real cad of a man, Alexandre de Beauharnais. The arranged marriage was originally intended for her sister Catherine and Beauharnais, but she died in 1777 before she could sail from Martinique to France. Rose and Alexandre were married on December 15, 1779, in Noisy-le-Grand, outside Paris. 

Rose, as she was then known, discovered a taste of the high life. Lavish surroundings, fashion, and parties, but at a price. Alexandre, a Lieutenant General of the Army, was later arrested and tried for treason and killed by the guillotine on July 23. 1794. 

Josephine was also arrested due to her husband's actions, but escaped the terror and was released on August 6, 1794, four months after her arrest and the fall of Robespierre. As a widow with two young children, she didn’t have many avenues to provide for herself and her two children. A small income came from her husband's pension, but her taste for the good life cost a bit more. 

Women didn’t have many options back then; they couldn’t go out and get a job, at least not a respectable one. Josephine had a few men who showered her in gifts and money, including politician Paul Barras. Their relationship was short-lived when he couldn’t afford the lavish spending on Josephine. Active in the Revolution, Barras voted for the death of Louis XVI and served on the Directory while Napoleon rose to power. 

Josephine in 1796 by Andrea Appiani

It’s thought that the first meeting between Napoleon and Josephine could have been in the Salon held at the home of Thérésa Tallen, the belle of the Parisian Salons and often described as the bestie of Josephine. 

Thérésa Tallen came from a wealthy Spanish family and was sent to France at twelve. Ahead of her time, she wove through society, dodging the guillotine during the Terror and creating a Salon that drew the movers and shakers of Paris. From Lafayette to Napoleon, it was one of the most influential gatherings in Paris on what is now the Rue Matignon. 

Described as the beautiful Thérésa, she garnered the gaze of every man from Bordeaux to Paris, including Paul Barras (who really got around), with whom she had one of her many affairs with the French elite. It was at one of her legendary salons that Barras would bring Josephine. Napoleon Bonaparte had his eyes on the lovely hostess Thérésa, but she wasn’t too interested. Did Napoleon meet his Rose that night? We don’t know for sure.

The most likely event also included Barras and Thérésa at a dinner party on October 15, 1794, inside the Palais du Luxembourg, where he was living. Barras, ever the politician, knew how to keep Napoleon near and happy. 

However, the meeting that would make the most impact came a year later. Napoleon was called up by Barras, then commissioner of the French Army, to help quell the Royalist uprising. It would end in the legendary “whiff of grapeshot” episodes when he launched into the crowd and onto the facade of the Eglise Saint Roch on the Rue Saint-Honoré, injuring and killing many but also ending the uprising against the government. Today, you can still see some of those marks on the facade of Saint Roch. The event launched Bonaparte’s career and an office on the Place Vendôme. 

Napoleon 1796 by Andrea Appiani

A week after the uprising, all citizens were to abandon any and all weapons. Every home in Paris was searched, including the small home at 6 rue Chantereine (60 rue de la Victorie) where the widow Beuharnais and her two children lived. Eugène, born in 1781, and Hortense, born in 1783, were left with very little of their father. His property and possessions were seized, with a few items being returned after the end of the Terror. Eugene was thirteen when his father was killed and held tight the sword that once belonged to him and begged the soldier that he be allowed to keep it. The request was denied, but if he wanted, he could plead his case to the Department of War at the Place Vendome. 

The next day, the young Eugène (although not so young, at 13 you could serve as the king and be married back then) visited no. 7 Place Vendôme, now in the shadow of the Vendôme column, topped with Napoleon himself. Eugene entered the office of Napoleon and asked for the return of his father’s sword.  Touched by the request of the young man, Napoleon later wrote, “I granted his request. Eugène burst into tears when he beheld his father’s sword. Touched at his sensibility”.

Josephine was so impressed that she paid General Bonaparte a visit the next day to thank him. 

Napoleon returning the sword to Eugene 1795 Charles de Steuben

Napoleon continues writing, “Everyone knows her extraordinary grace, her irresistibly sweet, attractive manners. The acquaintance soon became intimate and tender”.
The early Napoleon was far from the myth that has been created over time. Standing at 5” 6’, not at all short for that time, quite a normal French height. The longstanding rumor was created by his English enemies and has survived until this day. He was quiet, rather awkward, and shy, and Josephine would serve as his muse, bringing out the inner general and future Emperor. 

The intimate relationship between the two began quickly, as did talk of marriage. Napoleon was about to leave on another campaign, but first, he wanted a wife. Josephine wasn’t sold on the idea, but she did need to be taken care of. Paying another visit to Place de Vendome, this time to her notaire Jean Raguidau. Looking for advice on whether she should get married, he advised her that the young general had little to offer and was against it. She decided not to listen to him and married Napoleon anyway on March 9, 1796, two hundred and thirty years ago today.

The Mairie of the 2nd arrondissement was once located in the Hotel Mondragon, built in 1723. The beautiful building once covered the entire block and was built for Pierre Etienne Bourgeois de Boynes, secretary of the Navy under Louis XV. Sold in 1776 to Louis Duval del l’Epinoy,secretary to Louis XV, and remained in his family after his death until the start of the Revolution. 

One of the hundreds of confiscated properties in Paris it became the Mairie (mayor's office) of the 2nd arrondissement in 1795, as it was on the historic day that aligned Bonaparte with Marie Josèphe Rose de Tascher. 

Hotel Mandragon 3 rue d’Antin

Napoleon preferred to call her Josephine, and how she has been known and remembered through history. 

For three hours, Josephine waited in a long white gown with a blue, white, and red sash and wearing a gold enamelled medallion or ring with “au destin” inscribed. A ring that is attributed to the wedding with NB engraved was later given to Hortense, Josephine’s daughter by Napoleon and passed to her son, Napoleon III. It was buried with him when he was buried on January 10, 1873 in Farnborough Abbey, Kent, England

Josephine recalls watching the single taper candle burn down to nothing as they waited for Napoleon to arrive.  He finally arrived after 10 pm and said, “Marry us quickly”. The official had already given up waiting and left, and his fill-in may not have had the right to perform the service. 

It’s thought and told by some that he was late because he was having two fake birth certificates made. Josephine was thirty-two at the time, born on June 23, 1763, and Napoleon was twenty-six, born on August 15, 1769.  Napoleon’s birthdate was changed to February 5, 1768, which also changed his place of birth was changed from Corsica to the Republic of Genoa. Exactly one year before Napoleon was born on August 15, 1768, Louis XV brought Corsica under the French flag. Josephine’s birthday was changed to August 15, 1769, the date of Napoleon's actual birth. Not exactly the best and the brightest altering official documents. Maybe this is why we have to have our birth certificates translated every other hour here in France today. 

Thérésa Tallen by François Gérard in th Carnavalet

The Bonaparte family was unaware of the nuptials but would never have approved if they had been. Only a few people watched the ceremony, including the former lover of Josephine, Paul Barras, Jean-Lambert Tallien and his wife Thérésa, whom we can give the unofficial title of maid of honor, and Etienne Jacques Jerome Calmet, a family friend of Josephine. 

During the Revolution, religious ceremonies had been outlawed. A civil ceremony made it easier to get a divorce, which Josephine wanted, but would also use this to her advantage eight years later on the eve of the Coronation.

Once married, the couple lived in Josephine’s home at 6 rue Chantereine, now 60 rue de la Victoire. The honeymoon would have to wait as Napoleon was off to Italy to lead the army. 

Fast forward eight years to November 25, 1804, when the Pope arrived at the Chateau de Fontainebleau, as Napoleon didn’t want him to make a grand entrance into Paris. Having the Pope there was nothing more than a staged moment for the new Emperor. Linking his coronation to that of Charlemagne, the first Holy Roman Emperor, named by Pope Leon III on Christmas Day 800. 

As for that whole grabbing-the-crown story, that’s not exactly accurate either and is also tied to Charlemagne and the Pope, but that's for another day. 

While the pope roamed the halls of Fontainebleau, Josephine confided to him that the Imperial couple had never been married in the church. The Pope was not happy. Since the two were not wed in the eyes of the church, he could not attend or perform the coronation. Napoleon was even less thrilled and agreed in the 11th hour on the eve of the coronation. 

Josephine in Coronation dress in tapestry apres François Gérard

On December 1, 1804, the night before the big event, in the chapel of the Palais des Tuileries, Napoleon's uncle, Cardinal Joseph Fesch, performed the quick ceremony to the dismay of the Bonaparts. 

The official love story of Josephine and Napoleon ended with the annulment of their marriage on December 15, 1809, in the throne room of the Tuileries, steps from where the rushed Catholic ceremony had taken place just five years earlier. 

Unable to give Napoleon an heir to the Imperial throne, Josephine was cast out of the palace and his life, but never far from his mind. His final word on his deathbed, Josephine 

Listen to this week’s episode out now

Episode 8 - Berthe Morisot

Berthe Morisot, one of the few women of the Impressionist Movement, with her dark locks and stunning gaze, was the perfect model for Édouard Manet.  However, unlike most female models-turned-artists, she is actually known as one of the first incredible female Impressionists.

Born on January 14, 1841, in Bouges to Mother Marie-Cornélie Thomas Morisot and father Edmé Tiburce Morisot, a prefect and architect.  Berthe is the youngest of three daughters. Older sisters Yves, born in 1838, and Edma, born in 1839. Her brother Tiburce was born in 1845.  Due to her father’s role in the government, the family moved frequently from Bouges to Limoges, Paris, Caen, Rennes, and finally, on July 3, 1852, back to Passy, then a city just outside of Paris. 

In 1857, Marie-Cornélie, often referred to as the great-niece of Rococo master Jean-Honoré Fragonard, enrolled her three young daughters in drawing classes with Geoffroy-Alphonse Chocarne, who taught many young girls who weren’t allowed in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. The two youngest Morisot girls quickly outgrew the drawing lessons of Chocarne and moved on to the atelier of Joseph Guichard. 

Guichard arrived in Paris in 1822 from Lyon at 16 and visited the Salon held in the Salon Carré of the Louvre. At first sight of Delacroix’s Virgil and Dante, he knew that was the direction for him. He first joined the atelier of Ingres, focusing on the academic style, but his heart was drawn to the styles of Delacroix and Rubens, enraging Ingres. 

Guichard was very impressed with the talents of Edma and Berthe and focused more of his time on sharing art and the Italian greats within the Louvre. At the time, many of Paris's artists flocked to the Louvre to recreate the masters' works. Women had few options in those days. Not allowed to attend the Ecole des Beaux Arts, they couldn’t be alone in an atelier with a man or a nude male model and couldn’t even visit the Louvre without a chaperone. 

Since the Louvre opened in 1793, there has always been a large focus on the training of artists. During the opening years under the Revolutionary calendar of ten-day weeks, the Louvre was open three of those days only for the artists. They could freely set up an easel in front of any of the masters in the Grande Galerie and copy each detail.  

Copiest became so popular that, in 1872, for just under two years, the Musée des Copies was opened in the Palais de l’Industrie on the Champs-Élysées. The first exhibit included 130 paintings copied from Italian masters of European museums and the Vatican. The idea came from Charles Blanc and most likely included many of the works of the once-unknown Impressionist artists. 

Today, you can still be a copyist within the Louvre, but you have to jump through many hoops to get the chance. You have to be a talented artist; of course, you can’t copy the size or signature, and they limit what you can copy. No longer will you find an artist in front of a Titian like Berthe and Edma would have; it’s far too crowded in the Salle des Etats due to the lady of the Louvre who resides there. And the waiting list is quite long, at least three years. I do love coming upon them and watching their progression over multiple visits. 

The earliest painting by Berthe that still survives, Ferme en Normandie, was created in 1857 and is in a private collection. The countryside and landscapes drew Berthe & Edma in, and Guichard felt he had taught them all that he could and suggested they study with Jean Baptiste Camille Corot in 1860. 

Long spring and summer days were spent outside in the Ville d’Avray, painting the horizon. A few years later, in 1863, Corot introduced the sisters to his student Achille Oudinot. Oudinot and Morisot girls spent time outside Paris in Auvers-sur-Oise, three decades before Vincent Van Gogh would arrive and spend his final years there. 

Returning often to the Louvre since they had registered as copyists in 1858, Berthe and Edma drifted toward the Venetian artists and Rubens, and the eruption of colors. It was in front of one of Rubens's twenty-four paintings of the life of Marie de Medici in 1868 that Edouard Manet came into their lives.

Manet shared a bond with the artist Henri Fantin-Latour, who had both been rejected from the Salon. Fantin Latour might not be as well-known as Édouard  Manet today, but his paintings of flowers and his group portraits that can be found in the Orsay are some of my favorites. As part of the Batignoles group, you can only imagine the conversation one morning over coffee between Manet and Fantin-Latour at the Café Guerbois on the Avenue de Clichy. Henri had told Manet about the two young artists who had already been displayed in the Salon and proposed that they visit them inside the Louvre. 

There are multiple versions of this story, but I am choosing to stick with the version told by the Morisot family that dates the meeting to August 1868. In a letter dated August 26, 1868, from Manet to Fantin -Latour the artist said, “the young Morisot ladies are charming. It’s a bother they’re not men, but as women, they could still serve the cause of painting by marrying an academian each. Give them my compliments.”

At first, Manet was enamored of Edma, but it was Berthe's haunting, deep, dark gaze that pulled him in. Following a trip to Spain, Manet fell in love with the works of Velázquez and Goya and the dark features on his Spanish subjects. Morisot’s deep-set black eyes and hair reminded him of the exotic Majas on the Balcony by Goya, painted in 1808

Following Manet’s shock at the Parisian Salon of 1865 with Olympia and Déjeuner sur l’herbe, he was looking for a new model, and Berthe would have everything he wanted. In 1868, Manet painted The Balcony which Berthe would pose after much apprehension. Being a model for an artist was not a profession for a woman of society in Paris at the time. After much convincing, Berthe agreed, as she would be just one part of the group portrait. 

The man in the center is the artist and friend Antoine Guillemet. A landscape painter who studied under Corot and Courbet would become one of the leaders in the transition from Realism to Impressionism. Unfortunately, Guillemet is remembered more for being in this painting than for his own work. 

The other lovely lady is Fanny Claus, a violinist and close friend of Manet’s wife, Suzanne. Fanny was in the first all-female string quartet, but in the painting, she holds an umbrella. Her husband, Pierre Prins' family, made their fortunes in umbrellas and sculpted the handles for many of the high-end umbrellas. Manet painted her holding a green umbrella, thus adding a touch of his friend Pierre as well. 

In the dark background to the left, you can spot Manet’s wife, Susanne’s son Léon, bringing some drinks to the disconnected trio. Manet even added his beloved dog, Tama, next to the porcelain planter with a blue hydrangea that blends so well with the green shutters and railing. And that is where the art elite drew the line. They couldn’t stand the “acid green” color, and the three main subjects looked more like still life than friends. One critic even reduced Manet to a “house painter”. Appearing in the Salon of 1869, it didn’t attract a single buyer.  Manet would keep it in his studio until his death in 1884. Fellow artist Gustave Caillebotte bought it and kept it until his death, when it was given to the State and found its eventual home in the Musée d’Orsay. 

From this point on, the lives of the Morisot and Manet families would be deeply entwined. Weekly dinners at the Morisot family home saw many of the Parisian artists, including Degas, Zacharie Astruc, and Pierre Puvis de Chavannes. 

Berthe lost her closest painting companion, her sister Edma, when she married Adolphe Pontillon, a good friend of Manet’s, on March 8, 1869. The couple moved to Lorient, Brittany, when they started a family. Letters from Edma to her sister ache with her boredom and her wish to return to painting. Berthe visited often and was captured many times, and in one of her most iconic works. In 1872, Berthe painted The Cradle, with Edma looking into the white lace-draped cradle, her daughter, Blanche, beside her.  (in the Orsay today)

In an August 1871 letter to her sister Edma, Berthe said, “Once again, Manet finds me not so ugly and would like to have me back as a model. In the end, out of boredom, I suggested it myself.” From 1868 to 1874, Manet captured Morisot on canvas and in drawings numerous times. Morisot said, “Manet’s charming wit kept me alert through the long hours”.  As they sat, she soaked up all his wisdom and advice for her own artistic adventure. 

The year 1874 was a big one for Berthe. At the start of the year, on January 24, she lost her beloved father. Manet would capture her “Berthe Morisot in mourning” the same year in a somber, quickly dashed painting, which is held today in a private collection. 

There has always been a lot of speculation on the relationship between Berthe and Édouard. Many of the model-to-painter dynamics ended in a physical relationship. However, these two had a deeper and more intimate non-sexual relationship based on respect, love, creativity, and mutual inspiration that would continue until his last breath. 

While Berthe’s two sisters, Yves and Edma, married and started families, including Yves’ daughter, Claudine, named after their great-grandmother. Being a female artist in the 19th century wasn’t easy. It was looked down on, and if they married, they needed to give up their craft and raise a family. Berthe had no desire to settle down and wanted to keep her independence. 

In May 1869, she told her sister Edma that she had a greater desire to have children. An early suitor was Pierre Puvis de Chavannes, whom Manet tried to encourage to no avail. 

Between August and September 1869, the Morisot and Manet families spent time in Fécamp. Edouard Manet missed the trip, but his brother, Eugène, arrived with his own canvases. Berthe and Eugène spent time on the coastline painting the horizon, and In a villa by the Sea with Edma as a model, once again. 

Eugene et Julie Manet

It was far from love at first sight for the two. Edma’s admission of married life being the most boring thing in existence was constantly repeated in Berthe’s head. Although, eventually Eugène or more likely her closeness to Édouard, wore her down. 

On December 22, 1874, Berthe and Eugène were married in Passy. She would forever be attached to the Manet family, but she wouldn’t give up her name. Marrying a man who was an artist as well as the brother of an artist was a wise move, as it brought her an understanding of her world.

Eugène became a model for her paintings in gardens, looking out windows, and eventually as a father. 

Although the biggest event of 1874 was also the first exposition of the Impressionist Painters at 35 Boulevard des Capucines in the former studio of photographer Nadar.  In February 1874, Edgard Degas invited Morisot to join the Société Anonyme des artistes peintres, sculpteurs, graveurs, etc., a group of artists who were being turned away from the official Salon.

On April 15, 1874, thirty-one artists exhibited, Morisot was the only woman alongside Monet, Degas, Pissarro, Sisley, Cézanne, and Monet, but never Manet. The exhibit ran for one month, concluding on May 15, and 3,510 visitors mostly visited to make fun of the event. With ten pieces on display, Berthe would leave a lasting impression on visitors, but the exhibit was a failure; only four paintings were sold, none of which were Morisot’s. 

Self Portrait 1885

The academic Salon opened on May 1st, and Manet’s Railway was included, while he still stayed away from the group that would come to be known as Impressionism, a painting by Monet shown in Nadar’s studio. 

In March 1875, at an auction at the Drouot auction house, twelve of her works were up for sale alongside Monet, Renoir, and Sisley.  It caused a scandal, and one viewer even called her a prostitute. Fellow artist and friend Camille Pissarro took such offense that he punched the man. In the end, her paintings sold better than theirs with some notable buyers, Ernest Hoschedé, Henri Rouart, and her brother-in-law, Gustave Manet.

Four female artists broke into the Impressionist movement: Mary Cassatt, Eva Gonzalès, Marie Bracquemond, and Berthe. They are still remembered today. As you can imagine, they give their paintings a softer look and give a closer insight into domestic life. Few were better than Morisot,and in 1878, she turned her attention to a new subject, her daughter. 

On November 14, 1878, her first and only child, Julie Manet, was born. Berthe documented her life from the time she was fifteen months old. After the birth, Berthe suffered from various health issues and took a break from painting until April of 1879. Through her canvases, we can see Julie grow into a beautiful young woman. In 2021, the Musée Marmottan Monet held an exhibit dedicated to Julie and her life as a child of Impressionism. It was incredible, and I highly advise also reading her published diary.  (More next week)

Berthe continued to participate in the Impressionist exhibitions, joining all but one of the eight between 1874 and 1886. Motherhood didn’t slow her down; she now produces paintings in her studio with Julie, with domestic life as the main subject. 

The entire Manet family was dealt a blow on April 30, 1883, when Édouard died.

His last years were filled with suffering from the symptoms of syphilis. His gangrenous left foot was amputated on April 19, 1883, just eleven days before he died. Refusing his last rites, he was surrounded by his wife, Suzanne, and loved ones, including Berthe, Julie, and Eugéne. He died in his home on Rue de Saint-Pétersbourg in the 8th, twenty years to the day Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe was shown at the Salon des Refusés. 

On January 5, 1884, a massive retrospective exhibit of Manet’s work opened at the École des Beaux-Arts, including Déjuner, Olympia, and his last painting, Un Bar aux Folies-Bergère. On February 4 & 5, the remaining contents of his studio were sold at auction at the Hotel Drouot. Morisot and her husband bought 8 pieces, and other members of the Manet family grabbed many of the others. The sale was a disaster, and many went for next to nothing. Oh, to be able to travel back in time to that sale. 

With the loss of her mentor and friend, Berthe spends more time with Renoir, who often paints and sketches Julie. In the Orsay, Renoir’s sweet portrait of Julie holding her cat always makes me smile. 

In Manet’s lifetime, he was never one to shy away from controversy, none more so than in 1863 with the completion of Dejeuner sur l’herbe and Olympia.  After his death and the dismal success of the auction of his work, Susanne Manet had plans to sell Olympia to a wealthy American buyer for 20,000 francs.  Claude Monet led a campaign with the help of Berthe and Eugéne to raise funds to purchase Olympia, and urged the Musée du Luxembourg and the Louvre to step in to save the painting and keep it in France. 

Letters survive today, written by many of the artists, including John Singer Sargent, to Monet, which was recently exhibited at the Sargent exhibit at the Orsay. A handwritten list of artists that donated includes Proust, Pissarro, Sargent, Rouart, Moreau-Nelaton, and Rodin. Raising 19,415 francs and purchased in March 1890 by the Luxembourg and is now in the Musée d’Orsay.

The trio that was Berthe, Eugéne, and Julie often spent time in the countryside, including Giverny, to visit Monet. On November 29, 1891, Berthe and Eugéne purchased the Château du Mesnil Saint Laurent in the town of Juziers, one hour northwest of Paris. Although she wasn’t fond of the drafty 16th-century chateau. 

When Julie was just 5 years old, Eugéne Manet died of syphilis, the same thing that took his brother and father on April 13, 1892.  He was just 59, and Julie would have a wide group of “uncles” who would look after her. Degas, Monet, Renoir, and the poet Stéphane Mallarmé stepped in as her new guardians, along with her mother. 

Julie continued to grow up on the canvases of her mother and Renoir.   In 1894, Renoir painted Mother and Daughter together for the last time. 

In January 1895, Julie became quite ill with the flu. Berthe took care of her but also became ill. Berthe died on March 2, 1895, at 54, at 10 rue Weber, on the edge of Paris. It is normally mentioned that she died of pneumonia; however, it was most likely syphilis that also took the life of her husband three years before.

Three days later, Morisot was buried in the Manet family tomb at the Passy Cemetery in the Trocadero in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. With her husband, Eugène, and brother-in-law, Édouard, the two artists would spend eternity together. 

Julie was 17 years old and, with the help of her “uncles,” would do all she could to keep her mother's legacy alive. In 1896, with the help of Monet, Renoir, and Degas, 390 of the more than 400 paintings and drawings by Berthe Morisot were brought together in the Durand-Ruel Galerie for a retrospective.

Julie became an artist in her own right and, like her mother, worked at the Louvre as a copyist. On one visit in 1897, she met artist Ernest Rouart. The two married on May 29, 1900,
Through Julie and a large family of artists who looked after her, Berthe’s art lived on. Whether she was in front or behind the canvas, she was an amazing woman whom we are lucky to enjoy today. 

You can find many of her pieces in the Musée d’Orsay, Petit Palais, and the Musée Marmottan Monet, where you can also find some of the sketches Manet did of her. 

Manet’s paintings of Morisot 

The Balcony 1868- 1869. Purchased by Gustave Caillebotte and left to the French state and held in the Orsay today. 

Repose 1870, the one painting Manet did of Berthe that she wanted more than any other, but never owned. Now in Rhode Island School of Design. 

My very favorite Berthe Morisot with Violets, painted in 1872, was purchased by Theodore Duret from Manet was purchased by Berthe just before her death and remained in the Morisot-Rouart family until Julie’s son, Clement, sold the painting in 1998. It was purchased with the Meyer Foundation's help and given to the Orsay. She is currently traveling between San Francisco to Clevelend until she returns home in July.

Berthe Morisot with a Muff, 1871-1872, sold at the February 1884 auction and now held in the Cleveland Museum of Art.

Berthe Morisot with Half Veil 1871-72, also sold at the February 1884 auction and now in the Petit Palais, Geneva. 

Berthe with Fan 1872 was owned by one of my favorite collectors, Etienne Moreau-Nelaton, and left to the Louvre in 1906, which also altered the perception of Impressionism. In the Orsay today.

Berthe with Pink Slippers, 1872, is now in the Horishima Museum of Art and is currently on exhibit in the US. 

Berthe Morisot Reclining (1873), the only painting that Manet gave to his subject, remained in the family's collection until 1993 and was given to the Marmottan Monet by her grandson, Denis Rouart. 

Berthe in Mourning, 1874, was painted just after the death of her father in January 1874. It was held in the collection of Dr George de Bellio and later his daughter Victorine. It was refused by the state in the donation made in her father’s name to the Musée Marmottan Monet in 1940. Now held in a private collection.

The last painting, Berthe with a Fan, 1874, was likely painted after her engagement with Eugene. It stayed with the Manet-Morisot-Rouart family until 1999, when it was given in lieu of inheritance taxes. Today, it is on display at the Musée des Beaux Arts in Lille. 

If you are near Cleveland visit the Manet & Morisot exhibit that opens March 29 and runs until July 5, then hopefully all my babies return to Paris.

https://www.clevelandart.org/exhibitions/manet-morisot

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Episode 7 - Madame du Barry

Jeanne de Bécu was most likely born on August 19th, 1743, in Vaucouleurs, what iin the Grand Est of France. Much of her beginning is a little up in the air, and depending on what sources you find, many pick and choose which one theyfollow. We do know without a doubt that her mother was Anne Bécou, a cook and seamstress at the Picpus convent. Extremely beautiful, people were drawn to her, including the Franciscan Monk and most likely father, Jean Baptiste Gomard de Vaubernier, “frere ange.”

On July 19, 1749, in the Eglise Saint-Eustache, Anne married Nicolas Rançun, whom she met while working as a cook for Claude Billard-Dumonceau. Jeanne was just four years old when she and her mother moved to Paris, and she would also work for the lady of the house, Madame Billard-Dumonceau. In the fall of 1749, Jeanne was sent to the Convent des Dames Bénédictines du Saint Sacrement near the Val de Grace in the Latin Quarter.  Jeanne remained at school for 9 years until she was 15, and she looked back fondly on her time there, which gave her a love of reading she would carry for the rest of her life. 

After leaving the convent, she got a job as an apprentice for a hairdresser named Lametz, and, depending on the sources that you read, she definitely had an affair with him, or she might have even married him. She remained with him until she spent much of his money, then fled from Paris. 

View from her private apartments at Versailles

Jeanne was strikingly beautiful, with blonde curls and beautiful blue eyes; she made an impression on everyone who passed her. Her next job took her to the chateau of the Farmer General, Monsieur de la Garde, outside Paris. As a housemaid, she spent her days cleaning for the family but catching the attention of Madame Elisabeth de la Garde’s sons. 

The De la Garde men were both married, but that didn’t stop them from falling in love with the beautiful Jeanne. When the lady of the chateau found out, she fired Jeanne and sent her away immediately. 

Upon her return to Paris, she obtained a job at La Toilette, a dress shop owned by Claude-Edme Labille, father of the artist Adelaide Labille-Guiard. Located on the Rue de la Ferronnerie near Les Halles, and the same street where Henri IV was killed. 

Adelaide Labille-Guiard

Daily, Jeanne would see the upper-crust ladies arriving for the newest fashions.  Adelaide would go on to be one of the great female artists of the time and contemporary to Vigee le Brun. 

Jeanne’s stepfather, Nicolas, met Jean-Baptiste du Barry in Corsica, an introduction made by the Billard-Dumonceau family. Jean Baptiste employed Niçolas and, in turne put up Jeanne and her mother Anne in a new apartment off the Place des Victoires. Jean-Baptiste was twenty years older than the beautiful Jeanne and wined and dined her around Paris, taking her to the ballet, opera, and the Paris casino he also owned.

Jean-Baptiste du Barry was known as “La Roué” for his loose morals. He owned the casino, but he also had a brothel and a pimp linking the elite of Paris and the court of Versailles to beautiful women. 

Jeanne now went by the name Jeanne de Vaubanère. Taking the name of her supposed father, the monk, and that's what she decided to call herself. But Du Barry ended up renaming Jeanne, Madame Lange, and she was incredibly famous among men because she was so beautiful.

Chairs by Sulpice Brizard 1770 used at Fontainebleau in the apartment of Empress Josephine

In last week’s episode, we covered the life of Madame de Pompadour, the headmistress of Louis XV from 1745 to 1750. After the physical relationship with the king ended, Pompadour, with the help of Charles Jacques Colin,  set up a private brothel, just for the king, in the nearby Parc-aux-Cerfs.  

When the king needed a new lady, his valet Dominique-Guillaume Le Bel would invite one of the charming ladies from the Parc-aux-Cerfs to the palace for a private dinner in his dining room. Louis XV could watch from a crack in the door as she was interviewed, and if he liked what he saw, they were delivered to the king's room. 

Jeanne had been a frequent visitor to the court of Versailles with Jean-Baptiste de Barry and other influential men who wanted this beauty on their arm. Although there was so much more than just that happening. 

At Versailles, everyone's intention was to get as close to the king as possible. I shared last week the story that the most coveted job men paid for was to sit with the king on his other throne each morning. Once close to the king, many men were bestowed with properties and titles, high-ranking positions in court, and money beyond their wildest dreams. When it came to having Jeanne on their arm, it wasn’t much different. 

The men surrounding Louis XIV might be more well-known, as their names can be found all over Paris. Louis XV, in general, is a bit of the forgotten king between the two more infamous relatives that came before and after him, but like any king, he had those jockeying for power and whispering in the hidden corridors of Versailles. 

Welcome the Duc de Richelieu and the Duc de Choiseul into our story.  The duc de Choiseul served as the Minister of State for Louis XV from 1758 to 1770, and he owed that position to Madame de Pompadour. After her death in 1764, he was constantly in fear of losing his job and his proximity to the king.  The next year, the Dauphin died on December 20, 1765, and tragedy hit again when the queen died on June 24, 1768. 

Madame du Barry en Muse by François-Hubert Drouais

The king had a string of mistresses after Pompidour, but the loss of his son and his wife weighed heavily on him. Choiseul, in fear of his position, wanted to bring his sister, the Duchess de Grammont, into the position of the king's favorite, but the Duc de Richelieu had other ideas. 

Louis François Armand, the Duc de Richelieu, great-nephew of the former cardinal, hated Choiseul. Jean Baptiste du Barry knew Richelieu well, and the two proposed bringing Jeanne to Versailles to meet Louis XV.  In April 1768, the lovely Jeanne entered Versailles and captured the king's heart. 

The women of the king were the worst-kept secret at Versailles. They may be hidden away in private rooms, but the hundreds of courtiers knew everything that went on. To try to evade the whispers, the first encounters with the king, orchestrated by Le Bel, were at his favorite Château de Compiègne. For weeks, the king and Jeanne would escape while the news spread at Versailles. Choiseul was livid and would make it his mission to try to destroy Jeanne and their relationship.  

The king was falling in love, but Jeanne was a commoner and well known as a former prostitute, and there were rules at Versailles that even the king could not override.  Louis XV’s trusted valet, Jean Benjamen de La Borde, had to fix the situation. 

On September 1st, 1768, she married her pimp's brother, Guillaume du Barry, so that's where she became Madame du Barry. The two were married at 5 am at the Eglise Saint Laurent in the 10th by the man who was also her supposed father, Jean Baptiste Gomard de Vaubernier. 

Having a husband wasn’t enough; she also had to prove her lineage to the great families of France. Du Barry did not have that, and so they attached his family to a wealthy house of the Barrimore of Irish nobility. It was enough for the king's genealogist to look the other way.  

Her husband, Guillaume du Barry, is immediately sent away to the south of France and given property and money from the king to exit the scene. 

As early as December 1768, Du Barry moved into the former rooms of the kings Valet Le Bel after his death. Just as with Pompadour, she had to be presented at court, and a sponsor, or “godmother,” was needed. Louis XV again picked someone who was indebted to the crown and couldn’t say no. 

By this time, Jeanne and her past were well known in the gilded rooms of Versailles. The daughters of the king hated her, and of course, Choisuel, but money talks. Angelique Gabrielle de Sufferte Joumard, the Countess of Béarn, took the role of sponsor, a move that would draw every eye in the palace to her. 

The Countess of Béarn agreed, but she was terrified. When the big day came for her to present, Madame du Barry pretended she had a sprained ankle, and she couldn't do it. At the next event she was supposed to attend, she claimed she was too sick, but the king's valet persuaded her otherwise.

On April 22nd, 1769, the day finally arrived. Du Barry was wearing a beautiful white dress that was woven with silver threads and covered in jewels, and she was presented at Versailles in the Hall of Mirrors. As far as the king was concerned, this was over. Jeanne was twenty-six, the king fifty-nine, and infatuated with the beautiful and spirited young lady. The next day, Jeanne was seated beside the king in the chapel of Versailles for Sunday mass, much to the dismay of his daughters.

Salle à manger

Her days at court were lonely; the daughters hated her and turned everyone against her. Following her acceptance at court, her sister-in-law Françoise Claire, “Chon,” and Bischi moved to Versailles to serve as her ladies. 

Madame de Pompadour was very intelligent and cultured, and the court's daughters and ladies hated her. Du Barry was given the same treatment at Versailles. Movies, books, and even tour guides depict Du Barry as devoid of manners or class. Raunchy and even a bit uncooth, but many accounts tell of how polite and refined she was. Between her education at the convent and her time surrounded by high society in her former jobs as a hairdresser and a clothing store owner, she picked up a few things. 

In December 1770, Madame du Barry moved up to the second floor into an eight-room suite just over the private rooms of Louis XV. I recently visited these rooms on a private visit, and my jaw dropped as we entered her bedroom. The rooms overlook the central Cour Royale, behind those beautiful gold-gilded windows. Covered in wainscotting by Honoré Guibert, the king spared no expense to create some of the most lavish rooms of all the private apartments of Versailles. 

Cabinetmakers Louis Delanois, sculptor Claude-Nicolas Guichard, painter and gilder Jean-Baptiste Cagny, and furniture supplier Simon-Philippe Poirer filled each room. 

Three staircases lead to her suite of rooms, including the private one used by the king himself, the Escalier Épernon. I can’t express how delighted I am to have the opportunity to walk in these spaces. I only wish I could channel their spirit of being in these spaces, with better hygiene, of course. 

A beautiful Turkish bed in her chambre that we see actually had the markings of Marie Antoinette and not Du Barry, her spirit would really have a problem with that. 

A few items that once belonged to Jeanne have returned, including a small table by Martin Carin inlaid with multiple colors of marble and shells into a design of birds and flowers. A statuette of a lounging nude woman that upset the guide is quite seductive andwas purchased by Du Barry for her Chateau de Louveciennes. 

The suite continues with a large study, again with gilded wainscotting and maintained yellow Versailles parquet. The rooms underwent a massive restoration during Covid, and the yellow returned to the floors just as it had been when she lived there.  The salle à manger has a touch of green in the wainscotting and ceiling details, and the antechamber next to it has light-pink details. Within the antechamber, behind a locked cabinet, is the treasury of Sèvres porcelain, once owned by Du Barry. 

The largest set of “celestial blue ribbon” in plates of all sizes and serving pieces designed by Nicolas Catrice was purchased by Jean Baptiste Buffault. A few serving pieces in the “to the love” design by Nicolas Dodin are also in the light blue. The darker royal blue found on many Sèvres designs was reserved only for the king or queen. 

One special plate sits on the shelf and was designed for Madame du Barry. The edges of the plate are surrounded by a floral garland and vases, and in the center is the cypher DB for Du Barry.  Commissioned by Madame and delivered August 29, 1771, and painted by Jean Baptiste Tandert. They were used for a very special event at the Chateau de Louvecienne. The Louvre also has a few pieces in the set, but sadly, not on display. 

In July 1769, Louis XV gave Du Barry the small Château de Louveciennes, which sat above the Seine between Malmaison and Marly, and just 7 km from Versailles. The small pavilion, built in 1653 by Robert de Cotte, architect for Louis XIV, was located along the Marly water machine, which drew water from the Marly to Versailles. 

Du Barry loved to spend her days designing the gardens, adding stables with horses, sheep, cows, and swans in her lake. The pavillon was rather small, and the king didn’t like to visit the cramped quarters. 

In January 1771, architect Claude Nicolas Ledoux was asked to design a music pavillon to be built at the lower edge of the garden on the hill overlooking the Seine. It was built quickly, and on September 2, 1771, a lavish inauguration ceremony was held with the king in attendance. Francois Boucher and Fragonard painted the walls and ceiling of the Neo-classical temple.

And that beautiful Sèvres porcelain plate was one of 145 she had made for the celebration. Just imagine who might have held that plate? 

Jeanne du Barry was enjoying the good life, but things would soon change. 

It was May 15th, 1770, and the arrival of the Dauphine of France, Marie Antoinette. The wedding will take place the next day in Versailles, but the night before, the King's and Dauphin's families will gather for dinner at the Château de la Muette. It had just been the day before that she met her husband for the first time. Marie Antoinette was just 14 years old, and while raised in the court of Austria, she was stepping into a new role and country. 

Dinner at the Chateau de la Muette was to be a close family affair, but for Louis XV, that included Madame du Barry. Marie Antoinette noticed the beautiful Du Barry and asked who she was. Madame de Noailles didn’t hold back and told the young bride about the scandals of Du Barry's past and how she was hated by everyone. 

From that point forward, Marie Antoinette refused to speak to her or even acknowledge her existence. As the headmistress of the king, she held a seat high above any other woman in the palace, especially since the Queen had passed many years before. However, now that the Dauphine arrived, everything changed. 

For more than two years, Marie Antoinette refused to speak to Du Barry. Meanwhile, the problems within the bedroom of the young royal couple, or lack thereof, we shall say, were a cause of great concern for the Austrians. Their relationship still hadn’t been consummated, and now add her refusal to speak to Du Barry. The entire alliance of Austria and France was at stake. 

Marie Antoinette’s mother, the Empress of Austria, sent her a letter and said, "You need to fix this, or you're gonna ruin everything." So on New Year's Day 1772, Marie Antoinette walked up to Du Barry and said, "There are many people at Versailles today," and those were the only words she would ever say to her. 

Du Barry retreated to her chateau and the Petit Trianon with the king, increasingly to remove herself from Versailles in those final years.  

In April of 1774, the king became very ill, and on April 26, he was diagnosed with smallpox. Jeanne was at his side every moment until May 3, when, close to death, he was visited by Cardinal de La Roche-Aymo,n who took his confession. This was the last moment Jeanne would see the king. Asking for forgiveness, he must cast out his scandalous mistress and send her away. 

On May 10, 1774, at 3:28 pm, Louis XV took his last breath. 

Jeanne was sent away to the Chateau de Val de Ruel, where she remained until the death of the king. Louis XV left orders that she be taken to the Convent of the Pont aux Dames in Couilly. 

As the royal mistress, you have little protection once the king has died. Louis XV had left orders for her to be taken care of and furnished with a pension, but thre wasn’t anybody left to make sure that would happen.  

Exiled from Versailles, she was forbidden to be within 10 km of the palace. If you remember, the Chateau de Louveciennes was just 7 km away. 

In October of 1776, Louis XVI allowed her to return to the place she loved, Louveciennes, and also granted her a higher pension to support it. The beautiful Jeanne was rarely alone, entertaining one gentleman after another.  

In the years that followed, she led a somewhat quiet life, spending much of her attention on the Duc de Brissac. 

As the years of the Revolution approached, she thought she would e untouched by the uprising. She came from modest origins and was no longer a part of the court of Versailles or friendly with the monarchy, but a few missteps would put her in the center of the action. 

When she entered the court of Versailles and was appointed the headmistress in 1769, Louis XV gave her a gift. Presented to her was a 7-year-old black boy named Zamore. Taken by British merchants from Bengal when he was just 4 years old. Du Barry took care of him, teaching him to read and write, but often treats him like a toy for her entertainment. After the death of Louis XV, he was also run out of Versailles and made his way to Louveciennes and later reunited with Du Barry. 

The entire thing is disturbing to say the least. 

As the Revolution began, Zamore turned against her and joined the Jacobins in support of the Revolutionaries. When she learned what he had done, she gave him an ultimatum: quit the Jacobins or leave. He chose to leave. 

Zamore wasn't so happy about that, and he went back to his new friends and told them all about her lavish life and spending and how she still sided with the aristocracy and even helped them flee France. 

Another episode that added to her downfall occurred on the night of January 10 to 11, 1791. Madame du Barry was away, and Zamore was to stay in the chateau in her room to watch her valuables. That night, a gang of five thieves broke in and stole countless necklaces, rings, bracelets filled with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. 

Incredibly upset, Madame du Barry visits her notary, who advises she make a public plea to recover her jewels and a reward of 2000 Louis for their return. 

Shortly, just three weeks later, she gets word that some of her jewels have been found in London. Jeweller Simon Leon was approached by two men trying to sell the jewels at a very low price, which alerted him. The fliers she created had reached London, and the jeweler put two and two together. 

On February 4, 1791, Madame du Barry left for London on the first of four trips in two years. Each visit, she took people with her, including Zamore and other friends of the aristocracy. 

There are many accounts of the theft of her jewels that point the finger at Du Barry herself. That she concocted a plan to have the jewels stolen so she could avoid taxes. 

Either way, the big mistake was creating the flyers that circulated throughout Paris, to London, and into northern Europe. Now the Committee of Public Safety could see she was still dripping with the riches of the court of Versailles. 

Between the theft and public display of her wealth, her frequent trips to London that raised suspicion, and her appearance with the help of Zamore’s stories to be one of trafficking the aristocracy out of France, it all came to a head. 

While in London on February 27, 1793, just a month after the death of Louis XVI, she was informed that the Committee of Public Safety had taken her chateau and placed a seal on it. She was advised to stay in London, but she wanted to return to her chateau to retrieve her belongings. 

She should have stayed in London.

On September 22, 1793, she was arrested and put on trial before the Revolutionary Tribunal, accused of treason. Now held in the Antechamber of Death, the Conciergeri,e she waited for her fate. 

The trial began on December 6, 1793, six weeks after the death of Marie Antoinette. 

Bird cage with porcelain flowers and the crest of Madame Du Barry, but was never owned by her

Still believing she could fight her way out of this, she offered the guards, in exchange for her freedom, that she would tell them where the many hiding places of her jewels were.  They told her to make a list, and they would see what they could do. 

They had no intention of helping her and were given the list, and she only bought a few extra hours of freedom. 

In the dark of night on December 8, 1793, she was taken through the streets of Paris to the  Place de la Révolution, screaming and crying. They had never seen anything like that. It was a very cold evening, and few were in attendance to see her fate sealed. She was kicking and screaming all the way to the end. 

Her final words were “just one minute Mr Executioner, I loved life too much to have it taken away like this”. Charles-Henri Sanson dropped the blade and ended the life of Madame du Barry. 

Her body was tossed into the mass grave of the Madeleine Cemetery, where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were also left. In the end, they all ended in the same place and with the same fate. Although Du Barry doesn’t have a special altar or statue marking her final resting place. 

She is remembered today in portraits created by Vigee Le Brun; one is in the Philadelphia Museum, the other two in private hands. The Louvre holds a few of her statues that once decorated her chateau gardens and in her music pavillon.
As for the music pavilion, it was recently purchased by Xavier Niel, owner of Free mobile for 38 million euros in November 2025. 
Listen to episode three, Marie Antoinette and the Affair of the Necklace. All about the stunning and lavish necklace Louis XV wanted for Du Barry, but died before it could be completed. 

Little is known about the jewels that once belonged to Du Barry; the thieves destroyed many of them after they were stolen, and little has come to auction that can be attributed to her with certainty.

Martin Carlin commode with Sèvres porcelain plaques.

Used at Versailles and Château de Louvenciennes and now in the Louvre

Check out the Jeanne du Barry movie, released in 2023, starring and directed by Maiwenn as Jeanne du Barry and Johnny Depp as Louis XV.  The movie is visually stunning, with wonderful costumes and settings, but her portrayal of Jeanne has most historians confused. They also added characters or changed their importance to her story at their own whim. 

Sophia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette also portrays Madame du Barry with Asia Argento in the role.  

For a fun version, look for the 1943 film Du Barry Was a Lady starring Lucille Ball, Gene Kelly, and Red Skelton.  

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Episode 6 - Madame de Pompidour

Known as the mistress to the king, the Marquise de Pompadour was much more than that, and we can thank her still today for beautiful buildings, art, porcelain, and even a diamond.

Jeanne- Antoinette Poisson was born on December 29, 1721, in Paris. Her likely father, François Poisson, had worked for the Regent Philippe d’Orléans before serving as a commissioner for food delivery in Paris. In 1725, a famine followed three months of relentless rain that destroyed most of the agriculture, leading to widespread hunger. 

Poisson was apparently running a little business on the side and was convicted of trafficking food and forced to flee France. Settling in Germany, he would never see his daughter again. Jeanne Antoinette and her mother, Louise Madeleine de La Motte, would lose everything. 

Madeleine wasn’t lonely for too long and had a few lovers at her ready, one of which might have been Jeanne’s actual father. Women had few choices then and couldn’t really just go out and get a job, or at least a respectable one. Enter Jean Paris de Montmartel, a wealthy gentleman, the fourth sibling of the Paris Brothers, for whom her first husband worked, and the godfather of Jeanne. 

Bachelor number two, Charles François Paul Le Normant de Tournehem, and number one in the running for Jeanne’s father, became her legal guardian when her father was exiled in 1725. Before his exile, her father set-up that when Jeanne turned six, she would be placed in the Ursuline  Convent in Passy, where her father's two sisters were nuns. Young Jeanne was educated among the elite and members of the king's court. After three years away, missing her father and often sick, she returned to her mother in 1730. 

Upon her return home, her mother took her to a fortune teller, as one does. The woman told her mother that Jeanne “would reign over the heart of the king”. Jeanne noted the event in her own writings, two decades later, noting “six hundred livres a year” to  “this woman for having predicted, when I was nine, that I would be the King’s mistress”. 

From that day forward, Jeanne was known as “Reignette,” the Little Queen, and was groomed for her destiny. Charles-François brought in the best and brightest to teach her everything from singing and acting to painting and engraving. From a young age, she loved to read and spend time in nature, watching for birds and playing in the garden. 

Jeanne hadn’t met the king yet, so on March 9, 1741, at 19 years old, she was married in the Église Saint-Eustache, the same church she was baptised in. Charles Guillaume Le Normant d’Etiolles was the lucky man who was also the nephew of her guardian / maybe father, and sole heir to a vast fortune. Neither was thrilled with the arraignment, but they would fall in love and promised she would never leave him unless the king came calling.

The couple settled into the lovely Chateau in Étiolles, seventeen miles from Paris and more importantly, twenty-five miles from Versailles. Their first child, Charles Guillaume, arrived on  December 26, 1741, but didn’t reach his first birthday. Three years later, a daughter, Alexandrine, was born on  August 10, 1744.  Spending time between their chateau and Paris, the interesting and well read Madmae de l’Etiolles was the belle of the salons. Drawing the attention of the writers, artists, and courtiers, the news of the beautiful and intellectual Jeanne began to spread all the way to Versailles. 

The Chateau de l’Étiolles sat at the edge of the Senart forest, a frequent hunting spot for the king.  As early as 1743, Jeanne “the Reinette” put herself in the path of the king. 

One day, she dressed in a beautiful blue dress, hopped into a pink carriage, and cut into the path of Louis XV.  The striking Jeanne caught his attention but sped away, causing the king to ask everyone who she might be. 

Months later, in the fall, now dressed in a pink dress and riding in a blue carriage, she crosses his path again. This time, the king now knew who the beauty in the pastel dresses was and sent her a special gift, an entire venison that he had killed. Nothing says love like a massive animal. Is there any romance anymore? 

Marie Anne de Mailly by Jean-Marc Nattier

Meanwhile, back at Versailles, it was all anyone could talk about. The current headmistress, the Duchess of Chateauroux, was not too pleased to hear all the attention this new beauty was getting. Marie Anne de Mailly Nesle and her two sisters had all served as mistresses to the king between 1733 and 1744. One after another, they entertained the king's pleasures. I would have loved to be at that family Christmas.  In  August of 1744, Marie Anne, the last of the sisters, was with the king in Metz when he became violently ill. For days, he was bled with leeches and promised that if he survived, he would build a temple to Sainte Genevieve back in Paris, but he also sent his mistress packing and back to Versailles. He survived, and that temple would become the Pantheon in Paris, but it was his grandson, Louis XVI, who brought it to fruition.  Back at Versailles and healthy again, he returned to his nightly visits to the Duchess of Chateauroux. A few months later,  on December 8, 1744, she died of Peritonitis at 27 years old 

The date was February 25, 1745, and the day she had trained for had arrived. The Reinette was going to Versailles. The marriage of Louis de France to the Infanta Marie Theresa of Spain was being celebrated with a masked costume ball in the Galerie des Glaces. In a nod to how they met, Jeanne was dressed as Diane the huntress. Louis XV and his men dressed as topiary yew trees; it had to be a sight to behold. The star-crossed lovers, that would be the tree and the huntress, found each other across the crowded forest, or hall of mirrors. 

Three days later, on February 28, the Dauphin's marriage was celebrated again, this time in Paris at the Hotel de Ville, but it was another relationship that had everyone whispering. Louis XV put all the talk to rest when, against his advisor's judgment, he publicly announced his undying love for Jeanne. 

Back at home, the husband should have known this might happen; after all, it was predestined, and she did tell him she would stay with him unless the king called. The king had a way of dealing with these things. Monsieur de l’Etiolles was given the château de Pompidour and the title of Marquis, both conveniently located in southwestern France. 

The same year, on May 7th, the official separation from her husband was decreed, an act that was very difficult back then, but when the king wants it, anything can happen. The Marquise de Pompidour was now free for the king, but there was still another problem. 

While the king could give away chateaux, titles, and even grand separations, being accepted at court had its own rules. In the summer of 1745, she was a regular visitor to Versailles and would then return to her nearby chateau, yet this wasn’t close enough for Louis XV. 

On September 10, 1745, Louis XV invited the Marquise de Pompidour to move to Versailles. Installed in the former apartment of his last mistress in the attic above his private rooms. 

She still faced the problem of being presented at court, but Louis XV made a shrewd deal with Louise-Elisabeth de Bourbon-Conti, the legitimized granddaughter of Louis XIV. In return for erasing the debts of her husband, she would serve as the godmother of Pompidour and present her to the court, solidifying her place in the chateau on September 15, 1745.

I was lucky enough to see her first private apartment at Versailles last week. Normally closed to the public, they do offer special private visits from time to time, given in French. The rooms are installed over the Mercury, Apollo, and Mars rooms, as well as the private rooms of Louis XV. 

Her suite included four rooms, once accessible only by a “flying chair,” an 18th-century elevator. Sadly, the chair is gone, and little remains of what was in this room when she was alive, but the chateau has procured a few items that belonged to the Marquise and were used in her other homes. As you enter the antichamer you see straight out the window that looks over the forest of Marly and the north parterre of the garden and terrace. 

A beautiful painting of the Marquise by Jean-Marc Nattier is worth the visit alone. Painted in 1746 and commissioned by her godfather, Le Normant de Tournehem, in October 1746. She is perfectly captured by the Rococo master as Diane the Huntress, whom she dressed as for the masked ball. Holding a bow and loosely wrapped with a leopard fur, her rosy cheeks and soft face look right at you. It was her first official portrait after she arrived at court. It was later given to her brother, who kept it until his death in the Chateau de Ménars in the Loire Valley. In 2023, the Friends of Versailles purchased it at a Sotheby’s auction in London for 546,000€  and now keeps it tucked away from the crowds. 

On either side of the doors are two of the important men of her life. On the right, a painting by Louis Tourqué and Charles-François Paul Le Normant de Tournehem, who, thanks to Pompadour's relationship, served as the superintendent of the king's buildings from 1746 to 1751. On the left side, also by Tourqué, Abel Francois Poisson, the Marquis of Marigny, and brother also served as superintendent following the death of Tournehem. 

The attic of Versailles wasn’t a scary, dark place you find at your grandparents' house, but it was a cold one. Without any heat, the rooms were freezing, and after the first winter, the king had the rooms reconfigured. By the start of 1747, the large bedroom had been converted into a smaller sitting room. An alcove was cut into the wall for the bed, the first one in Versailles, which allowed the bed to be covered with a curtain at night and to hold in the heat. 

They say that the king never saw his mistresses in his private bedroom, but he would take the flying chair to the attic to see Pompidour whenever he wished. To the left of the antechamber, the sitting room of the former bedroom is quite large. Today, it is filled with furniture and objects, many of which were once owned by the duke and duchess of Windsor, Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. Once in their home outside of Paris, and purchased at auction all the items that date from the period in which Pompidour had lived here. 

Each room is equipped with a fireplace installed when the rooms were created by Louis XIV, and in beautiful black Campan marble or red Languedoc marble. 

Other paintings include the Love Letter by  Francois Boucher in the large sitting room and Diane et Calisto by Noel Hallé in what was originally her small dining room. A beautiful painting, also by Boucher, of Alexandrine, the Marquise's daughter, painted in 1749.

These rooms will be closed this summer for a few years to work on the chateau's heating system.

As the “favorite” of the king, the headmistress came with many advantages. The term mistress had a very different definition back then than it does today. Royal marriages were arranged for power, money, or land and never for love. Some would find love in the arraignment, but not very often. The queens had to live under constant scrutiny. Never alone and always watched, and anything they did could reflect on the king, many were also known for having a few lovers on the side. 

It had to be a very strange existence, but also the only one they knew. Louis XV was under five years old when Louis XIV died. Given anything and everything that they wanted, surrounded by people whose entire lives were at the whim of the king. The most coveted job at Versailles was the man who sat with the king in the bathroom, a privilege they paid for, which always resulted in gifts of land, palaces, and titles. 

Simply watch shows like Versailles or Sofia Copala’s Marie Antoinette to get an idea of court life. While both took liberties with some of the history, the idea of life at that time can be imagined.  

Most of the Kings had many ladies for their choosing. Often putting them into the roles closest to the queen, so he can keep them within arm's reach. However, there was always one that was at the top of the mistresses' pyramid, la maîtresse en titre. This coveted position sat below the queen and her top lady-in-waiting in the palace hierarchy. A few, over time, used this to their advantage more than others. We will talk about Madame du Barry next week. 

Pompidour was unlike any other mistress. Between her education of all the finer things in life and her many hours spent at the Salons of Paris, she learned the art of conversation. It also helped that she was well-versed in many subjects, including art, literature, and nature. While the king adored her, his daughters and many others did not. 

There was a way things should be done at court. Mistresses should have royal blood, and Pompidour did not. He really shook things up with the next one, but that's a story for next week. 

Her increasing sway she had over the king didn’t help either. Multiple miscarriages took their toll on her health, and five years after entering as the headmistress, she was gradually moved aside into what would be an even more important role. Louis XV confided in and talked to her about everything. Those closest to him in his government were increasingly worried. 

In 1750, she was moved from her attic rooms to the ground floor of the original building. The apartments are usually reserved for the king's family. The large rooms had nine windows overlooking the northern terrace and gardens, and two floors below her old apartment. Here she would invite dignitaries and ministers of the king, who learned that the fastest way to the king and to get what they wanted was through her door. 

After her sexual life with the king ended, she had to figure out a way to remain close and not be shoved out by the next headmistress. To keep the king satisfied, she, with the help of Charles Jacque Colin, set up a private brothel, just for the king, in the nearby Parc-aux-Cerfs. Ladies were chosen for the king and changed out every few weeks to keep his interest. Once they were sent away, they were given vast sums of money and sometimes even small properties. 

On October 12th, 1752, she was given the title of Duchess, and on February 7, 1756, she was appointed lady of the Queen’s palace, the highest honor after the queen. 

Jeanne’s daughter died on June 24, 1754, at just 9 years old. She had been raised at Versailles among other royal children and was set to marry the son of Michel Ferdinand d'Albert d'Ailly I E  when she turned 13. A loss she never really recovered from. 

Her final years at court were spent surrounded by her books and art, but she kept herself very busy, thanks to Jacques Guay, the official engraver to the king. Guay had spent many years in the atelier of Francois Boucher as a lithographic engraver. One day, he met Joseph-Antoine Crozat and saw his massive collection of engraved stones, and fell in love. Taking on the role of the engraver to King Louis XV, who asked him to create a collection of stones engraved with major moments of his reign.  While spending time at court, he met Pompidour and took her on as a student. An entire engraving press was moved into her apartment, and every tool imaginable was used to etch her own stones. Five of these remain, and I saw two of them in 2023 at a special exhibit at Versailles dedicated to Louis XV. Needless to say, I almost died. 

Along with stones, she also engraved and printed entire books. She worked with Denis Diderot and Jean le Rond d’Alembert to print the first edition of the Encyclopedia, which also outraged the government and led to a halt in production after the first two volumes.  

The Louvre holds many of her lithographs based on Boucher and Guay's drawings of Pompadour, which were also used to etch stones. They aren’t on display to the public, but can be seen in the Louvre database here 

Pompadour also took great interest in the porcelain factory at the Château de Vincennes. Bringing many pieces to Versailles and drawing the attention of the king, who in 1753 purchased large sets for his many palaces. In 1756, Pompidour had them move to Sèvres, where the factory and its workers had more space and would become one of the world's greatest porcelain companies. 

She also liked to put on her own plays to entertain the king and court. In the play Pomone and Vertumne, based on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Pomone was a beautiful garden nymph who wanted to spend all her time with her flowers. Vertumne, the god of the garden, fell in love with her, but she refused him over and over. Vertumne takes on many disguises and is still refused until one day he dresses as an old woman and reveals himself to her, finally winning her over. Maybe he should have just dressed as a tree.  The Louvre holds a stunning sculpture in the Cour Puget by Jean-Baptiste Lemoyne, created in 1760. It was never part of the King's or Pompidou's collection, but it is strategically located within the Louvre. 

On the right is a statue of Louis XV as Jupiter by Nicolas Coustou, and on his left, the Queen Marie as Juno by Guillaume Coustou. Just in front of Pomone and Vertumne is a statue of Amite, Friendship by Jean Baptiste Pigalle. Created in 1750 and commissioned by the Marquise de Pompidour herself for the Château de Bellvue. What is remarkable about this one is that it is Pompidour herself's face. She leans forward with one hand towards her chest, and once stood next to a statue of Louis XV. 

Pigalle created a second group of Love Embracing Friendship in 1758. Also commissioned by the marquise for the park of Bellvue, a small terracotta version can also be found in the antechamber of her first apartment. 

In the nineteen years of the relationship between Louis XV and Pompadour, he bestowed many palaces and chateaux on her. The Chateau de Crecy near Dreux in 1746, followed by the Chateau de la Celle - Saint Cloud and Château de Bellevue in 1748. After the intimate relationship ended, he purchased the Hotel de Réservoirs, steps away from the chateau in Versailles, complete with an underground tunnel leading to the palace. However, the most important might have been the Hotel d’Evreux, you know it as the Elysees Palace and home to the President of France. 

The Petit Trianon at the lower edge of the property, and often associated with Marie Antoinette, was in fact built for the Marquise. Sadly, she never saw it completed. 

She also owned a small hermitage within the Châteaux of Fontainebleau, Compiegne, and Choisy, and her last purchase was the Château de Ménars in the Loire Valley.

In 1763, her health began to fail. The cold and drafty rooms of Versailles took their toll. Throughout the winter and spring of 1764, the king moved her doctor, François Quesnay, to Versailles and next to her room. 

On the morning of April 15, 1764, Palm Sunday, Louis XV visited his great love one last time and bestowed one of the greatest honors on her. Letting her take her last breath there at Versailles, an honor normally reserved for the king alone. She died that morning of pulmonary congestion at just 42 years old while the king held her hand. 

Just after her death, she was taken to her nearby Hotel de Résevoirs, where she was displayed for two days before her funeral at the Eglise Notre Dame de Versailles on April 17.  The king was visibly distraught and inconsolable with the loss of his great love and friend. Following the funeral mass, he traveled to Paris with her one last time. 

She was buried next to her mom and her daughter at the Capucine Convent.  Today, the convent is gone, but it’s believed that she is still buried in the same spot. Although that spot is now 3 rue de la Paix and the IWC Schaffhausen watch store. Rather fitting to be that close to Place Vendome and the great jewelry houses of Paris. 

At 3 Rue de la Paix

When it comes to diamonds and jewelery there are two that can be applied to the beautiful Pompadour. The Marquise diamond shape was created for Louis XV, who wished for a diamond in the shape of her lips. The elongated oval cut has come and gone in and out of favor over the years, but given its history, it should be renewed immediately. 

Less well known by name, the Pompadour ring, sometimes called a daisy, features a central colored stone surrounded by smaller diamonds. The sapphire and diamond engagement ring worn by Princess Diana, then the current Princess of Wales, is a perfect example of the Pompadour ring. The first was created for the Marquise de Pompadour by Louis XV. Since she wasn’t an official member of the Crown, we don’t know much about these jewels even to this day.

She should be remembered as a huge promoter of the arts in all forms. Welcoming many of the great Rococo artists of her time to Versailles and to the attention of the king. You can still find many of the paintings of Boucher in the bedroom of Queen Marie Antoinette and in the Salle Pompadour at Elysees palace. 

The creation of the Place Louis XV, which became the Place de la Revolution, which turned into Place de la Concorde, was all the urging of his great love. 

Whenever she posed for a painting, she asked that many of the things she loved surround her. The best example is the pastel by Maurice Quentin de La Tour, created in 1748. Owned by the Louvre but rarely displayed due to its fragility, the Marquis sits in her chair in a beautiful silver-gray dress. On the desk where she rests her arm are books she printed, including the Encyclopedia and even a drawing of her working on a lithograph plate.

Today, her name is remembered alongside Marie Antoinette as one of the two most famous women in the history of the French monarchy.  And both have even been wrongly attached to the old champagne coupe story, due to the shape of their breasts. 

Listen to the episode now for more incuding a tip on visiting Paris

Episode 5 -The Fire of the Petite Galerie and the Birth of the Galerie d'Apollon

In the early morning of February 6, 1661, a fire raged through what was described as “the most beautiful gallery in the world.”  350 years ago, a Sunday morning marked a turning point in the history of the Louvre in the same space that made news four months ago.

The year 1661 was pivotal in the life of Louis XIV; after the death of his closest advisor and godfather, Cardinal Mazarin, he would seize control of the government, and the grand story of the Sun King began. He was just 22 years old.

Before his death, Cardinal Mazarin influenced everything from the people who had access to the king to the design of royal buildings and the amassing of the royal collection. In the 1650s, with the architect Louis Le Vau, Mazarin sought to expand the Palais du Louvre to include a theater, library, and galleries for the king's paintings, sculptures, and other objects. 

It is hard to imagine the Louvre of the 16th and 17th centuries when you look at the massive structure that spreads over the center of Paris today. Originally a medieval fortress built at the end of the 12th century by Philippe Auguste into the wall that surrounded the city. In 1367, Charles V transformed it from a fortress to a palace, adding large rooms, a library, gardens, and even windows. 

We can thank François I for the creation of the Louvre we know today. Upon his arrival in Paris in 1515, he made the palace his official residence, but it hadn’t weathered the years well and was in need of a massive restoration. François tasked architect Pierre Lescot with creating a palace that would reflect France's glory. François had the former palace destroyed, and the new one was built in its place, using many of the same stones.  

François’s son, Henri II, would take on the role of builder after his death, extending his father's vision and completing the central crossing of the Sully wing, the Pavillon d’horloge, and the King’s Pavillion overlooking the Seine. Henri II’s death in 1559 led his wife, Catherine de Medici, to build her own palace in the countryside outside of Paris, the Palais des Tuileries. 

As we discussed last week, it was her son-in-law, Henri IV, who then built the long bord de l’eau, extending from the Palais du Louvre to the Tuileries, an idea she had wanted to pursue before her death. However, Henri IV first had to expand the small palace into a structure to be attached to the long gallery. 

Historians are unsure of the year the Petite Galerie was built, but it could date back as early as 1566 under Catherine de Medici. Although it hadn’t reached much farther than a portion of the ground-level room. Over the next forty years, her three sons held the throne and did more harm than good on the palace. It would be one of my favorite Henri IVs that would take on the role of the greatest creator of the Louvre at the end of the 16th century. 

The Petite Gallery was built steps away from the King's pavilion, which housed his chambers and his closest advisors. Under Charles IX and Henri III, the building was only one level, and the upper level was nothing more than a terrace that the king could use to take in the view over the Seine and the Ile de la Cité. 

The marriage of Henri IV to his second wife, Marie de Medici, in the fall of 1600, was the push they needed to upgrade the palace. The Medici family was used to luxury, and the Louvre was far from it. After their first meeting in Lyon in November 1600, they eventually arrived in Paris in February 1601. Her first view of the Palais du Louvre was in the dark of night on February 15, with nothing more than a few candles lit. It might have been a strategic move on the part of the King, but one he would have to deal with when the sun came up.

The Petite Gallery was a freestanding structure with windows on each side and a small passage over the moat leading to the king's pavilion. The first version of the Petite Gallerie was not much more than a small passageway used solely by the king and his family to reach the Grande Galerie. 

Work on the first floor was undertaken between 1601 and 1607. The exterior was decorated with reliefs dedicated to the king's glory, depicting geniuses and Victories, as well as allegories of the arts and sciences. On the western exterior, the relief of Henri IV with Peace and Abundance at his side. 

The interior of the Petite Gallery is somewhat unknown in terms of exact details, but we do have a few accounts from visitors who described it as “the most beautiful in the world”.  

Henri IV chose his geographer, Antoine de Laval, to lead the design of the Petite Gallerie that would later be known as the Gallery of Kings. De Laval’s plan would center on mythological and allegorical figures that signify the king's strength and virtues.  Artist Toussaint Dubreuil was already well versed in what Henri IV wanted. He had already worked on the Château de Fontainebleau and the Château Neuf de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where he was given carte blanche on anything he wanted to create. De Laval was a bit worried about this and wanted to rein in Dubreuil and control the design of the ceiling. In the end, the favor went to Dubreuil, who also worked with the idea Antoine de Laval laid out. 

Ovid’s Metamorphoses was the main theme, focusing on the figures of Perseus and Andromeda, Pan and Syrinx, and Jupiter and Danae. Many of which were painted with the face of Henri IV. Sculptor Barthelemy Trembly was also Toussaint’s brother-in-law and created large figures for the vaults, including Victories holding the coat of arms of France and Navarre, each standing over eight feet tall. 

The walls were decorated with twenty-eight paintings of the kings and queens of France. Beginning with Saint Louis and Marguerite de Provence and ending with Henri IV and Marie de Medici. The complete list is unknown, and six would be missing in chronological order. We do know that the kings filled the western wall between the twelve piers and windows on each side, and the corresponding queens on the eastern wall.  Henri IV and his bride were the first to greet you as you entered from the Salle Ovale, today's Rotunde. 

Surrounding each of the royal figures were as many as twelve to sixteen smaller paintings of key figures of their reign.

Toussaint Debrueil died on November 2, 1602, and the work continued with Jacob Bunel. Dubrueil left behind sketches and cartoons for his atelier and Bunel to carry out, including the idea behind the large portraits. Sadly, very few survive to this day. 

Commissioned on May 22, 1607, Bunel and his wife, Marguerite Bahuche, traveled around France, visiting chateaux and churches to find images of former rulers and their courts to use as the basis for painting the figures' likenesses. A sketch attributed to Bunel can be found in the Louvre archives, depicting Henri IV standing full-length in the center beneath an arch. On either side of the king are oval portraits: the dauphin Louis XIII on his right and his daughter Elisabeth on his left. 

Other sketches by Debruil that survived include one of the central figure, which could be Henri IV under a trumeau and mantle, surrounded by four smaller portraits, and his royal cypher of the letter H, topped with the Bourbon crown. While other accounts mention the paintings around could also have been landscapes and chateaux of the sovereign's reign, as well as verses, inscriptions that hung from the ceiling. It all sounds a bit chaotic and a massive undertaking. 

The paintings of the sovereigns were based on Toussaint's initial vision and executed by Jacob Bunel. Historians believe that his wife, Marguerite Bahuche, also painted the life-size depictions of the queens of France that once hung on the walls opposite each king. Marguerite was born around 1570 and was raised surrounded by her father's art. She married Jacob in 1595 and moved to Paris in 1599. His father had been a painter for Henri IV, and after his death, Henri asked him to come to Paris to work for him. Installed on the ground floor below the Grande Galerie, the couple worked closely with the king, bringing his vision to life. Jacob died in 1614, and Marie de Medicis, now regent, kept Marguerite on and even bestowed the same title, “painter of the king,” on her, allowing her to stay in the Louvre. Marguerite was far ahead of her time, and given opportunities that women were never afforded at that time or even two hundred years later. 

Little remains today of how the Petite Galerie was originally decorated, but the account of the English traveler Thomas Coryate may be the best and most beautifully written. Visiting in June 1608, which would have been close to the completion of the ceiling and walls, he writes in his published journal. “I then entered a room which, in my opinion, is not only the most beautiful thing in the world today, but also the most magnificent thing that has ever been seen since the earth was created”. He continues on, “the description of which would require a large volume in itself. It is divided into three parts, two end sections and between them a very long and very spacious promenade.”

“The vault, of admirable beauty and brilliance, is carved with paintings in the antique style, Gods & angels, the sun, the moon, the stars, the planets, and the signs of the zodiac.”  “So beautiful one can not imagine unless one has seen it with one's own eyes.” This description sounds more like what the ceiling would look like after the fire. 

A different account comes from the memoir by Louis Henri de Loménie the Comte de Brienne wrote when he saw the room shortly before the fire that the ceiling represented "the defeat of the Titans by Jupiter, a large and beautiful piece of allegorical painting in which Henry IV appeared under the figure of Jupiter and the League struck under that of the giants reduced to powder”

On October 22, 1660, Carlo Viagarni, the intendant to the king's pleasures and an Italian scenic designer, sent a letter to Girolamo Graziani and Italian poet, on behalf of the king to design a series of “entertainment for the court during the rainy season.” As well as creating a new stage and theater within the Gallery of Kings. A structure that would be covered in tapestries was completed a month later. In January 1661, the first performance of Ecole Amante by Francesco Buti, a play based on Ovid’s Metamorphoses, was tied to the ceiling above. 

Performing to great reviews, the next production was planned for a month later. At the end of January, it was announced that Marie Therese was pregnant with what they hoped to be an heir to the throne, and a celebration was planned, including a performance and a ballet in which the king himself would dance and play the lead role. 

L’Impatience, composed by Jean-Baptiste Lully and on a libretto of Isaac de Bensérade and Francesco Buti, was to debut on February 11th in the Gallery of the Kings. Working around the clock to complete the scenery and stage, a single worker had remained on the night of February 5, 1661. Torches lit the space during the long, dark nights of February, when the single worker hurried to finish the stage. Falling asleep early the next morning, a torch, near a pile of wood, caught fire, and the flames quickly climbed the wall and spread through the attic. In the nearby King's Pavilion, Cardinal Mazarin was awakened by his guards as his chamber filled with smoke. The Cardinal had become very weak and sick over the past months and was carried down the steps of the Escalier Henri II in a chair by his guards.  Quickly taken to his palace a few blocks away, the Palais Mazarin, now Bibliothèque Nationale. He was deeply shaken by the fire and would die a month later on March 9, 1661. 

By 9 am on February 6, the flames ravaged the entire Galerie des Rois, destroying everything in its path. The Grande Galerie, which began just outside the door of the Galerie des Rois, was damaged before the flames were brought under control. 

We can all recall watching the valiant firefighters who worked to control the fire that struck Notre Dame on April 15, 2019, but in 1661, they weren’t as lucky as we are to have the equipment we do. Without hoses or water pumps, they had to rely on buckets of water passed from one person to another, from the Seine to the top of the Escalier Henri II, and maybe a little divine intervention. 

First on the scene that early Sunday morning were the monks lodged across the river in the Couvent des Grands Augustins. Accounts depict many of the monks jumping into the fire and pulling the burning beams out to slow the spread. The Swiss guards and courtiers joined the monks, passing buckets of water to extinguish the fire. 

The king and queen ran to the Eglise Saint Germain l’Auxerrois and asked the priest to bring the Holy Sacrament to the scene. Within minutes of his arrival, the winds changed away from the burning structure, and the guards were able to control it before it spread any further. 

What was left behind was a hollowed-out room with only the stone walls remaining. The attic, ceiling, and vaults, walls, and all the art were destroyed. Below in the summer apartments of Anne of Austria, the gorgeous gilded and painted ceiling had been spared from damage, and the King's Pavilion and Cardinal Mazarin’s room escaped the fire but were consumed by the smoke. 

The show went on weeks later when the performance of the Ballet of Impatience was performed in the Grande Gallery on February 22 with Louis XIV in the role of Jupiter. 

The start of the Grande Galerie was also severely damaged, and the entire pavilion was rebuilt and became the Salon Carré in the years that followed. 

For many years, a large painting of Marie de Medici by Frans II Pourbus that hangs in the Louvre was believed to be the one that once graced the east wall as you entered the Gallerie des Rois. 

Painted around 1610 by the Flemish artist Pourbus, who had also painted the king and queen before. The queen, in her coronation robe and crown, fits the description of how queens were depicted in the Galerie des Rois.  The painting's width is what casts doubt, as it is too large to fit between the room's pillars, but we may never know. You can see the painting in room 803 of the Richelieu wing, around the corner from the amazing Medici Cycle by Rubens.  In the same room, a small version of a portrait of Henri IV is also on view, which isn’t associated with the Galerie des Rois, but he is adorable. 

Immediately after the fire, the king ordered the room rebuilt, much to the delight of Louis Le Vau. His earlier design, which he had been developing, was given the green light and was full steam ahead. Maybe too quickly. Le Vau’s vision cut a few corners along the way when it came to the structure of the roof that would have to be fixed many years later, but it’s really the interior of this room that shone. 

The entire upper floor had to be rebuilt and designed to blend in with the building below, with a few changes, and even to return some of the original design motifs. The entire exterior of the Louvre is a giant puzzle dating to the kings and emperors, with one surprising thread running through it all: continuity. While each ruler wants to leave their mark, they have all kept Henri IV's grand design in mind in the overall theme. On closer inspection, you can see the initials of the many kings, especially the H of Henri IV and the N of Napoleon III. 

The construction of the Petite Gallery was finished in two years, and as early as May 1663, the sculptors of the many stucco elements of the ceiling were brought in to bring the ceiling to life, all from the vision of painter Charles Le Brun. Three years later, the sculpture work was complete, and Le Brun began painting, but it would all come to a screeching halt in 1671 when Louis XIV left Paris and the Palais du Louvre behind for Versailles. 

We know this space today as the Gallerie d’Apollon, which was struck by tragedy again on October 19, 2025, also a Sunday morning. As the thieves escaped the balcony created in 1663 by Louis le Vau, they attempted to set the vehicle on fire, destroying evidence. Thankfully, security was gaining ground, and they dropped a torch before it could be lit. I hate to think what might have happened if they had been successful. 

Last week, when the monumental carpets created for the Grande Galerie were on display in the Grande Palais, one of the Apollo carpets recently restored was also presented. 

Ordered by Jean Baptiste Colbert in 1626, the thirteen carpets would reflect the ceiling's design and the Apollo theme. In the center of each carpet was either a lyre, bow, arrows, or torches, surrounded by laurel wreaths. Each is a symbol of the sun god, Apollo. Woven by Simon Lourdet, the official carpet maker of the king, and set up a large atelier for him in the former soap factory along the Seine, a short walk from the Louvre, the same year. 

Unlike the Grande Galerie carpets, the Apollo gallery carpets were laid out in the space for a single occasion. In 166,6 just after their completion, they were presented to the king as he walked through, checking on the progress of the gilded glory of a room. 

The Louvre still holds one in its collection and on display in salle 604 on the 1st floor of the Sully wing. 

Apollo was born from the ashes.  If it weren’t for the fire, the Petite Gallerie may never have become the beautiful Apollo.

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Episode 4 - The Carpets of Louis XIV - A Once in a Lifetime Opportunity

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For just seven days, under the beautiful glass-and-iron roof of the Grand Palais, there is a sight that hasn’t ever been seen since they were created in the 17th century. Stretched out across the over 650-foot-long nave, thirty-one of the 93 carpets intended for the Palais du Louvre and created by Charles le Brun under Louis XIV are a sight to behold. 

Louis XII died on May 14, 1643, the same date as his father, Henri IV, in 1610. Louis XIV was just four years old and unable to rule until he turned 13. In 1661, his coronation was held in Reims, a sight we will also see depicted in another special collection today.  Raised with a taste of the good life, Louis wanted to be surrounded by beauty everywhere he went. 

After his father's death, he grew up in the Palais Cardinal, today’s Palais Royal, which was far more contemporary than the dilapidated Louvre. After the Fronde and escape from Paris, he returned to restore the Louvre to the palace it deserved to be. 

The Louvre in the 17th century was much smaller than it is today. The Middle Ages' fortress and palace were demolished by Francois I, and the current Louvre began to take shape under his son, Henri II, in the 16th century. Since then, each king or emperor added a bit here and there. Louis XIV was no different and added the rest of the Salon Carrée wing and Colonnade, although he fled Paris without putting a roof on it, but that’s a story for another day. 

Inside, he had the lavish summer apartments created for his mother, Anne of Austria, and the Apollo gallery above it. The Adjoining Palais des Tuileries was also largely enhanced by Louis XIV, and the route to it from the Louvre needed its own little glow-up. 

The Galerie du Bord de l’Eau, as it was originally known, was added by Henri IV to link the two palaces so the royal family and court could avoid the weather as they walked between them. It stretches above the Seine, covering 457 meters (1,500 feet) and is over a quarter of a mile long. 

Henri IV began building it in 1595 and finally completed it in 1610, just before his death.  Henri wanted the walls covered with landscape paintings of the French countryside by Jacques Fouquieres, but that would never come to fruition. 

As a child, Henri’s son, Louis XIII, learned to hunt in the long gallery where they brought in a horse, dogs, and foxes, and at one point, a camel was found galloping through the never-ending corridor. On rainy days, he tied a small carriage to his dogs that raced him to the Tuileries.

In 1641, the corridor ceiling was to be embellished by French artist Nicolas Poussin and architect Jacques Lemercier with scenes from the life of Hercules, a figure who plays an important role in the history of the Bourbon kings. Poussin ran into one hurdle after another, many self-inflicted, and returned to Rome, and the project was abandoned. 

Twenty-one years later, in 1662 Jean- Baptiste Colbert sent a sealed and private request to the Ministry of the Marine asking for a very large carpet. Specifically, a Turkish-style, hand-knotted carpet. The Turkish rugs were more durable and made with wool and linen, and a bit more plush than the Persian style. Colbert never received his carpet, so he had to create his own. An initial order placed in August 1662 for thirteen carpets to fill the floor of the Petite Galerie was just the beginning. 

The following year, in 1663, Louis XIV established the Garde Meuble and appointed Gedéon Barbier du Metz as its guardian. This action, in turn, put a greater importance on all the treasures of the crown. The furnishing of the many chateaux and palaces, furniture, tapestries, and even the crown jewels all fell into this important category.  It was then that the Palais du Louvre moved to the top of the list and needed revitalization. 

In 1668, Louis XIV resumed the project his father had abandoned to recreate and restore sections damaged during the Fronde and the 1661 fire. Architect Louis Le Vau used Poussin's designs, added his own touches, and handed over the work to a team of sculptors and artists to embellish the ceilings and walls of the Bord de l’Eau. 

In 1668, the most ambitious project was intended to cover the entire length with carpets. Jean Baptiste Colbert orchestrated the king's project and offered his own vision, and commissioned the largest single carpet project in Europe.  Colbert dictated the size of the carpets but left the rest to painter and decorator Charles Le Brun. Le Brun conceived the concept and instructed multiple artists to design each of the over 80 carpets; a few were duplicated. 

Baudrin Yvart and Francois Francart developed the overall designs and theme under Le Brun's instruction. Other artists, including Nicasius Bernaerts, Jean Lemoyne, aka Le Lorrain, Jean Baptiste Monnoyer, and Pieter Boe,l worked on the animals, fruit, and flowers. Abraham Genoels painted each landscape. 

Each carpet features a large central compartment with an architectural border and, on either end, a cartouche depicting either a landscape scene or a bas-relief cameo of an allegory in light pink, ochre, or pale blue. 

Virtues of the king, including authority, tolerance, fortune, vigilance, and peace, are all depicted by allegories. Religious virtues as well as love, hope, and generosity. The four elements are air, wind, earth, and fire. 

Carpet number 46, Earth is my favorite with the four corners of the world. In the center, a globe is surrounded by animals that represent the four parts of the world.  A horse for Europe, a camel for Asia, a crocodile for the Americas, and an elephant for Africa. On either end, Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, on one side, and Bacchus, the god of wine, on the other.  However, this one holds a hidden treasure that none of the others do. 

In each corner, the artist added a snake that is winding its way around the acanthus leaves, ready to attack the sweet little squirrel. 

Nicolas Fouquet, the Superintendent of Finances, was the richest man in France; he even had more money than the king. He married well twice and amassed vast fortunes, as well as his own family's money. On August 17, 1661, Fouquet threw a little soiree at his newly built chateau Vaux le Vicomte and invited the boss, Louis XIV, to attend. Louis arrived with more than six hundred people as well as Jean Baptiste Colbert.  

Fouquet wanted to impress the king and pulled out all the stops, including fireworks, fountains, and the finest cuisine of the day by François Vatel. Moliere presented his play Les Fâcheux for the first time ,and Jean de la Fontaine read his many fables. 

The beautiful chateau was designed by architect Louis Le Vau, painted by Charles Le Brun, and the gardens by Andre Le Nôtre.  Colbert was so distraught that he started to lay the suspicion on the king that the only way he could afford this had to have been from stealing from the royal coffers. 

On September 5, 1661, the king's birthday, Colbert had Fouquet arrested and all his property seized. He even took his artists who designed his home. It’s no small coincidence that the plans for the Chateau de Versailles exploded at this point and became far more elaborate. 

The coat of arms of the Fouquet family is of a single squirrel, Fouquet meaning squirrel in old French. And you guessed it, the coat of arms of Jean-Baptiste Colbert was that of a snake. Colbert had that added into the carpet that sat in the very center of the Grande Galerie. 

For the landscapes, no details on exactly what each one represents were also brought in. At the time, the Grand Galerie stood on its own and stretched above the Seine with windows lining the entire corridor. Under Napoleon III, sections were added, including the one where the Mona Lisa is now. In the 17th century, the only source of light was from the windows on either side. The windows above us today were not added until the 19th century. 

The intention was that the royal court could stroll down the galerie, taking in the sights along the way. The Seine below, and what was actually many homes on the courtyard side. However, if Henri IV had his wish, the walls would have been covered in the landscapes of France. 

Once the designs were complete, it was time to begin construction of this monumental project. 

The process is inspired by the Turkish and eastern weaving techniques. On a vertical upright loom, two massive fir trees held the yarn for two layers of wool warp threads that went top to bottom. Each row of knots is secured wth the colored weft linen thread that goes horizontally. They are then compacted together to create a tight, secure design and cut with angled scissors to form the dense pile. 

It was under Hot Legs Henri, as I affectionately call him, that the art of weaving tapestries and carpets arrived in Paris. Seeing the success in Italy and in Lyon, he wished to establish the art of silks, furniture making, and tapestries in Paris. First, he designated the eastern part of the Marais for factory construction, but few factories were built. Next, he set out to find artisans he could bring in to build the craft at his feet. 

In 1608, Pierre Dupont, who claimed he was trained in the art of making Turkish and Levantine style of rugs, was named “carpet maker to the king”. His atelier was established on the ground floor of the Louvre, just below the Grande Galerie itself. Henri loved his designs so much that he kept them all for himself and requested more than Pierre could keep up with. 

Teaching his craft to students, an exceptionally adaptable young man, Simon Lourdet showed a talent for weaving. Members of the court would visit their atelier and marvel at the designs, thinking they were looking at a painting. 

Dupont and Lourdet continued working in the atelier after the king's death. Marie de Medicis, now regent for her young son Louis XIII, wanted to establish and grow the industry. In 162,6 Marie named Simon Lourdet as her official carpet maker and set up a large atelier for him in the former soap factory along the Seine, a short walk from the Louvre. 

Dupont was enraged and took it as a betrayal. Fights, public disputes, and lawsuits continued until the two died, and then the battles continued through their sons, who took over each atelier. 

The Manufacture Savonniere, established in 1628, moved into the former soap factory on the hill of Chaillot, where the Palais du Tokyo and the Modern Art museum are today. Under Marie de Medici, it had been turned into an orphanage after the soap factory, and when a larger space was needed for the Lourdet atelier, it was a perfect location, with a built in work force. 

There are a few times when I'm doing research and getting very deep into it that I find things I wish I hadn’t known. The real and unvarnished lives of Chanel, Gertrude Stein, and Simon de Beauvoir, to name a few, and my dislike for them runs deep. And now we can add this little gem of a fact about Marie de Medicis. I covered her in the old podcast many years ago and will update her story again soon, but let’s just say she wasn’t known for being a wonderful woman or loving mother, and now we can add another layer. 

To bring these massive tapestries to life, many hands were needed. Shall we say little hands? Supplied by the Hopital Général, orphans aged 9 to 13 worked and trained as apprentices in exchange for housing, food, and clothing. Marie thought it was a good way to keep the orphaned children from entering a life of begging or crime. 

At any point over the twenty years it took to fulfill the order of the 93 carpets of the Grande Galerie, as well as the 13 for the Galerie d’Apollon, more than fifty weavers worked at one time. A later report established in 1713 looked at the same period of 1664-1673, which covered part of the creation of the carpets; 283 children escaped or died.  

In 1671, with both the Dupont and Lourdet descendants now in charge of each of the ateliers and the family war over, the two joined together in the Savonniere to continue work on the grande galerie carpets. 

After the death of Simon Laurdet, his son Philippe had taken the helm, and after his death in 1719, his wife Jeanne Haffrey Laurdet led the way, and under her leadership, 65 of the 93 carpets were created, and a majority of what you see in this very special exhibit. 

It took over twenty years to finish this monumental task in1689. Louis XIV left Paris in 1682, moving his entire court to Versailles. The carpets were all but forgotten and no longer needed. They never arrived at the Louvre or rolled out into the Grande Galerie. Louis XIV and, later, his grandson, Louis XV, used them as diplomatic gifts, distributing them across Europe and Asia. 

In 1789, during the Revolution, many were sold, given away, cut up or just forgotten and lost.

Napoleon revitalised the Gobelins and sought to restore French grandeur. While few could afford to have large tapestries and carpets made, the Emperor kept the looms moving with new orders and restoration of the many carpets of the Sun King he found and purchased, where they could return home, at least to France if not the Grande Galerie. 

Over time, they have been used in the Elysees Palace in the private and public spaces, multiple French embassies around Europe, and other government offices. 

Today, the Manufacturers National has 41 in its collection, including eight fragments. Carpets that big need a very large space to spread out, and when they were gifted or sold, many were sadly cut to fit smaller rooms. 

Carpets today are scattered around the world in museums and private collections. The Musée Camondo has #50, representing Air, one of the four elements. The center includes four winds blowing trumpets, and on either end are the bas-reliefs of Juno and Aeolus, god of the wind. 

Since 2023, the tapestries have undergone an intense study to look at their iconography, provenance, and current state for restoration. `

If you miss this once-in-a-lifetime exhibit this week ,you can see two within the Louvre. Both should return to display after the exhibit. You can find them in salle 602 and 603 on the first floor of the Sully wing. 

Also on display were 14 tapestries of the life of the sun king, created, and one of the carpets of the Apollo gallery. More next week 

The exhibit runs until February 8th and is free, but a ticket is required. Open every day from 10 am to 7:30 pm on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and until Midnight on Friday, the 6th, and until 4 pm on Sunday, the 8th. 

Grand Palais website

Episode 3 - The Affair of the Necklace and the Jewels of Marie Antoinette

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In 1772, King Louis XV commissioned Boehmer & Bassange, the crown jewelers, to design a special one-of-a-kind necklace to "surpass all others” for his mistress, Madame du Barry.

Charles Auguste Boehmer and Paul Bassenge, known as the Bohemians, had an atelier in the Place Louis le Grand, today's Place Vendôme. The two became the jeweler to the king after Thierre de Ville d’Avry, the minister of the king’s household, believed that he should have the full authority over the appraisal of any jewels created or used from the Crown stones. Jeweler Aubert decided he wasn’t going to work under these conditions under Louis XVI and gave up his royal marker, allowing the “Bohemians” to step right in. 

 It took six years to gather the 647  diamonds weighing 2,840 carats; Louis XV would die, and du Barry would be banished before it was finished in 1778.

Described as a row of 17 diamonds, each of 5 to 11 carats, that ties on the neck with a black silk ribbon. Three garlands hang down with two large pear-shaped diamonds, a cluster of 3 diamonds and large pear drop, and a larger pear diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds that it also hangs from. 

What really makes this necklace stand out are the wide “ribbons” and tassels made of more than 600 diamonds. The tassels later inspired Empress Eugenie and the bow brooch stolen from the Louvre. 

Left with a very expensive necklace on their hands without being paid, they reached out to Louis XVI, thinking he would want to buy it for his queen. With a very high price tag, the queen refused, telling her husband, “We have more need of 24 ships”. However, it was also her strong dislike of du Barry, and she didn’t want anything intended for her.  The jewelers were distraught, would be bankrupt if they couldn’t sell the necklace, and were easy prey for a crafty criminal.

Jeanne de Valois Saint Rémy, Comtesse de la Motte, began her life believing she was descended from royalty. Her father, Jacques de Valois, was the illegitimate grandson of King Henri II and his mistress Nicole de Savigny. Never recognized, they constantly lived far beneath where they believed they should be, and by the time Jeanne grew up, she wanted to do something about it. 

At 24, Jeanne married Nicolas de la Motte and both had a lofty goal of how their life should be. Nicolas obtained a job as a bodyguard to the Comte d’Artois, brother of Louis XVI and future king Charles X. Allowing Jeanne entry to Versailles amongst the court, she planned to get close enough to Marie Antoinette, who she believed would take pity on her circumstances as a woman and bestow her with her regal heritage. This, of course, did not happen. 

Jeanne met Marc Antoine Rétaux de Villette, a jack of all trades, including forgery, prostitution, and fraud.  A friend of her husband's, the two began a hot, steamy relationship and hatched a plan to get what she believed she rightfully deserved.

Jeanne de la Motte Valois Saint Remy by Vigee le Brun

Our other major player in this story was Cardinal Louis-René de Rohan. Descending from the wealthy Rohan family, he served as an ambassador to Vienna in 1771. Empress and mother to Marie Antoinette, Marie Therese wasn’t a fan of Rohan. Rohan loved his life of luxury and being surrounded by lovely ladies and had little interest in much else.  Rohan uncovered a plot by the Empress to overthrow Poland and wrote a letter exposing her. The letter made its way to Versailles and into the hands of Madame du Barry, who read it aloud at a dinner with Marie Antoinette looking on. She would never forgive Rohan for what he said, and another strike against du Barry. 

Rétaux de Villette had learned of Rohan’s desire to return to the good graces of the young queen through a few of his ladies he employed to service the Cardinal. With his talent for forgery, access to the palace, and a knack for pulling off a sting, a plan was hatched, and the Cardinal was the perfect tool.

Jeanne placed herself in the path of Rohan a few times until he noticed her, and the two became lovers. Confessing his distress over his lack of a relationship with the queen to Jeanne. At the perfect moment, she told him she was friends with the Queen and that if he wrote her a letter, she would get it to her. Jeanne had another agenda. Villette answered the letters himself, posing as the Queen, who then passed the letter to the Cardinal by Jeanne.

Cardinal Rohan

Growing increasingly skeptical after numerous letters, Rohan begged for a private meeting with the Queen. Jeanne hired Nicole Le Gray d’Oliva, a prostitute from the Palais Royal, to impersonate the Queen.  On August 11, 1784, at 11 pm,  in the Grove of Venus at Versailles. The “queen” emerged and handed Rohan a red rose. For the next few months, the letters from the “queen” to Rohan continued. 

On December 28, 1784, Jeanne visited Boehmer & Bassange. Her reputation as a close confidant of Marie Antoinette had spread through Paris, and the jewellers were hoping she could help them. 

On January 21, 1785, Jeanne told Rohan that the Queen wanted the necklace but needed someone to get it for her. Jeanne forged a letter and a purchase order for the necklace, and he took it to Boehmer & Bassange on February 1, 1785. Handing over the necklace to Rohan, he then took it to meet Jeanne and what he thought was one of the Queen’s valets. It was Rétaux de Villette who promptly took the necklace and removed all the diamonds. The jewels were separated between de Villette and her husband, de la Motte, and instructed not to sell too many at once. 

Nicolas de la Motte fled to England with the largest of the diamonds. Dressed as an aristocratic gentleman, he claimed the diamonds were from belt buckles and family heirlooms.  In need of a quick sale, de la Motte offered the stunning diamonds at a very low price that would raise suspicion among jewelers. Numerous jewellers called the French embassy, but there hadn’t been any reports of high-quality gems missing. De la Motte realised he might have better luck trading them instead of selling.  Furniture, crystal chandeliers, bronze and marble statues, and art, he loaded up and returned to France. 

For almost eight months, the trio lived a life of luxury. Jeanne’s husband returned to England, and Jeanne and Villette lived in a large house in Bar-sur-Aube, which they had acquired through the sale of the jewels. 

The first payment to Boehmer & Bassange was due on August 1, and as the days passed, they grew more wary that they wouldn’t see the money.  Meanwhile, Rohan still wasn’t being invited back into the fold, and the confidence of the queen. The jewelers contacted Rohan, who was unaware they hadn’t been paid. After days of trying to reach Jeanne, she told him the queen needed money and that he could help her find wealthy friends who would make the first payment. 

This was when her grand scheme began to unravel. As jewelers to the crown, they knew many people in the court of Versailles. They had been told to keep the entire episode a secret as Marie Antoinette didn’t want anyone to know. 

Boehmer sent a letter to a chambermaid of the queen, revealing his situation. The letter was then passed to Madame Campan, who told the Queen, and then to the Baron de Breteuil, minister of the King's household, who had a strong dislike for the Cardinal. 

On August 15, 1785, on the Feast of the Assumption, the Cardinal was walking through the Hall of Mirrors when he was arrested and taken to the King. Marie Antoinette and jeweler Boehmer were waiting with the order signed by the Queen. She had never seen it before. Rohan was taken to the Bastille and divulged all he knew about the necklace theft.

Jeanne and Villette continued to sell the jewels one by one. 

Villette approached a jeweler in Montmartre, offering a few of the large, brilliant-cut stones at very low prices, which struck the jeweler as odd. The police were alerted and paid a visit to Villette's apartment on the Île Saint-Louis. The jewels were gone, but he was arrested, confessed, and also admitted the involvement of the de la Motte couple.

Jeanne de la Motte was arrested and sent to the Bastille. 

Nicole Le Gray d’Oliva, the prostitute that impersinated the queen waq arrested in Brussels on October 16, 1785. 

L’Affair de Collier de la Riene 1946

On May 22, 1786, they all stood trial together at the Parliament of Paris on the Ile de la Cité. Eight days later, on May 30, the verdict was in. Cardinal Rohan and Nicole Le Gray d’Oliva were acquitted of all charges. 

Nicolas de la Motte, who never appeared at court, was sentenced to life in prison in absentia. After the Revolution, he returned to France and supported himself by extorting the Rohan family into not publishing his memoirs. 

Rétaux de la Villette was found guilty and banished from France. He made his way to Venice to write his memoir and the story of the Affair of the Necklace. He wasn’t the only one. 

Jeanne de la Motte was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison at the Salpêtrière for the rest of her life. She was whipped and branded with the letter V for Volueuse, Theft. Two years later, she escaped from prison dressed as a boy and fled to London, where she would write her version of the story. 

On August 23, 1791, in an attempt to evade creditors, she fell out of a window and died. The report stated that she was “terribly mangled, her left eye cut out, and her arm and both legs were broken. 

For the Queen, who was innocent in the plot, it was too late. It only fed into the rumors of her excess. People even thought she orchestrated the entire thing to get back at Rohan. The Affair of the Diamond Necklace led to her final fall that was to come in just a few years. 

As for the diamonds, they all disappeared.  The jewelers went bankrupt due to the immense loss and embarrassment the theft caused them. To this day, we don’t officially know where any of them went. The thieves never gave up any information on who they sold the jewels to, leaving it a question that also brings a bit of deception.

A few of the detailed engraving by Boehmer & Bassange remain and have been used to recreate the necklace in faux stones. A replica made by jeweler Albert Guerrin for the Maison Burma in Paris in 1960, and donated to the Château de Versailles in 1963, is on display in the Queen's apartments, closed to the public except for special tours. I am going this week and will share everything I see. 

The oldest replica was created by Lucien Baszanger in the early 20th century and was recently sold at auction in Paris. Made of silver, metal alloy, and imitation diamonds was faithfully created from the original etching. Later copies added 49 pearls to the piece. At the auction, the replica sold for over 35 thousand euros. 

Today, that real necklace would be worth over $17 million dollars. 

Marie Antoinette has been accused of many things since the 18th century. Known for her lavish lifestyle and spending, in reality, the brother of Louis XIV, Philippe d’Orléans, spent more on shoes, clothes, and jewels than Marie Antoinette ever did. 

Paintings of Marie Antoinette rarely depict her wearing necklaces. She was more fond of bracelets and earrings, and at large events would wear a few of the large Crown diamonds in her hair or hat, including the Sancy kept in the Louvre. 

With each new king, the Crown Jewels would be inventoried. Many would sell them off, dismantle pieces, and recreate them in their own taste. Large gems were even recarved, making it even harder to track the provenance of many of them. 

When Marie Antoinette arrived at the Court de Versailles, one of the only things she was allowed to bring with her were her jewels. Pieces given to her by her mother, Empress Marie Therese, and her grandfather-in-law, Louis XV, all became her personal collection, not of the Crown. 

On May 5, 1789, was the last opportunity that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette would wear their jewels. At a banquet of the opening of the Estates General at Versailles, the couple was decked out in silver and gold cloth, much like their wedding, and dripping in jewels. Sewn into her dress, on her hat, in his button holes, on the buckles of their shoes, and even the Regent diamond made an appearance on the king's hat. 

Exactly five months later, on October 5, they would leave Versailles behind and be taken to Paris, and the march to their final moments that would end each of their lives in 1793. 

At first, they lived a life of luxury in the Palais des Tuileries with all the comforts of royal life, including their jewels. Fearing the worst, Marie Antoinette began packing her belongings and giving them to trusted friends who would send them far from Paris. 

Madame Campan writes in her memoir of an afternoon in the palace when she helped the queen load a diamond bracelet, rubies, and pearls into a small crate. The following day, they were taken by her hairdresser, Léonard, who personally delivered them to Belgium. 

Belgium was under Austrian control at the time, and it was a safe place to ride out the Terror. The queen instructed Léonard to sell some of them as she and Louis XVI would need money. This was prior to the attempted escape in 1791. What remained of the jewels eventually reached the couple's only surviving child, Marie-Therese. 

Upon Léonard’s return to Paris, he was given another box of jewels, which he hid away in his apartment and eventually took to London to sell on December 27, 1791. 

Frequently, a piece of jewelry appears at an auction claiming to be created from the “Queen’s Necklace”. It always causes a buzz and is picked up by every news source and jewelry influencer. Sadly, none of them can be traced back to the actual necklace or the diamonds used to create it. 

This goes for just about any piece that actually belonged to the queen. 

One necklace attributed to Marie Antoinette was a stunning piece featuring 30 brilliant-cut diamonds and 13 pear-shaped diamonds in various sizes. It came up for auction at Christie’s in London in June 1971. It included four documents with detailed information on the provenance and former owners. 

Belonging first to Marie Antoinette, it was given to her daughter and most likely in the box Léonard had taken to Belgium. Upon her death, it was left to her husband's niece, Marie Therese of Austria-Este. She later passed it to her niece, Marguerite, duchess of Madrid, who left it to Don Jaime de Bourbon after her death in 1893. It was then sold to the Archduchess Leopold Salvator, who passed it to Princess Massimo.  The Princess then sold it in 1937 to an unknown buyer of a “princly family”. At some point, it was sold to an Indian merchant, who brought it to auction in 1971. 

It did not meet the minimum bid, so the unknown owner kept it and dismantled it at that point. 

The necklace is stunning, but the setting is in the style of Marie Antoinette and was most likely redesigned under Marie Therese of Austria-Este. 

Another necklace that gains a lot of attention is called the Sutherland Diamond Riviere. Designed with 22 large diamonds. There are two versions of the history that can be linked to the Sutherlands and their descendants. George Leveson-Gower duke of Sutherland, served as the ambassador of France during the Revolution. At the time, the royal family was held in the Tuileries. Elisabeth, the Countess of Sutherland, claims to have grown close to Marie Antoinette and was given some of her jewels as they fled France and returned to England. 

Another story was that the duke's father, Granville Leveson-Gower, the first Duke of Sutherland, purchased the diamonds from Nicolas de la Motte and claimed they were part of the famed necklace.

Worn by generations of Sutherland women, it came up for auction in 2019 but was removed and given to the British government in lieu of estate taxes, and is now held at the Victoria and Albert Museum. 

In the Smithsonian in DC, a set of large pear-shaped drop earrings is also tied to her, although there isn’t any evidence to back that up. In fact, a letter written in 1928 by Prince Youssoupoff dates the jewels to his great-grandfather, who had purchased them on 1803 and was not affiliated at all with Marie Antoinette. Eventually, purchased by Marjory Meriwether Post through Harry Winston and later donated by her daughter to the Smithsonian. 

With such an uncertainty of whatever happened to the Queen’s necklace or its diamonds or any of her other jewels, but we haven’t seen the last of the auction items or stories of jewels that “may have been” a part of the Queen's collection or the famous necklace. 

The Affair of the Necklace  2001 Hillary Swank and Simon Baker 

Lupin season one on Netflix

Episode 2 - The Fall and End of Louis XVI

233 years ago, on January 21, 1793, at 10:15 am, Louis XVI, the fallen king of France, walked up the wooden steps in the middle of the Place de la République, and with the quick release of the blade, he was dead. 

Born at the Chateau de Versailles on August 23, 1754, Louis-Auguste became the Dauphin of France when his father died in 1765, and became the heir to his grandfather Louis XV’s throne at the age of 11. 

A young boy who preferred books, keys, and maps found himself getting married at 15.

In the very early morning of May 16, 1770, Marie Antoinette headed to Versailles. Arriving at 10 am, she entered the golden gates and was taken to the queen’s apartment to get ready. A beautiful dress, two sizes too small, of silver fabric, which was the customary color for the Dauphine to be married in, was waiting for her.

Louis XV and his grandson Louis-Auguste waited in the king’s apartment. Dressed in gold and wearing a diamond-covered habit of the Order of the Holy Spirit. Just before noon, he met his bride and took her hand. The two walked through the Hall of Mirrors on their way to the Royal Chapel, built in 1699 by Louis XIV. Her gown and all its jewels shone brighter than the mirrors themselves. 

In the Royal Chapel, they kneeled before the Archbishop of Reims, Monseigneur de la Roche-Aymon, blessed the rings and 13 gold coins before Louis placed the ring on her tiny finger. The wedding was followed by a lavish feast in the Royal Opera attended by the entire court. 

A firework display was to follow, but was canceled due to a storm and rescheduled to May 30 at the Place Louis XV in Paris. The celebration of the marriage and the fireworks took place before thousands of onlookers. A fire broke out on the scaffolding, sending fireworks flying and people running in panic. 132 people died, and many more were hurt, a bad omen for the start of their lives.  Place Louis XV was renamed Place de la Revolution and in 1793, the couple would meet their final fate under the guillotine’s blade. 

It would take 8 years for the marriage to be consummated, and 11 years for the all-important heir to the throne, bringing in much speculation and pressure from both sides of the family. 

Upon the death of Louis XV on May 10, 1774, the young couple was crowned king and queen of France. Inheriting the crown also meant taking on the country's swiftly mounting debt and the resentment of the monarchy. 

The quiet Louis XVI was more focused on religious freedom and foreign policy than the plight of the citizens, and wanted to be admired and loved by the people. 

On October 1 and 3, 1789, King Louis XVI threw a large dinner party for the king's guards and the Flanders Regiments. While the people of Paris were starving and unable to get bread, a lavish dinner at Versailles was the final straw. 

Before dawn on October 5, a large group, mostly composed of women, met in front of the Hotel de Ville. Breaking in and stealing more than 600 weapons, the group marched from Paris.

In the pouring rain for over 5 hours, they walked in the mud, arriving at Versailles. Demanding to be let into the National Assembly, their spokesperson, Stanislas Maillard, read their demands for wheat, flour, and an end to the blockade of the route into Paris. With all in agreement, the order was taken to the king to sign and enact, but it was too late. We could be done with this story, but we know it ends differently. 

Overnight, the crowd gathering outside grew restless after endless hours without any news, prompting the guards to push back. The angry mob rushed the palace, killing the queen’s guards and calling out her name through the gilded halls of the palace. The royal family finally agreed to go with the crowd back to Paris, leaving Versailles on October 6 and the life they knew behind.

Their prison was the Palais des Tuileries, where they could be watched closely, but still lived a life of comfort for over two years.

On June 21, 1791, the king and queen of France attempted a last-ditch effort to escape from the watchful eyes of the Tuileries. The king had been cooking up the idea for over a year and discovered that the French town of Montmédy, near the edge of Luxembourg, was an area that still supported the idea of the monarchy. 

Axel Von Fersen, Marie Antoinette’s close friend and lover, worked on the route, plans, passports, and the family's carriage. Axel first met Marie Antoinette in Paris on January 30, 1774, at a masked ball.  Behind the mask, he had no idea he was talking to the future queen of France. The two would meet again after his return from America, and they remained very close until the end. Historians have often wondered if it was more than that, but recent deciphering of their private letters gave more evidence to the fact that the two were also lovers.

Fersen borrowed 300,000 pieces of gold from a wealthy woman to help fund the family's evacuation and had a lavish carriage made for the royal couple, complete with a toilet. 

Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, their two children, and  Madame Elisabeth, the sister of the king. Armed with fake papers, they were now the staff of the Baroness de Korff, a Russian widow on their way to Frankfurt. On the night of the escape, the family left behind their formal attire and dressed as servants. 

At 10:50 pm on June 21, 1791, Fersen took the royal children out of the Tuileries and safely tucked them into the awaiting coach. At 11:30 p.m., Louis XVI & Marie Antoinette said their goodnights and went to bed. Louis had spent most of the day hidden away writing a 16-page “political will,” a declaration that would later seal his fate. 

At 12:10 am on June 22, Louis and Marie left the Tuileries through separate doors, alone. Louis found his way to the nearby Rue de l’Échelle, where his children, Fersen and the governess, were waiting. They all found the coach quickly, but Marie Antoinette got lost on the way and arrived 90 minutes late. The distance from the Tuileries today to where the coach was is less than 7 minutes.  When the family was finally together, they headed to the Quai du Louvre, where the carriage was to meet them along with a team of loyal soldiers. Although they were already close to two hours late, they had to wait for another hour for the carriage to arrive. This delay would also cost them immensely. 

The governess was not in the original plans, but refused to leave the children. Her job was to care for the royal children until her death, and she was not backing down. She took the place of one of the only tactions in the group that knew the roads of France. The men chosen for the voyage were each selected for their loyalty to the family, not necessarily for their abilities. Another foolish mistake. 

Fersen stayed with them until Bondy, where he was replaced by a new driver, to avoid adding too much suspicion back at the palace. Along the route, royalist supporters were strategically placed to change out the horses and protect them, but with no way to reach them and close to three hours behind, many left fearing the worst. 

Once on the road, now 3 hours late, they arrived at Pont-de-Somme-Vesle SE of Reims.

At the next town, Montmirail, at 11 am, the king was recognized.  Meanwhile, back in Paris, at 7 am, it was discovered that the family was gone, leaving only the king's “political will,” which enraged Lafayette, who was supposed to watch over them. He immediately let it be known they were gone and issued an arrest warrant. 

Just before 8 pm in Sainte-Menehould,  Jean-Baptiste Drouet thought the peasant woman looked a lot like Marie Antoinette. When he saw the king's profile in the window of the carriage, he knew it was Louis XVI. It matched the 50 note coin in his pocket. As they arrived at Varennes at 10:50 pm, the riders were not there to meet them. 20 minutes later, in front of the Eglise Saint-Gengoult, the citizens demanded that they exit the carriage. At 11:10 pm, just 24 hours after their escape, they were arrested. 

On the morning of June 22, the National Guard was on its way back to Paris. The route would take four days; they drew it out so people could see it and be taken back to Paris. From Chalons-en-Champagne on the 22nd, Epernay on the 23rd, and to Meux for the night of the 24th. I doubt they were able to enjoy the Champagne and Brie de Meux on the way.  

On June 25 at 7 am, they left Meux for their last trip to Paris. Hundreds lined the streets of Paris to welcome them home. They were told that if they cheered for the king, they would be beaten, and if they yelled insults, they would be hanged. People behaved until they saw the Queen, who was always the brunt of their anger. Yelling and chasing their carriage down the Champs Élysées until they entered the Tuileries. 

Now more closely watched and their movements limited to their bedrooms and dining room, while the people outside the palace became angrier and angrier. Had they not escaped, the family would have spent the rest of their life in prison.

At 5 am on August 10, 1792, it came to a boil. The Tuileries were stormed, the Swiss guards were killed, and the royal family ran for their lives through the garden. More than 1000 people were killed on this day, the palace was looted, and the interior was destroyed.

Arriving at the Assembly on the edge of the garden, in the former stables used for Louis XV, where the king would be tried in a few short months. The king was given wine and treated like a king. Marie and her children were put into a small, locked room. That night as they ran, the monarchy slipped through their fingers. 

On August 13,  they were sent to the Temple prison in a cold, dark tower. The king and his valet Jean-Baptiste Cléry were separated from his wife, children, and sister, but still able to visit each other. 

A month later, on September 21, the monarchy was abolished. 

On October 1, just three years after the lavish party thrown for his guards, it was decided to establish a commission to bring the king to trial and answer for his crimes. The verdict was written before the trial ever began.

Louis XVI, now known as Louis Capet or Citizen Capet, faced the wrath and agenda of Robespierre and his Terror friends. Not much evidence was found to be used against the king, which, of course, didn’t matter. In the third week of the investigation, an iron-lined cabinet was discovered hidden in a wall of the Palais des Tuileries. His opponents divulged papers showing that the king was conspiring with foreign powers and a testament to his guilt. To date, no evidence of this has been discovered. 

At the start of December, the calls for his death began, led by Robespierre. “He must die so his homeland can live.”

The trial started on December 11, 1792, at 11 am in the Salle du Manège, where he and his family sought refuge just four months before.

Standing before the sham court and accused of the massacre of the Tuileries. Betraying his oath to the French people, supporting priests, and colluding with foreign powers. Always claiming his innocence, but still treated with more respect than they will give his wife ten months later. 

For a month, they heard from witnesses and lawyers who stacked the deck against the king. On January 16, 1793, the first votes were counted. For his immediate death, 366 people, including Jacques-Louis David, Robespierre, Marat, Camille Desmoulins, and Philippe Égalité, cousin to the king. The vote was cast three times, with the final determination made on January 20, 1793, with 380 voting for his immediate death. 

Each day of the trial, he returned to the Temple prison and kept away from his family. On the evening of January 20, he held his children one last time and said goodbye to his wife and sister, who collapsed in despair. 

At 9 am on Monday, January 21, 1793, Louis Capet left the Temple prison and his family behind. The slow drive through the city, held inside a verte wagon carriage, took over an hour. The people lined the route, yelling and proclaiming victory for the Revolutionists. 

Baron de Betz, a loyal supporter, plotted a last-ditch escape plan. Grabbing the king along the route and hid him in a house before they could get him out of the city. Unfortunately, his co-inspirers didn’t show up and alter history.

In the northwest corner of the Place de la Révolution at 10:15 am, the fallen king walked up the scaffold to the screams of the thousands waiting to bear witness to the death of the king and all he stood for. 

Louis Capet stood before his executioner, Charles Henri Sanson, while they cut his hair, tied his hands, and removed his cravat. The last words the king would say were to profess his innocence. At 10:22 am, the blade fell, marking the end of Louis XVI. 

In the moments after his death, his head was hoisted up so the crowd of thousands of people in the Place de la Révolution could see that the blood of the king had been spilled. Quickly after, executioner Sanson placed his body into a cart that was taken to the nearby Madeleine church and cemetery. 

Back at the Temple prison, Marie Antoinette, her sister-in-law Elisabeth, and her two children heard the sounds of cannons and people rejoicing in the distance. At that moment, they knew Louis XVI was dead. 

A brief ceremony of the church vicars was held, and his body was placed into a deep grave, his head placed between his feet and covered with lime. The Cimetière Madeleine was a short walk from the church, and Pierre-Louis Descloseaux overlooked the plot from a nearby building. Pierre kept an eye on the spot where the king was laid to rest, and in ten months, where Marie Antoinette would also join him. 

When Louis XVIII, brother of the slain king, came to power in 1814, Descloseaux contacted him and told him where, in the now-defunct cemetery, he could find his family. Their only surviving child, Marie-Thérèse, Duchesse d’Angouleme, returned to Paris and the final resting place of her parents. 

Every day she returned, sitting for hours. Louis XVIII announced that a chapel would be built in their memory, and Marie helped pay for the construction and the two statues of her parents in the upper chapel.  

Just opposite the statue of  Marie Antoinette in the Greek cross chapel is the statue by Francois-Joseph Bosio, Apotheosis of Louis XVI. Louis is dressed in his coronation robe with fleur de lys, as the angel points his way to heaven, and his last will and testament is engraved on the marble pedestal. 

The most poignant part of the monument is in the crypt below. In a small chapel, a black and white marble altar that marks the exact spot where they had spent 22 years in an unmarked grave.  A beautiful stained glass window lets in the softest light as you quietly take in the moment. Imagine Marie-Thérèse visiting this same spot every day with her parents, whom she lost too soon.   

On January 18 & 19, 1815, Madame Elisabeth watched as the bodies of her parents were recovered from deep in the earth.  On January 21, the 22nd anniversary of the death of Louis XVI, the couple was taken on their final route to the Basilique Saint Denis. 

The procession of 3,000 people, made up of military, ministers, and distant family, traveled north past the edges of Paris. The boxes containing the bones of the king and queen were placed on a large carriage inside a grand sarcophagus. What a difference 22 years make, as now the people stood along the route for even a glimpse. 

Upon arrival at the basilica, a large mass was held in front of the family and dignitaries before their bones were interred in the crypt below, alongside what is left of the past rulers that were recovered after the Revolution

On April 24, the king ordered the construction of a new chapel for the basilica, dedicated to the couple. Edme Gaulle was commissioned to sculpt the statue of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, Pierre Petitot. The chapel as imagined never came to be, but the statues can be seen today, and I will never forget the first time I saw them.

On that date in 1815, Louis XVIII ordered that each year they hold a special mass on the Sunday closest to the death of Louis at Saint Denis. In 202,0 I was lucky enough to attend a mass on a very chilly morning outside the Chapel Experatoir. In attendance was Louis XX, the man who would be king if France still had a monarchy. Each year, a mass is also held at Eglise Saint Germain l’Auxerrois,s where the other pretender to the throne and descendant of Philippe Égalité, Jean d’Orléans, le comte de Paris, is in attendance. Since his forefather voted for the death of Louis XVI, should he really be there? 

Do you know that every single day you are in Paris, and just around every corner is a small reminder of that fateful day, January 21, 1793? 

Did you notice how I gave you the color of Louis’ carriage to his death?  All over Paris, from the benches in the parks to the lampposts to the bouquinistes and more, everything is painted a very specific color: vert wagon. The same color as the last transport of Louis XVI. A little odd of a reminder, but the color also blends into the park's trees and bushes. 

And now you know. 

Visit many of these spots on your own when in Paris, or contact me to take you on a private customized walk through the streets of Paris, pointing out the many locations tied to his historic period.