Episode 27 - The Death of Marat

On July 13, 1793, Charlotte Corday talked her way into the apartment of writer Jean-Paul Marat and plunged a knife into his chest while he soaked in the bath, killing the Voice of the People within seconds.  

It was a pivotal moment in the French Revolution and was made famous by the painting by Jacques Louis David. A copy by his atelier hangs in the Musée du Louvre steps from the Coronation of Napoleon, while the original resides at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Belgium. A few other copies created under his watchful eye are scattered around France, and in the fall of 2025, three, including the original, were brought together for the first time in the Louvre’s exhibit dedicated to David, which was incredible. 

A painting that is as much propaganda as it is historical and has become the very definition of the event. If you say the “Death of Marat” to anyone, they don’t think of the event itself, they think of this painting, but few know of the actual details of the crime. 

Portrait of Marat by Jean-François Garneray

You could say that 1793 saw some of the most notable deaths in France. The year began with the death of Louis XVI on January 21, an event in which Marat was directly involved. On October 16, the blade fell on Marie Antoinette, ending the once-ruling monarchy. 

Jean Paul Marat, the voice of the people, was born on May 24, 1743, in Boudry, Switzerland, and moved through Paris and England as a doctor and writer, and even treated the future King Charles X. 

In the 1780s, his attention began to turn to politics and speaking out. By the end of the decade, on September 12, 1789, he published the first issue of L’Ami du Peuple, the Friend of the People, from his office in Odéon. Less than a month later, the royal family would be forced to leave Versailles and settle into the Palais des Tuileries, and the French Revolution, as we know it picked up speed. 

Through it, Marat became increasingly outspoken and poured all his feelings into writing. Often calling for the death of officials and the king, and gaining the support of the people to stand against them, he became one of the most feared men in Paris. Think of pamphlets as the 18th century newspaper, and more than 6,000 of each issue were printed, handed out on the streets, and pasted to the walls. 

He was frequently threatened, brought before the court, hid in the sewers, and even fled France on one occasion, but it was more because he had an affair with his printer's wife. 

Serving in the National Assembly, he voted for the death of King Louis XVI on January 20, 1793, and aligned himself with Robespierre and the artist Jacques-Louis David. The last Issue, no 685 of L’Ami du Peuple was published on September 21, 1792, but had already riled up a young lady living in Normandy. You can find most of the issues in French online at the national library website

Marie Anne Charlotte de Corday d’Armont was born on July 27, 1768, in Normandy to a noble but broke family. Educated under the nuns at the Abbey aux Dames in Caen, she was introduced to the French philosophers and an entirely new view of the world that differed from her family's. Her brothers had fought for the king, and her parents and grandparents were anti-revolutionists. 

She believed Marat was inciting violence and must be stopped. The September massacres of 1792, which Marat’s writing fanned the flames of violence calling for the death of thousands. While tensions escalated in Paris, many Girondin members fled to Calvados and Caen, falling into the lap of Charlotte. Just a few doors down from her home, the outspoken members held meetings that she attended, and she was able to learn even about what was happening in Paris. Marat became enemy number one and the reason for all the strife, and must die.

Charlotte Corday by Tony Robert-Fleury

Charlotte left Caen on July 9, 1793, and traveled to Paris. She was told that Marat would be at the National Convention on the 11th and would be easy to approach. Just before noon on Thursday, July 11, she arrived in Paris at the (28) Rue Notre Dame des Victoires and stayed at the Hotel de la Providence, a few blocks away, at 19 rue des Vieux Augustins (today Rue Hérold). 

The next day, she takes care of a few things her new Girondins friends asked her to do and then writes a bit of a manifesto to the “French friends of laws & peace”

Waking up early on Saturday, July 13, she walked the very quiet streets of Paris to the Palais Royal just blocks from her hotel. Then known as the Palais Egalité, she found the Badin cutlery store open at 8 am at no 177 in the Galerie de Valois. (a few doors down from another event tied to the artist David) For 40 sols, she purchases a 6-inch black-handled kitchen knife and sheath and slides it into her bodice. 

After she buys a newspaper, she sits down for a coffee. The headline of the paper calls for the execution of the leaders of the Girodins; it was all she needed to erase any doubt she might have had. 

At 9 am, it was time, but she wasn’t sure where Marat lived. Asking a carriage driver, he offered to take her there, to the Rue des Cordeliers. Through the right bank, past the Louvre and over the Pont Neuf to Marat’s building, but she hadn’t quite planned how she would get inside. Knocking on the door, she meets the concierge, Marie-Barbe Pain, who acknowledges that Marat lives on the first floor but refuses to let her in. 

A few hours later, she returns and is able to enter and reach the first floor. She gets as far as Simone Évrard, Marat’s wife, who turns her away. Frustrated, Charlotte travels back across the river to the right bank and her hotel, where she writes and sends a letter to Marat. The letter states that she arrived at his home earlier in the day and was refused, and she has important information for him regarding those who stand against the Convention, and begs for his help. 

Charlotte Corday, la dernière toilette by Mathieu Ward

Waiting at the hotel for an answer, she had a little spa time and had her hair curled and styled, a girl's got to take care of herself. She puts on a brown and pink dress and a black hat with a green ribbon, then slides the knife into her bodice once again. Marat didn’t answer her letter, and now she must finish her mission. She also takes her baptismal papers with her in case her body needs to be identified later. 

It's now just after 7 pm on a hot July 13, 1793, and Charlotte is not taking no for an answer. She arrives at the door, and Simone tries to turn her away. Charlotte raises her voice, and from the bathtub, Marat calls to let her in. She gives him her second letter, and they speak for fifteen minutes, when suddenly, Charlotte lunges forward with the knife and stabs Marat in the chest, on his right side, and the blade cuts through the aorta, heart, and pierces his lung. He dies within minutes. 

Marat assassiné ! by Jean-Joseph Weerts 1880

Simone lunges and attacks Charlotte and forces her to the ground with the help of Laurent Bras, who works with Marat. The neighbor across the way saw a chair being held in the air and attacking a woman, and rushed over to hold Charlotte down as Simone tried to tend to Marat, but it was too late. 

Word of his death spreads quickly on the streets below. The police arrive and interview everyone in the apartment. The two were alone at the time of the killing, unlike many depictions in drawings and paintings, but Charlotte truthfully tells the facts and even why she did it. Quickly removed from the scene and taken to the police station, and by the end of the day, she sat in the Abbey prison down the street where Boulevard Saint Germain and Rue de Four cross. 

Two days later, on July 15, Charlotte Corday was moved to the Conciergerie, better known as the Antichamber of death. In a few weeks, Marie Antoinette would also arrive. Charlotte’s trial was held on July 16. Earlier that morning, she wrote a letter to her father admitting to the entire crime, and with this one death, she would save “hundreds of thousands of citizens”. It was intercepted and used against her at her trial. 

Court cases of this kind back then were a bit of a joke; they all ended the same way: at the guillotine.  On Wednesday, July 17, at 8 am,  Corday was sentenced to death, and the execution would happen in a matter of hours. Around 5 p.m., executioner Henri Nicolas Charles Sanson entered her cell to take her on the same walk he would do with Marie Antoinette almost exactly three months later.  

At 5:30 pm, she was led up the stairs and into the Cour du May beside the courthouse, wearing the red shirt of a murderer. The streets are filled with angry people who want to see the killer for themselves. The less than two mile route took almost two hours; it’s basically a test run for the path the queen would also take to the Place de la Révolution (Place de la Concorde). 

At 7:30 pm, the blade dropped, and the life of Charlotte Corday was over. Immediately following her death, an autopsy was ordered on her body, but not for the reasons you might think. The same officials who tried her in court couldn’t believe that a woman would pull off such a crime on their own and had to have been spurred on by a man or at least driven mad by one. So they called for a doctor to see if she was still a virgin or not. She was 

On July 18th, Charlotte’s body and head were laid to rest at the Madeleine cemetery in pit number 5. Today, this is the Chapelle Expiatoire, noted for the final resting place of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette following their own beheading and built after they were moved to the Basilique Saint Denis.  The location of Charlotte’s pit is essentially where the chapel stairs are today. Charlotte’s bones are now mixed with the thousands of other Parisians in the Catacombs, but her skull has had another life and many different versions of who may have it or where it is. 

In the hours after the death of Marat, Jacques Louis David was contacted to create a portrait to elevate the writer to that of a martyr. David had successfully done that at the start of the year for another man who would become the image of the Revolutionists. 

Louis Michel Lepeletier de Saint Fargeau was a lawyer and served in the National Assembly. On January 20, he voted for the death of Louis XVI, and his own would come the same day. Later that evening, while dining in the Février restaurant in the Northeastern corner of the Palais Royal, Philippe Nicolas Marie de Paris, a former guard of the king, walked in and stabbed and killed Lepeletier for his vote against Louis XVI. 

David had talked with Lepeletier the day before his death and was shaken by the death, and also worried for his own life.  David wasn’t just an artist; he became a politician and an event planner as well. Not only was he crafting the image of the Revolution, but he also had to design the events that surrounded it. 

On January 24, three days after his death, Lepeletier was placed high on a pedestal in the center of Place des Piques, today's Place Vendome, and draped with his bloody shirt. David created a portrait of the newest martyr of the Revolution shortly after his death, titled The Last Moments of Michel Lepeltier.  Using the same general pose as Hector in his 1783 painting of the Sorrow of Andromache, which hangs in the Louvre.  Following the viewing and funeral, he was interred into the Pantheon but removed in February 1795. 

David had visited Marat the day before his death, just as Lepeltier had. I would imagine that with that fact, nobody invited David over for dinner ever again

The reaction to his death brought out high emotions, resulting in protests and marches throughout France. Fearing for their own lives, the members of the National Assembly called for a quick funeral and burial. Due to the heat and his skin condition, Marat’s body was rapidly decomposing, making the need for a speedy burial even more important. 

His funeral was planned for July 16 and designed by David. On July 15, his body was placed in the convent of the Cordeliers, steps from his front door. His body was in such a state that they covered it with a cloth, exposing only the knife wound. On the evening of the 16th, his body was surrounded by incense burners. It was still very hot in Paris, and they tried to mask the aroma from his body. Thousands of people lined the streets to see the body of the Friend of the People one last time. Just before the funeral parade was to start, the skies turned dark, and a lightning and thunder storm raged overhead, without a drop of rain. 

On September 21, 1794, Marat was given the honor of Pantheonization and interred into the new final resting place of the great men of France. It wouldn’t last long. After the fall of Robespierre and the end of the Terror, the Convention wanted to erase any of the reminders of this period and the men who were elevated in death to its glory. On February 26, 1795, his body and that of Lepelletier were removed in the dark of night and placed in the cemetery of Saint Etienne de Mont. 

While David began painting Lepeltier immediately, he waited two months before even starting Marat. This also allowed the gravity of the event and the painting's eventual meaning to settle, which can be seen as both good and bad. The political climate was so charged at the time, with the people on one side fearing for their own lives and political careers, and the other wanting to elevate Marat to sainthood.

The first depiction of the murder was done by Jean Jacques Hauer and is held today in the Musée Lambinet in the city of Versailles. It was presented on August 10, 1793, in the newly opened museum that would come to be known as the Louvre. Although the victim and the assailant were in the room alone at the time of the murder, Charlotte is depicted as capturing the moments just after she strikes and kills. 

In the months after his death, many artists depicted the murder, but only one artist had been to the home of Marat and saw his body in the hours after his death. 

Taking his time, he finally completed the painting on October 14, 1793. A painting that is as much propaganda as it is historical and has become the very definition of the event.

David chose a simple scene, one that may seem unfinished but was also his way of letting the few elements speak for themselves. 

Marat is placed in his tub, soaking in his sulfur water to help alleviate the pain of his skin condition. Once thought to be syphilis, in recent years, they have been able to test the blood left on the letter he had at his desk. Marat suffered from a combination of atopic dermatitis, severe acneiform, and dandruff, but together they left horrible lesions and flaking skin. 

A desk was created with a flat board and a small box to hold his inkwell and extra quills alongside. He would spend the majority of his days since the start of June in this bath and wrap his head in a cloth soaked in vinegar to help with migraine headaches. 

David drew on religious imagery to depict the fallen martyr. The white turban becomes a halo, the white sheet on which he rests a shroud, and his arm dangling from the tub, a version of the pieta of Christ. The wound resembles the one Christ bore, which was touched by Saint Thomas. All subtle nods to something that then aligns this theme with something greater than just the political message. 

David was cutting his teeth for what would come in a few short years with Napoleon. 

The artist left Charlotte out  in the painting, but she is still there, in a way. The knife rests on the floor, although David painted it with a white pearl handle rather than the black one it had. The green fabric was the color of the counterrevolutionists, the same color she wore in her hat, and the letter he clutches in his left hand was based on the one she presented to him that morning, or at least represented it and bore her name. 

The painting was unveiled for the first time on October 16, 1793, and placed in the courtyard of the Louvre. In the center, a wooden pyramid was erected, and on either side, the painting of Marat and Lepeltier was displayed for anyone in Paris to see. That same day, a block away, Marie Antoinette would pass by, sitting on a box upon a flat board placed on wheels and pulled by horses. A symbolic choice of days to display the paintings, although these two men would later be seen as villains, not heroes. 

A month later, on November 14, 1793, it was presented for the first time to the Convention and would remain in the presidential gallery until July 1794.  With this painting, David captured a moment that would be carved in stone in the history of France. 

The painting was turned into an engraving, and thousands of copies were made and sent to every corner of France to hang in government buildings. Four copies within the workshop of David were created under his watchful eye to be used as cartoons at the Gobelins to be turned into tapestries.  (I have yet to find any of the tapestries online or in museums and none exist in the Gobelins collection) 

In 1795, both paintings were returned to David, and he kept them until his death. The painting of Lepeltier was purchased by Lepeletier’s daughter, Suzanne, who had become the first orphan of the state in 1793. In 1826, she destroyed the painting and any other versions of it. All that remains today is a sketch by Anatole Devosge, created when he saw the original painting in David’s atelier. 

After David’s death in 1825, friend and artist Antoine Jean Gros kept the Death of Marat and covered it with a layer of canvas, then sealed it with white lead to hide it. It wasn’t seen again until 1846. In 1886, after the death of JL David’s grandson Jules David Chassagnol, the original was donated to the Royal Museum of Belgium, where it remains today. 

However, luckily, you can see the copies made in his atelier by his students to be used to create tapestries,  in multiple museums in France, including the Musée du Louvre.  Versions stay very faithful to the original, with only a few slight changes noticeable when all are together. At the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Reims, the box is inscribed with “unable to corrupt me, they killed me”. At the Musée des Beaux-Arts in Dijon, the box is blank, as is the one held in Versailles, but rarely on view. While the original in Belgium is simply marked with A Marat, David, and at the bottom L’an deux and 17 93 that has been smudged away. 

Since then, Charlotte has been viewed more as a heroine and Marat as the villain. She is often depicted as a beautiful and strong woman, a 19th-century Jeanne d’Arc. It's a subject that still captures artists today. 

I recently saw a version by Bernard Buffet done in 1977. In 1907, Edvard Munch depicted the two as lovers with Marat lying in a bed and a nude Charlotte standing in front holding a knife. And even Picasso gave it his own reimagined existence. 

History is interesting, and art plays such a large role in how it is told. It is exactly why I love the Louvre so much and discovering all the stories held inside a painting. It is also interesting how time can alter the view of the event. At the time this was painted, Marat was raised to the highest realm of a saintly martyr, only to come crashing down within two years. 
Time gives us the opportunity to see it from many sides and gain a better understanding of it. Today it is more important than ever to really look into these things the old-fashioned way, with reading and research and not AI. 

Musée Carnavalet

In Paris, you can find more on Marat and Charlotte Corday in the Musée Carnavalet, which also holds a copy of his death mask and even part of his jaw. 

There are many reminders in the streets of Paris, especially in Saint Germain. Book a walking tour with me to uncover it all and relive the history on the very streets where it happened. 

The bathtub Marat died in was later sold by his wife and remained missing until 1804, when it was purchased by André Augustin Capriol de Saint Hilaire in Paris from a scrap metal dealer. Capriol took it with him when he moved to Taverny, north of Paris. After his death, his daughter Marie Adelaide left it to the Abbé Joseph Rio upon her death in 1861. It was then passed to Abbé Le Cosse of the bishopric of Vannes and eventually made its way to the tiny island of Île aux Moines. Le Cosse liked to show it off to people, and word eventually spread, reaching the pages of Le Figaro on July 15, 1885.  A year later, it was auctioned off and purchased by the Musée Grévin in Paris, where it is on display to this day. 

Episode 26 - The Raft of the Medusa

Many are familiar with the large painting hanging in the Salle Mollien of the Louvre by Théodore Géricault, but did you know it was based on a true story? Le Radeau de la Méduse (The Raft of the Medusa) was painted in 1818 when Géricault was 27 years old. It depicts the story of the French ship Medusa, a 40-gun frigate used during the Napoleonic Wars in 1810, which was intended as a decoy for his escape to America. 

However, the Medusa would become the very example, shining a light on what was wrong with the Restoration of the Bourbons, even as they tried to hide it. It was in their attempt to erase it that would bring the entire affair to the forefront and inspire the young French artist. 

Theodore Géricault had just returned from Rome in November 1817 and wanted to make his mark in the Parisian art community. His fellow artists, Jean-Antoine Gros and Horace, the son of his mentor Carle Vernet, were finding their own commissions. Géricault wanted something big, and the legacy-making theme would fall right into his lap. 

In 1816, France was trying to move forward and past the First Empire. Napoleon was finally exiled far, far away in Saint Helena, and the Bourbon Louis XVIII returned to the throne once more. In March of 1815, when Napoleon had returned for 100 days, Louis XVIII had fled Paris, and those who remained close to him and defended him would be rewarded later. 

Hugues Duroy de Chaumereys was just one of those men. Born on December 20, 1763, into a wealthy family, he entered the navy with the help of high-ranking members and friends of his father. At the start of the Revolution, he fled France for England and returned only when Louis XVIII came into power in 1814. 

Granted a full pardon for his departure from France, he became a close defender of the king. 

After Napoleon's abdication on April 6, 1814, the government sought to roll back the clock. The Treaty of Paris was signed on May 30, 1814, and restored France's borders to those of 1792. Territories that had changed hands with the British and Dutch were returned, including the interest in Senegal. Although slavery had been abolished in France on February 4, 1794, Napoleon would reinstate it in the French colonies in 1802. 

Retaking Senegal from the British and establishing a French colony were top priorities for the king, and he needed trusted individuals to carry out the mission. 

Which brings us back to our villain, Chaumareys. Chosen by the king on April 22, 1816, to lead an exploration and to establish Senegal with a French governor and community. 

Based in Rochefort on the Charente river in the Southwest of France, the voyage was delayed due to weather. Beginning on June 15, 1816, 365 people were loaded into small boats from the port of Rochefort and ferried out to Île d’Aix.  The same island  Napoleon visited before his exile,  just a year before, in July 1815. 

On June 17, 1816, the Medusa left the port of Aix alongside three other ships in the fleet.

The Medusa, the largest frigate, the Echo, a corvette and smaller warship, the Argus, a sailboat, and the Loire, which carried supplies.  

The four ships were filled with everyone you would need to restart a French base. Potential governor Julien Désiré Schmaltz, his wife Reine, and daughter Eliza were on board, as well as doctors, teachers, explorers, engineers, scientists, gardeners, and of course, a few bakers. 

One week into the voyage, a teenage sailor fell off the Medusa and into the sea. The recovery attempt by the captain was so badly handled that the young man died and was lost to the sea. It was the first but not the last crack in the captain's control. Rumblings on board had already destroyed the confidence of many under his leadership. 

Timeline of the wreck 

On July 1st, the four ships started the day together, with the smaller Echo the closest. The Medusa was off the coast of Mauritania just after Noon and by nightfall made the tragic mistake of breaking off at the southernmost tip of the peninsula at Cape Blanco.  It’s thought that Governor Shmaltz was anxious to get to Senegal and encouraged the captain to speed up. 

The Echo would remain close to keep an eye on the Medusa until the poor decisions of the captain made it difficult; they knew of the terrain and didn’t want to end up with the same fate as the Medusa. At 3 am on July 2, the Echo disappeared. A few of the sailors and officers attempted to trick the captain into getting the ship back on course. 

As the sun rose on July 2nd, the crew began to spot rocks and notice that the water became clearer and shallower. One even told the captain they had to be near the Argun reef and sandbar, but it was quickly ignored. It was also high tide, which could have been the worst luck of all. A storm was rolling in, and the waves crashed against the Medusa; at 3 pm, the ship brushed the edge of the sandbar. They managed to quickly navigate away, but it was brief. At 3:15 pm, scrapes, groans, and jolts, then the final blow came, and the frigate was lodged into the sand bar. On board, it was utter silence. 

They tried everything, but the combination of the storm, high tide, and an idiot for a captain left the 365 people on board in a panic. The hull was filling with water, and only one option remained. One of the members brought in to build new homes in Senegal was carpenter Valery Touche-Lavilette, who quickly sketched out a plan to build a raft to hold supplies, while the boats would be used for people. Using whatever could be found on board, the mast was removed, along with many of the deck boards. 

For two days, Lavillette and his men built the raft directly into the water. A railing around the massive raft was added to hold supplies, and the deck itself was partially open to the water, with boards haphazardly spaced and water splashing through every few inches. Nicknamed “the Machine”, it was a massive undertaking in less than ideal conditions. 

Measuring 65 by 23 feet, it was first loaded with barrels of guns, casks of wine, water, and food, and tied to the raft. Once the first few dozen men climbed on board, the raft quickly sank further into the water. The barrels of food were removed as more men came on board, but the raft continued to sink as deep as 4 feet while still remaining afloat. The voyage should be short; in a few hours, they should be at the shore and on to a new life. 

The construction of the raft with its limited supplies also made it very dangerous for people. The massive crowd had to stand on the boat because it was submerged by more than 4 feet of water. 

On July 5, as water filled the hull, the decision was made to abandon the ship quickly. 

Only six small boats were available, which could hold only half of their crew, and were reserved mostly for the elite and high-ranking officers.  

Future governor Schmaltz and his family took one of the boats, which could have held 15 more people. To make matters worse, a second boat was used just for their luggage. 

Just after 8 am, the six boats and large raft pushed off from the ship. Without any steering capability, the raft was attached to four of the small boats, but within two hours, the upper crust on the boats realized that the raft was slowing them down and cut it loose just 6 miles from the Medusa.

As the sun went down late into the evening, a storm rolled in, and 20 people died from falling into the ocean. Screams could be heard from the water below. 

Between the sun beating down on them and drinking the seawater, delirium set in quickly. On July 6th, the second night of being adrift at sea, the panic and fight for power began. The raft had five barrels on board at the start, two of which were filled with wine. Either for survival or boredom, the rafters dipped into the wine. Chaos ensued, and a battle for control between the officers and the men resulted in the death of 65 men as well as the only woman on board, who had broken her leg and was pushed into the sea. 

Three days before, as the raft was loaded, a case of biscuits was tossed from the Medusa and fell into the sea. Recovered, the flour biscuits inside turned into a salty paste. For the first two days, it was all the food they had. 

On the third day, July 7, the real horror began. Fewer than half of the original passengers remain on board. Starving, the men ate pieces of clothing, leather, and even bits of rope that had been cut during the battle the night before. Two barrels of wine were left, the only remaining source of calories.  Now the hardest decision was made. 

On day three,  just over 60 people were left on the raft, many of whom were injured and on the edge of death.  The self-appointed leaders of the raft decided that, to survive, they would need to consume the unfortunate raftmates. At first, many officers refused to be a part of it, but after another day or so, they had no choice if they wanted to survive.  Pieces were cut away and left to dry in the sun to make it a bit easier to consume.

Gericault captures this moment in a sketch that is held at the Louvre but is not on display. It’s hard to imagine this moment and those that follow. I think every one of us would say we would never do that, but in that moment, when your only chance of survival is at stake, it's hard to say. A horrific thought at that. 

As the sun rose on day 4, only 30 people remained. 

The raft continued to float at sea for days. More and more men succumbed to the elements. A brief sign of hope when a school of flying fish landed on the raft, but many used the raw fish as a side dish to get the other source of meat down. 

On July 12, 27 men remained. It was decided that only 15 were in good enough shape to survive a few more days. Between the wine and the few bottles of cognac on hand, they realized that 12 men needed to go. Three sailors and one soldier were given the job of ending the lives of the remaining men, many of whom were already close to death. 

In the final days of the ordeal, the 15 men had become emaciated, were delirious, and were barely holding on. Surviving on the little wine that remained, flesh, one lemon, and 30 cloves of garlic.  On the final morning, a white butterfly flew over the raft and sat on the mast. A few thought about eating the tiny creature, but many saw it as a sign that they were close to land. 

On the 12th day, a smaller raft was built and barrel staves fashioned into oars, but the structure sank into the ocean. It was the last hope they had. 

On July 17th, the 13th day into the ordeal, with only 15 men left alive, the sun rose on a perfectly clear day. 

Meanwhile, the more than 200 people who fled the Medusa in lifeboats were settling in Senegal. Captain Chaumerys had sent the Argus out to find the raft, but not to rescue the people. He wanted the three crates filled with 90,000 francs of gold and silver coins. 

Suddenly, a ship appeared in the distance. Unsure if it was real or just their delirium, they stacked up the remaining barrels, tied cloth around a barrel ring, and waved it in the air, hoping to be spotted. This is the moment that Géricault decided to paint.  The Argus had, in fact, given up its search and changed course to head back to Senegal.

Two hours later, the Argus would spot them and head straight for them, and they would be saved. The men were treated and given food, but Doctor Savigny cautioned them to eat only a small amount. A few men gorged on the food, and their emaciated bodies couldn’t handle it. Of the 15 found, five died over the next few days, leaving just 10 survivors.

The raft was found 104 miles from the initial wreck and 32 miles from shore. 

On July 19th, they arrived at the port of Saint Louis, no doubt happy to see land once again. Governor Schmaltz took the glory of finding the survivors at his direction. 

17 people had remained aboard the Medusa, and 12 survived for 42 days before they were found. They were left with food, water, and shelter from the elements.

Two of the raft's survivors play an important part in this story.  Alexandre Corréard, an engineer and journalist, wrote the eyewitness account of the tragedy and published it. That act led to his dismissal from his job as an engineer, prompting him to become a publisher.   Doctor Henri Savigny was one of three who volunteered to take the raft. On his arrival in Paris, he testified at the Ministry of the Navy against the captain. When he co-authored the detailed account with Corréard, he found instant fame. 

News traveled much more slowly than it does today. At the start of September 1816, the Echo arrived in Paris with Corréard and Savigny as well as the 8 other survivors. Corréard and Savigny wrote the definitive account of the horrific event for the Navy. By September 11, 1816, the ordeal appeared in every paper across France, including the acts of cannibalism. However, they barely scraped the surface of what really happened.

Chamereys returned to France in February 1817 and was arrested immediately. Before the war council on February 25, 1817, the entire affair was discussed behind the locked doors of the king and the government. On May 3, he was found guilty of abandoning the Medusa as well as the raft of 147 people. He should have been given the death penalty, but he was sentenced to three years in prison and stripped of any honors. 

Outraged by how the entire ordeal was handled, Corréard and Savigny were up in arms. Out of the shadows would come an unlikely aid. Police minister Élie Decazer obtained Savigny's report and leaked it to the Journal des Débats, where it appeared on September 13, 1816. 

The story captivated all of France, and Corréard and Sauvigny published the entire account in November 1817. The young Théodore Géricault was drawn in fresh from Rome.

Alexandre Corréard by Géricault

Géricault was a young and very handsome gentleman known for his red, curly hair and fine legs. (No evidence of this, so Hot Leg Henri is keeping his title. Attracted to art from a very early age, his father tried to steer him toward a more lucrative career. It would be his uncle Jean Baptiste Caruel and his wife who would help him follow his passion in more ways than one. 

His uncle married the young and beautiful Alexandrine Modeste de Saint Martin in 1807. She was 22 and closer in age to her new nephew, Géricault, who was 16 at the time. The two became very close friends, and Alexandrine convinced her husband to give the young artist a cover job in the tobacco business steps from the Louvre. 

The two became quite close and became involved. Caruel purchased the Château de Grand Chesnay near Versailles, where Géricault set up a small workshop to paint and spend any free time with his aunt. To help cover their relationship, the artist began dating Madame Montgolfier, daughter of Joseph and creator of the first air balloon I shared last week in episode 25.

On April 10, 1812, Géricault’s beloved grandmother died, leaving him with a large inheritance, allowing him to return to Paris, rent an apartment and atelier, and create a bit of distance between him and his aunt. 

His first foray into the official Paris Salon came in 1812, when his painting The Officer of the Chasseurs won him the gold medal. (The painting hangs in the Louvre across from the Medusa)  

The relationship with his aunt morphed into a full afair and resulted in a pregnancy upon his return from Rome. His uncle was well aware of the situation and turned his back on his nephew, writing him out of his life. On August 21, 1818, Georges Hipolyte was born on the Rue Pavee Saint André des Arts. His birth certificate left his parents' identities unknown. 

Géricault never saw his son, and little is known, although after the artist's death in 1824, Georges fought to take his father's name. He died on December 31, 1882, without ever meeting either of his parents. 

The news of the pregnancy sent Géricault into a frenzy. Without it, we may not have this stunning painting. He shaved his head, locked himself away in his atelier, and worked around the clock for days without sleep or food. 

At the beginning of 1818, Géricault contacted the two survivors and authors, Henri Savigny and Alexandre Corréard, who recalled their harrowing tales in minute detail.  Corréard would be a frequent visitor and close friend, advising him on even the smallest of details. Builder Valery Touche-Lavilette joined in, recreated a scale model of the raft, and added a few anecdotes from the story, but remained mostly silent. 

With their help, he began sketching and even carving figures in wax to place on the scale model, capturing the moment that had occurred just two hours before they were saved. Corréd, Savigny, and Lavilette serve as models for a few of the men huddled under the mast in the final painting. 

So dedicated to getting every detail correct, Géricault spent months researching every aspect. Traveling to Le Havre, he sketched the sky and the sea and interviewed sailors. To understand what could happen to the human body, he visited the morgue and hospitals, sketching people in each stage of death from the moments before and after. 

On June 28, 1818, Géricault moved to a larger studio to hold his large 16 x 23-foot canvas, purchased on February 24. The studio was located at 80 rue du Faubourg-du-Roule, now Faubourg Saint Honoré, and directly across from the Élysées Palace.  A short walk away, Géricualt visited a friend and pathologist who worked at the Hôspice Beaujon at 208 Faubourg Saint-Honoré. On one visit, he was gifted a severed head that he kept on the roof of his atelier and frequently sketched as it decayed. 

Spending time at the morgue, he sketched severed arms and legs, many of which he turned into paintings as well. One was on display at the Louvre in 2022 for the Still Life exhibit. I was quite excited to see it up close, only because of how it is tied to the raft.  

All of these gruesome details Géricault sketched and painted never actually end up in the painting. When it came time to bring the scene to life, he pivoted to depicting the unwitting sailors as strong, well-built men. Not the emaciated, struggling-to-survive men they really were. 

Within the painting, Géricault created four groups. The lower portion of the raft, which almost spills over the frame, holds six figures in various stages of death. On the left side, the older man with a red cloth draped on his head holds his dead son's body at the edge of the raft with a look of total despair. To his right is a torso of a man added at the last minute and one of the only reminders of the cannibalism that would occur on the raft. On the right, the body of a man whose leg is trapped between the boards hangs into the sea. Just above him is a bloody axe, another grizzly reminder.

Eugène Delacroix, paid a visit to the atelier on the Rue Saint-Honoré, and after seeing the piece, he ran home through the streets, amazed and inspired.  The handsome neck you see on the dead man with his hand draped over the board is Delacroix himself, who posed for his friend.

Géricault had such a hard time painting the feet of the young dead man on the left, which sits just above the water, that he gave up and covered his feet in socks. In 1830, Delacroix would pay homage to his friend in Liberty Leading the People; you see Géricault’s influence in the lower left of the painting.  

In the center, the tight group is in a perfect pyramid presentation and looks to be trying to pull themselves up in a last-ditch effort to survive. The group under the mast is a blend of fright and hope. Three of the four figures were the actual survivors of the horrible ordeal. 

The large painting perfectly captures the fear and urgency of the effort to survive. Upon closer examination, it can evoke a range of emotions. Géricault added twenty figures when, in fact, there were only fifteen historically at the time.

In the center of the painting, the men have discovered a ship, leading your eye to the horizon and pointing it out to the others. At the top of the pyramid, the hero of the tableau is a black man. The tale of Medusa and the Machine rocked the monarchy and the government. It took down a captain and a governor and caused more distrust of those in power. While Corréard and Savigny wrote about it, it inspired Géricualt to create his own painting in revolt, but for a reason few may notice. 

The voyage to Senegal was about reestablishing France's presence in the country, but it was also about slavery. There was, in fact, a black sailor on the raft, Jean Charles, but was he the one who reached up on the barrel to signal the ship? We don’t know for sure, but Géricault was going to speak out in his own way against slavery and how France continued to take part in the slave trade at the time and add three black figures.

For each of the three figures, he used Joseph, a stunning model from Santo Domingo who arrived in Paris in 1804. In 2019, the Orsay held an exhibit titled “Le Modèle Noir”. It was amazing, and I think about that exhibit every week. Curators researched many paintings from the 18th and 19th centuries and gave us names for many of these models that, until then, were unknown. 

If you are ever in LA, find the stunning portrait of Joseph painted by Géricault at the same time as the Raft of the Medusa. 

By June 1819, Géricault had moved his painting to the Théâtre-Italien, where he finished his masterpiece in July 1819. Within a month, it would make its grand debut to the public. Few had seen the painting beyond those who modeled for it, but because of its subject matter, it was already making waves within the art world.

On August 25, 1819, the Salon opened in the Louvre and included 1305 paintings with more than 110 showcasing historical moments, battles, or figures. Traditionally, the government was the largest purchaser of works at the Salon, and historical paintings were the favorites for filling the many offices, palaces, and churches. 

The annual/bi-annual artistic salons began in the 17th century and were among the few ways for artists to display their work for purchase by the State or wealthy individuals. Beginning with the king's artists, it morphed into jury-selected artists and the famous diversion of the Impressionists. 

The Salon of 1819 was a reflection of the political climate happening in France at the end of the First Empire. The largest salon since the fall of Napoleon, his return, and the rise of the Bourbons once again would include many historical paintings. 

Géricault saw the success his fellow artists had with the genre and wanted in on the action as well as to make a statement. With the large inheritance from his grandmother, he was able to do just that. Few would take on such a large project without a commission in place. It was a risky move that wouldn’t pay off as he expected or secure the pride of placement in France until after his death. 

To submit the painting to the Salon, he renamed it “Scene of a Shipwreck” to avoid political issues or expulsion from the event.  Anyone who saw the painting, as well as the largest in the Salon, knew exactly which event it referred to.  Hanging high above the western door of the Salon Carré, leading to the Grande Galerie, it was hard to miss due to its size. As a few paintings were sold, it was moved to eye level for the last six weeks of the salon, which ended on November 30, 1819.

The painting won Géricault another gold medal but failed to get a coveted sale. Deflated and depressed, he took the painting back to his atelier 

At the beginning of the next year, Géricault was contacted by James William Bullock, who requested that the painting be a part of his exhibit at the Piccadilly in London. Bullock proposed what proved to be a very lucrative deal in the end, in which Géricault would be compensated with a portion of the ticket sales. Beginning in June 1820, the painting was seen over the next six months by tens of thousands of people, resulting in a check for 20,000 francs. More than he would have ever made by selling it to the French government. 

Bullock then took it to Dublin, where it was displayed, but it had less impact, as many people had traveled to London to see it the year before. Returning to France, Géricaut attempted to sell it a few more times, and the Louvre and government officials continued to turn it away. 

Théodore Géricault wouldn’t live much longer after he painted his masterpiece. Died at just 32 years old on January 26, 1824, after suffering from a fall from his horse (or syphilis). 

The Louvre, on behalf of the director general, Count Auguste de Forbin, purchased the painting on November 12, 1824, for 6,000, and since then it has hung in the Louvre. It was sadly 10 months after Gericault died. 

In 1859, the Louvre commissioned a copy,s. Pierre-Désiré Guillemet and Étienne-Antoine Ronjat, who can be seen today at the Picardy Museum in Amiens, created the copy.

Géricault used a substance called bitumen, which made the dark browns and blacks appear even darker. Bitumen never fully dries, so the painting could not be rolled; it would stick to itself and tear. During the evacuation of the Louvre on September 3, 1939, the large canvas traveled through Versailles on a truck used to move stage scenery. As it went through town, it struck a tram power line, knocking out power in the golden town. 

The Raft was hidden away in the Château de Chambord during the war. Since its return in 1945, it has hung on the first floor of the Denon wing in the red room of the Salle Mollien, just a few steps from the Mona Lisa. Look at all the paintings in this room, including those by Delacroix and the other Romantic artists, and see how they speak to one another. 

You can visit his tomb at the Père Lachaise and find a bronze bas-relief of the Raft done by Antoine Étex, but notice that they covered the naked, naughty parts of the gentleman falling into the water. 

The painting is also a good test of how you see the world. Which parts strike you the most? Are you an optimist or a pessimist? Do you know the hope and elation at the top, or is it the despair at the lower portion? Either way, it is a masterpiece, and I never get tired of sitting in front of it alone on an early morning before the room is filled.

As for those crates filled with gold and silver coins, they have never been found. 

Episode 25 - How the First Balloon Flights Inspired the Paris Olympic Vasque

It’s hard to do anything these days that can impress the masses and capture attention for more than 20 seconds. Companies, restaurants, and museums all want that viral moment that spreads within hours but then is forgotten just as fast. 

Paris is a bit different. Are they endlessly annoying influencers telling you a cafe covered with fake flowers is the one to go to, or just take photos at? However, there is another entirely different side of Paris. One that is tied to its deep history, running through the streets like an ancient vein of cobblestones. The French love their history and their heritage. Each September, one weekend is dedicated to the many historic buildings that open for just two days. 

So when something new appears in Paris, it will first be met with a whole lot of distrust and hatred, but if you tie it to a historic moment or idea, you have a good chance the skeptical Parisians will like it or eventually come around to saying it's at least ok. 

For the 2024 Paris Olympics, organizers had a lot of work ahead of them and, of course, very lofty goals, starting with the opening ceremonies. We aren’t going to get into the entire ceremony or the ridiculous opinions that came from it, but there was one moment at the very end that did what few things can. Capture attention and keep it, returning to it each year. 

With each Olympics, every host city wants to do its best at showcasing how unique and beautiful its city truly is. Sadly, for anyone who comes after the Paris Summer Games, you are out of luck. It will be hard to top Paris's venues and skyline. The Chateau de Versailles, as the background for the equestrian competitions, even swimming in the Seine, was pretty magical with the Eiffel Tower above. 

A few months before the opening ceremonies, we heard that the Olympic cauldron would be placed in the Jardin des Tuileries, and one day a silver balloon appeared. We didn’t know how it would all tie together until we learned, at the same time as the rest of the world, that the cauldron was lit and lifted from the center of the basin and up into the air. 

During the Olympics and the Paralympics, each night after the sun set, the balloon would rise into the air. During the day, the lucky few who were able to grab tickets fast enough got close to it, but it was still just as easy to see from anywhere in the garden, the surrounding streets, and even the terrace of the Louvre. 

The balloon was seen as such a huge success that it would be brought back each summer until the 2028 Summer Olympics in LA. Lucky for those in Paris, for the next few months, you can once again see the large silver balloon and cauldron rise from its base each night, and each day, you can walk around the base without a ticket. 

What was this amazing sorcery, and how is the flame not setting the helium-filled balloon on fire, and furthermore, why a balloon? 

French designer Mathieu Lehanneur designed the torch that carried the flame from Greece through nearly every corner of France and even to French territories in the middle of the ocean, ending in Paris on July 26, 2024. 

The 51-year-old designer opened his own atelier in 2001 and has added his creations to museums, including lighting in the Café Mollien in the Louvre, which has since been removed. His contemporary lighting and furniture with rounded corners give each piece a playful quality. 

Lehanneur designed a large helium balloon at over 75 feet in diameter, with a very special nod to history, which sits above a 23-foot-diameter ring of fire. However, it wasn’t the actual flame that encircled the ring, and couldn’t be each year after the Olympics had concluded. It was created by EDF, the French energy company, and consists of LED light beams and a water mist, making it 100% renewable and with no environmental impact. Pretty cool, huh? 

Why a balloon, you ask? Well, this is Paris, and nothing happens by chance. The heritage is taken very seriously here, and the balloon is a nod to an event that happened on December 1, 1793, in this very same spot.

But first, we need to talk about the first balloon launch that took place in front of Marie Antoinette herself. 

Picture this: it's Thursday, September 19, 1783, and just after 1 pm in the courtyard of the Chateau de Versailles, a duck, a rooster, and a sheep are loaded into and tied to a basket that hangs from the balloon. Louis XVI had heard about a new invention that could rise from the earth and into the sky, and had to see this for himself. 

The Montgolfier brothers were born into a large family of 16 kids. Their father headed up a paper and stationery company that had been in the family since the 14th century. With a bevy of siblings, Etienne and Joseph headed off to Paris to follow their own passions. 

Etienne studied architecture and called Jacques Germain Soufflot the architect of the Pantheon, a mentor.  Joseph was interested in chemistry and set up a lab in Paris until 1772, when their brother Raymond died, and the siblings were all called home to work in the family business. 

In 1782, the brothers, combining all their interests and a moment of good fortune, created the first hot-air balloon. One day, Joseph had tossed a piece of paper into the fire and watched it lift into the air above the flames. This led Joseph to create a cubed frame covered in silk, place it in his fireplace, and watch it rise up his chimney; Eureka! 

By the end of the year, the two brothers had put their heads together, and by December 1782, the first steps toward flight had begun. Various fabrics from silk to wool and paper, combined with every kind of fire fueled by manure, leather, or raw meat. 

On April 25, 1783, they hit the jackpot. A 105-cubic-foot balloon, constructed of canvas and strengthened with paper from the family biz, weighing just under 500 pounds, lifts into the air and travels 1300 feet, much to the amazement of the small crowd below. 

Night and day, they worked to perfect their design, and on June 4, 1783, a bigger balloon was flown and stayed aloft for 10 minutes, traveling a mile and a half. Word spread quickly throughout the scientific community and reached Versailles and the attention of the king himself. 

Louis XVI might have been the one man in the royal lineage who never wanted to take the throne. Louis was happiest taking clocks apart, looking at large maps, plotting navigational routes, and playing with locks and keys. He was a bit of a nerd, and I mean that as a compliment. When word reached Louis of this amazing feat of flying, he needed to see it for himself. 

Much to the delight of the Montgolfier brothers, who needed funding to take their project even higher, no pun intended. The two were invited to Versailles to present the flying balloon to the king himself. 

Of course, the brothers decided they needed to create a new, larger balloon. With this, the shape of the hot air balloon we know today was created. The brothers called upon their friend Jean-Baptiste Réveillion, the owner of the Royal Manufacture of Wallpaper, to assist in creating the new, larger balloon. 

Over 1000 m3, it was tested on September 11, a week before their date with the king. It was a success, but not so fast; the rain had other ideas. Much like the same thing that happened 243 years later on the Pont Neuf to the JR structure, the wind and rain ripped apart the balloon. 

A date was set with the king for September 19; a new balloon had to be created in less than a week; the previous one had taken two months. This was also the perfect time to go even bigger on the balloon at 1400 m3. 

The big day arrived. There in the courtyard of the Chateau de Versailles before Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette, and a few thousand of their friends, the Montgolfier brothers watched their balloon lift into history. 

On September 19, 1783, at 1:11 pm, with the precious cargo tied into a basket, the balloon lifted and traveled almost 2000 feet, and in eight minutes, traveled north 3 ½ kilometers to the carrefour de Maréchal in the nearby Bois de Vaucresson. A rip in the balloon brought the trio down, and to the surprise of everyone, completely unharmed, for the most part. 

The world's first astronauts were given a hero's return to the chateau and placed in the royal menagerie, where they lived out a very lavish life. Although some bystanders said the duck’s beak was broken from the sheep sitting on it. 

Physician Jean-François Pilâtre de Rozier was on hand that day and was the first to see the three thriving animals for himself. The next step was to fly a human, and the physician was the first to raise his hand. 

A larger balloon was designed, and this time they covered it with wallpaper decorated with a motif fit for Versailles. On a blue background, gold intertwined L’s, the cipher of the Bourbon Louis’s, as well as the symbols of the zodiac, eagles, and of course, the sun of Louis XIV.

The first test was held on October 15th, rising 85 feet and remaining aloft for over 4 minutes. 

On October 19, on the Rue de Montreuil in the Folie Titon park of the Révillon manufactory, the first human, Pilâtre de Rozier, was launched 266 feet from the ground, this time tethered. Later that same day, André Giroud de Villette joined the good doctor and remained aloft for almost 10 minutes. 

After final approval from Louis XVI himself, the first non-tethered launch took place on November 21, 1783, from the Château de la Muette outside Paris. The king wanted to use convicted criminals for the first flight in case it ended in death, but was convinced by his advisors that it would be safe. 

The balloon not only stayed in the air, but it also quietly traveled over the Jardin des Tuileries and the city itself. Can you imagine the surprise people below would have if they were unaware of the event? For 5 ½ miles, it crossed Paris, landing SE of Paris in Butte-aux-Cailles. 

The Montgolfier Brothers would cement their place in history and science, so much so that Montgolfière is the French word for Hot Air Balloon.  Joseph would live until 1810 and be awarded the Legion of Honor by Napoleon and named to the Academy of Science. Sadly, Etienne died in 1799, but would have been given the same honors had he lived long enough. What would these two fellows think now?

As for the first man to travel into the air, Jean-François Pilâtre de Rozier, he became obsessed. On June 23, 1784, Rozier returned to Versailles to fly in an even larger balloon christened La Marie Antoinette. Alongside chemist Joseph Louis Proust and in front of Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI, and guest King Gustavus III of Sweden, the two took to the sky. This time, they reached beyond the clouds, 9800 feet above the earth, and disappeared from view. In less than an hour, they traveled 32 miles before running out of fuel and dropping near the forest of Chantilly. 

Rozier’s need for speed or height would be his undoing. Bolstered by successful launches, he now wanted to cross the English Channel. On June 15, 1785, with physicist Pierre-Ange Romain, in a specially designed balloon that sat on a column to hold enough fuel for the crossing. Shortly after takeoff, strong winds blew them back over land, and the balloon lost its air and crashed to the earth.  The first man to travel into the air was also the first man to die in the pursuit of flight. 

While the Montgolfier brothers were presenting their creations before the king and queen of France, two other brothers were nipping at their heels. 

 Physicist Jacques Charles created the first hydrogen-filled balloon, which is fourteen times lighter than air. Working with brothers Ann-Jean & Nicolas Robert, a silk balloon coated in rubber was constructed in the Place des Victoires. On December 1, 1783, from close to the very spot where we find the Olympic Vasque today, Jacques Charles and Nicolas Robert took off and floated 27 miles while more than 400,000 people watched, including Benjamin Franklin. 

The 2024 Olympics, held in Paris, did a beautiful job of melding the games with the city's backdrop and a heavy dose of history. In Paris, you are constantly rubbing shoulders with history, even if you aren’t paying attention. Marble plaques attached to buildings share the story of a past figure that lived there, or a historic moment that occurred, or even mark the spot where someone died in the fight to free Paris during the Liberation of 1944. 

Everything in Paris has a story; it’s what gets me out of bed every morning hours before the sun rises. I love to find those deep connections between what we see today and how it came to be.  

This is the same as what can be found in the story of the balloon in the Tuileries, but it doesn’t end with the first balloon flights that occurred from and over the garden; it is also in the exact spot at which the balloon vasque sits today. 

The balloon is situated over the round eastern basin of the Tuileries, which sits on the invisible line that runs through Paris, known as the Axe Historique. The Jardin des Tuileries was created under Catherine de Medici in the 16th century and attached to her palace, which once stood at the end of the Louvre. Garden architect Pierre le Nôtre was tasked with designing a garden that would include a grotto, vegetables, and endless beds of flowers, all for her enjoyment. 

The garden would evolve in the 17th century under Louis XIV and Pierre’s grandson, André Le Nôtre, who would add the quintessential French design of geometric lines.  

As the king liked to escape to the countryside to his place of birth in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, he asked Le Nôtre to extend the view from the Palais du Louvre through the garden and to the top of the hill. We know it as the Champs-Élysées. 

While the axis dates to the 17th century, it was in the 19th century that monuments were added along the line, linking history forever, and finally anchored in 1989. 

Today, the axis begins at the Musée du Louvre. Off-center from the Pyramid of IM Pei (listen to episode 16 for more) is a statue originally designed by Bernini for Louis XIV and finished in 1684. Louis hated it and hid it in the farthest corner of Versailles until he had François Girardon redesign the Sun King into a Roman hero. 

While IM Pei was finishing the Pyramid and the Cour Napoléon, a copy of the redesigned statue was created in lead as the original was too fragile to move.  Upon arrival, IM Pei placed it SW of the Pyramid, which may look a bit odd, until you realize it is the beginning of the Axis line. 

Louis XIV rides his trusty steed and looks as if he is ready to head out for the weekend to one of his many countryside estates. From this spot on a clear day, or better yet, from the window of the former bedroom of Henri II on the first floor of the Louvre look west to the outskirts of Paris. 

From Louis, we see the Arc du Triomphe du Carrousel, commissioned by Napoleon and built in 1808. More on that soon. The line runs through the central path of the Arc's garden and to the Olympic balloon, cementing its place in history, even if only temporarily.  

Continuing through the Tuileries, the Place de la Concorde, and the 13th-century Luxor Obelisk, a gift from Egypt to France in 1830, and erected in 1836. The golden triangle on the top of the obelisk is easy to spot over the trees of the garden from inside the Louvre. 

Continue down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées to the crowning monument of the Arc de Triomphe. The big brother of the Carrousel was imagined by Napoleon, but he never saw it completed. Finished by Louis-Philippe in 1836 and is still dedicated to the glory of the great soldiers of France, many of whom had given their lives for the country. 

From there, the line extends along Avenue Charles de Gaulle and ends outside Paris, in the business district of La Défense, at the Arc de la Défense. Inaugurated in 1989.

As for the Cauldron, it returned this summer and will return one more time in 2027. Maybe it will return in the future; it is a rather beloved addition to Paris's skyline.

The Jardin des Tuileries opens to the public each morning at 7 am, but it can easily be seen without entering the garden. 

You can watch it rise again each night at sunset, and it stays high above the city until 2 am. It will rise 197 feet into the air until September 14th.  

Hours through July 31, garden closes at 9:30 pm, vasque rises at 10:30 pm

                          August: garden closes at 8:30 pm, vasque rises at 9:30 pm

  September 1-14, the garden closes at 7:30 pm, and Vasque rises at 8:30 pm 

Unfortunately, the Vasque isn’t designed for people or sheep, but you can travel by air for a fantastic view of Paris. 

In the Parc André Citron in the 15th near the Seine and not far past the Eiffel Tower is the Ballon Generali that offers tethered visits 150 meters into the Parisian sky for 16 to 20 euros 

https://ballondeparis.com

Episode 24 - The Affair of the Poisons

In the late 17th century, all of Paris and the court of Versailles were embroiled in the Poison Affair, and few were immune to its reach, including the Sun King.

It all began in 1662 when a gentleman named Godin de Sainte-Croix began an affair with Marie-Madeline Dreux d’Aubray. Marie-Madeline was born on July 22, 1630, in Paris to a very influential family.  Her father served in the military, and her mother, Marie Olier, was the brother of Jean-Jacques Olier, who created the Society of Saint Sulpice. 

The oldest of five children, her mother died shortly after giving birth to her youngest brother in 1637. Just 7 years at the time of her passing, her father expected her to help with her siblings and be in charge of the house. At the same age, she was raped by a neighbor, and at 10, she began to have sexual relations with her two younger brothers up to three times a week. 

Thankfully, she was able to escape the family due to her substantial dowry, and at the old age of 21 on December 20, 1651, in the Église Saint Eustache, Marie-Madeline married Antoine Gobelin, Marquis de Brinvilliers. Descendant of the family that made their money in fabric dying and tapestry. The building and the manufacturing still hold their name today. 

The marriage resulted in three children, and Antoine already had 4 illegitimate ones that she was to care for when he was away as commander of the Regime of Auvergne.  They had a high standing in the Marais, where they lived, and held parties and salons that everyone wanted to attend. Although it all began to quickly slip away due to Antoine’s constant gambling, leading him to make a break for it and eventually flee France and his many creditors. 

In 1662, Marie-Madeline was aware of her husband's infidelity as well as his gambling, and began to separate her own family money from him. One evening, her husband invited a fellow soldier to their home. Jean Baptiste Godin de Saint-Croix and Marie Madeline began quite the affair shortly after their introduction, around the same time her husband fled in the dark of night.

The two lovers did not hide their affair. Once her father learned of the relationship, he had Godin locked up in the Bastille for three months in 1663, an action that would lead to his own death. While there, Godin met Egidio Exili, who was in the Bastille for poisoning the sister-in-law of Pope Innocent X, Olympia Maidalchina, in Rome. 

Godin was already fascinated by chemistry and poisons, and Exili taught him all he needed to know about creating tasteless, odorless poisons that could not be detected and would cause a quick death. Exili told him, upon his release, to visit Christopher Glasser, a master chemist at the Jardin Royale des Plantes, to get everything he needed. 

A prison stint couldn’t keep these two apart, and as soon as he was released, he was once again at her side and teaching her everything he had learned in the Bastille. 

Godin lived at no 5 Rue Hautefeuille, the Hotel des Abbes de Fécamp, they were a short walk to the garden to get their supplies. The two would test out their poisons mixed in with sweet cakes and take them to the patients of the Hotel Dieu, where they would track the symptoms, dosage, and length of discomfort before their victims’ deaths. Killing numerous people in their research just for the thrill of it. It is not known just how many were killed, but the list could be quite long. 

Marie-Madeline took what she learned and tried it out on her father on September 10, 1666, killing him, and a few years later, in 1670, her two brothers, Antoine and Francois, and a sister were also victims of her potions.  Although their fractured relationship after years of abuse left them a bit distrustful of her.  Marie Madeline was able to place a trusted footman, Jean Amelin de la Chaussée, into their household to slowly poison and kill her brothers. The death of her sister followed later,  as a way to knock out all obstructions to get to her full inheritance. 

Saint-Crox also became concerned for his own life and began to document and make note of her actions, and even take evidence of her crimes and lock it all away in a red leather box. A note was left that if anything was ever to happen to him before she herself died, to go look inside the red box. Unfortunately for Marie-Madeleine, he died of natural causes on July 31, 1672, and it set off the Affair of the Poisons. 

Upon his death, he left a long list of creditors seeking payment and demanded that the king intervene. A search was authorized of his property, and the note was discovered a week after his death on August 8. His trusted valet, Jean Amilin de La Chaussée, was brought in for questioning, and he corroborated all the mysterious evidence in the red box. His actions led to his own demise when he was sentenced to death and killed on March 24, 1673.

After the death of Saint Croix and the discovery of his letters, Marie quickly left for London and eventually frequently moved throughout northern France, but was finally caught in 1676 in Liege, Belgium.  Charged with murder in absentia in 1673, a few determined investigators kept looking for her. One even dressed up as a priest and infiltrated the convent and waited for his moment to arrest her and bring her back to Paris on April 17, 1676. 

On April 26, the questioning and torture began. At first, she pleaded her innocence, although a letter in her own hand was filled with her endless admissions to crimes. Her torture included “water cure,” pouring gallons of water from a tube into her mouth that could often end in a quick death. Think of a beer bong without an off switch.  She admitted to killing her brother and father 

A second trial began on April 29 and culminated on July 14, with Madame de Sévigné in the front row, taking notes on everything that was said. Sevigne, the lady of letters we covered before, was born in 1626 in the Place des Vosges. Spending time at the court of Versailles, her daughter, Françoise, could have been a victim if she had spent any more time under the watchful gaze of Louis XIV. Francoise married Francoise de Grignan and left Paris on April 19, 1678, thereby beginning the letters that would document all of Parisian society. 

It was discovered in 1669 that Marie-Madeliene attempted to kill Jean-Baptiste Colbert twice, on February 18 and again on May 5. He was a close member of the court of Louis XIV and chief minister of state, but this was nothing compared to what his court at Versailles would soon endure. 

When Henriette of England, wife of Philippe I, Duc d’Orleans, and brother of Louis XIV, died on June 30, 1670, it is believed that the poison came from Marie-Madeline. A glass of Chicory was given to Henriette by the Knight of Lorraine, who was also the lover of her husband and wanted her out of the way. Later that day, she died at just 26 years old. Upon her death, her autopsy revealed that she died from suspicious causes. 

The entire ordeal captured the attention of all of Paris. The day's documenter, Madame de Sévigné, gives us the most detailed account. “Assassination is the safest; it is a trifle compared to the eight months of  killing her father and receiving all his caresses and sweetness, where she always responds with doubling the dose.” Alexander Dumas also noted all the details of the trial and used them in his books. 

The Torture of Marie Madeline de Brinvillers Jean-Baptiste Cariven

On July 16, 1676, Marie Madeline met her final fate on the Place de Grève, now Place de l'Hôtel de Ville. Beheaded and burned on a stake, her ashes were tossed into the Paris wind. Sévigné said that “Never has the city been so aroused, so intent on a spectacle”. She also remarked that Paris had now inhaled her evil and that it would return in the next seven years. 

As Marie-Madeline was taken the short way to her death, she said: “Out of so many people, must I be the only one to be put to death? Half the people in Paris are involved in this sort of thing, and I could ruin them if I were to talk”.   When news reached the king, he ordered an investigation. Louis XIV appointed Gabriel Nicolas de la Reynie, the lieutenant general of the police, to create a group to look into the allegations. He never knew how close to home it would get. 

Reynie first went to every alchemist in and around Paris, which led him to poisoners, and in no time, he was at the door of Catherine Deshayes Monvoisin. 

Catherine was born in 1640 and married Antoine Monvoisin, a Parisian jeweler. They had one daughter, Marie-Marguerite, who would later turn against her mother. Catherine was first just a palm reader and fortune teller, but that quickly led to being a potion and poison maker and performing abortions. 

Aphrodisiacs were her gateway drug. Providing for the many women of society used to arouse their spouses. Made with everything from chocolate to cocaine, cloves, and cannabis, and turned into a paste that could be rubbed on their intended love interest.

Gabriel-Nicolas de La Reynie by Pierre Mignard

Madame Monvoisin developed quite a fan base, and women of all ranks of society lined up at her door each day.  Her practice began to expand into the darker arts. One of the most horrific acts during this time was the Black Mass, a practice that had been around for centuries but was given a name in the 17th century. Another woman who loved to dabble in the occult world, Catherine de Medici, was known to hold a Black Mass on May 28, 1574. During the time of the Poison Affair, a former priest, Etienne Guibourg, revived the practice in Paris with Monvoisin in 1673. It is not for the faint of heart to hear, and the practice involves the killing of a baby, which Monvoisin was never short of. 

In 1658, Madame de Montespan was a lady-in-waiting to Henriette d’Angleterre, the wife of the king's brother Philippe d’Orleans. The beautiful Henriette and Louis XIV had a very close relationship, sharing an affection for music, parties, and the finer things in life. The TV show Versailles depicts the two in a very, very close relationship; however, there hasn’t been any proof they two were also sexually involved. 

Madame de Montespan

Henriette died June 30, 1670, at 26 years old, of suspicious causes still contested to this day. At the time, it was imagined to be a poisoning orchestrated by the lover of her husband or Montespan herself. 

Montespan had her eyes on the king, but needed to befriend  Louise de la Valliere, the current headmistress. When Louise and Queen Marie Therese were pregnant by the king at the same time, the queen asked Montespan to dine with the king each evening. It was sending the fox into the hen house, and after the birth of the king's illegitimate child, Louise left the court as Montespan moved into her place. 

La Voisin and Montespan first met in 1665, when she asked for a love potion to use on the king to attract his attention. The affair between the king and Montespan began in May 1667. Over the next eleven years, she gave birth to seven children with the king, all but one of whom survived to adulthood. In the final years, Montespan became a  little rounder around the edges, and the king turned his eyes to some of the younger members at court. 

Living in the glowing rays of the Sun King always came to an end for any of his mistresses, and Montespan wasn’t going to go quietly. 

The Black Mass became well known throughout Paris after Monvoisin’s arrest, and everyone would learn the truth about her most famous client. In 1672, Guibourg and La Voisin, as she came to be known, found an empty chateau near Orleans and François de Rochechouart de Mortemart, the Madame de Montespan. Montespan lay on a stone slab, completely naked, with her arms out like a cross and holding a candle in each hand. Guibourg placed a silver chalice on her belly and above her, holding a baby that would bleed into the chalice. 

Montespan had to chant, “Asmodée, prince of love, I beg you to accept the sacrifice of this child in exchange, I would keep the king’s affection, the favor of the princesses of the court, and the satisfaction of all desires.”  The ritual was held three times: in 1673, 1677, and 1679. Her sexual relationship with the king ended in 1678, and she remained at court for her children until it all came crashing down after March 17, 1769. 

On a sunny afternoon, La Voisin was walking out of the church and was arrested by Reynie. Although she was quite adept at the dark arts, she was also a very devoted member of the church and a high priestess. Believing her powers and actions were bestowed upon her by God, she easily walked away with the Lieutenant, thinking she had done nothing wrong. Her abilities were widely known, and every morning, people lined up outside her door to see her for one of many reasons.  

At the time, women had little to no rights, especially over their own bodies, and were happy to pay her for fortunes or alleviate a pregnancy, making her a very wealthy woman. 

An inspection of her home on Rue Beauregard in the 2nd, authorized by her daughter, found more than 2500 babies buried in her backyard. 

The court of the Chambre Ardente was held in the Arsenal in front of 13 magistrates interrogating hundreds of prisoners. Experts, including doctors, were on hand to help delve into the chemistry, poison terminology, and evidence. The windows were covered with dark cloth, as all of Paris watched day and night for a glimpse of the men and women being brought in. 

The investigation, known as the Chambre Ardente, lasted over three years and resulted in a significant outcome. 442 people were accused, of which 319 were subpoenaed, 194 were arrested, and 36 were executed, and twice as many committed suicides. 

Among these were a few closely associated with La Voisin.  Françoise Filastre was arrested in 1680 and confirmed the involvement of Etienne Guibourg and the Black Masses. Francoise was sentenced to life in prison and died in 1686, but her testimony would lead to the incrimination of Montespan. After Voisin’s arrest, Montespan had contacted Filastre to supply her with poison to use at court. 

Françoise de Dreux was of noble birth and married to a high-ranking member of the Parliament of Paris. However, she was in love with Armand Jean de Vignerot du Plessis, the duc de Richelieu, and she killed her husband so she could be with her lover.  Arrested and brought to trial for another man, M. Pajot, she was accused of also ordering the poison to kill her lover’s wife, Anne de Richelieu. She was later acquitted, but another woman would bring it all back to light. 

Margurite Joly was just as skilled and successful as La Voisin. Arrested, she was subject to water torture and gave up the names of many of her clients, including François de Dreux, who thought she was in the clear. Dreux was going to be arrested, but managed to flee France before she could be found. 

Marguerite Leféron was the wife of a judge whom she didn’t like very much. She, like Dreux, killed her husband so she could marry her lover, De Prade. De Prade was only after her money, and so she needed to kill him as well.  She was arrested and exiled, but not everyone went to the stake. 

Marie Brosse, La Brosse, was known as the first poisoner arrested in the roundup and pointed her finger at La Voisin. One night at a party after a bit too much wine, La Brosse bragged to everyone how much money she had due to selling poison to many women in Paris who wanted to kill their husbands or lovers. Someone at the party reported it back to Reynie, and Brosse was arrested, as well as her daughter and sons. Marie met her fate on the Place de Greve on May 8, 1679. 

Marguerite de Poulailon obtained poison from Marie Brosse to kill her husband, Alexandre de Pouaillon, but he survived and was able to hand her over to the police. Her beauty saved her from the same fate as many of the other women, and when Reynie heard of her lenient sentence of exile, he stepped in and had her sent to work at a holding house for former prostitutes in Angers, where she would spend the rest of her life. 

The court of the Chambre 

In 1678, the investigation was pointing in many directions to Louis XIV and the court of Versailles. Evidence mounted, and it was discovered that Louis XIV had been poisoned for 13 years. The Sun King ordered Reynie to only make notes on unattached paper so it could be destroyed.  

On July 13, 1709, 29 volumes of evidence were destroyed in a fire. Much of it against Montespan, but we have all the notes of Madame de Sévignè and the files of Reynie are still held in the Prefecture of Paris. 

Versailles season 2 is all about the Poison Affair, loosely based on the facts, but fun nonetheless. The character Madame Agathe serves the role that would have been closer to La Voisin. 

Episode 9. Black Mass  

Listen to the full episode here on Apple, Spotify or YouTube

Episode 23 - The Birth of a Legend and the Woman Behind the Mona Lisa

She is the most famous painting in the world, and everyone has an opinion of her. Are there better paintings in the Louvre? Sure, but she also deserves every bit of fame she has garnered for many reasons. Sadly, because of the chaos that surrounds her, you aren’t able to truly appreciate her the way you might other paintings.

Is she overrated, as found in an online poll a few years ago? Well, maybe a little, but you need to know her entire story and the reason why she is so famous, and also the reason she is revolutionary in the world of art. Over the next few months, I will share her story from every angle possible, and at the end, you can let me know if you still think she is overrated. I guarantee you will change your tune. 

Years ago, I wanted to know more about the theft of the painting itself in 1911, which I will share in August, and it led me deep down the rabbit hole of all things Lisa, as just about everything I do does. 

Today, we start with the story of the woman herself. 

Who is the woman behind the most famous painting in the world? Was she the mistress of Giuliano de’ Medici? Leonardo da Vinci in drag? A wealthy woman of the Renaissance and friend to the artists? Or was she a Florentine woman and wife of a wealthy silk & wool merchant? 

It is one of the greatest questions in art history, right up there with why she is famous in the first place. 

You know this lady as La Joconde or as the Mona Lisa. 

She hangs in the Musée du Louvre and every day, more than 25,000 people visit to snap a selfie and remark how small she is, but few realize she was a real person. Many don’t even know why they have to run up the marble steps, barely looking at Winged Victory on the way to take a picture and check Lisa off the list. 

On Tuesday morning, June 15, 1479,  Lisa di Antonio Gherardini was born in Florence at the corner of Via Maggio and Via Sguazza, not far from the Palazzo Pitti of the Medicis. 

The Gherardinis were the typical Florentine family. They lived in the heart of the city, came from well-known and established families, and attended church regularly. Her father, Antonmaria, came from a long line of wool merchants and had been married twice before meeting Lisa’s mother, Lucrezia del Caccia. His first two wives died tragically during childbirth,  

Lucrezia del Caccia was born in 1454 and was fifteen years younger than her husband. At twenty-five, she was practically an old maid. Lucrezia came from a well-off family that owned a prosperous wool business as well as farms and property in Chianti. Six more children would follow, and she also outlived her husband by just a year.

Hours after her birth, Lisa was wrapped up and taken in a long procession across the Arno River for her baptism at San Giovanni. Lisa di Antonio Marie Gherardini was named after her paternal grandmother, and her birth was recorded on a warm Tuesday afternoon in Florence. Little did her parents know that someday her name would be spoken around the world.

The building she was born in is now gone, but a plaque marks the address. 

In 1494, the large Gherandini family moved to the other side of the Arno near Santa Croce, a move that would place her in the center of her destiny. Residing between via del Pepi and via Ghibellina, her father met their new neighbors, the Giocondos. 

Francesco del Giocondo was born on March 19, 1465. The Giocondo family was also in the wool and silk business in Florence and owned multiple workshops in and around Florence. He had been married once or even twice before; the paperwork is a bit murky, and he lost both wives during childbirth, just like Lisa’s father. His first wife, Camilla, had a son, Bartolomeo, on February 24, 1493, but died on July 24, 1494, while delivering their second child; neither survived.

Eight months later, on March 5, 1495, at age 15, Lisa married the son of their neighbor, Francesco del Giocondo. The marriage ceremony in 15th-century Florence was a bit different from what it is today. It began with a “ring day,” when the bride would be taken to her future husband's home for the evening. If she spent the night, it was a successful match, and the next day her dowry would be transferred to her husband. Two days later, a wedding ceremony was held in the church with the entire town in attendance. 

Arno river in Florence

A year later, they welcomed their first son, Piero, on May 24, 1496, quickly followed by a daughter, Piera, on May 5, 1497. Four more children followed: Camilla in 1499, Marietta in 1500, Andrea in 1502, and finally Giocondo in 1507. Sadly, only three survived to adulthood. 

The Giocondos lived between Lisa’s parents and a gentleman named Ser Piero da Vinci.  Ser Piero, notary, called the Medici family a client as well as Antonmaria Gherardini and Francesco del Giocondo. Ser Piero came from a long line of notaries dating back to the 13th century. Born in April 1426 and following in his grandfather's footsteps, he worked in Vinci and traveled between Pisa and Florence. 

On one particularly hot July night in 1451, Piero met a young Caterina di Meo Lippi. She was 15 at the time, shocking today, but the normal age to be married or bear a child back then. The result of this hot summer night was the birth of one of the greatest artists of the Renaissance, Leonardo da Vinci, on April 15, 1452.  

Piero didn’t marry the young mother, but his parents would take care of her and then little Leo once he was born. The union and result of that night was never anything shameful; the da Vinci family was very open about it and even helped with a dowry for Caterina to marry after the birth. Piero would eventually marry four times and have 11 more children. 

Ser Piero shared an office in Florence on the Via Ghibellina starting as early as 1449. Traveling between the Tuscan cities until finally settling with his large family just a few doors down from his office in March 1480. 

Between 1484 and 1497, Ser Piero served as referee and notary for Francesco and his brothers, a role he often filled within the family. He also worked for the Basilica of the Santissima Annunziata, where Francesco del Giocondo and his wife were frequent guests.

In the Spring of 1500, Leonardo arrived in Florence. His father’s house was clearly busting at the seams with children, and he stayed instead at the Annunziata. A place of worship, a convent, and also served as a hotel for visiting members of the church. Leonardo would have stayed until the autumn of 1501, when he was also going to paint a fresco within the church. It was during this time that the del Giocondos met Leonardo. 

Leonardo was 51 years old and had completed the Last Supper in Milan just a few years before. Traveling between Tuscan towns, he was asked frequently to take on portrait commissions and turned them down. Even Isabella d’Este, the first lady of the Renaissance who amassed a large collection of art, some of which is in the Louvre including one that was the first target of Peruggia on that steamy summer night in August 1911, more on that in two months. Even with Isabella’s money and clout, he turned her request down. 

Francesco del Giocondo climbed the ranks of society. Appointed to the consul of the silk guild, he became a civil servant and was elected to one esteemed post after another from 1499 to 1512. It is also thought that with Francesco’s connections, he helped facilitate the commission for the fresco of the Battle of Anghiari in the Palazzo Vecchio. Awarded in 1504, the fresco was fraught with issues, and he abandoned the project in 1505. Nothing survives today. 

In turn, Leonardo da Vinci agreed to paint a portrait of his wife Lisa. He must have caught Leo on a good day. 

Leonardo began painting Lisa in February 1503, a little over two months after the birth of her last daughter, Andrea. For days on end, the lovely Lisa sat in front of him with her right arm over her left, turned slightly, and looked straight ahead. To keep Lisa entertained, Leonardo brought in a band of musicians, entertainers, and jesters, giving her a little smile, which is also the most notable and talked about characteristic of the painting. 

A portrait of that size was rarely seen. Normally, they were much smaller, which is ironic because one of the most common responses to seeing her is that she is “smaller than people expect”. 

Leonardo worked on the painting for four or five years before he set it aside. 

Da Vinci liked to “meditate” on his paintings, work a little on a painting, then take a break to ponder what he would do next. So it wasn’t out of the norm that the painting of Lisa wasn’t finished.

During this period, Francesco ran into a bit of a problem. The Medici family was under attack, and Francesco was under suspicion of working for the exiled family. Arrested and tossed into prison until the Medici returned and bailed him out. 

Francesco never paid Da Vinci for the portrait. 

Years went by, and tragedy struck the family. Another son, Giocondo, was born on December 20, 1507, and survived only 19 days. Their daughter, Camille, entered the convent at 12 years old in 1511 and died on January 18, 1518. Worried for their lone surviving daughter, Marietta, born November 11, 1500, they took her to the nearby Sant’Orsolo convent. 

The Sant’Orsolo was the Ivy League of convents. Only the women of the top notch of society could enter as members. The family had to pay for their lodging, food, and anything else they needed throughout their lives. Marietta became Sister Ludovica on October 20, 1521, and lived there until her death in 1579. It would also become the final home of our Lisa. 

It is thought that Francesco contracted the plague and died in March 1538. He was interred in a family vault in the Santissima Annunziata. In his will, he left everything to his children; only three had outlived him, including Sister Ludovica. Lisa’s dowry was returned to her, as was the custom, and all her clothing and jewelry were hers to keep. She was placed in the care of his first son, Bartolomeo, whom Lisa adopted after their marriage, and Piero. 

Not much is known about the last years of Lisa's life. After her husband's death, she moved into the Casa Grande with her son Piero. In her final year, the convent of Sant’Orsolo (Saint Ursula) would be her home alongside her daughter. 

Lisa never saw the unfinished painting that would make her a household name worldwide. She died in the convent on July 14, 1542. The cause of death is unknown. 

Recently, in September 2025, in the San Lorenzo area of Florence, a monumental discovery was unearthed. The convent of Sant’Orsola dates back to the 15th century. In 1810, Napoleon had the convent closed for many years, and during WWII it served as a tobacco factory. In the 1980s, it was purchased by the Italian Ministry of Finance and is currently being restored. 

Less than a year ago, beneath reinforced concrete poured in the 1980s, a series of tombs was uncovered, including the tomb thought to be that of Lisa Giocondo. A few fragments of bone remain; the skull is missing, and it's unclear whether they can extract any DNA. We do know that on July 15, 1542, Lisa was interred here in the convent, not in the family vault with her husband. 

How do we know the painting is in fact Lisa Giocondo? It’s a question historians and researchers have asked for over 500 years. The first mention of the portrait painting and its connection to Lisa was written years after the deaths of Leonardo and Lisa.  

Florentine artist, architect, and writer Giorgio Vasari wrote one of the most definitive guides to the artists of the Renaissance. Published in 1550,  Lives of the Most Excellent Italian Architects, Painters and Sculptors from Cimabue until our Time.  It was a series of multiple books and editions covering the greatest artists of the time.  The second edition was released in 1568, and the da Vinci chapter was greatly updated. Multiple sources, many close to Da Vinci himself, provided information, but the original description of the Mona Lisa is still used today as the certified account, although Vasari never actually saw the painting in Da Vinci's atelier.

His account describes the painting: 

“Seeing that the eyes had that luster and watery shine which are always seen in life, and around them were all the vivid rosy tints of the skin, as well as the eyelashes, which cannot be done without the greatest subtlety. The eyebrows, through his having shown the manner in which the hairs arise from the flesh, where more thick and where more sparse, and curved following the pores of the skin, could not be more natural. The nose, with its beautiful nostrils, rosy and tender, seemed to be alive. The mouth, with its cleft and its ends united by the red of the lips to the flesh-tints of the face, truly seemed to be not pigments but flesh.”

His account came from the subject's family members, as well as other artists who saw the painting between its creation and 1550. 

One detail many notice today is that she doesn’t have eyebrows. What changed between this first account and today? In the last few years, Lisa has undergone multiple X-rays and wavelengths of light that have uncovered even more secrets and maybe a few answers. More on that in another episode soon, or we will be here all day.

In 1508, Leonardo carried the painting with him to Milan, then to Rome in 1513, and finally to France, where he spent the last years of his life. 

On December 9, 1515, Francois I arrived in Bologna to meet with Leo X after his recapture of Milan. This was the moment that a young French king met the Italian artist. At the time, Leonardo’s benefactors were falling out of power, and he needed to make a change.

Francois, I had asked in December 1515 if he wanted to move to France, but Leonardo declined.  By the summer of 1516, Leonardo changed his mind and accepted the king’s generous offer of a palace to live in, money, and anything he needed. 

On August 12, 1516, at 64 years old, Leonardo, with his assistants Francesco Melzi, Salai, as well as Ambassador Pallavicini and Battista de Vilanis, departed Rome for the long voyage to France. Nothing survives to this day that records the exact route or the trip's notes, but there are many theories about the path from Italy. 

The 270 km journey from Rome to Florence took 9 days on foot, with about 30 km per day. Staying in Florence for a few days to say goodbye to friends and family before moving on to Bologna and Castelnovo, another 220 km.  By September 6, the group had arrived in Milan and remained there for two weeks, during which Leonardo worked on the plans for the Sforza Castle. The castle wall had been destroyed by the Swiss army, and François asked Leonardo to redesign it. 

From Milan, the route gets very murky. Many historians over the last 500 years have proposed different ideas. Traveling in the fall, the snow began to fall, and some of the routes would have been treacherous for even a young man. Possible ideas include traveling through Switzerland, and one sketch has survived of a bridge over the River Rhone. The lakeside wonderland of Annecy is also a possible option. Some reports state that Leonardo rode on the back of a mule for the 1500 to 2000 km journey, others that he was carried in a chair by his two assistants. 

Packed in his bag were three paintings. Saint John the Baptist, Sainte Anne, and the Mona Lisa. As Leonardo liked to “meditate” on his paintings and also drift between mechanical sketches and his other pursuits, he took forever to finish anything. 

Some researchers believe the background landscape was inspired by his travels through the Alps, but any notes supporting that were destroyed during the French Revolution. 

On October 28, 1516, Leonardo and crew arrived at the Chateau d'Amboise to the delight of François I. Just a few weeks after Ambassador Pallavicini died of the plague, the traveling companions were all put into quarantine. Leonardo hadn’t added to his journal until a month later, at the end of November. 

The King gave his beloved artist the nearby Château de Clos-Lucé, just a short walk away. He even created an underground tunnel linking the two together so he could visit Leonardo anytime. 

Francois I was born on September 12, 1494, and was never destined to be king of France. After his father’s death, his mother, Louis de Savoy, contacted her husband's cousin, King Louis XII, and moved the family to the Palais du Louvre. Without an heir to the throne, the two decided to marry their children and named Francois I as the heir to the throne. Claude de France married Francois I in Saint Germain-en-Laye on May 18, 1514. On January 1, 1515, Louis XII died, and Francois became King of France at 20 years old. 

François I's mother, Louis de Savoy, loved the Italian Renaissance, and at a very early age, he was raised with a love of the arts. Known as the Père et Restaurateur des Lettres (father and restorer of letters), this was no doubt due to the influence of his mother. As soon as he took the throne in 1515, he headed off to Italy, where he enjoyed the lavish meals and art. 

Up until Francois I, the kings didn’t have much of an adoration for art, and only a scattering of paintings decorated the medieval castles, but that was all about to change. I think of Francois as the Father of Art for France, the man who loved it so much that he brought Leonardo da Vinci back to France and began the collection that would later become the building blocks of the Musée du Louvre. 

Leonardo da Vinci was only the first of the many artists who would move from Italy to France. The King also invited painter Niccolo Machiavelli, Michelangelo, the architect Sebastiano Serlio, and goldsmith Benicento Cellini. While living in France, Leonardo spent more time on party planning and costume designs for the King than on painting. At times, he picked up his brushes to work on the three paintings he brought with him, but in the last three years of his life, he spent little time with the canvas. 

On May 2, 1519, Leonardo da Vinci took his last breath. Died of a stroke at 67 years old. He was long thought to have died in the arms of Francois I, as depicted in many paintings in the Musée du Louvre and the Petit Palais. The king and the artist were great friends, and he believed Leonardo to be the smartest man in the world and often called him father. At the time of the death, the King was in Saint-Germain-en-Laye and would not have been at the master’s bedside, but it was a nice thought. 

Leonardo changed his will just 10 days before his death on April 23, 1519, leaving all his works to Melzi, including the three paintings. His close assistant and “servant”, Gian Giacomo Caprotti, known as Salai, also had numerous paintings and sketches in his hands after da Vinci’s death. Salai met Leonardo at age 10 and became a trusted member of his atelier, although he constantly stole from him as a teenager. Da Vinci taught him the fine craft of painting, and a few copies of Lisa are said to be by Salai himself. 

Salai was killed in a street brawl on January 19,  1524. Without a will, an inventory of his belongings was created on April 21, 1525, and many paintings were listed, including  “A Joconde” that most likely was done by Salai and not da Vinci.

What happened to da Vinci's paintings between his death and the years that followed is also a bit of a blur. Multiple reports had very different ideas before it came into François I's hands. Salai's sister is said to have had Lisa, but these are most likely copies done in da Vinci's presence. With so many copies out there at that time, it is hard to say. 

In a 17th-century inventory of the royal collection, a note states that Francois had paid 4,000 gold crowns, or 9.7 million dollars today, for the painting. However, it is a bit harder to find the transaction date. Many date this to 1518, a year before Leonardo's death, but if so, would she have left France with Salai then? 

For close to 20 years, the king of the Renaissance kept his prized lady in his Appartement de Bains (bathroom) at the Chateau de Fontainebleau. A lavish collection of rooms that included baths and steam rooms, the last place to keep a painting. Later, it moved to the Cabinet des Tableaux, renamed the Pavillon des Peintures, but damage had already been done. A 16th-century oil painting on a wooden panel was not a match for a cold chateau with horrible heating and ventilation. Many of the paintings from the original royal collection were destroyed due to neglect and a lack of understanding of proper art handling at the time. 

Today, she is held inside a concrete wall, behind two layers of triple-pained bulletproof non-reflective glass separated by a few centimeters. Within the wall, 25  pounds of silicone keep the masterpiece painted on wood at a perfect 55 degrees. Sensors for temperature, movement, and even sound. Each July, she is removed from her tomb and given a once-over under the tightest possible security. 

The History of the Pont Neuf, Yesterday & Today

Like many great cities, Paris was born from the Seine. The once-small island, which held the city of Lutetia and is now known as Ile de la Cité, was the precursor to Paris.  There are 37 bridges that cross the Seine in Paris, linking the left and right banks together, each holding its own slice of history.

Only two wooden bridges linked the island to the left and right banks for the first 800 years. More bridges were added beginning in 1378 with the Pont Saint Michel. As they were built of wood, numerous floods, river traffic, and even a deep freeze destroyed most of the bridges, and more than once.  

As the city expanded from the island, the need for another bridge was imminent. The kings had moved to the Palais des Louvre and Queen Mother Catherine de Medici had built her Palais des Tuileries, which also brought hundreds of courtiers and servants to the center of the city. Where the king goes, the businesses go, and then the people. A 16th-century gentrification of Paris. 

Paris in 1575

Henri III was under the strong thumb of his mother in 1577 and launched a commission to build a new bridge at the end of the island, linking the two sides of Paris for the first time in one span. It was by far the riskiest location in the city center. The river was at its widest, and the current constantly changed. It would be a project that only the king's architects could tackle. Architects Jacques & Baptiste Androuet du Cerceau began the project under the vision of Henri III, even if they also thought it was a little crazy. 

On May 31, 1578, Henri III laid the first stone on the left bank with his mother, Catherine de Medicis, at his side. Just days before, a duel to the death that included two of the king's closest friends and soldiers.  Louis de Maugiron and Jacques de Caylus were each killed, and it was devastating for the king. At the laying of the stone, the king was visibly upset and cried, giving the bridge the nickname "Pont Pleurs," the bridge of tears. 

Construction continued for eleven years until the sixth War of Religion reached Paris and forced Henri III to retreat. On August 2, 1589, Henri III was killed by a Dominican monk, launching the King of Navarre, the other Henri III, onto the throne of France and becoming Henri IV, aka Hot Legs Henri. 

Henri IV made his grand entrance to Paris on March 22, 1594, and was shocked at what he found. The city was falling apart. The Louvre had been without a king since 1589, while Henri IV fought for his acceptance to the throne. The far from finished Pont Neuf wasn’t more than a few piers sticking out of the Seine, and work needed to resume so it wouldn’t be lost forever. Ten years after the work had stopped, Hot Legs Henri called for the completion in May 1598, with a few changes made by architects Guillaume Marchand, François Petit, and Pierre de Illes. And to pay for it, they would tax wine as it entered Paris, with the proceeds regularly set aside to build fountains. A few hundred years later, an Englishman would use his money to create fountains to bring water to the drunk Parisians. It all evens out in the end. 

Henri IV removed the houses that his predecessor had imagined for one important reason. He wanted people to have a clear view of the Galerie Bord de l’Eau (Grande Galerie) of the Palais du Louvre. 

For five years, the work continued. The bridge would span across the end of the island, very different from what you see today. The tip of the island that includes the Pont Neuf sits on the remnants of three small islands: the Ile du Patriarche to the north, Ilot de la Gourdaine to the east, and the Ile aux Bureau on the south side. 

Paris 1609

On June 20, 1603, Henri IV made his first crossing of the bridge from the convent of the Grands Augustins to the Louvre. The bridge hadn’t been finished yet; only the south arm was complete, and all but three arches of the north. Henri, the positive guy with a bit of royal arrogance, decided he could cross the bridge on his horse and the wooden planks to reach the right bank. Many curious Parisians couldn’t wait to check out the bridge for themselves, although it ended in death after they fell into the Seine. The king ordered the bridge to be completed tout de suite. 

The bridge was finally finished on July 8, 1606, 420 years ago next month, and luckily, before the King’s untimely death on May 14, 1610. (for more, listen to episode 18)

The official inauguration was held in 1608, but it would take another 18 years before the entire project would be completed. Four hundred years ago this year, in 1626, the bridge and the surrounding area were finally finished. Sitting at over 760 feet long and 72 feet wide, it was also the first paved bridge in the western world. 

When the bridge was finished, it became the most popular spot in Paris. Every level of society would be found on a given day. From the aristocracy to the pimps and prostitutes. The sidewalks, the first not only in Paris but the first in all of Europe, were set up a few steps from the street, no longer fearing for your life as you walked down the street. 

If the police were looking for someone, they knew to wait below the statue of Henri IV at some point, every single person in Paris crossed the Pont Neuf. 

The arcades between the arches were used by merchants, booksellers, and peddlers, who would set up each day and carry their stock and furniture away each night. Just like Paris today, the pickpockets and thieves found the distracted shoppers easy prey.  In 1776, structures were built into the arcade and managed by the Royal Academy of Paintings, a gift from Louis XV years earlier. 

Henri Cognacq, a name you may not recognize, built an empire that began in one of the small arcades closest to the right bank. In 1868, under a large red umbrella, Ernest sold red knit hats and red fabric and became so successful that he opened a department store just steps away. The Samaritaine opened in 1870

The Pont Neuf became the epicenter of Paris in every way. Theatrical performances were held at the center of the bridge years before a theater was built.  Before we had the beloved bouquanistes you had the Pont Neuf. The sidewalks were lined with booksellers, with as many as 50 stalls and even individuals selling books from a tray strapped around their shoulders, set up along the bridge.  Ladies known as Bouquetières sold flowers and gifts to the smart gents passing over the bridge on their way home. 

While walking on the bridge in the day was the chicest activity in Paris, once the sun went down, it became the original no-go area and the darker side of life on the Pont Neuf. When the large cloaks worn by men in the 17th century became all the rage among aristocratic Parisians, the thieves would hide in the shadows and rob a passerby, only to cut the massive piece of fabric in two and resell it. They might have missed the moral of the story of Saint Martin. 

Built of limestone, the bridge was also the first to be decorated. Only viewed from below along the wall and lining the bridge are 381 mascarons, first conceived before 1608 and widely attributed to Germain Pilon, sculptor of the Valois family. Pilon died in 1590 but he could have possibly done a few drawings under Henri III.  The 380 male mascarons are each individually created, and no two are alike. They include scary faces of satyrs and sylvains, Roman gods of the forest. Faunes, Greek dryads, and a few faces encircled in flowers. There is only one female, a Medusa mask at the very center, looking down into the square. Some say that they represent the husbands of each of Henri IV’s conquests. None of the originals remain on the bridge today; a few can be found in the Carnavalet museum. 

The crowning decoration of the bridge is, of course, Henri IV himself. 

The idea of an equestrian statue of Henri IV was first proposed in 1604. Inspired by the great efigies of Rome and the Florentine Medicis. Built under the orders of his wife, Marie de Médicis, but his untimely murder would come before the statue was finished. Completed in Italy in December 1611, it took two years before it left Livorno in the spring of 1613 and set out from the port of Genoa to Paris. The ship was attacked by pirates and sank off the coast of Savona. 

Many months later, in 1614, the wreckage was discovered, and the statue was finally headed to Paris on a barge from Le Havre, down the Seine, arriving on July 24, 1614, and placed on the Pont Neuf and inaugurated on August 23, 1614, now as a remembrance for the king who was killed four years before.

Sitting on a pedestal created by Marchand, the statue of Henri IV was surrounded by the Four Captives statues that can now be seen in the Musée du Louvre in the Richelieu wing. Designed by Pierre de Cambrai and carried out by his son-in-law, Francesco Bordoni, in 1618. They were finally put in place in 1635 after the base was finished. A fantastic painting by Jean-Baptiste Lallemand hangs in the Carnavalet, giving you an idea of what the statue and captives looked like. 

Musée Carnavalet

 Like many monuments in Paris, it would not survive the Revolution. Broken and melted down, it was all but destroyed, an a few pieces of the statue survived and are now in the Carnavalet.

Jacques Louis David, artist and official party planner of the Revolution, suggested they add a statue dedicated to the people in the place of Henri IV. It would be created by melting down many of the statues, including Henri, repurposing marble statues, and incorporating pieces like the four captives of Louis XIV. It never happened. However, this wouldn’t stop the next megalomaniac. 

Napoleon Bonaparte found an empty pedestal, and of course, he needed to have it filled. In 1810, the base was strengthened to hold a massive 198-foot-tall stone obelisk. Napoleon was ousted before anything could actually be built.  

Napoleon was barely out the door when Louis XVIII ordered an exact replacement of Henri IV and returned it to the Pont Neuf. Henri would rise again. 

On August 25, 1818, the final statue we still see today was inaugurated and cast from the original mold using bronze from other statues in Paris, including a statue of Napoleon once in Place Vendome. Customary at the time, four boxes were placed inside the horse's belly to serve as a time capsule, including the one placed in the base the year before. A copy of the Life of Henri IV by Péréfixe, printed on parchment and bound in green leather, was also added, along with 26 medallions, a crystal effigy, a letter, and a list of the people present at the occasion, the creation of the statue, and other books.  

Inside the statue, a closely kept secret is hidden. A workman named Mesnel, a loyal Bonapartist, stuffed Henri with two cylinders of anti-royalist papers while he was being built. It was a myth until 2004, when it was restored, and the cylinders were found hidden in his elbow and neck, filled with the very papers. Before the restoration was finished, they returned the hidden treasures to the king. Check out a few photos here

Henri stands at the bridge and looks west into the Place Dauphine, the very one he had constructed in 1607.  Before the bridge was finished, the Place Dauphine was laid out. The triangle-shaped royal square was named for his son, the dauphin, Louis XIII. The royal square is surrounded by structures in the Henri IV style, and a few of the originals remain today. The two at the entrance at no 29 & 33 and 13, 15, and 19 on the south side still date to the first construction of the Place Dauphine. 

The bridge would undergo its first restoration in the 1810s and 20s, almost completely rebuilding it. The piers holding caves were filled in, and the bridge was flattened in the center of each arm, and the sidewalk was lowered as well. 

It wasn’t until 1888 that the Square du Vert Galant was built, extending the island even further. 

The square du Vert Galant was given the name in remembrance of Henri IV and his nickname, Vert Galant. Hot Legs, as you can imagine, had quite a way with the ladies. Everything you read about the nickname will say the nickname came from his many love affairs , “at his advanced age”. He died at 56. 

I have also read and overheard many a tour guide say that Henri would take his ladies down there for a romantic rendezvous. I will note again that the park wasn’t created until 1888, 278 years after his death. 

During the 17th and 18th centuries, the Seine had to be a lot cleaner than it is today. Every summer, men and women would climb down for a little swim on a hot day. Separated into their own areas, the men were able to dip and swim au naturale.

Under Haussmann and Napoleon III, the bridge, like much of Paris, went through another transformation. The stalls in the arcades were replaced with benches, turning the bridge into a park as well as a thoroughfare. 

In the same period between 1853 and 1855, Victor Baltard, the creator of many of the street “furniture” around Paris, was tasked with creating the amazing lampposts that still line the bridge today. Designed in the memory of the Dauphin Louis XIII, the nautical theme cast iron posts included dolphins, tritons, and the heads of Neptune. They are gorgeous and so beautifully done. 

Below each lamppost, a cast-iron box inscribed with 1854 once held the gas valves that turned the lamps on and off, which had to be done by hand every day. I love that they leave these little reminders for us long after they fall out of use. 

In 2018, the base and structure beneath the statue of Henri IV underwent another inspection, resulting in a restoration in 2021. New wrought-iron grills were added, and the metal grates were replaced with glass panels as a fight against the stupid locks. The walls below had shown cracks and fractured stones as well as a few of the mascarons in dire need of a facelift. Most of the work was finished by the start of 2024. 

One thing long gone is the water pump built on the northwestern side of the bridge. The first water pump in central Paris was built under Henri IV in 1608 after the completion of the Pont Neuf, and was later known as the Samaritan pump. Given that name from the bronze bas relief that hung above Christ at the well of Jacob, and met the Samaritan woman who offered him a drink. 

At the very top of the structure was an astronomical clock with a figure that came out to mark the hours, as well as the month, day, and year. Sadly, nothing remains, but there are a few paintings and even a model of the later design, made under Louis XIV by Robert de Cotte, with the relief of the Samaritan, though it no longer shows the clock. 

After Henri’s massive reconstruction and expansion of the Palais du Louvre and connection to the Palais des Tuileries, more water was needed, and the Samaritaine pump would do just that.  It would be used until 1813, when it was destroyed under Napoleon, as it was no longer needed. 

The bridge has inspired artists since its creation. Paintings can be found in the collections of the Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, the Carnavalet Museum, and the National Gallery in Washington, DC. Everyone from Monet to Renoir captured the daily crossing of the Pont Neuf. A painting by Renoir in 1872 holds the modern life of Paris with carriages and women walking alone, a scandal. The country had barely survived the Siege in 1870 and the Commune in 1871 and was once again returning to normal. From a cafe window, Renoir painted it in a single day while directing his friends and family to repeatedly walk into traffic so he could capture the hectic scene. I think of this painting every single time I cross the bridge from the right bank. 

In 1985, a pair of contemporary artists took their turn, this time turning the bridge itself into a piece of art. Artists Christo and Jeanne Claude are well known for their art installations that include draping or wrapping structures in fabric. The two, both born on June 13, 1935, Christo in Bulgaria and Jeanne Claude in Morocco and met in Paris in 1958.  It was love at first sight, and the couple would spend the rest of their lives creating art all over the world. 

The idea to wrap the Pont Neuf in fabric began in 1975. It took ten years to convince the city of Paris, and in the end, from September 22 to October 7, 1985, the northern arm was wrapped in 440,000 sq ft of “Pierre de Paris” colored nylon canvas. Every element of the northern arm was wrapped, including the Baltard lampposts. It was held in place by 429,000 feet of nylon rope and 13 tons of steel chain. The project was self-funded by the artists and cost more than 10 million francs. 

On September 22, 2025, the Place du Pont Neuf, the home of Henri IV, was renamed the Place du Pont Neuf - Christo et Jeanne Claude to mark the 40th anniversary of the event. 

That same year, another project was to encase the Pont Neuf once again, but had to be rescheduled to this year. 

The Caverne du Pont Neuf, created by French artist JR, is a homage to Christo and Jeanne Claude. The couple's nephew, Vladimir Yavachev, approached JR in 2023 with an idea. JR had met Christo through Vladimir in the last years of his life and shared a love for large-scale art installations. 

As one of the keepers of the flame of Christo & Jeanne Claude, Vladimir wanted to mark the anniversary of one of their greatest works. This time it wouldn’t take ten years to convince the mayor of Paris; it took only a few months. Again, the project would be self-funded by JR through the sale of his framed art and private donations. 

JR has imagined a mountain inspired by the quarries where the stone was found to build the bridge in the 16th century. Visiting and photographed the limestone quarries and stone caves in Greece.  For months, he brought the vision to life in his studio, creating the design that would later be printed and constructed by the Air Toiles Concept, which would print and sew more than 203,437 square feet of nylon in Brittany.

After four months of manufacturing, including ten large inflatable pieces that form the structure of the 80 peaks of the cave, as well as the interior structure that will include an interactive experience involving sound and scents. JR worked with Daft Punk artist Thomas Bangalter on the interior, which promises to be amazing. It was to open on June 6 for 22 days and could hold 700 visitors at once. 

On May 11, the installation began, and it was very exciting to visit each day as the project was born before our eyes. Boats in the Seine would anchor down the printed tarps tightly with rope; there is no attaching or drilling anything into the historic structure.  As the sun set on May 20, the inflatable structure began to rise from the bridge, forming the cave. It appeared that the Alps had been moved into the very center of Paris. From the Pont des Arts, on a clear, sunny morning, it’s an incredible thing to see. 

June 4, 2026

Sadly, on June 2, after a week of high temperatures, part of the printed cover was ripped in a few minutes by the high winds of a brief storm, followed by a pelting of rain and hail. It was just four days before it was to open to the public. The opening has been delayed while they repair the structure, and we are waiting for news that we can visit the inside. It will be open 24/7 until June 28th, when they will need to begin taking it down to reopen the bridge.

I love the installation, and I also love the message JR conveys in each of his creations. Photos online do not do it justice; it really needs to be seen in person.  

On June 21,  1994, fashion designer Kenzo Takada covered the entire western downstream side of the bridge in potted flowers for the launch of his new perfume “Flowers”. 32,000 potted begonias and 42,000 ivy plants cascaded over the railings, adding a lovely scent to the air in the center of Paris. At the end, plants were given away to passersby.  I hope JR incorporates that scent into the experience. I will keep you posted.

Pont Neuf wasn’t just the “new bridge,” it was so much more. Sure, it was the first in stone, without houses, the widest and the longest, and the first to have sidewalks in Europe. It was also the first celebrity monument in Paris. People traveled from all over Europe to see it, including Peter the Great. In 1717, Peter arrived in Paris after visiting Amsterdam to collect books, check in on Madame de Maintenon after the death of Louis XIV, and see Pont Neuf for himself. 

While people today line up to view Paris from the Eiffel Tower, in the 17th and 18th centuries, the first place people wanted to see was the Pont Neuf. Long before people bought cheap Eiffel Tower keychains that went home with paintings of the Pont Neuf, brass-and-stone miniatures, and hand fans painted with the bridge's image. The bridge ushered in the new modern age and the birth of the great city we know today. 

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 

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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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