Paris Journal: Place Vendome

Thursday, August 22, 2019

An influential woman of the 6th Century

The Basilica of St. Clotilde is a fine 19th Century example of neo-gothic architecture, and a fitting tribute to a woman who greatly influenced Western culture by fostering the spread of Christianity, particularly in its Roman Catholic form. Clotilde (my 45th great-grandmother) lived from about 474 or 475 to 545. Her husband, Clovis I, had been a practitioner of Arianism, an early, non-trinitarian form of Christianity named after Arius (256–336), a Christian leader in Alexandria, Egypt. Clotilde convinced Clovis to convert to Catholicism in 496; he was then baptized by the bishop in Reims on Christmas day.

Memorial to César Franck (1822-1894), organist, in Square Samuel Rousseau, in front of the Basilica of St. Clotilde.

In Paris in 502, Clovis and Clotilde built the Church of the Holy Apostles. St. Genevieve would come to pray there, and so later the place was known as the Abbey of St. Genevieve. In the Middle Ages, it was a center of learning. Now it is the site of the 5th arrondissement's Henri IV high school, whose buildings include an old tower from the abbey, Tour Clovis.

Back to the basilica in the 7th -- In addition to its superb neo-gothic architecture, the Basilica of St. Clotilde (completed in 1846) has a magnificent Aristide Cavaillé Coll organ with 73 stops. The installation of the organ was overseen by the composer and organist César Franck. This organ (photo below) is famous for its sound, coupled with the great acoustics of the basilica.

After we enjoyed a visit in the interior of the basilica yesterday, we sat in the lovely square in front of it, bordered by Rue St. Dominique and Rue Las Cases. We'd never walked down Rue Las Cases before, so we did that, and were surprised to see a number of hotels particuliers (stately homes) among the apartment buildings.

Baslica of St. Clotilde.

One of the attractive building on Rue Las Cases had a for sale sign on a fourth-floor apartment. A few minutes later on Rue de Bellechasse, we saw the display windows for the realtor who has that listing, so we stopped to examine the postings. The place on Rue Las Cases was there, priced at an incredibly high 20,000 euros per square meter. So what should have been a 700,000 euro apartment (if it were in the 15th arrondissement, for example) is priced at 1.4 million euros!

As nice and quiet as Rue Las Cases is, however, we noticed that it does not include so many conveniences like a grocery, baker, butcher, green grocer, barber shop, café, etc.

Rue Las Cases in the 7th arrondissement.

We walked up to the Seine on Rue Solferino and crossed the river on the touristy and love-lock laden pedestrian bridge. Soon, we were in the deeply shaded part of the Tuileries, where we paused for a rest on a couple of those ubiquitous green metal chairs. I had the kind that is almost a lounge chair. It was so comfortable, and the wooded-and-ferny area there is so charming, that it was difficult to leave.

Eventually we did rise and walk across the Tuileries and up Rue Castiglione to the Place Vendome. We were surprised to see three very large façades covered in scaffolding there (with the artsy silk screened canvases covering the scaffolding, of course). So we just stood and looked at the graceful Place for a bit, then moved on.

View of the Seine from the pedestrian bridge near Rue Solferino and the Musée d'Orsay.

Nearby was a restaurant that I wanted to check out -- just to pass by and take a look, I thought, because I thought we'd be there far before the dinner hour.

The restaurant, called the Saint O, turned out to be attached to the Royal Hotel Saint Honoré on Rue d'Alger and Rue Saint Honoré. As we were looking at the menu posted in the window, Tom pointed out that it was already 6:30PM. I looked at the Lafourchette app and found that we could reserve at 7PM and get a 20 percent discount. So we did.

Fortunately, Tom was wearing a blazer and I was wearing a dress -- not that there is a dress code, but we felt comfortably appropriately attired.

Waiting for dinner in the Saint O restaurant on Rue d'Alger.

We spent the next 15 minutes sitting on a cushy sofa in the luxuriantly comfortable, air-conditioned lobby of the hotel, and then entered the restaurant for a drink before dinner. So we practically had the place to ourselves. Only two other tables were occupied when we left.

Why so few people, we wondered? The food was wonderful, the prices reasonable, and the service could not have been nicer. Signs indicated that the restaurant and hotel lobby had been recently refurbished (2017), and one review on the web referred to the restaurant by some other name, something like Café 221.

Sea bass with two kinds of buttery sauces, on a pile of softly cooked veggies.

Lafourchette had only 425 reviews of the place, with an excellent 9.2 average rating (out of 10 points). In a central area like this, I'd expect there to have been a couple thousand reviews.

So the place is new, or renewed, and we are among the early fans.

When we ordered our drinks, the server gave us a little dish of a spicy nutty snack mix; very American, I thought. Next came delicious, fresh sourdough bread and butter from the Poitou-Charentes region of France.

Salmon and long-grain rice in a béchamel sauce.

We asked for no starter courses. Tom ordered salmon with long-grain rice, and I ordered sea bass with veggies and a buttery sauce. We shared a chocolate gateau and profiteroles for dessert. All the food was absolutely delicious, and beautiful.

Chocolate gateau and profiteroles.

So we had energy to walk part of the way home. When we were well past our 5-mile goal for the day, we aimed for a nearby taxi stand. But I caught a taxi by calling out "Taxi!" to one that was passing by on Rue Solferino. This is not the way you usually get a taxi in Paris. I only did this yesterday because we were in a place where there was a space for the taxi to safely pull over to us, the taxi's windows were open, and because the traffic was very light. Normally, if we aren't near a taxi stand, we raise a hand to hail a cab from a bus stop, because that is a safe place for a taxi to pull over.

The taxi had a large sunroof and big windows, so we enjoyed the scenic ride home in the cooling summer air.

Here are more photos from the day:

The new floating café called The Pause is on a boat named the Dodo Bird (above and below).

Listing for an expensive apartment in the 7th arrondissement, on Rue Las Cases, near the Basilica of St. Clotilde.

Apartment for sale on 4th French floor on Rue Las Cases.

The Basilica of St. Clotilde has beautiful 19th Century windows.

Looking through the nave of the Basilica of St. Clotilde.

Saturday, August 25, 2018

The ups and downs of a real estate venture

August 25, 2018 -- The Place Vendome was a real estate venture by Jules Hardouin-Mansart. Before that, in the 1600s, it was the site of the near-Paris stately home and gardens of the Bourbon-Condé family.

The Place Vendome

This family descends from the illegitimate son of King Henry IV and his mistress, Gabrielle D'Estrées. That son was named Cesar de Bourbon, and he was given the title of Duke of Vendome, which is a city southwest of Paris, in the Loir-et-Cher region.

When Hardouin-Mansart began his venture, it was just the beginning of a series of failures that somehow, eventually, led to the majestic square that we call the Place Vendome today.

The column in Place Vendome.

The first failure was Hardouin-Mansart's; he was unable to make his dream come true. He sold out to Louvois, Louis XIV's minister of finance, whose dream was to build a square like the Place des Vosges, a very successful real estate development of the previous century (early 1600s).

But Louvois met with financial failure, and the investor John Law took over. Law managed to complete the square and to build himself a home there. But he'd also invested heavily in real estate in the French colonies in America. Law went bankrupt in the Mississippi Bubble -- one of the first known real estate bubbles to burst.

It was then that the Bourbon-Condé family came back into the picture. They bought much of the square in the 1700s, including part of the site of the Hotel Ritz where they maintain apartments. According to Wikipedia, the Bourbon-Condé family would like to re-establish a palace on the square, depending upon the Ministry of Justice's possible plans for expansion.

The Boucheron Jewelry store undergoing exterior renovation.
The scaffolding is covered by a beautifully silk-screened fabric.

We'd walked for an hour to reach the Place Vendome yesterday, because Tom wanted to see this glamorous place again. Nothing much has changed, except that the façade of the Boucheron Jewelry store is being restored and so is covered by a fascinating silk-screened fabric at the moment. We continued on the Rue de la Paix (Street of the Peace), which is an ironic name given that, in 1702, the Place Vendome was first called the Place des Conquêtes (Place of Conquests), a memorial to French army victories.

The artist Gustave Courbet was so offended by that conflict in names that he gave it as part of his rationale for destroying the Place Vendome's column when he was president of the Federation of Artists during the Paris Commune in 1871.

After the Commune, Courbet was convicted of this vandalism and fined 323,000 francs, which he could not pay. He fled to Switzerland, and the French government sold his paintings for a pittance. Courbet died in exile, and the column was re-erected.

The Rue de la Paix leads to the magnificent, old Opéra Garnier, which we gazed at briefly before continuing on the Rue du Quatre Septembre -- a street named for the date in 1870 when Napoleon III's regime fell.

On our way to the right bank, we passed through the Place du Palais Bourbon. This palace, now the home of the National
Assembly of France, was built originally in 1722 by Louise Francoise de Bourbon, a "legitimized" daughter of Louis XIV.
She was the duchesse de Bourbon.

Near the lovely Guimard-designed Quatre Septembre subway station's entrance, on the Rue Monsigny, is a brasserie/restaurant named L'Entente, which features English cuisine. That's where we dined. The resto proudly advertises that it features English cuisine made entirely with French terroir produits (products of the land) EXCEPT for the cheese. The English are so proud of their cheese!

This dinner was outstandingly good. We each had the delicious lemon sole with new potatoes and homemade tartar sauce. I ordered a side of green beans. These beans were of the thin variety, which is very easy to overcook. But these green beans were done perfectly -- just to that line between crispiness and tenderness. And they were seasoned expertly with just a touch of mustard, garlic, and butter.

Desserts at L'Entente.

Desserts were wonderful, too. Tom had a super-rich triple chocolate cake with sour cream and I had a creamy tart with a tangy rhubarb sauce on the side.

The owner of the place, Oliver, stopped by our table to chat for a while. He wanted to know where we were from, how we'd heard about his restaurant, etc. He asked where in Florida, specifically, that we came from. That launched a little repartée about places in Florida.

In answer to his second question, I told him that I found out about his restaurant on LaFourchette.com. He said, "You mean The Fork?" And I said yes, but that I usually use the French version of it. (I like reading the French customer reviews and menu samples.)

Oliver is originally from London, and he'd been involved with the excellent Poissonerie restaurant on the Rue de Seine in the past. He strongly recommended that we come back for the Sunday brunch at L'Entente, because it is elaborate and substantial. Check it out:

Wow. This is far more than most brasserie Sunday brunches have to offer. We don't usually do Sunday brunch, but if we did, I'd go to L'Entente.

The Palais Bourbon, a few years ago.

We certainly will go back to L'Entente for dinner. It is good to have a place we know in the 2nd arrondissement. We don't dine on the right bank very often.

After dinner, we walked back toward the Place Vendome and caught a taxi on the Rue de la Paix. I enjoyed whisking through the city at night in a cab. The Place de la Concorde is surprisingly dark at night. We crossed the Seine on my favorite bridge, the grand Pont Alexandre III. The full moon shone on the Seine. I was surprised again at how relatively bright our neighborhood's Rue du Commerce is.

The dark and the light, the British and the French, war and peace . . . .