Head back to Rue des Petits Champs and turn right; at no.40 is Passage Choiseul. It’s less grand, a little shabby, in keeping with its history as a haunt of writers, who’d submit manuscripts to a publisher based here, stopping to buy a pipe or hat along the way. These days it’s mostly a passage for locals, rushing through to grab something to eat from the multicultural restaurants, but you should still amble along its impressive length, stopping here or there to buy an arty postcard or eclectic knick-knack. If the back entrance to the Théatre des Bouffes Parisiens is open, pop in to admire the crimson and gold foyer. At Rue Saint-Augustin, turn right in the direction of the old stock exchange, the colonnaded temple-like building you can see up on Rue Vivienne. Turn left here, then right into Rue Saint-Marc; the entrance to Passage des Panoramas is at no.10.
The Passage des Panoramas is one of the oldest covered arcades in Paris, dating from 1800, when it featured two giant rotundas that exhibited large circular paintings, or panoramas — the cinema experience of the day. The strip was fun and fashionable from the outset, serving up antiques and cakes and all the good things in life. In recent years, it has been reborn as a popular dining destination, although some stores still sell old stamps and postcards, for those who prefer the older Paris. Another way to travel back in time is to eat in one of the stores that have been reborn as a restaurant, such as Canard & Champagne (no.57), set among the florid woodwork of an old tearoom, or Caffè Stern (no.47), occupying the mock-medieval space of a nineteenth-century engraving and printing house.
The passage leads you to Boulevard Montmartre, a central point in the city’s social and theatrical life in the nineteenth century. Across the street, next to Passage Jouffroy, is the Musée Grévin, a waxworks museum from the Belle Époque that is a much-overlooked joy, and well merits a jaunt. Inside you’ll find a plush ruby-velvet theatre and a psychedelic hall of mirrors, both dating from 1900. Then there are the wax figures: artists in ateliers and Left Bank luminaries in cafés, and various A-listers hanging out in the jaw-droppingly ornate Salle de Colonnes, as though at some fabulous party; other wax sculptures recreate vaguely realistic vignettes from French history, in an endearingly old-school way.
Passage Jouffroy is also a captivating blast from the past. It might be gradually gentrifying, but you can still find fanciful curios that give it so much charm. Don’t miss the cane boutique (Galerie 34 M.G Segas, no.34) that seems to double as a theatrical set; it has been selling the city’s quirkiest walking sticks since the arcade opened in 1846. Passage Jouffroy, airier than most thanks to its high curving roof held aloft by a criss-crossing frame of ironwork, was a hit from day one, partly because it took advantage of new technology, offering shoppers heated flooring (note the grates) as well as large plate-glass windows, all the better to ooh and ahh over merchandise. The windows of Pain d’Épices (no.29), which has been selling toys since the 1950s, still attract the crowds. Venture inside to wax sentimental over the music boxes and hobby horses and a selection of miniatures. Not only are the doll’s houses the prettiest you’ll ever see, but they can be decorated in any manner you like, with striped wallpaper and floral rugs, while boudoirs can be decked out with four-poster beds and dressing tables fit for the Marquise de Pompadour and kitchens stocked with everything a little kid with an inner three-Michelin-toque chef could desire, from copper pots to pastry cutters in shapes of love hearts. And, of course, it’s not a self-respecting French house without le jardin — for which there are wrought-iron garden furniture, flower-laced trellises and glasshouses that can be filled with all sorts of baby botanica.
At Hôtel Chopin, a Romantic-era hotel that has been here from the start, now named after the famous composer who used to saunter through this arcade en route to see his mistress George Sand, dog-leg down into the remaining length of passage, past dusty stores selling quaint prints. Across Rue de la Grange Batelière is Passage Verdeau, a small but character-filled nook trading in old books and bric-à-brac. Once you’ve fossicked a little, head back to Passage Jouffroy for lunch or afternoon tea at Le Valentin (no.30), which serves tasty tarts, regional biscuits, and dear little petit-four pastries that wouldn’t look out of place in those doll’s houses of Pain d’Épices opposite.
If you work up the energy for more shopping, and a more modern type of shopping at that, you could take a right at Boulevard Montmartre and head to the department stores, Galeries Lafayette and Printemps. Otherwise, leisurely retrace your steps. Paris’s passages are so full of whimsy and surprises that they deserve a double-take. Make sure to go into any store that catches your eye. As much as many of them seem frozen in time, you never know how long a store specialising in faded postcards or nostalgic toys will last in this fast-moving age. Back at Palais-Royal, the melancholy loveliness of this ghostly old pleasure ground reminds you of how ephemeral beauty, and beautiful things, can be. So if you’ve long coveted hand-made gloves or red-soled stilettoes or a feast of a meal at Le Grand Véfour, there’s no time like now.
Itinerary
• Pont Neuf 75001
• Parc Rives de Seine 75001
• Pont au Change 75001
• Pont Notre-Dame 75001
• Pont d’Arcole 75004
• Pont Louis-Philippe 75004
• Pont Marie 75004
• Pont Sully 75004
• Pont de la Tournelle 75004
• Petit Pont 75005
• Pont Saint-Michel 75006
• Pont du Carrousel 75007
• Pont Royal 75007
• Pont de la Concorde 75007
• Pont Alexandre III 75008
• Promenade des Berges de la Seine 75007
• Pont de Bir-Hakeim 75015
• Île aux Cygnes 75015
• Pont de l’Alma 75008
• Pont des Arts 75006
As the Parisian sun starts to rise, when the sky is still a soft wash of silver, gold and rose, there’s no better viewing platform than the Pont Neuf. Take a seat on a half-moon bench in one of the turreted nooks and, croissant in hand, watch as the river beneath you shimmers, and then sparkles, under the intensifying sunlight and brightening blue above.
Pont Neuf means New Bridge, although it’s actually the oldest one standing in Paris. Unveiled in 1607 — by King Henri IV, who’s commemorated by the equestrian statue in the middle — Pont Neuf, in a way, was the crossing that took Paris into a new century, one that would see so much Gallic glory it would earn the moniker of the grand siècle. Innovatively engineered, Pont Neuf was the first Parisian bridge to be executed in stone, and the first to be unencumbered by buildings, which had cluttered up the sides of medieval bridges. It was also the first time a bridge spanned from one bank to the other, connecting this binary city, as much as connecting its people to its very centre. It’s a cliché these days to stand on a bridge and dreamily look out to the Seine, but before Pont Neuf Parisians had no real relationship with the city’s riverscape. Now, for the first time, they could lean on the parapets, admiring the view of the Louvre or gazing upstream to the islands, as we do to this day. It never gets old.
This was, from the start, a bridge for the people. For many years it featured wide, raised footpaths (which the city had not seen since Roman times), so that Parisians could stroll along without worrying about the risk of muddy splashes. But in the days before carriages were common, Pont Neuf was more than a thoroughfare; it was a social stage. Just as it linked both banks of Paris, it brought all classes together, too. This is where Parisians of all ranks came to buy posies of flowers or fashion trinkets from the boutiques then nestled into the semi-circular niches, read the news that was printed on posters, have their shoes shined or rotten teeth extracted, be entertained by jugglers and acrobats, and order roasted chestnuts or milky coffee from the makeshift stalls. It was here that the future Lady of the Camellias, one of Paris’s most celebrated courtesans, came when new to Paris and sick with hunger. The editor and man-about-town Nestor Roqueplan spotted the beautiful waif and
bought her a cone of fried potatoes. Pont Neuf was a pick-up joint, fairground, shopping mall and theatre all rolled raucously into one. Here Parisians learned to revel in, and love, their city. Almost two centuries after its launch, writer Louis-Sébastien Mercier declared Pont Neuf to be ‘what the heart is to the body: the centre of movement and of circulation.’
When you’ve wandered up and down the bridge, recalibrating your views from each balcony — and perhaps taken a detour into Place Dauphine, another of King Henri’s visionary urban projects — head over to the Right Bank, and turn to walk upstream. Scoot down the ramp you’ll find just beyond some of the bouquinistes sheds — the forerunners of which could be found on Pont Neuf, filled with precious first editions as much as clandestine political pamphlets. You’re now on the Parc Rives de Seine, the pedestrianised riverside strip that has transformed a polluted expressway into a scenic walkway dotted with palm trees, sun lounges and cafés in container sheds. The Parc hasn’t just been metamorphic for Paris in a physical sense, but an emotional one, too — just as the Pont Neuf once was. It has allowed Parisians to interact with the river, and one another, in a new way. Here you see people of all ages — playing, cycling, running, picnicking … or just admiring Paris’s bridges from a new angle.
The first one you’ll come to is the Pont au Change, emblazoned with the letter N — for Napoléon III, the original Napoléon’s nephew, who was Emperor from 1852 to 1870, a period in which the city was remodelled to an extent that would have made even the head of Henri IV spin. Early incarnations of this bridge were cluttered with buildings along each side; many of the Pont au Change shops belonged to goldsmiths and money changers (which explains its name) and, in Patrick Süskind’s inspired novel Perfume, it’s also the address of the city’s top fragrance houses.
By the nineteenth century, inhabited bridges had been outlawed, considered unsanitary and unsafe — many having been lost to the city’s various floods. This was the watery fate of an early version of the next bridge, the Pont Notre-Dame, which was washed away in 1499. Much of the arch you’ll walk under dates back to the rebuilt version of 1500, although its middle metal arch is an early twentieth-century adaptation, designed to enhance water flow.
Continue upstream, beyond the Pont d’Arcole. This is a most mesmerising slice of Paris, almost hypnotic in its loveliness. As the pointy tip of the Île Saint-Louis sharpens into focus, like the prow of a cruise liner, turn your head to take note of how Notre-Dame soars into view above the Île de la Cité. Claim one of the bench seats near Pont Louis-Philippe and watch the boats, and occasional swan, glide by, then wander along the cobbled path opposite the seventeenth-century waterfront townhouses of the Île Saint-Louis. At the Pont Marie, which dates from 1670, you can almost sense the history seeping out of the cold, dank stones. It’s about here that Paris seems to hush somewhat; it’s quieter and calmer and the air feels all that more romantic. You can’t help but play ‘Sous Les Ponts de Paris’ on repeat in your head.
Curve around past the old navigation centre, now a restaurant, and head up to the Pont Sully. This bridge was the creation of Baron Haussmann, the prefect charged by Napoléon III with the city’s makeover. Haussmann had a mania for straight lines, and boulevards that linked Paris’s monuments. See how, in one direction, you can make out the July Column of the Place de la Bastille and, in the other, the dome of the Panthéon? It’s only an optical illusion that the road takes you from one to the other, but it was linear enough for Haussmann — whose obsession with precision left little time for nostalgia — to cut through the tip of the historic Île Saint-Louis, demolishing one of the island’s most fabled mansions, the Hôtel des Bretonvilliers, in the process. The cute little pavilion-style house on the corner of Rue Saint-Louis en L’Île and Boulevard Henri IV was the hôtel’s outbuilding, known as the House of the Crossbowmen for a reason that has also been lost to history.
As you approach the Left Bank, you can’t help but notice the stunning back view of Notre-Dame; a perfect photo opportunity awaits on the next bridge downstream, the Pont de la Tournelle — but just make sure to tear yourself away for a few minutes so you can look back and up to the piercing statue of Paris’s patron saint, Sainte-Geneviève, sculpted by Paul Landowski (he of Rio de Janeiro’s Le Christ Rédempteur fame). From here, the banks of the Seine offer a dramatic way to approach, and appreciate, the Gothic beauty of the cathedral.
After you pass Notre-Dame, you’ll walk beneath a couple of bridges — the Petit Pont and Pont Saint-Michel — whose architectural ancestors go right back to Roman times. Paris started out as an island village but bridges — and the engineering genius of Ancient Rome — allowed the city to expand. Inner Paris is no longer a river port — you spot far more leisure boats than commercial barges — but along here, where the old metal mooring rings still clasp to the retaining walls, you can well imagine a time when Paris’s main business was trade, not tourism. And it’s here that you really feel the old soul of the city. You’re right at its source (pun intended).
Pont Neuf is just up ahead. From this perspective, you can get up close to some of its 381 mascarons, the grotesque stone faces that, like gargoyles, were intended to ward off evil spirits. Zone in on the ugly details: the frowning brows, the lascivious leers, the satyr-like snarls … Each face is different and each has its own story, again lost to the history books … although one rumour is that some of the heads were the stonemasons’ impish interpretations of the king’s mistresses.
A couple of hundred steps — and years — separate Pont Neuf from the Pont des Arts. The elegant iron bridge dates from 1804, a time when metal was becoming popular in building, and engineers taking over from architects — a trend that would reach its apogee with the Eiffel Tower. See how the Pont des Arts’ arches dance across the river as airily and gracefully as ballerina leaps. Alongside the Iron Lady, it’s a perfect example of the lightness of French design, even when working with hefty materials.
We’ll end up back on the Pont des Arts, so for now continue along the lower quays, looking across to that grandiose length of the Louvre. Soon you’ll pass through a keystone arch of the Pont du Carrousel. Its original nineteenth-century self — a trio of elongated, cast-iron arches bordered with a series of large metal rings — was sadly replaced with its current reinforced-concrete form in the 1930s, although the Art Deco lampposts, those verdigris obelisks, are curiously unique. At the end of the row of poplars, by the weeping willow that’s draped so wistfully into the Seine, take the stairs up to the street level of Quai Voltaire. From here, pass over the Pont Royal, a bridge built in the late seventeenth century for the aristocrats who had moved from the Marais out to the fresher air of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. The sturdy structure was intended to withstand the most intense carriage traffic as it rattled back and forth from Versailles. Note its flared ends: they were designed to make it easier for said carriages to swivel onto the bridge.
Walk along Quai Anatole France, past the Musée d’Orsay, along a riverside stretch that once lay behind some of Paris’s fanciest mansions. The Pont de la Concorde, just up ahead, was commissioned by the ill-fated Louis XVI to serve this aristocratic district. The bridge was mid-construction when the French Revolution broke out. Ironically, it was completed with the aid of stones from the Bastille, the prison whose demolition set off the civil uprising, and symbolised the downfall of the ancien régime.
Follow the path, lined with plane trees, as it bends around with the river, and hold your breath as Paris’s most flamboyant bridge comes into view. With each step there’s a new detail of the Pont Alexandre III to admire. Confectioned for the 1900 Exposition Universelle — along with the next-door Grand and Petit Palais — the bridge brought together seventeen artists, so it’s as much an al-fresco museum as a work of engineering art, with its single span. And it has everything the top creatives of the Belle Époque could throw at it: rollicking nymphs and cherubs, a menagerie of animals from lizards to lions, golden winged horsemen, lampposts that look
like fairytale trees, floral garlands tied up with gold ribbon … So exuberant is the bridge that it never fails to make even the greyest day seem suddenly dazzling. Every river city should have one just like it, don’t you think?
One of the reasons Parisians have newly embraced their river is that there are all sorts of quayside cafés and boats-turned-restaurants along here. If it’s lunchtime, there are several options around Pont Alexandre III, so rest your feet for a while, and enjoy the view. See where the Eiffel Tower points to the sky? We’re going to next head to a bridge just beyond there, but if you need a short cut, you can cross the bridge here and turn back upstream (skip down a few paragraphs, if so). Otherwise, continue along the riverfront, called the Promenade des Berges de la Seine, another former expressway that has a new life as a peaceful piazza, with its floating gardens and flower-dotted houseboats. The next few bridges are nothing to write a postcard home about, but your effort will be rewarded when, just around the bend from the Eiffel Tower, you reach the Pont de Bir-Hakeim.
This bridge was planned to accommodate a new Métro line, which explains its industrial viaduct vibe, with the trains zipping along overhead. But because it would jut into the ornately domed rooftops of Passy, it had to be rendered ritzy. Cue a triumphal arch in the centre of a succession of fluted columns, between which lamps hang like drop earrings. Stop for a while by La France Renaissante (France Reborn), the equestrian statue of Joan of Arc that seems to be charging towards the tip of the Eiffel Tower, whose magnificence can be admired afresh from this vantage point.
Paris for Dreamers Page 9