IT was in the early years of the seventeenth century that the King’s physician bought a piece of waste ground—a butte formed of the refuse of centuries accumulated there—for the culture of the multitudinous herbs and plants which made up the pharmacopia of the age. Thus was born the “Jardin Royal de herbes mÉdicinales” laid out in 1626. Chairs of botany, pharmacy, surgery were instituted and endowed, and in 1650 the garden was thrown open to the public. A century later Buffon was named superintendent of the royal garden. He set himself to reorganize and enlarge. The amphitheatre, the natural history galleries, the chemistry laboratories, the fine lime-tree avenue are all due to him. Distinguished naturalists succeeded one another as directors of the garden, and after the death of Louis XVI a museum of natural history and a menagerie were set up with what was left of the King’s collection at Versailles. Additions and improvements were made in succeeding years till, after the outbreak of war in 1870, the Jardin was bombarded by the Prussians, and during the siege its live-stock largely drawn upon to feed the population of Paris. The garden and its buildings have been added to frequently. The labyrinth is on the site of the hillock bought by Guy de la Brosse, who first laid it out. A granite statue marks the spot where he and two notable travellers were buried. Surrounding streets record the names of great naturalists of different epochs.

In Rue Geoffroy St-Hilaire, once Rue Jardin du Roi, No. 5, now the Police Station, was built in 1760. At No. 30 a wheel once worked turned by the water of the BiÈvre, now a malodorous drain-stream hidden beneath the pavement. No. 36 was Buffon’s home. Here he died in 1788. At No. 37 lived Daubenton. At No. 38 stood in olden days the great gate, the Porte-Royale, of the Jardin du Roi, with to its left the hall, a narrow space at that time, where the great surgeon Dionis described to a marvelling assembly of students his wonderful discoveries (1672-73). That small cabinet was the nucleus of the great anthropological museum of succeeding centuries.

In Rue Cuvier, in its early days Rue DerriÈre-les-Murs de Ste-Victoire, describing accurately its situation, we see at No. 20 a modern fountain (1840) on the site of one put there in 1671 and traces of the abbey St-Victor in the courtyard. The pavilion “de l’Administration” of the Garden is the ancient hÔtel Jean Debray (1650), inhabited subsequently by several men of note. At No. 47 Cuvier died in 1832. In the eighteenth-century fiacres, a recently introduced manner of getting about, were to be hired at No. 45. The eleventh-century Rue LinnÉ shows many vestiges of the past. We see Gothic arches of the vanished abbey at No. 4.

In Rue des FossÉs St-Bernard, stretching along the line of Philippe-Auguste’s wall, between the site of two great gates: Porte St-Victor, a spot desecrated by the massacres of September, and Porte St-Bernard, we see Halle-aux-Vins, where abbey buildings stood of yore. The Halle-aux-Cuirs, in Rue Censier, is on the site of the famous orphanage “La MisÉricorde,” called vulgarly “les Cent Filles” or “les Cent Vierges.” The apprentice from the Arts and Crafts Institution, who should choose one of these orphan maidens for his wife, obtained as her dowry the privilege of becoming at once a full member of the Corporation.

In Rue de la Clef we have at No. 56 the site of part of the notorious prison Ste-PÉlagie. No. 26 is still owned by the SavourÉ, whose ancestors kept the school where JerÔme Bonaparte and many of his compeers were educated. Rue du Fer-À-Moulin, dating from the twelfth century, a stretch of blackened walls, has been known by many names. In the little Rue Scipion leading out of it we see at No. 13 the hÔtel built in the sixteenth century for the Tuscan, Scipion Sardini, who came to France in the suite of Catherine de’ Medici, a rich and rather scandalous financier; terra-cotta medallions ornament its walls. It serves now as the bakehouse of the Paris hospitals. In the square opposite we see the curious piece of statuary: “des Boulangers,” by Charpentier.

Rue Monge, running from boulevard St-Germain to Avenue des Gobelins, was cut through old streets of the district in 1859. A fountain Louis XV brought here from its original site, Rue Childebert, was set up in the square, and many other old-time relics: statues from the ancient hÔtel de Ville, dÉbris from the Palais de l’Industrie, burnt down in 1897; a copy of the statue of Voltaire by Houdin, etc.

Rue d’Arras, so named from a college once there, began as Rue des Murs, referring to the walls of Philippe-Auguste. The concert hall we see was not long ago PÈre Loyson’s church. L’École Communale, No. 19 Rue des Boulangers, is on the site of part of the convent des “Filles Anglaises,” which had existed there from 1644—razed in 1861.

Rue Rollin began in the sixteenth century as Rue des Moulins-À-vent. On the site of the house at No. 2 Pascal died in 1662. No. 4, with its fine staircase, its grille and ancient well in the courtyard, was the home of Bernardine de St. Pierre, during the years he wrote his world-known Paul and Virginie. Rollin lived and died (1741) at No. 8. Descartes lived at No. 14. When the street was longer and known as Rue Neuve-St-Etienne, Manon Philipon, Madame Roland of later days, was a pupil in the annexe of the English Augustine convent on a site crossed now by Rue Monge and Rue de Navarre.

In Rue de Navarre we come to Les ArÈnes, the disinterred remains of the Roman Arena. They were discovered here just before the war of 1870, then quickly covered up to be in part restored to daylight in 1883. We see before us the grey stones, huge blocks and graduated step-like seats where the population of the city—Lutetians then—passed their hours of recreation watching the conflicts of wild beasts. It is not, perhaps, the original arena built here by the Romans, for that was attacked twice, first by the northern invaders, then by the Christians, many of its stones used to build the city walls. It was, however, soon restored ... evidently. In the course of subsequent invasions, conquests, new settlements, constructions and the lapse of years, the Roman theatre sank beneath the surface to be unearthed in nineteenth-century days. Modern garden paths and a grand but inharmonious entrance in Louis XIV style now surround this supremely interesting vestige of a long-gone age. Children play where savage beasts once fought. Women knit and sew, old men rest, young men and maidens woo, where Roman soldiers and a primitive Gallic population once eagerly gathered to watch fierce combats.[E]

Rue LacÉpÈde: here at No. 1 stood till recently the HÔpital de la PitiÉ, founded by Marie de’ Medici in 1613, now replaced by a modern building in the boulevard de l’HÔpital. Its primary destination was a shelter for beggars—a refuge—in order to free Paris from the swarms who “gained their living” by soliciting alms in the streets. The beggars preferred their liberty. By an edict of some years later, however, beggars were taken there and closely shut up, safely guarded. They were called in consequence “les EnfermÉs.” The hospital grew in extent and importance and was called “Notre-Dame de la PitiÉ.” The convent Ste-PÉlagie was organized in a part of its buildings, in 1660, to become at the Revolution the notorious prison. No. 7 is a handsome eighteenth-century hÔtel. Rue Gracieuse has brought down to our time the graceful name of a family who lived there in the thirteenth century and some ancient houses. In Rue du Puits de l’Ermite lived the sculptors Coysevox, Coustou, and the painter Bourdon. The hospice for aged poor in Rue de l’ÉpÉe-de-Bois was formerly an asile founded by Soeur Rosalie, known for her self-sacrificing work among the cholera-stricken in 1832, and during the Revolution of 1848. The very name Rue des Patriarches bids us look for vestiges of past ages. The patriarchs, thus memorized, were two fourteenth-century ecclesiastics, one bishop of Paris and Alexandria, the other of Jerusalem, who dwelt in a fine old hÔtel, the big courtyard of which has become a market-place, while the street named after them and a curious impasse stretch across the site of the razed mansion. The district was a centre of Calvinism during the religious struggles. The bishop’s old house, “hÔtel Chanac,” sheltered numerous Protestants, and religious services were held there.

Rue de l’ArbalÈte carries us back to the days when archers had their garden and training-ground here. Later an apothecary’s garden was laid out where now we see the extensive modern buildings of the Institut Agronomique. A pharmaceutical school was built in this old street and medicinal herbs were cultivated from the end of the fifteenth and early years of the sixteenth centuries. Remains of a Roman cemetery were found some years ago beneath the paving-stones near No. 16.

In Rue Daubenton we find the presbytery and ancient side-entrance of St-MÉdard, and in the old wall distinct traces of two great gates which led to the churchyard. Traces of past time are seen also in Rue de la PitiÉ, where at No. 3 Robespierre’s sister lived and, in 1834, died.

Rue Cardinal-Lemoine begins across the site of the college founded by the Cardinal in 1302, suppressed at the Revolution, used subsequently as a barracks, then razed. The wall of Philippe-Auguste passed on the site of No. 26. Beneath the house a curious leaden coffin was found in 1908. At No. 49 we see the handsome but dilapidated faÇade of the house of the painter Lebrun, where also Watteau lived for a time. Here the Dames Anglaises had their well-known convent from 1644 to 1859, when they moved to Neuilly. At the Revolution the convent was confiscated, yet Mass was said daily in the chapel through the Terror (see pp. 11, 28).

At No. 65 we see the CollÈge des Écossais, founded in 1325 by David, bishop of Moray, to which a second foundation due to the bishop of Glasgow, 1639, was added, transferred here from Rue des Armendiers, by Robert Barclay in 1662. Suppressed in 1792, it was used as a prison under the Terror but restored to the Scots when Revolution days were over. The seventeenth-century chapel still stands and the heart of James II is in a casket there. The college staircase, left untouched, is remarkably fine. Close by, at the end of Rue Thouin, in what was formerly Place Fourcy, the brothers Perrault, one the famous architect, the other yet more universally known—the writer of fairy tales—lived and died. Rue de l’Estrapade recalls the days when, on the place hard by, rebellious soldiers were punished by being hoisted to the top of a pole, their hands tied behind their back, then let fall to the ground. Old-time vestiges are seen all along the street. Rue Clotilde crosses what were once the grounds of the abbey Ste-GeneviÈve.