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The grand Colonnade, on the side facing the old church, St-Germain-l’Auxerrois, was built between the years 1667-80 by Claude Perrault. The façade facing the quay to the south was then added. After the death of the King’s active statesman, Colbert, work at the Louvre stopped. The fine palace fell from its high estate. It may almost be said to have been let out in tenements. Artists, savants, men of letters, took rooms there—logements! The Louvre was, as a matter of fact, no longer a royal palace. Its “decease” as a king’s residence dates from the death of Colbert. The Colonnade was restored in 1755 by the renowned architect, Gabriel, and King Louis XVI first put forward the proposition of using the palace as a great National Museum. It was the King’s wish that all the best-known, most highly valued works of art in France should be collected, added to the treasures of the Cabinet du Roi, and placed there. The Revolutionary Government put into effect the guillotined King’s idea. The names of its members may be read inscribed on two black marble slabs up against the wall of the circular ante-chamber leading to the Galerie d’Apollon, where are preserved and shown the ancient crown jewels of France, the beautiful enamels of Limoges and many other precious treasures once the possession of royalty. This grand gallery, planned and begun by Lebrun in the seventeenth century, is modern, built in the nineteenth century by Duban.

The First Empire saw the completion of the work begun by the Revolutionists. In the time of Napoléon I the marvellous collection of pictures, statuary, art treasures of every description, was duly arranged and classified. The building of the interior court was finished in 1813.

On the establishment of the Second Empire, Napoléon III set himself the task of completely restoring the Louvre and extending it. The Pavillon de Flore was then rebuilt, joining the ancient palace with the Tuileries, which for two previous centuries had been the habitation of French monarchs.

After the disasters of 1870-71 restoration was again undertaken, but though the Tuileries had been burnt to the ground the Louvre had suffered comparatively little damage.

Within its walls the Louvre has undergone drastic changes since its conversion from a royal palace to a National Museum. The Salle des Fêtes of bygone ages has become the Salle Lacaze with its fine collection of masterpieces. What was once the King’s Cabinet, communicating with the south wing, where in her time Marie de’ Medici had her private rooms, is known as the Salle des Sept Cheminées, filled with examples of early nineteenth-century French art.

In the Salle Carrée, where Henri IV was married, and where the murderers of President Brisson met their fate by hanging—swung from the beams of the ceiling now finely vaulted—masterpieces of all the grandest epochs in art are brought together; from among them disappeared in 1911 the now regained Mona Lisa. Painting, sculpture, works of art of every kind, every age and every nation fill the great halls and galleries of the Louvre. We cannot attempt a description of its treasures here. Let all who love things of beauty, all who take pleasure in learning the wonderful results of patient work, go and see[A].

Nor can I recount here the numberless incidents, the historic happenings of which the Louvre was the scene. It is customary to point out the gilded balcony from which Charles IX is popularly supposed to have fired upon the Huguenots, or to have given the signal to fire, on that fatal night of St-Bartholemew, 1572. But the balcony was not yet there. Nor is it probable the young King fired from any other balcony or window. Shots were fired maybe from the palace by men less timorous.

On the Seine side of the big court is the site of the ancient Gothic Porte Bourbon, where Admiral Coligny was first struck and Concini shot through the heart. In our own time we have the startling theft of the Joconde from the Salle Carrée, its astonishing return, and the hiding away of the treasures in the days of war, of air-raids and long-range guns and threatened invasion, to strike our imagination. “The great black mass,” which the enemy aviator saw on approaching Paris, and knew it must be the Louvre, grand, majestic, undisturbed, is the most notable monument of Paris and of France.

THE TUILERIES

The Palace has gone, burnt to the ground in the war year 1870-71. The gardens alone remain, those beautiful Tuileries gardens, the brightest spot on the right bank of the Seine. Several moss-grown pillars, some remnants of broken arches, the pillars and frontal of the present Jeu de Paume and of the Orangery, are all that is left to-day of the royal dwelling that erewhile stood there. The palace was built at the end of the sixteenth century by Catherine de’ Medici to replace the ancient palace Les Tournelles, in the Place Royale, now Place des Vosges, where King Henri II had died at a festive tournament, his eye and brain pierced by the sword of his great general, Comte de Montmorency. Queen Catherine hated the sight of the palace where her husband had died thus tragically. Its destruction was decreed; and the Queen commanded the erection in its stead of the magnifique bâtiment de l’Hôtel royal, dit des Tuileries des Parisiens, parcequ’il y avait autrefois une Tuilerie au dit lieu.

The site of that big tile-yard was in those days outside the city boundary. The architect, Philibert Delorme, set to work with great ardour. A rough road was made leading from the bac, i.e. the ford across the Seine, now spanned near the spot by the Pont Royal, to the quarries in the neighbourhood of Notre-Dame-des-Champs and Vaugirard, whence stone was brought. Thus was born the well-known Rue du Bac. The palace was from the first surrounded by a fine garden, separated until the time of Louis XIV from the Seine on the one side, from the palace on the other, by a ruelle; i.e. a narrow street, a lane.

PALAIS DES TUILERIES

Catherine took up her abode at the new palace as soon as it was habitable; but the Queen-Mother was restless and oppressed, haunted by presentiments of evil. An astrologer had told her she would meet her death beneath the ruins of a mansion in the vicinity of the church, St-Germain-l’Auxerrois. She left her new palace, therefore, bought the site of several houses, appropriated the ground and buildings of an old convent in the neighbourhood of St-Eustache, had erected on the spot a fine dwelling: l’hôtel de la Reine, known later as l’hôtel de Soissons, where we see to-day the Bourse de Commerce. One column of the Queen’s palace still stands there, within it a narrow staircase up which she was wont to climb with her Italian astrologer.

Meanwhile, the Tuileries palace showed no signs of ruin—quite the reverse. Catherine’s son, Charles IX, had a bastion erected in the garden on the Seine side; a small dwelling-house, a pond, an aviary, a theatre, an echo, a labyrinth, an orangery, a shrubbery were soon