An Island in Paris

Every day I stayed in Paris, I ventured down to a little supermarket on the Île St Louis. I never left empty-handed: a smoked chicken, some quail, or perhaps some cheese; yoghurt in its own ceramic pot, a bottle of red. Consisting of two aisles barely wide enough for a two people to pass the place could hardly be classified as a supermarket, yet it was not a corner store, for in that small shop lay a wealth of offerings to put any supermarket to shame. The shop was simply the essence of the Île St Louis.

Paris is a city for walking. After visiting Notre Dame — and the delightful playground in le Square Jean XXIII just behind the cathedral — I strolled to the Île St Louis via the Pont St-Louis. (May I suggest a brief detour to see the lovers’ padlocks decorating the Pont de l’Archevêché. The padlocks keep appearing, no matter how often the council removes them.)

More ancient than the rest of Paris, many believe the island to be haunted — plus it boasts Paris’ best sorbet. The island takes its name from King Louis IX, who commissioned the ethereal Sainte Chapelle to house the Crown of Thorns, and who was sainted after his death. Once a swamp, the Île St Louis is now Paris’ most desired address. Known by the rest of Paris as ‘Louisiens’, many of the inhabitants rarely leave the island, not even to shop or do their banking.

Developed in the 17th century, (nearly all the houses here were built between 1618 and 1660), the island has never gone out of fashion. The area near the Pont St-Louis offers spectacular views of the Île de la Cité and Notre-Dame, while from the Quai d’Orléans the Left Bank and the Panthéon come into view. Walking along the chestnut-lined quais past the moss-covered houses, I took a moment to wave at the tourist bateaux drifting past the island — I had taken one only a few days ago.

At no. 6 Quai d’Orléans is the Société Historique et Littéraire Polonaise, open only on a Thursday afternoon. It contains works and mementoes of the exiled poet Adam Mickiewicz — known as the ‘Byron of Poland’ — and a large library of Polish literature. A room on the ground floor is dedicated to Chopin, including his armchair.

The Quai d’Orléans becomes the Quai de Béthune, often called Le Quai de Balcon after the plethora of balcony-covered buildings along its way, designed by the royal architect Louis Le Vau (of Versailles fame).

Continuing around the end of the island leads to the Quai d’Anjou. At no. 1, on the tip of the island, is the Hôtel Lambert, considered the most beautiful residence in Paris. Designed by Le Vau, it was decorated by Charles Le Brun, who also painted Versailles’ Galerie des Glaces. Following the Polish uprising against Russia in 1831, the exiled Prince Adam Czartoryski bought the Hôtel and turned it into a salon for Polish intellectuals and artists, with Fréderic Chopin providing the music. From all accounts, the man knew how to throw a good party. Other past inhabitants include Voltaire.

At no. 17 Quai d’Anjoi is the Hôtel Lauzun, which rose to prominence in the 1840s when the Île St Louis became a Bohemian haunt. Les Club Hashischins met here monthly, where the likes of Manet, Balzac, Dumas, Hugo and Baudelaire were served hashish in the form of green jelly. Naturally.

Originally the Île St Louis was cut into two by a canal (now the Rue Poulletier), with the eastern island called the Île aux Vaches (the Island of Cows) and used for grazing; the western island was called Île Notre-Dame (both were owned by the chapter of Notre Dame).

In 1614, Louis XIII allowed the engineer Marie to join the islands and connect them with both Left and Right banks. Marie then developed the island to attract those searching for property in the then fashionable Marias; this is why the streets of the island, unlike the rest of Paris, are in a grid pattern. The Pont Marie connects the island to the Right Bank; the original bridge, complete with 22 houses, collapsed in 1658.

Beyond the Pont Marie is the Quai de Bourbon. Along here Marie installed bateaux lavoirs (barges used as public laundries), which remained in use well into the 1880s.

At the corner of the Quai de Bourbon and Rue Le Regrattier stands a headless statue of St Nicolas, patron saint of boatmen (as are St Julian and Francis of Paola). Intriguingly, Rue Le Regrattier was once called Rue de la Femme Sans Tête, taking its name from a sign showing a headless woman with a glass in one hand and the slogan Tout est Bon — All Is Good.

The most expensive apartments have has always been those facing the Seine, yet the buildings on the inner streets radiate a sedate old-world charm. For many, the gem of the island is the church St-Louis-en-l’Île, on the street of the same name. Like so many buildings here it was designed by Le Vau. Boasting a rich, Jesuit-baroque interior, it includes a statue of St Louis holding a crusader’s sword. (The king died of dysentery in Tunis in 1270, whilst on Crusade.)

The area between Rue des Deux Ponts and Rue St-Louis-en-l’Île is filled with small restaurants and cafés. Amongst the eclectic shops I found a small gift shop filled with the most exquisite wooden toys. When all the walking proves too much, at no. 31 rue St-Louis-en-l’Ile (on the corner of Rue des Deux-Ponts) is Berthillon, claimed by some to be the best ice-cream and sorbet parlour in all Europe. With long queues and erratic opening hours, luckily there is another excellent shop just further down the street — and opposite I found my supermarket.

Perhaps I came every day just as excuse to try a different flavoured sorbet, perhaps it was to explore a village hidden in Paris; perhaps it was simply because, when I stepped over the threshold, I felt I stepped into a different world, where the streams of time flowed more slowly.

The Literary Traveller

Reading Fantômas, I often forgot the work was written in 1911 (and translated from the French in 1915). Fantômas is not a gothic villain but a modern serial killer, who shows neither remorse nor mercy for his victims (not even for his son). Violent in his methods, Fantômas is adept at psychological manipulation, and takes delight in his crimes. He is a sadistic sociopath easily recognised in the modern world of crime writing.

Yet as the New York Times then wrote, “One episode simply melts away as the next takes over…. Juve cleverly pursues him in speeding trains, down dark alleys, through glittering Parisian salons, obsessed with bringing the demon mastermind to justice”. James Joyce described the series simply as “Enfantômastic!”

Fantômas influenced later detective / crime-writers such as Conan Doyle. The detective Juve misses nothing, and bases his success upon logical deduction. “That man hasn’t got eyes in his head, but telescopes, magnifying glasses! He sees everything in a second — even when it isn’t there!”

The influence can also be seen in the works of Agatha Christie, with her emphasis on the psychological makeup of both killer and victim.

The world of Fantômas is chaotic, fast paced, and not always resolved.

Fantômas and its successors (some 40 novels) proved popular across all aspects of society, largely for one good reason: it is a great read, with the pace of action covering any holes in the style or substance.

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