COURT OF HONOR OF NATIONAL LIBRARY.
See [page 272.]
bridge to the right bank. An engineer named Marie conceived the idea of joining the two islets, and now the island is a unit and only the name of a street indicates where the Seine once flowed between.
Once begun, this new residence section rapidly became popular among people who wanted to live somewhat remote from the turmoil of many streets. To-day the island is covered from tip to tip with dwellings and such few shops as are needed to supply the daily needs of the people, but there is still the atmosphere of remoteness that made its charm for Gautier and Baudelaire and Voltaire, and which induced Lambert de Thorigny, president of the Parliament, to build the superb mansion, still standing and restored to its original beauty, on whose decorations all the best French artists of the day lavished their skill. To cross one of the bridges on to the island is to find one’s self transported to one of the provinces. It is as true to-day as when it was written a hundred and thirty years ago that “the dweller in the Marais is a stranger in the Isle.”
Louis XIII cared little for letters. Richelieu, on the other hand, made some pretensions to being a literary man himself, recognized ability in others, and was able to understand the usefulness and the power of the pen. It was, in part, his encouragement that made the success of the literary meetings at the Hôtel de Rambouillet near the Louvre where the “precious” ladies and gentlemen conversed and wrote in a language whose high-flown eloquence was a reaction against the rough language of the military court of Henry IV. Corneille came to the fore in Louis’ reign, and, for his own political purposes, Richelieu organized a group of writers who had met for their own pleasure into the French Academy whose members, the forty “Immortals,” assume to-day to be the court of last resort on the literature and language of France.
The two succeeding sovereigns, Louis XIV and XV added other academies—of Inscriptions, Sciences and so on—which, after the Revolution, were combined as the Institute and established in the Collège Mazarin near whose dome a tablet now marks the former site of the Tour de Nesle.
It is quite probable that when the great cardinal died, Paris not being gifted with prophetic vision, drew a sigh of relief. His was indeed a master spirit. Beneath the rush of the city’s life there was no one of whatever class who did not know that he was neither too high nor too low to receive the premier’s attention if he drew it upon himself. Richelieu’s word meant his making or his breaking. If Richelieu stretched forth his hand he might be raised to prominence: if Richelieu frowned he might be sent to a prison from which only Death would release him.
Cardinal de Retz, who analyzed Richelieu’s qualities with impartiality and intelligence said of him “all his vices were those which can only be brought into use by means of great virtues.” Claude le Petit (1638-1662), author of “La Chronique Scandaleuse ou Paris Ridicule,” in describing the Palais Royal, wrote:
Here dwelt old Claws and nothing lacked,
John Richelieu by name,
A demi-God in local fame,
Half-Prince, half-Pope in fact.