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All roads lead to Rome

All roads lead to Rome

Sheltered by the ramparts

Sheltered by the ramparts

Belleforest's map of Paris

Belleforest's map of Paris

Pont Neuf

Pont Neuf

Paris, an open-plan city

Paris, an open-plan city

Haussmann: Minister of Paris

Haussmann: Minister of Paris

Everything's connected!

Everything's connected!

Rue Passagère

Rue Passagère

In a roundabout fashion...

In a roundabout fashion...

Lining the streets

Lining the streets

Processions

Processions

From the League to the Fronde

From the League to the Fronde

Taking to the streets

Taking to the streets

Forward march!

Forward march!

The resilient Republic!

The resilient Republic!

Let the party begin!

Let the party begin!

The Boulevard of Crime

The Boulevard of Crime

The carnival

The carnival

Industrious street life

Industrious street life

Colporteurs

Colporteurs

The central market

The central market

Paving the way...

Paving the way...

It's a dirty job...

It's a dirty job...

Standing firm

Standing firm

Let there be light!

Let there be light!

Sleep soundly, good people!

Sleep soundly, good people!

The beat goes on...

The beat goes on...

The resilient Republic!

The cementing of the Third Republic, after eight years of sweeping depression (defeat in 1870, the Paris Commune and its crushing, second-rate quarrels between Orleanists and Legitimists), brought hundreds of thousands of Parisians onto the streets to mark the close of the 1878 Universal Exhibition.

The tricolor flag—highly symbolic after the ridiculous controversy raised by the monarchists—could be seen throughout the capital. The streets were filled with people dancing, singing and marching around the clock: France had awoken to a new Republic!

Republican reveling supplants religious processions

Canon fire woke me at daybreak, content to disturb the sleep of folk, whatever their views, on the pretext of celebrating freedom. Children replied to the official artillery by setting off fireworks in the street. It was time to get up.

I went outside. The city was already jubilant. Middle-class residents came to their doors and eyed the flags with a happy look on their faces. People laughed: the festivities were finally under way!

The people had indeed begun their party, though I doubt they knew why. They had been told there would be festivities, and that was enough. The people were happy and joyful. Their reveling would continue on into the evening, by order of the government, and tomorrow it would be over [...].

I strolled through the streets until I could bear the public display of jubilation no longer. Choirs bellowed, fireworks crackled, the crowd shook and shouted. Every outbreak of laughter expressed the same silly satisfaction.

By chance, I found myself in front of a church I had seen from afar the previous day, with its two towers. I went inside. The place was empty, cavernous, cold and lifeless. The tabernacle lamp shone like a speck of gold from the back of the dark choir. I took a seat in this chilly haven.

Outside, I could hear the explosions of rockets and the clamoring of the masses, so far away they seemed to come from another planet. I took to studying a huge stained window through which a thick, purple daylight poured into the sleepy temple. It also showed a people, a people from another century absorbed in festivities of yesteryear, no doubt in honor of some saint or other. The little glass men were strangely garbed and paraded along the length of the big old window. They carried banners, crosses, candles and a shrine, their mouths open in song. Some danced, arms and legs flailing.

It seems that throughout the history of our world, the eternal masses have indulged in the same acts. In the past we celebrated God; today we fete the Republic!

Guy de Maupassant, A Day of Festivities, 1886, in Tales and short stories. (Free translation from the French)

Rue Saint Denis in Paris, Festival of June 30, 1878
Rue Saint Denis in Paris, Festival of June 30, 1878

Monet produced two nearly identical paintings on the same theme: the festival of June 30, 1878 celebrating the end of the Universal Exhibition. One shows Rue Saint Denis, the other Rue Montorgueil, both seen from a high-angle viewpoint on a balcony, both bedecked in a sea of red, white and blue flags. Monet's impressionist style skillfully captured the movement of the joyful crowd and the rippling of the flags in the wind. The two tricolor paintings also embody his belief in the Republic (though the year was only 1878) and in democracy.

The effect is like a nursery rhyme, featuring three key notes, and it is perhaps this musical aspect that appealed to the composer from Ambert, Emmanuel Chabrier, who bought the picture. Manet painted a piece on the same theme, though filled with melancholy, entitled Rue Mosnier aux Drapeaux, which portrays a nearly empty street seen through the eyes of a curious onlooker. Monet's approach was more "aloof": he did not partake in the crowd's jubilation but instead adopted a more remote yet dominant viewpoint.

Claude Monet

Claude Monet was born in Paris on November 14, 1840, but stayed only five years in the French capital. His parents moved to Le Havre in 1845, where they sold colonial wares. As a teenager, Monet showed his caricatures in local art shops, which led to a meeting with Eugène Boudin, with whom he began painting landscapes. Monet refused to attend Le Havre school of fine arts and set off to study at the Académie Suisse in Paris, where he met Pissarro and Cézanne. Returning to Le Havre after completing his national service, he completed his studies with Boudin and the Dutch artist Jongkind, before returning to the capital and the studio of Charles Gleyre, where he met Sisley, Bazille and Renoir.

In the 1860s, Monet and his friends often met Manet and Zola at Café Guerbois, had their work refused at every Salon, sought new inspiration around Paris and subsisted in extreme poverty. In 1869, Monet and Renoir did the first paintings in Bougival, featuring the visible brush strokes that prefigured impressionism. The following year, Monet married Camille, his model, with whom he already had a son, Jean, born in 1867. In 1874, weary of official rebuttals, the young painters organized their own exhibition in the studio of the photographer Nadar, where Monet exhibited Impression, Sunrise, the picture that spawned the satirical criticism that inadvertently gave the movement its name.

The 1870s were much like the previous decade: Monet produced wonderful paintings yet continued to exist on the poverty line. He was now living outside Paris (in Argenteuil and Vetheuil), where life was more affordable. He traveled to London in search of Turner, where he met Whistler, whom he befriended. Camille died in 1979 and Monet moved to Poissy, then to Giverny in 1883, where he lived until his death on December 5, 1926. He began to taste success in Giverny in the late 1880s (largely thanks to his friend the writer and critic Octave Mirbeau), bought the property in 1890, remarried a woman named Alice in 1892, and began to cultivate his garden, with its large willow trees and pond covered in water lilies, which he continued to paint until his final days.

© RMN (Musée d'Orsay) / Hervé Lewandowski