Monthly Archives: April 2012

Berthe Morisot’s Garden

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Berthe Morisot: “Woman in a Garden” (1882-83)

This lovely Berthe Morisot painting once traveled from Chicago to Paris, just like me. It was included in the Berthe Morisot Exhibit at Musée Marmottan in 2012.  It had been loaned out by The Art Institute of Chicago.

This exhibit represented the first major retrospective of Berthe Morisot’s work in over 40 years. There were over 150 works, including paintings, pastels, watercolors and drawings, gathered from museums and private collections all over the world. Some you might have seen before, whether at the Marmottan or the Musée D’Orsay, but there were some you may never have the chance to see again. The effect of seeing so many of her works together, in such a beautiful setting, is just plain stunning. Once in a lifetime perhaps.

But the exhibit offered much more than that. Together, Morisot’s collected works told the story of this remarkable woman’s life, from her earliest years as a copyist at the Louvre to her final years as a celebrated Impressionist and devoted mother.

In the Exhibition Catalogue you can find the details of Morisot’s life right alongside her paintings, all in chronological order. You can follow Morisot as she moves from home to home in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, from her parents’ homes at 12 and 16 rue Franklin, to her last home as a widow at 10 rue Weber. Aside from her travels and her summers in suburban Paris, she spent her entire life in the 16th.

In fact, Morisot painted Woman in a Garden during the period she lived on rue Villejust, now known as rue Paul Valéry. Her home still stands today, with the same garden that she once could have painted in.

Morisot lived at 40 rue Villejust (40 rue Paul Valéry) from 1883-1893, during her marriage to Edouard Manet’s brother Eugene. They lived on the first floor and her mother-in-law lived on the second floor. Morisot hosted weekly salons where the Impressionists hung out. As Renoir’s son Jean said in his father’s biography: “In Berthe Morisot’s day the Manet circle had been one of the most authentic centers of civilized Parisian life. . . . It was not just intellectuals one met at Berthe Morisot’s, but simply good company. . . . Berthe Morisot acted like a special kind of magnet on people, attracting only the genuine. She had a gift for smoothing rough edges. ‘Even Degas was more civil when with her.’ “

After her husband Eugene died in 1893, Morisot and her daughter Julie moved out of the rue Villejust home.  In 1900, Morisot’s niece Jeannie Gobillard and her new husband, the French poet Paul Valéry, moved in.

rue Villejust was eventually renamed rue Paul Valéry. It is located in the northern part of the 16th arrondissement, not far from the Bois de Boulogne.

This was once Berthe Morisot’s private garden. It resembles the setting for Woman in a Garden, but Morisot also spent time at a suburban country home, so we do not know if this was the setting for the painting. I would like to think so, because, well, I was there. When the construction on the house was completed in 1893, Morisot’s husband planted the flowers and plants in the garden.

I love the green lattices in French courtyards. They certainly make for a beautiful background in Morisot’s painting.

I must admit I was a little disappointed with the historical marker at 40 rue Paul Valéry. Its only reference to Berthe Morisot? Paul Valéry married her niece. That’s it. Every other line is devoted to Valéry.

Berthe Morisot, Self-Portrait (1885). Morisot would have painted this in her home on rue Villejust, where she had no separate art studio. She managed to balance her career with motherhood by merging her home life and her painting life.

I admire Morisot’s skill and patience in being able to capture these busy girls (her daughter Julie age 8 and the concierge’s daughter, Marthe Givaudan) playing with goldfish in a valuable bowl, which was a treasured gift from Morisot’s brother-in-law Edouard Manet. The home as studio, yet a comfortable place where kids can be kids and mothers can be painters.

More photos and posts will follow from my Berthe Morisot tour of the 16th. There are no more historical markers, but there is plenty of art history. I hope you’ll follow along.

Expat Blog Hop

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I wanted to join in this Expat Blog Hop to share my love for exploring the literary and artistic side of Paris. I’ve been following in the footsteps of Hemingway, Monet, Van Gogh, Renoir and Coco Chanel, just to name a few.

I am an avid reader and an artist so I see the world through a literary and artistic lens. When my husband first got his assignment in Paris, the first thing I did was go to my own bookshelves and my local bookstore to gather up as many books about Paris and Paris artists as I could. I used to have to imagine the characters walking down the streets of Paris, wondering, is that Left Bank or Right? Shabby or chic? I wonder if that café or art studio is still there?

Now that I live in Paris I don’t need to wonder anymore. I just go exploring with my books and my camera and my sketchbook. I search out the sites from my favorite books and paintings, and I discover the most lovely places. Quiet cobblestone alleys, busy boulevards, majestic old hôtels particulieur, north-facing art studios with walls of windows, the parks and gardens and bridges of Paris . . .  and I feel like I’ve known them all my life. Now that I’m here in Paris ( I’m here, I’m really here!) it feels like a reunion with good friends.

I hope you’ll enjoy sharing my discoveries. . .  my reunions.

If you leave a comment below, you’ll be eligible to win a copy of one of the books that I have blogged about.

Check out the other blogs participating in this Expat Blog Hop at http://www.bloginfrance.com.

Leaving Van Gogh in Auvers

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When Vincent Van Gogh died in Auvers-sur-Oise, France in July 1890, he left behind so many burning questions.

How did he die? Was it a self-inflicted gunshot wound or homocide? And why was the gun never found? How did Van Gogh ever manage to complete over 70 dazzling paintings in just 70 days in Auvers? It’s all such a mystery.

In the novel Leaving Van Gogh, Carol Wallace takes on the legend of Van Gogh’s last 70 days through the eyes of Dr. Paul Gachet, a widowed doctor, painter and art collector who owned a country house in Auvers. Wallace’s theory – buy it or not – is that the smoking gun belonged to Dr. Gachet.

Dr. Gachet specialized in treating mental disorders and was a friend and collector of many of the Impressionists, including Cezanne, Sisley, Monet and Renoir. Vincent’s brother, the art dealer Theo Van Gogh, asked Dr. Gachet to  take Vincent under his care. Dr. Gachet found Vincent inexpensive lodging in what is now the Auberge Ravoux in Auvers, and prescribed painting as the best treatment for his mental illness: “If I understand you at all, Monsieur Van Gogh, your painting is the reason you continue to live, is it not? . . . Then paint, . . . Paint and live. And come to me if you feel disturbed.”

Van Gogh followed his doctor’s orders, pouring out such wonders as The Church in Auvers, Dr. Paul Gachet, Wheatfield with Crows from May through July, 1890.

Wallace’s book is nicely researched, from Dr. Gachet’s 19th century medical training at a women’s psychiatric hospital in Paris to the details of Van Gogh’s brief painting history in Auvers. But more than that, Wallace captures the intensity of Van Gogh’s genius and madness, the creative spark behind his strong, bold colors and swirling brushstrokes. She appraises Van Gogh’s art through Dr. Gachet’s eyes, who trained and exhibited as an artist. No doubt it helps that Wallace is herself an art historian and knows her way around paints and palettes.

Here is Dr. Gachet when he sees Van Gogh’s painting of the Church in Auvers for the first time:

I had not seen the painting of the church that he had mentioned and was curious to know how he had portrayed it. . . . The sky he painted in several shades of blue, the darkest of which almost matched the color of the stained glass. The result was that the building seemed to be a mere façade, as if we were looking through the apse to empty blue air beyond. And this was not all: the stonework of the church, so rigid in life, became flexible under Vincent’s brush. The rooflines wavered. The tower tilted. The space of the apse seemed swollen. Gray stone was touched with dashes of blue and green, as if the surrounding grass were beginning to swallow the dissolving structure.

Leaving Van Gogh has it all: wonderfully artsy writing, accurate art history and a compelling human story. It’s also a moving contemplation on how to care for those who suffer from mental illness. The circumstances of Van Gogh’s death would make for great book club debates, especially if you ambitious enough to compare Wallace’s theory to that propounded in the recently released, 900-plus page biography called Van Gogh, The Life by Steven Naifeh and Gregory Smith.

It’s a compelling mystery.

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With Wallace’s book and my sketchpad in my tote bag, I ventured off to Auvers-sur-Oise myself. I hoped to see some sights that Van Gogh had painted, and thought I’d find some of the scenes from the book, but I never expected to have the book and Van Gogh’s story came alive right in front of my eyes. Check out these photos and these images of Van Gogh’s paintings and you’ll see what I mean.

Auberge Ravoux today, the inn where Van Gogh spent his last 70 days

Church in Auvers (1890), Musée D'Orsay

Church in Auvers (2012) - I got inspired to use bolder colors in my own pastel sketch

Wheat Field with Crows (1890), Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Too early for wheat, but yes, there were crows

Town Hall at Auvers (1890), private collection

Town Hall at Auvers (2012)

Village Street and Steps In Auvers With Figures (1890), private collection

Village street in Auvers with car and figures (2012)

Dr. Gachet's house, now a museum in Auvers. Note the palm tree in the garden. Van Gogh painted the garden facing the other direction.

Dr. Gachet's Garden in Auvers (1890), Musée D'Orsay

Dr. Gachet's garden today, with see-through screen of the painting to enhance the view.

Dr. Gachet (1890), Musée D'Orsay

The table Dr. Gachet was leaning on in his portrait, in the garden of Maison Gachet

Vincent and Theo Van Gogh's tombstones in the cemetery in Auvers

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A few travel tips before you go. There are trains from Gare St. Lazare And Gare Nord to Auvers, but during the week there is a connection through Pontoise. On Saturday there is a direct train. Check the SNCF website for ticket and schedule information at http://www.transilien.com.  I chose to rent a car and drive out to Auvers.

Once I got to Auvers, I was glad I had driven, because even though the train station is close to Auberge Ravoux and Maison Van Gogh, it would have been about a mile each way to walk out to Maison Gachet. I’m a good walker, but I’d gotten a late start, and I had already had a nice walk up the hill from the Auberge to the church and the cemetery. The Maison Van Gogh website has a map, so you can decide for yourself. Maison Gachet has just been repoened after a five year renovation, and it’s a beautiful museum – a site you really don’t want to miss.  From March 1st through October 28th, they are open Wednesdays through Sundays, but check the websites for holidays and hours.

By car, take the A15 motorway, direction Cergy-Pontoise, exit number 7 (Saint-Ouen-l’Aumône) then the RT184 direction Amiens-Beauvais. Exit Méry-sur-Oise/Auvers-sur-Oise.  Once in the village, follow directions for Auvers-sur-Oise.

I highly recommend you pair your trip with Leaving Van Gogh by Carol Wallace.

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Luncheon of the Boating Party: A Day in Chatou

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Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party (1880-1) makes me want to pull up a chair, sit down next to Gustave Caillebotte (right foreground) and pour myself a glass of wine. Maybe I would even feed the doggie some grapes and chat with Aline Charigot, Renoir’s future wife (the pretty woman in the red-flowered hat).

This is an accessible, sunny painting that reflects a leisurely Sunday afternoon at one of Renoir’s favorite hang-outs, Restaurant de la Maison Fournaise, just outside Paris in Chatou on the Seine. Did you know that you can still go there today? As Renoir said himself: “You won’t regret the trip, I assure you. There isn’t a lovelier place in all Paris surroundings.”

For a long time, the restaurant suffered from neglect and deterioration. As Renoir’s son Jean said in his book, Renoir, My Father (1962):  “I paid a visit to the place last year. How depressing it was! Nothing but factories, mounds of coal, blackened walls and dirty water. The leprosy of modern industry has eaten away the little woods and luxuriant grass.”

Maison Fournaise before renovation. From the restaurant’s website.

From 1984 to 1990, the restaurant was completely renovated with a combination of art grants and philanthropy. Today, the scene is much improved.

Maison Fournaise today

Renoir’s balcony still stands, complete with the orange striped awning. 

The view from Renoir’s easel. 

“The place was delightful; a perpetual holiday. . . . At night there was always someone about who volunteered to play the piano for dancing. The tables on the terrace were pushed back into a corner. . . . the music floated out through the open window.” – Jean Renoir, in Renoir, My Father

I even brought out my own pastels and tried to capture the scene, but alas, I’m no Renoir.

My art bag and I were here. . . . I just wish some “Midnight in Paris” magic would transport me back to the day. . . .

Restaurant de la Maison Fournaise is easily reached by car or by train. You can take the same route that Renoir did from Paris to the Chatou-Croissy station via the RER A1 Line (Zone 4), where it is only a few minutes walk to what is now called “Ile des Impressionistes.”

It was this easy access that made the restaurant Renoir and Aline’s favorite meeting place back in 1880. According to Jean Renoir: “It was easy to reach. . . . There was a local Saint Germain train, every half hour, that stopped at the Chatou bridge station. At the Fournaises’ [my parents] found a group of friends who seemed to watch over their idyl with tender interest. The painter Caillebotte looked after Aline Charigot like a younger sister.”

You can read an imagined story of the couple’s developing romance in Luncheon of the Boating Party by Susan Vreeland, who said that she had often admired the painting and wondered about the models. Who were they, and why did they pose like they did?  “I saw tremendous story potential in these appealing characters, flushed with pleasure and enjoying a summer day on a terrace overlooking the Seine.” Vreeland imagines a love triangle between Renoir, Aline, and another woman in the painting, Alphonsine Fournaise, the daughter of the restaurant owner.

You can enjoy your own toast to Renoir and his women at the restaurant, where they offer an apertif called “The Alphonsine,” made of orange juice, champagne and grenadine.

My own book club back in Chicago read and enjoyed Susan Vreeland’s book, which I highly recommend. Right now, I am in the middle of Renoir, My Father by Jean Renoir, and I am pleasantly surprised what a good read it is. Jean’s memory was incredibly good, his writing is thoughtful, and the stories his father used to tell him make captivating history.

If you or your book club can’t get to Paris, maybe you can schedule a visit to the Phillips Collection in Washington, D.C. to see the original painting. At the Art Institute of Chicago you can see another of Renoir’s paintings from Chatou called Lunch at the Restaurant Fournaise (The Rower’s Lunch) (1875).

At the very least, you can enjoy some art history at the website of Maison Fournaise here.

Paris, My Sweet

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As an artist with a sweet tooth who loves to explore Paris, no book was more likely to catch my eye than Paris, My Sweet: A Year in the City of Light (And Dark Chocolate) by Amy Thomas (Sourcebooks 2012). First, there’s the whimsical cover art by illustrator Gary Hovland who captures the essence of Paris on a watercolor map. And then of course there are . . . the sweets.

Amy Thomas is a self-admitted sweet freak who landed an advertising job in Paris for two years, and who used her spare time to explore the patisseries and boulangeries of Paris. The story of her search for a rich and sweet life, along with all of her mouth-watering recommendations can be found in Paris, My Sweet.

I kept this book in my tote bag for a several weeks, right along with my never-leave-the-apartment-without-it blue book of Paris Arrondissements. I used it like a guidebook to Paris, calories be damned. After several months living in Paris now, I’ve learned that it often makes sense to skip lunch and indulge in a mid-afternoon snack with some café and some pastries instead. That way I can make it until dinner, which at 8-9pm, starts awfully late for my midwestern habits. (At least that’s now I’ve justified it to myself . . .  just work with me here.)

Not only have I discovered streets and neighborhoods I might have otherwise missed, I feel as if I’ve had a wonderful introduction to French pastry tasting. The choices in Paris patisseries, while eye-poppingly beautiful, can be overwhelming. But thanks to Amy Thomas’ book, I’m learning.

And what a fun education it’s been. From Jean-Paul Hévin’s on rue St. Honoré, to Stohrer’s on rue Montorgueil, my sweet tooth and I are having a great time learning about France.

I brought home a drop-dead-delicious rasberry cake and an assortment of macarons from Pierre Hermé.

I had been avoiding Angelina's on rue de Rivoli because I was afraid it would be a tourist trap, but as Amy points out, it's worth it just for the chocolat chaud. "Obscenely thick and outrageously rich." Yum.

The Belle Epoque elegance of Angelina's makes you feel as though Edith Wharton or Coco Chanel could have once sat at your very table.

I'd been down rue Montorgueil in the nighttime, but thanks to Amy's book, I went back in the daytime in order to enjoy all of the shops. I love this sign: Stohrer's Maison Fondée En 1730. You just can't find that in the midwest - unless of course some French fur trappers set up a shop way back when. Stohrer's is the real deal, just ask Queen Elizabeth, who's been here herself.

This is what I mean by overwhelming, How to choose? I settled on a chocolate éclair. Ooh, good choice.

You just can't say no to a macaron from LaDurée. Or two or three.

I had a delicious chicken salad at Jean-Pierre Levin on rue St. Honoré followed by a soothingly rich cup of hot chocolate. Oh dear, just look at all of that whipped cream - I'm afraid I ate it all.

These little piggies are edible pastries, and I regret now that I didn't sample them. I guess I'll have to return to Maison Collet at 100, rue Montorgueil.

The thing I loved about Paris, My Sweet was that it was so much more than just a guidebook and a list of pastry shops. It also tells Amy’s story about the joy and challenges of settling into a Paris life, and then once you do, the difficulty of figuring out where you really belong. As Amy put it: “I was an American in Paris – an American in love with Paris – and yet I still couldn’t decide where my heart, my life, belonged.”

Ah yes, the Paris life. I’m tasting as much as I can while I can.

Sacré Bleu: A Comedy D’Art

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Sacré Bleu by Christopher Moore (Harper Collins, April 2012) reminds me of one of my favorite scenes in Midnight in Paris, when Adrien Brody nails it as Salvador Dali  (“Rhinocéros!”). Like Midnight in Paris, Sacré Bleu is a smart artsy romp through the bohemian past of Paris.

In Sacré Bleu, Moore turns the clock back even further to the age of the Impressionists, he adds a little black magic, a lot of bawdy humor and a bit of bizarre mystery — and serves up an outrageously playful historical comedy (truly, “A Comedy D’Art”).

There are no fussy painters in long white beards and frock coats here. This is an irreverent mystery with a sexy muse named Bleu and her partner-in-crime, “The Colorman,” whose magical blue paint works a devilish spell on the young French Impressionists, including Manet, Renoir, Pissaro, Van Gogh, Monet, Morrisot, Seurat and Toulouse-Lautrec.

Set in Paris from 1863, the year of the Salon des Refusées, to 1891, a year after Van Gogh’s death, this book stirs up big trouble for each of the Impressionists. Bleu arrives and inhabits the bodies of the artists’ favorite muses, from Manet’s Victorine in Dejeuner sur l’Herbe and Olympia to Monet’s first wife Camille, to Renoir’s Margot in Bal du moulin de la Galette. Each painter is seduced to use more magical blue paint, which just happens to be Bleu’s and The Colorman’s lifeblood.

Ever wonder why so many of the Impressionists and their muses died so young? Did you ever question the story about Van Gogh’s supposed suicide, in which he shot himself with his own gun at an impossible angle and then hiked a mile up a country road to get help? And why did Monet paint a blue-tinged portrait his wife on her deathbed? Let’s just say that Bleu and The Colorman know the truth.

A fictional young painter named Lucien Lessard carries the story. Working in the family’s boulangerie on the butte de Montmarte, he becomes the story’s Forrest Gump: he’s a young rat catcher during the Siege of Paris in 1870, he helps Renoir carry his large canvas of Bal du moulin de la Galette to his studio in 1876 (“Oh la la, the wind. We had to pick leaves and pine needles out of the paint every week.”), he was Monet’s assistant at the Gare Saint Lazare in 1877, he runs around the bars and brothels of Pigale with Toulouse-Lautrec. He sees it all.

Lucien comes of age, becomes a painter, and falls under the spell of his own little muse. Although Juliette is hard to resist, Lucien pieces together the various blue clues. He and his studio-mate Toulouse-Lautrec chase Bleu and the Colorman through the cobblestone streets and rat-filled catacombs of Paris. They discover a cache of mysterious blue canvases in the limestone caves and encounter even more death-defying magic.

It’s a good story, but trying to make sense of each twist and turn of the time-jumping plot can be a little confusing. Just go with it – don’t sweat the details or the timeline and just enjoy the ride. After all, you’re on the Christopher Moore L’Express.

Highly recommended.

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If you live in Paris or if you’re planning a visit soon, I recommend that you pair than this book with a trip up to Montmartre. You might want to pick up Paris by the Plaque, an excellent guidebook to the history and sights of Montmartre. Paris Walks offers an English-speaking group walking tour every week, but if you’d like an in-depth personal guide I also recommend Pamela Grant at Paris Perspectives. If you’re just an armchair traveler, Christopher Moore has already created a Paris photo guide to some of the scenes from the book, which you can enjoy here (Chapter One – Auvers sur Oise) and here (Chapter Two – Montmartre, Pigale).

Before you start thinking about following in Christopher Moore’s footsteps, you should really pick up an early copy of the book. The first edition of the book will images of the paintings and prints in full color. Subsequent editions will just be in black and white. I’m just saying, you might want to click here to order yours now.

The Hadley Hemingway Tour

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American women just love The Paris Wife. Perhaps we’ve read Moveable Feast or maybe we just heard the buzz through our book club, but it seems we just love getting the scoop on Ernest Hemingway through the eyes of his first wife Hadley.

As most readers seem to have heard by now, The Paris Wife by Paula McLain (Ballantine Books 2011) is about Ernest and Hadley Hemingway’s brief but passionate years together in Paris in the early 20s. Ernest Hemingway was a charismatic and gifted writer, the genius of his generation, but he was also a narcissist, a cheater and a big drinker. No one better to deal the dirt than the first wife.

 In addition to The Paris Wife, there’s an excellent nonfiction book about the same years called Paris Without End by Gioia Diliberto (Harper Perennial 2011). One of my favorite authors (she’s also written I Am Madame X, The Collection and A Useful Woman), Diliberto’s nonfiction format  allows us to know more about Ernest’s developing affair with Pauline Pfeiffer than Hadley did at the time, back when Hadley was in the dark – or in denial, or a little of both. Diliberto is also able to compare the fictional events and characters in Hemingway’s stories to the real stuff going on in his life, which is a real bonus if you’re familiar with his work.

Whether you prefer the fictional drama in The Paris Wife or a more thorough nonfictional approach in Paris Without End, you’re sure to enjoy some of these Paris photographs, depicting scenes from both books. You can’t find a better Paris walk than the neighborhoods of the Latin Quarter, St. Germain and the Luxembourg Gardens. You can follow along on a Google Map here.

Ernest and Hadley moved into this apartment, at 74 rue du Cardinal-Lemoine in a working-class neighborhood of the 5th arrondissement in January, 1922. It was a two-room flat on the fourth floor without hot water or a private toilet. Hadley later said that "the apartment wasn't ghastly. In fact, it was kind of fun." She remembered that "The steep winding staircase had a niche on each flight for a step-on-two-pedals toilet."

The shop with the green awning below the Hemingways' window was once a loud and popular dance hall called Le Bal du Printemps. Ernest described it as a "noisy, rough music hall and hangout for sailor, whores, 'apaches' (French gang members) and American expatriates, who nicknamed it 'Bucket of Blood.' "

Ernest Hemingway rented an attic apartment in this building at 39 rue Descartes from 1921-1922. It served as his getaway and writing studio, and was just around the corner from his apartment with Hadley.

The plaque on the building at 39 rue Descartes giving recognition to Ernest Hemingway, although it does not appear that Hemingway continued to rent the studio after 1922.

Hadley and Ernest left Paris in August 1923 to have their baby "Bumby" in Toronto. When they returned in January 1924, they found another fairly shabby apartment at 113 rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs. It was a carpenter's loft over a working sawmill. The sawmill was torn down long ago and was replaced with the uninspiring school buildings that you see today.

.”].” “]

The front door of the Les Blés D'Ange bakery at 151 Bis boulevard Montparnasse. Just like Ernest and Hadley, I cut through myself and stopped to buy a croissant, which I enjoyed on a bench right outside the bakery.

Ernest had no separate writing studio while they lived in the sawmill loft, , so he spent hours at the nearby café, La Closerie des Lilas, 171 boulevard du Montparnasse. You can go there today and try for the seat with the Hemingway plaque.

While Ernest worked away at Closerie des Lilas, Hadley and little Bumby would escape the apartment and go to the nearby Luxembourg Gardens. I could picture little Bumby trying to scramble around on this old tree, which certainly looks as if it would have been around in 1925.

Hemingway tended to embellish the extent of his and Hadley's poverty during their Paris years. Ernest claimed that he sometimes killed pigeons in the Luxembourg Gardens and brought them home to eat. Hadley said that wasn't true.

The site of Hadley's first post-separation apartment at 35 rue de Fleurus near boulevard Raspail. The building was torn down and the address is now a part of Alliance Française. Hadley and Ernest separated in August 1925 after it became clear that Ernest's affair with Pauline Pfeiffer would not just die out. When Ernest and Hadley first separated, he stayed in a studio loaned to him by Gerald Murphy on rue Froievaux, and Hadley stayed in the Hotel Beauvoir on avenue l'Observatoire. In October 1925, Hadley and Bumby moved in their solo apartment, which was only two doors down from Gertrude Stein.

According to Gioia Diliberto, Hadley couldn't bear to go back to their sawmill apartment, so Ernest made several trips with a handcart in order to deliver her things to her on rue de Fleurus. He is said to have pushed the handcart "weeping down the street."

Ernest and Pauline marry in May, 1926 and move into a posh apartment on rue Férou, a quiet street that leads down from the Luxembourg Gardens into Place Saint Sulpice.

Ernest and Pauline's home at 6 rue Férou, which was paid for by Pauline's uncle. According to Gioia Diliberto, it was "lavishly furnished with antiques by the bride." Pretty obvious that Ernest is no starving bohemian anymore. Nevertheless, Hadley continued to have a friendly relationship with Ernest and Pauline, and often sent Bumby to stay with them here.

I would never have been able to piece together this Hadley Hemingway tour without the help of Walks in Hemingway’s Paris: A Guide to Paris for the Literary Traveler by Noel Riley Fitch, which I highly recommend. This guide is incredibly complete, and includes walking tours of Saint Germain, Montparnasse, L’Odeon, Hemingway’s Right Bank and more. I can’t imagine a better way to explore Paris.