The next morning, the Regent of France, Philippe d'Orleans, came to pay his official welcoming call. As the Regent's carriage entered the couryard of the Hotel Lesdiguidicres, it was met by four noblemen of the Tsar's suite, who conducted the Regent into the reception hall. Peter emerged from his private chamber, embraced the Regent and then turned and walked into the private chamber ahead of Philippe, leaving him and Kurakin, who was to serve as interpreter, to follow. The French, noting every nuance of protocol, were affronted by Peter's embrace and his walking ahead of the Regent; these acts, they said, displayed "a haughty air of superiority" and were "without the slighest civility."
In Peter's room, two armchairs had been placed facing each other, and the two men sat down with Kurakin nearby. For nearly an hour they talked, devoting themselves entirely to pleasantries. Then the Tsar walked out of the room, "the Regent once again behind him. In the reception hall, Peter made a deep bow (rendered in mediocre fashion, says Saint-Simon), and left his guest at the same spot where he had met him on entering. This precise formality was unnatural for Peter, but he had come to Paris on a mission and he thought it important to comply with the demands of his etiquette-conscious hosts.
The remainder of that day and the day following (a Sunday), -Peter remained cloistered in the Hotel Lesdiguieres. Anxious as he was to get out and see Paris, he forced himself to observe protocol and remain secluded until he had received the formal visit of the King. As he wrote to Catherine during this weekend:
For two or three days, I must stay in the house for visits and other ceremonies and therefore I have as yet seen nothing. But tomorrow or the day after I shall begin sightseeing. From what I could see on the road, the misery of the common people is very great. P.S. I have this moment received your letter full of jokes. You say that I'll be looking about for a lady, but that would not be at all becoming to my old age.
On Monday morning, King Louis XV of France arrived to greet his royal guests. The Tsar met the King as he stepped down from his carriage and, to the astonishment of the French party, he took the little boy in his arms, lifted him into the air until their faces were at the same level, and hugged and kissed him several times. Louis, although unprepared for this display, took it well and showed no fear. The French, once having overcome their shock, were struck by Peter's grace and by the tenderness he showed the boy, somehow establishing their equality of rank while at the same time recognizing the difference in their ages. After embracing Louis again, Peter returned him to the ground and escorted him into the Tsar's reception chamber. There, Louis made a short speech of welcome, filled with memorized compliments. The remainder of the conversation was furnished by the Due du Maine and Marshal de Villeroy, with Kurakin again interpreting. After fifteen minutes, Peter rose and, again taking Louis in his arms, escorted him to his carriage.
The next afternoon at four, Peter went to the Tuileries to return the King's visit. The courtyard was filled with companies of the red-coated Maison du Roi, and as the Tsar's carriage approached, a line of military drummers began to beat. Seeing little Louis waiting to meet his carriage, Peter jumped out, picked the King up in his arms and carried him up the palace steps for a meeting which also lasted only fifteen minutes. Describing these events to Catherine, Peter wrote: "Last Monday the little King visited me, who is only a finger or two taller than our Luke [a favorite dwarf]. The child is very handsome in face and build and very intelligent for his age, which is only seven." To Menshikov, Peter wrote: "The King is a mighty man and very old in years, namely seven."
Peter's formal call on the King at the Tuileries fulfilled the requirements of Protocol. At last, the Tsar was free to go out and see the great city of Paris.
50
A VISITOR IN PARIS
In 1717 as Today, Paris was the capital and the center of everything that matters in France. But Paris, with its 500,000 citizens, was only the third largest city in Europe; both London (750,000) and Amsterdam (600,000) were larger. In relaton to toal nation populations, Paris was even smaller. In Britain, one man in ten was a Londoner, in Holland one man in five was from Amsterdam, while in France only one Frenchman in forty lived in Paris.
To those who know it now, the Paris of 1717 seems small. The great palaces and squares which today lie in the heart of Paris— the Tuileries, the Luxembourg, the Place Vendome, the Invalides—were then on the city's fringes. Beyond Montparnasse were fields and pastures. The Tuileries looked through its splendid gardens to the wilder part of the Champs-Elysees rising up to the wooded hill where the Arc de Triomphe now stands. To the north, a single road ran through the meadows up to the ridge of Montmartre.
The Seine was the heart of the city. The river was not confirmed by its present granite quais, and along its muddy banks women did their washing, oblivious to the unpleasant odors of slaughterhouse and tannery wastes poured directly into the stream. Passing through the city, the river flowed beneath five bridges. The two most recent, the magnificent Pont Royal and the Pont Neuf, were open-sided; the others were lined by four- and five-story buildings. The Paris of wide, tree-lined boulevards did not exist; the city in 1717 was a jumble of narrow streets and four- and five-story buildings with pointed roofs. The great twin towers of Notre Dame rose above the city, but the world-famous view of the cathedral facade was unavailable because the place was a cluster of tiny streets crowded with buildings. Louis XIV had begun to change the face of the medieval city. Early in his reign, he had ordered the city's fortified ramparts destroyed and boulevards planted with trees laid out where the walls had been. Only one great square, the elegant Place Royale (now Place des Vosges), had been in existence when the Sun King reached the throne.
During Louis' reign, he added the Place des Victoires, the Place Vendome and the immense church and esplanade of the Invalides.
Each section of the city had a special flavor. The Marais attracted the aristocracy and the higher bourgeoisie. Wealthy financiers built their houses at the other end of the city, around the new Place Venddme. Foreigners and foreign embassies preferred the quarter surrounding St. Germain des Pr6s, where the streets were wider and the air was said to be purer. Travelers were also advised that the best hotels were available near St. Germain des Pres. but a visitor could find a room in many private mansions; even the highest members of the aristocracy rented their top floor to a paying guest. The Latin Quarter then, as now, was for students.
During the day, the people of Paris swarmed through the streets. Pedestrians were in constant danger as horses, carriages and carts tried to thrust themselves through narrow passageways already jammed with people. The noise of iron-rimmed wheels and shouting men was deafening; the smells from human excrement dumped from the windows, from piles of manure and from the courtyards where butchers slaughtered their animals were dreadful. To reduce the noise and give traction to the wheels, as well as to maintain a modicum of cleanliness, fresh straw was laid down daily, the dirty straw being swept up and dumped in the river. To avoid the dangers and inconvience of walking in these streets, those who could afford them used private carriages which they owned or rented by the day or month. Others used closed sedan chairs carried by two men.
The Pont Neuf and the Place Dauphine on the tip of the He de la Cite swarmed with itinerant vendors, quack doctors, marionette shows, stilt walkers, street singers and beggars. Pickpockets waited outside the doors of fashionable hotels to brush against unwary foreigners. It was easy to find women. The most desirable, the girls of the Opera and the Comedie, were generally reserved for the French aristocracy, but the streets were crowded with parading prostitutes. Visitors were warned, however, that they risked their health if not their lives.