in two quarters which were far remote from each other, the one in the Rue de l'Ouest, the other in
the Rue de l'Homme Arme. (BOOK THIRD. -- THE HOUSE IN THE RUE PLUMET Chapter
2.SD.3.1 THE HOUSE WITH A SECRET)
Marius
Gorbeau Tenement,
Rue Saint Jacques
P 590
Latin Quartier
The streets of the Latin quarter, filled with throngs of students and grisettes, saw the
beginning of their dream. (Chapter 1.F.3.2,A DOUBLE QUARTETTE)
(BOOK SECOND. – EPONINE Chapter 2.SD.2.1 THE LARK'S MEADOW)
Courfeyrac was no longer the imperturbable inhabitant of the Latin Quarter, he had gone
to live in the Rue de la Verrerie "for political reasons"; this quarter was one where, at that epoch,
insurrection liked to install itself. Marius said to Courfeyrac: "I have come to sleep with you."
Courfeyrac dragged a mattress off his bed, which was furnished with two, spread it out on the floor,
and said: "There."
Quartier Tivoli
Rue Boucherat
Rue de Normandie
Rue de Saintonge
P 520
Marias, Rue des Filles de Calvaire, No. 6 (P 521)
He had retired to the Marais only upon retiring from society (p526)
Faubourg Saint Germain, Rue Servandoni, near Saint Sulpice (p526)
Saint-Marceau quarter- Cosette, book 4
“daily event of the Boulevard de l'Hopital”
From: Chapter 1.C.3.6
WHICH POSSIBLY PROVES BOULATRUELLE'S INTELLIGENCE
At that epoch, King Louis XVIII. went nearly every day to Choisy-le-Roi: it was one of his
favorite excursions. Towards two o'clock, almost invariably, the royal carriage and
cavalcade was seen to pass at full speed along the Boulevard de l'Hopital.
This served in lieu of a watch or clock to the poor women of the quarter who said, "It is
two o'clock; there he is returning to the Tuileries."
And some rushed forward, and others drew up in line, for a passing king always creates a
tumult; besides, the appearance and disappearance of Louis XVIII. produced a certain
effect in the streets of Paris. It was rapid but majestic. This impotent king had a taste for a
fast gallop; as he was not able to walk, he wished to run: that cripple would gladly have
had himself drawn by the lightning. He passed, pacific and severe, in the midst of naked
swords. His massive couch, all covered with gilding, with great branches of lilies painted
on the panels, thundered noisily along. There was hardly time to cast a glance upon it. In
the rear angle on the right there was visible on tufted cushions of white satin a large, firm,
and ruddy face, a brow freshly powdered a l'oiseau royal, a proud, hard, crafty eye, the
smile of an educated man, two great epaulets with bullion fringe floating over a bourgeois
coat, the Golden Fleece, the cross of Saint Louis, the cross of the Legion of Honor, the
silver plaque of the Saint-Esprit, a huge belly, and a wide blue ribbon: it was the king.
Outside of Paris, he held his hat decked with white ostrich plumes on his knees enwrapped
in high English gaiters; when he re-entered the city, he put on his hat and saluted rarely;
he stared coldly at the people, and they returned it in kind. When he appeared for the first
time in the Saint-Marceau quarter, the whole success which he produced is contained in
this remark of an inhabitant of the faubourg to his comrade, "That big fellow yonder is the
government."
This infallible passage of the king at the same hour was, therefore, the daily event of the
Boulevard de l'Hopital.
The promenader in the yellow coat evidently did not belong in the quarter, and probably
did not belong in Paris, for he was ignorant as to this detail. When, at two o'clock, the
royal carriage, surrounded by a squadron of the body-guard all covered with silver lace,
debouched on the boulevard, after having made the turn of the Salpetriere, he appeared
surprised and almost alarmed. There was no one but himself in this cross-lane. He drew up
hastily behind the corner of the wall of an enclosure, though this did not prevent M. le Duc
de Havre from spying him out.
Chapter 1.C.4.1
MASTER GORBEAU
FORTY years ago, a rambler who had ventured into that unknown country of the
Salpetriere, and who had mounted to the Barriere d'Italie by way of the boulevard,
reached a point where it might be said that Paris disappeared. It was no longer
solitude, for there were passersby; it was not the country, for there were houses and
streets; it was not the city, for the streets had ruts like highways, and the grass grew
in them; it was not a village, the houses were too lofty. What was it, then? It was an
inhabited spot where there was no one; it was a desert place where there was some
one; it was a boulevard of the great city, a street of Paris; more wild at night than the
forest, more gloomy by day than a cemetery.
It was the old quarter of the Marche-aux-Chevaux.
where one suffers may be imagined, and that is a hell where one is bored. If such a
hell existed, that bit of the Boulevard de l'Hopital might have formed the entrance to
it.
Nevertheless, at nightfall, at the moment when the daylight is vanishing, especially
in winter, at the hour when the twilight breeze tears from the elms their last russet
leaves, when the darkness is deep and starless, or when the moon and the wind are
making openings in the clouds and losing themselves in the shadows, this boulevard
suddenly becomes frightful. The black lines sink inwards and are lost in the shades,
like morsels of the infinite. The passerby cannot refrain from recalling the
innumerable traditions of the place which are connected with the gibbet. The solitude
of this spot, where so many crimes have been committed, had something terrible
about it. One almost had a presentiment of meeting with traps in that darkness; all the
confused forms of the darkness seemed suspicious, and the long, hollow square, of
which one caught a glimpse between each tree, seemed graves: by day it was ugly; in
the evening melancholy; by night it was sinister.
In summer, at twilight, one saw, here and there, a few old women seated at the foot
of the elm, on benches mouldy with rain. These good old women were fond of
begging.
However, this quarter, which had a superannuated rather than an antique air, was
tending even then to transformation. Even at that time any one who was desirous of
seeing it had to make haste. Each day some detail of the whole effect was
disappearing.
Mouffetard quarter
the Rue Censier and the Rue Copeau, the Rue du Battoir-Saint-Victor and the Rue du
Puits l'Ermite, Rue de Pontoise, Passage des Patriarches, Rue de l'Epee-de-Bois and the Rue de
l'Arbalete, Rue des Postes, ect ( Cosette, BOOK FIFTH. -- FOR A BLACK HUNT, A MUTE
PACK Chapter 1.C.5.1 THE ZIGZAGS OF STRATEGY)
Thirty years ago, this quarter was disappearing under the erasing process of
new buildings. To-day, it has been utterly blotted out. The Petit-Picpus, of
which no existing plan has preserved a trace, is indicated with sufficient
clearness in the plan of 1727, published at Paris by Denis Thierry, Rue SaintJacques, opposite the Rue du Platre; and at Lyons, by Jean Girin, Rue
Merciere, at the sign of Prudence. Petit-Picpus had, as we have just
mentioned, a Y of streets, formed by the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine,
which spread out in two branches, taking on the left the name of Little Picpus
Street, and on the right the name of the Rue Polonceau. The two limbs of the
Y were connected at the apex as by a bar; this bar was called Rue Droit-Mur.
The Rue Polonceau ended there; Rue Petit-Picpus passed on, and ascended
towards the Lenoir market. A person coming from the Seine reached the
extremity of the Rue Polonceau, and had on his right the Rue Droit-Mur,
turning abruptly at a right angle, in front of him the wall of that street, and on
his right a truncated prolongation of the Rue Droit-Mur, which had no issue
and was called the Cul-de-Sac Genrot.