OF COURSE EVERY visitor to Paris notices the Seine, but not every visitor pays the river’s bridges the attention they deserve. Each Seine bridge is unique, and collectively the bridges are one of Paris’s greatest monuments. Not every bridge in Paris is “worth eulogizing,” as Eric Maisel aptly puts it in A Writer’s Paris—many are simply ordinary, no different from bridges back home, nothing more than a way to go. “But a few of Paris’s bridges are exceptional. They are worth the airfare and the languid hours I pray you devote to them. They are why you came.” I am partial to the Pont des Arts and the Pont Alexandre III, but you will undoubtedly have favorites of your own.
VIVIAN THOMAS, introduced previously, has been an editor at Where Paris and is now assistant editor of France Today. She contributed numerous articles to the former Paris Notes, where this piece originally appeared.
MY HIGH SCHOOL French teacher changed my life one day by drawing a bird’s-eye view of a boat on the blackboard. Two more sweeping lines, and the boat was in a river. “Here,” she said, tapping her chalk on the boat, “is where Paris began. On the Île de la Cité.” As she explained, the top half of the blackboard became the Right Bank, the bottom half the Left. “And this,” she said, slicing a diagonal line straight through the boat’s sharp prow, from bank to bank, “is the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris.” Her little drawing and the light that shone in her face as she talked about her favorite city planted the seeds of what would blossom into my lifelong passion for Paris.
Three years later I stood on that bridge, looking out over the island’s pointed prow. I had stepped right into her picture, and ever since, I’ve had a special attachment to the island and its bridges.
No one knows exactly when a Gallic tribe called the Parisii first settled on the wooded island that would become Paris. But by 52 BC, they had already built between the island and the left bank of the Seine a five-arched wooden bridge that Julius Caesar found as he traveled south, seeking the shortest route from today’s Amiens to Sens.
His decision to establish a camp in the village he called Lutetia Parisiorum reflected its strategic location, at the crossroads of the north-south trail he was traveling and the east-west water route of the Seine. The Parisii later fought the Romans but lost, and on fleeing the island burned the bridge behind them.
That first bridge, destroyed and rebuilt many times, became known as the Petit Pont when a second one, the Grand Pont, was built to the Right Bank, across the river’s larger channel. Paris would have two bridges for over thirteen hundred years.
During the Gallo-Roman period, the city spilled over onto the Left Bank, only to retreat to the island again during the barbarian invasions. But by the end of the Middle Ages, Paris was booming. The swampy Right Bank was drained and cultivated, monasteries and abbeys were flourishing, and the city boasted ten bridges by the mid-1600s.
Parisians were not only crossing those bridges, but they were living and working on them. Houses and shops lined most of them, while beneath several bridges the Seine turned both huge waterwheels that supplied the city’s water and noisy millstones that ground grain for its bread. Businesses flourished on bridges; first fishermen, tanners, and millers, later luxury merchants like jewelers, booksellers, and parfumeurs. A bridge address became the pinnacle of chic.
The ponts were also lucrative sources of revenue for their builders. Before Colbert created the Ponts et Chaussées in 1716, not all bridges were financed by the state (or by the city, as they are today). The Church built some, recovering construction costs and making a profit from tolls. And developers built others. For instance, Christophe Marie built the Pont Marie in exchange for the right to sell lots on what is now the Île Saint-Louis.
The nineteenth century saw some twenty-one bridges built or reconstructed, many as a result of Haussmann’s sweeping reconfiguration of the city. Today there are thirty-one ponts routiers and three passerelles, or footbridges (not counting Métro and railroad bridges), giving Paris one of the greatest densities of bridges in the world.
Every bridge in Paris has its own special charm. But some of my favorites are those that encircle the city’s historic heart. Linking the Île de la Cité and the Île Saint-Louis to the rest of Paris, each one offers views worth stopping for. A walk around the islands, an easy and enjoyable promenade, is a perfect way to make their acquaintance.
Anyone who has opened a guidebook knows that the Pont Neuf (New Bridge) is the city’s oldest. But when Henri IV inaugurated it in 1607, it was new in more ways than one. Its size was remarkable: the first bridge to straddle both branches of the Seine, it is still one of Paris’s largest bridges. It was also the only stone bridge from which you could actually see the water, since it was never lined with houses. And it delighted Parisians by giving them the city’s first sidewalks, separating them from the carriages and horsemen of the muddy roadway.
From the very beginning, the bridge became the heart of the city and the center of Paris street life. Part marketplace and part circus, it was the place to go to buy the latest ballad or bestseller, watch a medicine show, have a tooth pulled, or join the army. Each of the semicircular alcoves held a boutique; roving peddlers hawked their wares, musicians played and passed the hat, and purse-snatchers stalked the unwary in the noisy, colorful throng. Every so often, a royal procession would pass on the way from the Louvre to Saint-Germain.
Henri IV, who still reigns over the bridge in the form of a bronze equestrian statue facing the Place Dauphine, would doubtless be pleased to see the attention his bridge is getting today. A massive project to repair and strengthen it is at the same time artistically restoring this architectural treasure. It started with a nationwide search for materials, since the original sixteenth-century quarries are now closed. Once matching stones were found, master stonemasons began shaping and placing each stone, replacing worn and damaged sections. The 384 grotesque masks, nineteenth-century replacements for the originals, are also being cleaned and restored—no easy task, since no two mascarons are alike.
The result is resplendent. Now that the petit bras, or Left Bank segment, has been renovated, its gleaming white stone contrasts dramatically with the unfinished part, and the bridge looks new again. No wonder the bridge’s name has entered the French language as a simile for ageless vigor (How is your father these days? Solide comme le Pont Neuf!)
Crossing the bridge to the Right Bank and turning right on the Quai de la Mégisserie, you pass the spot where the original Grand Pont once stood. Its exact site is unclear: some historians place it at the site of the Pont au Change, others at the Pont Notre-Dame. Both bridges may have been called the Grand Pont at different times. But the name Grand Pont had disappeared by the fifteenth century.
The Pont au Change is named for the moneychangers of Paris, ordered by Louis VII in 1441 to conduct business on this bridge. On Sundays, the fowlers of Paris held their live-bird market on the bridge, and to pay for the privilege, released flocks of white pigeons to celebrate royal entries into the city.
By the fifteenth century, the Pont Notre-Dame was known for its booksellers and armorers. Here, the spirit of the Italian Re-naissance arrived when an architect from Verona built Paris’s first stone-arch bridge, an elegant affair lined with identical arcaded brick houses. A subsequent version of this bridge caused so many boat accidents that it earned the nickname “Pont du Diable.” Now one metal arch—flanked by two stone arches remaining from the 1853 bridge—spans the river.
Leading to the Place de l’Hôtel-de-Ville, the Pont d’Arcole is a serene-looking green iron bridge with a tumultuous history. It was built as a suspension footbridge in 1828, just in time for the 1830 Revolution. One story about its name is that a young revolutionary, under fire from the Hôtel de Ville, ran onto the bridge and planted the flag atop one of its towers, crying out before dying, “Remember, my friends, my name is Arcole!” A less romantic story is that it was named for Napoléon’s 1796 victory over the Austrians. Whichever is correct, the bridge’s destiny seems linked to war. It saw heavy fighting during the Commune in 1871 and, more happily, was the route the first troops of the Liberation took to the Hôtel de Ville in August 1944.
The Pont Louis-Philippe, named for the king who laid its first stone in 1833, leads to one of the loveliest spots in Paris, the Île Saint-Louis. Cross this bridge to the island, turning left onto the Quai de Bourbon, where splendid hôtels particuliers face the river.
First developed in the early seventeenth century by Christophe Marie, the largely residential Île Saint-Louis-boasts Paris’s second-oldest bridge, named the Pont Marie after its builder. Completed in 1635, the bridge looks much the same today as it did when Paris’s newly rich flocked here to build mansions that displayed their wealth. When part of it collapsed in 1658, twenty houses fell into the river and sixty lives were lost, a tragedy that led to the law banning all construction on the city’s bridges. The Pont Marie’s stone arches are decorated with empty niches complete with columns and pointed roofs, poignant reminders of the vanished houses.
Like the Pont Neuf, the Pont de Sully straddles both channels of the Seine. In the middle is a lovely garden, the last vestige of the former Hôtel de Bretonvilliers. This little park leads to the island’s tip and a view of the busy east end of the Seine. This same bridge also has a traffic light for boats. To see it, cross to the Left Bank, turn left onto the Quai Saint-Bernard, and look back at the bridge’s center arch. The Right Bank channel here is reserved for passenger craft; others must use the Left Bank side, and only at specific times. The light turns green for fifteen minutes every hour, from thirty-five to fifty minutes after the hour.
Retracing your steps, continue on the quai past the Pont de Sully to the next bridge, the Pont de la Tournelle. The original bridge, built in 1370, was the city’s third (after the Petit Pont and Grand Pont). It was named for a turret of the twelfth-century city wall that stood near it. Today’s graceful span dates from 1924, and its most notable feature is Paul Landowski’s soaring white statue of Sainte Geneviève, keeping watch over Paris as she did here in 451, when her prayers protected the city from Attila.
If you take the steps down from the Pont de la Tournelle behind Sainte Geneviève, you’ll find yourself at water level. From this wide quay, you can look between the islands to the bridge that joins them, the Pont Saint-Louis, a simple metal bridge that does not distract from the sight of Notre-Dame. But the best view of the cathedral is from the next bridge, the Pont de l’Archevêché; the classic view of its lovely curved nave and soaring flying buttresses.
The water-level promenade between the Pont de l’Archevêché and the Pont Saint-Michel is a magical place for bridge lovers. The traffic and energy of the city above seem very far away, the river is so narrow that the scale is very intimate, and your feet are almost in the water. Walking under the bridges gives you a new perspective—you can hear the soft splash of the river and feel its cool breath. And these bridges are so close together that at one point, the greenish copper arch of the Pont au Double frames the golden stone of the Petit Pont, which in turn reveals the Pont Saint-Michel’s pale arch.
The history of the Pont au Double is closely linked to that of the charity hospital, the Hôtel-Dieu. When that establishment had run out of space and patients were crowded four to a bed, it received permission to build a wing that spanned the river. A two-story structure was built, and when Parisians asked if they could use the hospital’s passageway to avoid the Petit Pont’s traffic jams, officials recognized a moneymaker and started charging a toll. Horsemen paid double, hence the bridge’s name. The hospital bridge and its replacement lasted until 1847, although the toll was abolished during the Revolution. Today’s metal span dates from 1883.
Small, of course, the Petit Pont is great in historical importance, since a bridge of the same name has stood on its site for at least two thousand years. It was here that Caesar found the bridge he described in his Commentary on the Gallic War. And although centuries of building have widened and raised the Île de la Cité (only the Square du Vert-Galant at its tip shows the original level), today’s Petit Pont is still, at 106 feet long, the shortest of Paris’s bridges.
The Pont Saint-Michel, first built by prison labor in 1387, is the last of the island bridge circuit. Bridges on this spot have been lost to floods, ice, and boat accidents. Today’s stone span dates from the Haussmann era, and as you pass under it the arch frames a lovely view of the sparkling new Pont Neuf.
The island bridges are just the first chapter in the saga of Parisian ponts. Beyond the Pont Neuf lie some of Paris’s most beautiful bridges. There may be no more romantic bridge in the world than the graceful Pont des Arts, especially in the soft golden light of evening. The seventeenth-century Pont Royal is a dignified monument historique, while for sheer theatricality there’s the Pont Alexandre III, its baroque splendor a fitting frame for the gilded dome of the Invalides.
And the bridge story is still being written. Jean Tiberi, the city’s mayor from 1995 to 2001, made the beautification of the Seine a special mission. His ambitious program produced the Passerelle Léopold-Sédar-Senghor (formerly known as Passerelle Solférino) in 1999, bridging the Tuileries Gardens with the Left Bank, and initiated the project for another footbridge, the Passerelle Simone-de-Beauvoir near the Bibliothèque Nationale, which was completed in 2006. He also launched the project for the Seine promenade, an uninterrupted seven-mile riverwalk that will eventually make the river, its banks, and its bridges more accessible than ever.
So the next time you’re in Paris, give the bridges more than a passing glance. Look at them, linger on them, lean on them a moment to watch the Seine roll by. This is where it all began, and there has never been a better time to discover, or rediscover, the bridges of Paris.
Boats
As the Seine flows right through the middle of Paris, it is impossible to avoid crossing over it, walking alongside it, viewing it from atop a monument or hill, or even riding upon it in a boat. To me, a Seine cruise is one of the most supreme pleasures of Paris, even if it’s just for a short commute (some lucky Parisians really do get to work each day by boat). The best known, and oldest, of the tourist boats are the long, flat Bateaux-Mouches. The origins of these curiously named vessels come not from Paris but Lyon. In the nineteenth century, small boats that carried passengers on the Rhône and the Saône rivers were built in a part of town popularly known as Mouche—apparently the first engines on these boats made a whining sound like flies, or mouches, so the name stuck. Today in Paris visitors may choose between the Bateaux-Mouches (bateaux-mouches.fr), Bateaux Parisiens (bateauxparisiens.com), and Batobus (batobus.com). Not all of them operate year-round, nor traverse the same route, so check the details in a current guidebook, at the Paris tourist office, or on the Internet. They also differ in price, the Bateaux-Mouches being the most expensive. I prefer nighttime trips, when all the monuments along the Seine are illuminated (generally until midnight during the week and a bit later on weekends). If possible, avoid the dinner cruises—the food tends to be mediocre and overpriced, and besides, these trips need no embellishment.
A Paris Afternoon
“No matter how many times you go to Paris, there is always something new to discover and savor. My husband, Lester, and I have been to Paris twenty, maybe twenty-five, times since our first visit in 1959. We often go during the last week in May to catch the first few days of the grand-slam French Open at Roland Garros stadium in the Bois de Boulogne. Last year, the two days we had tickets to the tennis tournament were broiling hot the first day and cold and rainy the second day. The next day we woke up to sunny blue skies. I felt like doing something outdoors and something that wouldn’t require much energy—I was still a little jet-lagged and feeling a bit under the weather. We decided to have a picnic on the Seine and just take it easy.
“We picked up a couple of ham and Gruyère sandwiches on baguettes, some fresh apricots and cherries, and a bottle of water near our hotel in the Marais. We contemplated buying a bottle of wine but decided it wouldn’t be a good idea with a Paris Opéra performance on the agenda for seven that evening. It was a short walk to the Île Saint-Louis and across to the Right Bank on the Pont de la Tournelle, from which the rear view of Notre-Dame with its magnificent flying buttresses and slender spire is one of my favorite sights in Paris.
“At the bottom of the ancient stone stair we walked along the river path in the direction of the next bridge, Pont de Sully, until we saw a grassy green knoll under a tree next to the retaining wall. We settled down there and had our picnic as we watched the Bateaux-Mouches and the working barges sail by, so close you felt like you could almost touch them. Suddenly two models, a bride and a groom, and a photographer with two assistants and various photographic equipment emerged from under the bridge and began posing and shooting the models with Notre-Dame in the background. They appeared to be Japanese, so we assumed the shoot was for a Japanese magazine. Then two young Parisians strolled by and stopped, as if on cue by the late street photographer Robert Doisneau, to entertain us with a passionate kiss. Meanwhile, as the afternoon wore on, our grassy picnic spot began attracting more than just us: A young woman reclined, I thought to take a nap, but she proceeded to carry on a long cell phone conversation, punctuated with many interjections of “Mais oui.” A family with a little boy made bubbles with a “magic” wand. A man arrived on his bicycle with a trumpet that he proceeded to play—jazz—and apparently for his own enjoyment, as when he finished he cycled off without passing his hat. A large family spread out their mouthwatering picnic treats on a stone bench and proceeded to gesticulate, shout, and eat all at once—no small feat. An elderly couple’s cocker spaniel found our tree especially attractive.
“Eventually I opened the International Herald Tribune and began doing the crossword puzzle, until I dozed off. When I woke, we strolled back to our hotel feeling we had just experienced a wonderful afternoon. And it was absolutely free.”
—Janet Schulman, former editor at large, Random House Children’s Books, and former publisher, Random House and Knopf Books for Young Readers