Part 1 - Our Studio.

On arriving in Paris in 1898 Edouard and Bishop felt compelled to do and see all the usual sights that the city had to offer. I can certainly relate to this as the first time I arrived in Paris in 1999 I felt the same compulsion to see and do all that she had to offer. At this point in their journey they had located accommodation at a hotel but this was only a temporary arrangement.

"For two weeks we had been lodging temporarily in the top of a comfortable little hotel, called the Grand something (most of the Parisian hotels are Grand), the window of which commanded a superb view of the great city, the vaudeville playhouse of the world."

"Day by day we had put off the inevitable evil of finding a studio. Every night found us in the cheapest seats of some theatre, and often we lolled on the terraces of the Café de la Paix, watching the pretty girls as they passed, their silken skirts saucily pulled up, revealing dainty laces and ankles. From the slippery floor of the Louvre galleries we had studied the masterpieces of David, Rubens, Rembrandt, and the rest; had visited the Panthéon, the Musée Cluny; had climbed the Eiffel Tower, and traversed the Bois de Boulogne and the Champs-Elysées. Then came the search for a studio and the settling to work. It would be famous to have a little home of our very own, where we could have little dinners of our very own cooking!"

So, after the sightseeing came the unenviable task of finding a suitable place to live. A lot had to be considered, obviously a suitable location that was in close proximity to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts (more later) the art college of their choice, a studio that provided good light that would benefit both artists with their work and quite obviously a place at the right price. 

"It is with a shudder that I recall those eleven days of ceaseless studio-hunting. We dragged ourselves through miles of Quartier Latin streets, and up hundreds of flights of polished waxed stairs, behind puffing concierges in carpet slippers, the puffing changing to grumbling, as, dissatisfied, the concierges followed us down the stairs. The Quartier abounds with placards reading, "Atelier d'Artiste à Louer!" The rentals ranged from two hundred to two thousand francs a year, and the sizes from cigar-boxes to barns. But there was always something lacking. On the eleventh day we found a suitable place on the sixth (top) floor of a quaint old house in a passage off the Rue St.-André-des-Arts. There were overhead and side lights, and from the window a noble view of Paris over the house-tops."

As can be seen from the above photos I had no problem locating the Rue St.-André-des-Arts and also located the, 'passage' of the Rue St.-André-des-Arts to which Edouard referred to. In fact, if you compare photos 4 and 6 above you can see the similarities between the two albeit separated by 128 years. Sadly, because no specific address is referred to in the book I couldn't locate the quaint old house but I did feel very sure that I was very close to it as I explored the area. This also provided me a great sense of their location in relation to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts on Rue Bonaparte and the nearby Les Deux Magots but more of that later. 

"A room of fair size joined the studio, and from its vine-laced window we could look into the houses across the court, and down to the bottom of the court as well. The studio walls were delightfully dirty and low in tone, and were covered with sketches and cartoons in oil and charcoal. The price was eight hundred francs a year, and from the concierge's eloquent catalogue of its charms it seemed a great bargain. The walls settled our fate,—we took the studio."

So, the boys had moved into their new home and with Bishop installed as the cook and Edouard committed to keeping the place clean such was the division of labour between them both they went about their daily lives and observed the happenings around them. 

"The court, or, more properly, le passage, on which our window looked was a narrow little thoroughfare leading from the Rue St.-André-des-Arts to the Boulevard St.-Germain. It bore little traffic, but was a busy way withal. It had iron-workers' shops, where hot iron was beaten into artistic lamps, grills, and bed-frames; a tinsmith's shop; a blanchisserie, where our shirts were made white and smooth by the pretty blanchisseuses singing all day over their work; a wine-cellar, whose barrels were eternally blocking one end of the passage; an embossed picture-card factory, where twoscore women, with little hammers and steel dies, beat pictures into cards; a furniture shop, where everything old and artistic was sold, the Hôtel du Passage, and a bookbinder's shop."

"Life begins at five o'clock in our court. The old gentleman beats his rugs, the milk-bottles rattle, the bread-carts rumble, Madame Gioté opens her milkstand, and the concierges drag the ash-cans out into the court, where a drove of rag-pickers fall upon them. These gleaners are a queer lot. Individuals and families pursue the quest, each with a distinct purpose. One will seek nothing but bones, glass, and crockery; another sifts the ashes for coal; another takes only paper and rags; another old shoes and hats; and so on, from can to can, none interfering with any of the others. The dogs are the first at the bins. They are regularly organized in working squads, travelling in fours and fives. They are quite adept at digging through the refuse for food, and they rarely quarrel; and they never leave one bin for another until they have searched it thoroughly."

"The swish of water and a course brush broom announces the big, strong woman who sweeps the gutters of the Rue St. Andre des Arts. With broad sweeps of the broom she spreads the water over half the street and back into the gutter, making the worn yellow stones shine. She is coarsely clad and wears black sabots; and God knows how she can swear when the gleaners scatter the refuse into the gutter!"

So, we leave the boys to settle into their new home and become familiar with their new surroundings and we will catch up with them again at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts.
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All text taken from, Bohemian Paris of Today (Chapter 1 - Our Studio) by Cucuel and Morrow and Illustrated by Edouard Cucuel - 1899. All photos - Craig R. Whitfield (2026)