The Arsenal Library: A Piece of Parisian History

The famous library’s very name reflects the two stages of its life, where weapons made way for books, not without a few bumpy moments and happy accidents. A recent publication brings this little-known chapter of Parisian history to life.

In Les Filles du feu, Nerval tells the amusing story of a ghost who disturbs the curator’s sleep at the Arsenal Library. Ghosts no longer ring the doorbell at night, but they continue to haunt the premises. They have names of varying familiarity, from Sully to Pérec, and have all contributed to making the Arsenal what it is. Outside, the neighborhood as a whole is no less haunted by a number of long-gone monuments. Delving into the history of the Arsenal is to resurrect a small piece of Paris‘s urban, architectural, intellectual and political history. What’s more, as the library’s current director Olivier Bosc points out, “from the 16^th century to the present day, the Arsenal’s story has been intertwined with the broader history of France, because it is a site of the monarchy.” From Charles VIII onwards, sovereigns set their sights on this territory outside of central Paris to manufacture weapons. In 1572, the Arsenal was officially transferred to this site, at the base of which the Seine still flows. It was overseen by a Grand Master of the Artillery, a prestigious position held by Sully, among others. Little by little, the Arsenal’s footprint spread along the river and the Bastille moat (the current Arsenal port). Cannons were cast for the entire kingdom in huge buildings, and transportation mounts and gunpowder were also manufactured.

Normally buildings protect collections, but here the collections protected the building.

Though an industrial site, the Arsenal also became a residential spot where the French court would gather. This meant that the Grand Master’s residence, which now holds the library, was redesigned and enlarged several times. In 1694, the Duc du Maine, Louis XIV’s legitimized son, moved into the Arsenal as holder of this office. But he only decided to undertake some major alterations 20 years later. Germain Boffrand, the Arsenal’s architect since 1712, took charge of the project and planned to double the main building on the Seine side. However, the Duc’s up-and-down political and financial fortunes led to frequent suspensions of the work, and the building was still unfinished at his death in 1736. The mansion, very little used by his heir, was divided among various occupants. The architect Nicolas Dauphin was allocated the central part of the new main building, which he remolded at his own expense. The salon was decked out in magnificent wood paneling in a Rococo style that could be termed “disciplined”. This was decorated with trophies representing the four seasons, three continents and the three arts of drawing, as well as hunting, fishing and navigation. The musical instruments embellishing the three largest panels gave this “Music Room” its name. The colors of the woodwork caused quite a stir during the restoration carried out in 2007, when a lilac shade, known as “linen gray,” was combined with a very light “celadon green.”

While the salon has remained unchanged since it was altered, it saw the addition of the remarkable “four corners of the world” grandfather clock during the French Revolution. Made from a design by Alexandre-Jean Oppenordt, this luxury object consists of a clock and a quiver-shaped base. The cabinetwork is attributed to André-Charles Boulle; the clockwork was made by Julien Le Pautre. The bronzes, in both ronde-bosse and bas-relief, are of no less remarkable quality. The continents flanking the clock seem to echo the same figures on the paneling. “This is a major piece with only three equivalents in the world, including one in the Wallace Collection,” says Olivier Bosc. Donated to the Abbey of Saint-Victor in 1761, it was seized in 1797 and assigned to the Arsenal. As production became decentralized, the Arsenal lost its strategic role, and the office of Grand Master was abolished in 1755. The arrival of the Marquis de Paulmy the following year changed the site’s fate. An unknown figure outside the bibliophile sphere, Antoine-René Voyer d’Argenson, Marquis de Paulmy (1722-1787), was incontestably the leading collector of French books during the Ancien Régime. His passion for French literature led him to amass so many treasures that he had to build a gallery in 1778 to house them all. Concerned for the future and the integrity of his library, Paulmy sold it to the Comte d’Artois, the future Charles X. At his death, the collection, which he had continued to expand after its sale, contained 120,000 volumes, 6,000 manuscripts and 592 portfolios and collections of prints. “Normally buildings protect collections, but here the collections protected the building,” says Olivier Bosc.

“During the Revolution, the premises were not looted or vandalized because the Revolutionary scholars who visited the library were well aware of its valuable assets.” In this critical period, the Arsenal was not only preserved but further enriched. Hubert-Pascal Ameilhon was appointed to manage it, and he also oversaw the Parisian literary depositories where the collections seized from religious congregations and emigrants were stored. The finest books were taken for the Arsenal, and Ameilhon also retrieved the Bastille archives and some manuscripts from the Sainte-Chapelle Treasury, including the Psalter of Blanche of Castile. These precious relics were added to Paulmy’s large collection of medieval works. 50,000 volumes were added to the shelves of the Arsenal, which opened to the public in June 1798. A few years later, during the Restoration, the library became a focus for literary life: Charles Nodier, appointed librarian, held a celebrated salon there, which was attended by all the leading figures of the Romantic movement, including the young Victor Hugo. In the 19^th century, the neighborhood, like the library, underwent major changes that tended towards erasing traces of the past. Apart from the Grand Master’s residence, all the buildings of the Arsenal were dismantled; the neighboring Couvent des Célestins was razed to make way for the Republican Guard’s monumental barracks; the arm of the Seine separating the Arsenal from Louviers Island was filled in, and Boulevard Henri-IV was built, furthering disrupting the area’s topography. Finally, the Granaries of Abundance, built along the Bastille moat after the Revolution, were torched during the Commune. The fire raged for several days — but miraculously, the library escaped.

During the Revolution, the Arsenal was not only preserved but further enriched.

A Small-Scale BnF

Inside, too, much changed. All the collections previously divided between several buildings were brought together, while non-essential occupants were laboriously moved out to free up space for the books, readers and staff. The merger with the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in 1934 marked the culmination of a long process of professionalization, during which qualified and active curators took over from amateur scholars. Today, the Arsenal holds one million printed documents and 100,000 manuscripts of all kinds. “It’s a kind of small-scale BnF,” says Olivier Bosc. The library is also famous for its archives from not only the Bastille but also the Saint-Simonian movement, and writers including Sade, Huysmans, Pérec and Oulipo. The manuscript scroll of the Marquis de Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom, recently bought by the BnF for a considerable sum, is undoubtedly the most famous work in the collection. “Why are some collections at the Arsenal and not in the BnF’s Manuscript Department?” says Bosc. “I usually say that we look after the fringes: Sade rather than Rousseau and Voltaire, Charles Nodier rather than Victor Hugo, Huysmans rather than Zola. There are no clearly established allocation criteria, but the collections that we keep here are ‘situated’ collections, which have generally belonged to collectors. Huysmans, for instance, was bequeathed by a bookseller.” “The Arsenal is a library, of course, but it is also a historical monument: something that had rather faded into the background, but is now coming to the fore again,” says its director. Its history has been marked by the many transformations of the interior spaces, and all the enlargements, reconfigurations and partitions carried out as its functions and inhabitants changed. Next to the Music Room, a particularly rare and exquisite decor from the Ancien Régime remains. It goes back to the 17^th century, to the time of the Maréchal de La Meilleraye, appointed Grand Master of the Artillery in 1634. His wife Marie de Cossé-Brissa’s bedroom and the adjoining small room, decorated around 1645, illustrate the heyday of the Arsenal and the eminent position of its governor. The bedroom walls are covered in gilt paneling: the lower sections are decorated with landscapes full of various flora and fauna, the middle sections with battle scenes, and the upper sections with opulent grotesques. The coffered ceiling has a central decoration of Parnassus by Charles Poerson, a follower of Simon Vouet. In the smaller room next door, the transom features 14 paintings of powerful women. These illustrious figures from the Bible, antiquity and the Christian era, like Judith and Joan of Arc, were particularly fashionable at the time because the kingdom was then under the regency of Anne of Austria. The presence of an allegory of the French monarchy on the ceiling underscores this highly political interpretation of the decor. Yet this story was very nearly cut short in the 1990s, when there was talk of closing the Arsenal. Luckily, the mobilization of intellectuals of all backgrounds and the library’s Society of Friends put a stop to this disastrous project. History can thus pursue its course, with readers continuing to enjoy the comfort and intimacy of the premises — while maybe keeping an eye out for the odd ghost.

Worth Seeing, Worth Reading
Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal
Paris 75004
Tours on Wednesdays; booking required
www.bnf.fr