The sisters of artists are doomed to bear the brunt of their brothers’ disappointments, or so Balzac’s struggling poet Lucien tells his sister, Eve, at the start of a long letter home listing his difficulties. Having come to Paris to seek love and fame he has found neither. He is broke and has had to take a furnished room in the Hôtel de Cluny, a derelict...
A speeded-up film of Cluny’s history would show it expand, contract, disappear underground, re-emerge and, after three centuries embedded (or as Balzac puts it, squashed) in the dense urban fabric of the Latin Quarter, find itself an island, only just spared by Baron Haussmann’s interventions to the east and narrowly missed on two sides by the Boulevards Saint-Michel and Saint-Germain.