No. 6 “Jardin D’Hiver”
We arrived at the Hotel de Crillon at about 10:30AM. As we got out, and before the driver even got to the luggage compartment of the van, a valet was opening said compartment and hauling out the baggage onto a cart.
I was a bit mystified. Once he had all the baggage on his cart, I asked him how he would know which room to get it to. “Do not worry,” he said in his Parisian English, “we take care of it.”
We walked between the two massive stone pillars and through the immense wrought iron and glass front doors into a circular stone foyer. To the left was reception, and to the right was the entrance to Les Ambassadeurs, the hotel bar, which I can conservatively estimate is the coolest hotel bar I’ve ever had the pleasure of drinking it. More on that later.
The reception room is a high ceilinged wood paneled affair with two round glass tables where the guests sit. We sat before a lovely, thin young Frenchmen dressed in a grey suit, who spoke impeccable English with only a slight French accent. He was all smiles. He asked about our flight, and where we were from. We surrendered our passports to be scanned and then a credit card was run for incidentals. “Oh, and by the way,” he said, “your room is not ready. Check in time is at 3PM, you see.”
It was then 11AM. What are we to do for the next three hours? It would be so nice to get our of these clothes and to freshen up from our transatlantic voyage.
“Oh, but the Winter Garden is open. Perhaps you can have some lunch?”
And that is what we did.
***
A Winter Garden is what many large European houses would have where they could grow plants indoors during the winter months. Sometimes called conservatories, they are the places where the rich can enjoy greenery and fresh air, away from the oppressive stagnant air of their libraries, parlors or bed chambers. To give you a sense of what an institution they have become, I was once on the Queen Mary 2, a British ship, that had a Winter Garden filled with fake ferns, as the real ones don’t do well at sea.
In France they are called Les Jardin d’Hiver and the one at the Crillon it is like a parlor or tea room, where you can have a glass of champagne in a more informal setting than at the Brasserie D’Aumont, the other restaurant where I, on the morning after our arrival, sent back a putrid green “chlorophyll” omelette and earned my waiter’s respect in doing so. Look for my next column about that.
The colors of the Crillon’s Jardin d’Hiver are a tasteful, feminine study in lavender. The ceiling was easily 30 feet high, and from which hung lavender velveteen drapes on all four walls. In the center of the room are three banquettes covered in lavender velvet whose backs abutt one another creating a place for a pedestal to hold a three foot tall vase filled with another three feet of white flowers - I think they were orchids.
Around the room were strategically placed love seats and wing chairs in purple velvet or lavender silk, around white and grey marble tables. There were four Baccarat chandeliers with purple shades on the lights. There were even little pale pink footstools next to the chairs where a lady could set her clutch while she dined on pastries and sandwiches during afternoon tea.
We were welcomed by a dark complected girl with full red lips whose dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a white silk blouse and a pleated skirt made of a purple gauzy, airy fabric. She seated us at a banquette in the center of the room.
Menus and a wine list were presented. Champagne anyone? They have Bolinger Grand Annee on the list at a reasonable 60€. We ordered that. Then it was a Caesar salad and club sandwich for me.
The lady came back with the Bolinger and four heavy Baccarat champagne glasses. They were cut glass, like something out of which a Russian Czar would drink, not the wafer thin Reidels we have back in the US. Lavender linen coasters were placed on the marble table, on which glasses were set, into which champagne was poured.
As we waited for our food, we noticed and inscription in gold Latinate letters - where the U’s are V’s - that said:
“PENDS TOI BRAVE CRILLON!
NOUS AVONS COMBATTU A AROVES
ET TU N’Y ETAIS PAS.”
One of my companions is fluent in French, which was extraordinarily helpful during the next three weeks. He read it and said that it has something to do with going to battle, but not being there. And below that it says this was written in a letter from the French King Henry IV to the Duke de Crillon in 1589.
We sat and considered this for a while. My friend thought it was a slight by whomever said it. As in, “we were fighting, doing the work, where were you?” But if that was the intent, why would the Duke of Crillon inscribe it in his hotel?
We sipped our champagne, and didn’t think much of it beyond that. Our food came and the salad was a meal in itself. It was a deconstructed cesar - how French - where the anchovies were placed on the salad, rather than incorporated into the dressing. Parmesan cheese rather than grated, was sliced thinly and set on top. The dressing was not tossed with stack of butter lettuce, but rather poured over it. I cut into it with my knife as if I was eating a layer cake.
The club sandwich, on the other hand, was wonderful. Over the next three weeks I would have many club sandwiches. The French seem to love them. This was one had white bread perfectly toasted, tomatoes, bacon, hard boiled egg, lettuce and mayonaise, all compressed in three triangles with the crusts cut off.
Both the sandwich and salad were perfect with the champagne.
***
It’s only now that I have a really fast internet connection and a laptop with a good keyboard that I can investigate this quote on the wall. The actual good translation is: “Hang on, brave Crillon. We fought at Avons and you were not there.”
As the inscription said, it was written in a letter dated 1589 from Henry IV - who had just ascended to the throne at that time - to Louis des Balbes de Berton de Crillon, who lived from 1541 to 1615.
First of all “Avons” actually refers to the Battle of Arques that Henry IV waged against the Duke of Mayenne in eighth and final war in the French Wars of Religion.
And Louis des Balbes de Berton de Crillon, born in 1541, should not be confused with Louis des Balbes de Berton de Crillon, born in 1717, whose son François-Félix purchased what became the Hotel de Crillon in 1788.
The first Louis, born in 1541, was a famous soldier known for his exploits in the siege of Calais. He fought, against the Huguenots, as well as for Malta against the Turks. He was called “Crillon le Brave” or Crillon the Brave, and even had a village in Provence named after him.
It seems that he wanted to be at the Battle of Arques to fight alongside Henry IV, but for some reason was not able to. But Henry IV still respected Louis as a soldier so he sent him this letter, letting him know that it was okay that he was not there to fight.
Now here is the crazy thing, and is something you see all over when you are in France: in a way, the French cannot help but live in the past. So much has happened in that land - people have lived there for so long, so many wars, so many buildings, so much religion, so much history, it is all with you right there, wherever you go. As it is with this quote.
So, over 200 years after the letter is received, the descendents of Louis des Balbes de Berton de Crillon remain so proud of this letter from the King saying not to worry about not showing up for battle, that they inscribed the quote in the stone wall of their Winter Garden in their palace on the Place de la Concorde in Paris. The rough equivalent of this would be if my great great great grandparents got a letter from James Monroe and I still had it hanging on the wall in my living room.
But I only found this out later, weeks after I arrived back in the US. For the moment, we just sat in the Winter Garden, our bottoms plump on the doughy lavender velveteen chairs, contemplating the fact that we were actually in France, actually at the famed Crillon, actually drinking Bolinger Grand Annee.
I went to check to see if our room was ready. It wasn’t. Another bottle of champagne?