The Paroisse Saint Paul - Saint Louis has a fascinating and tumultuous history. A church of some form has existed on the same site since 632, with the original structure dedicated to Saint Paul. Sadly, the original church was destroyed during the Norman invasions of  845, 856, 861 et 885. A new structure was not built until 1125, which was then reconstructed in 1430-31, then again destroyed in 1797. Parts l’Eglise Saint Paul survive in its current structure, namely the clock in its facade, two reliquaries in the choir, and an engraving of the immaculate conception.

“Dearest father,

I can now write to you. How things have changed over the last three days! Sunday last, Paris was aghast at the dismissal of Necker; [yet] no one would take up arms in spite of my efforts to galvanise people into action.

About three o’clock I went to the Palais-Royal. I was deploring our lack of courage to a group of people when three young men came by, holding hands and shouting ‘Aux armes!’ [To arms!]. I joined them, my enthusiasm quite obvious; I was surrounded and pressed to climb up on a table: there were immediately six thousand people around me.

I was bursting with hundreds of ideas, and spoke without thought: ‘Aux armes!’ I cried, ‘Let us all wear cockades.’ I grabbed a ribbon and pinned it to my hat.

From the journal of Lucile Desmoulins:

August 9th, 1792. What will become of us? I can endure no more. Camille, O my poor Camille, what will become of you? O God, if it be true that thou hast existence, save the men who are worthy of Thee. We want to be free. O God, the cost of it! As a climax to my misery, courage abandons me.

What a gap since the 9th of August. What things have happened! What a volume I should have filled if I had continued! How can I recall so many events? Never mind, I am going to remember something of what passed.

I had come back from the country on August 8th. The public mind was already in ferment. An attempt had been made to assassinate Robespierre. On the 9th I had some of the Marseillais to dinner and we amused ourselves pretty well. After dinner we all went to Danton’s. The mother was crying; she looked very sad; the child had a bewildered look. Danton was resolute. As to me, I laughed like a madcap. They were afraid the affair would not take place. Although I was not at all sure, I said to them, as if I knew all about it, that it would come to pass.

“How can anyone laugh like that?” Madame Danton said.

“Alas,” I replied, “it is a sign that I shall shed many tears this evening.”

…The weather was fine, we strolled about the street; it was crowded with people. We returned and seated ourselves outside the café. Many sansculottes passed crying, “Long live the nation!” then cavalry, afterwards immense crowds. Fear seized me. I said to Madame Danton: “Let us go.” She laughed at my dread, but, by dint of speaking of it, she was frightened in her turn, and we departed. I said to her mother: “Good-bye, it will not be long before you hear the tocsin.”

On arriving at the Dantons’ rooms, I saw there Madame Robert and many others.

Very soon, I saw that they were arming themselves. Camille, my dear Camille, came in with a gun. O God! I hid myself in an alcove; I covered my face with my two hands and began to weep; however, as I did not want to show so much weakness, or to tell Camille aloud that I did not wish him to mix himself up in all this, I watched for a moment when I might speak to him without being overheard and tell him all my fears. He reassured me by saying that he would not leave Danton. I have learnt since then that he exposed himself to danger.

Danton was agitated. I ran to Madame Robert saying: “Will they sound the tocsin?” “Yes,” she said to me. “It will be to-night.” I heard all this and did not say a word.

Freron had the air of one determined to perish. “I am tired of life,” said he, “I seek only to die.” Each patrol which came, I thought to see them for the last time. I went to conceal myself in the salon, which was unlighted, that I might not see these preparations. Our patriots departed. I was seated near a bed, overwhelmed, bewildered, dozing sometimes, and when I wished to speak, I wandered. Danton went to lie down. He did not appear to be much concerned; he scarcely ever went out. Midnight approached. They came to seek him many times; at last he departed for the Commune.

The tocsin of the Cordeliers rang; it rang for a long time. Alone, bathed in tears, on my knees by the window, my face covered with my handkerchief, I listened to the sound of that fatal bell. In vain they tried to console me. The day which had preceded this fatal night seemed to me to have been my last.

Danton returned. Madame Robert, who was very troubled concerning her husband, who had gone to the Luxembourg, where he had been sent by his section, ran to Danton, who only replied to her very vaguely. He threw himself upon his bed.

They came many times to give us good and bad news. I thought I saw their project was to go to the Tuileries. I said so, sobbing. I felt as though I should faint. In vain, Madame Robert demanded news of her husband; no one could give any. She believed that he would march… “If he perishes,” she said to me, “I will not survive him. But this Danton- he is the rallying point! If my husband perishes, I am the woman to stab him!” Her eyes rolled, from that moment I never quitted her. How could I tell what might happen? How did I know of what she was capable?

We passed the night thus in cruel agitations. Camille returned at one o’clock; he slept leaning upon my shoulder. Madame Danton sat beside me, and seemed prepared to hear of the death of her husband. “No,” she said to me, “I cannot remain here.” Daylight being come, I proposed that she should rest near me. Camille lay down on the bed. I put a couch in the salon, with a mattress and a quilt; she threw herself upon it and took some repose. For myself, I lay down and dozed, although the sound of the tocsin was heard on all sides.

We rose; Camille departed, leaving me in the hope that he would not expose himself. We ate some breakfast. Ten o’clock, eleven o’clock passed, without our knowing anything. We took some of the journals of the evening before and tried to read them, seated upon the sofa in the salon. As she read me an article, it seemed to me that a cannon was fired. I heard soon many more shots without saying anything; they became more frequent. I said to her: ‘They are firing cannons!’ She listened, she heard, and growing as pale as death, she fainted away. I loosened her clothes. Myself, I was ready to fall unconscious but the necessity of helping her gave me strength. She came to herself. Jeanette cried like a mad thing. She wished to thrash a passer-by who said that Camille was the cause of all this. We heard crying and weeping in the street, we believed that Paris was full of bloodshed.

We encouraged each other and departed to go and seek out Danton. They cried: “To arms!” and ran hither and thither. We found the door of the Cour de Commerce closed. We knocked and shouted but nobody came to open it. We wished to go out through a baker’s shop; he shut the door in our faces. I was furious; at last they let us through. We were a long time without knowing anything. However, they came to tell us that we were victors. At one o’clock several came to relate what had passed. Some of the Marseillais had been killed. But the accounts were cruel.

Camille arrived and told me that the first head which he had seen fall was that of Suleau. Robert was at the Hotel de Vile, which had been before him the frightful spectacle of massacred Swiss. He came after dinner and told us a fearful account of what he had seen, and all day long we heard of nothing else, save what had happened.