Located in the heart of Giverny, the Hôtel Baudy holds a unique place in the history of Impressionism. Much more than just a hotel, it served, at the end of the 19th century, as a place of gathering, inspiration, and creativity for dozens of painters who came from the United States to join Claude Monet and discover the exceptional light of our valley.

Let’s explore this story together!

In the 19th century, viticulture was extremely widespread north of the Loire. Right in the heart of Paris, on the Montmartre hill, Parisians produced wine, while in Giverny, the hillside was put to use. Numerous low walls ensured the stability and ease of maintenance of the small planted terraces. The people of Giverny thus produced a light wine—admittedly closer to cheap plonk than to a grand cru—but one that had the advantage of enhancing a simple, everyday meal.

Toward the end of the century, these vineyards were abandoned following the phylloxera epidemic that decimated French vineyards. The terraces became wastelands and would have disappeared had another unexpected activity not taken hold of them. The trend for ornamental gardens was all the rage, aided by the emergence of the first plant sales catalogs. In addition, world’s fairs featured immense greenhouses where the most extraordinary flowers were displayed for the public’s admiration.

Ornamental gardens, previously reserved for the elite, became more widespread, and whether large or small, everyone wanted to have their own. Of all the plants used, roses were the most sought after. The garden at the Hôtel Baudy was no exception to this rule. Its proximity to Claude Monet’s garden and the presence of a nursery on the plain greatly facilitated its creation.

Far removed from lessons in landscape design and horticulture, it was created with no other concern than pleasure. The harmony of forms and perspectives was left to the whims of the terrain, while the plants took root according to their own strength, balancing one another just as their wild cousins do so well on the untamed hillside.Loin des leçons paysagères et horticoles, il s'élabora sans autre souci que le plaisir. L'harmonie des masses et perspectives fut laissée au hasard du terrain, tandis que les végétaux s'installèrent au gré de leur force, s'équilibrant les uns les autres comme le font si bien leurs cousins sauvages qui croissent sur la colline sauvage.

Hardy, resilient perennials took root beneath the rose bushes, while among the roses themselves, climbing varieties took over the trees. Rest areas set up at various levels allowed visitors to sit down with a palette in hand or simply to stroll through this “ocean of roses,” which from May through June spilled out onto the street.

Today, the garden retains all of its charm, steeped in a sense of neglect, where winding paths—often overgrown with daisies, valerian, and St. John’s wort—constantly lead to tangled stone staircases that disappear into the hillside. The countless old rosebushes, sometimes bent under the weight of their flowers, remind us of the ladies in crinolines who, a century ago, were already marveling at their splendor.
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Today, this story deserves to be told, shared, and highlighted.
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That is the goal of our organization:
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The Baudy Gardens of the American Painters