The Knights-Templar settled in Paris in 1148. Their domain with its dungeon, built in 1212, its manor and fortified tower, and the vast surrounding grounds, were seized in 1307 and given over to the knights of St. John of Jerusalem, known later as the knights of Malta. From that time to the Revolution the Temple was closely connected with the life of the city. The primitive buildings were demolished, streets built along the site of some of them in the seventeenth century, and an immense battlemented castle with towers and a strong prison erected where the original stronghold had stood. The Temple, as then built, was like the old abbeys and royal palaces: a sort of township, having within its enclosures all that was needful for the daily life of its inhabitants. Besides Louis XVI and his family many persons of note passed weary days in its prison. Sidney Smith effected his escape therefrom. Its encircling walls were razed in the first years of the nineteenth century; and in 1808 Napoléon had the great tower knocked down. In 1814 the Allies made the Grand Priory their headquarters. Louis XVIII gave over the mansion to an Order of Benedictine nuns. In 1848 it served as a barracks. Its end came in 1854, when it was razed to the ground. Then a big _place_ and market hall were set up on the site of the old Temple chapel and its adjacent buildings--a famous market, given up in great part to dealers in second-hand goods--the chief Paris market of _occasions_ (bargains). The Rotonde which had been erected in 1781 was allowed to stand and lasted till 1863. A new ironwork hall, built in 1855, was not demolished till recent years--1905.
Those pretty, gay knick-knacks, that glittering cheap jewellery known throughout the world as "articles de Paris" had their origin among a special class of the inhabitants of the old Temple grounds. No one living there paid taxes. Impecunious persons of varying rank sought asylum there--a society made up in great part of artists and artistically-minded artisans. To gain their daily bread they set their wits and their fingers to work and soon found a ready sale for their Brummagem--not mere Brummagem, however, and all of truly Parisian delicacy of conception and workmanship.