Montmartre is the hilltop village that crowns the highest ground in Paris, reached by staircase and cobbled lane. You climb past shuttered houses, ivy and a working vineyard on the north slope, and at the top Place du Tertre fills with easels and portrait painters. From the basilica steps the grey-and-zinc sweep of the city opens below. Cheap rents, low wine tax and clear northern light pulled a generation of painters up here — Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso and Toulouse-Lautrec all worked on the butte.
The hill is hollow underneath: old gypsum mines honeycomb it, and the soft white rock cut here gave the world plaster of Paris. Before the painters this was farmland above the city, with windmills grinding grain and vineyards on the slopes, a separate village annexed to Paris only in 1860. Place du Tertre is crowded and commercial now; the quiet is a street away, in the sloping alleys where the village feel survives. The crowds thin at dusk and the steps become the place to sit.