Europe After 8:15
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H. L. Mencken, George Jean Nathan and Willard Huntington Wright >> Europe After 8:15
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Romance hunter, come with me. Stomach-turned at the fat niggers dressed
up like Turks and Algerians and made to lend an "air" to the haunt of
the nocturnal belly dancers in the Rue Pigalle, sickened at the stupid
lewdities of the Rue Biot, disgusted at the brassy harlotries of the
Lapin Agil', come with me into that _auberge_ of the Avenue Trudaine
where are banned catch-coin stratagems, fleshly pyrotechnics, that
little refuge whose wall gives forth the tableau of Salis, he of the
Niagaran whiskers and the old Chat Noir, strangling the adolescent
versifiers of Montmartre, the tableau of the crimson rose of Poetry
blossoming from out their strangling pools of blood. Come with me and
sing a chorus with the crowd in the "conservatoire" of the Boulevard
Rochechouart and beat time, like the rest of it, with knife on plate,
with glass on table. Come away from the Brasserie des Sirenes of
Mademoiselle Marthe in the Faubourg Poissonniere, from the Rue Dancourt,
from the Moulin Rose in the Mazagran--from all such undiluted cellars of
vicious prostitution--if these be Paris, then West Twenty-eighth Street
in New York.
Look you, romance seeker, rather into the places of Montepin and
Eugene Sue. The moon is down. The sound of dance is stilled in the city.
So go we into the Rue Croissant, with its shaveless thuggeries and
marauding cabs. It is dark, very. And very quiet. And the sniff of
unknown things is to be had in the air. Dens of drink with their furtive
thieves ... the enigma of the shadows of the church of Saint Eustache
... slinking feet to the rear of you ... at length, the Rue Pirouette
and the sign of the angel Gabriel on the lantern before the house. Here
is good company to be found! Well do I remember the _bon-camaraderie_ of
Henri Laverte, that most successful of Parisian burglars, of the good
Jean Darteau, that most artistic of all Parisian second story virtuosi,
of pretty Mado Veralment, who was not convicted for the murder of her
erstwhile lover Abernal, nor, at a later date, for that of her erstwhile
lover Crepeat, both of whom, so it had been rudely whispered by her
enemies, had rashly believed to desert her for another charmer. Witty
and altogether excellent folk. Indeed, I might go further from the truth
than to say that in no woman have ever I found a deeper, a more
authentic appreciation of the poetry of Verlaine than in this
Mademoiselle Mado.
So, too, up the stone steps and into the Caveau of the Rue des
Innocents ... and here--likewise a jolly party. Inquire of most persons
about Le Caveau and you will be apprised that it is a "vile hole," "a
place of the lowest order." It _is_ dirty, so much I will grant; and it
_is_ of a Brobdingnagian smell. Also, is it frequented almost entirely
by murderers, garroters, and thieves. But to say it is a "vile hole" or
"a place of the lowest order" is to say what is not true. It is
immeasurably superior to the tinselled inn of the Rue Royale. And its
habitues constitute an infinitely more respectable lodge. If the left
wall of the cavern contains its "roll of honour"--the names of all the
erstwhile noted gentlemen patrons of the establishment who have, because
of some slight carelessness or oversight, ended their days in the
company of the public executioner--I still cannot appreciate that the
list is any the less civilised than the head waiter's "roll of honour"
at the celebrated tavern in the Avenue de l'Opera. Nor do the numerous
scribbled inscriptions on the other walls, such saucy epigrams as "To
hell with the prefect of police," "The police are damned low flea-full
dogs" and the like impress me less favourably than the scribbled
inscriptions on notes of assignation placed covertly by subsidised
waiters into the serviettes of the Callot-adorned Thaises in the
spectacularized haunts of the Bois. The piano in Le Caveau may be
diabetic, senescent, and its operator half blind and all knuckles (as he
is), but the music it gives forth is full of the romance of Sheppard and
Turpin, of stage coach days and dark and nervous highways, of life when
life was in the world and all the world was young.
Paris when your skies are greying, how many of us know you? Do we know
your Rue du Pont Neuf, with its silent melodrama under the dawning
heavens, or do we know only the farce of your Montmartre? Do we know the
drama of your Comptoir, of your Rue Montorgueil, when your skies are
faintly lighting, or do we know only the burlesque of your Maxim's and
your Catelans? Do we, when the week's work of your humbler people is
done, see the laughter in dancing eyes in the Rue Mouffetard or, in the
revel of your Saturday night, do we see only the belladonna'd leer of
the drabs in the Place Pigalle? Do we hear the romance of your
concertinas setting thousands of hobnailed boots a-clatter with
Terpsichore in the Boulevard de la Chapelle, in Polonceau and Myrrha, or
do we hear only your union orchestra soughing through Mascagni in the
Cafe de Paris? Do we know the romance of your peoples or the romance of
your restaurateurs? Which? I wonder.
* * * * *
Paris has changed ... it isn't the Paris of other days ... and
Paquerette, little Easter daisy in whose lips new worlds were born to
you, little flower of France the music and perfume of whose youth are
yours still to remember through the guerrilla warfare of the mounting
years--little Paquerette is dead. And you are old now and married, and
there are the children to look out for--they're at the school age--and
life's quondam melody is full of rests and skies are not always as blue
as once they were. And Paris, four thousand miles beyond the seas--Paris
isn't what it used to be!
[Illustration: PARIS]
But Paris is. For Paris is not a city--it is Youth. And Youth never
dies. To Youth, while youth is in the arteries, Paris is ever Paris,
a-throb with dreams, a-dream with love, a-love with triumphs to be
triumphed o'er. The Paris of Villon and Murger and Du Maurier is still
there by the Seine: it is only Villon and Murger and Du Maurier who are
not. And if your Paquerette is gone forever, there is Zinette--some
other fellow's Paquerette--in her place. And to him new worlds are born
in her lips even as new worlds were born to you in the kisses of
another's yesterday ... and the music and the perfume of Zinette's youth
shall, too, be rosemary some day to this other.
The only thing that changes in Paris is the Paris of the Americans,
that foul swelling at the Carrara throat of Youth's fairyland. It is
this Paris, cankered with the erosions of foreign gold and foreign itch,
that has placed "souvenirs" on sale at the Tomb of Napoleon, that vends
obscenities on the boulevards, that has raised the price of
bouillabaisse to one franc fifty, that has installed ice cream at the
Brasserie Zimmer, that has caused innumerable erstwhile respectable
French working girls to don short yellow skirts, stick roses in their
mouths, wield castanets and become Spanish dancers in the restaurants.
It is this Paris that celebrates the hour of the aperitif with Bronx
cocktails and "stingers," that has put Chicken a la King on the menu of
the Soufflet, that has enabled the _ober-kellner_ of Ledoyen to purchase
a six-cylinder Benz, that has introduced forks in the Rue Falguiere,
that has made the _beguins_ at the annual Quat'-z-Arts ball conscious of
the visibility of their legs. It is this Paris that puts on evening
clothes in order to become properly soused at Maxim's and cast confetti
at the Viennese Magdalenes, that fights the cabmen, that sings "We Won't
Go Home Till Morning" at the Catelan, that buys a set of Maupassant in
the original French (and then can't read it), that sits in front of the
Cafe de la Paix reading the New York _Morning Telegraph_ and wondering
what Jake and the rest of the gang are doing back home, that gives the
Pittsburgh high sign to every good-looking woman walking on the
boulevards in the belief that all French women are in the constant state
of desiring a liaison, that callouses its hands in patriotic music hall
applause for that great American, Harry Pilcer, that trips the turkey
trot with all the Castle interpolations at the Tabarin. It is this Paris
that changes year by year--from bad to worse. It is this Paris that
remembers Gaby Deslys and forgets Cecile Sorel, that remembers Madge
Lessing and arches its eyebrow in interrogation as to Marie Leconte.
This is the Paris of Sniff and Snicker, this the Paris of New York.
But the other Paris, the Paris of the canorous night, the Paris of the
Parisians! The little studio in the Rue Leopold Robert ... Alinette and
Reine and Renee ... the road to Auteuil under the moon-shot baldaquin of
French stars ... the crowd in the old gathering place in the Boulevard
Raspail ... the music of the heathen streets ... dawn in the Gardens of
the Luxembourg....
Yes, there's a Paris that never changes. Always it's there for some one,
some one still young, still dreaming, still with eyes that sweep the
world with youth's wild ambitions. Always it's there, across the seas,
for some one--maybe no longer you and me, exiles of the years in this
far-away America--but still for some one younger, some one for whom the
loves and adventures and the hazards of life are still so all-wondrous,
so all-worth-while, so almighty. But, however old, however hardened by
the trickeries of passing decades, those who have loved Paris, those to
whom Paris has lifted her lips in youth, these never say good-bye to
her. For in their hearts sings on her romance, for in their hearts march
on the million memories of her gipsy days and nights.
THE END
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| Transcriber's Notes: |
| |
| Page 54: Dome amended to Dome |
| Page 58: Kartnerring amended to Kaertnerring; italics to |
| "and" removed ("and kaisersemmln") |
| Page 75: Therese amended to Therese |
| Page 76: _et al_ amended to _et al._ |
| Page 90: Yodlers _sic_ |
| Page 91: jadded amended to jaded |
| Page 103: _maesse_ and _pince-nez sic_ |
| Page 119: _jevousaime sic_ |
| Page 120: Catelan amended to Catelan |
| Page 122: _pere_ amended to _pere_; |
| meaningfull _sic_ |
| Page 134: Montmarte amended to Montmartre |
| Page 158: _Suates_ amended to _Sautes_ |
| Page 194: speakeasys _sic_ |
| Page 205: _viola_ amended to _voila_ |
| Page 210: _suede sic_ |
| Page 220: _apertif_ amended to _aperitif_ |
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| Where there is an equal number of instances of a word |
| being hyphenated and unhyphenated, or an equal number of |
| instances of a spelling of a word, both versions have |
| been retained: oberkellner/ober-kellner; |
| Max-Joseph-Platz/Max-Joseph-platz; and |
| Johannisberger/Johannesberger. |
| |
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