Mayfair and Montmartre

•

MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

FANCIES, FASHIONS, AND FADS
THE MERRY PAST

EDITED BY RALPH NEVILL

THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF
LADY DOROTHY NEVILL

KOYAI, WEDDING GROU

21ST MARCH, 1863

MAYFAIR AND
MONTMARTRE

BY

RALPH NEVILL

AUTHOR OP

"TUB MERRY PAST," «TC., ETC.

WITH EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS

NEW YORK

E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

CONTENTS

PACK

I, VICTORIAN DAYS ..... i
II. THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR . . .21

III. THE 'EIGHTIES . . . . .44

IV. SOCIAL CHANGES ... .65
V. ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE . . 83

VI. THE HEART OF MAYFAIR . . . .98

VII. THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON . . .116

VIII. BOHEMIAN DAYS . . . . .140

IX. PARIS AFTER THE WAR . . . l6l

X. CAFES WITHOUT CANT . . . .182

XI. MONTMARTRE ..... 2OI

XII. FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR . . * 223

INDEX . . . « . . . 245

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

ROYAL WEDDING GROUP, aisx MARCH 1863 . Frontispiece

From a photograph by Mayall &• Co.

FACING PAGE

AN EARLY VICTORIAN DINNER-PARTY . . .46

From "Birds-eye Views of Modern Seciety? by Richard Deylt

A FAIR LONDONER .„_ . . .82

Fr»m a photograph by Malcolm Arluthnct

BERKELEY SQUARE ..... 92

From a scarce print

SHEPHERD MARKET . .... 106

From a photograph

A FAIR PARISIENNE . . . . -.166

From a photograph

THE MOULIN ROUGE . . . . .214

After the Painting by F. Giusto

THE DEMON OF NOTRE DAME . . . . 242

Fr«m a photograph ty Crftt (Neurdtin), Parit

MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

VICTORIAN DAYS

EVERY age — every decade — has its own peculiar
atmosphere, for the most part very dimly
realized by those who live in it.

The atmosphere of the easy-going Victorian Era
differed very materially from that of to-day, not merely
because the war has disorganized everything and every-
body, but because existence was then strongly permeated
by customs and traditions which have totally vanished.

The West End, and in particular Mayfair, was still
supreme in politics. The aristocracy, whilst their privi-
leges had been curtailed, continued to enjoy great power
in social matters, and though no longer as wealthy as in
former days, for the most part were not obliged to go
into the City or into trade.

Queen Victoria, leading a decorous, dull, and more or
less secluded life, enjoyed a position to which no parallel
at present exists.

Highly respected at home and abroad, her influence,
in an unobtrusive but effective way, extended far beyond
the confines of the British Empire, and was an imper-
ceptible though stable guarantee of peace.

For a period up to 1865 England was incontestably
the greatest Power in Europe and in the World. The
consolidation of the United States and the establish-
ment of the German Empire in some slight degree
impaired this supremacy, but up to the very end of her

T I

2 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

reign the old Queen enjoyed an unequalled share of
authority.

In old age it was difficult to realize that her little
unobtrusive, though dignified, figure had been associated
with countless scenes of pomp and pageantry, including
a coronation which had been quite theatrical.

According to the account given in the Morning Post,
in the finest theatre in the world it would have been
difficult to have arranged anything capable of producing
the same effect.

The Westminster boys hailed the Queen with noisy
shouts of " Regina Victoria." The Times, which de-
voted thirty-three columns to the ceremony, stated
that a more murderous scream of recognition was never
before heard by civilized ears.

The newspapers on this occasion outdid all previous
efforts in publication, an evening paper called the Sun
even publishing a special Coronation number, price six-
pence, printed in gold.

The modern Sun, it is curious to note, was the only
evening paper to appear on the day of the Queen's
funeral.

In those days the attitude of the West End towards
the Press was not always friendly. Mayf air had a dread
of its doings getting into the papers.

The editor of the Observer, Mr Dowling, wishing to
take a view of the procession from the roof of Apsley
House, having applied to the Duke of Wellington for
permission, received the following reply : —

" Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington has received
a letter signed Vincent Dowling. The Duke has no
knowledge of the letter, neither is he interested in any
way in the Observer newspaper.

" Apsley House is not a public building, but the Duke's
private residence, and he declines to allow any stranger
to go upon the roof."

On the other hand, the Globe announced that one noble

VICTORIAN DAYS 3

lord had been detected advertising an order of admission,
which had been presented to him, for sale.

The ticket was stopped, and the twenty-five guineas
paid for it had to be refunded.

When the Prince of Wales grew to man's estate the
attitude of Society towards the Press considerably
softened. Unequalled at saying and doing the right thing,
he smoothed away many social asperities, while his
beautiful young wife, who as Queen Alexandra happily
still survives, won all hearts from her marriage day.

The wedding at Windsor, on 2ist March 1863, was a
very fine affair. Queen Victoria was very anxious that
an old shoe should be thrown at the pair at their departure,
and the Lord Chamberlain accordingly furnished himself
with a beautiful white satin slipper, presented for the
occasion by the Duchess of Brabant. Alas, when the
hour arrived his courage failed him and no slipper
was thrown.

Even amid the wedding festivities the memory of her
beloved consort seems to have taken the first place in
the Queen's mind, for, dressed in deep mourning,1 she was
photographed gazing at Prince Albert's bust, the newly-
wedded couple, seemingly rather embarrassed, standing
close by.

Queen Victoria, by all accounts, had not a very great
sense of humour, nevertheless she has been credited with
making a joke. On the birth of the Prince of Wales, it
is said the bulletin ran : " Her Majesty and the Prince
are perfectly well." When this was shown to the Queen
by Prince Albert, previous to its publication, she said with
a laugh : " My dear, this will never do." " Why not ? "
asked the Prince. " Because," replied the Queen, " it
conveys the idea that you were confined also." Prince
Albert was a little dumbfounded, but the bulletin was
altered to : " Her Majesty and the infant Prince are
perfectly well."

1 See frontispiece.

4 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

On the occasion of an heir to the throne being born,
it was the custom to fire guns at the Tower and in the
Park, and it being suggested that the Park guns should
not fire lest the noise should disturb Her Majesty, the
latter said : " Oh ! no, let them fire : I should like to
hear them." As she showed on many occasions, Queen
Victoria did not suffer from nerves.

Most royalties have a peculiar kind of naive simplicity,
from which the Empress of India was not entirely exempt.

Speaking of Cecil Rhodes, who had just paid a visit
to Windsor, she said : " People declare he is not polite
to women ; all I can say is, he wasn't rude to me."

Great formality prevailed at Victorian Court enter-
tainments, at which, according to a certain section of
the Press, Art, Science, and Literature were scarcely
allowed adequate representation.

Describing a ball at Buckingham Palace in 1858 a
critic said : " Peering attentively through the glitter and
glare of the scene, we can discern among the gay throng
ministers of state, members of parliament, a few men of
science — very few — a painter or two — not more, certainly
— and we were going to say some literary men, but the
only persons of that class we can detect are Lord
Macaulay, looking very cross and bored ; Disraeli, very
pale and flaccid, with his sword between his legs ; and
Sir Bulwer Lytton, admiring his diamond buckles and
trying to remember the names and geographical position
of the colonies which he governs. Of course he can't.
No, the Queen does not invite literary men. There is
a painter, though — Sir Edwin Landseer ; he has been
up this morning making a sketch of the Princess Alice's
new puppy, and now he has his reward. The M.C. gives
him shrivelled wall-flowers to dance with at the further
end. Here is a sight ! Lord Palmerston, Lord John,
Mr Disraeli, Mr Walpole, and the Duke of Malakoff all
talking together in a corner. The posse breaks up
presently, and the pudgy little Duke strolls up towards

VICTORIAN DAYS 5

royalty. Lord Palmerston takes a seat, Lord John
sidles out into an ante-room to go home, and the Tory
colleagues are left talking until the next quadrille, when
Mr Disraeli takes out Mrs Walpole, and Mr Walpole does
the like by Mrs Disraeli. The Queen retires soon after
supper, and the dancing goes on with a little more
spirit."

Though the Court cannot be said to have been very
intellectual or artistic, from a moral point of view it was
absolutely above suspicion.

To foreigners it seemed really miraculous that, in a
country which was governed by a Queen, and one who had
inherited the crown at an early age, there had never been
any question of Court or other intrigues which influenced
the conduct of public affairs. This may have been merely
by accident, or partly owing to the coldness of the blood
which runs in the veins of English women. Nevertheless,
the latter had been vivacious enough in the olden times,
when the ladies of Whitehall made history in as shameless
a manner as any of their sex had done in the Tuileries
or at Versailles. Whatever the cause, it had been re-
served for the nineteenth century to create a Woman's
Court, which excluded all love-intrigues, female inter-
ference, quarrels and corruption.

In France such a thing would have been impossible,
consequently the Queen of England and her entourage
were always something of a puzzle to the French, who
did not understand how such a state of affairs could
exist.

Queen Victoria adequately reflected the average English
attitude towards music and art.

Obvious sentiment strongly appealed to her, and,
frankly indifferent to the daedalian discords of the
Wagnerian school, above all things she liked a good tune.

Hearing, on one occasion, the band of the Royal Horse
Guards playing a medley on the terrace at Windsor,
she was so much pleased with a certain tune as to com-

6 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

mand a repetition, at the same time expressing a wish
to know its name.

Only after some hesitation did the official whom she
entrusted with this investigation pluck up courage coyly
to murmur, " Come where the booze is cheaper." This
was a music-hall ditty of the day sung by that admirable
comedian Mr Charles Coborn, who gained such popularity
with the " Man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo."

The personality of the Queen did not seem one likely
to be associated with either imagination or romance,
nevertheless both dignified her last farewell to her
favourite Minister, Lord Beaconsfield, as he lay in his
grave.

She had parted from him at Windsor on December
loth, 1880, when he had driven all the way from Windsor
to his home at Hughenden.

Four days after his funeral in April 1881, as Mr Buckle
in his admirable " Life of Disraeli " describes, the Queen
made a pilgrimage to Hughenden churchyard, following
exactly the same route, while even taking care to tread
in the path by which the great statesman's body had been
borne to the grave. She had the vault re-opened in order
in person to lay a wTeath upon the coffin within.

The monument in Hughenden Church, placed there,
as its inscription runs, " to the dear and honoured
memory of Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield, by his grateful
Sovereign and friend Victoria R.I., — Kings love him
that speaketh right," remains as an enduring memorial
of Royal love and esteem.

The Queen was exceedingly tenacious of her privileges,
none of which she ever forgot.

In the 'nineties, for instance, she created quite a sen-
sation amongst the riders in Rotten Row by driving
down the Ride — a privilege which the English Sovereign
shares with the Duchess of St Albans, whose husband
is hereditary Grand Falconer.

By that time the Row was already a less patrician

VICTORIAN DAYS 7

resort than it had been in the days when the Iron Duke
was to be seen riding at a slow pace, his top hat pushed
back that the white hair on his temples might have the
benefit of the breeze, his head bent forward, the keenness
of the eyes half-dimmed, his cheeks sunken, wrinkles
round his mouth, his aquiline nose bony and protruding
— there was, however, always a look of dignity about
the aged figure which well became the victor of Waterloo.

When the old Duke went out driving he did so in an
open carriage composed of two gigs, one behind the other,
the rear gig being attached to the fore gig by a hook and
staple like a gun-carriage. His Grace in this way only
had a coachman and no footman. The fashionable
bachelor's vehicle at that time was a cabriolet, with a
high-stepping horse, and a very small tiger hanging on
behind.

The aristocracy then had only family chariots or coaches
with steps to let down from inside, and it was universal
to have a footman, and often two, standing on a board
at the back. Physicians used to drive about in chariots,
and Dr Locock, afterwards Sir Charles, was the first to
dispense with a second man, his plan being to use a very
high Victoria with a solid apron, which he could throw
open and by one fixed step reach the pavement.

At the beginning of Queen Victoria's reign the hackney
carriages which plied for hire were generally super-
annuated family coaches with steps to let down, drawn
by a pair of horses, and the fare is. a mile. The only
hack cabs were like a modern gig with a hood, on very
high wheels, and on the right-hand side outside the gig
body was a very small square ledge on which the driver
sat. Accidents with these cabs were very frequent,
from the horses falling, collisions, and other casualties.
The fares were 8d. a mile, an arrangement giving rise to
constant altercations when settling the fare. Hansom
cabs were first brought out about 1840, and were called
Patent Safety. They soon became very popular.

8 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Most of the old school being firmly imbued with the
idea that England was going to the dogs, new inventions
failed to arouse their enthusiasm and a number declined
to make use of them. An opponent of railways said :
" I used to consider a journey as an agreeable relaxation.
Instead of being treated like a parcel, as I am now, and
trundled into a carriage, and driven along willy-nilly
at whatever pace and to whatever place they choose to
take me, I could go eight or ten miles an hour along
excellent roads, stay at excellent inns, could stop when
convenient, and sleep whenever I chose."

In hackney coaches and cabs it was universal to have
an armful of straw in the well. Thackeray remarks on
the distress of an otherwise smart bachelor entering a
room with a straw sticking to his shoe.

To-day such an idea appears absurd and even snobbish,
but the whole mental outlook as regards social matters
was then peculiar. A certain section of the aristocracy,
for instance, considered itself as being almost of different
clay from ordinary mortals.

Certain great ladies lived in a sort of stately isolation
from the outer world which produced a superb com-
placency of an astounding kind.

" There may be better-looking women than myself,"
said a beautiful Duchess of Portland. " All I can say is
I have never seen them."

The unique advantages formerly enjoyed by the upper
class sometimes engendered a mental attitude of a curious
kind. The Duchess of Devonshire and other great
beauties of the eighteenth century, it has been aptly said,
regarded Dr Johnson and other very gifted men of
non-aristocratic birth much as they might have done
highly intelligent Newfoundland dogs. Besides great
pride, a curious sort of disdain was not uncommon.

Byron's daughter, the first Lady Lovelace, being asked
how she liked the sea which broke on the coast below
her new home, replied : " I simply detest it, because it

VICTORIAN DAYS 9

reminds me of an old governess of mine who was my
especial bete noir."

This Lady Lovelace's son was the late Earl, a most
cultivated and clever man, who wrote " Astarte," a
curious work dealing with his grandfather the poet,
which has aroused a good deal of controversy.

Mrs Beecher Stowe took up the cudgels very warmly
for the poet's wife and attracted a good deal of attention
by writing " Lady Byron Vindicated," a carefully written
refutation of which by the late Poet Laureate, Mr Alfred
Austin, was published in the Standard.

Whether Mrs Beecher Stowe was right or wrong there
is no doubt anything connected with sentimentalism
made a great appeal to her.

Carlyle somewhat harshly called her " a poor foolish
woman who wrote a book of wretched trash called ' Uncle
Tom's Cabin/ " This was at the Grange, after he had
been scandalising Lady Ashburton by defending slavery,
while Mrs Carlyle sat quietly in a corner busy with her
embroidery.

The Victorian Era produced some old ladies of quite
astounding appearance. Such a one was Maria, Mar-
chioness of Ailesbury, who to the end of her life sported
a mass of corkscrew ringlets, which fell in abundant
masses around her aquiline and commanding profile. In
great request in society, she frankly declared that she
would go to no country house unless she could stay a
fortnight, as otherwise " it would not pay her." She
lunched and dined out to such an extent that it was
currently reported that she herself kept no cook. Her
only extravagance was engaging tall footmen — any
man about six feet high who attracted her attention
being promptly engaged, no matter what his character
might be.

There were certain strange contradictions in the very
exclusive society of that day.

It was curious, for instance, that both Lady Molesworth

10 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

and Lady Waldegrave, who were such prominent social
figures, were not of aristocratic birth.

Lady Molesworth, ill-natured people said, had been a
circus rider, while Lady Waldegrave was the daughter of
old Braham the singer and not a bit ashamed of her
origin. She would often jokingly say, when present at
a party at which any curious or unknown people were
amongst the guests, " I am sure every one will say they
are some of my vulgar relatives."

This lady spent huge sums on the decoration or rather
destruction of Strawberry Hill.

Shade of Horace Walpole ! what artistic atrocities she
committed !

The poor lady, however, was not alone in this line, for
at that time much fine Georgian decorative work was
being destroyed in the stately mansions of Mayfair.

People who were ahead of their time occasionally tried
to arrest the hand of the destroyer, but the old school,
once they had made up their mind, preferred even
sturdily to be wrong than weakly to be right.

So-called Metropolitan improvements then generally
evoked opposition.

A critic in 1867, after declaring that the Embankment
beyond Blackfriars did not exist even in mind, went
on to say : " The whole thing promises to be a failure.
In a small matter swindle would be the correct term.
But larger things never descend to little names ; and
if every householder in London is paying an exorbitant
rate for these improvements, let him comfort himself
at least with the reflection that he is buying experience ,
or something equally useful, for posterity. It is perhaps
difficult to hit on any satisfactory way of punishing the
fools — for it is to be presumed that British thick-headed-
ness is somewhere at the bottom of the matter — who have
wasted the public money and patience in a bungling
enterprise. One idea, however, does suggest itself,
and, as it may be worth something, here it is : let it then

VICTORIAN DAYS 11

be given out forthwith that a London statue will be
immediately erected to the memory of every one dis-
tinguishing himself by any notorious bit of insanity in
connection with this metropolitan work."

During the Mid-Victorian period a craze prevailed
for the Gothic style, which, being but imperfectly under-
stood, resulted in the erection of a number of monstrous
edifices, amongst which perhaps it would be unkind to
include St Pancras Station, in a number of respects a copy
of the Cloth Hall at Ypres.

The design was originally intended for the new Foreign
Office at Whitehall.

During a debate in the House of Commons, Lord
Palmerston once uttered the dictum that the Gothic
style was altogether unsuitable to modern wants. In
illustration of his views, the noble lord said that Somerset
House was a much handsomer building than the new
Houses of Parliament at Westminster. And a certain
number of people agreed with him. " People of taste,"
said a writer in the Press, " profess to be very much
shocked at this avowal, which is no doubt flat heresy
from an artistic point of view; but those who value
simplicity and convenience in a building will probably
argue with Lord Palmerston that a building like Somerset
House is much more suitable for a place of business than
the Westminster Palace." This view prevailed as to the new
Foreign Office, which was constructed as we see it to-day.

The modern Admiralty, close by, according to a story
for which the writer will not vouch, has an amusing
origin. The architect who had been commissioned to
prepare the designs for the new building was at the
same time engaged planning a new lunatic asylum.

Summoned suddenly to Windsor to show Queen
Victoria his drawings, he took with him by mistake those
for the asylum. This he only discovered when Her
Majesty, to whom he had handed his portfolio, expressed
herself highly pleased.

12 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

As she approved very much of the design, nothing more
was to be done, and the Admiralty as it stands to-day
was constructed on the plans made for the asylum.

In addition to erecting a number of buildings and
churches in the pseudo-Gothic style, the Victorians spoilt
a number of the latter. Owing to the craze for substi-
tuting modern imitations of Gothic for fine Jacobean and
Georgian work, restorers, besides destroying much price-
less woodwork, robbed hundreds of grey old churches of
their ancient charm. Even when judicious, the result
was rarely satisfactory ; for whilst the outward form
was destroyed the inward spirit which had animated the
old builders was generally lost.

Enormous sums may be spent in the erection of build-
ings in the style of a long-past age, nevertheless there is
little charm in architectural structures, of which we have
seen the stones placed one by one, comparable to the
charm of ancient monuments, filled with memorials of a
chivalry long passed away.

Many residents in Mayfair considered it their own
especial domain. My own mother was somewhat imbued
with this spirit, which made her bitterly resent any out-
side interference to abate what most modern people
consider nuisances.

Attempts to hush the time-honoured noises of Mayfair
never gained her support.

The bell of the muffin man and the cries of itinerant
vendors, growing rarer year by year, rang pleasantly in
the ears of an older generation, recalling, as they did,
memories of a pleasant childhood.

Street music, she would admit, was a more doubtful
amenity ; nevertheless, she rather liked it, and at that
time she was not alone in doing so.

During the 'eighties a resident in Charles Street, Berkeley
Square, became so angry at the efforts of a neighbour to
banish some itinerant musicians, that he eventually had
them up on his balcony to play there !

VICTORIAN DAYS 13

Though Mayfair could not be said to have been very
musical during the Victorian Era, very agreeable little
musical evenings were at one time given by Lord Chief
Justice Sir Alexander Cockburn, whose passion for music
Hayward called " professional taste," because, as he
said, another Lord Chief Justice — Lord Tenterden — used
to declare that having in youth failed in a competition
for a chorister's place, he had consoled himself for the
failure by getting called to the Bar.

Abraham Hayward, with an unlimited repertory of
incidents concerning the people who were prominent in
society and politics, had a great reputation as a raconteur.
He had been a distinguished scholar and epicure, had
travelled widely, and was equally at home in the French
and English capitals. All the celebrated restaurants,
chefs, and maitres-d'hotel of Paris were familiar to
him. Last, but not least, he possessed a marvellous
memory to recall the people he had met, and the dinners
and festivities at which he had assisted in vanished
days.

Nevertheless, in his last years Hayward was looked
upon as something of a social nuisance.

Whilst out of touch with the times he was always ready,
as he himself confessed, to drink any quantity of given
port, and failed to fall in with the more abstemious habits
of a younger generation.

Hosts and hostesses of the past delighted in gathering
together people of conversational power, and for this
reason certain individuals whose sole credentials were
their wit were accorded considerable licence.

Though people did not pose as being cultured, intellect
was not lacking among them. The octaves, or dinners of
eight, given by the late Sir Henry Thompson, beside*
being excellent from a gastronomical point of view, were
also intellectual feasts.

Good talkers were highly appreciated during the
Victorian Era. Certain individuals, owing to their con-

14 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

versational brilliancy, in a way dominated society, and
•were allowed great licence.

Such a one was Bernal Osborne, whose incisive wit was
prone to be exercised at the expense of a butt in a
manner which would not be tolerated to-day.

On the other hand, the general level of conversation
has undoubtedly deteriorated, and if it had not, it is
doubtful whether even an exceptionally gifted talker
would be able to keep people from the allurements of
the Bridge which now takes up so much of their time.

Sitting after lunch and dinner in Victorian days was
often a trying experience, old gentlemen having a habit
of telling long and tedious stories to anyone who seemed
to be a fit subject for the cruel experiment.

Certain well-known bores indeed enjoyed a sort of
privileged position which no one thought of resenting,
and became accepted as features of social life. To-day
there would be few ready to tolerate the atmosphere of
mental toothache which the type in question produces.
The dominance of such nuisances has happily become
a thing of the past.

On the other hand, there is no doubt but that there are
more prigs about to-day than was the case in former
times — the tendencies of the modern world encourage
these social pests.

A boy of good mental attainments who, having been
spoilt at home does well at school, where he is taken up
by the masters, runs special risks of being attacked by
the malady.

It is well to realise exactly what a prig is. In Webster's
New International Dictionary a prig is defined as —

" One narrowly and self-consciously engrossed in his

own mental or spiritual attainments, one guilty of

moral or intellectual foppery ; a conceited precisian."

In " Slang and its Analogies " (edited by John S.

Farmer and W. E. Henley, MCMII), a prig is described as —

" A superior person, i.e. a person esteeming himself

VICTORIAN DAYS 15

superior in dress, morals, social standing, anything,

and behaving as such. Also a bore."

The true prig is deliberately and aggressively superior.
He is never, of course, genial or hearty, and of necessity
bereft of any keen sense of humour, which is a powerful
antidote to priggism.

The true prig usually looks up at the ceiling when talk-
ing to you, and is rather apt to sink his voice at the end
of his sentences. He frequently does not appear to have
heard what has been said to him, an affectation which
merely indicates that he has not thought it worth while
to attend.

The pathetic thing is that highly gifted and clever
people are just as apt to fall victims to the unpleasant
disorder of priggism as stupid ones — rather more apt, in
fact. Complete recovery is rare, but sufferers exposed
to drastic treatment have been known to improve.

Courtesy and consideration were better nurtured under
old-fashioned conditions than in these days of haste and
speed, while there was then ample time for that tranquil
reflection which imparts a spirit of real culture to the
community able to indulge in it.

The way of leisure to anyone with brains should be
the way of thought, the promotion of which should be the
end of all true education.

The real gentleman of the old school was polite
to all.

Nor did English aristocracy of the past attempt to
dazzle or to awe people or to make them envious. They
were too sure of their position to be tempted to advertise
it, except when giving grand entertainments. Most of
them, unlike some of our modern mushroom moneybag
peers, were not ostentatious in their ways.

The publicity propaganda which is now so frequently
employed by ambitious individuals was then unheard of ;
and if it had existed, the really big men of that era would
have been too proud to make use of it.

16 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Those who thought that the door to social success was
labelled " push " were apt to receive stern rebuffs.

" I had the pleasure recently of passing your house,"
said a nouveau riche to an old nobleman. " I am glad
of it, sir, and hope you will always continue to do so,"
was the reply.

In those days when the middle classes were on their
social promotion some of them were glad enough even to
be snubbed by the right people.

Not a few of the great territorial magnates were stern,
serious men who, as they themselves would have said,
stood no nonsense."

Such a one was the host who, very precise about
religious observances, was told by a lady staying with
him that as she had practically decided to become a
Catholic she must beg to be excused from going to church
on the coming Sunday.

" A Catholic church," was the reply, " is about twenty
miles off, but my carriage and horses will be ready a little
after daybreak, when I shall expect you to be ready " ;
and she had to go.

On the whole the great landowners were not unkindly
men.

Not a few made a point of entertaining all the country-
side, while showing extraordinary solicitude for their
dependants.

Writing in 1834, Charles Greville described the relations
between Lord Egremont and his tenants as being cordial
to an extraordinary degree.

A tenants' festival, at which the diarist assisted,
greatly impressed him. Four thousand invitations had
been issued, but about double that number came. Old
Lord Egremont, not being able to endure the thought
that there should be anybody hungering outside his gates,
went out, ordered the barriers to be taken down, and
admittance given to all.

The peer in question, besides being a munificent

VICTORIAN DAYS 17

patron of the arts, and a sportsman, gave away about
£20,000 a year in charity. He was, of course, enormously
rich ; nevertheless, few wealthy men have probably
been anything like as generous to the poor and needy.
Old Lord Egremont, and many other kind-hearted
aristocrats who delighted in relieving distress, belonged,
however, to the old school of Englishmen who looked
rather askance at organised charities.

The difference between the fine old English noblemen
and their successors was well shown by a remark made
by the son of a universally popular peer who in his day
had enjoyed great influence in the district, where he was
known as a good fellow and first- rate sportsman.

One who remembered the father was telling the son
of the former's generosity.

" Your father," said he, " ordered the officers of his
yeomanry to give a ball, but took care to pay every
penny of the expenses himself.

" He kept a large number of saddle horses in London,
and when he met young men he knew up in town from the
country, gave them mounts to ride in the Row."

" More damned fool he ! " said the son.

No wonder the latter was not popular.

While a number managed their estates well a good many
old Victorian peers and landowners were great muddlers
in matters of business. Probably those who did best
were the ones who left the management of their fortune
and estates in the hands of solicitors and agents. The
latter, however, often feathered their nests as did their
predecessors of the eighteenth century, a few of whom
accumulated sufficient lands and money to become
elevated into the Peerage.

There were landowners in the past who, leaving their
affairs entirely in the hands of the family lawyer, had their
own money doled out to them rather as if so doing was
a favour.

Some practically lived as if on an allowance from this
2

18 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

personage, whom minor members of the family approached
with feelings bordering upon awe.

When an eldest son got into financial trouble he was
usually sent to his father's lawyer to get him out of it
or leave him in as the case might be. As a rule, however,
after a severe talking-to, the spendthrift was extricated.

In some cases, where arrangements to pay off debts
had to be made, a father would join with his son in a
resettlement, it being understood that he should receive
a financial quid pro quo for what he consented to do.
Many fathers were as improvident as their sons — some
worse. Cases indeed were not unknown where a father
persuaded a too chivalrous son to enter into an arrange-
ment by which the former's debts might be paid out of
the family estate.

Sons who refused to agree to anything of the sort
were apt to be denounced as unnatural and ungrateful
children.

Family lawyers often knew far more about a family
than did its various members ; also it was not uncommon
for one firm to have acted as legal advisers to a family
for several generations. That of course was in the old
easy-going days when lawyers thought nothing of not
answering a letter for a week or two, being of opinion,
no doubt, that as the purport of most letters was a request
for money, it was just as well not to encourage clients to
write too many.

At funerals and weddings the family lawyer was an
indispensable attendant and was treated with deference.

Some of them had a difficult time keeping estates
together, for the landowners of the past were often very
reckless in their youth.

Considering the folly of their clients and the great
opportunities afforded to lawyers for making money
out of them, the latter, with of course a few exceptions,
behaved in an honourable and honest fashion.

Compared with that of some other countries the

VICTORIAN DAYS 19

English aristocracy has never been rapacious in the way
of battening upon public funds, nevertheless snug berths
in Government offices were once easily accessible to its
offspring.

A great Whig peer having dictated his will to his
lawyer, the latter pointed out to him that he had made
.no provision for his younger sons. " Sir," replied the
hereditary law-giver, " my country has provided for
the younger male scions of our family for the last three
generations, and shall I begin to doubt her gratitude ? "
No doubt this touching instance of simple faith had its
Teward.

Old aristocracies from their very nature must include
a number of persons unable to realise facts, which was
probably the reason why children destined to great
wealth and high position so seldom received a suitable
education.

The chronicle of the many old English families which
have gone to ruin through a spendthrift's folly makes
pathetic reading.

A notable instance was Mytton of Halston, a semi-
lunatic who, by all accounts, ought to have been placed
under control. Right up to the present time the same
kind of thing went on. Witness Windham of Felbrigg,
who in the 'sixties by maniacal extravagance managed
to alienate the lands and mansion which for centuries
had been the pride of his race. And the fourth Marquis
of Ailesbury, whose ambition it was to be taken for a
bus-driver !

All over England old families are now parting with
their domains, and in the course of half a century or so
their very names will be forgotten in districts where their
ancestors lived for centuries.

The memory of territorial magnates soon fades away.

A genealogist searching in Derbyshire for relics of the
once great family of Finderne found no record or trace of
their vanished splendour.

20 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

In the village close to what had been their splendid
abode, however, an old rustic volunteered to show the site
where the manor house had stood. Leading the student
into a field the man pointed out faint traces of terrace
and foundation. " There," said he, pointing to a bank
of garden flowers grown wild, " these are Finderne flowers,
brought by Sir Geoffrey from the Holy Land, and the folks
here say that they will never die."

II

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR

MAYFAIR, even thirty years ago, retained much
of the air of ease and repose for which the
district had been noted.

No omnibuses were allowed to pass through these
streets, and few costermongers or sellers of fruit, onions,
oysters, and fish found their way into these regions.

Meanwhile the exterior of the most of the old Georgian
mansions remained unchanged.

Hatchments, however, which at an earlier period were
so often hung on houses where people had died, were
already practically obsolete, though I fancy one or two
might have been discovered up to the end of the last
century.

House decoration was then at a low ebb, and living
rooms for the most part were lacking in taste or
charm. The Victorians, many as were their merits, did
not appreciate art.

A mania prevailed for painting halls an ugly brown,
and fine mahogany doors were often disfigured by coats
•of paint.

Many of these houses, picturesque as they often were,
had their own peculiar drawbacks. Those which could
boast a bathroom were very few in number, whilst in
the 'forties and 'fifties, and even later, such conveniences
were practically unknown. Often, indeed, there were
no big baths at all, ablutions being performed in the
so-called foot-baths, which were a sort of cross between
a wine cooler and a soup tureen. At the same time it
must be added that people were probably not so very

22 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

much dirtier than they are to-day, for the modern practice
of lying in hot water need not necessarily be any more
cleansing than the vigorous rubbing of a soaped flannel,
the proper application of which once formed an important
part of a child's education.

The Victorians, while making no pretence of being
artistic, went in solely for comfort.

Their drawing-rooms as a rule were overcrowded with
furniture, ornaments and pictures, most of which were
bad, though there were generally a few fine things
which through being obscured by rubbish attracted no
attention.

Little interest was taken in the various styles ; fine
French furniture, on account of the brightness of its gold
mounts, many people considered vulgar.

The aesthetic movement, though satirized in " Patience,"
put an end to this state of affairs, and since then taste
has undoubtedly improved.

The exclusive society of the West End was still mainly
patrician, and there was much difficulty about getting
into a circle limited by birth.

At the same time it is only fair to remember that
people of real intelligence, men of science and letters,
were welcomed.

Adequately dowered with the world's goods, if not
positively wealthy, with abundance of leisure, a fair
knowledge of the world, good manners and a certain
amount of culture, the dwellers in Mayfair led happy,
comfortable and, on the whole, inoffensive lives. Such
vices as they had were not flaunted in the face of the
general public ; indeed, considering the great social advan-
tages they enjoyed, their existence was surprisingly staid
and decorous, contrasting very favourably with that
of the nobility of other countries. With the rise to
affluence and power of the middle class, however, the
whole social structure of this aristocratic life was pro-
foundly shaken, and once the flood-gates barring out

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 23

the bourgeoisie had been opened, it became manifest
that the sun of aristocratic dominance was about to set.

Speaking of humanity, Chamfort said, " toute notre
malheur vient de ne pas pouvoir rester seul," an aphorism
which in another sense applied to the old-world society
of Mayfair.

From time immemorial, it is true, the aristocracy had
always been glad to marry its sons to the daughters
of wealthy merchants and tradesmen. The com-
mercial brides in question, however, had been absolutely
absorbed into their husband's class, nor did their marriage
facilitate the entry of their middle-class relatives into
patrician circles.

With the coming of the new era, everything changed.
The fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, and often count-
less other relatives, insisted upon being received on the
same footing as the young lady about to regild some
tarnished coronet or rescue from ruin some holder of an
ancient name.

The nouveaux riches of an earlier epoch, even when
admitted into the outskirts of society, had been made
to keep such a place as was deemed to be suitable to
them. For the first time those of the latter portion of
the last century resented such limitations, and in some
cases showed a successful independence which refused
to be curbed.

It was at this period that the forbears of a good many
of the so-called " smart set " sailed out of the sea of
obscurity into the haven of social success.

As the star of the middle-class rose that of the aristo-
cracy declined. While not a few of the old school realized
and deplored this, others joined frantically in the worship
of wealth ; yet another section viewed the situation
philosophically — as they were ready to admit, their order
had had a good innings and now the time had come for
others to have one too.

Society to-day is no longer an institution, being com-

24 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

posed merely of various coteries, mostly consisting of
wealthy but quite unimportant people.

Not so very long ago, the strings of politics were
mainly pulled from Mayfair, which also had a consider-
able say in the distribution of titles and rewards. Society,
therefore, was a serious matter which had to be taken
account of by anyone ambitious of getting on.

The people in it, mainly by right of birth, for the most
part appreciated the privileges they enjoyed, while
recognising that they had responsibilities.

Though no better or worse than the rest of the world,
they had certain social ideals which the majority re-
spected. If they erred they tried to do so in as decorous
a manner as possible ; very few took the surprising
leaps into impropriety so often to be found chronicled
in the newspapers of to-day.

In the matter of morality, society, like the rest of the
world, from generation to generation remains about the
same. The only real difference is a greater or lesser
degree of hypocrisy.

The tone of the old English, who were probably not
more loose than their successors, was essentially robust —
they called a spade a spade and were often quite frank
about their weaknesses.

Lord Palmerston, for instance, was notoriously devoted
to the fair sex. In his youth he was known among the
dames of the fashionable world as " Cupid," because he
had a chubby face, and curly red hair, and a roguish
eye, and had gained the reputation of being " a devil
among the ladies." In old age, it is said, he was hauled
over the coals by Lady Shaftesbury for paying too
marked attention to young married women.

" To begin with," said she, "it is wrong ; secondly, it
is ungentlemanlike ; and lastly, it is stupid, for it can
never succeed."

"As regards the religious aspect," replied the old
statesman, " I admit the practice of the Churches differs.

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 25

The taste is a matter of opinion — I think it most gentle-
manlike. With reference to the results, however, your
Ladyship is totally misinformed, for I have never known
it fail."

" They tell me, Sir George," said a hostess to an old
Baronet, " that you love a glass of wine."

" Madam," was his reply, " those who told you that
•did me an injustice — they should have said a bottle."

The philosophy of some of those old viveurs is well
exemplified by Lord Cholmondeley, who having, when
over seventy, married a girl of twenty-nine, said : * " We
shall probably pass a couple of years tolerably comfort-
ably together, then she will have two more years of
nursing me, and then she will have her jointure."

Another aristocratic stoic would calmly anticipate his
-approaching end and discuss the question of a future
state. " It consoles me," he used to say, " that which-
ever it is to be I have good friends in both places."

Most of these old fellows had led jolly lives.

" When I was a young man," Lord Palmerston used to
say, "the Duke of Wellington made, an appointment
with me for half-past seven in the morning ; and I was
asked, ' Why, Lord Palmerston, how will you contrive
to keep that engagement ? ' ' Oh,' I said, ' of course,
the easiest thing in the world ; I shall keep it the last thing
tefore I go to bed.' "

A curious thing about the past is that the old happy-
go-lucky and undemocratic method of election should
have produced such satisfactory results. The standard
of oratory was high, while dignity and common sense
were not lacking among Members of Parliament.

Though as a legislative body the House of Commons
has on the whole deteriorated since the passing of the
great Reform Bill, elections to-day are less rowdy and
less corrupt. In the early part of the last century they
\vere too often little more than a farce, the polling days
1 Correspondence of Charlotte, Lady Williams Wynn. John Murray.

26 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

being from time immemorial days of feasting, drinking,
and fighting for the lower classes. The want of political
cultivation, ignorance of the important questions at issue,
the indifference and, in many instances, the stupidity
of the people at large, made it a matter of small moment
to them whether the barrel of beer from which they
drank at an election was the gift of charity or the devil's
retaining fee. No hustings without speechifying — no
polling-place without swilling. The witnesses who were
examined by the Election Committees generally confessed
that the candidate, according " to the old-established
custom," behaved like a " gentleman " — that he treated
the electors to ale and gin, shook hands with them, gave
them money, and hired brass bands for their special
gratification.

Honourable members, who were very pathetic on the
neglected education of the people, thought very little
of treating all the inhabitants of their borough to a
preposterous quantity of drink in order to ensure their
re-election.

A curious thing connected with English politics is
that no member who amuses the House of Commons
ever seems to attain high political honours.

Bernal Osborne was perhaps justly regarded mainly
as a political free-lance, but Henry Labouchere was
undoubtedly a man whose brain was equal to that of
the average Cabinet Minister.

In connection with this an old hand at politics once told
a young speaker : " Never make people laugh. If you
would succeed in life, you must be solemn, solemn as an
ass. All the great monuments are built over solemn
asses."

Some of the old school of politicians were very theatrical
in their methods. Lord Brougham, for instance, was
always threatening or praying, or both together ; and
in his speech on the second reading of the Reform Bill he
tried the effect of kneeling by way of giving efficacy to

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 27

the concluding prayer. The experiment was not successful,
and was on the verge of becoming ludicrous. During
a four hours' speech he largely availed himself of the
privileges of the Lords to support his strength and voice
with something stronger than oranges. Five tumblers
full of mulled wine, with a soupc.on of brandy, were brought
to him at due intervals. Whilst he was imbibing the
fifth, a Tory peer near the bar exclaimed, " There's
another half hour good for us, and be damned to
him."

On another occasion, at Edinburgh, responding to
the toast of " His Majesty's Ministers," he exclaimed,
extending his hands, " My fellow citizens of Edinburgh,
after being four years a minister, these hands are clean."
They happened to be remarkably dirty, which raised a
titter among those sitting close to him.

The last of the pre- Victorian M.P.'s, Mr John Temple
Leader, M.P. for Westminster from 1837 to 1847, wh°
died in Florence on March ist, 1903, aged 93, had been
associated with an extraordinary escapade of Lord
Brougham, the latter having inspired, if he did not
actually write, a letter sent from the country to Mr Alfred
Montgomery in which it was stated that Mr Leader was
at the point of death and Lord Brougham killed on the
spot owing to a carriage accident. Mr Leader was stand-
ing for Parliament at the time, and the chairman of his
election committee had already started off to take a last
farewell of his friend when the hoax was discovered.

Lord Brougham's strange behaviour in this matter was
said to have been produced by a desire to read his own
obituary notices and enjoy the discomfiture of the papers
in which they would appear.

Mr Leader had been at Oxford with Gladstone and
Cannkig, had seen Byron and Shelley, and was a friend of
Captain Trelawny, the poets' comrade in the movement
for Greek emancipation.

A cultivated man of large and liberal means as well as

28 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

a political critic of no mean order, Mr Leader was a fine
specimen of an English gentleman, in the best sense
of the word.

At the time of Queen Victoria's second jubilee England
had never been in such a position of assured tranquillity
and peace.

A number of the older denizens of Mayfair, however,
•were anything but content. Radicalism, they declared,
was growing more and more rampant in the land, and the
arch fiend himself could not have been denounced more
fiercely than they denounced Mr Gladstone. After he
had attempted to pass Home Rule a number of his former
adherents were especially bitter. The first Duke of
Westminster, for instance, actually disposed of a fine
portrait of the Grand Old Man by Millais which had
been specially painted as a tribute of admiration.

Strangely enough, Mr Gladstone, who at heart was
probably a Conservative, typified in the minds of his
opponents the spread of that Socialism the full effects
of which few of them lived to see.

In a way they were right, for there can be no doubt
but that the Grand Old Man, moderate as he himself was,
paved the way for many measures which have completely
revolutionized our national life.

It is likely, however, that of the ultimate results of
his policy he had not such a clear idea as his great opponent
Disraeli, who had a far wider if more cynical outlook
upon existence.

Mr Gladstone was a " guarded flame " — it used to be
said, indeed, that anything unpleasant or hostile to him
in the Press was kept from coming under his observation,
while a devoted circle of admirers lulled him in a chronic
condition of placid self-satisfaction.

A large portion of the people regarded him as their
champion and benefactor. Many gave him credit for
reforms he had never carried through.

" Say what you like," once remarked a small tradesman

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 2£

to the present writer, " Gladstone gave us ' one man,
one vote.' "

This absolutely untrue statement, uttered in a tone of
grateful conviction, the speaker firmly believed.

Mr Gladstone was responsible for many phrases, some
of which have passed into everyday language.

Such are, " local option " and " union of hearts,"
" silver streak " and " bag and baggage," " resources of
civilisation " and " parliamentary hand."

The dexterity with which the Grand Old Man contrived
to extricate himself from awkward positions, and his
subtlety in making divergent statements of his own seem
to agree, particularly annoyed his opponents.

All sorts of stories, real or imaginary, used to be told
about him, while criticisms of his methods were some-
times funny as well as scathing.

In a discussion as to finding a rich wife for a rising
young politician someone broke in with, " Why, I believe
he's got a wife already."

" What does that matter ? " said a cynic. " Gladstone
can always be put up to explain her away."

In early Victorian days Radicalism was looked upon
with absolute horror by the exclusive circles of Mayfair.

When, for instance, Mr Muntz, who was said to have
Chartist associations, was elected a member for Bir-
mingham and made a magistrate, certain aristocratic
households declared that the only thing to do was to
send their valuables to Coutts', shut up their town and
country houses and go abroad till the revolutionary
frenzy should have worn itself out.

Mr Muntz, it may be added, was the first member of
the House of Commons to wear a beard, which was con-
sidered another symptom of his anarchistic tendencies.

The House of Commons formerly did not like lawyers
and was very distrustful of their sincerity.

The old-fashioned Members of Parliament realized that
a successful legal career entailed being something of an

SO MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

actor, and that a counsel is accustomed to be the paid
advocate of any side.

One old gentleman thoroughly permeated with this idea
never lost an opportunity of saying bitter things about
Mr Asquith.

On one occasion, for instance, he spoke of the latter
as combining the appearance of Oliver Cromwell with
the vacillation of Charles the First !

A legal member who was wont to wax eloquent over
the woes of the Emerald Isle was known at heart fully
to realise what a hopeless country it was to govern. As
one of his critics put it, he was a humbug who merely
had a good platform opinion of the Irish.

Another Radical lawyer, according to his enemies, had
got into Parliament only owing to his personal resemblance
to the pictures of the Messiah !

On the other hand, the late Sir Frank Lockwood, a
man of great personal charm, fond of sending his
friends whimsical caricatures of his own composition, was
universally popular.

The public at large would appear to have no very
great respect for prominent political men.

On one occasion at Ipswich when large crowds were
awaiting the arrival of Mr Balfour, an old lady, thinking
that it was the opening of the quarter sessions, said :
" Well, I suppose if he's done anything wrong he'll have to
suffer for it."

Just before the son of a famous Cabinet Minister was
elected to the House of Commons, he is said to have met
his old nurse and told her he was going in for politics.

" For politics ! " exclaimed the old lady. " Oh surely
I should have thought that two in the family — your
father and Mr Richard — were enough. Why don't you
go in for something useful ? "

The present House of Commons is, with some rare
exceptions, a miserable mass of pawns and placemen
moved hither and thither according to the fancies of

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 31

the wire-pullers to whom so many of them owe their
election.

Everything to these men seems to resolve itself into a
question of votes.

The Dean of St Paiil's, Dr Inge, one of our few sane
social critics, often hits the right nail on the head:
" To talk to the average Member of Parliament (said
he in a speech) one might suppose that the ballot
box was a sort of Urim and Thummim for ascertaining
the Divine will. This superstition was simply their old
iriend the divine right of kings standing on its head,
which was even more ridiculous in the new posture than
in the old." His statement that it was quite as easy to
hypnotize oneself into imbecility by repeating in solemn
tones " Progress, democracy, corporate unity," as by
repeating the blessed word " Mesopotamia," was also
very happy.

A critic of the past, after enumerating various of what
he considered its minor evils, has said :

" There was no organised labour, no votes for women,
no working class franchise, no ballot-box. There were no
Council schools, no school boards. There was no technical
education. There was no Married Woman's Property
Act."

Granted; but there were no strikes or social unrest,
manners were better and so was workmanship, nor was
the number of divorces anything like as great as it is
to-day.

It should not be forgotten that in a not very indirect
manner certain of our politicians were responsible for
the Great War.

Time after time they were warned in vain, and time
after time they reiterated their disbelief in all hostile
intentions on the part of Germany, who they declared
loved peace. And so she did as long as it gave her time
to prepare for war !

Had they been statesmen instead of politicians they

32 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

would have made it clear to that Power that in the event
of an attack on France England would fight.

Cravens as they were they dared not do what would
most probably have averted the tragedy, and, babbling
of peace, almost submerged Europe in floods of blood.

As to the internal government of the country the main
ideas of modern politicians seem to be the multiplication
of meddlesome laws.

It would be a good thing if Members of Parliament were-
made to realize that the limit of interference with personal
liberty has been reached.

Writing in the 'fifties of the last century, a foreign
critic said : " The ambition of free self government, which
characterises the English, is altogether unknown to the
French. Hence they can die for liberty, but they cannot
live for it." • Alas, the very opposite is now the case I

Aided by classes blinded to true freedom by the culture
of morbid and pharisaical feelings, Parliament within
the last few years has struck heavily against the liberties
of the great mass of the people.

At times one is inclined to wonder whether this curious
tendency to repress personal liberty is not the result
of some plan conceived by Nature — " Cette puissance
rusee qui nous exploite," as Renan called her — to assimi-
late the life of humanity to that of the ants and hive
bees, whose whole existence is devoted and whose pleasures
are sacrificed in order to keep together rigidly ordered
socialistic communities where no individual enjoys a
liberty worth having, while working in an almost frenzied
manner for the next generation, which in its turn is to-
do the same. The contrast between the life of the honey
bee and that of its cousin the humble bee, which has
escaped the tryanny of the hive, is overwhelmingly in
favour of the latter.

Unfortunately the attitude of the public towards
social questions would seem to be an almost blind
acquiescence in any nostrum prescribed by faddists.

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 33

The old English love of personal liberty seems to have
died away. Though a good many people grumble, the
majority will tell you that they are too busy to devote
time to the consideration of such subjects.

Well-meaning in the main, the average individual
reminds one of the American judge who, elected more
on account of his popularity than his knowledge of the
law, told a jury : " If you think the prisoner guilty you
ought to convict him ; if innocent, acquit him ; but if,
like me, you don't understand the case or the evidence,
why, then, I'll be hanged if I know what you ought to do! "

Thoughtful men are beginning to realize that the
triumph of that democracy of which they hoped so-
much need not of necessity produce an immediate
Utopia ; perhaps after all, when the history of the
twentieth century comes to be written, the forecasts
of some of the staunch old Tories of a past generation
will be found to have been based upon only too solid
grounds. At present all that can be hoped for is that,
with the progress of time, democracy may grow out of
itself and realize those fundamental facts of existence
the importance of which was thoroughly recognized in
former days.

The English aristocracy of the past included a good
many men of a type now pretty well extinct, that is,
polished English gentlemen of the old school who,
besides being classical scholars, possessed a remarkable
knowledge of both English and foreign literature. These
qualities, together with a keen sense of humour, a delicate
wit, and a ready appreciation of both the grave and gay
side of nature, rendered them charming companions.
Such men, reproducing in themselves the qualities which
marked a century of culture, of refinement, of learning,
and of distinction, have now passed away, the type
been crushed out by an age which, though fond of
babbling of the joys of intellectual knowledge, has little
real appreciation of it.

3

34 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

To-day, everyone without exception has a good chance
of learning, yet the output of great men and notable
characters has shrunk practically to nil !

The cause of this may not improbably be the stamping
cut of individuality, resulting from the multitude of laws,
regulations and restrictions with which every individual
is now hedged in and threatened.

The result of over-legislation and over-regulation can
only be the metamorphosis of the people at large into
mere factory workers, mechanically drilled into doing the
same thing at the same time, all tendencies to originality
being unconsciously crushed out of them.

The Victorian Era never lacked literary preachers
with voices which rang all over England with telling
effect.

It seems strange now, to think that in that age a man
might, in the space of a few days, have seen and spoken
to Darwin, Huxley, Tyndall, Froude, Herbert Spencer,
Freeman, Ruskin, Carlyle, Tennyson, Matthew Arnold,
Browning and Swinburne.

The main point about these men, and in particular
about Huxley, was that they were uncompromising
searchers after knowledge and after truth.

Besides being an eminent scientist, Huxley wrote
beautifully clear English and had an excellent style,
nor was he devoid of humour.

Meeting a journalist whom he had known as a mid-
shipman in the days when he was a surgeon in the Navy,
the former, who did not appreciate Huxley's anthropo-
logical researches, told him that he cared nothing for
"homo" except as a creature of historical tradition.

" And I," was the reply, " except as a compound of
gas and water. If," added he, " we were both better
educated than we are we should know how better to
respect each other's studies."

The philosophic doubt with which Huxley was inspired
was finely indicated by the three lines — taken from a

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 35

noble poem of his wife's — which, by his special direction,
were inscribed upon his tombstone at Finchley:

" Be not afraid, ye waiting hearts that weep;
For God still giveth His beloved sleep ;
And if an endless sleep He wills — so best."

To-day, though in literature we have some masters of
style — Mr Edmund Gosse, Mr Max Beerbohm and others
— literary preachers except Mr Rudyard Kipling seem not
to exist.

There are no vibrant voices to search the soul, or
dreamers of great dreams — in short, the age is barren of
transcendent literary genius.

This dearth of high literary production, it has been
alleged, may partly be accounted for by the absorption
of so many able minds in journalism or work which is
journalistic in character. The late George Steveens,
who met with such an untimely death from fever at
Ladysmith during the Boer war, might, it has been
said, have developed into a second Macaulay, possessing
as he did something of that great historian's faculty of
description, command of language, and capacity for
assimilating facts.

The general average of writing to-day is probably
higher than in the past, but the age does not seem to
favour the development of great writers.

The editor of a great paper once remarked that the
world was divided into people who knew what they were
writing about but could not write, and people who could
write and did not know what they were writing about.

The combination of real knowledge and literary
faculty is rarely to be met with, and were it more common
than it is, would probably not be appreciated by a public
which is becoming more and more used to a daily diet
of snapshots and film favourites.

There is no newspaper editor who enjoys the prestige

36 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

of John Delane, the social influence of whose articles
in the Times was recognized by Queen Victoria, who
on one occasion wrote him a personal letter of appro-
bation.

The pressmen of his age were, I believe, far more in
touch with the life of London as it was lived by different
classes than those of to-day.

The powers of editors of great newspapers like Delane
was fully recognized by Society, which then was a real
force in English politics, and as far as serious matters
were concerned the Press was kept in pretty close touch
with Mayfair.

On the other hand, a great number of pressmen led
very Bohemian lives, frequented the music halls, High-
bury Barn, and other resorts now swept away, thereby
acquiring a real knowledge of humanity and its change-
less ways.

In consequence of this, Puritanism was kept within due
bounds and Londoners enabled to amuse themselves
more or less as they liked.

A typical and delightful pressman of those days was
the late Mr Joseph Knight, a clever and hardworking
writer with a fondness for convivial society and late
hours which did not prevent him from living to a
great age.

To-day there are few newspaper writers who do not go
home as early as they can, and fewer still who have any
sympathy with Bohemian habits. Consequently, when
there is any question of still further curtailing personal
liberty as regards the closing of music-hall lounges,
dancing clubs or the like, the Press, far from making
any protest, publishes sensational articles calculated to
assist the machinations of the meddlesome busybodies
who have now so effectually made London at night the
dullest city in the world.

The literary free-lance of other days — fearless,
trenchant and sparkling, has entirely disappeared.

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 37

A typical representative of this style of writer was
Grenville Murray, who, with Edmund Yates, projected
the World and thus founded the Society journalism
which, after flourishing in late Victorian and Edwardian
days, has now long been on the wane.

In the 'seventies and 'eighties Society journalism repre-
sented by the World, Truth, and Vanity Fair flourished
exceedingly. Everyone abused these papers, but every-
one read them.

From time to time some indiscreet paragraph landed
an editor in trouble, and even, as in the case of Mr
Edmund Yates — who suffered for the fault of one of
his titled contributors — in prison.

Vanity Fair owed its popularity largely to the excellent
cartoons of Pellegrini and later on of Sir Leslie Ward.

" Celebrities at Home " in the World was generally
worth reading, while Labouchere took care to keep the
columns of Truth bright, amusing and up to date.

For twenty-two years the late Mr Jerningham wrote
" Letters from the Linkman " which week by week
maintained a high standard of English prose as well as
being full of topical interest.

The day of purely Society papers seems for the time
being to have passed, the chronicles of aristocratic doings
and sayings not being in such demand as was formerly
the case.

Truth alone seems to have withstood the hostile forces
which have driven practically all its competitors out
of the field ; as a matter of fact, besides containing much
accurate information it continues to live up to its old
reputation for brightness and vivacity.

While the direct influence of the daily Press — in the
past so frequently exercised for good — has decreased,
the indirect effects of its activities have undoubtedly
increased.

A notable instance of this was the success of the
Suffragette agitation.

38 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Whether it be a good thing or a bad thing that women
should have votes, it is quite certain that they would
not have obtained them for many a long year to come
had it not been for the publicity given to the movement
by the Press, which could have killed the whole agitation-
by silence concerning those who carried it on.

Hunger-striking is another newspaper creation.

Would any prisoner care to undergo such an ordeal
were he not certain that the Press, or at least a section
of it, would turn him into a martyr ?

It cannot seriously be maintained that the rise to
power of 'democracy has coincided with anything but a
degradation of literary taste. Under present con-
ditions, indeed, it would be extraordinary were it other-
wise, for of the vast multitude of workers how few have
the time or the capacity for the cultivation of their
minds ?

Nor has popular education improved matters. In the
old days clever boys, even when working in the most
arduous trades, seem to have snatched sufficient hours
to give themselves quite a fair education, and they often
rose to high positions. There were many self-made men
who achieved wealth and fame.

As a matter of fact the complete triumph of democracy
has weakened rather than strengthened individual effort,
nor has it tended to assist culture or art.

The great mass of the proletariat, devoid as it is, and
ever must be, of any appreciation of the real meaning
of life, is naturally unwilling to admit that the existence
of a leisured class is necessary for that progress which
is the ostensible aim of all advocates of democratic
reform.

To the multitude fond of facile generalizations and
crude sentimentality, a spacious and luxurious life of
ease, not unnaturally, seems inseparable from vice —
hence the sure popularity of newspaper lectures on the
sins of Society and kindred topics.

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 39

The British public indeed never tires of hearing about
the life of gilded vice led by persons of rank or wealth.

Society has always attracted preachers and writers
seeking an easy subject for attack. It is constantly
blamed for the vast sums expended in entertaining.
This, after all, circulates money and is good for trade ;
nor is it clear why people in a position to do so should
not entertain their friends, or even their enemies for that
matter.

Accusations of frivolity levelled at the modern society
woman are perhaps more justified. Nevertheless it is
well to remember that years ago Mrs Lynn Linton
created a sensation by a savage attack upon the girl
of the period in the Saturday Review.

In all probability the young lady of the 'sixties and
'seventies was no worse than her predecessors. It is not
fair to indict a whole sex for the follies of a few.

As a matter of fact women then were what women
are to-day, a very fair reflection of the condition of the
opposite sex.

The pity is that while a number of modern women are
sensible and healthy-minded, a certain section seem always
to be wishing themselves elsewhere than where they are —
thinking of something else than what they are doing, or
of someone else than the person to whom they are speaking.

Prosperity does not seem to bring happiness to a good
many of those wealthy ladies, who seem ever anxiously
trying to banish tedium from their too luxurious lives
by taking up some fad or other, while their conversation
is largely made up of laments as to the boredom of their
existence.

What a difference from the great ladies of the old
school, one of whom used to say that she had been taught
that it was ill-bred to complain even of the weather.

They enjoy nothing, do nothing well, and please
nobody.

Unsuited even to the pursuit of pleasure, which takes

40 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

up all their time, their selfishness is unredeemed by
strength, a constant fear of what other people may think
of them, destroying that ease of mind which is incom-
parably the most valuable of all possessions.

Ease of indolence — the smoothness of the stagnant
pool — they have, it is true, in abundance. Like drones
in a hive, that waste and devour the honey which the
labouring bees have gathered, they accept the super-
abundance around them just as if it had been gained by
their own efforts.

As a cynic said, they want to eat cherries in winter
and oysters in summer !

These are the sort of people who spend vast sums in
turning the interior of fine old Georgian houses into an
indifferent copy of what some decorator assures them is
Louis XV or Louis XVI, both of which styles are gener-
ally out of place in houses of English construction.

As a matter of fact these ladies soon get tired of any
style, and if handled by a favourite adviser would cheer-
fully turn a boudoir into a replica of a Kaffir kraal.

In most cases too lazy to study house decoration
themselves, they are devoid of any original ideas, being
best satisfied when copying some room they have seen
at Mrs So-and-So's or Lady Somebody-else's.

The failings specified above are, however, the result of
folly rather than of vice. The majority of these foolish
women lead quite inoffensive lives.

Society's alleged fondness for high play is another cause
of offence to its critics.

For the last two hundred years gambling has been
more or less popular ; among well-to-do people in this
respect there has been little change.

The long and short of the matter is that in this as
in its morals Society is no better or worse than it was
in the past.

Modern conversation is undoubtedly of a freer kind
than that which prevailed during the Victorian Era.

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 41

This, however, contrary to the views expressed by a
number of critics, does not necessarily indicate any
deterioration in morality.

The fact is that all the world over the wealthy are to a
great extent cosmopolitan, and being so, become emanci-
pated from the fundamental ideas of the mass of their
countrymen or women.

The true spirit of a people is not to be found in its
upper social strata, and the mass of English opinion still
remains overwhelmingly prudish and Puritan. It does
not appear always to have been so, but is so to-day ;
only the well-to-do class which travels and sees countries
not dominated by the Puritan blight learns to value
freedom of expression as well as freedom of life.

This is what shocks the critics who have had no chance
of becoming freed from the mental limitations imposed
upon them by a smug environment, causing those sub-
jected to it to confuse prudery with refinement. Such
folk entirely ignore the historical fact that the French
noblesse of the old regime, who in art, letters and life
were probably the most cultured and refined people who
ever lived, were excessively free in their conversation.

The fierce attacks by a writer calling himself " The
Gentleman with the Duster " in a Sunday paper merely
reiterate the old charges which are always being made
against London society.

When all is said and done the writer in question is
merely a Puritan seeking to dragoon the world into virtue.

Giving his views in the London Magazine as to the con-
stitution of an ideal government for England, he advocates
what is in reality mere intolerant repression to enforce
public morality.

In defiance of every Christian precept a policy of hound-
ing of Cyprians off the streets has always been popular
with social reformers.

Maria Theresa, whom a contemporary very rightly said
deserved to suffer the worst tortures of hell for her cruel

42 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

behaviour towards unfortunate women, tried it with
lamentable results. Attempts to coerce the public into
virtue have always failed in the past, as they will always
fail in the future.

The " Gentleman with the Duster " further wishes Mrs
Bramwell Booth to be appointed Home Secretary.

What sort of time we should have under this worthy
Salvation leader's rule can be gathered from her statement
to an interviewer.

While showing no eagerness to hold the office which
the " Gentleman with the Duster " wishes to thrust upon
her, she gave a sketch of various measures which, during
her term of office, she would try to get carried through.

The chief of these, said she, was the shutting up of
all public-houses, which, of course, practically means
" Prohibition."

The fact is, in too many cases the modern social
reformer is not a real social reformer at all, but merely
our old Cromwellian friend " Praise God Barebones "
in modern guise. Alas, that by means of elaborate
camouflage he should so often succeed in persuading
the British public that in the curtailment of personal
independence lies the path of progress !

With liberty on his lips but tyranny in his heart, he
seeks to bring their lives into complete accord with a
standard of bourgeois respectability, calculated to stamp
out all real joy of living.

Everyone is to be ground down to the same dead
level of monotonous existence.

A really civilized individual is he or she who is qualified
to live among those who, according to Rabelais, spent
their life in the Abbey of Thelema — not in laws, statutes
or rules but according to their own free will and pleasure,
the essential clause in the strictest tie of their order being

Do WHAT THOU WILT;
because men that are free, well-born, well-bred and

THE MENTALITY OF MAYFAIR 43

conversant in honest companies have naturally an instinct
and spur that prompteth them unto virtuous actions,
and withdraws them from vice, which is called honour.
Those same men, when by base subjection and constraint
they are brought under and kept down, turn aside from
that noble disposition by which they formerly were
inclined to virtue, to shake off and break that bond of
servitude wherein they are so tyrannously enslaved ;
for it is agreeable with the nature of man to long after
things forbidden, and to desire what is denied us.

Ill

THE 'EIGHTIES

OF the men and women of the " 'eighties " there
are not many left. With the exception of Lord
Chaplin practically all the old sporting school
have gone ; and, of the politicians, Mr Arthur Balfour
alone is still in harness.

Lord Rosebery, in his day both sportsman and politi-
cian, lives a retired life.

Glancing at the annual number of a society weekly,
1881-1882, full of portraits of well-known people in
society, I find only one who still survives.

This is a young officer in the uniform of the House-
hold Cavalry, which was at that time worn by that most
popular and witty raconteur Mr Harry Higgins.

Now engaged in purely peaceful pursuits he would appear
at that time to have tempered the career of arms with a
fondness for the Turf.

" Fresh from stern duty (or Newmarket) comes
The gallant Higgins, now from bugles, drums,
. Happily free."

May he long live to delight the large circle of friends
whom he has made since his cuirass was laid aside.

Though the life of an officer in the Household Cavalry
was easy enough in the 'eighties it had even then become
more strenuous than a quarter of a century before.

In the 'fifties, for instance, when it was difficult to
obtain officers for this branch of the service, one of the
regiments of the Life Guards being ordered out of London

THE 'EIGHTIES 45

on active service to Aldershot, a wealthy captain at once
tendered his resignation. His Royal Highness the General
Commanding-in-Chief, however, declined to accept it, and
his colonel eventually prevailed upon the gallant officer
to remain in the regiment and undergo for a short period
the vicissitudes of camp life.

It was during the early 'eighties that the sacred lamp
of Burlesque burnt so brightly at the Old Gaiety.

Nelly Farren was unique ; there is no one on the stage
to-day who remotely resembles her in manner or in style.

In the famous Gaiety burlesques the public applauded
her because they subconsciously realised that she was the
embodiment of a certain kind of London life — its joys
and also its sorrows.

For there was real pathos in the work of this clever
actress, whose Cockney humour was at times mellowed
by a sense of that sadness which clings about humble
life.

Without being exactly pretty, Nelly Fan-en, with her
trim figure and neat legs, made an ideal " principal boy,"
full of dash, vigour and go, which was enhanced by the
somewhat languorous methods of Miss Kate Vaughan,
whose memory as Morgiana and other parts still lingers
in the recollection of many an old playgoer.

Alas, that the old Gaiety stars will, as they used so
blithely to sing, " never come back any more." The pity
is they have left no successors behind them.

In the 'eighties plays very sensibly began late, so
that people were not obliged to hurry over their dinner.
Had this been the case the digestions of a certain number
of young gentlemen known as the " Crutch and Toothpick
Brigade " must have become seriously impaired, for quite
a number occupied the same stalls night after night.

The main characteristics of this social coterie, most
of whom came from Mayfair, were a black silver-
mounted crutched stick, a toothpick held languidly
between the teeth, and a silk-lined Inverness cape.

46 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The crutch and toothpick brigade were laughed at
in the Press, and according to caricatures a vacuous
expression was habitual with most of its members.
Nevertheless some of them were sharp enough.

One young fellow, supposed to have but moderate means,
attracted a good deal of comment by being constantly
seen in company with a fair divinity of burlesque, noted
for her jewels and gorgeous attire.

" I say, old fellow," said an acquaintance, noted for
his biting tongue, " people are beginning to talk about
you, you know."

" Are they ? Favourably, I hope."

" Well, to tell you the truth, old chap, while some say
you pay the expenses of that pretty lady you go about
with, others declare that she pays yours."

" Well," was the reply, " the only thing I care about is
a third category which minds its own business."

The man-about-town of the 'seventies and 'eighties,
even when well off, seldom lived in luxurious or even
comfortable rooms. For the most part he frequented
lodgings which would be thought wretched to-day.

Horsehair furniture, frayed carpets and a heavy
chiffonier relieved by indifferent engravings dealing
with Queen Victoria or with sport are scarcely enli-
vening surroundings, yet it was amidst such things that
he cheerfully passed his days. Bathrooms were as yet
very rare, and the accommodation, in every way, very
far from being luxurious ; nevertheless he put up with it
all without a grumble.

A few super-sybarites, it is true, did have luxurious
chambers, but the majority oi club men were content to
occupy rooms very similar to those they frequented in
their undergraduate days, when for 55. they procured
bed and breakfast somewhere in the region around Jermyn
Street.

On the other hand, many a man who would have grudged
the expense of making for himself a really comfortable

THE 'EIGHTIES 47

little home, thought nothing of spending thirty shillings
a day (and a good tip beside) upon a private hansom which
from about midday till closing hours remained at his beck
and call.

And very smart, too, these well-horsed vehicles were,
piloted by a nutty and knowing-looking driver who had
his London at his finger ends.

This generation, though it may have been somewhat
frivolous, did a good deal to relax social restrictions.
It upset many old-world conventionalities ; it inaugurated
the habit of dining and supping at restaurants ; and
it helped to emancipate its woman-kind from various
unwritten ordinances which had hitherto limited their
enjoyments. It was a good-humoured and a good-
natured generation, fond of amusement and sociability,
which assured the success of the Bachelors' Club when
it was founded in 1881.

The Orleans, it may be noted, was then already
flourishing, and its cuisine, with good reason, as highly
esteemed as it is to-day.

White's Club before 1888 contained very few young
members — it. was indeed exceedingly difficult for anyone
to get elected at all.

Being, as it was, the cherished haunt of a number of
old bucks, apt to forget that they too had been young,
the freedom of its sacred portals became more and more
restricted as time went on.

To such a pitch was this exclusiveness carried that
eventually, scarcely any new members having been
elected, the Club very nearly came to an end. This,
however, was averted by the intervention of the Honour-
able Algernon Bourke, who took the whole place over,
remodelled the premises and secured a large number of
candidates, with the result that within a short time the
old Club was once more upon a sound footing.

Mr Bourke, besides making certain structural altera-
tions, which included turning the courtyard into a billiard-

48 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

room, was responsible for the interesting series of prints
of past members which now adorn the Club walls.

Some of these prints had been put away unframed
in the Club for years, but a number were procured by
him to complete the set.

The Marlborough Club originated from the refusal
of certain members to allow smoking in White's. The
late King, then Prince of Wales, wished to smoke, and
after the motion had been defeated, mainly, it was said,
owing to the arrival of a strong contingent of members
from Kensal Green, he wanted to have a Club where
he could do as he liked.

A good many fine and curious pieces of furniture,
which have since disappeared, were at White's in the
'eighties ; most curious of all, a mahogany dining table
with a net in the centre. Around this table many a
buck of the eighteenth century had caroused.

The net was for corks, one of which was thrown into
it as every fresh bottle was brought. Convivial diners
were thus able easily to check the exact number they had
drunk without any chance of being charged for ones they
hadn't.

A curious feature of social life in London used to be the
crazes which suddenly seized its residents.

In the 'seventies roller-skating became all the rage,
and rinks, some improvised and some specially built,
sprang up in almost every town of any importance.
The mania while it lasted was a source of innumerable
jokes in the comic papers such as Punch, Fun, and
Judy, the two last of which are defunct. London,
more especially fashionable London, went mad about
the new amusement, which, however, did not last as
long as many speculators had confidently anticipated,
a great deal of money being eventually lost by those
who, convinced of the permanency of the roller-
skating mania, had invested their money in the con-
struction of rinks.

THE 'EIGHTIES 49

About 1895 a great mania arose for bicycling and
Mayfair held a regular bicycle parade in Battersea
Park, both sexes and all ages being fully represented.
Considering the number of unskilled riders who were
to be seen wending their way through the traffic, it was
wonderful so few serious accidents occurred.

In spite of numberless changes Rotten Row, though
its sartorial glories are gone, still remains popular with
what considers itself to be the fashionable world.

As late as the 'eighties ladies when on horseback were
expected to be followed by a groom. Lady Cardigan
in her youth had created a sensation by breaking through
this custom and thus outraging propriety. There was
no slackness of dress about female riders in the Row.
In these days they wore top boots and habits which
showed fine figures, for most of which cynics said fashion-
able makers were responsible. Like the columns of
certain evening papers, some of them would have been
very flat without the padding.

In the evenings about half-past five all fashionable
London was to be seen in the park. A long row of men
in top-hats and frock coats leaning against the railings
of Rotten Row, looked like a flock of birds which had
settled on a telegraph wire.

Most of the bucks of the old school had disappeared,
but a fair number of white chokers were still to be seen,
while one or two old gentlemen still wore the swallow-
tailed coat in the daytime.

Fish dinners at Greenwich were still given at this
time, though their popularity was already on the wane.
People used to drive down on coaches, but the vast
increase of building gradually made the drive less and
less pleasant, and eventually diners went down by
river.

The Ministerial fish dinner was once a regular Parlia-
mentary institution.

The menu consisted of various dishes of fish, but as

50 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

a rule there was duck and green peas as well. The
cooking was usually good.

The short jacket in place of the dress coat for small
dinners had made its appearance in the early 'eighties.
Many did not like it, but nevertheless it was soon in
a fair way towards attaining the ample measure of
popularity which it has since enjoyed.

An interesting feature of the Victorian Era was the
number of people who were links with an earlier age,
and certain well-remembered figures which have now
long ago become historic.

In one of the numbers of Punch for 1850 is a paper
entitled " On a Good-looking Young Lady," and it is
evidently written by Thackeray. The subject of it, then
a lovely young girl whose radiant beauty has been
preserved for later generations by the brush of Watts,
was the same Countess Somers who died in 1910
aged 84.

Lady Somers, it should be added, repudiated the idea
that the great novelist had written of her. She had
known him well, she admitted, and he had been very
kind to her, but with characteristic modesty she always
declared that it was not of her that he had written such
flattering things.

With Countess Somers passed a link with the French
Revolution, her grandfather, the Chevalier Antoine de
1'Etang, having been page to Queen Marie Antoinette.

Mr Alfred Montgomery, who might still have been
caDed a man-about-town in the 'eighties, had been
private secretary to the Duke of Wellington's brother,
the Marquis Wellesley.

The latter's second wife had been a Miss Patterson,
whose sister had married Jerome Bonaparte.

The father of these two ladies was a merchant of
Baltimore, and it is interesting to recall that the alliance
in question caused Lord Houghton to prophesy that
in the next century it would be looked back upon as the

THE 'EIGHTIES 51

foundation of the American cult on this side of the
Atlantic.

The Marquis Wellesley all through his life cherished
an extraordinary love for his old school, Eton, where
his memory is commemorated in the north porch of the
chapel by a tablet put up by his brother the Iron Duke.
On this is inscribed a Latin epitaph which Lord Wellesley
had written on himself.

As rendered in English by Lord Derby this begins —

" Long tos't on Fortune's wave, I come to rest,
Eton> once more on thy maternal breast."

Lord Wellesley was buried at Eton, and, according to
a request which he left behind him, six weeping willows
were planted in different parts of the playing fields and
a bench fixed at a particular spot which commanded his
favourite view.

A picturesque figure of the Mid- Victorian Era was the
Maharajah Dhuleep Singh, who having relinquished the
crown of Lahore worn by his father, Runjeet Singh —
the Lion of the Punjaub— had adopted Christianity and
become an English country gentleman.

When the documents for the abdication were ready,
Lord Dalhousie, it is said, tendered them to the Maharajah,
then quite a child, with the remark, " Sign here."

The ruler of the Sikhs having signed, the Governor-
General, who was a Scotchman, presented him with a
sixpenny Bible, saying, "You have abandoned an earthly
kingdom ; I give you a heavenly one ! "

For some time, while he was able to amuse himself
and entertain lavishly, as he loved to do, the Maharajah
was satisfied enough ; but later on when funds became
short, he began to regret the exchange, which from a
merely material point of view had certainly not been
in his favour.

A splendid shot, his shooting parties at Elveden made
wonderful bags.

52 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

His son, the late Prince Victor Dhuleep Singh, was
also one of the finest game shots in England.

The latter was a man of highly original character,
with great talents never developed to anything like
their full capacity. A striking proof of the high quality
of his mind was that he could with ease master any
subject he chose ; with application — which he lacked —
he might have done anything.

About the best demonstration of his peculiar genius —
for it was little else — was his extraordinary aptitude as
a judge of objets d'art.

Though he despised all study as to style, schools, etc.,
and never troubled to read books upon such subjects,
his taste as a rule was unerring. A proof of this is that
bibelots and pictures which he bought for comparatively
moderate sums have since risen enormously in value.
At the time of their purchase any idea of their value
becoming enhanced in no way swayed him. He got
them because he liked them. His judgment in such
matters was instinctively right. In short, owing to his
natural taste and eye for the beautiful, he was as good
an expert in certain artistic directions as people who had
spent their life in study and research.

In music he could without doubt have done much ;
but again lack of application prevented him from excell-
ing as he might.

There was fire and inspiration in his piano playing,
when he was in the mood. To hear him rattle off impro-
vised waltzes, etc., of his own composition, when in an
especial vein of high spirits, was a revelation. He
played, however, for the joy of playing, and would never
have supported the tedium of getting his compositions
transcribed.

His methods as regards art and music followed him
pretty well into all other sides of life. He was indeed
a brilliant creature of impulse who never realized the
full value of his own natural gifts, or if he ever did so

THE 'EIGHTIES 53

preferred not to trouble about them. No one was ever
less conceited than he ! Priggishness, r edantry and
pose were totally alien to his disposition. His particu-
larly keen sense of humour was probably one of the
reasons for this.

The kindest of men, his generosity was absolutely
unlimited.

Though at one time a quite extraordinary shot, he never
-thought of speaking of his performances, as so many
sporting people are in the habit of doing. He regarded
his proficiency with the gun as a matter of course, and
did not allude to it. Latterly, indeed, instead of becom-
ing garrulous as to past exploits in the shooting field, he
declared that everything to do with game, except eating
it, bored him — he might never have handled a gun.

Prince Victor's marriage to the young and charming
daughter of Lord Coventry proved to be a great success.
Indeed no happier or more united married couple ever
existed ; each literally adored the other, and their
pleasant camaraderie endured right up to his death, which
occurred during the Great War.

His brother, Prince Frederic Dhuleep Singh, is well
known as an authority upon archaeological matters in
Norfolk, where he enjoys a wide and well deserved
popularity as a county gentleman, keenly interested in
everything connected with the county.

It was in the 'eighties that two new and powerful forces
gradually began to make their influence felt in Mayfair.
To begin with, Americans, of whom formerly few had been
seen, flocked to London in considerable numbers, and
Anglo-American marriages naturally followed. About
this time, too, the Stock Exchange began to be heard of
outside the City, with the result that the advance guard
of that vast body which now every morning makes its way
to various offices, adopted a City career. Up to that time
hardly anyone in the West End of London had dabbled
in stocks and shares. On the whole, the new departure

54 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

was undoubtedly costly to " Society." Some young men,
it is true, contrived to make a livelihood ; but more, in
consequence of unsuccessful speculation, were compelled
to look about for one. Once the mania for speculation
had obtained a firm grip upon what was practically virgin
soil, its victims began to make much of everyone whom
they thought capable of pointing out an easy path to
wealth. A number of shrewd business men, who hitherto
had never dreamt of forcing the strongly-guarded portals
of Society, were not slow in taking advantage of such a
state of affairs. In nine cases out of ten they obtained
more than they gave, for the ample hospitality which they
dispensed brought in a rich harvest of speculators ready
and eager with childlike confidence blindly to rush into
any and every venture. With the advice of their new-
found advisers, wealth beyond the dreams of avarice
seemed certain of attainment to many a sanguine resident
of Mayfair. Most of those, however, who rejoiced at being
put in "on the ground floor " ended by never getting out
of the basement, the only thing they cleared by their
speculations being their own pocket.

That section of the aristocracy who first threw open
their hitherto exclusive portals to wealth, unredeemed
by intellectual worth or merit, were digging their order's
grave.

As Mr Arnold Bennett has so well said, they and their
offspring have now become the pawns of millionaires
who treat them with a mixture containing 5 per cent, of
flattery and 95 per cent, of breezy disdain.

With the advent of these millionaires, finance became
as much the appanage of Society as politics had been in
the past. The government of England, once entirely in
the hands of the leisured classes, has now passed out of
their control.

The old school, of course, had not hesitated to absorb
wealth from the commercial classes by arranging
marriages with their daughters. They did not, how-

THE 'EIGHTIES 55

ever, bow down before rich people merely because they
were rich.

On the contrary, they were rather inclined to circulate
unkind rumours about them, even when such men were
of their own class.

Sir Thomas Rumbold, for instance, who died in 1812,
Member of Parliament for Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, and
had been Governor of Madras, was supposed to have
started his career as a waiter at White's.

The legend in question evidently inspired Disraeli
when in " Sibyl " he described how a valet taken out to
India from a club returned to England a rich man, and
after entering Parliament died a peer.

Nevertheless the story was untrue, and as it is con-
stantly being repeated in books dealing with eighteenth-
century social life the real facts as here given (with the
approval of the family) may be worth attention.

Sir Thomas Rumbold, on whose name such obloquy
has been cast, was born at Leytonstone, June I5th, 1736.
His father dying at Tellicherry in 1745, he was left to
the care of his mother and of his spinster aunt, Elizabeth,
who seems to have been the good genius of the whole
family, and in memory of whom he afterwards erected
a tablet in the church at Walton, where he himself lies
buried. Dorothy Rumbold was probably in somewhat
straitened circumstances after her husband's death, but
there is nothing to warrant the belief that her poverty
was such as to reduce her to seek for her boy the menial
employment traditionally attributed to trim at White's
Club. She brought him up with the view to his entering
the same service in which his father and uncles had held
responsible positions, and in which his elder brother was
already bidding fair to achieve distinction. In the
petition for a writership addressed to the Court of Directors
by Thomas Rumbold in September 1751, when he was
just turned fifteen, he states that he had " been educated
in Writing and Accounts and humbly hopes himself

56 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

qualified to serve your Honours abroad." The petition
is accompanied by a certificate from the schoolmaster
under whom he had studied. On his appointment, which
bears the date of January 8th, 1752, his mother, Dorothy
Rumbold, became a surety for him, with " Henry Crabb
Boulton, of the East India House, gentleman," to the
extent of £500. In further proof that funds were not
entirely wanting in the family at that period, it may be
mentioned that in 1757 Miss Elizabeth Rumbold, the
aunt, became security for Mr H. Southby — a connection
of the Rumbolds — as " free merchant " in the sum of
£2000.

The story of Sir Thomas having been a servant at
White's really arose in this way.

The following squib had been circulated about Sir
Robert Mackreth, afterwards M.P. for Castle Rising, who
had returned from India with a large fortune : —

When Bob MacGrath ruled Arthur's crew
He said to Mackreth, " Black my shoe " ;

To which he answered, " Ay, Bob."
But when returned from India's land
And grown too proud to brook command,

He sternly answered, " Nay, Bob."

The point of this was that Mackreth had unquestion-
ably been a waiter at White's, then managed by Arthur,
whose daughter he subsequently married, becoming later
on the founder and proprietor of Arthur's Club. As both
Rumbold and Mackreth were old Indians, the name of
Rumbold was substituted for that of Mackreth in an
election squib during the heated contest for the borough of
Shaftesbury in 1775. The real relations between Rumbold
and Mackreth consisted in Sir Thomas employing Mackreth
as his agent during the proceedings instituted against
him in the House of Commons. It is a curious fact that
Mackreth, who was born of humble parentage in the
village of Cark, near Cartmel, began life as a domestic in

THE 'EIGHTIES 57

the service of a gentleman of the neighbourhood, who
kindly sent him to school and otherwise helped him on.
Into the family of Mackreth's patron, Dorothy, the only
sister of Sir Thomas Rumbold, subsequently married. In
all respects, therefore, the connection between Mackreth
and Sir Thomas must have been of an exactly opposite
character to that described in the squib. The mis-
chievous jingling rhyme remains as a curiosity, as
having helped to enrich the language by a new and
striking word.

Surely, too, if the anecdotes retailed about Sir Thomas
had really found credence with his contemporaries, how
is it to be explained that in 1781, at the hour of his direst
persecution, the members of White's should have admitted
into their rigidly exclusive circle his son — that is, the son
of a man known to have been engaged there in the lowest
of menial offices, and accused of offences of the most
disgraceful character ?

Besides the White's story, accusations of extortion in
India were made against Sir Thomas Rumbold. With
regard to these, it must be remembered that he was
a valued companion of Give ; indeed, when the latter in
1766 superseded most of his Council, Sir Thomas was
exempted from their fate on account of his peculiar
merits, nor would he have been destined by the Company
to succeed Warren Hastings as Governor-General when
that great statesman, but unscrupulous enemy, fell under
their displeasure.

Sir Thomas Rumbold was one of the small band of
men who helped to lay the foundations of our Eastern
dominion, and deserves to go down to posterity in another
character than that of a shoeblack who, rising to high
office and power, developed into the most mercenary and
flagitious of Indian rulers.

In any case his rapacity was nothing as compared with
that of certain modern men. One of these, as the
price of according complete support to the Government,

58 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

is said to have asked for a peerage, a million, and member-
ship of the Royal Yacht Squadron.

The first two he was told were easy but the other
impossible.

Sir Thomas, of course, suffered from the fierce opposition
which in old days confronted anyone whose family was
not hi the charmed circle of what might have been termed
the " governing set."

Though time gradually modified this state of affairs
something of it survived well into the nineteenth century.

The immense obstacles which Disraeli had to overcome
during his early Parliamentary days can scarcely be
realized.

Of course in his case, in addition to the prejudice aroused
by his racial origin, his mode of dressing and somewhat
peculiar appearance exposed him to a good many gibes
in private life.

" I can't feel I have wasted this week," said Lord
Derby in 1851. " I have made Dizzy cut his hair."

In the House of Commons not a few took a pleasure in
what they called " trying to put a Jew's harp out of
tune."

Nevertheless in this instance the musical instrument
in question eventually played many triumphal marches.

Among the many sneers and sarcasms levelled at
" Dizzy " he was never taunted with being a foreigner ,
and indeed he was not one, for his family had been settled
in England for a very long space of time.

To be branded as a foreigner in those days was the most
damning of accusations.

Lord Palmerston, with his intense John Bullism, was
naturally not liked abroad. " For the very reason that
you hate him, we like him," said one of the old school to
a foreign critic. " He is exactly what a Foreign Secretary
oight to be, popular at home and unpopular abroad.
Eh, sir ! catch that man standing up to advocate the
cause of a continental despot, or conduct himself in a

THE EIGHTIES 59

manner which would justify his enemies in calling him
the Minister of such and such a king or emperor at the Court
of St James's ? Why, sir, what's a chief of the Foreign
Office good for, if he doesn't do the bull-dog's duty —
barking and showing his teeth, to frighten the house-
breakers and such-like wretches ! " And certainly Lord
Palmerston was a capital bull-dog ready to bark with a
voice loud enough to frighten the whole neighbourhood.
However, no one was bitten by him — he had merely to
show his teeth, and the other Powers, knowing what
that meant, came to reason.

The people at large then believed in the roast beef
of Old England, and called French dishes kickshaws ;
they hated all foreigners, imagining their entire food to
be composed of frogs, oil and garlic, and their entire
occupation to consist in dancing and playing the fiddle.

During the Franco-German war of 1870, although
English opinion was pretty evenly divided in favour
of the two combatant nations, the French were regarded
as being dissipated and the Germans, owing to the old
Emperor's frequent invocations of the Almighty, as
hypocritical.

The general opinion was that the Germans were a poor
but hard-working people, worn down by over-regulation.
The French, clever but frivolous and wicked ; the men
spending much of their time lolling in victorias.

The Italians, though pleasant enough, were a soft race
who were hopeless out of their own sunny climate.

No foreign nation could of course compare with England,
where the men were sportsmen, did not swaddle themselves
up in cold weather, or waste their time sitting in cafes.

While the England of the past prided itself upon its
John Bullism, sensible folk were quite ready to admit
that a number of foreign immigrants had increased the
country's wealth and prosperity.

Not a word, for instance, was ever said against the
Rothschilds. Their whole fortune, it was recognised,

60 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

arose from the extraordinary integrity which has always
marked all their dealings, while their kindness and profuse
generosity was notorious.

In an earner day England had welcomed the French
Huguenots, whose history, now seemingly half forgotten,
contains so much thrilling romance.

How many to-day have ever heard of Jean Cavalier,
the Camisard leader of the Cevennes, who defied Louis
Quatorze and died a Major-General in the English
service ?

Not very long ago, it may be added, the " Societe de
1'histoire du protestantisme Fran£ais " restored the house
of " Laporte," otherwise " Roland," the General-in-Chief
of the Camisards, which has been converted into a
Huguenot Museum.

Here, among other relics, is preserved the sword of
Cavalier.

The Musee de Desert, as this interesting relic of the
indomitable spirit of the Camisards is called, abounds
in souvenirs and documents of historical interest. Un-
fortunately the village of Mas Soubeyran, near d'Anduze,
is not of very easy access, the journey, which necessitates
several changes, lying by way of Avignon and Nimes.
The tourist who ventures upon it will, however, be well
repaid by the magnificent views to be obtained while
travelling in the Cevennes.

An American pastor representing 25,000 Protestant
American churches visited the Muse"e on their behalf
in 1918, and in the course of an admirable speech said : —

" Here one comes in direct contact with the soul of
France, with the spirit of the race.

" At the front I heard the cry of Verdun, ' Us ne
passeront pas ! ' It is the same word, born of the same
spirit ; one is but a legacy of the other."

Modern immigrants into England, alas, are for the most
part of a totally different kind from those who sought
these shores in the past.

THE 'EIGHTIES 61

The majority are either persons of great wealth, who
rightly imagine that they will obtain a higher social
position here than that accorded them in the land of
their birth, or persons of no property at all, anxious to
obtain some at the expense of the kindly and gullible
Briton.

Both classes realize that the modern Englishman, unlike
his forbears, has an extraordinary tenderness towards
foreigners.

This tenderness, it may be added, he is ever ready to
deny.

A Parisian newspaper at the time of the coal strike,
after paying a tribute to the services rendered by England
to France, could not help deploring that her faithful
ally was so prone to be swayed by foreign extremists.

"It is uncomfortable for us," continued the writer,
" to have as a close neighbour a country the proletariat
of which, like the Italian peasantry, is feather-brained
and excitable, while easily influenced by any specious
alien agitator."

Whatever may be said about the first part of this
statement, the second is without question true. The
modern English, while fond of boasting of not yielding
to foreign influences, are easily led by persons of alien
nationality.

A striking feature of modern politics is the readiness
with which those responsible for the selection of candi-
dates put forward wealthy people of foreign origin as
Parliamentary representatives of the British people.

Party funds are easily replenished from the coffers of
wealthy aliens, provided their social and political aspira-
tions be gratified, consequently wire-pullers are always
ready to try and find them a seat.

If one constituency objects another is not very difficult
to find, things in this respect being rather worse than in
the 'fifties of the last century, when Lord Ranelagh went
down to the Carlton and said :

62 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

" Sir Henry Meux is mad, and won't do for Hertford-
shire ; we must get him in for Middlesex."

Any churlish millionaire who may desert his native
country in a mood of personal pique has a good chance
of becoming a member of the House of Commons. In
any case, if he should wish it, he is certain to become a
member of the House of Lords.

The German Jew and spy Trepitch Lincoln, though
scarcely able to speak English, owing to wealthy Non-
conformist support, was triumphantly elected by the
hard-headed men of Darlington ; Sir Edgar Spyer, a
German, was made a Privy Councillor ; and the late
Lord Astor, an American, a Peer.

The first woman elected by an English constituency
was the latter's daughter-in-law, who publicly deplored
her husband being shackled by the disabilities attaching
to the Peerage, which Peerage, she might have added,
had been bestowed mainly because the Government
was anxious to mark its appreciation of enormous
wealth !

This vivacious lady, the first Englishwoman to sit in
Parliament, is herself American-born. As, however, her
husband is very rich, the electorate of Plymouth would
have probably sent her to Westminster had she been a
Hottentot.

It might have been imagined that the war would have
rather impaired the popularity of German Jews, but
this seems scarcely to be the case ; witness the tender-
ness of the Press towards the camouflaged and
murderous Hebrews who have contrived to get hold
of Russia.

Practically all the Bolshevist leaders except Lenin are
men of foreign origin who, like Trotsky — real name
Braunstein — or Kamenefi (Rosenfeld) have tried to hide
their origin by assuming a Russian name.

An amusing feature of Mrs Sheridan's account of her
visit to Russia under Bolshevist protection was her

THE 'EIGHTIES 63

mention of the Russian folk songs sung by these
gentry.

As she admits she did not know the language, it was
probably Yiddish in which the comrades sang !

It is much to be regretted that the modern English
are so intellectually indolent that they seldom trouble
to enquire into the origin of any designing person who
starts some new social or political fad, and even when
he or she has been proved to have ulterior motives their
confidence remains unshaken.

Putting on that peculiar expression which masks a
dislike for mental effort, the defenders of such adventurers
speak of the value of those who try to do good in the
world and the ingratitude of critics who question social
reformers' motives.

On the other hand, it must be admitted that foreigners
who succeed in imposing themselves upon the English
people, unlike the latter, know how to use their
brains.

" What a pity," said a Frenchman, " that the English
use the excellent wits with which Providence has endowed
them so little ! "

Modern so-called sport is probably in some degree
responsible for this. Sport, which a cynical foreigner
once described as something which is either dangerous
or fatiguing, while always useless, is all very well within
proper limits; but a nation which elevates it into an ideal
must of necessity suffer in its mental development and
eventually be outclassed by those who cultivate brain
as well as muscle.

Looking on at football, the sport of the poor, and
playing golf, that of the well-to-do, are both calculated
to suppress thought ; in any case, neither can be said
to stimulate imagination.

In addition to this, the youth of the country has
developed an intense mania for dancing — another mental
anodyne !

64 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

" No," said a young fellow to the writer, " I never
read now ; I haven't time. You see, when I get an
afternoon off I play golf, and in the evenings one wants
to dance."

What is the use of spending millions on education ?

IV
SOCIAL CHANGES

WITH the growing power of Democracy the
external glories of the West End have
faded almost away. The immaculately
dressed men-about-town who once haunted its thorough-
fares have gradually disappeared, and well-turned-out
horsemen and smart carriages vanished from the Parks.

Masculine dress is now pretty much the same for
millionaire or for shopman, while diversity in male
attire is practically not seen at all.

Existence has certainly not gained anything by this
sartorial assimilation of all classes ; on the contrary, the
appearance of the streets and parks is less gay and less
amusing.

The same criticism, I think, applies to London life in
general, the regulation of everything and everybody
being liable to stamp out originality and imagination.

A striking instance of this was the technical title of
" Franco-British Exhibition of Textiles " chosen for the
most important collection of tapestries, carpets, silks and
embroideries ever shown in England, which was opened
in February 1921 at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

It is a wonder they did not describe the glorious treasures
of Rheims and Versailles as the Franco-British stock of
dry goods and furnishing fabrics !

Apparently the main object of modern so-called
civilization is to assimilate everyone to workers in a
factory — their life strictly regulated by rule, their garb all
cut on a similar pattern, while everything original or
unconventional is sternly repressed.

5 65

66 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Up to about seventy years ago there were quite a
number of sartorial survivals which have now disappeared.
The laced gowns of noblemen and fellow-commoners,
together with the gold and silver tufts on their caps, were
artistic relics of mediaeval times.

All this was swept away out of deference to the levelling
spirit which, supposed to promote progress, has since
done little beyond increase ugliness and promote dis-
content.

The mortar-board, still worn, is of considerable anti-
quity, being, like the Lancer cap, merely an adaptation
of the Polish national headdress worn at the oldest
University in Europe — that of Cracow.

A hidden force in the modern world seems to tend
towards the annihilation of the picturesque. The deadly
monotony of costume which prevails in our great towns
threatens to pervade the world ; the malevolent spirit
whose aim is drab uniformity seems indeed tireless in his
evil activities.

Before the Great War, gay military uniforms did some-
thing to enliven European capitals ; the bright splash of
colour of our English red in particular struck a pleasant
note in the streets. Now, if certain short-sighted critics
have their way, our soldiers are to remain clothed in
khaki, the saddest and least artistic dress man ever
devised.

The campaign waged against the re-introduction of
picturesque and historic military uniforms is but another
symptom of the unimaginative tendencies of the present
age.

It might have been thought that respect for the glorious
memories of Blenheim, Waterloo and Inkerman would
have prevented the Press from sneering at the scarlet
coats in which so many heroes of the past fought and fell.

There are persons who actually imagine that dull
uniformity of dress is a sign of progress. Speaking of
the delegates at the London Conference, one paper said :

SOCIAL CHANGES 67

" Savile Row has set the fashion for men's dress all
over the world, and looking from behind at the arrivals
to-day, one could not have told one delegate from another.

" Whether they came from Tokio or Constantinople,
Rome or Angora, Brussels or Downing Street, it was
always the same well-cut morning dress, the same silk
hats."

The growth of civilization as indicated by the oblitera-
tion of every picturesque national dress is indeed
marvellous !

Formerly the West End of London was remarkable for
the number of well-dressed people to be seen there ; now
there is not much difference from any other part of the
town.

This is not by any means the only change ; all quarters
of London are being assimilated to one another.

In old days London streets were divided into two
classes — those where the roast-beef of life was earned,
and those where the said roast -beef was eaten. No other
town presented so strong a contrast between its various
quarters. But a few hundred yards from the leading
thoroughfares, where hunger or ambition hunted men on,
extended for many miles the quiet quarters of comfortable
merchants, of wealthy citizens, and of landed proprietors,
who came to town for " the season," and who returned
to their parks and shooting-grounds as soon as her Majesty
had been graciously pleased to prorogue Parliament, and
with Parliament the season.

" The season is over ! everybody is gone out of town,"
wrote the correspondents of provincial and continental
newspapers. " Everybody " — that is to say, everybody
with the exception of two millions of men, who made
rather a considerable noise in the northern, southern,
and eastern parts of London. But of course they were
" nobodies " ; they were merely merchants, tradesmen,
manufacturers, clerks, agents, public functionaries, judges,
physicians, barristers, teachers, journalists, publishers,

68 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

printers, musicians, actors, clergymen, labourers, beggars,
thieves, foreigners, and other members of the general
public. Everybody else left the metropolis immediately
after the Parliament was prorogued by the Queen. The
West End became a city of the dead. The deserted
streets and the shuttered windows proclaimed that all
who were not exactly nobodies had gone to their country
places or abroad.

The habit of leaving the country just as it was about
to be at its best also provoked criticism.

Writing to my mother, at the end of March 1856,
Cobden said :

" I return to town again on Monday week. It is really
very unnatural to turn my back on the country at the
moment when Nature is beginning to put forth all her
attractions.

" Could you justify before a tribunal the desertion of
Dangstein for Grosvenor Street in the month of May ?
Were you put on your trial for the offence and the judges
were allowed a view of your grounds and conservatories,
I should despair of a verdict in your favour."

Cobden, of course, had a particular affection for the
country. Had he not bought back the land once owned
by his father and built Dunford House on it ?

Here, except for visits to London necessitated by his
Parliamentary duties, he lived for the most part till he
was laid to rest by his son in West Lavington churchyard,
on which occasion his friend Thorold Rogers, then in
orders, preached the memorial sermon. In the same
church Manning preached for the last time as an Anglican
clergyman.

1 % The Victorians, though they spent a good deal of
time in the country, did not, as a rule, take much interest
in the huge gardens which were so often attached to
their country houses. They regarded the presence of a
number of gardeners as a matter of course. In addition
to this it was the practice to keep a number of old people

SOCIAL CHANGES 69

past work who were engaged in various easy occupations,
such as sweeping up leaves. This was a kindly way of
pensioning old people, who in many instances lived to
a very great age.

As a matter of fact, in a number of instances these
huge gardens did not repay their owners for the money
expended upon them.

The head gardener was often a tyrant who resented
even a flower being picked without his sanction.

Greenhouses were kept locked up and beautiful fruit
would be allowed to go to waste, while the household
had to be content with anything the gardener chose to
send in.

As he usually liked to keep the finest specimens in
order to make a show when people went round the
houses, the finest fruit and flowers never went indoors.

There were cases indeed where people with costly
gardens and greenhouses procured flowers and fruit for
their household from London, an arrangement which it
is possible may have resulted in their purchasing their
own produce sold to tradesmen by an unscrupulous
gardener — for the Victorians, though fond of indulging
in curious little economies, such as not having napkins
at lunch, were often careless about larger expenses. As
a matter of fact, few of the rich of that day had any real
business instincts.

A large section of the middle classes led hard, dour
lives during this epoch, ignoring the light, the loving, and
the joy of existence. They had no idea of getting the
most out of life, though apt enough at getting the most
they could out of other people.

The majority believed themselves to be religious —
that is to say, they scrupulously attended places of
worship, and brought up their children to think of God
as a harsh old gentleman on the watch to punish every-
body, especially people who desecrated the Sabbath or
who were lax about prayers.

70 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Quite a number of people then looked upon actors
as a different race of beings, and whenever by chance
they saw any theatrical persons in the street, would
watch their movements closely, being disappointed at
not perceiving any eccentricity in their walk qr manner.
They seemed to expect that after a few steps the actor
would invert himself and proceed for the rest of his
journey on his hands, or that upon calling a cab he
would spring in head foremost through the window and
be seen no more.

Many of the wives of suburban tradesmen in those
days were Evangelical, carried tracts in their pockets,
and would sooner have died than go to the theatre.

Their main interests outside their own households
were the high price of butchers' bills, Lord Shaftesbury,
misssionaries, and muffins.

Push in business was not carried then to the lengths it
is to-day, but in the 'sixties a more than usually enter-
prising firm of undertakers sent out a circular to lawyers
and doctors which created some sensation.

It ran as follows : —

"Established a Century. — Agents to the Cemeteries.
" SIR, — At the close of another year it again becomes
our pleasing duty to tender our sincere thanks to the
members of the Legal and Medical Professions for the
favour of their kind interest in recommendation.

"It is always our care to sustain the high reputation
our house has so long enjoyed ; and we confidently look
forward to the same measure of your support in the future
which we have enjoyed in the past.

" Believe us, your faithful servants,

" & SONS,

" Undertakers."

On a separate sheet was printed : —

" We have pleasure in stating that we have increased

SOCIAL CHANGES 71

our rate of allowance upon all introductions to ten per
cent."

A number of tradesmen, if very regular about praying
on their knees most of Sunday, were just as regular in
preying upon their customers all the rest of the week.

According to their curious code there was no harm
in getting the better of anyone in business, provided
one did not indulge in frivolity or amusements tending
towards vice.

During the late Victorian and early Edwardian period
the outlook of the London middle classes became sensibly
modified in several ways.

In addition to the many who became regular theatre-
goers, quite a number took to frequenting West End
restaurants, especially for supper, to which up to 1914
they flocked in yearly increasing numbers.

The war, however, which from a social point of view
has taken so much and given us so little, has of course
checked all this.

Though a number of people in the West End have
always lived comfortable lives, luxury never probably
reached such a pitch as just before the Great War.

Money, in spite of complaints of heavy taxation, was
fairly plentiful, and luxurious entertaining was the order
of the day. A great many had excellent chefs, and
champagne, which in Mid- Victorian days was only given
on great occasions, flowed like water. The dancing
craze was already in full swing, and an almost fierce love
of amusement seemed to have seized all classes. " Eat,
drink and be merry, for to-morrow we die," might
well have been an appropriate motto in those days.
Many of those indeed who laughed, revelled and danced
were to fall, and after all it was well that they should
have their fill of amusement before they sank to sleep.

In 1914 a veritable carnival of extravagance raged
in the West End, where many tried to live like his or her

72 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

richer neighbours, irrespective of differences in rank,
means and social position. In old days, moderately
well-off people made no effort whatever to entertain
beyond occasionally asking some relative or friend to
share their simple dinner. At the beginning of the
twentieth century the same class of people often pre-
tended to keep a chef, gave dinner-parties of an ambitious
kind, and in other directions copied the luxurious ways
of more opulent friends.

At no period, in all probability, was the quest of
pleasure so ardent. Luxury in the West End had
reached an almost excessive point, and pleasure resorts
were full of well-dressed people bent upon enjoyment.

Owing to frequenting the great restaurants which had
sprung up since Mr Ritz had shown what could be done
at the Savoy, people who had before been satisfied with
plain fare wanted what was or claimed to be French
cookery.

And yet old English fare as indulged in by their forbears
was good enough for anybody.

There is indeed nothing better, as Lord Dudley used
to say, than a small turbot, some well-roasted lamb or
duckling with green peas, followed by a good apple or
apricot tart. These, when well cooked, make a dinner
fit for an emperor.

Also the folk who had formerly been well content to
dine at seven took to copying the West End and went in
for late dinner.

As a matter of fact the dinner-hour has been getting
later during the last two hundred years among all classes
of the well-to-do.

Early in the eighteenth century people dined at two
o'clock, but gradually dinner was put off and put off till
four or five became the popular hour, which in course of
time was further delayed till seven among the commercial
classes and eight or even eight-thirty in the fashionable
world.

SOCIAL CHANGES 73

In the 'sixties and 'seventies people gave dull, solemn,
private dinner parties during the season, with massive
plate and expensive viands and priceless wine and rather
heavy conversation.

At such dinners, as Thackeray said, the host and
hostess too frequently became mere creatures in the hands
of the sham butlers, sham footmen, and tall confectioners'
emissaries who crowded the room. They were but guests
at their own table, were helped last, content to occupy
the top and bottom in solemn state.

Bridge, and the fashion set by the late King of getting
through a meal as quickly as possible, have pretty well
destroyed those lengthy dinners in which the Victorians
delighted.

Sitting over wine after dinner has also become a thing
of the past, banished by the tolerance now accorded to
cigar and cigarette.

That prince of gourmets, Brillat Savarin, said : " Let
the eating proceed slowly, the dinner being the last
business of the day, and let the guests look upon them-
selves as travellers who journey together towards a
common object."

Whether the modern habit of rushing through a meal
makes for health is very questionable ; anyhow it exists
to such an extent that a certain wealthy magnate of the
railway world was said to recruit his footmen from among
the swiftest young porters whom he observed hustling
about his company's platforms.

Thackeray advocated more hospitality and less show.
" Everybody," said he, " has the same (inner in London,
and the same soup, and the same saddle of mutton, boiled
fowls and tongue, entrees, champagne, and so forth.
Who does not know those made dishes with the universal
sauce to each : fricandeau, sweetbreads, damp, dumpy
cutlets, etc., seasoned with the compound of grease,
onions, bad port wine, cayenne pepper, and curry-powder ;
the poor wiry Moselle and sparkling Burgundy in the

74 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

ice-coolers, and the old story of white and brown soup,
turbot, little smelts, boiled turkey, and saddle of mutton ?
. . . What I would recommend with all my power is
that dinners should be more simple, more frequent, and
should contain fewer persons."

While the dinner-parties of the 'seventies and 'eighties
were for the most part less luxurious, if more formal,
than those of the period immediately preceding the
outbreak of the Great War, not a few of the residents
in Mayfair already prided themselves upon their cooks.

Occasionally some of these latter were so extravagant
as to evoke protests.

One well-known chef, for instance, used such an
enormous amount of eggs that his mistress, while telling
him to be more moderate, enquired the reason why
some three dozen had been used for a not over-elaborate
dish.

He admitted that the number might seem large, adding :
" The first egg was all right, madame, but I had to go
through a couple of dozen or so before I got others to
match its colour for the sauce."

Some of the old school of gourmets were quite amusing
about their culinary vicissitudes. Such a one was the
old nobleman who, to an enquiry as to what sort of
a cook he had got now, replied : " One with a great
reverence for the Old Testament, who ought to be at a
parson's."

"Why? "

" Because she glories in sending up either a ' burnt-
offering ' or a ' bloody sacrifice.' "

The old school hated unpunctuality, and were not fond
of sending a second invitation to people who were not in
time for dinner.

" Better late than never " was not a maxim which made
any appeal to the epicures of the Victorian age, one of
whom declared that it ought to be altered into " Better
never than late."

SOCIAL CHANGES 75

Sitting next a lady at dinner who had kept the
whole party waiting, John Bright said : " There are two
unpardonable sins — one writing an illegible hand and
the other being late for dinner."

The craze for what people think is French dishes —
though certain hosts have always been noted for their
chefs — has produced many bad dinners ; however, in
Edwardian days it developed into something more like
the real thing, and before the Great War not a few hosts
were justly able to pride themselves upon being able to
give their guests a really first-class repast.

Nevertheless within the last two decades there do
not seem to have been any great chefs like Soyer or
Ude — that great cook, who on the death of his old
master the Duke of York, so feelingly exclaimed :
" Ah ! mon pauvre Due, how you will miss me where
you have gone ! "

Within the last ten years or so the American habit of
serving cocktails before dinner has made its way into
Mayfair.

Whether a cocktail does not take away more appetite
than it gives is a doubtful question. An authority,
however, maintains that a dry cocktail — one, and one
only — taken ten minutes before the moment of sitting
down at table, is a stimulus to appetite.

The curtailment of the number of dishes served at
dinners, which in old days often reached a preposterous
number, is undoubtedly an improvement. Some of
the old school, it is probable, literally gorged them-
selves to death, a thing which would be unlikely to
happen to-day. The general standard of entertaining
has undoubtedly improved.

Many of the Victorian lunch and dinner givers had a
way of making their guests sit very close together, which
it was said promoted sociability, while the modern mode
of having dining-room chairs with arms was unknown.
Napkins were not always provided at luncheon, though

76 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

their use at dinner was universal. A few old usages
which lingered on into the end of the last century have
disappeared. Lemonade or barley water often stood
on dining tables, and in old-fashioned country houses
tea was served just before the hour for retiring to bed.
This latter custom has been obsolete for many years.
The curious thing is that it does not seem to have pre-
vented people from sleeping.

Afternoon tea was originally taken at four o'clock;
the hour, however, gradually got to five as people took to
dining later.

The habit of taking five o'clock tea, which is now
universal in clubs, is a comparatively new one, and
dates only from about thirty years ago ; though,
of course, a certain amount of teas were served long
before this. It is doubtful whether tea drinking is
entirely beneficial to the health, but it is certainly
more so than the brandy and soda drinking which it
superseded.

The amount of B. and S.'s consumed in the 'seventies
and early 'eighties was quite prodigious ; on the other
hand, it is doubtful whether liqueurs were drunk in such
large quantities as is the case to-day.

The whole question of whether the well-to-do classes
drink more or less than in the past is obscure. Ever
since he was a child the writer has heard people talking
of the greater amount of alcohol consumed in their youth.
At the present time there are constant references to
the deep potations indulged in by the men of -thirty years
ago — 1890. But thirty years ago people used to say
that no one drank anything compared with what was
drunk thirty years before — 1860.

Men, however, who had lived at that date declared
that the drinking then was nothing to what there had
been thirty years before — 1830, and so the old story
goes on.

The real truth, I believe, is that many individuals,

SOCIAL CHANGES 77

after leading rather rapid bachelor lives, settle down and
become serious members of society with a tendency
towards looking after their health. Their own con-
sumption of alcohol becomes reduced to a minimum,
while their quiet mode of life prevents their coming in
contact with anyone not leading a carefully ordered
existence.

In consequence of this, they assume that everyone
else is moderate too, quite losing sight of the fact that a
certain number of people continue to drink a good deal.

On the whole, however, I believe that even roystering
youth has become more sensible as to its potations.
The restrictions, however, have had a very bad effect in
causing wild young fellows to drink against time at the
closing hour's approach.

Parisian restaurant keepers say the English who come
abroad drink far more than before the war. Doubtless
this is because, like children escaped from school, these
visitors have too keen an appreciation of the social
liberty which France affords.

The true solution of the whole drinking question would
appear to be favouring moderate drinkers, while making
things as uncomfortable as possible for drunkards. Un-
fortunately the modern English do exactly the opposite,
and make the innocent suffer for the guilty.

A novel social feature is the craze for dancing,
against which there is nothing to be said, being as it is
healthy as well as productive of enjoyment. The extra-
ordinary thing is the comparatively large number of
middle-aged, and even quite old, people who take part
in it.

In old days they would have been looked upon as old
fools, but to-day no one minds.

After all, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred they
are more danced against than dancing, gout and a cheery
past not being conducive to such an active form of
exercise.

78 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

While women dress better than in the past, they spend
far more money. Feminine extravagance in dress indeed
has become quite a common vice.

Though at the very beginning of the war there was
some idea that economy ought to be the order of the day,
as the weary struggle dragged on, an entirely new class,
who for the first time found themselves in possession of
money, plunged into a regular orgy of extravagance,
purchasing fur coats, silk stockings, and patent leather
shoes with a zest equal to that of a well-tipped schoolboy
turned loose in a sweet-shop.

Without doubt the Press, which now draws such large
sums from advertisements of drapers, costumiers and
others who minister to feminine vanity, is largely re-
sponsible for the unchecked extravagance of the modern
female. It used to be urged that with the granting of
the vote to women, the latter, becoming serious, would
despise the vanities which had hitherto been associated
with their sex.

It seems likely that the majority of the wromen of
England had no desire for the vote, the concession of which
was undoubtedly brought about by the persistency of
the comparatively few who had infused so much vigour
into an agitation which dated from Victorian days. At
that period, however, the cry of Votes for Women was
the subject of many witticisms.

An allusion by Bernal Osborne to the " rapidity of
conception " and " ease of delivery " manifested by a lady
speaker once caused quite a sensation at a Suffrage
meeting.

Well, female emancipation — including the right to
serve on juries, which the great mass of women abominate
— is now an accomplished fact, but woman, far from
having risen above spending her time and money in
tricking herself out in pretty frivolities, now spends far
more time and far greater sums of money than she ever
did before, not only upon mere clothes to cover her body

SOCIAL CHANGES 79

but upon numberless unnecessary trifles merely connected
with an inordinate personal vanity.

Fortunes are made by many who batten upon feminine
folly, fashion being merely, as a critic has well said,
" the shearing of women the world over, from London to
Buenos Ayres."

It has become a regular and remunerative fashion to
design dresses, the main object apparently being to com-
bine a minimum of artistically draped material with a
maximum of expense. Every new fashion, moreover,
must be entirely different from the one it succeeds,
otherwise clients might try and have their old dresses
adapted, which would, of course, not be at all to the
dressmakers' taste.

The whole thing is unmitigated folly; nevertheless it
will probably never cease.

Prehistoric fashion-plates, it is said, have been found
scratched upon the walls of caves, and in spite of protests,
dress will continue to absorb feminine time and money
as long as the world lasts.

The position of a young lady of high birth but moderate
means has probably never been so bad as it is to-day,
when everything connected with dress has become so
outrageously expensive.

At the same time feminine costume is infinitely more
hygienic and more attractive than in the 'seventies,
'eighties, and even 'nineties of the last century.

The custom of compressing the waist, with a view to
producing a wasp-like effect, besides inartistic, was
extremely unhealthy.

From every point of view it should be a matter for
congratulation that modern woman has succeeded in
obtaining freedom in this respect.

Unfortunately, in fashion as in other mundane matters,
the swing of the pendulum is so irresistible that the
danger of this highly unhygienic fashion's return is by
no means a slight one.

80 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Within the last few years ladies have adopted the
admirable, pretty, and healthful low neck. A short
while ago, however, there was an attempt (futile, one is
glad to note) to revive the ugly high collars, often
stiffened with whalebone, which disfigure when they
do not conceal some of the most beautiful lines in the
female form divine.

Fashion is an unreasonable goddess, as well as a
capricious one, and is apt to grow weary of even her
happiest inspirations.

Even the ugly eccentricities of costume which prevailed
during the last century failed to disfigure many of the
ladies who wore it.

The Victorian Era indeed may be said to have been
noted for the beauty of its women, the record of which
has been preserved for us by Winterhalter and other
artists.

Among the beautiful ladies of that day the Princess
of Wales — now Queen Alexandra — was by universal
consent acclaimed as the very incarnation of youthful
loveliness.

Mrs Thistlethwayte, a celebrated beauty, once created
a sensation at the Opera, the whole house rising to its
feet to watch her leave the theatre.

In those days the aristocracy and the stage were
supposed to have a sort of monopoly of feminine
beauty, the commercial and working classes not
having yet learnt how to make the most of their
appearance.

In the 'seventies and 'eighties came the " professional
beauties," at whom old-fashioned people at first looked
rather askance.

One professional beauty, for a joke, dressed herself
up as a flower-girl and sold violets in Bond Street in the
early hours of the evening, her basket being emptied
within a few minutes. Another, whilst on a visit to
Constantinople, it is said, so won the admiration of the

SOCIAL CHANGES 81

Sultan that he conferred upon her the order of virtue —
but, as some of her friends pointed out, it was only of
the second-class.

Though in old days it was not unusual for ladies to
permit engraved reproductions of their portraits to appear
in the Book of Beauty or in one of the picturesque
annuals popular in society, it was quite an innovation
for them to allow their photographs to be sold to the
public, or to figure with those of actresses in shop
windows.

The Burlington Arcade in particular exhibited the
likeness of these beauties, some of whom afterwards had
children as beautiful as themselves. Among actresses,
Miss Maude Branscombe's photograph probably had the
largest sale.

Since those days weekly illustrated papers have sprung
into existence, the main object of which would appear
to be furnishing the public with portraits of the social
celebrities of the day,

The time has long gone by when anyone would be
likely to take exception to this, and the majority of
young ladies in what now passes for " Society " some
time or other smile from the pages of the Sketch or the
Taller.

The standard of English feminine beauty was probably
never higher than it is to-day.

Woman's dress, after going through numberless
stages, has become sensible and artistic as well as
pretty.

Hairdressing, once the weak point of English women,
had vastly improved, while the disappearance of the
absurd wasp-waist, which had been responsible for much
ill-health, had made women stronger, freer and more
graceful.

Before the Great War the West End fairly swarmed
with pretty girls. Though, owing to the increased
cost of everything, women are not so elaborately
6

82 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

dressed as they were seven years ago, there is still an
amazing amount of beauty among them. In this respect
indeed, as ever, England continues to hold her own.

Bright-eyed, active and healthy, a really beautiful
Englishwoman is Nature's masterpiece.

From a physical point of view there is nothing to com-
pare with her in all the world.

A FAIR LONDONER

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE

THE architectural transformation which has swept
over London within the last thirty years has
as yet not affected Mayfair to the same extent
as some other districts.

Sutherland house, a rather stately mansion of French
design, which sadly needs parterres instead of the small
streets which surround it, has supplanted Curzon
Chapel, while not far away a Christian Science church or
temple built in a nondescript if not unpleasing style
strikes a note of architecture hitherto unknown to this
particular district.

Berkeley Chapel was swept away a good many years
ago, and one side of Carrington Street has been rebuilt,
otherwise the aspect of Mayfair remains fairly unchanged.

An air of old-world quiet still pervades Berkeley
Square, which, besides having the finest plane trees
planted in 1789, is also the most dimly-lit square in
London, a state of affairs thoroughly appreciated by
young ladies fond of taking the air with a favourite
partner between the dances of balls in the locality.

Mayfair is totally deficient in monuments, unless the
somewhat scantily-draped lady at one end of the Square
who provides an intermittent supply of water be
reckoned as such.

Like most of the other drinking fountains scattered
throughout the Metropolis this has no particular merit.

Even the most artistic fountain of all, " Gilbert's "
at Piccadilly Circus, is lacking in proportion, the base
being much too large for the figure at the top ; whilst

83

84 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

others, like that erected in 1875 at Park Lane, can lay no
claim at all to being works of art.

The original design of this fountain could not at first
be carried out owing to the death of Mrs Brown, a rich
and benevolent old lady who had entrusted the commission
for it to Mr Thornycroft.

She died before it was completed, leaving no will, in
consequence of which this fountain, one of her pet pro-
jects, suffered, her property being thrown into the Court
of Chancery, as a result of which the Board of Works
refused to supply water for it. It appears that this was
considered a promise made during Mr Ayrton's tenure
of office to Mrs Brown, who intended also to leave the
munificent sum of £70,000 for building public baths ; but,
unfortunately, she died without a will.

In the early days of this fountain, at a time when
some of the traditions of the Tom and Jerry period still
lingered, midnight roysterers were fond of ducking one
another in its waters.

A curious feature of the Victorian Era, in which water
can scarcely be said to have been particularly popular
as a drink, was the mania for putting up these drinking
fountains, often at considerable cost.

The Gothic one on the north side of the Park, opposite
Stanhope Gate, was erected at the expense of the
Maharajah of Vizianagram. It was designed by Mr
Robert Keirle, and cost twelve hundred pounds.

The London monuments erected in Victorian days
were almost without exception poor works of art. The
improvement since then has not been very great.

The monument to Miss Edith Cavell, though some of
its details are good, cannot be called an unqualified
artistic success.

Somewhat angular in form, a caustic critic declared
that it looked as if it had been designed by Euclid.

The most unsatisfactory monument in London, con-
sidering the enormous sum expended upon it, is the

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 85

Albert Memorial, which embodies some of the worst
features of Victorian taste.

Queen Victoria, of course, admired it greatly, not only
as a triumph of art but also as a tribute, which under
more favourable circumstances, (as an Irishman once
said,) the deceased Prince himself would have been sure
to appreciate.

The many statues of the Queen are not particularly
successful, though she herself appears to have liked them.
At the time of the Jubilee in 1897, when it was proposed
to remove the effigy of Queen Anne outside St Paul's
to allow more room for the Royal carriage to reach the
Cathedral steps, Queen Victoria refused her assent.

If once people begin moving statues of Sovereigns,
said she, who can tell what they may do with mine !

Besides the undraped lady, Berkeley Square formerly
boasted an equestrian statue of George III as Marcus
Aurelius.

Owing possibly to the absurdity of attempting to
assimilate good old " Farmer George " to one of the
greatest thinkers of the past this was removed within
comparatively recent times, its place being now occupied
by a summer house which no one ever seems to
use.

Berkeley Square, though begun about 1698, was not
finished till the time when SirRobert Walpole was Prime
Minister ; he, indeed, made a note of the last houses
being built there.

The old Square has not been the scene of any very
exciting events, but during Lord Liverpool's ministry
artillerymen were posted there, lighted match in hand,
ready to fire loaded field-pieces.

On November 22nd, 1774, a real tragedy occurred at
No. 45, when Lord Give, owing to depression, committed
suicide

The house in question belongs to Lord Powis, who
keeps up the old custom of having his name inscribed on

86 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

the brass doorplate. This mansion is a rare instance
of long continuity of tenure.

The architecture of the Square is in the main dignified
and pleasing.

No. 42 has a particularly finely designed entrance,
while at No. 17 may be seen a good example of the best
style of trellis verandah.

The memory of the Great Protector is in a way pre-
served in " Mount Street," so named after Oliver's
Mount, a fortified outwork of four bastions which once
stood close by.

The Farm Street Chapel in Mount Street succeeded
that of the Portuguese Legation, the site of which was
not far away. Novello, when organist there, is said to
have written the now customary music to the " Adeste
Fideles."

Manning was received into the Roman Catholic Church
at Farm Street, and at this chapel a mass was specially
said for the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife
the morning before they left London, to meet a death
which plunged all Europe into the most terrible struggle
the world has ever known.

On the north-east side of Berkeley Square, at the
corner of Davies and Bourdon Streets, Bourdon Manor
House, a relic of past times, preserves the memory of
Miss Mary Davis, by her marriage with whom in 1676
Sir Thomas Grosvenor acquired the property in Pimlico
attached to Bourdon farm, which alliance brought great
wealth to the Grosvenor family.

The story of Sir Thomas Grosvenor having first seen
Miss Mary Davis when she brought him out some milk
from the farmhouse, her father being a farmer, is not
based upon fact.

Mr Davis, whose name is perpetuated in the street
close by, was a man of business who speculated in what
the Americans call " real estate," and had acquired
Bourdon Manor House by exchange, which he is

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 87

said to have regretted, as it was then so far out of
London.

On the other hand, the wealth of the Portmans is in
some measure connected with milk.

In 1750 one of the family, coming up to London for
the season, was much troubled about the health of his
young wife, who was very delicate. He took the best
medical opinion, and the doctors advised that the lady
should drink ass's milk.

Learning from his coachman that some asses kept for
this purpose were to be found in a small farm just outside
London, which was for sale, the anxious husband, after
inspecting the property, purchased it, and on the land in
question was afterwards built Portman Square.

At No. ii Berkeley Square lived Horace Walpole.
He writes, October 1779 : "I came to town this morning
to take possession of Berkeley Square, and am as well
pleased with my new habitation as I can be with any-
thing at present. Lady Shelbourne's being queen of
the palace (Lansdowne House) over against me has
improved the view since I bought the house."

No. ii remained in the Walpole family till the early
part of last century, when the fourth Lord Orford, grand-
father of the writer, lost it in one night at cards to
Mr Baring.

The writer's mother, who was born there, used to
lament this unlucky escapade of her father's. She
cherished great affection for this house, and among her
papers was found a note relating to it in which the former
owners up to 1892 were set forth.

Sir Cecil Bishop . ^ . . . 1741-1778

Horace Walpole . . . . 1779-1797

The Ladies Waldegrave . . . 1798-1816

Lord Walpole . ... . 1817-1820

Hon. R. Clive . , . • . . 1821-1822

Earl of Orford .... 1824-1827

88 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Henry Baring .... 1828-1848

Mrs Baring . . . . . 1849-1874

Empty 1875-1876

Oliver Gourley Miller . . . 1877-1878

Earl of Clarendon .... 1879-1891

Vernon Watney .... 1892-

An appended footnote says : " This, the east side of
the Square, was first built in 1735-1740."

In Victorian days No. 50 Berkeley Square stood empty
and neglected for years. It was supposed to be haunted,
and all sorts of stories were told as to the strange things
which happened to people who had been inside it.

After many years it was done up, since which time
nothing further has been heard of the haunting.

The origin of the story seems to have been that many
years ago the owner (a connection of the writer's), having
been engaged to be married, made all sorts of prepara-
tions for the marriage. Everything was ready and the
wedding breakfast laid in the house, when on the morning
of the marriage-day the bride suddenly died.

So disconsolate was the unfortunate man that he
never left the house again, living there with only a servant
or two till he died.

Nor would he have anything touched : the wedding
breakfast remained on the table to the day of his death.

Neighbours seeing tradesmen occasionally bringing
food in, but no one ever going out, began to think it
very queer, especially as when the house fell into dis-
repair no effort was made to put things in order.

Later on, when the owner had died, the building was
left completely empty, and no doubt rats running about
among bell-wires gave rise to reports of mysterious
noises.

One story produces another, and some people declared
that a gang of coiners lived in the deserted mansion.

Directly the house had been renovated and was once

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 89

more inhabited, nothing more was heard of all this,
and the present-day residents of Berkeley Square are
probably quite unaware that any house in it was ever
supposed to have been haunted.

On the whole the Square, notwithstanding certain
changes — notably the new red-brick fa$ade of Lord
Rosebery's house — still retains much of its old-world air
of quiet repose.

Eighteenth-century street architecture was usually
devoid of any pretension to especial decorative merit,
but the houses of that era were not lacking in a certain
dignity of proportion, whilst ample provision for the
admission of light was always to be found. The ironwork
of the railings was also often extremely artistic, never
erring (as almost invariably does modern ironwork) in
the direction of over-elaboration and meaningless
eccentricity.

Modern architects are fond of small windows, which,
considering the not over-abundant supply of sunshine
and light available in London, seem somewhat out of
place. On one estate (I believe that belonging to the
Duke of Westminster) a clause in every lease forbids
the building of a house with any but windows of very
moderate dimensions. The old streets of the West End
are generally too narrow for the lofty houses now
so frequently being erected. How the occupants
of these mansions — overshadowed as they must be
by other giant constructions facing them, and for
the most part only furnished with ridiculous little
windows — ever obtain any light, is a mystery
which their builders would be considerably puzzled
to explain.

As Professor Dearmer pointed out in a lecture at
King's College, it apparently requires years of training
to put up a really ugly building or church, as could be
proved by a study of old places in the country where a
professional architect has never been employed.

90 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

"Even the pig-styes had a sort of beauty," which is
more than can be said for most modern buildings. Not
content with putting up a number of architectural
abominations, people of no taste have done their best to
disfigure fine old mansions erected in the past.

During the last hundred years many fine old houses
built of red brick were covered with stucco. Apsley
House and St George's Hospital, for instance, as
Thackeray put it in " Vanity Fair," wore red jackets
up to the early part of the nineteenth century.

During the end of the Duke of Wellington's life Apsley
House presented a gloomy appearance. The windows,
shut up from year's end to year's end, and protected by
bullet-proof shutters of massive iron ; the very railings
in front of the house boarded up, to exclude the curiosity
of the passers-by — all owing to the riots which preceded
the passing of the Reform Bill, riots in which there was
incendiarism in the provinces, while in the metropolis
the populace threatened the life of the greatest captain
of the age.

A continental general would have run away or sum-
moned armed forces against the rioters. The Duke,
however, merely barricaded his house to the best of his
ability. He, the Field-Marshal of all European countries,
the Warden of the Cinque Ports, the Commander-in-
Chief of the British Army, issued no orders for the drums
to beat, and no soldiers fired upon the misguided populace.
When the storm was over, however, he had bullet-proof
shutters fitted to his windows, and those shutters he
kept always closed. Thus the people were prevented
from forgetting their brutal attack upon the old lion who
had saved England.

Mayfair, on the whole, suffered from vandalism less

han did other districts, the old box-like houses remaining

unaltered up to the latter part of the last century.

Though there was no architectural beauty about them

they were not devoid of dignity and charm, while their

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 91

railings and lamp-holders of wrought iron were often
artistic.

The whole appearance of the streets, frequented as
they were by itinerant vendors carrying their wares,
was much as it was in the eighteenth century.

The Cries, which have long ceased to be heard, in some
cases had been handed on from a very remote time ; a
few were not at all unmusical, and recalled a less prosaic
age.

With the lapse of years, practically all the picturesque
figures which formerly enlivened the streets of Mayfair
have disappeared.

Up to about the 'eighties women in shawls and poke
bonnets, with a yoke on their shoulders from which hung
pails, distributed milk throughout the district, and for
years later, gorgeously attired footmen, as well as coach-
men in cocked hats and wigs, were often to be seen.

The well-appointed carriages, together with the fine
horses that drew them, vanished with the coming of the
motor.

About the last picturesque figure left was the crossing-
sweeper at the corner by Lansdowne House, whose red
coat, a present from a quondam master of the buck
hounds living close by, struck a note of colour which
enlivened the somewhat sombre precincts of Berkeley
Square.

Towards the end of the nineteenth century houses
striking an incongruous note began to appear in some of
the quiet old streets.

This was owing to the architectural activities of a firm
of builders who made a speciality of buying up old houses
in the West End, altering them to suit modern tastes,
and generally bringing their interiors up to date.

Though in many cases increased accommodation was
contrived, old houses were too often faced with over-
elaborate and unsuitable fronts.

The result is especially apparent in Charles Street

92 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

(buili in 1753-1754), where all sorts of incongruous
architectural ornamentation clashes with the simple
brickwork of Georgian days.

Previous to this the first Lord Revelstoke had made
two houses into one and added a somewhat pretentious
fa$ade and wrought-iron railings, which cost some six
thousand pounds.

Berkeley Chapel, which was at the end of Charles Street,
as has been said, was demolished a good many years ago.

Here Sidney Smith, who afterwards lived at 33 Charles
Street, was minister for a time.

He wrote in November 1835 '• " I have bought a
house in Charles Street, Berkeley Square (lease for
fourteen years), for £1400, and £10 per annum ground
rent. It is near the chapel where I used to preach."
In a later letter he speaks of the house as " The HOLE."

In Charles Street is a public-house, " The Running
Footman," which with its signboard is a survival of a
long-past age when it was the resort- of the numerous
men-servants attached to the residents in this vicinity.

No. 42 was once the abode of Beau Brummell, and at
another house in the same street lived Bulwer Lytton,
who had a room fitted up in exact facsimile of one in
Pompeii.

Bulwer Lytton for a time was attracted by spiritualism
in the hope of communicating with his dead daughter.
The vulgarity of the whole thing, however, eventually
disgusted him. He would describe a typical conver-
sation between one of the frequenters of Home, the
spiritualist's, seances and the spirit of her husband.
" Are you," asked the lady, " quite 'appy, dear — as
'appy as when you were with me ? " The reply came,
" Oh, far, far 'appier." " Then, indeed, you must be
in 'eaven," sighed the lady. " No," returned the gentle-
man, " I'm in 'ell."

Owing to the novelist having lived in Charles Street,
it was not very many years ago proposed to alter its name

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 93

to Lytton Street ; but owing to spirited protests from
residents, among whom the writer's mother, though
then well over eighty, took the lead, the idea was
abandoned.

Charles Street, it may be added, probably did not
derive its name from the Merry Monarch, but from
Charles, Earl of Falmouth, brother of the first Lord
Berkeley of Stratton.

No. 30 Charles Street was formerly the Cosmopolitan
Club, which has now ceased to exist.

Founded in 1851 by Sir Robert Morier, its bi-weekly
meetings were at first held at his rooms, 49 New Bond
Street.

At the end of the next year Sir Robert, then Mr Morier,
joined the Diplomatic Service, in which he became such
a distinguished figure, and the Club then migrated to
the house of Colonel Stirling, called the " White Cottage,"
which was approached through a narrow passage and
garden out of Knightsbridge, opposite the Cavalry
Barracks. Colonel Stirling (afterwards Sir Anthony) was
Adjutant-General of the Highland Brigade in the Crimea,
and Chief of the Staff to Sir Colin Campbell (afterwards
Lord Clyde).

Its meetings were subsequently moved to Crockford's
old gaming rooms, now the Devonshire Club.

The Cosmopolitan had by that time become well
known, and there were many candidates for admission.

Regular rules were drawn up, the object of the Club
being set forth as the promotion of social intercourse
among its members, and the affording a place of occasional
resort to gentlemen fron the British Colonies, or in the
service of the East India, or to such other persons not
habitually living in London as the committee may think
it desirable to invite.

One of the early members was Robert Lowe (after-
wards Lord Sherbrooke), who had recently returned
from a high position in Australia. He was then

94 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

member for Kidderminster, and a leader-writer in
the Times.

Some years later, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, his
proposals to put a tax upon lucifer matches called forth
a perfect flood of ephemeral literature, as well as a
quantity of derisive illustrations, which no doubt played
some part in causing the abandonment of what was
regarded as a very unpopular tax.

Others were Layard, fresh from his excavations and
discoveries at Nineveh and Babylon, and George Venables,
who had the reputation of having broken Thackeray's
nose in a fight when they were boys together at Charter-
house,— one of the brilliant writers who started the
Saturday Review.

Watts and Ruskin were members, as was the humorous
and witty preacher at Berkeley Chapel, William Brook-
field, and Monckton Milnes, the poet, or, as he was wittily
called by Carlyle, " The President of the Heaven and
Hell Amalgamation Society."

The Club room — Mr Watts' studio — had no windows,
being lighted only by a skylight. Nevertheless, when
lighted up at night it was cheerful enough. The only
remarkable piece of furniture was a large screen portray-
ing on each leaf some Chinese form of torture. Sir
Henry Loch used to say that when he was in captivity
and hourly expecting his death at the hands of the
Chinese, his mind often wandered back to the old screen
at the Cosmopolitan, and the scenes which he thought
would so soon be realized in his own body.

In the late 'fifties, the Cosmopolitan Club, having
grown in numbers and seeking larger premises for their
bi-weekly meetings, took No. 30 Charles Street, Mayfair,
where Mr Watts had had his studio up till the time
he moved to Little Holland House. A large picture
painted by this great artist still remained : its idea had
been taken from a story of Boccaccio, put into verse by
Dryden, and entitled " Theodore and Honoria." He

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 95

had painted it in an outhouse of Lord Holland's villa at
Florence. The picture shows, stripped of her clothes,
a dame distressed : —

" Her face, her hands, her naked limbs were torn
With passing through the brakes and prickly thorn.
Two mastiffs gaunt and grim her flight pursued,
And oft their fastening fangs in blood embrued. . . .
Not far behind, a knight of swarthy face
High on a coal-black steed pursued the chace."

This terrible apparition Theodore shows to the obstinate
Honoria at a picnic. It cured her of her unwillingness
to many him. A member of the Club, Sir William
Stirling Maxwell, used to say to newcomers : — " You
have heard of Watts' hymns ? Well, this is one of his
Hers."

In 1858 the Club entertained Lord Clyde after the
Indian Mutiny.

Lord Aberdare wrote : —

" Our Cosmopolitan Dinner to Lord Clyde went off
brilliantly ; de Grey proposed his health in an excellent
speech, which the veteran acknowledged in a few simple
hearty words ; then came some pleasant speeches from
Thackeray, Lord Wodehouse, Lord Stanley, Monckton
Milnes, Layard, etc."

In the 'sixties the Club was full of celebrities —
Laurence Oliphant, Speke, the discoverer of the sources
of the Nile ; Kingslake, the second Lord Lytton ; Tenny-
son, Millais, Leighton, Thackeray, Anthony Trollope,
and Froude.

Swinburne was brought in one night as a visitor.
" Who is that man," asked a member, " who looks like
the Duke of Argyll possessed of a devil ? "

The record of the Club, it will be seen, was a very
interesting one ; however, like some other Victorian insti-
tutions, it did not survive long into the twentieth century.

In 1903 it was found that the House in Charles Street

96 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

required immediate and expensive repairs, for which
the resources of the Club would not provide. The
lease accordingly was sold, the Club wound up, and
the Boccaccio picture, which the Club had bought for
£200, was, with the sanction of Mr Watts, presented to
the Tate Museum. But, for the convenience of exist-
ing members, an arrangement was made which entitled
them to meet during a year or two on the customary
Sundays and Wednesdays at the rooms of the Alpine
Club in Savile Row.

A good deal might be written about the vanished
Clubs of London.

There was the " Alfred " in Albemarle Street, for
instance, founded, it is said, by Sir Thomas Bernard, Bart.,
and opened on January ist, 1809, which was absorbed
into the " Oriental " in 1855. Unkind people called it
the " Half -read," which was untrue, as many of its
members were travellers and men of letters. According
to Byron, who belonged to it, this Club was pleasant
though rather serious in tone, and the poet found it a
decent recourse on a rainy day or when town was empty.

Lord Derby, on the other hand, described it as being
in his time the dullest place in existence — the asylum
of doting Tories and drivelling quidnuncs.

The " Fielding " was another Club which had a com-
paratively short existence.

The first mansion used as a Club in the modern sense
of the word is said to have been No. 89 Pall Mall, after-
wards part of the War Office, a house originally built
for Edward Duke of York, brother of George III. At
the end of the eighteenth century what was then called
a " subscription house " was opened in these premises,
then the Albion Hotel.

The old idea of a Club was somewhat different from
what it is to-day. To begin with, men dined more in
their own houses or rooms, " a dinner at the Club "
being considered by many as quite an event.

ROUND BERKELEY SQUARE 97

Also, clubs were more solemn places than they have
since become, while certain privileged old members had
their own special arm-chair and special table in the
coffee room.

Most members lunched wearing their hat, and some
wore it when dining as well.

Though comfortable in a solid sort of way, there was
little ornamentation to be seen in the clubs of the past.
As late as the 'eighties pictures were few in number,
curtains and wall-paper crude in colour, the general
effect being such that one West End club was supposed
to have been decorated under the supervision of its cook.
The members, however, cared little about this; what
they wanted was a comfortable chair to sit in and good
food and drink, and these they certainly got even better
than to-day.

Clubs then, frequented as they were by a limited
number of members, were run very much like a com-
fortable country house — if no attention was paid to art,
great care was exercised as to keeping the rooms spot-
lessly clean. The table linen also was of the finest
quality; in short, an air of solid old- world comfort pervaded
West End clubs, in which old gentlemen often enjoyed
a sort of prescriptive right to certain comfortable arm-
chairs and were treated with a ceremonious respect
which has now become a thing of the past.

It was not an uncommon thing for clubs to have a
music-room with a piano, to which the members might
resort should they wish to play or -sing.

Rules were few in number.

A club in those days still remained more or less what
it had originally been designed to be — a member's own
private house, where he had every facility to do as he
chose.

VI
THE HEART OF MAYFAIR

AS a great city develops, lanes, footpaths, and
even bridle-paths, grow into busy thoroughfares.
Berkeley Street, for instance, was originally
only a narrow lane at the western extremity of Piccadilly.
The whole neighbourhood retained traces of its rural
character up to a comparatively recent time. A cow-
house existed in the grounds of old Mexborough House
till the demolition of that mansion not so very many years
ago, it having been the practice, till the fields in the
vicinity were all built over, to send the cows out to graze,
they being brought back to Berkeley Street every evening.

The old aristocracy were fond of new milk, and many
of them had cowhouses, of which the one on the slope
leading from Mexborough House to Berkeley Street was
the last.

At No. 9 Berkeley Street lived, about 1715, the poet
Alexander Pope. It is believed that his " Farewell to
London " was written here. From the poet it passed
into the hands of General Bulkeley, and a later occupant
of the house well remembered that whenever that gentle-
man visited it after it had ceased to be his own, it was
his invariable habit to observe, with an air of respectful
interest, " This is the house Mr Alexander Pope lived in."

After the owner, Lord Berkeley's death, Berkeley
Street and Stratton Street — at first known as " Little
Barkley Street " — were built on part of the gardens, by
his widow (Lady Berkeley of Stratton), and in 1697 the
first Duke of Devonshire bought the mansion, which was
burnt down in 1733.

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 99

The present house, erected after a design by Kent,
was built by the third Duke, its style being much criti-
cized. It was said to be equally spacious and equally
deserving of praise as the East India Company's ware-
houses.

During the Gordon riots in 1790 Devonshire House
was garrisoned by soldiers. The external double flight
of stairs leading to an entrance on the first floor was
removed in 1840 ; this removal was scarcely an
improvement.

About this time considerable alterations were made
in the interior of the house, the general effect of which,
though gorgeous, gives reason for regret.

The fine iron gate was inserted in the wall in front of
the house by the last Duke, who brought it to London
from Chiswick House.

The disappearance of Devonshire House which now
(1921) seems imminent, will further curtail the ever-
lessening number of fine old mansions in the West
End.

Lansdowne House, which at present seems safe, was
built in the middle of the eighteenth century, having been
begun by the Earl of Bute, from the design of Robert
Adam. In 1765 the former sold the unfinished house to
William, Earl of Shelburne, for £22,500, by which he
was supposed to have lost £3000. Lord Shelburne put
a roof on and otherwise completed it, after which he
gave a housewarming on Monday, August 1st, 1768.
Lord Shelburne was called the Jesuit of Berkeley Square
by George III. His librarian and literary companion
during the winters of seven years was Dr Priestley.

Talleyrand, when he came to England in 1792, was a
constant visitor at Lansdowne House, and frequently
dined there, which shows that the cooking must have
been good, for he always attached great importance to
what he ate, and even when eighty years old used to
spend nearly an hour every morning with his cook, dis-

100 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

cussing the dishes which were to compose the one meal
he took during the day — dinner.

Two things, he used to say, were essential in life — to
give good dinners and keep well with women, both of
which precepts he always followed.

The wily old diplomatist inspired Careme with real
enthusiasm.

" M. de Talleyrand," said that great chef, " understands
the genius of a cook ; he respects it ; he is the most com-
petent judge of delicate progress, and his expenditures
are wise and great at the same time."

It was to Car£me that the Prince Regent once said :
" Care"me, you will make me die of indigestion ; I am
fond of everything you give me, and you tempt me too
much." " Monseigneur," replied the chef, " my principal
office is to challenge your appetite by the variety of my
service ; but it is not my affair ro regulate it." The
prince smiled, saying that he was right, and Careme
continued to supply him with the best.

The only breviary used by the ex-bishop was " L'lm-
provisateur Francais," a compilation of anecdotes and
bon mots, in twenty-one duodecimo volumes. Whenever
a good thing was wandering about in search of a parent,
he adopted it, among others : " This is the beginning of
the end."

There seems to be little doubt but that Talleyrand
was in reality the father of Count Flahaut, who had been
aide-de-camp to Napoleon I, and was French Ambassador
in London during the Second Empire. The latter's
daughter, Baroness Nairne in her own right, became the
second wife of the fourth Marquess of Lansdowne.

The present Marquess, therefore, is the great-grandson
of the wily diplomatist who in his sacerdotal capacity
celebrated Mass at the feast of pikes.

The gardens of Lansdowne House practically join those
of Devonshire House, a huge mansion built upon the site
of Hay Hill farm, remains of which are to be found in

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 101

the names of Hay Hill, Hill Street, and Farm Street.
It replaced, in 1733, Berkeley House, an older mansion
built in 1665.

The district, though always fashionable, was at one
time haunted by dangerous characters. A stout iron
bar still stands in the doorway of Lansdowne Passage
in Berkeley Street. This was put up at the end of the
eighteenth century to hamper highwaymen, one of these
gentry having effected his escape after a robbery in
Piccadilly by galloping through the passage from Curzon
Street, his horse successfully negotiating the steps.

In 1774 a coach-load of people were attacked and
robbed on Hay Hill, and at the same place George IV
and the Duke of York, when young men, were made to
stand and deliver by highwaymen who stopped their
hackney carriage at this place. George IV always
used to declare that the man who robbed him was none
other than Champneys the singer. The reason, as a
matter of fact, why no great stir was made about this
affair was that the Prince Regent would have had to
account for his whereabouts the evening before the
robbery took place, which would have been inconvenient.

Within recent times, owing to the darkness of Berkeley
Square — it is, as has before been said, the darkest square
in London — persons have been attacked there, and in
1889 a serious outrage occurred in the very heart of
Mayfair.

One winter's night the French naval attache", who
was going home from his club, was set upon in Curzon
Street by four men who, after violently assaulting and
robbing him, left him senseless upon the ground, where
he was discovered by the police a short time afterwards.
The assailants in this case were never arrested, though
the whole affair created a great sensation, occurring as
it did in the very centre of a quarter generally considered
to be about the safest in London.

When Chesterfield House, close by, was built the neigh-

102 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

bourhood was quite rural, the owner having been able
to contemplate green fields from the front of a mansion
which in 1747 was on the extreme verge of the town.

The ground belonged to the Dean and Chapter of
Westminster, and Lord Chesterfield owed them a
grudge for what he considered their exorbitant
demands. In his will he inserted the following clause :
" In case my godson, Philip Stanhope, shall at any
time hereafter keep or be concerned in keeping any
racehorses or pack of hounds, or reside one night at
Newmarket, that infamous seminary of iniquity and
ill-manners, during the course of the races there ; or
shall resort to the said races ; or shall lose in any one
day at any game or bet whatsoever the sum of £500,
then, in any of the cases aforesaid, it is my express will
that he, my said godson, shall forfeit and pay out of
my estate the sum of £50,000, to and for the use of the
Dean and Chapter of Westminster." Lord Chesterfield
declared that he inserted these names because he was
certain that if the penalty was incurred they would be
sure to claim it.

Lord Chesterfield also built Great Stanhope Street.

The gardens of Chesterfield House, to which allusion
has been made above, were built over during the latter
part of the last century. Chesterfield Gardens now
occupies their site. The sale of this land, it is said,
brought in as much as the vendor had paid for the house
and grounds together.

A room in Chesterfield House is represented in the
well-known picture of Dr Johnson, waiting in disgust
and irritation for an interview with his noble patron ;
but the date of that event, 1749, was previous to
that on which Lord Chesterfield entered upon his
occupation.

Lord Chesterfield was particularly proud of the large
courtyard in front and the large garden behind, two
things rare in London, though then common in Paris.

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 103

Writing to a friend, he called his library the best room
in England.

Above the bookcases were a series of portraits of
celebrated authors let into white ornamental frames
in the walls. Over the fireplace was Shakespeare, by
Zucchero ; the others were Chaucer, Sir Philip Sidney,
Spenser, Ben Jonson, Milton, Sir John Denham, Butler,
Waller, Cowley, Earl of Dorset, Rochester, Dryden,
Wycherley, Congreve, Otway, Prior, Addison, Pope,
Rowe, and Swift. These portraits, after the sale of the
house in the latter portion of the last century, were
taken away. Happily they are now for the most part
once more in their old settings, having fortunately been
repurchased by the new owner, Lord Lascelles, who has
done much to restore the artistic glories of Lord Chester-
field's fine old mansion, while filling it with suitable
furniture of a highly artistic description.

At No. 4 Chesterfield Street George Brummell, with
the aid of an excellent cook and admirable wines, attracted
all the wit, talent and profligacy of the Regency. He
afterwards moved to No. 13 Chapel Street.

No. 10. Chesterfield Street is a well-designed house of
excellent proportions, with delicate iron balconies.

Curzon Street, which took its name from the ground
landlord, George Augustus Curzon, third Viscount Howe,
has had a number of interesting residents.

Here George, Lord Macartney, Ambassador to China,
died. Madame Vestris lived at No. i in 1822-23 '> while
No. 8 was for many years one of the chief rallying-points
of literary society, having been the residence of the
Misses Berry as late as 1852.

They disliked too many ladies being present at their
receptions, and limited the number by making their
servant Murrell put out the lamp over the front door
when Miss Berry called to him, " No more petticoats."

From 1805 to 1810 Francis Chantrey the sculptor, as
a young man, lived in an attic at No. 24. He was here

104 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

when he won the competition at the Royal Academy
School for an equestrian statue of George III.

At No. 19, after a tenancy of three months, on April
igth, 1881, died Lord Beaconsfield. During his last
illness, part of his time was occupied in the cor-
rection of his last speech in the House of Commons for
Hansard.

" I will not," said he, " go down to posterity as talking
bad grammar."

In Curzon Street, opposite May Fair Chapel, was
" the Rev. Alexander Keith's Chapel," where marriages
were performed in the manner as those which made the
Fleet Prison notorious. Here the Duke of Kingston
married Miss Chudleigh, and in 1752 James, fourth Duke
of Hamilton, married the youngest of the two beautiful
Miss Gunnings, a bed curtain ring being used on the
occasion. Keith was in the habit of advertising in the
newspapers, but the Marriage Act in 1753 put an end
to his iniquitous trade.

Keith issued regular advertisements of his matrimonial
industry. The following is a specimen : "To prevent
mistakes the little new chapel in May Fair, near Hyde
Park Corner, is in the corner house opposite to the city
side of the great chapel ; and within ten yards of it.
The minister and clerk live in the same corner house
where the little chapel is ; and the licence on a crown
stamp, minister and clerk's fees, together with the certi-
ficate, amount to one guinea, as heretofore at any hour,
tiD four in the afternoon, and that it may be better
known, there is a porch at the door like a country church
porch."

The large garden of Bath House, Piccadilly, with a
stone basin of water, once extended nearly into Curzon
Street.

Bath House was originally built by the celebrated
William Pulteney, Earl of Bath, who was living here in
1764. Sir William Pulteney was the solitary inhabitant

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 105

of the house for many years, and at his death it was let
to the Duke of Portland for eight years. The house was
rebuilt in 1821 by Alexander Baring, who was created
Lord Ashburton in 1835. He was for eighteen years the
head of the great house of Baring Brothers, whose family
have had many houses in Mayfair.

A good type of eighteenth-century architecture is
No. 61 Curzon Street, a brick house built in 1750, in which
the balance between large and small bays is well main-
tained, while the doorway serves as a foil to the general
air of severity.

No. 14, built in 1766, has a front which carries on an
earlier tradition.

Just off Curzon Street, through Shepherd Market, is
Carrington Street, a cul-de-sac, at the corner of which
stands Carrington House, with a rather curious facade.

Kitty Fisher lived in this street, one side of which
more or less retains its eighteenth-century aspect.

Shepherd Market (sometimes wrongly called Shepherd's
Market) was never a meeting-place for shepherds, as its
name seems to indicate. " Shepherd " was the name of
the owner of the ground, on which the market was built.

Shepherd Market is one of the few localities near
Piccadilly which have remained unaltered for the last
fifty years.

Viewed from the corner of Whitehorse Street, its
appearance — with a squat block of houses prominently
displaying the date, 1860, as if the architect had been
proud of his work, recalls the London of Dickens.

Though there is no beauty about the spot, the general
effect is more picturesque than that produced by many
finer sites, a quaint relic of the past in Shepherd Street
being the fagade of the eighteenth-century riding school,
which, unfortunately, is likely soon to disappear.

Curiously enough, another gentleman of the same name,
though differently spelt, " Jack Sheppard," lived for a
time in this district in 1723. He does not, however,

106 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

appear to have shown any professional activity in the
district.

The "May fair" was held on the site of this market,
Hertford Street and Curzon Street, and some other streets.

Near by, with a front in Piccadilly, was Coventry
House (now the St James' Club), which in a roofless
state Lord Coventry had bought from Sir Hugh Hunlock.
The perpetual noise and uproar which went on by night
as well as by day during the whole month of May, owing
to the fair, so irritated and annoyed this nobleman
that he determined to make an effort to have it totally
suppressed. As early as 1709 it had been prohibited,
but, though the Grand Jury of the City of Westminster
had characterized it as a vile and riotous assembly,
within a few years it was once more revived. Lord
Coventry, however, was eventually successful in his
efforts to abolish it, and no " May fair " seems to have
been held much after 1764, the date at which he entered
into possession of his new house.

The fair was originally known as St James's Fair,
leave having been granted by Edward I to the Hospital
of St James's to hold it in another locality close by.

Suppressed after the Restoration, it appears to have
flourished once more in 1691, when it had been moved
to the site which it occupied till its final suppression.

A notice in the Postman informed the public that
" On the ist day of May next will begin the Fair at the
east end of Hide Park, near Bartlet House, and continue
for fifteen days after. The two first days of which will
be for the sale of Leather and live Cattle ; and care is
and will be taken to make the ways leading to it, as well
as the ground on which it is kept, much more convenient
than formerly for persons of quality that are pleased to
resort thither."

On the site of part of Carrington Street stood the
" Dog and Duck," an old wooden public-house, noted
for the sale of " Right Lincoln Ale," behind which was

THE HEART OF MAYFA1R 107

a sheet of water 200 feet square, surrounded by a willow-
shaded gravel walk ten feet wide. This was the notorious
ducking pond, to which visitors were allowed to bring
their dogs to assist at the capture of some unfortunate
duck. Twopence was charged by the proprietor for a
ticket of admission, but the amount was allowed in the
reckoning ; and in a handbill, dated 1748, the reason
of such charge is said to be in order to keep out " such
as are not liked." The memory of the " ducking pond "
is still preserved by Ducking Pond Mews just off Shepherd
Street.

Close by, at No. 10 Hertford Street, from 1793 to 1801,
lived Sheridan.

The house at present is tenanted by that admirable
actor and most vivacious and amusing of Etonians, Mr
Charles Hawtrey — in many ways a man after the great
playwright's own heart.

At No. 14 once lived Dr Jenner.

The Marquis of Wellesley, then Earl of Mornington,
lived in Hertford Street, in the years 1788-97, as did
Mrs Jordan, when under the protection of the Duke of
Clarence. George Ill's brother, the Duke of Cumberland,
was married to Anne, widow of Colonel Christopher
Horton and daughter of Simon, Lord Irnham, after-
wards Earl of Carhampton, at the lady's house in this
street.

Of the streets leading from Mayfair into Piccadilly,
Bolton Street was built about the year 1699, when it was
the most westerly street in London. The celebrated
Earl of Peterborough lived in this street, and Charles
Edward, the young Pretender, is said to have lain in
concealment in one of the houses there.

At No. 12 lived, in 1818, Fanny Burney — Madame
D'Arblay — a lady who occupied several other houses in
London.

Clarges Street was built by Sir Walter Clarges, twelve
houses being finished in 1717. A number of celebrated

108 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

people have lilved in this street, including Mrs Delany,
the impetuous old Admiral Lord St Vincent, Miss
O'Neil the actress, Lady Hamilton, Edmund Kean and
Lord Macaulay, who lodged at No. 3 on his return from
India.

Another member of the family, Sir Thomas Clarges,
appears to have had a house on the site which is now
covered by the " Albany."

Half Moon Street was built in 1730, and took its name
from the sign of the public-house at the corner, which
still existed in 1759. In 1768 Boswell lodged in this
street on his visit to London, and here he entertained
Dr Johnson and other literary characters. Madame
D'Arblay lived at No. i during the last few years of her
life. Other celebrated residents have been Pope, who
lived at No. 5, and William Hazlitt, who resided at
No. 29 in 1830.

Dover Street was named after Henry Jermyn, Earl
of Dover, nephew and heir of Henry, Earl of St Albans,
who owned the ground, and had a house on the east
side of the street. John Evelyn lived in a house on the
east side in 1699, and among other notable residents
was John Nash the architect, who resided at No. 29
from 1800 to 1823. The facade of this house deserves
attention.

At No. 30 lived Prince Lieven, the Russian Ambassador,
and another inhabitant of note was Miss Reynolds,
sister of Sir Joshua.

There is some good architecture in this street.

Among the streets leading out of Berkeley Square
Brut on Street (called after Sir John Berkeley, of Bruton,
the owner of Berkeley House) has always been fashion-
able. The celebrated Duke of Argyll died here in 1734.

" Yes, sir, on great Argyle I often wait,
At charming Sudbrook or in Bruton Street."

It is said that when Sheridan lived in this street his

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 109

landlord found that he could get neither his rent nor
induce Sheridan by any means to go. At length, as his
only recourse, he unroofed the house.

The architecture of No. 17 is worth attention. It
has an interesting facade, the effect of which, however,
is somewhat marred by the attic story, which is a Victorian
addition.

In 1700 the site of New Bond Street and the adjoin-
ing streets, Conduit Street, Brook Street, etc., was an
open field, called the Conduit Mead, containing twenty-
seven acres, and belonging to the City of London. The
district was practically rural. About this time, indeed,
a thief who had stolen a silver mug from Dr Sydenham's
house in Pall Mall got away and was lost in the bushes
about Bond Street.

It is notorious that General Oglethorpe, who died in
1785, had shot woodcock in the meadows where Conduit
Street now stands, and it is said that there was once good
trout fishing in the stream which ran from Netting Hill
Manor towards Hay Hill, Berkeley Square, through
Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, which was built on the
banks of this stream where it ceased to blend with the
Eye.

About 1877 a resident in Conduit Street, making a
search for the origin of certain unpleasant smells, found
a stream running under his house, the water of which
was very far from pure.

Oliver Cromwell's conduit in Park Street probably
received its name from the Protector's connection with
the fortifications drawn round the city and suburbs
in 1643.

Excavations in Berkeley Square about 1882 brought
to light a number of wooden pipes made out of lengths
of elm trees drilled through the centre. These had
probably been laid down by the New River Company.

During the present year (1920) workmen engaged
in repairs in New Bond Street broke into a long

110 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

empty red brick tunnel, five feet across and six feet
high, the existence of which was hitherto unknown. It
was traced 84 feet — as far as Clifford Street in one
direction, and as far as Conduit Street at the other —
being apparently blocked at each of these ends.

The conduit in question was evidently connected
with the Tyburn, the ancient course of which in the
Green Park has even now not entirely disappeared, a
winding depression indicating where it formerly flowed.
There was formerly a pond in the middle of this park,
but this was filled up in 1842, at the same time that the
ranger's lodge was razed to the ground.

Park Lane was originally known as Tyburn Lane,
owing to its having led to Tyburn turnpike. On the
site formerly occupied by Gloucester House, where the
late Duke of Cambridge lived, once reposed the Elgin
marbles brought to England by Lord Elgin, the public-
spirited Ambassador to the Porte, who was roundly
abused for saving these fine relics of antiquity from
destruction, and lost between seventeen and eighteen
thousand pounds by his sale of them to the nation.

At Dorchester House died in 1842 the celebrated
Marquis of Hertford — Thackeray's Lord Steyne. The
house, however, has been rebuilt since that day.

At No. 29 (formerly No. i Grosvenor Gate) resided
Lord Beaconsfield, who went to live there on his marriage
with Mrs Lewis in 1839.

On her death in 1872 he removed to Whitehall Gardens.
" Sybil " and " Coningsby " were written in Park Lane.

Other celebrities who have lived in Park Lane are
Warren Hastings in 1790-1797, and a succeeding
Governor of India, the Earl of Mornington, who was
created Marquis of Wellesley in 1796 ; and Mrs Fitz-
herbert, who was married in her drawing-room to the
Prince of Wales on December 2ist, 1785.

At Hyde Park Corner, the arch now at the top of
Constitutional Hill formerly stood parallel with the

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 111

entrance gates of the park, and it was not till long
after the years under consideration that the Duke of
Wellington's statue was erected upon it. This statue,
which had no artistic merit, but, it is said, was approved
of by the great Duke himself, was removed to Aldershot
when the position of the arch was altered, a new statue
by Boehm being erected close to the park gates.

The most satisfactory of this new statue are the four
soldiers which stand at the base, which are more virile
than their rather apologetic-looking leader, who sits
on his horse above them.

Hyde Park has not undergone much alteration within
recent years, but in the past various schemes have
sought to impair its amenities.

One of the most appalling ideas ever mooted was
a proposal to erect a railway station as terminus to a
projected London and Richmond railway on the left-
hand side just within the entrance at Hyde Park Corner.
It is curious that though the principal gate of the Park,
this entry has no name. The north-east entrance of
the park, the Marble Arch, was removed to its present
position in 1851 ; before that date it stood in front
of Buckingham Palace. Near the gate, facing Great
Cumberland Place, was the place of execution known
as Tyburn, and when a wall used to enclose this corner
military executions were carried out within it. In this
spot were erected the only gallows ever set up in Hyde
Park ; this was for the purpose of hanging Sergeant
Smith, who, in 1745, had deserted to the Scotch
rebels.

The rangership of the Parks was at one time quite
an important appointment. It was held from 1762
to 1791 by George, Lord Orford, one of whose eccentri-
cities was driving a four-in-hand of stags.

During the rangership of Lord Essex in 1739 an otter
hunt took place in St James's Park. At nine o'clock
in the morning of a summer day, Sir Robert Walpole's

112 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

pack of otter hounds, which had been borrowed for the
occasion, appeared upon the scene, and after a hunt
which lasted two hours, the otter, having left the water
and tried to run to the great canal, was speared by a
Mr Smith who hunted the hounds.

St James's Park is the smallest of all the parks ; but
it is a perfect jewel amidst the buildings which surround
it on all sides. On its glossy lake fine shrubs, and beeches,
and ash-trees on the banks throw their trembling
shadows ; tame water-fowl of every description swim
on it or waddle on the green sward near, and eat the
crumbs which the children have brought for them.
The paths are skirted with flower-beds, with luxurious
grass-plots behind them ; and on sunny days these
grass-plots are crowded with happy children, who prefer
this park to all others, for the water-birds are such
grateful guests.

On the Continent, too, there are parks ; they are
larger, and are taken more care of, and by far more
ornamental than the London parks. But all strangers
who come to London must find that their imperial and
royal palace gardens at home, with all their waterworks
and Chinese pagodas, Greek temples, and artificial
romanticisms, do not make anything like that cheerful,
refreshing, tranquillizing, and yet stimulating impression
which the parks of England produce.

Deer remained in Kensington Gardens up till the
beginning of the last century, and according to Thomas
Smith,1 foxes were hunted here at the end of the last
century. Mr Smith found a Minute of the Board of Green
Cloth, dated 1798, in which a pension is granted to Sarah
Gray, widow, in consideration of the loss of her husband,
who was accidentally shot by the keepers while hunting
foxes.

The tendency of fashionable London seems ever to be
westwards.

1 " Recollections of Hyde Park, 1*36," p. 39.

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 113

With reference to Mr Davis's regrets at finding Bourdon
House too far out of town, long after his day this part
of London was considered to be somewhat outlandish.
At the end of the eighteenth century, for instance,
Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn was offered the ground
now occupied by Lansdowne House, in Berkeley Square,
for £60,000, the same sum being asked for the site in
St James's Square, which he then bought. The Lans-
downe House property was at the time considered to be
too far from the centre of fashion.

At the beginning of Queen Victoria's reign Belgrave
Square had not long been finished, and Eaton Square,
Chesham Place, and the adjoining streets were in course
of completion. The Lowndes Arms, a public-house, was
one of the few houses in that locality. Sloane Street was
not the fashionable locality it is now, but was the resort
of maiden ladies of small means.

The fashionable district of Belgravia was built on
ground known as the " Five Fields," on the verge of
which Tattersall's, so long known as the " Corner," was
established behind St George's Hospital in 1793.

The Bloomsbury and Bedford Square district, built
between 1790 and 1810, was once highly popular ; the
well-built houses, some of which are now once again
regaining a well -deserved prestige, giving palpable
evidence of having seen better days. The date when
this quiet neighbourhood first began to enter upon a
period of social decay was about 1828, when a great
removal towards the West End set in. At the beginning
of the nineteenth century much of the rank and fashion
of the town lived there, as may be observed from the
fine architecture of old houses in Great Ormond Street
and Queen Square.

As late as 1871, Brompton, lying low, was supposed to

be a first-rate resort for consumptive people on account

of its moist and warm air. Such an idea, of course, was

exactly opposed to the teachings of modern science, which

8

114 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

prescribes widely different conditions as being necessary
for the cure of that white scourge — tuberculosis.

South Kensington, close by, only arose about 1854,
when the once rural Chelsea was already becoming
crowded with poor, living in miserable dwellings, nearly
all of which have been swept away to make room for
high-class residences.

Clapham and Hackney still contained fine villas and
mansions, which were the abode of rich merchants, many
of which class to-day are carried in luxurious motor-cars
either to palatial mansions in the West End, or further
afield, right out of London.

When the Marquis of Westminster made his extensive
clearings, Tattersall's was removed to a spot lying near
the junction of the Brompton and Kensington Roads,
where it has remained ever since.

Already, however, the fine old houses were falling
before the pick. In 1873 was demolished the last remain-
ing example of Sir Christopher Wren's work in Camber-
well — an educational establishment ; for years it had
been celebrated as one of the foremost grammar schools
in the country. This old mansion was identified with
many interesting historical memories from the fact
of it having at one time been the residence of Mrs
Thrale and the family who founded the great firm
of Barclay, Perkins & Co., when Dr Johnson was a
frequent visitor there.

Soho once had many distinguished residents, and was
the scene of pomp and gaiety and splendour.

It is possible that in course of time Mayfair will cease
to be a smart residential district.

Shops have already invaded Hanover Square, Dover
Street, Grafton Street, and other formerly exclusive
thoroughfares.

It is also not impossible that Berkeley Square may
eventually be awakened from the aristocratic sleep in
which it ever seems to be plunged, and that having been

THE HEART OF MAYFAIR 115

thrown open to the public, tramps and loafers will take
their rest upon benches within its once semi-sacred
precincts.

The glories of Mayfair in any case lie more in the past
than the future. Its halcyon days essentially belong
to the age of privileged aristocracy, with which, no
matter what may befall, its name will ever be linked.

VII
THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON

I SOMETIMES wonder if, after all, we really did
win the war. To judge by the present state of
London we have lost it, and are being treated as
a beaten people by some austere conqueror.

The truth is that we are dragooned and policed as no
civilized nation has ever been before. Told when we
are to leave our clubs, and go to bed ; told when we
are not to drink (soon it will be what we are to drink) ;
and turned out of the theatres, which the authorities
have so kindly left open, supperless to bed.

The modern night life of London is now about as
exciting as that of Criccieth, and ends about the same
hour — ten.

Puritanism and cant have triumphed gloriously all
along the line. Things could not have been worse were
a victorious enemy in possession of the town.

In the way of regulations and interference with
personal liberty our rulers have out-Prussianized the
Prussians. Never in their wildest dreams did the latter
ever contemplate forcing people to leave their clubs
at midnight.

It should not be forgotten that, when the vexatious
restrictions under which we suffer were introduced
during the war, definite and serious assurances were
given that once Peace was declared they would at once
be allowed to lapse.

The politicians, however, as is their wont, have lied.

We used to be told that the Great War was to make
the world " safe for democracy." In England at least

116

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 117

the last word might now well be changed for hypocrisy,
such life and vivacity as existed up to 1914 having been
more or less " regulated " out of existence.

The astounding thing is that this unwarrantable inter-
ference should have been accepted by the public with
sheep-like docility. Had that clever apostle of true
liberty, Mr Cecil Chesterton, not died owing to illness
contracted while serving at the front, I have no doubt
but that things would have been made more uncomfort-
able for our oppressors !

As the Parisian said of the Germans : "Us ont rudement
change nos habitudes — ces Cochons la ! "

Before the war a club was considered as being the
private house of its members ; to-day the institution in
question has been assimilated to the public-house.

So fearful is the Government of bad behaviour, that
clubs are obliged to close their doors at 12.30 on all days
but Saturday and Sunday, when, as a concession to
Sabbatarian prejudice, 12 o'clock is the prescribed hour
for members to leave.

Nor can the' latter be trusted to imbibe alcohol at their
own sweet will, the hours during which anyone may
have a drink being strictly limited and denned.

The attitude of most of the House of Commons
towards this unwarrantable curtailment of personal
liberty (which as a matter of fact was enforced without
its consent being asked), while generally feeble and
unsatisfactory, is in the case cf some members positively
insolent.

The subject of the compulsory closing of clubs being
under discussion, a wealthy M.P. with a fine house
remarked that he did not see there was anything to
grumble at. "I always go to bed early," said he. The
inferencej of course, being that as long as he was com-
fortable amid his luxurious surroundings, it didn't matter
what other people were made to put up with !

In this country going to bed early is supposed to

118 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

promote all sorts of mysterious blessings, and those
who complain of being made to retire supperless at
midnight are told that " it's such a good thing for one's
health, don't you know."

" 6u il y a de I'hygtene
II n'y a plus de plaisir."

Retiring to rest at a set hour when one is amused and
not sleepy is as ridiculous as is staying up when one
happens to be tired.

Goodness knows we shall sleep long enough eventually,
for which reason we ought to take full advantage of every
pleasurable hour or minute we can.

A person who habitually goes to bed early, no matter
how great the attractions which might keep him up,
throws away part of his life.

As a matter of fact, people who go to bed late live just
as long as those who don't.

Provided an individual obtains sufficient sleep, it
does not matter a jot whether he goes to bed late or
early. The Easterns, who sleep only when they feel
inclined, know this. Taking too little sleep may be
hurtful, but there is no benefit in taking too much.

Liberty, like charity, should begin at home, and the
hour for retiring to bed is a man's own business — the
State has no right to coerce him.

The whole question of personal liberty has been
admirably summed up by a writer in the Paris Temps,
who, concerning what he aptly termed the Era of Re-
strictions, said :

" A free country is one where there is no encroach-
ment upon the liberty of any of its citizens — no matter
how few ; should there be only one hundred persons or
even only one who is coerced without necessity, the
principle of Liberty is violated, and exists no longer."

The truth of this has been recognized in France, where
social liberty once more prevails.

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 119

To what lengths Puritan fanaticism is capable of
going may be judged from its dismal eccentricities in
the United States, where Senator Jones, intoxicated with
victory and intolerance, actually tried to get a measure
passed forbidding all American citizens abroad who are
members of the American diplomatic and consular
services, to serve alcoholic liquors at public or official
functions, or to recognize clubs where such beverages
are dispensed. The Bill provided drastic penalties for
infringement, a second offence entailing imprisonment
from six months to six years.

But this is not the last limit of folly.

Fanatical extravagance, indeed, seems to know no
bounds in the so-called land of the free across the
Atlantic.

Representative William D. Upshaw, of Georgia, appa-
rently desirous of making life miserable for his country-
men even when abroad, has introduced a Bill in the
House which forbids the taking of liquor by American
diplomat and consular agents, and also forbids them
to attend banquets, dinners, or other functions where
liquor is served. Mr Upshaw was for several years
a lecturer for the Anti-Saloon League and also a director
of the International Reform Bureau. The Bill has
been sent to the Judiciary Committee.

About one of the best digs ever administered to tee-
totallers was what a clever American — William Maxwell
Evarts — said of President Hayes' method of running
his household. " While Hayes occupied the White
House," said Evarts, "the water at his dinners flowed
like champagne."

Those who claim to improve humanity seem quite
unable to realize that our nature ought to be taken
as it is. Any tolerant scrutiny of human foibles, how-
ever, being liable to upset preconceived narrow convic-
tions, is disagreeable to folk who will not face facts.
Wordsworth called Voltaire a dull scoffer, with reference

120 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

to which Byron, defending his Don Juan to a friend —
the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird — in 1822 wrote : " I have
no objection to be in such good company. I am per-
suaded that Nero, Caligula, and such worthies as Caesar
Borgia, will come out much better characters at the
Day of Judgment, and that bishops and all other
saints, pious and grave, will be the chief losers at that
solemnity."

The Press is fond of talking about " Wonderful
London." " Wonderful London ! " indeed, with its
inhabitants debarred from supping or using their clubs
(which are really their own houses) after midnight
merely because the Government fears to displease
certain faddists ! Meanwhile, dancing places which do
not call themselves clubs are allowed to remain open
up to any hour their proprietors choose !

Wonderful London ! with no music-halls into which
a man can drop in and walk about for half an hour in
the evening, as he can do in every other capital in Europe.

Wonderful London ! with a horde of Paul Prys in-
terfering with other people's affairs and doing their
best to get wretched women hounded from pillar to
post under the long-exploded pretext that such a cruel
policy makes for a higher morality.

A really " Wonderful London" would be possible were
counsels of common sense to prevail, but at present, under
the dominance of the faddist and the crank, " Idiotic
London " would surely be a more correct appellation
for the greatest city in all the world, the inhabitants of
which allow themselves to be ruled by regulations which
before the Great War would not have been tolerated
in even a small provincial town.

When things get to their worst, however, they gener-
ally get better, and in all probability the Puritans, flushed
with victory and lemonade, will eventually become so
unreasonable in their proposals as to produce a reaction
permeated by tolerance and common sense.

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 121

A long period of years, however, will probably elapse
before anything of this kind is likely to happen, and
in the meanwhile we must be prepared for an ever
increasing number of senseless and harassing regulations.
Under present conditions it is difficult to realize that
before the passing of the Licensing Act in the early
'seventies, which closed public-houses and restaurants
at 12.30, London was practically as late a city as
Paris.

In 1914 the absurdity of turning people out of
restaurants before they had finished their supper was
beginning to be realized, and there was some idea that
the closing hour would be extended till one.

Under cover of the war, however, middle-class Puritan-
ism has succeeded in doing away with supper altogether ;
and after about eleven o'clock London is now like a
city of the dead.

Gone are the days when at eleven-thirty pleasure-
seekers of both sexes drove up to the doors of various
restaurants in the hansoms which the coming of the
taxi relegated to the fate of the family coach and the
sedan chair.

Supper in London is now a thing of the past. Before
the war, however, great numbers of people indulged in
it, never dreaming that in the years to come all alcohol
was to be prohibited after ten o'clock.

In the 'eighties Rule's in Maiden Lane was much
frequented at supper-time by young men-about-town
and fair ladies whom they flocked to admire on the stage.
Romano's, then a very small place, was of course the
headquarters of the old style Gaiety chorister and her
admirers of the Crutch and Tooth-pick brigade, also
known as " Mashers," an important part of whose even-
ing garb was a silk-lined Inverness cape.

The name " Crutch and Toothpick " originated from
the black silver-mounted walking-sticks with crutch
handles which these young men carried at night, and

122 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

the toothpicks which they languidly sucked during the
performance.

They were perhaps not so vacuous as they were
supposed to be; anyhow, if they did little good they
did no harm to anyone except themselves.

There is nothing to correspond to them to-day, when
dandies, bucks, and bloods have ceased to exist ; every-
one more or less has been ground down to the same
pattern.

Not a few of these young men were in debt, but some-
how or other tradesmen generally contrived to get their
money in the end, though they often had to put up
with many rebuffs. One spark who was about to get
into his gig was stopped by a creditor who very civilly
said he did not wish to press for his money but only
wanted to have some idea as to when it would be con-
venient to pay him.

" I don't feel disposed to gratify your impertinent
curiosity," said the young fellow, and coolly drove
away.

A lady was descanting on the virtues of her son,
a young gentleman given to backing horses and bills,
who had uttered many promissory notes, to the small
benefit of creditors. " Don't you think, my dear sir,"
she said, addressing a friend who had suffered through
this pleasing trait in his character, " that he is a very
promising young man ? " " Very promising, my lady,
but — he never pays."

Such a state of affairs, however, could not go on for
ever, and in the end a number of these young gentlemen,
having got rid of then- patrimony, had to look about
for a way to live. Some went abroad, some into the
City ; a few even tried to go on the stage.

Dick Dunn once received a ticket for a performance
in which a quondam masher was to take part. He
went, and in the interval was asked to go behind by the
aspirant to dramatic fame.

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 123

" Well, Dick," enquired the latter, " what do you
think of me ? "

" I've seen Kean, I've seen McCready, and I've seen
Irving," said the famous bookmaker, " but never, oh
never, acting like this — take it which way you like, sir,
and 'ave a cigar."

Most of the ladies who assisted to keep alight the
sacred lamp of burlesque were well able to hold their own.

A devoted admirer was allowed by one fair creature
to go with her to choose (and pay for) some dainty
and expensive lingerie.

" Have a good look at them, dear," said she ; " you'll
never see them again."

The pendulum of fashion swings backwards and
forwards on the stage as well as in ordinary life.

In the 'seventies and 'eighties the famous Gaiety
chorus as well as some of the principals wore tights;
in the 'nineties they wore as many clothes as possible ;
since then their costume has at times been reduced to
a minimum.

The Globe (only closed a few years ago) was at one
time a great resort for supper, but it was not such a
quiet place as Rule's or even Romano's, and in the
'eighties fights were not unknown there.

Another haunt of men of pleasure was the Continental,
a restaurant now pulled down at the lower end of Regent
Street, which up to the beginning of the present century
was notorious as one of the liveliest supper places in town.

Here the fair sex were wont to meet swains after
the theatres had closed. Attached to the restaurant,
which at night was crowded, was a hotel, the visitors
to which cannot have had a dull time.

A foreign diplomatist who arrived about midnight,
having had to push his way upstairs through a hilarious
crowd of gorgeously attired ladies, enquired whether
a party was being given that evening.

" Yes," said the maitre d'hotel, " we give a party

124 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

every evening," and, he might have added, " a very
lively party too."

Eventually the exit of those who had been supping
attracted a crowd outside, with the result that, like
" Jimmie's," a somewhat inferior supper-place of the
past, the Continental ceased to exist.

The regular frequenters of the freer forms of amuse-
ments, such as night clubs, were in the 'eighties mainly
men-about-town, who were more or less known to
everyone in the West End.

They still retained some remnant of the social prestige
and power which their predecessors of an earlier age
had enjoyed to the full, with the result that anyone
not of their own set who had made his way into one of
their special haunts was liable to have things made
hot for him.

The West End at that time had not as yet been
dominated by the wealthy financiers — alien as well as
native-born — who now hold it under their thumbs.

In those days people went to the night clubs well
knowing what class would constitute the majority of
the female frequenters. No lady, for instance, would
have dreamt of entering the Gardenia, or even the
Corinthian, which yet was something more than a
resuscitated night-house, for actresses of the lighter
stage were occasionally to be seen there.

To-day, owing to the social confusion produced by the
hypocritical suppression of every place of amusement
which does not pose as being strictly respectable, young
girls and married women are to be seen dancing merrily
away in very mixed assemblages.

By a ridiculous refinement of stupid hypocrisy the
demi-monde is supposed to be extinct. This in reality
means that the most ancient profession in the world
plies its trade in secret while mixing with girls and
women whose morality is above suspicion.

What this state of affairs leads to may be judged

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 125

from the ever-increasing number of cases in the divorce
court.

The old system was, of course, far more healthy;
however, owing to the terror inspired by those posing
as moralists and social reformers, there seems little chance
of the triumph of sanity and common sense.

The Corinthian Club in York Street, St James's,
which flourished in 1889, was about the most successful
of the old night clubs, frequented as it was by many
pretty ladies, some of whom were minor stars of the
lighter stage.

It was not badly conducted, and the Bohemian life
of the London of that day received a blow when it was
closed.

The end of the Corinthian, I believe, arose owing to
the protests of a householder close by, who complained
that he could not sleep owing to the noise made by
cabs coming and going all night. The dancing-room
of the Corinthian, which still exists, would appear to
have formerly been the " French Chapel," originally
built for Honore Courtin, the envoy of Louis XIV to
Charles the Second, the French Embassy at that time
being just round the corner at No. 8 St James's Square.

The chapel in question figured in the list of London
places of worship up to quite recent times. At the
time it was used as a dancing room, traces of its
ecclesiastical origin could still be discerned.

In the 'eighties and early 'nineties the " Star and
Garter " at Richmond was popular on Sundays.
Couples drove down in smart hansom cabs, and after
an abundant lunch strolled about on the slopes beneath,
where an itinerant photographer did quite a good
business taking their photographs — a rather simple
form of amusement which would scarcely appeal to
the more sophisticated young people of to-day.

The portraits in question were taken on metal and
covered with glass, the result being somewhat primitive.

126 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

In those days a lady's handkerchief would be dyed
with coffee, and other devices employed to counteract
the effects of light, since rendered unnecessary by new
discoveries.

By the 'nineties the old night life of London had pretty
well become a thing of the past.

Though apt to be rough sometimes, even brutal, it
was characteristically English, a survival of the virile
days of Trafalgar and Waterloo; there was indeed
nothing cosmopolitan about it except some of the ladies
and the drinks. On the whole, it was probably a better
worldly training for young men than the lolling about
luxurious restaurants which took its place.

In the way of amusements the triumph of middle-
class intolerance may now be said to be complete.

The Argyll Rooms, Vauxhall, Cremorne Gardens,
and other Bohemian haunts have long been closed for
ever. In the early Victorian days as many as two
hundred open-air pleasure resorts— dancing-places, tea-
gardens and the like — were open for Londoners' amuse-
ment. To-day, almost entirely owing to the efforts of
insensate Puritanism, there are none.

Such delights as Ranelagh, Vauxhall and Cremorne
once offered are denied to the present generation, which,
placidly allowing itself to be enmeshed with restrictions,
seems indisposed to protest against any curtailment
of personal liberty, no matter how unreasonable or
absurd.

Puritanism has decreed that the citizens of the greatest
city in the world must not spend their summer evenings
in the open air, and the populace consequently is herded
into the music-hall and cinema, where carefully
censored, but for the most part inane, entertainments
occupy the abundant hours of leisure which its more
hard-working and more independent forbears never had
at their disposal.

From time immemorial the English people have been

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 127

passionately fond of evening outdoor amusements ;
while their pastors and masters have been as passion-
ately persistent in their endeavours to deprive them —
always on the highly sustainable plea of decorum and
morality — of any evening outdoor amusements what-
soever.

Precisely the contrary rule has, in all times, and under
all governments, prevailed in France. Outdoor games,
shows, and merrymakings have always been systema-
tically sanctioned and encouraged by authority ; and
under the Restoration, when a feeble effort was made by
the Government to suppress the popular suburban balls,
the attempt was met by the furious and famous diatribe
of Paul-Louis Courier against the law which proposed
" d'emp&her les paysans de danser le Dimanche," and
the prohibitory legislation was abandoned.

In its best days Vauxhall must have been a very
pleasant place, bright with coloured lights and full of
gay company listening to the music.

Many memories of the eighteenth century clung about
the old gardens. Certain of the decorative paintings
were by Hogarth, and the artistic taste of another age
could clearly be discerned, though time and the weather
had done their work in the way of spoiling a good deal
which would otherwise have been artistic and interest-
ing. To such an extent was this the case, that when
the pictures were sold, ridiculously small prices were
realized, though many were the work of well-known
and highly-gifted painters.

In the palmiest days of old Vauxhall the maximum
price of admission was five shillings. In the exhibition
year, 1851, the entree to the gardens, the site of which
is now covered by ugly streets, was half-a-crown. A
mass of varied entertainment was furnished for that
sum. To begin with, there was a really excellent vocal
and instrumental concert, which included comic songs.
Other attractions were a splendid panorama, a first-

128 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

rate ballet, acrobatic performances, and a capital circus.
There were also frequent balloon ascents from the
Waterloo Ground, amid " fifty thousand addition il
lamps," and a grand display of fireworks. All these
and many more delights were to be enjoyed for two-
and-sixpence. An old frequenter declared that the
contemplation of the plaster statues in the Italian walk
were alone worth the money, while the illuminated
transparency representing a famous character of the
gardens, Mr Simpson, M.C., with his perennial bow,
his cocked hat, his opera tights and pumps, would have
been cheap at a crown. The tariff of refreshments
was, admittedly, not cheap; at the same time, in the
crypt behind the orchestra visitors could obtain a brown
mug full of excellent stout for sixpence. A dish of cold
meat only cost a shilling ; and the shilling glass of
brandy-and-water contained at least half a quartern
of fortifying spirit.

In its palmy days Vauxhall boasted a carver reputed
to be second to none. It was said that so expert was
he at cutting ham that if put upon his mettle he could
cut from one single ham sufficient slices to cover the
whole gardens, which were by no means inextensive.

Cremorne, though in its last days considered almost
as part of London, was originally quite a rural spot. In
the Royal Blue Book for 1826 Chelsea Farm is given
as the " country residence " of Lady Cremorne.
Chelsea Farm in course of time became Cremorne Gardens,
the site of which is now covered by streets.

An aristocratic f£te was once organized at Cremorne
by a noble lord of artistic tastes. The place was then
in its glory ; the gardens were exquisitely pretty ; the
entertainment varied, sparkling, and attractive ; and
it occurred to the noble lord that it would be a very
nice thing to charter Mr Simpson's premises for a single
evening, form a committee of ladies patronesses, and,
by the maintenance of a rigid system of vouchers,

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 129

exclude all but the " creme de la cre"me " of society
from the bowers, the buffets, the marionette theatre,
the dancing platform for that night only. The festival,
harmless and even ingenious in its inception, duly took
place. The upper classes came, if not in their thousands,
at least in their hundreds, to the Chelsea Casino. There
was music ; there was dancing ; " twenty thousand
additional lamps" shone upon fair women and brave
men ; and all would have gone merry as a marriage
bell, only, unfortunately, it poured cats and dogs
throughout the evening ; and that which should
have been an Almack's in the open air was con-
verted into a Festival of Umbrellas and a Carnival of
Goloshes.

One of the chief opponents of Cremorne Gardens
was Canon Cromwell, the principal of St Mark's Training
College, almost opposite. His Puritanical activities
were unpopular, and a satirical paper pictured him in
cap and gown ejecting a couple of flashily-dressed ladies
from the resort he wished to close. The comic Press,
then far more outspoken than it is to-day, made fun
of petitions organized against the Gardens, speaking
of them as being signed by babies and children under
ten. A burlesque set of " Cremorne Regulations "
prohibited fireworks, dancing, smoking, laughing, alcohol
or flirting. For a time the crusade against Cremorne
received little serious support.

At the end of 1876, however, a rhymed pamphlet en-
titled " The Trial of John Fox," or " Fox John," or the
" Horrors of Cremorne," attracted some attention. It
branded the Gardens as being the " nursery of every
kind of vice " and its manager, John Fox, as a callous
money-grubber.

In May 1877, the lessee, John Baum, brought an
action against the author, who was a Mr Alfred Brandon,
a tailor by trade and minister of the Chelsea Baptist
Chapel.

9

130 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Baum was eventually awarded a farthing damages,
each side having to pay its own costs.

In the following October Baum, probably anticipating
a refusal, withdrew his application for a renewal of the
licence, and so Cremorne closed for ever.

The ground it occupied was soon covered with rows
of small houses, and its pleasures, as well as its moral
shortcomings, have now long been forgotten.

In the early 'eighties came the Fisheries Exhibition,
a sort of " moral Cremorne," which was followed by
other professedly educational exhibitions, finally ended
by the erection of the Natural History Museum and
other ponderous buildings upon the ground.

Since then there have been semi-open air shows at
Earl's Court and Shepherd's Bush, where the White
City is still in existence.

The Argyll rooms — the last of a number of metro-
politan dancing places like Highbury Barn and the
Holborn Casino — was refused a licence not very long
after Cremorne.

The premises were afterwards turned into the Troca-
dero music-hall, which in turn gave way to Messrs
Lyons's excellent restaurant of the same name.

During the war the Puritans turned their attention
to the promenades and lounges, which, to their great
joy, they eventually succeeded in getting suppressed.
In consequence the music-hall, which, as that fine writer
and critic, Mr George Moore, once pointed out,1 was
" wholly and essentially English," has in consequence
ceased to exist.

As he said, " its communal enjoyment and its spon-
taneity set us thinking of Elizabethan England ; there
was real life in it."

And now it has gone, swamped in the seething torrent
of slimy hypocrisy.

With the suppression of the Empire lounge, one of

1 " Confessions of a Young Man."

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 131

the last features of the old pleasure-loving London
passed away.

It is true that for some years it had ceased
to be the nightly resort of men-about-town, but it
was still a place where men from India and the
Colonies went, feeling sure that they would come across
friends.

In the 'eighties all the sporting characters in town
used to go there — Sam Lewis was always the centre
of an animated group.

Then came the Puritan agitation, which produced
almost a riot, one of the chief leaders of which was a
young man who is now a Cabinet Minister, and con-
sequently would probably raise no protest if music-halls
were closed altogether.

Though the lounge was eventually reopened, it was
never the same as before ; indeed, in its latter days,
the frequenters were mainly of a different class.

The contention that it was a centre of vice was
ridiculous. A certain number of women certainly
frequented the place, but they can be found anywhere
— even in churches ; and provided they behave decently,
which they always did at the Empire, it would have
been monstrous to exclude them.

All the other lounges in London were suppressed
during the war, London thus becoming the only capital
devoid of a place of amusement, where people are able
to walk about and hear music in the evenings.

Paris, of course, has any number of lounges — the
Casino de Paris, Folies Bergeres and Olympia, for
instance — all highly popular haunts with the English,
who at home are apt to hold up their hands in horror
at the idea of such places !

The Empire with its promenade, where one met people
from all parts of the world, is but a memory ; the Pavilion
— affectionately known to pleasure-seekers of a past
generation as " the Pav " — is intermittently a theatre

132 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

or a cinematograph show ; while the Oxford, as a music-
hall, has ceased to exist.

All this closing up of lounges has been carried out
as part of the Puritan policy of hounding wretched
women into the street.

In the old resorts now condemned as having been
vulgar and undesirable, young men were able to have
something of a fling, much being openly tolerated which
is now looked upon as a sort of crime.

^The result of driving vice underground is merely
that worse extravagances are carried on in secret, for
youth can be no more prevented from yielding to its
imperious appetite for unrestrained pleasure than a
consumptive from coughing.

The earlier closing of restaurants, the suppression of
music-hall lounges and late night clubs, have not made
London more moral than in the past ; what they have
done is to make the West End less human and less
amusing. One must, however, remember that the vast
majority of social reformers are dull dogs, and in this
direction, at least, they have good reason to pride them-
selves upon their success.

But in reality it is in that direction only. Utopian
ideas are all very well in theory, but getting them carried,
out is quite another matter. Puritans invariably forget
the old proverb about taking a horse to the water —
which, by the way, is what a number of these want
to be our only drink.

During the last thirty or forty years the character
of music-hall entertainments has entirely changed.

Forty years ago the London world of amusement was
infinitely smaller than it is to-day. A large portion of
the middle classes never entered theatres or music-
halls, the majority on account of what they believed
to be religion, the remainder because they had not been
brought up in the habit of going.

The proletariat, on the other hand, were keen patrons

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 133

of the drama, and looked upon the gallery as their own
part of the house. They did not fail to manifest their
disapproval of pieces which seemed to them bad, while
prodigal of applause to their favourites. On the whole
their judgment was fairly good.

The aristocracy were then, as they have always been,
fond of amusements, and went a good deal to the
theatres. At that time, however, except by way of an
escapade, ladies did not go to music-halls, about which
hung a glamour of impropriety.

Gradually, however, they contrived to get their men
folk to take them there, with the result that the old-
fashioned and rather Rabelaisian songs gave way to
what the Press called a more refined form of enter-
tainment.

This incursion of respectable females into a sphere
which had formerly been considered the particular
hunting-ground of nocturnal revellers was really the
commencement of the curious state of affairs which
prevails to-day when what considers itself to represent
Society cheerfully rubs shoulders with all sorts of
queer company — young married women and unmarried
maidens cheerfully footing it at fancy balls and night
clubs cheek by jowl with actresses, cocottes, money-
lenders, bookmakers, et hoc genus omne — the cocottes,
oddly enough, often looking far the most respectable
of the lot.

At one time, for some reason or other, it was supposed
that music-halls would have an educational effect upon
their patrons.

A critic speaking of the London music-halls in the
'sixties said, we were told, when the idea came first into
notice, that its encouragement would assuredly exer-
cise a beneficial influence over the progress of music
amongst the lower classes ; that many people who
now spend the hours of the night in dissolute indulgence
at the public-house, would, in time, be weaned from

134 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

their evil doings, and that the souls of our less wealthy
fellow-creatures would, in general terms, be ennobled
through the gentle agency of art ! In fact, we were
told all sorts of things, which, perhaps, we did not
believe, and which have, at all events, been proved
by time to be not less fallacious than the great majority
of predictions.

The music-halls were never educational ; but before
the entertainment provided in them had been levelled
up, or rather down, to suit the susceptibilities of the
suburban mind, it was at least the frank expression of
a certain side of English life, and, as such, more
artistic than some of the puerile inanities which took
its place.

The music-hall, of course, had its origin in sing-songs
organized in public-houses and had nothing in common
with the modern Palace of Varieties.

The early music-halls were not luxurious nor refined,
while the songs were of a full-blooded order which would
probably cause an outcry at the present day. The wit
not infrequently was akin to that provided at the Cider
cellars or at Baron Nicholson's burlesque trials, which
were notoriously very Rabelaisian.

The Lion comiques of that day were particularly
fond of singing about the St John's Wood— the Grove
of the Evangelists, as they called it.

" I know a Bank— South Bank
In a wood — St John's Wood,
She lives with her darling Mamma.
Come and dine, have some wine
At a quarter-past nine.
Till then, naughty boy, Tra-la-la ; "

sung by the " Great Vance," is a fair specimen of the
doggerel ladled out to music-hall audiences to their
apparent delight.
As late as the 'eighties and early 'nineties St John's

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 135

Wood, which is now a district of the highest respect-
ability, had a good many queer residents.

The " Wood " sheltered many ultra-Bohemians, most
of whom were ladies who were by way of being attractive,
but who very often weren't.

Lively scenes took place in some of the little houses
which now look so demure and prim. Here in long
past days men have been known to fight their way
out of tough corners, poker in hand.

Young fellows about town had no illusions as to the
dangers which might await them in that part of London,
but the spirit of adventure is often strong in youth, and
the hazards connected with a drive in pleasant company
to North or South Bank had little deterrent effect.

Very popular were songs dealing with London types
such as the hansom cabby, of whom Arthur Roberts
gave such an amusing and excellent impersonation in
" Gentleman Joe. "

" I say, cabby (sang another bard) I want to know the fare
To drive a girl along with an Earl
From here to Leicester Square ; "

and so on and so on.

Cabby belongs only to the past, as does any induce-
ment to drive a girl to Leicester Square, the supper
resorts of which, thanks to the triumph of Puritanism,
no longer exist.

Songs then were far more topical than is the case
to-day, dealing as they did with some cause celebre
or public scandal. " Charlie Dilke," set to an admirable
tune, was a conspicuous instance.

Another ditty sung by the same singer — Macdermott
— dealt with the disreputable crowd of rooks who lay
in wait for pigeons at certain bars round Piccadilly
Circus.

This, called " Captain Criterion of London," ex-
cited great indignation among certain flashily-dressed

136 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

sporting men. The latter, who took certain criticisms
as being levelled at themselves, were indeed said to
have frightened Macdermott or the management of the
London Pavilion into withdrawing the song from the
programme ; in any case it was sung for but a short time.
Gradually the music-hall, while retaining most of its
original character, became less of the free and easy
from which it sprang and more of a regularly conducted
entertainment. Songs sung there, such as " Champagne
Charlie," were heard all over the town. In the end,
ladies wanted to go and hear them, and, of course, as
always happens, eventually had their way, though for
years it must be understood such visits were in the
nature of a secret adventure.

When, however, " Plevna " was played at the Can-
terbury, in the late 'seventies, many people from the
West End went to see it ; and though the old school
discouraged it as much as they could, before very many
years were over the boxes of the now remodelled halls
were quite often frequented by women as well as men
of the fashionable world.

The institution of the variety theatres naturally gave
a great impetus to this fashion, but in the meantime
the original music-hall entertainment was being gradu-
ally pushed out of existence, except at some of the minor
halls which still retained a chairman.

In the 'sixties and 'seventies, the Alhambra, with
its well-mounted ballets and capital scenery, was a
very popular resort ; the music rooms known as Evans's,
in Co vent Garden, was another. In the latter case
the audience consisted of men alone, and the entertain-
ment was made up of songs, glees, and part songs,
executed by a well-trained choir composed of boys
with fresh and lusty voices. At Evans's the visitor
was bound to hear good music well executed. The
establishment was admirably conducted, and it is a
pity that it was ever closed.

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 137

When the licensing of music-halls was in the hands
of the Middlesex magistrates the latter were constantly
being attacked as a lot of Puritanical old fogies, for
which reason the transference of certain of their powers
to the County Council was hailed with approval, a
number of people being under the mistaken impression
that the new licensing authority would be more tolerant
in its policy.

As a matter of fact, as all who understood the
workings of the civic mind expected, the very opposite
was the case, the activities of a certain section of the
Council being immediately directed towards the morals
of the female frequenters of various Music Hall pro-
menades, and similar questions capable of arousing
pornographic discussions dear to professional supervisors
of other people's morals. The inner history of the
" Zaeo " episode in the 'eighties was a fine example of
Puritan gullibility.

The engagement of " Zaeo," a famous acrobat of
that day, then at the Aquarium, was coming to an end
with small prospect of renewal, public interest in
her clever and daring feats having somewhat declined,
when one of the ladies' entourage, who combined a keen
sense of humour with considerable business capacity,
set to work to boom her performance. In the first
place he designed a poster which though perfectly proper
showed " Zaeo " in tights. This was put up all over
London.

He then arranged for letters to be written to the
Vigilance Society protesting against the poster as being
indecent.

The Society took the matter up, and an application
was made to Sir John Bridge, at Bow Street, with the
result that after some proceedings it was arranged that
the poster should be modified.

The next day every one had a large piece of white
paper pasted over the legs.

138 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The case, of course, was fully reported in the Press
and created a sensation, with the result that the Aquarium
was thronged. The clever advertiser, however, did not
stop here. When the Aquarium's licence was applied
for he contrived to have it opposed on the grounds
that owing to lack of clothing " Zaeo's " back was
lacerated by the fall into the net which part of her
performance entailed. Several County Councillors took
the matter up very seriously, and one even proposed
to examine the lady's back. The result of all this
was, of course, more newspaper advertisement and
larger audiences than ever. This was probably one of
the few instances in which over-zealous Puritanism
ever did anyone any good.

For a good many years after all this, people flocked
to the Aquarium, where, in addition to the denizens
of the deep, there was generally some extraordinarily
daring acrobatic feat to be seen. Quite as sensational
as " Zaeo's " was the performance of " Zazel," a graceful
acrobat, who was fired out of a cannon and caught a
trapeze at the end of her flight. In reality the mode
of propulsion was a strong spring, though the illusion
of a real cannon being fired was produced by the volumes
of smoke which surged from the cannon's mouth as
the performer flew through the air. Zazel was pre-
sented to the public by Mr Farini, an unrivalled purveyor
of wonders.

An outcry on the score of danger arose about this
turn, and the Home Secretary was said to have been
about to interfere, whereupon Mr Farini (so ran the
story) completely set the public mind at rest by pro-
posing to demonstrate the safety of the performance
by shooting the minister himself out of the cannon,
not once only, but as many times as he might like,
while guaranteeing his safety. The offer was not ac-
cepted, but talk of interference ceased.

The Aquarium was always the source of anxiety

THE NIGHT LIFE OF LONDON 139

to prudes on the prowl, who at licensing time tried to
make out that it was a source of demoralization and
fount of iniquity.

When allegations were made that it was frequented by
undesirable women, the management, of course, replied
that the moral standard of female visitors was practi-
cally that of vestal virgins.

As a matter of fact the poor, gloomy old place where
the public were promised twelve hours of uninterrupted
enjoyment was in its last days one of the horrors of
London.

With its dingy interior and derelict tanks, in one of
the last of which survived a melancholy crocodile, any
more depressing resort was not to be imagined.

Its site is now, not so inappropriately, perhaps, covered
by a Wesleyan hall.

VIII
BOHEMIAN DAYS

WHILE Mayfair has possibly not always been
immaculate from a moral point of view, its
vices have never been such as to produce
disorder or serious scandal.

A number of the smallest houses in its retired streets
have from time to time sheltered queer, if attractive,
tenants, but from the point of view of decorum the
latter have generally given no more cause for complaint
than the most rigorous of their neighbours.

At one time there was a regular London demi-monde.
Skittles, Mabel Grey, and other anonymas were well-
known figures in the Park, which they usually frequented
in discreet-looking little broughams.

In the 'sixties quite a number of these ladies, priding
themselves upon their horsemanship, \vere to be seen
in the Row. They took care, however, not to go there
at the fashionable hour, which was in the afternoon.

Many sporting characters have lived in Mayfair, notably
the late Mr " Abington " Baird, who, one evening,
having dined particularly well in a luxuriously-furnished
little house in Curzon Street belonging to a sporting
baronet, bought it straight away — lock, stock and barrel,
just as it stood.

The proprietor walked out and Mr Baird went to bed
in the house late that very night. Waking up in the
morning, he was rather dazed by finding himself in a
strange bedroom.

" Where am I ? " he asked of one of his sporting
associates who chanced to drop in.

140

BOHEMIAN DAYS 141

" You're at home, Squire," was the reply, which
considerably astonished Mr Baird, who had but a hazy
recollection of what had happened the night before.

It was while at this house that this eccentric character
organized a contest between a number of piano organs,
which, to the astonishment of their grinders and dismay
of the neighbours, was decided in the drawing-room.

Such freaks as this have never been popular in
the West End.

There has always been a certain amount of gambling
in Mayf air ; some of the most decorous-looking mansions
could tell queer tales.

The high play which took place within their walls
has been known to go on without the consent or even
the knowledge of the owners.

This was especially the case just before the Great
War, when it became the practice of certain sporting
individuals, appreciative of the financial benefits of the
cagnotte, to pay a big rent for six months in order to be
able to entertain a select clientele fond of baccarat.

As the houses were generally obtained through a third
party the real object for which they were wanted as
a rule escaped notice till rumours of what was going
on reached the ears of some scandalized landlord,
who immediately proceeded to get rid of his undesir-
able tenant.

Large sums were lost in these places, which were
most luxuriously conducted, supper, wines and cigars,
all of the most excellent kind, being provided free.

In connection with this method of hiring houses
amusing incidents sometimes occurred.

The owner of a fine house in the West End having,
as he thought, let it extremely well for six months,
betook himself and his wife to Paris. He was a serious
individual, rather pompous in manner.

A week later, walking in the Rue de la Paix he was-
suddenly slapped on the back by a young fellow of

142 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

his acquaintance well known for his addiction to the
Turf.

" Well, old boy," said the latter, " my congratulations
on your good week — your share of the Kitty (cagnotte)
can't have been less than a couple of thou ! However,
I came off all right. I won a monkey."

" I don't understand what you mean," was the
reply.

"As if you didn't jolly well know ! "

Eventually, much to his horror, the owner of the
mansion, which had let so well, discovered that chemin de
jer baccarat was being played in his drawing-room, while
an elaborate and excellent 'supper was provided for
players on his dining table, around which some of the
most serious personages in the Metropolis were wont
to assemble.

" Your little library makes a capital place for hats
and coats," was the final remark of the informant, who
delighted in the consternation he was creating.

Returning to London the next day the scandalized
owner of the house confronted his tenant, and told
him he must leave.

The latter, however, showed a bold front, declaring
that the card-playing had been greatly exaggerated —
merely a little Bridge among friends. Finally he
declared his intention of carrying the matter into court,
adding that, if gambling should be proved, a jury would
draw their own conclusions as to the ignorance of a
landlord who had exacted suc^j an exorbitant rent.

In the end the latter, fearful of further scandal,
actually had to buy his tenant out.

These gaming places, to do those who ran them justice,
were orderly and well conducted. Neither women or
young men were admitted, the majority of the players
being men-about-town, well used to gambling on the turf
and at foreign casinos.

A sprinkling of legislators drawn from both sides of

BOHEMIAN DAYS 143

the House usually gave timid frequenters a comfortable
if fallacious feeling of security from outside interference.

The profits of the proprietors, after the fashion
followed at French watering-places, were drawn from
the percentage levied on the banks.

Very large sums were made in this way by certain
individuals — one indeed certainly made £80,000, most
of which, it may be added, he afterwards lost on
the Turf.

Though a few minor gaming places were raided the
best of them (if such a term is admissible) escaped inter-
ference. This implies no slackness on the part of the
authorities. There was no scandal ; and the sojourn
of a gaming house keeper in any particular place was
so short, that by the time his business had attracted
attention the bird had flown.

The war practically ended all this sort of thing in
the West End, where no one now has money to lose.

There was a good deal of baccarat played in London
in the 'eighties. The Park and Field Clubs existed
solely in order to afford men-about-town facilities for
playing that game.

There were also instances of baccarat being played
in one or two old-established and highly respectable
clubs.

This in one or two cases led to scandals and eventu-
ally severe action was taken, which has prevented any-
thing of the sort happening since.

Private gaming parties have, of course, always been
intermittent features of West End life, and at various
times jokes have been played on these giving them.
In one case three or four intimate men friends of a lady
who was in the habit of having baccarat parties at her
house, having dressed themselves up as police officers,
one evening proceeded to knock loudly at the door,
and, on admission, walked up to the room where they
knew gambling was going on. Their entrance was the

144 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

signal for a general stampede for the door, which was
only checked when the raid was found to be but a joke.

At one time men who wanted a gamble used to take
a sitting-room for the night at one of the old-fashioned
hotels, where they knew they would be allowed to do
as they liked.

The old sporting hotels of the West End were real
survivals of another age, linking, as they did, the life
of men-about-town with that led by their predecessors
in the eighteenth century.

Before their final extinction these old hostelries were
practically without exception rebuilt.

Long's Hotel in Bond Street, which closed its doors
some years ago, was, before it had been rebuilt, a great
resort of men-about-town in the mornings and after-
noons, who would have drinks there, and exchange the
talk of the town. There was a billiard-room upstairs,
and the accommodation was comfortable if old-fashioned.

William, the old head waiter, was a well-known char-
acter at Long's, ever ready with racing tips which did
the poor man himself even more harm than those who
received them. Indeed this most gentle, civil and efficient
representative of a class which is now extinct was not
prosperous in his last years.

At Long's were to be had the best grilled soles and
best whiskies-and-sodas in London. Everything, however,
was pretty good at this hostelry, which was the last
of a number of its kind which once flourished in the West
End of London.

Long's Hotel outlived its rivals, but at the end of its
existence had entirely changed its character.

It was at Long's Hotel that the ill-fated Ernest
Benzon — the Jubilee Juggins, as he was called — first
burst upon the West End, and here a few years later
he lost £10,000 in one evening at billiards.

The smoking-room, where poor Benzon used to hold
forth as to his extravagances past and to come, served

BOHEMIAN DAYS 145

more or less as a sort of club to a number of sportsmen,
some of whom were unlikely to get into any other.

The spirit of life then still lingered about the old
hostelry, but a few years later, when the place became
more of a family hotel, it of course entirely disappeared.

Not far away, in Cork Street, formerly flourished the
old-established tavern of the sign of the " Blue Posts,"
a sporting resort which was long famous for its dinners,
chops and punch. It was also at one time popular
with literary men, having been a favourite haunt of the
publisher Blackwood, the famous " Ebony," where he
saw the London contributors to " Maga."

A good old-fashioned English dinner could still be
procured at the " Blue Posts " in the 'eighties of the
last century, but its popularity was eclipsed by the
palatial new restaurants which began to be erected
shortly after that date.

At No. 15 lived the philanthropist George Peabody,
and at No. 17 Sam Lewis — also a philanthropist in his
own particular way.

Few knew as much about the financial secrets of
Mayfair as the little Cork Street moneylender, who was
to be seen standing in his bow window looking at his
fashionable clients going to lunch opposite at the Bristol,
then the most popular restaurant in the West End.

People wondered why, wealthy as he was, he continued
to carry on his business. " Why don't you give up
the moneylending business, now that you have made so
much money ? " someone asked him. " I'm Sam Lewis,"
said he, " the money-lender, and if I were to become
Archbishop of Canterbury I should be Sam the money-
lender still."

A favourite maxim of his, belief in which no doubt
contributed to his success, was, " Lend to the rich and
not to the poor."

Sam Lewis, though he could be hard enough in the
exercise of his trade, must have been at heart kind.
10

146 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The day before his death, it is said, having realized
that his end was near, he sent for his book of debtors,
and drew a feeble pen through several names against
which large sums were inscribed.

The chill from which he died, it may be added, was
contracted while witnessing the funeral procession of
Oueen Victoria.

" Dreadful times," said an impecunious man-about -
town. "The poor old Queen dies one week and Sam
dies the next ! "

It may be added that the great fortune, which has
now almost gone to charities, was not by any means
all made through moneylending. He was an astute
speculator, and bought largely and well in the early
days of the South African boom ; in many other direc-
tions also he had irons in the fire, a number of which
proved very profitable.

When all is said and done, it is odd to reflect that
scarcely anyone has ever left such munificent bequests
for philanthropic purposes as the usurer Sam Lewis,
or the courtezan Gaby Delys.

Limmer's Hotel, George Street, Hanover Square,
which had been highly popular in its day, like other
old hostelries, lost much of its vogue with the sporting
world after it had been rebuilt ; however, it continued
to enjoy some popularity for some time after Hatchett's,
in Piccadilly, had ceased to exist.

The latter, which in its original state had been
much patronized by country gentlemen, in its last
years came to be identified with coaching — it was from
the White Horse Cellars that in the 'eighties Jim Selby
started on his famous drive to Brighton and back
against time.

At Limmer's, racing men were wont to meet, and
here in the 'sixties many a coup was discussed. It was
an era when racing was taken quite seriously, even by
politicians.

BOHEMIAN DAYS 147

Writing in 1867 a critic said : " The Turf is evidently
recognized now as a regular profession, the duties of
which must take precedence of any other public duties.
The House of Commons, as we know, always adjourns
over the Derby day ; but we did not know that
attendance at Newmarket was to be held a sufficient
reason for the non-attendance of a prosecutor in a
case of felony, even when all the witnesses on both
sides were ready to appear. But it seems it is so, for
last week the trial of a man accused of stealing the
Marquis of Hastings' jewels was postponed because
the noble Marquis and Marchioness were detained by
important business — nothing more or less than the
Caesarewitch. Supposing the prisoner should ultimately
be acquitted, we wonder whether the action will lie
against the prosecutor for frivolous imprisonment. Such
an action would hardly lie, since it would be too near
the truth."

Racing has been responsible for the financial downfall
of a large number of wealthy families.

Why a young man just come into a large fortune
should imagine that he is able to increase it out of the
pockets of the Ring, is a mystery the only solution of
which is to be found in the unlimited extent of human
folly, which can no more be calculated than the sands
of the sea.

It would be interesting to learn how many great
estates have passed out of their original owners' hands
owing to the latters' love of racing.

At the present day, young men seem to be a shade
wiser than they were. The most glaring instances of
folly were possibly perpetrated by the aristocrats
associated with the late King Edward when he was a
young man.

Though the then Prince of Wales never encouraged
Tiis companions to ruin themselves, some of them un-
doubtedly did so.

148 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

1880 was the year in which the famous " Bend Or "
won the Derby for the Duke of Westminster.

From a pecuniary point of view this victory was
scarcely a triumph. The gain of six or seven thousand
pounds was but a mere bagatelle for the owner of Bel-
gravia, who had been expending huge sums on the
Turf for several years.

Those in a position to know, computed that his stud
had cost him on an average thirty thousand a year
since he first began breeding and racing by giving
£15,000 for " Doncaster " and £5000 for a yearling
which, proving an entire failure, the Duke sold for only
410 guineas.

A great sensation was created after this Derby by
an objection to " Bend Or " on the score of identity ;
this, of course, came to nothing.

The owner of this good horse had high hopes of a
victory in the Leger, but the fates willed it otherwise,
for the race went to " Robert the Devil," the winner
of that year's Grand Prix.

He subsequently beat " Bend Or " twice at Newmarket,
and with what many deemed to be an impossible weight,
won the Czarevitch.

His owners were said to have netted nearly £80,000
by this victory.

Among the mid-Victorian amusements of London
were racecourses practically within a cab-fare of the
Metropolis.

These suburban meetings were frequented by a good
deal of riff-raff. Welshing was not uncommon, though
many a " speculator " was severely handled, for a number
of his clients were thieves and blacklegs themselves ;
the " rough " element predominated, relieved by a
slight dash of the swell mob, added to a gentle sprink-
ling of the dishonest shop-boy ! A clear case of the pot
and the kettle, the vulture and the carrion crow !

Streatham races were abolished owing to the objection

BOHEMIAN DAYS 149

of residents, who did not appreciate some of the company
which racing brought into a very respectable locality.

Kingsbury lasted longer. The races used to be run
on land attached to the still existing Welsh Harp,
which, even forty years ago, stood among quite rural
surroundings.

West Drayton was another of these suburban race-
courses which, like the rest, attracted much riff-raff.

Card-sharpers abounded in the trains going there.
They were often impudent beyond belief.

One of these gentry, being detected cheating by a
young pigeon with whom he was playing, showed
extraordinary aplomb.

" I saw you deal from the bottom of the pack," pro-
tested the young man.

" And why the devil shouldn't I, considering how
unlucky I've been dealing from the top ? " was the
reply.

Bromley steeplechases evoked protests from the Press,
owing to the accidents which occurred there. The pro-
moter of the meeting had consulted the public taste,
and gave his patrons plenty of fun for their money.
Break-neck leaps and dangerous ditches were the order
of the day.

Croydon survived longest, and in its day was quite
popular ; especially during the steeplechase season many
good horses ran there. The growth of London, however,
made the continuance of open suburban racing im-
possible, and it must be admitted that the place of these
defunct courses has been amply filled by Sandown,
Kempton and Hurst Park.

The Derby, to attend which Parliament then adjourned,
was more of a general festival than it is to-day, whilst
on the road to Epsom unrestrained gaiety, often de-
generating into rowdiness, was the rule rather than
the exception.

An annual Victorian joke related to the stratagems

150 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

employed by clerks and others in order to see the great
race.

They were usually much as follows : —

Mr Jones (a clerk) to Mr Sloman (his employer) : "I
am afraid, sir, that I must ask you to allow me a couple
of days' leave of absence, as I am obliged to go out of
town, to attend the burial of an aunt of mine."

Mr Sloman : " How many days of leave have you
still remaining, Mr Jones ? "

Mr Jones : " Well, sir, the fact is, I have exhausted
all my holidays, but, under the circumstances of the
case, I venture to hope that you may not be indisposed
to accord me two days of special leave."

Mr Sloman (after a pause) : " Very good, Mr Jones.
I shall not oppose any obstacle to your desire of attending
the funeral of your aunt. I may mention, however,
that it would have been more satisfactory had it been
a closer relative."

The old-time suburban turfite was often a shifty-
looking individual who had been a counter-jumper
yesterday, was a commission agent to-day, and was
about to be a convict to-morrow. On the other hand,
some made fortunes. The bookmaker of that day
was usually a gaudily-dressed individual with an
elaborate watch-chain, pantomine diamond and startling
neck-tie.

He drove a T-cart in the Park, had a grand house
in Bayswater, and gave his daughter the use of a
brougham. True, he had an odd way of smoking short
pipes in his drawing-room, and wasn't above tossing
up for sixpences with his footman in the library. Yet
he was a man of property, and one who might some
day enter Parliament, always supposing he kept on
the top of the wheel and lost not his luck. Let but the
wheel turn, and the luck change, and then good-bye to
wealth and station, and welcome once more the pieman's
humble can, the perambulating tradesman's dirty apron.

BOHEMIAN DAYS 151

The T-cart would be taken by creditors ; the house
in Bayswater would be sold by auction, and the daughter
go on to the burlesque or music-hall stage.

The old-fashioned bookie, who was often an original
type, has long vanished, his profession being now
followed by gentlemen of unimpeachable respectability.

In other walks of life there were quite a number
of characters in old days — real Bohemians and clever
men whom people declared might have done any-
thing had they cared to make use of their great
abilities.

In this latter idea, however, they were probably wrong,
for the majority of Bohemians are lacking in the qualities
indispensable to success.

One individual, who had been an intimate of Disraeli
and other noted personalities, evoked many regrets
from relatives and friends, because he never made the
slightest attempt to shine in a public career.

They deplored his wasted abilities to such an extent
that the old man eventually became rather inclined to
look upon himself as the victim of circumstances, and
would grow quite pathetic about it.

As a matter of fact, every opportunity had been his.
A Peer, rich, well educated and clever, a clear path to
distinction and success had been open to him.

Spoilt, and by nature indolent and fond of his ease, he
had never cared even to think of taking it, and had he
done so, in all probability his natural defects would
have soon stopped his going very far.

In all probability instances of men really competent
to make their mark who have completely failed to do so,
are rare.

There are, of course, exceptions. Such a one was
the late Mr Cecil Clay, who clearly demonstrated what
he might have done, had he cared to set to work as a
playwright, by writing " The Pantomime Rehearsal."

In any case, it was an unusually genial disposition

152 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

and love of being among his friends which prevented
him from doing serious work.

His death in 1920 robbed London clubland of an
unique personality who may be called its last real
Bohemian.

I never remember meeting anyone in the least re-
sembling this charming and clever man, one of whose
chief characteristics was never saying anything unkind
to, or of, anyone.

An inveterate card-player, he was quite free from any of
that petty rapacity which so frequently clings about lovers
of the green cloth. Always the most generous of men,
he was a charming winner and an ever philosophic loser.

Well might a sporting Baronet christen him the Lord
Shaftesbury of the card table ; no one was ever so
reluctant to win from a less experienced opponent or
from a poor man !

It is much to be regretted that Cecil Clay could never
be induced to put his varied and interesting recollections
upon paper.

Gifted with an excellent memory, he was full of
anecdotes, besides being possessed of a neat and pretty
wit. He had a wonderfully clever and witty way of
describing situations and people.

Of a certain individual, whose geniality was no com-
pensation for his underbred ways, he said : " I think he
knows he is not quite a gentleman, and is perpetually
engaged in laughing it off."

Speaking of an individual who was always boasting
of his long acquaintance with well-known people, he
said : " I should not be astonished to hear him say that
he had known St Paul's Cathedral ever since it was
a little chapel."

Someone speaking of Bohemianism, the decay of which
those present had been lamenting, happened to speak
of a certain well-known bore as being one of the few
Bohemians left.

BOHEMIAN DAYS 153

" I can scarcely agree with you," said Cecil Clay.

" You won't deny that he is in the habit of sitting
up late."

" Yes, but alone ! "

Though the very soul of good nature, Cecil Clay well
understood how to administer a rebuff, and when he
thought it necessary did so with excellent effect.

At a certain dinner, where he was the guest of the
evening, it fell to an American to propose his health,
The latter, touching on Mr Clay's intimate knowledge
of America, drifted away into a comparison between
that great country and England, with the result that,
carried away by his feelings, he concluded with : " Thank
God I was born an American ! "

Cecil Clay, rising to respond, said : " My dear Billy,
I cannot say how gratified I am at what you have just
said at the end of your speech.

" To tell the truth, I have always been so occupied
thinking why you were ever born at all, that I never
gave a thought as to where it might have been."

A good deal of an epicure and a fine judge of wine,
Mr Clay enjoyed life to the full. Nevertheless, when
stricken by an illness the end of which he clearly realized,
he showed the greatest courage and calm.

For months before the great " venite " summoned him
away he perfectly realized that the malady which had
attacked him must prove fatal.

Death, to quote his own words, he neither desired nor
feared, but when the moment came to leave a world
where he had passed many happy days he did so with the
gallant humbleness of the true Christian. His turning
of life's last mournful page could not have been more
tranquil.

Another Bohemian whose strong individuality refused
to be obliterated by the steam roller of stupid convention
was Harry Irving, a delightful man whose early death filled
with sorrow all who had had the privilege of knowing him.

154 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The clever son of a clever father, Irving seemed to move
through existence rather as if through a dream. In
reality it was his great mental activity which absorbed
him, for on occasion no one was more alert than he.

This delightful character fell a victim to the Great War
just as much as any soldier who went over the top.

To begin with, it greatly saddened him, making a deep
impression upon a very sensitive mind. Though a man
whose nature it was to live free and untrammelled,
contrary to all his instincts he took up sedentary work
in the Intelligence Division of the Admiralty. The long
and regular hours which had to be spent cooped up in
a small room greatly affected poor Irving's health.

Like some captive bird he pined (as the writer, who was
in the same Department, observed) visibly from day to
day till at last he broke down altogether. From that
time onwards he never really rallied, and not very long-
after died.

He was a good actor, but it is probable that had he
chosen he might have achieved great distinction at the
Bar.

As a criminologist he was remarkable, his literary
efforts in this direction being well known.

He was an admirable conversationalist, especially
on his favourite topic of crime, which he would discuss
with an abundant, though never tedious, command of
detail.

Cutting his words clearly and speaking excellent
English, both of which are rare in these modern days, it
was a delight to listen to his conversation.

With regard to the stage, he had high ideals. On the
subject of British dramatic art indeed he was almost
fanatically patriotic, being entirely convinced that it
would be possible to raise the standard of English acting
to the same level as that of France.

Snobbery and hypocrisy were both absolutely alien to
this fine character, whose death, besides being a social

BOHEMIAN DAYS 155

tragedy, robbed England of what she can ill afford to
lose — a charming, cultured and clever man.

Of the small band of young men who in the 'nineties,
inspired by a love of life and beauty, made some real
contributions to literature and art, except Mr Arthur
Symons scarcely one remains. Though influenced in
some degree by Oscar Wilde, Whistler and George Moore,
their spirit was essentially original, as may be seen from
the work they did for the Yellow Book and the Savoy,
the two publications which convey the best idea of their
aims and style.

They are not long, the days of " wine and roses," as one
of the coterie sang, and it is noteworthy that though these
young men lived their lives to the full, not a few indeed
may be said to have worn themselves out in a too keen
pursuit of pleasure. Their work is strongly tinged with
a profound pessimism, as if they foresaw the early and
in some cases tragic fate which lay in wait for some of
their number.

John Davidson, Hubert Crackanthorpe and William
Theodore Peters all came to untimely ends, the latter
dying of starvation in Paris, while Ernest Dowson, Lionel
Johnson and Aubrey Beardsley never reached middle
age. The latter was undoubtedly one of the few really
original artists of modern days, gifted as he was with
an astounding command of line and an imagination
of unbounded if sometimes morbid fancy.

All these young men were the avowed enemies
of " respectability " as it is understood by English
" Villadom."

London life in the 'nineties was free and unfettered
as compared to that of to-day ; nevertheless they levelled
many a gibe against its dominant note of hypocrisy.

What would the clever band of Bohemians have said
concerning the present state of affairs ?

Beardsley, who was born at Brighton in 1872, may be
said to have been famous at twenty. At twenty-four he

156 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

was dead. Paris, ever ready to appreciate true artistic
merit, accepted him almost at once.

During his short career he profoundly affected black-
and-white illustration. Many tried to copy him, but of
those who have sought to follow in his footsteps, not one
can be said to have achieved any real success.

In connection with this master of line it may be noted
that he showed an aptitude for drawing from a very early
age ; indeed, even when a child it was evident that he
had great gifts in that direction.

As a matter of fact, most individuals who are more
clever than their fellows give indications of having
superior brains when merely children.

If any serious system of education prevailed in England
this fact would be taken into account, and such children
would be accorded higher facilities for learning than the
mass of the population, which, in spite of the gushing
assertions of sentimentalists, is absolutely hopeless from
an educational point of view.

A favourite resort of Beardsley and his friends was that
quaint French watering-place " Dieppe." No doubt the
artificial life of its casino during the season, combined with
the picturesqueness of the old-world town and ancient
chateau, strongly appealed to the minds of the uncon-
ventional but cultured little party who liked to assemble
there.

The difference between a French and English watering-
place is immense, the advantage being indubitably on the
side of France.

A cemetery by the sea indeed is scarcely too pessimistic
a description of many of our own seaside resorts, the
most exhilarating entertainments at which are often the
sacred concerts given on a shoddy pier.

A short time ago the writer of these lines happened to
find himself in the old-fashioned Norman watering-place,
the complete social freedom of which seemed astounding
after the slavish restrictions imposed in his own country.

BOHEMIAN DAYS 157

No notice-boards setting forth punishments and
penalties disfigured the walks. Police were scarcely to
be seen at all, yet excellent order prevailed.

The casino, with its games and dances, remained open
till four in the morning, while music sounded gaily in
several cafes long after midnight.

No drinking regulations were in force ; nevertheless no
one got drunk or made themselves objectionable to others.

Though complete social freedom prevailed, everyone
behaved with propriety. People seemed to realize that
good behaviour was the price of the perfect liberty which
they enjoyed.

There is no question but that this was real civilization,
as contrasted with the state-produced barbarism which
prevails at home.

Setting aside the lighter forms of amusement which are
to be found at Dieppe, there is much there to attract an
artistic visitor, who cannot fail to be struck by the charm
of the old houses which line its quays and the Place
Nationale, where stands the striking statue by Dantan of
brave old Admiral Du Quesne, represented in his prime
with hand on sword hilt. This picturesque effigy, with
the fine old church of St Jacques as a background, forms
a fitting memorial to the gallant sailor who was such a
worthy representative of old Dieppe.

Both the churches of St Jacques and St Remy suffered
severely during the Revolution. In the latter, the
beautiful organ case of carved oak was only saved by the
commander of the National Guard claiming it as his
private property, while a fine statue in rose-coloured
marble of an old-time governor — Monsieur de Sygogne —
was broken to pieces with hammers by Breton troops
quartered in the church.

This governor it was who added the outer works of
the chateau, which ancient stronghold, built mainly as
a protection against the English, was garrisoned by a
number of Royal Engineers during the Great War.

158 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Shots fired by the English fleet during a very fierce and
effective bombardment of Dieppe in 1694 under Lord
Berkeley, fell on the roof of the old fortress, on which
occasion M. de Manneville, the governor of that day,
grew extremely angry. Not at the bombardment, which
for some reason he appears to have treated as an enter-
tainment, but because his cook, fearful lest the smoke
from the kitchen chimney should draw the enemy's fire,
refused to carry out his functions.

The governor, however, had the poor chef made to cook
by force, and succeeded in dining as usual in spite of the
bombardment.

It is recorded that the company at the chateau were
much amused, as were those who afterwards perused the
governor's humorous account of the whole affair. The
town, however, suffered terribly and had in great part to
be rebuilt.

The old chateau well deserves the visitor's attention.
It is to be deplored that internally it is in bad condition.
A fine wrought -iron staircase has gone, possibly to the
mansion of some trans- Atlantic millionaire ; several of the
marble mantel-pieces have been torn from their places ;
while the eighteenth-century panelling is for the most
part in sad disrepair.

Nevertheless the place is in its own way far more
attractive than many a carefully restored castle. The
true spirit of the old world lingers within the ancient
walls from which Louis XIV as a young man witnessed
the return of Du Quesne with four captured men of war.

On a recent visit the writer was informed that repairs,
of which certain portions of the fabric are certainly in need,
were to be undertaken by the town of Dieppe during the
coming winter.

It is to be hoped that the restoration in question will
not be as drastic as that which the Porte de 1' Quest
(the old gate with two towers opposite the casino) has
undergone.

BOHEMIAN DAYS 159

Within the last two years the back of the old gateway in
question, as well as the interior, has been completely
transformed.

The restoration, while sweeping away eighteenth-
century work, purported to restore the old structure to
its original condition. This is always the plea of the
restorer, who seems entirely to forget that a building
which epitomizes the work of sev.eral periods, is far
more interesting than any so-called reconstitution of
one particular style.

The Porte de 1'Ouest is the last of several fine old gates
which formerly existed at Dieppe, being the only one
spared at the demolition of the old feudal walls in
1830-1840.

Joan of Arc is said to have been imprisoned there while
she was being conveyed to Rouen for trial.

Cannon have often thundered from its embrasures at
the invader, and the men-at-arms of many different
epochs have passed under its gateway.

It is to be hoped that this most picturesque relic of the
Middle Ages will be tampered with no more.

The old walls of the town, which dated back to the days
of Crecy, have gone. Gone also the Tour aux Crabes in the
harbour and the picturesque " Porte de la Barre." The
latter had witnessed many kings enter its portals and
been the scene of many a fight between citizens and the
governor of the chateau.

The old chapel of St Nicholas, for ages a landmark for
those at sea, has also long disappeared; in short, the only
relic of the feudal walls and towers which girdled Dieppe
up to 1830 are the two tourelles which it may be hoped
will long be allowed to survive.

Dieppe has not been changed so much as some other
French watering-places by the Great War, and the
gambling at the casino remains for the most part moderate,
at any rate as compared with that to be seen at Biarritz
and other fashionable resorts like Deauville, which, with

160 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

its fanciful villas, artistic casino and wealth of bright
flowers, so well carries out the idea that a town of pleasure
should be the expression of a caprice.

The resort in question of course caters mainly for the
gay world, and has been the Paradise of the high-class
Parisian cocotte from the days of its founder the Due de
Morny to those of Gaby Delys.

This flamboyant -looking little dancer (whose last days of
health were passed here), beneath her mask of outrageous
frivolity, concealed a tender heart and a thoughtful
little brain. For generations to come the sick children
of Marseilles will have reason to bless the name of
the little divette who sleeps her last sleep in a peaceful
spot near the Mediterranean, visited, one likes to think,
by the shades of Lais and Aspasia, borne thither on the
jasmin-scented breeze.

» IX

PARIS AFTER THE WAR

THE Paris of pre-war days was a different Paris
from that of to-day; the changes, however,
are not so great as those to be observed in
London, which rigorous and quite unnecessary austerity
has made into the dullest city in the world.

The strain and suffering of the long struggle have
left their traces upon the gay city, but they have not
impaired the charms of the Boulevards, the gracefulness
of the women, the deep blue of the Paris sky, and the
merry, careless, exciting disposition of the Parisians
generally.

The man or woman of the people has a totally different
outlook upon life from that which prevails across the
channel.

A French working-man, for instance, is contented
with the most frugal dinner, if in the evening he can
but afford to take a place and laugh or weep at the
theatre. The Englishman wants meat, good meat, and
plenty of it, while the British proletariat cares little
or nothing for " the feast of the soul." John Bull is
apt to despise the French frog-eaters. He has no idea
that the French ouvrier is, after all, a more civilized
creature than he is, exactly because to the Frenchman
his Sunday dinner is not, as is the case with the
lower classes of the English, the most important part
of the Sunday.

There is something about the mental atmosphere of
Paris which quickens the artistic powers of the mind,
a proof of which is that French art workers, once they

162 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

have left the gay city, do not achieve the same per-
fection as when at home. After the great Revolution
a number of first-class artificers came to England, but
the metal-work they produced here was not of anything
like the same degree of merit as that with which they
had formerly invested the fine furniture supplied to the
old noblesse.

The Gallic temperament would seem to be highly
susceptible to external influences.

Artists like Fragonard, Moreau le Jeune, Debucourt,
and many others, who previous to 1789 had produced
the most beautiful masterpieces, became as it were
completely paralysed, their works after that date being
of much inferior quality. Oddly enough, most of them
welcomed the storm which with many other things was
to sweep their genius away.

When the Great War broke out, in Paris as in London,
things at first went on pretty much as usual, but soon
the music was hushed and the lights dimmed, while all
dancing ceased. Certain theatres, however, continued
to keep open.

With the dawn of peace, after four years of dreadful
struggle against an invading foe, Paris naturally in-
dulged in rejoicing, but before long lack of coal began
to make itself felt, and for a time the restaurants, in
order to economize lights and heating, were ordered to
be closed at ten, a regulation which, of course, robbed
the city of all its accustomed gaiety and life.

At the present time, however, when the necessity
for economizing coal has ceased (March 1921), closing
hours are again much the same as before the war.

It should be added, that never at any time were any
closing regulations applied to clubs ; it is only in England
that such an unwarrantable interference with personal
liberty would have been dreamt of.

The extraordinary thing is that the English, formerly
so zealous as to any Government interference with their

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 163

private lives, should have accepted these edicts with
lamblike weakness.

French customs and ideas have not been changed
by the war. It is said that in the old French villages
on the Picardy front, the only effect produced by the
presence of English troops for five years is that
the country folk eat pickles with their boiled beef.

Be this as it may, considering the vast numbers of
English and American troops which remained in France
so long, the slight influence they seem to have had upon
the people they came to help is extraordinary.

This is perhaps just as well. The vivacious French
spirit is essentially unsuited to regulations dictated by
Puritanism and cant such as prevail in our own
metropolis, and Paris would soon lose its charm were
it to assume the mask of hypocrisy with which modern
London covers its vices. Besides, if it became staid,
moral and austere, there would be no place for our
social reformers to go and obtain pleasant compensations
for the dullness which their altruistic efforts have produced
at home.

Though ever ready to make money out of visitors,
the prolonged occupation of a portion of France by
foreign troops was regarded with mixed feelings by
many of the inhabitants.

The peasantry, in many cases, liked the English
soldiery — some were even sorry when they left — but on
the whole, there is no doubt that the French were very
glad to get rid of their allies.

In Paris the English are no more popular than before
the war — some say less ; while, owing to the wild doings
of some of the Americans who took advantage of the
social freedom denied to them in their own country,
the latter have not obtained the full share of gratitude
which their timely and generous aid to France
deserved.

The French, though fond of pleasure, do not like

164 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

rowdiness and intemperance, both of which are apt
to be indulged in by those accustomed to live under
Puritan regulations.

The Parisian in particular despises people who cannot
amuse themselves without noise and vulgarity. Drunken-
ness he does not understand at all, having, from his
youth up, been allowed free access to wine and alcohol,
he thinks it merely brutish to exceed.

The amount drunk by Anglo-Saxon visitors in Paris
astounds ordinary French people, many of whom
declare that the quantity consumed by the British has
grown much larger since the curtailment of drinking
hours in England.

People who suddenly find themselves no longer treated
as children are often incapable of restraint !

As a matter of fact, the vast majority of English
visitors do not abuse the freedom which is denied them
in their own country. They and other foreigners, it
may be added, now form the vast majority of persons
frequenting the more expensive restaurants.

The better class of French, owing, no doubt, to bereave-
ment and also to high prices, do not go about nearly
as much as in former days. There is, however, no lack
of flashily-dressed men and women throwing about
money, indirectly made through the war.

A smart restaurant with its lights, gilding, and music
makes an especial appeal to this class, who not having
drunk much champagne in early life, seem to concentrate
their energies upon making up for lost time.

Many of these profiteers came to Paris at the beginning
of the war with but a few sous in their pockets. Luckily
for them, as one more cynical than the rest remarked,
other people had pockets too, some of which could
stand a good deal of emptying.

For the foreign visitor there are several ways of seeing
Paris.

Should you be possessed of unlimited wealth you

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 165

can take up your abode at the Ritz with plenty of trunks
—one wealthy daughter of America brought ninety-eight
— live entirely at expensive restaurants, and wile away
the time between meals by talking scandal, buying
dresses if you are a lady, or costly objets d'art if you are
a man.

As everyone connected with these industries speaks
English, you need not bother at all about the French ;
indeed, except for a few minor details you might just
as well be in London or New York.

Again, if you are not rich, you can stay at some in-
expensive hotel or pension frequented by Anglo-Saxons,
who, besides saving you the bother of having to learn
French, will put you up to all sorts of ways of living
much as in your own country.

If, however, you are an imaginative individual with
Bohemian or artistic tastes, stay at a French hotel,
avoid like poison all restaurants frequented by fashion-
able strangers, walk all over the old quarters of the city,
and see as much as you can of the Parisians in their
own especial haunts.

Besides this, a study of the history of Paris, its build-
ings and monuments, will give you an abiding and ever-
increasing interest in the past, the most artistic and
most beautiful capital in the modern world.

Men come and men go, but the life of Paris remains
much the same, depending as it has always done in
this city of facile gaiety and love, upon the eternal
feminine.

Whether it be in the Quartier Latin, or the Boulevards,
or in Montmartre, woman is the pivot upon which every-
thing turns.

The French woman, while rarely endowed with such
a good skin as her sister across the Channel, has physical
attractions of her own. Many a piquante little face,
together with great vivacity of expression, shows great
character.

166 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

On the whole the French women, in spite of their
intense femininity, are the most determined little people
in the world, also they are extremely intelligent and
sharp. It is rarely, indeed, that a good-looking one
does not obtain anything she has set her heart on.

The French woman is also often endowed with great
physical courage, and indeed is capable of developing
the energy of a tigress when roused.

The Paris of " the day before yesterday " was in
many ways a brighter Paris than that of to-day. In
the 'eighties of the last century there was still a dis-
tinctive individuality about the Parisian's dress ; now
the men are dressed in very much the same way as
Englishmen ; their clothes, however, are as a rule not
of as good material or cut, while certain little eccen-
tricities of costume are not uncommon.

The old-fashioned peg-top trousers, huge butterfly tie
and straight-brimmed top hat, seem to have disappeared
altogether since the war, which all over the world has
given added impetus to the modern mania for drab
uniformity.

Up to about thirty-five years ago varied military
uniforms which had survived the downfall of the Second
Empire gave colour and variety to the streets.

The Garde de Paris and the Sapeurs Pompiers still
wore pretty little cocked hats in undress, while the
uniform of the officers was far gayer than to-day.

In those days not a few of the old-fashioned restaurants
still flourished, and there were other peculiarly French
features which have now become pretty well obsolete,
or are only to be found in provincial towns.

The blackened ruins of the Tuileries and of the Cour
des Comptes, destroyed in the Commune, still stood, and
a number of quaint old houses and narrow, tortuous
streets, survivals of pre-Haussmann days, had not yet
been pulled down.

There were then, of course, no palatial hotels, but at

A FAIR PARISIENNE

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 167

the Bristol, Maurice's or the Rhin wealthy visitors found
every convenience and luxury.

The theatres, while giving excellent plays, were, if
possible, even stuffier and more uncomfortable than at
present, but music-halls and cafe concerts provided a
much more distinctive and original entertainment than
is now to be seen or heard.

English products were hard to get, pale ale being
considered a luxury.

It used then to be next door to the impossible to
obtain cigars of even tolerable quality in Paris.

Old Parisians used to say that there existed an in-
fallible safeguard against the breaking out of conflagra-
tions in France, namely, to thatch the houses with the
Government tobacco and try to set fire to them
with the "concession" matches.

The first wouldn't burn, and the second would not light.

At the present time, however, quite decent if rather
expensive cigars can be purchased at the Government
tobacco shop on the Boulevard opposite the Grand
Hotel.

Within recent years a once familiar feature of the
Paris streets has disappeared. Gone are the huge
horse omnibuses, their place having been taken by long
motors, which for some reason or other have no seats
on the roof. Thus passengers are deprived of the view
of the boulevards so popular in the days of the old
horse 'bus.

An amusing song used to describe the experiences
of an individual on " 1'Imperiale," as it was called then :

" Ah, me dit il en souriant,
C'est epatant c'est epatant,
Tout ce qu'on peut apercevoir,
Au travers les rideaux les soirs.
En s'en allant, en s'en allant,
En s'en allant, Place Pigalle :
Sur 1'Imperiale ! "

168 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

In some ways the French are the most conservative
of people, and out of the great boulevards street vendors
may still be heard calling out their not unmelodious cries,
some of which are identical with those of the eighteenth
century.

On fete days every sort of itinerant mountebank and
beggar is allowed to do pretty well as he likes, and street
musicians emerge from goodness knows where, who play
upon archaic instruments and antique organs of the
weirdest kind.

The public always seem to be deeply interested in
these people, jugglers and cheapjacks being generally
encircled by large and appreciative crowds, who pre-
sumably contribute enough to make their quaint and
ocasionally clever business worth while.

In the latter part of the last century there were still
many characteristic survivals of old Paris : students
with slouched hats and hair ignorant of scissors, children
in wooden shoes, and old pensioners, a few of whom
could tell stories of Borodino and other battles which
led up to the final catastrophe of the great soldier who
had been to many almost a god.

In modern Paris (unlike modern London) the police
are very little seen ; the agents, indeed, seem to have got
fewer in number since the war. They are not as im-
pressive in appearance as the English policeman, nor are
they picturesque as were the fierce-moustached, truculent
" sergents de ville " of the Second Empire with their
cocked hats and their long rapiers. The latter were
intensely hated by the dangerous classes, who at the same
time feared them. They did their work in a very efficient,
if occasionally uncompromising manner. Many of these
vanished guardians of law and order were Corsicans,
stern " Decembrists " — that is to say, true as steel to
the House of Bonaparte, if to nobody else. The force
likewise comprised a large contingent of Alsatians and
Lorrainers, men of great physical stamina and great

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 169

probity, but somewhat rude in speech and rough in
manner. But they managed to control the vehicular
traffic in the street, and kept the dangerous classes in
wholesome awe.

At the present time, going for a walk in Paris has much of
the excitement of starting for a steeplechase, the speed of
the automobiles and taxis being practically uncontrolled.

The only real path of safety is in waiting at a crossing
till a small child or baby in arms comes along, when
the hitherto apathetic gardien de la paix usually waves
his truncheon in the air, blows a whistle, and holds up
all traffic till the infant has got safely across the road.

The Exhibition of 1879 attracted a great number of
English people of moderate means to Paris. At that
time the tourist was generally conspicuous on account
of his dress ; it used to be a custom with a certain
class of person to put on their worst clothes to go
abroad in, the idea being that it wouldn't matter, nobody
knowing who one might be.

The Rue de Rivoli, full of shops catering mainly for
foreigners, was about the most popular street with these
individuals, the most economical of whom managed
to " do Paris," as they called it, very cheaply.

The Palais Royal was then full of inexpensive restaurants
which provided an imitation of a good lunch or dinner
at a ridiculously low rate. There were table d'hotes
as low as one franc fifty.

A favourite and costless amusement of tourists in
those days after dinner was to walk about the streets and
look at the jewellers' shops, which were then kept open
and brilliantly lit up till ten or eleven at night. At
that time the shops of Paris seemed never to close ;
few were shut on Sundays. The introduction of "la
semaine Anglaise," however, has put an end to this
state of affairs.

In the 'eighties the masked balls at the Opera House
were still in full swing.

170 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Old Parisians used to complain that the revels in
question had lost all animation and life ; nevertheless
the place, crammed as it was with women in fancy costume,
presented a wonderful scene of gaiety, while the music
was gay and inspiriting to a degree.

Bands of young men students and others used to
ramble all over the Opera House during these balls
looking out for girls dressed in startling or particularly
scanty dresses. When they found one they would
hoist her on someone's shoulders and carry her in
triumph round the corridors at the back of the boxes,
joking, singing, and making every kind of din.

The girls, it should be added, generally enjoyed the
fun, into which they entered with zest.

When, however, they found things getting too lively
they generally managed to get away — the Frenchwoman
possesses a self-assurance and tact which stand her in
good stead in any predicament.

Attempts, it may be added, have recently been
made to revive the glories of these opera balls, owing,
however, to the high price of admission the company
is less Bohemian and more restrained in its behaviour
than in old days.

In the 'eighties there were still survivors of the British
colony which existed in Paris in the old days when
quite a number of aristocratic Englishmen made their
home in Paris. About the last was Mr Mackenzie
Grieves, a gentleman of the old school, who in early life
had been an officer in the " Blues," and who died not
a great number of years ago. A remarkable judge of
horseflesh, especially of the great Norman horses known
as percherons, he was also well known as a perfect master
of the haute ecole. His judgment in Turf matters was
also held in very great respect in Paris, and his im-
maculate frock-coat and voluminous tie were seldom
absent from Longchamp, where a race named after
him perpetuates his memory.

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 171

Mr Mackenzie Grieves was a polished representative
of all that was best in the French society of the past.
Possessing the most charming manners, there was
something about him which vividly recalled what one
had heard of the best days of the old regime ; his
costume, for instance, though of extreme simplicity, had
a particular note of distinction which has now totally
disappeared from men's dress.

Mr Mackenzie Grieves was as great an authority on
French social matters as any Parisian, and was a member
of the most exclusive clubs to which foreigners rarely
obtain admission. Club life in Paris is vastly different
from that of London.

At clubs like the Jockey and the Rue Royale, for
instance, it is an unwritten law that a new member
should be introduced to all the old ones, a fashion which,
necessitating as it does an enormous amount of bowing,
hand-shaking and complimenting, is generally little to
the taste of Englishmen.

Within comparatively recent years several foreign
clubs have been started in Paris. The most im-
portant of these is, of course, the Travellers', so
sumptuously housed in the splendid mansion erected
by Madame de Paiva, the famous courtezan who
became the wife of the Silesian millionaire-Count
Henckel von Donnersmarck.

The Paiva was fond of entertaining clever people,
and most of the celebrated writers of the day went to
her dinners and parties.

Looking about to find an appropriate name for her
new home she applied to Arsene Houssaye.

" A poet like you," said she, " can easily help me."

" Certainly," replied he, with a smile. " There's only
one name for it : ' The Palace of the thousand and
one nights.' "

The house, on the decoration of which enormous sums
were spent, with the exception of certain minor altera-

172 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

tions, remains unaltered. A modern entrance, how-
ever, replaces an archway, by which in the Paiva's day
one could drive into the courtyard.

A curious feature is the elaborate bathroom, still in
its original condition. This makes a most agreeable
little dining-room, a dining table being arranged over
the sunken bath.

Before the house became the abode of the Travellers'
Club it had for a brief period been a restaurant run by
Cubat, a former chef of the Czar, who had purchased
the mansion which Count Henckel's second wife did not
appreciate.

Cubat, who had an idea of making the place the most
luxurious dining resort in Europe, spent large sums upon
its installation, two sets of plate — one silver gilt, the
other gold — being provided for especially luxurious
diners.

To Cubat's one evening came a well-known Parisian
viveur with a very pretty little lady. The former was
of mature years, and well understood that when Cupid
makes use of an old beau he can only hit the mark
by tipping his arrow with gold, consequently he gave
directions that a sumptuous dinner should be served,
on golden plate, in one of the little private rooms.

Everything went merry as a marriage bell, but when
a bill of some 5000 francs arrived it fairly staggered
the boulevardier, whom it took much to astonish.

2000 francs, as he told the maitre d'hotel, he could
understand, but how did he explain the 3000 francs
against which there was nothing but an undecipherable
scrawl ?

" That, Monsieur le Comte," said the man, bending down
and speaking in a low voice, " is for the spoon and fork
which madame has got in her stocking."

The bill was paid.

Notwithstanding his gold plate and high charges,
Cubat failed to make a success of his restaurant, and

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 173

the house, after standing empty for some time, eventually
became the Travellers' Club.

A French club is a totally distinct institution from
an English one. Card-playing in most cases is the main
raison d'etre of its existence : a Frenchman would not
belong to a club at all if the only thing to do there
was to read the papers.

Clubs in the English sense have never become really
acclimatized on the Continent, the French club having
developed rather from the casino than from anything
else.

Nevertheless, these " Cercles," as they are called,
are usually well managed, and provide excellent food
at a moderate price.

For the most part these are well conducted, the play
being perfectly fair ; indeed, there is no particular reason
why it should be otherwise, the sums taken by the
cagnotte — that is, the percentage levied on banks —
running into big figures even after the Government
tax has been deducted.

The cagnotte, indeed, is usually the real support of
these places and enables the members to obtain excellent
lunches and dinners at a very moderate price.

At one of these gaming clubs, where the membership
was rather mixed, a well-known English nobleman,
having found that his pocket-book, containing several
thousand francs, had been taken out of his coat hanging
in the hall, hinted to the committee that it must have
been purloined either by the waiters or the members.
Their answer was : " We can answer for the waiters \ "

Not a few of the latter are quite wealthy men. They
receive a good deal of money in tips, in addition to which
it is not unusual for them to do a little illicit money-
lending.

A member of one of these clubs once called up the
old head waiter and said, " Baptiste, I want a valet. Can
you find a good man for me ? "

174 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

" Alas, Monsieur," was the reply, " I fear not. As a
matter of fact I have been unable to find one for my
own household."

Baptiste, it afterwards transpired, was worth about
£20,000, largely the proceeds of a successful speculation
into which he had put his savings.

The popular hour for play is in the afternoon after
racing, when banks often run high. At certain clubs
chemin de fer baccarat is played, but this is not so much
liked by the French as the old-fashioned game with,
two tableaux.

The cagnotte at chemin de fer is of course much higher,
a percentage being taken on practically every coup,
whereas at ordinary baccarat the banker only pays for
his bank and renewals.

Chemin de fer, as the French call it, almost certainly
results in a loss for players, unless they limit their play
to short periods, for the recurrence of the tax levied on
winning hands must hit everyone who does not have
extraordinary luck.

During the war baccarat ceased in Paris, though
ecarte and other games were played pretty much as in
ordinary times.

The drastic regulations which were applied to English
dubs during the war and which have since — most
unjustly — not yet been abolished were not copied on
the other side of the channel. French clubs kept open
much as usual. The French are very intelligent in
such matters, and saw no necessity to make rules merely
for the pleasure of making them, as appears to be the
modern English way.

To-day baccarat flourishes in France as much if not
more than before the war ; indeed, French pleasure resorts
could not contrive to exist were baccarat and petits
chevaux to be suppressed, for a certain portion of the
large profit derived from play is devoted to the upkeep
of the casinos, which furnish visitors with excellent

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 175

entertainment . It is, indeed, owing directly and indirectly
to the toleration of play that the French plages are proving
such formidable rivals to the miserably dull English
seaside resorts, full of minatory notice-boards, cast iron
and asphalte, which offer visitors few attractions besides
golf. As a matter of fact golfers are now well catered for
on the Continent, where good links are becoming fairly
common.

" Allez ! allez!" said one old Frenchman, speaking of
our insular ways. " You weave and you spin, you steam
and you hammer, you eat and you drink, at the rate of
so many horse-power; but to enjoy your life, that is
what you do not understand ! "

Gambling, though recognized by the Government in
France, is strictly controlled.

Under the French law public play is prohibited at
casinos within a radius of 100 kilometres from Paris.
Of course a good deal of illicit gaming goes on in that city.
At one time, indeed, the authorities were seriously per-
turbed at the large increase of so-called Parisian gambling
clubs entirely devoted to single tableau baccarat known
as "La Faucheuse," a game from which an enormous
harvest of gold is easily gathered by those holding the
bank. It was said that no less than 126 new establish-
ments of this kind had sprung up, a state of affairs
calculated to make the dead proprietors of the long-
suppressed and very strictly regulated tables in the old
Palais Royal turn in their graves. Many of these
clubs were frequented by women, and a number of the
brightest stars of the French demi-monde lost almost
everything they had. The casino at Enghien, recently
closed under the law mentioned above, was notoriously
disastrous to these ladies.

From time to time efforts have been made to revive
public gaming in Paris itself.

During the Second Empire, Doctor Louis Veron,
ex-dealer in quack medicines, ex-manager of the Grand

176 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Opera, and ex-proprietor of the Constitutionnel news-
paper, offered an enormous royalty to Government for the
privilege of establishing a gambling-house in Paris. The
Emperor Napoleon III, however, declined to consider
the proposal.

It was, of course, the suppression of the gaming tables
under Louis Philippe which began the decadence of the
Palais Royal, which every year grows more derelict and
dismal.

There is nothing left, indeed, to remind the visitor that
the place was once known as " the Devil's Drawing-room '
it being said that here a debauchee could run the whole
course of his career with the greatest facility and ease.

On the first floor were cafes where his spirits could
be raised to any requisite pitch ; on the second, gaming-
rooms where he could lose his money, and saloons devoted
to facile love — both, not unusually, ante-chambers to the
pawnbrokers who resided above ; whilst, if at the end of
his tether and determined to end his troubles, he could
repair to some of the shops on the ground floor, where
daggers and pistols were very conveniently sold at reduced
prices — every facility being thus provided for enjoying all
the pleasures of life under one roof.

Especially celebrated were the Galeries de Bois, the
resort of all lovers of careless gaiety during the Directory,
the Consulate, the First Empire, and the Restoration.
In 1815 these galleries were nicknamed, owing to the
extensive Muscovite patronage which they enjoyed,
" Le Camp des Tartares."

Duringthe occupation of Paris, Blucher was an assiduous
frequenter of these gaming tables. A contemporary
writer describing the rough old soldier's methods said :
" He posts his servant in the ante-room, with his pockets
full of gold, and the old field-marshal trots backwards and
forwards between the ante-room and the green table
until he has lost his last, his very last, crown, when he
withdraws noisily, swearing like a trooper, insulting the

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 177

croupiers, and cursing France and the French in his
abominable Teuton patois."

At one famous gaming-house alone — No. 113 in the
Palais Royal — Bliicher lost no less than six million francs,
the result being that at his departure all his estates were
mortgaged.

Ever afterwards, it is said, he would explode with rage
whenever the name of Paris was mentioned !

The Palais Royal was built in imitation of the Piazza
San Marco at Venice by Cardinal Richelieu and bequeathed
by him to Louis XIII. The palace in question was in
course of time given by the Roi Soleil to his brother and
thus became the property of the Orleans family. Fan-
tastically extravagant and crippled by debts, Philippe
Egalite first conceived the idea of putting the noble
building raised by the great Cardinal to a commercial
use, continuing to obtain a very large sum by letting out
suitable parts as shops, gaming-houses, and restaurants.

Louis XVI. is said, after hearing of his cousin's decision
in this matter, to have remarked : "I suppose we shall
now only see the Due d'Orleans on Sunday — he has
become a shopman ! "

To-day there is something pathetic about the old
gardens where one summer's day Camille Desmoulins
uttered those burning words which heralded the approach
of the Revolution.

From the windows of the Palace itself, in July 1830,
did the son of Philippe Egalite look hopefully, yet
half-fearfully, down on the Parisian mob, yelling and
triumphant, which after storming the Louvre and sacking
the Tuileries, came screeching the Marseillaise, roaring
" Vive la Charte ! " " Vive la Republique ! " " Vive
Lafayette ! " and most portentous of all for him, " Vive
Louis Philippe ! " The last cry won the day ; and Louis
Philippe, Duke of Orleans, went forth from the Palais
Royal to become the Citizen King.

Later on, however, the monarch in question became
12

178 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

highly unpopular, receiving among other nicknames that
of Riflard, "old umbrella" — a reference to an old umbrella
of enormous size which he used to carry at the time when
he affected the simple manners of the bourgeoisie and
tried to curry favour with the shopkeepers.

Various schemes have from time to time been mooted
with the idea of reviving the glories of a spot which was
once the incarnation of Paris in the eyes of all pleasure-
loving Europe, but at present nothing seems likely to be
done.

If the Parisians are denied the roulette, trente et
quarante, and other games popular with their forbears
they can bet to their heart's content on the races which
every day are held in the immediate neighbourhood of
Paris.

Sunday at Longchamp or Auteuil is the favourite day,
but since the war, even on ordinary days, the number of
people frequenting racecourses round the city has greatly
increased, while a far greater sum than before the war
passes through the Pari Mutuel.

The racecourses at St Ouen, Colombes, Vesinet, and
one or two other places have ceased to exist, but racegoers
have been more than compensated by the establishment
of new and finer courses at Le Tremblay and St Cloud,
the latter of which was founded by the late Monsieur
Edmond Blanc, the greatest sporting figure on the French
Turf since Count Lagrange and Lord Henry Seymour.

The Grand Prix in the 'eighties, though attended by a
great number of Parisians and visitors, was nothing like
so crowded as it is to-day, when to obtain a view of the
race except from the reserved stand or a private box is
almost impossible. Those were the days when every
pretty woman looked forward to sporting a new dress for
the Grand Prix which would be seen to full advantage
during the drive back through the Avenue des Acacias —
a drive which in a way was a relic of the Promenade de
Longchamp of the eighteenth century.

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 179

Then came the evening, with a joyous dinner and more
joyous supper prolonged into the small hours of the
morning with songs and toasts in honour not only of le
beau sexe des deux hemispheres, mais les deux hemispheres
d'u beau sexe.

The institution of the Pan Mutuel some thirty years
ago was not unattended by disturbance.

For about a fortnight after the bookmakers had been
suppressed there was violent excitement on the race-
courses, in the vicinity of which large bodies of troops
were posted.

The races were run amidst some disorder, owing to
the dissatisfaction of the mob, and M. Goblet, who was
Minister for the Interior, was reported to be in hiding
from fear of assassination.

Directly the Government betting booths were installed
everything quieted down, especially as book betting was
more or less allowed within a certain enclosure.

This, however, has long been done away with, while
the public have grown quite content to make their
wagers through the mutuels, the large profits of which
are devoted to racing purposes, relief of taxation, and
charity.

The whole system works well, but owing to the larger
percentage levied since the war, the odds are now not
infrequently less than those a bookmaker would be
ready to lay.

This, however, seems in no way to deter the public,
which goes racing in far larger numbers than it did
before the war.

The beginnings of French racing in the 'forties of the
last century were very primitive, races in the early part
of the nineteenth century being run on the Champ-de-
Mars, the course marked out by ropes passing close to
the " 6cole Militaire." A body of cavalry kept order
among the spectators, who did not understand much
about what was going on.

180 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Matches, and even sweepstakes, were run in the Bois
de Boulogne, but these were entirely private affairs and
not public race meetings.

Such betting as went on was light, five hundred francs
being considered a big bet. Nevertheless the French
sportsmen of that vanished era often spoke of having
lost or won five hundred louis, but this was a convention
well understood by those who were in the swim.

The usual place where they met to run their horses
was the " Butte-Mortemart," a spot on what is now
Auteuil racecourse, which was completely changed by the
erection of an artificial mound formed out of the earth
excavated to make the two lakes.

The first regular meetings of any serious importance
were those held at Chantilly in 1834 and I835, the prix
du Jockey Club being first run in 1836.

In 1842 no one could have foreseen the development
of French racing — indeed, a writer in connection with
the sale of Lord Henry Seymour's horses, after his
withdrawal from the Turf in a huff, said, " The sport of
racing once more goes back to the other side of the
Channel, not having been able to popularize itself
among us."

Lord Henry Seymour, who may be regarded as
the founder of the French turf, was really, it is said,
the son of a well-known French viveur — Count
Casimir de Montrond — and not of Lord Hertford
(Thackeray's Lord Steyne), which may account for his
never having shown the least wish to set foot in
England.

Montrond, who had been a lover of Princess Pauline
Borghese, was an intimate friend of Talleyrand, with
whom he used to exchange epigrams, for he was a
clever man with a very caustic tongue. Being bored
with an acquaintance, who was vaunting the charms
of his fiancee, a girl born out of wedlock, Montrond
said : " To hear you speak, my dear fellow, one would

PARIS AFTER THE WAR 181

think you were going to marry somebody's supernatural
daughter."

Lord Henry Seymour may have inherited this cynical
tendency. "Be so good, my dear lady/' wrote he to one
of his mistresses, "as to put my boots outside the door
— they will do the same for you one of these days."

One of his favourite escapades as a young man was
to get hold of some cabman and by means of a heavy
tip get leave to do as he liked.

This done, in the cabman's coat and hat he would
drive his cab at lightning speed through the streets,
hitching against all sorts of vehicles on the way and
infuriating everybody.

When at last this mad progress was arrested, Lord
Henry would escape in the scuffle, leaving the real driver,
whom he usually put inside, to explain matters to the
police.

This eccentric if sporting nobleman liked playing
unpleasant jokes. Having bought a beautiful villa from
Arsene Houssaye, he asked the latter and his little son
to a lunch at which one of the dishes was composed
of the pet gold-fish from a little pond in the grounds.
Young Houssaye was much distressed at this cruel
pleasantry. Lord Henry Seymour, like the poor gold-
fish, seems to have been lacking in taste.

X

CAF£S WITHOUT CANT

BEFORE the war certain cafes were identified
with literature and the drama.
The Cafe Pousset on the Boulevard, for instance,
was at one time a great meeting-place after rehearsals.
Here might be seen Catulle Mendes surrounded by
an admiring crowd, and M. Antoine with his favourite
actors and authors.

The frequenters all knew one another well, and con-
versation flew from table to table.

In London there has never existed anything like the
Bohemian assemblies held by little coteries of writers
and artists in Montmartre and the Quartier Latin.

A certain studio having become a meeting-place for
such men, remains open at all hours, everyone coming
and going as he chooses.

Wine and food are contributed by the frequenters.
One man sings songs of his own composition, while
another improvises an accompaniment.

Budding authors recite their verse and prose.

Artists decorate the interior of the place with their
sketches — often clever.

Girls with their lovers, models from other studios, a
minor actress or two, give the required note of femininity
to the gathering. The whole thing constitutes a real
" Liberty Hall," everyone doing and saying exactly
what he pleases.

Prudery and stupidity are under a severe ban.

It was a meeting-place of this description which
originally furnished the idea of the " Chat Noir,"

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 183

a resort founded by Rodolphe Sails in 1881 in a house
on the Boulevard Rochechouart.

His first intention seems to have been to make the
place his studio, for he was an artist before he took to
keeping a cabaret.

His Bohemian friends came there to recite then- poems
and sing old songs, and one of them conceived the idea
of admitting the public to the rooms which the little
band had decorated with sketches and pictures.

At first, songs were only sung on Friday nights, but,
owing to the great success they achieved, the place *vas
soon opened every evening.

After four years the " Chat Noir," the name of which
Salis is said to have taken from one of Edgar Poe's tales,
was moved to the Rue Laval, and to the new house
flocked all artistic Paris.

Here in the 'eighties and early 'nineties talented
Bohemians sang amusing songs of their own composition,
and here, too, was given the famous series of " Ombres
Chinoises," the little shadow-show which depicted various
incidents connected with the Grande Armee and its
great leader Napoleon.

One of the cleverest singers was a writer called Macnab,
said to be of Scotch descent, a man of extraordinary
appearance, something between a clown and an under-
taker, who sang most amusing songs written by himself.

Another great supporter of the " Chat Noir " was
Emile Goudeau, a writer and poet, also well known in
the Quartier Latin, who wrote some delightful lines to
the Muse of Montmartre in 1897.

" Que 1'homme de pinceau que I'homme de la lyre,
Que le reveur en proie au rythme qui delire,
Que le passant quelconque accable par 1'ennui,
Que le desespere pleurant 1'amour enfui,
Que tous enfin : les grands, les petits, et les mievres,
Puissent en te voyant oublier quelles fidvres
Les torturent et quels remords ou repentirs !
O vierge de Montmartre, O Muse des martyrs."

184 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

An album kept in the house contained contributions
from all the most famous writers and artists of the day,
while black cats in all sorts of quaint situations were
to be seen on the walls, but in addition to these, there
were other paintings of very great merit.

Not many foreigners went to the Chat Noir ; it was
never indeed a cosmopolitan resort like some of the
cabarets which sprang up after it had ceased to exist.
There was no garish glitter about it ; indeed, as far
as the present writer recollects, a rather semi-religious
air prevaded the place, which, though quite modern, had
an air of antiquity, produced, no doubt, by the cleverness
of those responsible for its adornment.

Though the Chat Noir achieved a great artistic success,
as it deserved to do considering the enthusiasm and
genius of its founders, it did not last many years.

Unique in its way, it was of necessity but an ephemeral
manifestation of a certain side of literature and art.

After the disappearance of the Chat Noir, a cabaret,
presided over by Aristide Bruant, a rather talented
writer, who wrote and sang his own songs, achieved a
good deal of success. A number of his compositions
were extremely clever, and as rendered by Yvette Guilbert
struck a highly original note.

Among these the most noteworthy were "A la
Roquette " and " Au Bois de Boulogne."

It was Verlaine who first invented the style of song
which made the reputation of Aiistide Bruant and his
cabaret.

This strange individual, who, as is well known, besides
being a real poet was a man of most dissipated life,
delighted in getting a friend to accompany him to the
halls and low cabarets frequented by Apaches and their
ladies.

Being himself of somewhat disreputable appearance
he was able to do this without much danger.

Much struck with the strange and brutal life led by

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 185

the people in these haunts, he wrote and talked about
them, with the result that in the end the Apache became
quite a popular figure.

Aristide Bruant, following the lead given by Verlaine,
wrote songs about the Parisian underworld which
betrayed a very accurate and original outlook upon
certain phases of Parisian life, as was recognized by
many artistic people.

The curious collection which the Chat Noir contained
was eventually sold at the Hotel Drouot, where the sale
attracted great attention. The catalogue, now very
much sought after, revealed a great number of artistic
treasures, among which were valuable pictures and
sketches by famous artists.

One splendid composition by Willette, " Le Cavalier
de la Mort," was dedicated to the King of Prussia. In
this, Death draped in crape on a wretched, blood-stained
horse rides in front of some French cavalry with the
tri-colour half concealed by a mist. On the horizon is
seen the setting sun.

The same artist was also responsible for four panels
representing " Le Moulin de la Galette."

Willette, the creator of so many delightful studies of
pierrots, and an artist of highly original talent, may be
said to have caught the very spirit of Montmartre.

The painter of an admirable panel at the Hotel de Ville,
he remains the representative of a whole generation of
joyous Bohemians, so many of whom, alas, with little but
a smile on their lips have long ago fallen by the wayside.

The poet Verlaine delighted in Montmartre, where
he had many friends. The Cabaret du Clou, Avenue
Trudaine, was one of his haunts, the Divan Japon was
another, but best of all he loved the Chat Noir, where he
was sure to find his brother-in-law, Charles de Sivry, a
talented musician and expert in musical parody, who
presided at the piano, and his charming niece, Claudine,
who always gave him an enthusiastic welcome.

186 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

As a man Verlaine was utterly impossible. Besides
being a devotee of absinthe, he often drank to excess,
when his behaviour was apt to become outrageous.
Though he appears really to have been in love with his
wife — a pretty young girl whom he married before the
war of 1870— during the latter portion of his life he con-
sorted with women of the lowest class ; indeed, one of
the last of his mistresses was a degraded creature whose
real lover was an Apache. The latter, curiously enough,
was rather proud of the woman's connection with the
poet, and at bars which he frequented used to warn the
company what he would do to anyone who might dare
to molest Verlaine.

Besides this, the poet had been in prison more than
once, the first time for violence towards his mother,
who, with good reason, had declined to have anything
more to do with him.

Nevertheless, owing to his great intellectual gifts,
the Parisians, especially those who loved art and letters,
always retained a feeling of admiration for him, looking
leniently upon his squalid extravagances.

The Prefect of Police, for instance, instructed the
police in the Latin Quarter where the poet lived to try
and keep him out of trouble — under no circumstances
were they to arrest him.

Only in a city like Paris, where artistic genius really
does cover a multitude of sins, could this have occurred.

Finally, when Verlaine died of an illness mainly pro-
duced by his own excesses, many people prominent in the
world of literature and art followed him to the grave.

Verlaine began life as an official at the Hotel de Ville,
which, under Baron Haussmann, had quite a number of
writers and poets on its staff.

Henri Rochefort was one, Georges Lafenestre, Armand
Renaud, Leon Valade, and Albert Merat, others, the last
four being poets who attained some literary celebrity
in their day.

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 187

The Cafe du Gaz, Rue de Rivoli, was the meet-
ing place of these young men, who discussed poetry
there.

During the siege of Paris Verlaine became a soldier,
but did little beyond occasionally joining his comrades
in drinking bouts. Finally, owing to ill-health he was told
to go back to his work at the Hotel de Ville, and here
he remained during the Commune instead of going to
join the Government forces at Versailles.

After the defeat of the Communists he left Paris, and
when in course of time he applied to be reinstated in
his post, he was told that as he had consented to serve
under the Revolutionaries he could not be employed
again.

Verlaine's letters from London, where he resided for
some time in the 'seventies, are full of original if frank
observation.

He was struck by the inferiority of the restaurants,
the smallness of the houses, and the multitude of beggars
in rags, all three of which are now more or less things of
the past.

English hypocrisy and Sabbatarian cant aroused his
bitterest scorn, but the theatres he did not think so bad.

Verlaine's opinion of English women, if original, was
scarcely flattering. " They are," he said, in a letter to
a friend, " very pretty, walk like ducks, talk like sailors,
and never change their chemises."

The young girls, he declared, were generally good-look-
ing, well-dressed, though without taste, and apparently
not prudish.

The drunkenness (against which, he noted, ridiculous
Bills were always being passed) was unlimited.

On the whole, London compared to Brussels or Paris
appeared to him provincial, but the Thames with its
Babylonian bridges he thought superb.

In after years he came again to England and became
a master at the Stickney Grammar School, Boston,

188 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Lincolnshire — a queer enough spot to harbour a
Bohemian from Montmartre !

At Stickney he taught French, Latin, and drawing
for a year and a half, apparently quite to the satis-
faction of the Headmaster. At this period of his
life he appears to have lived quietly absorbed by his
tutorial duties. His muse slumbered, for he wrote no
poetry at all.

After a brief return to France he returned to Stickney,
this time with an idea of giving private lessons, which,
however, brought him in little, for shortly afterwards
he became a master at a school at Bournemouth.

Here he wrote a good deal of verse, including portions
of " Sagesse," which contains a poem " La Mer de
Bournemouth."

Verlaine's new-born and intense enthusiasm for
Catholicism, after spending two years in a Belgian prison
for the attempted murder of his friend Rimbaud, has
been well dealt with in a recent work.1 It does not,
however, seem to have been entirely religion which in
1878 led him to become a professor in an ecclesiastical
college at Rethel, where, in addition to teaching French
literature, he gave lessons in English.

Though fairly proficient in that language his accent
left a good deal to be desired. This his Bohemian friend
and fellow poet, Mallarme, at that time himself a teacher
of English in a Parisian lycee, knew.

The latter, indeed, would chaff Verlaine upon the
latter's linguistic deficiencies, declaring that the pupils
at Rethel were imbibing the English accent as heard on
the cafe concert stage, " Aoh ! comente vo nomez colla ! "
and so forth.

Verlaine, curiously enough, easily gained the esteem
of the ecclesiastics who supervised the college of Notre
Dame de Rethel. At first they thought him rather
reserved, but later on became fairly intimate with thi

1 "Verlaine," by Harold Nicholson (Constable).

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 189

confirmed Bohemian, whose stormy past at that time
they entirely ignored.

When they did hear of it years later, to their credit
be it recorded, they were neither scandalized nor annoyed.

In 1897 a number of old pupils organized a banquet
in honour of their old professor, at the end of which a
eulogy of Verlaine's genius was recited by one of them
who had himself become a writer.

The poet, it should be added, left the College from
no other cause than his own inclination. His conduct
there had been exemplary, and when he suddenly deter-
mined to take up farming, everyone, priests as well as
boys, wished him good luck.

Agriculture, however, did not attract him for long,
and in the early 'eighties Verlaine was once more leading
a Bohemian life in Paris. In 1883, however, he once
more betook himself to the Ardennes, where for a couple
of years he may be described as having led the life of a
sort of amateur peasant. After a couple of years, how-
ever, having indulged in all sorts of excesses, spent his
mother's money and generally scandalized the country-
side by his drunken and dissolute life, he once more
returned to Paris.

Every afternoon towards the end of his life Verlaine
might be seen drinking absinthe at the Cafe Voltaire,
which, in the 'nineties, was the resort of many liteiary
men as well as of Senators from the Luxemburg close by.

He seldom, however, remained there beyond a certain
hour; if he did, a grim-looking female, resembling a
washerwoman in appearance, would come in after him
and take him away.

Nevertheless, the female in question, whose real name
was Eugenie Krantz, had been one of the stars of the
Bal Bullier in the days of the Second Empire, when as
a cocotte she had achieved some celebrity under the
soubriquet of " Ninie Mouton."

She had known Gambetta, Jules Valles and all the

190 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

political and literary frequenters of the Cafe Procope.
This woman was indeed very proud of her souvenirs of
celebrated men — for a time she had been the mistress
of the French politician who contrived the fall of General
Boulanger.

When Verlaine met her, however, she was in very low
water, being only able to support herself by doing work
for the great Paris store of la Belle Jardiniere.

Though she behaved badly to the poet, making him
work hard and taking the result of his labour while
systematically deceiving him, it was solely due to her
that he was able to draw his last breath in a room of
his own instead of expiring a mere number in one of the
caravanserais of death of the great capital.

Eugenie Krantz well understood the value of her
improvident and dissipated lover's efforts. She kept
every scrap of paper on which he had scribbled, and after
his death sold a number of manuscripts to his friends.
She died a year after her lover.

In his last years Verlaine ceased to frequent the Cafe"
Voltaire and went to the Soleil D'Or, where on Saturdays
the assemblages known as " Soirees de la Plume " drew
together a number of ultra-modernist writers and artists.

The Cafe du Procope was also one of the last haunts
of the poets. Here on the first floor recitations and
songs were sometimes to be heard ; little plays were also
given.

A favourite quotation from Michelet which Verlaine
loved to quote — not always correctly — was " The French
Revolution was made in a cafe," an allusion to the
meeting of philosophers, writers, nobles, free-thinkers
and radicals at the Cafe Procope.

When a bust of Henri Miirger was put up in the
Luxembourg Gardens, an official banquet at six francs
a head took place at the Cafe Voltaire, as a protest
against which an opposition banquet of real Bohemians
at two francs a head took place at the " Procope."

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 191

Verlaine was too ill to go but sent a letter warmly
congratulating the company upon having arranged that
impecunious Bohemians unable to afford six francs should
be able to do honour to Miirger, whose memory really
belonged to the Cafe Procope, which had always been
the resort of himself and his friends.

Verlaine, who was a votary of la vierge verte — the
terrible absinthe — at one time frequented a cafe called
1' Academic, where it had formerly been customary
whenever a member of the French Academy died to
drape one of the forty barrels lining the walls with
cre"pe. In 1895, however, when only a few literary
men, including the poet, went to this place the tradition
had lapsed. A year or two later 1' Academic, which
had been founded at the end of the eighteenth century,
ceased to exist, the premises being converted into a
butcher's shop.

L' Academic was a veritable temple dedicated to
absinthe, the rather sickly smell of which filled the
place, which, damp and dirty as it was, made no appeal
to those who were not votaries of the insidious green drink.

The place, the ceiling of which, like most of the com-
pany, was low, of course derived its name from the forty
barrels mentioned above.

This cafe, which was frequented mainly by Bohemians
down at heel, dissolute students and professors who had
gone to the bad, was well known to well-to-do but idle
young men anxious to pass their examinations as being
a place where they could get essays done for a con-
sideration ; indeed, a number of the frequenters of
" 1' Academic " made their living by doing richer men's
work.

During the Second Empire a great character at this
cabaret, which was situated in the Rue St Jacques in
the Quartier Latin, was a man called Parigot.

This individual during twelve years was computed to
have drunk no less than 65,820 glasses of absinthe.

192 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Parigot was very popular at 1'Academie on account
of his amusing conversation, which attracted people to
the place. Appreciating the profit he had realized
through this, the proprietor of this cabaret, when he
died, left instructions in his will that the old man was
to be allowed twelve glasses of absinthe a day during
his lifetime, and these were daily served to Parigot till
he died several years later aged eighty !

Absinthe is responsible for the clouding of many a
clever brain.

In former days Grassot, the Paul Bedford of the Palais
Royal, was for a time obliged to relinquish his profession,
and so eclipsed the gaiety of nations, by yielding to
the seductive but potent influence of this preparation.
A short absence in Italy, however, restored him to his
admirers. It killed poor de Musset and Gerard de
Nerval.

Gerard de Nerval, the charming writer, the delightful
novelist, having sought in absinthe brighter fancies and
more glowing images, ended by hanging himself in the
window of a miserable den. Alfred de Musset, a great
poet, wounded to the heart, sought in this terrible poison
forgetfulness of his mysterious sorrow, with the result
that he died after ten years' forgetfulness of his genius
— died without being able to utter, at his last hour, songs
as sublime as those he sang in his bright youth.

" The effects of the poison are terrible — crushing.
A feverish ecstasy, full of delicious dreams, of wild
inspirations, is followed by an overwhelming debility,
a continual state of somnolency. The eyes become
dull and the hands tremble. No real work can be
done unless preceded by a dram of absinthe. Beneath
these ceaseless attacks reason reels, and a fatal day
comes when the drinker finds drunkenness, and never
again finds 'inspiration.' Then he is lost beyond the hope
of recovery. What was a necessary prelude to his labour
becomes a degrading passion, a daily indulgence which

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 193

he has not the courage to abandon. The poet is dead
within him, and the drunkard alone remains."

About the year 1892 a certain coterie of writers from
the Latin quarter were wont to frequent a low restaurant
in the Rue de la Huchette.

Here all sorts of vagabonds assembled; pickers-up
of cigar ends, street vendors, newsboys, workmen and
souteneurs came there to obtain cheap meals. A portion
of meat cost twopence and vegetables a penny, and one
might bring one's own bread.

Clients usually drank water, but those who wanted
wine could get it in a room apart.

Everyone helped himself, and paid for his portion as
he took it from a cook. Most of the artistic visitors
came to this place as an experience, but some were no
richer than the regular diners at la Huchette.

Before the war many of the women who frequented
the night restaurants were victims of cocaine, which
they seemed able to procure without any difficulty.

At present, however, determined efforts are made
to stamp out this disastrous vice ; in any case the evil
activities of those who purvey this drug appear to have
been checked. The sale of absinthe, so popular with
Frenchmen, has also been prohibited throughout France,
absinthe being classed as a decoction disastrous to the
national health.

Whether the latter prohibition will be effectual is
open to doubt. Substitute absinthe can be obtained,
and it would not be surprising if eventually the sale of
the real thing should again be allowed.

The French, unlike the modern English, abominate all
restrictions, and unpopular laws or regulations after a cer-
tain time are apt to be dropped, or, if still in force, ignored.

Exclusive of places like the Abbaye de Theleme, which
mainly appeal to foreigners, there are quite a number
of restaurants in Montmartre where good food is to be
obtained, such as " Au Bon Vigneron," " Place Blanche,"

13

194 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

" l'H6tel de la Poste," Rue de Douai, " Coconnier," Rue
Lepic, and "1'Escargot," in the same street. At all
of these, prices are moderate. " Nirvana/1 a nevrer
restaurant in the Rue Fontaine, is more expensive.

The French have always been believers in the virtue
of good food.

" Se soigner en buvant d'excellents vins et en man-
geant d'excellents mets, voila la bonne, la vraie medica-
tion ! " said Chatillon-Plessis.

First-class food, however, has always been expensive
in Paris.

As far back as 1830 the prices charged at fashionable
restaurants evoked protests.

" The Boulevard des Italiens," said a victim, " is the
privileged quarter of the cafes-restaurants ; there one
may dine excellently, but it must be confessed one is
cruelly plucked. From this fact has arisen the proverb,
' One must be very hardy to dine at the Cafe Riche,
and very rich to dine at the Cafe Hardi.' May it not
be added that one needs to be an English peer to dine
at the Cafe Anglais, and a millionaire Parisian to try the
Cafe de Paris ? One may dine well at Very's, but one
will ruin himself ; while the fish which is excellent at
the Rocher de Cancale is scarcely exchanged for its
weight in five-franc pieces."

The Cafe de Paris mentioned was, of course, not the
well-known establishment in ,+he Avenue de 1'Opera
but an older restaurant on the Boulevard frequented
by many celebrated people, including Alexandre Dumas,
who, in addition to being known as the author of
" Monte Cristo " and " The Three Musketeers," has left
an illustrious name as a cook, a host, and an epicure.

Often in the midst of a dinner, on tasting of some
novel dish at the Cafe de Paris, Dumas would lay down
his fork and ejaculate, " I must get the recipe of this
dish." The proprietor was then sent for to authorise
the novelist to descend to the kitchens and hold a con-

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 195

sultation with his chefs. He was the only one of the
habitue's to whom this privilege was ever allowed.

Alfred de Musset used to say that one could not open
the door of the Cafe de Paris under fifteen francs. Still,
it was admitted that everyone who did open the door
was treated as a grand seigneur for whom nothing could
be too good. When Balzac one day announced the
arrival of a distinguished Russian friend, he asked the
proprietor to put his best foot forward. " Assuredly,
Monsieur, we will do so," was the answer, " because it
is simply what we are in the habit of doing every
day." The great writer's favourite dish was veau d
la casserole, a specialty of the Cafe" de Paris in the
'forties.

Another favourite haunt of Alfred de Musset was the
Cafe de la Regence, where the poet continued to play
chess unmoved while troops outside fired on the rioters
in 1830.

The old cafe in question, once known also as the Cafe
de la Place du Palais Royal, was destroyed in 1852, when
a new one was established in the Rue Richelieu. From
here it eventually migrated to the Place du Theatre
Frangais, where it still is.

This cafe", which is frequented by the actors of the
Comedie Fransais and people going to that theatre, has,
however, little in common with the original establish-
ment, which was renowned for being a great meeting-
place for lovers of chess.

A portrait of Philidor adorned its walls, while there
were tables which had been used by Rousseau and
Voltaire. Napoleon came there as a young officer and,
according to tradition, was not only a bad chess player
but a bad loser, who would almost upset the table after
a defeat.

One is therefore not astonished to learn that later on
when at the Tuileries, even against first-class opponents,
he always won.

196 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

One of the few who continued to frequent the Cafe
de la Regence during the Terror was Robespierre.

It is said that though, like Napoleon, he was not a
first-class player, nevertheless owing to the fear he
inspired he very seldom lost. People, as a rule, however,
were not anxious to pit themselves against him.

Sitting alone one evening the "sea-green incorruptible"
was rather surprised to see a very handsome young
man take the place opposite and without a word make
a preliminary move. Robespierre did the same and a
game, which his opponent won, began.

He asked for his revenge and was again beaten.

" You are too much for me," said he, not pleased.
" By the way, what were we playing for ? "

" A man's head," was the reply. " I won it, so give
it me quickly, otherwise the executioner will have it
to-morrow."

At the same time he produced an order for the liberation
of a young nobleman imprisoned in the conciergerie
which only wanted signing.

This Robespierre affixed, after which he enquired:
" But who are you, citoyen ? "

" Citoyenne, you should say. I am a woman, the
fiancee of the prisoner. Thank you, and good-bye,"
and the brave girl ran joyfully away.

In modern Paris cafes such as la Regence, which had
their own especial clientele, are much fewer in number.
The tendency among the French, indeed, is to go less to
restaurants than in former days — one reason being that
they can get better and cheaper fare at their own homes.

As long ago as 1879 Charles Monselet said : " Where
are the great cooks ? What names have we now to
oppose to those of Car£me and Robert ? Shall I
speak of official cookery, of ministerial dinners ? These
are not the dinners to which people go to eat. There
especially the cook is more proud of a Chinese kiosk on
a rock in coloured and spun sugar, which no person dare

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 197

touch, than of a carp a la Chambord treated in a masterly
way. Since the days of Cambaceres official cookery
has ceased to exist. That which you eat yesterday in
the Faubourg Saint-Germain, you will eat to-morrow
in the Faubourg Saint-Honore. At the end of the week
you recognize that you have merely changed your knife
and fork. This poverty of imagination, this absence
of research, are unworthy of a country such as ours."

There is no doubt that since the closing of the Cafe
Riche, Maison Doree, and Cafe Anglaise, cooking in
Paris has deteriorated.

The old-fashioned waiters — veterans of the time of
the Second Empire — have also disappeared.

Before the war a few were still to be seen, so old that
they might have been at Marengo when the historic
poulet was first fried in oil, owing to Napoleon's cook
being for the moment short of butter.

One of the principal reasons for the indifferent fare pro-
vided at so-called smart restaurants is the culinary ignor-
ance of the ever-increasing horde of English and American
visitors, which of course offers great temptations for
restaurateurs to foist inferior dishes upon their clients.

Other reasons are the decay of the old system of
apprenticeships and the anonymity of chefs. In old
days the names of certain of the latter were well known
throughout Paris and even further afield ; to-day very
few diners ever dream of enquiring who has cooked their
dinner, even when it has been found excellent.

There are, it is true, two great chefs who are chevaliers
of the Legion of Honour — MM. Escoffier and Montaille
— but a number of other excellent cooks work in complete
oblivion.

A restaurant, however small or humble, which boasts a
first-class cook never fails to succeed, and very quickly too.

Too often, however, the owner, losing his head at the
unexpected flow of money into his coffers, does not
trouble to keep the cook who is making his fortune.

198 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

For a time the public does not find this out, but when
it does the place soon empties.

In Paris a restaurant is sometimes the rage for a year
or two, and then suddenly loses its patrons, who entirely
desert it for no apparent reason.

It was not thus, however, that the Cafe Anglais, the
last of the fine old-fashioned restaurants, ended; till it
closed not so very many years ago, old clients continued
to dine there. Up to the end the cooking remained
admirable, while the dinner and excellent wines were
always served in a manner which recalled the refinement
and care considered essential to dining in a more
aristocratic and more leisured age.

There were no waiters rushing about from one table to
the other, no clattering of plates, and of course no band.

A solemn and dignified individual in immaculate
evening dress with a black beribboned pince-nez sub-
mitted a scheme for dining to favoured clients, the
whole meal being a sort of gastronomic symphony
unspoilt by any false note.

The plate was silver, and wines were served in
delicately cut decanters, to the neck of which a heart-
shaped piece of white paper was affixed, bearing the
name, date and any other particulars of the vintage to
which the contents belonged.

The personnel of the establishment, down to the
chasseur who called you a cab, had manners such as are
said to have prevailed at Versailles — probably a good
deal better, for the ancien regime, as may be learnt from
history, had its lapses.

The great vogue of this cafe, of course, had been
during the Second Empire, when it was the headquarters
of pleasure-loving viveurs, who held many a merry
supper in the private room upstairs, No. 16, known as
" le grand seize."

Readers of Alphonse Daudet's delightful book " Les
Rois en Exil " will remember the adventure of the pretty

CAFES WITHOUT CANT 199

young lady who, having supped in this cabinet par-
ticulier with someone else than her husband, escapes
detection by assuming a cook-boy's dress, in which she
walks out of the place.

Curiously enough, though the restaurant has been
demolished, the patter of feminine footsteps, which once
enlivened the old place, may still be heard in the vicinity,
for just round the corner of the boulevard in the Rue de
Grammont has sprung up " the Frolics," a dining place
and restaurant nightly thronged by couples fond of
dancing and pleasure.

When the Cafe Anglais closed its doors several old
clients, mindful of pleasant evenings spent in the old
place, determined to secure some souvenir, and at the
sale which was subsequently held certain pieces of plate
consequently went very well.

Vefours, another famous old cafe in the Palais Roy ale,
once a very celebrated haunt of gastronomists, though
almost forgotten, survived till 1920, when its premises
were taken over by the Banque de France.

It was opened as far back as 1750, when it was known
as the Cafe des Chart res, and for more than a century
was the gathering place of generals, financiers, wealthy
strangers, and gourmets of all nationalities. Here
M. de la Reyniere; Murat, Napoleon's brother-in-law;
Joseph Berchoux, the poet, author of " La Gastronomic,"
whose seventy-four years ended in 1839, held their
gastronomic parties, calling the chef to their tables and
personally directing the culinary experiments which were
to be prepared for the following day.

The Trois Fr&res, another famous restaurant in the
Palais Royale, disappeared years ago.

In this noted resort of gastronomy Napoleon dined
with Barras and discussed the political problems of
France over his dinner. Yet another noted resort was
Fevrier's, where Le Peltier de Saint-Fargeau, the Con-
ventionnel, was assassinated by Paris, a former garde

200 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

du corps, at the famous midnight supper on January
20, 1793, the eve of the execution of Louis XVI. Even
the memory of the Galerie Europeenne has faded away,
although in its halls it was once possible to dine — with
wine — for less than two francs, and enjoy epicurean
delicacies which in a Paris restaurant to-day would cost
not less than a hundred francs.

Though prices are now high and complaints as to the
deterioration of Parisian cookery general, it is still
possible to obtain a good dinner in the gay city.

As a matter of fact, as has been said, pessimism on
this subject has always prevailed among the French
themselves. Writing in 1866, that confirmed boule-
vardier, and lover of Paris, Nestor Roqueplan, declared
that the French cuisine had lost much of its originality
and special characteristics. " We no longer," said he,
" find places devoted to the Flemish kitchen, others to
the Normandy, Lyonnaise, Toulousian, Bordelaise, and
Provengale kitchens." Nevertheless, he admitted that
France was still the country where eating was to be
found at its best.

Nestor Roqueplan, it may be added, prided himself
on never having gone outside the walls of Paris. His
definition of the country was " A damp place where
raw birds scream."

The type of which he was such a well-known repre-
sentative, though in a few cases he lingered on into the
days of the Third Republic, practically ceased to exist
after the downfall of the Imperial regime.

Tortoni's, where the boulevardiers were wont to meet
their fellows in the afternoon, has long disappeared —
the Maison d'Oree and Cafe Anglais, where they dined
and supped, are but memories.

As for the Aspasias and Phrynes, in whose smiles they
basked, tired and weary, with the old maitres d'hotel
who served them, all have gone to that bed in which no
sleeper turns.

XI
MONTMARTRE

MONTMARTRE derives its name from Mons
Martis, because a temple of Mars existed on
the hill in the time of the Romans. Before
the Revolution there was, on the summit of the hill,
a celebrated convent of Benedictine nuns. As late as
1840 Montmartre was quite rural in character, mostly
known for its numerous windmills and guinguettes, the
latter of which were much frequented by Parisians, who
went to the village, as it was then called, on account
of the fine view of Paris to be obtained from the hill.
The quarries of Montmartre are famous for their gypsum,
or, as it is more commonly called, plaster of Paris. The
geological structure of this hill is highly interesting,
as the ascending series of strata, from the passage of the
calcaire grossier into the gypseous marls to the upper
fresh water, is easily investigated.

In old days Montmartre was a village famed for its
windmills, a dozen of which stood in a semicircle on
its heights, whilst three more occupied another position,
Of all these, two, known as " le Radet " and " le Blute-
Fin," alone survive.

The former dates from 1268, the latter from 1295. Both,
which only ceased to work some thirty years ago, are now
incorporated in the cabaret known as " le Moulin de la
Galette," owned by M. Auguste Debray, whose family have
been millers of Montmartre for many generations. The
farmhouse which was close by has entirely disappeared.

Among the defenders of " la Butte " in 1814 no one
fought with more determination than four brothers

202 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

Debray. Three of them having been left for dead, the
fourth, in spite of the order to cease firing, still fought
on till, hacked almost to pieces, he was caught up in
the sails of his own mill and thrown to the four winds
of heaven.

The " Moulin de la Galette," where thirty years ago
there was much dancing, has always been a favourite
resort of lovers, many of whom have left their names
inside the old mill, the woodwork of which also abounds
in amorous inscriptions.

From the top there is a magnificent view of Paris.
On a fine day every palace, church, and public edifice
stands distinctiy before the eye, and, interspersed with
the foliage of the gardens and the boulevards, the whole
forms a prospect at once grand and beautiful.

Corot, it may be added, painted a picture of the
" Moulin de la Galette " in 1840.

Mont Valerien, the fortified hill which is such a striking
feature of the scenery just outside Paris, is similar to
Montmartre in its chemical formation. It was formerly
called Mont Calvaire, which name it derived from a
chapel consecrated there in 1663, on which occasion
three lofty crosses were planted on the summit of the
hill. From that time it was respected as a place of
religious devotion ; several hermits took up their abode
on its sides, and pilgrimages used to be made to it. At
the Revolution the custom fell into disuse ; but at the
Restoration pilgrimages again came into vogue for a
short time. At the Revolution of 1830 the hill and its
dependencies were finally taken from the influence of
the Church, and subsequently the summit was made into
one of the chief defences of Paris. The calvary then
removed, being now in the old cemetery behind the
church of St Pierre on the " Butte."

Montmartre, in modern days known as a Bohemian
quarter mainly devoted to frivolity, has been the scene
of serious happenings in the past.

MONTMARTRE 203

From here in 1590 Henri IV saluted the Parisians
with a bombardment, and here too a handful of deter-
mined soldiers made a gallant if futile stand against
the Allies in 1814.

The real union between Montmartre and Paris took
place in 1860, when the wall separating this suburb
from the capital was destroyed, and what had not so
very long before been merely a village became part of
the great city.

It was from the Butte Montmartre that, on the 7th
October 1870, Gambetta and Spuller set out in the
balloon Armand-Barbes from besieged Paris.

On the heights of Montmartre too, in 1871, were
massed the revolutionary cannon, the demand for the
surrender of which by M. Thiers led the outbreak of
the Commune. Here, too, perished Generals Clement,
Thomas and Lecomte, who were put up against a wall
and shot in the Rue des Hosiers by a mob composed of
the scum of Paris. Both these brave men looked death
proudly in the face and, never flinching, died like heroes.

Another portion of Paris — Belleville — was, as late
as the middle of the last century, almost a village. The
side of the hill, which now shelters a teeming population,
was then covered with neat country-houses and a great
number of guinguettes, where a multitude of Parisians of
the working classes assembled on Sundays and holidays.

These guinguettes formerly abounded in the suburbs
of Paris and were very popular with the people on holi-
days. They were originally very poor affairs, and re-
freshments were obtained at a trifling expense. Among
those which were celebrated were the Vendanges de
Bourgogne, Faubourg du Temple, Jardin de la Galte,
Baniere du Maine, the Salon Desnoyez, Barriere de la
Courtille, the Ferme, upon the hill of Montmartre, the
He d' Amour, at Belleville, la Chaumiere, Boulevard
du Mont Parnasse, le Salon du Feu Eternel, Boulevard
de 1'Hdpital. When a guinguette adds an orchestra

204 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

and a ballroom to its other attractions, it is called a
bastiingue.

Within the last quarter of a century Montmartre,
which had already lost most of its rustic aspect, has
entirely changed.

At one time Montmartre was noted for its vines, which
produced a wine which people came from afar to drink.
As, however, streets of houses spread over the hill the
vines disappeared, till only a few, kept as curiosities,
were left near le Moulin de la Galette.

For a long time, however, cottages and little gardens
survived. It remained for the spirit of the twentieth
century, hostile as it is to things picturesque and poetic,
to strike the final blow in the vulgarization and
destruction of what was once an old-world village dotted
over with windmills, cottages and quaint little gardens,
whilst cattle grazed upon its slopes. The Sacre Cceur
which now stands on the summit is a huge building
in the Roman-Byzantine style. In the Campanile is
la Savoyarde, one of the biggest bells in existence, cast
at Annecy in 1895.

The construction of this great building was decreed
by the National Assembly in 1874. The nature of the
ground presented a good deal of difficulty, and the church
was only consecrated in October 1919.

A still existing relic of the original village is la Rue
Norvins, with its old houses and quaint roofs ; another
is la Place du Tertre, which at the proper season is
rendered fragrant by its acacias. Here is a quaint old
cabaret, attached to which is a garden of the style
popular when Montmartre abounded in guinguettes.

Another survival of vanished days is the Cabaret
du Lapin Agile, in the Rue des Saules, which contains
a number of paintings, among which is a humorous
composition by Willette, " 1'Ecroulement de la Butte."

The Lapin Agile, a strange little place carved as it were
out of the very side of the hill of Montmartre just under

MONTMARTRE 205

the towers of the Sacre Cceur, was formerly a favourite
resort of poets, who were wont to recite verse there.

To-day, however, it is rather the haunt of airmen,
whose lusty voices have to a great extent eclipsed the
impassioned rhetoric of artistic frequenters.

Although still popular with artistic Bohemians it is
no longer their especial domain, such as it was when
Murger, Villemessant, Daudet, Catulle, Mendes, and many
other celebrities of the literary world haunted the cafes
of the Place Pigalle.

It is only within comparatively recent years that
Montmartre has come to be regarded as the headquarters
of Paris night life.

The viveurs of the Second Empire never thought of
going there in search of amusement ; they haunted the
boulevards in which were their favourite restaurants,
such as the Maison d'Oree, Cafe Riche and Cafe Anglais,
the last of which closed its doors only a few years ago.

It is at nightfall that Montmartre awakens, though
the larger restaurants do not really get into full swing
till after midnight has sounded.

The night cafes of Montmartre, such as the Abbaye de
Theleme and other similar resorts, have most of them
originated from comparatively humble little cabarets
frequented by students and artists of small means.

In some cases these places have become popular owing
to their walls having been decorated with striking
paintings by its artistic frequenters, who, it should be
added, disappear as soon as wealthy pleasure-seekers
begin to cause the prices to rise.

It was the Chat-Noir which first led the ordinary
pleasure-seeker to appreciate the joys of " La Butte."
There for a few francs the visitor fond of art and
laughter was allowed to participate hi the joys of
Bohemian life, to hear clever and amusing songs sung
by their authors while surrounded by a Rabelaisian
atmosphere.

206 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

In course of time a number of other cabarets, some
really artistic, others merely shams, sprang up.

Montmartre now began to attract foreigners. Soon
came the Grand Dukes, who in these latter days have
been supplanted by wealthy Americans, after which
the ordinary visitor was not long in following.

Naturally the men and women who now flocked to
la Butte wanted to sup, and in order to meet their
wants elaborate restaurants, blazing with electric lights
and equipped with tzigane bands, rapidly came into
existence.

Providing first-rate if expensive wine and food,
keeping open late, and frequented by crowds of cocottes,
these places, the chief of which is the " Abbaye de
Theleme," make a special appeal to the wealthy tourist
eager to participate in the night life of Paris.

One of the queerest of these Montmartre night resorts
was the Cabaret de Neant, in which everything was
arranged to give a tomblike idea.

The waiters were dressed like undertakers, while by
a peculiar arrangement of mirrors visitors saw their
bodies crumble away till nothing but their skeletons
appeared to be left.

Heaven, with angel attendants, and Hell, with devils
to bring drinks, were two of a number of eccentric cafes,
some of which still exist.

At the Abbaye de Theleme English ladies may
occasionally be seen, sometimes with their husbands,
sometimes with other people's. Austere individuals
who when at home are all in favour of Puritan regula-
tions may also often be observed supping at this resort,
quite at their ease, though sitting next to the most
notorious cocottes. Anglo-Saxon morality relaxes across
the Channel.

At the night cafes of Montmartre, naive visitors,
basking in some fair one's smiles in a gaudily decorated
room, full of music, laughter, noise and smoke, con-

MONTMARTRE 207

gratulate themselves that they really are seeing life in
Paris.

Though they enjoy it at the time, quite a number go
back to their own country full of indignation at the
decadence of France, while expressing their satisfaction
that their own pure capital, London, can show no such
scene of abomination.

As a matter of fact the Parisian night restaurant
draws far the largest share of its profits out of English
and Americans, who are its principal frequenters. The
French do not like paying extortionate prices and
therefore go little to such places.

Just before the war, cosmopolitan haunts of facile
pleasure had completely dominated Montmartre, where
those fond of nocturnal rambles could wander from
cabaret to cabaret till dawn.

The war put a stop to all this, and owing to the short-
age of coal, the night restaurants were obliged to close
down after the Armistice.

The Minister of the Interior, it was said, regarded
Montmartre with anything but a friendly eye, and had
unofficially expressed his intention of doing his best to
curb its Rabelaisian extravagances.

This Minister, however, has now gone, and with
increased liberty as to hours, the nocturnal revellers are
once more flocking to the " Hill " much as they did
before the war.

Montmartre, indeed, bids fair to recover all its old
gaiety and independence, while its streets abound in
cabarets bearing strange names where " la Chanson
Frangaise " may be heard. In March 1921 a joyous
cavalcade, presided over by a pretty girl impersonating
the " Muse of Montmartre," paraded la Butte something
after the fashion of the famous " Vachalcade " of 1897,
which contained so many artistic and amusing features,
such as the car full of pierrots, designed by the famous
Montmartre artist Willette.

208 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Gustave Charpentier, the gifted composer of Louise,
also gave his aid to the success of this procession.

In one car were grouped all the prettiest models of
Montmartre ; another contained Druids.

The most original car, however, was that of the Sacre
Cceur, which in those days was still in course of erection
in la Butte.

This contained a large model of the great church
surrounded by scaffolding, while from the interior pealed
an organ to the accompaniment of which at every halt
sang Marcel Legay, who in consequence of his zeal could
not speak for eight days after.

The triumph of the cortege of 1897, however, was the
car of " La Montmartroise," a pretty girl of whom Leon
Durochet sang :

" Son nez mutin, son nez pointu,
Nargue les marchands de vertu,
Qui pretendent lui chercher noise.
Elle vent lancer librement,
Son bonnet vers — le firmament,
La Montmartroise."

The procession of 1921, which, it should be added,
was organized under the personal supervision of M.
Depaquit, the " maire " of the artists and poets of Mont-
martre, was not entirely frivolous in its aim.

The laughter of Montmartre on this occasion dried
tears at Coincy, a sorely war-worn village in the Aisne
(adopted by la Butte), for the impoverished inhabitants
of which a collection was made as the cortege passed
along.

Montmartre, it is notorious, is anything but Puritan,
and most of its pretty girls are, to say the least of it,
unconventional in their ideas. According to English
novels and books the Parisian grisette (who, as a matter
of fact, is an extinct type) lives with her mother, works
during the day but goes to cafes in the evenings, where

MONTMARTRE 209

she consorts with young artists and students. Though
fond of dance and song she is a girl of high moral prin-
ciples, appreciating which, her friends take care to be
particular in their conversation, while never attempting
any familiarities likely to shock her.

She has a lover, of course, but her relations with him
are purely platonic, while his one aim is to make enough
money to lead her to the altar, where, in the end, the old
cure gives the happy couple his blessing.

Pure fiction ! designed, of course, to meet the re-
quirements of " Aunt Jane from Clapham," whose moral
susceptibilities we are all supposed to respect. In real
life the French girl who passes her life with artists and
students is in the vast majority of instances avowedly
" unmoral." If she loves a man she will be true to him
while her love lasts ; when it dies she goes on to someone
else. There is no question of her being shocked — even
comparatively strict French girls do not understand
exactly what the word " shocking," which is so dear to
the English bourgeoisie, means.

As for being married, such an idea rarely enters her
or her lover's head. Both regard their liaison merely
as an interlude of pleasure, which at heart they know is
bound to end some time or other. When he does marry,
it will probably be to some lady with a dowry who has
been found for him by his family. As for the girl, if she
has contrived to save, which is often the case, she is
pretty sure eventually to find some small tradesman
as a husband. With him she will contentedly end her
days, carrying on a little business in the provinces.

The ultimate fate of many of this class in Paris, never-
theless, is much of a mystery. One day they disappear,
and no one seems to know where they go to. As a French
writer has put it, " There is no cemetery for pretty
birds."

The 'forties of the last century was the halcyon period
of Parisian Bohemianism and romance, when dainty

14

210 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

grisettes and picturesque students are supposed to have
led a delightful existence upon nothing at all.

Whether they really did so is another question ; in
reality there was probably a good deal of discomfort and
squalor about their lives.

Beranger started the legend with his poetic eulogy of a
garret as an ideal abode for lovers of twenty, while Henri
Murger, in his delightful book " La vie de Boheme,"
further idealized the joys of life as led by irresponsible
and impecunious youth.

All the young women in Paris seem to have had a
mania for caressing Beranger, who, it is said, found
himself obliged to move out of the Latin quarter be-
cause the students insisted on pointing him out to their
female companions, who in their enthusiasm made a
point of embracing him on every possible occasion. This
the poet found to be rather too much of a good thing.

Murger, though he painted an attractive picture of
Bohemian life in Paris, had a hard youth. As a young
man he and a friend lived in the Rue de Vaugirard, the
united fortunes of the two amounting only to seventy
francs a month.

Sir Walter Besant, writing of Murger, called him " a
mere child of the people, pitchforked into the ranks of
literature ; but never in the smallest degree represent-
ing the voice of the people — a simple, sad life, mistaken
in its aims, bankrupt in its aspirations, ruined by its
follies." Sir Walter did not think him respectable !

This is all very well ; nevertheless Murger, who died
at thirty-four, earned himself a far more enduring monu-
ment than most writers of romance with his delightful
creation of Mimi and Musette.

To-day, as has before been said, the grisette is an
extinct type, but nevertheless quite a number of the
girls of the Quartier Latin and of Montmartre, owing
to close association with youthful artists, poets, and
musicians, acquire something of her legendary charm.

MONTMARTRE 211

Verlaine used to tell a story of one of these modern
" Mimi Pinsons," who, waking late, found her pet canary
dead in his cage.

When she had finished covering its little body with
kisses and tears, Mimi began to ponder over how she
should dispose of it.

Having dressed her pretty self, she put the tiny mass
of feathers almost mechanically into her muff and went
out for a walk.

As luck would have it she soon found herself near
the Panthe"on, and here an idea struck her.

" Go, cheri," said she, " sleep your last sleep with the
great men of France," and after a last caress she daintily
slipped the golden ball of fluff down one of the gratings
of Soufflot's monumental erection.

While many of the models of Montmartre are clever
and attractive, the professional cocottes are rarely
possessed of charm.

To-day there are no great courtezans like Cora Pearl,
Leonide Leblanc, or Anna Delion.

Cyprian aristocracy, like another kind, has degenerated,
its place being inadequately filled by a class devoid of
culture or tradition.

The demi-mondaines of the Second Empire and early
days of the Third Republic were quite frankly priestesses
of Venus, and were proud of it. They were, however,
treated with respect, and quite a number presided over
a salon, for clever men were only too glad to visit a
hostess who was intimately connected with literature
and art, in addition to knowing political secrets learnt
from great personages whose heads not infrequently
reposed upon these ladies' pillows.

A number of great cocottes then prided themselves
upon being cultured, and kept in close touch with the
artistic world.

Verses were often composed concerning these ladies
and their doings. The following lines, written on the

212 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

occasion of a famous beauty getting a new and gorgeous
bedstead, are clever as well as amusing :

" Ton lit est bois de rose,
II est fait assurement,
Non pour 1'epoux et la prose,
Mais pour le vers et 1'amant."

One of the most celebrated Phrynes of that day was
an Englishwoman, Cora Pearl. She outlived most of
her contemporaries and died in a state of complete
destitution not so many years ago. She was never
clever, and in the days of her prosperity was addicted,
not only to spending her admirers' money, but actually
to squandering it in fatuous extravagance, such as baths
of champagne and similar idiotcies.

After the Second Empire had ended in the catastrophe
of Sedan a number of the lights of love who had been
the joy of the Imperial Court retired into private life.
Most of them had feathered their nests, but a few, like
Cora Pearl, came to the sad end which is apt to be the
fate of such women.

In the Paris of to-day there are tragic stories con-
nected with some of the older female frequenters of the
night resorts who after revelling in luxury have come
down in the world.

Most of these, however, are foreigners, for the French
woman, as a rule, recognizes that her attractions will
not last for ever, and in the days of her prosperity makes
provision for the future.

As a poor butterfly with tattered wings returns to the
flowery haunts of its youth, so worn-out beauties seem
naturally to gravitate towards Paris.

Only a short time ago an Englishwoman, who in her
day had been a refulgent constellation in the firmament
of pleasure and had revelled in every luxury wealth
could command, dragged out a wretched existence in
the lowest cafes. When the end came the poor thing

MONTMARTRE 213

would have been consigned to a pauper's grave had not
chance discovered her identity to a few old friends, who
did all they could to lighten her last moments.

The fierce anti-Puritanism of artistic Paris tolerates
no interference with certain of its traditional amusements.

One of the most celebrated of these, of course, is the
famous bal des Quat'z 'Arts, an annual revel where
artists and their models appear in every kind of fancy
costume. Admission for anyone not connected with
an atelier is exceedingly difficult, entrance tickets being
rigorously controlled.

At one of these balls some years ago a pretty model
of the Atelier Rochegrosse, known as Sarah Brown, like
Helen of Troy, was the cause of considerable bloodshed.

The dress of most of the ladies attending these balls
is usually very light, but Sarah Brown easily outstripped
them all. As a result the authorities, contrary to their
usual policy, interfered, with the result that a very
serious riot, in which quite a number of people were
killed, ensued.

The curious thing was that the vast majority of rioters
had nothing whatever to do with the ball and would,
indeed, not have had the slightest chance of ever being
admitted to it.

For some years before the war the bal des Quat'z 'Arts
had lost much of the joyous originality which enlivened
it in former days.

Its revival, however, after so many sad years will
probably coincide with a new lease of life.

Montmartre has always been fond of dancing, and in
days before the war the terpsichorean eccentrics to be
seen at the Moulin Rouge were the wonder and delight
of pleasure-seekers visiting Paris.

Few probably troubled themselves as to the origin of
the famous dancing-place, which, as a matter of fact, is
of no antiquity, either as a mill or a place of amusement.

It was, however, built upon the site of a once famous

214 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

public ball, " La Reine-Blanche " which at one time
was very popular with work girls, numbers of whom
imbibed their first idea of gay Parisian life there.

" La Reine-Blanche," which dated from 1850, was
always noted as a place to which the public went with a
real intention of amusing itself, not to see the celebrities
of the day.

The oldest public ball in Montmartre was the Elysee
Montmartre, which was established early in the nineteenth
century.

Originally merely an insignificant guinguette where
Parisians went to dance under big trees, by 1835 it had
become a well-known and popular resort.

A famous public ball, the site of which is now " La
Cigale," was La Boule Noire, at the corner of the Rue
Rochechonart and the Rue des Martyrs. Founded in
1822 by a retired courtezan whose boast it was to have
known Barras, it only became really popular under the
direction of her successor. The latter put over the
entrance a huge ball of green glass. It was this ball,
grown black from dirt, which gave the place its name.

In its palmy days La Boule Noir was a favourite
resort of girls anxious to lead a life of gallantry.

It used, indeed, to be said that the company there
mainly consisted of very young men or very old ones
dancing with girls who had been ruined and others who
were only waiting for an opportunity of meeting the
same fate.

At this period all the female inhabitants of the
Quartier Breda were to be seen at this ball, quite a
number being experts in the difficult trick of kicking off
a spectator's hat while dancing in a quadrille.

Though in its later years frequented by only the lowest
riff-raff of Paris, the Boule Noir about 1848 had its
hour of fashionable celebrity, the then proprietor having
attached a restaurant to it which made his fortune.

Long after this dancing-place had become thoroughly

THE MOULIN ROUGE

MONTMARTRE 215

disreputable the restaurant was used for wedding
breakfasts.

It was at the Boule Noir in 1857 that the Lancers
were first danced in public.

In its last days, just before 1885, the cost of entrance
to this hall was only twopence-halfpenny. The atmos-
phere was dreadful beyond belief, and the company,
consisting of every kind of male and female ruffian,
made such a noise with their quarrelling and shouts
that the music, loud and blatant as it was, could some-
times scarcely be heard.

It was at the Boule Noir that la Goulue, who created
a certain sensation by her dancing in the 'eighties, made
her de*but when quite a girl.

Here, too, the famous Rigolboche first burst upon
the Parisian world of pleasure.

In those days the Boule Noir had not sunk to the
depths of disreputability which characterized its end,
nevertheless the mother of Rigolboche did not approve
of her daughter dancing there. On several evenings
while the girl was taking part in a quadrille, the old
lady made an unwelcome appearance. Rigolboche
invariably ran away round the orchestra, always taking
care, as a sign of defiance, to throw her petticoats over
her head as she made her exit. Directly her mother had
gone she was back dancing again. She danced, indeed,
with such extraordinary grace and energy that before
very long, migrating from Montmartre, she became one of
the chief stars of the pleasure-seekers' Mecca — " Mabille."

This open-air dancing-place, the very name of which
for more than fifty years symbolized to foreigners the
unrestrained gaiety of La Ville Lumiere. was in the
Avenue Montaigne, and its well-kept gardens were
frequented by all the viveurs of the Second Empire.

The master of the ceremonies was Victor Mabille, who
treated the lights of love with the pleasant arrogance
of a good-humoured sovereign.

216 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The ladies who were most celebrated at this resort
besides Rigolboche were Celeste Mogador, Alice la
Provengale, Rose Pompon and Marie la Polkeuse, but
the queen of them all was Heloise-Marie Sergent
" Pomare' " — the Queen of Mabille.

Celeste Mogador, nicknamed " la Vestris en jupons,"
became Comtesse de Chabrillan, but poor Pomare one
day disappeared, and it is to be feared ended her life
in the lowest depths of Parisian frailty.

In the last days of the Second Empire, Mabille was
thronged by facile beauties arrayed in the most
sumptuous costumes that Worth could furnish, the
costliest bonnets that Lucy Hocquet could build —
Valenciennes lace, poult de soie, cashmeres and diamonds.
There might be seen dandies from the clubs, Senators,
Deputies, diplomatists and bankers, English peers and
Members of Parliament, millionaires from across the
Atlantic, all, together with the Messalines who attracted
them, now long gone into the night.

At Mabille, as at all French dancing-places up to recent
years, the great attraction was " la quadrille excentrique,"
otherwise known as the Can-can.

Though generally considered an improper performance
by the English who flocked to see it, this was really
nothing but an arcobatic dance, the high kicking indulged
in necessitating a good deal of practice and training.

For the time being the popularity of jazzing and
other exotic forms of terpsichore have banished this
quadrille from Parisian resorts. Its tradition, however,
still lingers, and in course of time will no doubt lead to
a revival.

Mabille was celebrated all over Europe.

In the fifties Edmund Yates wrote :

In these fine summer nights

Mabille too invites

With its excellent band and its glittering lights.
Ah ! once 'twas to me the most brilliant of sights !

MONTMARTRE 217

Consuls Planco, when I was young,
When the praises of Chicard filled every tongue ;
When Brididi, Frisette, and Pomare were there,
With Mogador, dancing a can-can d'enfer !
Now Mogador's dead,
Frisette has fled,

And others, no doubt, have gone on in their stead ;
But I'm warned by stiff limbs and a frizzled head
That vanished for aye is the life I once led,
And my place, when the clock has struck twelve, is bed !

Some forty years ago the famous dancing-place was
done away with, the site being wanted for building
purposes, and houses now cover the ground on which
so many pretty feet have trodden their measure.

If sometimes, says Monsieur George Cain (the gifted
author of many delightful books about Paris) the
inhabitants of Nos. 51 and 53 Avenue Montaigne are
awakened at night by strange noises, the cause must
be that some of the lively spirits of the ladies who footed
it at Mabille have come back to dance a retrospective
can-can on the scene of their vanished exploits.

One of the few surviving dancing-places of a past era
is the Bal Bullier, which on December 2nd, 1920, after
being shut for six years, reopened, its last revel having
been held on August ist, 1914.

Once again the students assembled in the old dancing-
hall where so many of their predecessors had disported
themselves.

A huge crowd was present ; but, as is the way of the
world, visitors who had known the place in the past
complained that things had changed for the worse.

The Bal Bullier, which has been termed the living
expression of the Quartier Latin, opened as a ball called
" La Chartreuse " in 1838. Visitors were always in-
formed that against its wall Marshal Ney had been
shot.

In 1847 the owner of the place sold it to Bullier, who
did the place up in oriental style and called it " La

218 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Closerie des Lilas." Berenger went there, and all the
ladies, after Jeanne la Belle had offered him a bouquet
and kissed him, wanted to do the same. The polka
was popular, being then a great novelty, but it was
not danced as in ordinary ball-rooms.

The Jardin de Paris in the Champs Elysees which
took the place of Mabille has, like that famous resort,
ceased to exist, the ground which it occupied having been
cleared and added to the gardens which line the splendid
approach to the Arc de Triomphe.

The Jardin de Paris never enjoyed the vogue of
Mabille ; nevertheless over its site still linger the graceful
shades of Jane Avril, the supple-jointed -Melinite, im-
mortalized by the genius of Toulouse-Lautrec, and many
other frail beauties.

The Ambassadeurs, too, it is said, is soon also to dis-
appear, for rumour declares that the Champs Elysees is
eventually to be cleared of all the buildings which have
encroached upon it and be restored to its original state
of a wooded public garden. The Marigny has become
a theatre.

The two other cafe concerts in the Champs Elysees
have already closed their doors, the Alcazar having
become what is known in modern Paris as " un dancing,"
while the " Horloge " is merely a memory.

In the 'eighties open-air cafe concerts retained many
primitive features, being then not fenced in with
elaborate barriers or roofed, consequently the audience
on a wet night had to put up their umbrellas. The crowd
which used to assemble outside could see a good deal
of the performance through the trees, while the price
of the seats — nominally free — were included in the sum
charged for the hock or cherry brandy which were the
best things to ask for at these open-air resorts.

To-day a far more elaborate and cosmopolitan enter-
tainment is provided for the delectation of the audience,
nor do there seem to be any music-hall stars of the magni-

MONTMARTRE 219

tude of Paulus, of Theresa, or of poor Demay, a robust
and Rabelaisian divette, who was wont vocally to boast
of her power of cracking nuts by sitting upon them.

Whatever criticism might be passed upon the songs
sung at the Cafe des Ambassadeurs and at the Alcazar,
there could be no doubt about the energy and vivacity
displayed by the singers.

Those were days when Paulus, probably the greatest
artiste who ever trod the cafe concert stage, sang the
glories of General Boulanger ; and Yvette Guilbert,
then more or less of a debutante, held her audience
enthralled with weird songs of the Parisian under-
world.

In winter she sang at the Scala, which reaped a rich
harvest from the talent which drew all Paris within its
walls.

This music-hall was on the Boulevard de Strasbourg,
not far from the Eldorado, where Judic and Theo had
appeared.

Here, too, Polin, who subsequently became an ad-
mirable artiste, began his career.

On a summer's night there were few more pleasant
things than to sit and hear Paulus sing " Le Pere
la Victoire," which tune, by the way, was played
by one of the military bands which escorted the
Unknown Soldier to his last resting-place at the Arc
de Triomphe.

One of the stars of the cafe concert during the Second
Empire and early days of the Third Republic was
Theresa. An English theatrical critic not at all partial
to the art of the cafe concert said : " No actor can see her,
no musician can hear her, without marvelling at the
rare amount of talent evinced by her." That her
sphere of art is a low one — perhaps the lowest — no one
can deny, but her pre-eminence in that sphere is also
undeniable, and at the risk of shocking some of our
readers, we venture to think that many queens of

220 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

song now before the public whose names are cherished
by lovers of the opera, will find themselves matched and
outdone before Mdlle. Theresa meets her equal. In
England there are numerous representatives of her
faults, but we shall seek hi vain for anyone who can
afford the least idea of her merits.

Other first-class artistes were Mesdames Amiati and
Duparc — both charming singers ; Sulbac and Libert,
who in his day scored a great success with " 1'Amant
d' Amanda."

" Amanda n'a qu'un defaut,
EUe aime trop les fritures,
Bullier et Valentino,
Et les courses en voitures."

The popularity of the cafe concerts in the Champs
Elysees was originated by an individual named Masson,
who in 1782 organized open-air concerts on ground
not far from the entrance. The famous Musard con-
ducted the orchestra. Masson had been a handsome
young man and secretary to the Due de Berry.

Madame Musard, a handsome woman, who later
on, attracted Napoleon III, looked after the financial
arrangements.

Eventually Musard assumed the sole direction of the
entertainment, the entry to which cost one franc. No
ladies were allowed without an escort, for at first the
place was run on rather prudish lines.

Years later, however, when the Concert Musard
became the Jardin de Paris, quite a different state of
affairs became the order of the day.

One of the past proprietors of a cafe concert in the
Champs Elysees distinguished himself by inventing
forty new kinds of drinks, all quite different one from
the other.

Each of these " American drinks," as he -called them,
had its own number, and when a client asked for one

MONTMARTRE 221

the waiter would enquire what is Monsieur's number ?
Very often people did not understand, when the waiter
would bring up an individual dressed in deep black,
whom he called the doctor. The latter would feel the
patient's pulse and then indicate the number of a drink
which he declared would be suited to the case.

On Grand Prix nights, wild scenes used sometimes to
take place in the Champs Elysees. Bands of young men
used to go and dine at the Ambassadeurs, uproariously
applauding all the female singers and loudly expressing
appreciation of any personal beauty they might possess.
Top-hats were sometimes flattened, but good humour
generally prevailed.

Great uproar was however, occasionally created by
young men, who had dined not wisely but too well,
playfully hurling their dessert on to the stage from
the restaurant which faced it.

Thirty years ago, during the first part of the perform-
ance a number of ladies, generally in evening dress,
sat on the stage, each of whom contributed a song or
recitation.

The whole thing was a glorified version of a provincial
cafe concert, but the practice of performers going round
the auditorium after their turn and making a collection
was omitted.

The second part of the entertainment often included
a little piece or ballet, but there was no elaborate revue
— the whole thing was old-fashioned and simple, but
the songs were always tuneful and frequently clever.

Though tourists made a point of going to these enter-
tainments the mass of the public were predominantly
French. Gradually, however, as a more fashionable
and cosmopolitan audience became attracted to the
cafe concert, efforts were made to provide a more am-
bitious entertainment.

A roof was erected over the auditorium, and more
comfortable seats were sold as in a theatre.

222 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The ladies in evening dress disappeared from the
stage, where elaborate scenery was substituted for the
simple set which had satisfied former generations.

As time went on the songs became less and less the
mainstay of the performance. One or two stars would
go through their repertoire, but the minor singers of
chansonettes gave place to ambitious turns and richly-
staged revue.

The work-people and small bourgeoisie were crowded
out by a more well-to-do audience, and the whole place
lost its essentially French character and became a
cosmopolitan entertainment such as might be seen in
any capital of Europe. The Parisian cafe concert, with
its essentially French spirit, was dead.

XII
FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR

THE Bois de Boulogne, besides its many amenities,
has an interesting history. Originally it was
the For£t de Rouvray, and at one time pro-
bably covered an area three times as great as that
of the present woods. Its limits, already decreased,
were very largely curtailed by the devastation wrought
by the allied armies during the invasion which followed
Waterloo.

The name Bois de Boulogne was only definitely
adopted in 1417. It originated from the early part of
the fourteenth century, when some pilgrims returning
from Boulogne-sur-Mer obtained the permission of King
Philippe V to build a church (similar to one they had
visited on the coast) at the hamlet of Menus-lez-Saint-
Cloud, which was re-named Boulogne-sur-Seine.

The church was called Notre Dame de Boulogne, and
at the same time the forest near by became the Bois de
Notre-Dame de Boulogne.

In those days Paris was but a small city nestling
around the towers of Notre Dame, and a journey across
the Bois and the expanse of waste ground which stretched
towards the Seine, known to Parisians as " the wilder-
ness," was considered a dangerous adventure. After
dark, indeed, none but the bold dared undertake it, owing
to the footpads lurking to waylay the passing traveller.

Louis XI at one time tried to introduce some order
into this district, and Olivier le Daim set to work and
hanged a number of criminals who frequented " la garenne
de Rouvray " and the Bois de Boulogne.

224 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

In 1528 Francis I built the Chateau de Madrid. An
oak in front of the modern restaurant which stands on
its site still goes by the name of this long. Louis XIII
hunted hi the Bois, while during the reign of Louis XV
there arose the Chateau de la Muette.

Later on the Comte d'Artois, in order to win a bet,
caused Bagatelle to be built in six weeks.

This charming little masterpiece of the Louis XVI
style — "Parva sed Apta," as says the inscription above its
portals — was, together with its beautiful park of twenty-
four hectares, acquired by the city of Paris in 1904.

The Revolution, besides destroying the Abbey of
Longchamp, of which the only surviving vestige is the
pretty windmill bordering the racecourse, handed over
the chateaux of Madrid and La Muette to housebreakers.

During this period a number of fugitives trying to
save their heads from the guillotine lurked in the Bois,
among them the Abbe de Salamon, representative of
the Pope.

Under the old regime royalty frequented the Bois,
and it was here that Marie Antoinette, having taken
a fancy to donkey riding, was thrown by a refrac-
tory Neddy seized with a desire to roll. The Queen,
quite unhurt, remained seated on the ground, laughing
immoderately. As soon as she could command her
countenance she assumed a mock gravity and, without
attempting to rise from her lowly position, commanded
that the grand mistress of ceremonies should at once be
brought to her side ; and when the lady thus summoned
stood, in no good temper and with dignified aspect,
before her, she looked up and said : " Madame, I have
sent for you that you may inform me as to the etiquette
to be observed when a Queen of France and her donkey
have both fallen — which of them is to get up first."

In long past days there was real sport to be obtained
in the Bois.

That charming restaurant, the Pre-Catelan, it is said,

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 225

takes its name from an owner of the Chateau de la Muette
— " Theophile Catelan " — who once controlled all hunt-
ing in this district.

Not far away was the famous Abbey of Longchamp,
founded in 1256. This was destroyed in the Revolution,
the only portions which survive being a couple of
towers and the gable of a farmhouse, together with the
picturesque windmill on the outskirts of the racecourse.

The famous Promenade de Longchamp in the eighteenth
century began in the Champs Elyse'es and wound its
course right athwart the Bois de Boulogne to the gates
of the abbey itself. Every year during three days
in Passion Week there was an incessant cavalcade of
princes, nobles, bankers, " fermiers-generaux," strangers
of distinction, and the ladies then known as " ruineuses,"
to Longchamp. The equipages of the grandest dames of
the Court of Versailles locked wheels with the chariots of
La Duthe and La Guimard and other frail ones, some
of whom eclipsed the " grand Dames " in splendour.

In those days horses and hounds were often to be
seen in the woodland glades of the Bois. Just before the
Revolution, indeed, the Comte d'Artois ran a stag out of
the Bois down the Champs Elysees and killed it where
now begins the Rue de la Paix.

Even to-day deer exist in the thicker parts of the wood.
Their number, however, was lessened during the war,
when rough characters killed any they could get hold
of for food.

During the summer a certain number of vagabonds
practically live in the Bois, which makes it a dangerous
place after dark, as they are always ready to spring upon
any belated wanderers out of the beaten track.

The green-coated guards who are supposed to assure
order have not had their number increased since the days
of the Second Empire, consequently the state of affairs
which prevails is very much freer than in similar resorts
in England, where highly-paid male and female guardians

226 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

of propriety are ready to pounce upon too amorous
couples from behind almost every tree.

The Bois de Boulogne as it exists to-day may be said
only to date from 1853, when the city of Paris, besides
increasing its area, which had at that time shrunk con-
siderably to 2100 acres, made the two large lakes, laid
out lawns, and planted trees.

In addition to other alterations excellent winding
roads and drives were made ; the whole place, in short,
was thoroughly improved, largely owing to a better
system of irrigation.

The Bois then became a fashionable resort, where all
the smart Parisian world was to be seen lolling in fine
carriages drawn by splendid horses.

Before the days of the motor all the frail beauties of
Paris made a point of frequenting the Bois in the late
afternoon. Those who could afford it had smart equi-
pages, while their less prosperous sisters appeared in all
sorts of vehicles down to the humble fiacre.

" Au Bois de Boulogne/"' by Aristide Bruant, described
this aspect of Parisian life.

" Y'en a des tas, y'en a d'partout :
De la Bourgogne et de Poitou,
De Nanterre et de Montretout,

Et d'la Gascogne ;
De Pantin, de Montmorency,
De la, d'ou, d'ailleurs et d'ici,
Et tout ca vient fair' son persil,

Au bois d'Boulogne."

Yvette Guilbert scored a very notable success in her
rendering of this famous song, the last verses of which
arejaot^devoidjDf the real tragedy of life :

" Qa poudroi', ca brille et ca r'luit,
£a fait du train, ca fait du bruit,
£a roul', ca passe et ca s'enfuit !
Ca cri', ca grogne !

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 227

Et tout $a va se r 'miser, 1'soir,
A l'6curie ou dans 1'boudoir . . .
Puis la nuit tapiss' tout en noir
Au bois d 'Boulogne."

Passing out of the Bois one comes to the fortified
enceinte of Paris, which having been adjudged to be no
longer useful for defence, is now in process of being
levelled to the ground.

In Du Maurier's charming book, " Peter Ibbetson," it
may be added, is a picture of the hero sitting on the
ramparts which have but recently been built.

Though erected as recently as 1841-45 they are not
unpicturesque. This has been recognized by the autho-
rities, who have decreed that the bastion of le Point du
Jour shall be retained as a specimen of urban defence
in the middle of the nineteenth century.

Certain portions of these out-of-date fortifications
were much frequented by the criminal classes. The
ramparts and ditch in the neighbourhood of St Ouen, for
instance, were popular lounges for the Apaches of that
quarter, who, on fine days, went to the " les Fortifs," as
they called them, to indulge in dalliance with their loves.

The affection of a certain class of girl for these men,
strange though it may appear, is often great, while
a curious sentimentality often pervades the relations
between an Apache and his Marmite. Ardent love letters,
generally, however, containing a request for money, are
written by imprisoned ruffians to their sweethearts.

" Embrassons-nous, ma gigolette,
Adieu, sois sage et travaill' bien,
Tach' de gagner un peu d'galette,
Pour 1'envoyer a ton pauv' chien,
Nous r'tourn'rons su 1'bord de la Seine,
A Meudon, cueillir du lilas,
Apr 6s qu'jaurai fini ma peine,
AMazas.

Hundreds of these men were shot at the time of the

228 MAYFA1R AND MONTMARTRE

Commune, and many fell during the Great War, in which
not a few are known to have fought with great bravery
and determination. Nevertheless the Apache remains
a source of serious trouble to the authorities.

The fortifications, now soon to disappear, will merely
share the fate of two former walls which were demolished
as Paris grew too big to be encircled by them.

The idea of this last girdle of defence was not, I believe,
conceived by military experts but originated in the brain
of Monsieur Thiers, who liked having a finger in every pie.

Of all his whimsies there was none that had a stronger
hold on him than his desire to get his universal com-
petence recognized by everybody. He said of an appli-
cant for the post of director at the Sevres manufactory,

" He is no more made for that post than I am for ,"

and then he stopped. " Ah, ah, M. Thiers," said his
interlocutor, " you find it very hard to say what you
could not do." "That's the truth, that's the truth,"
said he gaily. And the author of the story recalls an-
other anecdote on the same subject. M. Thiers was
saying one day of a man raised to a high function, " He
is no more suited to that office than I am to be a druggist ;
and yet," he added, catching himself up, " I do know
chemistry."

In spite of his weakness Thiers was a clever man and
a true patriot, whose love for France was very real.

A minor demonstration of this affection was that
after 1870, as long as a German soldier remained on
French soil, he used only paper with a deep black border.

Strolling up the Avenue de Bois de Boulogne (known
as 1' A venue de 1'Imperatrice in Imperial days) one gets
a good view of Napoleon's magnificent conception, the
Arc de Triomphe, erected in glorious commemoration
of the Grande Armee, the twelve avenues radiating from
it being, I believe, supposed to lead to all the capitals
of the world.

The great Emperor never lived to see it completed,

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 229

though on the occasion of his marriage with Marie Louise
a wooden model was put up on the Place de 1'Etoile.

It is in the rays of a setting sun that this great rose-
coloured gate of heaven, as Maupassant called it, is seen
at its best.

One of the most stirring spectacles associated with
this arch was the second funeral of Napoleon when his
coffin, on the lid of which lay his little cocked hat and
the sword of Austerlitz, swept through it on the final
stage of its journey from the Atlantic rock to its resting-
place beneath the golden dome of the Invalides.

This took place on December I5th, 1840. It was
magnificent weather, and it seemed as if the sun of Auster-
litz (of which the day was the anniversary) had risen to
render a last homage to the dead Emperor.

Through the glorious arch were carried the flags of
the Allies at the Peace celebrations, and beneath it
now He the remains of an unknown French soldier.
His interment there, though generally supposed to have
originated in England, was first proposed in France by
M. Andre Paisant, a French Deputy during the Premier-
ship of M. Clemenceau.

Though his suggestion was warmly welcomed by the
Press and a number of military chiefs, there was so much
opposition in certain quarters that it seemed likely to
be dropped.

When, however, Great Britain, amidst general accla-
mation, decided to carry out the ceremony, the French,
after some discussion, took the same course, though
the religious element which formed so great a feature of
the English re-burial was, in order, no doubt, to avoid
unseemly controversy, practically excluded. Another
reason for this may be that the unknown soldier went
to his last resting-place in the same procession as the one
which escorted the heart of the uncompromising " anti-
clerical " Gambetta to the Pantheon. The body of the
Great Tribune, however, is buried at Nice.

230 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

When after Gambetta's death his father was besought
to allow his son to be buried in Paris, in the capital of
his beloved France, the old man, with an obstinacy
which was one of his characteristics, sent a curt tele-
gram : " You had him while he was alive ; now that he
is dead, worn out by your politics, I wish to have him.
He shall rest in the little cemetery of Nice, whither his
mother preceded him."

Though from time to time Gambetta's claims to being
ranked as a great man have been questioned, there is no
doubt that he possessed an extraordinary personality.

It even fascinated Bismarck, who, learning from a
correspondent that the Great Tribune was ailing, wrote :
" Your Gambetta is burning the candle at both ends ;
that is my opinion. He had much better marry and
settle down in the country. Tell him that from me, for
after all I rather like him. He is the only man whose
intentions I know at the present moment. At least he
and I know what we want and, if he has so quickly and
unexpectedly raised up France, I cannot be personally
angry with him, any more than I can resent his mad
dream of reconquering Alsace and Lorraine."

On the left side of the Avenue des Champs Elysees,
at the corner of the Rue de la Boetie, there still survives
a fine eighteenth-century mansion, now called the Hotel
de Massa, which stands sideways in its own garden.
This was built in 1778, and after many vicissitudes be-
came in 1830 the residence of Count Flahaut, aide-de-
camp of the great Emperor. Though ostensibly the child
of Comte Flahaut de la Billarderie, this gallant soldier
was really a son of Talleyrand.

The Duke de Morny, it may be added, was the son of
Flahaut, who notoriously was on close terms of intimacy
with Queen Hortense. A gallant soldier, charming man,
and distinguished diplomat, Count Flahaut gave up the
old house in 1853.

He became Ambassador in London during the Second

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 231

Empire and resided at 106 Piccadilly (now the St James's
Club), another fine old mansion which was originally
Coventry House.

Count Flahaut married an Englishwoman, and his
daughter became the mother of Lord Lansdowne, who
is therefore the great-grandson of Talleyrand.

All the great personages of Europe at one time or other
passed through the salons of the mansion in the Champs
Elysees or of 106 Piccadilly, Count Flahaut being most
popular and well known as a delightful and clever host.

This fine old Frenchman died in September 1870, just in
time to avoid seeing the Prussians enter his beloved Paris.

Some of the old records concerning the Champs
Elysees are not dull reading.

Frederici, an officer of the Swiss Guard, who was
supposed to keep order there in the eighteenth century,
on one occasion reported :

" Monday evening last about 8 o'clock I arrested an
Abbe with a negress. He said he was acting as her
confessor. I let him go with a recommendation to
abstain in future from confessing female sinners under
the trees at night."

In 1798 four hundred hairdressers held a meeting as
to a rise in their pay ; an officer of the National Guard
came up with his men and, after calling the crowd rebels,
severely wounded one individual, upon which he was
disarmed and taken to the Hotel de Ville.

Beranger lived in the Champs Elysees, and many
other literary men have had houses near by, including
Victor Hugo, who had a house in the Avenue Victor
Hugo called the Avenue " Eylau " up to the time of the
poet's death.

Passing the Rond Point one comes to the portion of
the Elysian fields where for generations innumerable
troops of small infantry — little children long dead —
have played.

The Champs Elysees, indeed, has ever been full of

232 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

enchantments for the youthful mind. What frenzied
gambling for macaroons used to go on at the bagatelle-
boards ! What a conquering hero seemed the boy who
propeDed the ball into the luckiest hole, or who struck
the brazen bell, at the tinkling of which a little plaster
statuette of Napoleon the Great would rise as if by magic
from a silent tomb of gingerbread and lollipops !

A prominent figure in old days used to be the Marchand
de Coco — a deliriously exciting beverage, composed of
Spanish liquorice and sassafras — dispensed in tin cups
by a man who carried the coco reservoir, a sort of Chinese
pagoda, adorned with red-cotton velvet and tri-coloured
flags, strapped to his back.

Formerly the gardens here abounded in nurses dressed
in the characteristic French costume. Since the war,
however, their number has greatly decreased, country
girls preferring to remain working on the land rather
than come up to Paris.

The puppet shows, in which French children take so
much delight, have been popular for more than a hundred
years. In the eighteenth century " Polichinelle " went
through his antics much in the same place as he does
to-day, and figured in much the same scenes.

During the Terror, however, as a concession to the
prevailing fashion the French Mr Punch was guillotined
instead of being hung.

One enterprising proprietor of a puppet show, anxious
to be up-to-date, put on the assassination of Marat by
Charlotte Corday. Unluckily, however, he omitted to
end his performance by an apotheosis of the " people's
friend." This was his ruin.

Denounced to the Committee of Public Safety as
" Royalists " who had insulted the memory of the
" Martyr of Liberty," he and his wife were thrown into
prison, condemned to death, and executed on the gth
Thermidor, only a few hours before the fall of Robes-
pierre, which would have saved them.

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 233

Of the many Guignols which formerly existed only
three now survive. It is to be hoped that this delight-
ful and ancient form of minor dramatic art will never be
allowed to become obsolete.

Quite a literature of little Guignol plays exists. Only
recently the writer witnessed a revival during " Le mar-
chand de coups des batons." This was very popular dur-
ing the Second Empire, being full of fun, life and vivacity.

The merry-go-rounds in the Champs Elysees date
from before the French Revolution. The little wooden
horses were suppressed for a time in 1777, but by 1820
they were once more flourishing. There were formerly
many more roundabouts than exist to-day, several of
them having been suppressed, together with swings and
other minor amusements, which in the opinion of the
authorities took up too much space.

The goat chaises, in which babies delight to drive,
date from the Second Empire.

In this part of the Champs Elysees red-coated High-
landers bivouacked after Waterloo.

At that time all Paris might have been called a hostile
camp. Blue-legged, black-gaitered Austrians, stumpy
men with pudding faces, were to be seen in the Champs-
de-Mars and about the Arch of the Carrousel. Lord
Uxbridge's troopers picketed their horses in the Bois
de Boulogne. The Russian headquarters were in the
Place Vendome. The Prussians held the heights of
Montmartre. Disbanded French officers abhorred these
foreign invaders, and made no secret of it.

In the Palais Royal, however, the conquerors received
the warmest of welcomes, and dashing young subalterns
flocked there to stare at the jewellers' shops and the
painted " sirens " of the Galeries de Bois ; to lose their
money at the gambling-houses, or be cheated out of it
at the restaurants. Waterloo was avenged at roulette
and trente et quarante, and by the sale to the invaders
of many thousand bottles of rubbishy champagne at

234 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

twelve francs the bottle. " Rouge gagne ! " " Rouge
perd ! " and " Garcon, 1'addition ! " were sweeter sounds
to the Parisian ear than the " Sauve qui peut ! " of
Waterloo.

The two imposing groups of equine statuary known
as Les Chevaux de Marly, near the Place de la Concorde,
were brought from the chateau of that name in five
hours in 1795. Their transport was considered a
wonderful feat, and the waggon used is still preserved
at the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers.

The Place de la Concorde, which was finally remodelled
in 1858, has not changed its appearance for many years.
Since peace, however, the figure of Strasburg no longer
bears the crape which had veiled it for so many years.

The peace imposed by the Allies upon France in 1814
changed the Rue Napoleon to the Rue de la Paix, which
thoroughfare had been constructed under the great
Emperor in 1807, through a portion of the gardens
of the disestablished convent of the Capucines, to serve
as a new and stately approach to the Place Vendome.

The Tuilerie Gardens are full of charm, and the
statuary, old and new, is mainly of a high order of merit.
London can boast of no modern statue as fine as
" Quand M6me," the replica of the monument com-
memorating the defence of Belfort, erected on the ground
where the palace of the kings of France formerly stood.

Nor in a lighter vein have we anything to compare
with the delightful memorial of Perrault near the Jeu
de Paume, which, by the way, bears on one of its walls
an artistic memorial of Edith Cavell.

Surrounded by three charming little girls (who at
the proper season are enclosed by a hedge of flowers),
the bust of the good old teller of fairy stories smiles at
us from a column the base of which is guarded by Puss-
in-Boots, who, jaunty and debonnair, wears a plumed
sombrero hat, a necklace of mice and a rat hanging
from his belt.

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 235

I suppose that this is about the only monument to
a cat in existence. The sculptor has been particularly
happy in the whole composition.

There is much good statuary in the Parisian cemeteries.
The monument " aux Morts " in Pere-Lachaise, for
instance, is a fine work of art. In the same cemetery
is Epstein's unconventional memorial to Oscar Wilde.
There are many memorials here as well as in the other
burial grounds of Paris which deserve attention.

To the student of the great French Revolution the
Chapelle Expiatoire must ever be of great interest.
This beautiful little chapel, the entrance to which is in
the Rue Pasquier, is just oft" the Boulevard Haussmann.
The spot upon which it stands was originally a burial-
ground, dependent upon the parochial church of la
Madeleine. Here till their transference to St Denis
lay the remains of the unfortunate Louis XVI and
his queen. In 1793 the ground was purchased by M.
Descloseaux and converted into an orchard, in order
to preserve it from revolutionary fury, and to keep
the bodies which it contained as a sacred deposit till
better times. The places of the royal graves were
carefully marked out by the proprietor, who, it is said,
sent annually to the Duchess of Angoul£me a bouquet
of flowers gathered from the ground beneath which
her parents were laid. At the Restoration the ground
was purchased of the faithful guardian, and the bodies
searched for, found, and transported to St Denis with
the greatest solemnity and pomp. The earth that had
contained the royal coffins was carefully collected and
placed where the king had lain ; the bones of all the
other victims of the Revolution that could be found on
this spot were also collected and placed in two large
adjacent fosses. Over the whole, an expiatory chapel,
with suitable buildings adjoining, was erected by Louis
XVIII, Percier and Fontaine being the architects. A
raised platform containing the earth of the principal

236 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

part of the cemetery is surrounded in the form of a
parallelogram by two covered galleries on the longer
sides, by the chapel and ante-chapel on the shorter.
The chapel is in the form of a cross surmounted by a
dome in the centre, and having the ends of three arms
of the cross terminated semicircularly and capped
with domical roofs. The fourth arm is formed by the
door-way and a Doric portico. Within are two statues,
of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette, each supported
by an angel ; on the pedestal of the former his will is
inscribed in letters of gold on a black marble slab ; on
that of the latter are extracts of the queen's last letter
to Mme. Elisabeth. Around the chapel are niches
for magnificent candelabra, and bas-reliefs with appro-
priate designs. The whole is finished with great
simplicity and good taste. Beneath is a subterranean
chapel, where an altar of grey marble is erected over
the exact spot where Louis XVI was buried ; and in a
corner, about five feet from it, is pointed out the original
resting-place of the queen.

The dust of many prominent revolutionists is here
mingled with that of supporters of the ancien regime,
including Charlotte Corday and the thousand gallant
Swiss guards who, " faithful unto death," perished on
the loth August 1792.

During the Second Empire there were many com-
plaints of the indifference of the Imperial authorities
to everything that came within the domain of art.

A critic of the day said :

" I presume there has rarely been created any man
so utterly devoid of the faculties that are required in
order to judge of excellence in art as is Louis Napoleon.
And, most unluckily, the Emperor's insufficiencies are,
in this respect, not made up for by any qualities in
the Empress. I do not believe a kinder, better, more
charitable, or more unaffected person than Eugenie
de Montijo ever lived or breathed ; but a more appalling

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 237

instance of nullity has rarely been exhibited to the public
appreciation than that which is furnished forth by the
above-mentioned most amiable lady, It is nullity
everywhere — nullity instinctive and intellectual, as well
as nullity educational. There is no one single chord
in her whole composition that replies to anything beyond
her vast amplitude of starched petticoats, or the in-
vention of a new head-dress by Felix ! This being the
case, it is easy to conceive of what use can be the ' pro-
tection ' of the throne, as far as art is concerned."

Attacks upon the Imperial regime abounded in the
Press in England as well as in France.

"There is now so little to separate us in distance
between Paris and London," wrote an English critic,
"that insensibly the recklessness of the Imperial Court
is finding its way over here. The Emperor, everyone
knows who thinks, finds it useful to his policy to encourage
profligacy, and the stage in France is only a reflex of the
state of morals in the capital. Adultery is King on the
Boulevards. Ah ! that sounds too horrible. But it is
true. Take up the first novel you may lay hands on, or
the last vaudeville, and you will see for yourself that
this is no exaggeration. The ducks and drakes our
neighbours make with the conjugal code set the circles
widening until they fall with a ripple on our shores and
vibrate into the heart of London life."

Even the charming operas of Offenbach were con-
sidered to be improper by the English.

Writing in 1874, Lady Charlotte Schreiber, a clever
and highly cultured lady, then on a visit to Paris, said :
" In the evening we all went to the Gaiete to see ' Orfee
aux Enfers,' with which I was utterly disgusted ; what
is to become of such horrid exhibitions ! I fear their
example is contaminating our English stage." 1

To-day the piece in question is recognized as being
perfectly inoffensive.

1 "Lady Charlotte Schreiber's Journals," vol. i, page 315.

238 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

The truth was that neither nation understood the
other. The French view of England was at times
grotesque.

From a piece played at the Ambigu in the 'sixties
called " Les Chevaliers du Brouillard " one learnt —

1st. That Jack Sheppard discovered a Jacobite plot
for the destruction of Westminster Abbey by gunpowder.

2nd. That the Tower of London is situated at Greenwich.

3rd. That George I was in the habit of walking about
Newgate disguised as the Lord Mayor of London, and
attended by " Sir William Hogarth/'

4th. That Jack Sheppard was, in early youth, the
heir-presumptive to the British throne.

Directly a monarch is known to be partial to the fair
sex his real or supposed love affairs become the subject
of universal comment and exaggeration.

This was the case with Napoleon III, as it was years
later with Leopold II of Belgium, that astute, clever but
pleasure-loving king who, it was said, disliked music,
sport, tobacco, and gloves, but liked pretty women.

According to common report he was on the best terms
with a fair Parisian, Mile. Cleo de Merode, and besides
being caricatured in the French press, received the
rather witty nickname of " Cleopold."

On the other hand, the story goes that the king had
never seen this lady till being one evening at the Opera
he said to a famous singer, " Will you please introduce
me to the charming dancer of whom I hear so much ? "
The tenor looked surprised. " Your majesty ! " " Cer-
tainly," replied the king ; " I have never seen her."
Cleo de Merode was introduced to his Belgian majesty
and the king very simply remarked, " Madam, I am
delighted to see you at last and to be able to express to
you my deepest regret if the good fortune which is falsely
attributed to me has in any way inconvenienced you.
We are far from those times when the favour of a king
did not compromise. Besides, I am only a small king."

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 239

Napoleon III may have been over-susceptible to the
charms of the fair sex, but nevertheless he was a man of
intelligence with large ideas.

To be fair to him, he it was who first began the trans-
formation of his capital from a city of insanitary if
picturesque slums into the magnificent Paris it is to-day.

The narrow streets of old Paris were infamously paved.
There was no foot pavement. The kennel was often
in the centre of the street, and down it rolled a great
black torrent of impurities fearsome to sight and smell.
Even in comparatively modern times there was no
gas, save in the Place de la Concorde, in the Palais
Royal, and on the Boulevard des Italiens. The re-
mainder of the streets were lit by means of oil lamps
suspended from ropes slung from house to house across
the street.

A great number of interesting buildings naturally
had to fall beneath the pick, but sooner or later they were
doomed in any case. Baron Haussmann utilized the
sites thus rendered vacant to raise a number of really
fine streets and boulevards laid out in accordance with
a carefully thought out plan. Had the old buildings
survived till a later period the houses erected in their
stead would probably have been built in different styles,
which would not have conveyed the dignified impression
which modern Paris does to-day.

One of the most interesting survivals of old Paris is
the " Place des Vosges," formerly the " Place Royale."
Here, according to Alexandre Dumas, Athos, Porthos,
D'Artagnan and Aramis fought their double duel.

In any case it is a locality haunted by ghosts of the
past, and one is thankful that the effacing finger of
Baron Haussmann allowed it to remain untouched.

On the other side of the river a whole quarter was
pulled down in 1860 in order to make way for the Tribunal
of Commerce, Hotel Dieu, and Prefecture of Police.

The tortuous streets which once covered this site

240 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

abounded in taverns and other haunts where Francis
Villon revelled with the ladies whose names he has
handed down to us in his delightful verse.

Here, too, existed, up to the 'sixties, the Prado, a famous
dancing-hall frequented by all the local lights of love,
most of whom were well known by nicknames.

In all probability Louise la Balocheuse, Eugenie
Malakoff, Angelina 1'Anglaise, and other stars of this
resort, were much the same kind of girls as Guillemette
la Rose and her sisters, who made such an impression
upon the mediaeval poet's heart.

Though this part of Paris has been, in the main,
remodelled, the Quais, together with a number of old
buildings which line them, remain.

The bookstalls have often repaid investigation. In
his interesting book, " The Pleasures of the Table,"
Mr Ellwanger tells of his good luck in this direction.
About to leave one of these stalls, the proprietor
remarked : " Monsieur perhaps might like to glance at
an English work, ' sur 1'Agneau/ which came in with
some other volumes recently."

The volume in question referred, indeed, to " lamb,"
and proved to be the excessively rare first edition of
" The Essays of Elia " (London, 1823). It was slightly
foxed, but otherwise in excellent condition, and con-
tained some marginal annotations in manuscript. On
carefully examining the handwriting, Mr Ellwanger
became convinced it was that of Charles Lamb — there
could be no possible doubt of it. The only writing on
the fly-leaf was, " To W. W., from C. L."— the " W. W."
presumably being William Wordsworth.

It was at the Quai des Celestins that the youthful
Napoleon first landed in the city which twenty years
later was to acclaim him as its supreme master.

On the other side of the river the Quai Voltaire com-
memorates the great writer who died at No. 27, the
house of the Marquis de Villette, in 1778.

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 241

One of the mistakes made during the Imperial recon-
struction was the undue enlargement of the open space
in front of Notre Dame and the erection of the huge
barracks which face the cathedral's magnificent fa9ade.

Notre Dame is really the soul and heart of France,
abounding as it does in souvenirs of notable events.

Here, on the 22nd of March 1594, came Henri IV to
hear the famous Mass which, he said, Paris was well worth.
Here came the delighted and astonished Louis XIII to
thank heaven for an heir born after twenty-three years
of marriage. Louis XIV celebrated all his victories
within its ancient walls, which at one time were so
covered with flags taken by the Marechal de Luxem-
bourg that the latter was called the Tapissier de Notre
Dame.

Here Bossuet pronounced his funeral oration over the
Grand Conde, and before its glorious portals, on the
loth November 1723, the revolutionary mob burnt
priceless missals and books, while the Goddess of Reason,
impersonated by Madame Momoro, was enthroned near
the altar within.

For the English this cathedral should have an especial
interest, for within its walls Henry VI of England was
crowned King of France.

Lassus and Viollet-le-Duc carefully restored Notre
Dame in the middle of the last century, when the spire
was replaced and the magnificent central doorway given
its original appearance.

Though in certain details somewhat drastic, the
restoration may, on the whole, be called a success.

The statuary, some of it old, the rest for the most
part careful reproductions of figures which had decayed
away or been destroyed, is of great beauty and interest.
That surrounding the doorways in particular is a delight
to the lover of art.

A number of damaged statues, which have been copied,
are at the Musee Cluny.
16

242 MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

As has before been said, the erection of the barracks
opposite Notre Dame was an architectural error, the
style being quite unsuitable to the site.

A curious thing about these barracks is that the imperial
eagles perched near the roof are all defective — the heads,
roughly hacked off during the Commune, having never
been replaced. The statue of Charlemagne, near the
Cathedral, is another innovation of an unsatisfactory
kind.

On the other hand, the Gothic sacristy, erected on part
of the ground formerly covered by the archbishop's
palace, is not unpleasing. The palace in question,
which flanked the river, was destroyed by a revolutionary
mob in 1831. Apart from its architectural and anti-
quarian interest, Notre Dame has been rendered doubly
dear to lovers of the picturesque, by reason of Victor
Hugo's great romance.

Esmeralda, her sinister lover Claude Frollo, together
with the weird hunchback, Quasimodo, are figures which
will ever be inseparably connected with the old Cathedral.
Though the interior has been stripped of much wonderful
ornamentation and statuary, owing to the vandalism
of revolutionary mobs, there is still a good deal to
admire.

A unique and beautiful feature is the wonderful statue
of " Notre Dame de Paris," which stands against the
south-east pillar of the transept.

The work of some fourteenth-century craftsman, the
image in question originally ornamented the chapel of
St Aignan, which has long ceased to exist.

From 1818 to the period of the restoration of Viollet-
le-Duc it occupied a place in the doorway of the " porte
de la vierge."

Its present position however, could not be more
appropriate — there is something very striking about the
pose of the body and the expression on the face.

It is such artistic relics of the past which cause one to

THE DEMON OF NOTRE DAME

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR 243

realize the spirit of the Middle Ages, when the clergy
were wont to call in the aid of painters, sculptors, and
artists in stained glass to render all the beautiful stories
of the Old and New Testaments. Thus it was that the
cathedrals gained the name of the Bibles of the Poor.

Aloft on the towers of Notre Dame are perched a number
of grotesque figures called " chimeres," the most striking
of which is " Le Stryge," a horned and winged demon
with a contemplative and contented expression, who,
his head resting between his hands, looks out over Paris.

The figure in question has been immortalized by
Meryon, whose etching shows " Le Stryge " with ravens
flying around him, symbolical, it would seem, of the dark
and evil deeds the echo of which reaches him from the
human ant-heaps below.

The tocsin of revolution has often sounded in those
uncouth ears. He heard the " Wacht am Rhine " sung
by the victorious Germans on their triumphal entry
into Paris, and the " Marseillaise " which, from French
throats, answered it from the other side of the river.

Forty-four years later the nearing thunder of the
invaders' guns left him as unmoved as the triumphant
salvo which in 1918 announced the victory of the Allies.

The long period of sorrow and suspense was over-
to-day " Le Stryge " broods once more over a city full of
life, loving, and joy.

INDEX

" ABINGTON" BAIRD, Mr, 140
Absinthe, 191-193
VAcadimie (a caf6), 191, 192
Admiralty, plans for, 1 1
Ailesbury.Marchioness of, 9 ; fourth

Marquis of, 19
Albert, Prince, 3
Albert Memorial, 85
Alexandra, Queen, 3
Alfred Club, 96
Americans, 163, 165, 206, 207
Apaches, 186, 227, 228
Apsley House, 90
Arc de Triomphe, 228, 229
Architecture, Victorian, 10-12, 89
Argyll Rooms, 1 30
Aristocracy, old English, 1 5-20, 33
Asquith, Mr, 30
Astor, Lady (M.P.), 62
Astor, late Lord, 62

BACCARAT, in London, 141-144;

in Paris, 173-175
Bachelor's Club, 47
Bal Bullier, 217, 218
Bal des Quat'z Arts, 213
Balfour, Mr, 30, 44
Bath House, 104
Beardsley, Aubrey, 155, 156
Beauties, 80-82
Beerbohm, Max, 35
Belgravia, 113
Beranger, 210, 231
Berkeley Square and its vicinity,

83-96, 101, 109, 114
Berry, Misses, 103
Besant, Sir Walter, 210
Blucher, 176, 177
Blue Posts, the, 145
Bois de Boulogne, 223-227
Bolshevists, 62, 63
Bookstalls of Paris, 240
Bourdon House, 86, 113
Bourke, Hon. Algernon, 47, 48
Bramwell Booth, Mrs, 42
Brougham, Lord, 26, 27

Bruant, Aristide, 184, 185, 226
Bulwer Lytton, 92

CABS, 7

Cafes, 182-185, 191-196

Caf6 concerts, 218-222

Cafe des Ambassadeurs, 218, £19,

221

Camisards, 60
Carrington Street, 105, 106
Casinos, 175
Cavalier, Jean, 60
Chaplin, Lord, 44
Champs Elysees, 231-233
Chapelle Expiatoire, 235, 236
Charles Street, Berkeley Square,

92, 93

Chat Noir, the, 182-185
Chateau de Madrid, 224
Chemin de fer baccarat, 1 74, 1 75
Chesterfield House, 101-103
Chesterton, Mr Cecil, 117
Cholmondeley, Lord, 25
Clay, Mr Cecil, 151-153
Clubs, French, 171-174
Clubs in the past, 96, 97
Cobden, letter from, 68
Coborn, Mr Charles, 6
Cockburn, Sir Alexander, 1 3
Coincy (village adopted by Mont-

martre), 208

Continental (supper resort), 123, 124
Corinthian Club, 125
Cosmopolitan Club and its

members, 93-96
Coventry House (St James' Club).

106

Cremorne, 128-130
Crutch and Toothpick Brigade,

45, 46, 121
ubat's, 172
urzon Street, 103-106

DALHOUSIE, Lord, 51

Dancing halls, Parisian, 213-216

246

246

MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Davies Street, 86
Davis, Miss Mary, 86
Dearmer, Professor, 89
Deauville, 159, 160
Debray, family of, 200, 201
Delys, Gaby, 146 ; her grave, 160
Demi-monde of London, 140, 141 ;

of Paris, 211,212,216
Devonshire House, 99
Dhuleep Singh, Maharajah, 51
Dhuleep Singh, Prince Victor, 52,

53

Dieppe, 156-159
Distaeli, 4, 6, 55, 58, 104, no
Drinking, 76, 77
Dumas, Alexandre, 194, 195
Duster, Gentleman with a, 41, 42

EDWARD VII, 3, 48
Egremont, Lord, 16, 17
Empire (music-hall), 130, 131

FARM Street chapel, 86
Farren, Nelly, 45
Feminine dress, 78-80
Finderne family, 19, 20
Fish dinners, 49
Flahaut, Count, 100, 230, 231
Foreigners in England, 61-63
Fountains, 83, 84
Franco-German war of 1870, 59

GAIETY burlesques, 45 ; chorus, 123
Gambetta, 189, 203, 229, 230
Gambling, in London, 141-144
Gaming houses in the West End,

141-144

Gastronomy, 71-76
Gladstone, 28, 29
Gosse, Mr Edmund, 35
Goudeau, Emile, 183
Goulue, la, 215
Grosvenor, Sir Thomas, 86
Guilbert, Yvette, 184, 219, 226
Guinguettes, 203

HALF Moon Street, 108
Haunted house in Berkeley Square

88

Hawtrey, Mr Charles, 107
Hay Hill, 101

rlayward, Abraham, 1 3
rlenri IV, 203, 241
Higgins, Mr Harry, 44
Hotels, sporting, 144, 145
Houghton, Lord, 50
Household Cavalry, 44, 45
Houssaye, Arsene, 171, 181
Huxley* 34 ; lines on his tombstone,

Hyde Park, 1 1 1

L'IMPERIALE, 167

Inge, Dr, 31

Irving, Mr Harry, 153, 154

JARDIN de Paris, 218, 220
Jerningham, late Mr Charles, 37
Jubilee Juggins, the, 144

KNIGHT, Joseph, 36
Krantz, Eugenie, 189, 190

LABOUCHERE, Henry, 26, 37

Lansdowne, Lord, 100, 231

Lansdowne House, 91, 99-101, 113

Lascelles, Lord, 103

Leader, Mr John Temple, 27, 28

Leopold II, 238

Lewis, Sam, 131, 145, 146

Limmer's Hotel, 146

Literature and journalism, 34-37

Locock, Sir Charles, 7

London, made dismal by Puri-
tanism, 1 20 ; before Licensing
Act of early 'seventies, 121 ;
before the Great War, 71, 72 ;
Verlaine's opinion of,

Longchamp, racecourse, 178 ;
Abbey of, 224, 225

Long's Hotel, 144

Louis Philippe, King, 177, 178

MABILLE, 215-217
Mackenzie Grieves, Mr, 170, 171
Macnab, 183
Mallarm6, 188
Manning, Cardinal, 86
Marlborough Club, 48
Mayfair and its vicinity, 98-1 1 5 ;
Bohemianism in, 140, 141 ;

INDEX

247

gaming houses of, 141, 143;

new influences in, 53 ; streets,

98-108

deMerode, Mile. Cleo, 238
Mexborpugh House, 98
Mimi Pinson, a modern, 2 1 1
Mogador, Celeste, 216, 217
Molesworth, Lady, 9, 10
Mont Valerien, 202
Montgomery, Mr Alfred, 50
Montmartre, 201-215
Montmartroise, la, 208
Moore, Mr George, 130
Moulin de la Galette, 202
Moulin Rouge, 213, 214
Mount Street, 86
Muntz, Mr, 29
Miirger, 191, 210
Musard, 220
Muse of Montmartre, lines to the,

183

Music-halls, 130-137
de Musset, Alfred de, 192, 195

NAPOLEON, second funeral of, 229
Napoleon III, 176, 236-238
de Nerval, Gerard, 192
Night life of London, 1 16-1 39
Notre Dame, 241-243

OPERA balls, 169, 170
Orford, fourth Lord, 87
Orleans Club, 47

Osborne, Bernal, 14, 26 ; on female
suffrage, 78

PAISANT, M. Andre, 229

Paiva, la, 171

Palais Royal, 1 69 ; gaming houses,

176, 177, 233
Palmerston, Lord, 5, n, 24, 25,

58

Pari Mutuel, 178, 179
Paris, 160-243; old, 239, 240;

restaurants of, 193-2.00
Paulus, 219

Pavilion (music-hall), 131, 136
Perrault, monument to, 234
" Peter Ibbetson," 227
Politicians, 28-33, :I6, 119, 120
Portland, Duchess of, 8
Portman estate, 87
Prigs, 14, 15

Puppet shows in Champs Elysees,

232, 233
Puritanism, 36 ; its blighting

influence, 41, 120, 126, 130, 131,

Puritans gulled,

137

RACE meetings near London, 148,

149

Racing in France, 178-180
Red uniform, 66
Restaurants of Paris, 193-200
Revelstoke, first Lord, 92
Rhodes, Cecil, 4
Rigolboche, 215
Roller skating, 48
Roqueplan, Nestor, 200
Rothschild family, 59, 60
Rotten Row, 6, 7, 49
Rumbold, Sir Thomas, 55-58 ;

misstatements concerning his

origin, 55, 57

ST JAMES' Club, 106, 231

St James's Park, 112

Second Empire, severe criticism of,

236-238
Seymour, Lord Henry, 178, 180,

181

Shepherd Market, 105
Sheridan, Mrs, 62, 63
Society, attack upon, 39-42
Somers, Countess, 50
Spiritualism, 92
Sport, 63

Spyer, Sir Edgar, 62
Statuary in Paris, 234, 235
Steevens, George, 35
Supper resorts of the past, 123, 124

TALLEYRAND, 99, 100, 180, 230,

231

Theresa, 219, 220
Thiers, Monsieur, 203, 228
Thompson, Sir Henry, 1 3
Travellers' Club, Paris, 171, 172
Turf, the, 147-151

VAUGHAN, Miss Kate, 45
Vauxhall, 127, 128
Verlaine, 184-190, 191
Veron, Dr Louis, 175, 176

248

MAYFAIR AND MONTMARTRE

Victoria, Queen, 2-6, 85, 146
Victorian ways, 68-71
Villon, Francois, 240
Viollet-le-Duc, 241, 242

WALDEGRAVE, Lady, 10
Walpole family, 87
Watts, Mr, 94, 95
Wellesley, Marquis, 50, 51, 107, no
Wellington, Duke of, 2, 7, 25, 90,
in

Westminster Aquarium, 1 37-1 39
White Horse cellars, 146
White's Club, 47, 48
Willette, 185. 207
Women, foolish, 39, 40 ; French,
165, 166 ; pretty, 80-82

YATES, Edmund, 37, 216
Yellow Book, writers in, 155

ZAEO'S back, 137, 138

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