In America, However, It Has Been My Misfortune That
I Did Not Have The Right Amount Handy; And Here In Paris I Was
Handicapped By My Inability To Make Change Correctly.
By now I
would not have trusted anyone in Paris to make change for me - not
even an Apache.
I was sorry for this, for at a quarter a head I
should have been very glad to engage a troupe of Apaches to kill
me about two dollars' worth of cabdrivers and waiters. For one
of the waiters at our hotel I would have been willing to pay as
much as fifty cents, provided they killed him very slowly. Because
of the reasons named, however, I had to come away without making
any deal, and I have always regretted it.
At the outset of the chapter immediately preceding this one I said
the English had no night life. This was a slight but a pardonable
misstatement of the actual facts. The Englishman has not so much
night life as the Parisian, the Berliner, the Viennese or the
Budapest; but he has more night life in his town of London than
the Roman has in his town of Rome. In Rome night life for the
foreigner consists of going indoors at eventide and until bedtime
figuring up how much money he has been skinned out of during the
course of the day just done - and for the native in going indoors
and counting up how much money he has skinned the foreigner out
of during the day aforesaid. London has its night life, but it
ends early - in the very shank of the evening, so to speak.
This is due in a measure to the operation of the early-closing
law, which, however, does not apply if you are a bona-fide traveler
stopping at your own inn. There the ancient tavern law protects
you. You may sit at ease and, if so minded, may drink and eat
until daylight doth appear or doth not appear, as is generally the
case in the foggy season. There is another law, of newer origin,
to prohibit the taking of children under a certain age into a
public house. On the passage of this act there at once sprang up
a congenial and lucrative employment for those horrible old-women
drunkards who are so distressingly numerous in the poorer quarters
of the town. Regardless of the weather one of these bedrabbled
creatures stations herself just outside the door of a pub. Along
comes a mother with a thirst and a child. Surrendering her offspring
to the temporary care of the hag the mother goes within and has
her refreshment at the bar. When, wiping her mouth on the back
of her hand, she comes forth to reclaim the youngster she gives
the other woman a ha'penny for her trouble, and eventually the
other woman harvests enough ha'penny bits to buy a dram of gin
for herself. On a rainy day I have seen a draggled, Sairey-Gamp-looking
female caring for as many as four damp infants under the drippy
portico of an East End groggery.
It is to the cafes that the early-closing law chiefly applies.
The cafes are due to close for business within half an hour after
midnight. When the time for shutting up draws nigh the managers
do not put their lingering patrons out physically. The individual's
body is a sacred thing, personal liberty being most dear to an
Englishman. It will be made most dear to you too - in the law
courts - if you infringe on it by violence or otherwise. No; they
have a gentler system than that, one that is free from noise,
excitemnent and all mussy work. Along toward twelve-thirty o'clock
the waiters begin going about, turning out the lights. The average
London restaurant is none too brightly illuminated to start with,
being a dim and dingy ill-kept place compared with the glary, shiny
lobster palace that we know; so instantly you are made aware of a
thickening of the prevalent gloom. The waiters start in at the
far end of the room and turn out a few lights. Drawing nearer and
nearer to you they turn out more lights; and finally, by way of
strengthening the hint, they turn out the lights immediately above
your head, which leaves you in the stilly dark with no means of
seeing your food even; unless you have taken the precaution to
spread phosphorus on your sandwich instead of mustard - which,
however, is seldom done. A better method is to order a portion
of one of the more luminous varieties of imported cheese.
The best thing of all, however, is to take your hat and stick and
go away from there. And then, unless you belong to a regular club
or carry a card of admission to one of the chartered all-night
clubs that have sprung up so abundantly in London, and which are
uniformly stuffy, stupid places where the members take their
roistering seriously - or as a last resort, unless you care to sit
for a tiresome hour or two in the grill of your hotel - you might
as well be toddling away to bed; that is to say, you might as well
go to bed unless you find the scenes in the street as worth while
as I found them.
At this hour London's droning voice has abated to a deep, hoarse
snore; London has become a great, broody giant taking rest that
is troubled by snatches of wakefulness; London's grimy, lined face
shows new wrinkles of shadow; and new and unexpected clumping of
colors in monotone and halftone appear. From the massed-up bulk
of things small detached bits stand vividly out: a flower girl
whose flowers and whose girlhood are alike in the sere and yellow
leaf; a soldier swaggering by, his red coat lighting up the grayish
mass about him like a livecoal in an ashheap; a policeman escorting
a drunk to quarters for the night - not, mind you, escorting him
in a clanging, rushing patrol wagon, which would serve to attract
public attention to the distressing state of the overcome one, but
conveying him quietly, unostentatiously, surreptitiously almost,
in a small-wheeled vehicle partaking somewhat of the nature of a
baby carriage and somewhat of the nature of a pushcart.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 45 of 92
Words from 45157 to 46218
of 93169
