A spurious gayety and an imitation joyousness;
but the joyousness is as thin as one coat of sizing, and the brass
shines through the plating; and behind the painted, parted lips of
laughter the sharp teeth of greed show in a glittering double row.
Yet gallus Mr. Fly, from the U.S.A., walks debonairly in, and out
comes Monsieur Spider, ably seconded by Madame Spiderette; and
between them they despoil him with the utmost dispatch. When he
is not being mulcted for large sums he is being nicked for small
ones. It is tip, brother, tip, and keep right on tipping.
I heard a story of an American who spent a month in Paris, taking
in the sights and being taken in by them, and another month motoring
through the country. At length he reached the port whence he was
to sail for home. He went aboard the steamer and saw to it that
his belongings were properly stored; and in the privacy of his
stateroom he sat down to take an inventory of his letter of credit,
now reduced to a wan and wasted specter of its once plethoric self.
In the midst of casting-up he heard the signal for departure; and
so he went topside of the ship and, stationing himself on the
promenade deck alongside the gang-plank, he raised his voice and
addressed the assembled multitude on the pier substantially as
follows:
"If" - these were his words - "if there is a single, solitary
individual in this fair land who has not touched me for something
of value - if there be in all France a man, woman or child who has
not been tipped by me - let him, her or it speak now or forever
after hold their peace; because, know ye all men by these presents,
I am about to go away from here and if I stay in my right mind I'm
not coming back!"
And several persons were badly hurt in the crush; but they were
believed afterward to have been repeaters.
I thought this story was overdrawn, but, after traveling over
somewhat the same route which this fellow countryman had taken, I
came to the conclusion that it was no exaggeration, but a true
bill in all particulars. On the night of our second day in Paris
we went to a theater to see one of the topical revues, in which
Paris is supposed to excel; and for sheer dreariness and blatant
vulgarity Paris revues do, indeed, excel anything of a similar
nature as done in either England or in America, which is saying
quite a mouthful.
In the French revue the members of the chorus reach their artistic
limit in costuming when they dance forth from the wings wearing
short and shabby undergarments over soiled pink fleshings and any
time the dramatic interest begins to run low and gurgle in the
pipes a male comedian pumps it up again by striking or kicking a
woman.
