University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER 21

My Dear Mother: We left Geneva at 10 a.m., and reached this city at 11 p.m. A long trying day, yet the country through which we passed was so attractive we longed to leave the beaten track and visit provincial France. Hardly did we reach the hotel, when several of the party sought the gay streets, we were so tired, to explore did not tempt us. We are located near Aved 'la Opera, and in one of the best shopping districts, the hotel is very poor, the rooms lacking in conveniences, and the table lacking in food. If the dinner does not far surpass luncheon and breakfast, we shall be obliged to seek a café to still the pangs of hunger. This is our very first opportunity to complain of Thos. Cook & Sons.

No rubber tired carriages for us here, a conveyance is used, large enough to hold the entire party. I am so sorry, I am quite stiff from climbing in and out of the vehicle. You know mother how great has always been my desire to visit the tomb of Napoleon, so when we swung through the beautiful shaded streets, on our way to the Hotel des Invalides I was so engrossed with that wish that I missed the explanations of the guide.

Past the Arch of Triumph, the Place de la Concorde where stand eight allegorical figures representing the chief cities of the Republic. Strasbourg is draped in mourning for la belle France yet mourns her fair daughter; past the Vendome column built of captured cannon and surmounted by a statue of Napoleon then before us the Hotel des Invalides.

Not in the church all hung with battle flags, but beneath the monster dome he sleeps. A giant red granite sarcophagus, with mosaic wreaths commemorating his victories, contains the dust of the Man of Destiny. How the tears fell as I stood there, and ever uppermost the thought, did the belated honors heaped upon his poor ashes compensate for the lonely years of exile, the twenty years in an unadorned grave?

The Louvre is a fairyland of art, a grand surplus of pictures and statuary, but not a chair! The hall of Venus de Milo is almost worthy of that radiant goddess, and the Salon larre, where hang the work of the world's best masters, is fairly bewildering. Leonardo da Vinci's "Mona Lisa" was my lode star. I could not rest

until I reached her, and now I shall never rest for dreaming of her smile! Titian's "Laura Dianti" gained Ed's attention by the gorgeous tints of her hair and the wonderful attraction of her face. Murillo's "Immaculate Conception" alone, was worth the fatigue of that hour. The "Winged Victory of Samothrace" stands at the head of a stair case leading upward, and you verily believe you see the wind lifting the draperies. We were before so many celebrated paintings in that short time I did not try to remember them, yet perhaps my sub-conscious self has retained a few and in the future, will produce them for my enjoyment.

In the Luxembourg Ed and preferred to linger in the hall of statuary, as the pure white was such a relief after the myriad of colors of the Louvre. We were enchanted with Croissy's "The Nest," the little tots in the great chair asleep are so human, "Pau and the Bears," amused Ed, he declared the fellow was so evidently enjoying himself. "The Kiss" of Rodin's is a long drawn out affair. We came up with our people before Whistler's "Portrait of His Mother" and heard the guide say "The Luxembourg is called the house of trial, the works of living artists are placed here, and if after the lapse of ten years they are deemed worth of the honor are then removed to the Louvre or to galleries in the provinces."

The Palace of the Trocadero was next visited. There we didn't linger, just entered the famed concert hall and at the request of the party I recited a little poem in Choctaw to show the remarkable acoustics of this vast room. Of course the audience was duly enthusiastic. We are going out again this afternoon. You see our luncheon was so meagre I have had plenty of time to converse with you.

Just finished dinner yet I am hungry! This service is abominable. We are waiting for Paris to get wide awake then we are off to enjoy her frivolity.

The men have deserted us this evening, off with a guide to "see the sights." Ed declared he preferred the society of American ladies, so every one of us are to be escorted by him this evening.

We devoted the afternoon to cathedrals, the first to Notre Dame, the great portals are so magnificent that with difficulty I left them. Just think, we stood where kings have been baptized, crowned, married and from here taken to their final resting place! Hats suspended from the ceiling attracted my attention, in answer to my inquiry the guide replied, "When a cardinal dies, he hangs up his hat in Notre Dame, and goes to heaven."

From Cathedral to Palace of Justice, a monster building yet not particularly interesting, then to the exquisite chapel built by Louis IX to receive the sacred relics from Palestine. This little church has oft been threatened, and even partly destroyed by fire, yet is so well restored, it is now as it was when the dear St. Louis worshipped there. The rose window is considered one of the best extant.

The Madeleine, Paris' famed modern church delights the eye with its many columns and magnificent portico, it is like the Greek temples. It is sad for a Catholic in "La Belle France," you cannot keep from thinking hard thoughts of a government that openly boasts Christ has been driven from the schools and must eventually leave the country.

We crossed the Alexander bridge, the largest and finest that spans the Seine, then a short drive in the Bois de Boulogne, the playground of all Paris, gave to us the needed change from pictures and monuments. In the streets, the trees are a russet brown, just as if they were tired of summer and would don their autumn robes, the guide said "no" they were always that color. Well, I do not like it, I prefer green trees.

Mother, it is so late, I dare not whisper the hour, yet the streets are filled with pleasure seekers, only a few seem to have gone home. We attended a garden theater where a light opera was given, the singing was good, the gowns magnificent, the dancing excellent, as not one of us except Ed could understand the dialogue, we were quite content, Ed whispered that he had a blush warranted not to fade. We peeped at Maxim's giddy place, but Ed bade us pass on, his purse could not stand the strain. We were soon installed at little tables on the sidewalk, watching the strenuous pursuit of the Goddess of Pleasure. It was with difficulty that we convinced ourselves it was time to sleep if we wished to enjoy the drive to Versailles. Ed wishes me to be careful not to write you too much concerning our evenings in Paris. You might be shocked! I love you my dearest mother.

Saturday

The dear Lord furnished sunshine and refreshing breezes, Cooks and Sons a crazy vehicle with fine horses and an accommodating coachman, so, with our good Mr. B. to guard us, we found the excursion to Versailles almost ideal. One cannot tire of the streets of this city, they were surely fashioned to entice the population to live out of doors. It is strange that we do not see many children--where are the jolly little fewllos, who in all other places have followed us? Here we have beggars galore, but they are not children. Ed misses the little tots so much says he cannot be happy here without his ragamuffin friends! When our conveyance would halt at a wayside inn, to enable the driver and guide to quench their unquenchable thirst, we would be surrounded by unfortunate beggars, vying in the endeavor to expose to us loathsome sores or hideous deformities. Ed tried to shield me, but I could not keep my eyes always closed, and oh the horrors! Truly the Parisian beggar is more loathsome than his Italian brother, if that is possible.

We were served luncheon before entering the palace, a blessed forethought, for those miles of rooms on an empty stomach would have a dreary task. We were served "American pie" for dessert, thank heaven, I have never chanced to meet it in the U.S.A.! I cannot say I like Parisian meals--they are too "skimpy." If we dare wish for a tiny bit more we are met with "It is all used." Ed says the man in charge sizes us up, and woe betide you if your appetite exceeds your appearance!

The Versailles Palace suffered in the days when the government was overthrown, yet its magnificence is little dimmed. It is filled with objects of surpassing interest and you pass from apartment to apartment with a feeling that you are walking in a lovely dream. Such gorgeous rooms, such beds with coverings of silk and satin, did the occupant sleep more soundly because of this state? The apartments of Louis XIV are truly regal befitting the grand monarch, yet I prefer the simple rooms of Napoleon. We were shown the rooms prepared many years ago for the young Queen Victoria, yet not occupied by her, she declaring they were too gorgeous. The guide said, the real reason was because the suite once belonged to Madam Maintenon! The Gallery of Battles is a monster hall four hundred feet in length, the walls covered by paintings depicting French victories on land and sea, from Charlemagne to Napoleon. I felt at home in this as I have been so well drilled in the glories of France. There is a gorgeous room in the palace, the ceiling painted by Labrior and representing the victories of Louis XIV, so charming did I find it that I did not complain of the hurt to my neck, although I do think it would have been more considerate to use the four walls! In one room we were shown the cameo sent by the Queen of Naples to Marie Antoinette. I found more beauty in it than the Regent. I was glad when we went in to the gardens my mind was in a queer jumble of Trianon, coach houses, state equipages, Louis XIV, Madam Maintenon, Don Louis le Valliere, Marie Antoinette, the lost Dauphin, the hordes of the revolution, monster state beds, and miles of pictures! Until I can reduce all that to order how can I write interestingly of Versailles? I think it is Napoleon who confuses me, he looms so large I found it difficult to turn long enough from contemplating him to inspect the glory of others. The grounds are dreams of loveliness, and chairs may be used for one penny, so I hastened to occupy one. Ed strolled here, there and everywhere, but I was content to sit and bask in the sunlight, inhaling the sweet scents, enjoying the beautiful expanse. It was dusk when we turned into the Avenue de l'Opera, that building looming mightily and inviting us to enter. We have tickets for William Tell next week, of that later. This is our last day with a guide, after this we "go it alone." Cook is wise, he wishes his lady tourists to have several days for the world-renowned shops. Did I tell you Mr. B. left us the first morning in Paris, he is off on a three weeks jaunt in England and Scotland by himself.

This evening we have invited Miss L to join us and we are going again to turn night into day. Mother, how would you describe pleasures so giddy as those of this city. Ed says to be sure to tell you that we have dragged him to many a place of which you would disapprove. He says we have an advantage over him in this naughty city, we can enjoy the well-appointed stage, the exquisitely gowned creatures, the fine voices with never a blush, whereas, he is assuming a brick dust hue, and his ears tingle. Mother, I am so sleepy, my eyes are closing, let me wish you sweet dreams of me.

Sunday in Paris

I am convinced that Paris is bewitched and has power to cast the spell over even her transient inhabitants! Not only do bona fide Parisians regard the commandments as obsolete but you see men and women bearing the impress of generations of puritanical ancestors turning the Sabbath into a day of revelry! Pleasure calls, none so deaf they cannot hear.

We attended high mass at the Church of St. Eustache noted for its fine music. This must have been an off day, as the singing was quite good, yet not of a character to make you tremble with rapture. It is a magnificent structure, and as usual in Catholic countries, men of genius consider it an honor to beautify it. This cannot be Catholic France. "The eldest daughter of the church" with her gendarmes controlled places of worship, her vacant convents and monasteries! Her Lord, only tolerated on altars, where once He reposed in regal state! Will hot-headed, impetuous France, blown hither and thither by bursts of passion, never open her eyes to the enormity of her crime against the gentle Christ?

This afternoon, with a few of the tourists we visited Eiffel Tower. We wished Mr. B. to accompany us, but he was personally conducting two ladies from Denver. We think a romance is brewing, if not, it is a great flirtation. Ed will give you the figures concerning this tower. I can only explain, "Law chile, dat house be monstrous tall and mighty big." The topmost landing but one is quite large, and with its many booths and many "barkers" it recalls a street fair. We bought little cakes, tried the fortune-telling machines, had our profiles cut from paper, looked through glasses at the city below, and if we could have found chewing gum and popcorn we would have felt quite at home. I thought Ed and several of the number would never tire of the maps and glasses, they seemed determined to master the plan of the city. When we reached the earth we decided to visit the zoological gardens. The drive was so satisfactory, I would have preferred to continue it. As all seemed desirous of paying their respects to the animals, I did not suggest it. We found vast crowds filling the open space and attending the side shows--it recalled a circus day to me. I walked until my feet felt as if they were of enormous size and weighed a ton, and a rocking chair with a foot stool would have been a paradise.

Ed made friends with the animals and tried to charm the few children abroad, the latter were so different, so shy, they do not take kindly to attention from grown-ups. I believe I like our children best, even if American youngsters are considered the worst in the world. I refuse to believe it, so there. When we turned toward the exit I was so fatigued I could with difficulty walk. Ed was greatly troubled, but I managed to reach the gateway, and it was like the open door to heaven to see the cab awaiting me, the luxury of those cushions, the delight of the rubber tires after hours of walking and standing!

We drove until the streets were illuminated, just enjoying the fine equipages, the well-gowned women, the dapper men, and the festive air over all. It is hard to realize that poverty stalks within the city gates, that crime is everywhere rampant.

I am weary this evening, so we have not had our usual walk or drive. I am truly eager for the car to slumberland. Good night, sing me a lullaby mother darling.

Mother

My me, this has been the most trying day of this entire trip, only the desire to hear "William Tell" keeps me from going to bed this very minute. Do I hear you ask the cause of my distress? One word, clothes! O dear, why such complicated garments or having to wear them why change the style so frequently? Oh for the days of Greece, and the flowing garment that was always "the style." I have looked at gowns until my brain reels, and I am ready to fly to an island where clothes are unknown. Ed had a thoroughly good time really found pleasure in the display and in the chatting with salesmen and girls. If he had not upheld me, I would have cut the whole thing, hailed a cab and driven to the uttermost parts of Paris, feeling that it would be far easier to answer the questions, bear the surprised looks of my friends when I returned to Oklahoma from this mecca of fashion, without gowns than to suffer the pangs of shopping! He pulled me through and purchased many things, whether beautiful or not, I care little, he is pleased, and I am quite willing to escape.

The great department stores are not so well appointed as those of the U.S. Ed purchased so many hat pins, etc., that our fate is sealed, the custom officers will never believe he is "only a politician." They will be sure he is the owner of a notion store! In many of the shops we noticed a tendency to be discourteous to Americans, at one place where we were purchasing gloves the attendant was quite rude. The first glove, I objected to the fit, he jerked it off so vehemently that my thumb was hurt. Ed warned him to be careful. The next had a large rent in it to which I called his attention--again my hand was roughly jerked, and with his usual impatience. Ed demonstrated quietly. When the third proved defective and I refused to consider it the attendant lost his temper and as he turned away consigned all Americans to a warmer clime. Then, that husband of mine addressed him in French, and his remarks must have been very convincing for the man humbly apologized and assured "the hurt to Madame's hand was unavoidable." Two American ladies beside us were having great trouble with the salesman. Ed said he was using "cuss words" quite fluently, so he gallantly addressed his "fellow citizens" and offered assistance. They were quite pleased and poured forth their tale of woe. Ed made a little speech in French to the man which brought him quickly to time. Dear me, that blessed husband of mine is a true knight-errant, no damsel need go unaided if he is nearby. The dislike of Americans is universal over here, you feel the animosity everywhere; we are only fawned upon for the money we scatter so lavishly.

I wish you could see me mother mine. I have been to the hair dresser and my tresses are most becomingly arranged and greatly augmented. Ed said when I emerged from beneath the skilled hands of the man, "Gee. I am well pleased with the outlay, yet, what an enormous increase in the value of your head." I am glad today is over, and if tomorrow proves as trying I shall gladly leave for London.

Tuesday

The opera was enjoyable, even if we did not hear noted artists in the cast. I consider the view of the interior of the grand stair case alone, worth the price. I do not like women ushers, they are so disagreeable, why do American managers wish to introduce them? The tips demanded are enormous, you never know when you have finished. Programmes are sold by the ushers. Between acts the audience leave their seats and show their fine garments in the vast halls. I was content to watch the parade from above, but Miss L. and Ed joined the throng and returned with tales of Americans staring at Americans, thinking they were gazing upon Parisian leaders of fashion. You know at this season of the year Paris is deserted by her residents, only the shop keepers and hotel proprietors remain to fleece the tourists.

Today has been spent in doing all sorts of things, driving in the Bois de Boulogne, about the Latin Quarter, in the region made famous by the immortal lovers, Heloise and Abelard, crossing many times the Seine, penetrating into parts where the city is not beautiful, then passing from one fair monument to another here, the Maid of Orleans, there the Column de Juillet that rises, where one lowered the old Bastille, always finding food for thought, and something to delight the eye. Historic Paris, what piteous imagination paints, if only the river, the stones could speak, what tales would they unfold, for I know the real far surpassed all we can dream.

I do not like the shop keepers, and I miss the children; where are the babies of the poor? The churches are sad, tears are too near the laughter; too many tourists, the beggars are not picturesque. I am disappointed. I had expected to be enamored of Paris.

A "wee sma' hour;" guess which one? We are just home from an evening spent in the pursuit of the airy fairy nymph sometimes called Pleasure. The proprietor gave Ed the names of several resorts considered "perfectly respectable." Anglo-Saxon ideas of respectability and the French differ so widely! We saw many Americans evidently imbued with the idea they were doing something "delightfully wicked." Indeed, I overheard one elderly lady with a Y.W.C.A. air, say in answer to the question of refreshments, "Yes, and I'll take a glass of beer. I am seeing Paris, and I shall go the limit." Dear soul from the little town in the U.S. where beer drinking and card playing are capital crimes, she thought she was being wildly dissipated!

At first, the music, the glitter, the lovely faces, the sweet laughter charmed me, then after a time I saw this was a mask and beneath were many things! Poor, fluttering moths, enjoying their few short days filled with light; then the long, long, walk in the darkness, hand in hand with poverty and futile remorse. Mother, this is a city where it is bad for your peace of mind, to think, one must accept without question, and let the curtain hide the grewsome [sic] skeletons, thronging the festive halls.

Until we are in smoky London town I must bid you "au revoir." O, do please greet me there with stacks of letters! My best love to the boys. I appreciate their dear letters, and have written them this very day. Mother I am a tiny bit homesick for your arms, the distance seems so great, I cannot hear you whisper, do speak louder. Or, perhaps, it is the din of this modern Babylon. When I am "under the shadow of Westminster" shall I hear you!

Lovingly,

C.