1936 On the Continent

feminine.
    Not that the human feminine element is in the majority or in any sense dominant in the French capital—in all great agglomerations of humanity there are approximately as many men as women. It is the atmosphere of Paris as a whole that has something feminine, something soft and alluring about it; that indefinable something that gives Paris its famous animated, sparkling, vibrating air and, one might almost say, saturates the very pavements with an erotic fluid.
The Light of Paris
    For more than a century painters, poets and journalists have been trying to solve this secret of the City of Paris; the secret that has made her the Queen of Cities; the secret that lends her name, the five letters P A R I S, a magic sound throughout the whole world. None has succeeded in surprising the secret—but everyone who has come to Paris for the first time has succumbed to her fascination.
    However, even though the equation may never be completely solved, one may endeavour to call attention to some of the essential characteristics and consider the most important elements that go to the making of the harmonious, living total effect produced by the city.
    There is, in the first place, the
light
of the Seine Valley, a most peculiar, softly diffused light that lends the whole of Paris, its every street, every tree, every stone, an extraordinary and unique patina. The ordinary mortal is normally as little conscious of the light that his eyes absorb as of the air he breathes with his lungs. It is only on special circumstances, as for instance in a wood rich in ozone or in the twilight of dawn, that he breathes and sees consciously. The light of the Seine Valley is no mere theatrical effect,like a sunset behind a mountain peak, but something that is constantly present and by that very fact eludes awareness, though it is an essential ingredient of the City of Paris, which it envelops like a delicately-woven, hazy, amorphous veil. Just look, from this angle, at a few pictures by the great French impressionists like Manet and Monet, Cézanne, Renoir and Corot. They are all hazy with this peculiar light; the famous
stippling technique
of the impressionists, those vibrating, whorled dabs of colour are its best expression. (Generally speaking, unless you happen to be an expert, you had better leave everything in the Paris jungle of art alone and concentrate exclusively on the impressionists. The Louvre is a chamber of horrors for those who wish to see everything—but if you only see a few good Manets, Cézannes and Renoirs, you will have gained something and will have got a breath of really great painting.)
Three Experiments
    Then make the following three experiments with the light of Paris; it will bring you closer to
experiencing
Paris than many hours of sight-seeing in a charabanc. First, walk, preferably very early in the morning, from the Gobelins down the Rue de Mouffetard. Walk slowly, leisurely, as there are many things worth seeing in the Rue de Mouffetard, of which we will speak later. Straight in front of you you will see the cupola of the Pantheon floating through the light—and then you will realise what it is that is so extraordinary about this light. You will have a still more wonderful view if you stop on a clear day on the corner of the Boulevard des Italiens and the Rue Lafitte, and look up the latter. You will see, a few hundred paces ahead, the Trinite Church, and beyond it, fantastic like the enchanted castle of the fairy tales, the almost supernatural vision of the pale steeples of Sacre Cœur. And that in spite of the fact that the famous Sacre Cœur is a rather abominable structure from the architectural point of view. For in the transfiguring light of Paris, architecture in many cases counts for less than the general effect. The Trocadero, which has just been pulled down, was certainly an ugly building, yet it had a remarkable urban-scenic charm.
    Your third experiment with the light of Paris will take place at sundown, during the famous “heure bleue,” when the contours of the buildings seem to soften and to merge into the dusk. Take half an hour’s walk, at about this time, on the Island of St. Louis. Start your walk in the Cité, crossing behind the Notre Dame the St. Louis Bridge to the Island. Go round the Island, strolling along the shore, on the Quai de Bourbonne, Quai d’Anjou, Quai de Bethune, until you come to the Pont de Tournelle, where the statue of the Virgin stands in the middle of the