Morning journal and courier., 1882-07-08
Life in a Parisian Studio.


 ''By the way, would you like to begin work at the atelier this morning? All right. But stop a moment. I must just run up stairs and get my paint box and carton , You shall see my room presently" In mo- ment we are together in the Rue Batignolies; |; past the ''mairis'' plunge by side street into wilderness of lanes, but soon find breathing space again in large avenue ,; crossing this enter an 'impasse'' Guar tier Montmartre), at the end of which are stables and studios Here are, and push ing plank door we are confronted by anoth ar plank door, innocent of paint, but decora- ted with the thumbings of years, and len trez" scrawled on it in rude black letters. I am rather late this morning-9 o'clock
 work has already begun, and as l come in view of the smoke encircled crowd shout of ''vous etes bien retard ce matin,' in a remonstrating tone, stiles my Bon jour, messieurs." ''Un nouveau :" ''Un nou- veau!" ''Entrez, monsieur ' ''Entrez donc! !'' 'sEntrez !" yells insinuatingly the crowd as my friend is seen coming behind me. find my easel and prepare for work,
 while the ''nouveau" gazes somewhat wildly about him On the throne. unembarrassed by any drapery, is posed young Italian girl. and in large sen-circ about her are as sembled at work some forty fifty students of all sizes, nations, kindreds and tongues. Near the model the workers are almost on the floor, while those at some distance are perched on high stools, higher and harder than those of their relatives in the business world. It is 0 large room, square and lighted by huge window the walls are painted a dirty brown and are covered in large patches wi.h the scrapings from the pallets of the past and present generations. Some draw ings and paintings, too-other heritages of the years-spot the walls. And just now Egyptian bulls and sphinxes' heads in card board appear high up, relics of the "fete a PEgyptienne.
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 dinary hum of conversation broken by snatches of songs at intervals and the thou veau' has found place and begun a study. He is not, however. long to remain in obscur- ity. Despite the heat of the room, which l expresses us all, the model shivers. Made | moiselle a froid." 'Au feu! nouveau, au | leu ID louder and louder shout the tobacco smoking, blouse becovered, shaggy palette | holders and before I have time to explain | to the s'nouveau'' that it is his duty to keep l the fire up, the shout grows into a yell, and | the yell into 8 roar 'Au feu" The stove | whose grimy pipe meanders up to the high rafters, glows afresh under our hands, and 1 the offended dignity of the multitude is pa l cified. We seek our seats and begin work ] again, but are interrupted by 'Chantez, nou | veau '' ''Chantez donc!" on all sides. This | appeal commences in a kindly, encouraging | tone, but, remaining unanswered, the sput | tering fire of voices assumes a hurt tone, then | Q complaining one then, waxing more tumul l tuous and indignant, it dies away for time, only to recommence in an angrier strain, un-
 til the yells, groans, whistles and knockings
 urge the bashful 'nouveau" to desperation,
 and one hears faint tuneless gasp emerge
 from his throat. Heaven only knows what
 he is trying to sing But he is not to escape | thus easily. "A In tribune !' screams the
 roaring crowd. The poor mortal is forced | to stand up beside the model on the platform
 and, in the awful silence which succeeds the
 outburst he begins again his song. Does he
 know what he is singing? I don't And at | his spavined voice dies into vail, ''Assez ? ! "Assez !' on all sides tells him that this part of his initiation is over It now only re mains for him to pay the punch, "un pour