Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1914-12-14

ASSOCIATED Press Correspondence
Paris, Nov. 3d. Montmartre has
been put to sleep by martial law. TIL,
Butte" from Batignolles to Belle.
Vile, is plunged in gloom, and to ths
wakeful spirits that still haunt ths
/ streets and boulevards 1t seems as ii
the light of the world had gone out
| F'lickers from thousands of bar fronts
until o'clock strikes seem to make a
timid effort at revolt, then go out as
If 1t were no use. The contest with
| Galiieni is too unequal. Popular res
| taurants Of the more serious minded
order hold out longer, but the lights
so out at half past nine. Then Mon
inartre fades into nothing.
The Moulin Rouge" seems to have
gone blind; the enormous wings of its
windmill that for so many years have
increasingly revolved in rudy glow
of electric temptation are motionless.
The Moulin de la GAZETTE" possessed
now by women of the upper crust,
grinds out daily grtst Of soldiers
socks, but as soon as the evening
shadows fall it stands like a ghost of
past glories looking over the anaes-
thetiZed Joy that lies at its feet
The cabarets are closely hidden be-
hind iron shutters as if to spare the
passer-by the pain Of regretful memor-
les. He'll seems to have decided that
it cannot compete with war. The gates
of Heaven" are shut until the end
of it all makes it worth while opening
and Meant" quite invisible in the
dark shadow of the boulevard. can
only typify what Mohtn1artre has be-
come.
TIE Rat Mort" 1.-THE Abbaye" and
kindred institutions whose mission in
life has been to turn night into day,
have shrunk before the task of turn
ing day into night and have retired
like ground hogs into their winter
holes.
If Montmartre is asleep, it is not
absolute deserted. Long columns of
promenaders walk it's streets, after
having exhausted the last bit of pa
thence of the military regulations, but
they appear to have lost their way and
not to know where they are going. 1t
is a rather melancholy spectacle and
perhaps the most bewildered of all the
throns ore the demi -mondaines-
those that are left-for most of
them have fed the rigors Of Gallieni's
regime.
The capital as a whole no longer en-
joys the animated spectacle of the
green hour" between six and seven
o'clock in the evening when every good
Partisan before the war took his seat
at an open-air table in front of his
favorite cafe on the bouleyards to
drink his daily absinthe or other
sharp appetizer.
The tables are still there. but the
customers who remain are forced since
the prohibition of the sale of absinthe
to confine their 1ibations to the SIM
pie glass of sherry, mineral water OF
highly colored syrup, sometimes varied
by a jog of light French beer. and
there is no orchestra to while the time
away.
Not far from the great central thor
oughfares the American bars" are
almost deserted and many have closed
their doors until the recurrence OF
better times. One well-known former
American jockey has given up his bar
for the present and is serving the Red
Cross with his automobile.
The billiard and pool rooms, are for
the most part dark and unoccupied.
Some which continue to keep open
devote part of their receipts to the var
ious relief funds.
The amusements most missed are the
theatres and variety halls. For three
months after the mobilization OF the
army the only houses where any per-
Torrance was given were the NOV
les" This however, is to undergo
change, for various associations OF
actors and public performers have sue
ceeded in bringing the great distress
among their members to the notice OF
the premier, who has consented the
reopening Of the playhouses. Some OF
the more important will remain closed
until the hours of service of the sub
ways have been extended till later
than half past nine. Otherwise. in con-
sequence of the paucity of transport,
in the absence Of the motorbuses and
many cabs, the arrangements would
be forced to provide lodging accommo-
dation for the performers.