THE
BELLE ÉPOQUE : A CULTURAL HISTORY, PARIS AND BEYOND
By Dominique Kalifa (translated by Susan Emanuel)
Columbia University Press. 252 pages. £25. ISBN 978-0-231-20219-1
Reviewed by Jim Burns
The Belle Époque? Paris, the Moulin Rouge, the Can-Can, men in
top-hats, Toulouse-Lautrec and Bohemia, paintings of pretty girls in
long dresses on busy streets or in crowded salons by Jean Béraud,
and society portraits by Giovanni Boldini. I could carry on pulling
images out of the mass swirling around in my head at the mention of
the Belle Époque. But what caused them to be there?
It’s a question that Dominique Kalifa explores in this book. As he
points out, the term Belle Époque was not used by anyone at the
time. Which was when? After considering various options, he settles
on the period between 1900 and 1914, though it’s perhaps possible to
push the starting date back by a few years. But 1900 is the key to
an understanding of what Belle Époque came to mean as it faded into
memory. It represented the change from one century to the next, but
more than that it seemed to suggest a time when peace, progress and
prosperity appeared to be prominent.
It wasn’t quite like that, of course, but people wanted to imagine
that it was. Nostalgia is a powerful force and it’s easy to feel it
for something that we didn’t directly experience. But it is
necessary to point out that those years between 1900 and 1914 did
see “a prodigious cultural flowering that made Paris the
incontestable capital of world art and letters, which in this period
witnessed a sort of paroxysm of the audacious, of experimentation
and aesthetic inventiveness”.
So, in the case of the Belle Époque, why was there a need to
celebrate an imagined past? And when did the celebrating start?
Kalifa makes it clear that it wasn’t in the 1920s. It might be
thought that, following the end of the First World War, there would
be a rush to reactivate the “golden years” that supposedly existed
prior to 1914. But it seems not. There was a resurgence of fine
living as cafés and restaurants flourished and energies were devoted
to having a good time. The Twenties in Paris created their own Belle
Époque, as foreigners flooded in (think of all those American
expatriates writing poems and novels and the many more who were just
there for business or pleasure) and there was plenty of money
around.
There were other things going on, but on the whole we prefer to read
about the bright side of life. And no-one felt the urge to look back
fondly on the Paris of 1900. Perhaps a few people did, and Kalifa
cites a newspaper survey which complained that there were now “too
many automobiles, too many buses, too many tarred roads, not to
mention all these metro-building sites that are disfiguring the
urban landscape”. But for many the trauma of the Great War helped
displace thoughts of pre-war Paris from their minds. It was enough
that they could now enjoy the Paris that had come to life after
1918. The Moulin Rouge had burned down in 1915 and a new one opened
up in the early 1920s. But, Kalifa says, “not the slightest
nostalgia was expressed in the new shows, which looked
unhesitatingly to the present”, with influences from America to the
fore. And, after all, anyone of a certain age in the Twenties knew
that pre-1914 wasn’t all sweetness and light. Kalifa points to
Louis-Ferdinand Céline’s
Death on the Instalment Plan and its depiction of Paris around
1900 as a “dirty, ignoble, infected place, peopled with failures,
traversed by the ‘numberless legions of thirst’ “.
It was in the early-1930s that The Belle Époque made an appearance
as a description of an era: “While the world horizon was darkening,
the longing for the past grew and its tone changed……Backward-looking
memoirs, novels, and songs multiplied, while the sensations of 1900
were being adapted for stage or screen”. And Kalifa asserts that it
was only around 1940 that it “came definitively to designate what
for a dozen years had been known as the ‘1900 era’ “. 1940 may seem
to be a curious date to use. The Germans were marching through Paris
by then, and life in France became a matter of survival. Why would
anyone be thinking of an imagined past? But, why not? It could,
perhaps, be a form of sustenance, a belief in a French culture that
would survive occupation.
For some in Paris it may also have been an opportunistic move to
focus on the imagined Paris of 1900: “The ‘vie
parisienne’ came back into its own, particularly because
economic demand was high from both Occupation troops and privileged
spectators and consumers.....At the end of 1940, more than 100
cinemas, 25 theatres, 14 music halls, and 21 cabarets in Paris were
fully functioning”. Kalifa refers to the way in which the idea of
the Belle Époque was used to entertain Germans who had its
mythological setting in mind, but was also “mobilised for good
profits in a ‘very French vein’ at all the capital’s theatres and
café-concerts”.
It was obvious that France as a nation experienced a loss of
prestige after 1945 as the economy struggled to recover, and French
colonies in Indo-China and Algeria fought to obtain their freedom.
In the arts, too, the French suffered a diminution in their standing
as the focus in painting shifted to New York, and the notion of the
avant-garde having its headquarters in the French capital became
defunct. Taken together, these factors might explain why “mobilizing
the Belle Époque could signify a return to the age of cultural
influence, the age of innocence, the age of France”. It made people
feel good to think that there had been a time when what Paris did
today, the rest of the Western world did tomorrow.
Memoirs and general histories poured off the presses, and “From 1945
to the end of the 1950s more than, 60 French films in the ‘1900
spirit’ came to the screens”. Needless to say, the working-classes
“do not count for much” in these films, other than that they pop up
as servants, soldiers, cab-drivers, laundresses, and the like. But
then workers were hardly in evidence in paintings dating from the
original period. And memoirs were mostly written by the middle-class
about their own class.
There were changes in the 1960s, particularly after the events of
1968. Young historians and others began to look at where the workers
stood in the overall scheme of the Belle Époque : “This shift owes
much to ideological movements that brought to the fore ideas
impregnated with critical theory and with political and social
radicalism”. Obviously, it must have been known before the radicals
came along that the years between 1900 and 1914 were not simply
devoted to frivolities and frolics on the part of a small selection
of Parisian society. There were deep social problems, such as
poverty, alcoholism, syphilis, and industrial strife, that should
not be ignored. But they often were overlooked in books, magazine
articles, exhibitions, and films that purported to present an
accurate account of the Belle Époque.
This may have been because their creators had to base their views on
those they could find in books by people who had lived through 1900
and beyond, on paintings and photographs from the period, and
similar material. New commentators wanted to challenge this
approach. But how successful were they outside the universities and
general intellectual circles? Popular forms, such as films, music,
and many books aim to appeal to a wider audience. It’s a fact that a
film, book, or exhibition of an imagined Belle Époque of
well-dressed couples dining in expensive restaurants, or parading
their finery in shops and streets, is likely to attract a larger
audience than anything taking a downbeat look at an era.
Working-class deprivation, diseases, mine disasters, strikes, etc.
are not glamorous.
The Belle Époque is inevitably always associated with Paris, but
Kalifa widens his survey to show how, in the 1970s, there was a
trend towards activity in the provinces which can be related to the
nostalgia for an idealised past. In a sense, various cities, towns,
districts, started their own celebrations of a Belle Époque with
local festivals and exhibitions. A few years ago I was in Auvers one
Sunday when the town was awash with bunting and flags. As I came
down the hill from the cemetery where Vincent Van Gogh was buried I
could hear music played on a street organ or some such instrument,
and I could see at the bottom of the hill a couple dressed in
costumes from 1900 or so dancing in the style of that period. The
buildings alongside the road are old, there were no cars or
pedestrians in contemporary clothes, simply the sounds and sights of
an earlier era. And for a brief moment I was swept with nostalgia,
despite not being French nor having any experience of the supposed
Belle Époque.
Publishers sprang up to cater for the interest in the past.
Collections of old photographs appeared and postcards from years ago
became collectors’ items. This fascination with facets of earlier
years hasn’t been limited to France. Kalifa sums it up well when he
says of the Belle Époque: “In general, the term remained focused on
the turn from the nineteenth to the twentieth century and still
evoked forms of social and cultural life, but now ‘Belle Époque’
seemed more and more to escape the history of France
alone. It also tended to escape history altogether and become
a sort of cultural label with a rather broad significance. The
commercial motive, partly decontextualized, soon was to satisfy the
passion for the ‘retro’ and then for the ‘vintage’ that gripped many
societies”.
It’s interesting to note Kalifa’s comments on the number of novels
that have been published in recent decades which are set in the
Belle Époque or thereabouts. In particular he mentions the series of
twelve published under the name of Claude Izner. They are crime
stories with titles like The
Montmartre Investigation, The Père Lachaise Mystery, The Marais
Assassin, and involve the activities of a young bookseller and
amateur detective as he unravels mysteries around Paris. I’ve only
read the six translated into English, but have thoroughly enjoyed
each one. They successfully re-create the mood and appearance of
Paris in 1900. Or so I believe
Claude Izner is actually the pen-name of two sisters who are
bouquinistes along the Seine. They know their city and its history,
and many real-life characters appear in the novels. Do they cater to
the nostalgic? Perhaps. Kalifa says: “Nostalgia is not history -
it reconstructs or recollects more than it explains – but nor
is it programmed falsification. It organises memory, stimulates the
imagination, and may also lift the veil here and there on forgotten
figures or disdained realities”.
The Belle Époque
is a thoroughly fascinating book with much to stimulate the
imagination into reflecting on the past and how we view it.
Dominique Kalifa ranges over a wide variety of subjects –literature,
film, social history – and raises numerous questions about the
seeming need for an idea of a
“vague (almost mythic) era of happiness and shared
fulfilment”. This isn’t just limited to a specific place (Paris) or
a specific time (1900), and appears to apply almost world-wide and
in any period. It would easily be possible to bring up many examples
from within the British Isles, ranging through books, television
programmes, films, art exhibitions, and much more. I sometimes hear
people talking about the 1960s and wonder if they’re referring to
the same era that I lived through. But it does occur to me that,
while many people will have in their minds certain ideas about the
time of a Belle Époque they either experienced or wished they had,
there is only one date, 1900, that can be identified with The Belle
Époque that everybody knows.
Kalifa’s research is thorough, and his book has ample notes and a
useful bibliography.
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