Part 4 - Boulevard Saint - Michel. (2)

Their experience of the Boulevard Saint-Michel was a much more joyous affair than the one I experienced. The main focus of this post is the Café d'Harcourt and Café Barrette. Despite my best efforts I couldn’t locate the Café Barrette and seems to have been lost to time. The only consolation I took was that I must have walked straight past it at some point but who knows what it has become in 2026? As for the Café d'Harcourt as can be seen in photos 8 and 9 above... well, enough said!
 
We rejoin Edouard and Bishop as they take in the delights of the Café d'Harcourt which was situated at 47 Boulevard Saint – Michel at the corner of the Place de la Sorbonne.
 
"Out into the boulevard surged the heated crowd, shouting, singing, and cutting capers as they headed for the Boul' Mich', there to continue the revelries of which the Bal Bullier was only the beginning. “Au Café d'Harcourt!" were the cries that range through the streets, mingled with the singing of half a thousand people."
 
"When we reached the lower end of the Jardin du Luxembourg, at the old Palais, the bright glow of the cafés, with their warm stained windows and light-hearted throngs, stretched away before us. Ah, le Boul' Mich' never sleeps!"
 
"The cafés are packed, both inside and out, but the favourite seats are those on the sidewalk under the awnings."
 
"We halted at the Café d'Harcourt. Here the crowd was thickest, the sidewalk a solid mass of humanity; and the noise and the waiters as they yelled their orders, they were there. And des femmes—how many! The Café d'Harcourt is the head-quarters of these wonderful creations of clothes, paint, wicked eyes, and graceful carriage. We worked our way into the interior. Here the crowd was almost as dense as without, but a chance offered us a vacant table; no sooner had we captured it than we were compelled to retreat, because of a battle that two excited demoiselles were having at an adjoining table. In another part of the room there was singing of "Les sergents sont des brave gens," and in the middle of the floor a petite cocotte, her hat rakishly pulled down over her eyes, was doing a dance very gracefully, her white legs gleaming above the short socks that she wore, and a shockingly high kick punctuating the performance at intervals."
 
"At other tables were seated students with their friends and mistresses, playing dominoes or recounting their petites histoires. One table drew much attention by reason of a contest in drinking between two seasoned habitués."
 
"Every consommation is served with a saucer, upon which is marked the price of the drink, and the score is thus footed à la fin de ces joies. There are some heavy accounts to be settled with the garçons."
 
"Ah! voilà Beeshop!" "Tiens! mon vieux!" "Comment vas-tu?" clamoured a half-dozen of Bishop's feminine acquaintances, as they surrounded our table, overwhelming us with their conflicting perfumes."


"These denizens of the Boul' have an easy way of making acquaintances, but they are so bright and mischievous withal that no offence can be taken; and they may have a stack of saucers to be paid for. Among the many café frequenters of this class fully half know a few words of English, Italian, German, and even Russian, and are so quick of perception that they can identify a foreigner at a glance. Consequently our table was instantly a target, principally on account of Mr. Pugson, whose nationality emanated from his every pore."
 
"Ah, milord, how do you do? I speak English a few. Is it not a very beautiful night? “You are so charming, monsieur!" protested another, stroking Bishop's Valasquez beard; and then, archly and coaxingly, "Qu'est-ce que vous m'offrez, monsieur? Payez-moi un bock? Yes?" Mr. Pugson made the garçons start. He ordered "everything and the best in the house" (in English); but it was the lordliness of his manner that told, as he leaned back in his chair and smoked his Londrès and eyed Madeleine with intense satisfaction. In the eyes of the beholders that action gave him the unmistakable stamp of an American millionaire. "Tell you, boys," he puffed, "I'm not going to forget Paris in a hurry." And Mademoiselle Madeleine, how she revelled! Mr. Pugson bought her everything that the venders had to sell, besides, for himself, a wretched plaster cast of a dancing-girl that he declared was "dead swell."
 
"I'll take it home and startle the natives," he added; but he didn't, as we shall see later. Then he bought three big canes as souvenirs for friends, besides a bicycle lamp, a mammoth pipe, and other things. A hungry-looking sketch artist who presented himself was engaged on the spot to execute Mr. Pugson's portrait, which he made so flattering as to receive five francs instead of one, his price."
 
"At a neighbouring table occupied by a group of students was Bi-Bi-dans- la-Purée, one of the most famous characters of the Quartier and Montmartre. With hilarious laughter the students were having fun with Bi-Bi by pouring the contents of their soup-plates and drinking-glasses down his back and upon his sparsely covered head; but what made them laugh more was Bi-Bi's wonderful skill in pulling grotesque faces. In that line he was an artist. His cavernous eyes and large, loose mouth did marvellous things, from the ridiculous to the terrible; and he could literally laugh from ear to ear. Poor Bi-Bi-dans-la-Purée!"
 
"He had been a constant companion of the great Verlaine, but was that no more, since Verlaine had died and left him utterly alone. You may see him any day wandering aimlessly about the Quartier, wholly oblivious to the world about him, and dreaming doubtless of the great dead poet of the slums, who had loved him."
 
"Here comes old Madame Carrot, a little hunchback, anywhere between sixty and a hundred years of age. She is nearly blind, and her tattered clothes hang in strips from her wreck of a form. A few thin strands of gray hair are all that cover her head."
 
"Bon soir, Mère Carrot! ma petite mignonne, viens donc qu'on t'embrasse! Où sont tes ailes?" and other mocking jests greet her as she creeps among the tables. But Mère Carrot scorns to beg: she would earn her money. Look! With a shadowy remnant of grace she picks up the hem of her ragged skirt, and with a heart-breaking smile that discloses her toothless gums, she skips about in a dance that sends her audience into shrieks of laughter, and no end of sous are flung at her feet. She will sing, too, and caricature herself, and make pitiful attempts at high kicking and anything else that she is called upon to do for the sous that the students throw so recklessly. There are those who say that she is rich."
 
"In the rear end of the café the demoiselle who had anchored herself to a fellow at the Bal Bullier was on a table kicking his hat, which he held at arm's length while he stood on a chair. "Plus haut! plus haut encore!" she cried; but each time, as he kept raising it, she tipped it with her dainty slipper; and then, with a magnificent bound, she dislodged with her toe one of the chandelier globes, which went crashing with a great noise to the floor; and then she plunged down and sought refuge in her adorer's arms."

"The night's excitement has reached its height now. There is a dizzy whirl of skirts, feathers, "plug" hats, and silken stockings; and there is dancing on the tables, with a smashing of glass, while lumps of sugar soaked in cognac are thrown about. A single-file march round the room is started, each dragging a chair and all singing, "Oh, la pauvre fille, elle est malade!" Mr. Pugson, tightly clutching his canes and his Dancing-Girl, joins the procession, his shiny hat reposing on the pretty head of Mademoiselle Madeleine. But his heart almost breaks with regret because he cannot speak French."
 
"I began to remonstrate with Bishop for his own unseemly levity, but the gloved hand of Mademoiselle Madeleine was laid on my lips, and her own red lips protested, "Taisez-vous donc! c'est absolument inexcusable de nous faire des sermons en ce moment! En avant!" And we went."
 
"It was two o'clock, and the cafés were closing, under the municipal regulation to do so at that hour, and the Boul' was swarming with revellers turned out of doors."
 
"In the side streets leading away from the markets are cafés and restaurants almost without number, and they are open toute la nuit, to accommodate the market people, having a special permit to do so; but as they are open to all, the revellers from all parts of Paris assemble there after they have been turned out of the boulevard cafés at two o'clock. It is not an uncommon thing early of a Sunday morning to see crowds of merry-makers from a bal masqué finishing the night here, all in costume, dancing and playing ring-around-a-rosy among the stacks of vegetables and the unheeding market people. Indeed, it is quite a common thing to end one's night's frivolity at the Halles and their cafés, and take the first 'buses home in the early morning."
 
"The contingent from the Boul' Mich', after assisting the market people to unload, and indulging in all sorts of pranks, invaded the élite cafés, among them the Café Barrette, Au Veau Qui Tête, Au Chien Qui Fume, and Le Caveau du Cercle."

"At this last-named place, singing and recitations with music were in order, a small platform at one end of the room being reserved for the piano and the performers. Part of the audience were in masquerade costume, having come from a ball at Montmartre, and they lustily joined the choruses. Prices are gilt-edged here,—a franc a drink, and not less than ten sous to the garçon."
 
"The contrast between the fluffy and silk-gowned demi-mondaines and the dirty, roughly clad market people was very striking at the Café Barrette. There the women sit in graceful poses, or saunter about and give evidence of their style, silk gowns, India laces, and handsome furs, greeting each new-comer with pleas for a sandwich or a bock; they are always hungry and thirsty, but they get a commission on all sales that they promote. A small string orchestra gave lively music, and took up collections between performances. The array of gilt-framed mirrors heightened the brilliancy of the place, already sufficiently aglow with many electric lights. The Café Barrette is the last stand of the gaudy women of the boulevards. With the first gray gleam of dawn they pass with the night to which they belong."
 
"It was with sincere feeling that Mr. Pugson bade us good-by at five o'clock that morning as he jumped into a cab to join his good spouse at the Hôtel Continental; but he bore triumphantly with him some sketches of the showy women at the Café Barrette, which Bishop had made."
 
"As for Madeleine, so tremendously liberal had she found Mr. Pugson that her protestations of affection for him were voluble and earnest. She pressed her card upon him and made him swear that he would find her again. After we had bidden her good-night, Mr. Pugson drew the card from his pocket, and thoughtfully remarked, as he tore it to pieces,—"I don't think it is prudent to carry such things in your pocket."
 
The Café d'Harcourt like the Bal Bullier closed its doors in 1940 and as you can see from the photos above it is somewhat depressing to see what has become of it. This wasn’t an isolated fate for the wonderful cafes that once existed as the next few posts will evidence.
 
That said, while in the area I was able to comfort myself with a visit to nearby Notre Dame Cathedral. It was to be the first time I had entered the Cathedral since the fire of 2019. Thank goodness she stood firm despite the fire and is now beautifully restored for future generations to enjoy!
 
We will next catch up with Edouard and Bishop as they continue to visit the cafes and cabarets of old Paris.  

All text taken from, Bohemian Paris of Today (Chapter 4 - Boulevard Saint-Michel) by Cucuel and Morrow and Illustrated by Edouard Cucuel - 1899. All photos - Craig R. Whitfield (2026)