Toppling Tombstones abide, revered and undisturbed
The Playground of Paris
MUSIC, laughter, and light. From almost any point of view it is not only possible, but inevitable, to regard Paris as, before all else, a setting for these three jewels, of which, in a world insufficiently stocked at best with light-heartedness, it would be hard to have too much. Once, in a way, it profits even the moralist to turn from the too evident reproach to which every great capital lies open, and to dwell with a mind of thankfulness upon the existence of one great open-air temple on the Seine, to the twin goddesses of Gayety and Beauty. We can forget the rest—it is inconspicuous here, perhaps by very reason of its prevalence elsewhere,—but in the memory of all who have come under the influence of this triple charm it would be strange if there did not persist the thought of Paris as a city that has laughed, sung, and fiddled her way through all the shifting hours of her history, and blazed with radiance and color in even the darkest phases of her kaleidoscopic fortunes. We have but to add to this faculty for gayety under all conditions the national passion of the French people for the open air, and the Bois de Boulogne, the playground of the world, appears in its true light as a necessary luxury.
