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Paris Noir
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Jacques Yonnet
Paris Noir
The Secret History of a City
translated with an introduction and notes by Christine Donougher
Published in the UK by Dedalus Limited, 24-26, St Judith’s Lane, Sawtry, Cambs, PE28 5XE
Email: info@ dedalusbooks.com
www.dedalusbooks.com
ISBN printed book 978 1 903517 48 2
ISBN e-book 978 1 907650 36 9
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Publishing History
First published in France in 1954
First published by Dedalus in 2006, reprinted in 2009
First e-book edition 2011
Rue des Maléfices © copyright Editions Phébus, Paris 1987
Introduction, notes and translation © copyright Christine Donougher 2006
The right of the estate of Jacques Yonnet to be identified as the copyright holder and Christine Donougher to be identified as the translator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patent Act, 1988
Printed in Finland by WS.Bookwell
Typeset by Refine Catch Ltd, Bungay, Suffolk
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A C.I.P. listing for this book is available on request.
THE TRANSLATOR
Christine Donougher’s translation of The Book of Nights won the 1992 Scott Moncrieff Translation Prize.
Her translations from French for Dedalus are: 6 novels by Sylvie Germain‚ The Book of Nights‚ Night of Amber‚ Days of Anger‚ The Book of Tobias‚ Invitation to a Journey and The Song of False Lovers‚ Enigma by Rezvani‚ The Experience of the Night by Marcel Béalu‚ Le Calvaire by Octave Mirbeau‚ Tales from the Saragossa Manuscript by Jan Potocki‚ The Land of Darkness by Daniel Arsand and Paris Noir by Jacques Yonnet.
Her translation from Italian for Dedalus are Senso (and other stories) by Camillo Boito‚ Sparrow and Temptation (and other stories) by Giovanni Verga.
Christine Donougher is currently translating Magnus by Sylvie Germain for Dedalus.
French Literature from Dedalus
French Language Literature in translation is an important part of Dedalus’s list‚ with French being the language par excellence of literary fantasy.
The Land of Darkness – Daniel Arsand £8.99
Séraphita – Balzac £6.99
The Quest of the Absolute – Balzac £6.99
The Experience of the Night – Marcel Béalu £8.99
Episodes of Vathek – Beckford £6.99
The Devil in Love – Jacques Cazotte £5.99
Les Diaboliques – Barbey D’Aurevilly £7.99
Milagrosa – Mercedes Deambrosis £8.99
An Afternoon with Rock Hudson – Mercedes Deambrosis £6.99
The Man in Flames – Serge Filippini £10.99
Spirite (and Coffee Pot) – Théophile Gautier £6.99
Angels of Perversity – Rémy de Gourmont £6.99
The Book of Nights – Sylvie Germain £8.99
The Book of Tobias – Sylvie Germain £7.99
Night of Amber – Sylvie Germain £8.99
Days of Anger – Sylvie Germain £8.99
The Medusa Child – Sylvie Germain £8.99
The Weeping Woman – Sylvie Germain £6.99
Infinite Possibilities – Sylvie Germain £8.99
Invitation to a Journey – Sylvie Germain £7.99
The Song of False Lovers – Sylvie Germain £8.99
Parisian Sketches – J.K. Huysmans £6.99
Marthe – J.K. Huysmans £6.99
Là-Bas – J.K. Huysmans £8.99
En Route – J.K. Huysmans £7.99
The Cathedral – J.K. Huysmans £7.99
The Oblate of St Benedict – J.K. Huysmans £7.99
Lobster – Guillaume Lecasble £6.99
The Mystery of the Yellow Room – Gaston Leroux £7.99
The Perfume of the Lady in Black – Gaston Leroux £8.99
Monsieur de Phocas – Jean Lorrain £8.99
The Woman and the Puppet – Pierre l ouÿs £6.99
Portrait of an Englishman in his Chateau – Pieyre de Mandiargues £7.99
Abbé Jules – Octave Mirbeau £8.99
Le Calvaire – Octave Mirbeau £7.99
The Diary of a Chambermaid – Octave Mirbeau £7.99
Sébastien Roch – Octave Mirbeau £9.99
Torture Garden – Octave Mirbeau £7.99
Smarra & Trilby – Charles Nodier £6.99
Manon Lescaut – Abbé Prévost £7.99
Tales from the Saragossa Manuscript – Jan Potocki £5.99
Monsieur Venus – Rachilde £6.99
The Marquise de Sade – Rachilde £8.99
Enigma – Rezvani £8.99
Paris Noir – Jacques Yonnet £9.99
Micromegas – Voltaire £4.95
Anthologies featuring French Literature in translation:
The Dedalus Book of French Horror: the 19c – ed T. Hale £9.99
The Dedalus Book of Decadence – ed Brian Stableford £7.99
The Dedalus Book of Surrealism – ed Michael Richardson £9.99
Myth of the World: Surrealism 2 – ed Michael Richardson £9.99
The Dedalus Book of Medieval Literature – ed Brian Murdoch £9.99
The Dedalus Book of Sexual Ambiguity – ed Emma Wilson £8.99
The Decadent Cookbook – Medlar Lucan & Durian Gray £9.99
The Decadent Gardener – Medlar Lucan & Durian Gray £9.99
Contents
Translator’s Introduction
Chapter I
The Watchmaker of Backward-Running Time
Chapter II
The Man Who Repented of Betraying a Secret
The Shipwreckage Doll
Chapter III
‘Your Body’s Tattooed’
Enemy Tattoos
The House That No Longer Exists
Chapter IV
Alfophonse’s Moniker
The Sorry Tale of Théophile Trigou
The Ill-Fated Knees
The Old Man Who Appears After Midnight
The Ill-Fated Knees
Chapter V
Mina the Cat
Chapter VI
Keep-on-Dancin’
Chapter VII
St Patère
The ‘Bohemians’ and Paris
Zoltan the Mastermind
The Old Man Who Appears After Midnight
Chapter VIII
Rue des Maléfices
Chapter IX
The Sleeper on the Pont-au-Double
Keep-on-Dancin’
The Sleeper on the Pont-au-Double
Chapter X
The Sleeper on the Pont-au-Double
Chapter XI
Marionettes and Magic Spells
The Old Man Who Appears After Midnight
Zoltan the Mastermind
The Old Man Who Appears After Midnight
Chapter XII
On the Art of Accommodating the Dead
Keep-on-Dancin’
Zoltan the Mastermind
Chapter XIII
The Gypsies of Paris
The St-
Médard Concessions
The Gypsies of Paris
Chapter XIV
Keep-on-Dancin’
Chapter XV
The Shipwreckage Doll
Chapter XVI
Rue des Maléfices
Translator’s Notes
Translator’s Introduction
First issued in 1954 under the publisher’s choice of title Enchantements sur Paris (Paris Spellbound)‚ reissued in accordance the author’s wishes as Rue des Maléfices (Witchcraft Street)‚ Jacques Yonnet’s only published book fits into no single category. Personal diary‚ memoir of some of the darkest hours in a nation’s history‚ guide to a city’s lower depths‚ ethnographical study of an urban population that no longer exists or has been driven elsewhere‚ record of a number of paranormal incidents and experiences – Paris Noir is all of these.
Jacques Yonnet is twenty-four years old when war breaks out in 1939. Captured by the Germans in June 1940‚ as France’s eastern defences crumble before the invasion‚ Yonnet escapes and returns to his native city‚ but not to where he is known‚ at home among old friends and family (of socialist inclinations). A hunted man‚ sought by the Nazis and by the collaborationist French police‚ he goes underground in the heart of Paris‚ in the ‘villages’ of the 5th arrondissement on the Left Bank – Maubert‚ Montagne‚ Mouffetard‚ Gobelins. Here he finds refuge‚ as though in another world‚ another dimension.
It is a world that would have been familiar to the great French poet of the 15th century‚ François Villon‚ a world peopled by beggars and rag-pickers‚ mercenary soldiers‚ petty criminals‚ police informers‚ penniless artists‚ whores‚ healers‚ drunks‚ exiles‚ exorcists‚ gypsies‚ wayward wives and defrocked priests. And the common ground on which they all meet are the numerous bars and drinking establishments that offer a curious combination of anonymity and community‚ an ideal environment for a young man who is to become active in the Resistance.
Because as the war progresses‚ Yonnet‚ for all his natural scepticism and non-conformist anarchist tendencies‚ gets involved in clandestine warfare and ends up running a mapping and radio transmission centre‚ liaising with London to ensure that Allied bombings on German targets in the Parisian region are carried out with the fewest possible civilian casualties. But far from being motivated by any notion of patriotism or ideology‚ it is a personal sympathy for the plight of a parachutist in hiding that draws him in. It is the individual story to which he responds.
And this curious world that he now inhabits throws up the most extraordinary individual stories‚ which for Yonnet constitute the real fabric of the city he loves: stories of love and hatred‚ friendship and betrayal‚ obsession and jealousy‚ persecution and revenge – but always with a curious edge to them‚ a suggestion that things could not have happened otherwise‚ at that time‚ in that place.
What emerges from Yonnet’s stories is a sense that it is the city itself that creates its own history. It is not an inanimate construct. It exists on a level that transcends the physical evidence of the here and now. And events are in some mysterious way determined by their location‚ even as the location is defined by the events that have occurred there.
Whilst these are conclusions that Yonnet himself has reached‚ through reflection and observation and extensive reading of historical documents and literature on Paris‚ some of the low-life characters with whom he becomes acquainted – the cool killer Keep-on-Dancin’‚ for instance‚ or the Gypsy who exacts a terrible revenge for being insulted – turn out to be extraordinary repositories of this kind of wisdom about the nature of the city‚ and willing to share their arcane knowledge with him.
Tantalizingly‚ not all of their confidences does he pass on‚ having been sworn to secrecy. For such knowledge is not to be trifled with. It can be a matter of life and death‚ as we see in the story of the shipwreckage doll or the room where nothing but the truth can be spoken. Not that Yonnet makes any attempt to argue a case. That is not his style. He presents himself simply as a witness‚ although Yonnet himself is the protagonist of one of the most thrilling‚ chilling stories of all.
A born raconteur‚ he records with consummate narrative skill‚ an eye for the compelling detail and a finely attuned ear for the raw energy and economical humour of a Parisian argot redolent of its period‚ what he has seen and heard and experienced. In doing so‚ he brings to life a cast of unforgettable characters – from Mina the Cat‚ Cyril the Watchmaker and Poloche the Shrimp-Fisher to Pepe the Pansy‚ Dolly-the- Slow-Burner and the Old Man Who Appears After Midnight‚ to name only a few – and with all the accomplishment of a verbal sorcerer conjures up a Paris that has long since disappeared along with the population that once used to inhabit it.
In translating Yonnet’s book I have tried to capture the flavour of the argot – which sounds dated to contemporary French ears – without resorting to a vocabulary too suggestive of a non-Parisian environment – American or Cockney‚ for instance. I have also appended a few explanatory notes on some of the references in Yonnet’s text that would not necessarily be understood by English readers today.
Christine Donougher
Chapter I
An age-old city is like a pond. With its colours and reflections. Its chills and murk. Its ferment‚ its sorcery‚ its hidden life.
A city is like a woman‚ with a woman’s desires and dislikes. Her abandon and restraint. Her reserve – above all‚ her reserve.
To get to the heart of a city‚ to learn its most subtle secrets‚ takes infinite tenderness‚ and patience sometimes to the point of despair. It calls for an artlessly delicate touch‚ a more or less unconditional love. Over centuries.
Time works for those who place themselves beyond time.
You’re no true Parisian‚ you do not know your city‚ if you haven’t experienced its ghosts. To become imbued with shades of grey‚ to blend into the drab obscurity of blind spots‚ to join the clammy crowd that emerges‚ or seeps‚ at certain times of day from the metros‚ railway stations‚ cinemas or churches‚ to feel a silent and distant brotherhood with the lonely wanderer‚ the dreamer in his shy solitude‚ the crank‚ the beggar‚ even the drunk – all this entails a long and difficult apprenticeship‚ a knowledge of people and places that only years of patient observation can confer.
It is in tumultous times that the true temperament of a city – and even more so‚ of the coagulated mass of sixty villages or so that make up Paris – reveals itself. For thirteen years I’ve been compiling all kinds of notes‚ especially historical‚ for such is my profession. From them I have extracted what relates to a series of events I witnessed‚ or of which I was the very unlikely protagonist. A kind of diffidence‚ of indescribable fear prevented me from bringing this work to fruition before now.
Maybe it is due to particular circumstances that the bizarre events that are the subject of this work struck me as fantastic – but fantastic on a human scale.
I discovered in every fortuitous circumstance‚ weird occurrence and freak of coincidence a logic so rigorous that in my constant concern for truthfulness I felt compelled to introduce myself into the narrative much more than was perhaps strictly necessary. But it was essential to capture the period‚ and this period I lived through‚ more intensely than many others. I was steeped in it to the core. All the same‚ it would never have occurred to me to relate a personal story had I not been aware how intimately related it is to that‚ infinitely more complex and worthy of interest‚ of the City itself.
There are no fictional characters here‚ nor any anecdotes arising solely from the imagination of the narrator – who could just as well be any one else.
So what should be seen in this book then is not the most disquieting but disquieted of testimonies.
1941
Beyond the island and the two branches of the river‚ the city changes. In the square‚ on the site of the old morgue‚ stones dating from different periods that cannot abide each othe
r have been cemented on top of one another. There’s a muted hatred between them. It grieves me as much as it does them. It’s inconceivable that no one gave any thought to this.
The Seine is sulking. Showing the same moodiness as before‚ when I came to pay my respects after a rather longer trip than I would have liked. This river is no easy mistress.
It will be a hard winter. There are already seagulls at La Tournelle‚ and it’s only September.
In June 1940‚ at Boult-sur-Suippe‚ I was wounded and taken prisoner. I found out that the Germans had identified me as a radical journalist. I escaped at the first opportunity.
I have a little money. Enough to survive two weeks‚ perhaps three. But all I have in terms of identity papers is the service record of Sergeant Ybarne‚ a priest with no family‚ who died in my camp – and a demobilization document I concocted for myself.
I don’t know whether it will be possible one day to regain my own family name. I have constantly to beware of patrols and raids‚ especially those carried out by French policemen.
I don’t yet know where to sleep. I’m not without trustworthy friends: a good dozen. I’ve lurked beneath their windows and always thought better of calling on them.
I wandered through the Ghetto‚ behind the Hotel de Ville. I know its every paving stone‚ every brick of every house. I came away disappointed‚ almost angry. There’s an atmosphere of despair‚ acceptance‚ resignation. I wanted to breath a more vigorous air. It was towards Maubert‚ with its secret smile‚ that an overriding instinct guided my steps. I’m drawn to Rue des Grands-Degrés. I’ve just got this feeling I’m sure to shake hands with a friend there.
Paris Noir