“The voice was slightly off-key, and it overwhelmed us all”, Jean Cocteau once said of Mistinguett.
Jeanne Bourgeois had decided to go up to Paris. The City of Light was abuzz, fizzing with shows, cabarets, theatre and music. The Morris Columns were plastered with colourful posters, and the terrace cafés were busy morning and night. Jeanne had been a student of dance, singing and theatre, and was preparing to complete her artistic education with violin lessons in the capital. Aboard the train to Paris she was gazing off into space, picturing herself getting top billing and playing first chair, when a man came and sat opposite her. He was none other than Saint-Marcel, manager of the Paris Casino. The pair began talking, and without a second thought Jeanne ended up accepting a job at the prestigious venue. “Don’t be scared!” Saint-Marcel told her.
That night, the spectators were waiting in silence for the show to start. The Parisians kept their eyes peeled on the casino’s heavy velvet curtain. The show was about to begin, and they were excited to hear the casino’s star vocalists. Jeanne Bourgeois was ready. This was not what she had wanted to do when she arrived in Paris, but everyone had to start somewhere. Suddenly, the curtain rose on Jeanne Bourgeois, whose role was to introduce the performers. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she began. Her voice had a teasing playfulness, but did not impress Saint-Marcel. Still, as stage dressing she had performed her job well, and accomplished her task. “Well done, Miss Hélyett! You have the temerity for the stage. You did a fine job,” Saint-Marcel complimented her, having given her a nickname. As she was removing her makeup in the dressing room, and dreaming of treading the boards herself, someone knocked at her door. Was it another young chap from the suburbs, here to offer her a bunch of flowers and a passionate fling? In fact, the man who entered carried no bouquet. He wore a three-piece suit and an elegant moustache. He introduced himself as Jacques-Charles, and told her that he saw an artist in her. He invited her to perform a number at the Moulin Rouge, the most celebrated cabaret in Paris. The offer marked the beginning of her success. Her teasing, sensual voice and femme fatale allure would gradually win over the Parisians. King Edward VII of England would even remark that she captured the “spirit of Paris.” Mistinguett was climbing mountains. She appeared at the Folies Bergères performing Valse Renversante by Maurice Chevalier, with whom she began a passionate affair. The press nicknamed them “the haunting dancers”.
C'est la p'tite femme de Paris She’s the little dame from Paris
Qui, gracieuse et coquette, Graceful and pretty, Met d’l’amour dans tous les esprits Puts love in every heart and
Et fait tourner toutes les têtes Turns every head she sees.
Oui! Mais quand un cœur est pris Oh! When she goes walking by,
Par la p'tite femme qui passe Every heart is powerless.
De Montmart' à Montparnasse From Montmartre to Montparnasse,
C'est une petite femme de Paris She’s the little dame from Paris.
However, happiness would not endure for the young entertainer. Mistinguett’s world was shattered by the Great War. Her lover, Maurice Chevalier, was sent to the front, and then held prisoner by the Germans at Altengrabow POW camp. The cabaret singer was determined to find her Maurice. What could she do to help free him? She decided to join the secret service, and to become a spy. She was not afraid, for love gave her strength. The intelligence services gave her small missions, using her touring schedule as an excuse to send her across Europe on information-gathering missions. Unfortunately the envoys she met spoke only of trade and transactions, and she struggled to gain any useful information. But Mistinguett eventually managed to expose a dangerous spy, and to exonerate a journalist accused of colluding with the enemy. Yet her success had not brought her even a hair closer to achieving Maurice’s freedom. Eventually, she was sent to meet the King of Spain, and Mistinguett was bold enough to ask him to help her liberate Maurice Chevalier.
C’est la vie!
Mistinguett would later recall: “One day, I met an ‘author’ who told me: ‘You have an English look about you. You should go by Miss.’ As it happened, I used to sing a song called La Mistingo. So when I sang the words Ô la Mistinguo, Ô la Mistinguette, I became ‘Miss Tinguette,’ then Mistinguett for short – like my hair!”
Alan Alfredo Geday