I have never been a believer in the absurd myth called Bohemia. The idea
of living gaily and irresponsibly in Madrid, or in any other Spanish
city, without taking thought for the morrow, is so preposterous that it
passes comprehension. Bohemia is utterly false in Paris and London, but
in Spain, where life is difficult, it is even more of a cheat.
Bohemia is not only false, it is contemptible. It suggests to me a minor
Christian sect, of the most inconsequential degree, nicely calculated
for the convenience of hangers on at cafés.
Henri Murger was the son of the wife of a _concièrge_.
Of course, this would not have mattered had his outlook upon life not
been that of the son of the wife of a _concièrge_.