PARISIANS.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 164, 13 July 1929, Page 13 (Supplement)

PARISIANS.

KEEPING THE POT BOILING.

HOW POOR ARTISTS LIVE.

(By GEORGE CECIL.)

To make ends meet, countless Paris students are forced to work at callings of which in happy pre-war. days they had no knowledge. Such is the iniquitously high cost of living, that girls, who, during the daylight hours, draw from the model, spend their spare time embroidering, those who have skill in this direction being employed by the large shops, and perhaps gaining enough to pay the month's rent charged by an extortionate landlord. Others, being less talented, devote tired, leisure moments to plain sewing,,repairing the garments of patrons who, alas, cannot afford to purchase new ones. A young art student of considerable ability earns sufficient to pay for her food by acting as cloak room attendant at a minor theatre. Another takes night duty in a cafe,, the tips which she receives averaging the cost of the day's sparse nourishment. One of the studious community, who is a capable pianist, receives a beggarly 20 francs an evening for playing at a restaurant. She is thus occupied from nine till midnight—at one shilling and twopence an hour. . .

A small percentage of tlie young men students have the good fortune to be engaged as "gigolos" at the "dancings." They are not on the wages list; but the partners with whom each hired dancer performs rewards the cavalier with a bank note at the end of the evening. Unhappily, few of the artists, singers, legal luminaries, doctors, and so forth, in the making are in a position to augment their meagre allowaj-ce from home in the above manner. The best they can do is to slave as night waiters in cafes, where, if luck smiles upon them, a harvest .may be reaped. Something towards keeping the pot a-boiling. Many students give lessons in French to the foreign element, thus earning ■ a trifle. Payment varies according to the pupil's generosity. Avarice Punished. Last Sunday afternoon, dozens upon dozens of economical Parisians looked in, as was their habit, at a Grands Boulevardes cafe, for the purpose of toasting each other and passing an hour or so agreeably. Each, on settling up, was exasperated to find, tliat prices had been doubled, though no intimation to this effect was displayed at the entrance to the establishment. The habitues, many of whom have brought grist to the mill for years, were merely told by hard-fea-tured waiters of the proprietor's decision to add 100 per cent to the prices which had obtained the Sunday before. . . "On week days," quoth the black-jacketed brigade, "you w r ill fork out the customary triffe; on Sundays be prepared to loosen your purse strings" . . Some furious beyond measure, demanded to see the profiteer, to be smugly informed that, being engaged in studying a devotional book, he could not be disturbed. Curses filled the air. The next day, the patron, immensely pleased at his increased profit, contemplated a similar benefit the following Sunday. When, however, one o'clock had struck, he was greatly surprised to find regular customexu turning away from the door after perusing with much interest a placard carried by a grinning eandwichman. His curiosity aroused, he sought the street, to read the following damning announcement: —"This infernal profiteer desecrates the Lord's Day by doubling the prices!" Boniface nearly fainted. . ,

Recovering his 'wits, the enraged proprietor, foaming at the mouth, invoked the aid of the policeman on patrol duty, to be informed that interference "was not merited, since the sandwich man had been guilty of. no crime against law and order. Boniface next attempted to discover "what enemy had thus .avenged himself; but the loyal sandwich man would not, despite an offered bribe, divulge the name of his employer. He solemnly marched up and down the pavement for over three hours. The establishment has been practically deserted ever since this occurrence. The "patron" mourns lost custom. Where They Lie at Rest. Although the cemetery of Pere la Chaise is the most famous of all in Paris, Abe lard and Heloise, Chopin, an unfortunate Frenchman who "was guillotined in error, Patti and other interesting people being interred within its ■walls, there is another —to which many a sad mourner repairs. Here, under the shade of the cypress trees, lie the mortal remains of countless dearly-loved cats and dogs, some having costly tombstones placed over them. Several of these monuments are embellished with statues of the departed ones, modelled from photographs, the sorrowing owner having carefully supervised the work. Most of the effigies in stone and marble are hideous beyond description, for the modern French sculptor is lamentably wanting in talent, while those who employ him are utterly without judgment. Sometimes a framed portrait of the pet occupies a commanding position, and there are wreaths everywhere.

A portion of the cemetery, known as "Poverty Corner," is set apart for the reception of cats and dogs who, having possessed no rich friends, are buried —and mourned —economically. , vj el some the green grass waves, as Mrs. Alexander, that admirable poetess of the 'sixties, lias expressed it with simple pathos. An unassuming little board states the name of the occupant and its age when death so cruelly tapped at the door, with (should there be space) a touching allusion to the defunct animal s virtues. One of these epitaphs reads, "Minousse was the dearest little Angora kitten. Run over by a brutal lorry when but three months old." Another board bears the inscription, "Sweetest Charles, my handsome tomcat. A solace, a P easure, a treasure, a faithful soul. third is dedicated by a caretaker s widow and ber five small children to one who evidently was very dear to the who e family. The screed runs, Josephine, our Persian cat and friend dining our un forgettable years. Poisoned ai i, known murderer." A drama, if theie ever was one. . . Whether the "happy dead" lie under mounds of earth or (to again uo ,f 1 indispensable Mrs. Alexander) have stones set over them," each pai „ cemetery is kept trim and tidy. inch of grass is mown penodical y- tlie gravel paths are free of disfiguring weeds; dead leaves do not he "°keede • The guardian in charge, wbo bears an extraordinary resemblance to Mr. JWoja George, is well paid to look after things. He earns Mb salary.