MAX O'RELL ON THE FRENCH.

Lyttelton Times, Volume LXVIII, Issue 8323, 10 November 1887, Page 2

MAX O'RELL ON THE FRENCH.

TUB FEENCH AT WOEK. Things have greatly changed since that exact and most impartial observer. La Bruyere, drew the following picture of the French peasantry two hundred years ago. " You see,” said he, “ certain wild animals, males and females, about the land, dark, livid, naked, and all burned with the •enn, bound to the soil which they dig and atir with an unflagging patience. They seem to articulate words, and when they •stand up they show a human face, and, indeed, they are none other than men; at night they retire to their dens, where they feed on black bread, water, and roots. They save other men the trouble of sowing, digging, and reaping; and deserve not to lack of that bread which they have grown.” • To-day the French peasant lives in his own cottage, cultivates his own field, and demands nothing beyond peace and fine weather. No donbt this cottage of his would appear to an English tourist to be lacking of many comforts. It is carpetless, it is true, but it belongs to him, and that makes up for many drawbacks. He is contented and rich like the rest of us, not in the things which he possesses, but in those which he knows how to do without. He is peaceful, simple, sober and laborious. His ideal of life is the independence which is the fruit of labour and economy. He is satisfied with very little in the days of his strength, because the prospect of eating his own bread near the door of his own cottage when his strength is gone makes him happy. So he works steadily, unceasingly, with a wife who is a true helpmate. He is no fire-eater, no dreamer of new worlds to conquer. The surging passions of great towns, bred and fed by vice and improvidence, are horrible to him. He wants to be left alone, and cries for peace at the top of his voice. So eager is he after this blessing that in 1881 his representatives in Parliament upset the first Ferry Ministry by a majority of 355 to G 8 on account of the expedition to Tunis, although that expedition had been successful from a military point of view. In 1882 the Freycinet Ministry was defeated on the vote of credit which they asked to enable France to join with England in an armed intervention in Egypt. In 1885 the second Ferry Ministry was upset by a majority of 309 to 149 on account of the Tonquin expedition. So much to show how aggressive the French nation is! The permanently aggressive nations are the nations where militarism is not compatible with national prosperity and happiness. The prosperity of the common people, and the use they are learning to make of liberty, are the great facta which will tend to make France a nation more and more peaceful. The French peasant might well express a wish-that the Government should, improve his position; but he is quiet, and no Government thinks of him particularly. If he were to make as much uoise as the Paris workman, he might be listened to. The real pretender in France is not the Comte de Paris or Prince Victor Napoleon, not the Due d’Aumale or Prince Jerome ; the real pretender is the Paris workman. If you speak to him of " the people,” it is he, and he alone, whom he supposes you mean. The millions of quiet peasants, labourers, and other rural toilers, Jbe totally ignores; he is the “ sovereign people.” The Parisian workman is not satisfied with the old cry, “ What is the capitalist? Everything. What ought he to be? Nothing.” His new cry is, " What is the workman ? Nothing. What ought he to be ? Everything.” A member of the Commission appointed by the late French Parliament to inquire into the Paris workman’s life, asked one of them to get up the budget of his family expenses; After describing minutely all the necessaries, the workman pu* down, “ For music halls, theatres, distractions —three hundred francs.” And on the member of Parliament suggesting that the last item might, perhaps, be reduced, the Paris workman indignantly retorted, “Do you think that we are going to live like brutes ? ” The present House of Deputies is all occupied with the question of employers and employed, granting one by one all the demands of the latter. Nobody seems concerned about the rural population, by far the most interesting of all. How is that? Simply because the peasants do not hold stormy meetings, do not , speak of erecting barricades, and are quiet, peaceful, industrious, sober, and law-abiding people. The peasant has the sun, and if his harvest is destroyed by the frost, the hail, or the drought, it is for him to make the best of it, while the Paris workman goes to the music halls, smokes cigars, and talks politics. Suppose the country engages in war, the Paris workman endorses a uniform and‘‘sings war songs, but the peasant sees his land laid waste and his cottage burned down, and this is why you will understand that he feels it his duty to hate the Germans in a theoretical way, but hopes and trusts that he may not live to see the day when he or his sons may be called upon to avenge the disasters of the terrible year 1870. A great prejudice imposed upon England on the subject of France, and one which I should very much like to destroy, is the belief in the importance of the Anarchists. This belief is kept alive by a few English journalists, who love to fill their columns with the sayings and doings of French Anarchists. The Anarchists! Well, we keep the article, as the English do, and they are about as important as theirs. France, honest, economical, hard-working, ignores them. They are no party, no power, in the State. They are not represented in our Parliament. I believe that the German Anarchists alone, of all the parties owning that generic name in Europe, have a true representation in the Legislature. The most amusing feature at the last elections in Paris and a few other large towns was the appearance of the workingmen candidates. They had resolved to be represented in Parliament by their own set—that is to say, not by the real, industrious working man, but by the heroes of a few platforms. So far there was no difficulty, but there was a formidable, an insurmountable one the choice. I was present at one of their meetings. It was most amusing to see that as soon as a candidate had been duly proposed and seconded, he was. immediately sat upon by the rest of the congregation. I asked my neighbour to explain such proceedings to me. His answer was satisfactory. " Why should it be he ?” he said to me. You will understand what he meant when I have told you that on the day of the election they were all candidates. Each had one vote —bis own. Each thought, that he was as good as his neighbour, of course, and they would not pledge themselves to vote for one in particular, and finally they voted for journalists who advocated their claims, or even for manufacturers and landowners. As I said elsewhere, to imagine that a nation of six millions of proprietors and twenty millions of workers is revolutionary is the height of absurdity. A nation of industrious men, who naturally wish to protect the fruits of their industry, is necessarily an eminently pacific and

Conservative nation, and that is just what France is.

If the French are industrious, they are not so in the same way as the English. The French never, or very seldom, allow themselves to be completely absorbed by business. They always set apart a certain portion of time to the amenities of life. They are as serious as you like at work, but in a moment they will exhibit any amount of good humour at play, and again will resume the harness as quickly as it was thrown off. If you go into a shop at dinner-time—l speak now of the provincial towns—you may run the risk of receiving very little attention, or even of hone at all. I remember once—it was at St Malo, in the summer—l entered a batter's Shop 'at one o’clock in the afternoon. A welldressed, lady-like girl came out of the back parlour, ahd inquired what I wanted.- " I want a straw hat, mademoiselle,” I said. "Oh ! that is very awkward just now.” “Is it?” “ Well, you see,” she said, “ my brother is at dinner; ” and after a pause of a few seconds, she added, "Would you mind calling again in an hour’s time ? ” “ Not at all,” I replied; " I shall be delighted to do so.” I was not only amused, but struck with admiration for the independence of that worthy hatter. After a few years’ residence in England a little scene of that description was a great treat. An hour later I called again. . The young girl made her second appearance. "My brother waited for you quite ten minutes,” she said to me; "he is gone to the cafe with a friend now. “lam sorry for that,” I said; "when can I see him ? ” " If you will step across to the cafe, I am sure he will be happy to come back and attend to you.” I thanked the young lady, went to the cafe, and introduced myself to the hatter, who was enjoying a cup of coffee and having a game of dominoes with a friend. He asked me to- allow him to finish the game, which, of course, I was only too glad to do, and we returned to the shop together. In business, the Frenchmen is probity itself as a rule, and his punctuality would almost make, an Englishman smile* He may rather hamper his commerce’ by attention to trifles, but when he sells you something you may take it for granted it is what he represents it, for he is jealous of his good name as a tradesman or manufacture, and likes to hear compliments of his goods. He likes the money made out of them, of course, but that is not an absorbing point with him, aa it so often is in England. He is satisfied when he has made a modest fortune, and moves on to make room for another man. So that he has enough to give his never very numerous children a sound education and a good start in Me and procure the modest comforts of life, he is content. And this is how, in France, you see the good things of this world more equally divided than in England. There are few colossal fortunes, but in the provincial towns pauperism is not known as an institution, which makes up for it. Ido not hesitate to affirm that not only does the Hmn.ll French bourgeois not covet wealth, but that he is almost afraid of it. He prefers comfort to luxury. He considers JE3OO a year as a very snug income. When his Government securities assure him this sum, he knocks off work, and prepares to make himself happy and comfortable for the rest of his life. You may well imagine how amusing it is to hear sometimes that the good fellow has the reputation of being unmanageable and revolutionary. He is so easily manageable that, every time we have a new Ministry, he says to his neighbour, “ I see M. So-and-So is made Prime Minister; do you know who he is ?” " Not I,” answers the neighbour, " I had never heard his name before.” And both seem to be concerned about the new Ministry about as much as I am concerned about the Ministerial crisis in the Sandwich Islands. He is so easily manageable that, for peace sake, he. will endure things that would rouse-an Englishman to rebellion. He -has the good fortune to live under a Government, that looks after him and sees to, all his little wants, who makes and sells him fireproof cigars, matches that have " struck,” that is to say, which obstinately refuse to strike, and who keeps hia public accounts and carries them to the fourth decimal, a luxury which costs him a good fourth of his revenue in personnel and red tape, but which saves the Treasury at least half-a-crown per annum. The centimes column is guaranteed exact by every Government clerk in France, and thus it is that Frenchmen get consoled for the little errors which occasionally occur in the column of the millions. The Frenchmen is kept in order by a legion of civilians in uniform, from the prefect down to the omnibus conductor who takes him under his protection, demands his fare with an air of command, and sets him down at his destination as if he were a parcel. Whatever his Government is, he is constantly complaining of it, but the dear man ought to know that nations have the Governments they deserve. He generally accuses his Administration of doing too much for him. Well, he is quite right; but ,he does not attempt to do anything himself. As a clever writer on French manners said: "He is taken charge of, bag and baggage, by the Government on hia travels, and carefully looked after iu hia domicile as if he were a child.” The man clothed in Government uniform assumes that laconic, not-to-be-questioned air, which would send an Englishman into fits; When you English appoint a new Government official, it is another servant that you add to your household. When we French appoint a new Government official, it is a new master that we give to ourselves tc snub us or to bully us. Two young chemists (one English, the other French), were in partnership in Paris, and one day made up their minds to start afresh in Egypt. Each wrote to his Consul-in Cairo. The Englishman’s letterxan thus i —"Dear Sir, —I am about to open business as a chemist in Cairo. Will you be good enough to tell me what are my chances of success in Egypt, and what formalities, if any, I should have to comply with before entering upon the undertaking. —Yours truly, John.” By return of post he received a most polite letter, containing all the detailed information he wanted. The young Frenchman wrote" Monsieur le Consul-General, —1 am desirous of setting up as a chemist in Cairo. Dare I hope that you will spare a few minutes of your valuable time to give me such information and advice as you may consider likely to be of use to me ? With many apologies for intruding upon you, I have the honour to he, Monsieur le Consul-General, with greatest respect, your most obedient and humble servant, Jacques.” This letter was written four years ago. The dear fellow is still waiting for that Consul’s reply. Of course, his English friend is now established in Cairo, comfortable and prosperous, doing a roaring trade in pilla with the new protege's of Her Britannic Majesty. You may well imagine, I repeat it, how amused we French are when we hear certain English people speak of the " revolutionary Frenchman.” One hears curious stories about the French in this country, and personally I may say that I have greatly improved my " knowledge of France and her people since I have resided in England. ; Not long ago I was told the following anecdote:—A Frenchman and an Englishman, having to settle a quarrel, were locked up in a dark room. The whole night the Englishman sought to discover his French foe, but failed to do so. It appears that the Frenchman had retreated inside the chimney. Well, I am bound to say that I heard this very same anecdote m France when I was a young boy ; but then, dear reader, it was the Englishman mm who went up in the chimney. V So much for international anecdotes. i