PARIS REVISITED.

Otago Witness, Issue 2436, 21 November 1900, Page 64

PARIS REVISITED.

PROVINCIAL PRANCE. " What do they know of England who only England know?" sings the Imperial ibard. Appropriating the idea, one may ' reasonably ask, What do they know of iFrance who only Paris know? The attitude of the average Englishman towards ,the -Republic is always amusing. Derived imainly, and in many cases altogether, 'from the choice extracts which are served Aip to him from the Parisian/ press, his con-ception-.'of'.Prance is that of a, country /where every man is a prancing, hysterical fool and every woman no better than she | should ■ be. In the depths of his honest I [British heart be is sorry for a nation which, can' make itself responsible for such goings~on,, and he is quite satisfied that one of these days there will be another frightful cataclysm across the Channel, and France ■will be heard of no more amongst the nations. To those who know France and its .people, this notion of John Bull presents titself in diverting colours j- but he is not so very much to blame. When Continental ipeople shrug their shoulders over the eccentricities of poor old John, they associate Iris barbarisms with, what we sum up in the familiar phrase, "insular prejudice." But John Bull, to do him justice, •is no /Worse than his neighbours. There is no one more crassly ignorant of Everything outside his own country than the modern Frenchman ; and his ignorant )folly, viewed in the international sense, as 'much more mischievous than that of the "ibutt, of Europe — John Bull. The Parisian i of the boulevard is a perverse child in this point of view of everything that happens outside Paris. I like him. He is gay and courteous, and charmingly superficial. Pie surprises yoti alike with his civilities ■and his incivilities. Sometimes his smiling [patience in an embarrassing situation makes you regard him as the ideal man and (brother ; at another time, when he complacently appropriates a chair that he knows a tired lady was hurrying up to secure, you feel that you would like to kick T fhim. But the Parisian, with all his faults land his virtues, is not the Frenchman. If you want" to reach the heart of France you anust probe deeper. It is in the , probity, the. frugality, and the industry of < provincial France that the strength of the nation lies, and it so happens that you can see a good deal of 'provincial France just mow without visiting the provinces.. You (have only to go. to Paris, and you will find the Frenchman* there from every corner fit the Republic to meet you. I return to the Exhibition, and to the cosmopolitan crowd which passes before your eyes on both banks of the Seine, ixorkshiremen and Algerians, Egyptians 'and men of Lancashire, the German and the Turk, the Italian, and the Yankee, John Bull and John Chinaman all rub shoulders In this marvellous human medley ; but I confess that the people who ■ interest me taost are the peasants and the artisans of Jfche French provinces. They are very lovable people — quiet, simple, self-contained. However much they may- be impressed Avith the wonders of the Exhibition, they it neither by rowdyism nor by shrinking self-depreciation. With the calm |iair of conscious proprietorship, they pass in placid review the accumulated glories 'tof the great Exposition. They remind me what an able writer in one of the American magazines recently pointed out — viz., /that the people ,jf Paris are so accustomed jto live in the open, and to regard themselves as one large family, that they have Wne of that exaggerated reverence (for the - outward and visible symbols - of Authority before which we English abase tourselves. In a word, they are never )afraid of their own policemen. Some of the teuardians of the peace in Paris give themselves airs which would rouse the worst [passions of the British mob if we witnessed anything of the kind here ; but the Parisians are not in the least put out. Paris is theirs, and all that therein is. \jChat is the beginning and end of their .'gospel, and they fearlessly live up to it. The provincial cousin exists at liome under

somewhat different conditions ; but here, ' ,in the Exhibition, he is, however humble j his lot and however straitened his purse, j pleasantly conscious that it is good to be a | Frenchman, and to possess (I want to em- ; phasise the word "possess") all this. I . Of their frugality you will find many evidences here. When they come to Paris , they live mainly on bread, - and they eat > it almost as if it were a luxury. Probably, therefore, the bread on which they subsist at home is not quite so white and fresh and palatable. If they can afford it, they wash down the bread with cheap red wine. If they are in an extravagant mood, and theii means run to it, they, perhaps, add a "little sa,usage, or horse-flesh, or boiled ham. But, whether they have these luxuries, or only the fine white bread of Paris, they are serene and good-humoured. A man will carry a roll of bread a yard long round the Exhibition two or three hours, and then, with his family, will sit down and consume it in some friendly corner. Perhaps the little group will find a seat in the Street of Nations (always, however, at a respectable distance from the English manor house, which would put on its most forbidding frown at such a liberty). Btit, wherever they are, by their quiet contentment and the fine feeling which they display to one another, they preach eloqtiently to all who have the intelligence and the sympathy to understand. The small tradesman from the provinces can go a little farther than the ' peasant or the artfsan. When he and madam have consumed their sandwiches and their yin ordinaire, it is but right that madam, who has worked very hard to save up for this trip to the Exhibition, should / have her cup of coffee. Now coffee is not to be got for nothing in these stucco palaces. Forty centimes will be asked for each cup, and then there is ' the trifle for the waiter. That is what our small provincial tradesman rebels against in his own mmd — the trifle for the waiter. If a man has to pay 40 centimes for his coffee, is it not enough? He thinks it is, and if you have sense of humour you will smile at the solemn strategy to which he resorts in order to get that coffee for madam and himself without the intervention of the waiter. If he succeeds, the waiter will duly express his opinion of the transaction in terms and with an abundance of contemptuous gesticulation that would make a shy, selfconscious Englishman sink tinder the ground. But if the Parisian is not afraid o± his own policeman, our small provincial ' trademan is certainly not afraid of an Exhibition waiter. He sips his coffee with the soothing consciousness that the 10-centime piece over which all the row is being made reposes securely in his own money- , bag, and when he and madam eventually move away there is a joyous gleam of triumph in madam's eye. They have been ' very clever, have they not? I With all his quietness of demeanour, the ' provincial husband and father needs looking after in this Exhibition. There are { many things to break in upon his rural \ innocence unless he is protected by his J guardian angel. Florid posters proclaim . the wfld delights of the side-shows, and if ] he turns his head to see where the weird j Oriental music comes from, it is as likely as j not -that some dark-eyed houri will throw , him a glance, half-mocking, half-inviting, j that will send his brain spinning, and make him forget — well, forget himself and many things. But his guardian angel is there. Madam has got hold of his arm, and, with a lively appreciation of the pit-falls which abound, never lets ga. When he weakly turns • his head to where the spangles and the tom-toms are she grasps him with new resolution and vigour, and he, knowing madam, passes unresistingly on. If he be cast in a pliant mould, there is an end of it. If, on the other haiid, there be just a little truculence in his nature (there is never much when madam is about), he will have the courage and the art to sit down somewhere and drink an extra bock as the price of his virtue. This will grieve madam, for a bock costs 30 centimes, and it has been hard work saving their little store — but, there, a woman must sacrifice something to keep a man straight. The husband meanwhile passes through the stage of mild remorse to recovered goodhumour, and then, as they begin their return journey in the dusk, he has the manly effrontery to tell her that in the whole Exhibition he has not seen anything comparable with her own charms. She may, or may not, believe him, but they return to their home cheerful and smiling, well pleased with one another, and feeling still that it is good to belong to France. I- repeat they are very lovable people, | these simple provincials. — " A Man About Town," in Leeds Mercury.