THE SOCIAL ROUND

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 586, 27 December 1915, Page 4

THE SOCIAL ROUND

THE MODE IN PARIS.

DEVOTION THE KEYNOTE,

Dr Arthur Lynch writes in an English exchange of the aspects of Paris to-day. The keynote is devotion. The -war, testing all things in the crucible of nations, has burnt away the superficial dross of French spciety, and the pure gold shines forth..., Take an example:- — Mme. D., before'the-'war, .was a Parijdenne of the Parisiennes. Elegant. to the finger-tips, her wealth enabled; her to make a distinguished appettrance in the circles of fashion. She encouraged Art and the drama. She wove gems n on several fingers; her robes, though ;rich, were distinguished by exquisite ; propriety. Mme D. is now working as a trained nurse in Brittany. Immediately

after the outbreak of the war she started to learn the work, she studied, she concentrated her mind, she soon obtained her diploma, she offered her services. IThey were, accepted- She stopped at nothing. She prides herself, in her modest, smiling way, that she can beat her Own charwoman at scrubbing floors; she nurses the wounded during the long, hotirs ; of her duty, but the cheerfulness of her presence is not the least part of her ministration. A young girl of 20, continues Dr Jjyhch, whom I had at one time known is a butterfly of fashion, beautiful as .Hebe, was found to be a born nurse when she went to the hospital near Calais. No. task tired her patience, no -work was too severe; the wounded, soldiers called her " Ray on de . soleil'' ifßunbeam); after their recovery they send her letters in which even the quaint spelling cannot hide the poetic fervour of gratitude. -Multiply Mme. D. and Rayon de soleil i>y thousands, and you have the expression of one form of devotion in France.

Here in a carriage of the Metro (the Paris tube) is a woman in deep black; »he has lost her husband. Her face is pale, but her whole air calm, determined, proud. Only her eyes show signs of weeping. Presently some recollection arises within her. She 'turns away her head so as to hide the expression of her grief. The chin trembling tells its tale. She snakes a great effort, she controls herself, she faces round again; her face vears the calm, determined air, the look of pride, it first displayed. Grief is universal, and it has made jnen and women sympathetic to each other, more brotherly and sisterly; it has given a softening touch of kindness to the traditional politeness of the French. Everyone in France seems to be working, working for the war. That is, of evident in the case of the men; as to the women, one sees them clerks, - munition workers, post-girls, tram conductors, tram drivers. This is not play. The young dames, with jaunty caps, who punch your tickets in the trams are always cheerful, but before their long hours are finished they are almost ready j to sleep where they stand. Many of the little shops and businesses in Paris are closed; that looks sad; but in many others, such as must be continued, women have taken the place of their

jbusbands and are managing affairs. I know of a case where a widower, having been called up with the reserves, his little daughter, just entering on her feens, has been carrying on a baker's

shop, and satiefyiug the CHetoiuers. Multiply such cases by thousands and you have another aspect of French devotion. Aspects of Devotion.

Here is a group of three midinettes (the little milliners from the rue de la Paix and neighbourhood). They have one hour for their lunch. They have brought it in a basket into the Tuileries Gardens, with a bottle of red vin ordinaire. They are sitting near the statue of Perrault, where the Chat Botte (Puss in Boots) so quaintly figures. They laugh and joke; they put away the remains of their frugal meal. They wear no hats, and the sun shines on the wavy hair of the heads close together. They are now knitting stockings for the soldiers as fast as their needles can ply. The lunch-hour is not wasted.

j I talked a waitress in a restauIrant; she was not one of the pretty type, but her plain features showed no j lack either of intelligence or energy, jShe had a husband and two brothers at [the front, and several nephews and other relatives. A brother had been [ killed in the Argonne. Another had recently obtained a " permission" to return home for a week. She was deliglitjed to have hitn, but she was not sorry [to see him return to the' trenches. His Iduty was there. "We are not afraid of the Bodies,'' she said, with a goodhumoured smile. " Certainly we waitresses have endured a good deal of privation and overwork; but when we think of our peoples in the trenches our troubles seem light. Most of us here have lost friends or relatives. Well, that is war! You cannot make omelettes without breaking eggs. We did not want this war; but we will fight it out now till we end that menace of the Boches that weighed upon our lives. We arc all prepared to fight it out to the end. What is it to die?" she said simply, but gravely. "So many of our dear ones have gone on before usf We are fighting to make this world better than it was; we will never see the fruit; it will be for those who come after us. Voila!"

in another moment she was joking and laughing all over her round, shrewd, good-natured face. I took down her words, for in this plain, simple, and not over-educated young woman, I thought I had found a spirit of philosophy unsurpassed in the School of the Stoics themselves.