Leading Article from "Le" March 19, 1899.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 5, 1 February 1900, Page 18

Leading Article from "Le" March 19, 1899.

By Joseph Montet

Translated by Bertha V. Goring

The Conquering Rail. jOUNG Parisian, for whom the . world is contained between the " ' Varietes ' and the ' Pavilion Chinois,' it is with you that I am concerned."

" I beg your pardon, but " "Yes, I know it is half -past six o'clock. You have just time to dine, and rush off to the only place in Paris where you will find this evening Parisian movement. This, to me, is a matter of indifference. Send away your coiffeur. Yon are only going to see the ' Bourgeois Gentilhomme' at the Opera after a dressing from me. Before M. Jourdain's prose lesson, your lesson in geography. You can improve the bow of your cravat by-and-bye. Turn this way, and look what I have just pinned to your wall." "What is it?" " The map of Africa, my boy !" " What for ?" "To teach you your duty as a man, if there is yet time. You see this red line here to the right, which cuts the face of the Dark Continent from top to bottom ? That is the railway which will, in a short time, unite the Mediterranean to the Cape of Good Hope, the line of which Cecil Rhodes conversed yesterday with the Emperor William 11., and which will soon be made, now that these two are agreed, That interests you. True, William 11. and Cecil Rhodes are in the business ; and that I may complete your conquest, reflect that this locomotive is a sort of ' automobile,' an automobile on rails, that is all — but an automobilo all the same. There ! You are quite conquered, so I will continue.

"This red line is symbolic. It signifies England's grasp on the Continent of Africa. When a traveller, disembarking from an

English steamboat in the port of Alexandria, can journey from thence to the Cape upon English rails, it will require a large dose of Chauvinism to maintain that since the battle of the Pyramids French influence in Egypt and other places adjacent has not suffered some loss. From this time forward one must render to England this homage, that, by uniting the extremities of a world reputed inaccessible, she will have accomplished a feat beyond the ordinary. True patriotism consists, without doubt, in regretting that we are not capable of doing so much. Why are we not capable ? It is above all to you, young Parisian, that I address the question. You are the quintessence of Paris, which is itself the quintessence of France, and give the ton in a country where everything is done by ton aud mode, in a Republic where ' snobbism ' is king. You know what the word means, since it was you that brought it from England. 1 do not reproach you with that. I l'eproach you for only having brought words and habits, not one serious idea, and of being, up till now, content to play this double part of monkey and parrot.

"I beg your pardon. You have also brought from England something very important — some games. How many ? I cannot count. Cricket, football, lawn-tennis, polo. I leave it to you to complete the list. Those games have become part of your social life. I will even say that they almost constitute it, for, when you have eaten, drunk, and slept in French fashion, because you can scarcely do otherwise, I see you are hardly capable of doing anything but play at lawn-tennis or polo, if it is not to ' tub ' yourself in the morning, which is nearly as admirable as to ' showei'-bath ' yourself ; or to loiter away the evening at whist or poker until the hour when you feel it an impei'ative necessity to clean with your sleeves the polished

mahogany bar, where a barmaid will serve the fiery cocktail which you must drown in a glass of whisky and soda. Having done which, my young Parisian, you will feel you have fulfilled your duty as an accomplished gentleman. " You are mistaken. Your model does otherwise. His muscles, strengthened and made supple by exercises, the* names of which you are so pleased at having cribbed from him, serve him to conquer the world with. And, except for a few fools, of which no country can pride itself upon having the monopoly, you would surprise our neighbours across the Channel if you expressed the idea to them that, after a day so occupied, the aim of your life should be to indefinitely continue it. " Observe the men you meet momentarily in London, in the salons of the Cafe-Royal or the ante-rooms of the Clubs. Note the clear eye with hard blue pupil, and the determined breadth of close-shaved chin. This is the creature of action and of prey, all the more formidable because civilisation has given him an extra weapon, the coolness with which he can make, when necessary, a suavity and a diplomacy that disconcert your inherent lack of expansion and reliance. Beware! This occasional companion of the pleasures with which your simplicity loiters, is the worst enemy you can emcounter. You will meet him everywhere. At Shanghai, where he will openly set you at defiance ; at Muscat, where he will jeer at you covertly ; in Egypt, where he will establish himself a little more firmly each time you suggest that he should leave ; at Fashoda, where the heroism of one of your countrymen only serves to accentuate your own weakness. " For it is in vain, poor old fellow, that you have your linen washed in London. I do not expect to see you often figure in a drawing-room next season, where they will recount bluntly with what nonchalance and ease the Sirdar Kitchener, in the twinkling of an eye, disembarrassed himself of Captain Marchand. Remember that Fashoda affair, my friend. It is applicable above all others.

It is the type of adventure that awaits you everywhere. The race to which you belong is generous and brave, capable of strokes of audacity that stun the world, but whoso daring remains barren when the world does not turn against it. Traversing a continent like a cannon-ball is not everything. You must, upon arriving at the proposed goal, bo able to remain there, because the country in whose name you have marched is able to maintain you there. Now, whenever it pleases England that we should not remain, we must leave. "Why? A woll-informed politician told you, yesterday. Because wo havo for twentyfive years expended on our navy as much as England — in order to have no navy. That is rough. What do you think ? " And whose fault is it? The public appeals to its Ministers ; the Ministers, having no escape, appeal to their Bureau ; and as they have not yet fouud a Minister able to dictate to his Bureau, there seems no reason why this state of affairs should not continue for centuries. Cry with me, my good fellow, against the Government, against the Ministers. At first you will follow the French tradition, whioh likes one always to cry out against the Government. Also, it will prove that you begin to take an interest in things that, up to now, you have too much ncgleoted. By crying ' Fire !' you will perhaps end by going to it. " I have an idea that you would not repent it. I know your opinion upon tho life you lead ; you find it deadly. Tbe GrandSeize might be twice as large, yet you would be weary of seeking in its mirrors tho phantoms of the figures with mutton-chop whiskers and corkscrew ringlets who formerly reflected themselves therein. "Then, what? You ought to follow a little the example of Grosclaude. It would have mightily surprised me, ten years ago, when I used to cling to Grosclaude's arm, to prevent him entering the baccarat-room, if I had been told that a day would come when I should uphold him to the young Parisian generation for anything but his wit. Grosclaude, transformed into a traveller,

not content with consigning his views upon Madagascar to a book' of depth and weight, has just published an article on the African railways, from which Le Qaulois of yesterday published some interesting extracts. He ought to know better than anyone how our natural temperament needs altering, and how much easier it is for a Parisian to find a thousand louis to put in the bank than fifty to buy an explorer's kit. " This must be changed if we don't want to be excluded from the new European concert, which is being prepared, and of which the interview between William 11. and Cecil Rhodes seems to mark the approach. Is it not, in fact, the point of departure of a new international policy, this conversation between the chief of the German army and the man who recently pronounced, with a marked emphasis, the following words : ' I am for the construction of railways, however costly they may be, and against the extension of armaments. Is it not better to give £10,000,000 for a railway which will open up an entire continent, create new markets, and utilise a great amount of labour, than to giant £14,000,000 worth of ironclads, which will rust

in inaction and never return a: penny.' " Thus spoke recently he who is surnamed the 'Napoleon of the Cape.' The most curious- thing in this case is to see this purely business man in accord with those whom the other Napoleon called the idealists. These know really, that in order for the mind to triumph, a material route must be traced for it. Alone, it can only climb by marvellous but barren effort the cold heights of the absolute. Confucius reflects ; Buddha dreams; Socrates seeks and finds the soul. During this time what becomes of humanity ? The Attilas of all tbe ages trample it beneath the feet of their horses. To-day, enslaved matter lends wings to thought. Steam circulates knowledge. Electricity makes a thunderbolt of the voice. People speak to each other across the ocean ; and by conversing with each other they will end by understanding each other. But you listen no longer, young Parisian. You look furtively at the clock. Tie your cravat then ; but down there, between the acts, find a minute to ponder upon my ' razor-stroke,' and try that in speaking of us, the world may cease to say, 'A Frenchman — young or old — a traveller who never arrives !' "