Two New Zealanders Abroad.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, 1 September 1904, Page 423

Two New Zealanders Abroad.

By DORA WILCOX.

In Paris. PILE journey from London to Paris is certainly not any more of an undertaking than that between Christchurch and Wellington ; and you breakfast in one G£*t*j city, and dine in the /C (\ ' °^ er ; as a matter of ■^fcfe 1 ) course. Only it is curious \^* to cross this European Cook's Strait, and find on the other side, another language, other customs, other laws. Of the relative merits, or otherwise, of the two Channels, I cannot speak, because I have never had a rough passage to Wellington, and the Straits of Dover were lake-like when| I crossed.

We two New Zealanders found a comfortable pension in the Quartier Latin, near the Luxembourg-, where artists and students most do congregate. The house, of which our pension was only part, was veryold, and had a history of its own ; and in it, Adrienne Lecouvreur, the great French actress whom Scribe has made us love and pity, made her debut. I, myself, always looked out for Trilby in our narrow street, for the Place de 1' Odeon where Litrebili lodged was just round the comer, so to speak. I never saw her !

Our dining-room windows looked into the large courtyard ; our 'bedroom windows above the carved stone lions' beads, into the street. This was not an advantage, for we had a barracks opnosite, and though the soldiers and their horses were of absorbing interest, reveille, "and the noises in the early morning had no charms for us.

We had left grey skies in London ; we came to sunshine. The weather was really beautiful during our stay, though the wind was sometimes nipping, for it can be very, very cold in Paris. Ido not know whether the gaiety is ' superficial, but one's impression is of gaiety, especially when one sees Paris for the first time when the sky is so blue, and the sun so. bright. 1 found it most difficult to imagine what the city was in those terrible days of siege, only thirty odd years ago ,; and still more impossible to imagine what it was, and what this merry, good-humoured, lively crowd was in those more terrible days of the Revolution, when these glittering streets were the scene of such tragedies, and in the beautiful Place de la Concorde stood that unmentionable thing. It is not difficult to find one's way about in Paris ; the distances are not nearly so great as in London, and when once one ha.s got the main) arteries fixed in one's head, the rest is easy. One can get about very quickly by means of cabs, electric trams, river-boats or omnibuses ; we walked a great deal, but when we walked, we did not always reach our destination, for the simple reason that the shop windows were so fascinating— the curiosity shops in our own quarter, the jewellery in the Rue de la Paix, the knickknacks in the Rue de Rivoli, the hats, the costumes — all had an irresistible attraction for us.

We did not use the electric cars, nor the Metropolitan Railway very much, but the little steamboats which ply on the Seine are delightful. Even in these cool autumn

days we enjoyed ourselves on the water ; gliding past the He de la Citee and Notre Dame, calling 1 at the different stopping- places, watching the tugs going up-stream with their long trains of barges, and best of all, going under the many bridges of Paris, and beyond the city through the fast yellowing trees, to Saint Cloud and Sevres !

The present omnibus system in Paris is distinctly bewildering 1 to a newcomer, and no one could fail to be struck by the difference between the fine and well-fed horses of the great London Omnibus Companies,

and their brethren in Paris. The difference is not in favour of Paris. One may see awful things sometimes) in London, especially at night, and by day one sees splendid horses tortured by barbarously tight bearing reins, till one wonders whether the good old English love and respect for horse-flesh has died out ; but one sees far worse things in Paris — I don't mean amongst the omnibus horses. I don't feel, unfortunately, at all inclined to question the veracity of a French lady who said to us : "Paris' est l'enfer des chevaux \"

To return to the omnibuses. At every stopping-place there is an office, where you find little boxes filled with numbered tickets of different colours. You must take one of these from the box marked with the name of the final destination of your omnibus. When there is a crowd, the conductor calls out certain numbers (very rapidly), and according to the number on your ticket you obtain a seat, or wait. Tf there is no crowd, you do not require your ticket at all : it is gratis, and you pay your fare afterwards, thirty centimes for an inside

place, fifteen centimes for an outside seat, which is much the nicer, I think, even on a rainy day ! The great difficulty which this arrangement presents, is that a stranger doesn't know the final destination of his omnibus. For instance, you are told by your friends that to reach a certain building, you must take the large blue omnibus with three horses, going' North. That is simple, but in the office there are ten little boxes marked, "St. Michel/ 7 * ■-" BatigM>lles - Cliehy," etc., and there is nothing at all about big blue omnibuses. So you

have to make enquiries of the official, who is probably very civil, but if you haven't much French it is a trial ! And here let me mentiona fact. Tips are necessary and troublesome everywhere in this Old World, but at the same time, it is wonderful what a little civility will do for one. Ask a question politely, and ten to one you will receive a courteous reply, no matter how villainous your accent may be. Courtesy is more important than grammar on the Continent, and a great many English-speaking people possess neither.

We had one most comical experience in Paris. One of us, the mistress of a New Zealand Public School, was anxious to go over a French one. Acting on a friend's advice, she wrote to Monsieur le Vice-Recteur, de TAcademie Francaise, for the requisite permission. She shewed this letter to our Madame, at the pension, who had kept a school, and Madame was horrified : first, at the boldness of addressing Monsieur le Vice-Recteur at all, and secondly, at the lack of due humility in the letter. It was re-written to her satisfaction, and sent, but she told us

that we need not expect an answer. However, a few days before we left, there came a communication from the Sorbonne, requesting- my friend's attendance there between certain hours. We went and saw a secretary. Had Mademoiselle any papers ? Yes, Mademoiselle had her teacher's certificate, and spread out this official document before Monsieur le Secretaire, who, I believe, tried to read it upside clown. Yes. it was very charming, no doubt, but had Mademoiselle no passe ? No ? Ah, that was a pity ; Mademoiselle must go to the Ambassa-

dor, and get a passe, and then she would receive the necessary permission, and could visit a school next day. " Mais/' said M. le" Secretaire, in a sudden outburst, "Ou est la Nouvelle Zelande ? Est elle une Colonie Anglaise ■ ?" ,We went towards the English Ambassador's, which was miles away— the Consul would have been the proper person to go to, I suppose— took a wrong turning, and after wandering about, came to the conclusion that it was more bother than it was worth. We did not return to the Sorbonne, and we know

nothing of the interior of French schools, and my confidence in the Academic Francaise is shaken for ever ! One doesn't expect the man in the street — even in an English street — to know anything of our little country, but I have always believed that the Sorbonne was so saturated with learning, that even the humblest official within its walls would know everything in this world there is to know. And also, where are the Liberty, Fraternity and Equality of this great Republic, whose school doors are so tightly tied up with red tape ?

My nationality has often been a source of pure joy to me. I happened once to mention to a very charming English woman ...that I came

from New Zealand. "Do you really V she said, " I should never have thought it ; why, you speak quite good English \" I assured her that we didn't always converse in Maori. A servant who heard the same fact mentioned, gave vent to this delicious remark : " Why, I didn't think you was half black enough V But that was in the days before the war.

I have said nothing 1 of the sights of Paris, which are many : the Pantheon, the Luxembourg, the lovely little Sainte-Chapelle, the theatres, palaces, churches, and shops. The three that attracted me most were the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Musee de Cluny. Everyone knows something of the history and

the glories of the Louvre, that marvellous and inexhaustible storehouse of treasures ; everyone, too, knows something of Our Lady of Paris, if only through Victor Hugo with his "Esineralda" and " Quasimodo." The Hotel de Gluny is itself a most beautiful specimen of the architecture of the Middle Ages, now fitted up as a museum of mediaeval art and curiosities. In old Roman times there was a palace here, and the remains of the baths, built of the thin, unmistakeable Roman tiles, are still to be seen. Then on the ruins a house was built for the Abbots of Cluny, and in it, too, many Royal persons stayed ; amongst them our English princess, that May, who married for the second time, that handsome English nobleman, Charles Brandon. The rooms are naturally extremely interesting, and I don't know how much time we spent examining their contents — old laces, porcelain, carved chimney-pieces, state-carriages, furniture, altar-pieces, jewellery, tapestries, carved ivories, musical instruments, and a delightful collection of old shoes and slippers ! ■ We never got so far as Versailles. When we made up our minds to go, the days were always cold, and on sunshiny days there was always something else we wanted to do. At last we determined we would start next day, whatever the weather might be. Madame gave us our lunch, and wished us a pleasant outing, but the sky was dull, and the shops entrancing, and instead of going away from Paris, we went into its very heart : all along the Boulevards, and the Rue de Rivoli, and the Rue de la Paix, and spent ever so much money on cheap and irresistible gimcracks, and finally drank coffee and ate our lunch in a shop somewhere near the Madeleine! So ingloriously, but happily, ended our excursion to Versailles. In Brussels. The journey from Paris to Brussels takes about four and a half

hours by a quick train. We left the Gare dv Nord, Paris, at 12.40, and arrived at the Gare dv Midi, Brussels, at about n.3o— a little 'behind time. 1 must say that the Customs examinaticns seem to be managed better in Belgium than in any other Continental country I know. Looked at merely from the traveller's point of view, all Customs are abominable, wearisome to your body, vexations to your spirit, and frequently detrimental to your clothes, and it always seems to me that injury is added to insult when you have to tir) a porter to carry the lui'g'age you don't want to have shifted. On the Belgian frontier, the Customs officials come into the carriages, and you are not obliged to get out at all unless you have heavy luggage in the van.

As we passed through a small Belgian town, we saw flays flying and people waving, and we heard cheering and the sound of guns. " What is it all about ?" we asked of a. pleasant, English-speaking Belgian girl, who had already given us much information. "Oh ! it's our Prince Albert," she said ; "I had forgotten that he was to travel by this train." Now that was interesting, as we had never before travelled in a Royal train, but our friend rather damped our ardour by suggesting that we might all be blown up by Anarchists ; bombs and dynamite being amongst the perquisites of Royalty. Nothing happened, however, and we did not even! see the Prince at Brussels, as our attention was quite absorbed in porters and luggage. We drove to our destination in the Rue Montoyer, and the cabman overcharged us shockingly, but we were too tired to argue with him. I would rather be cheated <by a cabman than by anyone else if I have to be cheated at all ; in Europe their charges are usually very low, and I always hope— probably without foundation — that tlie horses may profit by my misfortune, as well as the men. Also when. I am not in a hurry, I always tell my cabby so,.

that he may let his poor nag take life a little more easily. I do not know anything about th© prices of hotels in Brussels, but I do know that we lived in great comfort there, for absurdly little. Indeed, I often wonder that more English people who need, a holiday, and have not much money to spend on it, do not go to Belgium. I don't mean to disparage England, which is perhaps the most beautiful and interesting country in the world, but boarding-houses and hotels there have a way of being ruinous, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, cheap means nasty. We two New Zealanders had a room between us, rather near Heaven, it is true, but it was large, and clean, and airy, and contained two beds, and more furniture than

we required. Our landlady, a kindly German woman, gave us our morning coffee— the most delicious coffee— with rolls and butter, and all this for three francs fifty cents the day, less than one and sixpenxe each, for bed and breakfast ! We took our other meals at restaurants, which is much more convenient when one is sight-seeing, than returning to one's lodging. Our favourite haunt was the Restaurant La Louve in the Grand Place, where we found cleanliness, civility, good cooking, and cheapness — a charming" combination ! Our lunch — with wine or beer included—seldom cost us more than seventy-five cents each ; our dinner, never more than one franc fifty cents, and generally speaking, only one franc. In this restaurant we always had

our meals "a la carte," which is not always the best way ; but here our waiter always brought us two plates, for whatever dish we might order ; consequently the expense was always divided, and we were so liberally served that there was always enough for two.

We certainly did not exhaust all the " sights " of Brussels during our stay, but what we did see we saw thoroughly, which is more than a good many tourists can say ; moreover, it is always wise to leave something unseen for another visit. For my part, I have no patience with those people who think of nothing but getting through their Baedeckers ; those people who say to you in tones of horror : " What ! you have been in Brussels, and you have not seen that ! — you were a fortnight in Paris, and you did not go there V Churches and picture galleries, much as I love them, are not all, and one may see every building and every work of art in a city, and yet know far less of its life, and its people, and its characteristics, than the lazy lounger in the streets. So we loafed a good deal ; we sat a long time over our meals, and we wandered up and clown the streets without any definite plan, when we should have been hard at work sight- seeing, but it was very pleasant.

The day after our arrival, a service was held in the Cathedral in honour of the King's birthday, at which the Royalties and great people of Brussels were present. We could not get into the chur<:h, 'but, acting- on the advice of an agent de ville, took up our positions opposite the door through which the King would pass. A very stout and disagreeable Belgian lady with a meek husband came behind us, and in quite a short space of time, by judicious " push " and sheer weight, she had forced herself in front of us, the husband following in her train apologetically. However, as she was breadth without length, it didn't matter much. At last soldiers began to parade the street,

and carriage after carriage drew up at the door. We had a good view of many officers in gorgeous uniforms, civic dignitaries in picturesque robes of state, ambassadors, etc., but before the arrival of the King a squad of Cavalry drew up in front of us, and neither we nor our stout Belgian saw anything of Royalty. Later on, we managed to squeeze into the church, and heard the last notes of wonderfully lovely music.

This Cathedral of St. Michael and Ste. Gudule is interesting, and its stained windows are a revelation and the perfection of colouring, rich, and clear, yet never garish. One of the sights of Ste. Gudule is a carved wooden pulpit representing the Expulsion from Paradise. Adam and Eve are there, many birds roost in the branches of the Tree of Life, and the Serpent, its head under the woman's feet, winds in sinuous curves over the top of the soundingboard. It is a wonderful specimen of mechanical art, more curious, perhaps, than beautiful. But the crown and glory of Brussels is the Hotel de Ville, in the Grand Place where nearly every building has its beauty and its history. In the lovely Bread-house, Egmont and Howe slept their last sleep on earth, and from its windows next morning, Alva looked out upon their execution. It is said also that on the eve of Waterloo, the Duchess of Richmond held her ball in the Hotel de Ville, and though this is often and positively contradicted, I liked myself to think that it was so — that here in this most exquisite of buildings, Belgium's capital had gathered her beauty and her chivalry on that historic night.

We set out to hunt for the Hotel de Ville ■ one sunshiny morning, and suddenly at the corner of a street, we caught a glimpse of a tower, a fairy-like Gothic tower glittering against the sky. We could not imagine what it was, but we felt that we must find it out. So we followed the guiding of the tower, losing it often, finding it again, until it led us hy many a winding

street and narrow by-way, into the Grand Place itself, and we discovered that it was part of the very building of which we were in search. I don't think .1 shall ever forget our first view of the Grand Place that sunny morning — its flower- sellers in the square, the old houses, the fairy tower, the Maison dv Roi, and the blue sky over all !

On the same day, too, when we were buying some carved wooden sabots in a shop, we heard a tremendous noise coming out of the window of a brasserie opposite : shouting, stamping, the clink of glasses, and roars of laughter. " Whatever is it V we asked, thinking something unusual was happening. " It's only the students," was the unconcerned reply. And thereafter, whenever we heard a great uproar, we found it was only the students talking .at the tops of their voices, singing, shouting, as

they rushed through the gay Galleries St. Hubert, down the fashionable Rue de la Madeleine, or into the quiet majesty of the Grand Place.

Of course, every English man and woman goes to Waterloo. Why, I don't know, except for the sake of saying one has been there, for it seems to me like the ascent of Vesuvius — one does it once, and never more. At the station we were taken possession of by a guide. I hate guides collectively, though one or two have proved unobjectionable. The majority of Continental guides are greedy and grasping, and they make you look at things you don't want to see, and hurry you when you would fain linger, and you know that all the time they are repeating their parrot-like discourse, they are wondering how large a tip you are going to bestow upon them. We started on a grey Autumnal

day when sky and fields were of the same neutral tint, and the last leaves were dropping off the trees. By the time we reached Braine L'Allend— for one does not go to Waterloo station — it was raining. We drove round the field of battle in thick drizzle, we climbed the Lion Mount in the pouring rain, our poor horse ploughed through thick mud to reach the farm of Hougomont. I am a woman : I thought less of the victory that took place, with its glory and glamour, than of the suffering after that day. These fields, so peaceful now, were once soaked and sodden with blood, these silent walls once echoed to the moans of the dying, the screams of agonised horses, and away in the distance how many Amelias prayed for their loved ones, lying like George Osborne, shot through the heart !

We were glad to get 'back to the station of Braine I/Allend, where we tried to dry our wet things by

the stove until the train came in. As we were sitting in the waitingroom, very damp, tired, and silent, a man came in. He surveyed us, threw a card on my lap, said rapidly : " The next time you come to Waterloo, do not make a mistake about your guide V and went hastily out. So ended our expedition to Waterloo.

I have left myself no space to speak of the other building's and sights of Brussels : its churches, its palaces, its pictures ; the Manneken; the Opera House (Theatre de la Monnaie j, where we saw " Carmen," and saw it well, for one franc fifty cents ; the parks and gardens ; the collection of paintings by that extraordinary genius, Wiertz ; and last, but not least, its streets and shops. I do not think the shops indeed suffer at all by comparison with Paris ; there is less display, perhaps, but all that one sees is in most exquisite taste and style, and Brussels lace— with Brussels lace it is better to stop.