By R. HEATH.
The recreations of the better class of Paris workmen wear a character of
Arcadian simplicity.
On fêtes, and especially during that of the Republic, which, though
nominally confined to the fourteenth of July, continues for several
Sundays afterward, there is much dancing and all the ordinary amusements
of a fair.
The first day of the week, is, however, only a holiday once a month, for
the majority of workmen. On the afternoon of pay-Sunday the workman takes
his family outside the barrier for a walk into the country. They have a
simple dinner at one of the numerous restaurants in the neighborhood,
and wander in the woods, plucking the wild flowers, or find a quiet
nook, where one of the party reads aloud. These happy afternoons fill
the workman’s heart with joy, and he begins to recall his childhood and
to talk of his old home in some distant province. He takes his wine, is
joyously excited, but nothing more; the whole family return by train or
tram-car, laden with lilac or wild flowers, and are safe in bed by eleven
o’clock.
Saturday evening is the favorite time for the theater. The workman
prefers the drama, and if the scene is pathetic, is easily moved to tears.
On Sunday afternoon a few visit the Louvre, the Luxembourg, and the
Salon, and other picture galleries when open. They are observed to fix
their attention mostly on historical scenes, or pictures which touch
the feelings; a scene from the Inquisition, a mother weeping over her
children, or an inundation, or a famine.
Compared with the German, the Paris workman can hardly be said to possess
any musical faculty whatever. The loud and harsh noises to be heard night
and day in Paris indicate that the popular ear must be in an almost
infantine condition. Cracking their whips with the utmost violence is
the ceaseless delight of Parisian drivers, and during the fête and for
many days after, the urchins on the street render life unsupportable by
constant detonations of gunpowder.
To judge from the way the workmen gather round bookstalls, and the
avidity with which the young among them may be seen devouring a book
while waiting for the tram, reading must be a real enjoyment to the more
intelligent. I have seen a young fellow in a blouse reading a book as he
sat astride on the back of a heavy cart-horse. A friend, a lady who has
made friends with a family at Belleville, finds them not only to possess
a good library, but to be well acquainted with French literature. When
a workman is a reader his taste will be good. He will despise novels,
especially of the vicious order; his favorite books are histories of the
Revolution, such as Lamartine’s “Girondins;” Louis Blanc’s “Dix Ans;”
“Histoire de Deux-Décembre,” etc.; and for classics, Voltaire, Rousseau,
and perhaps Corneille.
If in the present adult population many may be found with literary and
artistic tastes, the workmen of the next generation will be educated
men, in the vulgar sense of the word; for it would be difficult to give
adequate expression to the fury with which the instruction of the people
is pressed forward. All classes combine; the Republicans because they
sincerely believe that popular instruction is the great panacea for all
the ills of the world; Conservatives, because they hope that it will make
the people reasonable; Catholics, because they fear to lose even those
who still hold to the church.
Primary instruction is now compulsory and gratuitous. The choice of the
school rests with the father or guardian, but he can not neglect to have
his child instructed by some one and somewhere. The communal schools are
excellent, and the greatest pains taken with the instruction. For the
present generation there are multitudes of lecture courses, popular and
gratuitous. I have no means of exactly knowing the number, but it is said
that there are now in Paris during the season as many as 2,000 courses of
lectures of one kind or another. A very great number of these are open to
the public.
In a speech made last December at the West London School of Art, Mr.
Mundella, M.P., stated that he had recently been in France for the
purpose of inquiring into the new system of education, which came into
operation on the 1st of October last year, and that while there he had
spent some time in trying to ascertain the progress the French were
making in giving instruction in art. The Vice-President of the Council
declared himself “perfectly astounded by the facts that had come to his
knowledge on the subject. He had seen in Paris placards, six feet long,
offering gratuitous instruction to every person employed in certain
trades who would come and accept it. He found schools of art, which were
attended by hundreds and thousands of students, in every part of the
country. These schools were supported, not only by government aid, but by
the different municipalities out of the local rates and taxes. Thus all
the artisans of Paris, and a large number of those in the country, were
receiving gratuitous art instruction. The Paris municipality expended
£32,000 in this way last year, and that sum will be largely exceeded
during the present year. He had brought with him the ‘Paris Budget for
Education’ for next year (1883), and he found from it that that city with
its population of 1,900,000 would spend on education double the amount
that was expended for the education of the four millions who lived in
London.”
Why then may we not hope to see many Garfields in the French Republic?
The first great difficulty is the strong feeling of caste which exists as
powerfully in the workman as in any other class.
M. Poulot has related an amusing instance of the way a young lady of the
middle class and her mother turned away from him with a kind of horror
when they learnt that he actually _worked_ in a factory, and helped
to make the steam engines. But I have met with an instance quite as
startling on the other side. Meeting at the house of a mutual friend, an
orator, who, a few days before, I had heard deliver a strong philippic
against the government, at a meeting mainly composed of workmen, and on
a question of interest to them, I asked him to introduce me to one of
his friends. He assured me that he only knew them in the meetings, but
that he did not know the address of any. Nothing could give a stronger
impression of the immense chasm between the working class and those not
actually members of it, than to find one of their prominent advocates—a
man who, I believe, has been devoted for years to their cause—without a
single private friend among working-men.—_Good Words._