ls. The only weak link in her chain-mail is the belief
in the civilizing mission of France. If there is no progress why have
a mission to civilize?

Perhaps the religious sentimentalism of Western politicians was a
revelation to French statesmen. France, for all her cosmopolitanism,
has always been badly informed as to the life of the people in England
and America. Something of the general astonishment was voiced by
Clemenceau, if the story of him is true. He is supposed to have said
of Wilson: "He is an excellent man, but he thinks he's Jesus Christ."

In France all excellence is excellence of form. The idea of the growth
of the soul and of germinal excellence of any kind is foreign. For our
part in England and America we understand little of form. France
therefore can upon occasion show the world something which no one can
deny to be excellent.

The Parisian can very well say in London or New York: "You have much
that is large and fine, but it is clear that you do not understand Art
and have very little taste. In France we do things better than this."

He does not put his _poilu inconnu_ in the depths of a cathedral in
order to bring an unbelieving crowd into the house of God, but puts him
in the public way under the Arc de Triomphe. He does not say that the
soldier died for King and Country, and then mutilate a text--"Greater
love hath no man than this," but he inscribes--"_Ici repose un soldat
francais mort pour la patrie_," and leaves the living to make their own
reflections. His Paris is a city of statues and gardens but it is all
dignified, it is all in good taste. Even the houses and the shops
conform to the general idea of the fitness and elegance of Paris.

Among the emblems of the time, however, there is in Paris one statue on
exhibition which offends good taste, and even an Englishman can see
that it may become ludicrous. It is the marble figure representing the
"_Republique Francaise pendant la guerre_," now placed at the head of
the Tuileries Gardens. It is Madame France wearing a _poilu's_ helmet.
There is a look of triumph in her upturned face. France in her has
become younger. Most figures of France are Diana-like, but here
apparently is one the tender contour of whose limbs is not official but
intimate. A policeman is in charge, but it verges on the indiscreet to
ask him any questions. One dare be certain that Paris will not accept
this statue, for though it expresses something of