the new spirit of
France, it is not in perfect taste, it is not quite dignified.

There is something very characteristic of France in the thousands of
seeming-widows whom you see clad in becoming weeds. The widow's veil
raises the dignity of the Frenchwoman and confirms her piety so that
she feels like a Madonna when her husband is dead, and loves to walk
like one. Some wear this attire without being widowed--it conforms so
well to a secret desire. The demure widow so dressed has much charm.
There is, however, another and a better type, and that is the Joan of
Arc type of young Frenchwoman so often overlooked in a survey of French
reality. The new, bright, white marble figure of Joan in the cathedral
of Notre-Dame is worth a prayer for France. One has met Joan in life,
she is generally sixteen or seventeen, ardent, heroic, romantic, with
the poetry of Corneille and Racine upon her lips. She is full of
effervescent devotion, impetuous and entirely "pure." What happens to
her in modern France it would be difficult to say. The English do not
come and burn her for a witch; but English people do not like the type,
do not understand it, and generally prefer the insincere Madonnas or
the Madame Bovarys of France. But to understand France one must take
cognizance of this feminine crusading spirit. Much that is genuine and
worth while in France can be associated with the type of Joan. Even in
the midst of modern politics one should look for Joan. French
aspirations has a grand turn. We think of the French as realists, but
they are romanticists. They look back and then look forward. They see
events with long black shadows as at sunset. They harangue themselves.
In the English people humour comes to chase the romantic away and it
will not let us get into a heroic vein. But not so with the French.
Their humour is weak. So at school, in books, in inscriptions on
statues, in public speeches, you will constantly come upon the heroic,
romantic strain, and you will find adjurations to the French people:
"_Francais, elevez vos ames et vos resolutions a la hauteur des perils
qui fondent sur la patrie. Il depend encore de vous de montrer a
l'univers ce qu'est un peuple qui ne veut pas perir_," as it says on
the Gambetta monument.

This splendid spirit is betrayed by the sordidness of modern life. The
exchange for romantic idealism is cynicism and soullessness. Joan does
not remain Joan all her life--if she 'scapes bu