sion between the acts; the
atmosphere of keen and alert intelligence pervading the whole
assembly; the quaint survival of the time-honoured "overture"--three
knocks on the boards--dating back to Roman times when the Prologus of
the comedy stepped forth and craved the attention of the audience by
three taps of his wand; the chief actor's approach to the front of the
stage after the play is ended to announce to Mesdames and Messieurs
what in these days they have known for weeks before from the press,
that "the piece we have had the honour of playing" is by such a
one--all combine to make an indelible impression on the mind of the
foreign spectator.

[Footnote 4: "Nous cuisinons meme l'amour."--TAINE.]

The Parisian is the most orderly and well-behaved of citizens. The
custom of the _queue_ is a spontaneous expression of his love of
fairness and order. Even the applause in theatres is organised. A
spectacle such as that witnessed at the funeral of Victor Hugo in
1885, the most solemn and impressive of modern times, is inconceivable
in London. The whole population (except the Faubourg St. Germain and
the clergy) from the poorest labourer to the heads of the State issued
forth to file past the coffin of their darling poet, lifted up under
the Arc de Triomphe, and by their multitudinous presence honoured his
remains borne on a poor bare hearse to their last resting-place in the
Pantheon. Amid this vast crowd, mainly composed of labourers,
mechanics and the _petite bourgeoisie_, assembled to do homage to the
memory of the poet of democracy, scarcely an _agent_ was seen; the
people were their own police, and not a rough gesture, not a trace of
disorder marred the sublime scene. The Parisian democracy is the most
enlightened and the most advanced in Europe, and as of old the
Netherlanders, in their immortal fight for freedom against the
monstrous and appalling tyranny of Spain, were stirred to heroic deeds
by the psalms of Clement Marot, even so to-day, where a few desperate
and devoted men are moved to wrestle with a brutal despotism, the
Marseillaise is their battle hymn. It is to Paris that the dearest
hopes and deepest sympathies of generous spirits will ever go forth in

"The struggle, and the daring rage divine for liberty,
Of aspirations toward the far ideal, enthusiast dreams of
brotherhood."

"Siede Parigi in una gran pianura,
Nell' ombilico a Francia, anzi nel core.
Gli passa la riviera en