The morning star and Catholic messenger., 1868-07-26
THE POOR OF PARIS.

oSASStihS aIticlc Oh tne ABOVE supJect' AL
though the writer sees much misery-a
great deal to condemn, and sometimes re-
voting conductor the whole, the condi
ton of the Paris poor, although for the most
part relieved by voluntary benefcence, is
greatly preferable to the legal, forced, but
demoralizing system of England. We sub
join few extracts
The poor of Paris. How many of the
thousands who annually visit "the city Of
palaces ever attempt to lift the veil which
obscures their existence from viewP In
London, whether you will or not, you meet
with traces of poverty at every turn. You
cannot promenade the most fashionable
streets without stepping over the footprints
of destitution. First, there are the living
examples-the walking advertisements OF
misery. Then there are the special haunts
of poverty in every parish. That narrow
archway is apparently designed for the ex-
press purpose of excluding from the vision
of the passer-by the picture of misery and
squalor which lies within it. 1t might es-
cape observation were it not for the stream
of toulness which pours out of it, and,
blackening all around, rushes into the tho
roughfare, offending all the senses of the
passengers. These are the standing monu-
ments of poverty-thc outposts of destitil-
ton. AS if their appearance We're not suffi
GENTLY uninviting to deter the most inqui-
sitive from an exploration of their interior,
you may almost invariably see stationed,
Cerberus-like, at these archways ono or two
figures, whose repellant garb and repulsive
countenances bid defiance to all intrnders.
Lastly, there are the broad acres of poverty
whole territories where raggedness and
squalor reign supreme. Low small houses,
narrow, dusty, ill-paved streets, peopled
with tattered men and women, and un-
kempt, wild, and shoeless children. These
are sure indications that the destitution
which elsewhere is but the fringe to the
mantle of wealth, is here the cloak which,
envelops the whole corpus of society. At
the corner of every street, a bright blaze of
light discovers knots of dark, woeful-look-
ing gobjects-degraded and dissipated atoms
of humanity, drawn helplessly to their CEN
tres of attraction. Moth like, they hover
round !; ever and anon they rush in to quaff
the re-water, and then they lurch to the
outside again, and cover round the deadly
light, as if waiting to make up their minds
for another dash into the remorseless flames
which are destroying them. How that lurid
glare lights up the picture! With what
Satanic effect does it fall upon the poor
lacerated bodies of the victims! In Lon
don, there is no possibility of delusion in
the matter; there is destitutiOn OF the direst
stamp. You see it, hear it, smell it, feel it,
In Paris, what Il contrast! In the streets,
you see passing to and fro workmen in
true, but you don't see any rags. You peep
into the cdfes-thcre are coarse blouses in
side, and their wcarers are chatting and
drinking their cup of pure red wine. What
n difference there is between the scene in
side Partisan cafe and that inside a Lon
don gin shop! Look at the cheerful coun
tcnanccs of the customers. How they seem
to enjoy themselves! don't say that there
is no drunkenness in the Paris wine shops;
l know to the contrary but what do say
H.
care-worn countenance and the ragged
dress of the habitual drunkard. Drinking
in order to produce stupor, seems to be in
Paris the exception, in London the rule.
almost the only indication of the existence
of real poverty which forces itself upon
sacking with the end of his stick those little
dirt-heaps in the gutter at the sides of the
street. At night, you see him, if you keep
Il sharp look out, shuffling along, lamp in
hand, searching for cigar-cnds with all the
cagerncss of want. The rapidity of his mo-
ton suggests Il consciousness of his anOma-
lous position
The guide books tell You that in the ftu-
bourgs you will meet with poverty; SO you
search accordingly. You look up at the
houses, and find them nearly as high as
ever; dowheupon the pavement, you
working men passing and repassing in great
numbers. They have the same rough
clothes, and the scene around you presents
an aspect OF work, but not of destitution.
There are plenty of coarse blouscs, but no
rags. The comparative absence of carriages
and of we'll dressed men and women, the
presence of some cheap clothes shops, and
dull dusty look about the cafes, are al
most the only indications which inform you
that you have left behind the abodes of the
bourgeois.
The difference between the outward as
pcct of the two cities is not, in all probabil-
ity, by any means SO bad a gauge of the
respective economic conditions of their in
ner life as we might at first be led to sup
pose. There are not in Paris the shoals of
hopeless, helpless creatures of misery which
we have in London. There is not the alb
solute pauperism which we have. Ofcourse,
misery has her victims in Paris, as else
where, and we find there that every form
of distress has itsreprescntatives. A glance