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Paris Assistance Publiqu?, Which Controls an Annual Income of $7,000,000 Belonging
to Oh Paris P»or in Their Own lUght. Copyright, 1904, by Curtis Brown. FARIS, Oct. 22.—Rich indeed are the Paris poor! They possess in their own right real estate bringing in about $300,000, and 6t6c*ks and bonds bringing in $250,000 per, annumj. they enjoy from various sources a clear income of more than $7,000,000; they have at their disposal hospitals, sanatoria, asylums, schools, lecture rooms and private physicians, . l^ensions for old age or illness or dis ability. And all this not, as in other fipes, to be solicited as a favor, but ruining to "them as their due after the pimple formality, of proving themselves paupers. -The trtl'th is that no Parisian need be, a paupet .unless he wants to be. And the fact that from the total pop ulation of 2,714;068 inhabitants 500,000, or^ nearly one-fifth, are largely depend ent upon the general revenues and in stitutions of the administration for the po^or would seem sufficient evidence thaf, whatever the number of beggars one may .meet in the streets, few really require help. While the Paris poor came by their we.ajth honestly through donations, legacies and state and city subven tions, the care of the vast property thus represented could naturally not be left to ,tfee poor collectively or to any individuals among them. So an organization known as the assistance ptfbiique, with officers appointed by the fgovernmeat to look after the pau pers 1 wealth and invest it and dis tribute its revenues in the fairest pos sible way, was devised. That was nearly a century and a quarter ago, ami through subsequent revolutions, republics and monarchies, it has con tinued to the present day with few modifications -in its line of conduct save that, the* sums to be handled have quadrupled in recent years. Under the- revolution, in 1793, a law ANDREW (Copyright,—3f»o4, by Curtis Brown.) L'OND^N,~Oct. 22.—At last Andrew- Carnegie 'has succeeded in get ting his particular crony, John Morley-Mindoubtedly the most Intimate of his friends, and also the man of late who has the most influ ence- over him—to promise to go with him to America. So this interesting pair wiU set forth in a few days, after having talked it all over at Skibo cas tle for the last two weeks. And the Right Hon. John Morley will be worth seeing. He comes nearer than anyqne else to being the successor of his old friend Gladstone as England's most distinguished plain citizen, partly because of his great name as a man of letters and partly because of the height and general remoteness of the political pinnacle on which he sits, looking down rather sadiy~: ~ on the squabbling and luuilrtling that goes on below him. There was a shrewd and ss'mpathetic picture of*tr<shti Morley in Israel Zang -wilj's novel, "The Mantle of Elijah," of which the statesman who is about to visit the United States for the first time undoubtedly the hero. There in you can get some idea of the only man in political life on whom the king has the recently . invented Order of Merit—an order worth con siderably more to John Morley than the^ peerage he could have had if he had cared for such tawdry things as coroaetsr «■ *-* Cajnegle's personal devotion to John Morley is so pronounced as to have beoome proverbial. Whenever the statesman speaks, either in the com mons or on the stump, there—if he can get< there —is the Pittsburg-Skibo mil lionaire, drinking in every word as ii* It were gospel" and applauding like a pclroolboyfcevery time he gets a chance. Whenever Carnegie comes to London, these two qtieerly assorted pals are fiure to be together most of the time, find whenever the laird of Skibo in the- Highlands, the latchstring h\al •ways, out for.his dearest friend. \ ".Honest John" It is not to Morley's profound schol arship, "his Tare intellectual gifts, his briljia.nt literary achievements or his statesmanship that he owes the unique position "which he occupies in public <?stsem <hsse.» People may differ from him on matters of opinion—the ma jority have generally done so—but po litical friends -and foes alike are all one . G. MESCKKUR. made it obligatory for the poor to re ceive each his share of the general in come. But the directorate decided that forcing money upon people was a little too radical, and the rule was estab lished, still in force, that the money and privileges belonged to the poor, but they must apply for it and prove their poverty. Vast Estates of the "Poor" The real estate owned by the Paris poor and controlled for them by tbe assistance publique represents an area of nearly 3,000,000 square feet. Thirty years ago the area was almost double this figure, but in view of the increased land values the administration judi ciously sold here and there and in vested the proceeds otherwise. The property includes 77 large houses in Paris and numerous farms in the suburbs, as well as 346 gardens and grounds in Paris: The.houses are rent ed for $200,000 as schools, factories or apartments, whereas the grounds are leased at $82,000 for all possible pur poses. By the ingenious, leasing of privileges—such as passage allowed through certain grounds, windows* al lowed in the walls of adjacent houses, etc. —an additional $5,000 a year is netted. Ingenionsness in gathering money in order that more may be spent is a notable trait of the assistance ptiblique administration. The hospitals, asylums, home schools and other establishments run for the benefit of the poor from their own funds, necessitate numerous incidental expenses, such as printing, sewing, the manufacture of shoes and brushes, market gardening and pro duce. The assistance publique found that it cost practically no more to slightly increase the output, and by selling the surplus $90,000 per year is now realized. Even the leavings of bones, grease, peelings and bread from in their belief in his bedrock honesty of purpose. It is this which has won for him the familiar sobriquet of "Hon est John" in the house of commons. Not even for the advantage of his par ty—and for party ends many good men have done some shady things and found no difficulty in quieting their con sciences—will John Morley stray by a hair's breadth from what he believes to be the right course. Of this implacable rectitude he fur nished a striking example early In his parliamentary career. In the general election of 1886—he had then been only three years in the house —he stood for Newcastle. Organized labor had there declared in favor of the eight-hour day, and insisted that their parliamentary representative should adopt the same view. But Mr. Morley believed that compulsory limitation of the hours of labor by legislative action was inimical to the interests of the workingmen. He declined to obey the mandate even if it cost him his seat—and it very nearly did. Accepting office in Gladstone's new ministry as chief secretary for Ireland he was faced with the necessity, in ac cordance with English law, of again appealing to his constituency for elec tion. Opposition to him on account of his attitude on the eight-hour question was stronger than ever. The tempta tion to temporize would have been ir resistible with most men now in pub lic life. His defeat would have admin istered a staggering blow to Glad stone's government and might have in volved its collapse. Apart from all considerations of his own political fu ture on seemingly high patriotic grounds he might have found plausible reasons for tampering with his convic tions. But such a course never seemed to have suggested itself to his mind. He went down to Newcastle, nailed his colors with firmer hand *o the mast, fought the fight over again, and won it again by a greatly increased majority. Since then, as proofs of his indifference to personal and worldly success have accumulated, respect for his character has grown even stronger than ad miration for his great intellectual pow ers. He is commonly regarded, not as a partisan but as a sage among states men, an adviser of the nation in times of doubt, and one whose chastening is accepted in times of trouble. It was, by the way, Gladstone's se lection of Morley as Irish secretary which first causetLa personal estrange ment between the grand old man and Mr. Chamberlain, producing a rift within the lute that, quickly widening, made the music of their friendship mute. The pushful Birmingham mem ber had expected the office himself. Had he obtained it the history of the THE ST. PAUL GLOBR SUNDAY. OCTOBER 2a 1904 CITY WHOSE PAUPERS ARE MILLIONAIRES Income of More Than $7,000,000 Is the Actual Property of the Paris Poor, Who Get $200,000 a Year From the Rent of Their -■' i inn j ... " ■".-■- ._ . ' -■ -■■ . - - ■ ■- . - " " i -" ' ' ' " ---■---_• ' • ' ■! . . ■■---.- ■-■ • - - - -- . ■ ■ . . - . . ---.-. .. . -.- .-.--- -• - -. • -■ ■-. . .„..■-„.-- ... . . „- ... Most of Their Wealth Came to Them by Donations, Some of Which Were Joyously Eccentric—How the Luckiest Paupers in the World Manage Their Wealth the various establishments are pre served and sold, netting $13,000 an nually. There is need for every penny of this money, the expenses attendant on the comfort of the poor being enor mous. To begin with, there are thir ty-two hospitals in Paris and twenty eight asylums, some in the capital and others rest resorts at the seaside or in the mountains, which must be seen to. Then there are pharmacies, butcher shops, laundries, supply stores for the poor. More than $3,000 is spent each year on the care and extension of mu seums to instruct the poor, $2,000 on books for them, and $2,000 in giving them postage stamps to communicate with their relatives. No less than $155,000 is devoted ex clusively each year to helping poverty stricken mothers who might be tempted to abandon their young children frpm inability to feed them. All septuagena rians have the. right to a minimum pension of $2 a month and no ques tions asked. Others old or weak or poorly paid, whatever their employ ment, draw pensions of from $1 to $4 a month. If they fall ill they hay« a physician at their call;, if the case is serious, they have hospitals and san atoria at_ their disposal. Fifty thousand Parisians depend ab solutely for their income upon this sys tem; 100,000 are more than half de pendent upon it. Six thousand chil dren are supported, housed, fed and educated; 20,000 are kept under sur veillance and furnished with means while left, with relatives or friends. Fortune Left to Buy Sugar Plums Although the assistance publique has, generally speaking, a free hand in managing the small estates of the Paris poor, some testators have specified pre cisely what use is to be made of their Liberal party in recent years might have been a very different one. But It made no difference in the cordial re lations between Morley and Chamber lain. Though they have so long been political foes, they remain fast friends. When parliament is in session "Our Joe" and "Honest John" often drive down to the house together and in dulge in a friendly fight as to who shall pay the cabby. Not So Cold as He Seems Jn most respects the two men are strikingly dissimilar. John Morley has not a personality which makes for pop ularity with the masses. To most peo ple he appears as a stern, unsympa thetic person—the incarnate genius of political rectitude in a frock coat and high hat. He has an austere physiog nomy and a grave sedateness of de meanor which keep people at a dis tance. But those who know him in timately, as. Andrew Carnegie does, de clare that the common view of him as a frigid philosopher who is indifferent to all the softer emotions is founded on an entire misconception of the real man. He has a rich, well cultivated imagination and a great deal more of the poetic temperament than most of hi? contemporaries. In private life he Is described as one of the' most genial of hosts and cordial and delightful of companions. But one thing he lacks which marks him as a man apart from most of his fellows. He has no amusements. He neither rides nor cycles, nor does he indulge in that favorite pastime of the man much given to meditation —fish- ing. Golf has never tempted him. There is no record that in his younger days he ever played cricket or football. From his youth up only intellectual pleasures have appealed to him. He revels In long walks across the hills or solitary meditations In country lanes. Still more does he enjoy a good book and. a shady seat in some quiet gar den. He seldom goes to a theater. His one relaxation is music, of which,, like Mr. Balfour, he is passionately fond. But from the house of commons or the platform he delights most of all to retreat to his library, where, with some well thumbed work in his hand, he forgets the intrigues of the lobbies and the heresies and vagaries of his political associates. While to the'world at large he ap pears as the embodiment of hard, cold intellect, he is as tender with animals as if he were a believer in metem psychosis. At one time when living in the country some distance from London, at the top of what Is called the hog's back, he indulged in the lux ury of keeping a horse, and the noble animal used to be sect to the station to meet him. But tie could never bear WELL-TO-DO PARISIANS COMING TO-CLAIM THEIR SHARE OF THE PAUPERS' ANNUAL INCOME. money, while others have imposed con ditions, failing the fulfillment of -which the sum would be forfeited. Hospital beds and scholarships are the uses most frequently ordered. But others of more unexpected natures. One worthy woman who died an old maid left an income of $40 to be given each year as a dowry to some deserving girL Numbers have since iollowed this example, leaving sums varying between $40 and $200 to be given as dowries for marriage or learning trades. A senti mental widow bequeathed $134 a year to be spent in buying sugar plums for the poor. More practical a man named Moreau left $16 a year for buying flan nel shirts. Another man whose name, Thibaud de Waxheim, proclaims him a foreigner to France and suggests per haps a sad life of adventures before he died in Paris, bequeathed all he had, representing an income of $6.60, to be given each year to a boy orphan. The records of bequests made to the poor give a singular insight into hu man nature. Piety and remorse seem. to have inspired most of the legacies; vengeance against a disliked relative prompted others; while sheer captious ness seems to have governed many. Hundreds of testators, leaving their fortunes to the poor, have asked only that an annual mass be said for their souls, and the assistance publique faithfully observing this part of its trust, keeps several churches busy in this way. One benefactor asked that his family tomb be torn down and re placed by another of more graceful model, a sketch of which was appended to the will with a request that it be executed in granite. Gen. Fabvier, a hero of the Napoleonic wars, made the Paris poor his residuary legatees on the condition that the following epitaph be to ride behind the horse except when on a tolerably easy gradient. / The horse use 3 to walk down the hill to meet him and used to walk up again in front of him, and it was not until he reached the summit of the hill that he entered the vehicle. While most men can't abide cats, he is very partial to them, preferring them to dogs. It Is perhaps because they are more ad dicted to a life of quiet contemplation and are not eternally on the go. It is rather curious to recall that John Morley, who, when he first sought to enter public life, was fiercely as-1 sailed as an atheist, and denounced from the pulpit because he once spell ed God, Christ and the Holy Ghost without the initial capital, was design ed by his father, a Blackburn surgeon, for the church. But in his Oxford days he fell under the influence of John Stuart Mill's teachings, and for him, thereafter, the church was impossible. It was from Mill's works he imbibed that passion for justice -which has al ways distinguished him. Coming to London in the early '60s, when just over twenty, he sought to make a living by his pen, and went through the usual Grub street experi ence of young literary aspirants, at one time having to sell some of his beloved books to keep the wolf from the door. But hard times did not last long with him. His powers of logical reasoning, combined with the charm of his literary style, soon gained him recognition, and he was invited to join the band of brilliant young men who were fighting the early battles of the Saturday Review. The late Lord Sal isbury, Sir 'William Harcourt and oth er men who subsequently helped make history were among his associates on the Saturday Reviler, as it soon came to be called. In 1867, when only twen ty-nine, he was made editor of the Fortnightly Review, a position which has been called the blue ribbon of the English literar™ world. For fifteen years he contioiled its destinies, and meanwhile wrote some of his best known books. Then he entered the realm of daily journalism and for three years was editor of the Pall Mall Ga- _ zette^with W. T. Stead as his assistant. Now Mr. Stead is a first-class jour nalist, though he has made several frightfully bad breaks. He has a pro found admiration for Mr. Morley, but editing a philosophical magazine is a very aifferent thing- from running a daily paper, and Mr. Stead has frankly stated his opinion that as a newspaper editor Mr. Morley was not a success. "Mr. Moneys mental characteristic," he says in one of his character sketches, "is not agility, but solidity. This lack of nimbleneas of mind was a drawback to him as an editor of a Buildings Alone placed as an eternal reproach on his tomb: TO THE UN HAPPIEST OF MOTHERS One testator founded three perpetual hospital beds on condition that at the head of each should stand statues of four saints, Damien, Cosmo, Martin and Margaret. Another left enough money for three scholarships, with the stipulation that each new beneficiary should, as soon as chosen, sing the De Profundls in memory of him. The Baroness de Montaigne willed that each year twelve children should be taught a trade from the interests on her es tates, the chiiaren being chosen by drawing lots on which was written "God has been gracious to me." Whims of Other Donors One of the principal benefactors, named Boulard, left his great fortune on the sole understanding that those benefiting by his charity should cele brate his birthday each year by eating fricasseed chicken. Thanks to another request observed by the assistance publique, an author who otherwise would or perhaps should never have been known to the world, came to light. "I beg,"wrote Miss Zenobia Bousquet, in her last will, "that the executors who settle my estate in favor of the poor, shall have papa's works printed. lam sure they deserve it." When the print ing was done papa was no nearer to fame than he had been, but the Paris poor were richer by $12,000. Family quarrels are responsible for many large bequests. Gen. de Feu cheres left to the Paris poor $2,400,-' 000, the totality of his wife's dowry. He had thought he was marrying a royal princess and found out too late that he had been royally duped, and in his indignation he refused to see her daily paper. He was not a born jour nalist. He was deficient in the range of his sympathies, tto power on earth could command Mr. jllorley's attention in three-fourths of the matter that fills the papers. He is in intellect an aris tocrat He looked down with* infinite contempt on most of the trifles that in terest the British tomfool, as the gen eral reader used sometimes to be play fully designated when considerations of management clashed with editorial as pirations. He had no eye for news and he was totally devoid of the journal istic instinct. To him a newspaper was simply a pulpit from which he could preach, and as a preacher, like all of us who are absorbed in our own ideas, he was apt at times to be a little monoto nous." It was rather hard on Stead to have to submit to Morley's blue pencil and to find his articles returned to him, as he records, "with all the most telling passages struck out," for Morley was a great stickler for severity of style and restraint and sobriety of expres sion. "But," writes Mr. Stead, "there was never any trouble in the office. He be lieved in authority, and I believed as implicity in obedience. No one ever tookliberties with Mr. Morley. Every one went more or less in awe of him. When the thundercloud gathered in his eyes or the gout was prowling about his extremities, we all minded our p's and q's at the Pall Mall Gazette. But we all liked him, and, for my part, I had never worked with anyone before with whom comradeship was at once such a pleasure and such a stimu lant." H>s Maiden Speech a Failure Morley was only twenty-seven when he first tried to enter parliament—and met with crushing defeat. Many years he waited before trying again, and it was not until he was forty-six that he found a constituency with sufficient faith in him to elect him. His career in the house of commons has furnish ed a striking exception to the rule that only those who enter it in their young manhood can achieve high parliamen tary renown. But his maiden speech was a failure. It was carefully pre pared, full of weighty matter and read beautifully, but as he painfully stum bled through it, with parched tongue and blanched face, it fell flat. It seem ed- to his friends that the disciple was destined to repeat the tragic parlia mentary failure of his master, John Stuart Mill. The position that he has long held as one of the ablest speakers in the house of commons was acquired by slow, dog ged effGrt. He always iiad It in him, but for several sessions could not get it out. As a platform orator he now THR RIGHT HON. JOHN MORLEY Whose CinM. Andrew Caraeele, Has at Last Induced Him to Visit the United Statea again or touch, her money. A vitriolic old maid named Bonaime penned her will as follows: "I wish that after my death all that I own shall be sold for the poor. My family has no claim on me and can raise no objections- They have ghown me only envy and jealousy. It is with a sense of utmost gratification that I leave what I have to people who have done me neither good nor harm." Some seek an atonement. One sui cide wrote: "If ,1 have resolved to leave this world, it is because extreme weakness no longer allows.me to bear bravely the load of my slow and pain ful existence. My remorse at commit ting an act contrary to religious law leads me to hope that God will forgive me." 4 Gen. de Laumiere?'ktlFe<J before Pue bla in the Mexican war, was pursued by compunction for having left a tai lor's bill unpaid. "I beg my father,",, he wrote, "to seek in Paris one Jaquet, who was my tailor in 1834. I think I must owe him 500 francs. If he or his heirs can be found, 1,500 francs are to be given them. --Otherwise 2,000 shall go to .tlje Paris poor." The Geunt de Chateaugiron wrote on similar lines: "I bequeath to the Paris pdoV 500 francs, too slight rep aration for the harm I have wrought to creditors of my youth, whom I can not find." Some slight dissatisfaction is ex pressed on the part of the poor as to the management of their property, and a project is now on foot in virtue of which the method of distributing mon ey may be somewhat modified. The minimum income allowed is, indeed, only 2V S cents a day given to those who have other means. This sum, it is said, is too insignificant to be of any utility, and yet it is distributed so gen- shines even more than as a parliamen tary debater. But it was some years before he mastered that art by discard ing carefully prepared addresses and letting' himself go, trusting to the "fire in his belly," to use a favorite Carlylean phrase of his. It is only a great man that can win the friendship of great men, and many great men have been numbered among John Morley's friends. The intimate relations that existed between him and that apostle of sweetnesa and light, Matthew Arnold, are well known. His biography of Gladstone is a monument to another friendship. But among all hia friends, the one who exercised the most beneficent influence over him when his mind was still in the forma tive period, is. as he acknowledged, George Meredith, the novelist. It was Meredith, more than any other, who took him out of himself and awoke in him that feeling for nature which has ever since remained one of the greatest pleasures of his existence. Characteristics of His Home His intense love of nature is well shown in his new home on the out skirts of. Wimbledon, one of the pret tiest suburbs of London. In many re spects the house is characteristic of its occupant. The front of it —that which greets tne passerby—is severely plain ancf somber. But back of it is a large and beautiful garden. And here, con nected with the house itself by a cov ered passage, Mr. Morley has built a study, where, among his books-he does his work, finding solace and inspiration in the flowers and shrubs and trees that he sees when he glances out of the windows. And here he receives his friends and shows himself as he is and not as the world conceives him to be. Hia domestic life is said to be a happy one, but Mrs. Morley is one of those wives of great men who stay very much in the background. She seldom accompanies her husband when he takes part in public functions or visits distinguished people. They have no children, although Mrs." Morley has a daughter by a former marriage. There is no space here to go into the question of Mr. Morley's religion—or lack of It. That is set forth in his writings. But denunciation of him as an atheist because he rejects the claims of Christianity to be regarded as a divinely inspired religion has long given way to the perception among the best opponents of ■'Christianity that he is a man of intensely reverential spirit. He once told a friend that his "Psalm of Life" was Goethe's "Dag Gottliche" —the divine. The last verse is well worth quoting as the faith by which Mr. Morley lives. Literally translated it runs: 'Xis the glory of man erally as to represent at the end of each year a vast amount, which might have been of real value to a more re stricted number. It is, therefore, proposed to divide the poor into four classes: The first, those incapable of work and without any resources, numbering 6,000, to re ceive $6 a month; the second, those able to work only a little or having a very modest income, numbering 8,000, to receive $4 a month; the third, those having employment or an income just sufficient to keep them alive, number ing 26,000, to receive $2 a month, and the fourth, 12,500, including widows, divorcees and women abandoned by their husbands, from $1 to $2 per month, according to the circumstances, These classes represent, of course, only j those who depend entirely or largely upon the public funds, and would nof ' cause prejudice to the other branches * of the administration. Only one trouble, however, lies in the" way, and that is, that to effect this re form which the poor demand for their own property, more money than now ex ists would be required. Nearly $1,000, --000 in addition would be needed each year; and the assistance publique is waiting for some more legacies to come ♦ in before approving the plan. —Francis Warrington Dawson. Hts Well Known Name An English manufacturer who has just returned from a tour in Scotland is relat ing an amusing incident which occurred during his trip. In a remote village in the lowlands ha came across an inhabitant of such vener- . able appearance that he stopped to chat with him. "By the way, what is your name?" in quired the trgvelar. "Robert Burns," was the answer. T)ear me, that's a very well [ known name." "Nae doot it is, mon; I've been blacksmith in this village for nigh orf * sixty years."—Kansas City Independent. To be helpful and good, Unwearied procuring The useful, the right: A prototype so Of the gods we grope a£ter. So groping after gods, and finding none, to this faith of his, both in hia precepts and his practice, he has cer tainly been true. "The^>ne command ing law is that men shall do right, if the very heavens fall," he says some where. He is a veritable Puritan In politics, with a passion for righteous ness. Much Interested in America Most characteristic of the man wai his presentation to Cambridge univer sity of the late Lord Acton's splendid library, which Andrew Carnegie had purchased as a gift for his chum. "For some time," he wr*ote to the chancellor of the university, "I played with the fancy of retaining tlve library, for my own use and delectation. But I am not covetous of splendid p*6sea-» sions; life is very short, and su<A a collection is fitter for a public and Bio dying institution than for any private individual." Sad rings that sentence —"lifejs very. . short"—from Mr. Morley, for he will soon be within four years of the al lotted span. For many years he has wished to visit America. Alfred Mosely wanted him to come along when he. took out his educational commission, but Mr. Morley was then too busy with his "Life of Gladstone" to accept the in vitation. Besides, as a member of a delegation pledged to a specific ob ject, he would hardly have found an . opportunity for doing much spying around on his own account. He has always been greatly interested in the working machinery of American poli tics, and is immensely pleased that he will be able to witness the fierce bat tles and final scenes of a presidential election. Incidentally, while in New York he will investigate Tammany a bit and try to find out the secret of the tiger's strength. Educational afld in dustrial matters will engage touch of his attention, and generally he will try to ascertain why Uncle Sam is forging ahead of John Bull so fast. As the biographer of Cobden and one of the great apostles of free trade it is not likely, however, that he will become a convert to protection. He will be heard occasionally in public, having already consented to address the Pitts burg Chamber of Commerce on Nov. 4. He is one of the men who never per mits himself to be interviewed in Eng land, and the American reporters will probably find him aa hard a proposi tion to tackle as the archbishop of Can terbury. —Frederic Harland Morris.