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THIS  BOOK  IS  PRESENT 

IN  OUR  LIBRARY 

THROUGH  THE 

GENEROUS 

CONTRIBUTIONS  OF 

ST.  MICHAEL'S  ALUMNI 

TO  THE  VARSITY 

FUND 


HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 


-   t     Q 

L'5-iiWi 


"Chaque  Frangais  travaille  pour  1'avenir  et  accumule  pour  la  poste'rite', 
retranchant  me"thodiquement  sur  son  bien-etre  et  sur  son  plaisir,  ce  qu'il 
faut  pour  le  bien-etre  des  generations  futures  et  les  heVitiers  qu'il  ne  connaitra 
pas."— M.  GABRIEL  HANOTAUX  ("  Le  France  Contemporaine  "). 


HOME  LIFE  IN  FRANCE 


BY 


MISS   BETHAM-EDWARDS 

OFFICIER  DB  I/INSTRUCTION  PUBLIQUB  DB  FRANC! 


WITH  TWENTY  ILLUSTRATIONS 


SIXTH  EDITION 


METHUEN   &   CO.   LTD. 

36    ESSEX    STREET    W.  C. 

LONDON 


First  Published  ....  May  1903 

Second  Edition     ....  July  1905 

Third  Edition October  1905 

Fourth  Edition     ....  March  1906 

Newer  and  Cheaper  Issue  .  March  1907 

Fifth  Edition April  1908 

Sixth  Edition ij 


A  UN   AMI   FRANgAIS 
CE    LIVRE    EST    DEDIE 

M.  B.-E. 


SOME  of  these  papers  have  appeared  in  the  Cornhill 
and  other  Magazines,  to  the  Editors  and  Proprietors 
of  which  I  here  make  due  acknowledgment.  My  best 
thanks  are  also  due  to  the  numerous  French  friends 
who  have  helped  me  in  the  matter  of  facts  and  figures, 
and  to  the  artists  who  have  so  graciously  lent  photo- 
graphs of  their  works. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 

FAGB 

SOCIAL  USAGES I 


CHAPTER    II 
HOUSEKEEPING  .          .          ,        12 

CHAPTER   III 

HOLIDAY-MAKING ,       36 

CHAPTER   IV 

THE  BABY •          ,          »        44 

CHAPTER  V 

THE  GIRT, 51 

CHAPTER  VI 

THE  BOY ,          .        59 

CHAPTER  VII 

CONSCRIPTS 69 

CHAPTER  VIII 

BRIDES  AND  BRIDEGROOMS 77 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   IX 

PACK 

WIVES  AND   MOTHERS  ......          ...        89 

CHAPTER  X 

THE  SINGLE  LADY          .....          .          .          .          .98 

CHAPTER   XI 

THE  DOMESTIC  HELP    .......          *          .      10$ 

CHAPTER  XII 
MESSIEURS  LES  DEPUTES      ......         .         .113 

CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  OFFICER          ..........     I2O 

CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  COUNTRY  DOCTOR          ........      I26 

CHAPTER  XV 
MY  FRIEND   MONSIEUR  LE  CURE 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  PROTESTANT   PASTOR    ........      140 

CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  PROFESSOR  OF  AGRICULTURE      ......     148 

CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  JUGE  DE  PAIX       .         .          .          ......     154 

CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  TAX  COLLECTOR    .  l6o 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  XX 

PAGE 

THE  YOUNG  BUSINESS  LADY          .......      1  6$ 

CHAPTER  XXI 

A  GREAT  LADY  MERCHANT  ........     1  72 

CHAPTER   XXII 

AN  ASPIRANT  TO  THE  COMEDIE  FRANCAISE       ,          ,          .          -179 

CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE  VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER       .......      I&5 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

JACQUES   BONHOMME 


CHAPTER  XXV 

RESTAURANT-KEEPING  IN  PARIS  ......     2OO 

CHAPTER   XXVI 

HOURS  IN  VAL-DE-GRACE      ........     2O7 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

MY  JOURNEY  WITH   MADAME  LA  PATRONNE       .          .          .          .213 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  LYCEE  FENELON   FOR  GIRLS          ......     2  19 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

LA     MAISON    PATERNELLE,    OR     REFORMATORY     FOR     YOUNG 

GENTLEMEN     .........  *      227 

CHAPTER   XXX 

THE   FAMILY  COUNCIL  ,,.«..,*.     239 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  XXXI 


PAGE 


CHARACTERISTICS «.          .      253 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

FICTION  AND   FIRESIDES        .          .          .          .          .          .          .          .268 

CHAPTER   XXXIII 

THE  CODE  CIVIL  AND   FAMILY  LIFE 277 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
NEW  YEAR'S  ETIQUETTE      .........    285 

CHAPTER   XXXV 
THE  ENTENTE  CORDIALE .          .291 

INDEX 301 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


TO  PACK  PACK 

MARRIAGE  Frontispiece 

By  H.  Gervex.     Photograph  by  Braun,  Clement  6s  Cie. 

HOLIDAY  AMUSEMENTS 37 

By  Madame  Delacroix-Gamier. 

JUVENILE  FORT-BUILDING 39 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Roy  an. 

SEASIDE  SIGHTS,  THE  HARVEST  OF  THE  SALT  ....        40 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 

THE  HARVEST  OF  THE  SALT  (VENDEE) 40 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 

GYMNASTIC  FETE  AT  PONS  (SAINTONGE)  ,          .          .       6l 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 

CONSCRIPTS 71 

By  P.  A.  J.  Dagnan-Bouveret.     Photograph  by  Braun,  Clement  &  Cie. 

THE    FIRST    COMMUNION 79 

By  Jules  Breton.     Photograph  by  Braun,  Clement  dr*  Cie. 

BRIDAL  PAIR  (1LE  D'OLERON) 8 1 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 

M.     LE     PREFET     REWARDS     LONG     SERVICE     (A     Scene     from 

Madame  Bovary) 109 

By  H.  Brispot,     Photograph  by  Braun,  Clement  &*  Cie. 


xii  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

TO  FACE    CAGE 

HAPPY  SOLITUDE  ..........      135 

By  M.  VAbbl  van  Hcllebeke. 

PROTESTANT  CHURCH  OF  SAUJON  (SAINTONGE)          .          .          .144 
Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Roy  an. 

A  SITTING  OF  THE  JUGE  DE  PAIX        .          .          .          .          *          •     157 

Photograph  by  F.  Braun  %  Roy  an. 

TO  THE  VILLAGE  SCHOOL      ........      1  86 

Photograph  by  F.  Brannt  Roy  an. 

"A  SMALL  THING,   BUT  MY  OWN"  (SAINTONGE)          .          .          -194 
Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 


THE  RETURN   FROM   MARKET 
Photograph  by  F.  Braun,  Royan. 


IN  THE  VINEYARD          ......          .          .          •  197 

Photograph  by  F,  Brartn,  Royan. 

DARBY  AND  JOAN  .......          ...  199 

Photograph  by  Clouzot,  Niort. 

LA  MAISON   PATERNELLE       ........  226 

LA  MAISON  PATERNELLE—  INTERIOR  .....  230 


HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 


CHAPTER   I 

SOCIAL   USAGES 

THE  first  turning  of  a  French  door-handle  is  symbolic. 
Just  as  we  lower  the  knob  to  the  left,  our  neigh- 
bours raise  it  to  the  right,  so  we  may  safely  take 
it  for  granted  that  everything  done  across  the  water  is 
performed  after  a  fashion  directly  contrary  to  our  own. 
Domestic  arrangements,  social  usages,  rules  of  etiquette  are 
pleasantly  criss-cross,  divertingly  unfamiliar,  neither  more 
nor  less  than  antipodal.  Twenty-four  hours  spent  under  a 
French  roof  may  be  described  as  a  perpetual  process  of 
dishabituation.  The  merest  bagatelle  is  invested  with 
novelty.  Unaccustomed  ways  and  surroundings  make  it 
difficult  to  believe  that  French  and  English  are  separated 
by  an  hour's  sea  journey  only  ;  that  in  clear  weather  France 
and  England  contemplate  each  other  face  to  face.  Nor  on 
further  acquaintance  does  this  impression  vanish.  Many 
of  our  countrymen,  like  the  late  Mr.  Hamerton,  have  made 
France  their  home.  But  in  their  case  it  is  dissimilarity  that 
fascinates.  In  the  very  least  like  the  home  left  behind,  a 
French  fireside  can  never  be. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  guest-chamber  of  a  well- 
appointed  house.  Our  first  notion  is  that  a  bed  has  just 
been  put  into  a  boudoir  or  drawing-room  for  our  accommo- 
dation. Not  a  single  object  suggests  a  room  in  which  we 

B  I 


2  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

not  only  sleep,  but  go  through  the  various  processes  of  the 
toilette.  We  soon  discover  that  one  handsome  piece  of 
furniture,  as  closely  shut  as  a  piano  with  the  lid  down,  is 
a  washstand  ;  another,  equally  delusive  at  first  sight,  is  a 
dressing-table  ;  or,  maybe,  a  panel  reveals  a  tiny  dressing- 
closet,  the  said  panel  never  under  any  circumstances  what- 
ever being  allowed  to  remain  open  during  the  day. 

Most  things  in  France  have  a  historic  explanation,  and 
the  fashion  of  receiving  visitors  in  one's  bedroom  was  set 
by  royalty.  Sully  describes  how  one  morning  Henri 
Quatre  waked  up  his  "  dormouse  " — the  snoring  Marie  de 
Medici — by  his  side,  in  order  that  she  might  hear  what  the 
minister  had  to  say.  The  Sun-King  allowed  himself  farther 
licence,  and  held  solemn  audiences  in  his  garde-robe.  Ver- 
sailles, vast  as  it  was,  had  no  space  for  private  salons; 
courtiers  of  both  sexes  could  only  be  at  home  to  visitors 
in  their  bedrooms. 

The  habit  has  not  wholly  died  out.  I  have  at  different 
times  spent  many  weeks  with  old-fashioned  folk  living  near 
Dijon,  the  household  consisting  of  three  families  living 
under  one  roof.  On  the  first  chilly  day  a  fire  would  be 
lighted  in  the  grandmother's  bedroom,  and  thither  we  all 
adjourned  for  a  chat  or  a  game  of  whist.  If  neighbours 
dropped  in,  no  apology  was  offered  for  receiving  them  thus 
u  nceremoniously. 

Another  custom  handed  down  from  generation  to  gene- 
ration is  that  of  employing  men  in  housework.  In  private 
interiors,  as  well  as  in  hotels,  men  often  supply  the  place  of 
housemaids,  at  any  rate  up  to  a  certain  point.  They  sweep 
the  rooms,  polish  the  floors,  and  brush  velvet-covered 
furniture.  In  Balzac's  works,  these  domestics  are  often 
mentioned.  During  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries 
valets  de  chambre  not  only  acted  the  part  of  housemaids, 
but  of  ladies'  maids  ;  they  arranged  their  mistress's  head- 
dress and  hair,  and  aided  her  in  the  adjustment  of  hoops 
&a&  fallalas  or  flounces.  Perhaps  the  fact  of  Frenchwomen 


SOCIAL   USAGES  3 

in  former  days  always  being  dressed,  never  dressing  them- 
selves, accounts  for  the  indifference  to  the  looking-glass. 

It  has  ever  been  a  standing  marvel  to  me  that  our 
sisters  over  the  water  have  their  bonnets  straight  and  their 
coiffure  irreproachable.  In  the  matter  of  mirrors  they  are 
worse  off  than  Pompeiian  ladies  with  their  metal  substitutes. 
A  French  sleeping  apartment  abounds  in  reflectors ;  never 
by  any  chance  can  you  see  yourself  properly.  A  looking- 
glass  invariably  surmounts  the  mantelpiece,  but  so  obscured 
by  ornamental  timepiece  and  branched  candelabra  as  to  be 
absolutely  unavailable.  There  will  be  looking-glasses  here, 
looking-glasses  there ;  for  one  that  answers  the  purpose 
for  which  it  was  intended  you  seek  in  vain.  With  regard 
to  downiness,  elasticity,  and  cleanliness  the  French  bed  is 
unsurpassed,  every  year  or  every  two  years  the  mattresses 
being  opened,  picked  over,  and  aired.  The  only  drawback 
is  height,  a  bed  being  often  as  difficult  to  get  at  as  the 
upper  berth  of  a  ship's  cabin. 

In  a  French  house  no  prevailing  savour  of  fried  bacon 
between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  a.m.  announces  the  family 
breakfast.  Your  tea  or  coffee  and  roll  are  served  whilst  you 
still  luxuriate  on  your  pillows.  Rousseau  pronounced  the 
English  breakfast  to  be  the  most  charming  custom  he  found 
here.  The  French  habit  has  much  to  recommend  it.  Our 
hosts  are  left  to  themselves,  and  our  own  day  is  begun 
without  effort  or  fatigue.  A  French  home,  moreover,  is 
seldom  adapted  for  a  house  party.  The  cosy  morning 
room,  the  library,  and  smoking-room  are  only  found  in 
palatial  dwellings.  What  would  a  lady  do,  for  example, 
with  three  or  four  visitors  in  a  Parisian  flat  ? 

The  next  experience  of  a  French  household  is  its 
extreme  animation — with  apologies  to  my  friends — I  will 
say  noisiness.  An  English  band  of  housemaids  is  mouse- 
like in  its  movements.  Passages  are  swept  and  dusted, 
breakfast-room,  schoolroom,  servants'  hall  are  prepared  for 
the  morning  meal  in  almost  unbroken  silence.  No  sooner 


4  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

are  shutters  thrown  open  in  France  than  a  dozen  sounds 
announce  the  resumption  of  work,  the  return  to  daily  life. 
Men  and  maids  laugh,  talk,  or  dispute  at  the  top  of  their 
voices  ;  master  and  mistress  shout  orders  ;  children  make 
a  playroom  of  corridors.  The  general  effervescence  might 
lead  a  modern  Voltaire's  Ingenu,  or  the  counterpart  of 
Montesquieu's  Persian,  to  suppose  that  in  France  taciturnity 
is  heavily  taxed. 

The  prevailing  quietness  of  an  English  interior  equally 
surprises  a  French  new-comer.  The  late  Alphonse  Daudet 
resented  such  tranquillity.  To  an  interviewer  he  unflatter- 
ingly  compared  the  silent,  reserved  London  home  with  the 
life  of  a  Parisian  flat :  from  an  open  window  a  piano  heard 
there  ;  from  an  open  door  voices  heard  here  ;  folk  chatter- 
ing on  the  stairs ;  not  a  storey  without  animation  and 
movement.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of  our  neighbours 
fall  in  love  with  our  own  domestic  quietude  and  seclusion 
only  the  family  circle  housed  under  a  single  roof ;  no  in- 
quisitorial concierge  watching  one's  going  out  and  coming 
in  ;  last,  but  not  least,  no  servants  shut  out  at  night,  sleep- 
ing in  attics  perhaps  three  or  four  storeys  above  that  of 
their  employers. 

Drawing-rooms  differ  from  our  own  no  less  than  bed- 
rooms. In  France  furniture,  as  well  as  laws,  customs,  and 
social  ordinances,  has  closely  followed  tradition.  A  Parisian 
salon  still  recalls  the  stilted  seventeenth  century,  the 
remorselessly  formal  epoch  of  Madame  de  S£vigne.  Under 
the  next  reign  slight  modifications  were  introduced.  The 
straight-backed,  ironically-called  fauteuil  or  easy-chair  of 
Louis  XIV.,  upright,  solemn,  and  uncomfortable  as  a  throne, 
was  replaced  by  an  armchair  with  cushions,  and  of  more 
reposeful  make.  The  fauteuil  Voltaire  was  a  further  im- 
provement. Sofas,  settees,  footstools  followed  suit ;  but 
French  upholstery  still  sacrifices  ease  to  elegance.  The 
comparison  of  Maple's  showroom  in  the  Boulevard  de  la 
Madeleine  with  that  of  a  Parisian  rival  shows  the  difference. 


SOCIAL   USAGES  5 

Then,  arrangement  is  different.  French  visitors  in 
England  are  surprised  at  what,  for  want  of  a  better  word,  I 
will  call  the  "  at-homeness  "  of  our  own  drawing-rooms — 
in  one  corner  the  mistress's  writing-table,  in  another  a  case 
of  favourite  books  ;  on  the  table,  library  volumes,  reviews, 
and  newspapers  ;  music  on  the  open  piano,  doggie's  basket 
by  the  fireplace,  a  low  chair  or  two  for  the  children  ;  on  all 
sides  evidence  of  perpetual  occupation. 

A  French  salon  must  not  so  unbend  ;  domesticities 
within  such  precincts  would  be  held  out  of  place.  A  semi- 
circle of  elegant  elbow  chairs,  or  bergeres,  face  the  high- 
backed  sofa,  on  which  sits  the  lady  of  the  house  when  at 
home  to  friends.  Rugs  sparsely  break  the  expanse  of 
polished  floor ;  consoles,  brackets,  and  cabinets  impart  a 
museum-like  aspect.  The  French  salon — of  course,  with 
exceptions — however  much  it  may  dazzle  the  eye,  does  not 
warm  the  heart. 

The  dining-room  calls  for  no  comment,  but  table 
arrangements  offer  novelty.  Except  in  homely,  old- 
fashioned,  and  modest  households  dishes  at  the  twelve- 
o'clock  dtjeuner,  now  often  called  lunch,  are  invariably 
carved  by  the  servants  and  handed  round.  The  free-and- 
easy  etiquette  of  an  English  family  luncheon  has  not  as 
yet  been  followed.  One  peculiarity  of  non-official  French 
meals  is  the  rule  regarding  wine.  It  is  never  the  butler 
or  footman,  always  the  host  and  hostess  or  a  lady's  table 
companion,  who  offer  wine,  a  decanter  being  placed  by 
every  alternate  cover.  The  custom  doubtless  arises  from 
the  habit,  now  fallen  into  complete  disuse,  of  toasting  one's 
next-door  neighbour.  The  position  of  glass  or  glasses  is 
another  important  point.  These  are  always  placed  im- 
mediately in  front  of  your  plate ;  never  at  the  right  hand, 
as  with  ourselves.  A  friendly  hostess  explained  to  me 
that  this  position  is  a  precaution  against  accidents  ;  but  as 
dishes  are  always  served  on  the  left  side,  I  do  not  quite  see 
the  force  of  her  argument. 


6  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

A  luncheon  party,  or  formal  dejeuner,  is  a  much  more 
protracted  and  formal  affair  than  on  our  side  of  the  water. 
Coffee  having  been  served,  the  company  return  to  the 
drawing-room,  but  not  to  chat  for  five  minutes  and  disperse, 
as  with  us.  The  men  disappear  for  the  enjoyment  of 
cigarettes ;  the  ladies  indulge  in  what  is  called  a  canserie 
intime,  or  talk  of  business,  children,  and  family  affairs. 
French  ladies,  be  it  recalled  by  the  way,  never  smoke. 
The  habit  is  entirely  left  to  the  Bohemian  and  the  un- 
classed.  The  early  dejeuner  hastens  on  the  hour  of  calls. 
Visits,  alike  ceremonial  and  friendly,  are  generally  made 
between  one  and  two  o'clock.  The  late  M.  Cherbuliez, 
with  whose  warm  friendship  I  was  honoured,  always  chose 
that  time  for  his  long  delightful  chats. 

Afternoon  tea,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  is  rather 
made  an  excuse  for  social  reunion  than  regarded  in  the 
light  of  a  habit  or  necessity.  Most  often  friends  invite 
each  other  to  one  of  the  numerous  "  five  o' clocks,"  now  a 
feature  of  Parisian  hotels.  The  children's  gotiter,  or  lunch 
of  bread  and  chocolate,  is  eaten  here,  there,  and  everywhere. 
Two  meals,  and  two  meals  only,  have  French  cooks  to 
trouble  their  heads  about  during  the  twenty-four  hours. 
And  here  I  would  observe  that,  although  among  English- 
speaking  cosmopolitan  French  people  the  second  dejeuner 
is  often  called  lunch,  ordinarily  the  term  designates  the 
light  and  elegant  repast  taken  later  in  the  day — at  two  or 
three  o'clock,  for  example,  in  the  case  of  weddings,  at  four 
or  five  in  that  of  garden  parties.  Tea  is  now  appearing  at 
le  lunch  de  Papres  midi.  In  country  houses  informal 
refreshments  are  taken  out-of-doors,  upon  such  occasions 
young  ladies  not  disdaining  beer  with  their  brioche,  or 
light  sweetened  bread  ;  there  tea  is  very  seldom  made. 

We  now  come  to  the  all-important  subject  of  dinner. 
Here  etiquette  is  exceedingly  precise.  Dr.  Johnson  would 
never  have  had  to  complain  in  France  that  somebody's 
dinner  was  all  very  well,  but  "  not  a  dinner  to  invite  a 


SOCIAL   USAGES  7 

man  to."  Critical  of  the  critical,  and  in  no  matter  more 
so  than  in  that  of  gastronomy,  French  hosts  will  always 
make  quite  sure  that  their  dinner  is  worth  inviting  a 
man  to. 

I  well  remember  a  dejeuner  to  which  I  was  invited  some 
years  since  by  an  ex-Minister  of  Public  Instruction  and  his 
wife,  only  one  other  guest  and  two  or  three  members  of 
the  family  making  up  the  party.  My  fellow-guest  was  a 
Russian,  my  hosts  were  Lorrainers,  and,  as  a  delicate 
compliment,  the  three  principal  dishes — fresh-water  fish, 
venison,  and  gaieties  (a  kind  of  pancake) — were  all  local 
dainties,  and  all  exquisitely  cooked  after  local  fashion. 
Such  little  attentions  lend  a  grace  and  charm  altogether 
unpurchasable  to  any  banquet.  The  invitatory  compliment 
is  thereby  doubled.  By  offering  you  the  choicest  products 
of  his  especial  corner  of  France,  your  host  seems  to  enter- 
tain in  a  double  capacity— to  represent  his  province  as  well 
as  his  household. 

I  will  now  say  something  about  etiquette.  In  a  civili- 
zation so  ancient  and  so  elaborate  as  that  of  France  the 
cult  of  manners  would  naturally  hold  a  prominent  place. 
So  far  back  as  1675  social  usages  were  inculcated  in  a 
manual  by  Antoine  de  Courtin,  "Traite"  de  la  Civilitd  qui 
se  pratique  en  France,  parmi  les  honnetes  gens."  Three- 
quarters  of  a  century  later  appeared  another  work  on  good 
manners,  "  Civilit£  puerile  et  honnete,  par  un  missionnaire," 
more  especially  adapted  to  the  young  ;  and  from  that  date 
numerous  works  of  the  kind  have  been  issued. 

One  curious  feature  of  French  etiquette  is  the  direct 
opposition  of  many  rules  to  our  own,  in  every  case  the 
divergence  being  explicable.  With  ourselves  an  introduc- 
tion entitles  a  lady  to  acknowledge  or  not  as  she  pleases  a 
presentee  of  the  other  sex.  Precisely  an  opposite  rule 
holds  good  in  France  ;  here,  as  in  so  many  other  instances, 
custom  following  tradition.  Louis  XIV.  never  encountered 
a  washerwoman  or  chambermaid  without  raising  his  hat. 


8  HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

An  Englishman  respectfully  salutes  a  lady  of  his  acquaint- 
ance. A  Frenchman,  following  the  example  of  the  Roi 
Soleil,  pays  indiscriminate  homage  to  the  sex  ;  he  would 
never  dream  of  addressing  a  shop  assistant  or  a  concierge 
without  such  a  salute.  Under  no  circumstance  whatever 
must  a  lady  in  France  take  the  initiative  ;  it  is  for  a  man 
to  proclaim  himself  her  leal  servitor,  for  her  to  accept  his 
obeisance.  An  introduction  in  a  friendly  drawing-room 
authorizes — indeed,  obliges — a  gentleman  to  acquaint  him- 
self with  the  lady's  day  and  hour  of  reception,  and  then  to 
present  himself. 

Tradition  may  also  be  traced  in  the  etiquette  of  calls. 
In  England,  whenever  new-comers  settle  in  a  country  town 
or  village,  it  is  for  residents  to  leave  cards  or  not  as  they 
please.  In  France  the  case  is  different ;  with  new-comers 
rests  the  option  of  proffering  intercourse.  The  purchaser 
of  a  chateau  or  villa  is  not  called  upon  by  his  neighbours  ; 
he  calls  upon  those  whose  acquaintance  he  wishes  to  culti- 
vate. I  think  the  reversal  of  our  own  rule  may  be  explained 
in  this  way.  What  is  called  villadom  in  England  is  a  world 
that  has  sprung  up  outside  the  close  ring  of  ancestral 
manors.  With  the  French  campagne  or  country  house  it  is 
otherwise.  As  M.  Rambaud  has  pointed  out  ("  Histoire  de 
la  Civilization  Francaise  "),  it  was  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury that  Parisians,  following  royal  fashion,  began  to  build 
elegant  retreats  for  the  vilttgiature.  These  new  residents 
in  country  places  belonging  to  the  same  class  as  the  old, 
there  would  naturally  be  no  scruple  about  making  acquaint- 
ances. A  minor  matter  shows  the  hold  of  tradition  upon 
French  etiquette.  It  strikes  us  oddly  to  receive  letters 

signed  "  Bien  affectueusement  a  vous,  Comtesse  de  R " 

("Very   affectionately   yours,    Countess    ot   R ")  ;    or, 

"Votre  bien   deVou^,  Marquis  de  X "   ("Yours  very 

sincerely,  Marquis  of  X ").     But  the  usage  is  historic. 

Thus  great  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  seventeenth  century 
inscribed  themselves  when  writing  to  friends. 


SOCIAL   USAGES  9 

Many  other  instances  might  be  cited.  Customs  which 
to  English  notions  appear  artificial,  even  ridiculous,  look 
quite  differently  when  studied  from  the  standpoint  of  laws, 
institutions,  and  religion. 

The  long  and  elaborate  formula  with  which  letters  are 
wound  up  afford  an  example.  Instead  of  "Yours  faith- 
fully "  or  "  Yours  truly,"  we  find  a  circumlocution  as  follows : 
"  Be  so  good  as  to  permit  me  to  express  the  assurance  of 
my  most  sincere  devotion  and  respect."  But  the  habit  is 
merely  a  survival  of  exaggerated  court  etiquette,  and  the 
long  string  of  compliments  in  which  English  critics  discern 
French  insincerity  has  no  kind  of  meaning  whatever.  The 
same  may  be  averred  of  many  set  phrases,  well-worn  locu- 
tions that  suited  the  artificial  times  in  which  they  were 
framed,  but  are  incongruous  on  modern  lips.  In  what  is 
called  society,  that  is  to  say,  the  circumscribed  area  still 
wedded  to  tradition,  the  thee  and  thou  of  familiar  inter- 
course is  discarded  in  public.  The  middle  and  upper  middle 
ranks,  on  the  contrary,  still  adhere  to  the  pretty  quakerish 
fashion.  Among  lifelong  friends  of  both  sexes,  too,  the 
vous  is  discarded  for  the  more  intimately  affectionate  tu 
and  toi.  There  is  no  hard  and  fast  rule.  In  some  country 
places  you  will  even  hear  peasant  children  address  their 
parents  by  the  more  formal  second  person  plural,  a  usage 
which  has  survived  the  "  sir  "  and  "  madam  "  of  our  Georgian 
epoch,  and  probably  originating  in  the  autocratic  nature  of 
parental  rule.  The  use  of  the  third  person  singular  by 
domestics  and  subordinates  is  another  survival  of  the 
ancien  regime  and  caste. 

A  French  maid  does  not  say,  "When  would  you  like 
your  bath,  ma'am  ? "  but  "  Madame,  when  would  she  like 
her  bath?"  "Madame,  does  she  intend  to  wear  this?" 
"  Monsieur,  will  he  take  this  ? "  and  so  on  and  so  on,  the 
vous  being  studiously  omitted. 

On  this  subject  I  append  a  good  story.  When  winter- 
ing in  Brittany  many  years  ago,  a  French  friend,  whilst 


10  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

engaging  a  young  nursemaid,  informed  her  that  she  must 
always  address  her  in  the  third  person  singular.  The 
damsel  heard  in  silence,  but  on  going  to  the  kitchen 
blurted  out  to  the  cook,  her  future  fellow-servant,  "  What 
in  the  world  does  madame  mean  ?  The  third  person 
singular!  I  know  no  more  what  she  is  driving  at  than 
a  new-born  baby.  M.  le  Cur£  has  often  spoken  to  me 
of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  but  of  the  third  person 
singular,  never."  In  those  days  Brittany  was  the  least- 
instructed  province  of  France.  Such  ignorance  could  not 
anywhere  be  matched  at  the  present  time. 

One  curious  Parisian  institution  is  the  ambulatory  bath. 
I  was  staying  with  French  acquaintances  in  the  Avenue 
Villiers,  when  one  afternoon  I  heard  a  tremendous  lumber- 
ing on  the  front  staircase,  such  a  clatter  and  commotion, 
indeed,  that  I  opened  my  door  in  alarm.  "It  is  only 
madame's  bath,"  said  the  maid-of-all-work,  smiling  as  she 
threw  wide  the  outer  door.  Straightway  was  wheeled 
inside  an  enormous  bath,  attendants  following  with  cans  of 
water  and  heating  apparatus.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later 
my  hostess  was  enjoying  the  long  drawn  out  luxury  of 
plenteous  immersion.  The  indulgence  enjoyed  during  the 
greater  portion  of  the  afternoon  cost,  I  believe,  only  three 
or  four  francs. 

The  ambulatory  bath  may  often  be  seen  in  transit 
through  Paris  streets,  and  must  be  a  great  boon  to  invalids 
and  involuntary  stay-at-homes.  Excellent  public  baths 
exist  in  every  quarter,  but  except  in  the  most  luxurious 
modern  flats  and  hotels,  bath-rooms  are  non-existent. 
Veteran  Parisians  can  still  remember  the  time  when  the 
water-supply  of  Paris  was  performed  by  hand,  Auvergnats 
carrying  pailsful  to  regular  customers  at  a  penny  per  pail. 
The  more  prosperous  of  these  made  their  rounds  with  a 
donkey  and  cart  bearing  a  barrel. 

A  historian  I  have  frequently  cited,  M.  Rambaud,  grace- 
fully acknowledges  the  impetus  given  to  baths  and  bathing 


SOCIAL   USAGES  11 

in  France  by  English  example.  "We  borrowed  many 
things  from  England"  (1814-1848),  he  writes,  "not  the 
least  valuable  being  bodily  cleanliness,  a  habit  of  copious 
ablutions,  personal  hygiene,  that  had  made  scant  progress 
during  twenty-five  years  of  military  campaign."  At  the 
present  time  our  neighbours  are  ardent  devotees  of  k  tub  ; 
tuber  is  now  conjugated  as  a  verb. 


CHAPTER  II 

HOUSEKEEPING 

PART  I 

FRENCH  housekeeping  may  be  described  as  the 
glorification  of  simplicity,  a  supreme  economy  of 
time,  outlay,  and  worry.  Nothing  more  conspicu- 
ously exemplifies  the  ply  of  the  French  mind.  In  no  other 
field  is  so  well  evidenced  French  love  of  method,  economy, 
and  mental  repose. 

I  will  first  describe  a  day's  housekeeping  in  Paris,  the 
household  consisting  of  nine  or  ten  persons,  four  of  whom 
are  domestics,  less  than  half  the  number  that  would  be 
found  necessary  in  England.  Having  sent  cups  of  tea  or 
coffee  and  rolls  upstairs,  and  prepared  coffee  for  the  kitchen, 
the  cook  is  free  to  go  to  market.  Her  fellow-servants  help 
themselves  to  coffee  from  the  hob  and  bread  from  the  cup- 
board, each  washing  up  his  or  her  bowl  when  emptied. 
The  milkwoman  has  deposited  her  can  of  milk,  the  baker 
has  brought  the  day's  huge  supply  of  bread.  No  one  will 
have  business  with  the  kitchen  bell  till  next  morning. 

French  meals,  it  must  be  remembered,  are  practically 
reduced  to  two ;  no  elaborate  breakfasts  after  English 
fashion,  no  nursery  or  school-room  dinners,  no  afternoon 
teas.  The  wet-nurse  dismissed,  B6b6  takes  its  place  at  the 
family  board.  The  fashionable  world  certainly  indulges  in 
what  is  called  a  "  five  o'clock/'  but  rarely,  if  ever,  at  home. 
The  tea  restaurant  is  a  favourite  rendezvous,  and  tea- 
drinking  is  strictly  confined  to  its  patronesses.  In  modest, 

12 


HOUSEKEEPING  13 

middle-class  homes,  the  pleasantest  meal  of  the  day  with 
us  is  quite  unknown. 

We  will  now  follow  our  cook  on  her  errands.  Having 
taken  orders  from  the  mistress,  she  sets  forth  provided  with 
two  capacious  baskets  or  string  bags.  As  there  are  no 
tradesmen  to  call  for  orders,  neither  fishmonger,  green- 
grocer, butcher,  nor  grocer,  she  can  take  matters  easily, 
which  in  all  likelihood  she  does.  The  French  temperament 
is  not  given  to  flurry  and  bustle,  and  a  daily  marketer  will 
naturally  have  a  vast  acquaintance. 

But  our  cook  will  ofttimes  fill  her  panniers  nearer  home 
than  even  at  the  nearest  market. 

A  pictorial  and  heart-rejoicing  sight  is  the  Paris  street 
barrow,  ambulatory  cornucopia  piled  high  with  fruit,  flowers, 
and  vegetables,  the  fertility  of  the  most  fertile  country  of 
Europe  here  focused  on  the  city  pavement.  Small  wonder 
if  the  caterer  halts  before  one  of  these,  tempted  by  freshest 
of  green  things  in  season — salads,  herbs  for  flavouring, 
sorrel  for  soup,  asparagus,  artichokes  or  peas  for  her 
entremets.  A  halt,  too,  she  will  very  likely  make  at  a  fruit 
barrow,  providing  herself  with  the  dining-room  dessert — 
luscious  little  wild  strawberries  {/raises  de  quatre  saisons), 
melons,  figs,  whatever  happens  to  be  at  its  best. 

But  the  day's  provision  of  meat,  poultry,  fish,  butter, 
and  eggs  has  to  be  found  room  for,  and  in  all  probability 
she  will  conclude  her  purchases  at  the  market,  her  joint  or 
joints  of  meat  wrapped  in  paper  being  consigned  to  the 
bottom  of  a  pannier,  lighter  commodities  lying  on  the  top. 
Both  receptacles  being  filled  to  the  brim,  she  returns  home, 
doubtless  v\ith  aching  arms,  but  well  pleased  to  have  en- 
joyed the  fresh  air  and  opportunities  of  chat.  Thus  it  will 
be  seen  that  in  a  French  household  the  process  is  not,  as 
with  ourselves,  o..e  of  elaboration,  but  the  very  reverse. 
The  day's  budget  becomes  as  much  a  thing  of  the  past  as 
the  day  itself.  There  is  no  fagot  of  little  red  books  for  the 
mistress  to  look  over  and  settle  once  a  week,  no  possibility 


14  HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

of  erroneous  entries,  no  percentage  paid  for  the  booking 
and  sending  of  goods. 

And  our  cook,  having  only  four  meals  to  prepare,  in- 
stead of  her  English  colleague's  half-score,  can  concentrate 
all  her  energies  upon  these. 

The  dinner,  in  French  domestic  economy,  is  as  the  sun 
to  the  planets.  Every  other  operation  is  made  subservient 
to  it,  every  other  incident  revolves  round  it.  For  with  our 
French  neighbours  the  principal  repast  of  the  day  is  not 
merely  a  meal,  it  is  a  dinner.  This  nice  distinction  is 
happily  indicated  by  the  following  story.  A  French  friend 
was  describing  to  me  the  fare  of  an  English  country  inn 
and  praising  the  day's  fish,  roast  duck,  and  pudding ;  "  But," 
she  added  as  a  rider,  "  it  was  a  meal,  not  a  dinner." 

The  mid-day  dejeuner,  now  called  lunch  in  fashionable 
society,  is  comparatively  an  insignificant  affair,  not  deemed 
worthy  of  a  tablecloth  !  Lunch,  even  in  wealthy  houses,  is 
served  on  the  bare  table,  and  I  must  say  that  highly 
polished  oak,  mahogany,  or  walnut  admirably  set  off  plate, 
crystal,  and  flowers.  We  are  all  more  or  less  slaves  to 
conventionality  and  habit,  and  the  things  we  deem  be- 
coming and  appropriate  are  most  often  the  things  with 
which  we  are  familiar. 

That  nice  distinction  just  quoted  indicates  the  relative 
importance  of  dinner  in  France  and  England.  The  minute 
care,  indeed,  bestowed  upon  the  preparation  of  food  by  our 
neighbours  is  almost  incomprehensible  among  ourselves. 
French  folks,  alike  the  moderately  well  off  and  the  rich, 
are  never  satisfied  with  a  meal.  They  must  end  the  day 
with  a  dinner. 

Irrespective  of  economy  both  in  catering  and  cookery, 
it  may  safely  be  averred  that  the  one  French  extravagance 
to  set  against  a  thousand  English  extravagances  is  the 
dinner.  It  is  the  only  case  of  addition  instead  of  subtrac- 
tion when  balancing  French  and  English  items  of  daily 
expenditure.  And  the  charm  of  French  dinners,  like  the 


HOUSEKEEPING  15 

beauty  of  Frenchwomen,  to  quote  Michelet,  is  made  up 
of  little  nothings.  The  very  notion  of  preparing  so  many 
elaborate  trifles  for  the  family  board  would  drive  an 
English  cook  mad.  But  "  Lucullus  dines  with  Lucullus  " 
is  a  French  motto  of  universal  acceptance.  Plutarch  tells 
us  that  the  great  Roman  art  collector  and  epicure  thus 
admonished  his  house-steward,  who,  knowing  one  day  that 
his  master  was  to  dine  alone,  served  up  what  my  French 
friend  would  call  a  meal,  not  a  dinner. 

Michelet  says  somewhere  that  the  French  workman, 
who  comes  home  tired  and  perhaps  depressed  from  his 
day's  work,  is  straightway  put  in  good  humour  by  his  plate- 
ful of  hot  soup.  For  "  Lucullus  dines  with  Lucullus  "  is  a 
maxim  of  the  good  housewife  in  the  humblest  as  well  as 
the  upper  ranks. 

Those  well-filled  panniers  represent  one  kind  of  economy, 
the  national  genius  for  cookery  implies  another.  In  buying 
direct  from  the  market  a  certain  percentage  is  saved. 
Again,  a  French  cook  turns  any  and  every  thing  to  advan- 
tage, and  many  a  culinary  chef-d'ceuvre  is  the  result  of  care 
and  skill  rather  than  rare  or  costly  ingredients.  With  just 
a  pinch  of  savoury  herbs  and  a  clear  fire,  a  cook  will  turn 
shreds  of  cold  meat  into  deliciously  appetizing  morsels, 
gastronomic  discrimination  on  the  part  of  her  patrons 
keeping  up  the  standard  of  excellence.  If  I  were  asked  to 
point  out  the  leading  characteristic  of  the  French  mind,  I 
should  unhesitatingly  say  that  it  is  the  critical  faculty,  and 
to  this  faculty  we  owe  not  only  the  unrivalled  French 
cuisine,  but  pleasures  of  the  table  generally.  Here  is  one 
instance  in  point.  One  quite  ripe  melon,  to  the  uninitiated, 
tastes  very  much  like  another.  But  a  French  country 
gentleman  knows  better.  Whenever  a  melon  of  superlative 
flavour  is  served,  he  orders  the  seeds  to  be  set  aside  for 
planting.  Thus  the  superlative  kind  is  propagated.  The 
critical  faculty  warring  with  mediocrity  and  incompleteness 
is  ever  alert  in  France. 


16  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

I  now  turn  to  the  subject  of  household  managemeix 
generally.  Here,  also,  we  shall  find  startling  divergences. 

A  distinctive  feature  in  French  households  is,  as  I  have 
said,  the  amount  of  indoor  work  done  by  men.  When  the 
great  novelist  Zola  met  his  death  so  tragically,  it  will  be 
remembered  that  two  men-servants — one  of  these  a  valet 
de  chambre,  or  house-servant — had  prepared  the  house  for 
the  return  of  master  and  mistress.  Apparently  no  woman 
was  kept  except,  perhaps,  madame's  maid.  This  is  often 
the  case. 

In  England  the  proportion  of  men  to  women  indoot 
servants  is  as  one  to  three  or  four ;  in  France  the  reverse  is 
the  case,  parlour-maids  being  unknown,  and  the  onefemme 
de  chambre  being  ladies'  as  well  as  housemaid.  The  work 
mainly  falls  upon  the  men.  They  sweep,  dust,  and,  in 
short,  supply  the  place  of  our  neat  maidens  in  spotless 
cotton  gowns.  The  fact  is,  had  French  valets  no  sweeping 
or  dusting,  they  would  often  have  to  sit  for  hours  with  their 
hands  before  them.  One  element  entailing  a  large  staff  of 
servants  here  is  absent  in  a  French  house.  This  is  the 
staying  guest,  the  uninterrupted  succession  of  visitors. 
Outside  private  hotels  and  the  handsome  flats  of  the 
fashionable  quarters,  there  is  indeed  no  room  in  Parisian 
households  for  friends.  The  words  "dine  and  sleep"  or 
"  week-end  "  visits  have  not  found  their  way  into  French 
dictionaries,  nor  have  dine-and-sleep  or  week-end  guests 
yet  become  a  French  institution.  Of  family  parties  in 
chateaux  and  country  houses  I  shall  have  something  to  say 
further  on.  It  is  easy  thus  to  understand  why  three  or 
four  servants  suffice,  whilst  in  England  a  dozen  would  be 
needed  for  people  of  similar  means  and  position.  De- 
scending the  social  or  rather  financial  scale,  coining  to 
incomes  of  hundreds  rather  than  thousands  a  year,  we 
must  still  subtract  and  subtract.  Where  three  or  four 
maids  are  kept  in  England,  a  general  servant  is  kept  in 
^rance,  and  where  a  maid-of-all-work  is  put  up  with  here, 


HOUSEKEEPING  17 

French  housewives  do  without  a  Tilly  Slowboy  or  even 
a  Marchioness. 

Whilst  officials,  alike  civilian  and  military,  receive  much 
lower  pay  in  France  than  in  England,  whilst  professional 
earnings  are  much  less,  we  must  remember  that  taxation  is 
higher  and  commodities  of  all  kinds  are  dearer  across  the 
water  than  among  ourselves.  But  economy  is  not  always 
a  matter  of  strict  obligation.  What  we  call  putting  the 
best  foot  foremost  does  not  often  trouble  our  neigh- 
bours. They  prefer  to  look  ahead  and  provide  against 
untoward  eventualities. 

A  habit  of  parsimony  is  sometimes  whimsically 
displayed. 

The  home  is  an  Englishwoman's  fetish,  her  idol.  Both 
the  wife  of  an  artisan  and  the  mistress  of  a  mansion  will 
be  perpetually  renovating  and  beautifying  her  interior. 
Like  themselves,  decoration  and  upholstery  must  be  in 
the  fashion. 

In  France  the  furnishing  and  fitting  up  of  a  house  is 
done  for  once  and  for  all.  It  is  a  matter  of  finality.  English 
middle-class  folks,  who  eat  Sunday's  sirloin  cold  for  dinner 
on  Monday  and  perhaps  Tuesday,  spend  more  upon  their 
homes  in  a  twelvemonth  than  French  folks  of  the  same 
standing  throughout  the  entire  course  of  their  wedded 
lives. 

May  not  the  fact  of  so  little  being  spent  upon  the  house 
occasionally  arise  in  this  way  ?  The  husband  has  the 
absolute  control,  not  only  of  his  own  income,  but  of  his 
wife's,  and  many  men  would  prefer  shabby  carpets  and 
curtains  to  what  might  appear  to  them  as  unnecessary 
outlay. 

The  French  character,  to  quote  that  original  writer  and 
sturdy  Anglophile,  M.  Demolins,*  is  not  apt  at  spending. 
Here,  he  says,  his  country-people  must  go  to  school  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon. 

*  "  A-t-on  interet  a  s'emparer  du  pouvoir?"     Paris  :  Firmin-Didot. 
C 


18  HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Even  where  elementary  comfort,  even  bodily  health,  is 
concerned,  thrift  is  the  first  consideration.  When  Rabelais 
jovially  apostrophizes  un  beau  et  clair  feu,  "a  good  bright 
fire,"  he  expresses  the  national  appreciation  of  a  luxury, 
for  outside  rich  homes  a  fire  is  regarded  rather  as  an 
indulgence  than  as  a  necessity.  Fuel  in  France  is 
economized  after  a  fashion  wholly  inconceivable  to  an 
English  mind.  When  a  French  lady  pays  visits  or  goes 
abroad  shopping,  her  fire  is  let  out  and  relighted  on  her 
return.  Many  women  fairly  well-off  make  a  woollen  shawl 
and  a  foot-warmer  do  duty  for  a  fire,  except  perhaps  when 
it  is  freezing  indoors. 

I  once  spent  a  winter  at  Nantes,  and  during  my  stay 
kept  my  bed  with  bronchitis  for  a  week. 

"  You  have  burnt  as  much  fuel  during  your  week  in  bed 
as  would  suffice  many  a  family  for  the  whole  winter,"  said 
the  lady  with  whom  I  was  lodging,  to  me.  Yet  Nantes 
enjoys  an  exceptionally  mild  climate.  What  my  con- 
sumption of  wood  would  have  been  at  Dijon  I  cannot 
conceive. 

Housekeeping  implies  mention  of  the  housekeeper. 
A  Frenchwoman  is  the  direct  antithesis  of  a  German 
Hausfrau.  She  is  not,  like  Martha,  troubled  from  morning 
till  night  about  many  things.  Dust  and  cobwebs  do  not 
bring  a  Frenchwoman's  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the  grave. 
The  scrupulosity  attained  in  English  houses  by  the  usual 
army  of  house  and  parlour  maids  is  never  aspired  to  by 
French  matrons. 

Some  years  since  I  lunched  with  acquaintances  in  a  fine 
country  house,  rather  a  modern  chateau,  within  an  hour 
and  a  half  by  road  and  rail  of  Dijon.  The  house-party,  all 
members  or  connections  of  master  and  mistress,  numbered 
twelve.  It  was  the  long  vacation,  and  a  further  indication 
of  the  sumptuary  scale  is  afforded  by  the  existence  of  a 
private  chapel.  Whether  or  no  a  priest  was  attached  to 
the  house  as  a  private  chaplain  I  know  not.  There  was 


HOUSEKEEPING  19 

the  chapel,  a  new,  handsome  little  building,  standing  in  the 
park. 

As  I  chatted  with  my  hostess  on  the  terrace  after  lunch, 
the  topic  of  housekeeping  came  up. 

"A  rather  onerous  position,"  I  said,  "that  of  mistress 
here?" 

She  smiled.  "  So  I  imagined  it  must  be  when,  on  the 
death  of  my  husband's  parents,  we  came  to  this  place.  But 
I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  let  things  trouble  me — in  fact 
to  let  the  house  keep  itself,  which  it  does,  and  does  well 
enough." 

"  Admirably,"  I  ventured  to  add ;  and,  indeed,  my 
experience  convinces  me  that  most  French  houses  keep 
themselves.  The  German  Speisekammer,  or  store-room,  in 
which  a  Hausfrau  spends  half  her  day,  does  not  exist  in 
French  dwellings.  A  Frenchwoman,  moreover,  is  far  too 
much  the  companion  of  her  husband  to  have  leisure  for 
such  absorption  in  spices,  jams,  and  the  rest. 


PART  II. 

The  following  figures  and  calculations  have  been 
supplied  by  experienced  French  householders.  Although 
a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  I  spent  an  unbroken  twelve- 
month in  Brittany,  and  since  that  period  have  passed  a 
sum-total  of  many  years  on  French  soil,  I  have  always 
lodged  under  native  roofs  and  sat  down  to  native  boards. 
Whilst  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  cost  of  living  among 
our  neighbours,  I  could  not  authoritatively  parcel  out 
incomes,  assigning  the  approximate  sum  to  each  item  of 
domestic  expenditure.  Friendly  co-operation  alike  from 
Paris  and  the  provinces  has  enabled  me  to  prepare  these 
pages.  For  the  convenience  of  readers  I  give  each  set  of 
figures  its  equivalent  in  our  money.  I  add  that  the 


20  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

accompanying  data  have  all  reached  me  within  the  last  few 
months. 

We  may  assume  that  where  English  officials,  pro- 
fessional, naval  and  military  men,  and  others  are  in  receipt 
of  ^500  or  £600  a  year,  their  French  compeers  receive  or 
earn  deputy's  pay,  i.e.  9000  francs,  just  £360  ;  adding  1000 
francs  more,  we  obtain  a  sum-total  of  £400  a  year.  Such 
incomes  may  be  regarded  as  the  mean  of  middle-class 
salaries  and  earnings,  and  Whilst  these  are  much  lower  than 
in  England,  living  is  proportionately  dearer.  Hence  the 
necessity  of  strict  economy.  Very  little,  if  any,  margin  is 
left  for  many  extras  looked  upon  by  ourselves  as  necessities 
of  existence.  Take,  for  instance,  an  extra  dear  to  the 
British  heart,  the  cult  of  appearances,  Dame  Ashfield's 
ever-recurring  solicitude  as  to  Mrs.  Grundy's  opinion  in  the 
play. 

So  long  as  reputation,  and  the  toilette,  are  beyond 
reproach,  a  French  housewife  troubles  her  head  very  little 
about  standing  well  with  the  world.  Feminine  jealousy  is 
not  aroused  by  a  neighbour's  superiority  in  the  matter  of 
furniture,  or  what  is  here  called  style  of  establishment. 
The  second  extra,  this  an  enviable  one,  is  the  indulgence 
of  hospitality.  An  English  family  living  on  ^500  a  year 
spend  more  on  entertaining  friends  during  twelve  months 
than  a  French  family  of  similar  means  and  size  would  do 
in  as  many  years,  and  for  the  excellent  reason  that  means 
are  inadequate.  Our  neighbours  are  not  infrequently  mis- 
judged by  us  here.  We  are  too  apt  to  impute  inhospitality 
to  moral  rather  than  material  reasons. 

We  begin,  therefore,  with  the  mean — that  is  to  say, 
incomes  of  10,000  francs,  i.e.  ^400  a  year,  and  of  persons 
resident  in  Paris.  Here  is  such  a  budget:  parents,  two 
children  old  enough  to  attend  day-schools  or  lycees,  and 
a  servant  making  up  the  household 


HOUSEKEEPING  21 

£      >.    *> 
Income       .......    400    o    o 


Rent 60    o    o 

Taxes 74° 

Food  and  vin  ordinaire  of  three  adults  and  two 

children 149    o    o 

Servant's  wages 16160 

Two  lycees  or  day-schools 32     o    o 

Dress  of  four  persons 60    o    o 

Lights  and  firing 24     o    o 


Total         ....     346    o    o 
Balance  for  doctors'  bills,  travel,  pocket-money, 
amusement,  etc 54    o    o 

The  amount  of  taxation  seems  small,  but  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  food,  clothing,  medicines,  indeed  almost 
every  article  we  can  mention,  are  taxed  in  France. 

The  sum-total  of  £7  4-r.  covers  contributions  directes,  i.e. 
taxes  levied  by  the  state  and  municipality  directly  and 
quite  apart  from  octroi  duties.  Rents  under  £20  in  Paris 
and  £8  in  the  provinces  are  exempt.  Municipal  charges 
are  always  on  the  increase.  A  friend  living  at  Passy  has 
just  informed  me  that  her  tiny  flat,  consisting  of  two  small 
bedrooms,  sitting-room,  and  kitchen,  hitherto  costing  £28  • 
a  year,  has  just  been  raised  to  £32,  and  it  is  the  same  with 
expensive  tenements. 

The  following  figures  will  explain  the  apparently 
disproportionate  sum-total  expended  on  the  table  alike  in 
Paris  and,  as  we  shall  see  further  on,  throughout  the 
provinces.  Butter,  in  what  is  pre-eminently  a  butter- 
making  country,  costs  from  is.  $d.  to  2s.  6d.  a  pound  (the 
French  livre  of  500  grammes  is  I  Ib.  3  ozs.  in  excess  of  our 
own).  Gruyere  cheese,  another  home-product,  from  is.  to 
is.  4*/.,  chickens  from  is.  $d.  to  2s.  per  pound  weight,  milk 
5^.  a  quart,  bread  2</.a  pound,  meat  (according  to  joint)  is.  2^. 
to  is.  6d.  and  2s.  Fruit  grown  on  French  soil  is  double 
the  price  at  which  it  is  sold  in  England.  Thus  bananas 
and  oranges,  grown  by  the  million  in  Algeria,  cost  2d.  each. 


22  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Coffee  is  from  2s.  to  2s.  6d.,  tea  from  2s.  6d.  to  6^.,  sugar 
$d.  to  6d.  a  pound.  The  penny  bun— that  delight  of  child- 
hood— is  unknown  in  Paris.  The  brioche  or  madeleine, 
little  cakes  half  the  size  of  the  penny  bun,  cost  \\d.  each. 
A  currant  cake,  under  the  weight  of  a  6d.  one  here,  costs 
is.  $d.  These  are  current  prices.  The  result  of  such  high 
prices  is  that  French  householders  find  it  easier  to  reduce 
any  item  of  expenditure  rather  than  that  of  the  table.  In 
the  case  of  persons  living  alone  the  cost  is  naturally  higher. 
Thus  my  correspondents  assure  me  that  such  caterers  for 
themselves  only  cannot  live  in  Paris  under  2s.  6d.  a  day, 
this  sum  covering  plain  diet  only,  with  a  very  moderate 
allowance  of  vin  ordinaire.*  The  extra  \d.  on  bread  is 
a  serious  matter  to  an  essentially  bread-eating  people, 
three  pounds  (i.e.  3  Ibs.  4^  ozs.)  being  the  daily  con- 
sumption of  the  average  Frenchman. 

The  low-priced  restaurants  of  business  quarters  doubt- 
less mislead  many  travellers.  I  should  say  that  the 
plateful  of  roast  beef  or  mutton  supplied  with  potatoes  for 
is.  in  the  Strand  contains  at  least  a  third  more  nutriment 
than  the  tempting  little  dish  offered  with  a  hors  d'ceuvre 
for  is.  $d.  on  the  boulevards.  The  horsd'ceuvre  I  expatiate 
upon  lower  down. 

The  average  cost  of  a  Frenchman's  plain  lunch  and 
dinner  at  a  quiet,  well-ordered  house  of  the  better  sort, 
with  tips,  cannot  be  under  $s.  or  6s.  a  day.  I  allude  to 
officials  of  standing  compelled  by  their  avocations  to  break- 
fast and  dine  at  an  eating-house. 

The  wages  set  down  in  the  foregoing  table  seem 
excessively  moderate  for  Paris,  but,  as  my  correspondent 
informs  me,  the  fact  of  keeping  a  servant  at  all  under  such 
circumstances  implies  very  great  economy  in  other  matters. 
A  parallel  budget — that  is  to  say,  the  yearly  expenditure 

*  In  M.  Bourget's  new  novel  with  a  purpose  ("  Un  Divorce  "),  in  describing 
the  life  of  a  poor  lady  studying  medicine  in  Paris  he  sets  down  the  cost  of  her 
food  at  cheap  restaurants  at  something  like  ^i  per  week. 


HOUSEKEEPING  23 

of  a  similar  family  with  a  similar  income — allows  a  more 
liberal  margin  for  food,  no  domestic  being  kept. 

Wages  of  good  servants  are  high  in  Paris ;  the  cost 
of  a  capable  maid-of-all-work,  including  board,  washing, 
wages,  and  New  Year's  gifts,  cannot  be  calculated,  my 
friend  assures  me,  at  less  than  £60  a  year.  Thus  many 
families  of  the  middle  ranks  do  with  the  occasional  services 
of  a  charwoman,  thereby  economizing  at  least  ,£40  annually 
for  other  purposes. 

Fuel  is  another  onerous  item  of  domestic  expenditure. 
Writing  from  Paris  on  February  24,  1904,  a  householder 
informed  me  that  good  coals  cost  £2  i6s.  the  ton.  No 
wonder  that  in  moderate  households  firing  is  economized 
as  in  the  home  of  Eugenie  Grandet. 

And  many  French  temperaments  seem  positively  invul- 
nerable, appear  to  be  cold  proof  by  virtue  of  habit,  or,  maybe, 
heredity.  I  know  a  Frenchwoman  whose  happy  immunity 
it  is  never  to  feel  cold.  No  matter  the  weather,  she  needs 
neither  fire,  foot-warmer,  nor  warm  clothing.  A  certain 
French  physique  exists,  matchless  for  hardiness  and  powers 
of  resistance. 

The  dearness  of  combustibles  is  equalled  in  other 
matters. 

From  a  postage  stamp  upward — there  areneither  penny 
stamps  nor  halfpenny  postcards  in  France — we  may  safely 
assume  that  every  commodity  costs  a  third  more  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Channel. 

Spills  and  spill-cases  are  as  obsolete  in  England  as  the 
tinder-boxes  and  snuffer  trays  of  oar  great  grandparents. 
But  lucifer  matches  since  1871  have  been  a  state  monopoly 
in  France.  Whereas  we  get  a  dozen  boxes  for  2^d.,  our 
neighbours  still  pay  \d.  for  one,  and  that  one  containing 
lights  of  an  inferior  kind.  A  match  is  never  struck  by 
French  people  when  a  gas  jet  and  a  spill  are  available. 

Drugs  and  patent  medicines  are  incredibly  dear.  No 
wonder  that?  every  country  house  and  cottage  has  its  store 


24  HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

of  home-made  simples  and  remedies.  Some  eighteen 
months  since,  I  fell  ill  in  Paris,  and  a  friendly  physician 
prescribed  for  me.  One  week's  remedies  ran  up  to  £i. 
Four  shillings  were  charged  for  a  dozen  cachets,  composed 
of  a  similar  substance  which  would,  a  chemist  informed  me, 
have  cost  just  two  here. 

Little  wonder  also  that  families  with  an  income  limited 
to  £300  or  £400  a  year  cannot  afford  even  a  Tilly  Slowboy, 
whilst  an  outing  to  the  sea  or  the  country  during  a  long 
vacation  is  equally  out  of  the  question.  My  first  corre- 
spondent informs  me  that,  unless  paternal  hospitality  is 
available,  Parisians  so  situated  would  very  seldom  get  a 
holiday  away  from  home.  Fortunately,  many  folks  have 
some  farmhouse  of  parents  or  grandparents  to  retreat  to 
in  the  dog  days. 

A  considerable  item  in  remaining  sum-totals  is  that 
of  ttrennes,  or  New  Year's  gifts.  We  grumble  at  being 
mulcted  when  Yuletide  comes  round.  What  should  we 
think  of  100  francs,  £4,  a  year  for  Christmas  boxes  out  of 
an  annual  £300  or  £400  ?  Yet  the  unfortunate  French, 
rather  we  should  say  Parisian,  householder,  whose  income 
is  much  lower,  must  set  aside  at  least  100  francs  for  the 
inevitable  ttrennes.  There  is  the  concierge,  to  begin  with, 
that  all-important  and  not  always  facile  or  conciliatory 
janitress  of  Parisian  blocks.  Fail  to  satisfy  your  concierge 
when  New  Year's  day  comes  round,  and  you  must  be 
prepared  for  small  vexations  throughout  the  year. 

Next  to  concierge,  maid-of-all-work,  or  charwoman,  come 
postman,  telegraph  boy,  gas  or  electric-light  employes, 
baker,  milkwoman,  and  the  rest,  New  Year's  gifts  reaching 
a  much  higher  figure  in  proportion  to  means  than  among 
ourselves.  The  etrennes  make  an  appreciable  hole  in  small 
balances. 

Tips  are  also  high,  and  as  Parisians  who  are  narrowly 
housed  and  unprovided  with  servants  do  their  scanty  enter- 
taining in  restaurants,  such  items  help  to  limit  this  kind 


HOUSEKEEPING  25 

of  hospitality.  In  fact,  of  all  luxuries  in  Paris,  that  of 
feasting  one's  friends  is  the  most  costly. 

I  will  here  say  something  about  dress.  The  sum  of 
£60  in  the  foregoing  tabulation  allows  £20  each  for  husband 
and  wife,  half  that  sum  for  each  child,  say  a  boy  and  a  girl 
attending  day-schools. 

As  Frenchwomen  in  such  a  position  are  always  well 
dressed,  the  question  arises,  how  is  the  matter  managed  ? 

In  the  first  place,  if  from  her  earliest  years  a  French 
girl  is  taught  the  arch  importance  of  la  toilette,  with  equal 
insistence  is  inculcated  economy  in  the  wearing. 

Thus  the  schoolgirl,  whether  at  school  or  preparing 
her  lessons  at  home,  will  always  wear  a  black  stuff  bib 
apron  for  the  proper  protection  of  her  frock,  with  sleeves 
of  the  same  material  tied  above  the  elbow.  The  first- 
mentioned  article  is  particularized  in  the  prospectus  of 
the  lycte.  Boarders  at  these  colleges  created  by  virtue 
of  the  Ferry  laws  of  December,  1880,  as  at  convent 
schools,  are  compelled  to  wear  a  neat  and  serviceable 
uniform.  The  prospectus  of  the  lycee  of  Toulouse  shows 
that  among  the  articles  of  apparel  must  be  two  aprons  of 
black  woollen  material,  cut  according  to  a  given  pattern, 
the  object  being  to  protect  the  two  costumes  made  by  a 
dressmaker  under  the  lady  principal's  orders.  It  is  not 
only  the  cost  of  materials,  but  of  dressmaking,  that  necessi- 
tates such  care.  As  an  inevitable  consequence  of  dear 
food  and  lodging,  dressmakers  and  seamstresses  are  obliged 
to  charge  proportionately  for  their  labour.  The  chamber- 
maid of  a  hotel  in  Paris  I  sometimes  stay  at,  lately  told 
me  that  she  could  not  get  a  Sunday  gown  made  under  £i. 
"And,"  she  added,  "seeing  what  a  young  woman  has  to 
pay  for  her  room,  let  alone  provisions,  I  could  not  ask  her 
to  take  a  halfpenny  less." 

A  French  lady  must  not  only  never  be  shabby,  she 
must  never  be  out  of  fashion.  Oddly  enough,  one  of 
the  wittiest  sayings  on  this  subject  was  uttered  by  an 


26  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Englishman.  "  No  well-dressed  woman  ever  looks  ugly/1 
wrote  Bulwer  Lytton — a  saying,  or  rather  a  conviction, 
taken  to  heart  in  France. 

I  well  remember  an  illustrative  instance.  Calling  some 
years  since  on  a  very  moderately  paid  official  at  Grenoble, 
I  was  received  by  his  wife,  a  decidedly  ordinary-looking 
and  slovenly  young  woman,  wearing  a  dingy  morning  wrap. 
Her  husband  soon  entered.  Madame  left  us  to  discuss 
farming  matters,  ten  minutes  later  looking  in  to  say  adieu. 
Like  Bottom,  she  was  wonderfully  translated.  In  her  pretty 
bonnet  and  elegant,  if  inexpensive  walking  costume,  her 
hair  becomingly  arranged,  bien  chausste  et  gantte,  well  shod 
and  gloved,  she  looked  almost  lovely.  But  at  what  cost 
of  time  and  ingenuity  such  toilettes  are  obtained  only  such 
a  Frenchwoman  could  tell  you- 

The  economical  have  recourse  to  the  maison  de  patrons, 
or  pattern  shop.  Ladies  living  in  the  country  send  measures 
to  these  Parisian  houses  and  obtain  patterns  of  the  latest 
fashions,  either  in  paper  or  canvas.  With  the  help  of  a 
clever  needlewoman,  hired  by  the  day,  dresses  can  thus  be 
made  to  look  as  if  they  had  just  come  from  the  boulevards 
or  the  Rue  Royale. 

As  we  should  naturally  expect,  the  cost  of  living  is 
considerably  less  in  the  provinces.  Here,  for  instance — 
supplied  me  by  another  correspondent — is  the  budget  of 
a  similar  family,  i.e.  husband  and  wife,  two  children,  and 
a  woman  servant,  having  an  income  of  8000  francs,  or 
£300  a  year— 


Rent  and  taxes             •••... 

36 

s. 
O 

8 

d. 

0 

o 

Food,  five  persons         
Dress  for  four  persons,  two  adults  and  children  . 
Two  lyce'es  or  day-schools   

100 

43 

20 
-12 

0 
0 
0 

o 

0 

o 

0 

o 

Balance  left   .        •        . 

250 

70 

8 
o 

0 
0 

HOUSEKEEPING  27 

These  items  represent  expenses  of  living  in  a  cathedral 
town  200  miles  from  Paris.  Here  certain  articles  of  daily 
consumption  are  considerably  cheaper.  Meat  at  Dijon 
costs  8d.  to  is.  the  pound,  butter  Sd.,  fruit  and  vegetables 
are  lower  in  price ;  rent  also  and  education.  Thus  we 
find  a  difference  of  £12  in  the  cost  of  two  lycees,  or  day- 
schools. 

The  same  correspondent  has  calculated  the  balance  of 
similar  income  and  tantamount  charges  in  Paris.  The 
discrepancy  is  suggestive.  Allowing  .£48  for  rent  and 
taxes,  £120  for  food,  £48  for  dress,  and  so  on  in  pro- 
portion, she  found  that  just  £21  would  remain  for  amuse- 
ments, medical  attendance,  and  extras  generally. 

The  next  budget  is  the  weekly  one  of  a  married  employ 6 
or  clerk  in  Paris,  having  one  child  aged  six,  his  entire 
income  being  £160  a  year.  Every  item  has  been  set 
down  for  me  as  from  a  housewife's  day-book,  and,  in 
addition  to  figures,  I  have  a  general  description  of  daily 
existence  economically  considered. 

£   +   4 

Food  and  wine 112 

Rent 911 

Dress ill 

Firing 36 

Lights  and  laundress   .         .         .        .        .        .  5   10 

Amusements,  stationery,  and  personal  expenses 

generally 5  10 

Weekly  total        .        .         .        .        2  17     4 
The  year  of  fifty -two  weeks         .     149     i     4 

Balance        .        .        .        .  10  18    8 

I  will  now  state  precisely  what  is  obtained  for  this 
outlay — describe,  in  fact,  how  the  little  family  lives. 

In  the  morning  they  take  coffee,  with  bread  and  butter, 
followed  at  midday  by  dejeuner,  consisting  of  meat,  vege- 
tables, and  what  is  called  dessert,  namely,  fruit,  with  per- 
haps biscuits  or  cheese.  At  four  o'clock  madame  and  the 


28  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

child  have  a  roll  and  a  bit  of  chocolate,  and  at  half-past 
six  or  seven  the  family  sit  down  to  dinner,  or  rather  supper, 
soup,  vegetables,  and  dessert,  often  without  any  meat, 
constituting  the  last  meal  of  the  day. 

On  Sundays  is  enjoyed  the  usual  extra  de  dimanche  of 
the  small  Parisian  householder.  Our  friends  lunch  at 
home ;  then,  alike  in  summer  and  winter,  they  sally  forth 
to  spend  the  rest  of  the  day  abroad.  Winter  afternoons 
are  whiled  away  in  music-halls,  bright  warm  hours  a  few 
miles  out  of  Paris,  dinner  at  a  restaurant,  coffee  or  liqueur 
on  the  boulevards  finishing  the  day. 

The  expense  of  these  Sunday  outings  sometimes 
amounts  to  Ss.  or  ios.,  an  indulgence  often  involving  de- 
privations during  the  week. 

Except  among  the  rich,  hospitality  in  Paris,  as  I  have 
already  remarked,  is  reduced  to  the  minimum.  Never- 
theless folks  living  on  3000  or  4000  francs  a  year  will 
occasionally  entertain  their  relations  or  friends,  and,  owing 
to  two  agencies,  that  of  the  hors  d'ceuvre  and  the  rotisseur, 
at  very  small  cost  and  trouble. 

Thrift,  indeed,  in  France  often  wears  an  engaging 
aspect ;  the  sightly  becomes  ancillary  to  the  frugal,  and 
of  all  elegant  economies  the  hors  d'ceuvre,  or  side  dish, 
served  before  luncheon,  is  the  most  attractive.  Whether 
displayed  on  polished  mahogany  or  snowy  linen,  how 
appetizing,  and  at  the  same  time  how  ornamental,  are 
these  little  dishes,  first-fruits  of  the  most  productive  and 
most  assiduously  cultivated  country  in  the  world — tiny 
radishes  from  suburban  gardens,  olives  from  Petrarch's 
valley,  sardines  from  the  Breton  coast,  the  far-famed  rillettes 
or  brawn  of  Tours,  the  still  more  famous  pates  of  Perigueux, 
every  region  supplying  its  special  yield,  every  town  its 
special  dainty,  pats  of  fresh  butter  and  glossy  brown  loaves 
completing  the  preparations ! 

Until  lately  I  had  regarded  the  hors  d'osuvre  on  luncheon 
tables  of  modest  households  as  a  luxury,  an  extravagance 


HOUSEKEEPING  29 

of  the  first  water.  A  French  lady  has  just  enlightened 
me  on  the  subject. 

"  The  hors  d'ceuvre  an  extravagance ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"It  is  the  exact  reverse.  Take  the  case  of  myself  and 
family,  three  or  four  persons  in  all.  We  have,  say,  a  small 
roast  joint  or  fowl  on  Sunday  at  midday,  but  always  begin 
with  a  hors  d&uvre,  a  slice  of  ham,  stuffed  eggs,  a  few 
prawns,  or  something  of  the  kind.  As  French  folks  are 
large  bread-eaters,  we  eat  so  much  bread  with  our  eggs 
or  prawns  that  by  the  time  the  roast  joint  is  served, 
the  edge  of  appetite  is  taken  off,  and  enough  meat  is 
left  for  dinner.  So  you  see  the  hors  d'ceuvre  is  a  real 
saving." 

The  rotisseur,  or  purveyor  of  hot  meat,  soups,  and 
vegetables,  plays  as  important  a  part  in  Parisian  domestic 
economy  as  in  the  play  of  Cyrano  de  Bergerac.  You  are 
invited,  for  instance,  to  dine  with  friends  who  keep  no 
servants.  On  arriving,  your  first  impression  is  that  you 
are  mistaken  in  the  day.  No  savoury  whiffs  accord  gastro- 
nomic welcome.  Through  the  half-open  kitchen  door  you 
perceive  the  tiny  flame  of  a  spirit-lamp  only.  Nothing 
announces  dinner.  But  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  excellent 
and  steaming  hot  soup  is  served  by  a  femme  de  manage 
or  charwoman,  the  obligatory  side  dish  a  vegetable  and 
roti  follow  ;  the  rdtisseur  in  the  adjoining  street  has  enabled 
your  hosts  to  entertain  you  at  the  smallest  possible  cost 
and  to  the  exclusion  of  anything  in  the  shape  of  worry. 
Quiet  folks,  also,  who  like  to  spend  Sunday  afternoons 
with  friends  or  in  the  country,  and  who  prefer  to  dine  at 
home,  find  the  rotissenr  a  great  resource.  They  have  only 
to  order  what  they  want,  and  precisely  to  the  moment 
appears  a  gdte~sauce,  or  cook-boy,  with  the  hot  dishes  piled 
pyramidally  on  his  head. 

We  will  now  consider  the  budget  of  an  artisan,  skilled 
workman,  or  petty  clerk  (employ 4  snbalterne],  whose  weekly 
wages  amount  to  40  francs,  i.e.  $2s.  ;  the  average,  I  am 


30  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

assured,  at  the  present  time.     A  friend  at  Reims  has  made 
out  the  following  tabulation  : — 

£    *.    *. 
Weekly  income        ,        . 1120 


Expenditure — 

Food  of  four  persons,  two  adults  and  two  children 

aged  from  5  to  10  years 16  10 

Lodging 40 

Clothes  and  house  linen 17 

Shoes 10 

Lights  and  firing 15 

Pocket-money    of    husband,     newspapers     and 

amusements 47 

Total i    9    3 

Balance    .        .        .  .  29 

This  little  balance,  my  correspondent  informs  me,  will 
be  spent  upon  the  various  Soctttes  de  Prtvoyance  and  Secours 
MutuelSy  associations,  answering  to  our  own  working-men's 
clubs,  and  to  the  system  of  the  post  office  deferred  annuities. 
The  bread-winner's  pocket  money  supplies  his  tobacco, 
occasional  glass  of  beer  or  something  of  the  kind,  his  daily 
newspapers,  the  monthly  subscription  of  fivepence  to  a 
Bibliotheque  populaire,  or  reading-club,  and  the  family  extra 
de  dimanche,  an  outing  on  Sundays  by  rail  or  tramway,  or 
tickets  for  the  theatre.  Presumably,  also,  although  this 
item  is  not  mentioned,  the  father  of  a  family,  as  in  Eng- 
land, provides  himself  out  of  this  argent  de poche  with  boots 
and  best  clothes. 

At  Reims,  as  elsewhere  in  the  provinces,  we  must  take 
into  account  that  living  is  much  cheaper  than  in  Paris. 
Thus  in  the  former  city  coals,  all  the  year  round,  cost 
is.  %d.  the  sack  of  no  Ibs.  (50  kilos),  vin  ordinaire  $d.  the 
litre  or  if  pint,  beer  2\d.  the  litre.  Garden  and  dairy 
produce  is  also  cheaper.  Lodgings  which  would  cost  £18 
or  £20  a  year  in  Paris  can  be  had  for  ,£10  or  ,£12  in  pro- 
vincial cities.  Education  is  non-sectarian,  gratuitous,  and 
obligatory  throughout  France.  Even  the  bulk  of  what  is 


HOUSEKEEPING  81 

called  fourniture  scolaire,  />.  copybooks,  pencils,  etc.,  is 
supplied  by  the  richer  municipalities.  But  in  the  eyes  of 
anxious  and  needy  mothers  the  primary  school  is  ever  an 
onerous  affair.  Watch  a  troop  of  youngsters  emerging 
from  an  tcole  communale,  many  belonging  to  well-to-do 
artisans  and  others,  many  to  the  very  poor.  From  head 
to  foot— one  and  all  will  be  equally  tidy,  black  linen  pina- 
fores or  blouses  protecting  tunics  and  trousers.  With  girls 
we  see  the  same  thing.  A  Frenchwoman,  however  poor, 
regards  rags  as  a  disgrace. 

One  highly  characteristic  fact  pointed  out  by  my  Reims 
friend  I  must  on  no  account  omit.  It  seems  that  the  work- 
ing classes  throughout  France,  from  the  well-paid  mechanic 
to  the  poorest-paid  journeyman,  invariably  possess  a  decent 
mourning,  or  rather  a  ceremonial,  suit.  Thus  every  man 
owns  black  trousers,  frock-coat,  waistcoat,  necktie  and 
gloves,  and  silk  hat.  He  is  ready  at  the  shortest  notice  to 
attend  a  funeral,  assist  at  a  wedding,  or  take  part  in  any 
public  celebration.  Every  working  woman  keeps  by  her  a 
black  robe,  bonnet,  and  mantle  or  shawl.  When  overtaken 
by  family  losses,  therefore,  even  the  very  poor  are  not  at  a 
loss  for  decent  black  in  which  to  attend  the  interment.  The 
scrupulously  cared-for  garments  are  ready  in  the  family 
wardrobe. 

My  correspondent  adds  the  following  table  of  actual 
salaries  and  wages  in  this  great  industrial  city  : — 

Head  clerks  (employes  principaux)  in  the  champagne  and 
wine  trade,  from  £160  a  year  upwards,  with  a  percentage 
on  sales  ;  in  the  woollen  trade  the  same  figures  hold  good 
— small  clerks  (petits  employes)  from  £4  to  £8  per  month  ; 
clerks  and  assistants  in  shops  from  £3  43.  to  £6  per 
month ;  workmen  in  manufactories  3^.  2d.  to  4^.  per  day  ; 
masons  and  plasterers  4^.  gd.  per  day,  or  from  4d.  to  Sd. 
per  hour ;  foremen  in  factories  from  6s.  6d.  to  fs.  per  day ; 
women  in  factories  2s.  to  2s.  6d.,  and  boys  u.  8d.  to  2s.  6d. 

The  writer  further  informs  me  that,  although  the  Benefit 


32  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Society,  Prevoyant  de  FAvenir,  is  very  prosperous,  the  situa- 
tion of  the  working  man,  on  the  whole,  is  unsatisfactory. 
Too  many  are  in  debt  for  rent  and  other  matters.  The 
explanation  doubtless  lies  in  the  tariff  of  cheap  stimulants 
and  intoxicants  appended  to  these  figures  :  absinthe,  eau  de 
vie  de  marc,  and  aperitifs  divers.  The  drink  evil  is  now  in 
France,  as  with  us,  the  question  of  the  hour. 

The  tabulated  budgets  of  workmen,  living  respectively 
in  Paris  and  Dijon,  supplied  by  a  friend,  will  show  that 
even  with  much  lower  wages  the  Dijonnais  is  considerably 
better  off. 

£  *•  * 
Thus  the  yearly  wages  of  the  first  at  £i  i$s.  jd. 

per  week  amount  to 87  6  4 

His  expenses 83  4  o 

Leaving  a  balance  of 424 

The    yearly  wages    of  the    second   at  £i   4^. 

amount  to          .......  62    8    o 

His  expenses 56    o    o 

Leaving  a  balance  of....,        680 

The  Parisian's  rent  for  one  or  two  rooms  will  cost  him 
£18  yearly;  the  food  of  himself,  wife,  and  two  children 
£47,  clothes  £12,  and  so  on  in  proportion  ;  whilst  the  pro- 
vincial, similarly  situated,  will  economize  £6  on  rent,  £17 
on  food,  £4  on  clothes. 

If  three  persons  in  Paris,  having  an  income  of  as  many 
pounds  a  week,  can  only  afford  meat  once  a  day,  how  small 
must  be  the  butcher's  bill  of  the  working  classes  !  In  most 
cases,  alike  in  Paris  and  in  the  provinces,  a  man's  wages 
are  supplemented  by  earnings  of  his  wife.  An  experienced 
lady  writes  to  me  on  this  subject — 

"  The  condition  of  the  working-man's  home  depends 
absolutely  on  the  wife.  Generally  speaking,  a  wife  adds  at 
least  £12  a  year  to  the  family  income,  and  she  not  only 
manages  to  maintain  the  household  in  comfort,  but  to  lay 
by.  Economy  is  the  supreme  talent  of  the  French  menaghe" 


HOUSEKEEPING  S3 

The  adroit  Parisienne  can  turn  her  hand  to  anything. 
Ironing,  charing,  cooking,  call  a  mother  away  from  home. 
Indoor  work  is  found  for  agile  fingers. 

The  lounger  in  Paris,  especially  in  old  Paris,  will  un- 
expectedly light  upon  these  home  industries,  the  means  by 
which  working  women  supplement  their  husband's  earnings. 
I  was  lately  visiting  a  doll's  dressing  warehouse  near  the 
Rue  de  Temple,  when  my  companion,  a  French  lady, 
called  my  attention  to  a  certain  window.  The  tenement 
was  that  of  a  humble  concierge,  doorkeeper  of  an  ancient 
house  let  out  as  business  premises.  On  a  small  deal  table 
immediately  under  the  uncurtained  and  wide  open  case- 
ment— for  the  weather  was  hot — lay  a  heap  of  small  circular 
objects  in  delicate  mauve  satin  and  swansdown.  What 
they  might  be  I  could  not  conceive.  "  See,"  said  my  com- 
panion, taking  up  one  of  the  articles,  "  here  is  one  of  the 
home  industries  you  were  inquiring  about  just  now.  This 
good  woman  earns  money  in  spare  moments  by  making 
these  envelopes  for  powder-puffs  ;  in  all  probability  they 
will  be  wadded  and  finished  off  with  a  button  by  another 
hand,  or  maybe  at  the  warehouse.  Many  women  work  in 
this  way  for  toyshops  and  bazaars." 

The  marvel  was  that  the  little  bags  of  pale  mauve 
satin  and  swansdown  should,  under  the  circumstances, 
remain  spotless.  Put  together  at  odd  times,  heaped  on  a 
bare  deal  table  which  looked  like  the  family  dinner-table, 
not  so  much  as  a  newspaper  thrown  over  them,  all  yet 
remained  immaculate,  ready  for  great  ladies'  toilettes.  The 
secret  doubtless  lay  in  the  swiftness  and  dexterity  of  French 
fingers  and  the  comparatively  pure  atmosphere.  What 
would  become  of  similar  materials  exposed  to  the  smutti- 
ness  of  a  back  street  in  London  ? 

In  no  field  does  a  French  housewife's  thrift  more  con- 
spicuously manifest  itself  than  in  cookery.  The  fare  of  a 
Parisian  workman,  if  not  so  nutritious  as  that  of  his  London 
compeer,  is  at  least  as  appetizing.  Thus,  a  basin  of  soup 
D 


34  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

is  often  a  man's  meal  before  setting  out  to  work.  Water, 
in  which  a  vegetable  has  been  boiled,  will  be  set  aside  for 
this  purpose,  a  bit  of  butter  or  bacon  added,  and  there  will 
be  a  savoury  mess  in  which  to  steep  his  pound  of  bread. 
The  excessive  dearness  of  provisions  puts  a  more  solid 
nutriment  out  of  the  question.  Thus  bacon  costs  is.  6d. 
the  pound,  and  the  high  price  of  butter  drives  poor  folk  to 
the  use  of  margarine. 

Whether  the  pleasant  and  apparently  fresh  butter  sup- 
plied in  Parisian  restaurants  is  adulterated  or  no  I  cannot 
say.  This  I  know,  that  a  friend  living  in  Paris  has  for 
years  abjured  butter  from  a  horror  of  margarine.  And 
here  I  add  a  hint  to  fastidious  eaters.  In  order  to  make 
up  for  the  missing  butter  with  cheese,  this  gentleman  mixes 
several  kinds  of  cheese  together  at  dessert — Roquefort, 
Brie,  Camembert,  a  delicious  compound,  I  am  assured. 

In  humble  restaurants  may  be  seen  long  bills  of  fare, 
each  dish  priced  at  sums  varying  from  2\d.  to  $d.  Work- 
men in  white  blouses  sit  down  out-of-doors  to  these  dishes, 
which  look  appetizing  enough.  I  have  never  ventured  to 
try  them.  I  am  assured,  however,  that  it  is  only  the  very 
poor  of  Paris  who  patronize  horseflesh,  and  you  have  to 
make  a  long  voyage  of  discovery  before  lighting  upon  the 
shop  sign,  a  horse's  head  and  the  inscription,  Boucherie  de 
cheval,  or  Boucherie  chevaline.  One  such  shop  sign  I  re- 
member to  have  seen  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Rue 
Roquette. 

Money  is  so  hardly  earned  by  the  Parisian  workman 
and  workwoman,  and  existence  is  such  a  struggle,  that  we 
need  not  wonder  at  the  deadly  tenacity  with  which  earnings 
are  clutched  at.  When  some  years  ago  the  Opera  Comique 
blazed,  amid  a  scene  awful  as  that  of  a  battlefield,  the 
women  attendants  thought  of  their  tips,  the  half  franc  due 
here  and  there  for  a  footstool.  Unmindful  of  their  own 
peril  and  that  of  others,  they  rushed  to  and  fro,  besieging 
half-suffocated,  half-demented  creatures  for  their  money  ! 


HOUSEKEEPING  35 

A  similar  scene  happened  during  the  terrible  catastrophe 
on  the  Paris  underground  railway  last  year.  Although 
the  delay  of  a  few  seconds  might  mean  life  or  death,  many 
workmen  refused  to  move  from  the  crowded  station,  clamour- 
ing for  the  return  of  the  forfeited  twopenny  ticket. 

When  M.  Edmond  Demolins  sets  down  the  French 
character  as  the  least  possible  adapted  to  spending,  in  other 
words,  to  the  circulation  of  capital,  he  hits  upon  what  is  at 
once  the  crowning  virtue  and  the  paramount  weakness  of 
his  country-people.  Money  in  French  eyes  means  some- 
thing on  no  account  whatever  to  be  lightly  parted  with, 
absolute  necessity,  and  absolute  necessity  alone,  most  often 
condoning  outlay.  But  there  is  a  shining  side  to  this 
frugality.  French  folks  do  not  affect  a  certain  sumptuary 
style  for  the  sake  of  outsiders,  such  unpretentiousness 
imparting  a  dignity  mere  wealth  cannot  bestow.  The 
following  incident  opened  my  eyes  to  French  standards 
long  ago. 

I  had  been  spending  a  few  days  with  a  French  friend, 
widow  of  an  officer  at  Pornic,  and  on  returning  to  Nantes 
took  a  third-class  ticket.  The  astonishment  of  my  hostess 
I  shall  not  forget. 

"  I  always  travel  first  class,"  she  exclaimed,  after  a  little 
chat  about  the  matter  of  trains,  adding,  "  but  I  do  not  travel 
often,  and  I  am  rich.  I  have  an  income  of  .£200  a  year." 

Of  which  I  doubt  not  she  seldom  spent  two-thirds. 
And  in  this  supreme  sense  the  vast  majority  of  French 
folks  are  rich,  ay,  and  often  "  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice." 


CHAPTER   III 

HOLIDAY-MAKING 

A  FRENCHMAN'S  notion  of  holiday  is  to  see  as 
/  \  much  as  possible  of  his  relations,  and  to  gather 
JL  JL  his  own  peaches.  When  the  long  vacation  comes, 
with  its  burning  skies,  valetudinarians  betake  themselves 
to  Contrexdville,  Pougues-les-Bains,  or  equally  favourite 
spas ;  family  parties  animate  the  Breton  and  Norman 
coasts ;  cyclists  by  the  thousand  invade  the  once  solitary 
fastnesses  of  Fontainebleau  ;  a  few,  a  very  few,  adventure- 
some spirits  start  for  the  Swiss  mountains,  Scotch  rivers, 
or  Norwegian  fiords.  By  far  the  greater  number  merely 
change  one  home  for  another,  the  town  flat  for  the  country 
house,  villa,  or  cottage. 

The  result  of  the  French  Revolution  has  been  a  material 
levelling  up.  Whilst  in  England  the  possession  of  a  town 
and  country  residence  implies  wealth  and  social  position, 
in  France  the  case  is  quite  otherwise.  Just  as  all  but  the 
very  poor  and  the  declassts  sit  under  the  shadow  of  their 
own  vine  and  fig-tree,  so  the  well-to-do  middle  classes,  like 
the  noblesse,  now  own  a  rural  retreat  in  which  to  pass  the 
ville"giature.  The  houseless  or  rent-paying  in  France, 
indeed,  form  a  mere  remnant,  a  handful.  In  an  official 
work  on  this  subject  ("  U Habitation  en  France,"  par  A  de 
Foville:  Paris,  1894),  we  find  that  whilst  in  many  depart- 
ments seventy  and  even  eighty  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants 
occupy  houses  belonging  to  them,  the  average  of  the 
entire  eighty-six  departments  is  sixty-four !  * 

*  These  figures,  of  course,  hold  good  with  regard  to  communes  only.     In 
towns  folks  live  mostly  in  flats,  several  families  occupying  a  block. 

36 


HOLIDAY-MAKING  37 

Parisians  have  their  country  houses  within  easy  distance 
of  the  capital ;  provincial  lawyers,  advocates,  professors 
and  men  of  business  do  not  care  to  go  far  afield  in  search 
of  refreshment  and  recreation.  They  migrate  to  the  family 
campagne.  For  many  years  I  was  often  a  guest  in  a 
Burgundian  village  half  an  hour  by  rail  from  Dijon,  my 
kind  hosts  forming  part  of  a  patriarchal  group.  No  less 
than  six  families,  more  or  less  closely  related,  had  here 
their  handsome  houses  and  large  gardens.  One  head  of  a 
house — rather,  I  should  say,  one  paterfamilias,  the  wife  and 
mother  in  France  being  ever  the  head  of  the  house— was 
an  advocate,  another  a  lawyer,  a  third  a  notary,  and  so 
on.  Great-grandmother,  grandparents,  grandchildren,  and 
great-grandchildren,  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins  made  up  a 
little  society,  the  members  apparently  needing  no  other. 
As  all  were  in  opulent  circumstances  that  kind  of  holiday- 
making  must  have  been  quite  voluntary.  One  lady, 
indeed,  once  went  with  her  young  daughter  to  Vichy ; 
and  my  hostess,  a  venerable  dame,  accompanied  by  her 
son,  grandson,  and  myself,  once  got  so  far  as  St.  Honor6- 
les-Bains,  a  hydropathic  resort  charmingly  situated  a  few 
hours  off  by  rail.  These  flittings  were  undertaken  for 
health's  sake,  and  were  quite  exceptional.  The  long 
vacation  merely  meant  a  renewal  of  family  intercourse 
under  other  circumstances.  Grandmothers  chatted  in  the 
garden  instead  of  in  the  salon  ;  the  young  people  played 
croquet,  which  they  certainly  could  not  do  in  town  ;  avout, 
avocat,  and  notaire,  instead  of  hob-nobbing  at  cafe  or  club, 
shouldered  their  guns  and  went  abroad  in  search  of 
partridges,  or  in  wet  weather  played  whist  and  dominoes. 
No  one  seemed  to  find  the  annual  villegiature  a  trifle 
monotonous.  The  day  was  snailed  through  pleasantly 
enough,  and  with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  energy. 
To  economize  vital  force,  I  should  say,  is  the  end  and  aim, 
not  only  of  these  country  lawyers  and  barristers,  but  of 
many,  perhaps  most,  people  in  France.  English  folks  in 


38  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

similar  circumstances  would  have  had  neighbours  calling, 
garden-parties,  picnics,  every  day.  To  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  from  the  first  of  August  till  the  middle  of 
October,  M.  le  Cur£,  M.  le  Percepteur  (a  functionary  having 
quite  a  different  position  to  our  own  tax  collector),  and 
myself  were  the  only  outsiders  seen  within  the  six  different 
houses.  Upon  one  occasion  a  picnic  was  given,  rather  an 
alfresco  luncheon  in  a  clos  or  walled-in  vineyard.  The  spot 
selected  lay  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  everybody's 
dwelling,  the  six  families  all  living  within  earshot  of  each 
other.  Thus  the  guests  had  only  to  step  out  of  their 
gardens,  and  the  servants'  goings  to  and  fro  were  reduced 
to  the  minimum. 

Professional  men  in  Paris  and  large  cities  who  belong 
to  the  houseless  minority  generally  keep  holiday  with 
relations.  Husband,  wife,  and  their  "little  family,"  the 
said  little  family  generally  consisting  of  a  single  and  very 
spoiled  bantling,  are  received  by  parents  on  either  side,  if 
they  happen  to  live  in  the  country.  This  arrangement  is 
regarded  as  a  matter  of  course.  We  must  ever  bear  in 
mind  that  the  French  marriage  is  not  an  institution  that 
detaches,  but  rather  one  that  cements.  Husband  and  wife 
are  not  thereby  respectively  separated  from  their  parents. 
Instead  of  one  father  and  one  mother,  each  henceforth 
possesses  two.  And  not  infrequently  there  will  be  painful 
conflicts,  a  rebellion  against  divided  influence  and  affection. 

Others,  again,  who  have  neither  country  house  of  their 
own  nor  a  parental  refuge  for  the  dog  days,  will  indulge 
in  the  favourite  promenade  en  mer,  or  sea-walk,  at  some 
inexpensive  place.  Since  my  near  acquaintance  with 
France  began,  by  a  twelvemonth's  residence  in  Brittany 
twenty-five  years  ago,  hundreds  of  little  watering-places 
have  sprung  up  on  the  west  coast. 

Seaside  lodgings  after  English  fashion  have  not  found 
acceptance  in  France.  These  brand-new  townlings  by  the 
sea  do  not  consist  of  formal  terraces,  but  of  villas  dotted 


HOLIDAY-MAKING  39 

here  and  there  like  the  cottages  of  a  child's  toy  village. 
Economic  folks  hire  a  tiny  chdlet  and  cater  for  themselves, 
all  kinds  of  privations  and  discomforts  being  good-naturedly 
endured ;  for  the  coveted  promenades  en  mer  evoke  a 
livelier  spirit  than  the  installation  in  country  house  or 
under  some  familiar  roof.  And  sea-bathing,  with  every 
other  desirable  thing,  must  here  be  taken  in  company. 
The  notion  of  a  bathing-machine,  a  hurried  plunge,  or 
solitary  swim,  is  wholly  unacceptable  to  the  French  mind. 
So  when  the  burning  glare  of  the  day  is  over,  family  meets 
family  on  the  sands,  most  sociably  and  unconventionally 
disporting  themselves. 

My  first  experience  of  sea-bathing  after  French  fashion 
was  gained  at  Les  Sables  D'Olonne,  in  Vende'e,  or  Les 
Sables,  as  the  place  is  aptly  called.  Never,  I  think,  I  saw 
sands  so  velvety  smooth,  so  firm  ;  and  never  do  I  remember 
a  hotter  place !  Even  in  June  folks  could  not  stir  abroad 
till  towards  evening,  when  the  great  business  of  the  day 
began,  the  five-o'clock  promenade  en  mer  being  in  reality 
a  constitutional  turn  before  dinner.  Emerging  from  their 
cabines,  or  dressing-closets,  fronting  the  sea,  poured  forth 
the  strangest  company — men,  women,  and  children  walking 
into  the  sea,  a  distance  of  course  varying  with  the  tide,  on 
the  occasion  I  speak  of  about  two  furlongs. 

Masqueraders  at  carnival  could  not  present  an  oddert 
more  whimsical  appearance  than  these  fashionable  fre- 
quenters of  Les  Sables,  equipped  for  the  daily  paddle. 
The  children,  in  their  gay,  much  be-frilled  costumes,  looked 
like  so  many  juvenile  harlequins ;  the  ladies  wore  serge 
bathing-dresses  trimmed  with  bright-coloured  braid ;  the 
men,  in  their  close-fitting  cuirass-like  garments  of  striped 
black  and  red  or  blue,  might  have  passed  for  so  many 
champion  swimmers.  Thus  fancifully  semi-clothed,  merrily 
chatting,  or  toying  with  the  waves,  young  and  old  took 
their  amphibious  stroll,  doubtless  returning  with  a  first-rate 
appetite  for  dinner. 


40  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

At  PreTailles,  near  Pornie,  in  Brittany,  which  I  visited 
a  little  later  on,  I  found  sea-bathing  proper — the  quiet  sea 
at  high  tide  populated  with  the  oddest  mermen  and  mer- 
maids, all  in  the  quaintest  habiliments,  and  all  wearing 
huge  straw  hats  or  gipsy  bonnets,  on  account  of  the  heat. 
A  stout,  elderly  papa  was  teaching  his  children  to  swim, 
mamma,  portly  and  middle-aged,  in  the  water  with  the 
rest,  and  enjoying  the  excitement  as  much  as  any. 

The  seaside  holiday  is  often,  indeed,  an  excuse  for 
family  gatherings,  friendly  intercourse,  and  matchmaking ! 
The  promenade  en  mer,  delightful  as  it  is,  will  often  be 
quite  a  secondary  consideration. 

Some  watering-places  especially  lend  themselves  to 
social  amenities.  Thus  at  St.  Georges-de-Didonne,  near 
Royan,  in  the  Charente  Inferieure,  the  smooth  sands  admit 
of  croquet  parties  and  dances.  During  my  stay  of  many 
weeks  in  that  sweet  spot  some  years  ago  I  constantly 
heard  of  such  entertainments.  When  French  people  do 
make  up  their  minds  to  leave  home,  which  is  not  often, 
they  endeavour  to  get  the  utmost  possible  enjoyment  out 
of  their  money.  Here  I  would  observe  that  the  best  way 
of  knowing  and  appreciating  our  neighbours  is  to  travel 
in  their  company,  or  rather,  to  have  them  for  travelling 
companions. 

I  have  been  so  privileged  on  many  of  my  long  French 
journeys,  and  the  experience  has  opened  my  eyes  upon 
many  subjects.  In  the  first  place,  French  people  never 
by  any  chance  grumble  when  on  their  travels.  They  seem 
to  regard  the  mere  fact  of  being  away  from  home  such  a 
wrench  that  minor  discomforts  are  hardly  worth  considera- 
tion. Hence  it  comes  about  that  in  regions  unfrequented 
by  the  fault-finding  English,  French  hotels  are  still  very 
much  as  they  were  under  the  ancien  regime,  sanitary 
arrangements  not  a  whit  more  advanced  than  when  Arthur 
Young  bluntly  wrote  of  them  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago. 

The  reason  is  simple.     French  travellers  resent  such 


HOLIDAY-MAKING  41 

antequations  no  less  than  ourselves,  but  shrug  their 
shoulders  with  the  remark,  "We  shall  not  come  here 
again,  why  put  ourselves  out  ? " 

Which  attitude,  from  one  point  of  view,  is  an  amiable 
aprh  moi  le  deluge,  seeing  that  if  no  one  ever  complained 
hotel-keepers  would  imagine,  like  Candide,  that  everything 
was  for  the  best  in  the  best  possible  world. 

My  first  fellow-traveller  was  an  elderly  lady,  widow  of 
an  officer,  with  whom  I  took  a  delightful  two  weeks'  driving 
tour  in  the  highlands  of  Franche-Comte". 

In  early  life  Madame  F had  spent  many  years  in 

St.  Petersburg  as  governess  in  a  highly  placed  Russian 
family,  returning  to  France  with  a  self-earned  dowry,  just 
upon  a  thousand  pounds,  at  that  time  the  regulation  dowry 
of  an  officer's  wife.  An  officer's  wife  she  duly  became, 
and  excellently  the  marriage  turned  out  she  told  me,  for 
I  had  the  whole  story  from  her  own  lips.  "The  best  of 
men  was  my  husband,"  she  invariably  added  when  recurring 
to  the  past. 

During  our  journey  through  a  succession  of  picturesque 
but  very  primitive  regions,  both  tempers  and  powers  of 
endurance  were  severely  taxed.  The  wayside  inns  could 
hardly  have  been  worse  in  Arthur  Young's  time.  Dirty, 
noisy,  uncomfortable,  our  night's  lodging  was  often  so 
wretched  that  we  obtained  little  sleep.  Never  before 
had  I  fared  so  badly  in  out-of-the-way  France,  which  is 
saying  a  good  deal.  Charges  were  naturally  low,  and  the 
people  civil  and  obliging,  but  without  the  slightest  notion, 
of  punctuality  or  exactitude.  Nothing  ruffled  my  com- 
panion's even  mood,  and  her  placability  became  almost 
as  disconcerting  as  the  beds  we  could  not  lie  down  in, 
the  meals  waited  hours  for,  and  other  easily  remedied 
drawbacks  to  enjoyment.  A  holiday  tour  and  congenial 
society  compensated  for  all  minor  inconveniences.  Inci- 
dental discomforts  seemed  to  be  taken  as  part  of  the  day's 
programme. 


42  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Upon  another  occasion,  an  old  friend,  a  French  officer, 
invited  me  to  an  al  fresco  breakfast  on  the  banks  of  the 
Saone,  near  Lyons.  A  delightful  two  hours'  drive  brought 
us  to  the  lie  Barbe,  a  narrow,  wooded  islet  forming  the 
favourite  holiday  ground  of  the  Lyonnais.  In  a  restaurant 
overlooking  river  and  wooded  banks  we  had  long  to  wait 
for  a  very  poor  dejeuner  and  a  bottle  of  very  bad  wine. 

As  the  charges  are  always  high  at  such  places,  I  sug- 
gested to  my  friend  that  he  should  make  a  complaint  and 
demand  another  bottle. 

"  It  would  be  the  same  thing,"  was  his  smiling  reply. 
Sunshine,  the  lovely  riverside  prospect,  congenial  society, 
the  sight  of  happy  picnic  parties  outside,  in  his  eyes  more 
than  made  up  for  undrinkable  wine  highly  priced. 

As  yet  the  horseless  family  coach  must  be  considered 
the  privilege  of  the  rich.  Motoring  is  too  novel  an  ele- 
ment in  holiday-making  to  be  dealt  with  here. 

I  will  now  say  something  about  house-parties  during 
the  long  vacation,  as  upon  other  topics,  strictly  confining 
myself  to  personal  experience. 

In  a  pre-eminently  intellectual  nation  like  France  we 
should  naturally  look  for  a  very  high  tone  in  the  matter 
of  fireside  recreation,  nor  are  we  at  all  likely  to  be  dis- 
appointed. One  exquisite  art,  allied  to  another  even  more 
fascinating,  is  especially  cultivated  by  our  neighbours. 

On  French  soil  the  training  of  the  speaking  voice  and 
the  love  of  poetry  go  hand-in-hand.  What  accomplish- 
ment is  better  adapted  to  the  family  circle  than  that  of 
rhetoric,  the  gift  of  reciting  ?  Montaigne  somewhere  says 
that  sentiments  clothed  in  verse  strike  the  mind  with  two- 
fold impact.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  poetry  "  made 
vocal  for  the  amusement  of  the  rest."  Declamation  is 
generally  taught  in  girls'  schools,  and  when  natural  aptitude 
is  carefully  fostered  the  reciter  wields  a  fairy  wand. 

As  I  write  comes  back  to  my  mind  enchanted  evenings 
in  a  chdteau  of  Lorraine.  The  September  day  over,  with 


HOLIDAY-MAKING  43 

its  walks  and  drives,  the  house-party,  excepting  myself  all 
members  of  the  family,  luxuriously  ensconced  before  a 
wood  fire,  one  voice  would  hold  us  spell-bound.  The 
magician,  a  young  daughter-in-law  of  the  hosts,  was 
richly  endowed  as  to  voice,  memory,  and  histrionic  power. 
Now  she  thrilled  us  with  dramatic  episode,  now  moved 
us  to  tears  with  pathetic  idyll,  Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo, 
and  contemporary  poets,  making  up  a  large  and  varied 
repertory. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  hear  a  good  deal  of 
recitation  in  France ;  none  ever  charmed  me  as  did  that 
of  this  gifted  young  wife  and  mother.  Rememberable, 
too,  were  hours  spent  in  the  music-room.  My  host  and 
hostess,  already  grandparents,  were  excellent  musicians, 
and  on  wet  afternoons  would  invite  me  to  the  most  charm- 
ing pianoforte  and  violin  recitals  imaginable.  Croquet, 
tennis,  billiards,  and  other  lighter  entertainments  varied 
the  day's  programme,  and  here  I  found  none  of  that 
exclusiveness  characterizing  less  cosmopolitan,  homelier 
country  houses,  no  Chinese  wall  hemming  round  the  roof- 
tree.  Monsieur  had  formerly  occupied  a  diplomatic  post, 
with  himself  madame  belonged  to  the  titled  ranks,  both 
had  travelled  much.  A  dinner-party  at  the  chdteau,  there- 
fore, did  not  consist  of  uncles,  aunts,  and  cousins,  but  of 
neighbours,  living  perhaps  a  dozen  miles  off. 

I  add  that  among  the  travelled,  leisurely  classes  we 
always  hear  English  speech  and  find  the  latest  Tauchnitz 
editions  on  the  drawing-room  table.  And,  oddly  enough, 
proud  as  they  are  of  their  own  incomparable  language, 
our  neighbours  never  by  any  chance  whatever  use  it  if 
they  can  express  themselves  tant  bien  que  mal  in  the 
tongue  of  perfidious  Albion,  a  compliment  sometimes 
resented  by  over-sea  visitors. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE   BABY 

THE  French  baby  usually  comes  into  the  world  an 
heir.     Outside  the  venue  of  penury  and  lawless- 
ness, it  may  be  said  that  every  Gallic  bantling  is 
born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  its  mouth.     The  Code  Civil 
has  made  fathers  in   France  mere  usufructuaries  of  their 
children's  fortune.     "  Thou  shalt  enrich  thy  offspring "  is 
an  eleventh  commandment  rigidly  obeyed. 

When  a  little  Anglo-Saxon  announces  himself  with 
kicks,  screams,  and  doubling  of  his  tiny  fists,  the  attitude 
is  symbolic.  Unless  he  is  born  to  a  peerage  or  a  million, 
his  career,  even  in  pacific  fields,  will  be  combative,  earliest 
experiences  evoking  a  spirit  of  enterprise,  self-reliance, 
and,  above  all,  compromise. 

If  a  tiny  Gaul  behaves  in  similar  fashion  at  the  onset 
of  life,  his  attitude  soon  changes.  Mite  as  he  is,  he 
immediately  discovers  that  there  is  not  the  slightest  neces- 
sity to  kick,  scream,  and  double  his  fists.  Everything  he 
wants  he  gets  without  such  expenditure  of  lungs  and 
muscles.  His  nod  is  that  of  an  infant  Jupiter  Olympus. 
For  the  French  baby  born  of  reputable  wedlock  is  a  unit, 
occasionally  one  of  two — never  a  superfluity.  When  a 
fond  French  parent  tells  you  that  "sa  petite  famille  va 
bien"  (his  little  family  is  well),  he  means  that  the  one 
boy  or  one  girl  of  his  house  is  in  good  health.  When  a 
Frenchman  proudly  informs  you  that  he  is  "  pere  de 
famille "  (the  father  of  a  family),  he  means  that  he  owns 

44 


THE  BABY  45 

a  son  or  a  daughter.  With  undivided  sway  the  new-comer 
rules,  not  the  nursery  (nurseries  being  unknown  in  France), 
but  the  entire  household.  He  is  regarded  as  a  quite 
transhuman  entity,  a  phenomenon,  a  small  divinity  whose 
humour  under  no  circumstances  whatever  is  to  be  crossed. 
From  the  moment  of  his  birth  he  is  entrusted  to  a  deputy 
mother — in  other  words,  a  wet  nurse — who  must  never  let 
her  charge  cry. 

"Take  my  advice,"  I  once  heard  a  young  matron  say 
to  another,  "  and  immediately  dismiss  your  nurse  if  baby 
cries.  I  changed  mine  for  Cecile  half  a  dozen  times  before 
I  succeeded  in  obtaining  one  who  understood  her  business. 
Depend  on  it,  if  an  infant  cries  the  fault  lies  with  the 
nurse."  The  task  of  rearing  infants  under  such  conditions 
may  seem  onerous.  The  rewards  are  proportionate. 

Next  to  the  little  heir  or  heiress  under  her  care,  the 
nurse  is  by  far  the  most  important  person  in  the  house.  She 
lives  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and  is  never  allowed  to  cry 
herself— that  is  to  say,  she  must  never  sigh  for  the  bantling 
she  has  left  behind.  Her  wages  range  from  a  pound  a 
week,  and  if  she  gets  her  foster  child  well  over  its  teething, 
she  receives  a  gold  watch  in  addition  to  other  perquisites. 
When  madame's  visits  do  not  lie  in  the  direction  of  any 
public  garden,  she  takes  a  fiacre,  and  nurse  and  baby  have 
the  carriage  and  pair  to  themselves.  In  the  Tuileries 
Gardens,  the  Pare  Monceau,  and  on  the  Champs  Elysees, 
instead  of  nursemaids  in  white  dresses  and  perambulators, 
we  see  veritable  walls  of  these  foster-mothers  in  spick-and- 
span  grey  alpaca  circular  cloaks,  and  close-fitting  mob-caps 
with  streamers  of  broad  ribbon  reaching  to  their  heels. 
This  ribbon  is  a  special  manufacture  of  St.  Etienne,  and 
costs  ten  francs  a  yard.  It  is  a  plaid,  red  denoting  the 
nurse  of  a  boy,  blue  of  a  girl,  at  least  four  yards  being 
used.  A  right  jovial  time  of  it  have  these  wearers  of 
circular  cloaks  and  ribbon  costing  ten  francs  a  yard. 
On  a  par  with  Juliet's  immortal  nurse  are  evidently  most 


46  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

of  them,  well-meaning,  but  coarse,  ignorant  countrywomen 
attracted  from  the  poorest  and  least  progressive  parts  of 
France  by  high  wages  and  riotous  living.  And  concern- 
ing them  has  lately  been  waged  a  war  as  determined  in 
spirit  as  that  waged  about  Captain  Dreyfus.  Laws 
have  been  promulgated  against  the  practice  of  vicarious 
motherhood.  One  of  the  most  popular  French  novelists 
has  scathingly  indicted  the  system  in  fiction  ;  and  at  the 
eclectic  Theatre  Antoine,  night  after  night,  vast  audiences 
have  been  moved  to  tears  by  Les  Rempla^antes,  a  play 
owing  its  inspiration  to  the  same  subject.  Whether  the 
excellent  Loi  Roussel  forbidding  mothers  to  go  put  as 
nurses  till  their  own  infants  are  seven  months  old,  Ren£ 
Bazin's  moving  history  of  "Donatienne,"  or  M.  Brieux' 
still  more  moving  play,  Les  Rempla$antes,  will  reduce 
that  living  wall  in  the  Paris  gardens  is  a  moot  question. 
And  why  fond  French  mothers  as  persistently  relegate 
their  maternal  duties  to  others  as  when  Rousseau  issued 
his  fulminations  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  I  have  never 
learned. 

Alike  in  humble  ranks  the  baby  is  an  idol,  but  oft- 
times  a  hindrance,  an  encumbrance,  a  tiny  white  elephant 
The  Loi  Roussel  may  prohibit  working  women  from  acting 
the  part  of  foster-mothers ;  it  cannot  compel  them  to  be 
mothers  indeed.  In  all  the  first-class  Paris  hotels  house- 
work is  done  by  married  couples,  these  being  necessarily 
in  the  prime  of  life  and  the  pick  of  their  class.  Whenever 
a  baby  is  born  to  one  of  these  chambermaids,  it  is  imme- 
diately boarded  out  in  the  country,  faring,  doubtless,  every 
whit  as  well  as  Cherubim  in  Paul  de  Kock's  amusing  story, 
and  reared  no  more  intelligently.  You  may  still  see  babies 
emmaillote  in  the  country,  so  swaddled  that  they  cannot 
move  a  limb,  their  little  unwashed  heads  in  close-fitting 
caps.  But  out  of  sight  is  by  no  means  a  case  of  out  of 
mind.  From  the  moment  of  its  birth  the  baby  in  France 
is  the  pivot  on  which  everything  turns,  the  centre  of 


THE   BABY  47 

parental  hopes  and  ambitions.  A  day  out  means  a  run 
into  the  country  to  see  Bebe.  Every  English  half-crown 
bestowed  by  passing  travellers  goes  towards  the  little 
daughter's  dowry  or  the  little  son's  equipment  for  life.  In 
the  Pyrenees,  no  sooner  is  a  girl  born  than  the  mother 
begins  to  spin  and  weave  her  trousseau — the  enormous 
stock  of  house  and  family  linen  that  will  long  outlast  the 
life  just  begun.  And  no  sooner  is  a  daughter  born  to  the 
professional  man  or  small  functionary  than  her  modest 
dowry  is  insured  by  yearly  payments — a  few  thousand 
francs  to  become  her  own  on  her  marriage  day.  We  all 
know  the  story  of  Diderot,  who  sold  his  library  to  dower 
his  daughter.  That  charming  story-teller,  Charles  Nodier, 
author  of  "  Trilby  "  (did  du  Maurier  here  borrow  the  title 
of  his  once  famous  book  ?),  bookworm  and  bibliographer 
though  he  was,  made  a  similar  sacrifice.  Tremendous, 
indeed,  is  the  sense  of  parental  responsibility  in  France. 
The  care,  bringing  up,  and  providing  for  one  child  seem 
enough  for  ordinary  mortals.  "  Ah !  how  happy  you  will 
be  when  Denise  has  a  brother  to  keep  her  company ! "  I 
said  to  a  gentleman  of  means  and  position  who  was  talking 
rapturously  of  his  baby  granddaughter.  "  Another  ? "  was 
the  reply.  "  What  should  I  do  with  two  grandchildren  ? 
I  have  only  one  pair  of  arms  !  " 

It  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be  inferred  that  more  affection 
or  care  is  lavished  upon  babies  over  the  water  than  here. 
But,  as  Thiers  remarked  when  France  was  torn  to  pieces 
by  Bonapartist,  Orleanist,  and  Legitimist  factions,  "A 
single  crown  cannot  be  worn  by  three  heads,"  so  the 
numerous  occupants  of  an  English  nursery  cannot  all  be 
little  divinities. 

A  brilliant  Anglo-French  friend  of  mine  was  of  opinion 
that  French  amiability  is  due  to  the  fact  of  early  indulgence, 
children's  tempers  never  being  spoiled  by  contradiction. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  other  characteristics  must  certainly  be 
attributed  to  bringing  up — sociableness,  for  instance,  also 


48  HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

gastronomic  discrimination.  Whilst  to  the  little  Anglo- 
Saxon  the  populous  nursery  becomes  a  school  of  life,  to  his 
neighbour  the  salon  and  salle  a  manger  become  schools  of 
manners.  Nurseries  and  nursery  meals  being  unknown  in 
France,  no  sooner  is  baby  weaned  than  he  takes  his  place 
at  the  dinner-table,  rapidly  acquiring  ease  of  manner  and 
appreciative  habits. 

"Ma  fille  adore  le  poisson "  (" My  daughter  adores 
fish  "),  one  day  said  -the  proud  mamma  of  a  year-old  baby 
to  her  table  d'hote  neighbour.  This  happened  to  be  an 
English  lady,  who  with  no  little  amusement  was  watching 
the  infantine  gourmet.  Everything  that  French  babies  like 
is  supposed  to  be  good  for  them,  and,  as  the  national 
physique  is  noted  for  its  elasticity  and  powers  of  resistance, 
there  may  be  practical  wisdom  in  thus  eschewing  nursery  diet. 

French  parents,  alike  the  rich  and  the  poor,  hold  with 
Henri  dAlbret,  King  of  Navarre,  and  grandfather  of  the 
gay  Gascon.  No  sooner  was  the  future  King  of  France 
born  than  the  old  man  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  from  a 
gold  cup  made  him  swallow  a  few  drops  of  choice  wine,  in 
order,  as  chroniclers  relate,  to  make  him  grow  up  strong 
and  manly.  French  children  are  wine-drinkers  from  their 
infancy. 

Some  years  since  I  was  staying  with  a  Frenchwoman 
who  received  boarders.  One  afternoon  the  excellent  maid- 
of-all-work  brought  in  my  tea,  looking  ready  to  cry  of 
vexation. 

"It  is  unbearable!"  she  burst  out.  "Think  of  it, 
madame  ;  nine  to  cook  for,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  vegetable 
cleaning  I  have  to  leave  off  and  get  a  dinner  ready  for 
Suzanne  because  she  is  going  out  with  her  grandmother." 

The  grandmother,  who  lived  near,  was  to  fetch  Made- 
moiselle Suzanne  at  half-past  five.  Here  is  the  bill  of 
fare,  the  young  lady  being  just  two  and  a  half — soup, 
fish,  beef  steak,  fried  potatoes,  cheese,  dessert,  and,  of 
course,  wine. 


THE  BABY  4£ 

Upon  another  occasion  I  was  dining  with  rich  people 
living  in  their  own  hotel,  and,  wonderful  to  relate,  the 
parents  of  seven  children,  from  three  to  fifteen.  All  sat 
down  to  dinner,  the  younger  ones  being  carried  off  to  bed 
as  soon  as  they  nodded  over  their  plates. 

The  introduction  of  the  nursery  would  necessitate  the 
entire  reconstruction  of  Paris.  In  luxurious  private  hotels 
only  is  anything  like  an  English  installation  for  babies 
possible,  whilst  even  in  handsome  flats  costing  several 
hundreds  a  year  there  are  never  two  rooms  available  for 
the  purpose.  As  to  smaller  appartements,  the  bedrooms 
are  mere  slips  ;  a  nursery  in  these  is  every  whit  as  out  of 
the  question  as  a  servants'  hall.  One  reason,  perhaps,  why 
children  should  be  so  much  scarcer  in  Paris  than  in  London 
is  that  in  the  French  capital  there  is  positively  no  room  for 
more.  And  as  the  scarcity  of  any  commodity  immensely 
enhances  its  preciousness,  French  babies  are  never  in  the 
way,  or  supposed  to  be  in  the  way. 

I  have  heard  an  animated  political  discussion  going  on 
whilst  a  boy  of  two  and  a  half  was  hammering  the  lid  of  a 
wooden  box.  No  notice  was  taken  either  by  his  parents 
or  their  second  visitor.  Nor  are  French  children  ever  sup- 
posed to  be  naughty. 

I  was  one  day  walking  in  the  country  with  friends  when 
their  little  girl,  aged  three,  began  to  fret,  as  children  will 
without  knowing  why.  "  Ce  n'est  pas  la  petite  Georgette 
qui  pleure,  c'est  la  petite  Louise"  ("It  is  not  little  Georgette 
who  is  crying,  but  little  Louise  "),  said  Georgette's  father,  her 
waywardness  being  thus  attributed  to  an  imaginary  culprit. 
Another  friend,  a  hardworking  professional  man,  lately 
observed  to  me,  "  My  wife  and  I  have  given  up  going  to 
the  theatre.  Our  little  boy  cries  at  the  notion  of  being  left 
behind,  so  we  stay  at  home." 

When,  some  years  ago,  the  famous  novelist  Alphonse 
Daudet  was  in  London  with  his  wife  and  little  girl,  nothing 
astonished  Madame  Daudet  so  much  as  the  fact  of  the 


50  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

child  not  being  invited  to  luncheons,  dinners,  and  recep- 
tions. 

"J'ai  toujours  garde"  mes  enfants  dans  ma  poche"  ("I 
have  always  kept  my  children  in  my  pocket"),  she  said 
indignantly  to  an  interviewer.  That  English  parents  should 
not  do  the  same  seemed  in  this  lady's  eyes  the  height  of 
insular  moroseness.  As  I  have  said,  the  French  baby  is 
never  supposed  to  be  in  the  way.  The  other  day  I  was 
dispatching  a  telegram  from  a  French  terminus.  The  clerk 
was  enjoying  his  domesticities  as  he  worked.  By  his  side 
played  a  boy  of  three,  keeping  him  company  a  sage-looking 
dog,  her  puppy  nursed  on  the  master's  knee.  And  the  last 
time  I  called  upon  my  dressmaker,  near  Fontainebleau,  her 
baby,  of  course,  was  in  the  workroom,  one  apprentice  after 
another  delightedly  acting  the  part  of  nurse. 

Beautiful  is  this  French  adulation  of  infantine  life. 
Whether  excessive  spoiling  later  on  is  the  best  preparation 
for  after  years  is  another  matter. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   GIRL 

THE  French  girl  is  a  very  delicate  piece  of  Nature's 
handiwork,  art  adding  the  final  touch.  On  the 
threshold  of  life  she  may  be  said  to  form  a 
feminine  type  apart.  In  her  person  is  combined  alike  the 
woman  of  the  world  and,  I  was  about  to  say,  the  blushing 
ingenue;  since  French  girls  never  do  blush,  I  omit  the 
adjective. 

Let  not  the  correction  be  misinterpreted.  The  in- 
capacity of  these  eighteen-year-old  maidens  is  by  no  means 
due  to  forwardness.  Quite  the  reverse.  It  is  due  to 
fastidious  training,  to  the  perpetual  inculcation  of  restraint. 
A  group  of  English  sisters  resembles  hardy  garden  flowers 
left  to  sun,  air,  and  themselves.  The  one  daughter  of  a 
French  house  is  like  a  hot-house  rarity,  day  by  day 
jealously  nursed,  ever  on  its  growth  a  watchful  eye,  exterior 
influences  withheld. 

The  methods  of  bringing  up  in  the  two  countries  differ 
so  essentially  as  to  render  comparison  impossible.  Each 
system  is  antipodal  to  the  other,  and  each  is  nicely  adapted 
to  circumstances  and  national  ideals.  In  England  a  good 
deal  is  left  to  chance  and  natural  inclination  :  in  France,  a 
girl's  character  and  career  are  carefully  elaborated.  It  may 
safely  be  taken  for  granted  that  a  French  girl,  from  her 
cradle  to  her  marriage,  is  the  subject  of  more  parental 
anxiety,  calculation,  and  forethought  than  the  inmates  of 
what  Jean  Paul  calls  a  daughter-full  house  (ein  tochtervolles 
Haus). 


52  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Education  is  a  problem  of  immense  difficulty  and  pain- 
ful deliberation.  The  convent  school  no  longer  enjoys  the 
prestige  of  former  days.  Madame  de  Maintenon's  ideal  of 
the  well-bred  young  person  has  become  old-fashioned. 
Even  strictly  orthodox  parents  now  require  more  solidity 
in  the  matter  of  instruction,  and  more  modernity  in  house- 
hold arrangements.  The  young  lady  whose  mother  and 
grandmother  were  educated,  or  rather  fitted  for  society,  by 
the  sisters  of  Sacr£  Cceur,  no  longer  goes  to  a  convent 
school.  So  after  much  diligent  inquiry,  comparing  of 
maternal  notes,  and  verifying  of  references,  some  private 
school,  or,  better  still,  some  lady  receiving  a  few  daily 
pupils,  is  fixed  upon ;  but  the  difficulties  are  far  from 
over. 

As  we  all  know,  every  French  girl  of  means  and 
position  is  in  precisely  the  condition  of  a  royal  princess. 
Under  no  circumstances  whatever  must  she  so  much  as 
cross  the  street  to  post  a  letter  alone.  One  might  suppose, 
from  the  Argus  eye  kept  upon  girlhood  in  France,  that  we 
were  still  living  in  the  days  of  Una  and  her  milk-white 
lamb !  There  is,  however,  a  comfortable  equilibrium 
between  demand  and  supply.  The  necessary  bodyguard 
of  French  schoolgirls  is  furnished  by  an  army  of  promeneuses, 
literally,  promenaders  ;  in  other  words,  gentlewomen  hired 
by  the  hour,  day,  or  week,  whose  business  it  is  to  conduct 
pupils  to  and  from  their  schools,  and  take  them  for  walks 
when  required.  If  the  minutest  investigation  is  necessary 
in  the  case  of  an  educational  establishment,  how  doubly  is 
it  needed  in  the  case  of  a  young  daughter's  companion ! 
The  promeneuse  must  neither  be  too  old  nor  too  young, 
neither  too  well-dressed  nor  too  shabby ;  her  appearance, 
indeed,  must  be  irreproachable,  and  her  conversation  and 
manners  to  match.  And  not  only  herself,  but  her  ac- 
quaintances and  connections  generally !  If  there  is  a  blot 
on  her  family  escutcheon,  no  needy  spinster  or  widow 
would  be  accepted  in  this  capacity.  In  a  relentless  spirit 


THE   GIRL  53 

are  domestic  records  studied  throughout  France.  With 
equal  painstaking  are  chosen  companions,  books,  and 
amusements.  All  these  an  English  girl  selects  for  her- 
self;  quite  otherwise  is  it  with  her  young  neighbour  over 
the  water.  So  long  as  she  remains  under  the  parental 
roof,  she  accepts  such  guidance  as  a  matter  of  course.  To 
invite  a  school-fellow  to  the  house  without  first  asking 
permission,  to  take  up  a  book  before  consulting  her 
mother  as  to  its  suitability,  would  never  enter  her  head. 
If  we  want  to  learn  how  young  French  girls  are  entertained 
on  birthdays  and  holidays,  we  must  attend  afternoon  per- 
formances at  the  Theatre  Frangais  or  the  Odeon.  There 
witnessing  L'ami  Fritz,  Athalie,  or  some  other  equally 
unobjectionable  piece,  may  be  seen  dozens  of  proud  papas 
with  their  youthful  daughters,  and  delightful  it  is  to  witness 
what  pains  are  taken  for  their  amusement  and  instruction. 
In  the  mean  time  an  educational  course  is  being  carried  on, 
somewhat  restricted  in  scope,  but  thorough  as  far  as  it 
goes.  French  parents — wisely,  it  seems  to  me — limit 
studies  to  taste,  capacity,  and  circumstances.  The  entire 
girlhood  of  France  is  not  taught  violin-playing,  to  the 
terror  of  the  community  at  large,  simply  because  violin- 
playing  has  become  the  fashion.  Even  in  the  lycee, 
answering  in  some  degree  to  our  high  schools,  thoroughness 
rather  than  comprehensiveness  is  the  object  held  in  view. 
A  girl  learns  few  things,  but  those  things  well. 

We  are  here,  however,  not  dealing  with  a  young  lady 
who  will  have  to  go  out  into  the  world  and  earn  her  own 
living,  but  one  who  is  destined  for  society  and  the  ordering 
of  a  well-appointed  house.  In  her  case  the  programme 
will  be  naturally  curtailed.  She  need  not  learn  book- 
keeping or  needlework  in  its  more  practical  branches. 
English  has  long  been  obligatory  as  a  part  of  genteel 
education  ;  music  a  French  girl  generally  learns  if  she 
cares  about  it  ;  and  there  is  one  very  pretty  accomplish- 
ment peculiarly  French,  in  which  she  often  excels.  This 


54  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

is  the  graceful  art  of  declamation.  Family  gatherings  are 
enlivened  by  the  young  daughter  of  the  house  reciting  a 
"  Les  Etoiles "  of  Lamartine,  "  La  derniere  legon  de 
Fran^ais"  of  Daudet,  or  some  other  little  classic  in  prose 
or  verse.  And  a  talent  of  this  kind  is  carefully  fostered 
for  use  in  after  life,  not  laid  aside,  as  is  so  often  the  case 
with  the  pencil  and  the  keyboard.  The  essential  education 
of  the  French  girl,  however,  does  not  rest  with  masters 
and  mistresses,  but  with  her  mother,  and  is  sedulously, 
unremittingly  carried  on  in  the  home.  It  is  an  education 
wholly  apart  from  books,  or  a  training  of  eye  and  ear.  Its 
object  is  neither  pedagogic  nor  didactic,  but  social.  The 
pupil  is  to  be  trained  for  society,  the  world,  and,  above  all, 
for  her  future  position  as  wife,  mother,  mistress.  Thus  it 
comes  about  that  the  French  girl  can  never  be  found  fault 
with  as  regards  carriage,  manners,  or  modes  of  expressing 
her  thoughts.  Everything  she  does  is  done  in  the  most 
approved  fashion.  Let  it  not  be  hence  inferred  that  she 
necessarily  grows  up  artificial  or  mannered.  Habit  soon 
usurps  the  place  of  nature,  and  if  less  spontaneous  than 
her  English  sister,  it  is  because  she  has  been  taught  from 
childhood  upwards  to  control  her  impulses  and  weigh  her 
words — in  short,  to  remember  that  she  belongs  to  a  highly 
polished  society,  and  its  consequent  responsibilities. 
"  There  is  a  very  good  word,"  wrote  Swift,  "  and  that  is, 
moderation."  This  very  good  word  has  a  more  subtle 
meaning  in  its  French  equivalent,  la  mesure.  La  mesure, 
moderation,  proportion,  a  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  is 
ever  in  the  French  mind.  Just  as  in  French  cookery  the 
rule  is  that  no  single  flavour  should  predominate,  so  a 
happy  medium  is  aimed  at  in  the  education  of  girls.  And 
the  importance  attached  to  little  things  by  their  monitresses 
induces  the  same  attitude  in  themselves.  An  untidy 
scrawl  in  the  shape  of  a  letter,  a  blundering  speech,  an 
awkward  posture,  a  too  loud  laugh  are  all  eliminated  by 
teaching  and  example.  As  an  instance  of  the  perfection 


THE   GIRL  55 

attained    by   Frenchwomen    in    small    matters,    take   the 
following  story. 

An  elegant  and  accomplished  young  Parisian  lady  was 
lately  the  guest  at  an  Australian  Government  House. 
Among  mademoiselle's  gifts  commented  upon  in  society 
papers  was  the  consummate  grace  with  which  she  entered 
a  carriage!  The  trifling  incident  is  highly  suggestive. 
One  element  is  ruthlessly  excluded  from  a  French  girl's 
education.  From  girlhood  to  adolescence  she  grows  up 
without  sentimentality  to  be  an  eminently  matter-of-fact, 
a  strictly  reasonable  being.  The  great  romances  of  France 
are  sealed  books  to  her  till  she  dons  the  wedding-ring ; 
George  Sand,  Balzac,  Victor  Hugo  are  so  many  names. 
If  indeed  any  novels  have  come  in  her  way,  they  are  the 
rowans  pour  jeunes  filles — i.e.  romances  expressly  written 
for  young  girls,  not  namby-pamby,  good-goody,  after  the 
manner  of  "The  Heir  of  Redclyffe,"  or  "John  Halifax," 
but  dealing  with  the  mildest  love-making  only,  a  drop  of 
essence  in  a  bucket  of  water. 

It  is  only  the  title  of  Madame  that  authorizes  her  to 
take  up  "  Eugenie  Grandet,"  "  Le  Marquis  de  Villemer," 
or  "  Notre  Dame  de  Paris." 

A  French  acquaintance  recently  expatiated  to  me  on 
her  daughter's  newly-awakened  enthusiasm  for  fiction,  the 
said  daughter  having  been  just  married  at  the  age  of 
thirty-two  !  "  Of  course,  Jane  "  (the  English  Jane  sounds 
so  much  prettier  in  French  ears  than  their  own  Jeanne) 
"can  now  read  anything,  and  she  is  devouring  Victor 
Hugo's  works,  which  she  gets  from  a  circulating  library." 

In  a  French  journal  lately  appeared  the  bitter  cry  of 
"  an  old  maid  of  thirty."  It  seems  mighty  hard,  wrote  this 
victim  of  custom  and  prejudice,  that  whilst  minxes  of 
eighteen  or  twenty,  just  because  they  were  married,  could 
read  what  they  chose,  and  run  about  unattended,  she  was 
still  treated  as  a  schoolgirl. 

Fortunately,    French   "old   maids   of  thirty"   are    not 


56  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

common  in  the  upper  and  well-to-do  ranks,  and  those 
belonging  to  a  different  sphere  are  generally  too  much 
occupied  for  romance-reading. 

Thus  education  has  nicely  adapted  a  French  girl  for 
that  parental  interference  with  her  love  affairs — if,  indeed, 
they  can  be  so  termed — which  to  insular  notions  appears 
unintelligible,  if  not  shocking.  A  very  pretty  American 
girl  of  twenty  once  told  me  that  from  her  twelfth  year  she 
had  never  been  without  hangers-on.  In  France  flirting  is 
geographically  limited.  Under  no  circumstances  is  it 
permitted  in  good  society.  A  French  girl  learns  to  look 
at  marriage  through  the  maternal  eyes.  She  calmly 
contemplates  the  matter  from  various  points  of  view — in 
the  French  tongue,  elle  envisage  la  question. 

Indoctrinated  with  sound  practical  principles,  with  a 
horror  of  the  incongruous,  the  disturbing  element  in 
domestic  life,  of  retrogression  in  the  social  scale,  of  any 
approach  to  a  misalliance,  she  seldom  disputes  the  parental 
view.  The  partner  decided  for  her  is  accepted.  That 
word  "  partner  "  suggests  a  train  of  reflections.  Marriage 
in  France  is  so  strictly  a  partnership  in  the  material  as 
well  as  moral  sense  that  a  bridal  pair  is  at  once  called 
a  young  household  (un  jeune  mtnage).  And  if  fathers 
and  mothers  have  given  anxious  days  and  sleepless  nights 
to  the  selection  of  promeneuses,  schools,  books,  and  com- 
panions, what  thought  and  deliberation  will  not  be 
bestowed  upon  the  choice  of  a  son-in-law!  Unsuitable 
or  objectionable  suitors  are  summarily  dismissed  or  kept 
out  of  the  way,  a  likely  admirer  is  encouraged  to  come 
forward.  And  as  a  French  girl,  unlike  her  Transatlantic 
sister,  has  not  had  a  succession  of  sweethearts  from  her 
twelfth  year,  she  is  disposed  to  look  favourably  on  the 
first  that  presents  himself.  Under  such  circumstances  may 
there  not  be  as  much  chance  of  happiness  and  comfort  in 
these  marriages  as  in  the  happy-go-lucky  wedlock  English 
maidens  so  often  enter  upon  of  their  own  accord  ?  The 


THE   GIRL  57 

tree  must  be  judged  by  its  fruits.  Where  do  we  find 
closer  unions,  tenderer  wives,  more  devoted  husbands  than 
in  France  ?  Where  the  system  of  the  mariage  de  con- 
venance  proves  a  fiasco  we  often  find  parental  adulation 
to  blame,  the  spoiling  of  character  by  over-indulgence  in 
childhood,  the  development  of  egotism  and  wilfulness  by 
inordinate  fondling  from  the  cradle  upwards.  Such  cases 
are,  fortunately,  not  the  rule,  but  the  exception. 

Fian$aillesy  or  betrothals,  are  quickly  followed  by  the 
marriage  ceremony  in  France.  Long  engagements,  after 
English  fashion,  would  never  be  tolerated  by  either  family 
of  the  betrothed  pair.  Here,  again,  we  touch  upon  the 
supremely  practical  side  of  French  social  life.  Engage- 
ments are  not  contemplated  till  the  future  head  of  a  house 
is  in  a  position  to  marry — I  should  more  properly  put  it, 
till  the  fortune  on  both  sides  admits  of  an  adequate  settling 
down. 

Of  varied  and  immense  aptitudes — already  a  woman 
of  the  world,  though,  as  far  as  the  other  sex  is  concerned 
reared  with  comparatively  cloistral  reserve,  the  French 
girl  awaits  fate  in  the  shape  of  wifehood  and  maternity  ; 
other  ambitions  has  she  none,  or,  at  least,  other  aspirations 
are  subservient  to  these.  Strange  it  is,  but  true !  In  the 
oldest  civilization  of  Western  Europe,  in  what  is  still, 
intellectually  speaking,  the  most  splendid  civilization  in 
the  world,  tradition  has  withstood  time  and  change,  re- 
volution and  democratic  progress  ;  old-world  standards 
retain  their  place,  old-world  types  are  held  in  highest 
honour.  The  Frenchwoman's  ideal  is  still  the  quiet  place 
"  behind  the  heads  of  children  ; "  the  ideal  Frenchwoman 
is  still  the  wife  and  mother. 

Feminine  clubland  as  existing  in  America ;  the  gradual 
evolution  in  that  country  of  what  may  be  called  an  asexual 
community  to  the  destruction  of  family  life ;  Anglo-Saxon 
activity  (may  we  not  add  unrest  ?)  impelling  English  girls 
of  means  to  become  doctors,  army  nurses,  head  gardeners, 


58  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

any  and  every  thing  that  takes  them  from  home  and  affords 
independence — these  elements  do  not  as  yet  leaven  French 
society.  Woman  doctors,  even  Portias  wearing  the  ad- 
vocate's robe,  we  certainly  hear  of,  and  naturally  an  army 
of  women  educators  and  other  workers  exist.  But  the 
career  is  entered  upon  from  the  necessity  of  earning  a 
livelihood,  or  from  an  especial  sense  of  vocation,  not 
because  home-life  is  distasteful  or  because  restrictions  of 
any  kind  are  unbearable.  As  a  natural  consequence,  in 
France  womanhood  reigns  with  undivided  domestic  sway. 
The  head  of  a  house  is  not  the  master,  but  the  mistress. 
In  the  least  little  particular  a  husband  consults— is  bound 
to  consult — his  wife,  here  material  interests  cementing 
conjugal  union.  The  undowered,  the  penniless  bride  is 
next  door  to  non-existent  in  France.  From  the  top- 
most rung  of  the  social  ladder  to  the  lowest,  a  household 
is  set  up  by  contracting  parties  of  equal,  or  nearly  equal, 
fortune.  Hence  the  dignified  position  of  a  wife,  hence 
the  closely  allied  interests  necessitating  mutual  counsel 
and  advice. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    BOY 

A  FEW  years   ago  the    lyce"e   or  public  school  was 
drastically  arraigned  by  that  popular  novelist  M. 
Jean    Aicard.      Again    and   again    through    the 
picturesque  and  moving  pages  of  "  L'Ame  d'un  Enfant," 
we  come  upon  Sully  Prudhomme's  line — 

"  Oh,  m&res,  coupables  absentes  1 w 

"  Oh,  mothers,  guilty  absentees ! "  he  writes,  "  fain 
would  I  have  these  lines  engraved  on  the  portal  of  every 
lycee.  For  why  play  with  words  ?  The  lycee  is  a 
prison,  substantially  a  prison,  the  horrors  of  which  are 
aggravated  by  the  innocence  and  helplessness  of  the 
prisoners.  Children  are  therein  subjected  to  penal  servitude, 
a  system  based,  not  upon  love,  but  upon  compulsion  and 
routine." 

If  M.  Jean  Aicard  indicts  the  feminine  rather  than  the 
paternal  head  of  a  house,  we  must  remember  that  in  the 
home  a  Frenchwoman's  rule  is  autocratic.  A  child's 
education  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  its  mother,  and — so 
writes  our  author — as  soon  as  little  Pierre  or  Paul  begin  to 
be  noisy,  to  damage  furniture,  and  need  the  discipline  their 
fathers  have  not  been  permitted  to  exercise  at  home,  oft 
they  are  bundled  to  a  lycee.  Of  the  seven  or  eight 
hundred  boarders  in  any  one  of  these  barrack-like  build- 
ings, many,  he  asserts,  belong  to  families  living  in  the  same 
town. 

59 


60  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Throwing  what  reads  like  personal  experiences  into 
narrative  form,  our  author  describes  the  life  of  a  little 
boarder.  Oliver  Twist  seems  hardly  more  to  be  pitied  than 
this  nine-year-old  victim  of  militarism  in  education,  but  no 
mere  autobiography  is  here,  a  child's  soul  is  laid  bare. 
From  beginning  to  end  the  book  is  a  condemnation  of 
scholastic  methods  in  France. 

In  his  little  read  but  deeply  interesting  memoirs, 
Philarete  Chasles  tells  us  of  George  Sand's  dismay  when 
visiting  her  son  in  a  lycee.  The  bare  yard  doing  duty 
as  a  recreation  ground,  the  prison-like  uniformity  of  the 
class-rooms,  the  military  discipline  shocked  the  novelist, 
and,  adds  the  narrator,  "  I  am  entirely  at  one  with  George 
Sand,  Montaigne,  and  H.  Frobel,  I  protest  against  those 
dismal  jails  for  schoolboys." 

Montaigne's  great  predecessor  in  Gargantua  sketched 
an  ideal  plan  of  education.  Rabelais  would  have  a 
collegiate  life  "  so  easy  and  delectable  as  rather  to  resemble 
royal  pastime  than  scholastic  drudgery." 

But  Rabelais  and  Montaigne  were  voices  preaching  in 
the  wilderness.  That  arch  centralizer  Napoleon  worsened 
instead  of  bettering  matters.  Under  his  regime  the  lycee 
became  half  monastery,  half  barracks,  an  apprenticeship  to 
military  life.  Professors,  principals,  and  managers  were 
bachelors ;  a  semi-military  uniform  was  obligatory  even  in 
the  case  of  nine-year-old  boys,  like  soldiers,  pupils  were 
summoned  to  meals,  lessons,  and  exercise  by  the  drum. 

The  Restoration  only  altered  matters  extrinsically.  The 
name  of  college  royal  supplemented  that  of  lycee,  bells 
replaced  the  perpetual  drumming  so  offensive  to  George 
Sand,  and  the  Napoleonic  three-cornered  hat  was  exchanged 
for  one  of  less  military  kind. 

Some  valuable  reforms  and  many  important  changes 
were  introduced  under  the  second  Empire  by  M.  Duruy  the 
historian,  then  minister  of  public  instruction.  Lyce"es  were 
henceforth  divided  into  two  categories,  those  intended  for 


THE   BOY  61 

the  learned  professions,  and  those  about  to  devote  them- 
selves to  commerce  and  agriculture.  The  first  followed 
the  usual  curriculum  ;  the  second  studied  modern  languages, 
technical  science,  agriculture,  chemistry,  and  the  like. 
Certain  lycees  were  set  apart  for  the  new  course  of  study 
called  fenseignment  special. 

The  third  Republic  not  only  revolutionized  primary 
education  throughout  France,  canying  out  the  magnificent 
scheme  of  the  Convention  and  founding  state  schools  for 
girls,  but  introduced  a  new  spirit  into  the  lyce"e  generally. 
The  Ferry  laws  of  1881  considerably  reduced  the  time 
hitherto  devoted  to  dead  languages ;  German,  English, 
and  elementary  science  were  now  taught  in  the  lower 
classes.  The  so-called  enseignment  special  was  also 
modified. 

How  far  were  such  changes  from  satisfying  public 
opinion  the  Government  commission  of  inquiry  of  1899 
makes  clear.  Five  enormous  volumes  contained  the  reports 
of  savants,  professors,  delegates  of  agricultural  and  industrial 
associations,  and  others. 

Here  is  an  extract  from  that  of  M.  Lavisse,  the 
historian — 

"  The  uniformity  of  school  routine  is  ludicrous.  How 
inconsistent,  for  instance,  that  the  hours  of  recreation 
should  be  timed  in  different  climates  at  precisely  the 
same  time !  From  one  to  two  o'clock  in  the  south  of 
France,  the  heat  of  summer  quite  prevents  pupils  from 
taking  exercise,  but  the  same  rules  are  in  force  for 
Marseilles  and  Dunkirk." 

One  result  of  the  five  enormous  volumes  has  been  the 
introduction  of  athletic  sports  into  the  lycee.  Cricket, 
football,  and  other  games  are  fast  supplanting  the  "walk 
and  talk  "  of  former  days. 

"  Flow  do  you  amuse  yourselves  during  recreation 
hours  ?  "  I  once  asked  the  inmate  of  a  large  lyce"e. 

"  We  walk  up  and  down  and  talk,"  was  the  reply. 


G2  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Whilst  approving  a  certain  amount  of  physical  develop- 
ment, the  President  of  the  Commission,  M.  Ribot,  deprecated 
the  wholesale  adoption  of  English  methods. 

"  We  do  not  want,"  he  wrote,  "  to  turn  our  lads  into 
English  boys.  Rough  sports  do  not  suit  our  race,  more 
refined  in  its  elegant  vigour  (  vigueur  tttgante)  than  that 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon." 

Hygienic  conditions  have  also  improved.  We  even 
hear  that  the  much-hated  pion,  or  superintendent  of 
tasks  and  recreation  yard,  is  to  be  suppressed.  The  herd- 
ing together  of  enormous  numbers,  the  complete  absence 
of  any  approach  to  home  life  and  of  feminine  influence,  the 
deadening  military  routine,  are  time-honoured  abuses  not 
easily  combated.  I  must,  however,  say  that  my  first  visit 
to  one  of  these  great  colleges  gave  me  a  very  pleasant 
impression. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful  Thursday  in  September  that  I 
drove  with  friends  from  the  heart  of  Paris  to  the  lyc^e  of 
Vanves,  half  a  dozen  miles  off. 

As  we  passed  through  the  porter's  gate  into  the 
magnificent  park,  now  an  animated  scene,  I  said  to  myself, 
"  How  happy  must  young  Parisians  be  with  such  a  play- 
ground, acres  upon  acres  of  undulating  woodland,  almost 
another  Bois  de  Boulogne,  at  their  service  in  play  hours ! " 

I  was  soon  undeceived.  When  I  congratulated  my 
young  friend  Edmund  upon  such  a  privilege,  he  smiled  at 
my  naivete. 

"  We  are  never  allowed  here  except  once  a  month,  when 
our  parents  and  friends  come  to  see  us,"  he  replied.  "  Our 
recreation  ground  is  the  yard  (four)  yonder." 

The  said  cour  was,  however,  invisible,  being  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lyce"e,  formerly  a  seigneurial  chateau. 

To-day  the  beautiful  grounds  presented  the  appearance 
of  a  vast  picnic.  Fond  mothers  and  fathers  had  brought 
baskets  of  cakes,  fruit,  and  sweets,  and  everywhere 
bivouacked  happy  groups. 


THE   BOY  63 

Little  wonder  that  these  boys  clung  so  tenaciously  to 
mothers,  sisters,  any  feminine  relation.  The  lyce*e  as 
absolutely  excludes  womankind  as  the  monastery  and  the 
barracks.  Except  on  the  Thursday  half-holiday,  a  lyceen 
never  sees  a  woman's  face  or  hears  a  woman's  voice. 
Tiny  boys  of  nine  and  upwards  are  straightway  committed 
to  masculine  governance  and  care. 

The  following  illustration  of  a  little  lyce"en's  life  is 
from  M.  Aicard's  book : — 

"  One  half-holiday,  I  had  brought  back  a  rose,  and, 
wishing  to  keep  it  as  long  as  possible,  I  put  it  in  a  glass 
of  water  inside  my  desk. 

"  I  could  not  help  from  time  to  time  looking  at  my 
treasure — a  crime,  I  admit.  For  roses  speak,  but  not  in 
Latin  ;  they  say  all  sorts  of  forbidden  things,  they  invite 
little  boys  to  run  about  in  country  lanes,  they  incite  to 
rebellion.  You  never  see  a  lyceen  censeur  (overseer  or 
supervisor  of  studies)  sniff  a  flower.  Flowers  do  not  bloom 
on  the  schoolmaster's  ruler.  Well,  I  harboured  my  rose, 
just  as  an  anarchist  harbours  his  bomb.  When  I  opened 
my  desk  to  give  the  poor  flower  air,  a  ray  of  sunshine 
bathed  it,  seemed  to  kiss  it ;— a  dark  shadow  suddenly 
blotted  out  the  beam.  A  big  hand  seized  my  splendid 
rose,  in  another  second  it  lay  in  the  courtyard  below. 
Justice  was  satisfied !  " 

A  state  system  of  education  is  not  easily  changed,  but 
outside  the  French  University  and  its  dependencies, 
voluntaryism  is  actively  at  work. 

Our  good  friend,  M.  Demolins,  author  of"  La  Superiorite 
des  Anglo-Saxons,"  does  not  share  M.  Ribot's  misgivings. 
He  is  not  aghast  at  the  notion  of  French  boys  losing  their 
vigueur  ttigante — in  other  words,  becoming  too  English. 

Aided  by  a  valiant  band  of  co-operators,  this  inde- 
fatigable Anglophile  has  boldly  seized  the  bull  by  the 
horns.  From  the  Ecole  des  Roches,  Verneuil  (Eure), 
every  vestige  of  the  lyc^e  is  banished.  Here  are  no 


64  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

enormous  dormitories  with  spy-holes  in  the  doors,  no 
prison-like  routine,  no  walks  and  talks  up  and  down 
bare  yards.  Outdoor  sports,  occupations,  and  excursions 
in  summer,  social  evenings  in  winter,  vary  the  scholastic 
year,  whilst  an  element  of  family  life  enters  both  into 
upper  and  preparatory  schools.  Little  wonder  that  when 
the  boys  separated  after  the  first  term,  i.e.  Christmas  1 899, 
they  gave  three  cheers  for  M.  Demolins,  and  exclaimed 
how  delighted  they  should  all  be  to  return. 

Whilst  the  primary  object  of  this  great  educational 
reformer  and  his  colleagues  is  a  sound  physical,  moral,  and 
mental  training,  equally  important  is  their  secondary  aim, 
namely,  to  make  each  pupil  not  only  a  good  citizen,  but 
a  citizen  of  the  world — in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  to 
de-nationalize  him.  M.  Demolins'  scheme  and  organiza- 
tion tend  to  nothing  more  surely  than  the  uprooting  of 
national  prejudice.  One  feature  of  his  school  is  the  six 
months'  stagiare,  or  residence  abroad.  The  youths  are 
sent  into  English  or  German  families  or  to  schools, 
not  only  for  linguistic  opportunities,  but  in  order  to 
familiarize  them  with  modes  of  life  among  other  nations. 
Here  indeed  the  originator  of  the  Ecole  Nouvelle  shows 
an  insight  and  political  prescience  that  entitle  him  to 
universal  gratitude.  English  and  German  professors  are 
also  engaged  in  contradistinction  to  the  lyceen  system. 
After  the  Franco-German  war,  a  regulation  was  made 
totally  excluding  foreigners  from  the  public  teaching  staff. 
Hence  lyceens  could  only  learn  foreign  languages  at 
second  hand,  an  immense  disadvantage.  In  the  Jesuit 
colleges,  on  the  contrary,  M.  Demolins1  arrangement  has 
been  generally  followed.  On  the  subject  of  language 
Michelet  wrote  eloquently,  "How  many  unhappy  beings 
lost  their  lives  during  the  Hundred  Years'  War  simply 
because  they  could  not  cry  '  Mercy '  in  the  tongue  of 
the  foe!  In  later  times,  how  many  European  conflicts, 
especially  between  near  neighbours,  might  have  been 


THE    BOY  65 

averted  but  for  common  prejudices  and  ill-founded 
antipathies ! " 

A  first  step  to  destroy  these  is  the  internationalization 
of  school  life,  and  M.  Demolins'  experiment  so  far  has 
proved  strikingly  successful.  Take,  by  way  of  example, 
the  following  extracts  from  French  boys  in  England : 
"Chere  Madame,"  writes  a  thirteen-year-old  to  the  founder's 

wife,  "  I  write  to  thank  you  and  M.  D for  having  sent 

rne  to  Dulwich,  for  every  one  is  most  kind  to  me,  and  I 
am  not  at  all  sad."  Another  boy  aged  twelve  writes, 
"  My  brother  and  I  are  quite  well.  We  are  four  in  one 
bedroom  ;  one  boy  is  an  Australian,  who  is  very  nice  (trh 
gentil),  the  other  English  and  very  amusing."  A  third 
aged  eleven,  who  had  evidently  crossed  the  Manche  in  fear 
and  trembling,  wrote,  "The  English  boys  here  are  not 
at  all  what  I  expected  to  find  them,  noisy  and  rough ;  one 
of  them  especially  I  am  very  fond  of." 

And  so  on  and  so  throughout  the  collection  included 
in  the  half-yearly  report  ending  October,  1900. 

"  Only  think,"  M.  Demolins  observed  to  me  when 
lunching  at  Verneuil,  "my  boy  has  become  so  English 
that  he  did  not  want  to  come  home  at  all,  and  actually 
relishes  porridge  for  breakfast !  " 

Delightful  indeed  is  a  day  spent  amid  such  surround- 
ings, on  every  side  evidence  of  Utopian  dreams  put  into 
practice. 

"  My  master  whipt  me  very  well,"  quoth  Dr.  Johnson 
to  his  friend  Langton  ;  "  without  that,  sir,  I  should  have 
done  nothing."  Wiser  far  is  the  Rabelaisian  theory  of 
a  scholastic  training  doitx  legier  et  delectable,  a  theory 
carried  out  in  particular  at  Les  Roches. 

M.  Demolins  has,  of  course,  driven  a  very  thin  edge  of 
the  wedge  only  into  the  colossal  educational  machinery  put 
together  by  the  Jesuits  and  elaborated  by  Napoleon. 

Expenses  are  necessarily  higher.  A  hundred  or  two 
boys  located  after  English  fashion  with  married  professors 

F 


66  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

cost  more  per  head  than  four  or  five  times  as  many  herded 
together  in  barracks. 

Again,  there  is  the  prejudice  against  innovation  to 
combat,  the  mistrust  of  novelty  and  of  foreign  methods. 
Doubtless  many  parents  do  not  share  M.  Demolins* 
enthusiasm  for  the  cold  bath  ;  some  with  M.  Ribot  would 
fear  lest  football  overmuch  might  rob  their  sons  of  native 
vigueur  tltgante ;  others,  again,  would  consider  the  discipline 
insufficient. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  Ecole  nouvelle  alike  as  a  theory 
and  a  fact  flourishes  amazingly.  Since  my  visit  to 
Verneuil  just  six  years  ago,  a  congeries  of  handsome 
buildings  has  sprung  up  around  the  original  schoolhouse, 
many  acres  of  recreation  ground  have  been  added  to  the 
former  area,  and  every  year  pupils  are  refused  for  want  of 
accommodation. 

In  my  account  of  the  Lycee  Fenelon  for  girls,  I  anim- 
advert on  the  absence  of  foreign  teachers  for  their  respective 
languages.  This  protective  system  is  happily  doomed. 
The  papers  recently  announced  that  our  Board  of  Educa- 
tion has  been  approached  by  the  French  Government  on 
the  subject  of  young  English  schoolmasters  who  would 
give  two  hours'  daily  conversation  in  return  for  board  and 
lodging  in  the  lycees  or  other  institutions  receiving  them. 
Doubtless  the  same  innovation  will  ere  long  be  introduced 
into  the  lycee  for  girls. 

I  will  now  say  something  about  the  French  schoolboy 
as  I  have  found  him.  One  marked  characteristic  dis- 
tinguishes him  from  his  English  compeer.  The  French 
boy  is  a  conversationalist,  the  other  is  not. 

A  facile  tongue  is  encouraged  in  France  from  the 
cradle  upwards.  The  one  child  or  the  only  son,  invariably 
present  at  the  family  board,  will  naturally  have  more 
opportunities  of  expressing  his  opinions  than  one  of  six 
or  seven.  At  an  age  when  our  own  boys  and  girls  are 
set  down  to  nursery  or  schoolroom  meals  with  nurse  or 


THE   BOY  67 

governess,  French  children  join  their  parents  in  the  dining- 
room.  Thus  social  habits  are  prematurely  formed;  the 
walks  and  talks  of  the  lyce"e  further  develop  conversational 
powers.  At  the  age  of  eighteen,  often  earlier,  a  well- 
educated  French  youth  can  intelligently  discuss  widely 
divergent  subjects  ;  he  has  become  a  more  sociable  being, 
more  generally  companionable,  than  an  English  stripling, 
is  more  addicted  to  books  and  indoor  life,  above  all,  to 
reflection. 

National  systems  of  education  have  contributed  to  this 
result.  By  the  time  Etonians  go  to  Oxford  or  Cambridge 
many  young  Frenchmen  are  already  bachelors  of  art, 
science,  or  letters.  Minors  before  the  law,  from  an  intel- 
lectual point  of  view  they  have  attained  their  majority. 
Excellent  company  are  often  these  youthful  students,  love 
of  conversation,  relish  of  society  and  domesticities,  accen- 
tuated by  the  barrack-like  lycee  and  the  hated  barrack  life 
in  earnest  to  come. 

Serviceableness  and  a  desire  to  oblige  I  should  set 
down  as  characteristics  of  the  French  boy. 

I  well  remember  several  instances  in  point. 

Upon  one  occasion  I  was  staying  with  Burgundian 
friends  at  the  pretty  little  inland  spa  of  St.  Honore  les 
Bains.  Among  my  casual  acquaintances  was  a  family 
belonging  to  the  humbler  middle  classes,  consisting  of 
parents  and  three  children,  a  girl  and  two  boys,  whose 
ages  ranged  from  eleven  to  fourteen  or  thereabouts.  We 
often  took  long  walks  together,  and  one  day  I  asked  my 
friend  Paul,  the  elder  boy,  to  tell  us  a  story.  Without 
hesitation,  and  in  clear,  well-put-together  sentences,  he 
epitomized  Hector  Malot's  popular  novel,  "  Sans  Famille." 

Upon  another  occasion  I  spent  the  best  part  of  a  very 
wet  week  with  friends  near  Is-sur-Tille,  in  the  Cote  d'Or. 
My  hosts  were  not  reading  people,  but  the  eighteen-year- 
old  son  of  the  house  had  lately  brought  some  new  novels 
from  Dijon,  and  very  good  naturedly  volunteered  to  read 


68  HOME   LIFE   IN    FRANCE 

them  aloud.  From  morning  till  night  the  rain  poured 
down.  It  was  quite  impossible  for  his  grandmother  and 
myself  to  stir  abroad,  but  never  for  a  moment  did  he  relax 
his  efforts  on  our  behalf.  And  when  the  stories  were  got 
through,  he  took  me  upstairs,  where  I  found  an  excellent 
library  of  French  classics,  not  a  volume  of  which  apparently 
had  been  touched  for  years.  As  the  rain  continued  the 
reading  went  on,  Cresset's  inimitable  "  Vert- Vert,"  among 
other  favourite  pieces,  being  given  with  the  same  untiring 
alacrity. 

Such  incidents  may  appear  trifling,  but  they  are  none 
the  less  indicative  of  character.  The  French  boy  has  his 
faults  as  well  as  any  other.  His  virtues  are  eminently 
social,  the  fostering  of  inherited  inclinations  and  aptitudes. 
And  his  mentalitt — to  use  here  a  French  word  hardly 
translatable — his  intellectual  attitude,  is  what  we  should 
naturally  expect ;  that  is  to  say,  eclectic,  critical,  analytic, 
addicted,  perhaps  overmuch,  to  logic  and  reasoning. 

"  My  boy  "  (the  child  in  question  was  between  ten  and 
eleven)  "  must  always  reason  about  everything,"  I  once 
heard  a  French  mother  say.  "Whatever  he  has  to  do 
must  first  be  reasoned  about." 

A  habit,  of  course,  checked  at  the  lyc£e  and  in  the 
barracks,  but  which,  nevertheless,  remains  a  habit  through 
life. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONSCRIPTS 

SOME  time  since  I  was  leaving  a  country  house  near 
Troyes,  in  Champagne,  when  my  hostess  observed, 
"  I  should  have  insisted  on  keeping  you  longer,  but 
for  the  next  twenty-eight  days  we  shall  be  without  coach- 
man and  butler,  both  having  to  serve  in  the  manoeuvres." 
With  a  smile  she  added,  "  The  pair  travel  to  Dijon  by  the 
same  train  as  yourself,  and  a  substitute  will  drive  us  to  the 
station,  a  man  formerly  in  our  employ.  I  was  much  amused 
just  now  by  his  request  that  he  might  retain  his  moustaches  ; 
he  should  not  like,  he  said,  to  have  to  take  them  off. 
Naturally,  I  humoured  him." 

It  may  seem  odd  that  sumptuary  laws  should  exist  in  a 
republic.  So  it  is,  and,  as  I  shall  show  elsewhere,  in  many 
respects  our  neighbours  are  far  more  aristocratic  than 
ourselves. 

I  was  awaited  by  a  friend  at  Dijon,  so,  finding  that 
they  could  be  of  no  use  to  me,  the  two  middle-aged 
conscripts  took  leave,  looking  anything  but  elate.  Both 
were  married  men,  fathers  of  families,  and  occupying  places 
of  trust.  This  recurring  interference  with  daily  life,  the 
indescribable  fatigues  and  discomforts  of  manoeuvres  under 
a  burning  August  sun,  the  physical  and  mental  risks  daily 
involved,  might  well  sober  their  usually  cheerful  counte- 
nances. How  many  a  man  in  his  prime  and  in  splendid 
health  sets  off  for  his  vingt-huit  jours  never  to  return  alive ! 
Sunstroke,  dysentery,  accidents,  excessive  fatigue,  exact  an 

69 


70  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

annual  toll.  From  his  majority  until  the  attainment  of  his 
forty-fifth  year,  a  Frenchman  is  subject  to  this  quadrennial 
ordeal. 

No  one,  indeed,  who  has  not  lived  in  France  and  among 
French  people  can  have  the  faintest  idea  of  what  con- 
scription really  means  alike  to  the  individual,  the  family, 
and  the  home.  Nor  do  we  here  fully  realize  the  import  of 
that  fell  term  "  armed  peace."  It  may  not  be  generally 
known  that  the  high-stepper  of  the  rich  and  the  cart-horse 
of  the  poor  in  France  are  only  up  to  a  certain  point  the 
property  of  their  owners.  Every  year  possessors  of  horses 
have  to  furnish  the  Ministry  of  War  with  a  list  of  their 
animals,  one  and  all  being  liable  to  requisition  in  case  of 
war.  Indemnification  would  be  made,  but  what  payment 
could  compensate  for  the  loss  of  much-prized  favourites  ? 
Chevaline  conscription  was  regulated  by  laws  of  July,  1873, 
and  of  August,  1874.  Mules  and  vehicles  are  also  in  this 
sense  subject  to  the  State. 

As  I  shall  show  further  on,  even  under  the  modified 
military  code  of  the  Third  Republic,  the  blood-tax  falls 
heaviest  on  those  least  able  to  bear  it — namely,  on  the 
artisan,  the  peasant  farmer,  and  the  labouring  man.  Young 
men  able  to  pass  certain  examinations  are  let  off  with  one 
year's  service,  the  result  being  that  a  very  small  proportion 
indeed  of  the  better-off  ranks  spend  three  years  in  barracks. 
But  what  twelve  months  of  compulsory  soldiering  is  like, 
in  many  cases  hardships  being  mitigated  by  easy  circum- 
stances, the  following  pages  will  make  clear. 

From  the  day  of  enrolment  to  that  of  his  discharge  the 
conscript  finds  himself  a  prisoner,  the  conviction  being  first 
brought  home  to  him  by  the  matter  of  clothes.  The 
enormous  army  stores,  thousands — nay,  tens,  hundreds, 
thousands  of  thousands  of  kepis,  tunics,  trousers,  boots, 
warehoused  in  every  garrison  town  are  resorted  to  with  due 
parsimony.  In  every  department  of  military  administra- 
tion the  rule  is  one  of  strictest,  the  most  rigid  thrift. 


CONSCRIPTS 


CONSCRIPTS  71 

Thus  on  entering  the  barracks  a  conscript  is  not  rigged  out 
with  a  new  uniform.  He  is  often  obliged  to  take  a  pre- 
decessor's leavings,  pantaloons  not  being  so  much  as  relined 
for  the  next  wearer.  Hence  the  excessive  supervision  of 
dress,  the  punishments  inflicted  for  grease-stains,  a  rent,  or 
the  loss  of  a  button  ! 

Next  to  the  discomfort  of  ill-fitting,  unsuitable,  possibly 
left-off  clothes,  is  that  of  sleeping  accommodation.  Imagine 
the  first  night  in  barracks  of  a  youth  not  luxuriously  but 
comfortably,  or  we  will  say  decently,  brought  up.  He 
shares  a  huge,  bare  dormitory  with  fifty  or  more  conscripts 
severally  belonging  to  the  lowest  as  well  as  the  most 
favoured  ranks  of  society.  The  pallet  next  his  own  may 
be  occupied  by  one  of  the  unclassed,  some  rowdy  or 
vagabond,  on  the  other  side  he  may  have  a  hard-working 
but  coarse-mannered  countryman.  Absolute  cleanliness  is 
next  to  impossible  in  these  military  caravansaries ;  in 
winter  the  men  suffer  from  cold,  in  summer  from  heat,  flies, 
fleas,  and  worse  nuisances.  Intense  fatigue  will  at  times 
fail  to  induce  sleep  under  such  circumstances. 

Next  comes  the  question  of  diet.  Such  minute  attention 
is  paid  to  cookery  by  all  classes  in  France  that  here, 
perhaps,  the  artisan  and  the  peasant  suffer  hardly  less  than 
the  dandy.  "A  soldier  can  eat  anything,"  once  observed 
a  gentleman-conscript  to  me.  What  he  meant  to  say  was, 
not  that  he  could  always  relish  barrack  fare,  but  that  he 
could  satisfy  his  hunger  with  the  first  dish  put  in  his  way. 
The  gamelle,  or  mess  partaken  of  after  the  manner  of  the 
loving-cup,  was  abolished  some  years  since ;  each  man  now 
has  a  plate  or  bowl  to  himself.  It  is  the  monotony  that 
tries  the  healthiest  appetite,  a  perpetual  round  of  stewed 
meat  and  vegetables,  no  wine  being  allowed  except  during 
the  manoeuvres. 

But  the  crowning  privation  is  that  of  liberty.  Unseemly 
clothes,  crowded,  malodorous,  noisy  sleeping-quarters,  ragout 
washed  down  with  water  from  January  to  December,  are 


72  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

bagatelles  compared  to  the  sense  of  moral  degradation,  the 
fact  of  being  reduced  to  an  automaton.  Let  me  here  give 
a  conscript's  own  views  on  the  subject,  the  speaker,  as  I 
shall  show  later,  having  enjoyed  many  alleviations. 

"Well,"  I  began/" my  dear  Emile"— I  had  known 
my  informant  from  a  boy — "now  that  your  garrison  ex- 
periences are  over,  tell  me  what  you  think  of  conscription. 
And  what  I  should  much  like  to  know  is  this :  was  the 
probation  harder  or  more  bearable  than  you  had  been  led 
to  expect  ? " 

"  Harder,  much  harder,"  was  the  unhesitating  reply. 
"No  one  except  those  who  have  gone  through  it  have  the 
remotest  idea  of  what  conscription  is  like.  As  I  had  passed 
certain  examinations  entitling  me  to  a  remission  of  two  of 
the  three  years'  obligatory  service,  and  as  I  had  money  at 
my  disposal,  I  consider  myself  exceptionally  favoured.  For 
all  that,  barrack  life  to  a  civilian  is  a  hideous  nightmare. 
There  is  no  other  name  for  it.  You  feel  as  if  you  were 
shut  up  in  prison  to  the  end  of  your  days.  Many  young 
men  cannot  stand  the  confinement  and  run  away.  This 
is  a  desperate  step.  If  they  succeed  in  crossing  the  frontier, 
they  remain  outlaws  till  they  have  passed  their  forty- fifth 
year.  If  they  are  caught  or  return  voluntarily,  they  are 
most  probably  drafted  into  what  is  called  the  regiment  of 
intractables,  and  despatched  to  Algeria.  The  treatment 
they  are  there  subjected  to  is  very  severe.  You  see,  com- 
manding officers  are  apt  to  become  hard  and  unsympathetic 
in  spite  of  their  better  nature.  In  the  German  army  matters 
are  much  worse ;  here  they  are  bad  enough,  goodness 
knows." 

"Then  your  experience  is  that  conscription  does  not 
tend  to  make  young  men  more  patriotic,  nor  to  imbue  them 
with  the  military  spirit  ?  " 

"  Patriotic,  indeed  !  "  he  replied  ;  "  instead,  conscription 
turns  them  into  Socialists  and  Anarchists.  The  German 
army,  as  you  know,  reeks  with  Socialism,  and  there  is 


CONSCRIPTS  73 

plenty  of  it  in  our  own.  As  to  enforced  military  service 
inclining  men  to  soldiering,  on  the  contrary  it  makes  them 
loathe  it.  I,  for  one,  am  all  for  disarmament  and  arbitra- 
tion. Nothing  on  earth,  for  instance,  would  ever  induce 
me  to  witness  a  review.  Outsiders  have  no  notion  of  the 
sufferings  thereby  entailed  on  the  men." 

"  Anyhow,  Emile,  you  must  have  learned  a  good  deal 
during  the  past  twelve  months  ? "  I  asked. 

My  young  friend's  answer  was  of  the  briefest  I  should 
here  explain  that  he  was  no  sybarite  or  victim  of  too  soft 
bringing-up.  An  accomplished  horseman,  an  excellent 
shot,  a  skilled  fencer,  accustomed  to  the  life  of  a  country 
gentleman,  in  his  case  the  elementary  training  of  a  soldier 
would  be  child's  play,  and  physical  hardships  would  be 
borne  philosophically.  Yet  it  seemed  strange  that  these 
experiences  should  have  begun  and  ended  with  repugnance 
only,  nothing  being  left  to  recall  with  satisfaction.  What 
he  had  really  found  intolerable  was  the  loss  of  individuality, 
the  derogation  of  manhood,  the  extinguisher  put  upon  all 
that  makes  life  inspiriting  and  elevating.  And  again 
Emile  reverted  to  the  deterioration  of  character  brought 
about  by  militarism. 

"  Of  course  we  are  not  cuffed,  buffeted,  and  kicked  as 
in  Germany — no  French  officer  is  allowed  to  touch  a  man  ; 
nevertheless,  conscription  as  a  system  is  both  brutalizing 
and  demoralizing."  Then,  he  added,  as  we  strolled  along 
the  Champs  Elysees  on  the  day  following  his  discharge, 
"  Am  I  really  free  ?  Have  I  shaken  off  the  fell  dream  ? 
I  do  not  yet  feel  quite  sure." 

On  the  subject  of  promiscuity  my  young  friend  spoke 
with  less  bitterness. 

"  Poor  fellows ! "  he  said,  alluding  to  the  impecunious  of 
his  brothers-in-arms.  "  How  grateful  they  were  when  able 
to  earn  a  few  francs  by  brushing  my  clothes  or  rendering 
any  other  little  service !  And  one  night  in  winter  when 
I  had  a  bad  fit  of  coughing,  my  nearest  neighbour,  a  Breton 


74  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

peasant  lad,  took  the  warm  rug  from  his  own  bed,  and 
without  a  word  put  it  on  my  own.  These  things  one  never 
forgets." 

Not  all  conscripts  regard  their  probation  in  the  same 
light.  Young  men  of  refined  tastes  naturally  resent  many 
things  that  would  not  shock  a  herdsman  or  carter.  The 
cavalry  regiment  has  often  a  fascination  for  city-bred 
youths,  whose  only  experience  of  horsemanship  has, 
perhaps,  been  a  turn  on  the  merry-go-round.  And  many 
a  stripling  comes  out  of  the  ordeal  sturdier,  more  of  a  man, 
than  when  he  first  shouldered  a  gun.  But  of  all  the 
conscripts  I  have  known,  and  several  I  have  known  very 
intimately  indeed,  not  one  ever  expressed  any  enthusiasm 
for  the  system,  or  regarded  barrack  life  as  a  school  of 
patriotism. 

Here  a  few  words  on  the  existing  laws  relating  to 
conscription  will  not  be  inopportune.  Irrespective  of 
financial  and  material  considerations,  a  modification  is 
imperatively  called  for  by  conscientious  reasons.  Two 
years'  service  obligatory  on  one  and  all  will  remove  a 
grave  injustice.  As  I  have  pointed  out,  under  existing 
rules,  whilst  the  artisan,  the  peasant,  and  the  day  labourer 
give  three  best  years  of  their  lives  to  their  country,  the 
wealthy  and  professional  classes  get  off  with  one,  certain 
commercial  and  literary  examinations  procuring  the  deduc- 
tion. With  the  rural  and  trading-classes  such  a  privilege  is 
unattainable  ;  hence,  whilst  young  men  compelled  to  work 
for  a  livelihood,  and  ofttimes  the  mainstay  of  a  family,  lose 
three  years,  those  who  could  best  afford  such  an  inter- 
ference with  their  avocations  sacrifice  one  only.  Never  by 
any  chance  do  you  hear  of  a  young  gentleman  serving  the 
entire  term.  A  more  equable,  more  democratic  measure  is 
necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  the  Republic. 

"  Examinations  have  even  been  made  easier,"  writes 
M.  Demolins  (A-t-on  inter  et  d  s'emparer  du  pouvoir),  "in 
order  that  a  greater  number  of  students  may  obtain  the 


CONSCRIPTS  75 

two  years*  remission."  Examiners  have  sons,  and  the 
paternal  prevails  over  the  military  school.  In  appearance 
the  military  regulations  of  1889  were  framed  on  strictly 
democratic  principles.  As  a  friend  wrote  to  me  in  1890, 
himself  being  an  officer  retired  on  half-pay,  "To  sum  up, 
the  new  law  is  as  democratic  as  possible  ;  the  principle  of 
equality  has  been  guaranteed."  Had  this  good  friend  lived 
a  few  years  longer  he  would  have  seen  but  too  good  reason 
to  change  his  opinion. 

Until  1872  the  organization  of  the  French  army  was  in 
accordance  with  that  of  1832.  Lots  were  drawn  yearly, 
the  highest  number  entitling  the  drawer  to  total  exemption, 
the  lowest  to  seven  years'  service.  Certain  exceptions 
were  made  in  the  case  of  only  sons  of  widows,  seminarists, 
professors,  and  teachers  pledged  to  ten  years'  public  service, 
and  others.  In  all  cases,  total  exemption  could  be  pur- 
chased, the  agents  transacting  such  substitutions  being 
called  marchands  dhommes  ("  dealers  in  men  ").  After  the 
reverses  of  1870-71  military  organization  in  France  was 
reconstructed  upon  the  Prussian  system.  Every  French- 
man, with  very  few  exceptions,  then  became  a  soldier,  his 
obligation  being  that  of  five  years'  service  and  liability  to 
being  called  up  during  fifteen  years  further  in  case  of  war. 
Exemption  was  still  accorded  in  times  of  peace  to  elder  or 
only  sons  of  widows,  seminarists,  and  Protestant  theological 
students.  Young  men  having  passed  certain  examinations 
could  purchase  a  four  years'  remission  on  payment  of  two 
thousand  five  hundred  francs.  These  so-called  voluntaires 
d'un  an  formed  a  special  class  ;  they  might,  indeed,  be 
called  the  spoiled  children  of  the  army.  They  were  subject 
to  a  modified  treatment  in  barracks,  which  provoked 
jealousy  and  the  necessity  for  further  reforms. 

The  law  of  1889  introduced,  if  not  absolute,  what  at 
that  time  seemed  the  nearest  approach  possible  to  absolute 
equality.  Every  French  citizen  was  now  nominally  liable 
to  three  years'  service,  and  to  be  called  up  for  exercise  or 


76  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

during  war  until  his  forty-fifth  year.  No  payment  under 
any  circumstances  whatever  can  secure  a  substitute,  the 
exceptions  being  as  follows — young  men  under  an  engage- 
ment to  serve  ten  years  in  educational  or  philanthropic 
institutions  either  in  France  or  the  colonies,  students  who 
have  passed  the  higher  examinations  in  art,  science,  or 
letters,  who  have  received  diplomas  in  national  schools  of 
agriculture  and  in  technical  schools,  or  who  are  preparing 
for  the  Catholic,  Protestant,  or  Jewish  ministry ;  lastly,  a 
certain  number  of  artisans  selected  by  a  jury  of  their 
respective  departments,  engravers,  modellers,  decorators, 
etc.  In  all  these  cases  the  three  years'  service  is  reduced 
to  one. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  new  law — namely, 
an  obligation  of  two  years'  service  on  all  citizens  of  age 
indiscriminately,  is  not  only  a  matter  of  financial  economy, 
it  is  a  rectification  of  very  grave  abuses. 

There  are  also  other  and  very  grave  reasons  for  a 
change.  It  is  found  that  the  long  term  of  three  years' 
withdrawal  from  rural  life  and  sojourn  in  towns  is  a  great 
factor  in  the  depopulation  of  agricultural  regions.  Young 
countrymen,  whether  peasants  or  belonging  to  the  middle 
classes,  once  this  term  of  service  is  expired,  have  no  desire 
to  return  to  village  life,  hence  the  excessive  competition 
for  the  humblest  administrative  posts  and  the  dearth  of 
hands  for  farm  labour.  A  recent  writer  in  the  Revue  des 
deux  Mondes  (December,  1904)  puts  this  point  very  forcibly. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BRIDES  AND   BRIDEGROOMS 


""^HE  truth  is,  I  have  no  time  to  get  married,"  was 
the  reply  of  a  hard-worked  French  officer  to  an 

A  English  friend  rallying  him  on  the  subject  of 
his  old-bachelorhood. 

The  retort  was  no  mere  pleasantry.  In  England,  alike 
from  the  humblest  to  the  highest,  the  business  of  getting 
married  may  be  reduced  to  a  minimum  of  time,  delibera- 
tion, and  expense.  In  the  case  of  the  wealthy,  a  few 
pencilled  instructions  to  the  family  lawyer  as  to  marriage 
settlements  and  a  special  licence  are  all  the  formularies 
absolutely  necessary  ;  in  the  case  of  the  middle  classes, 
the  brief  church  service  and  an  equally  brief  reception  of 
friends  and  relations  afterwards  entail  comparatively  little 
outlay,  mental  or  material,  on  either  side. 

In  France  wedlock  is  no  mere  individual,  but  a  family 
matter,  a  kind  of  joint-stock  affair.  An  Englishman  marries 
a  wife.  A  Frenchman  takes  not  only  his  bride  for  better, 
for  worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer,  but  her  entire  kith  and  kin, 
fortunately  a  far  less  numerous  contingent  than  with  us. 
A  British  matron,  when  informing  acquaintances  of  her 
daughter's  marriage,  says,  "We  have  lost  our  daughter." 
A  French  mother,  in  similar  case,  frames  her  piece  of  news 
thus,  "We  have  gained  a  son."  The  former  writes  or 
speaks  of  "  our  daughter  and  her  husband,"  or  "  our  son 
and  his  wife,"  the  latter  in  either  case  of  "  our  children." 
A  son-in-law  addresses  his  wife's  mother  as  "  my  mother," 
or  more  familiarly  "  mamma." 

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78  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

A  still  more  striking  instance  of  what  may  be  called 
clanship  in  France  is  afforded  by  the  black-bordered  faire 
part,  or  announcement  of  decease.  This  notification  is  made 
not  only  in  the  name  of  next  of  kin  on  both  sides,  but  of 
every  member  of  both  families  down  to  babies  in  arms. 
With  ourselves  such  a  list  would  often  fill  a  column  of  a 
newspaper.  French  families  are  small,  and  one  side  of 
a  page  of  letter-paper  more  than  suffices.  The  Roman  gens 
was  not  a  more  compact  and  tightly  knit  body  of  society 
than  the  allied  group  in  France,  the  bond  having,  like  most 
things,  an  advantageous  and  a  reverse  side.  It  is  often 
taken  for  granted  here  that  youths  and  maidens  are  paired 
for  life  on  the  other  side  of  the  Manche  as  unceremoniously 
as  for  a  waltz  or  quadrille.  Nothing  can  be  a  greater 
mistake,  and  here,  as  in  most  intricacies  of  domestic  life 
among  our  neighbours,  we  must  take  the  Code  Civil  into 
account.  Paternal  authority  is  far  from  being  a  dead  letter 
after  majority,  as  with  ourselves.  Since  June,  1896,  marriage 
laws  have  been  modified  with  a  considerable  diminution 
of  such  authority.  At  the  present  time  sons  and  daughters 
aged  respectively  twenty-five  and  twenty-one,  in  case 
of  parental  refusal,  need  only  make  one  what  is  called 
sommation  respectueuse,  or  extra-judicial  remonstrance, 
instead  of  three  as  was  formerly  the  case.  Should  the 
parents  prove  obdurate,  young  people  having  attained 
their  majority  and  complied  with  this  formality,  are  at 
liberty  to  marry  whom  they  please. 

These  modifications  have  had  in  view  the  facilitating  of 
marriage  generally.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  laws 
relating  to  natural  children,  noticed  elsewhere. 

This  power  being  placed  in  the  hands  of  doting  fathers 
and  mothers,  they  are  hardly  likely  to  use  it  amiss.  Instead 
of  marrying  their  children  against  their  will,  they  contrive 
to  prevent  them  from  marrying  against  their  own  ;  so,  at 
least,  I  should  put  it.  Match-making  in  France  is  a  very 
delicate  process  of  elimination.  Undesirable  social  elements 


BRIDES   AND   BRIDEGROOMS       79 

are  shut  out.  The  young  girl  emerging  from  her  almost 
cloistered  seclusion,  the  stripling  having  passed  his  bacca- 
laurfat  and  his  military  service,  will  be  thrown  in  the  way 
of  desirable  partners,  and  of  desirable  partners  only. 
Balzac,  that  encyclopaedic  delineator  of  French  life,  has  hit 
off  this  subject  in  a  sentence.  "  Love  never  entered  into 
her  calculations,"  he  writes  of  a  fond  mother  arranging  her 
only  son's  marriage  in  "  Beatrix."  But  as  at  such  sus- 
ceptible age  falling  in  love,  or  what  takes  the  place  of  it,  is 
excessively  easy,  betrothals  ofttimes  appear  quite  voluntary, 
an  arrangement  brought  about,  as  in  England,  by  the 
young  people  themselves. 

Nothing  like  the  free-and-easy  intercourse  of  boys  and 
girls,  young  men  and  maidens,  enjoyed  by  Anglo-Saxons, 
is  permissible  in  France,  in  this  respect  the  most  eclectic, 
least  democratic  country  existing. 

But  dances  in  the  winter,  croquet  and  garden-parties, 
both  of  English  introduction,  in  summer,  afford  oppor- 
tunities of  acquaintance.  The  seaside  or  inland  resort,  too, 
is  a  fruitful  field  for  maternal  match-making.  Two  mothers 
who  have  taken  their  first  communion  in  company,  often 
a  lifelong  tie  with  Frenchwomen,  will  arrange  to  spend  the 
summer  holidays  by  the  seaside  in  order  that  their  sons 
and  daughters  may  be  thrown  together.  And  when  they 
return  home  the  usual  printed  notice  will  be  sent  out  on 

both  sides  :  "  Monsieur  and  Madame  A have  the  honour 

to  inform  Monsieur  and  Madame  B of  the  betrothal 

of  their  daughter  Berthe  with  Monsieur  Marcel  C ,"  and 

so  on. 

In  cases  where  prior  acquaintance  has  afforded  no 
guarantee  of  a  young  man's  character  and  habits,  advances 
on  his  part  will  not  be  accepted  till  inquiry,  or  rather  the 
most  scrupulous  investigation,  has  proved  satisfactory. 
Bachelors  emancipated  from  parental  authority  are  often 
married  through  the  friendly  mediation  of  acquaintances. 
I  was  one  day  at  a  picnic  consisting  of  a  dozen  families 


80  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

near  Besan^on,  the  said  families  numbering  husband,  wife, 
and  one  child. 

"  Do  you  see  that  young  lady  in  pink,  beside  her  wet 
nurse  and  baby  ?"  my  companion  said  to  me.  "  Her  marriage 

to  Professor  T was  arranged  by  friends  of  mine.   After 

the  first  introduction  he  declared  that  no,  nothing  on  earth 
would  induce  him  to  marry  a  girl  with  such  a  nose;  she 
has  a  very  long  nose,  certainly.  But  on  further  knowledge 
he  found  her  agreeable  and  accomplished,  and  now  they 
are  as  happy  as  possible." 

This  is  a  typical  story.  But,  of  course,  drawbacks  more 
formidable  than  a  nose  a  la  Cyrano  de  Bergerac  will  some- 
times confront  a  would-be  suitor. 

The  wisest  and  fondest  parental  foresight  cannot  prevent 
discord  arising  from  unsuitability  of  temperament  and 
character  ;  by  these  precautions  misunderstandings  arising 
from  pecuniary  disillusions  and  disappointments  can  entirely 
be  avoided.  Here  every  particular  is  minutely  gone  into 
before  the  trousseau  and  wedding  day  are  so  much  as 
mooted. 

The  word  "  courtship  "  has  no  equivalent  in  the  French 
tongue,  because  the  thing  itself  does  not  exist.  Stolen 
tete-d-t^tes,  even  furtive  kisses,  may,  of  course,  be  indulged 
in,  but  only  under  a  modified  chaperonage,  the  half-shut 
eye  of  parents  or  guardians.  No  young  French  lady  would 
be  permitted,  for  instance,  to  undertake  a  cycling  expedi- 
tion with  her  future  husband.  Still  less  could  she  take 
train  with  him  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  relations  in  the 
country,  were  the  journey  of  half  an  hour's  duration  only. 
Love-making  begins  with  the  honeymoon. 

The  financial  inquisition  just  alluded  to  is  necessitated 
by  the  marriage  contract.  For  centuries,  alike  in  the 
humblest  as  well  as  the  highest  ranks,  matrimonial  settle- 
ments have  kept  family  possessions  together  in  France — 
and  enriched  village  notaries  ! 

No  sooner  was  serfdom   abolished  than   the   peasants 


BRIDAL    PAIR   (il.E    Ij'cL^RON) 


BRIDES   AND   BRIDEGROOMS       81 

followed  bourgeois  example,  dowering  their  daughters  and 
securing  the  interests  of  their  sons  by  law,  In  provincial 
archives  exist  many  of  these  documents,  the  rustic  bride's 
portion  consisting  of  furniture,  clothes,  money,  and  some- 
times cattle  or  a  bit  of  land.  The  archives  of  the  Aube 
contain  the  marriage  contract  of  a  skilled  day  labourer 
(manouvrier)  and  a  widow  whose  property  was  double  that 
of  his  own.  The  deed  secured  him  joint  enjoyment  and 
ownership.  I  cannot  here,  of  course,  enter  into  the 
intricacies  of  the  French  marriage  laws.  There  is  the 
regime  dotal,  which  safeguards  the  dowry  of  the  wife  ;  there 
is  the  regime  de  la  comnmnaute,  which  makes  wedlock 
strictly  a  partnership  as  far  as  income  and  earnings  are 
concerned.  And  there  are  minute  regulations  as  to  the 
provision  for  children  and  widows.  The  latter  are  always 
sacrificed  to  the  former. 

Twenty-five  years  ago  an  officer  was  not  only  obliged 
to  secure  a  small  dowry  with  his  wife,  about  a  thousand 
pounds  rigidly  tied  down  to  her  and  her  children  ;  he  was 
also  under  the  necessity  of  furnishing  the  Minister  of 
War  with  two  authoritative  attestations  of  the  bride's 
respectability  and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  social  stand- 
ing. The  moderate  pay  of  French  officers,  and  the 
Draconian  edicts  against  the  incurrence  of  debt  in  the 
French  Army,  quite  prevent  military  men  from  taking 
portionless  brides.  And,  indeed,  outside  Bohemia,  slum- 
land,  or  the  world  of  the  dtclasst,  portionless  brides  in 
France  are  an  anomaly.  No  matter  what  her  rank  or 
condition,  a  girl  brings  her  husband  something,  in  modest 
hard-working  circles  often  a  little  dowry  of  her  own  earning. 
The  notary  is  as  indispensable  an  agent  of  matrimony  as 
the  mayor  or  even  the  priest.  Preliminaries  of  this  kind 
comfortably  settled,  a  bridegroom  is  in  duty  bound  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  his  new  family,  and  as  the 
French  character  is  eminently  affectionate  and  sociable, 
this  is  frequently  regarded  as  the  pleasantest  task  possible. 

G 


82  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Especially  will  a  sisterless,  brotherless  bachelor  find  it 
delightful  to  be  able  to  boast  of  newly  acquired  relations — 
ma  belle-sceur,  ma  cousine,  and  so  on.  But  a  round  of  formal 
visits  necessitates  leisure,  hence  one  reason  for  my  friend's 
plaint,  "  I  have  no  time  to  get  married."  The  etiquette  of 
betrothals  is  exceedingly  strict,  and  upon  every  occasion 
love-making  has  to  be  sacrificed  to  conventionalities. 
Thus,  whenever  an  accepted  suitor  accompanies  his  future 
mother-in-law  and  fiancee  on  visits  of  ceremony,  he  must 
offer  his  arm  to  the  former ;  on  no  occasion  must  he  allow 
inclination  to  stand  before  punctilio. 

Trousseau  and  marriage  ceremony  quickly  follow  be- 
trothals. An  engagement  protracted  throughout  months 
and  years,  as  is  often  the  case  in  England,  is  unknown 
over  the  water.  When  a  young  man  is  in  a  position  to 
marry  he  seeks  a  wife,  not  before.  The  fortune-hunters 
so  scathingly  dealt  with  in  the  brothers  Margueritte's 
novel,  "  Femmes  Nouvelles,"  I  leave  out  of  the  question. 
What  I  am  here  attempting  to  describe  is  the  normal,  the 
average,  the  standard,  not  exceptional  phases  of  French 
society.  No  self-respecting  parents  would  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  suitors  described  in  the  popular  novel  just 
named. 

A  word  or  two  about  trousseaux  before  entering  upon 
the  long-drawn-out  marriage  ceremonial. 

A  French  friend  never  gives,  always  offers  a  gift :  note 
the  verbal  nicety.  Our  own  rough  and  ready  way  of 
making  wedding  presents  shocks  our  neighbours  no  little. 
True  that  grandparents,  uncles,  and  cousins  may  present  a 
bride  with  an  elegant  purse  containing  money  or  notes  ; 
outsiders  must  never  send  cheques,  as  is  so  often  done 
here. 

The  corbeille  formerly  offered  by  the  bridegroom  con- 
sisted of  rich  velvets  and  silks,  furs,  old  lace,  family  and 
modern  jewels,  a  fan,  and  a  missal,  all  packed  in  an  elegant 
basket  or  straw  box  lined  with  satin.  Among  more  modest 


BRIDES  AND   BRIDEGROOMS       83 

ranks  these  objects  were  replaced  by  dress  pieces  of  less 
expensive  material  and  trinkets.  Some  years  since  the 
fashion  was  introduced  of  replacing  the  corbeille  by  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money  enclosed  in  an  envelope.  The 
custom,  however,  is  not  universal,  and  most  often  rings 
and  jewellery,  as  in  England,  form  a  bridegroom's  gifts. 

Bridal  gifts  of  friends  are  selected  with  great  care,  no 
amount  of  thought  or  time  being  grudged  upon  the  selec- 
tion. These  preliminaries  being  satisfactorily  arranged, 
the  wedding  day,  or  rather  wedding  days,  quickly  follow 
marriage  contracts  and  the  preparation  of  trousseaux.  I 
use  the  plural  noun,  for  in  the  land  pre-eminently  of 
method,  precision,  and  formulary,  a  single  day  does  not 
suffice  for  the  most  important  ceremonial  in  human  life.  A 
Frenchman  may  not  be  twice  wedded,  but  most  often  he  is 
privileged  with  two  wedding  days  :  the  civil,  that  is  to  say, 
the  only  legal  marriage,  preceding  by  twenty-four  hours 
what  is  aptly  called  the  nuptial  benediction  in  church. 

The  civil  marriage  is  gratuitous.  On  the  arrival  of  the 
mayor,  announced  by  officials,  the  wedding  party  rise. 
The  mayor  then  reads  the  articles  of  the  Code  Civil  re- 
lating to  conjugal  duties.  The  declaration  of  the  fiancts 
and  the  permission  of  their  parents  being  given,  the  pair 
are  declared  man  and  wife,  and  the  register  is  handed  to 
the  lady  for  signature.  Having  affixed  her  name,  she 
offers  the  pen  to  her  husband,  who  replies,  "Merci, 
madame,"  the  coveted  title  now  heard  by  her  for  the  first 
time. 

How,  it  may  be  asked,  can  municipal  authorities  find 
time  to  get  through  the  work  imposed  by  this  obligation  ? 
The  answer  is  simple.  The  mayor  can  always  be  repre- 
sented by  his  deputy,  or  adjoint.  In  small  communes  one 
of  these  suffices ;  in  large  cities  several  are  necessary. 
Thus,  at  Lyons  the  mayor  is  supported  by  no  less  than 
twelve  adjoints,  himself  officiating  only  at  the  marriage  of 
noteworthy  personages.  Fashionable  folks  are  beginning 


84  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

to  simplify  wedding  festivities  after  English  example,  but 
the  two  days'  programme  still  finds  general  favour,  dtjeuner, 
dinner,  and  ceremonies  keeping  bridegroom  and  best  man, 
or  gar$on  dhonneur,  in  their  dress-coats  from  morning  till 
night. 

If  French  girls  were  not  trained  to  habits  of  self- 
possession  from  childhood  upwards,  the  double  ordeal  would 
be  trying  indeed.  A  mayor,  especially  if  he  happens  to 
know  the  bride,  will  anticipate  by  a  friendly  little  speech 
the  solemn  harangue  of  the  priest  to  follow.  Thus,  when 
some  years  ago  an  Orleanist  princess  married  into  the 
Danish  royal  family,  the  mayor  of  the  arrondissement 
wished  her  well,  adding  a  few  touching  words  about  such 
leave-takings  of  kinsfolk  and  country. 

Church  ceremonials  are  very  expensive  affairs  in  France, 
weddings,  like  funerals,  being  charged  for  according  to 
style.  Those  of  the  first  arid  second  class  entitle  the  pro- 
cession to  entry  by  the  front  door  of  cathedral  or  church, 
to  more  or  less  music  of  the  full  orchestra,  and  to  carpets 
laid  down  from  porch  to  altar.  Wedding  parties  of  the 
third  division  go  in  by  a  side  entrance,  and  without  music 
or  carpet  traverse  the  aisle,  the  charges  even  so  diminished 
being  considerable. 

I  must  say  that  were  I  a  French  bride-elect  I  should 
bargain  for  a  wedding  of  the  first  class  at  any  sacrifice. 
To  have  the  portal  of  a  cathedral  thrown  wide  at  the 
thrice-repeated  knock  of  the  beadle's  staff,  to  hear  the 
wedding  march  from  "  Lohengrin  "  pealed  from  the  great 
organ,  to  reach  the  altar  preceded  by  that  gorgeous  figure 
in  cocked  hat,  red  sash,  plush  tights,  pink  silk  stockings, 
and  silver-buckled  shoes,  all  the  congregation  a-titter  with 
admiration — surely  the  intoxication  of  such  a  moment  were 
unrivalled  !  The  strictest  etiquette  regulates  every  part 
of  the  proceedings.  Accommodated  with  velvet  armchairs, 
the  bride's  parents  and  relations  are  placed,  according  to 
degrees  of  consanguinity,  immediately  behind  her  prie-dieu  ; 


BRIDES   AND   BRIDEGROOMS        85 

the  bridegroom's  family,  arranged  with  similar  punctilious- 
ness, having  seats  on  the  other  side  of  the  nave.  I  well 
remember,  at  the  first-class  wedding  of  an  acquaintance  in 
Nantes  Cathedral,  how  a  little  girl  belonging  to  the  bride's 
party  had  somehow  got  seated  between  relations  of  the 
bridegroom.  Before  the  ceremony  began  the  child  was 
put  in  her  proper  place.  Such  a  breach  of  etiquette  could 
not  on  any  account  be  permitted. 

Churches  in  France  are  not  always  decorated  with 
palms  and  flowers  as  with  ourselves.  Any  additional 
expense  would  indeed  be  the  last  straw  breaking  the 
camel's  back,  rendering  weddings  a  veritable  corvte.  But 
the  high  altar  blazes  with  tapers,  and  floral  gifts,  natural 
and  in  paper  or  wax,  adorn  the  chapels  of  the  Virgin  or 
patron  saint. 

One  feature  of  the  long-drawn-out  ceremonial  is  the 
charge  before  alluded  to  made  respectively  to  bride  and 
bridegroom,  a  tremendous  ordeal,  one  would  think.  Fortu- 
nately, French  girls  are  equal  to  the  occasion.  The  theme 
of  priestly  admonition,  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes,  a  young 
bride  will  listen  downcast  and  demure,  but  not  in  the  least 
discomposed  or  in  need  of  smelling-salts.  Long  training 
has  fortified  her  against  sentimentality  or  unbecoming  show 
of  emotion. 

"  You,  mademoiselle,"  I  once  heard  a  village  cure"  address 
a  parishioner,  a  young  woman  belonging  to  the  middle 
ranks,  "you  have  before  you  the  example  of  a  mother 
fulfilling  in  every  respect  the  duties  now  before  yourself, 
wifely,  maternal,  and  Christian,"  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  the 
bride  listening  calmly  to  personalities,  admonitions,  and 
forecasts  that  seemed  in  the  highest  degree  disconcerting. 

The  wedding-rings,  obligatory  on  both  sides,  received 
on  a  gold  salver,  blessed  and  adjusted,  the  plate  is  again 
proffered,  this  time  for  alms.  Bank-notes,  and  gold  or 
silver  pieces  are  given,  naturally  the  two  former  when 
marriages  fall  under  the  category  of  first  and  second  class. 


86  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

But  by  far  the  most  distinctive  and  pictorial  function 
of  a  French  wedding  is  la  quete,  or  collection  for  the  poor. 
Next  in  interest  to  the  bride  herself  is  the  demoiselle 
d'honneur,  or  bridesmaid,  upon  whom  falls  this  conspicuous 
and  graceful  duty.  A  bride,  distractingly  pretty  although 
she  may  be,  has  no  part  to  play.  All  that  is  required  of 
her  is  automatic  collectedness  and  dignity.  But  the  demoi- 
selle d'honneur  is  under  the  necessity  of  acting  a  role,  and, 
as  a  rule,  most  beautifully  is  it  acted.  The  ceremony 
come  to  an  end,  the  organist  plays  a  prelude,  and  two 
figures  detach  themselves  from  the  wedding  party,  both 
selected  for  personal  charm,  sprightliness,  and  savoir-faire 
— I  am  compelled  to  use  a  word  for  which  we  have  no 
equivalent — both,  also,  perfectly  dressed.  The  gar$on 
d'honnettr,  or  best  man,  wears  dress  coat,  white  tie,  waist- 
coat and  gloves,  his  companion  the  newest,  most  elegant 
toilette  de  ville,  or  carriage  costume.  She  gives  her  left 
hand  to  her  cavalier,  in  her  right  holding  a  velvet  bag  ; 
then  the  pair  step  airily  forth,  the  most  engaging  smile, 
the  most  finished  bow  soliciting  and  acknowledging  dona- 
tions. It  is  the  prettiest  sight  imaginable  ;  and  no  wonder 
that  the  velvet  bag  rapidly  fills,  as,  having  made  their  way 
down  the  nave,  lady  and  cavalier  make  the  round  of  the 
church.  And  the  name  of  the  charming  queteuse  invariably 
figures  in  the  society  column  of  the  Figaro  or  local  paper, 
a  testimony  to  spirit,  grace,  and  beauty. 

A  wedding  gift  in  the  form  of  a  cheque  shocks  French 
susceptibilities.  But  at  bridal  receptions  English  taste  is 
equally  offended  by  the  exhibition  of  the  entire  trousseau. 
In  one  of  her  essentially  Parisian  novels  that  delightful 
writer,  Madame  Bentzon,  describes  this  feature,  or  rather 
animadverts  upon  such  a  display.  The  author  of  "  Tche- 
velek,"  however,  has  consorted  so  much  with  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  world  that,  although  Parisian  to  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  she  sees  certain  things  through  English  and  Trans- 
atlantic spectacles.  The  spreading  before  everybody's  eyes 


BRIDES   AND   BRIDEGROOMS       87 

of  slips  and  stockings,  no  matter  how  elaborate,  evoked 
delicate  irony  from  her  pen. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  to  use  a  homely  simile, 
bride  and  bridegroom  are  yet  out  of  the  wood.  A  ball 
often  follows  breakfast  or  reception,  the  newly  married  pair 
stealing  away  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night,  like  hunted 
hares  compelled  to  covert  flight.  This  remark  especially 
holds  ^ood  with  the  middle  and  humbler  ranks,  and 
with  provincial  life.  Society,  following  English  initiative 
in  everything,  as  I  have  said,  has  inaugurated  English 
simplifications. 

In  one  respect  all  unions  resemble  each  other,  and  up 
to  a  certain  point  differ  from  our  own.  Family  life  in 
France  is  a  wheel  within  a  wheel,  a  piece  of  closely  im- 
plicated machinery,  a  well-welded-together  agglomeration 
of  social  and  material  interests.  Marriage  is  not  wholly  a 
dual  affair.  Willy-nilly,  brides  and  bridegrooms  enter  a  - 
clan,  become  members  of  a  patriarchal  tribe.  Hence  the 
parental  inquisition  on  both  sides,  that  minute  investigation 
of  character,  circumstances,  and  family  history  so  foreign 
to  insular  notions.  Hence  the  widespread,  I  am  tempted 
to  say  incalculable,  effects  of  worldly  ruin,  loss  of  reputa- 
tion, or  other  misfortune.  A  blow  falls  crushingly  not  only 
upon  the  immediate  victim  or  culprit,  but  upon  every  one 
of  their  blood  or  bearing  their  name. 

A  French  writer  who  knew  England  well  once  remarked 
that  "Ce'sar  Birotteau"  could  not  have  been  written  of 
English  commercial  life.  In  that  country  a  bankrupt  ruins 
himself,  not  his  entire  family. 

And  some  years  ago,  when  walking  with  an  old  friend 
in  Dijon,  he  said  to  me — 

"  Did  you  observe  that  nice-looking  girl  I  saluted  just 
now  ?  Poor  thing  !  she  can  never  marry,  her  uncle  having 
failed  dishonourably  in  business." 

An  untarnished  record,  a  roof-tree  at  which  none  can 
point  a  finger ;  last,  but  far  from  least,  an  accession  rather 


88  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

than  a  diminution  of  well-being — such  is  the  ideal  of  a 
French  Ccelebs  in  search  of  a  wife, 

"  Find  me  an  English  wife,"  a  bachelor  friend  once  said 
to  me  in  all  seriousness.  "Your  recommendation  will 
suffice.  Provided  you  consider  the  lady  a  suitable  partner 
for  me,  I  shall  be  entirely  satisfied.  I  place  my  fortune  in 
your  hands." 

A  highly  characteristic  incident. 


CHAPTER   IX 

WIVES   AND   MOTHERS 

IN   most  French   households   women    reign    with    un- 
challenged   sway ;    they    wield    "  all    the    rule,    one 
empire."     Let  not  such  feminine  headship  be  sum- 
marily attributed  to  uxoriousness  on  the  one  side  or  to  a 
masterful  spirit  on  the  other.     The   condition   has  been 
brought  about  by  a  combination  of  circumstances,  moral 
and  material,  social   and  economic.     To  begin   with,  the 
Frenchwoman  possesses  in  a  wholly  unsurpassed  degree 
the  various  aptitudes  that  shine  in  domestic  and  business 
management.    She  is  never  at  a  loss,  never  muddle-headed, 
always  more  than  able  to  hold  her  own.     The  secret  of 
this  unrivalled  capacity  is  concentration.    A  Frenchwoman's 
mental  and  physical  powers  are  not  frittered  away  upon 
multifarious  objects.     She  is  not  at  one  and  the  same  time 
a  devotee  of  society,  a  member  of  a  political  association, 
I  an  active  crusader  in  some  philanthropic  cause,  a  champion 
1  golfer,  tennis,  or  hockey  player,  or  what  is  called  a  "  Church 
|  worker."     Thus  it  comes  about  that  the  French  feminine 
i  mind  is  freer  than   that  of  her  Anglo-Saxon   sister,  her 
I  bodily  powers  are   subject   to   much   less   wear  and  tear. 
|  And,  perhaps,  owing  to  the  fact  of  idolized,  over-indulged 
childhood,  the  Frenchwoman's  will  is  stronger.     She  is  less 
!  yielding,  less  given  to  compromise,  and  more  authoritative. 
I  Nor   do   weaknesses,   sentimentalities,    or  vapours  impair 
)  such  strengthful  character. 

Certainly   here   and   there    you    may   find   a    French- 

89 


90  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

woman  who  screams  at  a  mouse  or  a  spider,  such  whimsical 
timidity  not  in  the  least  incapacitating  her  from  the 
command  of  an  army.  Authority  is  her  native  element  ; 
the  faculty  of  organization  is  here  an  intuitive  gift.  Hardly 
necessary  is  it  to  dilate  upon  personal  magnetism,  the 
beauty,  as  Michelet  wrote,  "made  up  of  little  nothings," 
the  conversation  ofttimes  describable  in  similar  terms — 
the  acquired  graces  that  strike  us  as  natural  endowments, 
Nature's  partial  liberality.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  for 
good  or  for  evil  the  Salic  law  has  ever  been  set  at  naught 
in  French  society,  that  alike  chateau  and  cottage  bow  to 
one-sided  law — to  feminine  ukase.  And  who  can  say — 
the  great  democracy  of  the  Western  world  owes  its  name, 
perhaps  its  very  existence,  to  a  woman  ?  A  quiet  little 
bourgeoise}  wife  of  an  obscure  journalist  named  Robert,  we 
now  learn,  was  the  first  to  breathe  the  word  "  Republic  " 
in  conjunction  with  the  name  of  France.  In  her  modest 
salon  about  the  year  1790  first  took  form  and  cohesion  the 
project  of  a  democratic  government  on  the  American 
model.  Before  her  time  one  woman  had  saved  France,  and 
more  than  one  had  well-nigh  wrought  her  downfall.  Jeanne 
dArc,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  the  Pompadour,  not  to 
mention  another  nearer  our  own  time,  are  instances  of 
"  all  the  rule,  one  empire "  exercised — alas  !  not  always 
for  the  public  weal — by  Frenchwomen. 

Financial  conditions  add  immense  weight  to  natural 
advantages.  Except  among  the  Micawber  class,  repre- 
sented in  greater  or  less  degree  all  the  world  over,  a 
French  wife  is  propertied  ;  she  brings  an  equal  share  to 
the  setting  up  of  a  household  and  the  founding  of  a  family. 
"With  all  my  worldly  goods  I  thee  endow"  is  a  formula 
applicable  to  bride  as  well  as  bridegroom,  although  in 
neither  case  is  the  endowment  a  free,  unconditional  gift. 
Respective  interests  are  strictly  safeguarded  by  the  notary, 
a  personage  no  less  necessary  to  the  middle  and  working 
classes  than  to  the  rich.  No  matter  how  inconsiderable  a 


WIVES   AND   MOTHERS  91 

young  woman's  dowry,  it  is  tied  down  to  herself  and  her 
children  with  every  legal  formality.  Some  years  since  I 
attended  the  wedding  of  a  village  schoolmaster  and  a 
gamekeeper's  daughter  in  Champagne.  Each  possessed 
money  or  land  equivalent  to  about  two  hundred  pounds, 
the  two  small  fortunes,  down  to  the  minutest  particular, 
being  mentioned  in  the  marriage  contract.  A  wedding 
without  settlements,  as  I  have  said,  is  an  anomaly  in 
France. 

In  one  respect  at  least  there  is  no  sexual  inequality 
among  our  neighbours.  My  face  is  my  fortune,  was  not 
the  burden  of  peasant  maidens  even  under  the  ancien 
regime.  Whilst  this  feminine  supremacy,  I  should 
perhaps  say  suzerainty,  has  been  an  evolutionary  process 
in  accordance  with  the  fitness  of  things,  it  will  occasionally 
wear  an  inconsistent  or  autocratic  look.  I  well  remember 
one  instance  in  point,  scenes  that  reminded  me  of  Balzac. 
Many  and  many  a  time  have  I  sat  down  to  the  Friday 

table  of  my  kind  old  friend  Madame  G ,  near  Dijon 

(long  since,  alas !  gone  to  her  rest),  the  family  party  con- 
sisting of  her  son,  a  man  of  fifty,  a  widower,  his  boy,  a  strip- 
ling of  eighteen,  and  her  son-in-law,  a  widower  also,  and 
well  past  sixty.  The  season  being  September,  as  soon  as 
the  early  second  dfy'euner  was  over  these  men,  with  uncles 
and  cousins  living  close  by,  would  set  off  for  a  seven  or 
eight  hours'  tramp  in  search  of  wild  boars  in  the  forest  or 
quails  on  the  plain. 

Eggs  and  potatoes  at  half-past  ten  or  eleven  o'clock, 
eggs  and  potatoes  at  the  half-past  six  o'clock  dinner 
reminded  me  of  Mrs.  Micawber's  "heel  of  Dutch  cheese, 
an  unsuitable  nutriment  for  a  young  family."  Madame 
G—  -'s  bill  of  fare  did  not  certainly  seem  adequate  in  the 
case  of  famished  sportsmen  footing  it  for  seven  or  eight 
hours  on  a  brisk  September  day.  The  three  men  might 
covertly  eye  my  own  tiny  slice  of  cold  meat,  the  priestly 
ordinance  not  applying  to  Protestants,  but  they  said 


92  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

nothing.  My  hostess,  indeed,  could  very  well  have  passed 
for  the  mistress  of  a  pension  bourgeoise,  son,  son-in-law,  and 
grandson  being  poorly  paying  or  indebted  boarders.  Once, 
indeed,  rebellion  broke  out,  taking  a  humorous  turn.  A 
tempting  dish  of  cold  pasty,  nicely  sliced,  on  its  way  to 
myself,  came  within  reach  of  my  neighbour's  fork.  The 
opportunity  was  not  to  be  resisted.  "  Ma  foi !  for  once 
I'll  be  a  Protestant  too ! "  ejaculated  madame's  elderly 
son-in-law,  as  he  spoke  prodding  a  goodly  morsel.  His 
companions  chuckled,  the  maid  tittered,  and,  seeing  that 
her  mistress  did  not  take  the  joke  amiss,  after  having 
served  me  she  plumped  down  the  dish  before  the  three 
wistful  men. 

Benignant,  even-tempered,  in  other  respects  far  from 
egotistical,  my  dear  old  friend  regarded  motherhood  as  a 
patent  conferring  undivided  and  ever-enduring  authority. 
When  her  son  or  son-in-law  attempted  to  discuss  any 
subject  that  menaced  such  authority,  she  would  cut  them 
short  with  the  remark,  "  I  am  your  mother,  and  must  know 
best."  And  so  kindly  and  affectionate  was  the  dear  soul 
that  the  yoke  was  complacently  borne. 

Here  I  anticipate  an  objection.  How,  it  may  be  asked, 
is  the  foregoing  statement  reconciled  with  the  stability  of 
the  Third  Republic  ?  Has  it  not  been  said,  and  indeed 
proved  again  and  again,  that  the  vast  majority  of  French- 
men have  shaken  off  sacerdotalism,  whilst  their  wives  and 
mothers  for  the  most  part  remain  wedded  to  priestly 
ordinance  ?  Where,  then,  some  will  ask,  is  the  feminine 
influence  you  speak  of,  since  it  is  evidently  neutral  in 
political  affairs  ? 

My  answer  to  these  observations  is  short.  There  is 
one  point,  and  one  only,  on  which  a  Frenchman,  no  matter 
how  easy  going,  is  unyielding,  and  that  is  his  vote.  And 
the  natural  good  sense  of  Frenchwomen  stands  them  here 
in  good  stead.  No  matter  the  force  of  their  own  con- 
victions, they  accept  a  compromise  based  on  expediency. 


WIVES   AND   MOTHERS  93 

Setting  aside  fireside  relations  and  the  principle  of  give  and 
take,  there  is  the  question  of  family  interest,  the  stability 
of  the  Republic  from  a  domestic  aspect.  How  largely 
middle-class  fortunes  are  bound  up  with  the  Government, 
the  prevailing  system  of  bureaucracy  tells  us.  Here  is  an 
instance  in  point.  The  other  day  I  received  what  is  called 
&faire  part,  or  printed  notice  of  a  friend's  death,  giving, 
according  to  fashion,  the  name  and  occupation  of  her  male 
relations.  Of  the  ten  specified  two  only  belonged  to 
professions,  one  was  in  the  army,  two  were  priests,  the 
remaining  five  held  Government  appointments.  Roughly 
speaking,  I  should  say  this  is  typical,  that  in  most  bourgeois 
families  the  proportion  of  Government  officials  would  be  as 
five  to  five.  No,  wonder,  then,  that  wives  and  mothers 
discreetly  keep  silent  when  elections  come  round.  The 
great  minister  Sully  used  to  say  that  tillage  and  pasturage 
were  the  fountains  of  French  wealth.  To  a  large  section 
of  society,  it  is  the  Government  that  now  usurps  these 
functions,  playing  the  part  of  a  Providence.  And,  as  I 
have  shown  elsewhere,  bureaucracy,  that  is  to  say,  an 
income  moderate  maybe  but  sure,  suits  French  character, 
which  is  the  very  antipodes  of  American  go-ahead  wear 
and  tear.  It  is  rare  indeed  in  France  that  you  find 
Gambetta's  counterpart,  "  an  old  man  of  forty."  But  when 
are  Americans  young  ? 

I  should  not  call  the  average  Frenchwoman  cosmo- 
politan. Parental  adulation,  exclusive  surroundings,  often 
conventual  bringing-up,  unfit  the  average  Frenchwoman 
for  international  or  social  give  and  take.  Small  indeed  is 
the  number  who  could  say  with  Montaigne,  "  I  am  not 
guilty  of  the  common  error  of  judging  another  by  myself ; 
I  easily  believe  what  in  another's  humour  is  contrary  to 
my  own."  The  lady  president  of  a  philanthropic  associa- 
tion confided  to  me  the  other  day  that  this  uncompromising- 
ness  greatly  handicapped  such  movements.  "  Every  woman 
here  interested  in  works  of  benevolence  or  social  progress," 


94  HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

she  said,  "has  her  own  scheme  and  will  not  fall  in  with 
the  plans  of  others."  Anything  like  the  Primrose  League 
or  Women's  Liberal  Associations  is  out  of  the  question  in 
France.  Hence  it  comes  about  that  when  an  Englishman 
succumbs  to  French  charms,  for  him  the  die  is  doubly  cast. 
He  must  thenceforward  forswear  English  speech,  native 
land,  and  a  career  among  his  own  people  for  his  wife's 
sake.  It  is  a  case  of  love  being  lord  of  all  with  a 
vengeance.  Many  English  wives  of  Frenchmen,  especially 
among  the  Protestant  community,  spend  their  lives  happily 
enough  in  France.  French  mistresses  of  English  homes 
are  rare  indeed.  When  Madame  de  Stae'l  pronounced 
exile  to  be  worse  than  death,  she  voiced  the  convictions 
of  her  countrywomen. 

I  was  lately  lunching  with  an  old  friend  in  Paris, 
a  country  gentleman  from  the  Indre  much  interested  in 
the  question  of  French  colonization. 

"  One  great  obstacle,"  he  observed,  "  is  the  loathing  of 
my  countrywomen  for  any  place  out  of  France.  The  other 
day  a  young  friend,  a  settler  in  one  of  your  Australian 
countries,  was  here  on  a  visit,  and  wrote  back  to  his 
partner  that  he  was  looking  about  for  a  wife.  '  For  heaven's 
sake  wait  till  you  return,  and  marry  an  English  girl,'  wrote 
the  other  ;  '  Frenchwomen  in  a  foreign  colony  are  in- 
supportable.' " 

But  la  Frangaise  est  avant  tout  mire,  "the  French- 
woman is  first  and  foremost  a  mother,"  our  sisters  over 
the  water  tell  us.  Filial,  wifely,  civic  duty,  each  must 
give  way  to  the  maternal.  Thus  words  are  hardly  strong 
enough  in  which  to  express  a  Frenchwoman's  disapproval 
of  Anglo-Indian  wives  who  remain  at  their  husbands' 
sides,  sending  home  their  young  children  to  be  educated. 
The  secret  of  English  colonization  lies  not  so  much 
in  national  energy  as  in  the  tremendous  strength  of 
the  marriage  tie.  A  celibate  bureaucracy,  however 
numerous  or  efficient,  cannot  compete  with  the  family  life 


WIVES   AND   MOTHERS  95 

characterizing  Greater  Britain  societies,  no  matter  under 
what  sky,  offering  the  conditions  of  home.  This  matter  is 
now  occupying  politicians  and  philanthropists.  A  society 
has  been  lately  formed  for  the  purpose  of  forwarding  the 
emigration  of  women,  and  the  lady  president,  with  whom 
I  lately  had  a  long  conversation,  spoke  hopefully  of  its 
future.  The  Protestant  pastor  and  missionary,  she  told  me, 
are  of  the  very  greatest  value  in  the  movement,  as,  being 
fathers  of  families,  they  can  offer  temporary  homes  to 
young  women  awaiting  situations  ;  most  of  these,  of  course, 
eventually  marry. 

The  Frenchwoman  does  not  exaggerate.  She  is  par 
excellence  the  mother.  Why  the  first  maternal  duty  should 
always  be  relegated  to  a  wet  nurse  I  have  never  been  able 
to  discover.  In  every  other  respect  her  devotion  knows 
no  bounds.  Indeed,  were  I  asked  to  state  the  ambition  of 
Frenchwomen  generally,  I  should  say  that  it  is  neither  to 
shine  in  art,  literature,  science,  nor  philanthropy,  but  to 
become  a  grandmother ;  the  adored,  over-fondled  son  or 
daughter  revived  in  a  second  generation  evokes  devotion 
amounting  to  idolatry — an  idolatry  shared  by  the  other 
sex.  As  we  all  know,  one  of  the  best  Presidents  of  the  Third 
Republic — that  staunch  Republican,  splendid  advocate,  and 
true  patriot,  Jules  Grevy — here  found  his  pitfall.  Poor 
President  Grevy !  Not  that  he  loved  France  less,  but  that 
he  loved  his  little  granddaughters  more.  With  Victor 
Hugo,  I'art  d'etre  grandpere  had  become  infatuation. 

Nothing  is  ever  done  by  halves  in  France.  Of  late 
years  the  disastrous  effects  of  over-indulged  childhood  has 
become  a  public  question.  Could  parents  be  prevented 
from  spoiling  their  one  boy  or  girl  by  law,  there  is  little 
doubt  that  a  Bill  to  that  effect  would  be  laid  before  the 
Chamber  to-morrow.  Other  means  of  arousing  general 
attention  have  been  tried.  In  Paris  just  now  the  stage 
has  usurped  the  functions  of  the  pulpit  By  turns,  wet- 
nursing,  alcoholism,  and  other  social  evils  are  treated 


96  HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

dramatically,  the  success  of  1902  being  "La  Course  au 
Flambeau."  This  piece  turns  entirely  upon  the  ex- 
aggerated and  mischievous  self-sacrifice  of  parents  on 
behalf  of  their  children.  The  heroine,  a  role  superbly 
played  by  Madame  R£jane,  is  a  middle-aged  lady  belong- 
ing to  the  upper  middle  class  who  has  an  only  daughter, 
and  who  for  this  incarnation  of  selfishness,  inanition,  and 
lackadaisicalness,  sacrifices  not  only  her  husband's  and  her 
own  well-being,  but  her  conscience.  In  fact,  she  becomes 
virtually  the  murderess  of  her  aged  mother.  It  was  in- 
teresting to  note  the  behaviour  of  the  vast  audience.  No 
love-story,  no  intrigue,  no  humorous  episode  relieved  the 
fireside  tragedy.  A  piece  of  domestic  realism,  an  everyday 
story,  held  every  one  spellbound.  When  you  ask  French 
folks  if  this  or  any  other  crying  evil  is  likely  to  be  lessened 
by  sermonizing  on  the  stage,  however,  they  shake  their 
heads.  It  happened  that  my  companion  at  the  theatre 
was  a  young  French  lady,  earning  her  livelihood  as 
secretary  in  a  business  house.  The  piece  naturally  in- 
terested her  greatly,  and  here  are  her  comments — 

"  It  is  the  greatest  possible  unkindness  of  parents  to 
wrap  their  children  up  in  cotton-wool.  Look  at  my  own 
case.  I  was  brought  up  in  the  belief  that  life  was  to  be 
one  prolonged  fairy  tale  ;  that  I  need  only  hold  out  my 
hand,  and  everything  I  wanted  would  drop  into  it.  I  well 
remember  one  birthday.  Throughout  the  day  my  parents 
told  me  I  should  do  as  I  liked  ;  I  might  ask  for  anything 
and  everything  in  their  power  to  bestow.  After  dejeuner 
we  went  to  the  Jardin  d'Acclimatation,  where  I  rode  in  a 
goat-chaise,  on  the  elephant's  back,  had  ices,  cakes,  sweet- 
meats, and  heaven  knows  what.  Do  you  suppose  I  was 
satisfied  ?  Not  in  the  least.  The  day  ended  in  tears  and 
sulkiness.  And  at  eighteen,  in  consequence  of  family 
losses,  instead  of  being  dowered  and  married,  having  fine 
toilettes,  servants,  and  every  luxury,  I  found  myself  com- 
pelled to  turn  out  into  the  world  to  earn  my  bread." 


WIVES   AND   MOTHERS  97 

Which    she    had    done,    however,    with    the    best    grace 
imaginable. 

One  word  in  conclusion.  If  maternal  devotion  at 
times  proves  a  snare,  how  often  in  France  does  it  cast  a 
halo  around  homely  brows!  The  honoured  President  of 
the  Third  Republic  does  not  here  stand  alone.  Were  the 
history  of  illustrious  Frenchmen  scanned  from  this  point  of 
view,  we  should  find  many  a  one,  like  M.  Loubet,  owing 
the  opportunities  of  success  to  a  peasant-born  mother. 
And  the  well-known  acknowledgment  of  the  newly  elected 
President,  the  halting  on  his  triumphal  entry  into  Monte- 
limar  in  order  to  embrace  that  venerable  mother,  was  an 
incident  moistening  every  French  eye,  warming  every 
French  heart.  M.  Loubet's  popularity  was  straightway 
assured. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   SINGLE   LADY 

A  FOREIGNER    suddenly    plunged     into    French 
society  and    quitting   it  without   any  chance   of 
modifying    first    impressions    would    affirm    that 
there  were  no  single  women  in  France — that  the  spinster, 
the  old  maid,  did  not  exist. 

Certainly  there  is  no  equivalent  over  the  water  to  a 
considerable  element  in  English  social  life.  We  might 
vainly  search  the  eighty-six  departments  and  the  Terri- 
toire  de  Belfort  for  a  Bath  or  a  Clifton,  towns  or  suburbs 
largely  peopled  by  rich  maiden  ladies.  Nor  in  the 
provinces  is  to  be  found  a  counterpart  of  the  unmarried 
gentlewoman,  with  her  handsome  establishment,  her  grooms, 
gardeners,  and  equipages,  all  under  first-rate  management, 
all  betokening  the  most  complete  independence  and  a  wide 
outlook  upon  life,  in  many  cases  single  life  being  a  pure 
matter  of  choice.  Spinsterhood  must  be  looked  for  else- 
where in  France.  The  feminine  world  of  fashion  generally 
hides  grey  hairs  and  lost  illusions  in  the  convent  boarding- 
house.  Here  and  there  devotion  and  philanthropy  outside 
such  walls  are  resorted  to,  rarely  social  distractions  or  active 
life.  In  the  upper  ranks  celibate  womanhood  effaces  itself. 
Before  turning  to  the  army  of  lady  doctors,  dentists, 
professors,  artists,  and  authors,  let  us  consider  their  ill- 
advised  sisters,  the  tens  of  thousands  who  virtually  retire 
from  the  world  simply  because  they  happen  to  be  un- 
married. Much  is  to  be  said  for  their  own  view  of  the 

98 


THE   SINGLE   LADY  99 

case.  I  can,  indeed,  conceive  no  more  mortifying  position 
than  that  of  a  French  girl  growing  elderly  under  her 
mother's  wing.  Take  the  matter  of  money,  for  instance. 
So  long  as  her  mother  lives,  an  unmarried  daughter,  no 
matter  her  age,  is  treated  like  a  child.  Immediately  an 
English  girl  leaves  school  she  has  her  allowance  for  dress 
and  personal  expenses.  In  France  it  is  the  parent  who 
pays  for  everything,  New  Year's  gifts  or  ttrennes  taking 
the  place  of  pocket-money.  I  well  remember  the  astonish- 
ment of  a  French  lady  at  seeing  an  English  girl  of  twenty- 
five  write  out  a  cheque  in  her  own  name.  Such  a  thing, 
she  informed  me,  she  had  never  heard  of. 

Such  pecuniary  dependence  is  not  only  galling;  it 
stultifies  and  renders  the  individual  unfit  for  future  conduct 
of  practical  affairs.  How  much,  moreover,  may  daily 
happiness  often  depend  upon  what  look  like  trifles,  among 
these  the  possession  of  a  little  money,  and  upon  the  un- 
fettered use  of  that  little !  But  French  "  old  maids  of 
thirty  "  or  even  more  must  have  no  innocent  little  secrets, 
no  private  generosities,  no  harmless  mysteries.  The 
demoiselle  in  the  eyes  of  her  family  remains  a  perpetual 
minor.  In  a  society  hemmed  round  with  ordinance  and 
traditional  etiquette,  a  young  or  even  middle-aged  woman 
of  rank  and  position  could  not  possibly  set  up  house- 
keeping on  her  own  account.  She  would  be  at  once  set 
down  as  eccentric,  a  kind  of  Bohemian,  and  be  tabooed  by 
society.  And  bringing  up  has  totally  unfitted  her  for  an 
independent  life.  Never  accustomed  to  walk  out  or  travel 
alone,  always  chaperoned  when  paying  visits,  her  reading, 
amusements,  friends  chosen  for  her,  her  notions  of  etiquette 
in  harmony  with  such  restrictions,  no  wonder  that  she 
regards  her  life  as  a  failure,  that  the  convent  or  convent 
pension  are  regarded  as  harbours  of  refuge.  Caprice, 
disappointments,  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  the  belief  in  a 
vocation,  will  induce  many  a  girl  to  take  the  veil  before 
crossing  the  rubicon,  the  twenty- fifth  birthday  dubbing  her 


100          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

as  a  spinster.  And  to  the  old  maid  of  thirty  or  thirty-five 
whose  dowry  or  personal  attractions  have  not  secured  a 
partner,  the  convent  offers  the  cheapest  possible  provision 
for  life.  Ten  thousand  francs,  four  hundred  pounds  paid 
down,  and  the  recluse  is  housed,  fed,  clothed,  and  cared 
for  till  the  end  of  her  days.  Seclusion,  moreover,  is  a  salvo 
to  her  own  dignity.  A  nun  is  no  longer  regarded  in  the 
light  of  une  vieille  fille ;  her  calling  has  not  only  sanctity 
about  it,  but  good  repute.  The  step  is  invariably  approved  of. 

More  especially  is  a  recluse  praised  who  buries  herself 
alive  from  family  considerations,  giving  up  home,  friends, 
individuality,  for  the  sake  perhaps  of  a  younger  sister, 
perhaps  of  a  younger  brother.  We  must  bear  in  mind  the 
fact  that  in  the  upper  ranks,  in  what  is  called  la  soci^t^  no 
girl  has  any  chances  whatever  of  marrying  without  a 
sufficient  dowry.  And  let  us  not  on  this  account  set  down 
all  Frenchmen  of  this  class  as  money-hunters.  Official  and 
professional  incomes  are  a  third  lower  than  with  us,  the 
cost  of  living  as  certainly  a  third  higher.  Thus  it  comes 
about  that  officers  of  rank  and  men  holding  official  positions 
cannot  possibly  set  up  housekeeping  without  additional 
means.  From  the  money  point  of  view  wedlock  must  be 
essentially  a  partnership. 

Realizing  the  absolute  necessity  of  a  dowry,  then,  an 
elder  sister  will  sometimes  betake  herself  to  a  convent  in 
order  that  a  younger  may  make  a  brilliant  or  suitable 
marriage.  Quite  possibly,  also,  she  may  act  thus  on  a 
brother's  behalf,  enabling  him  by  the  same  means  to  add 
to  family  wealth  and  prestige.  No  sacrifice  is  considered 
too  great  for  la  famille  in  France. 

Four  hundred  pounds  is  the  minimum  sum  accepted  by 
religious  houses  as  a  dowry,  which  may,  of  course,  reach 
any  figure.  The  convent  pension  or  boarding-house  is  also 
regarded  as  an  unexceptionable  retreat  for  single  ladies  of 
means  and  gentility.  Expenses  in  such  establishments  are 
moderate,  but  vary  according  to  style  and  accommodation. 


THE   SINGLE   LADY  101 

Here  and  there  devotional  exercises  and  works  of 
charity  are  made  a  career  of  by  rich  single  women  pre- 
ferring to  remain  in  the  world.  Except  at  charity  bazaars 
and  similar  functions,  these  ladies— a  small  minority — are 
seldom  met  with.  You  may,  indeed,  go  into  French 
society  for  years  and  never  encounter  a  single  lady — that 
is  to  say,  one  who  has  grown,  or  is  growing,  old — without 
the  wedding  ring.  To  find  out  what  becomes  of  the 
French  demoiselle  we  must  refer  to  statistics.  In  1900  no 
less  than  sixty-four  thousand  women  were  immured  for 
life  within  convent  walls ! 

A  very  different  train  of  thought  is  called  up  by  a 
glance  at  the  middle  class  and  work-a-day  world.  The 
doctor's  gown  has  long  been  worn  by  Frenchwomen.  Not 
long  since  a  second  Portia  achieved  a  notable  triumph  at 
the  assizes  at  Marseilles.  Lady  solicitors  practise  in 
Paris.  In  country  towns,  as  well  as  in  the  capital,  you 
may  see  the  inscription  on  the  door-plate,  "  Mademoiselle 
So-and-so,  chirurgien-dentiste  "  ("  surgeon-dentist ").  In  a 
little  town  I  know,  Balzac's  favourite  Nemours,  scene  of 
"  Ursule  Mirouet,"  a  young  lady  dentist  and  her  sister  have 
a  flourishing  practice.  French  peasants  and  working  folks 
seldom  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  false  teeth,  but  an  aching 
tooth  is  soon  got  rid  of,  and  for  the  modest  fee  of  two 
francs  mademoiselle  adroitly  manipulates  the  forceps. 
Lady  occulists  may  now  also  be  consulted.  In  the  arena 
of  education,  primary  and  advanced,  Frenchwomen  run 
almost  a  neck  and  neck  race  with  the  other  sex.  Forty- 
three  thousand  women  in  1900  occupied  positions  in  State 
schools,  numbering  only  twenty  thousand  less  than  male 
professors  and  teachers.  By  far  the  larger  number  of  these 
women  teachers  are,  of  course,  unmarried,  and  if  such 
careers  are  neither  brilliant  nor  a  fulfilment  of  youthful 
dreams,  they  are  dignified,  useful,  and  doubtless  often  con- 
tented and  even  happy. 

A   recent  novel  by   a  new  writer  that  I  can  warmly 


102          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

commend  to  all  readers,  "L'Un  vers  1'Autre,"  gives  inter- 
esting glimpses  of  a  girls'  lycee,  or  high  school,  and  a 
group  of  lady  professors.  In  Madame  Th.  Bentzon's  new 
story,  "  Au  dessus  de  1'abime,"  the  same  subject  is  treated 
from  a  different  point  of  view.  Both  volumes  are  highly 
instructive.  Unfortunately,  few  French  novelists  depict 
middle-class  life  as  it  is  in  reality.  Were  such  a  task 
taken  in  hand  by  competent  writers,  our  neighbours,  their 
ways  and  modes  of  thought,  would  not  be  so  often 
grotesquely  misconceived. 

The  youngish  unmarried  lady  doctor,  occulist,  dentist, 
advocate,  or  professor  naturally  enjoys  an  amount  of 
freedom  vainly  sighed  for  by  her  sisters  in  fashionable 
society.  She  reads  what  books  she  pleases,  her  theatre- 
going  is  not  restricted  to  the  Com^die  Fran£aise  and  the 
Ode"on,  acquaintances  of  the  other  sex  may  pay  their 
respects  to  her  when  she  is  at  home  to  friends.  But  the 
freedom  from  restraint  enjoyed  by  English  and  American 
spinsterhood  would  look  subversive,  anarchical,  Nihilistic 
in  French  eyes. 

Some  years  since  I  was  staying  with  friends  at  Nantes 
who  often  invited  the  lady  principal  of  a  technical  school 
for  girls  to  dinner.  Upon  one  occasion  another  habitut 
of  the  house  was  present,  a  man  upwards  of  sixty.  On 

mademoiselle  rising  to  say  good  night,  Monsieur  T 

begged  that  he  might  escort  her  home,  the  house  being  a 
few  minutes  off.  Drawing  herself  up  haughtily,  the  lady 
replied  (she  was  thirty-five  at  least),  "  I  am  greatly  your 
debtor,  monsieur,  but  my  maid  awaits  me  in  the  corridor." 
Imagine  a  middle-aged  lady  not  being  able  to  accept  the 
arm  of  a  fellow-guest  for  a  few  hundred  yards  !  Another 
anecdote  forcibly  brings  out  the  French  mode  of  regarding 
these  matters.  An  American  lady  journalist  living  in  Paris 
told  me  that  one  day  she  received  a  visit  from  a  French 
acquaintance,  rather  friend,  of  the  other  sex,  a  busy 
man,  who  had  most  kindly  found  time  to  help  her  in 


THE   SINGLE   LADY  103 

some  literary  transactions.  The  pair  were  both  middle- 
aged,  the  lady  being  slightly  older  than  her  visitor.  By 
the  time  the  business  in  hand  had  been  discussed  dinner 
was  ready,  Miss  S keeping  her  own  bonne,  and  occupy- 
ing a  pretty  little  flat. 

"  Why  not  stay  and  partake  ?  "  she  asked,  surely  a  very 
natural  invitation  under  the  circumstances ! 

For  a  moment  the  other  hesitated,  the  invitation 
evidently  tempted  ;  then  in  a  semi-paternal  tone  he  asked 
her  if  she  had  ever  entertained  friends  of  the  other  sex 
before.  On  her  reply  in  the  negative,  he  shook  her  hand 
in  the  friendliest  fashion,  saying,  "  Then  be  advised  by 
me  and  do  not  begin." 

This  gentleman  had  doubtless  in  his  mind  the  ever- 
prying  eye  and  ofttimes  too  ready  tongue  of  the  concierge 
or  portress  of  Parisian  blocks,  an  encroacher  upon  privacy 
fortunately  unknown  among  ourselves.  The  janitrix  of 
French  doorways  is  not  a  popular  personage,  and  youngish 
ladies  living  alone  are  especially  subject  to  inquisitorial 
observation.  As  a  rule  the  French  single  lady  never  does 
live  alone.  She  boards  with  some  other  member  of  her 
family  or  with  friends,  the  strictest  etiquette  guiding  every 
action. 

The  Portias,  ^sculapias,  and  lady  graduates  in  letters 
and  science  naturally  do  not  make  the  cloister  their  retreat 
in  advancing  years.  For  single  women  of  very  small 
means,  the  rentihe  or  annuitant  of  a  thousand  or  two 
francs,  in  certain  country  towns  we  find  what  is  called  Une 
Maison  de  Retraite,  or  associated  home.  One  of  these  I 
visited  some  time  since  at  Rheims.  This  establishment, 
which  is  under  municipal  patronage,  offers  rooms,  board, 
attendance,  laundress,  and  even  a  small  plot  of  garden,  for 
sums  varying  from  sixteen  to  twenty-four  pounds  per 
inmate,  the  second  sum,  of  course,  ensuring  better  rooms 
and  more  liberal  fare.  Special  arrangements  are  made  for 
unmarried  ladies.  Whether  they  like  it  or  no,  they  are 


104          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

expected  to  take  their  meals  in  a  separate  dining-room 
The  advantages  of  such  a  system  in  France  are  very 
great,  single  women  of  small  means  being  thus  afforded 
protection  and  immunity  from  household  cares.  Except 
that  the  lodge  gates  are  closed  at  ten  o'clock  p.m.,  personal 
liberty  is  not  interfered  with.  Needless  to  say  that  no 
breath  of  scandal  must  reach  these  precincts.  Only 
immaculate  respectability  possesses  an  Open  Sesame.  My 
impression  was  one  of  prevailing  cheerfulness  and  content. 
But  the  plan  would  never  answer  in  England.  The  insular 
character  rebels  against  restrictions,  however  well-inten- 
tioned, and  where  could  be  found  scores  and  scores  of 
petites  rentier es,  professional  women  and  governesses,  whose 
earnings  and  economy  have  ensured  them  an  income  in 
old  age  ?  Further,  Englishwomen  can  live  alone,  French- 
women cannot  do  so.  A  series  of  delightful  old  maids 
have  been  rendered  immortal  by  later  English  novelists. 
Our  confreres  of  the  other  sex  over  the  water,  from  Balzac 
downward,  often  seem  to  regard  spinsterhood  as  a  veritable 
crime. 

It  remains  for  some  new  writer  to  rehabilitate  this 
section  of  the  beau  sexe,  to  portray  those  types  of  woman- 
hood described  by  the  late  Lord  Shaftesbury  as  "  adorable 
old  maids." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  DOMESTIC   HELP 

OUR  neighbours  have  adopted  the  word  " comfort- 
able" without,  at  least  in  an  insular  sense, 
acclimatizing  the  thing.  And  here  it  may  be 
as  well  to  mention  that  whilst  Gallicizing  this  adjective 
they  were  but  borrowing  what  belonged  to  them.  Con- 
fortable,  naturalized  by  the  French  Academy  in  1878,  is 
a  derivative  of  the  English  "comfortable,"  but  "comfort- 
able "  in  its  turn  is  a  derivative  of  the  old  French  verb 
conforter — to  comfort  spiritually  or  morally,  to  impart 
courage.  Thus  Corneille  wrote,  "  Dieu  conforta  cette  ame 
desolee,"  "God  comforted  that  desolate  soul." 

Le  confortable,  now  so  frequent  on  French  lips,  is  used 
strictly  in  a  material  sense,  implying  the  conveniences 
of  life  and  the  enjoyment  of  well-being  generally.  How 
widely  standards  of  material  comfort  differ  in  the  two 
countries  is  forcibly  brought  home  to  us  by  the  con- 
dition of  the  domestic  help.  In  France  both  sexes 
betake  themselves  to  household  work  much  more  readily 
than  with  us.  The  valet  de  chambre,  or  chamberman,  is 
wholly  unknown  on  this  side  of  the  water.  That  domestic 
service  is  popular,  the  enormous  number  of  young  French- 
women who  seek  situations  here  as  nursemaids  and  ladies' 
maids  abundantly  proves.  Expatriation  is  not  only  dis- 
tasteful to  the  French  mind,  it  is  positively  loathsome  ; 
yet  the  supply  of  French  domestic  servants  must  be  con- 
siderably in  excess  of  the  demand,  And  it  is  by  no  means 

105 


106          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

English  comfort  that  attracts.  Provided  these  reluctant 
strangers  within  our  gates  get  good  wages  and  good  food, 
they  are  utterly  indifferent  to  what  are  looked  upon  as 
absolute  necessaries  by  their  English  fellows.  Paradoxi- 
cally enough,  servants'  comfort  is  the  last  thing  thought 
of  in  democratic  France,  The  cosy,  curtained,  carpeted 
sitting-room  of  our  own  cooks  and  housemaids,  the  sofa 
on  which  they  can  stretch  weary  limbs,  the  bedrooms 
furnished  every  whit  as  comfortably  as  their  employers', 
the  bathrooms  at  their  disposal — all  these  are  non-existent ; 
and  so  ineradicable  is  force  of  habit  that  I  doubt  very 
much  if  the  introduction  of  any  would  be  much  appreciated. 
In  private  hotels  and  the  more  spacious  flats  of  Paris 
servants  sleep  under  the  master's  roof;  they  have  also  a 
room  for  meals  called  I'office,  but  in  nowise  answering  to 
our  servants'  hall  or  sitting-room.  The  office  is  a  bare, 
uncarpeted,  uncurtained  apartment,  containing  long  table 
and  upright  chairs,  against  the  walls  being  huge  linen 
presses  and  cupboards  containing  china  and  cutlery.  But 
the  bonne,  or  maid-of-all-work,  in  even  a  fair-sized  and 
expensive  flat,  lives  under  conditions  that  Miss  Slowboy 
would  have  found  intolerable.  I  speak  with  the  authority 
of  oft-renewed  experience,  having  stayed  in  many  boarding- 
houses  and  private  flats  in  the  eighth  and  seventeenth 
arrondissements,  both  handsome,  modern,  and  rtchercht 
quarters.  The  kitchens  could  only  be  called  mere  slips  ; 
to  dignify  them  by  any  other  name  were  a  misnomer. 
Just  room  had  been  allowed  for  two  chairs,  on  which  the 
one  or  two  servants  could  sit  down  to  meals,  no  more. 
But  if  comfort  was  out  of  the  question  downstairs,  equally 
absent  was  it  from  the  attic  where  they  slept  in  the  roof, 
stiflingly  hot  in  summer,  bitterly  cold  during  winter,  and, 
worse  of  all,  tiny  compartment  of  a  thickly  populated 
beehive.  Not  only  are  domestic  servants,  thus  housed,  but 
shop  assistants  and  others,  with  what  dire  results  we  may 
imagine. 


THE   DOMESTIC   HELP  107 

"Terrible  indeed  is  the  condition  of  country  girls 
who  come  to  Paris  as  maids-of-all-work,"  a  Parisian  friend 
observed  to  me  the  other  day.  "  Drudging  from  morning 
till  night,  half  a  day's  holiday  once  a  month,  no  other 
holidays  throughout  the  year  ;  most  often  shut  out  of  their 
employer's  flat  at  night.  This  class  is  much  to  be  pitied. 
But  come  to  Paris  these  girls  will,  tempted  by  better 
wages." 

And  the  daughter  of  this  lady,  being  shown,  on  her 
visit  to  England,  the  comfortable  bedroom  and  cosy, 
carpeted,  curtained  kitchen,  with  easy-chair  of  an  English 
"general,"  could  hardly  believe  her  eyes.  I  have  said 
elsewhere  our  neighbours  of  all  classes  are  very  indifferent 
to  what  in  England  is  called  comfort.  Details  regarded 
as  strict  necessaries  here,  over  the  water  are  luxuries, 
indulgences,  often  fads. 

On  the  other  hand,  domestic  servants  in  France  enjoy 
a  laisser  aller  unknown  with  ourselves.     Take  the  matter 
of  uniform,  for    instance.      The  scrupulously  neat   black 
dress  with  speckless  white  apron  and  coquettish  cap  of  our 
parlourmaids,  the  neat  prints  of  our  housemaids,  the  white 
dresses  of   our  nursemaids,  could   never  be  attained   by 
French  housewives.     If  their  domestic  staff,  according  to 
insular  notions,  has  a  good  deal  to  complain  of  as  far  as 
comfort  goes,  this  comparative  ease  and  unceremoniousness 
is   doubtless    an    adequate    compensation.      A  femme  de 
chambre  who  helps  the  manservant  in  the  housework,  and 
at   the  same  time  acts  as  ladies'  maid,  dresses  precisely 
as  she  pleases.    She  may  be  very  particular  or  the  reverse  ; 
no  notice  is  taken  of  her  personal  appearance.     The  scru- 
pulosity exacted  of  our  neat-handed  Phyllises  would  drive 
Jeanne  or  Marie  mad.     Nor   is  nonchalance  confined  to 
dress   and  outward   nicety.     Accustomed   as  they  are  to 
make  themselves  at  home,  French  servants  must  find  the 
atmosphere  of  an  English  home  somewhat  chilling.     The 
free  and  easy  existence  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel 


108          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

is  much  dearer  to  them  than  the  comforts  with  which  they 
are  surrounded  here.  "Liberty,  equality,  fraternity"  is  a 
watchword  that  applies  to  the  tongue  as  well  as  to  laws 
and  liberties  in  France.  The  privilege  of  making  as  much 
noise  as  one  pleases  is  much  more  valued  than  that  of 
spacious  dining-rooms,  easy-chairs,  and  comfortable  sleeping 
accommodation. 

In  country  houses  I  should  say  matters  remain  much 
as  they  were  when  Arthur  Young  made  his  wonderful  tour 
of  France  a  hundred  and  fifteen  years  ago.  The  woman 
servant's  bedroom  is  often  a  mere  niche  in  the  kitchen. 
Dear  old  Justine  of  Burgundian  memory !  Many  a 
time  have  I  seen  you  perform  your  simple  toilette  for 
mass  undisturbed  by  the  passing  to  and  fro  of  mistress, 
master,  young  master,  and  guest  Justine's  bedroom  was 
a  little  chamber  in  the  kitchen  wall,  rather  an  alcove  a 
trifle  wider  than  the  recess  of  recumbent  statue  in  church 
or  cathedral.  Now,  the  kitchen  led  to  the  back  door, 
and  the  back  door  opened  on  to  the  high-road  a  stone's 
throw  from  church  and  village.  It  was,  indeed,  the  most 
frequented  portion  of  the  house.  Here  the  gentlemen 
prepared  for  their  day's  chase  in  the  forest,  and  here  the 
household  assembled  on  Sunday  morning  before  starting 
in  a  body  for  church. 

The  midday  meal  would  be  left  to  cook  itself,  so,  having 
carefully  deposited  her  potatoes  in  the  wood  embers,  and 
her  potte  or  savoury  mess  of  meat  and  vegetables  on  the 
hob,  Justine  would  step  on  to  her  bed,  and  unceremoniously 
don  her  black  stuff  gown,  clean  mob  cap  and  kerchief, 
exchange  carpet  slippers  for  well-blacked  shoon,  and  even 
sometimes  replace  one  pair  of  coarse  white  stockings  by 
another.  No  one  paid  any  attention  whatever  to  the  dear 
blue-eyed,  rosy-cheeked,  childishly  simple  old  thing  close 
upon  seventy,  whose  life  from  childhood  upwards  had  been 
spent  in  the  family.  For  many  years  Justine's  wages  had 
been  £6  yearly ;  this  sum  gradually  increased  to 


M.  I.E  PREFET  REWARDS  LONG  SERVICE 
(A  scene  from  "  Macta»ic  Rovary"  ) 


THE  DOMESTIC   HELP  109 

dare  say  New  Year's  gifts  making  up  £5  more.  But  at 
£10  the  wages  stopped,  and  so  well  had  Justine  husbanded 
her  resources  that  regularly  as  her  employers  she  received 
her  dividend  in  State  rentes. 

It  would  have  been  interesting  to  learn  the  sum-total 
of  Justine's  earnings  during  her  long  service.  A  few  years 
ago  the  faithful  old  servant  went  to  her  rest,  dying  under 
her  master's  roof,  her  hard-earned  savings  going  to  a  some- 
what unsatisfactory  daughter — alas !  a  much  too  common 
story  in  France.  The  mere  fact  of  hoarding  is  often  the 
only  enjoyment  of  the  hoarder.  Justine  belonged  to  a 
type  fast  disappearing.  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  the 
faithful  old  servants  Balzac  delighted  to  portray — the 
Nanons,  Gasselins,  and  Mariottes — are  already  obsolete. 
Even  in  Justine's  days  bonnets  were  fast  superseding  the 
traditionary  coiffe,  and  in  France,  as  in  England,  cooks 
and  housemaids  began  to  be  agog  for  change.  I  do  not 
know  if  such  is  still  the  case,  but  twenty-five  years  ago, 
in  spacious  flats  of  large  provincial  cities,  the  servant's 
bedroom  was  often  the  kitchen.  Soon  after  the  Franco- 
Prussian  war  I  wintered  at  Nantes  with  the  widow  of  a 
late  Prefet.  Besides  very  large  dining  and  drawing  rooms, 
there  were  four  or  five  good  bedchambers  in  my  hostess's 
handsome  flat ;  yet  our  nice  Bretonne,  the  cook,  slept 
and  performed  her  toilet  in  a  recess  of  what  was  both 
cook-room  and  scullery. 

As  all  travellers  in  France  know,  the  peasants  have  often 
four-posters  in  their  kitchens — these  of  enormous  propor- 
tions, and  placed  in  alcoves,  two  sometimes  facing  each 
other.  The  habit  has  doubtless  arisen  partly  from  the 
excessive  cold  of  French  winters,  partly,  in  former  days, 
from  fear  of  marauders.  But  in  the  more  progressive 
districts  the  custom  is  fast  dying  out.  No  rich  peasant 
builds  himself  a  house  at  the  present  time  without  adding 
good  airy  bedrooms.  More  particularly  is  pride  taken  in  a 
sightly  staircase,  a  feature  of  domestic  architecture  formerly 


110          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

represented  by  the  outside  ladder  leading  to  hayloft  or 
harness-room. 

A  good-natured  indifference  to  what  is  called  comfort 
in  English  eyes  characterizes  French  country  life  generally. 
Folks  so  far  from  being  fastidious  about  themselves  are 
not  likely  to  pamper  their  households.  A  stockman  boarded 
by  wealthy  landowners  I  know,  shares  the  sleeping  accom- 
modation of  his  beeves,  having  for  bedstead  a  wooden  shelf 
adjoining  the  neat-house  ;  for  bed,  plenty  of  straw.  Alike 
men  and  women  servants  kept  in  large  farmhouses  perform 
their  ablutions  at  the  pump — hardly,  perhaps,  with  the 
thoroughness  and  gusto  of  Trooper  George  ! 

Once  more,  to  recall  the  immortal  picture-gallery,  I  may 
mention  that  even  France,  the  country  above  all  others  "rich 
in  all-saving  common  sense,"  has  its  Mrs.  Jellabys.  One 
philanthropic  lady  I  knew  made  over  her  considerable 
fortune  to  the  town  she  inhabited,  constituting  herself  a 
municipal  annuitant,  The  property  was  to  be  ultimately 
laid  out  in  a  training  farm  and  dairy  school  for  Protestant 
and  Catholic  orphan  girls.  It  happened  that  a  newly 
engaged  lady  companion  and  housekeeper  suggested  the 
desirability  of  water-jugs  and  hand-basins  for  the  indoor 
servants — cook,  housemaid,  and  man-of-all-work,  who 
waited  at  table,  drove  the  brougham,  and  made  himself 
generally  useful.  The  benevolent  chatelaine  at  first  laughed 
the  notion  to  scorn.  "  Toilette  services  for  domestics ! 
Whoever  heard  of  such  a  thing !  "  she  cried,  finally  allowing 
herself  to  be  inveigled  into  the  startling  innovation.  This 
happened  twenty  years  ago,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  in 
out-of-the-way  country  places  the  primitiveness  of  Madame 
G 's  arrangements  might  still  be  matched. 

One  side  of  this  general  laisser  aller  in  France  would 
be  much  appreciated  by  many  housewives  here.  There 
is  no  punctilious  differentiation  of  labour  among  French 
servants — at  least,  none  to  be  compared  with  that  prevailing 
in  England.  The  scrupulosity  of  our  ladylike  Ethels  and 


THE   DOMESTIC   HELP  111 

Mabels  in  black  dresses  and  white  streamers  is  wanting; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  Louise  and  Pauline  are  much  less 
fussy,  stand  less  upon  their  dignity,  and  in  emergencies  prove 
more  useful,  being  generally  able  to  turn  their  hands  to 
anything.  Again,  Louise  and  Pauline  are  less  ambitious, 
exacting,  and  flighty.  They  do  not  require  fixed  hours  for 
pianoforte  or  mandoline  lessons,  cycling,  or  walks  with 
young  men.  Indeed,  etiquette  is  as  strict  among  well-con- 
ducted women  servants  as  among  ladies  moving  in  society. 
A  respectable  French  girl  occupying  a  good  place  would 
never  dream"  of  going  to  a  music-hall  or  any  other  place  of 
entertainment  with  her  betrothed  only ;  some  member  of 
her  family  or  friend  must  accompany  them.  And  the  lover 
of  a  well-conducted  maidservant  in  France  is  invariably 
her  betrothed — no  mere  hanger-on,  changed  on  the  slightest 
provocation.  Sober  of  dress  and  behaviour,  by  no  means 
wedded  to  routine,  usually  excessively  obliging,  the  French 
bonne  or  femme  de  chambre  often  possesses  qualities  that 
compensate  for  English  fastidiousness  and  attention  to 
detail.  But  it  is  in  the  essential,  the  palmary  characteristic 
of  the  nation  that  domestic  servants  shine.  Not  for 
pleasure's  sake,  not  in  order  to  dress  according  to  the  very 
latest  fashion,  not  that  the  eyes  of  some  amorous  swain 
may  be  dazzled,  does  a  Louise  or  a  Pauline  put  up  with 
what  is  ofttimes  excessively  laborious  service.  One  object, 
and  one  only,  is  ever  before  their  eyes,  those  of  a  marks- 
man no  more  intently  fixed  upon  the  target.  These  deft- 
handed,  brisk  French  girls,  fortunately  for  themselves,  are 
utterly  without  sentimentality  or  false  pride.  Their  dream 
is  eminently  practical,  their  life's  aim,  not  the  stockingful 
of  their  ancestors,  but  instead  a  respectable  account  with 
that  universal  banker  of  French  folks — the  State.  Very 
likely,  as  in  Justine's  case,  saving  for  saving's  sake  may  be 
the  only  reward  of  lifelong  drudgery.  Between  virtues 
and  foibles  the  partition  as  often  as  not  is  a  mere  Japanese 
wall — a  sheet  of  thread-paper.  Frugality  degenerates  into 


112          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

avarice ;  the  inestimable  quality  of  thrift  becomes  sordid- 
ness. 

Here  is  a  telling  instance  in  point.  A  few  years  ago 
the  chatelaine  of  a  fine  chateau  in  northern  France  took 
me  for  a  day  or  two  to  her  winter  residence  in  the  pro- 
vincial capital.  A  former  woman  servant,  now  elderly, 
acted  as  caretaker  of  the  spacious  hotel,  vacating  it  when 
the  family  returned  in  November.  "  You  know  France  so 
well  that  you  will  easily  believe  what  I  am  going  to  tell 
you,"  observed  my  hostess.  "Yonder  good  woman  has 
property  bringing  in  two  hundred  pounds  a  year,  yet  for 
the  sake  of  earning  a  little  more  to  add  to  it  she  takes 
charge  of  our  house  throughout  the  winter,  living  absolutely 
alone  and  doing  what  work  is  necessary." 

In  England  a  superannuated  cook  or  housekeeper  so 
situated  would,  of  course,  settle  down  in  a  tiny  semi- 
detached villa,  keep  a  neat  maid,  and  sit  down  to  afternoon 
tea  in  a  black  silk  gown.  Other  countries,  other  ideals ! 
Although  the  Balzacian  types  have  all  but  disappeared, 
good  servants  here  and  there  grow  grey  in  good  places.  A 
stay  of  ten,  fifteen,  or  even  twenty  years  under  the  same 
roof  is  not  unknown.  And  the  criterion  of  a  good  place  is 
the  facility  it  affords  for  putting  by ;  comfort,  leisure, 
holidays  count  for  very  little.  Wages,  New  Year's  gifts, 
and  perquisites  stand  before  every  other  consideration. 
The  lightening  of  M.  Thiers'  herculean  task  in  paying  off 
the  Prussian  war  indemnity  is  generally  attributed  to  the 
peasant.  But  the  amount  of  money  invested  by  domestic 
servants  must  be  colossal.  I  should  accredit  cooks  and 
housemaids,  footmen  and  valets  de  c/tambre,  with  a  large 
share  of  that  astounding  settlement.  Many  a  Tilly  Slow- 
boy,  even  a  Marchioness,  doubtless  had  a  hand  in  the 
patriotic  scoring-off.  Let  us,  then,  not  too  harshly  judge  a 
weakness  that  English  people,  alas !  are  guileless  of — 
namely,  care  over-much  for  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER  XII 

MESSIEURS  LES   DEPUTES 

THE  tricolour  scarf  of  the  French  depute1  confers 
privileges  that  may  well  make  their  brother  legis- 
lators here  green  with  envy.  His  services  are 
remunerated  almost  as  liberally  as  those  of  a  general  or  a 
bishop  ;  he  travels  first  class  free  of  charge  on  French  rail- 
ways ;  whenever  a  review  is  given  in  honour  of  imperial  or 
royal  guests,  with  senators  and  diplomats  he  enjoys  the 
privilege  of  a  special  train,  stand,  and  refreshment  booth,  his 
wife  and  daughter  being  included  in  the  invitation.  State 
functions,  metropolitan  and  provincial  celebrations,  the 
entrte  of  the  Elysee,  are  enjoyed  by  him,  to  say  nothing  of 
prestige  and  authority  ;  last,  but  not  least,  the  much- 
coveted  advantage  of  une  existence  assurte,  in  other  words, 
a  fixed  income.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Quay  d'Orsay 
exercises  magnetic  influence,  attracting  recruits  alike  from 
learned,  commercial,  and  rural  ranks,  and  that  politics 
indeed  should  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  profession  ? 

"  Have  you  professional  politicians  in  England  ? "  a 
Frenchman  once  asked  me.  I  replied  in  the  negative. 
Certainly  we  have  no  professional  politicians  as  the  terms 
are  understood  over  the  water. 

A  deputy's  pay  is  nine  thousand  francs,  just  £360.  The 
sum  of  ten  francs  (8^.)  is  deducted  monthly,  and  in  return 
he  receives  what  is  called  une  carte  de  circulation,  by  virtue 
of  which  he  is  franked  on  every  railway  line  throughout 
France,  the  sums  deducted  being  made  over  to  the  railway 
companies.  This  concession  dates  from  1882  only.  The 
i  113 


114          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

payment  of  members  was  regulated  by  Articles  96  and  97 
of  the  Constitution,  March,  1849,  and  confirmed  in  February, 
1872. 

A  seat  in  the  Chamber,  therefore,  secures  the  average 
income  of  a  professional  man  or  civil  servant  in  France. 

Politics  do  not  involve  any  sacrifice  of  material  interests, 
rather  the  reverse.  Hence  it  comes  about  that  active 
careers  are  frequently  exchanged  for  the  role  of  legislator, 
and  that  many  don  the  tricolour  scarf  as  the  soldier  his 
uniform  and  the  advocate  his  gown.  The  former  must  work 
hard  and  wait  long  before  attaining  the  grade  that  entitles 
him  to  similar  emoluments,  and  the  latter  must  take  count- 
less turns  in  the  Salle  des  Pas  Perdus  before  he  is  equally 
fortunate.  Doctors,  too,  in  country  places,  most  of  them 
begin  to  turn  grey  ere  earning  deputy's  pay. 

The  heterogeneous  composition  of  the  French  Chamber 
thus  becomes  explicable.  We  need  no  longer  wonder  at 
the  fact  that  hardly  a  calling  but  is  here  represented. 

In  the  sum-total  of  five  hundred  and  ninety-one  actual 
members  we  find  soldiers,  sailors,  civil  engineers,  medical 
men,  veterinary  surgeons  and  chemists,  priests,  philosophers, 
mathematicians,  professors  and  librarians,  architects,  archae- 
ologists, painters,  etchers  and  engravers,  academicians,  his- 
torians, political  economists,  dramatists,  men  of  letters  and 
journalists,  bankers,  distillers,  manufacturers,  ironmasters, 
agriculturists  and  wine-growers,  "  sportsmen  "  thus  cate- 
gorized, explorers  and  merchant  captains,  shoemakers, 
village  schoolmasters,  stonemasons,  potters,  compositors, 
miners,  mechanics,  and  lastly,  cabaretiers,  or  publicans. 

Nor  is  the  variety  of  political  groups  hardly  less  note- 
worthy than  that  of  rank  or  calling.  Here  are  the  different 
parties  represented  in  the  present  Chamber :  Republican, 
qualified  by  the  following  terms — radical,  revolutionary, 
revisionist,  nationalist,  anti-ministerial,  plebiscitaire,  anti- 
semite,  moderate,  socialist,  progressive,  liberal,  independant, 
Catholic,  conservative,  radical-socialist,  socialist-collectivist, 


MESSIEURS   LES   DEPUTES        115 

Christian-revisionist,  Blanquists,  patriote-re volution ary,  in- 
dependent, parliamentary,  and  a  further  group  under  the 
head  of  action  liberal. 

Among  the  miscellaneous  labels  we  find  adherents  of 
the  Union  ctimocratique  and  of  the  Appel  au  Peuple,  royalist, 
Liberal  Right  Conservative,  Conservative  rallie,  Nationalist 
pltbiscitaire,  anti-semite,  and  members  of  the  Rtforme  Par- 
Umentaire.  Thus  composed,  it  might  seem  matter  for 
wonder,  not  that  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  is  so  often  a 
scene  of  wildly  divergent  opinion,  rather  that  concord  should 
ever  reign  within  its  walls.  We  must  bear  in  mind  Thiers' 
famous  axiom.  The  Republic  is  the  form  of  government 
that  divides  Frenchmen  the  least.  The  French  temperament 
is  naturally  far  too  critical  to  be  satisfied  with  anything. 
The  critical  faculty  dominates  every  other. 

It  strikes  an  English  observer  oddly  to  discern  tonsured 
heads  and  priestly  robes  on  the  legislator's  bench  at  the 
Quai  d'Orsay.  In  England  our  ecclesiastic  must  become 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  a  civilian  before  entering  the 
House  of  Commons. 

Not  so  in  France.  From  the  assemblage  of  the  Tiers 
Etat  until  our  own  day  ministers  of  religion  have  been 
elected  as  parliamentary  representatives.  In  1789  some 
of  the  leading  spirits  of  the  National  Assembly  were  Pro- 
testant pastors.  A  priest,  the  celebrated  Abbe"  Gr^goire, 
voted  for  extension  of  civil  rights  to  Jews  and  the  abolition 
of  slavery  throughout  the  French  dominions. 

Ministers  of  the  Reformed  faith  no  longer  seek  election 
as  parliamentary  representatives  ;  but  Catholic  priests  have 
not  as  yet  followed  their  example.  The  priest  does  not 
unfrock  himself  when  he  dons  the  tricolour  badge ;  he 
retains  his  ecclesiastical  character,  but  forfeits  the  stipend 
of  abbt  or  vicaire.  Candidates  for  the  legislature  are 
generally  what  is  called  pretres  libres,  that  is  to  say,  men 
who  have  held  no  sacerdotal  office  paid  for  by  the  State. 

Two  priests  sit  in  the  present  Chamber;  the  first  of 


116          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

these,  the  Abbd  Gayraud,  who  describes  himself  as  a 
Republicain  Catholique*  represents  a  constituency  of  Brest, 
was  formerly  professor  of  theology  and  scholastic  philo- 
sophy at  the  Catholic  University  of  Toulouse.  The  second, 
the  Abbe  Lemrie,  represents  an  electoral  division  of  Haze- 
brouch  (Nord),  and  was  also  formerly  a  professor  in  the 
Institution  St.  Francois  d'Assise  of  that  town.  A  Christian 
Socialist,  the  abbe  has  written  many  works  on  the  subject. 

When  it  is  considered  that  the  fee  of  a  country  doctor 
is  two  francs,  we  need  hardly  wonder  that,  irrespective 
of  other  considerations,  the  practice  of  medicine  is  fre- 
quently exchanged  for  politics.  No  less  than  fifty-three 
doctors  sit  in  the  actual  Chamber,  many  of  these  being 
former  mayors  of  their  town  or  commune,  many  also 
authors  of  medical  works.  One  eccentric  figure  of  the 
Chamber  in  1897  was  a  certain  Dr.  Granier,  member  for 
Pontarlier.  This  gentleman  had  been  converted  to 
Mohammedanism  in  Algeria,  and  before  entering  the  Palais, 
by  performing  the  ablutions  prescribed  by  ritual  in  the 
Seine.  The  doctor  was  somewhat  ruthlessly  unseated  for 
preaching  teetotalism.  As  an  orthodox  follower  of  Islam, 
probably  also  as  an  enlightened  philanthropist,  he  began 
a  veritable  crusade  against  alcoholism.  As  the  electorate 
of  his  arrondissement  consisted  largely  of  absinthe  distillers 
and  their  work-people,  the  result  might  have  been  foreseen. 

Chemists  to  the  number  of  eight  keep  science  in 
countenance ;  journalism  is  represented  by  forty-one 
members  ;  the  army  by  forty-two  retired  officers ;  and  no 
less  than  a  hundred  and  seventy-three  avocats,  avouts, 
and  notaires  represent  the  law.  Surely  in  no  other  parlia- 
ment are  so  many  legists  got  together ! 

If  medicine  and  the  law  are  occasionally  renounced  in 
favour  of  politics  as  a  profession,  it  would  seem  that  legal 
and  medical  parliamentarians  are  generally  men  of  local 
distinction  or  prominence.  Most  often  a  long  string  of 

*  See  "Nos  Deputes,"  Paris,  1904. 


MESSIEURS   LES   DEPUTES        117 

dignities  and  titles  follows  their  name  ;  they  are,  or  have 
been,  prtfets,  mayors,  conseillers  gMraux,  presidents  of 
commercial  associations  and  societies,  political,  artistic, 
and  philanthropic  ;  many  are  also  authors. 

The  same  may  be  said  of  the  numerous  landed  pro- 
prietors sitting  in  the  Chamber — one  and  all  seem  busiest 
of  the  busy,  to  have  earned  their  seats  by  the  performance 
of  unremitting  local  services. 

The  Reformed  Church,  as  I  have  said,  is  no  longer 
represented  in  the  Palais  Bourbon.  As  in  the  little  hand- 
book before  named  denominations  are  not  given,  I  have 
no  means  of  apportioning  the  sum-total  under  the  heads  of 
Catholic,  Protestant,  or  Jew. 

It  may  be  asked,  "  Do  French  people  uphold  the  pay- 
ment of  members  ?  "  My  reply  is,  "  Not  all."  On  this 
subject  a  friend  over  the  water  lately  expressed  himself 
to  me  in  somewhat  strong  terms.  Politics,  he  averred, 
should  not  be  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  profession,  a 
livelihood.  It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  the 
senators  are  in  receipt  of  deputy's  pay,  that  is  to  say 
three  hundred  and  sixty  pounds  a  year. 

In  one  respect  certainly  they  manage  these  things 
better  in  France.  A  sitting  of  the  Chamber  can  be  as 
much  enjoyed  by  ladies  as  by  the  other  sex.  Stuffiness 
on  hot  days  within  its  walls  reminds  one  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  but  in  this  respect  onlookers  are  no  worse  off 
than  legislators.  The  accommodation  for  visitors,  especially 
lady  visitors,  is  generous  in  the  extreme. 

The  interior  of  the  Palais  Bourbon  is  an  amphitheatre, 
galleries  for  visitors  and  members'  pens  or  boxes  facing  the 
orators'  tribunes,  President's  chair  and  table  above  The 
two  galleries,  running  to  right  and  left,  are  divided  into 
loges,  or  boxes,  each  holding  about  a  dozen  people,  and  the 
two  first  rows  are  gallantly  reserved  for  ladies.  Seated  at 
our  ease  we  undoubtedly  are,  but  as  on  especially  interest- 
ing occasions  gentlemen  are  freely  admitted  to  standing 


118          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

room  behind  these  loges,  the  atmosphere  becomes  stifling. 
But  the  discomfort  is  amply  rewarded  even  on  uneventful 
days.  On  the  occasion  of  my  own  visit  in  1900  it  was 
M.  Paul  Deschanel,  le  beau  Deschanel,  as  he  was  called, 
whose  office  it  was  to  occupy  the  Presidential  chair,  con- 
stantly ring  his  big  silver  bell,  and,  failing  that  expedient, 
to  hammer  on  the  table  with  a  ruler  and  shout,  "Le 
silence,  le  silence,  s'il  vous  plait." 

Nothing  of  great  interest  or  importance  was  going  on, 
but  the  heat  was  torrid.  Members  very  likely  wanted  to 
have  their  say  and  rush  off  to  the  Exhibition  ;  anyhow, 
M.  Paul  Deschanel's  silver  bell  and  his  ruler  were  perpetu- 
ally in  request.  Below  the  Presidential  table  and  the 
orator's  tribune  were  grouped  the  ushers,  tall,  gentlemanly 
looking  individuals  in  blue  dress-coats,  wearing  silver  chains 
of  office  and  swords. 

Votes  are  taken  by  members  first  holding  up  their 
hands  affirmatively,  next  negatively,  the  voting  urns  being 
only  used  when  important  measures  are  proposed.  These 
urns  are  then  handed  round  to  the  deputies  by  the  ushers 
as  they  sit  in  their  places,  the  results  being  afterwards 
made  known  by  the  President. 

The  handsome  Palais  Bourbon  was  begun  by  Girardini, 
an  Italian,  in  1722,  for  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon,  and  com- 
pleted and  enlarged  by  French  architects  a  century  later. 
The  interior  is  well  worth  visiting  in  detail. 

The  present  Chamber,  eighth  legislative  body  of  the 
Third  Republic,  was  elected  in  April,  1902,  and  on  June  i 
was  composed  the  so  called  bureau  d'dge,  the  president 
being  the  oldest  deputy  present.  If  Frenchwomen  ever 
obtain  seats  in  the  Palais  Bourbon,  this  dignity  will  certainly 
be  abolished.  The  actual  president  of  the  bureau  d'dge  is 
eighty-two. 

It  may  here  be  mentioned  that  under  no  previous  form 
of  government  has  suffrage  been  both  universal  and  direct. 
During  the  various  parliamentary  regimes  of  the  Revolution, 


MESSIEURS   LES   DEPUTES        119 

as  M.  Rambaud  points  out,  manhood  suffrage  existed,  but 
with  certain  restrictions.  Under  the  Consulate  and  the 
first  Empire  freedom  of  vote  ceased  to  exist,  the  so-called 
representatives  of  the  people  being  mere  nominees  of  the 
Government. 

The  Restoration  and  July  monarchy  allowed  a  restricted 
parliamentary  franchise  only,  whilst  the  system  of  official 
candidatures  under  the  second  Empire  nullified  what 
was  nominally  manhood  suffrage.  I  add  that  in  1870 
electoral  rights  were  granted  to  the  Jews  of  Algeria.  As 
is  seen  in  another  chapter,  the  legislation  of  the  last 
twenty  years  has  been  eminently  progressive,  especially 
with  regard  to  education.  There  is,  indeed,  henceforth  to 
be  an  educational  fete  held  yearly  in  Paris,  a  second 
anniversary  certainly  no  less  worthy  of  commemoration 
than  July  14. 

On  June  19,  1872,  was  presented  to  the  assembly,  then 
sitting  at  Versailles,  a  petition  signed  by  over  a  million 
citizens,  for  free,  universal,  and  non-sectarian  education. 
Ten  years  later  the  great  Ferry  laws  carried  out  this  pro- 
gramme in  its  entirety.  The  former  date  was  lately 
celebrated  in  the  Trocadero  with  great  tclat,  the  President 
of  the  Republic  and  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction 
being  present  at  the  inauguration. 

Thus  Lex  henceforth  is  to  have  a  deservedly  foremost 
place  in  the  Republican  calendar. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   OFFICER 

ON  a  certain  day  during  the  Carnot  Presidency,  the 
aspect  of  French  streets  changed  as  if  by  magic. 
Squads  of  raw  recruits  in  their  economical,  oft- 
times  ill-fitting  uniforms  still  met  the  eye,  but  the  highly 
decorative  and  becoming  k£pi,*  tunic,  and  red  pantaloons 
were  gone.  A  stroke  of  the  pen  at  the  War  Office  had 
suddenly  robbed  outdoor  scenes  of  a  traditionally  national 
and  picturesque  element.  No  more  than  in  England  were 
we  now  perpetually  reminded  of  armed  peace.  If  the 
new  regulation  allowing  officers  to  wear  civilian  dress  when 
off  duty  somewhat  eclipsed  the  gaiety  of  nations,  we 
may  be  sure  it  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  army.  How 
agreeable,  for  instance,  in  hot  weather  to  don  a  light  grey 
English-made  suit  and  straw  hat !  What  a  relief,  that 
freedom  from  constantly  recurring  salute  and  the  necessary 
acknowledgment !  The  French  officer  of  to-day,  moreover, 
is  as  little  like  insular  conception  of  him  as  can  well  be. 
Is  he  not  pictured  as  a  light-hearted,  inconsequent,  dashing 
fellow,  a  something  of  the  D'Artagnan,  a  something  of  the 
Charles  O'Malley  about  him,  professional  duties  sitting 
lightly  upon  his  shoulders,  domestic  cares  quite  shaken  off? 
True  to  life  were  a  directly  opposite  portrait — that  of  an 
indefatigable  worker,  one  to  whom  fireside  joys  and 

*  Oddly  enough,  this  word  is  of  German  origin,  from  the  old  German 
Kteppi,  diminutive  of  Kappe,  "a  cap."  Kepi  was  accepted  by  the  Academe 
in  1878. 

120 


THE   OFFICER  121 

intellectual  pleasures  are  especially  dear,  and  to  whom 
self-abnegation  in  the  loftiest  as  well  as  the  domestic  sense 
becomes  a  second  nature. 

I  should  say  that  in  no  class  of  French  society  more 
pre-eminently  shine  the  virtues  of  forethought  and  dis- 
interestedness. The  first-mentioned  quality  —  namely, 
thrift — if  not  inherent,  is  implanted  by  his  position.  In- 
debtedness is  impossible  to  a  French  officer.  From  pecu- 
niary embarrassments  and  involvements  with  money-lenders 
he  is  guarded  by  a  code  almost  Draconian  in  its  severity. 
Even  before  the  reorganization  of  the  army  in  1872  an 
officer  could  not  contract  debts.  A  first  infringement  of 
this  law  entails  a  reprimand.  Should  the  debts  remain 
unpaid,  the  offender  is  suspended  by  the  Minister  of  War 
for  three  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period  he  is  summoned 
before  a  commission  of  five  members,  one  of  whom  holds 
the  same  rank  as  himself.  This  commission,  after  the 
strictest  investigation,  has  power  to  decide  whether  or  no 
reinstatement  is  permissible.  It  will,  of  course,  sometimes 
happen  that  the  verdict  means  disgrace  and  a  ruined 
career.  But  the  uncompromising,  unassailable  solvency  of 
the  French  army  is  without  doubt  a  tremendous  element  of 
its  moral  strength. 

The  D'Artagnan  phase  of  military  life  is  usually  short- 
lived. After  a  few  years  more  or  less  gaily  and  perhaps 
boisterously  spent  in  Algeria,  Tonquin,  or  Senegal,  an 
officer  returns  to  France  and  takes  a  wife.  Wedded  to 
domestic  life  and  tenacious  of  the  dignity  implied  in  the 
designation  plre  de  famille  are  members  of  the  French 
army.  In  no  class  are  these  privileges  often  more  dearly 
purchased.  Take  the  case,  for  instance,  of  a  captain  with- 
out any  private  means  whatever,  and  whose  bride  brings 
him  a  small  dowry ;  their  two  incomes  put  together  perhaps 
bring  in  something  under  three  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
Seeing  the  dearness  of  living  in  France,  the  necessity  of 
keeping  up  appearances,  and  the  liability  to  frequent 


122          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

removal  from  place  to  place,  it  is  easy  to  understand  the 
obligation  of  strict  economy.  Until  recent  years  an  officer 
could  not  wed  a  portionless  bride,  much  less  into  a  family 
without  irreproachable  antecedents.  The  young  lady  must 
not  only  have  possessed  capital  bringing  in  an  income  of 
about  fifty  pounds  yearly ;  her  parents  or  guardians  must 
furnish  the  military  authorities  with  strict  guarantees  of 
respectability  and  decorum.  Such  regulations  formed  no 
part  of  the  Code  Civil,  but  emanated  from  the  War  Office, 
and  although  they  are  now  rescinded,  an  officer  must  still 
obtain  the  sanction  of  the  Minister  before  contracting 
matrimony.  The  army  as  a  profession  being  held  in  high 
esteem,  officers  of  rank  can  always  make  brilliant  marriages, 
but  as  a  rule  they  only  know  one  ambition,  that  the  noblest 
of  all,  namely,  how  best  to  serve  their  country.  They  may 
not  feel  particularly  enthusiastic  about  the  powers  that  be. 
Drastically  critical  they  are  necessarily,  being  Frenchmen. 
No  matter  individual  predilections  or  antipathies,  the 
honour  of  France  is  ever  before  their  eyes ;  patriotism,  in 
the  august  sense  of  the  word,  with  them  is  a  veritable 
religion. 

In  the  new  volume  of  his  monumental  work,  "La 
France  contemporaine,"  M.  Hanotaux  strikingly  brings 
out  this  characteristic.  Marshal  MacMahon  was  a  Legiti- 
mist at  heart,  democratic  institutions  were  uncongenial, 
perhaps  even  hateful  to  him,  but  when  President  of  the 
French  Republic,  he  was  begged  by  the  Comte  de  Cham- 
bord  to  visit  him  secretly,  the  soi-disant  Roi  being  then 
in  hiding  at  Versailles,  his  reply  was  an  unhesitating  "  My 
life  is  at  the  Comte  de  Chambord's  service,  but  not  my 
honour." 

But  indeed  for  the  fine  old  soldier's  attitude  upon  that 
occasion,  events  might  have  turned  out  very  differently, 
and  France  would  have  been  again  plunged  in  the  horrors 
of  civil  war.  As  M.  Hanotaux  remarked,  the  country 
hitherto  has  little  known  what  she  owes  him. 


THE   OFFICER  123 

Bluff,  simple-minded,  monosyllabic  commanders  after 
the  marshal's  pattern,  rough,  unscrupulous,  swashbucklers 
of  Pellissier's  type  belonged  to  their  epoch.  The  French 
officer  of  to-day  is  pre-eminently  intellectual,  to  be  best 
characterized  by  that  word. 

If  a  brilliant  young  captain  works  harder  than  any  other 
professional  man  anxious  to  rise  to  the  top,  the  same  may 
be  averred  of  those  in  exalted  positions.  Many  superior 
officers  never  dream  of  taking,  or  rather  demanding,  a 
holiday,  and  with  the  constantly  widening  area  of  military 
science  more  arduous  become  their  duties  and  more 
absorbing  their  pursuits. 

The  strain  on  physique  equals  that  on  brains.  An 
artillery  captain  is  as  much  tied  to  daily  routine  as  his 
comrade  in  the  bureau. 

I  well  remember  a  month  spent  at  Clermont-Ferrand. 
I  had  gone  thither  to  be  near  a  friend,  the  accomplished 
young  wife  of  an  artillery  captain.  During  my  stay  the 
heat  was  tropical  in  Auvergne  ;  but,  all  the  same,  regiments 
were  drafted  off  for  artillery  practice  on  the  plain  below  the 
Puy-de-D6me  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day.  Only  those 
men  who  have  been  hardened  by  an  African  sun  can  stand 
such  an  ordeal  with  impunity.  The  French  soldier  laughs, 
sings,  and  makes  merry  ;  but  often  a  hard  lot  is  his !  One 
day  my  hostess  and  myself  were  driven  with  other  ladies 
to  witness  the  firing,  resting  under  the  shadow  of  a  rock. 
When  it  was  all  over,  my  friend's  husband  galloped  up, 
hot,  tired,  and  dusty,  but  gay,  neat,  and  composed.  He 
conducted  us  to  the  temporary  quarters  erected  for  himself 
and  his  brother-officers  ;  and,  whilst  we  sipped  sirop  water, 
he  restored  his  spent  forces  by  two  large  glasses  of  vermuth, 
taken  neat.  This  powerful  restorative  had  the  desired 
effect.  He  declared  himself  none  the  worse  for  his  many 
hours'  exposure  to  the  blazing  sun.  A  sojourn  in  Senegal 
had  rendered  him  sunproof,  he  added. 

I  have  said  that  officers  in  command  get  little  in  the 


124          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

way  of  holiday.  One  kind  of  change,  often  a  very  un- 
desirable one,  is  entailed  upon  them  by  their  profession. 
French  officers  are  hardly  more  of  a  fixture  in  times  of 
peace  than  of  war.  Agreeably  settled  in  some  pleasant 
town  and  mild  climate  one  year,  a  captain  or  commandant 
may  be  shifted  to  a  frigid  zone  the  next,  the  transport  of 
wife  and  children,  goods  and  chattels  being  the  least  in- 
convenience. A  brilliant  officer  I  knew  well  thus  fell  a 
victim  to  patriotic  duty  as  completely  as  any  hero  killed 
on  the  battlefield.  Removed  from  a  station  of  south-west 
France  to  the  arctic  region  of  Upper  Savoy,  there  amid 
perpetual  snows  to  supervise  military  works,  he  contracted 
acute  sciatica.  He  might,  of  course,  have  begged  for  an 
exchange  on  the  plea  of  impaired  health  ;  but  no !  Ilfaut 
vainer e  ou  mourir,  "conquer  or  die,"  is  the  motto  of  such 
men.  Winter  after  winter  he  kept  his  post,  struggling 
against  disease ;  finally,  obliged  to  retire  upon  half-pay,  he 
dragged  out  a  painful  year  or  two,  dying  in  the  prime  of 
life.  Such  instances  are  numerous,  true  heroism  therein 
shining  more  conspicuously  than  in  the  chronicles  of  so- 
called  glorious  campaigns. 

Hard-worked  as  he  is,  the  French  officer  always  finds 
time  to  serve  his  friends.  No  matter  his  circumstances,  he 
is  lavishly  hospitable.  With  what  grace  and  cordiality  will 
he  do  the  honours  of  a  station  however  remote !  How 
charmingly  will  drawbacks  be  got  over!  I  recollect  an 
incident  illustrating  the  latter  remark.  Many  years  ago 
I  was  travelling  with  four  friends  in  Algeria.  When  we 
arrived  at  Teniet-el-Haad,  a  captain  to  whom  we  had  a 
letter  of  introduction  carried  us  off  to  a  hastily  improvised 
dinner,  his  young  wife  gracefully  doing  the  honours,  and 
several  fellow-officers  and  their  ladies  being  invited  to 
meet  us.  We  were  seated  at  table,  and  the  Kabyle 
servant  had  just  entered  with  the  soup,  when,  by  an 
unlucky  jerk,  he  tipped  it  over,  every  one  jumping  up  to 
avoid  the  steaming  hot  cascade.  "Ilfaut  st  passer  de  notre 


THE   OFFICER  125 

potage  alors"  "  We  must  do  without  our  soup,  then/'  was 
all  our  host  said,  smiling  as  he  spoke  ;  and  with  equal 
coolness  and  good-nature  Hamet  took  his  discomfiture. 

Many  other  illustrations  I  could  cite  in  point  did  space 
permit.  "Where  there's  a  will  there's  a  way,"  is  a  motto 
an  officer  holds  to,  taking  no  account  of  trouble,  fatigue,  or 
expense,  in  his  person  royally  representing  the  noble  French 
army,  doing  the  honours  of  France. 

Geniality,  serviceableness,  simplicity,  an  immense 
capacity  for  enjoyment,  that  is  to  say,  reciprocated  enjoy- 
ment, these  are  among  the  lighter  graces  of  national 
temperament.  We  must  go  deeper  if  we  would  appraise 
a  body  of  men  less  generally  known  in  England  than 
perhaps  any  other  of  their  country  people.  French  states- 
men, scientists,  representatives  of  art,  industry,  and  com- 
merce now  happily  find  themselves  at  home  among  us.  Is 
it  too  much  to  hope  that  at  no  distant  period  the  entente 
cordiale  may  bring  French  soldiers  into  intimate  contact 
with  their  English  comrades-in-arms  ? 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   COUNTRY  DOCTOR 

TWO   country  doctors  of  France,  I  doubt  not,   are 
familiar  to  most  folks.   Who  has  not  read  Balzac's 
moving  apotheosis  of  a  humble  practitioner,   the 
story  of  the  good  Monsieur  Benassis,  "  our  father,"  as  the 
villagers  called  him  ? 

And  who  has  not  read  Flaubert's  roman  ne'cessairey 
the  necessary  novel  some  critic  has  misnamed  it,  a  picture 
of  life  equalling  in  ugliness  the  beauty  of  the  other  ? 
Charles  Bovary,  the  heavy,  plodding,  matter-of-fact  country 
doctor,  interests  us  from  a  single  point  of  view ;  the  mis- 
fortunes brought  upon  him  by  his  union  with  a  middle- 
class  Messalina.  Balzac's  hero  is  perhaps  a  rare  type  in 
any  country  ;  Charbovari,  so  in  youth  Flaubert's  doctor 
called  himself,  must  be  set  down  as  an  uncommon  specimen 
in  France.  Frenchmen,  like  ourselves,  may  dazzle  us  with 
their  shining  qualities,  or  put  humanity  to  the  blush  by 
their  vices  ;  stupidity  is  not  a  Gallic  foible. 

Another  thing  we  may  also  take  for  granted :  whether 
a  Benassis  or  a  Charbovari,  no  man  works  harder  than  the 
French  provincial  doctor.  When  Balzac  put  the  colophon 
to  "Le  M^decin  de  Campagne"  in  1833,  and,  twenty- 
seven  years  later,  Flaubert  brought  out  "Madame  Bovary," 
country  doctors  in  France  were  few  and  far  between.  The 
rural  practitioner  was  most  often  the  nun.  Even  where 
qualified  medical  skill  was  available,  the  peasants  preferred 
to  go  to  the  bonnes  s&urs.  I  well  remember,  when  staying 

126 


THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR          127 

with  friends  in  Anjou  many  years  ago,  a  visit  we  paid  to 
a  village  convent.  One  of  the  sisters,  a  rough  and  ready 
but  capable-looking  woman,  began  speaking  of  her  medical 
rounds.  "  Good  heavens,  how  busy  I  am ! "  she  said. 
"Just  now  every  soul  in  the  place  wants  putting  to 
rights."*  And  she  evidently  put  them  to  rights  with  a 
vengeance.  There  were  drugs  enough  in  her  little  parlour 
to  stock  an  apothecary's  shop  ;  and  as  many  of  the  nuns 
are  excellent  herbalists,  for  ordinary  ailments  I  have  no 
doubt  they  prove  efficient. 

If  at  any  time  you  visit  village  folks,  the  first  thing 
they  do  is  to  introduce  you  to  the  bonnes  sceurs.  When 
staying  at  the  charming  little  village  of  Nant  in  the 
Aveyron,  the  mistress  of  our  comfortable  inn  immediately 
carried  me  off  on  a  visit  of  ceremony  to  the  convent.  The 
mother-superior  was  evidently  a  medical  authority  in  the 
place,  and  in  order  to  supply  her  pharmacopoeia,  had  yearly 
collections  made  of  all  the  medicinal  plants  growing  round 
about.  Here  on  the  floor  of  a  chamber  exposed  to  sun 
and  air  were  stores  of  wild  lavender  for  sweetening  the 
linen-presses,  mallows,  gentian,  elder-flowers,  poppies,  leaves 
of  the  red  vine  and  limes,  with  vast  heaps  of  the  Veronica 
officinalis,  or  tht  des  Alpes,  as  it  is  called  in  France,  and 
many  others.  That  excellent  little  work,  Dr.  Saffray's 
"  Remedes  des  Champs,"  had  apparently  been  got  by  heart. 

But  it  was  not  only  the  peasants  who  resorted,  and 
still  resort,  to  the  convent  instead  of  the  surgery,  as  the 
following  story  will  show.  A  few  years  ago  I  was  visiting 
rich  vignerons  in  Burgundy,  when  their  cook  was  severely 
bitten  by  a  sporting  dog.  Several  of  these  dogs  were 
allowed  to  run  loose  in  a  yard  adjoining  the  kitchen  ;  and 
one  day,  thinking  that  they  wanted  no  more  of  the  food 
set  down  for  them,  poor  old  Justine  imprudently  lifted  a 
half-emptied  bowl.  In  a  second  the  animal  in  question, 

*  Her  words  were  these :  "  Mon  Dieu,  que  je  suis  affairee !  Dans  ce 
moment-ci  tout  le  monde  a  besoin  d'etre  purge." 


128          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

a  very  handsome  and  powerful  creature,  had  pinned  her  to 
the  ground.  The  housemaid,  hearing  her  fellow-servant's 
cries,  rushed  out  with  a  broomstick  and  beat  off  the 
assailant,  not  before  he  had  fearfully  lacerated  the  woman's 
arm.  Was  a  doctor  sent  for  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  nuns 
took  my  old  friend  Justine  in  hand,  and,  being  sound  in 
body  and  mind,  she  was  soon  at  work  again,  no  whit  worse 
for  the  misadventure.  It  did  seem  to  me  astonishing  that 
the  matter  should  not  have  been  taken  more  seriously,  all 
the  more  so  as  M.  Pasteur's  name  just  then  was  in  every- 
body's mouth.  What  I  quite  expected  was  that  Justine, 
under  the  care  of  a  nun,  would  have  been  despatched  to 
Paris,  there  to  undergo  Pasteurian  treatment.  Very  likely 
she  fared  better  at  home.  And  as  things  fell  out  in  Gold- 
smith's poem,  "the  dog  it  was  that  died."  Poor  Figaro 
showed  no  signs  of  madness  ;  but  it  was  deemed  unwise 
to  keep  so  fierce-tempered  a  creature  about  the  place,  and 
he  was  shot. 

When  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  I  spent 
a  year  in  Brittany  and  Anjou,  I  constantly  heard  it  asserted 
that  the  nuns  starved  out  the  country  doctors.  Where 
the  choice  lay  between  nun  and  doctor,  the  peasants,  alike 
the  well-to-do  and  the  needy,  would  prefer  to  go  to  the 
former,  as  often  the  handier  and  always  the  cheaper. 
Provided  with  a  bishop's  lettre  dj  obedience,  the  bonnes  sceurs 
were  much  in  the  position  of  our  own  bone-setters,  barber- 
surgeons,  and  unqualified  medical  assistants  long  since 
prohibited  by  law.  Legislation  in  France  and  progressive 
ideas  have  now  changed  all  this,  and  made  the  profession 
of  country  doctor  fairly  remunerative.  But  not  till  July, 
1893,  was  a  law  passed  assuring  gratuitous  medical  services 
to  the  indigent  poor,  the  doctors  being  paid  respectively 
by  the  State,  the  department,  and  the  communes.  The 
term  "  indigent  poor  "  must  be  understood  as  an  equivalent 
to  our  own  poor  in  receipt  of  poor-relief.  Medicines  are 
not  supplied  gratuitously. 


THE   COUNTRY  DOCTOR          129 

Oddly  enough,  doctors'  fees  in  provincial  France  are  no 
higher  than  they  were  thirty  years  ago.  So  far  back  as 
1875,  whilst  passing  through  Brest,  the  maritime  capital  of 
Brittany,  I  needed  treatment  for  passing  indisposition. 
To  my  amazement,  the  doctor's  fee  was  two  francs  only. 
On  my  mentioning  the  matter  to  the  French  friend  who 
was  with  me,  she  replied  that  two  francs  a  visit  was  the 
usual  charge  in  provincial  towns  and  in  the  country.  And 
quite  enough,  too,  she  said.  And  a  year  or  two  ago  I  was 
taken  ill  at  a  little  town  of  Champagne.  Here,  as  at  Brest, 
the  usual  medical  fee  was  two  francs  a  visit,  not  a  centime 
higher  than  it  had  been  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century 
before.  Yet  the  price  of  living  has  greatly  risen  through- 
out France  since  the  Franco-Prussian  war.  How,  then,  do 
country  doctors  contrive  to  make  ends  meet  ?  "  Oh/'  re- 
torted my  hostess,  "  we  have  three  doctors  here  ;  they  have 
as  much  as  they  can  do,  and  are  all  rich." 

There  are  two  explanations  of  this  speech.  In  the  first 
place,  the  town  contains  three  thousand  inhabitants,  thus 
allotting  a  thousand  to  each  practitioner ;  *  in  the  second 
place,  the  word  "  rich  "  is  susceptible  of  divers  interpretations. 
The  French  lady,  who  always  travelled  first-class  because 
she  was  rich,  was  rich  because  most  likely  she  never  spent 
more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  two  hundred  ;  and  the 
same  explanation,  I  dare  say,  applies  to  the  three  medical 
men  in  this  little  country  town.  They  were  rich,  in  all  pro- 
bability, on  three  or  four  hundred  a  year — rich  just  because 
they  made  double  that  they  spent. 

In  order  to  comprehend  French  life  and  character  we 
must  bear  one  fact  in  mind.  Appearance  is  not  a  fetich 
in  France  as  in  England  ;  outside  show  is  not  sacrificed 
to ;  Mrs.  Grundy  is  no  twentieth-century  Baal.  On  the 
other  hand,  good  repute  is  sedulously  nursed  ;  personal 

*  In  M.  de  Foville's  "La  France  ficonomique"  (1900),  he  gives  11,643 
as  the  number  of  medical  men  in  France,  the  population  being  over  thirty  - 
eight  millions. 

K 


130          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

dignity  and  family  honour  are  hedged  round  with  respect. 
We  must  not  take  the  so-called  realistic  novelist's  standard 
to  be  the  true  one.  Frenchmen,  I  should  say,  as  a  rule 
spend  a  third  less  upon  dress  than  Englishmen.  It  does 
not  follow  that  the  individual  is  held  in  slight  esteem, 
personality  thereby  discounted.  These  provincial  and 
country  doctors  do  not  outwardly  resemble  their  spick- 
and-span  English  colleagues,  nor  do  they  affect  what  is 
called  style  in  their  equipages — in  most  cases  the  con- 
veyance is  a  bicycle — and  manner  of  living.  How  can 
they  do  so  upon  an  income  derived  from  one-and-eight- 
penny  fees  ?  But  many  are  doubtless  rich  in  the  logical 
acceptation  of  the  word — that  is,  they  live  considerably 
below  their  income,  and  save  money.  Unostentatious  as 
is  their  manner  of  living,  the  status  of  country  doctor  is 
greatly  changed  since  Flaubert  wrote  his  roman  n&essaire. 

There  is  one  highly  suggestive  scene  in  "Madame 
Bovary."  Husband  and  wife  have  arrived  at  the  marquis's 
chateau  for  the  ball,  and  whilst  the  ambitious  Emma  puts 
on  her  barege  dress,  Charles  remarks  that  the  straps  of 
his  trousers  will  be  in  the  way  whilst  dancing.  "  Dancing  ? " 
exclaims  Emma.  "Yes."  "You  must  be  crazy,"  retorts 
the  little  bourgeois* ;  "  everybody  will  make  fun  of  you. 
Keep  your  place.  Besides,"  she  added,  "it  is  more  be- 
coming in  a  doctor  not  to  dance." 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  you  would  not  nowadays  find 
among  the  eleven  thousand  and  odd  medical  men  in  France 
a  lourdaud,  or  heavy,  loutish  fellow  after  the  pattern  of 
poor  Charles  Bovary.  Higher  attainments,  increased 
facilities  of  social  intercourse,  and  progress  generally  in 
France  as  elsewhere  have  rendered  certain  types  obsolete. 
In  the  second  place,  every  Frenchman  at  the  present  time 
can  dance  well,  and  I  should  have  said  it  was  so  when 
Flaubert  wrote.  And,  thirdly,  a  country  doctor  and  his 
wife  would  not  in  these  days  lose  their  heads  at  being 
invited  to  a  marquis's  chateau.  Thirty-five  years  of 


THE   COUNTRY   DOCTOR          131 

democratic  institutions  have  lent  the  social  colouring  of 
this  novel  historic  interest. 

There  is  one  whimsical  trait  in  the  French  country 
doctor.  He  does  not  relish  being  paid  for  his  services. 
The  difficulty  in  dealing  with  him  is  the  matter  of  re- 
muneration, by  what  roundabout  contrivance  to  transfer 
his  two-franc  fees  from  your  pocket  to  his  own.  It  is  my 
firm  belief  that  French  doctors,  if  it  were  practicable,  would 
infinitely  prefer  to  attend  rich  patients  as  they  do  the 
poor,  for  nothing.  Take  the  case  of  my  last-mentioned 
medical  attendant,  for  instance.  On  arriving  at  the  little 
Champenois  town  I  unfortunately  fell  ill,  and  Dr.  B.  was 
in  close  attendance  upon  me  for  many  days.  "Ne  vous 
tourmentez  pas  "  ("  Do  not  be  uneasy "),  Dr.  B.  reiterated 
when,  as  my  departure  drew  near,  I  ventured  to  ask  for 
his  bill.  A  second  attempt  to  settle  the  little  matter  only 
evoked  the  same,  "  Ne  vous  tourmentez  pas ; "  and  when 
the  morning  for  setting  out  came,  it  really  seemed  as  if 
I  must  leave  my  debt  behind  me.  At  the  last  moment, 
however,  just  as  I  was  about  to  start  for  the  station,  up 
came  the  doctor's  maid-of-all-work,  or  rather  working- 
housekeeper,  breathless  and  flustered,  with  the  anxiously 
expected  account.  On  my  hostess  handing  her  the  sum, 
just  a  pound,  the  good  woman  turned  it  over  in  her  palm, 
exclaiming,  "  My !  How  these  doctors  make  money,  to 
be  sure ! "  Upon  another  occasion  the  same  reluctance 
was  even  more  divertingly  manifested.  I  was  staying  with 
French  friends  in  Germanized  France,  and  had  called  in 
a  young  French  doctor.  My  hostesses  begged  me  on  no 
account  whatever  to  proffer  money ;  he  would  be  much 
hurt  by  such  a  proceeding,  they  said.  So  before  I  left  one 
of  the  ladies  wrote  a  note  at  my  request,  enclosing  the 
customary  fee,  and  making  a  quite  apologetic  demand  for 
his  acceptance  of  the  same. 

Half  a  dozen  provincial  doctors  I  have  known  in  France, 
and  if  not  guardian  angels  of  humanity,  veritable  apostles 


132          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

of  the  healing  art  like  Balzac's  hero,  one  and  all  might 
serve  as  worthy  types.  Small  is  the  number  lifted  by 
chance  or  ambition  into  more  exalted  spheres,  laborious 
the  round  of  duty,  modest  the  guerdon.  Yet  no  class 
does  more  honour  to  France.  The  country  doctor,  more- 
over, forms  a  link  between  peasant  and  bourgeois,  an 
intermediary  bridging  over  social  distinctions,  linking  two 
classes  not  always  sympathetic.  A  distinctive  feature  of 
French  rural  life,  it  is  a  pity  that  the  mtdecin  de  campagne 
is  so  persistently  ignored  by  contemporary  novelists  over 
the  water. 


CHAPTER  XV 

MY  FRIEND   MONSIEUR  LE   CURE 

IT  is  curious  how  insignificant  a  part  the  parish  priest 
plays  in  French  fiction.  One  novel  ofttimes  proves 
the  germ  of  another,  and  Balzac's  little  masterpiece, 
"  Le  Cure"  de  Tours,"  as  we  now  know,  suggested  what  is 
not  only  the  masterpiece  of  another  writer,  but  the  only 
great  French  romance  having  a  priest  for  hero.  "  L'Abbe 
Tigrane,"  by  the  late  Ferdinand  Fabre,  belongs  to  a  series 
of  powerful  ecclesiastical  studies  which  stand  absolutely 
alone.  All  readers  who  wish  to  realize  clerical  life  in 
France  from  the  topmost  rung  to  the  bottom  of  the  ladder 
must  acquaint  themselves  with  this  not  too  numerous 
collection. 

Such  general  neglect  is  all  the  more  difficult  to  under- 
stand, since  the  priest  constitutes  an  integral  portion  of 
family  life  in  France  ;  the  confessor  is  indeed  in  some  sort 
a  member  of  the  household.  Be  his  part  exalted  or  lowly, 
whether  he  occupies  a  lofty  position  alike  in  the  Church 
and  in  the  world,  or  in  a  remote  village  is  counted  rich  on 
forty  pounds  a  year,  the  relation  between  priest  and 
parishioner  is  the  same,  one  of  constant  intercourse  and 
closest  intimacy,  with,  of  course,  exceptions.  Here 
and  there  are  Socialist  and  anti-clerical  circles  from  which 
any  representative  of  sacerdotalism  is  excluded.  These, 
however,  are  uncommon  cases. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  there 

133 


134          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

is  no  analogy  whatever  between  the  status  of  a  French 
curd  and  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England. 

Strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  State  Church  in  France. 
It  was  during  the  reign  of  Louis  Philippe  that  the  words 
religion  de  ?  Etat  were  struck  out  of  the  charter  by  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies,  la  religion  de  la  majority  des  Fran- 
$ais  being  placed  in  their  stead.  The  French  Government 
acknowledges  and  subsidizes  in  equal  proportion  four 
religions — namely,  the  Roman  Catholic,  the  Protestant, 
the  Jewish,  and  in  Algeria  the  Mohammedan  ;  though  it 
must  be  remembered  that  there  are  about  thirty  Catholics 
to  one  Protestant,  and  there  are  only  about  fifty  synagogues 
in  all  France.  The  Protestant  pastor,  indeed,  receives 
higher  pay  than  the  Catholic  priest ;  being  the  father  of  a 
family,  he  is  understood  to  want  a  better  income.  When- 
ever a  Protestant  temple,  Jewish  synagogue,  or  in  Algeria 
a  new  mosque  is  built,  the  State  makes  a  grant  precisely 
as  in  the  case  of  a  Catholic  church. 

No  peasant-born,  illiterate,  boorish  wearer  of  the  soutane 
was  my  friend  Monsieur  le  curd.  Formerly  professor  at  a 
seminary,  learned,  genial,  versed  in  the  usages  of  society, 
how  came  such  a  man  to  be  planted  in  an  out-of-the-way 
commune  of  eastern  France,  numbering  a  few  hundred 
souls  only,  and  these,  with  the  exception  of  the  Juge  de 
Paix,  all  belonging  to  the  peasant  class  ? 

The  mystery  was  afterwards  cleared  up.  The  highly 
cultivated  and  influential  residents  of  the  chdteau  situated 
at  some  distance  from  the  village  were  on  good  terms 
with  the  bishop  of  the  diocese.  As  it  was  their  custom 
to  spend  five  months  of  the  year  in  the  country,  they 
depended  somewhat  upon  the  cure  for  society,  and  Mon- 
seigneur  had  obligingly  made  an  exchange.  A  somewhat 
heavy,  uneducated  priest  was  sent  elsewhere,  and  hither 
came  Monsieur  le  curd  in  his  place.  Agreeable  intercourse, 
unlimited  hospitality,  and  sympathetic  parochial  co-opera- 
tion during  five  months  of  the  year  doubtless  went  far  to 


HAPPY   SOLITUDE 


MY  FRIEND   MONSIEUR   LE   CURE  185 

compensate  for  isolation  during  the  remaining  seven.  Yet, 
taking  these  advantages  into  consideration,  how  modest 
such  a  sphere  of  action,  how  apparently  inadequate  its 
remuneration ! 

M.  le  cure's  yearly  stipend  was  just  sixty  pounds,  in 
addition  to  which  he  received  a  good  house,  garden,  and 
paddock,  about  half  an  acre  in  all,  and  the  usual  eccle- 
siastical fees,  called  le  casuel,  the  latter  perhaps  bringing 
his  receipts  to  a  hundred  pounds  a  year.  As  the  patrimony 
of  both  rich  and  poor  is  rigidly  divided  amongst  sons  and 
daughters  in  France,  it  may  be  that  this  village  priest 
enjoyed  a  small  private  income.  In  any  case,  only  devotion 
to  his  calling  could  render  the  position  enviable. 

When  I  made  his  acquaintance,  M.  le  cure  was  in  the 
prime  of  life,  too  florid,  too  portly  perhaps,  for  health,  but 
possessing  a  striking  and  benignant  presence.  Extremely 
fastidious  as  he  was  in  personal  matters,  his  soutane  was 
ever  well  brushed,  his  muslin  lappets  spotless,  the  silver 
buckles  of  his  shoes  highly  polished.  Nor  less  was  he 
careful  in  clothing  his  thoughts,  always  expressing  himself 
choicely  and  with  perfect  intonation.  During  my  repeated 
visits  to  the  hospitable  chateau  I  renewed  an  acquaintance 
which  finally  ripened  into  friendship.  At  the  dinner-table 
the  conversation  would,  of  course,  be  general ;  but  when- 
ever he  called  in  the  afternoon  we  invariably  had  a  long 
theological  discussion,  never  losing  temper  on  either  side, 
and,  I  need  hardly  say,  never  changing  each  other's  way 
of  looking  at  things  by  so  much  as  a  hair-breadth.  Upon 
other  occasions  everyday  topics  would  come  up,  M.  le  cure 
showing  the  liveliest  interest  in  matters  lying  wholly  out- 
side his  especial  field  of  thought  and  action. 

It  will  happen  that  such  cosmopolitan  tastes  are  some- 
times hampered  even  in  these  days  by  episcopal  authority. 
A  village  priest  has  not  much  money  to  spare  upon  books 
or  newspapers,  and  the  chdtelaine  used  to  send  frequent 
supplies  of  these  to  the  presbytery.  One  evening,  as  he 


136          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

was  leaving  after  dinner,  she  gave  him  a  bundle  of  the 
Figaro,  a  newspaper  without  which  no  reading  French- 
man or  Frenchwoman  can  support  existence,  and  which 
costs  twopence  daily.  As  he  tied  up  the  parcel  he  turned 
to  his  hostess,  saying  with  a  smile — 

"  I  shall  take  great  care,  madame,  not  to  let  my  bishop 
catch  sight  of  these  numbers  of  the  Figaro" 

It  seemed  odd  that  a  middle-aged  priest  could  not 
choose  his  own  newspaper  ;  but  was  not  the  immortal  Mrs. 
Proudie  capable  of  rating  a  curate  for  a  less  offence  than 
smuggling  a  forbidden  journal  ? 

With  the  benevolent  intention  of  bettering  his  circum- 
stances, the  chdtelaine  advised  her  friend  to  take  an  English 
pupil  or  two.  In  order  that  I  might  be  able  to  furnish 
any  information  required  of  an  outsider,  M.  le  cure  showed 
me  over  his  house.  A  well-built,  commodious  house  it 
was,  and  the  large  fruit  and  vegetable  garden  bespoke 
excellent  husbandry. 

"  You  occasionally  amuse  yourself  here,  I  suppose,  M. 
le  cure  ? "  I  asked,  knowing  that  many  parish  priests  are 
very  good  gardeners. 

"No,  indeed,"  was  the  reply.  "My  servant  keeps  it 
in  order.  Ah !  she  is  a  good  girl  "  (une  bonne  fille). 

This  good  girl  was  a  stout,  homely  spinster  between 
fifty  and  sixty ;  but,  no  matter  her  age,  a  spinster  is 
always  une  fille  in  the  French  language.  Cook,  laundry- 
maid,  seamstress,  housekeeper,  gardener,  M.  le  cure's 
bonne  fille  must  have  well  earned  her  wages,  whatever  they 
might  be. 

My  friend  had  enjoyed  unusual  opportunities  of  travel 
for  a  village  priest.  He  had  visited,  perhaps  in  an  official 
capacity,  Ober-Ammergau,  witnessing  the  Passion  Play, 
with  which  he  was  delighted  ;  Lourdes,  in  the  miracles  of 
which  he  firmly  believed  ;  and,  lastly,  Rome. 

The  most  charitably  disposed  man  in  the  world,  M.  le 
cure  dilated  with  positive  acerbity  on  the  slovenliness  and 


MY  FRIEND   MONSIEUR  LE   CURE  137 

uncared-for  appearance  of  his  Italian  brethren.  "  I  assure 
you,"  he  said  to  me,  "  I  have  seen  a  priest's  soutane  so 
greasy  that  boiled  down  it  would  have  made  a  thick 
soup  ! " 

But  is  not  the  French  cure  rich  by  comparison  with 
an  Italian  pretre,  and  might  not  such  well-worn  robes  be 
thought  a  matter  of  necessity  rather  than  inclination  ? 

M.  le  curb's  thoughts  were  now  bent  upon  London. 
There  was  only  one  point  on  which  he  had  misgivings. 
Could  he  without  inconvenience  retain  his  priestly  garb  ? 
French  priests  never  quit  the  sotttane,  and  on  the  settle- 
ment of  this  doubt  depended  his  decision. 

"  Nothing  would  induce  me  to  don  civilian  dress,"  he 
said — "  nothing  in  the  world." 

I  assured  him  that,  although  in  England  ecclesiastical 
habiliments  had  long  gone  out  of  fashion,  English  folks 
were  peaceful,  and  he  was  not  likely  to  be  molested  on 
that  account.  To  London  a  little  later  accordingly  he 
went.  Indefatigably  piloted  by  English  friends,  he  con- 
trived during  his  three  days'  stay  to  see  what  generally 
goes  by  the  name  of  everything — the  Tower,  St.  Paul's, 
the  Abbey,  the  museums,  parks,  and  civic  monuments,  wind- 
ing up  with  an  evening  at  the  House  of  Commons.  And 
the  wearing  of  the  soutane  occasioned  no  inconvenience. 

I  must  here  explain  that  by  virtue  of  his  age  M.  le 
cure  had  escaped  military  service,  now  in  France,  as  in 
Germany,  an  obligation  alike  of  seminarists,  students  pre- 
paring for  the  Protestant  ordination,  or  the  Jewish  priest- 
hood. In  case  of  war  French  seminarists  would  be  em- 
ployed in  the  ambulance,  hospital,  and  commissariat 
departments,  and  not  obliged  to  use  arms. 

That  journey  was  M.  le  cure's  last  holiday.  A  few 
months  later  I  was  grieved,  although  not  greatly  surprised, 
to  hear  of  his  death  from  apoplexy.  He  had  never  looked 
like  a  man  in  good  health,  and  one  part  of  his  duty  had 
ever  tried  him  greatly. 


138          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

We  used  after  mass  to  say  "  How  d'ye  do  ? "  to  him 
in  the  sacristy,  and  upon  one  occasion  I  observed  his  look 
of  fatigue,  even  prostration. 

"  It  is  not  the  long  standing  and  use  of  the  voice  that 
I  feel,  but  protracted  long  fasts,"  he  replied,  with  a  sigh. 

With  many  other  parish  priests  I  have  made  passing 
acquaintance,  most  of  these  being  peasant-born  and  having 
little  interest  in  the  outer  world.  Whenever  any  kind  of 
entertainment  is  given  by  country  residents,  or  any  unusual 
delicacy  is  about  to  be  served,  the  cure  is  invited  to  partake. 
The  naivet^  of  these  worthy  men  is  often  diverting  enough. 
When  I  was  staying  in  a  country  house  near  Dijon  some 
years  since,  my  hostess  had  prepared  a  local  rarity  in  the 
shape  of  a  game  pdtt,  or  open  pie,  a  vast  dish  lined  with 
pastry  and  rilled  with  every  variety  of  game  in  season — 
partridge,  quail,  pheasant,  hare,  venison,  and,  I  believe, 
even  slices  of  wild  boar.  This  savoury  mess  naturally 
called  for  the  exercise  of  hospitality.  The  cure  and  his 
nephew  were  invited,  and  after  dinner  I  had  a  little  chat 
with  the  uncle. 

"Who  will  succeed  the  Queen  on  the  throne  of 
England  ? "  he  asked. 

I  should  have  thought  that  not  a  man  or  woman  in 
France,  however  unlettered,  would  have  been  ignorant  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales's  existence  and  his  position. 

Many  village  priests,  as  I  have  mentioned,  are  excellent 
gardeners.  One  afternoon  some  French  friends  in  the 
Seine-et-Marne,  wanting  some  dessert  and  preserving  fruit, 
took  me  with  them  to  the  presbytery  of  a  neighbouring 
village.  Very  inviting  looked  the  place  with  its  vine- 
covered  walls  and  wealth  of  flowers.  The  cure,  who  told 
us  that  he  had  been  at  work  in  his  garden  from  four  to  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  received  us  in  quite  a  business-like 
way,  yet  very  courteously,  and  at  once  conducted  us  to  his 
fruit  and  vegetable  gardens  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  house.  There  we  found  the  greatest  profusion  and 


MY   FRIEND   MONSIEUR  LE   CURE  139 

evidence  of  labour  and  unremitting  skill.  The  fruit-trees 
were  laden  ;  Alpine  strawberries,  currants,  melons,  apricots, 
were  in  abundance  ;  of  vegetables,  also,  there  was  a  splendid 
show.  Nor  were  flowers  wanting  for  the  bees — for  M.  le 
cure*  was  also  a  bee-keeper — double  sunflowers,  mallows, 
gladioli ;  a  score  of  hives  completing  the  picture,  which 
the  owner  contemplated  with  pardonable  pride. 

"You  have  only  just  given  your  orders  in  time,  ladies," 
he  said.  "  All  my  greengages  are  to  be  gathered  at  once 
for  the  London  market.  Ah,  those  English !  those 
English  1  they  take  the  best  of  everything." 

Whereupon  I  ventured  upon  the  rejoinder  that  if  we 
robbed  our  neighbours  of  their  best  produce,  at  least  our 
money  found  its  way  into  their  pockets.  I  need  hardly 
say  that,  whether  lettered  or  unlettered,  the  parish  priest 
in  France  is  generally  anti-Republican  and  out  of  sympathy 
with  existing  institutions.  Most  friendly  I  have  ever  found 
him,  and  from  one  good  cure  near  Nancy  I  have  a  stand- 
ing invitation  to  make  his  prcsbythe  my  pied  a  terre  when 
next  that  way. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  PROTESTANT  PASTOR 

UNDER  the  roof  of  more  than  one  French  parson- 
age during  the  summer  holidays  I  have  found,  as 
^^  Bunyan   wrote,   "harbour  and  good   company." 

On  one  sojourn  of  this  kind  do  I  look  back  with  especial 
pleasure,  that  of  September  days  in  a  Pyrenean  hamlet. 
So  near  lies  this  little  Protestant  centre  to  the  Spanish 
frontier  that  a  bridle-path  leads  over  the  mountains  into 
Aragon,  the  ride  occupying  three  or  four  hours.  I  had 
journeyed  with  a  friend  from  Pau,  quitting  the  railway  at 
Oloron  (Basses  Pyrenees),  to  enjoy  a  sixteen-mile  drive,  one 
of  the  loveliest  of  the  countless  lovely  drives  I  have  taken 
in  France. 

As  we  climbed  the  mountain  road  leading  to  our  destina- 
tion in  the  beautiful  Valle"e  d' Aspe  every  turn  revealed  new 
features,  a  garve,  or  mountain  stream,  after  the  manner  of 
Pyrenean  streams,  making  noisy  cascades,  waterfalls,  and 
little  whirlpools  by  the  way.  On  either  side  of  the  broaden- 
ing velvety  green  valley,  with  its  foamy,  turbulent  river, 
rose  an  array  of  stately  peaks,  here  and  there  a  glittering 
white  thread  breaking  the  dark  surface  of  the  rock,  some 
mountain  torrent  falling  from  a  height  of  many  hundred  or 
even  thousand  feet.  After  winding  slowly  upwards  for  three 
hours,  the  mountains  closed  round  us  abruptly,  shutting  in 
a  wide  verdant  valley  with  white-walled,  grey-roofed  hamlets 
scattered  here  and  there,  all  singularly  alike.  Half  an  hour 

140 


THE   PROTESTANT   PASTOR       141 

more  on  the  level,  and  we  found  ourselves  not  only  in  a 
pleasant,  cheerful  house,  but  at  home,  as  if  we  had  suddenly 
dropped  upon  old  friends. 

The  parsonage-house,  of  somewhat  greater  pretensions 
than  its  neighbours,  with  church  and  school  house,  might 
almost  be  said  to  form  one  building,  each  of  the  three 
structures  communicating  with  the  other.  On  one  side  of 
the  dwelling  lay  a  little  garden,  or  rather  orchard,  with  seats 
under  the  trees.  Three-storeyed,  airy,  roomy,  the  house 
suggested  that  palladium  of  the  Reformed  Church,  family 
life,  and  at  the  same  time  attested  the  impartiality  of  the 
French  State.  As  I  have  elsewhere  particularized,  there  is 
no  State  or  privileged  church  in  France.  Alike  Protestant 
pastor,  Jewish  Rabbi,  and  in  Algeria,  Mohammedan  Imam, 
receive  stipends  and  accommodation,  as  well  as  the  Catholic 
clergy. 

When,  after  tea  and  a  rest  in  our  comfortable  bedrooms, 
we  joined  the  family  board  at  dinner,  we  found  a  goodly 
assemblage,  upwards  of  a  dozen  covers  being  laid.  The 
presence  of  two  other  boarders  accounted  for  the  ample 
fare,  excellent  service,  and  an  air  of  pervading  comfort. 
But,  as  I  have  just  said,  we  at  once  felt  at  home.  Pro- 
testantism has  ever  been  a  kind  of  freemasonry,  an  anti- 
cipatory entente  cordiale  between  French  and  English. 
Anglo-French  marriages  are  chiefly,  I  am  tempted  to  say, 
exclusively,  found  among  Protestant  circles  in  France.  Of 
eight  pastors  I  have  known,  four  were  wedded  to  English 
wives. 

Partly  owing  to  other  circumstance,  a  parsonage,  unlike 
the  majority  of  French  homes,  is  not  hedged  round  by  a 
Chinese  wall.  When  young  people  from  England  or 
Scandinavia  want  to  perfect  themselves  in  French  and  see 
something  of  French  family  life,  the  only  doors  open  to 
them  are  those  of  the  presbyttre. 

Judicial  as  is  the  French  Government  in  dealing  with 
ministers  of  religion,  a  pastor's  pay  cannot  support  a  family. 


142          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

The  pupil,  the  boarder,  swell  the  domestic  budget,  cover 
servants'  wages,  and  defray  educational  expenses. 

Here  the  domestic  atmosphere  was  one  of  well-being. 
A  very  genial  and  animated  party  we  were,  the  family 
group  numbering  four  boys  and  a  girl,  with  the  host's 
brother,  like  himself  a  minister.  In  addition  to  these  were 
two  young  men  pursuing  their  studies  during  the  long 
vacation.  One  was  a  French  law-student,  the  other  a 
Spanish  ex-seminarist,  who  had  renounced  Rome  and  was 
preparing  for  Protestant  ministry. 

In  the  forenoon  Monsieur  C would  be  busy  with 

his  pupils,  madame  and  her  sixteen-year-old  daughter, 
wearing  little  mob-caps  and  aprons,  would  occupy  them- 
selves in  household  matters,  their  visitors  could  read  or 
write  abroad,  having  ever  before  them  a  grandiose  pano- 
rama, on  either  side  "  the  everlasting  hills,"  ramparts  of 
brilliant  green,  their  slopes  dotted  with  herdsmen's  chdlet 
and  shepherd's  hut.  The  mention  of  these  recalls  to 
memory  a  moving  and  highly  suggestive  incident. 

One  day,  on  taking  my  place  at  the  breakfast  or  rather 
luncheon  table,  I  missed  our  host  and  his  eldest  son,  a  lad 
of  fifteen. 

Madame  C ,  when  we  found  ourselves  alone,  took 

the  opportunity  of  explaining  this  absence.  "  My  husband, 
with  Ernest,  set  off  at  five  o'clock  this  morning  for  the 
mountain  yonder,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  highest  points 
of  the  range  over  against  us.  "  The  lad  has  an  ardent 
desire  to  enter  the  ministry,  and  wanted  some  quiet  talk 
with  his  father  on  the  subject.  My  husband,  for  his  part, 
as  you  can  well  conceive,  was  anxious  to  assure  himself 
that  the  desire  is  no  passing  fancy,  but  a  really  devout 
aspiration.  So  the  pair  are  going  to  have  two  days'  com- 
munion together,  sharing  at  night  the  hospitality  of  a  friendly 
herdsman.  I  expect  them  back  to-morrow  evening." 

It  seemed  to  me  a  beautiful  incident,  this  setting  out  of 
father  and  son  for  the  mountain,  on  that  awful  height, 


THE   PROTESTANT  PASTOR       143 

amid  those  vast  solitudes,  as  it  were  under  the  very  eye  of 
Heaven,  taking  counsel  together,  coming  to  the  most 
momentous  decision  of  a  young  life.  If  I  remember  rightly, 
the  pastorate  was  decided  upon.  Another  incident,  this 
time  of  an  amusing  kind,  I  must  mention. 

In  this  pastoral  region,  sixteen  miles  from  a  railway, 
we  certainly  expected  to  find  no  country-people  except 
under  the  pastor's  roof.  But  the  ubiquitous  British,  where 
are  they  not  ? 

Here  at  the  other  end  of  the  village,  a  retired  Anglo- 
Indian  with  his  wife  and  family  had  settled  down,  as  the 
way  of  English  folks  is,  surrounding  themselves  with  as 
many  comforts  as  could  be  got,  bringing,  indeed,  an  atmo- 
sphere of  home.  The  one  bourgeois  dwelling  of  the  place 
wore  quite  a  familiar  aspect  when  in  the  evening  we  all 
trooped  thither,  tea,  chat,  and  table  games  being  shared  by 
young  and  old.  It  is  amazing  how  the  English  teapot 
brings  out  the  genial  side,  the  human  side  of  us  all ! 

My  host  was  especially  happy  in  his  church  and  in  his 
people ;  mes  enfants  he  affectionately  called  these  good 
dalesfolk,  all  with  few  exceptions  forming  his  congregation. 
For  the  first  time,  indeed,  I  found  my  co-religionists  in  a 
majority,  but  the  Valise  dAspe  formed  part  of  the  ancient 
Beam,  and  during  centuries  the  Reformed  faith  has  been 
stoutly  upheld  in  these  fastnesses.  A  tablet  in  the  neat  little 
church  of  Osse  recalls  how  the  original  place  of  Protestant 
worship  was  levelled  to  the  ground  by  royal  edict  in  1685, 
and  only  rebuilt  in  1800-5.  With  a  refinement  of  cruelty, 
it  was  the  Protestants  themselves  who,  on  the  Revocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  were  compelled  to  demolish  their 
beloved  temple.  Deprived  of  church,  pastor,  and  Bibles, 
constrained  to  bury  their  dead  in  field  or  garden,  the  Aspois 
yet  clung  tenaciously  to  the  faith  of  their  fathers.  One 
concession,  and  one  only,  they  made.  Peasant  property 
from  time  immemorial  has  existed  in  the  Pyrenees,  and  in 
order  to  legitimize  their  children  and  enjoy  testamentary 


144          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

privileges,  the  Protestants  of  the  Vallee  d'Aspe  submitted 
to  marriages  according  to  Romish  rites.  Old  family  Bibles 
are  very  rarely  to  be  found  among  the  descendants  of  these 
ancient  Huguenot  families.  The  explanation  is  simple. 
No  matter  the  precautions  taken  to  hide  such  heirlooms 
and  prime  sources  of  consolation,  sooner  or  later  inkling 
was  got  of  them  by  the  mar&hausste,  or  royal  police,  and 
the  sacred  books  were  ruthlessly  burnt. 

Here  I  will  mention  that,  although  the  Catholic  and 
Protestant  population  live  harmoniously  side  by  side,  inter- 
marriages are  rare,  and  the  rival  churches  neither  gain  nor 
lose  adherents  to  any  appreciable  extent.  Between  Pro- 
testant pastor  and  Catholic  priest  in  any  part  of  France 
there  is  no  kind  of  intercourse  whatever.  They  stand  aloof 
from  one  another  as  French  and  Germans  in  the  annexed 
provinces. 

On  Sunday  mornings  the  little  church  would  be  full,  the 
men  dressed  in  black,  cloth  trousers,  alpaca  blouses,  and 
neckties,  set  off  by  spotless  shirt-fronts,  the  older  women 
wearing  the  black  hood  and  long  black  coat  of  the  traditional 
Huguenot  matron,  the  younger  of  the  children  dark  stuff 
gowns  and  coloured  kerchiefs  tied  under  the  chin.  The 
service  was  of  the  simplest,  my  host's  young  daughter  pre- 
siding at  the  harmonium,  her  mother  leading  the  choir  of 
school  children,  and  all  the  congregation,  as  in  English 
churches,  joining  in  the  hymns.  The  communion  service 
was  especially  touching  in  its  simplicity  and  the  subdued 
fervour  of  the  partakers.  All  stood  in  a  semicircle  before 
the  table,  the  pastor,  as  he  handed  symbolic  draught  and 
bread  to  each,  uttering  some  scriptural  phrase  appropriate 
to  recipient  and  occasion. 

One's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  ancestors  of  these  sturdy 
mountaineers,  their  pastors  condemned  to  death  or  the 
galleys,  their  assemblage  for  purposes  of  worship  liable 
to  similar  punishments,  their  very  Bibles  burnt  by  the 
common  hangman.  Like  the  Pilgrim  Fathers,  the  French 


THE  PROTESTANT  PASTOR       145 

Huguenots  have  been  tried  in  the  fire,  and  rarely  found 
wanting. 

Sunday  was  observed  as  a  day  of  unbroken  repose.  My 
host  would,  in  the  afternoon,  take  me  for  a  round  of  calls  ; 
and  highly  instructive  were  these  chats  with  peasant  farmers, 
some  possessing  an  acre  or  two  only,  and  living  in  frugalest 
fashion,  others  owning  well-stocked  farms  of  twenty  or 
thirty  acres,  and  commodious  well-furnished  houses.  In 
one,  indeed,  we  found  a  piano,  pictures,  and  a  Japanese 
cabinet !  The  region  is  entirely  pastoral,  hardly  a  bour- 
geois element  entering  into  this  community  of  six  hundred 
souls.  The  village  street  consists  of  farmhouses,  and  where 
shops  are  needed  folks  betake  themselves  to  Bedous,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  gave.  Shopping,  however,  is  here  reduced 
to  the  minimum.  The  women  still  spin  linen  from  home- 
grown flax,  wheat  and  maize  are  grown  for  household  use, 
pigs  and  poultry  reared  for  domestic  consumption,  and  milk 
is  the  chief  drink  of  old  and  young.  Doubtless,  although 
this  point  I  did  not  inquire  into,  every  matron  had  her 
provision  of  home-made  simples,  a  family  medicine  chest, 
conferring  independence  of  the  pharmacy. 

With  no  little  regret  my  friend  and  myself  turned  our 
backs  upon  this  mountain-hemmed  parsonage.  Life  is 
short,  and  the  French  map  is  enormous.  Having  set  myself 
the  task  of  traversing  France  from  end  to  end,  I  could  not 
hope  to  revisit  scenes  so  full  of  natural  beauty  and  pleasur- 
able association.  A  drive  of  sixteen  miles  to  and  from  a 
railway  station  is  a  serious  obstacle  to  those  who  do  not 
appreciate  the  motor-car.  I  felt  that  the  Vallee  d'Aspe, 
alas !  must  remain  a  memory,  a  charming  but  closed  chapter 
of  French  experiences. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  every  pastor's  lot  is  cast  in 
such  pleasant  places.  From  a  pecuniary  and  social  point 
of  view,  many  pastorates  may  appear  more  desirable ;  but 
how  delightful  the  peace  of  this  Pyrenean  retreat,  how 
grateful  the  sense  of  reciprocated  amity  and  esteem  !  To 

L 


146          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

some  the  isolation  would  prove  irksome,  especially  during 
the  winter  season.  The  climate,  however,  is  comparatively 
mild,  and  whilst  the  mountains  are  tipped  with  snow,  the 
valley  is  very  rarely  so  whitened. 

In  other  French  parsonages  have  I  spent  many  weeks. 
One  of  these  represented  the  humbler,  a  second  the  more 
cosmopolitan,  type.  Perhaps  the  stipend  of  the  first 
incumbent  reached  two  thousand  francs,  just  £So  a  year, 
in  addition  to  good  house  and  large  garden.  My  hosts 
had  two  children,  and  at  that  time  no  private  means. 
As,  moreover,  they  lived  in  a  remote  country  town,  and 
were  without  English  connections,  boarders  could  not  be 
counted  upon.  So  the  narrow  resources  were  eked  out  with 
rigid  economy.  A  servant  was,  of  course,  wholly  out  of  the 
question.  The  pastor  taught  his  boy  and  girl,  and  his  wife, 
with  occasional  help  from  outside,  did  the  housework.  The 
daily  fare  was  soup,  followed  by  the  meat  and  vegetables 
from  which  it  had  been  made,  a  cutlet  or  some  other  extra 
being  put  before  the  visitor. 

Madame,  although  neatness  itself,  never  wore  a  gown 
except  on  Sundays,  or  when  paying  a  visit,  her  usual  cos- 
tume being  a  well-worn  but  quite  clean  and  tidy  morning 
wrap.  The  solitary  black  silk  dress  had  to  be  most  care- 
fully used,  so  little  prospect  seemed  there  of  ever  replacing 
it.  By  the  strangest  caprice  of  fortune,  some  years  after 
my  visit  this  lady's  husband  inherited  a  handsome  fortune. 
Rare,  indeed,  are  such  windfalls  in  the  French  parsonage, 
perhaps  rarer  still  the  sequel  of  this  story. 

For  when  I  lately  asked  of  a  common  friend  what  had 
become  of  the  pastor  and  his  heritage,  she  replied — 

"  He  stays  where  he  was,  and  does  nothing  but  good 
with  his  money." 

My  host  of  former  days  had  neither  quitted  the  little 
parsonage  of  that  country  town  nor  relinquished  his 
calling. 

There,  amid  old  friends  and  associations,  he  will  most 


THE   PROTESTANT   PASTOR       147 

likely  end  his  days.     We  see  in  his  case  the  result  of  early 
bringing  up,  the  influence  of  Huguenot  ancestry. 

In  large  cities  possessing  a  numerous  Protestant  com- 
munity the  stipend  is  higher,  and  the  parsonage  is  replaced 
by  a  commodious  flat.  The  attractions  of  society  and 
resources  of  a  town  enable  pastors  to  receive  young  men  of 
good  family,  English  or  otherwise,  who  appreciably  con- 
tribute to  the  family  budget.  Belonging  to  this  category 
is  the  third  pastoral  roof  under  which  I  spent  a  pleasant 
summer  holiday,  and  concerning  which  there  is  not  much 
to  say.  Existence  under  such  conditions  becomes  cosmo- 
politan. However  agreeable  may  be  our  sojourn,  it  has  no 
distinctive  features. 

The  Protestant  pastor  has  not  found  favour  with  the 
French  novelists.  Few  and  far  between  are  the  stories  in 
which  the  Protestant  element  is  introduced  at  all.  "  Con- 
stance," by  Th.  Bentzon,  is  an  exception ;  "  L'un  vers 
1'autre,"  an  engaging  story  by  a  new  writer,  is  another. 
The  late  Alphonse  Daudet  brutally  travestied  Protes- 
tantism in  "  L'Evangeliste ;"  and  another  writer  of 
European  reputation,  M.  Jules  Lemaitre,  stooped  so  low  as 
to  turn  the  Reformed  faith  into  buffoonery  for  the  stage. 
For  the  most  part  French  writers  seem  to  share  Louis 
Blanc's  opinion — in  France  Protestantism  has  ceased  to 
exist. 

I  add  that  the  Reformed  Church  (Calvinistic)  in  1893 
numbered  883  pastors,  as  against  90  of  the  Augsburg  Con- 
fession (Lutheran),  and  that  800  French  towns  and  com- 
munes possess  Protestant  churches,  these  figures  being 
exclusive  of  English  places  of  worship.  The  number  of 
churches  and  schools  is  added  to  every  year.  All  infor- 
mation on  this  subject  is  obtainable  in  the  little  "  Protestant 
Agenda,"  an  annual  publication,  price  one  shilling. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   PROFESSOR   OF  AGRICULTURE 

SELF-DEPRECIATION   is  a  French  characteristic. 
Our  neighbours  never  tire  of  stultifying  themselves 
as  a  nation  of  functionaries,  a  social  body  made  up 
of  small  placemen.     Some  writers,  in  this  predilection  for 
administrative  routine,  even  discern  a  canker-worm  preying 
upon  national  vitality.     They  hold  that  officialism  is  eating 
away  the   germs   of  enterprise   and    independence.     The 
manhood  of  France,  assert  such  critics,  is  thereby  losing 
qualities   more    than    ever  needed  if  their  country  is   to 
maintain  her  position  among  nations. 

May  not  the  bureaucratic  system  be  justified  by 
national  character — be,  in  fact,  a  natural  evolution  of 
temperament  and  aptitudes  ?  Just  as  an  insular  people  is 
impelled  to  hazard  and  adventure,  may  not  a  continental 
nation  be  predisposed  to  repose  and  stability  ? 

For  my  own  part,  I  have  long  regarded  the  small 
French  official  from  an  admiring  and  sympathetic  point 
of  view.  Bureaucracy  seems  to  me  a  factor  in  the  body 
politic  no  less  admirable  than  that  of  peasant  proprietor- 
ship itself.  At  the  present  time,  too,  how  refreshing  is  the 
contemplation  of  these  dignified,  unpretentious,  laborious 
lives !  Elsewhere  we  find  frenzied  speculation,  inordinate 
craving  after  wealth,  and  lavish  expenditure.  Untouched 
by  such  sinister  influences,  the  French  civil  servant  "  keeps 
the  noiseless  tenor  of  his  way,"  a  modest  competence 
crowning  his  honourable  and  most  useful  career. 

148 


THE  PROFESSOR  OF  AGRICULTURE  149 

To  no  class  have  I  been  more  indebted  in  the  course 
of  my  usual  surveys  than  to  the  departmental  professor 
of  agriculture.  Locus  est  et  phiribus  umbris,  "plenty  of 
room  for  uninvited  guests,"  wrote  the  Roman  poet  to  his 
friend;  and  the  Third  Republic,  when  creating  these  State 
professorships,  was  evidently  of  Horace's  opinion.  Multi- 
farious as  were  already  Government  bureaux,  a  few  more 
might  advantageously  be  added.  Paradoxical  as  it  may 
sound,  the  departmental  professor  was  nominated  in  order 
to  teach  the  peasant  farming !  But  if,  as  Arthur  Young 
wrote  a  hundred  and  odd  years  ago,  you  give  a  man  secure 
possession  of  a  black  rock  and  he  will  turn  it  into  a  garden, 
peasant  ownership  is  not  always  progressive.  The  depart- 
mental professor  must  coax  small  farmers  out  of  their 
groove — in  fine,  teach  them  that  there  are  more  things  in 
heaven  and  earth  than  are  dreamed  of  in  their  philosophy. 
Recruited  from  the  State  agricultural  schools  of  Rennes, 
Grignau,  Montpellier,  and  others,  these  gentlemen  have 
gone  through  a  complete  practical  and  scientific  training, 
and  exercise  a  real  influence  in  rural  districts.  Their 
gratuitous  classes  in  winter  evenings,  no  matter  how 
apparently  mystifying  may  be  the  subject  treated,  are 
always  well  attended  by  young  and  old.  But  it  is  the 
Sunday  afternoon  conference,  or  lecture  held  out-of-doors, 
that  proves  most  attractive  and  illuminating  to  the  hard- 
headed  peasant.  These  lectures  take  the  form  of  an  object- 
lesson.  New  machinery  and  chemical  manures,  seeds, 
plants,  and  roots  are  exhibited,  inquiries  being  invited 
and  explanations  given. 

Very  characteristic   is   the  behaviour   of   the   middle- 
aged,    often    white-haired    pupils    gathered    around    the 
demonstrator's   table.      Most    deliberative,  most   leisurely 
of  national  temperaments,  the  French  mind  works  slowly. 
"It    will    often    happen,"    says    my    friend    Monsieur 

R ,  departmental  professor  in  Western  France,  "  that  a 

peasant  farmer  will  return  again  and  again  to  a  piece  of 


150          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

machinery  or  sample  of  chemical  manure  before  making 
up  his  mind  to  buy  either.  Like  a  bird  suspecting  a  gin, 
he  hovers  round  the  tempting  bait  at  a  distance,  at  last 
venturing  upon  nearer  inspection  and  a  few  inquiries, 
perhaps  weeks  later  deciding  upon  the  perilous  leap  ;  in 
other  words,  to  throw  aside  his  antiquated  drilling  machine 
for  Ransome's  latest  improvement,  or  to  lay  out  a  few 
francs  upon  approved  seeds  or  roots."  No  more  cautious, 
I  should  perhaps  say  suspicious,  being  inhabits  the  globe 
than  Jacques  Bonhomme.  Not  only  does  farming  proper, 
that  is  to  say,  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  and  the  breeding 
of  stock,  fall  within  the  professor's  province,  but  kindred 
subjects,  the  name  of  which  in  France  is  legion.  Especially 
must  his  attention  be  given  to  the  ofttimes  multifarious 
products  and  industries  of  his  own  province,  such  as  mule- 
rearing,  cyder  and  liqueur  making,  the  culture  of  medicinal 
herbs,  silkworm  breeding,  vine-dressing,  and  the  fabrication 
of  wine.  In  matters  agricultural  he  must  indeed  be  ency- 
clopaedic, resembling  Fadladeen,  the  great  Vizier,  "who 
was  a  judge  of  everything,  from  the  pencilling  of  a  Cir- 
cassian's eyelids  to  the  deepest  questions  of  science  and 
literature,  from  a  conserve  of  rose-leaves  to  an  epic 
poem." 

Like  the  immortal  Mr.  Turveydrop,  also,  he  must  per- 
petually show  himself.  And  if  not  in  the  flesh,  at  least 
vicariously,  he  must  survey  mankind  from  China  to  Peru. 
Not  only  is  his  presence  indispensable  at  local  and 
municipal  meetings  of  agricultural  societies,  at  agricultural 
shows  and  congresses,  at  sittings  of  the  Departmental 
Council  General,  at  markets  and  fairs,  but  beyond  the 
frontier,  across  the  channel  and  the  Gulf  of  Lyons,  he 
wends  his  way.  Now  he  visits  the  Shire  horse  show  at 
Islington,  now  an  agricultural  congress  in  Rome,  or  an 
exposition  vinicole  (exhibition  of  wines)  in  Algeria. 

Again,  the  amount  of  writing  that  has  to  be  got  through 
by  the  departmental  professor  is  enormous.  Reports  for 


THE  PROFESSOR  OF  AGRICULTURE  151 

the  Minister  of  Agriculture  are  periodically  drawn  up, 
pamphlets  and  flying  sheets  for  general  distribution  are 
expected  of  him,  besides  contributions  to  the  local  journals 
of  agriculture.  Whenever  I  receive  a  printed  communica- 
tion from  my  friend  M.  R ,  I  am  moved  to  confraternal 

commiseration,  my  own  aching  fingers  ache  doubly  out  of 
sympathy. 

The  devastation  wrought  by  the  phylloxera,  as  we  all 
know,  cost  France  a  sum  equal  to  that  of  the  Franco-Prussian 
war  indemnity,  namely,  two  hundred  million  sterling.  In 
the  midst  of  that  panic-stricken  period  a  prize  of  a  million 
francs  (^"40,000)  was  offered  by  the  Government  for  the 
discovery  of  a  remedy.  No  one  obtained  this  splendid 
gratuity,  but  several  professors  of  agriculture,  amongst 

others  M.  R ,  have  serviceably  co-operated  in  the  recon- 

stitution  of  vineyards  by  American  stocks,  and  other  works 
of  amelioration. 

The  Third  Republic  has  ennobled  agriculture  as  well 
as  accorded  it  a  professorial  chair.  As  behoved  a  regime 
whose  watchword  is  peace,  the  French  Government  some 
years  since  instituted  a  second  Legion  of  Honour.  War- 
riors wear  the  red  ribbon,  academic  dignities  confer  the 
purple ;  the  yellow  rosette  now  chiefly  encountered  at 
agricultural  shows  and  markets  denotes  the  newly  created 
ordre  du  mfrite  agricole,  or  order  of  agricultural  merit.  Not 
only  do  we  see  this  badge  on  the  frock-coat  of  the  pro- 
fessor, but  occasionally  it  adorns  the  peasant's  blue  blouse. 
And  if  the  former  is  gratified  by  such  recognition  of  his 
services,  how  much  more  must  the  humble  farmer  or 
dairyman  glory  in  his  tiny  orange  rosette!  For  a  bit 
of  coloured  ribbon  may  seem  a  small  thing,  but  its  sym- 
bolism may  be  immense.  By  what  laborious  hours  and 
painful  effort  has  not  the  husbandman's  insignia  been 
gained ! 

To  appraise  French  character  we  should  see  our  neigh- 
bours, not  only  in  their  own  homes,  but  amid  English 


152          HOME  LIFE  IN  FRANCE 

surroundings.  A  former  cicerone  in  Normandy,  M.  R 

twice  afforded  me  the  opportunity  of  returning  the  com- 
pliment on  native  soil.  What  struck  me  about  my  friend 
was  the  change  that  comes  over  a  Frenchman  as  soon  as 
he  quits  his  own  country,  an  attitude  the  exact  reverse  of 
an  Englishman's  mental  condition  abroad.  In  France  a 
Frenchman's  mood  is  invariably  critical,  that  of  a  carper. 
Away  from  home  he  looks  about  for  something  to  appre- 
ciate and  admire.  With  ourselves,  too  often  a  fleeting 
glance  or  supercilious  expression  seem  to  be  thought 
appropriate  to  everything  foreign. 

And  wherever  he  is  a  Frenchman's  eyes  are  open. 
I  well  remember  one  instance  of  this  when  strolling  with 

M.  R on  the  parade  at  Hastings.  It  was  in  February, 

for  my  friend  had  crossed  the  channel  in  order  to  visit 
the  horse  show  at  Islington.  As  we  now  walked  briskly 
along,  I  saw  him  look  at  the  line  of  fly-horses,  each  well 
protected  from  the  cold  by  a  stout  horse-cloth. 

"  How  admirably  your  cab-horses  are  cared  for  here ! " 
he  observed ;  adding,  "  I  shall  make  a  note  of  this  for 
one  of  my  lectures." 

And  as  the  French  peasant's  want  of  consideration  for 
his  animals  often  arises  from  thoughtlessness,  who  knows 

M.  R may  prove  a  benefactor  to  cart-horses  as  well 

as  those  of  the  hackney  carriage  ?  In  the  year  of  Queen 
Victoria's  final  jubilee,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  accompanying 
my  friend  to  Rothamstead,  spending  a  delightfully  in- 
structive day  with  the  late  Sir  John  Lawes  and  his  charm- 
ing granddaughters  ;  also  of  introducing  him  to  the  Natural 
History  Museum  at  South  Kensington.  We  had  projected 
a  visit  to  the  agricultural  school  of  Hollesley  Bay,  Suffolk, 
but  the  departmental  professor  of  agriculture  is  the  commis 
voyageur,  the  commercial  traveller  of  the  State,  not  always 

a  very  indulgent  firm.  M.  R 's  report  was  called  for, 

and  to  our  mutually-shared  regret  the  expedition  had  to  be 
given  up. 


THE  PROFESSOR  OF  AGRICULTURE  153 

When  I  first  knew  my  friend,  he  had  just  exchanged 
the  modest  post  of  rfy&itenr,  or  junior  master  in  a  State 
agricultural  school,  for  that  of  departmental  professor. 
I  do  not  suppose  any  man  living  is  more  contented  with 
his  present  lot — a  proud  and  happy  plre  de  famille,  a  wife 
of  equally  happy  temperament,  and  two  little  sons  making 
up  his  home  circle,  the  combined  incomes  of  husband  and 
wife  sufficing  for  daily  needs,  the  education  of  their 
children,  and  the  usual  putting  by.  Truly  to  these  civil 
servants  of  France  may  be  applied  the  Roman  poet's 
apostrophe,  it  is  such  men — 

"  Who  make  the  golden  mean  their  guide, 

Shun  miser's  cabin  foul  and  dark, 
Shun  gilded  roofs,  where  pomp  and  pride 
Are  envy's  mark." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  JUGE   DE  PA1X 

IT  is  now  twenty-five  years  since  I  made  the  acquain- 
tance of  M.  D ,  juge  de  paix  of  a  canton  in  the 
Jura,  We  came  to  know  each  other  in  this  way. 
I  had  hired  a  carriage  for  the  three  hours'  drive  from 
the  superbly  situated  little  town  of  Morez  on  the  Bienne 
to  the  still  more  superbly  situated  little  bishopric  of  St. 
Claude.  As  I  never  travel  alone  when  agreeable  company 
is  to  be  had,  I  asked  my  friends  to  find  me  travelling  com- 
panions, which  they  did.  The  elderly  gentleman  and  his 
wife,  bound  like  myself  to  St.  Claude,  immediately  on  arrival 
introduced  me  to  their  newly  married  daughter  and  her 
husband,  lately  named  juge  de  paix  of  the  district.  With 
characteristic  French  amiability,  Monsieur  and  Madame 

D set  themselves  the  task  not  only  of  showing  me  the 

ancient  little  city  and  its  surroundings,  but  its  curious  and 
time-honoured  industries,  the  turnery  and  wood-carving 
done  at  home,  each  craftsman  working  under  his  own 
roof. 

The  pleasant  and  profitable  intercourse  of  those  few 
days  ripened  into  friendship.  A  few  years  later  I  visited 
my  friends  in  another  romantic  corner  of  the  same  depart- 
ment, Monsieur  D having  been  nominated  to  a  less 

remote  canton. 

The  juge  de  paix,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  is  a 
creation  of  the  Revolution.  In  his  person  is  represented 
one  of  the  most  sweeping  reforms  ever  effected  by  pen  and 


THE   JUGE   DE   PAIX  155 

ink.  The  administration  of  justice  was  summarily  trans- 
ferred from  a  privileged  and  venal  class  to  responsible 
servants  of  the  State. 

And  here  a  word  as  to  the  title.  This  modestly  paid 
interpreter  of  the  law  was  thus  named  because  his  mission 
in  a  great  measure  was  to  conciliate,  to  prevent  lawsuits  by 
advice  and  impartial  intervention.  This  cheap,  simple,  and 
paternal  jurisdiction  was  instituted  in  the  special  interests 
of  the  peasant  and  the  workman,  formerly  often  ruined  by 
the  multiplicity  of  tribunals  and  rapacity  of  notaries  and 
lawyers. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  from  time  immemorial 
the  rural  population  in  France  has  been  a  propertied  class, 
hence  the  perpetual  recurrence  to  litigation.  Under  the 
ancien  regime,  as  to-day,  Jacques  Bonhomme  and  his 
neighbours  would  be  at  daggers  drawn  about  limitations  of 
newly  acquired  field,  damages  done  by  stray  cattle,  or  some 
such  matter.  And  the  cheapness  of  going  to  law  in  these 
days  may  perhaps  have  fostered  a  litigious  propensity. 
Certainly  these  rural  magistrates  have  plenty  to  do.  The 
juge  depaix  is  appointed  by  the  State,  he  receives  a  yearly 
stipend  of  three  or  four  thousand  francs,  with  a  small 
retiring  pension  at  sixty.  As  he  must  be  thoroughly  versed 
in  the  Code  Civil,  his  services  do  not  appear  to  be 
adequately  remunerated,  especially  when  we  compare  his 
office  and  its  emoluments  to  those  of  the  percepteur,  or  tax 
collector,  the  subject  of  my  next  sketch.  On  this  point  a 
French  friend  writes  to  me :  "  Percepteurs,  even  of  the  first 
and  second  grades  (i.e.  lower),  are  certainly  better  paid  than 
the  juge  de  paix.  But  the  former  is  only  a  fiscal  agent, 
whilst  the  latter  is  a  magistrate  charged  with  very  varied 
and  delicate  duties.  He  must  have  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  law  ;  the  percepteur,  on  the  contrary,  need  only  be  a  man 
of  ordinary  education,  for  this  reason  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
place  him  below  the  other,  although  his  services  are  much 
better  remunerated." 


156          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

The  responsibilities  of  the  juge  de  paix  are  strictly 
limited.  He  can  sentence  to  short  terms  of  imprisonment 
and  to  fines  not  exceeding  two  hundred  francs,  the  next 
stage  in  administration  being  that  of  the  Tribunal 
correctionnel  de  r  arrondissement.  The  arrondissement  is 
that  division  of  a  department  presided  over  by  a  sous-prtfet. 
In  cases  of  burglary,  accident,  murder,  suicide,  arson,  the 
juge  de  paix  is  immediately  sent  for.  It  is  his  business  to 
seal  the  papers  of  defunct  persons,  and  to  represent  the  law 
at  those  conseils  de  famille,  or  family  councils,  I  describe 
elsewhere. 

The  especial  function  of  injustice  de  paix  regarded  as 
a  system  is  intermediary  and  preventive  rather  than 
judiciary.  Disputes  are  always  settled  by  friendly  arbitra- 
tion when  possible.  Country  folks,  as  I  have  said,  have  a 
marked  proclivity  for  the  proems  verbal,  in  other  words, 
going  to  law.  Were,  indeed,  a  rural  judge  paid  according 
to  his  cases,  he  would  die  a  millionaire. 

As  we  might  expect,  small  unenclosed  properties  are  a 
fruitful  source  of  discord  ;  as  we  should  certainly  not  expect 
among  so  easy-going  a  people,  that  unruly  member  the 
tongue  is  another.  Diffamation,  or  the  calling  each  other 
names,  is  constantly  bringing  neighbours  into  court,  some 
of  the  scenes  enacted  being  ludicrous  in  the  extreme. 

Indeed,  my  friend  assured  me  that  the  maintenance  of 
gravity  was  often  the  most  arduous  and  trying  part  of  his 
sittings.  But,  he  added,  echoing  the  sentiment  of  the 
immortal  Bagnet,  '*  discipline  must  be  maintained." 

The  minimum  fine  for  a  case  of  backbiting  and  slander- 
ing is  two  francs,  a  large  sum  in  Jacques  Bonhomme's  eyes. 
The  mulct,  however,  does  not  prevent  his  womankind  from 
calling  each  other  "base  and  degrading  Tildas"  at  the 
next  opportunity. 

With  my  friend's  young  wife  I  attended  a  stance,  or 
sitting,  of  the  justice  de  paix,  an  experience  not  to  be 
omitted  by  those  who  would  study  the  French  peasant. 


THE  JUGE   DE  PAIX  157 

In  the  centre  of  the  plain,  airy  court  sat  the  judge,  wearing 
his  robes  of  office,  high-crowned  hat  with  silver  band, 
advocate's  black  gown  and  white  lappets.  On  his  right 
sits  his  greffier,  or  clerk,  also  wearing  judicial  hat  and  gown  ; 
on  his  left,  his  suppliant,  or  coadjutor,  representing  the 
public  prosecutor.  This  last  is  an  unpaid  official.  By  the 
judge  lies  a  copy  of  the  Code  Civil.  This  volume  is  not  used 
in  swearing  witnesses,  the  only  formula  exacted  being  the 
words,  "  Par  Dieu,  les  hommes,  et  la  vfriti"  ("  by  God,  man, 
and  the  truth  ").  Above  the  chair  of  office  was  suspended 
crucifix.  On  the  occasion  of  my  visit  several  typical  cases 
came  before  the  judge.  One  of  these  concerned  boundary 
marks.  The  disputants  were  both  peasants — the  first,  a 
grave,  taciturn  middle-aged  man  ;  the  other,  a  voluble 

young  fellow,  whose  eloquence  on  his  own  behalf  M.  D 

had  great  difficulty  in  repressing.  The  affair  was  promptly 
disposed  of.  On  that  day  fortnight,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  litigants  were  bidden  to  appear  on  the  con- 
tested borderland,  when  the  rival  claims  would  be  adjusted 
by  the  judge  in  person. 

I  also  heard  an  old  farmer  in  blue  blouse  plead  his 
own  cause  with  the  shrewdness  and  pertinence  of  a  counsel. 
The  bone  of  contention  was  a  contract,  the  other  party, 
according  to  his  showing,  not  having  fulfilled  his  obligations. 
Property  handed  down  from  father  to  son  proves  an  educa- 
tion in  many  senses,  not  only  sharpening  the  wits,  but 
rendering  glib  the  tongue. 

It  was  interesting  to  note  that  no  matter  how  noisy  or 
self-asserting  might  be  the  litigants,  the  majesty  of  the 
law  was  ever  readily  acknowledged.  The  simple  "  You  can 
retire"  of  the  magistrate  sufficed.  Very  rarely,  I  was 
informed,  is  it  necessary  to  appeal  to  a  gendarme. 

A  juge  de  paix  is  sometimes  confronted  with  problems 
only  to  be  solved  after  the  rough-and-ready  methods  of 
King  Solomon  or  the  equally  subtle  lawgiver  of  Bara- 
taria.  From  the  strictest  impartiality  he  must  never 


158          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

deviate,  hence  the  almost  affectionate  respect  hemming 
him  round.  One  perpetual  surprise  in  France  is  the  pre- 
vailing intellectuality,  the  general  atmosphere  of  culture. 

These  small  officials — M.  D is  one  of  several  rural 

magistrates  I  have  known — are  not  only  skilled  in  law 
and  jurisprudence,  but  often  possess  considerable  literary 
and  artistic  tastes.  Cut  off  from  the  stimulus  of  great 
centres,  travel,  and  congenial  society,  they  do  not  allow 
themselves  to  vegetate,  maintaining  on  the  contrary  an 
alert  interest  in  matters  lying  wholly  outside  their  own 
immediate  venue. 

All  fairly  well  educated  Frenchmen  have  a  good  know- 
ledge of  the  national  literature,  due  to  early  training.  The 
love  of  the  beautiful,  so  universally  found  throughout  France, 
may,  I  think,  be  traced  to  the  local  museum.  Hardly  any 
town  of  a  few  thousand  souls  is  without  its  art  collection 
and  the  influence  of  such  object-lessons  within  easy  reach 
is  incalculable. 

One  juge  de  paix  I  know  had  visited  England,  and 
amongst  other  experiences  had  seen  Irving  in  some  of  his 
most  famous  rdles.  This  gentleman  could  have  passed, 
I  dare  say,  an  examination  in  Walter  Scott  and  Dickens, 
darling  topics  on  which,  alas !  he  could  only  discourse 
during  the  long  vacation.  From  August  to  September  he 
had  a  cover  laid  for  him  at  the  chateau  whenever  English 
guests  were  staying  there,  which  was  pretty  often,  the 
owners  being  good  friends  of  England. 

Another  rural  magistrate  of  my  acquaintance  has  long 
been  a  warm  advocate  of  arbitration  and  of  the  entente 
cordiale.  Two  years  ago  he  joined  a  local  branch  of  the 
French  Arbitration  Society. 

"  The  bicycle,  the  bicycle ! "  he  said  to  me.  "  Ah !  there 
we  have  an  admirable  engine  of  propaganda.  Miles  and 
miles  are  members  of  the  arbitration  societies  thereby 
enabled  to  cover,  reaching  out-of-the-way  spots,  and  getting 
at  the  peasants  as  it  is  impossible  to  do  by  means  of 


THE   JUGE   DE   PAIX  159 

lectures  and  public  meetings.  A  friendly  chat  over  a  glass 
of  wine,  a  talk  in  the  fields,  that  is  the  best  means  of 
obtaining  the  countryman's  confidence." 

The  speaker  in  question  had  private  means,  and  with  his 
young  wife  took  holiday  trips  in  the  long  vacation  ;  the  pair 
kept  a  servant,  and  enjoyed  comparative  luxury.  Of  the 
manyjitges  de  paix  I  have  known  only  one  or  two  lived  on 
such  a  scale.  And  the  fact  must  never  be  lost  sight  of, 
prestige  in  France  does  not  depend  upon  material 
circumstances. 

Absence  of  pretence  characterizes  official  life.  A  rural 
magistrate  is  not  looked  down  upon  because  his  wife 
happens  to  be  her  own  cook,  housemaid,  and  nurse.  No 
word  in  the  French  lexicon  precisely  answers  to  our  own 
"  gentility  "  or  its  unspoken  meaning.  We  do  not  in  these 
days  speak  of  living  genteelly,  but  of  doing  as  other  people 
do,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing. 

The  French  phrase  comme  il  faut  indicates  something 
wholly  different.  To  dress,  behave,  keep  house  comme  il 
faut  has  reference  only  to  the  befitting,  the  adhesion  to 
strict  propriety.  Appearance  is  not  bent  knee  to,  and  if 
thrift  is  apt  to  degenerate  into  parsimony,  and  much  that 
we  regard  as  absolutely  essential  to  comfort  and  well- 
being  is  sacrificed  to  the  habit,  we  must  yet  whole  heartedly 
admire  the  simple,  unambitious,  dignified  life  of  the  small 
French  official. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  TAX  COLLECTOR 

IN  a  certain  sense  an  Englishman's  home  is  a  cara- 
vanserai, whilst  a  Frenchman's  is  a  closely  fortified 
castle,  tradition  here  being  completely  at  fault. 

This  reflection  has  often  crossed  my  mind  when  spend- 
ing week  after  week  in  French  country  houses.  Under  an 
English  roof  the  visitor  would  be  one  of  an  uninterrupted 
succession,  not  only  every  spare  bedchamber  being  occupied 
during  the  holiday  season,  but  daily  luncheons,  garden 
parties,  picnics,  and  other  social  entertainments  making 
time  and  money  fly ! 

Partly  because  our  neighbours  object  to  unnecessary 
outlay,  partly  because  they  object  still  more  to  anything 
in  the  way  of  household  disorganization  or  interference 
with  routine,  an  average  country  house  over  the  water  is  a 
veritable  fortress,  drawbridge  and  portcullis  only  yielding 
to  the  "  open  sesame  "  of  blood  relationship. 

By  virtue  of  propinquity,  however,  two  or  three  in- 
dividuals are  permitted  within  the  charmed  circle  ;  the  first 
is  the  village  priest,  the  second  is  the  juge  de  paix,  the 
third  is  the  percepteur,  or  collector  of  revenue,  or,  as  we 
should  say,  the  tax  gatherer. 

Before  sketching  my  old  acquaintance,  M.  le  Percepteur 
R ,  let  me  say  a  few  words  about  his  office. 

The  collector  of  revenue  thus  called  was  created  by 
Napoleon  when  first  consul.  Fiscal  resources  had  not  been 

1 60 


THE  TAX  COLLECTOR  161 

successfully  administered  during  the  successive  regimes  of 
the  two  assemblies,  the  Convention  and  the  Directoire. 
So  thoroughly  had  the  legislators  of  the  Revolution  re- 
formed abuses  that,  as  Mignet  tells  us,  the  national  resources 
quadrupled  within  a  few  years.  But  what  with  European 
and  civil  wars,  internal  administration  suffered  neglect.  In 
many  regions  taxes  had  remained  in  arrears  for  consider- 
able periods.  The  municipal  authorities  superseding  the 
hated  Intendants  of  the  ancien  regime,  charged  also  with 
the  levying  of  troops,  were  unable  satisfactorily  to  carry 
out  both  duties.  Herein,  in  a  great  measure,  writes 
M.  Rambaud  ("  Civilization  Franchise  "),  is  to  be  discerned 
the  genesis  of  the  Terror.  The  law  as  it  stood  could  not 
legally  punish  negligent  or  hostile  functionaries.  The 
representants  en  mission,  or  legislative  emissaries,  named  by 
the  Convention  in  order  to  remedy  such  a  state  of  things, 
were  veritable  dictators,  sending  recalcitrants  to  the  guillotine 
with  short  shrift.  That  charming  story-teller  Charles 
Nodier,  in  his  "  Souvenirs  de  la  Revolution,"  describes  from 
personal  recollection  an  emissary  of  this  kind,  the  terrible 
St.  Just. 

Napoleon's  scheme  was  somewhat  modified,  and  the 
existing  arrangement  is  as  follows:  to  each  canton  or 
group  of  communes  a  percepteur  is  named  by  the  Minister 
of  Finance,  the  nominee  being  obliged  to  produce  a  certain 
sum  of  money  as  guarantee.  The  Percepteur  collects 
what  are  called  contributions  directes,  the  assessing  of  such 
taxes  being  in  the  hands  of  contrdleurs,  or  inspectors,  by 
whom  assessments  are  lodged  with  the  local  mayors,  the 
mayors  in  their  turn  passing  them  on  to  the  perceptetirs 
each  January.  All  moneys  are  paid  to  the  Receveur,  or 
paymaster  of  the  arrondissement,  an  administrative  division  ; 
the  Receveur  again  hands  on  the  amount  to  the  Tresorier,  or 
treasurer  of  the  department.  Finally,  the  year's  revenue 
finds  its  way  into  the  State  coffers.  Contributions  directes, 
Le.  direct  taxation,  comprise  land  tax  and  house  duty, 


162          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

taxeis  on  property  and  on  patentes,  or  licences.  Contribu- 
tions indirectes,  i.e.  indirect  taxation,  comprise  stamp 
duties,  excise,  duties  on  tobacco,  matches,  traffic,  etc. 
Octroi,  or  duties  on  produce,  are  levied  by  municipalities. 

The  poor-law  is  non-existent  in  France.  Ratepayers 
are  not  mulcted  a  sou  for  the  maintenance  of  the  sick 
and  aged  poor,  or  the  indigent  generally. 

The  first-named  charges,  or  contributions  directes,  fall 
upon  all  rents  above  £20  in  Paris  and  £8  in  the  provinces. 
Windows  are  still  taxed,  but  in  1831  the  rate  was  lowered 
in  order  that  workmen  at  home  and  in  factories  should  not 
suffer  from  want  of  light  and  air. 

The  relative  proportion  of  State  and  municipal  taxation 
is  gathered  from  the  following  figures  supplied  by  a  friend. 
Of  119  francs  paid  in  all,  64  and  a  fraction  go  to  the 
budget,  and  54  and  a  fraction  to  the  town.  Up  till  the 
year  1877  a  much-hated  official  called  garnissaire,  or  bailiff, 
could  instal  himself  in  the  house  of  a  defaulting  taxpayer 
and  there  claim  bed  and  board  till  all  arrears  were  forth- 
coming. With  the  general  increase  of  well-being  and 
instruction,  the  function  became  a  sinecure.  Nowadays 
taxes  are  rapidly  and  easily  collected  from  one  end  of 
France  to  the  other. 

As  the  Percepteur's  emoluments  depend  upon  his  venue, 
the  post  is  often  extremely  lucrative,  in  large  centres 
representing  a  thousand  a  year.  The  tax  gatherer  of  a 
canton,  on  the  other  hand,  will  perhaps  receive  no  more 
than  £So  annually.  It  certainly  seems  somewhat  in- 
consistent that  the  dispensation  of  justice  should  be  less 
remunerated  than  the  collection  of  revenue,  the  juge  de 
paix,  as  I  have  before  shown,  never  enjoying  but  the  most 
modest  stipend. 

Farm-houses  and  rural  dwellings  often  lie  wide  apart. 
The  Percepteiirs  domicile  cannot  lie  within  easy  reach  of 
all  his  creditors ;  like  Mahomet,  he  will  be  obliged  to  go 
to  the  mountain.  In  other  words,  the  tax  gatherer,  as  was 


THE  TAX  COLLECTOR  163 

the  case  with  his  hated  predecessor  of  the  ancien  regime, 
from  time  to  time  makes  a  round,  and  is  apparently  ever 
welcome  as  the  flowers  in  May. 

I  always  knew  when  M.  le  Percepteur  R was 

expected  by  Burgundian  friends  with  whom  I  formerly 
used  to  spend  autumn  holidays.  Bustle  is  never  a  word 
suited  to  French  methods.  Among  our  sensible  neigh- 
bours it  is  never  a  question  of  "  The  devil  catch  the  hind- 
most." Folks  daily  rest  on  their  oars.  But  if  "  a  man  of 
wealth  is  dubbed  a  man  of  worth,"  may  not  be  a  dictum 
universally  accepted,  the  handling  of  national  money- 
bags ever  imparts  unusual  dignity.  The  worthy  Percepteur 
was  feted  as  if,  like  Sully,  he  was  followed  by  wheelbarrows 
piled  high  with  gold. 

All  day  long  my  hostess  and  her  old  cook  would  be 
up  to  their  ears  in  business.  Forest,  field,  and  stream  were 
laid  under  contribution  in  his  honour.  Oysters  and  other 
delicacies  were  ordered  from  the  neighbouring  town. 
Choicest  wines  and  liqueurs  were  brought  from  the  cellar. 
And,  of  course,  the  incomparable,  ineffable  dish  before 
mentioned — 

"  Beast  of  chase  or  fowl  or  game 
In  pasty  built," 

crowned  the  feast. 

Portly,  jovial,  middle-aged,  and  a  bachelor,  M.  le 
Percepteur  was  excellent  company.  In  French  phrase,  he 
bore  the  cost  of  conversation.  Fiscalities  and  rural  affairs 
formed  the  staple  of  talk,  subjects  of  never- wan  ing  interest 
to  the  wine-growers  and  notaries  present,  and  not  without 
instruction  for  outsiders. 

Montaigne,  who  ever  wrote  like  a  nonagenarian,  some- 
where dwells  in  his  delightfully  jog-trot,  ambling  way  on 
the  profit  to  be  gained  from  men  no  matter  their  calling,  if 
you  listen  to  them  on  that  calling.  And  if  during  the  past 
twenty-five  years  I  have  attained  some  knowledge  of 


164          HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

French  life  and  character,  it  is  not  from  books  at  all,  but 
from  following  Montaigne's  rule,  from  listening  to  French- 
men and  Frenchwomen  on  their  own  avocations. 

M.  le  Percepteur,  after  the  manner  of  bachelors,  coddled 
himself  a  bit,  and  before  his  departure  begged  a  favour  of 
me.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  taking  tea  for  the  further- 
ance of  digestion,  and  good  tea  in  country  places  was 
unattainable.  Would  I  be  so  amiable  as  to  procure  him 
some  really  first-rate  Souchong  ? 

Of  course  I  was  only  too  delighted  to  fulfL  the 
commission,  a  poor  return  for  indebtedness  of  other  and. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  YOUNG  BUSINESS   LADY 

"     A      PERFECT  woman  nobly  planned "  for  practical 

/\       life,    the    young    business    lady   offers   a  study 

JL     V     complex     as     that    of    the    fastidiously-reared 

demoiselle  belonging  to  fashionable  society,  whose  dowry 

of  itself  ensures  her  a  brilliant  marriage. 

The  exact  counterpart  of  the  French  young  lady  of 
business,  I  should  say,  is  nowhere  to  be  found,  certainly 
not  in  England.  Aptitudes,  ideals,  physical  and  mental 
equation  are  essentially  and  ancestrally  Gallic  and  con- 
servative. The  wave  of  femin isme,  or  the  woman's  rights' 
movement,  has  not  reached  the  sphere  in  which  she  moves  ; 
if  not  a  radiant  figure,  she  is,  at  all  times,  a  dignified  and 
edifying  one,  by  her  Milton's  precept  having  been  early 
taken  to  heart — 

"  To  know 

That  which  before  us  lies  in  daily  life 
Is  the  prime  wisdom." 

It  may  here  be  mentioned  that,  no  matter  her  rank,  a 
French  girl  is  regarded  as  an  old  maid  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five.  If  neither  married  nor  betrothed  by  the  time 
she  reaches  that  venerable  period,  by  general  consent, 
single  blessedness  awaits  her.  The  spinster  of  fashion 
and  society  has  two  avenues  from  which  to  choose — con- 
ventual seclusion  or  devotion  to  good  works  outside  its 
walls.  The  business  young  lady  pursues  her  avocations 
without  mortification  or  repining  at  unpropitious  fate. 

165 


166          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

In  leisured  and  wealthy  classes  the  thought  of  approach- 
ing spinsterhood  is  a  veritable  nightmare.  The  hiding  of 
mortified  vanity  or  misplaced  sentiment  in  a  convent,  or 
the  assumption  of  a  pietistic  rdle  amid  old  surroundings, 
involve  bitter  disillusion.  What  an  end  to  the  dazzling 
dreams  and  airy  hopes  of  a  few  years  before !  What  a 
contrast  to  existence  as  pictured  by  the  youthful  com- 
municant in  anticipatory  bridal  dress !  The  Rubicon  of 
twenty-five  passed,  a  lady  clerk  or  manageress  contemplates 
the  future  undismayed. 

Old  maids  of  twenty-five,  whether  portioned  or  no, 
may,  of  course,  occasionally  marry,  especially  in  the  work- 
a-day  world  ;  and  here  it  is  curious  to  note  the  rigidity 
of  etiquette  obligatory  on  both. 

I  have  mentioned  elsewhere  that  brides  and  bride- 
grooms elect,  moving  in  good  society,  are  invariably 
chaperoned.  Alike  indoors  and  out,  a  third  person,  not 
necessarily  listening  or  looking  on,  must  keep  them  com- 
pany. But  seeing  that  girls,  who  earn  their  own  living, 
attain  habits  of  independence  at  an  early  age,  we  should 
expect  to  find  such  rules  relaxed  in  their  case.  No 
such  thing !  The  young  lady  forewoman  or  bookkeeper, 
whether  under  or  over  twenty-five,  cannot  go  to  the 
theatre  with  her  fianct  unaccompanied  by  a  relation  ; 
still  less  can  she  take  train  with  him,  in  order  to  visit 
friends  ten  miles  off,  whilst  tete-ct-t$te  strolls  or  visits 
to  public  places  of  entertainment  are  wholly  out  of 
the  question.  Even  a  well-conducted  femme  de 
chambre  is  here  as  scrupulous  as  her  eighteen-year-old 
mistress. 

The  reputation  of  the  young  business  lady,  like  that 
of  Caesar's  wife,  must  be  beyond  reproach.  Dress,  speech, 
deportment,  must  defy  criticism.  Advancement,  increase 
of  pay,  her  very  bread,  depend  upon  circumspection,  a 
standard  of  conduct  never  deviated  from  in  the  least  little 
particular. 


THE  YOUNG  BUSINESS  LADY    167 

Flirtation  is  no  more  permissible  in  the  business  world 
than  in  good  society.  The  thing  not  existing  in  France, 
no  equivalent  for  the  word  can  be  found  in  French 
dictionaries.  A  girl  may  have  the  maternal  eye  upon  her 
or  find  herself  thrown  upon  the  world.  Etiquette  and 
bringing  up  forbid  flirtation.  Moreover,  in  young  French- 
women of  all  ranks,  outside  Bohemia,  is  found  what,  for 
want  of  a  precise  term,  I  will  call  instinctive  decorum 
(Pinstinct  de  biensfance),  and  sentimentality  is  not  a  French 
failing.  No  young  business  lady  sighs  for  the  kind  of 
distraction  so  necessary  to  her  English  and  American 
sisters.  If  marriage  comes  in  her  way,  before  arriving  at 
a  decision,  she  will  carefully  go  over  the  pros  and  cons, 
wisely  taking  material  as  well  as  social  matters  into  con- 
sideration. If  the  spinsterhood  traditionally  entered  upon 
at  twenty-five  takes  the  shape  of  destiny,  with  even  mind 
she  will  pursue  her  calling,  to  that  devoting  undivided 
energies,  endeavouring  every  year  to  make  herself  more 
valuable  to  employers.  Attracted  as  a  needle  by  the 
magnet,  step  by  step  she  will  approach  the  goal  of  French 
workers,  a  small  independence,  the  dignity  of  living  upon 
one's  means,  of  being  able  to  inscribe  one's  self  in  the 
census  rentier  or  rentttre. 

The  pre-eminence  of  the  French  business  woman  I  set 
down,  firstly,  to  consummate  ability ;  secondly,  to  dogged, 
unremitting  absorption  in  her  duties.  There  is  here  no 
waste  of  mental  force,  no  frittering  away  of  talents. 
Capacities  and  acquirements  are  focussed  to  a  single 
point. 

One  of  my  acquaintances  in  the  French  work-a-day 
world  is  a  girl  of  twenty-six,  already  at  the  head  of  a 
large  establishment  in  Paris,  having  two  clerks  of  the 
other  sex,  and  older  than  herself,  at  her  orders,  and  en- 
joying confidence  so  complete  that  her  books  are  never  so 
much  as  glanced  at  by  the  proprietors 

This  young  lady  once  observed  to  me — 


168          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

"I  possess  what,  of  course,  is  necessary  to  one  in  my 
position — an  excellent  memory.  Nobody  is  infallible,  but 
I  may  say  this  much  for  myself,  I  rarely,  if  ever,  forget 
anything.  And  the  way  to  cultivate  memory  is  to  trust 
to  it.  *  Never  write  down  what  you  are  bound  to  re- 
member,1 I  say  to  my  young  clerks  when  I  see  them  bring 
out  a  note-book." 

I  have  somewhere  read  that  Thomas  Brassey,  the  great 
railway  contractor,  was  of  the  same  opinion,  using  his 
memory  only  as  tablets. 

Business  hours  over,  the  desk  closed,  office  doors  shut 
upon  her,  fast  as  omnibus,  tramway,  or  metropolitan  can 
carry  her,  the  young  business  lady  hurries  home.  The 
home,  the  family  circle,  added  to  these,  perhaps,  some 
friend  of  school  days,  exercise  magnetic  attraction.  If  the 
weather  admits,  not  a  moment  will  be  spent  indoors  ; 
shopping  and  visits,  in  company  of  mother,  sister,  or  friend, 
during  the  winter ;  lounges  in  the  public  gardens,  drives 
in  the  Bois,  or  excursions  by  penny  steamer  during  the 
summer,  make  leisure  moments  fly.  On  half-holidays 
Chantilly,  St.  Germain-en-Laye,  Meudon,  even  Fontaine- 
bleau  are  visited,  whilst  all  the  year  round  the  drama 
forms  a  staple  recreation.  These  young  business  women 
are  often  uncommonly  good  dramatic  critics.  If  by  virtue 
of  twenty-five  years,  assumed  spinsterhood,  and  position, 
they  can  patronize  theatres  inaccessible  to  girls  of  a 
different  rank,  they  can  fully  appreciate  the  opera  and  the 
Frangais.  It  was  in  the  company  of  a  lady  clerk  that  I 
witnessed  La  Course  au  Flambeau,  at  the  Renaissance, 
a  piece  from  beginning  to  end  serious  as  a  sermon,  its 
vital  interest  depending,  not  upon  lovers'  intrigues,  but 
upon  humdrum  fireside  realities,  the  tragedy  of  everyday 
family  life.  No  more  intelligent  or  appreciative  com- 
panion at  a  play  could  be  wished  for  than  my  young 
friend.  Here,  I  would  observe,  that  just  as  the  interest 
of  French  travel  is  doubled  by  the  fact  of  French 


THE  YOUNG  BUSINESS   LADY    169 

companionship,  so  should  theatre-going  be  enjoyed  in 
French  society. 

Novel-reading  is  not  much  indulged  in  by  these  busy 
girls.  The  French  notion  of  enjoyment  and  relaxation  is 
to  be  abroad,  sunshine  and  fresh  air,  taken  with  beloved 
home-folk.  Beyond  such  quiet  pleasures  and  occasional 
excitements  of  wedding  celebrations,  always  long  drawn 
out  in  bourgeois  circles,  a  visit  to  the  opera,  and  in 
summer  a  brief  holiday  by  the  sea,  life  flows  evenly. 
We  are  accustomed  to  regard  the  French  as  a  volatile, 
pleasure-seeking,  even  frivolous,  race.  Nothing  can  be 
farther  from  the  truth.  In  very  truth  our  neighbours 
are  the  most  persistently  serious  folk  on  the  face  of  the 
earth. 

If  French  employers  are  exacting,  they  are  at  the  same 
time  generous.  A  capable  and  trustworthy  manageress, 
head  clerk,  or  superintendent  is  sure  to  be  handsomely 
remembered  on  New  Year's  Day,  to  have  her  salary  raised 
from  time  to  time,  and  growing  confidence  will  be  testified 
in  many  ways. 

The  subject  of  Frenchwomen's  position  in  the  industrial 
world  would  fill  a  volume.  Skilfully  treated,  the  dry  bones 
of  statistics  may  be  made  to  live  ;  but  such  a  work  is  quite 
beyond  my  own  powers,  and  would  have  little  interest  for 
the  general  reader.  I  leave  figures  and  generalizations  to 
others,  contenting  myself  with  describing  business  women 
I  have  known,  and  adding  a  few  details  as  to  salary, 
leisure,  and  accommodation.  Naturally  the  non-resident 
clerk,  giving  a  certain  number  of  hours  daily,  is  in  a  very 
different  position  to  the  directnce,  or  the  manageress,  who 
lives  on  the  premises  and  can  call  no  time  her  own,  except 
precisely  limited  periods,  sure  to  be  spent  by  her  at  home. 
Board,  lodging,  and  laundress  being  very  expensive  in 
Paris,  quite  a  third  higher  than  in  any  English  town,  the 
directrice  is  well  rewarded  for  the  sacrifice  of  time,  the 
domestic  fireside,  and  independence.  I  know  at  the  present 


170          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

time  a  young  lady  employed  in  a  public  office  whose  salary 
is  £8  a  month  for  seven  hours'  daily  attendance,  with 
occasional  Sunday  duty.  As  she  lives  with  her  parents, 
such  a  sum  enables  her  to  contribute  to  the  family  budget, 
and  at  the  same  time  lay  by  a  little  for  old  age  or  a 
dowry !  Many  young  business  women  achieve  a  modest 
portion  with  which  to  enter  upon  the  partnership  of  wed- 
lock. The  resident  manageress,  on  the  other  hand,  not 
only  economizes  the  triple  outlay  of  above  mentioned,  but 
obtains  at  least  a  higher  salary.  She  is,  however,  expected 
to  dress  well,  and  dress  in  France,  like  everything  else, 
from  a  postage  stamp  upwards,  is  much  dearer  than  in 
England.  The  toilette  of  a  business  young  lady  makes 
a  large  hole  in  her  earnings.  Again,  likely  as  not,  she 
has  family  claims  upon  her,  perhaps  the  partial  support 
of  a  widowed  mother,  maybe  the  education  of  a  young 
sister  or  brother.  In  spite  of  these  and  other  drains  upon 
her  purse,  you  may  be  sure  that  she  makes  yearly  or  half- 
yearly  investments.  The  young  business  woman,  no  less 
than  the  peasant,  rendered  M.  Thiers'  colossal  task  feasible. 
It  was  the  indomitable  thrift  of  the  work-a-day  world  that 
enabled  him  to  pay  off  the  Prussian  war  indemnity  of  two 
hundred  million  sterling  before  the  allotted  term. 

The  French  nation  is  not  like  our  own,  an  egregiously 
holiday-making  one.  Sunday  closing,  or  partial  closing, 
is  on  the  increase  both  in  town  and  country,  but  statutory 
holidays  are  unknown. 

A  fortnight  or  three  weeks  during  the  year,  an  after- 
noon every  other  Sunday,  two  hours  or  so  every  alternate 
day — with  such  breaks  in  the  round  of  duty,  a  young 
business  lady  feels  no  call  for  dissatisfaction.  And  although 
serenely  contemplating  spinsterhood  at  twenty-five,  mar- 
riage, with  its  mutually-shared  cares  and  benisons,  may 
come  in  her  way ;  if  not,  advancing  years,  loneliness,  and 
other  drawbacks  of  a  celibate  existence  will  be  cheered 
and  dignified  by  an  honestly  earned  independence,  the 


THE   YOUNG   BUSINESS   LADY    171 

affectionately-hungered  for  position  of  rentttre,  or  a  lady 
living  upon  her  dividends. 

I  have  mentioned  a  young  business  lady's  keen  appre- 
ciation of  high  dramatic  art.  But  taste  is  so  generally 
cultivated  in  France  that  the  trait  is  by  no  means  ex- 
ceptional. It  may,  indeed,  be  said  that  up  to  a  certain 
point  every  French  man  or  woman  is  an  artist. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A  GREAT  LADY  MERCHANT 


M 


Y  friend  Madame  Veuve  M belongs  to  what 

is  called   in   France  "  le   haut   commerce."     In 
other   words,    she    is    a    merchant,    head    of   a 
wholesale  house,  as  important  as  any  of  its  kind  in  Paris. 

In  the  provinces  lady  merchants  often  have  their 
dwellings  close  to  the  business  premises.  At  Croix,  near 
Lille,  for  instance,  I  once  visited  the  mistress  of  a  large 
linen  manufactory,  living  in  princely  style  within  sound  of 
mill-wheel  and  workmen's  bell.  Her  vast  brand-new 
mansion  stood  in  charmingly  laid-out  grounds.  As  I  made 
my  way  to  the  chief  entrance  I  caught  sight  of  the  coach- 
house containing  landau,  brake,  and  brougham.  On 
arriving,  myself  and  friend  were  ushered  by  a  major  domo 
in  superb  livery  through  a  suite  of  reception  rooms  all 
fitted  up  in  the  most  luxurious  style  and  adorned  with 
palms  and  exotics.  In  the  last  salon  we  were  received  by  a 
fashionably  dressed  lady,  whose  small  white  hands  glittered 
with  diamond  rings.  But  my  friend's  warehouse  which  I 
have  just  visited  is  situated  in  the  heart  of  commercial 
Paris,  amidst  that  congeries  of  offices  and  wholesale  houses 
around  the  Bourse,  in  some  degree  answering  to  our  own 
city.  Here  of  course  an  agreeable  residential  flat  is  out  of 
the  question,  so  every  afternoon  she  journeys  to  her  pretty 
country  house,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  from  the  capital  by 
rail.  There  she  turns  her  back  upon  the  work-a-day  world, 
finding  oblivion  in  flowers,  pets,  and  the  exercise  of 

172 


A   GREAT   LADY   MERCHANT      173 

hospitality.  Were  it  not,  indeed,  for  these  daily  breaks  in 
her  arduous  routine,  she  would  never  be  able  to  support 
the  perpetual  mental  strain  entailed  upon  her.  For  this 
great  business  woman  is  not  only  the  sole  manager  of  a 
large  concern,  exporting  her  wares  to  all  parts  of  the  world, 
she  is  also  an  inventor,  and  her  task  of  inventing  is  con- 
tinuous ;  no  sooner  is  one  creation  off  her  hands  than  she 
must  set  to  work  upon  another.  From  the  ist  of  January 
until  the  3 ist  of  December,  a  brief  interval  excepted,  the 
distracting  process  goes  on  ;  the  very  thought  makes  one's 
brain  whirl. 

Madame  M ,  then,  is  the  head  of  a  large  lingerie^  or 

fine-linen  warehouse,  one  of  those  establishments  from 
which  issue  trousseaux  and  the  latest  fashions  in  slips  and 
morning  gowns.  For  times  have  changed  since  the  days 
of  Mrs.  Glegg  and  Mrs.  Tulliver.  We  all  remember  how 
those  worthy  ladies  had  their  under-linen  always  made  of 
the  same  pattern.  Nowadays  dainty  fabrications  in  silk, 
lawn,  and  lace  must  have  as  much  novelty  about  them  as 
dresses  and  bonnets,  and  when  I  add  that  my  friend  is  her 
own  exclusive  designer,  enough  will  have  been  said  to 
indicate  alike  her  responsibilities  and  her  gifts. 

The  demand  for  originality  in  lingerie  is  insatiable. 
Alike  the  cheapest  and  costliest  model  of  one  month  must 
essentially  differ  from  that  of  the  last,  and  of  course  all 
madame's  productions  are  models.  Dispatched  to  the 
provinces,  London,  Cairo,  the  Transvaal,  Ceylon,  these 
patterns  are  copied  by  the  hundred  thousand. 

Think  of  such  a  task,  the  obligation  of  daily  inventing 
a  new  petticoat  or  morning  wrap!  A  novelist's  duty  of 
devising  new  incidents  and  unhackneyed  imbroglios  is 
surely  light  by  comparison.  No  elegantly  dressed  lady 

like  her  country-woman  just  named  is  Madame  M- ; 

whilst  her  customers,  lady  shopkeepers,  from  the  country 
drive  .up  in  the  latest  and  richest  toilettes,  the  mistress  of 
this  great  establishment  is  as  plainly  and  unpretendingly 


174          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

dressed  as  a  woman-farmer  or  country  innkeeper.  You 
soon  find  out,  however,  that  you  are  conversing  with  a 
person  of  very  uncommon  endowments — endowments  that 
would  be  very  uncommon  out  of  France.  For  there  is  no 
gainsaying  the  fact — the  French  business  woman  forms  a 
type  apart,  and  the  Parisian  ouvriere  no  less  so. 

Madame  M 's  burdens  are  lightened  by  the  compe- 
tence of  her  superintendent  fitters  and  workmen.  On  this 
subject  she  was  eloquent. 

" The  Parisian  ouvriere"  she  said  to  me,  "  stands  abso- 
lutely alone.  In  quickness,  taste,  and  general  ability  she 
has  no  equal.  The  hand-sewn  garments  you  admire  so 
much  are  got  through  with  amazing  expeditiousness." 

Three  hundred  needlewomen  are  employed,  who  do 
the  work,  which  is  cut  out  for  them,  in  their  own  homes, 
and  earn  from  £i  a  week  upwards.  One  of  these  brought 
home  a  bundle  of  peignoirs  during  my  visit — an  alert- 
looking,  bright-eyed  girl,  bareheaded  after  Parisian  fashion, 
and  evidently  fully  alive  to  the  value  of  time.  Depositing 
her  pile,  with  a  mere  "Bon  jour"  to  mistress  and  sub- 
ordinates, away  she  went  quickly  as  she  had  come.  In 
the  warehouse  four  demoiselles  are  employed,  a  super- 
intendent, a  cutter-out,  a  fitter,  and  a  baster,  i.e.  one  whose 
business  it  is  to  tack  the  respective  parts  of  a  model 
together.  Highly  instructive  it  was  to  watch  the  four 
severally  occupied.  A  new  morning  gown  was  being 
tried  on  a  dummy,  the  fitter  and  the  baster  putting  their 
heads  together  and  adding  a  dozen  little  improving  touches. 
The  forewoman  was  attending  to  a  buyer,  and  seemed  to 
know  without  being  told  exactly  the  kind  of  article  she 
wanted.  What  struck  me  about  all  four  was  the  evident 
pleasure  taken  by  each  in  the  exercise  of  their  intelligence 
and  the  interest  shown  in  their  work.  Evidently  they  con- 
sidered themselves,  not  mere  wage-earners,  but  working 
partners  in  a  great  concern,  the  credit  of  the  mistress's 
house  being  their  affair  as  much  as  her  own.  Doubtless 


A  GREAT   LADY   MERCHANT      175 

all  four  would  in  time  themselves  become  business  women, 
owners  or  managers  of  shops  or  warehouses. 

A  great  concern  indeed  is  such  a  lingerie.  So  tremen- 
dous is  the  demand  for  new  patterns  that  I  was  assured  it 
is  impossible  to  keep  up  the  supply. 

"  Everything  you  see  here  is  sold,"  said  my  hostess  to 
me,  glancing  at  the  closely  packed  shelves  around  her  with 
almost  a  sigh.  From  floor  to  ceiling  the  place  was  packed 
with  gossamer-like  garments,  not  a  vacant  spot  to  be  seen 
anywhere.  The  warehouse  reminded  me  of  a  military 
store  I  had  once  seen  in  France,  a  vast  emporium  of 
soldiers'  clothes  kept  in  reserve,  boots,  ke"pis,  pantaloons, 
and  great-coats  by  the  hundred  thousand.  Whilst  these 
were  all  of  a  pattern,  make  and  material  not  differing  in 
the  slightest  particular,  quite  otherwise  is  it  with  Madame 

M 's    elaborate    productions.      Here   some    difference 

either  of  shape  or  trimming  stamped  every  article,  from 
the  hand-made  peignoir  trimmed  with  Valenciennes  lace 
destined  for  rich  trousseaux  to  the  cheap  but  pretty  slip 
within  reach  of  the  neat  little  ouvriere.  Such  divergence 
is  a  sine  qud  non,  a  kind  of  hall-mark.  And  in  the  hands 
of  a  Frenchwoman  how  often  will  the  merest  touch  bring 
this  result  about  ?  An  extra  inch  or  two  of  lace,  a  clip  of 
the  scissors  here,  a  stitch  or  two  there,  and  the  garment 
of  yesterday  has  become  a  novelty ! 

Just  as  dolls  are  made  in  Germany,  and  return  thither 
after  being  dressed  in  France,  so  Manchester  nainsook  and 
Nottingham  lace  are  sent  to  Paris,  returning  to  England 
in  the  shape  of  exquisite  garments.  Only  Calais  competes 
with  Nottingham  in  the  production  of  cheap  pretty  lace, 
and  as  the  fashion  in  lingerie  is  now  as  capricious  as  that 
of  millinery  and  dressmaking,  Valenciennes  and  Maltese 
are  generally  superseded  by  the  machine-made  imitation. 
The  consumption  of  Nottingham  lace  is  enormous. 

The  conclusion  must  not  be  jumped  at  that  the  neces- 
sity of  daily  inventing  a  new  morning  wrap  or  skirt,  and 


176          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

closest  attention  to  a  large  wholesale  business,  implies 
narrowness  or  want  of  sympathy.  And  here  I  would  men- 
tion that  even  Balzac  and  Zola  have  occasionally  rendered 
justice  to  the  French  business  woman  and  bourgeoise 
generally.  What  a  charming  portrait  is  that  of  Constance 
Birotteau,  and  how  exquisitely  has  Zola  outlined  the 
village  bakeress  in  "  Travail "  !  A  novelist  of  less  rank, 
but  of  almost  equal  popularity,  has  made  a  mistress-baker 
heroine  of  a  story.  But  Ohnet's  portraiture  in  "  Serge 
Panine "  is  spoiled  by  its  melodramatic  climax.  It  is  a 
thousand  pities  that  so  few  French  novelists  are  realistic 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  and  that  they  so  seldom 
represent  life  and  character  as  they  are  in  reality. 

How  beautiful  is  friendship,  for  instance,  and  what  a 
large  part  does  friendship  play  in  French  lives  !  Madame 

M delights  in  the  exercise  of  unaffected  hospitality, 

and  at  parting  bade  me  remember  that  in  her  cottage 
ornte  there  was  ever  a  bedroom  at  my  service.  So  in 
September  of  the  present  year  (1904)  I  accepted  the 
genial  invitation. 

My  friend's  cottage  ornte,  or  villa,  lies  within  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  of  Paris  on  the  western  railway,  and  was  built 
by  herself — is  indeed  as  much  her  own  creation  as  the 
elegancies  in  lace  and  muslin  turned  out  under  her  direc- 
tion day  after  day.  Her  example  was  evidently  being 
followed  by  others  in  search  of  quiet  and  rusticity.  On 
either  side  of  the  road  builders  were  busy,  substantial 
dwellings  in  stone  rising  amid  garden-ground  to  be,  newly 
acquired  plots  as  yet  mere  waste.  And  small  wonder  that 
commercial  Paris  thus  bit  by  bit  appropriates  the  verdant 
zone  outside  Thiers'  fortifications,  gradually  becoming  a 
kind  of  semi-suburban  gentry,  a  landowning  class  having 
distinctive  features. 

The  village  selected  by  Madame  M for  her  country 

retreat  is  not  picturesque,  but  happy  in  its  surroundings, 
gentle  slopes  and  woodland  forming  a  plain  entirely  given 


A   GREAT  LADY  MERCHANT     177 

up  to  market  gardening.  Not  wholly  unpoetic  and  cer- 
tainly grateful  to  the  eye  is  the  vast  chess-board,  patches 
of  sea-green  alternating  with  purple ;  the  rich  yellow  of 
the  melon  and  reddish  ochre  of  the  gourd  conspicuous  as 
Chinese  lanterns  amid  twilight  foliage. 

With  natural  pride  madame  opened  the  gate  of  a 
handsome  house  built  of  stone,  and  square  like  its  neigh- 
bours, with  prettily  laid  out  flower-garden  front  and  back, 
and  receding  from  the  latter  a  couple  of  acres  of  kitchen 
garden  and  orchard,  the  whole  testifying  to  rich  soil  and 
admirable  cultivation.  Flowers,  fruit,  and  vegetables  were 
here  in  the  utmost  luxuriance,  with  choice  roses,  although 
the  season  was  advanced.  What,  however,  most  struck 
me  was  the  populousness  of  the  widow's  domain.  As  we 
entered  the  roomy,  elegantly  fitted  up  dwelling  a  ten-year- 
old  girl  ran  up  to  its  mistress  for  a  kiss. 

"  i\ty  forewoman's  little  sister,"  madame  informed  me. 
"  They  have  no  friends  living  in  the  country  who  can 
receive  them  during  the  long  vacation,  so  I  have  had  both 
and  a  friend  to  stay  with  me.  And,  indeed,  I  am  never 
alone,"  she  added. 

Pet  dogs,  a  cat,  and  pigeons  must  of  course  be  caressed  ; 
then  I  was  introduced  to  the  gardener  and  his  wife,  who 
acted  the  part  of  cook,  my  hostess  being  evidently  on 
friendliest  terms  with  her  people  here  as  in  her  business 
house.  Delightful  it  was  to  witness  this  fellow-feeling,  and 
to  realize  the  family  life  of  the  villa,  a  domestic  circle 
though  not  composed  of  kith  and  kin.  It  is  less  any  place 
than  its  spirit  that  takes  hold  of  the  imagination.  Amid 
these  evidences  of  laboriously  acquired  wealth  and  open- 
handed  dispensation  and  vicarious  enjoyment,  I  could  well 
understand  a  fact  hitherto  puzzling,  namely,  that  the 
greatest  woman-philanthropist  of  contemporary  and  indeed 
of  historic  France  made  her  millions  by  shop-keeping ! 

The  position  of  business  women,  won  by  sheer  capacity 
and  assiduousness,  has   been   immensely  strengthened  by 
M 


178          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Republican  legislation.  The  Code  Civil,  as  is  shown  else- 
where, bears  hardly  upon  the  sex.  Step  by  step  such  in- 
justice is  being  repaired.  Thus  by  the  law  of  1897,  for  the 
first  time  women  were  entitled  to  act  as  witnesses  in  all 
civil  transactions.  Twenty  years  before  an  equally  im- 
portant measure  had  been  passed,  and  women  heads  of 
business  houses  became  electors  of  candidates  for  the 
tribunaux  de  commerce,  or  what  may  be  called  commercial 
parliaments.  The  members  forming  this  tribunal  are  called 
prud'hommes*  and  are  chosen  alike  from  the  ranks  of 
employers  and  employed.  Their  business  is  to  settle  all 
matters  in  discussion  or  dispute,  a  share  in  the  representa- 
tion is,  therefore,  vital  to  feminine  interests.  Commercial 
tribunals  in  the  interest  of  the  productive  classes  are  a 
creation  of  the  Revolution,  the  first  being  opened  by  the 
Constituent  Assembly.  It  was  not  till  1806  that  Conseils 
de  prud'hommes  were  organized  in  twenty-six  industrial 
towns.  The  composition  of  those  bodies  was  at  first  far 
from  democratic,  consisting  half  of  masters,  half  of  foremen 
and  small  employers.  By  a  still  more  reactionary  measure, 
in  1810  any  council  could  imprison  refractory  workmen  for 
three  days.  Doubtless  ere  long  we  shall  find  lady 
merchants  and  others,  not  only  voting  for  the  prudhommes, 
but  fulfilling  their  functions. 

*  Pru(fkommft  Old  French  preu  cThotntne,  or  prcux  cThomme^  from  the 
dog  Latin  prodem  (Darmsteter  and  Hatzfeld). 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AN  ASPIRANT   TO   THE   COMEDIE 
FRANCAISE 

I  LOVE  Paris  Paristen,  the  Paris  not  of  cosmopolitan 
pleasure-seekers  and  idlers,  but  of  the  work-a-day 
world,  Belleville  and  the  Buttes  Chaumont,  the 
quays  of  the  Canal  St.  Martin,  the  faubourg  St.  Antoine, 
above  all,  the  Place  de  la  Nation,  with  its  monuments, 
sparkling  basin  fountains  and  shaded  swards,  Tuileries 
gardens  of  humble  toilers. 

And  how  the  work-a-day  adores  its  Paris !  As  I  drove 
lately  towards  Montmartre,  with  a  young  business  lady, 
whose  home  was  in  the  eighteenth  arrondissement,  her 
face  glowed  with  pleasure. 

"These  quarters  are  so  animated,  so  bustling,"  she 
said,  as  she  revelled  in  the  sights  of  the  living  stream 
around.  It  seems  paradoxical  to  say  that  an  urban 
population  lives  abroad,  but  certainly  Parisians,  alike  the 
rich  and  the  poor,  spend  as  little  time  as  possible  within 
four  walls.  When  we  compare  the  advantages  gratuitously 
enjoyed  out  of  doors  with  the  minimum  of  air,  light,  and 
sunshine  obtainable  by  modest  purses  within,  we  can 
understand  why  it  is  so. 

What  a  contrast  was  presented  to-day  by  the  wide, 
sunny  umbrageous  boulevard  Poissoniere  and  our  destina- 
tion, a  small  interior  on  the  third  floor  of  a  side  street. 
"  Space  anyhow  is  dear  in  Paris,"  rejoined  M.  Bergeret's 

179 


180          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

sister  upon  the  philosopher  observing  that  time  and  space 
existed  in  imagination  only. 

Light  and  sunshine  are  higher  priced  still.  The  house- 
holder of  narrow  means  must,  above  all,  forego  a  cheerful 
look-out ;  and  all  windows,  whether  looking  north  or  south, 
east  or  west,  are  taxed.  How  comes  it  about,  readers  may 
ask,  that  a  tax  presumably  so  unpopular  should  remain 
on  the  statute  book  ? 

Doors  and  windows  were  first  assessed  under  the 
Directoire,  twenty  centimes  only  being  charged  per 
window  in  communes  of  less  than  five  thousand  souls, 
sixty  in  those  of  the  two  first  storeys  in  communes  of 
a  hundred  thousand.  The  new  duty  aroused  a  storm  of 
opposition.  "What!"  cried  a  member  of  the  Cinq  Cents, 
"If  I  wish  to  put  a  window  looking  east  in  my  house  in 
order  that  I  may  adore  nature  at  sun-rising,  I  must  pay 
duty  ?  If,  in  order  to  warm  the  chilly  frame  of  my  aged 
father,  I  want  a  southern  outlet,  I  must  pay  duty  ?  And 
if,  in  order  to  avoid  the  burning  heat  of  Thermidor,  I  wish 
for  an  opening  north,  I  must  pay  duty  ?  Surely  it  is  pos- 
sible to  chose  an  imposition  less  objectionable  and  odious  !  " 

The  levy  was  made,  and,  being  increased  later  on, 
brought  in  sixteen  million  of  francs.  In  1900  the  door 
and  window  tax  produced  thirty  millions. 

By  a  law  of  1832  some  modifications  were  made  in 
favour  of  factories  and  workmen's  dwellings,  as  I  have 
said,  but  it  certainly  seems  strange  that  some  substitute 
for  this  source  of  revenue  should  not  be  devised.  And 
a  Parisian  window  is  often  no  window  in  the  proper  sense 
of  the  term.  Coloured  glass  is  now  much  used,  and  when 
I  asked  a  friend  living  at  Passy  the  reason  why,  she  replied, 
that  it  was  to  prevent  neighbours  from  overlooking  each 
other ! 

The  tiny  flat  to  which  I  was  now  introduced  consisted 
of  small  parlour,  a  mere  slip  of  a  kitchen,  and  two  bed- 
rooms, all  looking  upon  side  walls,  a  craning  of  the  neck 


AN   ASPIRANT  181 

being  necessary  in  order  to  get  even  a  peep  at  the  sky.  But 
the  little  salon,  with  its  pianette,  pictures,  and  pretty  carpet, 
wore  a  cheerful,  home-like  look,  and  gaily  enough  we  sat 
down  to  tea,  the  party  consisting  of  my  young  com- 
panion, our  hostess  and  her  son,  a  pupil  of  the  Con- 
servatoire, and  an  aspirant  to  the  Comedie  Frangaise. 
Sunless,  cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined,  this  little  Mont- 
martre  home  might  appear  to  outsiders,  but  it  was 
irradiated  with  golden  dreams,  elated  with  airy  hopes. 
Who  could  say  ?  This  youth,  now  giving  his  days  to  the 
conning  of  French  plays  and  poetry,  might  attain  an 
aspirant's  crowning  ambition,  make  his  histrionic  dtbut 
in  the  house  of  Moliere  ? 

"  You  are  working  very  hard  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  All  day  long,"  was  the  reply. 

"But,"  I  said,  "you  must  surely  require  an  occasional 
break  ? " 

"No,"  the  youth  rejoined.  "I  find,  on  the  contrary, 
that  if  I  go  into  the  country  for  a  single  day's  holiday 
I  have  lost  ground.  The  memory  must  be  constantly 
exercised." 

"  I  presume  that  poetry  is  much  easier  to  commit  to 
memory  than  prose  ? " 

"  Infinitely,  although  both  differ  immensely  in  this 
respect,  some  writers  being  so  much  more  difficult  to 
remember  than  others." 

"  Moliere,  for  instance,  I  should  say  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,  Moliere  is  one  of  the  most  difficult 
poets  to  get  by  heart  ;  but  practice  is  everything." 

After  discussing  his  methods  of  study  and  the  system 
pursued  at  the  Conservatoire,  we  passed  on  to  contem- 
porary drama.  I  mentioned  a  play  I  had  just  witnessed 
at  the  Francais,  whereupon  he  exclaimed,  "Then  you 
have  seen  my  master,"  naming  the  leading  actor,  from 
whom  he  received  lessons  in  declamation. 

The    drama    in    France    is    indeed    as    essentially    a 


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profession  as  that  of  medicine,  the  law,  or  civil  and  military 
engineering ;  it  is  furthermore,  and  in  contradistinction 
to  these,  of  absolutely  gratuitous  attainment.  Native 
talent  is  thus  developed  and  fostered  to  the  utmost.  The 
greatest  actors  give  students  the  benefit  of  their  gifts 
and  experience,  day  after  day  unwearily  presiding  at 
rehearsals. 

Some  readers  doubtless  may  remember  the  delightful 
acting  of  Got — acting,  I  should  say,  that  reached  the  high 
watermark.  At  the  height  of  his  fame  and  in  the  zenith 
of  his  powers,  this  consummate  artist  would  take  a  daily 
class  at  the  Conservatoire.  The  masterpieces  of  dramatic 
literature  are  rehearsed  again  and  again,  with  the  most 
minute  attention  to  accent,  expression,  and  gesture.  It 
is  at  the  Franchise  indeed — the  ambition  of  every  student 
— that  the  French  tongue  is  heard  in  its  purity.  In  their 
indispensable  dictionary  Messrs.  Hatzfeld  and  Darmsteter 
inform  us  that  they  have  adhered  to  the  pronunciation  of 
the  best  Parisian  society,  which  is  generally  adopted  by 
the  Comedie  Franchise.  No  greater  treat  than  a  matinee 
in  Moliere's  house  can  be  enjoyed  by  a  lover  of  French 
and  French  classic  drama. 

The  Conservatoire  or  school  of  music  and  declamation 
was  founded  by  the  Convention,  and  inaugurated  in  1793, 
when  no  less  than  six  hundred  pupils  entered  their  names 
as  students  under  Me"hul,  Gretry,  and  other  masters. 
Already  in  1784  musical  and  dramatic  classes  had  been 
opened  at  Versailles  under  the  direction  of  the  Baron  de 
Breteuil,  the  object  in  view  being  to  provide  the  Trianon 
and  royal  theatre  of  Versailles  with  singers  and  players. 
In  1789  the  Assembly  took  up  the  notion,  the  nucleus 
of  a  musical  and  dramatic  school  was  transferred  to  Paris, 
and  that  same  year  it  furnished  no  less  than  seventy-eight 
performers  for  the  band  of  the  National  Guards.  The 
Revolution,  as  has  been  remarked,  was  from  first  to  last 
the  most  musical  period  of  French  history,  and  no  doubt 


AN   ASPIRANT  183 

music  was  a  great  power  in  moving  spirits  and  aiding 
the  revolutionary  cause.  The  example  of  Paris  was 
followed  by  Lille,  Toulon,  Dijon,  Metz,  Marseilles,  Nantes, 
and  other  large  towns,  their  musical  schools  being  called 
pdpinib-es,  or  nurseries.  The  "  Chant  du  Depart "  and  the 
"  Marseillaise  "  expressed  the  military  side  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, the  sentimental  side  was  voiced  in  countless  light  airs 
recently  unearthed  by  members  of  the  Socitte  de  rhistoire 
de  la  Revolution.  Had  I  not  been  familiar  with  French 
life," my  young  friend's  general  culture  would  have  come 
as  a  surprise.  Here  was  a  youth  of  eighteen,  who  on 
leaving  school  had  entered  a  commercial  house,  intelli- 
gently, nay  discriminately,  discussing  literature  and  the 
drama,  at  that  early  age  exemplifying  what  I  regard  as 
the  quintessential  characteristic  of  our  neighbours,  namely, 
the  critical  faculty.  Already  he  was  thinking  out  theories 
for  himself,  by  no  means  content  to  take  other  folks' 
opinions  at  haphazard  as  if  playing  at  cross  and  pile. 
Family  feeling  is  an  adamantine  chain  in  France. 

"I  have  given  up  the  larger  bedroom  to  Henri,  as 
you  see,"  madame  had  said,  when  showing  me  over  her 
tiny  flat.  "  He  spends  so  much  time  indoors  that  it  is 
necessary  he  should  have  all  the  space  and  air  possible." 

And  I  could  easily  guess  that  the  choice  of  such  a 
career  implied  sacrifices  of  a  more  serious  nature.  By 
this  time  the  student  of  the  Conservatoire  might  have 
been  bringing  grist  to  the  mill,  earning  as  junior  clerk 
perhaps  two  thousand  francs  a  year.  But  the  aspirant 
had  fired  his  mother  and  sister  with  his  own  enthusiasm. 
Both  utterly  believed  in  the  brilliant  future  foretold  by 
youthful  ambition.  Moreover,  the  stage  is  held,  and 
deservedly  held,  in  high  honour  by  our  neighbours. 
Contemporary  drama  has  usurped  the  functions  of  the 
pulpit  without  forfeiting  its  high  claims  as  a  school  of 
classicism  and  culture  ;  the  stage,  alike  by  tragedy  and 
comedy,  brings  human  nature  face  to  face  with  social 


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vices  and  follies.  Exemplifying  this  assertion,  I  need 
only  mention  one  or  two  of  the  plays  so  successfully 
produced  in  leading  theatres  of  late  years,  Les  Rempla$antes, 
La  course  du  Flambeau,  Divorce,  these  among  many  others. 
By  turns  immorality,  drunkenness,  the  wrongs  caused  by 
vicarious  motherhood  or  wet  nursing,  and  other  phases 
of  modern  life  are  held  up  to  reprobation  and  ridicule. 
Oftener,  indeed,  to  weep  rather  than  laugh,  Parisians  now 
fill  the  leading  theatres. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER 

AS  we  all  know,  education  in  France  is  non-sectarian, 
obligatory,  and  gratuitous.     How  much  store  is 
set    by    the    splendid    educational    opportunities 
afforded  every  French  child  the  following  story  will  show. 

Two  years  ago  I  was  staying  in  Champagne  with  my 

friend  Mademoiselle  M ,  the  middle-aged  daughter  of 

a  former  schoolmaster.  Not  for  the  first  time  I  enjoyed 
" harbour  and  good  company"  under  her  hospitable  roof, 
making  acquaintance  with  a  charming  little  circle. 

Mademoiselle  M occupied  her  own  roomy  house, 

which  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the  little  river-side  town, 
a  large  fruit  and  vegetable  garden  at  the  back  making 
pleasant  shade ;  a  small  annuity  and  the  letting  of  spare 
rooms  completed  her  modest  income,  from  the  sum-total 
something  ever  remaining  for  benevolence.  In  a  small 
way,  indeed,  mademoiselle  was  a  veritable  Providence  to 
the  waif  and  stray.  The  late  schoolmaster  had  left  his 
daughter  a  library  of  several  hundred  volumes,  and  the 
part  of  the  house  retained  for  her  own  use  was  most 
comfortably  furnished.  But,  knowing  how  small  are  the 
emoluments  of  village  pedagogues,  I  could  not  account  for 
the  numerous  works  of  art  and  objects  of  luxury  seen  on 
every  side.  Every  room  seemed  full  of  wedding  presents  ! 

One  afternoon  my  hostess  invited  some  neighbours  to 
tea,  and  I  ventured  a  comment  upon  the  exquisite  tea- 
service  and  silver-gilt  plate  set  out  in  their  honour. 

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186          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

"All  gifts  of  pupils  and  pupils'  parents  to  papa,"  was 
mademoiselle's  reply ;  "  and  when  my  visitors  are  gone  1 
will  show  you  some  other  things.  At  the  New  Year  and 
on  his  fete  day,  my  father  always  received  handsome 
presents ;  you  see,  he  had  been  schoolmaster  here  so  many 
years,  and  was  so  much  beloved." 

A  list  of  the  treasures  now  displayed  or  pointed  out  to 
me  would  fill  a  page.  All  represented  considerable  outlay, 
and  all,  be  it  remembered,  were  offered  by  small  officials, 
artisans,  and  peasants.  I  especially  noticed  a  liqueur 
service  of  elegant  cut-glass,  enclosed  in  a  case  of  polished 
rosewood.  Another  costly  gift  was  an  ormolu  clock  sur- 
mounted with  figures,  that  must  have  cost  a  hundred  francs 
at  least.  The  entire  collection,  I  should  say,  represented 
several  thousand  francs  ;  in  each  case  we  may  be  quite 
sure  that  these  offerings  involved,  on  the  part  of  the  donors, 
no  little  self-sacrifice.  Here,  then,  was  a  palmary  proof 
of  the  French  peasant's  progressiveness,  of  the  high  esteem 
in  which  he  holds  education.  Excessive  thrift  and  lavish 
generosity  are  not  compatible,  but  next  to  his  paternal 
acres  he  evidently  values  the  hard-won  privileges  wrested 
from  obscurantism  and  bigotry. 

Immense  is  the  change  that  has  come  over  the  village 
schoolmaster  since  I  first  made  his  acquaintance  in  Anjou 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  centry  ago.  The  instituteur  of 
the  village  in  which  I  was  then  staying  with  French 
friends  received  ,£30  a  year,  besides  lodging  and  trifling 
capitation  fees.  Both  boys'  and  girls'  schools  were  sup- 
ported by  the  State,  but,  unfortunately,  the  commune  had 
been  induced  some  years  before  to  accept  a  house  and 
piece  of  land  from  some  rich  resident,  the  conditions  being 
that  the  school  for  girls  should  always  be  kept  by  nuns. 
The  consequence  was  that,  as  education  at  that  period  was 
not  strictly  obligatory,  boys  were  detained  on  the  farm,  the 
number  of  scholars  being  only  twenty,  whilst  the  girls 
numbered  sixty.  Under  such  circumstances  the  capitation 


THE  VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER    187 

fee  was  hardly  worth  taking  into  account.  What  mattered 
much  more  was  the  inequality  of  the  instruction  accorded, 
the  schoolmasters  possessing  certificates  of  proficiency,  the 
nuns  being  free  to  teach  provided  that  they  possessed  um 
lettre  d' obedience,  a  kind  of  character  signed  by  the  bishop. 

This  difference  was  evidenced  in  the  prize  distribution, 
in  which  I  was  flatteringly  invited  to  take  part.  Whilst 
the  boys  received  amusing  and  instructive  books  of  history, 
travel,  and  adventure,  the  girls  got  little  theological 
treatises,  the  only  attractive  feature  about  them  being 
gilt  edges  and  a  gaudy  binding. 

Pitiable  in  the  extreme  was  the  position  of  a  village 
schoolmaster  during  the  MacMahon  Presidency,  indigence 
being  often  the  least  of  his  tribulations.  The  butt  of 
clerical  animosity,  speech,  action,  and  manners  of  life  ever 
open  to  misinterpretation — such  was  his  position.  The 
marvel  is  that  candidates  should  be  found  for  post  so 
unenviable.  Twenty-five  years'  strenuous  fighting  and 
endeavour  have  changed  all  this,  and  popular  education 
in  France  is  now  the  first  in  the  world. 

For  the  victory  belongs  to  the  Third  Republic,  as  a 
retrospective  glance  will  show.  The  ancien  regime  did 
not  deem  the  R's  a  common  necessity.  Like  house- 
sparrows  depending  upon  stray  crumbs,  poor  folks'  children 
got  here  and  there  a  modicum  of  knowledge,  Danton's 
"bread  of  the  understanding."  In  the  more  favoured 
provinces — Lorraine  and  Champagne,  for  instance — were 
village  schoolmasters  fulfilling  at  the  same  time  the  func- 
tions of  grave-digger,  sacristan,  bell-ringer,  and  sometimes 
combining  with  these  a  trade  or  handicraft.  In  the  com- 
mune of  Angles,  Hautes  Alpes,  the  schoolmaster  offered 
to  shave  all  the  inhabitants  for  a  consideration  of  two 
hundred  livres  yearly !  In  very  poor  districts  they  were 
partly  remunerated  by  meals  taken  alternately  at  the 
houses  of  their  pupils.  For  want  of  a  school-house,  teach- 
ing, such  as  it  was,  had  to  be  given  in  barns  and  stables, 


188          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

and  when  spring  came  both  master  and  pupils  exchanged 
the  cross-row,  strokes  and  pothooks  for  labours  afield. 
These  wandering  pedagogues  were  called  maitres  ambulants. 
In  Provence  schoolmasters  were  hired  at  fairs,  as  is  still 
the  case  with  domestics  in  Normandy. 

One  of  the  first  preoccupations  of  Revolutionary  leaders 
was  the  village  school.  Tallyrand  laid  a  plan  of  popular 
education  before  the  Constituant  Condorcet  drew  up  a 
scheme  for  the  Legislative  Assembly.  The  Convention 
revised  and  matured  the  respective  systems  of  Barere, 
Lakanal,  and  others,  but  wars  within  and  without  the 
frontier,  and  want  of  finances,  stood  in  the  way.  The 
noble  project  of  non-sectarian,  gratuitous,  and  obligatory 
instruction  was  adjourned  for  a  century. 

Napoleon  did  not  care  to  waste  thought  or  money 
upon  the  education  of  the  people.  The  sum  of  4250  francs, 
just  £170,  was  deemed  by  him  quite  sufficient  for  such  a 
purpose.  The  Restoration  magnanimously  increased  these 
figures  to  50,000  francs,  the  monarchy  of  July  raised  the 
sum-total  to  three  millions,  the  Second  Empire  to  twelve 
million  francs.  The  budget  of  the  Third  Republic  is  a 
hundred  and  sixty  million,  municipalities  and  communes 
adding  a  hundred  million  more.  This  sum  does  not 
include  the  money  spent  upon  the  erection  of  schools, 
hundreds  having  been  built  both  in  town  and  country. 

Instructive  it  was  to  zigzag  through  remote  regions 
twenty  years  ago.  I  well  remember  an  experience  in  the 
Burgundian  highlands  about  this  time.  I  was  staying  at 
Autun  in  order  to  be  near  my  friends,  the  late  Philip 
Gilbert  Hamerton  and  his  wife,  and  one  day  journeyed 
by  diligence  to  Chateau  Chinon,  whilom  capital  of  a  little 
Celtic  kingdom. 

The  five  hours'  ascent  by  splendid  roads  led  through 
the  very  heart  of  the  Morvan,  wooded  hills,  gloomy  forests, 
and  masses  of  rocks  framing  brilliant  pastures  and  little 
streams.  Arnid  these  thinly  populated  scenes,  only  a 


THE   VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER    189 

straggling  village  or  two  passed  on  the  way,  one  sign  of 
progress  met  the  eye — the  village  school  in  course  of 
erection.  Of  all  French  provinces  Brittany  was  worst  off 
as  regards  schools.  A  generation  ago  travellers  might 
interrogate  well-clad  men  and  women,  who,  not  under- 
standing a  syllable  of  French,  would  shake  their  heads 
and  pass  on.  At  Nantes  in  1875-6  the  following  inscrip- 
tion would  meet  my  eyes :  "  Ecrivain  publique,  10  centimes 
par  lettre  "  ("  Public  writer,  a  penny  per  epistle  ").  Women 
servants  who  could  read,  much  more  write,  in  that  great, 
rich  city  were  rare  indeed.  My  hostess,  widow  of  a  late 
prefet,  kept  a  well-paid  cook,  also  a  housemaid.  The  pair 
were  both  as  illiterate  as  Hottentots. 

All  this  belongs  to  the  past.  The  noble  dream  of  the 
Convention  has  been  realized  in  its  entirety.  The  Ferry 
laws  of  1 88 1  and  1882,  for  once  and  for  all,  have  ensured 
for  every  boy  and  girl  born  within  the  French  dominions 
that  greatest  heritage,  a  good  education. 

The  following  figures  will  show  how  the  new  state  of 
things  has  affected  both  pupils  and  pedagogues. 

In  every  chef-lien  and  commune  numbering  over  6000 
souls  exists  an  upper  and  lower  school  for  the  people.  The 
former,  called  the  /cole  prim  air e  sup£rieure>  or  college  com- 
munal, was  created  so  far  back  as  1833  by  M.  Guizot. 
The  Ferry  decrees  considerably  increased  the  number  of 
these  upper  schools,  as  well  as  improving  the  condition  of 
teachers.  The  course  of  instruction  in  communal  colleges 
is  essentially  practical,  being  designed  for  those  youths 
about  to  engage  in  commerce,  industry,  or  agriculture. 

The  maximum  pay  of  schoolmasters  in  the  primary 
school  is  £104  a  year,  with  allowance  for  lodging,  making 
a  sum-total  of  £136;  the  minimum  salary  is  .£40,  with 
£$  allowed  for  lodging.  Women  teachers  receive  the 
same  pay  in  elementary  schools,  but  slightly  less  in  the 
communal  colleges  for  girls.  Masters  and  mistresses  alike 
must  be  provided  with  a  certificate,  the  brevet  tttmentaire 


190          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

sufficing  for  a  post  in  the  primary  schools,  the  brevet 
superieure  being  necessary  for  the  college  communal.  It 
will  be  seen,  then,  that  my  Champennois  acquaintances  of 
half  a  dozen  years  ago  are  in  a  very  different  position  to 
the  poor  Angevin  pedagogue  of  1876  with  his  miserable 
£30  a  year.  And  from  a  social  point  of  view  his  advance 
has  been  far  greater.  Under  the  reactionary  Mac-Mahon 
regime  the  instituteur  was  a  pariah,  as  1  wrote  at  the  time, 
"There  is  no  one  more  liable  to  censure  and  to  political 
and  social  persecution ;  if  not  born  a  trimmer,  able  to 
please  everybody,  he  pleases  nobody,  and  has  a  hard  time 
of  it."  If  any  reader  doubts  this  assertion,  I  commend  to 
his  notice  the  writings  of  the  late  Jules  Simon. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

JACQUES   BONHOMME 

THE  evolution  of  the  French  peasant  is  the  history 
of  modern  France.  In  the  genesis  of  Jacques 
Bonhomme  must  be  sought  the  origin  of  the 
Third  Republic. 

By  bourgeois  agency,  in  a  single  night  the  ancien 
regime  was  swept  into  limbo,  became  the  survival  of  an 
irrevocable  past.  The  legislators  of  the  two  Assemblies 
and  the  Convention,  with  those  of  the  present  Palais 
Bourbon,  belonged  to  the  middle  and  professional  classes. 

It  was  by  peasant-born  commanders  that  newly  acquired 
liberties  were  guaranteed,  by  recruits  torn  from  the  plough 
that  the  combined  forces  of  Europe  were  held  at  bay. 
To  talk  of  "  the  French  peasant "  is  to  express  one's  self 
loosely.  Not  for  a  moment  must  we  narrow  the  conception 
of  Jacques  Bonhomme  to  that  of  our  own  Hodge,  still,  as 
fifty  years  ago,  earning  a  weekly  pittance,  and  in  old  age 
depending  on  parish  relief. 

The  French  peasant  possesses  France.  He  may  or 
may  not  be  in  easy  circumstances,  happy,  enlightened  ; 
he  is  neither  the  degraded  being  portrayed  by  Zola  and 
De  Maupassant,  nor  perhaps  the  ideal  rustic  of  George 
Sand's  fascinating  page.  We  must  know  him  in  order  to 
get  at  the  mean,  to  measure  his  qualities  and  aptitudes. 
To  appreciate  him  as  a  social  and  political  force  personal 
acquaintance  is  not  necessary ;  so  much  the  history  of  the 
salt  thirty-five  years  teaches  us.  But  for  the  invested 

191 


192          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

savings  of  the  thrifty  countryman,  Thiers'  task  of  liberating 
French  territory  from  the  Prussian  invader  might  have 
been  indefinitely  prolonged.  And  since  that  terrible  time, 
whenever  the  ship  of  State  has  been  in  deadly  peril 
Jacques  Bonhomme  has  acted  the  part  of  pilot  bringing 
her  safely  to  port,  his  rdle  upon  critical  occasions  saving 
the  Republic. 

Readers  of  "  La  Terre  "  who  do  not  know  rural  France 
must  ask  themselves,  "Can  anything  good  come  out  of 
Nazareth  ? "  The  peasant-born  rulers,  legislators,  scientists, 
and  litterati  of  France,  how  are  they  to  be  accounted  for  ? 
History  affords  the  clue. 

Recent  examination  of  provincial  archives  shows  us  the 
slow  but  steady  evolution  of  the  countryman.  Rousseau's 
well-known  story  of  the  peasant  who,  suspecting  him  to  be 
a  fiscal  agent,  affected  direst  neediness,  and  on  discovering 
his  error  repaired  it  by  open-hearted  hospitality,  was  doubt- 
less no  exceptional  case.  Despite  exorbitant  taxation  and 
unimaginable  hindrances  alike  to  material  and  moral 
advancement,  here  and  there  small  owners  and  even 
labourers  educated  their  sons,  dowered  their  daughters, 
and  laid  by  a  little  money. 

In  1688  no  less  than  forty-two  sons  of  peasant  pro- 
prietors and  day  labourers  attended  the  upper  classes  of 
the  college  of  Le  Mans.  In  many  communes,  despite 
their  fiscal  and  feudal  burdens,  the  inhabitants  subscribed 
among  themselves  in  order  to  pay  a  schoolmaster.  Many 
distinguished  Frenchmen  thus  obtained  their  first  instruc- 
tion, among  these  the  erudite  Mabillon,  Villars,  the 
botanist  of  Dauphin^  and  Thenard,  the  eminent  chemist, 
son  of  a  poor  peasant.*  On  this  subject  the  testamentary 
documents  and  inventories  preserved  in  provincial  archives 
are  very  illuminating. 

Among  the  belongings  of  one   day  labourer  in    1776 

*  See  the  works  of  A.  Babeau  :  "  La  vie  Rurale  dans  PAncienne  France," 
"  L  6cole  de  Village,"  etc.,  etc. 


JACQUES   BONHOMME  193 

we  find  a  psalter  and  three  books  of  "Limitation  de 
Je*sus  Christ ; "  of  another, "  Une  Vie  des  Saints  "  and  "  Les 
Evangiles;"  whilst  a  third  (Archives  de  1'Aube,  1772)  was 
the  possessor  of  two  folios,  viz.  "  L' Anatomic  de  1'homme  " 
and  "  Le  veritable  Chirurgien."  A  fourth  possessed  a  Latin 
dictionary,  whilst  musical  instruments  not  infrequently 
figure  in  these  inventories.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that 
anterior  to  the  memorable  Fourth  of  August  the  peasant 
was  raising  himself  and  was  awake  to  the  value  of  instruc- 
tion. He  might  echo  the  refrain  so  popular  in  Auvergne — 

Le  pauvre  laboureur 
Est  toujours  tourmente*, 
Payant  a  la  gabelle 
Et  les  deniers  un  roi ; 
Toujours  devant  sa  porte, 
Garnison  and  sergent, 
Qui  crieront  sans  cesse, 
Apportez  de  1'argent."  * 

But  by  dint  of  unimaginable  thrift  and  laboriousness  he 
contrived  to  have  something  worth  willing  away.  Pre- 
revolutionary  wills  show  a  catholicity  of  sentiment  un- 
dreamed of  in  Zola's  philosophy.  A  labourer  in  1752,  for 
instance,  after  bequeathing  the  bulk  of  his  little  property 
to  his  children,  leaves  four  arpents\  of  cultivable  land  to 
the  village  church,  thereby  assuring  perpetual  masses  for 
his  soul  and  that  of  his  wife,  and  remembers  his  day- 
labourers  and  woman  servant  by  gifts  of  money  and  clothes 
(Archives  de  1'Aube). 

Even  dairymaids  made  their  wills.  Thus  in  1685  a 
certain  Edmee  Lambert,  in  the  employ  of  Jacques  Lajesse, 
estant  au  liet  malade,  saine  toutefois  de  bon  propos,  mdmoirez  et 

*  Trans.  "  The  poor  labourer  is  perpetually  harassed,  paying  salt  tax  and 
king's  tax,  always  having  at  his  door  bailiff  and  sergeant,  who  never  leave  off 
crying,  *  Money,  money  ! ' "  Garnison  was  the  putting  in  possession  till  taxes 
were  paid.  See  "The  Tax  Collector." 

t  The  arpent  was  a  variable  measure  containing  a  hundred  perches  more 
or  less. 

O 


194          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

entendement  ("  sick  abed,  but  possessed  of  all  her  faculties  "), 
bequeaths  a  plot  of  ground  and  a  crown  (value  from  three 
to  six  livres  or  francs)  to  her  parish  church,  in  order  that 
perpetual  masses  may  be  said  for  her  soul ;  a  panier  a 
mouche  *  to  her  master,  "  for  the  trouble  he  had  taken  about 
her ; "  a  second  panier  a  mouche  to  a  young  fellow-servant 
of  the  other  sex,  "  as  a  token  of  friendship ; "  finally,  the 
rest  of  her  belongings,  goods  and  money,  to  the  wife  of  a 
neighbour,  "  in  consideration  of  her  goodwill  and  amity." 

The  testatrix  being  unable  to  write,  the  will  was  signed 
by  the  cure  in  presence  of  two  witnesses.  These  wills  were 
always  drawn  up  by  a  notary  and  attested  by  two  witnesses. 
"In  nomine  Domini,  Amen"  was  the  invariable  formula 
with  which  these  documents  began. 

Equally  instructive  are  marriage  contracts.  In  161 1,  the 
brother  of  Jeanne  Graveyron,on  her  marriage  with  a  labourer, 
gives  her  as  dowry,  five  livres  f  for  the  expenses  of  the  wed- 
ding, thirty-five  livres  to  keep,  a  bed,  bedstead  with  hangings 
and  bedclothes,  sundry  kitchen  utensils,  three  new  gowns, 
and  a  chest,  fermant  d  clef  (with  lock  and  key),  containing 
personal  and  household  linen.  The  daughter  of  a  labourer 
receives  five  measures  of  wine,  four  of  wheat,  and  the  sum 
of  ninety  livres  en  dot  et  chandre\  pour  tous  ses  droits 
pater  nels  et  mater  nets  ("  as  a  dowry,  paternal  and  maternal "). 

Such  facts  as  these  help  us  to  understand  the  unique 
position  of  the  French  peasant,  no  other  country  in  the 
world  showing  his  compeer.  From  century  to  century,  from 
generation  to  generation,  the  rural  population  of  France 
has  been  materially  and  morally  progressive.  That  at  the 
present  day  sixty-three  per  cent,  of  the  inhabitants  of 
communes  numbering  two  thousand  souls  and  under  should 
occupy  houses  of  their  own,  bears  out  the  first  position  ;  that 

*  Panier  d  mouche,  "a  beehive."  Bees  are  still  called  mouches  in  some 
provinces. 

t  The  livre,  formerly  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  sous  in  value. 
\  Chanctre>  dowry  in  land. 


A    SMALL   THING    BUT    MY   OWN"   (SAINTONGF,) 


JACQUES   BONHOMME  195 

alike  in  statesmanship,  arms,  science,  and  letters  sons  of 
peasants  have  risen  to  the  first  rank  supports  the  latter. 
Not  all  provinces  show  the  same  degree  of  intelligence  and 
well-being.  Climate,  soil,  means  of  communication,  differ- 
ences of  tenure,  affect  the  small  farmer.  Here  we  find 
comparative  wealth,  there  a  struggle  with  inadventitious 
circumstances.  Thus  the  phylloxera  brought  about  the 
temporary  ruin  of  thousands,  the  sum-total  of  loss  reaching 
that  paid  into  Prussian  coffers  after  the  last  war.  There 
is  indeed  a  gamut  beginning  with  the  humble  metayer  but 
yesterday  a  hired  labourer,  and  ending  with  the  wealthy 
owner  of  acres  added  to  from  year  to  year. 

A  contemporary  novelist,  in  his  sketches  of  rural  life, 
draws  the  mean  between  "  La  Terre  "  and  George  Sand's 
idylls.  M.  Ren£  Bazin,  in  his  "  Terre  qui  meurt,"  however, 
writes  with  a  purpose ;  characterization  plays  a  secondary 
part.  This  writer  evidently  regards  peasant  property  and 
peasant  life  as  conditions  on  the  wane.  And  another  well- 
known  writer  asserts  that  certain  districts  of  France  are 
daily  suffering  more  and  more  from  depopulation.*  Year 
by  year  emigration  citywards  increases,  and  individualism, 
too,  is  rather*on  the  increase  than  otherwise. 

Interrogated  on  this  point,  a  large  landowner  in  central 
France  thus  lately  expressed  himself  to  me — 

"I  do  not  hold  with  M.  Ren6  Bazin's  views.  On  the 
contrary,  I  rejoice  that  our  young  men  show  more  initiative, 
more  readiness  to  quit  the  paternal  roof  and  make  their 
way  elsewhere,  especially  in  the  colonies ;  France  has 
too  long  fostered  inertness  and  nostalgia.  It  is  high  time 
that  our  youth  should  manifest  more  enterprize  and 
independence." 

The  patriarchal  order  of  things  is  not  always  ideal. 
Thrift,  too  often  taking  the  form  of  avarice,  and  paternal 
feeling  are  among  the  peasant's  foremost  characteristics. 
Laborious  devotion  to  the  patrimony  of  sons  and  successors 

*  M.  Octave  Uzanne,  in  the  Independent  Review  for  April. 


196          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

is  sometimes  poorly  rewarded.  Neither  among  the  opulent 
nor  toiling  masses  do  adulated  children  invariably  prove 
dutiful.  According  to  De  Maupassant  and  other  writers 
of  his  school,  exaggerated  parental  fondness  and  self- 
sacrifice  are  frequently  as  pearls  cast  before  swine.  The 
hoarder-up  for  sons  and  daughters  in  his  old  age  comes 
to  be  regarded  as  a  burden.  And  in  any  case  a  burden 
imposed  by  law,  La  dette  alimentaire.  Art.  205,  207  of  the 
Code  Civil,  not  only  obliges  sons  and  daughters,  but  sons 
and  daughters  in  law,  to  support  their  parents  and  those  of 
their  partners  by  marriage. 

If  Balzac,  George  Sand,  and  Zola  have  failed  to  portray 
the  French  peasant  as  he  is,  how  can  a  foreigner  hope  for 
success  ?  According  to  M.  Octave  Uzanne,  Balzac,  though 
a  seer,  an  observant  genius,  has  here  only  partially  suc- 
ceeded ;  Zola,  in  "  La  Terre,"  has  given  us  mere  pitiful 
caricatures ;  George  Sand,  nineteenth-century  pastorals, 
vague,  fanciful,  imaginative. 

I  can  only  summarize  the  impressions  of  twenty-five 
years,  and  speak  of  Jacque  Bonhomme  as  I  have  found  him. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  and  privilege  to  join  hands 
with  the  peasant  folk  of  Anjou  in  the  round,  old  and 
young  footing  it  merrily  under  the  warm  twilight  heavens  ; 
to  crown  the  little  laurtats,  or  prize-winners  of  communal 
schools ;  to  witness  signatures  and  marriage  registers  in 
country  churches  ;  and  to  sit  out  rustic  wedding  feasts, 
lasting  four  or  five  hours !  Many  and  many  a  time  have 
I  driven  twenty  miles  across  Breton  solitudes,  my  driver 
and  sole  companion  being  a  peasant  in  blue  blouse,  his 
bare  feet  thrust  in  sabots.  Again  and  again  has  the 
small  farmer,  or  mttayer •,  quitted  his  work  in  order  to  show 
me  his  stock  and  answer  my  numerous  and  sometimes,  I 
fear,  indiscreet  questions.  Often,  too,  have  I  sat  down  to 
the  midday  table  d'hote  of  country  towns  on  market  days, 
the  guests  all  belonging  to  one  class.  Their  Sunday  suits 
of  broad  cloth  protected  by  the  blue  cotton  blouse,  sparing 


JACQUES   BONHOMME  197 

of  words,  swiftly  degustating  the  varied  meal  set  before 
them,  these  farmers  would  put  to  and  drive  home  as  soon 
as  buying  and  selling  were  over,  the  attractions  of  a  fair 
proving  no  lure.  And  here,  there,  and  everywhere  on 
French  soil  have  I  enjoyed  rural  hospitality.  On  the 
borders  of  Spain,  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  new 
Prussian  frontier,  in  the  vine-growing  villages  of  Burgundy, 
and  farmhouses  of  rich  Normandy,  in  scattered  Cevenol 
homesteads,  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  the  Marne,  and 
many  a  beautiful  river  besides,  in  remote  Breton  hamlets 
have  I  ever  found  cheery  welcome  and  an  outspread  board, 
humble  or  choice  as  the  case  might  be.  Whatever  faults 
he  may  or  may  not  possess,  the  French  peasant  is  hospi- 
tality itself.  I  will  here  narrate  a  characteristic  incident. 
A  few  years  since  I  revisited  a  little  Norman  town,  and 
was  anxious  to  call  upon  a  farmer  and  his  wife  living  near 
who  had  shown  me  much  kindness  when  first  staying  in 
the  neighbourhood.  Not  wishing  to  surprise  them  at  their 
midday  meal,  I  lunched  with  my  travelling  companion  at 
a  little  inn,  afterwards  sitting  on  a  bench  outside  whilst 
our  horse  was  being  put  to.  A  countrywoman,  evidently 
a  farmer's  wife,  who  was  also  awaiting  her  vehicle,  sat  near 
with  her  marketings. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  see  Madame  C ?  "  she  asked, 

after  a  little  chat ;  "  an  old  friend  of  mine.  But  how  sorry 
she  will  be  that  you  did  not  go  to  dinner ! "  she  added  ; 
"  that  you  should  sit  down  to  table  in  an  inn  when  you 
were  only  a  mile  and  a  half  off!  " 

And  true  enough,  our  former  hostess  chided  me  with 
real  chagrin. 

"You  would  have  been  so  welcome  to  what  we  had," 
she  said  ;  "  not  perhaps  all  that  we  should  wish  to  set 
before  friends,  but,"  she  added  gaily,  "when  there  is  less 
to  eat,  one  eats  less,  that  is  all." 

The  less  was  here,  of  course,  used  numerically,  not 
standing  for  a  smaller  quantity,  but  for  fewer  dishes. 


198          HOME  LIFE  IN  FRANCE 

A  word  here  about  the  destitute  and  aged  poor.  Whilst 
in  every  French  town  we  find  handsome  schools,  generally 
a  training  college  for  teachers,  and  museum  as  well,  one 
suburban  building  to  which  English  eyes  are  accustomed 
is  missing.  The  workhouse  is  unknown.  Asiles,  so-called, 
for  homeless  old  people,  and  orphanages  for  waifs  and 
strays  abound  ;  these  are  the  outcome  of  no  poor-law, 
instead  the  organization  of  Catholic  charity,  and  entirely 
under  Catholic  management,  often  mismanagement.  Recent 
revelations  concerning  the  homes  of  the  Bon  Pasteur  bear 
out  this  assertion. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  the  State  is  indifferent  to 
its  least  fortunate  subjects. 

Already  in  1791  the  care  of  the  indigent  and  the  infirm 
was  proclaimed  a  national  charge  by  the  Constituent 
Assembly.  The  principle  was  not  only  upheld,  but  put 
into  practice,  by  the  Convention  ;  and,  strange  to  say,  many 
altruistic  and  hygienic  measures  were  carried  out  during 
the  violent  He"bertist  period,  among  these  being  the  humane 
treatment  of  the  insane,  the  teaching  of  the  blind  by  means 
of  raised  letters,  and  the  deaf  and  dumb  by  lip  speech.  In 
1801  Napoleon,  then  First  Consul,  created  a  Con  sell  gtntral 
de  V Assistance  publique,  or  body  charged  with  the  adminis- 
tration of  national  relief.  The  budget  devoted  to  this 
purpose  in  1904  reached  the  sum  of  140  millions  of  francs, 
the  city  of  Paris  alone  spending  fifty  millions  upon  her 
sick,  helpless,  and  abandoned  poor.  But  help  can  never  be 
claimed  by  those  having  children  in  a  position  to  support 
them.  In  country  places,  when  such  is  not  the  case,  and 
the  matter  is  proved  past  question,  the  commune  acts  the 
part  of  foster-parents,  or,  if  a  good  Catholic,  the  unfortunate 
burden  on  his  fellows  finds  harbourage  in  some  orphanage 
of  a  religious  house.  I  was  once  staying  in  an  Angevin 
village  of  a  few  hundred  souls ;  only  one  inhabitant 
depended  upon  communal  aid.  Peasant  ownership  and 
pauperism  are  quarrelsome  bedfellows.  The  small  farmer 


DARBY    AND    JOAN 


JACQUES   BONHOMME  199 

may  have  to  put  up  with  a  shrewish  daughter-in-law  in  his 
failing  years.  A  thousand  times  more  endurable  to  his 
proud  independent  spirit  the  Regan  or  Goneril  of  his  own 
roof-tree  than  the  soft-voiced  sister  of  a  charitable  house ! 

Dignity  I  should  set  down  as  the  leading,  the  quint- 
essential characteristic  of  the  French  peasants ;  next  to 
this  quality,  a  purely  mental  one — that  of  shrewdness, 
ofttimes  carried  to  the  point  of  cunning ;  and  thirdly  must 
be  put  foresight,  taking  the  form  of  thrift.  He  is  unique, 
a  type  apart.  Jacques  Bonhomme  has  his  faults  and  short- 
comings with  the  rest  of  mortal  born.  He  may  occasionally 
remind  us  of  Zola's  caricatures  or  De  Maupassant's  scathing 
portraiture,  rarely  may  we  encounter  George  Sand's  ideals. 
But  as  a  moral,  intellectual,  and  social  type,  he  stands 
alone,  in  his  person  representing  the  homely  virtues,  the 
mental  equilibrium,  the  civic  stability  which,  if  they  do 
not  make,  at  least  maintain,  the  surpassing  greatness  of 
France. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

RESTAURANT-KEEPING  IN  PARIS 

THROUGHOUT  a  long  and  varied  experience  of 
French  life,  I  have  ever  made  it  my  rule  to 
associate  with  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men. 
With  no  little  pleasure,  therefore,  I  lately  received  the 
following  invitation  : — • 

"Our  Marcel,"  lately  wrote  an  old  friend,  "has  just 
taken  over  a  large  restaurant  in  Paris,  and  my  husband 
and  myself  are  helping  the  young  couple  through  the  first 
difficult  months.  Pray  pay  us  an  early  visit  when  next 
here.  We  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  to  dtjeuner  or 
dinner." 

Madame  J mire,  the  writer  of  these  lines,  belongs 

to  a  close  ring,  a  marked  class,  to  that  consummate  feminine 
type — the  French  business  woman.  Search  the  world 
through  and  you  will  not  match  the  admirable  combination, 
physical  and  mental  powers  nicely  balanced,  unsurpassed 
aptitude  for  organization  and  general  capacity  putting  out- 
siders to  the  blush. 

Well  pleased  with  the  prospect  of  fresh  insight  into 
bourgeois  life,  a  week  or  two  later  I  started  for  Paris,  my 
first  visit  being  paid  to  Marcel's  restaurant.  I  had  known 
the  young  proprietor  from  his  childhood,  and  Marcel  he 
still  remained  to  me. 

What  a  scene  of  methodical  bustle  the  place  presented  ! 
I  was  here  in  the  region  known  as  Le  Sentier — that  part 

200 


RESTAURANT-KEEPING  IN  PARIS   201 

of  Paris  lying  near  the  Bourse,  made  up  of  warehouses  and 
offices,  in  some  degree  answering  to  our  own  city. 

It  was  now  noon,  the  Parisian  hour  of  ctejeuner,  for  in 
business  quarters  the  midday  meal  is  still  so  called,  lunch 
being  adopted  by  society  and  fashionable  hotels  only. 
Marcel's  clientele  is  naturally  commercial  and  cosmopolitan. 
In  flocked  Germans,  Russians,  Italians,  Japanese,  with,  of 
course,  English.  The  Nijni  Novgorod  Fair  could  hardly 
be  more  of  a  Babel.  In  a  very  short  time  the  three  large 
dining-rooms  were  filled  with  well-dressed  men  and  women 
of  all  nationalities,  no  sooner  one  occupant  throwing  down 
his  napkin  than  the  linen  of  his  table  being  changed  with 
what  looked  like  legerdemain,  a  veritable  sleight-of-hand. 
That  changing  of  napery  for  each  guest  bespeaks  the  con- 
duct of  the  restaurant.  Here,  indeed,  and  at  a  few  similar 
establishments  in  Paris,  are  to  be  had  scrupulous  clean- 
liness and  well-cooked  viands  of  first-rate  quality  at  the 
lowest  possible  price. 

One  franc  seventy-five  centimes  (one  and  fivepence 
halfpenny)  is  the  fixed  tariff  both  at  dejeuner  and  dinner. 
For  this  small  sum  the  client  is  entitled  to  half  a  pint  of 
a  good  mn  ordinaire,  a  hors  d'auvre — i.e.  bread  and  butter 
with  radishes,  anchovies,  or  some  other  appetizing  trifle — 
and  the  choice  of  two  dishes  from  a  very  varied  bill  of  fare. 

As  I  glanced  at  the  list,  I  noted  with  some  surprise 
that  many  expensive  meats  were  included — salmon,  game, 

and  poultry,  for  instance.  Monsieur  J ptre  smilingly 

enlightened  me  on  the  subject. 

"  You  should  accompany  me  one  morning  at  five  o'clock 
to  the  Halles,"  he  said  ;  "you  would  then  understand  the 
matter.  Every  day  I  set  out,  accompanied  by  two  men- 
servants  with  hand-trucks,  which  they  bring  back  laden — 
fish,  meat,  vegetables,  eggs,  butter,  poultry,  and  game.  I 
buy  everything  direct  from  the  vendors,  thus  getting  pro- 
visions at  wholesale  prices.  Some  articles  are  always 
cheap,  whilst  others  are  always  dear.  I  set  one  against 


202          HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

the  other.  Take  soles,  for  instance :  soles  are  always  high- 
priced  in  Paris,  but  at  the  markets  the  other  day  I  bought 
up  an  entire  lot,  several  dozen  kilos,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  they  cost  me  no  more  than  herrings ! " 

As  monsieur  and  madame  the  elder  and  myself  chatted 
over  our  excellent  dejeuner,  the  young  master  was  busily 
helping  his  waiters,  whilst  his  wife,  perched  at  a  high  desk, 
made  out  the  bills  and  received  money.  Folks  trooped  in 
and  trooped  out ;  tables  were  cleared  and  re-arranged  with 
marvellous  rapidity.  Waiters  rushed  to  and  fro  balancing 
half  a  dozen  dishes  on  one  shoulder,  as  only  Parisian 
waiters  can,  meals  served  being  at  the  rate  of  two  a 
minute ! 

"  Next  in  importance  to  the  quality  of  the  viands,"  my 
informant  went  on,  "  is  the  excellence  of  the  cooking.  We 
keep  four  cooks,  each  a  chef  in  his  own  department,  no 
apprentices,  or  gdte-sauces,  as  we  call  them.  One  of  our 
cooks  is  a  rotisseur,  his  sole  business  being  to  roast ; 
another  is  a  saucier,  who  is  entirely  given  up  to  sauce- 
making " 

Here  my  old  friend  stopped,  my  intense  look  of  amuse- 
ment exciting  his  own,  and,  indeed,  the  matter  seemed 
one  for  mirth,  also  for  a  humiliating  comparison.  Since 
the  utterance  of  Voltaire's  scathing  utterance,  England 
pilloried  as  the  benighted  country  of  one  sauce,  how  little 
have  we  progressed !  In  a  London  restaurant  how  many 
sauces  could  we  select  from  in  sitting  down  to  an  eighteen- 
penny  meal  ?  Probably  two  or  three,  i.e.  mint-sauce  in 
May  and  apple-sauce  in  October,  throughout  the  rest  of 
the  year  contenting  ourselves  with  melted  butter.  Truly, 
they  manage  these  things  better  in  France.  I  dare  aver 
that  here  the  thrice-favoured  diner  could  enjoy  a  different 
sauce  on  each  day  of  the  year.  Again,  I  could  not  help 
making  another  comparison.  The  unhappy  rdtisseur ! 
What  a  terrible  sameness,  that  perpetual  roasting  from 
January  to  December !  The  saucier,  on  the  contrary,  must 


RESTAURANT-KEEPING   IN   PARIS    203 

be  set  down  as  a  highly  favoured  individual,  having  a  quite 
unlimited  field  for  the  play  of  fancy  and  imagination. 

"The  third  cooks  vegetables,  and  the  fourth  prepares 
soups  and  stews.  Pastry  and  ices,  being  in  comparatively 
small  demand,  are  supplied  from  outside.  We  employ  four 
waiters " 

Here,  a  second  time,  I  could  not  resist  an  ejaculation 
of  surprise.  At  least  a  score  of  the  nimblest,  most  adroit 
beings  imaginable  seemed  on  duty,  so  lightning-like  their 
movements  that  each,  in  a  sense,  quadrupling  himself, 
appeared  to  be  in  several  places  at  once.  That  marvellous 
adjusting  of  a  dozen  dishes,  the  shoulder  doing  duty  as 
a  dumb  waiter,  is  another  surprising  feat,  perhaps  explained 
as  follows :  A  friend  of  my  own  attributes  French  nimble- 
ness  to  a  difference  in  the  seat  of  gravity.  Why  do  French 
folks  never  slip  on  floors  and  stairs,  however  highly  polished  ? 
Because,  he  says,  their  centre  of  gravity  differs  from  our 
own.  Be  this  as  it  may,  French  plates  and  dishes,  when 
overturned,  are  attracted  to  the  ground  precisely  like 
Newton's  apple. 

"Our  waiters  receive  wages,"  my  informant  went  on, 
"and  of  course  get  a  great  deal  in  tips,  sometimes  a 
hundred  francs  to  divide  between  them  in  a  day.  Out 
of  this,  however,  they  have  to  pay  for  breakages,  and 
immense  numbers  of  plates  and  dishes  are  smashed  in  the 
course  of  the  year." 

If  Frenchmen  can  keep  their  feet  under  circumstances 
perilous  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  they  are  naturally  not 
proof  against  shocks.  And  in  these  crowded  dining- 
rooms  the  wonder  is  that  accidents  were  not  constantly 
occurring. 

Dtjeuner  over,  Madame  J mire  accompanied  me 

for  a  stroll  on  the  boulevard.  What  a  difference  between 
the  Paris  Sentier  and  the  London  City ! 

The  weather  was  neither  balmy  nor  sultry,  yet  the 
broad  pavement  of  the  Boulevard  Bonne  Nouvelle  was 


204          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

turned  into  a  veritable  recreation  ground.  Here,  in  the 
very  heart  of  commercial  Paris,  as  in  the  Pare  Monceaux 
or  the  Champs  Elysees,  ladies  and  nursemaids  sat  in  rows, 
whilst  children  trundled  their  hoops  or  played  ball.  So 
long  as  out-of-door  life  is  practicable,  French  folks  will 
not  spend  the  day  within  four  walls,  this  habit,  perhaps, 
greatly  accounting  for  the  national  cheerfulness.  Delightful 
it  was  to  see  how  old  and  young  enjoyed  themselves  amid 
the  prevailing  noise  and  bustle,  the  enormously  wide  pave- 
ment having  room  for  all.  The  boulevard  is,  indeed,  alike 
lounge,  playground,  and  promenade.  On  the  boulevard 
is  focussed  the  life  of  Paris,  and,  to  my  thinking,  nowhere 
is  this  life  more  worth  studying  than  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  of  the  noble  Porte  St.  Denis. 

As  we  strolled  to  and  fro  I  had  a  very  interesting  and 

suggestive  conversation  with  Madame  J ,  senior,  and 

as  her  share  of  it  throws  an  interesting  light  upon  French 
modes  of  thought,  I  venture  to  repeat  a  portion. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "my  husband  and  myself  are  both 
well  pleased  with  our  daughter-in-law.  She  brought  our 
son  no  fortune " 

"  No  fortune  ? "  I  interrupted,  incredulously. 

"  That  is  to  say,  no  fortune  to  speak  of,  nothing  to  be 
called  a  dowry.  When  advising  Marcel  as  to  the  choice 
of  a  wife  we  did  not  encourage  him  to  look  out  for  money  ; 
on  the  contrary,  whilst  he  could  have  married  into  moneyed 
families,  he  chose,  with  our  approbation,  a  portionless  girl, 
but  one  well  fitted  by  character  and  education  to  be  an 
aid  and  companion  to  her  husband.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
that  he  had  married  a  girl,  say,  with  capital  bringing  in 
two  or  three  thousand  francs  a  year.  She  would  have 
been  quite  above  keeping  the  books  and  living  in  the 
restaurant,  and  most  likely  would  have  needed  her  entire 
income  for  dress  and  amusements.  No,  it  is  very  bad 
policy  for  a  young  man  who  has  his  way  to  make  to  look 
out  for  a  dot.  I  have  always  found  it  so,  more  than  one 


RESTAURANT-KEEPING  IN  PARIS    205 

young  man  of  my  acquaintance  having  been  ruined  by  a 
pretentious  and  thriftless  wife.  My  daughter-in-law,  as 
you  see,  takes  kindly  to  her  duties  and  position.  She  is 
amiable,  intelligent,  and  simple  in  her  habits.  With  such 
a  wife  Marcel  is  sure  to  get  on." 

For  the  next  few  years  this  young  couple  will  give 
their  minds  entirely  to  business,  foregoing  comfort,  ease, 
and  recreation  in  order  to  insure  the  future  and  lay  the 
foundations  of  ultimate  fortune.  By-and-by,  when  affairs 
have  been  put  on  a  sure  footing,  they  will  take  a  pretty 
little  flat  near.  Monsieur's  place  will  be  occasionally  taken 
by  a  head  waiter ;  madame's  duties  at  the  desk  relegated 
to  a  lady  book-keeper.  English  and  French  ideals  of  life 
differ.  To  the  French  mind  any  sacrifices  appear  light 
when  made  in  the  interest  of  the  future — above  all,  the 
future  of  one's  children.  Doubtless  by  the  time  this  young 
restaurateur  and  his  wife  have  reached  middle  age  they 
will  have  amassed  a  small  fortune,  and,  long  before  old 
age  overtakes  them,  be  able  to  retire. 

Let  no  one  suppose  that  sordidness  is  the  necessary 
result  of  such  matter-of-fact  views.  Here,  at  least,  high 
commercial  standard  and  rules  of  conduct  go  hand-in-hand 
with  uncompromising  laboriousness  and  thrift ;  for  in  France 
the  stimulus  to  exertion,  the  lodestar  of  existence,  the 
corner-stone  of  domestic  polity,  is  concern  for  the  beings 
as  yet  unborn,  the  worthy  foundation  of  a  family. 

The  super-excellent  education  now  received  by  every 
French  citizen  is  not  thrown  away.  I  found  restaurant- 
keeping  by  no  means  incompatible  with  literary  and  artistic 
taste — an  intelligent  appreciation  of  good  books,  good 
pictures,  and  good  music. 

On  our  return  to  the  restaurant  for  tea,  we  found  the 
large  dining-rooms  deserted  except  for  three  somnolent 
figures  in  one  corner.  One  waiter  was  enjoying  his  after- 
noon out ;  his  companions  were  getting  a  nap,  with  their 
feet  on  chairs.  All  was  spick  and  span — in  readiness  for 


206          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

the  invasion  at  six  o'clock.  Meantime,  we  had  the  place 
to  ourselves. 

In  the  midst  of  our  tea-drinking,  however,  a  gentlemanly- 
looking  individual,  wearing  a  tall  hat  and  frock-coat,  entered, 
and,  after  a  short  colloquy  with  the  young  master,  passed 
out  again. 

"You  would  never  guess  that  gentleman's  errand," 
Marcel  said,  smiling  as  he  re-seated  himself  at  the  tea- 
table. 

"  He  looked  to  me  like  a  rather  distinguished  customer," 
I  replied  ;  "  some  Government  functionary  on  half-pay,  or 
small  rentier" 

Marcel  smiled  again. 

"That  well-dressed  gentleman,  then,  supplies  us  with 
tooth-picks,  which  his  wife  makes  at  home.  He  calls  once 
a  month,  and  our  orders  amount  to  about  a  franc  a  day. 
I  dare  say  he  and  his  wife  between  them  make  from  thirty 
to  forty  francs  a  week,  and  contrive  to  keep  up  appear- 
ances upon  that  sum.  It  is  an  instance  of  what  we  call 
la  mis^re  dorte  "  ("  gilded  poverty  "). 

Truly  one  lives  to  learn.  That  retailer  of  cure-dents^ 
in  his  silk  hat  and  frock-coat,  was  another  novel  experience 
of  Parisian  life — an  experience  not  without  its  pathos.  I 
shall  not  easily  forget  the  gentlemanly-looking  man  with 
his  long  favoris  and  his  odd  industry.  I  add  that  the 
Paris  City — i.e.  Le  Sentier — since  July  last  has  followed 
English  initiative,  warehouses  and  offices  being  now  closed 
herein  from  noon  on  Saturday  till  Monday  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

HOURS   IN  VAL-DE-GRACE 

"  T  HATE  sights,"  wrote  Charles  Lamb,  and  with  myself 
the  speech  touches  a  sympathetic  chord.  I  do  not 
JL  suppose  that  I  should  ever  have  visited  the  Church 
of  Val-de-Gra.ee  ;  certainly  I  should  never  have  crossed 
the  threshold  of  the  great  military  hospital  as  a  sightseer. 
But  a  few  years  ago  an  old  and  valued  friend  was  in- 
valided within  its  walls,  and  I  ran  over  to  Paris  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  him.  The  handsome  Romanesque 
Church  of  Val-de-Grace  was  built  in  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIV.,  and  the  hospital  occupies  the  site  of  an  ancient 
abbey,  but  Napoleonic  memories  are  recalled  at  every 
step.  As  you  approach  the  Observatoire  a  bronze  statue 
meets  your  eyes — that  of  "  Le  brave  des  braves,"  the  lion- 
hearted  Ney,  who  fell  here  on  a  December  morning  in  the 
year  of  Waterloo. 

"  Soldats,  droit  au  cceur  !  "  ("  Soldiers,  straight  at  the 
heart " !)  he  shouted,  his  last  word  of  command  as  he 
confronted  the  companions-in-arms  charged  with  his 
execution. 

In  front  of  the  hospital  stands  another  and  much  finer 
statue — David  d' Anger's  bronze  figure  of  Larrey,  Napoleon's 
army  surgeon.  "  The  most  virtuous  man  I  ever  met  with," 
declared  the  Emperor  at  St.  Helena,  when  handsomely 
remembering  him  in  his  will. 

Larrey  was  not  only  a  great  surgeon  and  the  initiator 
of  many  modern  methods,  he  was  a  great  moral  inventor. 

207 


208          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Attached  to  the  Army  of  the  Rhine  in  1792,  he  thereupon 
organized  the  first  ambulance  service  introduced  in  war- 
fare, later  adopted  throughout  Europe.  After  serving  in 
twenty-five  campaigns,  including  the  expedition  to  Moscow, 
and  narrowly  escaping  with  his  life  at  Waterloo,  Larrey 
died  at  the  post  of  duty  in  1842.  The  inspection  of  a 
fever  hospital  in  Algeria  brought  on  an  illness  which 
terminated  his  noble  career. 

It  was  a  bright  afternoon  in  April  when  I  paid  my 
first  visit  to  Val-de-Grace.  What  a  contrast  did  that 
gloomy  interior  present  to  the  sunny,  animated,  tumul- 
tuous world  without !  In  spring  and  early  summer  the 
Paris  boulevards  have  very  little  in  common  with  the 
crowded  thoroughfares  of  other  cities.  The  stately  avenues 
of  freshly  budded  green,  the  children  making  a  playground 
of  the  broad  pavement,  the  groups  of  loungers  quaffing 
their  coffee  or  lemonade  amid  oleander  and  pomegranate 
trees,  the  gaily  moving  crowds,  make  up  a  whole  im- 
possible to  match  elsewhere.  "  The  cheerful  ways  of  men  " 
are  more  than  cheerful  here.  One  feels  exhilarated,  one 
knows  not  why.  Inexpressibly  dreary  seemed  the  vast 
building  in  which  my  friend  had  spent  many  months. 

"  II  n'est  pas  bien  gai  ici  "  ("  It  is  not  very  lively  here  "), 
was  all  he  said,  as  we  sat  down  for  a  chat.  The  French 
soldier  never  complains.  The  commandant's  windows 
overlooked  the  garden,  now  showing  freshly  budded 
foliage  ;  sparrows  twittered  joyously  among  the  branches, 
sunshine  flooded  the  place,  yet  nothing  could  well  be  more 
depressing. 

Sick  and  disabled  soldiers  sunned  themselves  on  the 
benches  or  hobbled  up  and  down  the  straight  walks.  Here 
was  a  white-faced  convalescent  recovering  from  malaria 
contracted  in  Algeria,  there  a  victim  to  acute  sciatica 
brought  on  by  exposure  in  the  French  Alps ;  a  third  had 
been  stricken  by  sunstroke  in  Tonkin ;  a  fourth  had 
succumbed  to  fatigue  during  the  last  autumn's  manoeuvres  ; 


HOURS   IN  VAL-  DE-GRACE        200 

the  majority,  as  was  the  case  with  my  friend,  having 
sacrificed  health  to  duty  in  times  of  peace.  There  was 
indescribable  pathos  in  the  aspect  of  these  invalided 
soldiers. 

In  French  civil  hospitals  the  Sisters  of  St.  Vincent  de 
Paul  add  a  picturesque  element.  At  Val-de-Grace  the 
nursing  staff  consists  entirely  of  men.  Each  officer  who 
pays  a  certain  sum  for  accommodation  has  a  soldier  told 
off  to  wait  upon  him,  often  some  conscript  who  has  chosen 
hospital  service  instead  of  life  in  barracks.  Medical 
students  frequently  serve  their  term  as  nurses  or  attendants, 
the  interval  being  utilized  practically.  Seminarists  also 
prefer  the  hospital  to  the  camp. 

The  commandant's  room  was  furnished  with  Spartan 
simplicity,  but  doubtless  with  all  that  he  wanted — an  iron 
bedstead,  an  armchair,  a  second  chair  for  a  visitor,  pegs 
for  coats  and  dressing-gowns,  a  toilet  table  with  drawers, 
a  centre  table  on  which  lay  a  few  newspapers,  a  somewhat 
shabby  volume  of  Herbert  Spencer  translated  into  French, 
and  another  volume  or  two.  Pianos  are  out  of  place  in  a 
hospital,  otherwise  I  should  most  certainly  have  found 
here  that  incomparable  lightener  of  gloom  and  solitude, 
my  friend  being  an  enthusiastic  musician.  His  long  con- 
valescence had  now — alas  !  for  the  time  being  only — come 
to  an  end,  and  he  was  shortly  about  to  resume  his  post  in 
one  of  the  provinces. 

"  The  winter  months  seemed  long.  How  I  should  have 

got  through  them  without  my  comrade  D Js  visits 

Heaven  only  knows,"  he  said,  adding  sadly,  "  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  repay  such  devotion — never,  never  ! " 

This  brother  officer,  now  stationed  in  Paris,  had  been 
a  school  and  college  comrade.  The  pair  were  knit  by 
brotherly  affection,  addressing  each  other  with  the  charm- 
ing "  thee  "  and  "  thou  "  of  the  Quakers.  The  one  was 
in  fine  health,  and  rapidly  rising  in  his  profession  ;  the 
other's  equally  hopeful  career  had  been  checked  by  illness 


210          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

contracted  in  discharge  of  his  duties.  No  shadow  dimmed 
their  friendship. 

The  commandant  went  on  to   tell   me   how   hardly  a 

winter  day  had  passed  without  D 's  cheery  visit.     No 

matter  the  weather — rain  might  be  falling  in  torrents,  sleet 
and  snow  might  be  blinding,  a  fierce  east  wind  might  make 
the  strongest  wince — at  some  hour  or  other  he  would  hear 
the  thrice  welcome  footsteps  outside,  in  would  burst  his 
friend  with  cheery  handshake  and  enlivening  talk.  The 
long  invalid's  day  was  broken,  whiffs  from  the  outer  world 
cheered  the  dreary  place,  warm  affection  gladdened  the 
sick  man's  heart.  Despite  weather,  distance,  and  the 
obligations  of  an  onerous  service,  his  comrade  made  time 
for  a  visit.  Making  time  in  this  case  is  no  misuse  of  words. 
Only  those  familiar  with  military  routine  in  France  can 
realize  what  such  devotion  really  meant.  An  officer  in 
garrison  has  comparatively  an  easy  time  of  it  to  that 
of  his  fellow-soldier  in  the  bureau,  whose  work  is  official 
rather  than  active.  These  indefatigable  servants  of  the 
State,  from  the  highest  to  the  most  modest  ranks,  receive 
very  moderate  emoluments,  and  voluntaryism  is  not  com- 
patible with  military  discipline.  Little  margin  of  leisure 
is  left  to  the  busy  officer. 

As  I  have  said,  French  soldiers  never  complain.  With 
them  the  post  of  duty  is  ever  the  post  of  honour.  The 
commandant's  terrible  illness  had  been  brought  on  by  the 
supervision  of  engineering  works  on  the  Franco-Italian 
frontier  during  an  Arctic  winter. 

"  Climate,  climate !  "  he  said.  "  There  is  the  soldier's 
redoubtable  enemy  alike  in  times  of  war  and  peace.  I 
started  on  this  survey  in  fine  health,  and  returned  a 
wreck.  You  see,  I  had  come  from  the  south,  and  the 
change  was  too  sudden  and  too  great.  I  was  often 
obliged  to  start  with  my  comrades  for  a  long  drive  at 
dawn  and  in  an  open  vehicle  amid  blinding  snow.  At 
other  times  we  had  to  take  bridle-paths  on  horseback, 


HOURS   IN  VAL-DE-GRACE        211 

often  a  little  girl  acting  as  guide.  You  may  be  sure  we 
comforted  the  poor  child  with  food  and  hot  wine  at  the 
first  auberge  reached,  but  these  dales'  folk  are  a  hardy 
race.  What  is  a  dangerous  ordeal  to  others  is  a  trifle 
to  them.  I  lost  my  health  in  those  regions.  Mais  que 
voulez  vous  ?  A  soldier  does  not  choose  his  post," 

During  the  following  days  we  took  several  drives,  the 
sunshine,  the  April  foliage,  the  general  animation  impart- 
ing temporary  oblivion  of  past  sufferings  and  anxiety 
concerning  the  future.  It  was  something  to  feel  that  he 
would  shortly  be  at  work  once  more,  and  if  his  strength 
should  finally  give  way — "  A  tors,  le  repos  tternel?  he 
would  say  with  a  sad  smile. 

Devoted  to  music,  eminently  sociable,  largely  endowed 
with  the  French  aptitude — rather,  I  will  say,  genius — for 
friendship,  no  man  was  ever  more  fitted  to  enjoy  life.  In 
earlier  years,  as  a  comrade  had  said  of  him,  il  etait  la  gaiett 
meme  ("he  had  been  gaiety  itself").  In  these  pleasant 
hours  abroad  the  old  self  came  back  ;  a  more  delightful 
cicerone  in  Paris  you  could  not  have.  We  did  not  spend 
our  time  in  sightseeing,  but  in  the  forenoon  strolled  through 
the  markets,  revelling  in  the  sight  of  flowers,  fruit,  and 
vegetables,  or,  after  dtjeuner,  chatted  over  a  newspaper  in 
some  square  or  public  garden,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  or  glass 
of  sirop  and  water  on  the  boulevard,  taking  a  long  drive 
or  turning  into  some  place  of  popular  entertainment.  My 
short  stay  passed  all  too  quickly,  but  we  met  elsewhere  in 
the  autumn,  and  again  and  again  would  the  old  self  come 
back. 

But  such  gleams  of  revived  health  and  spirits  were 
transitory.  After  a  brief  resumption  of  service  the  com- 
mandant retired  on  half  pay,  not  too  long  having  to  wait 
for  le  repos  tternel,  so  much  more  welcome  to  him  than 
valetudinarianism  and  enforced  inactivity,  the  Legion  of 
Honour  his  sole  reward  in  lifetime — strange  to  say,  that 
reward  not  entitling  him  to  a  soldier's  grave. 


212          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

There  is  something  appalling  in  the  expeditiousness 
with  which  one's  friends  are  hurried  into  the  tomb  in 
France.  Three  months  after  spending  some  days  near 
*  the  invalid,  and  a  few  days  only  after  receiving  a  note 
from  him,  came  tidings  of  last  illness,  death,  and  interment, 
twenty-four  hours  only  separating  the  last  two.  And 
some  months  later  I  learned  that  an  officer  on  half  pay,  no 
matter  how  distinguished,  is  not  entitled  to  burial  in  that 
part  of  a  cemetery  set  apart  for  military  men.  Unless  a 
site  is  purchased  beforehand,  or  by  his  representatives, 
a  military  funeral  is  followed  by  interment  in  the  common 
burial-ground.  And  this  is  what  happened  in  my  friend's 
case — a  circumstance,  I  hardly  know  why,  filling  me  with 
hardly  less  sadness  than  the  news  of  his  death  itself. 

But  that  lonely  far-off  grave  is  ever  carefully  tended, 
for  flowers  and  shrubs  brighten  it.  From  time  to  time  a 
tiny  nosegay  gathered  therefrom  reaches  the  home  of  his 
unforgetting  English  friend. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

MY  JOURNEY   WITH    MADAME   LA 
PATRONNE 

THE  gist  of  French  travel,  to  my  thinking,  lies  in 
French    companionship.      Native    eyes   help    to 
sharpen  our  own,  and  native  wit   enlivens  every 
passing  incident.     Incomplete,  indeed,  had  been  my  own 
survey  of  rural  France  without  such  aid  and  stimulus,  and 
to  no  fellow-traveller  do  I  owe  more  than  to  the  patronne 
of  a  popular  hotel  "  east  of  Paris."      Our  journey,  more- 
over, was  made  under  circumstances  so  novel  and  piquant 
that  it  stands  by  itself. 

A  wife  at  sixteen,  afterwards  mother  of  several  children, 
and  co-manageress  with  her  husband  of  a  large  establish- 
ment by  the  time  she  was  barely  of  age,  Madame  C 's 

aptitude  for  business  and  organization  would  have  been 
remarkable  in  any  other  country.  With  Julius  Caesar  this 
clear-headed  little  Frenchwoman — at  the  time  I  write  of 
middle-aged — could  do  three  things  at  once  ;  that  is  to  say, 
she  could  add  up  figures  whilst  giving  orders  to  cook  or 
chambermaids  and  answering  miscellaneous  questions  put 
by  English  tourists.  Interruptions  that  would  prove  simply 
maddening  to  other  folks  did  not  confuse  or  irritate  her  in 
the  very  least.  Equally  admirable  was  her  dealing  with 
practical  details,  the  discriminating  choice  of  subordinates, 
methodical  conduct  of  daily  routine,  the  throroughness  of 
her  supervision.  Let  it  not  for  a  moment  be  presumed 
that  hotel-keeping  and  attention  to  maternal  duties  shut 

213 


214          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

out  other  interests.  To  the  utmost  she  had  profited  by  an 
excellent  middle-class  education,  was  well  versed  in  French 
classic  literature,  could  enjoy  good  music  and  art,  and  on 
half-holidays  would  take  her  children  to  the  magnificent 
town  museum,  pour  former  leurs  idees,  in  order  to  cultivate 
their  minds.  That  books  were  more  to  her  than  mere 
pastime  the  following  incident  will  show. 

We  were  one  day  discussing  favourite  authors,  when 
she  told  me  that  during  a  recent  convalescence  she  had 
re-read  Corneille's  plays  right  through,  adding — 

"  And  in  each  discovering  new  beauties  ;  it  is  the  same 
with  all  great  writers." 

The  patronne  of  the  Ecu  d'Or  was  not  only  charming 
company,  but  a  devoted  friend  ;  and  when  a  few  years 
ago  I  wanted  a  fellow-traveller,  I  luckily  bethought  myself 
of  my  actual  hostess.  The  proposal  was  accepted.  Mon- 
sieur, ever  solicitous  of  his  wife's  pleasure,  cheerfully 
undertook  double  duty  for  a  fortnight,  and  in  high  spirits 
we  set  off. 

It  was,  I  believe,  Madame  C 's  first  journey  as  a 

tourist  since  her  wedding  trip,  often  the  only  trip  of  a  busy 
Frenchwoman's  life.  Perhaps  had  she  overrun  Europe 
after  the  manner  of  the  modern  globe-trotter,  she  would 
not  have  proved  so  genial  and  informing  a  companion. 
No  one  can  really  love  France  or  appreciate  French  scenery 
like  a  native.  A  close  and  accurate  observer,  Madame 

C ,  whilst  perpetually  increasing  her  own  knowledge, 

was  ever  pointing  out  features  I  might  otherwise  have 
missed.  Again,  when  she  criticized,  it  was  without  the 
superciliousness  of  foreign  observers.  Meantime,  the 
weather  was  perfect.  Never  had  the  Burgundian  landscape 
looked  richer  or  more  glowing  ;  never  were  travellers  more 
enticingly  beckoned  onward  by  vista  after  vista  of  vine- 
clad  hills,  sunlit  valleys,  and  blue  mountain  range. 

The  kind  of  freemasonry  that  binds  professional  bodies 
together  exists  among  members  of  what  is  called  in  France 


MADAME   LA   PATRONNE         215 

le  haut  commerce^  or  more  important  commercial  ranks. 
On  arriving  at  our  destination  in  Savoy  I  soon  discovered 
this,  and  that,  as  I  have  said,  however  delightful  French 
travel  may  be  with  a  sympathetic  English  friend,  native 
companionship  introduces  a  novel  and  highly  agreeable 
element.  The  mistresses  of  the  Ecu  d'Or  and  Lion  Rouge 
now  met  for  the  first  time,  but  their  husbands  had  corre- 
sponded on  business  matters,  their  callings  were  identical, 
and  general  circumstances  on  a  par.  Children  on  both 
sides  proved  a  further  bond  of  union.  Intercourse  was 
straightway  put  on  the  footing  of  old  acquaintanceship. 
As  warm  a  welcome  was  extended  to  myself,  and  such 
friendliness  amazingly  transforms  the  atmosphere  of  a  big 
hotel.  Our  hostess's  husband  being  absent,  her  time  was 
more  taken  up  than  usual,  and  the  greater  part  of  our 
own  was  spent  abroad.  We  took  our  meals  in  the  public 
dining-room,  ordering  what  we  wanted  as  any  other  tourists  . 
would  have  done,  yet  somehow  we  seemed  and  felt  at 
home.  And  most  instructive  to  me  were  the  confabulations 
of  the  two  ladies  when  leisure  admitted  of  tea  or  coffee  in 

Madame  F 's  cosy  little   bureau,  or  office  and  parlour 

combined.  What  most  struck  me  about  these  prolonged 
chats  was  the  sense  of  parental  responsibility  shown  by 

these   busy  mothers.      Madame   C had   three  boys, 

Madame  F a  marriageable  daughter,  the  group  form- 
ing an  inexhaustible  topic.  The  various  aptitudes  and 
temperaments  of  each  child,  the  future,  after  most  careful 
deliberation,  marked  out  for  them,  were  discussed  again 
and  again.  One  remark  my  friend  of  the  Ecu  d'Or  made 
about  her  two  elder  sons  impressed  me  much,  evincing,  as 
it  did,  a  painstaking  study  of  character  from  the  cradle 
upwards. 

"  My  husband  and  I  had  wished  to  set  up  Pierre  and 
Frederic  in  business  together,"  she  said,  "  but  we  find  as 
they  grow  older  that  natures  so  opposite  as  theirs  would 
never  harmonize,  Some  young  people  are  improved  by 


216          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

coming  into  contact  with  their  antipodes,  but  the  experi- 
ment would  not  answer  with  our  boys.  I  have  watched 
them  both  narrowly,  and  am  convinced  that  they  will  be 
better  apart." 

No  less  circumstantial  was  the  patronne  of  the  Lion 
Rouge  regarding  her  eighteen-year-old  Marie. 

As  I  listened  I  got  no  mere  glimpse,  but  real  insight 
into  bourgeois  ideals  of  the  daughter,  wife,  mother,  and 
very  worthy  ideals  they  were.  Marie's  education  had  been, 
first  and  foremost,  practical.  The  practical  element  in  a 
French  lyce"e  for  girls  is  much  more  conspicuous  than  in 
our  own  high  schools,  and  the  lyce"e  now  has  very  largely 
supplemented  the  more  restricted  education  of  the  convent 
school.  Especially  insisted  upon  in  the  curriculum  are 
such  subjects  as  book-keeping  and  domestic  management, 
both  highly  important  to  a  girl  destined  for  active  life. 
Trades  as  well  as  professions  are  often  hereditary.  Made- 
moiselle Marie  had  just  returned  from  a  year's  stay  in  an 
English  business  house,  and  already  took  her  turn  at  the 
desk.  In  due  time  she  would  replace  the  young  lady 
caissihe,  or  clerk,  and  most  probably  marry  a  hotel-keeper. 

These  maternal  colloquies  brought  out  more  than  one 
French  characteristic  very  forcibly.  In  forecasting  the 
future  of  their  children,  parents  leave  the  least  possible  to 
chance.  A  happy-go-lucky  system  is  undoubtedly  better 
suited  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  temperament.  The  more 
methodical  French  mind  does  not  rebel  against  routine. 
Inherited  prudence,  an  innate  habit  of  reasoning,  avert 
such  conflicts  as  under  the  same  circumstances  would  in- 
evitably occur  among  ourselves. 

After  discussing  sons  and  daughters,  the  two  ladies 
would  discuss  their  husbands,  or  rather  take  each  other — 
and  myself — into  the  happiest  confidences.  Madame 

C ,  I  knew  well,  owned  a  partner  in  every  way  worthy 

of  her ;  the  same  good  fortune  had  evidently  fallen  to 
Madame  F 's  share.  Hard  were  it  to  say  which  of  the 


MADAME   LA   PATRONNE         217 

two  waxed  the  more  enthusiastic  on  the  topic.  Senti- 
mentality is  foreign  to  the  national  character,  but  these 
matrons,  mothers  of  youths  and  maidens,  now  became 
tearfully  eloquent.  Glad  indeed  I  felt  that  the  master  of 
the  Lion  Rouge  remained  absent.  The  excellent  man  in 
person  must  have  proved  a  disillusion — have  fallen  some- 
what short  of  his  wife's  description ! 

Many  other  suggestive  conversations  I  heard  in  that 
little  parlour,  but  I  must  now  relate  by  far  the  most  in- 
teresting particular  of  this  journey — the  incident,  in  fact, 
which  made  it  worth  narrating. 

Like  Falstaff,  I  ever — when  possible — take  my  ease  at 
mine  inn.  Madame  of  the  Ecu  d'Or  had  mentioned  this 
little  weakness  to  Madame  of  the  Lion  Rouge,  and  ac- 
cordingly the  best  rooms  on  the  first  floor  were  assigned 
to  us,  the  choicest  wines  served.  During  our  several  days' 
stay  we  enjoyed  not  only  the  cordiality  of  acquaintance- 
ship, but  all  the  comfort  and  luxury  the  hotel  could  afford. 
What  was  my  dismay,  on  applying  for  our  bill,  to  learn 
that  none  was  forthcoming  !  Quite  useless  for  me  to 

expostulate !     Monsieur  C and  Monsieur  F had 

transacted    business   together ;    I    was   Madame   C 's 

friend.  Both  of  us  had  been  received,  and  could  only 
be  received,  on  the  footing  of  welcome  guests  and  old 
acquaintances. 

Argument  after  argument  I  tried  in  vain.  There  re- 
mained nothing  for  me  to  do  but  accept  such  generous 
hospitality  in  the  spirit  with  which  it  was  accorded.  To 
have  acted  otherwise  would  have  in  the  last  degree  out- 
raged French  susceptibilities.  And  afterwards,  when 
asking  my  travelling  companion  how  best  to  show  my 
appreciation,  her  answer  was  characteristic. 

"  Send  an  English  book,  one  of  your  own  novels,  to 
Mademoiselle  Marie  ;  on  no  account  anything  more  costly, 
or  it  would  look  like  payment  in  kind."  Which  advice  I 
followed. 


218          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Nor  was  our  journey  in  Dauphine  without  evidence 
of  this  freemasonry.  The  patronne  of  the  Ecu  d'Or  seemed 
able  to  traverse  France  like  the  guest  of  Arab  tribes, 
viceregally  franked  from  place  to  place.  As  the  sordid 
rather  than  the  generous  qualities  of  their  compatriots  are 
insisted  upon  by  French  novelists,  such  incidents  are  worth 
recording.  On  the  whole,  too,  I  am  told  on  excellent 
authority  that  hotel-keepers  in  France,  as  a  rule,  do  not 
make  large  fortunes.  Their  expenses  are  too  great,  and, 
excepting  in  large  commercial  centres  and  health  resorts, 
their  clientele  is  not  rich  enough  to  admit  of  high  charges. 
Only  by  dint  of  incessant  attention  to  business  and  rigid 
economy  can  the  bourgeois  ideal  be  obtained — retirement, 
a  suburban  villa,  and  a  garden. 

I  here  add  that,  apart  from  national  cleverness  and 
capacity,  I  think  two  circumstances  greatly  account  for  the 
success  of  commercial  houses  under  feminine  management. 
The  first  is  the  admirable  clearness  with  which  arithmetic 
is  taught  and  the  prominence  given  to  book-keeping  in 
girls'  schools  in  France.  The  second  is  concentration  of 
purpose,  a  single  aim.  The  matron  has  in  view  her 
children  and  grandchildren  ;  the  paid  manageress  her  own 
independence.  One  and  all  have  ever  the  future  before 
them.  They  bend  their  undivided  energies  to  the  day's 
work,  not  for  the  sake  of  to-morrow's  pleasure  or  relaxation, 
but  of  ultimate  to-morrows,  or  aspirations  inseparable  from 
national  character.  Wealth  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice 
is  not  the  dream  of  the  French  bourgeois ;  instead,  the 
modest  existence  assurte,  a  life  free  from  pecuniary  anxiety, 
advancing  years  spent  in  solvent  dignity  and  comfort. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  LYCEE  FENELON  FOR  GIRLS 

A  GENERATION  ago  the  education  of  French  girls 
was  far  behind  that  of  England  and  Germany. 
I    have    no   hesitation    to-day    in    affirming    its 
superiority  to  both  Anglo-Saxon  and  Teutonic  systems. 

My  convent-bred  contemporaries  in  France,  nay,  younger 
women  whose  studies  were  but  beginning  when  their  own 
had  long  since  ended,  would  treat  their  education  as  a 
subject  of  gentle  irony. 

"  What  did  I  learn  at  the  convent,  you  ask  me  ? "  said 
one  dear  old  friend  to  me  some  years  since.  "Absolutely 
nothing." 

And  another  convent-bred  friend,  the  other's  junior  by 
thirty  years,  by  this  time  a  wife  and  mother,  informed  me 
that  she  was  sedulously  applying  herself  to  the  study  of 
history. 

"  Would  you  believe  it  ? "  she  said,  smiling,  "  in  my 
convent  French  history  stopped  short  at  the  Revolution, 
for  us  it  ended  with  the  ancien  regime  !  " 

The  convent  school  was  simply  a  school  of  manners. 
With  M.  Turveydrop,  the  teachers'  business  was  solely 
to  polish,  polish,  polish.  A  little  French  literature,  a 
little  music,  perhaps  a  little  drawing,  were  thrown  into 
the  bargain.  If  pupils  quitted  the  place  ignorant  as  they 
had  come,  they  at  least  acquired  habits  of  self-possession,  a 
faultless  deportment,  and  scrupulous  attention  to  minutiae 
of  dress,  speech,  and  behaviour. 

219 


220          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

What  must  be  regarded  as  a  drawback  to  the  lycee 
will  be  mentioned  in  its  proper  place. 

When  M.  Hanotaux's  work  on  contemporary  France 
attains  the  colophon,  we  shall  be  in  a  position  to  appraise 
the  Third  Republic  as  an  intellectual  force.  No  sooner 
was  French  soil  rid  of  the  invader,  the  army  re-organized, 
the  war  indemnity  had  been  paid  into  German  coffers, 
and  on  September  16,  1873,  the  last  detachment  of 
Prussian  troops  saluted  the  tricolour  on  the  frontier 
near  Verdun,  than  reforms  began  in  earnest.  The  re- 
organization of  the  army,  the  raising  of  the  French 
colonial  empire  to  the  second  in  the  world,  financial, 
municipal,  and  legislative  reforms,  were  worthily  crowned 
by  the  great  Educational  Acts,  or  Ferry  laws,  of  1881 
and  1882.  Popular  education  as  projected  by  the 
Convention  eighty  years  before  now  became  a  fact. 
Primary  schools,  lay,  gratuitous,  and  obligatory,  were 
opened  in  every  commune  throughout  the  country,  and 
by  the  creation  of  the  lycee  for  girls  two  rival  camps  were 
brought  together ;  in  the  noble  words  of  Gambetta — 
"French  youths  and  maidens  would  henceforth  be  united 
by  the  intellect  before  being  united  by  the  heart."  The 
reign  of  smatterings  and  polish,  polish,  polish  was  doomed. 

The  lycte  de  filles  has  no  counterpart  in  England. 
A  foundation  of  the  State,  a  dependence  of  the  University 
of  France,  a  body  subsidized  alike  by  the  Government  and 
by  municipalities,  every  member  of  the  various  staffs  is 
a  civil  servant.  With  not  a  few  Frenchmen,  we  are  apt  to 
rail  at  such  instances  of  centralization.  The  results  are 
what  we  have  to  consider,  and  the  inspection  and  study 
of  a  lycee  will  eradicate  many  prejudices. 

If  a  hard-and-fast  rule  of  uniformity  governs  this 
administrative  department  as  any  other,  if  voluntaryism  is 
rigidly  excluded,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  what  volun- 
taryism had  cost  the  country  before  the  Ferry  laws. 
Until  1 88 1  both  men  and  women  could  teach  provided 


THE  LYCEE  FENELON  FOR  GIRLS    221 

only  with  the  so-called  lettre  d* obedience,  or  pastoral 
letter  signed  by  the  bishop — no  certificate  whatever  of 
competence,  merely  a  testimony  to  good  conduct  and 
submission  to  clerical  discipline. 

Under  the  stately  aegis  of  the  University  of  France, 
the  French  girl  is  protected  from  incapacity,  favouritism, 
or  misdirected  patronage.  The  only  title  of  admission  to 
professional  chair  or  to  an  inferior  post  is  tried  capacity. 
From  the  modestly  paid  surveillante,  or  supervisor  of 
studies,  to  madame  la  directrice,  or  the  lady  principal,  and 
certified  lady  teachers,  the  entire  staff  is  responsible  to  the 
vice-recteur  of  the  Academic  de  Paris.  Here  I  may  mention 
that  there  are  sixteen  academies  in  France,  all  affiliations 
of  the  university,  the  head  of  the  university  being  the 
Minister  of  Public  Instruction. 

By  the  courteous  permission  of  the  vice-recteur  of  the 
Sorbonne,  I  was  lately  not  only  enabled  to  see  over  the 
magnificent  Lycee  Fenelon  in  Paris,  but  to  be  present 
during  several  lessons.  In  this  vast  congeries  of  buildings, 
annexe  after  annexe  having  been  added  to  the  ancient 
Hotel  de  Rohan,  five  hundred  and  odd  pupils  from  six  to 
seventeen  are  accommodated  with  thirty  agrtgtes — that  is 
to  say,  ladies  who  have  passed  the  examinations  obligatory 
on  professors  teaching  in  a  lycee,  or  Faculty  or  school  of 
art,  science,  or  literature. 

Unlike  the  lycee  for  boys,  that  for  girls  is  exclusively 
a  day  school.  Pupils  living  at  a  distance  can  have  a 
mid-day  meal  and  afternoon  collation  on  the  premises, 
but  the  State  holds  itself  responsible  to  parents  no  farther. 
Omnibuses  do  not  collect  the  children  and  take  them  home 
as  is  the  case  with  convent  schools.  A  new  experience 
was  it  to  see  little  girls  of  twelve,  or  even  younger,  deposit 
their  pass  ticket  with  the  porter  and  run  home  unattended 
as  in  England. 

I  was  assured  that  the  habit  is  on  the  increase,  and 
as  many  professional  and  middle-class  families  in  Paris 


222          HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

keep  no  servant,  great  must  be  the  relief  of  this  innovation 
to  over-worked  mothers.  Indeed,  the  excessive  supervision 
of  children  in  France  has  ever,  of  course,  been  a  matter  of 
money  and  circumstances. 

An  amiable  young  stirveillante,  or  supervisor  of  studies 
and  playground,  etc.,  acted  as  my  cicerone,  explaining 
everything  as  we  went  along.  Quitting  the  porter's  lodge 
and  large  waiting-room,  we  entered  the  recreation  ground, 
a  fragment  of  the  fine  old  garden  in  which  contemporaries 
of  Madame  de  Sevigne  once  disported  themselves,  now 
noisy  with  romping  children.  Class-rooms  and  refectories 
opened  on  to  the  gravelled  spaces  and  shady  walks,  here 
and  there  lady  professors  taking  a  stroll  between  lesson 
and  lesson. 

Ascending  a  wide  staircase,  relic  of  former  magnificence, 
with  elaborate  iron  hand-rail,  we  zigzag  through  the 
labyrinthine  congeries  of  buildings,  now  looking  into  one 
class-room,  now  into  another.  In  some  of  these,  fine 
mouldings  and  ceilings  remind  us  that  we  are  in  what 
was  once  a  splendid  mansion  of  the  Renaissance.  The 
sight  of  each  room  made  me  long  to  be  a  schoolgirl 
again.  Instead  of  receiving  stones  for  bread  and  thistles 
for  figs,  the  use  of  the  globes,  Hangnail's  questions,  and 
the  like,  a  mere  simulacrum  of  instruction,  how  delightful 
to  be  taught  by  the  competent,  to  be  made  to  realize  our 
great  thinker's  axiom — knowledge  is  seeing ! 

In  one  class-room,  or  rather  laboratory,  a  young  lady 
professor  was  preparing  her  lesson  on  chemistry.  Very 
business-like  she  looked  in  a  long  brown  linen  pinafore 
like  a  workman's  blouse,  as  she  moved  to  and  fro,  now 
fetching  a  retort,  now  some  apparatus  or  substance  for 
her  demonstration.  Great  prominence  is  given  to  the 
study  of  elementary  science  in  the  lycee  curriculum. 
Elsewhere  we  just  glanced  into  a  class-room  where  a 
second  science  mistress  was  lecturing  on  physics  with 
practical  illustrations.  In  yet  a  third  room,  a  vase  of 


THE  LYCEE  FENELON  FOR  GIRLS    223 

freshly  gathered   wild    flowers   betokened    a  forthcoming 
lesson  on  botany. 

"  Our  pupils  delight  in  their  lessons  on  natural  history," 
said  my  cicerone,  as  with  natural  pride  she  showed  me 
the  school  museum,  a  small  but  comprehensive  collection 
of  stuffed  animals,  birds,  and  skeletons,  scientifically  classi- 
fied, and  constantly  enlarged  by  friends  and  scholars. 

One  feature  that  more  particularly  interested  me  was 
a  small  room  containing  specimens  of  the  pupils'  work — 
delicately  adjusted  scales  and  weights,  thermometers,  and 
other  mechanical  appliances  made  by  little  girls  unassisted. 
Here  indeed  was  a  proof  positive  that  with  the  young 
lyceenne — knowledge  is  seeing.  About  twenty-five  girls 
form  a  class,  those  attending  the  French  lesson  I  was 
permitted  to  hear  being  from  eleven  to  thirteen.  Very 
much  alive  looked  most  of  these  little  maidens,  all  wearing 
the  obligatory  black  stuff  pinafore  fastened  round  the 
waist,  and  having  long  sleeves,  many  with  their  hair 
dressed  a  la  infanta  of  Velasquez — that  is  to  say,  hanging 
loose,  and  knotted  on  one  side  with  a  ribbon  ;  not  a  few 
still  in  socks !  French  girls,  indeed,  often  go  bare-legged 
and  in  socks  till  they  are  almost  as  tall  as  their  mothers. 

Dictation  and  grammatical  analysis  are  subjects  naturally 
less  attractive  than  chemical  experiments  or  a  lesson  on 
field  flowers.  More  than  once  the  lady  professor  was 
obliged  to  call  some  laggard  to  order  ;  one,  indeed,  she 
sharply  threatened  with  dismissal  on  account  of  inattention. 
But  on  the  whole  I  should  say  the  class  was  a  very  intelli- 
gent one,  and  two  or  three  girls  of  eleven  or  twelve,  called 
up  for  examination,  showed  a  really  remarkable  mastery  of 
syntax. 

An  admirable  English  lesson,  given  by  a  thoroughly 
capable  French  lady,  was  another  interesting  experience. 
Of  the  twenty-five  pupils,  their  ages  being  the  same  as  those 
of  the  former  class,  about  a  third,  not  more,  showed  lively 
interest  in  the  study.  Two  or  three,  indeed,  made  a  not 


224          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

unsuccessful  attempt  to  tell  the  story  of  Whittington  and 
his  cat  in  English  !  One  bright  little  girl  of  twelve  seemed 
ahead  of  all  the  rest.  On  the  disadvantage  of  employing 
French  professors  of  modern  languages  in  Lyce"es,  both  for 
boys  and  girls,  there  at  first  sight  would  seem  to  be  but  one 
opinion.  No  amount  of  erudition  and  experience  can  surely 
here  atone  for  the  sine  qud  non  of  fitness,  namely,  native 
idiom  and  accent,  that  vitality  in  language  hardly  less 
individual  and  racial  a  matter  than  physical  idiosyncrasy. 

The  exclusion  of  foreign  professors  from  State  schools 
became  law  after  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  the  measure 
being  solely  directed  against  Germans.  At  the  present 
time  I  believe  the  measure  is  partly  protective,  in  the 
interest  of  the  excessive  number  of  native  teachers,  and 
partly  pedagogic,  viz.  in  the  interest  of  the  scholars.  And 
as  a  French  friend  writes  on  the  subject — "  It  is  my  firm 
conviction  that  foreign  professors  should  never  be  employed 
unless  they  can  speak  French  fluently  and  without  accent. 
Otherwise  they  are  not  respected  by  their  pupils,  and  fail  to 
exercise  the  desired  authority." 

Where,  indeed,  would  these  be  found  ?  Is  it  not  for 
a  similar  reason  that  English  professors  of  French  and 
German  are  engaged  for  our  own  public  schools  ?  What 
seems  at  the  onset  a  defect  may  therefore  be  a  necessity. 

The  immense  importance  attached  to  the  teaching  of 
science  more  than  compensates  for  any  linguistic  draw- 
backs. The  French  mind  is  naturally  acquisitive  and 
logical,  instruction  here  so  directly  appeals  to  natural 
aptitude,  that  great  things  may  be  expected  from  the  future. 
Already  we  find  Frenchwomen  coming  to  the  fore  in 
scientific  discovery,  law,  medicine,  and  literature.  The 
lyc£e  fosters  inclination  for  studies  hitherto  considered  the 
province  of  the  other  sex.  In  the  programme  before  me 
I  find  that  students  of  the  second  division,  i.e.  girls  from 
twelve  to  seventeen,  are  taught  the  following  subjects,  two 
or  three  being  optional,  and  the  complete  course  occupying 


THE  LYCEE  FENELON  FOR  GIRLS   225 

five  years:  La  morale,  moral  science,  general  history, 
German  or  English  (in  departments  bordering  on  Spain 
and  Italy,  Spanish  and  Italian  replace  these),  domestic 
economy  and  hygiene,  common  law,  natural  history,  physics, 
chemistry,  geometry,  and  the  elements  of  algebra.  French 
language  and  literature,  drawing,  solfeggio,  with  gymnastics, 
needlework  including  cutting  out,  are  added ;  also  a  dancing- 
class  and  practical  lessons  in  cookery,  these  being  an  extra 
charge.  In  the  preparatory  class,  i.e.  for  girls  from  six  to 
twelve,  the  fees  amount  to  200  francs,  just  ,£8  a  year,  with 
an  extra  charge  of  £6  for  pupils  preparing  their  lessons 
under  the  supervision  of  a  rfyttitrice,  or  under-teacher ;  in 
the  second  division  the  charges  are  from  ;£io  to  £12,  the 
same  sum  as  in  the  first  being  charged  for  what  is  called 
the  externat  surveiltt. 

Before  quitting  the  Lyce*e  Fe"nelon  I  sent  in  my  card  to 
madame  la  directrice,  who  received  me  most  cordially,  say- 
ing that,  with  the  permission  of  M.  le  Vice-Recteur,  she 
should  at  any  time  cordially  welcome  myself  or  friends.  I 
mention  this  fact  to  show  how  the  principle  of  authority  is 
insisted  upon  in  every  administrative  department  of  France. 

"  Take  but  degree  away,  untune  that  string, 
And  hark  !  what  discord  follows  !     Each  thing  meets 
In  mere  oppugnancy." 

In  these  words  we  have  the  key  of  that  centralization 
so  incomprehensible  to  ourselves,  but  which  works  so  satis- 
factorily in  France.  The  vast  administrative  machine 
moves  apparently  by  itself,  unhinged  by  outward  events 
however  disturbing. 

A  boarding-house  at  St.  Mande",  within  half  an  hour's 
distance  from  the  lycee,  was  opened  in  1903.  Here  bath- 
rooms, tennis  court,  croquet  ground,  and  other  modernities 
are  offered  on  moderate  terms. 

As  I  was  unable  to  visit  this  establishment,  I  will  give 
some  particulars  of  a  boarding-house  for  girl-students  at 
Toulouse  visited  some  years  since. 
Q 


226          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

I  arrived,  unfortunately,  during  the  long  vacation,  but  a 
young  lady  teacher  in  residence  kindly  showed  me  over  the 
house,  or  rather  block  of  buildings,  standing  amid  pleasant 
wooded  grounds.  Although  we  were  as  yet  only  midway 
through  September,  from  attic  to  basement  every  corner 
was  spick  and  span.  In  the  vast  dormitory  of  the  upper 
school,  I  was,  alas  !  reminded  of  the  lyce"e  for  boys.  Here 
were  no  less  than  thirty  compartments  or  cubicles  contain- 
ing bed  and  toilet  requisites,  whilst  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  commanding  a  view  of  the  entire  length,  was  the  bed 
of  the  surveillante,  or  under-mistress.  Sleeping  or  waking, 
the  lyc^enne,  like  the  lyc^en,  was  here  under  perpetual 
supervision.  In  other  respects  the  arrangements  seemed 
excellent. 

The  lyc^e  of  Toulouse,  like  those  of  other  provincial 
cities,  is  a  dependance  of  the  State,  the  department,  and  the 
municipality.  Thus,  whilst  the  programme  of  studies  is 
drawn  up  by  the  M.  le  Recteur  of  the  Toulouse  Academic, 
the  boarding-house  just  described  is  authorized  by  the 
town  council,  and  the  prospectus  is  signed  by  the  mayor. 
Every  detail,  therefore,  alike  scholastic  and  economic,  must 
receive  the  sanction  of  these  respective  authorities.  How 
deep  is  the  interest  in  secondary  education  the  following 
citation  will  demonstrate  :  "  At  a  sitting  of  the  Conseil 
Municipal  of  December  29,  1887" — I  quote  from  the  pro- 
spectus of  the  boarding-house — "  it  was  decided  that  a 
graduated  reduction  should  be  made  for  two,  three,  or 
four  sisters,  a  fifth  being  received  entirely  free  of  charge." 
It  would  be  interesting  to  learn  how  often  this  generous 
privilege  has  been  enjoyed. 

The  charges  both  for  school  and  boarding-house  are 
about  a  third  cheaper  in  the  provinces  than  in  Paris.  The 
curriculum  embraces  the  same  subjects  with  occasional 
deviations.  Thus,  at  Toulouse,  on  account  of  geographical 
position,  Spanish  may  supplant  German  or  English.  Re- 
ligious teaching  in  every  lyc^e  is  left  entirely  to  parents. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LA  MAISON  PATERNELLE,  OR  REFORM- 
ATORY FOR  YOUNG  GENTLEMEN 

WE  are  all  familiar  with  the  advertisements  of 
schoolmasters  and  private  tutors  undertaking 
to  control  and  amend  idle  or  unruly  lads. 
Incorrigible  ne'er-do-wells  of  our  own  upper  classes  are 
summarily  packed  off  to  the  colonies.  Very  different  are 
French  methods.  The  Code  Civil,  based  on  Roman  law, 
places  drastic  measures  within  reach  of  French  parents 
and  guardians,  and  a  brief  account  of  the  system  pursued 
in  dealing  with  rich  prodigals  over  the  water  will  not, 
perhaps,  prove  without  interest.  It  is  now  many  years 
since  I  visited  the  great  agricultural  and  industrial  refor- 
matory, or  colonie,  as  the  place  is  euphemistically  called, 
of  Mettray,  near  Tours. 

A  little  removed  from  the  vast  congeries  of  dwellings, 
workshops,  and  farm  buildings  stood  a  pretty  Swiss  chdlet. 
This,  our  guide  informed  my  fellow-traveller  and  myself, 
was  the  Maison  Paternelle,  another  euphemism  for  what 
was  in  reality  a  refined  sort  of  prison.  Thither,  we  learned, 
incorrigibly  idle  or  vicious  lads  of  the  better  classes  were 
sent  for  terms  varying  from  one  to  six  months,  and  kept 
in  strict  confinement. 

We  were  obligingly  allowed  to  inspect  the  house,  which 
outside  looked  quite  attractive,  and  within  was  what  might 
be  called  a  gilded  cage,  a  genteel  prison  ;  once  the  key 
turned  upon  a  captive,  he  was  here  as  completely  embastilU 

227 


228          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

as  in  the  Bastille  itself !  The  cells  varied  in  size,  furniture, 
aspect  and  decoration,  carpets,  curtains,  a  pretty  view,  and 
other  luxuries  adorning  those  of  what,  for  want  of  an 
exact  term,  I  will  call  first-class  misdemeanants.  But  one 
feature  characterized  all.  In  the  door  of  each  cell  was 
a  pane  of  glass  admitting  of  perpetual  espial.  Like  Cain 
in  Victor  Hugo's  fine  poem,  the  prisoner  was  ever  followed 
by  an  inquisitional  eye. 

The  key  and  the  peep-hole  somewhat  discounted  our 
cicerone's  glowing  appreciation  of  the  Maison  Paternelle 
as  a  reforming  medium.  We  refrained,  however,  from 
criticism  till  breakfasting  with  M.  Demetz,  the  founder  of 
Mettray,  and  the  originator  of  the  Maison  Paternelle.  We 
had  reached  the  colonie  soon  after  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  M.  Demetz,  who  lived  in  the  midst  of  his 
children,  as  he  called  the  outcasts  and  prodigals,  break- 
fasted at  the  early  hour  of  ten.  In  a  simple  yet  elegant 
home,  a  charming  hostess  in  the  person  of  the  Countess, 
our  host's  daughter,  and,  unnecessary  to  add,  a  dejeuner  of 
many  courses,  all  perfectly  cooked,  awaited  us. 

One  saw  at  a  glance  that  M.  Demetz  was  a  born 
apostle  of  humanity ;  also  that,  although  devoting  himself 
to  the  humblest  and  least  admirable  of  his  kind,  he  had 
consorted  with  choicest  spirits. 

Past  middle  age,  refined  in  feature,  of  exquisite  urbanity, 
his  face  lighted  up  with  rare  enthusiasm  when  on  the  topic 
of  his  Maison  Paternelle.  Eloquent  as  he  became,  neither 
my  friend,  who  was  also  a  philanthropist  and  educationalist, 
nor  myself  were  won  over  to  the  peephole  and  the  key. 
We  quitted  Mettray  smiling  at  what  we  deemed  a  good 
man's  hobby. 

We  were  wrong.  The  excellent  M.  Demetz  has  long 
since  gone  to  his  rest,  my  travelling  companion,  Madame 
Bodichon,  the  gifted  foundress  of  Girton,  has  followed  him 
to  the  grave.  The  Maison  Paternelle,  founded  forty-eight 
years  ago,  not  only  exists,  but  has  more  than  justified  the 


LA   MAISON   PATERNELLE        229 

confidence  of  its  projector.  The  tiny  Swiss  chdlet  is  now 
replaced  by  a  commodious  house,  fitted  up  with  all  modern 
requirements,  and  having  accommodation  for  upwards  of 
fifty  inmates.  What  was  formerly  a  tentative,  a  modest 
enterprise  is  now  an  important  organization,  managed  by 
a  board  of  directors,  and  having  a  staff  of  university  pro- 
fessors. During  the  year  1900  no  less  than  forty-six  youths 
of  wealthy  parents  were  consigned  to  Mettray  for  shorter 
or  longer  periods  by  their  parents  and  guardians.  Methods 
have  not  changed  with  conditions.  The  system  pursued 
by  M.  Demetz  in  dealing  with  idle  or  ill-conducted  youths 
is  still  rigidly  adhered  to,  its  efficacy  being  borne  out  by 
results. 

For  an  understanding  of  French  institutions  we  must 
familiarize  ourselves  with  the  Code  Civil.  Here  are  the 
clauses  by  virtue  of  which  parents  can  thus  sequestrate 
their  children — 

"Art.  375.  A  father  having  very  serious  grounds  for 
dissatisfaction  concerning  the  conduct  of  his  child,  has  at 
command  the  following  means  of  correction. 

"Art.  375.  If  the  child  is  under  sixteen,  a  father  can 
have  him  put  in  confinement  for  a  period  not  exceeding 
one  month,  and  the  President  of  the  Tribunal  of  his  arron- 
dissement  will,  at  his  demand,  deliver  an  order  of  arrest. 

"Art.  377.  From  his  sixteenth  year  until  attaining  his 
majority,  a  child  may  be  imprisoned  for  a  period  not  ex- 
ceeding six  months  ;  his  father  must  apply  to  the  President 
of  the  Tribunal,  who,  after  conferring  with  the  Procureur 
of  the  Republic,  will  either  deliver  or  refuse  an  order  of 
arrest,  and  in  the  first  case  can  shorten  the  period  of 
detention. 

"  Art.  378.  In  neither  case  is  there  any  judicial  formality 
or  written  document  necessary  beyond  that  of  the  order  of 
arrest,  and  a  declaration  of  the  reasons  thereof.  A  father 
is  obliged  to  pay  all  expenses  of  his  son's  food,  or  any 
other  expense  attached  to  his  confinement." 


230          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

These  conditions  must  be  strictly  complied  with  by 
parents  sending  their  sons  to  the  Maison  Paternelle  ;  but, 
as  the  President's  order  for  incarceration,  the  only  document 
necessitated  by  the  proceedings,  is  burnt  after  each  inmate's 
departure,  no  unpleasant  reminder  can  be  brought  against 
him.  His  name  does  not  figure  on  the  criminal  list.  M. 
Demetz's  idea  was,  therefore,  an  ingenious  application  of 
the  above  articles  of  the  Code  Civil,  and  the  reports*  in 
my  hands  bear  ample  testimony  to  its  success. 

Before  giving  citations  from  these  most  curious  reports, 
it  is  necessary  to  describe  M.  Demetz'  methods. 

The  keynote  of  his  system  is  based  upon  the  reflective 
character  of  the  French  nation.  "We  reason  more  than 
we  imagine,"  writes  the  first  living  philosopher  of  France,f 
"and  what  we  imagine  best  is  not  the  world  of  exteriors, 
but  the  inner  world  of  sentiment,  and,  above  all,  of  thought." 

An  unremitting  appeal  to  the  reasoning  faculty,  per- 
suasion, kindness,  and  solitude — such  are  the  influences 
brought  to  bear  upon  insubordination,  indolence,  and 
vicious  habits. 

From  the  moment  of  arrival  to  that  of  departure,  an 
inmate  of  the  Maison  Paternelle  sees  no  one  but  his 
attendant  (the  word  gardien  being  substituted  for  that  of 
gedlier\  his  professors,  the  chaplain,  and  the  director.  So 
complete  is  the  isolation  of  each  prisoner  that  two  brothers, 
confined  at  the  same  time,  have  from  first  to  last  remained 
in  ignorance  of  each  other's  presence.  Inmates  are  known 
to  the  household  staff  by  numbers  only.  The  director 
alone  knows  each  by  name. 

It  was  M.  Demetz'  opinion  that  a  habit  of  reasoning 
is  induced  by  solitude.  Hence  his  insistence  on  this  point. 

*  "Maison  Paternelle,"  Compte-rendu  Triennal,  1898:  Tours.  Ibid., 
Rapport  Triennal,  1901  :  Tours. 

t  "  Nous  raisonnons  plus  que  nous  n'imaginons,  et  ce  que  nous  imaginons 
le  mieux,  ce  n'est  pas  le  monde  exterieur  c'est  le  monde  interne  des  sentimens. 
et  surtout  des  pensees  "  ("  Psychologic  du  Peuple  Fran£ais,"  par  A.  Fouillee). 


LA  MAISON   PATERNELLE        231 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Maison  Paternelle 
is  essentially  an  educational  establishment.  Incorrigible 
idleness  seems  to  be  the  principal  cause  of  incarceration, 
and  one  interesting  fact  testifies  to  M.  Demetz'  perspicacity 
as  a  psychologist.  "  Whilst  success  has  not  always  crowned 
our  efforts  in  cases  of  moral  perversity,"  writes  the  director 
in  his  last  report,  "from  an  intellectual  point  of  view 
we  have  never  failed."  In  other  words,  reflection  has 
proved  an  apt  monitor,  where  the  head  rather  than  the 
heart  has  been  at  fault.  Of  twenty-six  students  going  up 
in  1892,  1893,  and  1894,  eighteen  passed  their  examination 
of  baccalaurfat.  A  new-comer  is  straightway  conducted  to 
one  of  the  smallest  and  barest  cells.  If  he  becomes  violent 
or  despairing,  efforts  are  made  to  soothe  and  encourage  him  ; 
he  is  told  that  no  constraint  will  be  put  upon  his  inclina- 
tion, but  that  as  soon  as  he  wishes  to  set  to  work  professors 
are  at  hand,  who  desire  nothing  better  than  to  forward  his 
progress.  When  reflection  brings  a  better  mind,  his  cell 
is  changed  for  one  more  cheerful  and  comfortable,  his 
improvement  is  furthered  to  the  utmost  by  those  about 
him,  exceptionally  good  conduct  and  extra  diligence  are 
rewarded  by  excursions  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  even 
visits  to  the  historic  chateaux  of  Touraine.  In  addition  to 
the  usual  programme  of  studies,  the  youthful  prisoner 
receives  religious  instruction  and  lessons  in  gymnastics, 
swimming,  fencing,  riding,  and  music.  Every  fortnight 
reports  of  health  and  progress  are  sent  to  parents  and 
guardians. 

The  expenses  of  such  an  establishment  are  necessarily 
high,  only  professors  of  very  special  attainments  being 
employed,  and  the  number  of  pupils  varying  from  year  to 
year.  An  attendant,  or  gardien,  moreover,  is  attached  to 
each  youth,  this  person's  business  being  to  accompany  him 
in  his  walks,  supervise  his  conduct  generally,  and  serve 
his  meals.  Under  the  circumstances  the  following  fees 
will  not  seem  excessive :  An  entrance  fee  of  100  francs 


232          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

(£4),  250  francs  per  month  is  paid  for  inmates  preparing 
for  elementary  examinations,  and  300  for  those  aspiring 
to  the  baccalaurfat.  A  sum  of  500  francs  on  account 
must  be  paid  on  entry  of  a  pupil.  English  and  German 
or  any  other  foreign  language,  music,  drawing,  and 
dancing  are  extras  ;  also  books,  stationery,  and  drawing- 
materials  are  charged  for.  No  uniform  is  worn  by  in- 
mates. Smoking  is  strictly  forbidden,  also  the  possession 
of  money.  Each  inmate  walks  out  for  an  hour  a  day,  a 
payment  of  half  a  franc  daily  entitles  him  to  a  second 
hour's  walk.  This  charge  helps  to  defray  the  salary  of 
an  attendant. 

On  the  eve  of  his  discharge,  the  penitent  prodigal  is 
taken  into  the  cellule  de  ^integration,  i.e.  the  prison- 
like  cell  of  refractory  inmates ;  he  there  signs  a  solemn 
promise  to  refrain  from  evil  or  idle  courses  in  the  future. 
The  cellule  de  ^integration  serves  as  a  reminder  that, 
if  a  second  time  he  is  consigned  to  the  Maison  Paternelle, 
he  must  expect  severer  treatment  than  before. 

As  might  naturally  be  expected  the  majority  of  youth- 
ful ne'er-do-wells  in  France,  incorrigibly  lazy,  and  the 
loafers  are  sons  of  widows.  Children  as  a  rule  are 
mercilessly — the  word  is  fit — spoiled  in  France,  and 
especially  is  to  be  pitied  the  fatherless  lad,  the  "  lord  of 
himself,  that  heritage  of  woe."  One  mother  thus  wrote 
to  the  director  of  Mettray :  "  I  see  but  too  well,  mon- 
sieur, that  my  own  weakness  has  caused  all  the  mis- 
chief, and  that  I  deserve  to  occupy  a  cell  as  well  as 
my  son.  I  beseech  you,  come  to  my  aid,  help  me  to 
recover  that  authority  I  have  allowed  to  be  set  at 
defiance." 

I  will  now  give  some  brief  extracts  from  the  reports 
before  named  ;  also  from  a  paper  on  the  subject  contributed 
to  the  Journal  des  Debats* 

*  "Mettray:  La  Maison  Paternelle,"  par  H.  Alls.  Tours:  Imprimerie 
Maine. 


LA   MAISON   PATERNELLE        233 

Here  is  the  letter  of  a  fiery  youth  to  his  father  on 
learning  of  the  paternal  intentions — 

"  MONSIEUR, 

"  It  has  just  come  to  my  knowledge  that  you 
intend  to  shut  me  up  in  a  house  of  detention,  in  order  that 
willy  nilly  I  pursue  my  studies.  Take  note  of  this.  Before 
Heaven  I  swear  never  to  touch  a  pen  for  the  purpose  of 
work,  never  to  open  a  book  with  similar  intention,  so  long 
as  I  remain  a  prisoner.  However  hard  to  bear  may  prove 
incarceration,  no  matter  to  what  indignities  or  punishments 
I  am  subjected,  my  mind  is  made  up,  my  will  is  indomitable. 
I  have  already  acquired  quite  enough  for  the  fulfilment  of 
an  honourable  career.  I  am,  forsooth,  to  be  imprisoned, 
dishonoured  ?  We  shall  see  the  result" 

Six  months  later  the  young  man  thus  addressed  the 
director — 

"  MONSIEUR, 

"  On  the  eve  of  quitting  the  Maison  Paternelle, 
I  cannot  help  sending  you  a  few  lines  expressive  of  my 
gratitude. 

"  It  is  owing  to  you,  monsieur,  and  to  my  professors 
here,  that  I  have  now  completed  my  studies,  having  learned 
more  in  six  months  under  this  roof  than  I  should  have 
done  in  two  years  elsewhere. 

"  Rest  assured,  monsieur,  that  I  carry  away  with  me 
the  best  possible  remembrance  of  the  Maison  Paternelle  ; 
no  apter  name  could  be  given  to  this  house.  Here  I  have 
learned — unfortunately,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life — to 
reflect.  I  have  been  taught  to  see  the  serious  side  of  life 
and  my  obligations  as  a  social  being.  Thus  I  am  deeply 
grateful  for  all  the  care  bestowed  upon  rne,  and  the  interest 
taken  in  my  progress  by  the  professors.  This  is  no  adieu, 
merely  an  assurance  of  my  esteem  and  gratitude." 


234          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Another  impetuous  youth  immediately  after  incarcera- 
tion writes  as  follows  to  the  director : — 

"MONSIEUR  LE  DIRECTEUR, 

"  If  I  should  say  that  I  intend  to  work  here 
and  atone  for  the  faults  of  which  I  am  accused,  I  should 
tell  a  lie,  and  lying  I  detest. 

"  I  will  then  tell  you  the  truth,  which  is,  that  if  I  am 
not  sent  home  within  six  days  I  will  destroy  myself.  Know, 
monsieur,  that  I  am  capable  of  anything." 

The  above  is  dated  May  18,  1887.  The  following 
bears  date  August  13  of  the  same  year  : — 

"MONSIEUR  LE  DIRECTEUR, 

"Three  months  have  now  elapsed  since  I 
became  an  inmate  of  the  Maison  Paternelle,  and  I  do  not 
know  in  what  terms  to  express  my  sense  of  indebtedness 
to  you  and  of  all  the  advantage  I  have  gained  by  my  stay. 

"  Forget,  I  entreat  you,  Monsieur  le  Directeur,  my  first 
letter.  Rest  assured  that  I  bitterly  regret  having  penned 
it.  As  for  myself,  I  shall  never  forget  what  I  owe  you. 
You  have  made  me  a  wholly  different  being.  I  am  very 
sorry  that  you  are  away  just  as  I  am  leaving ;  but  if  I  fail 
in  my  examination  I  promise  to  come  back." 

The  following,  dated  April  26,  1887,  from  another 
inmate,  is  more  curious  still : — 

"  MONSIEUR  LE  DIRECTEUR, 

"  Notwithstanding  the  proposals  of  my  parents 
and  their  wish  to  see  me  go  back  to  college,  and  having 
well  considered  the  matter  and  reflected  on  my  past  career 
as  a  student,  I  have  decided  to  pass  the  three  months 
before  going  up  for  my  examination  at  Mettray,  the 
only  place  in  which  I  have  really  made  good  use  of  my 


LA   MAISON   PATERNELLE        235 

time.     I  trust  that  no  objection  will  be  made  to  my  return, 
and  beg  for  the  favour  of  an  early  reply. 

"  Pray  give  my  grateful  remembrances  to  my  professors 
and  the  chaplain. 

"  Yours,  etc." 

I  cannot  refrain  from  a  few  more  citations. 

P.  D.  G.  writes  to  the  director  in  1898,  "Would  you 
kindly  send  me  some  photographs  of  the  colonie  and  the 
Maison  Paternelle  (three  francs  enclosed  for  the  same), 
especially  of  the  interior,  in  which  last  year,  alas !  I  spent 
four  months,  quitting  it,  thank  God,  a  reformed  being. 
These  photographs  will  remind  me  of  a  place  once  in- 
wardly cursed  by  me,  but  now  a  source  of  self-congratulation 
since  to  Mettray  I  owe  my  bettered  self." 

A  grateful  father  thus  expresses  himself :  "I  am 
happy  to  inform  you,  Monsieur  le  Directeur,  that  after 
quitting  the  Maison  Paternelle  our  Rene  passed  three 
months  in  Germany,  returning  with  a  considerable  know- 
ledge of  German  (un  bagage  sfrieux  d'allemand).  He  now 
attends  the  Lyce"e  Jeanson,  and  is  first  of  thirty-seven  in 
the  fourth  class.  Thus  you  see  that  I  have  every  reason 
to  be  thankful  for  the  pains  taken  with  my  son  whilst  in 
your  hands." 

Many  "old  boys"  send  donations  towards  improve- 
ments of  the  "  Paternelle"  as  they  affectionately  call  their 
former  prison,  and  one  showed  his  attachment  to  the  place 
by  visiting  it  in  later  years  accompanied  by  his  wife ! 

It  would  seem  as  if  idleness  and  its  corrective,  the 
faculty  of  reflection,  were  in  part  hereditary.  In  any  case 
the  son  of  a  whilom  inmate  was  placed  in  the  Maison, 
Paternelle  by  his  father. 

No  less  interesting  than  the  letters  just  cited,  selections 
from  a  vast  number,  are  the  monographs  or  character 
sketches  drawn  up  by  M.  Gilbert,  PreTet  des  Etudes.  A 
perusal  of  these  carefully  drawn-up  human  documents 


236          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

suggest  the  inquiry,  How  far  might  the  individualizing  of 
criminals  work  out  reform  ? 

A  distracted  father  begged  the  director  to  receive  his 
son,  a  lad  who  had  been  expelled  from  college  after  college, 
and  who  had  proved  refractory  alike  to  threats  and 
entreaties. 

Here  is  the  youth's  description  from  a  psychological 
point  of  view :  "  He  belonged  to  that  class  of  pupils  who 
delight  in  nothing  so  much  as  preventing  others  from  work 
and  upsetting  order  in  a  class-room.  Intelligent,  but  idle 
and  trifling,  our  new  inmate,  on  arriving,  decided — merely 
to  annoy  his  father — on  preparing  for  the  mercantile 
instead  of  the  classical  baccalaurtat.  The  mere  notion 
that  such  a  decision  displeased  his  parents  and  professors 
was  enough  for  him  ;  one  severe  reprimand  and  a  punish- 
ment relatively  severe  had  no  effect  whatever.  So  long 
as  he  had  his  way  he  would  be  satisfied. 

"  But  we  must  carefully  analyze  such  natures,  in  order  to 
deal  with  them  efficaciously.  Idleness  and  a  propensity  to 
trifling  were  this  lad's  chief  faults.  Before  finally  making 
up  our  minds  that  he  should  be  humoured,  we  set  him  to 
work  on  preparations  for  the  classical  degree.  At  first  all 
went  well,  his  progress  surprised  even  himself.  On  a 
sudden  he  declared  his  intention  of  seeking  a  fortune  in 
the  colonies.  Of  what  good,  therefore,  to  waste  his  time 
over  Latin  and  Greek  ?  Again  he  lapsed  into  idleness  and 
inertia.  The  effect  of  a  course  of  punishments  was  as  that 
of  a  douche  upon  an  enervated  system.  '  Such  treatment 
was  exactly  what  I  needed/  he  owned  ;  and,  strange  to  say — 
who  would  believe  the  fact  without  personal  experience  ? — 
from  that  moment  he  worked  strenuously,  and  became 
attached  to  his  professors.  In  the  end  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  present  himself  as  a  candidate  for  the  baccalaurtai 
of  science  and  letters,  and  to  the  joy  and  infinite  amaze- 
ment of  his  parents  passed  the  examination." 

The  young  man — for  by  this  time  he  might  be  so  called 


LA   MATSON    PATERNELLE        237 

— thus  wrote  to  the  director  :  "  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  am  quite  happy,  because,  for  the  first  time  also,  I  have 
made  my  parents  happy.  Since  passing  my  examination 
I  am  treated  so  differently.  I  am  almost  afraid  that  my 
head  will  be  thereby  turned  !  " 

Many  other  instances  of  successful  treatment  might  be 
adduced,  not  only  disinclination  to  work,  but  vicious  habits, 
dissipation,  addiction  to  bad  company,  gambling,  and  other 
vices  having  yielded  to  M.  Demetz'  methods.  I  will  now, 
however,  say  a  few  words  about  the  resource  of  less  wealthy 
parents,  another  and  very  different  place  of  detention  to 
which  minors  can  be  consigned  by  virtue  of  Articles  375, 
376,  377,  and  378  of  the  Code  Civil.  This  is  Citeaux,  near 
Nuits,  in  the  C6te  d'Or,  an  agricultural  and  industrial 
penitentiary  which,  at  the  time  of  my  visit  some  years  ago, 
although  a  State  establishment,  was  entirely  controlled  by 
priests.  This,  I  believe,  is  now  changed. 

At  Citeaux  there  is  no  separate  organization  for  youths 
of  the  middle  ranks.  Twenty  pounds  a  year  only  is  the 
sum  charged  for  board  and  lodging,  and  these  paying 
inmates  fare  precisely  the  same  as  youthful  vagrants  or 
first  offenders,  but  are  not  set  to  field  work. 

On  the  occasion  of  my  visit,  a  hundred  of  the  thousand 
inmates  were  middle-class  boys  with  whom  their  parents  could 
do  nothing.  And  here,  as  at  Mettray,  a  large  percentage 
of  these  young  good-for-nothings  were  sons  of  widows  ! 

My  driver,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  conducting  visitors 
to  the  colonie,  as  Citeaux  is  also  called,  told  me  that  he 
had  lately  taken  thither  a  widow  lady  with  her  son,  a  youth 
of  seventeen  ;  also  another  widowed  mother  with  an  unruly 
lad  somewhat  younger.  The  mother  of  the  first-named 
incorrigible  declared  it  her  intention  to  keep  him  in  the 
reformatory  till  he  should  become  of  age,  unless  he  turned 
over  a  completely  new  leaf.  My  conductor  further  informed 
me  that  he  was  employed  in  the  printing  press,  and  looked 
miserable  enough. 


238          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

It  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that  results  at  Citeaux 
would  bear  comparison  with  those  of  Mettray.  In  the 
former  place  a  lad  can  have  no  individual  treatment ;  in 
the  latter,  he  is  in  the  hands  of  experienced  specialists— in 
fact,  he  is  a  case,  diagnosed  and  treated  according  to  the 
most  advanced  theories  of  moral  and  mental  science.  The 
subject  awakens  much  speculation. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  FAMILY  COUNCIL 

I.  ITS  ORIGIN  AND  HISTORY 

LEGISTS  cannot  with  any  certitude  determine  the 
origin  of  that  extra-legal  tribunal  in  France,  known 
as  the  Conseil  de  Famille,  a  domestic  court  of  justice 
accessible  alike  to  rich  and  poor  and  at  nominal  cost, 
occupying  itself  with  questions  the  most  momentous  as 
well  as  the  minutest,  vigilantly  guarding  the  interests  of 
imbecile  and  orphan,  outside  the  law,  yet  by  the  law 
rendered  authoritative  and  binding.  From  the  Middle 
Ages  down  to  our  own  time,  noble  and  roturier,  wealthy 
merchant  and  small  shopkeeper,  have  taken  part  in  these 
conclaves,  the  exercise  of  such  a  function  being  regarded 
both  as  a  civic  duty  and  moral  obligation.  One  object  and 
one  only  is  kept  in  view,  namely,  the  protection  of  the  weak. 
The  law  is  stript  of  its  cumbrous  machinery,  above  all, 
deprived  of  its  mercenary  spirit.  Not  a  loophole  is  left 
for  underhand  dealing  or  peculation.  Simplicity  itself, 
this  system  has  been  so  nicely  devised  and  framed  that 
interested  motive  finds  no  place  in  it.  Questions  of  property 
form  the  chief  subject  of  inquiry  and  debate,  yet  so  hedged 
round  by  precautions  is  the  fortune  of  minor  or  incapaci- 
tated that  it  incurs  little  or  no  risk.  And  in  no  other 
institution  is  witnessed  to  the  same  extent  the  uncom- 
promising nature  of  French  economy.  Justice  here  rendered 
is  all  but  gratuitous. 

According  to  the  best  authorities,  this  elaborate  code  of 

239 


240          HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

domestic  legislation  is  the  development  of  mediaeval  or 
even  earlier  customs.  Under  the  name  of  I1  avis  de parents, 
we  find  family  councils  alike  in  those  provinces  having  their 
own  legal  systems,  or  coutumes,  and  those  strictly  adhering 
to  Roman  law.  By  little  and  little  such  usages  were 
formalized,  and  so  gradually  becoming  obligatory,  in  the 
fact,  if  not  in  the  letter,  were  regarded  as  law.  The  extra- 
legal  character  of  the  family  council  is  one  of  its  most 
curious  features. 

Among  the  oldest  documents  referring  to  the  subject  is 
an  edict  of  the  fifteenth  century,  signed  by  Rene",  father  of 
Margaret  of  Anjou.  The  presiding  judge  is  herein  for- 
bidden to  appoint  any  guardianship  till  he  has  heard  the 
testimony  of  three  syndics,  as  well  as  of  the  child's  relations, 
concerning  the  trustees  proposed,  their  circumstances, 
position  in  life,  and  reputation.  The  syndics,  be  it  re- 
marked, were  rural  and  municipal  functionaries,  replaced 
in  1789  by  State-paid  juges  de  paix.  Intermediaries  be- 
tween the  law  and  the  people,  the  syndics  were  elected  by 
vote,  their  term  of  office  generally  lasting  a  year. 

The  continues  of  Brittany  and  Normandy  took  especial 
care  to  define  and  regulate  the  family  council.  Thus  an 
edict  of  1673  ordains  that  six  relations  on  the  paternal,  and 
as  many  on  the  maternal,  side  of  any  orphan  or  orphans, 
shall  assist  the  judge  in  selecting  trustees.  A  clause  of 
the  Breton  Code  enjoined  that  consultation  should  be  held 
as  to  the  education  of  the  minors  in  question,  "the  pro- 
fession, whether  of  arms,  letters,  or  otherwise,  for  which 
they  should  be  trained,  the  same  to  be  decided  according 
to  their  means  and  position." 

In  the  Nivernais,  the  family  council  consisted  of  seven 
members  ;  in  the  Berri,  of  six  ;  in  the  Orleannais,  of  five. 
The  Parliament  of  Bordeaux  in  1700  fixed  the  number  at 
six,  as  in  the  Berri. 

These  facts  show  the  importance  attached  to  the  func- 
tion before  the  Revolution.  Up  to  that  period  it  was  an 


THE   FAMILY   COUNCIL  241 

elastic  system  based  upon  usage  and  tradition  rather  than 
law;  the  family  council  now  underwent  minute  and  elaborate 
revision  at  the  hands  of  successive  bodies  of  legists  ;  finally 
embodied  in  the  Code  Napotton,  it  has  undergone  little 
modification  to  our  own  day. 

One  of  the  most  curious  documents  in  this  history  is 
the  rescript  drawn  up  by  Napoleon  III.  and  his  ministers 
at  the  Palace  of  St.  Cloud,  June,  1853.  Following  the 
statutes  regulating  the  position  of  all  members  of  the 
Napoleonic  House,  we  have  here  the  Imperial  Family 
Council,  as  permanently  and  finally  organized.  The 
Emperor  decided  its  constitution  beforehand,  once  and  for 
all.  In  other  ranks  of  life  such  an  assembly  is  called 
together  when  occasion  requires. 

"  The  Conseil  de  Famille"  runs  the  ordonnance,  "  shall 
be  presided  over  by  the  Emperor  in  person,  or  some  repre- 
sentative of  his  choosing  ;  its  members  will  consist  of  a 
Prince  of  the  Imperial  family  also  chosen  by  the  Emperor, 
of  the  Minister  of  State,  the  Minister  of  Justice,  the  Presi- 
dents of  the  Senate,  the  Legislative  Body,  and  the  Council 
of  State,  the  first  President  of  the  Court  of  Cassation,  of  a 
Marshal  of  France  or  General  of  Division  named  by  the 
Emperor." 

As  we  proceed  in  this  inquiry,  we  see  how  utterly  at 
variance  are  autocratic  principles  with  the  real  spirit  of  this 
domestic  legislation.  A  body  thus  framed  was  a  mere 
vehmgericht,  not  dealing  certainly  with  life  and  death,  but 
with  personal  liberty  and  fundamental  rights  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Thus  this  Imperial  assembly  could  declare  any 
member  of  the  family  incapable  of  managing  his  affairs — in 
other  words,  shut  him  up  as  a  lunatic.  All  the  powers 
vested  in  the  Conseil  de  Famille  were  in  this  case  without 
a  single  guarantee  to  the  individual  whose  interests  were 
concerned. 

The  origin  of  this  truly  patriarchal  system  is  doubtless 
twofold.  Although  not  directly  traceable  to  Roman  law, 


242          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

the  family  council  must  be  considered  as  partly  an  out- 
growth of  that  source.  In  certain  cases  legal  decisions 
concerning  the  property  or  education  of  minors  in  ancient 
Rome  were  guided  or  modified  by  the  advice  of  near 
relations.  But  there  was  no  obligation  on  the  part  of  the 
magistrate ;  his  decision  was  final. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  spirit  of  the  domestic  conclave 
is  eminently  Gallic.  We  find  the  same  spirit  animating 
French  life  at  the  present  day.  In  France,  "the  family" 
does  not  only  mean  the  group  of  father,  mother,  and  children 
who  gather  round  a  common  board.  La  Famille  rather 
conveys  the  notion  of  a  clan,  the  members  of  which  are 
often  settled  within  easy  reach  of  each  other,  their  entire 
lives  spent,  not  merely  as  kinsfolk,  but  as  neighbours.  To 
realize  this  aspect  of  French  society  we  must  live  in  the 
country. 

"  The  entire  system  under  consideration,"  writes  a 
French  lawyer  to  me,  "is  based  upon  the  bonds  which 
unite,  or  ought  to  unite,  the  members  of  a  family.  It  is  a 
development,  and  not  one  of  the  least  happy,  of  the  patri- 
archal spirit.  Its  general  tendency  is  excellent,  and  the 
rules  framed  for  practical  use  are  admirably  drawn  up  and 
adjusted.  Further,  this  legislation  is  in  perfect  harmony 
with  our  national  character  and  our  theories  concerning 
children  generally.  We  love  children,  perhaps,  too  well, 
since  so  often  we  spoil  them  by  excess  of  tenderness." 
Regard  for  the  welfare  of  children  and  of  property  under- 
lies the  constitution  of  the  Conseil  de  Famille ;  the  same 
motives,  therefore,  that  actuate  minds  in  the  present  day 
were  uppermost  centuries  ago. 

II.  ITS  CONSTITUTION. 

The  family  council  may  be  described  as  the  guardian  of 
guardians.  It  is  an  assemblage  of  next-of-kin,  or  in  default 
of  these,  of  friends,  presided  over  by  a  justice  of  the  peace, 


THE   FAMILY  COUNCIL  243 

called  together  on  behalf  of  orphans,  of  mentally  incapaci- 
tated or  incorrigible  minors  (see  Art.  388  and  487  of  the 
Code  Civil}.  It  is  composed  of  six  members  exclusive  of 
the/ftg?  de  paix,  namely,  three  next  of  kin  on  the  paternal 
and  three  on  the  maternal  side ;  in  default  of  these  their 
place  may  be  filled  by  friends.  Natural  children,  according 
to  the  law  have  no  relations  ;  in  their  case,  friends  or 
relations  of  the  father  acknowledging  them,  are  eligible. 
No  one  who  has  forfeited  civil  rights  by  imprisonment  can 
form  part  of  the  council ;  members  must  be  of  age,  and 
where  two  are  equally  fit,  the  elder  is  selected  in  preference 
to  the  younger. 

Here  follow  some  clauses  that  strongly  bring  out  the 
Napoleonic  distrust  and  contempt  of  women.  From  end 
to  end  of  the  Code  Civil  we  discern  this  spirit.  The  woman, 
the  wife,  the  mother,  is  relegated  to  the  status  of  minor, 
imbecile,  or  criminal.  Thus,  no  married  woman  can  join 
a  Conseil  de  Famille  except  the  mother  or  grandmother  of 
the  ward  whose  interests  are  in  question  ;  the  same  rules 
hold  good  with  regard  to  guardianship. 

Friends  taking  the  place  of  kinsfolk  are  always  named 
by  the  ju^?  de  paix,  and  cannot  be  accepted  simply  from 
the  fact  of  offering  themselves. 

Unnaturalized  foreigners,  or  French  people  who  have 
accepted  another  nationality,  are  ineligible  for  the  family 
tribunal.  Nor  can  those  take  part  in  the  deliberations  who 
at  any  time  have  had  a  lawsuit  with  parents  of  the  minor 
in  question. 

So  much  for  the  constitution  of  the  family  council.  We 
will  now  proceed  to  its  formalities.  Here  it  is  necessary  to 
say  a  word  about  the  juge  de  paix,  whose  name  occupies  a 
prominent  place  in  this  history.  "  French  law,"  writes  a 
legist  in  his  commentary  on  the  Conseil  de  Fainille,  "  con- 
stitutes the /arg2  de  paix  natural  protector  of  the  minor." 

The  family  council  is  convoked  by  the  juge  de  paix  on 
h/'s  own  account  or  at  the  request  of  friends  or  relations  of 


244          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

the  minor ;  summonses  to  attend  may  be  sent  out  in  two 
forms,  either  by  a  simple  notice  or  by  a  Mule  or  obligatory 
request.  In  the  former  case,  attendance  is  optional ;  in  the 
latter,  refusal  without  valid  excuse  exposes  the  offender  to 
a  fine  of  fifty  francs.  But  what  is  a  valid  excuse  ?  "  Acci- 
dent, sickness,  absence,"  writes  a  commentator.  In  fact, 
any  obstacle  which  fa&juge  depaix  holds  insuperable.  With 
him  rests  the  responsibility  of  the  fine,  also  the  composition 
of  the  council,  and  here  may  be  noted  one  of  the  extra- 
ordinary precautions  taken.  As  the  rural  magistrate  is 
supposed  to  know  his  neighbours,  deliberations  must  take 
place  within  his  especial  jurisdiction.  No  minor's  affairs 
can  be  settled  except  under  presidency  of  thejuge  de  paix 
of  his  or  her  district.  Again,  the  sittings  take  place  at  the 
official  residence,  and  in  case  of  differences  of  opinion  the 
juge  de  paix  is  entitled  to  the  casting  vote,  another  instance 
of  his  importance.  Again,  he  must  be  no  mean  interpreter 
of  the  law.  All  kinds  of  knotty  questions  and  legal  niceties 
are  brought  out  at  these  family  conclaves. 

Thus,  upon  certain  occasions,  the  point  has  been  raised 
— Can  a  Conseil  de  Famille  be  held  on  a  Sunday  or  religious 
festival  ?  Lawyers  have  been  much  exercised  upon  this 
point,  no  trivial  one  to  rural  magistrates.  In  country  places 
important  events  are  almost  invariably  put  off  till  the  rest- 
ing day,  and,  as  a  rule,  the  matter  has  been  decided  in  the 
affirmative. 

Here  we  light  upon  a  curious  piece  of  Revolutionary 
legislation.  A  commentator  on  the  question  of  Sunday 
family  councils  cites  the  law  of  17  Thermidor,  An.  VI., 
according  to  which  all  State  offices  and  public  bodies 
vaquent  les  dtcadis  jours  de  fetes  nationales. 

The  sittings  are  considered  private,  and  no  publicity  is 
given  to  the  subjects  under  debate.  Occasionally  some 
member  of  the  minor's  family  not  taking  part  in  the  council 
may  be  present.  The  greffier,  or  clerk  of  tin&juge 
is  also  in  attendance,  but  no  one  else. 


THE   FAMILY   COUNCIL  245 

The  non-responsibility  of  members  summoned  to  de- 
liberate is  strictly  recognized  by  law  ;  for  instance,  if  a 
properly  constituted  family  council  has  decided  upon  in- 
vestments which  ultimately  prove  disastrous,  neither  indi- 
vidually nor  collectively  are  they  held  responsible.  If, 
however,  on  the  other  hand,  connivance  with  intention  to 
defraud  is  proved,  they  are  proceeded  against  in  the  ordinary 
way. 

The  legal  expenses  attendant  upon  this  domestic  legis- 
lation are  restricted  to  the  minimum.  Minutes  are  regis- 
tered by  the  juge  de  paix  at  a  cost  of  from  one  to  ten  or 
fifteen  francs  ;  certain  important  transactions  require  a  fee 
of  fifty  francs. 

There  remains  one  more  point  to  be  noted  under  the 
head  of  constitution  of  a  Conseil  de  Famille.  I  allude  to 
what  in  French  legal  phraseology  is  called  " howologation" 
in  other  words,  the  formal  legalization  of  any  decision  arrived 
at  by  this  body.  Certain  verdicts  require  this  to  be  rendered 
valid  and  binding,  others  do  not.  Among  the  first  are 
those  relating  to  the  sale  or  transference  of  a  minor's  estate, 
to  the  dismissal  of  a  minor's  guardian,  to  the  dowry  and 
marriage  contract  of  son  or  daughter  of  any  one  deprived 
of  civil  rights.  The  nomination  of  trustees,  the  refusal  or 
acceptance  of  legacies,  the  details  of  guardianship  generally, 
i.e.  education,  bringing  up  of  wards,  and  many  other 
measures,  do  not  require  this  process  of  homologation  ;  they 
are  valid  and  binding  without  formal  legalization. 


III.  ITS  FUNCTIONS. 

The  family  council,  in  its  care  of  the  fatherless  child,  is 
anticipatory.  Thus  we  find  a  special  provision  of  the  code. 
The  Code  Civil  makes  special  provision  for  a  man's  post- 
humous offspring.  No  sooner  does  he  die  leaving  a  widow 
enceinte  than  it  is  her  duty  to  summon  a  family  council  for 
the  purpose  of  choosing  what  in  legal  phraseology  is  called 


246          HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

a  cnrateur  a  ten/ant  a  naitre,  or  a  curateur  an  venire. 
Duly  elected,  this  guardian  is  authorized  to  undertake  the 
entire  management  of  her  late  husband's  property,  render- 
ing a  full  account  of  his  stewardship  on  the  birth  of  the 
child.  This  trusteeship  of  children  as  yet  unborn  awakens 
mixed  feelings.  Without  doubt  cases  in  which  the  head  of 
a  family  has  left  no  directions  of  the  kind,  may  necessitate 
such  precautions.  At  the  same  time  do  we  not  trace  clearly 
here  the  subordination  of  women  as  derived  from  Roman 
law?  "We  must  acknowledge,"  writes  a  learned  commen- 
tator,* "  that  the  curateur  a  V enfant  a  naitre  is  named  solely 
in  the  interest  of  a  man's  heirs,  a  result,  as  pointed  out  else- 
where, due  to  an  adhesion  to  Roman  law  ;  Article  393  has 
crept  into  our  code  probably  without  due  weighing  of  con- 
sequences on  the  part  of  the  legislator."  The  curateur's 
duty  is  also  to  verify  the  condition  of  the  wife  dans  la 
mesnre  des  convenances^  also  the  birth  of  a  legitimate  child. 
When  we  reflect  that  the  legal  heirs  of  a  defunct  person 
are  his  next  of  kin,  we  can  easily  understand  the  offensive- 
ness  of  this  law  to  an  honourable,  delicate-minded  woman  ; 
at  the  same  time  we  are  bound  to  admit  that  such  pre- 
cautionary measures  would  in  our  own  country  prevent  the 
scandal  of  a  "  Baby  claimant."  French  law,  sometimes 
for  good,  certainly  sometimes  for  evil,  interferes  with  private 
life  much  more  than  in  England. 

When  we  come  to  the  subject  of  minors  and  orphans, 
we  appreciate  the  enormous  power  vested  in  the  family 
council.  The  appointment  of  trustees  and  guardians,  when 
not  made  by  parents,  rests  entirely  with  this  assemblage  ;  f 
also  in  its  hands  is  a  power  requiring  more  delicate  handling 
still,  namely,  the  withdrawal  of  paternal  authority.  Here 

*  M.  J.-L.  Jay,  "Conseiis  de  Famille." 

t  When  the  last  surviving  parent  has  failed  to  appoint  trustees  and 
guardians,  the  duty  devolves  upon  paternal  or  maternal  grandfathers  ;  grand- 
mothers are  ineligible.  This  is  the  Tutelle  ttgale,  the  Tutelle  dative  being  that 
appointed  by  the  family  council. 


THE   FAMILY   COUNCIL  247 

we  meet  with  points  recalling  the  Society  for  the  Protection 
of  Children,  founded  some  years  ago  by  the  Rev.  Benjamin 
Waugh.  As  will  be  seen,  however,  the  family  council 
holds  entirely  aloof  from  criminal  cases,  concerning  itself 
with  civil  affairs  only,  first  and  foremost  with  the  disposition 
of  property.  "  From  the  earliest  time,"  writes  a  learned 
commentator,  "  minors  have  been  regarded  (by  French  law) 
as  privileged  beings,  placed  under  the  protection  of  society 
generally." 

French  legists  have  doubtless  done  their  best  for  the 
foundling,  the  illegitimate,  the  disowned.  Especially  within 
recent  times  has  the  lot  of  these  waifs  and  strays  been 
ameliorated  by  the  law.  Terrible  was  their  condition 
formerly  as  revealed  in  early  records,  also  in  statutes  and 
legal  commentaries.  During  the  Middle  Ages,  when,  ac- 
cording to  a  French  writer,  "  Roman  law  fully  exercised  its 
disastrous  influence,  foundlings  were  deposited  at  church 
doors,  sex  and  age  of  each  child  were  inscribed  in  a  book 
called  the  '  Matricule '  (Lat.  matriculd),  they  were  reared  in 
convent  or  nunnery,  and,  when  sufficiently  grown,  sold  by 
auction.  These  wretched  little  beings  were  chiefly  offered 
for  sale  in  the  large  cities  and  purchased  by  the  poor  for  a 
mere  trifle,  these  often  disfiguring  or  even  maiming  their 
chattels  so  as  to  excite  public  compassion.  It  was  not 
till  1640  that  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  founded  the  first  foundling 
hospital  in  France.  A  century  before,  the  ordonnance  of 
Moulins  had  obliged  the  communes  of  that  jurisdiction  to 
maintain  all  abandoned  children  found  within  their  limits. 
In  1599,  tne  Parliament  of  Paris  had  moved  in  the  same 
direction,  ordaining  that  the  charge  of  foundlings  should 
fall  upon  the  parishes  to  which  they  belonged." 

It  is  the  honour  of  the  Republic  to  have  established 
orphanages  in  all  the  cities  and  larger  towns.  By  a  law, 
moreover,  of  15  Pluviose,  An.  XIIL,  a  kind  of  family 
council  was  appointed  for  the  children  of  the  State.  The 
conseil  de  tutelle  discharged  the  functions  of  a  conseil  de 


248          HOME    LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

famil'e.  This  trusteeship  lasts  till  the  majority  or  marriage 
of  the  individual. 

We  now  come  to  a  class  only  a  degree  less  unfortunate. 
I  allude  to  the  acknowledged  children  of  irregular  con- 
nections, the  illegitimate.  French  law,  as  we  know,  is  very 
merciful  to  parents  who  will  atone  for  such  lapses.  Mar- 
riage, no  matter  the  age  of  the  offspring,  legitimizes.  A 
natural  child  is  thereby  put  on  precisely  the  same  footing 
as  if  born  in  wedlock. 

In  all  other  cases  the  law  stands  by  him,  in  so  far  as 
possible,  protecting  and  promoting  his  interests.  "  If  there 
is  a  human  being  in  the  world  requiring  legal  guardian- 
ship," writes  a  commentator  before  mentioned,  "  it  is  with- 
out doubt  the  illegitimate,  friendless  from  the  cradle,  having 
no  relations,  none  to  look  to  but  him  to  whom  he  owes  his 
birth.  The  care  and  maintenance  of  natural  children  is 
the  duty,  the  obligation  of  every  father.  If  no  provision 
were  made  by  law  to  this  effect,  such  provision  would  have 
to  be  made."  The  Code  Civil  has,  in  so  far  as  possible, 
regulated  the  position  of  natural  children.  A  family  council, 
however,  summoned  on  their  behalf  cannot  be  composed 
in  the  ordinary  way,  the  illegitimate  having  neither  kith 
nor  kin.  The  relations  of  the  father  acknowledging  them, 
friends  of  both  father  and  mother  are  accepted,  and  the 
legal  guardianship  is  framed  on  the  same  principles  as 
that  of  children  lawfully  begotten.  Volumes  have  been 
written  on  this  subject,  legists  differing  as  to  the  right  of 
a  natural  child  to  what  is  called  legal  or  confessed 
guardianship,  tutelle  ttgale,  i.e.  paternal,  or  tutelle  dative, 
i.e.  appointed  by  the  family  council.  When  difficulties 
arise,  the  matter  is  settled  by  the  Cour  de  Cassation. 

After  minors,  orphans,  and  illegitimates  come  the 
interdis,  or  individuals  pronounced  incapable  of  managing 
their  affairs.  These  are  imbeciles,  maniacs,  and  persons 
condemned  for  criminal  offences.  Here  the  Code  Napotton 
now  known  as  the  Code  Civil,  amended  the  sterner  Roman 


THE   FAMILY   COUNCIL  249 

clause,  according  to  which  a  deaf  mute  was  placed  on  a 
level  with  idiots.  A  dispute  on  this  question  having  arisen 
at  Lyons  in  1812,  the  Cour  de  Cassation  decided  that  a 
deaf  mute  giving  evidence  of  intelligence,  although  unable 
to  read  and  write,  must  be  pronounced  compos  mentis. 

In  the  case  of  insanity,  a  family  council  is  summoned 
as  a  preliminary  measure,  a  judicial  sentence  being  required 
before  depriving  the  individual  in  question  of  his  liberty. 
An  instance  of  the  kind  came  some  time  ago  under  my 
own  notice.  The  conseil  de  famille  had  agreed  as  to  the 
necessity  of  seclusion,  the  tribunal  decided  otherwise.  It 
will  thus  be  seen  that,  except  in  case  of  a  veritable  con- 
spiracy of  relations,  friends,  aod/tfg?  de paix,  the  extensive 
powers  of  this  domestic  court  are  hemmed  round  with 
guarantees.  Again,  we  must  bear  in  mind  a  fact  constantly 
insisted  upon  by  French  legists,  namely,  that  we  are  here 
dealing  with  a  conseil  d'avis,  a  consultation  acknowledged 
by  the  law  and  responsible  to  the  law,  not  with  legislation 
itself. 

A  final  class  coming  under  the  wardship  of  the  family 
council  consists  of  the  incorrigible  and  the  spendthrift — in 
French  phraseology  le  prodigue,  a  subject  treated  in  the 
foregoing  chapter. 

Any  guardian,  having  grave  matter  for  complaint  against 
his  ward,  is  empowered  to  summon  a  family  council  in 
order  to  pass  the  disciplinary  measure  called  la  rtclusion, 
in  other  words,  a  term  of  modified  imprisonment  (Code 
Civil,  Art.  468,  De  la  puissance  paternelle). 

Without  doubt  the  most  important  function  of  the  family 
council  is  the  choice  of  guardians,  the  tutelle  dative  as 
opposed  to  the  tutelle  legate,  the  former  being  accorded  by 
this  body,  the  latter  being  the  natural  guardianship  of 
parents.  The  tutelle  Ugale  is  obligatory,  no  father  being 
at  liberty  to  reject  the  duty.  So  also  is  the  tutelle  dative ; 
no  individual  selected  by  a  family  council  as  guardian 
and  being  related  to  the  family  of  the  minor  is  at  liberty 


250          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

to  refuse  the  charge  ;  it  is  as  much  incumbent  upon  any 
French  citizen  as  military  service  or  the  payment  of  taxes. 
This  is  a  most  important  point  to  note. 

A  few  exemptions  are  specified  in  the  code.  Thus, 
the  father  of  five  legitimate  children  is  exempt,  also  per- 
sons having  attained  the  age  of  sixty-five,  or  being  able 
to  prove  incompetency  from  illness.  The  following  also 
may  refuse :  ministers  and  members  of  the  legislative  body, 
admirals,  generals,  and  officers  in  active  service,  prtfets 
and  other  public  functionaries  at  a  distance  from  the 
minor's  home. 

The  conseil  de  famille  having  named  a  guardian,  also 
names  a  tuteur  subrojt,  or  surrogate,  whose  office  is  not  in 
any  way  to  interfere  with  the  trustee,  but  to  examine 
accounts  and  watch  over  the  interests  in  question. 

On  the  subject  of  tutorial  sphere  and  duty  the  law  is 
explicit  to  minuteness.  Generally  speaking,  he  is  expected 
to  act  as  a  father  towards  his  own  child,  having  care  of 
his  ward's  moral  and  intellectual  education,  protecting  his 
or  her  interests,  in  fact,  filling  the  place  of  a  second  father. 
Whilst  entrusted  with  the  management  of  affairs  as  a 
whole,  certain  transactions  lie  outside  his  control.  Thus 
he  is  not  at  liberty  to  accept  a  legacy  for  his  ward  without 
the  consent  of  the  conseil  de  famille.  This  precautionary 
measure  requires  explanation.  Sometimes  the  reversion 
of  property  may  mean  very  heavy  legal  expenses,  an  enjoy- 
ment of  the  same  being  a  prospect  too  remote  to  be  counted 
upon.  An  instance  of  this  has  come  under  my  own  obser- 
vation. A  boy,  son  of  French  friends  of  mine,  was  left 
the  reversion  of  an  estate,  the  life  interest  being  bequeathed 
to  another.  His  parents,  somewhat  reluctantly  accepted 
the  charge,  paying  a  little  fortune  in  legal  fees  and  duties 
for  property  most  likely  to  come  to  a  grandson.  No  family 
council  would  have  authorized  such  a  course  in  the  case 
of  a  minor. 

Again,  the  guardian  cannot  purchase  any  part  of  his 


THE   FAMILY  COUNCIL  251 

ward's  estate  or  belongings.  Nor  can  he  re-invest  stocks 
and  shares  without  authorization.  On  the  expiry  of  his 
charge,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  marriage  or  coming  of  age 
of  the  minor,  the  property  in  trust  has  to  be  surrendered 
intact,  all  deficits  made  up  from  his  own. 

On  this  subject  a  French  lawyer  wrote  to  me,  "  It  is 
extremely  rare  that  any  ward  has  occasion  to  complain 
of  his  or  her  guardian.  During  a  legal  experience  of 
twenty-five  years,  no  serious  matters  of  the  kind  have 
come  under  my  notice.  Nevertheless,  my  practice  lay  in 
a  part  of  France  where  folks  are  very  fond  of  going  to 
law.  It  will  occasionally  happen  that  some  elderly  trustee 
persuades  his  young  ward  to  marry  him  ;  these  gentlemen 
have  not  perhaps  been  over-pleased  with  their  success  in 
the  long  run.  They  are  too  much  of  a  laughing  stock." 
Legal  coming  of  age,  V Emancipation,  brings  the  guardian's 
task  to  a  close.  According  to  French  law  there  are  two 
kinds  of  emancipation,  the  formal  and  the  tacit  ;  these 
matters,  however,  lie  beyond  the  scope  of  my  paper. 

The  functions  of  the  family  council  are  fully  set  forth 
in  the  Code  Civil ;  to  understand  its  scope  and  spirit  we 
must  study  the  commentators.  "  Le  Repertoire  de  juris- 
prudence general,"  compiled  by  Victor  and  Armand  Dalloz, 
was  first  published  in  1836,  but  remains  the  standard  work 
of  reference  on  legal  questions.  A  handy  and  admirable 
digest  of  the  conseil  de  famille  is  to  be  found  in  the 
"  Traite,"  by  J.-L.  Jay  (Bureau  des  Annales  des  Jiiges  de 
Paix,  Paris,  1854).  Unfortunately,  this  book  is  out  of  print, 
and  only  to  be  picked  up  on  the  quays  or  at  bookstalls. 

In  conclusion,  I  cite  the  words  of  a  friend  before  quoted, 
an  experienced  French  lawyer,  no  learned  commentator, 
but  a  hard-working  practitioner.  "The  excellence  of  such 
a  system,"  he  wrote,  "  is  proved  by  one  fact,  namely,  the 
very  small  number  of  lawsuits  arising  therefrom.  Very 
rarely  it  happens  that  a  ward  has  any  reason  to  complain 
of  his  trustees." 


252          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

We  must  bear  in  mind  that  inadmissibility  to  the 
charge  of  trusteeship  is  a  disgrace,  almost  on  a  footing 
with  the  forfeiture  of  civil  rights.  Hence  the  high  character 
of  French  trustees  generally. 

The  family  council  is  not  often  introduced  into  novels, 
an  omission  difficult  to  understand. 


CHAPTER  XXX! 

CHARACTERISTICS 

ON  this  subject,  the  nicest  and  thorniest  a  foreignei 
can   handle,   I  will   confine  myself  to  persona 
experience,  speaking  of  our  neighbours  as  I  have 
found  them. 

A  contemporary  French  philosopher,  M.  Fouillee,  has 
analyzed  his  country-people  in  a  series  of  psychological 
and  physiological  studies,  all  profoundly  interesting,  but 
not  appealing  to  the  general  reader.  National  traits  and 
idiosyncrasy  as  evidenced  in  daily  life  are  more  readily 
grasped  than  scientific  generalizations,  and  more  profitably 
illustrate  national  character  for  those  obliged  to  content 
themselves  with  vicarious  acquaintance. 

I  smile  whenever  my  eyes  light  upon  such  stereotyped 
expressions  as  "  our  volatile  neighbours/'  "  the  light- 
minded  Gaul,"  "the  pleasure-loving  French,"  and  so  on. 
The  French  nation  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  most  serious 
in  the  world,  and  Candide's  query,  "  Est  ce  qu'on  rit  toujours 
a  Paris  ? "  "  (Is  Paris  always  laughing  ? ")  might  be  answered 
thus,  "  When  she  does  not  weep,"  which  is  often. 

How  little  the  great  democracy  at  our  doors  is  under- 
stood existing  prejudices  testify ;  two  or  three  generations 
ago  every  lettered  and  travelled  Englishman  could  write 
of  French  people  in  language  on  a  par  with  that  of  Roche- 
fort  and  Drumont  when  harrying  the  Jews  or  Protestants. 
Let  the  reader,  for  instance,  turn  to  the  eleventh  chapter 
of  Thomas  Love  Peacock's  brilliant  novelette,  "  Nightmare 

253 


254          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Abbey,"  published  in  1818,  for  a  verification  of  this  state- 
ment. Doubtless,  after  relieving  his  feelings  by  this  out- 
burst of  truly  disgusting  invective,  the  author  felt  that  he 
had  acquitted  himself  of  a  patriotic  duty,  and,  if  he  did  not 
implicitly  believe  his  appraisement  of  French  character 
regarded  it  as  a  felicitous  guess.  It  was  left  for  our  great 
poets  of  that  epoch,  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  Byron,  and 
Shelley,  to  champion  the  France  of  Revolution  ;  from  their 
days  to  our  own,  English  writers  on  French  people  and 
French  affairs  have  mostly  been  blind  leaders  of  the  blind, 
intensifying  rather  than  eradicating  insular  prejudice.  It 
must  be  confessed  that  our  neighbours  have  only  themselves 
to  blame  for  much  of  this  misconception.  Frenchmen  are 
often  whimsically,  even  libellously  self-depreciative.  They 
love  to  wear  a  fictitious  heart  upon  their  sleeve,  to  dandle 
a  mannikin  in  the  eyes  of  naive  beholders.  Here  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  Gaul  conspicuously  differ. 

An  Englishman  is  apt  to  follow  Hamlet's  counsel  and 
affect  a  virtue  though  he  has  it  not.  A  Frenchman  vaunts 
of  foibles  quite  foreign  to  his  nature. 

The  following  story  is  apposite. 

One  day  in  my  presence,  a  matron,  wife  of  a  Dijon 
notary,  was  praising  her  friend's  son. 

"Your  Jules  is  charming,"  she  said — "so  amiable,  so 
diligent,  and  so  steady !  " 

"  Humph  ! "  replied  the  stripling's  mamma  ;  "  he  would 
not  be  pleased  to  hear  himself  called  steady,"  the  country- 
bred  youth  in  question,  whom  I  knew  well,  being  as  little 
likely  to  become  a  gay  Lothario  as  was  the  younger 
Diafoirus. 

Novelists  have  here  sinned  greatly,  but  on  that  point  I 
dwell  further  on. 

Another  strongly  marked  quality  is  reserve,  reminding 
one  of  a  Japanese  toy  in  the  shape  of  a  box.  Remove  the 
lid  and  you  find  a  second,  the  second  contains  a  third, 
the  third  a  fourth,  and  so  on.  It  is  a  very  long  time 


CHARACTERISTICS  255 

before  you  get  at  the  kernel.  Nor  is  such  reserve  exercised 
towards  foreigners  only.  Some  time  since  a  French  friend 
was  dining  with  me  at  a  Paris  hotel  chiefly  frequented  by 
rich  Chicagans.  After  dinner  the  company  adjourned  into 
the  hall,  and  there  over  tea  or  coffee  broke  up  into  little 
groups.  Quite  evidently  most  of  these  tourists  were  chance- 
made  acquaintances,  encountered,  perhaps,  on  their  liner 
or  in  these  Parisian  quarters.  All  were  now  fraternizing 
with  the  utmost  cordiality.  "  How  pleasant  is  this  experi- 
ence ! "  observed  my  companion,  himself  in  former  days 
a  considerable  traveller ;  "  and  how  unlike  the  behaviour 
of  my  own  country  people  when  thrown  together  on  foreign 
soil!" 

It  is  only  among  the  much  travelled  and  cosmopolitan 
that  letters  introductory  lead  to  any  but  the  most  formal 
hospitality  or  superficial  acquaintance  in  France.  The 
late  Mr.  Hamerton,  who  married  a  French  wife,  and  spent 
thirty-five  years  in  his  adopted  country,  was  astounded 
at  the  prevailing  unsociableness  in  country  places.  The 
home  so  agreeably  described  in  "  Round  my  house "  was 
situated  within  a  walk  of  Autun,  in  Burgundy.  Mr.  Hamer- 
ton had  plenty  of  neighbours,  that  is  to  say,  families  living, 
as  is  the  case  here,  a  few  miles  off,  all  being  in  easy  cir- 
cumstances and  possessing  vehicles.  Folks,  he  told  me, 
saw  next  to  nothing  of  each  other.  Intercourse  began  and 
ended  with  ceremonious  calls  made  at  lengthy  intervals. 
In  England,  under  such  circumstances,  every  one  would 
know  every  one.  The  social  ball  would  be  kept  rolling, 
money  would  circulate  at  a  brisk  pace,  from  the  end  of 
July  till  November. 

This  observation  brings  me  to  the  hallmark  of  French 
descent,  the  indubitable  proof  of  Gallic  ancestry.  Such 
stay-at-home,  circumscribed  ways  arise  partly  from  habits 
of  inveterate,  inrooted  economy.  "The  Anglo-Saxon," 
writes  M.  E.  Demolins,  "  is  the  most  perfect  organism  that 
exists  alike  for  the  purpose  of  gaining  and  spending 


256          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

money.  In  France,"  he  adds,  "  there  is  less  inclination  to 
gain  money,  and  for  the  most  part  no  inclination  whatever 
to  spend  it." 

Such  parsimony,  whilst  it  accounts  for  the  absence  of 
perpetual  and  salutary  social  intercourse,  give  and  take 
familiar  to  ourselves,  has  its  origin  in  the  purest  and  loftiest 
springs  of  human  action.  Thrift  degenerates  into  avarice, 
yet  what  was  thrift  in  the  beginning  but  forethought,  the 
long,  long  look  towards  years  to  come ;  not  only  care  for 
one's  self,  but  for  one's  offspring — in  other  words,  for 
humanity  ?  "  Every  Frenchman,"  writes  M.  Hanotaux,  in 
the  new  volume  of  his  monumental  work,  "  works  for  the 
future,  accumulates  for  posterity,  restricting  his  wants  and 
his  enjoyment  in  the  interest  of  after  generations."  *  As  I 
have  already  shown,  even  the  peasants  of  the  ancien  regime, 
despite  corvee  and  gabelle^  despite  fiscal  and  seigneurial 
oppression,  contrived  to  lay  the  foundation  of  family 
fortunes. 

Another  hallmark  of  French  character  is  delicacy,  the 
horror  of  wounding  the  susceptibilities,  of  being  deemed 
obtuse,  unamiable,  or  impolite. 

Here  is  an  illustration. 

Some  years  ago,  when  staying  at  Lons-le-Saulnier 
(Jura),  my  host  accompanied  me  to  lunch  with  friends 
living  an  hour  and  a  half  off  by  road  and  rail,  their  carriage 
meeting  us  at  the  little  country  station.  We  were  to  leave 
at  four  o'clock,  no  other  train  being  available  till  late  in 
the  evening. 

The  moment  for  departure  drew  near,  but  my  friend, 
deep  in  a  political  discussion,  had  apparently  become 
unmindful  of  the  arrangement  ;  our  hostess,  I  noticed,  did 
just  glance  at  the  clock  once  or  twice,  that  was  all.  At  the 
eleventh  hour  I  ventured  to  take  the  initiative  ;  the  carriage 
was  brought  round,  the  horse  put  to  a  trot,  and  we  caught 
the  train  by  half  a  minute.  As  I  knew  that  the  later  hour 

*  "  La  France  contemporaine,"  vol.  ii. 


CHARACTERISTICS  257 

would  have  inconvenienced  both  hosts  and  guests,  and  as 
I  had  noticed  madame's  furtive  glances  at  the  timepiece, 
I  asked  my  companion  why  we  had  not  been  dispatched 
without  haste  and  flurry.  He  looked  at  me  with  no  little 
surprise.  "  Tell  a  visitor  it  is  time  for  him  to  go  ?  The 
thing  is  impossible ! " 

Certainly  the  English  plan  of  speeding  the  parting 
guest  has  much  to  recommend  it,  but  the  story  is  highly 
suggestive.  It  helps  us  to  understand  how  Voltaire  allowed 
himself,  as  he  put  it,  to  become  the  "  innkeeper  of  Europe." 
Mr.  Hamerton  preferred  John  Bull's  blunt  outspokenness. 
His  home  near  Autun  becoming  too  much  intruded  upon 
by  English  and  American  visitors,  he  affixed  the  following 
notice  to  his  front  door :  "  Visitors  at  the  Pre"  Charmoy  who 
have  not  received  an  invitation  for  the  night  are  requested 
to  leave  at  six  o'clock."  Imagine  the  shocked  surprise  of 
French  callers  able  to  decipher  the  inscription  ! 

The  horror  of  appearing  uncourteous  is  evinced  in  many 
ways. 

Thus,  no  matter  how  visible  or  grotesque  may  be 
English  blunders  in  French,  our  neighbours  never  permit 
themselves  so  much  as  a  smile  in  your  presence ;  instead 
they  will  quietly  and  even  apologetically  put  the  speaker 
right.  There  are  natures  of  finer  or  coarser  calibre  in 
France  as  elsewhere,  but  a  dominant  note  of  national 
character  is  this  delicacy.  Many  formulas  of  current 
speech,  indeed,  bring  out  the  idiosyncrasy.  Harsh  terms 
and  disagreeable  expletives  are  avoided,  ill-sounding  forms 
of  expression  toned  down.  When  the  great  statesman 
Thiers  had  breathed  his  last,  the  tidings  were  thus  con- 
veyed to  the  widow  :  "Madame,  votre  illustre  mari  a  vecu  " 
("  Your  illustrious  husband  once  lived  ").  To  have  blurted 
out,  "  Your  husband  is  dead,"  would  seem  in  French  ears 
an  aggravation  of  the  shock. 

Again,  how  charming  and  characteristic  is  that  oxy- 
moron, une  jo  lie  laide  ("a  plain  beauty"),  in  other  words,  a 
s 


258          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

woman  whose  vivacity  and  expressiveness  atone  for  Nature's 
unkindness  in  other  respects. 

Another  euphemism  is  the  expression,  "il  laisse  a 
d^sirer  "  ("  it  leaves  something  to  be  desired  "). 

A  tutor,  for  instance,  reporting  progress  of  an  un- 
satisfactory pupil,  will  not  distress  his  parents  by  saying, 
"  Your  son's  conduct  is  bad,"  or  "  Your  son  is  not  doing 
well."  He  qualifies  the  unpleasant  information  by  writing 
word  that  both  behaviour  and  application  to  studies  leave 
something,  or  maybe  much,  to  be  desired. 

These  things  are  not  wholly  bagatelles,  but  it  is  also 
in  grave  matters  that  this  national  trait  is  conspicuous. 

Leisureliness  is  another  inrooted  French  attribute. 
The  prevailing  dislike  of  hurry,  the  margin  of  time  allowed 
alike  for  trivial  as  well  as  weighty  transactions,  are  re- 
freshingly opposed  to  American  standards. 

The  proverb  "  Time  is  money  "  has  not  as  yet  found 
acceptance  in  the  most  intellectual  and  highly  polished 
country  of  Europe.  France,  like  Hamlet,  has  still  her 
breathing  hour  of  the  day  ;  compared  to  the  Republic 
across  the  Atlantic,  is  still  "  a  pleasing  land  of  drowsy- 
head."  In  a  charming  volume,  Madame  Bentzon  recounts 
how  an  American  acquaintance  once  visited  her  in  the 
Seine  and  Marne,  and  his  astoundment  at  the  spectacle 
before  him.  The  antiquated  farming  methods  still  in 
vogue,  oxen  drawing  old-fashioned  wooden  ploughs,  hus- 
bandmen cutting  their  tiny  patches  of  corn,  housewives 
minding  their  cows  afield,  transported  him  to  Biblical 
scenes.  He  could  hardly  realize  that  he  was  in  Europe, 
and  in  such  a  quarter  of  Europe. 

It  is  not  only  country  folks  who  must  ever  have  a  liberal 
allowance  of  time.  Equally  somnolent  must  appear  the 
commercial  world  in  Chicagan  eyes. 

"  At  Bradford  men  never  walk,  they  are  always  running," 
said  a  French  youth  to  me  after  some  months'  sojourn  in  a 
business  house  of  that  city. 


CHARACTERISTICS  259 

A  Luton  straw-hat  manufacturer  of  my  acquaintance 
thus  commented  on  the  same  characteristic — 

"  The  French  are  excellent  customers,  but  are  very  slow 
in  making  up  their  minds.  The  French  buyer  will  turn 
over  a  hat  or  a  bonnet  a  dozen  times,  go  away  without 
giving  an  order,  will  look  in  next  day,  very  likely  the  day 
after  that,  before  coming  to  a  decision.  But  French  com- 
mercial honour  stands  at  high-water  mark  ;  thus,  dilatory 
as  are  French  buyers,  none  receive  a  warmer  welcome." 

English  travellers  are  sometimes  exasperated  by  this 
leisureliness  in  other  quarters.  In  September  of  last  year 
I  left  Paris  for  Dover  by  the  excellent  9.45  forenoon 
express.  The  weather  had  just  broken  up  in  Switzerland, 
and  late  arrivers  at  the  Gare  du  Nord  found  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  procuring  a  seat.  A  young  Englishman  in 
this  plight  who  addressed  himself  to  an  official  received 
the  following  reply  :  "  You  should  be  here  an  hour  before 
the  train  starts  "  !  Regarded  from  a  wholly  opposite  point 
of  view,  this  deliberate,  unhasting  temperament  is  indeed 
enviable.  How  much  may  not  the  excellence  of  French 
manufactures,  handicrafts,  and  produce  be  thereby  ac- 
counted for  ? 

Nor  is  Goethe's  maxim,  "  Ohne  Hast,  ohne  Rast " 
("  without  haste,  without  rest  "),  non-existent  in  other  fields. 
Art,  literature,  legislation,  have  been  similarly  influenced, 
whilst  leisureliness,  an  instinctive  repugnance  to  hurry  and 
bustle,  a  philosophic  love  of  repose,  constitute  a  paramount 
charm  of  French  home  life.  Under  our  neighbours'  roof 
we  are  not  too  rudely  reminded  that  "  Time  and  tide  wait 
for  no  man,"  much  less  that  "  Time  is  money."  No  wonder 
that  the  prematurely  old  men  of  whom  Mr.  Foster  Fraser 
speaks  in  his  American  sketches,  white-haired,  care-lined 
veterans  of  thirty,  are  unknown  in  France.  There  at  least 
folks  allow  time  to  overtake  them  ;  they  do  not  advance 
post  haste  to  meet  it. 

The  least  sentimental  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth, 


260          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

our  neighbours  have  a  matchless  genius  for  friendship. 
"  There  is  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother," 
might  have  been  written  by  Montaigne  rather  than  by 
Jesus,  the  son  of  Sirach.  We  often  hear  on  elderly  lips 
the  endearing  "  thee "  and  "  thou  "  of  the  Quaker,  old 
lyceens,  grandmothers  whose  acquaintance  dated  from 
the  first  communion,  maintaining  brotherly,  sisterly  rela- 
tions throughout  life.  The  bachelor,  the  functionary,  the 
military  man  compelled  to  dine  at  a  restaurant,  must  ever 
have  a  commensal,  or  table  companion  ;  in  this  respect  they 
resemble  Kant.  The  great  philosopher's  means  in  later 
life  permitting  such  hospitality,  he  ever  had  three  or  four 
covers  laid  for  daily  "  Tischgenossen."  Little  wonder  that 
the  sociable  Gaul  abhors  a  solitary  meal. 

It  was  Montesquieu's  opinion  that  when  an  English- 
man wanted  thoroughly  to  enjoy  his  newspaper,  he  climbed 
on  to  a  housetop  for  the  sake  of  privacy !  True  it  is 
that  whilst  we  have  the  verb  "to  enjoy  one's  self,"  the 
French  have  another  and  more  amiable  reflective,  jouir  de 
qudquun  *  ("  to  enjoy  another's  society  ").  "Je  vais  jouir  de 
vous  "  ("  I  come  to  enjoy  you  "),  said  a  charming  lady  to 
me  one  evening  in  a  country  house  near  Nancy. 

The  most  reserved,  yet  the  most  sociable  being  in  the 
world,  the  most  accomplished  in  the  art  of  friendship, 
neither  in  friendship  nor  in  love  is  a  Frenchman  in  the 
least  given  to  sentimentality.  The  only  subjects  on  which 
he  ever  sentimentalizes  are  patrie,  drapeau,  Rfyublique 
— motherland,  tricolour,  Republic.  Personalities  evoke  the 
most  profound,  unalterable  attachments,  the  most  fervid 
admiration,  never  gushing  outbursts.  No  wonder  that 
modern  German  novels  are  so  little  appreciated  in  France. 
Dickens,  for  whom  our  neighbours  have  a  positive  venera- 
tion, is  often  a  sentimentalist,  but  in  his  case  the  single 
defect  is  counterbalanced  by  a  thousand  virtues.  I  will 

*  "Jouir  de  quelqu'un,  avoir  le  temps,  la  liberte  de  conferer  avec  lui,  d'en 
tirer  quelque  service,  quelque  plaisir"  (Littre). 


CHARACTERISTICS  261 

now  turn  to  a  French  trait  that  equally  puzzles  insular 
observers. 

Why,  in  a  pre-eminently  intellectual  and  fastidious 
people,  do  we  find  an  undisguised,  immoderate  addiction 
to  le  gros  rire,  an  insatiable  appetite  for  the  grotesquely 
laughable  ?  How  little  sort  Parisian  comic  papers,  popular 
Parisian  plays,  and  M.  Rochefort's  scurrilous  pasquinades 
with  the  loftier  side  of  French  character  ! 

In  the  first  place,  we  must  remember  that  no  wave  of 
Puritanism  has  at  any  time  swept  over  the  land  of  Rabelais. 
The  joyousness  which  Rabelais  inculcated  as  a  duty,  the 
rollicking  spirits  in  his  own  case  masking  stern  philosophic 
truths,  have  never  received  similar  check.  Le  gros  rire, 
the  hearty  laugh,  still  remains  the  national  refuge  from 
care  and  ennui ;  as  in  former  days,  it  ofttimes  diverted  the 
mind  from  impending  tortures  and  violent  death.  Alike 
martyrs  and  criminals  have  made  merry  in  awful  moments. 
The  Marquise  de  Brinvilliers  jested  over  the  preparations 
for  her  long-drawn-out  torments,  the  gallant  young  de  la 
Barre  uttered  a  sally  on  the  eve  of  a  doom  no  less  horrible, 
Danton  improvised  puns  as  he  was  jolted  towards  the 
guillotine. 

Every  Frenchman  has  a  touch  of  Rabelais,  of  Voltaire, 
in  his  composition. 

I  once  asked  an  old  friend  of  eclectic  tastes  and  high 
culture  how  it  was  that  the  buffooneries  and  scurrilities  of 
the  Intransigeant  could  possibly  interest  him.  "  Ma  foi, 
je  ne  sais  pas,  mais  ga  me  fait  rire  "  ("  On  my  word  I  don't 
know,  but  the  paper  makes  me  laugh  "),  was  his  reply. 

Laughter — the  copious  exercise  of  the  risible  faculties — 
is  a  constitutional,  a  physical  need  of  the  Gallic  tempera- 
ment. Hence  the  enormous  popularity  enjoyed  two  genera- 
tions ago  by  Paul  de  Kock.  Search  the  little  library  of 
this  writer's  fiction  through  and  you  will  find  no  scintilla 
of  wit,  hardly  a  bon-mot.  But  in  one  respect  he  was  a  true 
literary  descendant  of  Rabelais.  His  Gauloiseries,  broad 


262          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

drolleries,  could  ever  raise  a  laugh.  Few  people  read  poor 
Paul  de  Kock  nowadays.  Le  rire  in  Anatole  France  has 
found  a  subtler,  more  piquant,  more  philosophic  exponent, 
but  anything  and  everything  is  forgiven  that  author,  actor, 
musician,  or  artist  who  can  evoke  spontaneous  mirth. 

How  came  it  about  that  "L* Allegro"  was  written  by 
an  Anglo-Saxon  and  a  Puritan,  and  not  by  a  Frenchman  ? 
The  matter  must  remain  an  eternal  mystery. 

On  this  subject  there  remains  one  point  to  be  dealt 
with.  An  English  friend,  who  had  been  shocked  by  some 
coarse  illustrated  papers  purchased  at  a  Paris  kiosque, 
lately  put  the  following  question  to  me :  How  were  such 
publications  compatible  with  the  purity  of  French  home 
life?  My  answer  was  simple — boys  and  girls  in  France 
do  not  enjoy  the  liberty,  or  rather  the  licence,  permitted 
among  ourselves.  When  journeying  from  Hastings  to 
Folkestone  by  train  some  years  since  with  a  French  friend, 
two  boys  of  ten  to  twelve  sitting  opposite  had  their  heads 
deep  in  newspapers,  The  French  mother  was  greatly 
shocked.  Children  of  that  age,  she  said,  were  never  per- 
mitted in  France  to  purchase  or  read  newspapers.  And 
I  can  speak  from  experience,  that  where  young  people  are 
present,  the  Rabelaisian  joke,  or  double  entendre,  is  banished 
from  the  family  board. 

If  the  critical  faculty  is  sometimes  at  fault  where  the 
risible  is  concerned,  it  is  nevertheless  an  equally  striking 
characteristic.  French  literary  criticism  has  ever  stood  at 
high- water  mark,  and  to  criticize,  with  our  neighbours, 
takes  the  place  of  to  enjoy. 

Listen  to  the  work-a-day  world  at  the  Louvre  or  the 
Luxembourg  on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  Instead  of  the  inter- 
jectional  "How  pretty ! "  "  How  beautiful ! "  "  How  life-like!" 
of  a  similar  audience  at  the  Royal  Academy  or  National 
Gallery  on  Bank  Holiday,  you  will  overhear  cautious, 
painstaking,  deliberately  uttered  criticism — the  views  of 
men  and  women  who  are  there  not  merely  for  irreflective 


CHARACTERISTICS  263 

enjoyment,  the  whiling  away  of  an  idle  hour,  but  for  the 
exercise  of  the  critical  faculty,  the  ripening  of  artistic  taste, 
the  comparing  achievements  with  a  preconceived  ideal. 

Still  more  marked  is,  of  course,  this  habit  of  mind 
among  the  highly  cultivated.  A  French  friend,  for  instance, 
accompanies  you  to  a  museum,  picture-gallery,  or  play. 
You  soon  discover  that  you  have  at  hand,  not  a  cicerone, 
but  a  lynx-eyed  critic,  disputable  or  unobvious  points 
being  raised  every  moment,  the  reasoning,  questioning 
instinct  perpetually  alert.  To  less  subtle  minds  such  a 
mood  will  appear  hypercritical,  but  herein  without  doubt 
lies  the  secret  of  French  supremacy  in  art  and  letters,  and 
that  better  word  I  will  call  the  finish  of  manufactures 
and  handicrafts.  And  what  is  the  perfect  dress  of  a 
Frenchwoman  but  an  evolution  of  the  critical  spirit,  and 
to  place  herself  above  criticism  in  this  respect  is  often  im- 
mensely difficult.  Thus  the  wife  of  an  officer  in  garrison 
or  of  a  lyceen  professor,  no  matter  the  narrowness  of 
resources,  must  on  no  account  make  calls  except  in  an 
irreproachable  toilette  and  in  style  up  to  date.  The  young 
wife  of  an  artillery  captain  with  whom  I  once  spent  some 
time  at  Clermont-Ferrand,  used  to  keep  one  complete 
costume  for  visits  of  ceremony,  immediately  on  her  return 
doffing  not  only  bonnet  and  gown,  but  slip,  shoes,  and  even 
fancy  stockings  !  Every  article  must  retain  its  comparative 
freshness  and  fashionableness  till  replaced.  Critical  her- 
self, a  Frenchwoman  naturally  guards  against  criticism  in 
others. 

The  French  mind  is  pre-eminently  logical.  "  We  reason 
more  than  we  imagine,"  writes  M.  Fouillee,  "and  what  we 
imagine  the  best  is  not  the  exterior  world,  but  the  inner 
world  of  sentiments  and  thoughts."  Further  on  this 
psychologist  adds,  "The  passion  for  reasoning  often  leads 
to  forgetfulness  of  observation  "  ("  Psychologic  du  peuple 
Franchise ").  This  love  of  system,  this  tendency  to 
generalize  at  the  expense  of  experience,  is  strikingly 


264          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

evidenced  in  M.  Boutmy's  recent  work  on  the  English 
people.  Nothing  is  more  characteristic  of  the  two  nations 
than  the  methods  respectively  pursued  by  the  above-named 
writer  and  the  late  Mr.  Hamerton.  In  his  admirably 
judicial  work,  "  French  and  English,"  our  countryman  jots 
down  the  experiences  of  thirty-five  years'  residence  in 
France,  illustrating  each  proposition  by  telling  anecdotes 
and  traits  of  character  that  have  come  immediately  under 
his  own  observation.  M.  Boutmy  enters  upon  his  task  as 
a  mathematician  working  out  a  problem.  From  a  few 
principles,  with  great  lucidity,  he  traces  the  evolution  of  the 
English  mind  as  shown  in  matters  intellectual,  social,  and 
material.  Mr.  Hamerton  spoke  of  Frenchmen  and  French- 
women as  he  found  them,  and  is  consequently  never  at 
fault.  M.  Boutmy  cannot  for  a  moment  relinquish  his 
theories ;  but  theories,  however  sound,  will  not  always  ac- 
commodate themselves  to  actualities. 

Here  is  an  instance.  M.  Boutmy  describes  the  English 
people  as  inaccessible  to  pity.  But  what  are  the  facts  ? 
To  the  honour  of  England,  be  it  said,  here  was  promulgated 
the  first  law  rendering  punishable  inhumanity  to  animals.* 
Tardily  enough,  the  French  Government  so  far  followed 
our  initiative  as  to  pass  the  Lot  Gramont,  an  Act,  unfor- 
tunately, too  often  a  dead  letter. 

The  entire  work  shows  the  same  subordination  of  ex- 
perience to  system,  observation  to  theory. 

M.  Boutmy  and  M.  G.  Amede"e  Thierry,  who  also  speaks 
of  the  English  as  a  people  inaccessible  to  pity  (Lt  complot 
des  Libelles),  should  note  the  impressions  of  the  French 
medical  men  recently  visiting  our  shores.  To  the  immense 
astonishment  of  these  gentlemen,  they  discovered  that  all 

*  "The  English,"  writes  Mr.  Rambaud,  "had  the  honour  of  preceding 
every  other  nation  in  humane  treatment  of  the  insane.  Whilst  in  Paris  (until 
the  Revolution)  insane  people  were  herded  with  criminals,  loaded  with  chains, 
cruelly  beaten  and  shut  up  in  frightful  cells,  England  founded  so  far  back 
as  1547  the  asylum  of  Bedlam,  and  in  1751  St.  Luke's,  for  the  mentally  afflicted  " 
("  Histoire  de  la  civilization  Franchise,"  vol.  iii. :  1900). 


CHARACTERISTICS  265 

our  magnificent  hospitals  are  entirely  supported  by  private 
contributions,  and  that  outdoor  patients  are  not  only 
examined  gratuitously,  but  supplied  with  medicaments  free 
of  charge. 

And  as  I  write  these  lines  I  see  in  a  morning  paper  the 
following  testimony  to  "  a  people  inaccessible  to  pity." 
The  correspondent  describes  a  meeting  held  in  Paris  on 
behalf  of  the  Sunday  rest  movement,  and  he  adds,  "  It 
is  pleasant  to  note  how  strongly  and  sympathetically  this 
social  reform  is  advocated  by  the  French  press,  and  how 
the  example  of  England  is  admired  and  recommended." 

Such  appreciation  is  not  common.  If  our  neighbours 
have  hitherto  habitually  been  misrepresented  here,  still 
more  have  English  folks  been  misjudged  on  the  other  side 
of  La  Manche. 

The  French  intellect  is  above  all  things  scientific.  It 
must  never  be  forgotten  that  the  very  first  great  scientific 
expeditions  set  on  foot  in  the  world  were  due  to  French 
initiative.  "  When  the  question  of  the  figure  of  the  earth 
came  to  be  debated,"  wrote  our  late  Astronomer- Royal,  Sir 
George  Biddell  Airy,  "two  celebrated  expeditions  were  made 
under  the  auspices  of  the  French  Government.  I  believe 
that  in  matters  of  science,  as  stated  by  Guizot,  France  has 
been  the  great  pioneer."  And  this  eminent  authority 
adds  further  on,  "  There  is  also  one  measure  of  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  earth  which  is  worth  mentioning,  on  account 
of  the  extraordinary  times  in  which  it  was  effected.  It  was 
the  great  measure  extending  from  Dunkirk  in  France  to 
Barcelona  in  Spain,  and  afterwards  continued  to  Formcntara, 
a  small  island  near  Minorca.  It  is  worth  mentioning, 
because  it  was  done  in  the  hottest  times  of  the  French 
Revolution.  We  are  accustomed  to  consider  that  time  as 
one  purely  of  anarchy  and  bloodshed  ;  but  the  energetic 
Government  of  France  (the  Convention),  though  labouring 
under  the  greatest  difficulties,  could  find  opportunities  for 
sending  out  an  expedition  for  these  scientific  purposes,  and 


266          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

thus  did  actually,  during  the  hottest  times  of  the  revolution 
complete  a  work  to  which  nothing  equal  had  been  attempted 
in  England." 

Equally  characteristic  is  the  practical  spirit,  the  utili- 
tarian side,  the  persistent  looking  to  results.  Vagueness, 
shilly-shally,  indefinite,  happy-go-lucky  methods  are  not 
common  over  the  water.  Here,  as  in  most  respects,  Gaul 
and  Anglo-Saxon  are  the  antipodes  of  each  other. 

What  romance  runs  through  English  life  is  strictly  con- 
fined to  courtship  and  marriage,  to  the  domestic  circle,  the 
individual  sphere  ;  not  a  vestige  of  the  poetic  or  ideal 
informing  the  atmosphere  of  politics. 

The  French  fireside,  on  the  contrary,  is  strictly  prosaic, 
wedlock  being  a  partnership  primarily  arranged  with  defer- 
ence to  worldly  circumstances.  But  remote  from  daily 
surroundings,  in  the  arena  of  public  life,  when  called  upon 
to  deal  with  ideas  rather  than  with  facts,  a  Frenchman  can 
be  the  most  generously  romantic,  the  most  magnanimously 
chivalrous  Utopian  imaginable. 

A  Frenchman  will  think  fifty,  nay,  five  hundred  times, 
before  marrying  for  love,  when  marrying  for  love  would 
involve  impoverished  circumstances,  loss  of  position,  the 
future  of  his  children  hazarded  ;  without  so  much  as  a 
second  thought,  like  the  misguided  hero  of  the  Commune, 
he  will  rush  to  the  barricade  and  confront  ignominy  and 
death  on  behalf  of  the  disinherited,  of  some  new  Atlantis 
in  which  he  entirely  believes.* 

If  I  were  asked  to  crystallize  the  foregoing  conclusions 
to  focus  in  a  sentence  my  experience  of  French  character, 
I  should  say  that,  intellectually  and  socially,  here  civilization 
has  reached  its  highest  expression.  I  will  end  these  pages 
with  a  simile. 

As  I  have  already  insisted  upon,  "the  fickle  Gaul," 
"  the  light-minded  Frenchman,"  "  our  volatile  neighbours," 

*  See  in  "La  Commune,"  by  the  brothers  Margueritte,  Rossel's  noble 
words  on  the  eve  of  his  execution. 


CHARACTERISTICS  267 

possess  a  genius  for  friendship.  Serviceable,  sincere,  peren- 
nial, French  friendship  reminds  me  of  that  beautiful  element 
recently  discovered  by  two  native  scientists.  Proof  against 
time,  vicissitude,  and  extraneous  influences,  what  French 
friendship  has  once  been  it  remains  throughout  life,  like 
radium,  immutable  among  mutable  things,  shining  with 
undiminished  ray  till  the  end. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

FICTION  AND   FIRESIDES 

O  Frenchmen  ever  work  ? "  once  a  clever  English 
friend  asked  me.  "According  to  novels,  the 
only  occupation  of  men  over  the  water  is  to 
run  after  other  men's  wives  "  ! 

French  writers  of  fiction  stand  as  culprits  at  the  bar. 
So  gravely  have  they  sinned  against  truth  and  the  fitness 
of  things  that  the  average  novel  must  be  accepted  as  a 
travesty,  no  more  resembling  French  domestic  life  than 
the  traditional  caricature  of  John  Bull  by  our  neighbours 
resembles  the  typical  Englishman.  Were  middle -class 
homes,  indeed,  of  a  piece  with  certain  portraitures,  the 
words  "  family  "  and  "  fireside  "  were  mere  figures  of  speech 
and  simulacra  over  the  water. 

The  misconceptions  created  by  so-called  realistic  novels 
are  almost  ineradicable.  In  an  enthusiastic  work  on  French 
expansion  by  a  naturalized  Frenchman,  the  writer  implores 
his  literary  brethren  to  weigh  their  responsibilities. 
"Frenchmen,"  he  writes,  "ought  to  set  their  faces  un- 
compromisingly against  turpitudes  so  antagonistic  to 
national  influence"  (" L'Expansion  Frangaise,"  par  M. 
Novikoff:  Paris). 

On  this  subject,  a  writer  I  have  before  quoted  observed 
thirty  years  ago,  "Without  doubt  the  world  described  by 
M.  Flaubert  (in  'Madame  Bovary')  exists,  but  is  it  the 
whole  world  ?  And  if  a  novelist  confines  himself  to  holes 
and  corners  of  society,  as  a  delineator  of  society,  can  he 

268 


FICTION   AND   FIRESIDES         269 

be  called  truthful  ? "  Elsewhere  he  wrote  of  Paul  Feval's 
once  famous  "  Fanny,"  "  This  aversion  to  the  truth  among 
my  friends  and  associates  alarms  and  afflicts  me." 

What  would  Philarete  Chasles  have  thought  of 
"L'Heritier"  by  Guy  de  Maupassant,  Flaubert's  most 
celebrated  disciple  ?  In  so  far  as  style,  composition,  and, 
up  to  a  certain  point,  characterization  go,  the  story  is  a 
masterpiece.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  more  exquisite 
pictures  of  suburban  Paris,  or  more  finely  turned  impres- 
sions of  atmosphere.  The  writer's  skill  is  to  be  deplored, 
since  the  incident  on  which  the  plot  turns  is  not  only 
nauseous  in  the  extreme,  but  grotesque  in  its  exaggeration 
of  complacent  immorality. 

And  what  would  the  same  critic  have  said  to  Daudet's 
"  L'Immortel "  ?  Here  we  find  ourselves  in  a  very  different 
social  sphere  to  those  described  in  "  Madame  Bovary  "  and 
"L'Heritier."  The  immorality  is  here  of  still  deeper 
dye. 

Madame  Astier  is  the  wife  of  an  Immortel,  i.e.  a 
member  of  the  French  Academy,  the  highest  honour  to 
which  a  literary  man  can  aspire.  We  are  asked  to  believe 
that  this  woman  could  stint  the  family  board  of  necessaries, 
lie,  plot,  and  deceive  her  husband,  even  stoop  to  vice, 
for  the  sake  of  a  dissolute  son. 

In  novels  of  later  date  we  find  a  disregard,  not  only  of 
morality,  but  of  seemliness  that  is  positively  appalling. 

Take,  by  way  of  example,  two  stories  that  appeared 
two  or  three  years  ago — "  Ame  obscure  "  and  "  Le  journal 
d'une  femme  de  chambre."  Well  may  stay-at-home 
readers  ask  themselves  the  question,  Does  the  word 
"  home,"  as  we  understand  it,  really  exist  in  France  ?  Yet 
both  these  loathesome  works  have  found  admiring  critics. 
It  was  on  the  strength  of  a  review  in  a  Paris  newspaper 
that  I  ordered  the  first,  and  the  second  was  lauded  to  the 
skies  in  an  English  review. 

There   is   also   another  point   to  be   considered.      No 


270          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

wave  of  Puritanism  has  ever  swept  over  French  life  and 
literature.  As  a  contemporary  philosopher  writes,  "  France 
missed  her  Reformation,  and  the  consequences  are  felt  to 
this  day  "  (M.  Coste,  "  Sociologie  Objective  ").  Clarifying, 
refining  influences  must  come  from  other  sources. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  such  works  are  not 
found  upon  drawing-room  tables  on  the  other  side  of  the 
channel.  In  the  case  of  young  daughters,  maternal  censor- 
ship is  rigid,  the  Russian  blacking-out  system  not  more 
so.  Objectionable  fiction  finds  its  public  among  "young 
men  about  town,"  rich  ne'er-do-wells,  idlers  generally,  and 
among  old  and  pious  ladies,  who,  having  led  immaculate 
and  somewhat  prosy  existences,  are  anxious  to  know  dis- 
reputable folks  and  their  ways  from  hearsay.  The  native 
patronage  of  such  novels  would  not,  however,  suffice  to 
keep  their  authors  going.  As  M.  Novikoff  explains  in  the 
volume  before  mentioned,  French  fiction  of  this  kind  sells 
much  more  largely  beyond  the  frontier  than  on  French 
soil.  Russia  is  by  far  the  best  customer  of  the  so-called 
realistic  novelist,  Germany  and  England  following  suit. 
Any  one  who  has  lived  among  our  neighbours  must  have 
come  to  this  conclusion  unaided  by  statistics.  Thrifty 
folks  will  think  twice  before  spending  three  francs  and  a 
half  on  a  book  to  be  thrown  away  when  read.  If  occa- 
sionally middle-class  Darbies  and  Joans  do  purchase  a 
volume  only  mentionable  among  their  contemporaries, 
they  will  thus  indulge  themselves  out  of  sheer  curiosity, 
and  enjoy  a  new  sensation. 

Vice  and  crime  have,  of  course,  their  thickly  populat 
walks  in  France  as  elsewhere.  The  sanctity  of  home  is 
guarded  jealously  as  the  gates  of  Paradise  by  flaming 
brand.  Not  wider  apart  the  fragrant  valley  of  Roenabed 
and  the  ebon  halls  of  Eblis  in  Beckford's  wonderful  tale, 
than  French  family  life  and  Bohemia,  whether  gilded  or 
tatterdemalion. 

It    is    characteristic   of    the    French    mind    to    seek 


ty, 

ed 


FICTION  AND   FIRESIDES         271 

vicarious  emotion,  and  enjoy  what  is  called  Us  sublimes 
horreurs  ("  sublime  horrors").  Here  we  have  an  explanation 
of  other  proclivities,  among  these  the  enthusiasm  for 
Sarah  Bernharclt's  most  harrowing  roles. 

I  well  remember,  when  in  Algeria  many  years  ago, 
visiting  with  a  friend  an  old  lady  just  upon  ninety.  As 
she  sunned  herself  in  the  garden,  she  had  on  her  lap  per- 
haps the  "  creepiest  "  book — as  boys  would  say — ever 
written,  "  Les  derniers  jours  d'un  Condamne." 

"  Not  very  lively  reading  that,"  observed  my  companion  ; 
the  other  replying — 

"  Mais  quel  recit  saissisant ! "  ("  But  what  an  enthral- 
ling narrative ! "). 

But  the  existence  of  such  novels  as  "  Une  ame  obscure," 
and  "  Le  Journal  d'une  femme  de  chambre "  requires 
further  elucidation.  Why  should  capable,  above  all  re- 
puted, writers  fix  upon  themes  alike  in  subject  and  treat- 
ment so  grotesquely  untrue  to  life  and  so  repellent  ? 

The  plain  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  average  existence, 
especially  middle-class  existence,  in  France  is  too  un- 
eventful, too  eminently  respectable,  for  sensational  or 
dramatic  handling.  In  support  of  this  theory  let  me 
instance  two  contemporary  writers,  both  to  the  fore  in 
literary  ranks. 

M.  Hanotaux  lately  published  a  delightful  volume  of 
sketches  not  quite  felicitously  titled  "  L'energie  Frangaise." 
In  one  exquisitely  worded  chapter  he  sketches  daily 
routine  in  an  ancient  cathedral  city.  Monotonous  as  was 
the  domestic  round  of  "  Cranford  "  and  "  Our  village,"  it 
must  be  set  down  as  "a  giddy  round  of  vain  delights" 
compared  with  that  of  Laon. 

All  who  have  lived  in  French  country  towns  and 
villages  realize  the  veracity  of  the  picture.  So  slowly  the 
clock  often  moves,  so  unbroken  is  the  sameness  of  week 
after  week,  that  a  catastrophe,  the  unforeseen,  seem 
positively  banished  from  French  soil.  Take  another 


272          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

picture  of  everyday  life  from  the  pen  of  that  usually 
incisive  writer,  Edouard  Rod. 

Minded  to  produce  a  story  after  the  English  model, 
that  is  to  say,  one  that  should  be  irreproachable,  M.  Rod 
gives  us  "  Mademoiselle  Annette,"  which  can  no  more  be 
compared  in  interest  and  vivacity  to  the  "  Small  House  at 
Aliington,"  or  "The  Chronicles  of  Carlingford,"  than 
Daudet's  "  Jack  "  can  be  compared  to  the  "  David  Copper- 
field  "  of  his  great  forerunner  and  model. 

Prosiest  of  prosy  stories,  in  truth,  is  "  Mademoiselle 
Annette,"  not  a  touch  of  romance,  humour,  or  moving 
pathos  enlivening  its  pages.  Only  the  genius  of  a  Balzac 
could  have  made  such  dry  bones  to  live.  The  theme  of 
"  Eugenie  Grandet"  is  hardly  more  exciting,  yet  that 
story  is  one  of  undying  interest.  Balzac  stands  absolutely 
alone  as  an  exponent  of  bourgeois  life,  and  vile  although 
are  many  types,  others  are  of  singular  beauty  and  elevation 
— the  village  priest  in  the  "  Cure  du  Village,"  the  charming 
wife  of  Cesar  Birotteau,  Docteur  Benassis,  and  many 
others. 

Society  is  so  constituted  in  France  that  the  novelist  is 
thus  forced  back  upon  the  exceptional  and  far-fetched, 
the  annals  of  vice  and  crime.  Nowadays  readers  require 
a  different  sensationalism  in  literature  to  that  furnished 
by  their  predecessors  Eugene,  Sue,  and  Dumas.  And  as 
French  firesides  are  the  reverse  of  sensational,  popular 
writers  look  for  inspiration  elsewhere. 

Whilst  being  in  no  sense  an  apology  for  the  bad  novel, 
such  a  fact  may  be  accepted  as,  at  least,  partly  explanative. 
We  must  remember  that  there  are  no  romantic  marriages 
in  France,  very  little  that  falls  under  the  head  of  love- 
making,  and  nothing  whatever  that  answers  to  German 
schwdrmerei,  an  intensive  expression  of  our  own  senti- 
mentality. To  be  fantasque,  that  is  to  say,  to  have 
romantic,  unconventional  notions,  is  a  term  of  severe 
reproach ;  woe  be  to  that  Frenchwoman  who  incurs  it. 


FICTION  AND  FIRESIDES         273 

Tradition,  bringing  up,  material  interests,  are  all  opposed 
to  the  freedom  which  renders  English  girlhood  a  prolific 
theme  for  the  novelist.  No  well-bred  French  girl  ever 
enjoys  an  innocent  flirtation,  much  more  a  harmless 
escapade.  Nor  must  she  relish  them  on  paper  till  she 
has  entered  into  the  partnership  of  marriage. 

Again,  the  domestic  circle  in  France  is  essentially  that, 
and  very  rarely  anything  more.  The  vast  majority  of 
middle-class  folks  spend  their  entire  lives  within  such  cir- 
cumscribed limits,  in  no  wise  affected  by  extraneous  in- 
fluences. The  same  may  be  said  of  vast  numbers  with  us  ; 
but  English  people,  no  matter  their  rank  or  condition, 
move  about  more  freely  than  our  neighbours,  and  even 
those  of  moderate  means  at  some  time  or  other  travel 
abroad.  Very  few  English  families  are  without  Indian  or 
colonial  branches,  an  element  considerably  adding  to  the 
movement  and  interest  of  daily  life. 

The  material  of  fiction  in  the  two  countries  is,  however, 
chiefly  affected  by  social  usages  and  ideals.  The  French 
domestic  story  must  perforce  become  a  roman  pour  jeunes 
filles,  a  story  for  girls.  Goody-goody  such  tales  never  are  ; 
they  are  often  well  written,  and  deserve  the  name  of  litera- 
ture. The  tragedy  of  life,  the  profound  springs  of  action, 
are  never  therein  touched  upon. 

When  I  look  back  upon  twenty-five  years'  experience 
of  French  domestic  life,  I  can  only  recall  two  incidents 
which  a  novelist  could  have  turned  to  good  account.  The 
first  was  an  affair  involving  family  honour  and  good 
repute,  several  households  being  brought  low  by  the 
malversations  of  one  member.  The  second  was  a  case 
of  mistaken  identity  that  very  nearly  proved  as  tragic. 
A  young  man,  the  son  of  friends,  was  charged  with 
robbery  and  murder,  and  although  the  accusation  was 
disproved  a  few  hours  later,  the  shock  almost  killed  his 
father. 

Both  circumstances  lent  themselves  admirably  to 
T 


274          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

dramatic  treatment ;  and  more  than  once  have  I  said  to 
myself,  if  only  a  novelist  had  the  slightest  chance  of  being 
true  to  foreign  life,  here  were  abundant  materials  for  my 
pen.  Quieter  themes  have  also  tempted  me  from  time  to 
time.  But  no  matter  how  well  we  may  know  our  neigh- 
bours, English  stories  of  French  life  are  doomed  to 
failure ! 

One  novelette  coming  under  this  category  affords  a 
striking  instance  in  point.  An  English  writer  had  set 
himself  the  somewhat  difficult  task  of  describing  a  clerical 
interior,  the  home  of  a  village  priest.  Two  egregious  in- 
congruities marked  the  attempt. 

Here  was  a  country  curt  listening  in  the  evening  to 
Beethoven's  Sonatas  played  by  a  young  niece ! 

Now,  in  the  first  place,  you  might  search  France 
through  without  finding  a  piano  in  a  rustic  presbyttre ; 
in  the  second,  you  would  as  vainly  seek  a  village  priest 
appreciative  of  German  classic  music ;  and,  thirdly,  the 
notion  of  a  young  girl  keeping  house  for  a  bachelor  uncle, 
above  all,  an  ecclesiastic,  is  in  the  highest  degree  pre- 
posterous. 

French  writers,  when  dealing  with  English  contemporary 
life,  are  at  a  still  greater  disadvantage,  so  little  hitherto 
have  our  neighbours  cared  to  live  amongst  us.  Picturesque 
effects,  happy  approximations,  may  be  achieved  on  both 
sides.  But  the  inmost  heart  of  a  people,  inherited  cha- 
racteristics, national  temperament,  how  unreachable  must 
these  ever  be  by  an  outsider ! 

In  one  class  of  the  modern  French  novel  a  certain 
licence  is  admissible,  even  obligatory.  I  allude  to  the 
latest  development  of  fiction  in  France,  the  novel  with  a 
purpose. 

In  his  famous  Rougon-Macquart  series,  Zola,  from  the 
reader's  point  of  view,  set  a  somewhat  disconcerting 
example.  Didactic  novels  are  no  longer  entities,  but  part 
of  a  cycle.  Thus  a  story  called  "  Bonnes  Meres  "  (ironical 


FICTION  AND  FIRESIDES         275 

for  "  over- fond  mothers  ")  was  announced  as  the  second  of 
nine  volumes,  all  having  a  distinct  moral  and  intellectual 
affinity!  The  story  brings  out  in  scenes  alternately 
diverting  and  sordid,  the  exaggerated  views  of  certain 
French  parents  concerning  the  marriage  of  their  children, 
and  the  theories  still  upheld  by  clauses  of  the  Code  Civil. 
In  "  Bonnes  Meres,"  all  our  sympathy  is  with  the  hero  and 
heroine,  commonplace,  amiable  young  people,  as  anxious 
as  possible  to  fall  in  love  with  each  other  after  being  duly 
married  by  their  respective  mothers,  aided  by  two  marieuses, 
or  matchmakers.  The  two  latter,  mercenary  old  ladies, 
are  represented  as  having  the  run  of  fashionable  society, 
and  receiving  handsome  sums  for  their  matchmaking 
services.  The  unfortunate  young  couple  soon  discover 
that,  far  from  escaping  maternal  control,  wedlock  has 
placed  them  under  tutelage  more  galling.  The  author 
pleads  for  a  revision  of  the  Code  Civil,  and  more  individu- 
ality in  the  home. 

"La  Source  Fatale "  ("The  fatal  source"),  by  A. 
Couvreur,  is  the  third  of  a  series  devoted  to  social  ques- 
tions. The  author's  purpose  is  set  forth  in  his  preface, 
namely,  to  expose  "  the  alcoholic  scourge  that  crowds  our 
prisons,  hospitals,  and  lunatic  asylums,  that  demoralizes  the 
race,  physically,  morally,  and  mentally." 

We  have  here  the  powerful  picture  of  a  promising  and 
happy  life  wrecked  by  absinthe- drinking.  M.  Couvreur 
sets  to  work  scientifically  and  philosophically.  His  hero's 
downhill  career  is  followed  stage  by  stage  with  unsparing 
detail  and  accurate  diagnosis.  The  once  healthful,  whole- 
some-minded, self-controlled  gentleman  gradually  sinks 
into  sensual  excess,  sottishness,  and  mania,  his  last 
frenzied  act  being  to  fire  the  distillery  of  which  he  was 
formerly  secretary. 

But  novels  with  a  purpose  in  France,  as  with  ourselves 
deal  with  the  abnormal,  and  are  no  reflex  of  average 
character  and  careers. 


276          HOME  LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

As  I  have  already  averred,  French  home  life  is  un- 
suitable for  romance.  Domestic  existence  flows  evenly 
as  the  streams  beautifying  native  landscape,  all  kinds  of 
sweet  and  pleasant  objects  reflected  in  their  waves,  but 
one  mile  very  much  resembling  another,  from  source  to  out- 
flow little  in  the  way  of  diversity  or  surprise. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   CODE   CIVIL   AND   FAMILY  LIFE 

BALZAC'S  familiarity  with  the  Code  Civil  is  con- 
spicuous in  many  of  his  works.     Since  the  great 
psychologist  wrote,  however,  domestic  legislation 
in  France  has  been  considerably  modified. 

"  Eugenie  Grandet  "  affords  an  excellent  example  of  the 
first  statement.  In  that  "  great  little  novel,"  an  epithet 
applied  by  Balzac  to  another  of  his  chefs  d'ceuvre,  we  find 
the  miser  of  Saumur  in  despair,  not  because  he  has  lost  his 
wife,  but  because  he  thereby  had  forfeited  control  of  her 
property.  By  dint  of  cajoleries  and  mean  artifices,  he 
induces  the  love-lorn  Eugenie  to  renounce  her  heirship  in 
his  favour. 

When  Balzac  made  cette  grande  fetite  histoire  out  of  the 
merest  nothings,  and  until  a  few  years  ago,  husbands  and 
wives  were  in  no  sense  inheritors  of  each  other's  fortune. 
A  man  dying  intestate,  his  widow,  whether  dowered  or 
portionless,  whether  the  mother  of  children  or  childless, 
was  not  by  law  entitled  to  a  penny  or  so  much  as  a  stick 
of  furniture.  The  very  body  of  the  defunct  could  not  be 
buried  in  accordance  with  her  wishes.*  In  fact,  from  the 
moment  that  the  breath  was  out  of  his  nostrils,  she  became 
a  stranger  in  her  husband's  house.  Only  in  the  case  of 
non-existent  blood  relation,  no  matter  how  remote  the 
kinship,  could  a  widow  claim  her  late  husband's  substance, 

*  The  Michelet  law-suit,  that   made  a  great  stir  some  years  ago,  is  an 
illustration  in  point. 

277 


278          HOME  LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

second  and  even  third  cousins  being  enriched  to  her  entire 
exclusion.  The  same  rule  applied  to  a  widower.  Hence 
the  pire  Grandet's  dilemma.  With  dismay  approaching 
to  frenzy,  he  saw  the  usufruct  of  his  wife's  portion  passing 
into  other  hands,  those  of  their  own  daughter !  It  was  not 
until  1891  that  a  new  law  entitled  the  survivor  of  an 
intestate  partner  to  the  fourth  or  half,  according  to  circum- 
stances, of  his  or  her  income,  such  life-interest  being 
annulled  by  re-marriage,  and  not  holding  good  in  the  case 
of  divorced  persons  or  of  those  judicially  separated.  In 
some  measure  the  legal  one-sidedness  of  former  days  could 
be  remedied  by  the  marriage  contract.  Thus,  a  man  about 
to  marry  a  portionless  bride,  a  most  unusual  occurrence  in 
France,  might,  in  accordance  with  the  regime  called  la 
commnnautt  de  bien,  or  participation  of  means,  endow  his 
wife  with  a  part  of  his  property,  that  part  accruing  to  her 
at  his  death.  But  it  was  not  by  virtue  of  heirship  that  she 
obtained  such  a  share.  She  merely  became  full  possessor 
of  property  which  had  always  been  her  own,  and  of  which 
her  husband  had  been  the  usufructuary. 

I  once  stayed  in  Brittany  with  a  lady  who  had  not 
long  before  lost  her  husband,  a  doctor  of  some  note  ;  from 
time  outstanding  bills  were  paid,  the  half  going  to  his 
children  by  a  former  marriage,  the  other  half,  down  to  a 
centime,  accruing  to  my  hostess.  Both  systems  of  contract 
were  in  full  force  before  the  Revolution,  and  rural  archives 
contain  many  such  marriage  deeds,  particulars  of  property 
on  either  side  being  minuted  with  what  appears  to  us 
whimsical  exactness. 

"  Eugenie  Grandet "  illustrates  other  articles  of  the 
Code,  these,  strange  to  say,  still  in  force. 

Although  a  propertied  woman,  Madame  Grandet  is 
described  as  never  having  a  penny  to  call  her  own.  Miserly 
instinct  and  habits  of  petty  tyranny  were  here  backed  up 
by  the  law.  The  usurer  was  strictly  within  his  right,  and 
to-day,  as  when  Balzac  wrote  three-quarters  of  a  century 


THE   CODE   CIVIL  279 

ago,  French  husbands  enjoy  the  control  of  their  wives' 
income.  If  Frenchwomen  in  the  spirit  exercise  "  all  the 
rule,  one  empire,"  in  the  letter  they  remain  under  marital 
tutelage,  the  Roman  patria  potestas. 

"  A  married  Frenchwoman  never  enjoys  her  fortune  till 
she  dies,"  once  observed  an  old  French  lady  to  me — "  that 
is  to  say,  she  cannot  touch  a  fraction  without  her  husband's 
consent ;  but  if  childless,  unfortunately  my  own  case,  she 
can  will  it  as  she  pleases." 

"  We  cannot  buy  a  silk  dress  with  our  own  money  till 
we  first  get  our  husband's  leave,"  another  friend  said  to  me 
only  the  other  day.  Of  course,  in  most  cases  the  defects 
of  such  legislation  are  remedied  by  character  and  the 
fitness  of  things. 

Frenchwomen  are  naturally  very  authoritative,  French- 
men are  naturally  very  amiable,  and  in  the  highest  degree 
amenable  to  feminine  influence.  When  the  household 
purse  is  too  tightly  gripped,  it  is  most  often  in  the  interests 
of  children,  and  not  from  motives  of  sheer  avarice.  And 
we  must  ever  bear  in  mind  one  fact.  The  ancient  Gaul 
feared  only  the  fall  of  the  heavens  :  the  modern  Frenchman 
trembles  only  before  an  empty  purse !  On  the  legal  aspect 
of  this  subject  a  friend  writes  to  me  : — 

"  You  will  ask  how  comes  it  about  that  our  code  has 
proclaimed  (/diet/}  what  is  called  the  incapacity  of  married 
women  ?  Here  are  the  reasons  furnished  by  commentators 
of  the  Code. 

"  Legislators  consider  that  in  wedlock,  as  in  every  other 
well-organized  association,  an  undivided  seat  of  authority 
can  alone  prevent  confusion  and  discord.  Such  undivided 
authority  the  law  has  naturally  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
husband.  At  the  same  time,  abuse  of  authority  in  financial 
matters  has  been  carefully  guarded  against.  Thus,  a  pro- 
pertied wife  with  cause  to  complain  of  her  husband's 
stewardship  can  obtain  judicial  separation." 

A  few  years  ago  a  bill  was  laid  before  the  Chamber  |n 


280          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

purport  answering  to  the  Married  Woman's  Property  Act 
of  Victorian  legislation — that  is  to  say,  an  Act  securing  to 
married  women  the  absolute  control  of  their  own  earnings. 
The  project  has  not  yet  become  law,  and  is  thus  commented 
upon  by  the  correspondent  just  cited — 

"  In  my  own  opinion,  the  bill  you  mention,  referred  to 
by  M.  Rambaud  in  his  '  History  of  French  Civilization/  has 
slender  chance  of  being  voted.  Should  it  take  effect,  an 
unscrupulous  wife  would  be  at  liberty  to  appropriate  her 
entire  earnings,  spending  upon  herself  what  ought  to  be 
contributed  to  the  family  budget,"  (la  communautf). 

There  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said  for  this  view  of  the  case. 
I  suppose  few  instances  occur  in  England  of  a  married 
couple  entering  domestic  service,  their  child  or  children 
being  put  out  to  nurse.  In  France  the  custom  is  universal. 
Not  only  is  the  household  work  of  Parisian  and  provincial 
hotels  very  generally  shared  by  man  and  wife,  but  in 
private  families  a  husband  will  often  be  employed  as  butler, 
coachman,  or  valet  de  chambre,  his  wife  acting  as  cook  or 
madame's  maid.  Both  naturally  look  forward  to  setting 
up  a  home  sooner  or  later  ;  both  should  naturally  economize 
for  the  purpose.  But  up  to  a  certain  point  the  Code  Civil 
compels  economy,  and  forces  parents  to  make  sacrifices  on 
behalf  of  their  children. 

Here  let  me  explain  that  interesting  law  called  la  dette 
alimentaire,  or  material  obligation,  to  which  we  have  no 
equivalent  in  England.  Specified  by  Articles  205,  206,  and 
207  of  the  Code  Civil,  the  dette  alimentaire  not  only  renders 
parents  responsible  for  the  shelter,  food,  and  clothing  of 
their  children,  but  proclaims  the  charge  reciprocal.  And 
as  sons  and  daughters  entering  another  family  on  marriage 
are  considered  members  of  that  family,  they  are  similarly 
answerable.  Sons  and  daughters-in-law  must  pay  the  dette 
alimentaire  either  in  money  or  kind  to  a  widowed  mother- 
in-law,  her  second  marriage  relieving  them  of  the  burden. 
A  burden  without  doubt  it  is  sometimes  felt,  and  in  one  of 


THE   CODE   CIVIL  281 

Guy  de  Maupassant's  most  revolting  stories  he  brings  out 
this  aspect.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the 
mutual  obligation  immensely  strengthens  family  ties,  and 
at  the  same  time  adds  to  the  dignity  of  humble  life.  What 
Frenchman  capable  of  earning  wages  would  willingly  see 
his  parents  dependent  upon  charity  ? 

Again,  the  dette  alimentaire  is  equally  binding  on 
parents  of  illegitimate  children.  Alike  father  and  mother 
are  compelled  by  law  to  feed,  clothe,  and  shelter  their 
offspring. 

The  dette  d' Education  concerns  itself  with  parental  duties 
only.  The  State  provides  the  best  possible  education  for 
every  child  born  upon  French  soil,  but  on  parents  is  laid 
the  charge  of  profiting  by  such  opportunities,  and  of  adding 
moral  and  physical  training. 

Recent  emendations  of  the  Code  have  considerably 
modified  those  sections  dealing  with  women.  Thus,  a  law 
passed  in  1895  enables  a  married  woman  to  open  a  separate 
savings-bank  account,  and  to  withdraw  any  sums  so  put 
by,  provided  the  husband  offers  no  opposition,  such  opposi- 
tion being  rendered  all  but  ineffective  by  clauses  that 
follow. 

By  virtue  of  an  anterior  law  (1886),  a  wife  can  ensure 
a  small  annuity  for  old  age,  the  instalments  placed  from 
time  to  time  requiring  no  marital  authorization.  It  will 
be  seen  that  a  marked  tendency  of  recent  legislation  has 
been  its  favourableness  towards  the  sex.  I  have  elsewhere 
mentioned  the  important  right  recently  conferred  upon 
tradesmen,  that  of  electing  delegates  to  the  Chambers  of 
Commerce. 

Classified  by  the  Code  with  minors  and  idiots,  it  was 
not  till  1897  that  a  French  woman  could  witness  a  deed. 
To-day  she  enjoys  privileges  for  which  her  English  sisters 
sigh  in  vain. 

By  an  Act  of  1900,  women  in  France  were  admitted  to 
the  bar. 


282          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

Another  and  equally  recent  law  may  perhaps  have  been 
suggested  by  English  precedent.  By  an  Act  of  December, 
1900,  heads  of  business  houses  employing  female  assistants 
were  compelled  to  supply  precisely  as  many  seats  as  the 
number  of  the  employed.  Formerly,  as  here,  young  women 
were  on  their  feet  all  day  long,  to  the  deterioration  of  health 
and  physique. 

I  will  now  say  a  few  words  upon  the  enforced  division 
of  property.  I  do  not  suppose  that  many  readers  will  agree 
with  an  old  friend  of  mine,  a  Burgundian  of  the  old  school. 
Some  years  ago  we  had  been  warmly  discussing  the  con- 
trasted systems,  English  freedom  of  testacy  and  the  restric- 
tive measures  of  France. 

"  No,"  he  said,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  nothing  you  say 
will  ever  convince  me  that  it  is  right  to  will  away  property 
from  one's  flesh  and  blood.  And,"  he  added,  with  an  air  of 
entire  conviction,  "  one  thing  I  am  sure  of — the  knowledge 
that  young  people  must  inherit  their  parents'  fortune,  and 
probably  that  of  uncles  and  aunts  also,  makes  them  more 
affectionate." 

Certainly  a  quite  opposite  impression  is  gained  from 
Balzac's  great  series ;  nor  do  Maupassant  and  later 
writers  force  such  an  opinion  upon  the  mind.  Most 
French  folks,  I  fancy,  would  agree  with  my  nepotious 
gentilhomme.  Anyhow,  they  would  probably  endorse  the 
obligation  of  enriching,  not  only  sons  and  daughters  to 
the  exclusion  of  every  other  claim,  but  also  nephews  and 
nieces. 

I  well  remember  an  instance  in  point.  An  acquaintance 
of  many  years'  standing,  for  whom  I  entertained  great 
respect,  the  manager  of  a  large  Paris  hotel,  was  seized  with 
mortal  sickness,  a  slow  but  fatal  malady  rendering  him 
quite  unfit  for  the  bodily  and  mental  wear  and  tear  of  such 
a  position. 

"  Why  do  you  not  give  up  and  rest,  dear  Monsieur 
R ? "  I  ventured  to  say  one  day.  "  You  have  no  wife 


THE   CODE   CIVIL  283 

or  children  depending  on  you,  cher  monsieur.  Why  work 
so  hard  when  ill  and  unfit  for  anything  ? " 

"  I  have  nephews  and  nieces,"  was  the  reply. 

There,  then,  was  a  rich  man  battling  with  pain  and  lassi- 
tude in  order  that  young  men  and  women,  well  able  to  earn 
their  own  living,  should  be  enriched. 

A  few  words  about  enforced  testamentation  will  not 
here  be  inappropriate. 

Like  the  daughters  of  Zelophehad,  French  girls  inherit 
the  paternal  patrimony.  If  the  Code  Civil  treats  the  sex 
as  irresponsible  beings,  the  strictest  justice  is  dealt  out  to 
them  with  regard  to  material  exigencies.  Share  and  share 
alike  is  the  excellent  rule  laid  down  by  French  legists. 
But  parents  are  by  no  means  prohibited  from  befriending 
philanthropic  or  other  causes.  A  certain  testamentary 
latitude  is  allowed  to  both  father  and  mother. 

Thus,  whilst  the  father  of  an  only  child,  whether  son  or 
daughter,  cannot  deprive  that  child  of  the  half  of  his  fortune, 
the  other  half  he  can  bequeath  as  he  will.  If  there  are  two 
children,  each  is  entitled  to  a  third  of  the  paternal  estate, 
the  remainder  being  at  the  testator's  disposal.  The  same 
rules  apply  to  a  propertied  mother. 

To  children,  French  law  has  ever  shown  tenderness. 
Thus,  children  born  out  of  wedlock  are  naturalized  by  the 
subsequent  marriage  of  parents,  and  recent  legislation 
(March,  1896)  has  favoured  them  in  the  matter  of  property. 
Anteriorally,  provided  that  an  illegitimate  child  had  been 
legally  acknowledged  by  either  parent,  the  law  awarded 
him  a  third  of  what  would  have  been  his  portion  but  for 
the  bar  sinister.  By  a  recent  law  this  share  is  now  the  half 
of  what  would  accrue  to  a  legitimate  son  or  daughter,  two- 
thirds  if  no  brothers  or  sisters  exist  born  in  wedlock,  and 
the  entire  parental  fortune  falls  to  him  in  case  of  no  direct 
descendants  remaining. 

A  wonderful  study  is  that  Gallo-Roman  Codex ! 

Like    the    world-encircling    serpent    of    Scandinavian 


284          HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

mythology,  the  Code  Civil,  with  bands  of  triple  brass, 
with  a  drastic  noli  me  tangere,  binds  family  life  into  a 
compact,  indissoluble  whole,  renders  unassailable,  impreg- 
nable, that  sacred  ark,  that  palladium  of  national  strength, 
healthfulness,  and  vitality,  the  ancestral,  the  patriarchal 
home ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

NEW  YEAR'S   ETIQUETTE 

OUTSIDE  royal  and  official  circles,  etiquette  sits 
lightly  on  English  shoulders.  Christmas  boxes 
to  children,  servants,  and  postmen  are  certainly 
regarded  in  the  light  of  an  obligation.  Here  what  may 
be  called  domestic  subjection  to  the  calendar  begins  and 
ends.  We  may  notice  or  pass  over  the  New  Year  as  we 
will.  In  France,  it  is  otherwise.  New  Year's  etiquette 
is  surely  the  heaviest  untaxed  burden  ever  laid  upon  the 
shoulders  of  a  civilized  people.  From  the  Elyse'e  down  to 
the  mansarde,  from  the  President  of  the  Republic  down 
to  the  dustman,  every  successive  First  of  January  is 
memorialized  with  almost  religious  ceremonial.  The  Pro- 
tocol is  not  more  rigidly  followed,  the  Code  Civil  itself  is 
not  more  precise,  than  French  etiquette  of  the  New  Year. 
It  is  then  that  the  bureaucratic  and  military  world  respect- 
fully salute  their  chiefs  ;  it  is  then  that  family  bonds  are 
re-knit  in  closest  union  ;  it  is  then  that  our  neighbours 
bring  out  their  visiting  lists  and  balance  the  debit  and 
credit  of  social  intercourse.  With  ourselves  the  dropping 
of  an  acquaintance  is  a  ticklish  and  disagreeable  business. 
They  manage  these  things  better  over  the  water.  Not  to 
receive  a  New  Year's  call,  or,  if  distance  prevents,  a  visiting 
card,  is  the  indisputable,  the  recognized  indication  that 
sender  and  addressee  are  henceforth  to  be  strangers. 

French    etiquette   of  the   New  Year  may  be  divided 
under  three  heads,  that  of  ttrennes,  or  gifts ;   secondly, 

285 


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visits ;  thirdly,  cards.  The  first  is  obligatory  in  the  case 
of  friends  and  acquaintances  as  well  as  relations  and  sub- 
ordinates, and  requires  considerable  thought.  Custom  has 
pretty  well  settled  the  question  of  gifts  in  money  to 
concierge,  or  portress,  postmen,  telegraph-boy,  tradesmen's 
assistants,  and  domestic  servants.  Thus  the  modest 
householder  occupying  a  tiny  flat  and  eking  out  an  income 
of  three  or  four  thousand  francs  (£120  to  £160)  yearly, 
must  reckon  upon  a  minimum  outlay  of  a  hundred  francs 
(£4)  on  New  Year's  Day,  larger  incomes  being  proportion- 
ately mulcted.  Heads  of  business  houses  pay  away  large 
sums  in  gifts  of  money.  A  young  lady,  the  experienced 
manageress  of  a  large  establishment,  lately  told  me  that 
the  New  Year's  gifts  from  her  employer  had  often  been 
several  hundred  francs.  As  for  her  part,  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  giving  twenty  francs  to  one  relation,  ten  to 
another,  and  so  on,  besides  making  presents  to  friends 
and  liberally  tipping  underlings,  she  could  hardly  have 
been  richer  for  the  largesse.  We  are  in  the  habit  of  con- 
sidering our  neighbours  as  a  thrifty,  even  parsimonious 
people.  On  the  contrary,  New  Year's  expenditure  proves 
them  to  be  the  most  lavish  in  the  world. 

The  settling  of  accounts  with  house  porters,  telegraph 
messengers,  and  one's  household  is  easy.  Precedent  and 
means  regulate  the  scale  of  liberality.  Much  more  onerous 
is  the  selection  of  purchases,  especially  those  to  be  offered 
outside  the  family  circle.  Here  etiquette  is  rigorously 
explicit,  the  rules  for  receiving  being  as  strictly  laid  down 
as  those  for  giving.  To  persons  occupying  a  decidedly 
superior  rank,  nothing  must  arrive  on  the  occasion  of  the 
New  Year,  but  game,  flowers,  or  fruit  are  permissible  later 
on.  A  man  in  the  habit  of  dining  at  a  friend's  house  may 
offer  his  hostess  flowers  and  her  children  bonbons,  the 
classic  tribute.  Only  relations  and  intimate  friends  are 
privileged  to  present  folks  with  anything  useful ;  trinkets, 
plate,  furniture,  or  even  millinery.  Thus,  one  lady  may 


NEW  YEAR'S   ETIQUETTE         287 

say  to  another,  "  Do  help  me  out  of  a  dilemma.  I  wish 
to  send  you  a  souvenir,  but  have  not  the  least  idea  of  what 
it  should  be.  Mention  something  that  you  would  find 
really  useful."  This  rule  is  admirably  practical,  and  might 
very  well  be  carried  out  here. 

When  a  New  Year's  gift  is  presented  by  the  donor  in 
person,  it  is  the  height  of  bad  taste  to  lay  aside  the 
packet  unopened.  The  offering  must  be  looked  at,  admired, 
and,  whether  acceptable  or  no,  rapturously  acknowledged, 
so  at  least  says  a  leading  authority  on  the  subject.  And, 
adds  the  writer,  the  giver  of  a  modest  present  should 
receive  warmer  thanks  than  those  who  have  sent  us  some- 
thing really  magnificent.  The  former  may  be  ashamed  of 
his  offering,  the  latter  is  well  aware  that  he  has  given 
liberal  money's  worth. 

We  next  come  to  visits,  and  here  if  possible  etiquette 
is  more  stringent,  more  complicated  than  with  regard  to 
etrennes. 

In  observing  French  manners  and  customs,  we  must 
ever  bear  in  mind  that  family  feeling,  like  the  mainspring 
of  a  clock,  regulates  every  movement  of  the  social  body. 
When  our  great  brother  poets  wrote — 

"  The  name  of  Friend  is  more  than  family 
Or  all  the  world  beside," 

they  uttered  a  sentiment  that  might  be  applicable  in  classic 
Rhodes,  but  could  have  no  appropriateness  on  the  New 
Year's  Day  to  France.  Here  is  a  nice  indication  of  this 
supremacy,  the  predominance  of  family  feeling  over  every 
other.  New  Year's  visits  to  parents  and  grandparents  are 
paid  on  the  last  day  of  the  old  year.  By  such  anticipation 
filial  respect  and  affection  are  emphasized.  Lejour  de  fan 
indeed  belongs  to  the  home  circle.  Outside  the  official 
world  ceremonial  visits  are  relegated  to  a  later  day  of  the 
week  or  even  month.  "  A  visit  on  New  Year's  Day," 
writes  another  authority,  "is  only  admissible  officially 


288          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

among  those  persons  nearly  related  to  each  other,  or  who 
are  on  terms  of  closest  intimacy — in  a  word,  who  can  ex- 
change heartfelt  effusions,  conventional  commonplaces 
being  inappropriate. 

The  family  New  Year's  dinner  is  a  custom  still  very 
generally  kept  up,  one  or  two  intimate  friends  being  also 
invited.  Even  during  periods  of  mourning,  when  every 
other  social  reunion  is  out  of  the  question,  these 
dinners  will  take  place,  under  such  circumstances  being 
melancholy  enough.  Unlike  our  own  Christmas  dinners, 
there  is  no  statutory  bill  of  fare.  It  is  quite  other- 
wise with  the  midnight  supper  of  the  Reveillon,  or 
Watch  Night,  when  a  turkey  stuffed  with  truffles  or 
chestnuts,  black  pudding,  fritters,  and  champagne  are 
always  forthcoming,  and  with  Twelfth  Day  and  its  cake. 
The  children's  festival  may  be  celebrated  any  day  before 
February,  whilst  private  persons  may  also  pay  their  New 
Year's  visits,  so-called,  throughout  January,  the  official 
world  is  bound  to  strictest  etiquette.  From  the  highest 
functionary  of  the  State  to  the  lowest,  alike  civilians  and 
soldiers  must  personally  visit  superiors  on  New  Year's 
Day.  Then,  with  many  a  secret  objurgation,  we  may 
be  sure,  hard-worked,  over-tired  officers  have  to  don  full 
military  dress,  order  a  carriage  and  drive  to  the  Elysee 
and  the  Ministry  of  War.  I  say  with  many  secret 
objurgations,  because  French  officers,  as  a  rule,  do  not 
care  to  wear  uniform  except  when  absolutely  obliged,  the 
ordinary  attire  of  a  gentleman  being  so  much  more 
comfortable.  Then  the  modestly  paid  village  schoolmaster 
screws  out  money  for  a  pair  of  light  kid  gloves,  and  spick 
and  span  presents  himself  at  Prefecture  or  Mairie.  And 
then  lady  principals  of  lycees  for  girls  have  to  sit  in 
solemn  state  whilst  parents  and  guardians  pay  grateful 
homage.  Those  poor  lady  principals !  I  well  remember 
a  New  Year's  afternoon  spent  with  my  friend,  Mile. 
B ,  directrice  of  a  public  girls'  school  at  Nantes.  For 


NEW  YEAR'S   ETIQUETTE         289 

hours  they  streamed  in,  grandparents,  fathers  and  mothers, 
uncles  and  aunts,  all  gracefully  going  through  the  arduous 
duty,  a  duty  by  no  means  to  be  shirked  on  either  side. 

But  habit   is   everything.     Neither  Mile.  B nor  her 

sisters,  we  may  be  sure,  resented  the  obligation.  From 
end  to  end  of  France  the  same  kind  of  ceremonial  was 
taking  place,  every  member  of  the  administrative  body, 
like  mediaeval  feudatories  doing  homage  to  his  chief,  in 
the  official  as  in  the  domestic  circle,  bonds  being  thus 
tightened,  fresh  seals  set  upon  mutual  interdependence. 
As  a  stone  thrown  into  water  sends  out  wider  and  wider 
ripples,  so  the  Presidential  reception  is  the  signal  for 
similar  manifestations  throughout  French  dominions,  New 
Year's  Day  and  its  observance  symbolizing  and  strength- 
ening patriotism  and  devotion  to  the  Republic. 

We  now  come  to  visiting  cards,  a  most  important  sub- 
ject. The  etiquette  of  the  visiting  card,  indeed,  demands 
a  paper  to  itself.  We  will,  however,  strictly  confine 
ourselves  to  its  use  on  New  Year's  Day,  or,  more  properly 
speaking,  during  the  first  two  or  three  weeks  of  the  year. 

The  exchange  of  these  missives  is  at  this  time  imper- 
ative, not  only  among  official  ranks,  but  also  among  friends 
and  acquaintances  prevented  by  distance  from  making  a 
personal  call.  Equally  stringent  are  the  rules  concerning 
dispatch.  Thus,  as  in  the  case  of  family  visits,  precedence 
indicates  respect,  whilst  the  merely  social  obligation  may 
be  fulfilled  throughout  the  month  of  January,  no  such 
margin  is  allowed  in  the  official  world.  Functionaries  and 
administrative  subordinates  must  on  no  account  defer 
posting  cards  until  December  is  out.  Such  marks  of 
attention  should  be  posted  so  as  to  reach  their  destination 
too  soon  rather  than  too  late.  And  no  matter  how  humble 
the  position  of  the  sender,  his  compliment  is  scrupulously 
returned.  Omission  of  this  duty  would  not  only  betoken 
ill-breeding,  but  want  of  considerateness,  and  in  certain 
cases  would  even  constitute  an  affront, 
u 


290          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Remembrances  in  the  shape  of  New  Year's  cards  often 
take  touching  form.  For  instance,  some  years  since  I 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  weaver's  family  in  a  little 
Champagne  town,  and  before  leaving  added  a  trifle  to 
the  tire-lire  or  money-box  of  the  youngest  child,  a  boy 
at  school.  He  is  now  doing  his  three  years'  military 
service,  and  regularly  sends  me  a  New  Year's  card  dated 
from  the  barracks  ;  often,  indeed,  those  who  can  ill  afford 
it  indulge  in  printed  visiting  cards  expressly  for  this  use. 
Heterogeneous  is  the  collection  deposited  in  my  own 
letter-box  during  the  month  of  January,  and  from  remotest 
corners  they  come,  each  bearing  the  legalized  greeting. 
The  French  post-office  is  the  most  amiable  in  the  world, 
and  relaxes  its  rules  so  that  folks  may  greet  each  other  at 
small  expense.  Ordinarily  a  visiting  card  having  writing 
on  it,  instead  of  passing  with  a  halfpenny  stamp,  would  be 
charged  as  a  letter.  What  are  called  mots  impersonnels 
("impersonal  words"),  five  in  number,  are  allowed  on  the 
occasion  of  the  New  Year.  Here  are  one  or  two  examples 
copied  from  last  January's  budget :  Vceux  bien  respectueux, 
bons  souhaits,  meilleurs  souhaits  et  amities,  souvenirs  con- 
fraternels  et  bons  vceux.  ("Very  respectful  wishes,  Good 
wishes,  Best  wishes  and  remembrances,  Fraternal  re- 
membrances and  good  wishes.") 

The  visiting  card  transmitted  by  halfpenny  post  may 
to  some  appear  an  insignificant  and  inadequate  testimony 
alike  of  respect,  consideration,  and  affection.  But  it  is  not 
so.  Michelet  described  the  beauty  of  Frenchwomen  as 
made  up  of  little  nothings.  So  the  charm  and  stability 
of  French  life,  considered  from  the  social  aspect,  may  be 
described  as  a  sum  total  of  small,  almost  infinitesimal, 
gracious  things. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE   ENTENTE   CORDIALS 

I  TAKE  it  that  the  entente  cordiale  will  resemble  a 
prosy,  middle-aged  French  marriage,  not  a  scintilla 
of  romance  existing  on  either  side,  material  interests 
being  guaranteed,  no  loophole  left  for  nagging,  much  less 
litigation.  Stolid  bridegroom  and  beautiful  partner  will  jog 
on  comfortably  enough,  perhaps  discovering  some  day, 
after  the  manner  of  M.  Jourdain,  that  they  have  been  the 
best  possible  friends  all  their  lives  without  knowing  it ! 

It  is  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished,  and  which 
the  Anglo-French  Convention  has  surely  brought  within 
the  range  of  possibility.  Like  naughty,  ill-bred  little  boy 
and  girl  making  faces  and  nasardes  at  each  other  across 
the  road,  for  years  John  Bull  and  Madame  la  R6publique 
seemed  bent  on  coming  to  fisticuffs.  By  great  good  luck  the 
road  was  not  easy  to  cross,  and  now  grown  older  and  wiser, 
the  pair  at  least  blow  kisses  to  each  other  and  pass  on. 

So  great  has  occasionally  been  the  tension  between 
England  and  France  that  even  cool  heads  predicted  a 
catastrophe.  In  a  letter  addressed  to  myself  in  February, 
1885,  and  written  from  his  home  near  Autun,  Mr.  Hamer- 
ton  wrote,  "I  have  been  vexed  for  some  time  by  the 
tendency  to  jealous  hostility  between  France  and  England. 
I  have  thought  sometimes  of  trying  to  found  an  Anglo- 
French  society,  the  members  of  which  should  simply 
engage  themselves  to  do  their  best  on  all  occasions  to 
soften  the  harsh  feeling  between  the  two  nations.  I  dare 

291 


292          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

say  some  literary  people  would  join  such  a  league,  Swin- 
burne and  Tennyson,  for  instance,  and  some  influential 
politicians,  like  Bright,  might  be  counted  upon.  Peace 
and  war  hang  on  such  trifles,  that  a  society  such  as  I  am 
imagining  might  possibly  on  some  occasions  have  influence 
enough  to  prevent  war." 

And  in  his  work,  "  French  and  English,"  Mr.  Hamerton 
touched  a  prevailingly  pessimistic  note.  Anything  like 
cordial  friendship  between  the  two  nations  he  regarded  as 
pure  chimera ;  we  must  be  more  than  satisfied,  he  seemed 
to  think,  with  civility  and  politeness.  But  are  not  civility 
and  politeness  ancillary  to  friendship  ?  Might  not  much 
of  the  bitterness  formerly  characterizing  Anglo-French 
relations  be  imputed  to  absence  of  these  qualities  ?  If 
the  respective  Governments  have  here  been  at  fault,  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  people.  Alike  historians, 
novelists,  journalists,  and  writers  generally,  on  both  sides 
of  the  Channel,  have  been  guilty  of  flagrant  indiscretion. 
Whenever  a  stage  villain  was  wanted  by  one  of  our  own 
story-tellers,  France  must  supply  the  type.  Dickens  fell 
into  the  absurd  habit,  and,  as  one  of  his  French  admirers 
lately  observed  to  me,  the  entire  suppression  of  M.  Blandois 
from  "Little  Dorrit"  would  in  no  wise  injure  the  story, 
rather  the  reverse  ;  whilst  the  picture  of  Mademoiselle 
Hortense  revenging  an  affront  by  walking  barefoot  through 
a  mile  or  two  of  wet  grass  is  the  one  artistic  blot  on 
"Bleak  House,"  the  incident  being  grossly  farcical,  and 
faulty  as  characterization. 

French  novelists  have  followed  the  same  course.  The 
villain  of  "  The  Three  Musketeers  "  must,  of  course,  be  an 
Englishwoman.  Balzac  piled  up  a  Pelion  on  Ossa  of 
Britannic  vices  when  portraying  "Miladi  Dudley."  Even 
an  elegant  writer  like  Victor  Cherbuliez,  when  in  want  of 
an  odious  termagant  for  a  story,  gave  her  an  English 
name.  "  Gyp  "  has  made  many  novels  the  vehicle  of  virulent 
anti-English  feeling. 


THE   ENTENTE   CORDIALE        293 

Other  writers  in  both  countries  have  taken  the  same 
tone.  In  a  work  entitled  "  Le  Colosse  aux  pieds  d'argile," 
published  five  years  since,  a  certain  M.  Jean  de  la  Poul- 
laine  described  England  as  a  country  wholly  decadent,  a 
civilization  fast  falling  into  rottenness  and  decay.  For 
years,  as  editress  of  the  Nouvelle  Revue,  Madame  Adam 
preached  war  to  the  knife  with  England.  The  superfine 
and  disguisedly  sensual  writer  known  as  Pierre  Loti  shows 
his  disapproval  of  perfide  Albion  by  ignoring  her  very 
existence  in  a  work  upon  India. 

Counter  strokes  have  not  been  wanting  on  this  side  of 
the  Channel.  A  few  years  back  appeared,  from  an  eminent 
publishing  firm,  an  abominable  book  entitled  "France 
and  her  Republic,"  by  a  writer  named  Hurlbert.  And 
most  inauspiciously,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  for  the  work  itself, 
has  just  appeared  a  posthumous  medley  of  abuse  and 
vituperation  by  the  late  Mr.  Vandam.  Of  journalism  it 
is  surely  unnecessary  to  speak.  On  both  sides  of  the 
Channel  journalistic  influence  has  been  for  the  most  part 
the  reverse  of  conciliatory.  This  is  all  the  more  to  be 
regretted,  as  many  folks,  English  as  well  as  French,  read 
their  newspapers  and  little  else. 

Historians  have  done  much  more  than  novelists  and 
miscellaneous  writers  to  keep  alive  international  prejudices. 
In  a  passage  of  profound  wisdom  our  great  philosopher 
Locke  insisted  on  the  power,  indeed,  one  might  almost 
say  ineradicableness,  of  early  associations.  "  I  notice  the 
present  argument  (on  the  association  of  ideas),"  he  said, 
"that  those  who  have  children,  or  the  charge  of  their 
education,  would  think  it  worth  their  while  diligently  to 
watch  and  carefully  prevent  the  undue  connection  of  ideas 
in  the  minds  of  young  people."  How  many  well-intentioned 
English  folks  have  imbibed  anti-French  feeling  from  the 
pages  of  Mrs.  Markham !  Until  quite  recently,  baneful 
tradition  has  been  sedulously  nursed  on  French  soil  as 
well.  In  their  valuable  histories  Michelet  and  Henri 


294          HOME   LIFE   IN  FRANCE 

Martin  seem  of  set  purpose  to  accentuate  French  grievances 
against  England  alike  in  the  past  and  in  modern  times. 

It  has  been  left  to  living  writers  in  some  measure  to 
correct  these  impressions.  M.  Rambaud,  ex-minister  of 
public  instruction,  has  here  rendered  immense  service. 
Among  other  things,  he  tells  his  country-people  ("  Histoire 
de  la  Civilization  Franchise")  of  the  following  home- 
truths:  "During  the  so-called  English  wars  the  worst  evils 
were  wrought  by  Frenchmen.  It  was  Robert  d'Artois 
and  Geoffroi  d'  Harcourt  who  provoked  the  first  invasion 
of  Edward  III.  It  was  with  an  army  partly  made  up 
of  Gascons  that  the  Black  Prince  won  the  battle  of 
Poitiers;  a  Duke  of  Burgundy  threw  open  the  gates  of 
Paris  to  the  English,  a  Norman  bishop  and  Norman 
judges  brought  about  the  burning  of  Jeanne  d'Arc."  And 
in  an  excellent  little  manual  for  the  young,  this  writer, 
aided  by  the  first  living  authority  on  the  Revolution, 
M.  Aulard,  has  re-written  history  in  the  same  rigidly 
impartial  spirit. 

Here,  too,  judicial  accounts  of  the  Revolution  are 
gradually  supplanting  the  highly  coloured  travesties  of 
former  days.  In  no  sense  contemplated  as  historic 
retribution,  the  inevitable  outcome  of  political  and  social 
corruption,  the  French  Revolution  was  treated  by  English 
writers  from  one  point  of  view  only,  that  of  sympathy  with 
three  or  four  victims.  The  fate  of  Marie  Antoinette  and 
her  hapless  son,  regarded  simply  and  solely  as  resulting 
from  popular  hatred,  has  served  to  blind  generations  of 
English  readers  to  the  other  side  of  that  great  tragedy — 
the  sufferings  and  wrongs,  not  of  a  handful  of  high-born 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  of  millions,  of  an  entire  people. 

Carlyle's  long-drawn-out  rhapsody  struck  a  new  note. 
Of  late  years  the  revolutionary  epoch  and  its  leaders,  the 
makers  of  modern  France,  have  been  dealt  with  in  a 
wholly  different  spirit.  I  need  only  refer  to  such  works  as 
Mr.  A.  Beesly's  life  of  Danton  and  Mr.  Morse  Stephens' 


THE   ENTENTE   CORDIALE        295 

studies  in  the  same  field.  Two  French  writers  of  two 
generations  ago  wrote  with  knowledge  and  sympathy  of 
English  life  and  character,  Phil  arete  Chasles,  who  describes 
early  years  spent  in  England  (Memoires,  1874,  etc.),  and 
Prosper  Merime'e,  who,  in  a  recently  published  volume  of 
correspondence,  rebuts  the  notion  that  Merrie  England 
is  a  thing  of  the  past  and  tradition.  And  the  works  of 
M.  Max  Leclerc,  on  English  collegiate  life,  of  M. 
Demolins  on  our  systems  of  education  generally,  and 
of  MM.  Chevrillon  and  Fion,  have  been  incalculably 
useful  in  modifying  French  views. 

Philosophy,  as  might  be  expected,  has  generally  treated 
England  and  the  English  people  from  a  judicial  stand- 
point. The  works  of  M.  Coste  and  other  philosophic 
writers  should  be  read  by  all  interested  in  this  subject. 
M.  Coste  ("Sociologie  Objective,"  1897),  divides  social 
evolution  into  five  stages,  the  fifth  embodying  the  highest 
as  yet  realized,  perhaps  as  yet  conceivable.  England, 
and  England  alone,  has  reached  this  fifth  stage,  some  other 
States,  notably  France  and  Germany,  following  in  the 
same  direction. 

According  to  this  writer,  English  civilization  is 
characterized  by  individualism  and  a  total  absence  of 
caste.  The  last-mentioned  and  dominant  feature  of 
primitive  societies  has  vanished  from  England,  whilst 
in  France  the  reverse  is  the  case.  "It  is  impossible  to 
deny,"  writes  our  author  (1899),  "that  caste  (£ esprit  de 
classe)  is  a  survival  in  France  ;  at  any  rate,  it  exists  in 
a  latent  condition,  ready  to  be  called  forth  by  any  outburst 
of  popular  passion.  A  hundred  years  after  the  great 
Revolution,  instead  of  individualizing,  we  classify  ;  we 
are  constantly  arraigning  bodies  of  men  instead  of 
regarding  them  as  entities.  The  Panama  and  Dreyfus 
agitation  are  instances  in  point.  Incrimination  has  been 
collective.  Whilst  this  survival  remains,  we  cannot  say 
that  we  have  reached  the  highest  stage  of  civilization," 


296  HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

At  a  time  when  ant i- Protestant  feeling  in  France 
had  almost  attained  the  proportion  of  anti-Semitism, 
M.  Coste  did  not  hesitate  to  pen  these  words,  before 
quoted  by  me :  "  France  missed  her  reformation  three 
hundred  years  ago,  and  is  the  sufferer  thereby  to  this 
day."  And  M.  Fouillee,  his  distinguished  contemporary, 
following  the  same  train  of  thought,  writes,  "We  must 
admit  that  to  Roman  Catholicism  with  much  good  we  owe 
great  evils,"  adding,  after  some  profound  remarks  on  the 
attitude  of  the  Romish  Church  towards  certain  moral 
questions,  "  It  has  been  justly  remarked  that  the  temper- 
ance cause  makes  much  more  progress  in  Protestant 
countries,  where  it  is  essentially  allied  to  religion" 
("Psychologic  du  peuple  Frangais,"  1899). 

The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  up  to  the  present 
time  English  and  French  have  as  little  understood  each 
other  as  if  they  dwelt  on  different  planets. 

It  has  often  happened  to  me  to  be  the  first  English 
person  French  country  folks  had  ever  seen. 

"  Do  you  Protestants  believe  in  God  ? "  once  asked  of 
me  a  young  woman,  caretaker  of  an  Auvergnat  chateau, 
the  historic  ruins  of  Polignac. 

"There  is  a  law  in  your  country  strictly  prohibiting 
the  purchase  of  land  by  the  peasants,  is  there  not  ? " 
I  was  once  asked  by  a  Frenchman. 

And  when,  chatting  one  day  with  a  travelling  acquaint- 
ance in  Burgundy,  I  contrasted  the  number  of  English 
tourists  in  France  with  the  paucity  of  French  tourists  in 
England,  she  observed  sharply — 

"  The  reason  is  simple  enough.  France  is  a  beautiful 
country,  and  England  a  hideous  one." 

Whereupon  I  put  the  question,  had  madame  ever 
crossed  the  Channel ;  to  which  she  answered  somewhat 
contemptuously,  No.  England  was  evidently  not  worth 
seeing. 

My  late  friend,  the  genial  but  quizzical  Max  O'Rell, 


THE   ENTENTE   CORDIALE        297 

once  told  me  that  an  old  Breton  lady,  in  all  seriousness, 
put  the  following  question  to  him  : — 

"Tell  me,  M.  Blouet,  you  who  know  England  so  well, 
are  there  any  railways  in  that  country  ? " 

It  is  strange  that,  whilst  so  little  understanding  us 
as  a  nation,  our  French  neighbours  should  have  paid 
us  the  perpetual  compliment  of  imitation. 

Anglomania,  indeed,  so  far  back  as  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  was  a  force  mightier  than  the 
will  of  the  greatest  autocrat  the  world  has  ever  seen — the 
Sun  King  himself.  For  years  Louis  XIV.  had  thundered 
in  vain  against  coiffures  d  la  Fontanges,  the  pyramidal 
headdress  seen  in  the  portraits  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. 
In  1714,  an  English  lady  wearing  her  hair  dressed  low 
was  introduced  at  Versailles.  Straightway,  as  if  by 
magic,  the  cumbersome  and  disfiguring  superstructures 
fell,  the  king  being  enraged  that  "  an  English  hussy " 
had  more  influence  in  such  matters  than  himself. 

It  was  more  especially  after  the  Restoration  that 
Anglicisms,  the  word  as  well  as  the  thing,  were  naturalized 
in  France — bifteck,  rosbif,  turf,  grog,  jockey,  and  many 
others,  the  numbers  increasing  from  time  to  time.  Many 
of  these  words  have  been  admitted  by  the  Academy 
into  the  French  vocabulary.  Thus,  flanelle  from  flannel, 
macadam,  cottage,  drain,  square,  meeting  inter  alia  received 
Academic  sanction  in  1878.  The  best  contemporary 
writers  often  use  English  words  not  as  yet  naturalized, 
without  italics  or  inverted  commas.  Thus  Cherbuliez 
wrote  of  the  hall  instead  of  le  vestibule  in  one  of  his 
novels ;  M.  Brieux  makes  a  lady  conjugate  the  verb 
luncher  in  his  play  Les  Remplacantes  ;  flirt,  croquet,  garden 
party,  five  o'clock,  and  a  variety  of  similar  expressions 
are  employed  as  if  belonging  to  the  French  tongue. 
English  names  and  pet  names  have  an  especial  attraction 
for  French  ears.  The  hero  of  "  Deux  Vies,"  a  recent  novel 
by  the  brothers  Margueritte,  is  "Charlie,"  instead  of  Charles. 


298          HOME   LIFE    IN   FRANCE 

Jack  is  another  diminutive  in  high  favour,  whilst  Jane  is 
persistently  substituted  for  the  far  prettier  Jeanne.  Neither 
political  pin-pricks  nor  social  snubs  on  either  side  have  in 
the  very  least  affected  this  amiable  weakness  for  all  things 
English.  For  years  past  the  word  dejeuner  has  gone  out 
of  fashion.  No  one  in  society  would  dream  of  calling  the 
midday  meal  by  that  hour ;  and  Society  now  takes  its 
afternoon  tea  as  regularly  as  ourselves.  I  even  learn  that 
certain  aristocratic  ladies  have  inaugurated  a  family  break- 
fast after  English  fashion,  the  first  meal  of  the  day  being 
taken  in  company,  instead  of  in  bed  or  in  one's  bedroom, 
the  hostess  dressed  as  with  ourselves  for  lunch — in  fact,  for 
the  day. 

It  was  the  English  family  breakfast-table  that  most 
charmed  Rousseau  when  a  guest  here.  And  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  ere  long  papa,  mamma,  and  their  little  family 
of  one  or  two  will  sit  down  to  matutinal  coffee,  perhaps 
adopting  the  inevitable  eggs  and  bacon ! 

On  both  sides  of  the  Channel,  reasoning  and  reason- 
able folks  have  long  desired  the  cordial  Anglo-French 
relations  now  happily  established  by  the  initiative  of  King 
Edward. 

So  far  back  as  1885  a  retired  notary  and  landed  pro- 
prietor of  Bordeaux  wrote  to  me,  "  We  do  not  at  all  know 
your  country  people — a  misfortune  for  two  nations  assuredly 
differing  in  natural  gifts  and  qualities,  but  each  worthy 
of  each  other's  esteem.  Placed  as  both  are  in  the  van- 
guard of  progress  by  their  free  institutions,  their  literature, 
science,  arts,  and  economic  conditions,  any  conflict  between 
France  and  England  would  not  only  prove  the  greatest 
misfortune  to  the  two  nations,  but  would  retard  the  progress 
of  civilization  for  centuries.  I  am  far  from  apprehending 
such  a  catastrophe,  but  we  should  at  all  costs  avoid 
petty  and  ignoble  misunderstandings  ;  above  all,  we  should 
encourage  to  the  utmost  intercourse  by  means  of  associa- 
tions, syndicates,  international  festivals,  and  the  like.  The 


THE   ENTENTE   CORDIALE        299 

better  we  learn  to  know  each  other,  the  greater  will  become 
mutual  esteem ;  and  from  esteem  to  friendship  is  but  a 
step."  The  writer  had  never  visited  our  country,  and  his 
acquaintance  with  English  people  was  limited.  His  views, 
I  am  convinced,  have  long  been  shared  by  vast  numbers 
of  Frenchmen  in  all  ranks  and  of  all  conditions. 

Politeness  and  civility !  If  by  the  exercise  of  such 
habits  peace  can  be  secured  in  the  domestic  sphere,  how 
incalculable  is  their  influence  upon  international  affairs ! 
Just  as  a  book  is  misjudged  if  read  with  passion  or  pre- 
conceived antipathy,  so  much  more  imperative  is  the 
judicial  mood  in  appraising  the  many-faceted,  subtle, 
French  character. 

It  is  my  belief  that  the  fruits  of  the  entente  cordiale 
will  be  a  desire  for  mutual  sympathy  and  a  gradually 
developed  mood  of  forbearance,  with  the  result  that 
French  and  English  will  recognize  the  best  in  each  other, 
their  eyes  not  often,  as  hitherto,  being  persistently  fixed 
on  the  worst.  I  will  precede  the  colophon  with  a  citation 
from  M.  Coste,  a  writer  already  cited. 

"  We  come  into  the  world  citizens  of  a  State  we  have 
not  ourselves  chosen.  Family  ties,  education,  language, 
tradition,  customs,  and  early  association  implant  in  our 
hearts  a  love  of  country  and  create  a  passionate  desire  to 
defend  and  serve  our  fatherland.  But  as  by  degrees  civili- 
zation advances  and  international  relations  become  more 
general,  an  adopted  country  will  usually  be  added  to 
that  of  birth ;  the  language,  literature,  and  arts  of  that 
land  will  become  familiar  ;  ties,  alike  commercial  and  social, 
will  be  contracted.  Surplus  capital  not  needed  at  home 
will  there  be  spent  or  invested.  Such  an  adopted  land 
should  be  no  matter  of  chance,  but  based  upon  mature 
social  considerations.  Only  thus  can  a  social  ideal  become 
in  a  measure,  reality." 

To  how  many  of  us  has  France  already  become  a  home 
of  adoption — choice  not  perhaps  based  upon  philosophic 


300          HOME   LIFE   IN   FRANCE 

grounds  !  But  whether  respectively  attracted  to  French  or 
English  shores  by  business  or  pleasure,  in  quest  of  health 
or  new  ideas,  every  traveller,  no  matter  how  humble,  let  us 
hope  may  henceforth  be  regarded  as  a  dove  from  the  ark, 
waver  aloft  of  thrice-welcome  olive  branch.  Anticipatory 
of  pontifical,  aerial  or  subterrene  means  of  transport,  in 
another  and  higher  sense,  may  these  annual  hosts  indis- 
solubly  link  the  two  great  democracies  of  the  West ;  bridge 
the  Channel  for  ever  and  a  day ! 


INDEX 


ACQUAINTANCES,  dropping  of,  285 
Adam,  Madame,  cited,  293 
Agricultural    districts,    depopulation 

of,  76,  195 
Agriculture — 

Orders  of  Merit  for,  151 

Professors  of,  149-152 

Schools  of,  149 
Aicard,  Jean,  cited,  59,  60 ;  quoted, 

63 

Airy,  Sir  G.  B.,  quoted,  265 
Anglo-mania,  297 
Animals,  cruelty  to,  264 
Arbitration,  zeal  for,  158 
Archives,  proviiwial,  192-194 
Arithmetic,  teaching  of,  218 
Army  :  see  Officers 
Aspe,  Vallee  d',  140-145 
Aulard,  M.,  cited,  294 


BABIES — 

Attitude  towards,  46-47 
Nurseries    for,     impossibility     of, 

49 

Position  of,  in  the  family,  12,  44- 

45,  48,  50 

Wet  nurses  for,  45-46,  95 
Balzac  cited,  176,  196,  272,  277,  282, 

292 

Bathing,  sea,  39,  40 
Baths,  10- 1 1 

Bazin,  Rene,  cited,  46,  195 
Bedrooms,  1-3 
Beds,  3 


Beesly,  Mr.  A.  H.,  cited,  294 

Benefit  societies,  30,  31 

Bentzon,    Madame,   cited,   86,    102, 
147,  258 

Bergeret,  M.,  cited,  179 

Betrothals- 
Etiquette  of,  82 

Interval  between  marriage  and,  57, 
82 

Bodichon,  Madame,  228 

Bon  Pasteur  Institutions,  198 

"Bonnes  Meres,"  274-275 

Boutmy,  M.,  cited,  264 

Boys- 
Characteristics  of,  66-68 
Education  of :  see  under  Education 
Recreations  of,  61-62 
Reformatories  for,  see  that  title 

Bread,  consumption  of,  22,  29 

Breakfast,  3,  298 

Bridesmaids,  86 

Brieux,  M.,  cited,  46,  297 

Brittany — 

Family  council  in,  240 
Illiteracy  in,  189 

Bureaucracy,  93,  148 

Burials,  212 

Butter,  34 

CALLS — 

Hours  for,  6 

New-comers,  by,  8 

New  Year's,  287-289 
Carlyle,  Thomas,  cited,  294 
Chaperonage,  52,  80,  166 


301 


302 


INDEX 


Characteristics — 
Artistic  taste,  171 
Avarice,  34-35,  112,  159,  195,  256 
Brilliancy,  126 
Caution,  149-150 
Clannishness,  38,  77-78,  87,  100, 

242,  287 

Concentration,  89,  218 
Critical  faculty,  7,  15,  48,  68,  115, 

122,  152,  183,  262-263 
Decorum,  instinct  of,  54,  167 
Delicacy,  256-257 
Economy,  239,  255 
Forethoughtfulness,  205,  256 
Friendship,   genius  for,  211,  260, 

267 

Ideas,  devotion  to,  266 
Indifference  to  appearances,  17,  20, 

129,  159 

Intellectuality,  158 
Leisureliness,  149,  258-259 
Litigiousness,  155,  156 
Neatness,  31 
Practicality,  266 
Reasoning,    passion  for,  230  and 

note,  263 
Reputation,  care  for,  20,  52,  87, 

104,  129 

Reserve,  254-255 
Science,  aptitude  for,  265 
Self-depreciation,  148,  254 
Seriousness,  169,  253 
Sociability  of  individuals,  260 
Thrift,    17-18,  32,   iu-112,    121, 

159,  170,  195,  199,  205,  256 
Toilette,  care  for,  20,  25,  26,  263 
Unsentimentality,  55,  260,  272 
Unsociability  of  neighbours,  255 
Vicarious  emotion,  taste  for,  271 
Warm-bloodedness,  23 
Chasles,   Philarete,    269;  cited,   60, 

295 

Cheese,  mixture  of,  34 
Cherbuliez,   Victor,    6;    cited,   292, 

297 
Chevrillon,  M.,  cited,  295 


Children     (see    also    Babies,    Boys, 
Girls)— 

Bequests  to,  legal  minimum  of,  283 

Delicacy  before,  262 

Fare  of,  48 

Foundlings,  247 

Indulgence  of,  47,  49,  89,  95-96, 
196,  232,  242 

Natural— law  as  to,  243  ;  legitimiza- 
tion  of,  248,  283 

Nurseries  for,  impossibility  of,  49 

Posthumous,  245-246 

Study  of,  by  parents,  215 

Widows  secondary  to,  81 

Wine-drinking  by,  48 
Citeaux,  reformatory  at,  237 
Code  Civil- 
Natural  children,  provisions  as  to, 
248 

Refractory  children,  provisions  as 
to,  229,  237 

Women,  provisions  as  to,  178,  243, 

246,  278,  279,  28! 
Colonization,  94-95 
Come"die  Fra^aise,  182 
Comic  papers,  261-262 
Comme  ilfaut^  meaning  of,  159 
Commerce — 

Freemasonry  of  le  haut  commerce^ 
214-215,  218 

Honour,  standard  of,  259 

Parliament  of,  178 

Women  engaged  in,  165-178 
Concierges,  24,  103 
Confortable>  le,  105 
Conscription — 

Attitude  towards,  72-74 

Exemptions  from,  75,  76 

Hardship  of,  70-72 

Inconveniences  of,  69-70,  74 

Laws  relating  to,  74-76 

Nursing  duties,  137,  209 
Conseildefamille:  see  Family  Council 
Conseil  de  tutelle>  247 
"  Constance,"  147 
Convent  pensions,  99,  101 


INDEX 


303 


Convent  schools,  52,  186-187,  219 
Convents,  100,  101 
Conversational  powers,  66-67 
Cookery,  15,  33-34,  54,  202  j  barrack 

fare,  71 

Cost  of  living  :  see  Expenditure 
Coste,  M.,  cited,  295-296,  299 
Country  districts,  depopulation  of,  76, 

195 
Country  houses  — 

General  possession  of,  36-37 

Out-door  meals  at,  6 
Country  life — 

Monotony  of,  271 

Unsociability  of,  160 
Courtship,  80 
Couvreur,  A.,  cited,  275 

DAUDET,  ALPHONSE,  cited,  4,  147, 

269,  272 

Daudet,  Madame,  49-50 
De  Maupassant  cited,  191,  199,  269, 

281,  282 

Decease,  intimation  of,  78,  93 
Dejeuner — 

Formality  of,  $-6 

Lunch  a  name  for,  5,  6,  14,  201, 
298 

Serving  of,  14 
Demetz,  M .,  228,  230 
Demolins,  M.,  educational  work  of 

63-66 ;  writings  of,  295  ;  cited,  on 

parsimony,  17,  35, 255-256 ;  quoted 

on  conscription,  74 
Deputies — 

Deliberations  of,  118 

Doctors  among,  116 

Ecclesiastics  among,  115-116 

Political  groups  among,  114-115 

Privileges  of,  113 

Professions  represented  among,  114, 
116 

Remuneration    of,    113;    attitude 
towards,  117 

Suffrage  for,  118-119 
Deschanel,  Paul,  118 


Dette  alimentaire,  196,  280-281 

"Deux  Vies,"  297 

Dickens,  Charles,  260,  272,  292 

Diffamation,  156 

Dinner — 

Importance  of,  6-7,  14-15 

"  Meal  "  distinguished  from,  14 

New  Year's,  288 

Divorce,  Un,  184 

Doctors — 
Country — 
Fees  of,  116,  1295  etiquette  of 

paying,  131 
Nuns  as,  126-128 
Position  of,  132 
Deputies,  as,  116 
Number  of  (1900),  129  note 

"Donatienne,"  46 

Dramatic  teaching  at   conservatoire, 
181-182 

Drawing-rooms,  5 

Dress- 
Cost  of,  25,  170 
Economy  of,  25,  26,  263 
Importance  of,  20,  25,  26,  263 
Men's,  amount  spent  on,  130 
Mourning  clothes,  31 

Drink,  32,  275 

Drugs,  cost  of,  23-24 

Durny,  M.,  60 

Ecu  D'OR,  patronne  of,  213-218 
Education — 

Arithmetic,  teaching  of,  218 
Boys,  schools  for  — - 
Abroad,  64-65 
Indictment  of,  59-61,  63 
Jesuit  colleges,  64 
Vanves,  lycee  of,  62 
Verneuil,  Ecole  des   Roches  at, 

63-66 

Commission  on  (1899),  61-62 
Dette  (T education,  281 
Enseignment  spfcial,  6 1 
Expenditure,  national,  on,  188 


304 


INDEX 


Education  (continued) — 
Ferry  laws  (1881   and  1882),  61, 

119,  189,  220 
Fete  of,  1 19 
Girls,  of— 

Convent  schools  for,  52, 186-187, 

219 
English  and   German  compared 

with,  219 

Lycees  for,  220  ;  Lycee  Fenelon, 
221-225;  Lycee  at  Toulouse, 
225-226 ;  ceremonial  visits  to 
principals,  288-289 
Nature  of,  52-53,  216 
Gratuitous,  compulsory  and  secular, 

30,  119,  185,  220 

Maison  paternelle,  in,  231,  234-235 
Men  and  women  engaged  in,  101- 

102 

Schools- 
Boys,  for  :  see  subheading  Boys 
Communal  colleges,  189 
Convent,  52,  186-187,  219 
Fees  at,  21,  26,  27 
Napoleon's  influence  on,  60 
State,    number    of   teachers    in 

(1900),  101 

Science,  instruction  in,  222,  224 
Village  schoolmasters,  185-190 
Emancipation ,  251 

English  people,  misrepresentation  by, 
253-254,  292-293;   misrepresenta- 
tion of,  265,  292-293 
English  words,  adoption  of,  297 
English-speaking,  43 
Entente  cordiale,  298-300 
Entertainment,  delicacy  in,  7 
Etiquette — 
Betrothals,  of,  82,  166 
Difference  in,  7-9 
New  Year's,  285-290 
Servants,  among,  in 
Spinsters,  for,  99,  102-104 
Weddings,  of,  84-85 
Wine,  as  to,  5 
Works  on,  7 


"  Eugenie  Grandet,"  272,  277-278 
Euphemisms,  257-258 
Expenditure,  tables  of— 

Parisian,  21,  27,  32 

Provincial,  26,  30,  32 

FABRE,  FERDINAND,  cited,  133 
Family  council — 

Books  on,  251 

Constitution  of,  242 

Formalities  of,  243-244 

Functions  of,  245-251 

Origin  and  history  of,  239-242 
"  Fanny,"  269 

Flaubert  cited,  126,  130,  268 
Flirtation,  non-existence  of,  56,  166- 

167,  273 

"Femmes  Nouvelles,"  82,  100 
Ferry  laws  (1881-1882),  61,  119,  189, 

220 

Feval,  Paul,  269 
Fiction — 

Explanation  of,  271-272 

Falseness  of,  268-269,  27* 

Market  for,  270 

Material  of,  273 

Novels  with  a  purpose,  274-275 
Figaro,  136 
Fion,  M.,  cited,  295 
First  communion,  79 
Foundlings,  247 
Food,  cost  of— in  Paris,  21-22,  34;  in 

the  provinces,  27,  30 
Fouillee,    M.,    cited,   230  and  note^ 

253  ;  quoted,  263,  296 
Foville,  A.  de,  cited,  36,  129  note 
France,  Anatole,  262 
"France  and  her  Republic,"  293 
Franche-Comte,  driving  tour  in,  41 
Franchise :  see  Suffrage 
"  French  and  English,"  264,  292 
Fuel,  1 8,  23,  30 
Furnishing,  finality  of,  17 
Furniture,  4 

GAYRAUD,  ABBE,  116 


INDEX 


305 


Germany — 

French  fiction  in,  270 

Military  ruffianism  in,  73 
Gifts,  etiquette  as  to,  82-83,  286-287 
Gilbert,  M.,  235 
Girls  (see  also  Spinsters) — 

Dowries  of,  47,  81,90-91,  100,  194 

Dress  of,  25 

Education  of :  see  under  Education 

Fiction  for,  55,  273 

Ideal  of,  57 

Matrimonial  arrangements  for,  56- 

57,79 

Training  of,  51,  53-55,  85 
Got,  182 

Granier,  Dr.,  116 
Gregoire,  Abbe,  115 
Grevy,  Jules,  95 
Guardians,  250-251 

HAMERTON,  P.  G.,  home  of,  188, 
255  ;  notice  on  door  of,  257  ;  con- 
trasted with  M.  Boutmy,  264  ;  on 
hostility  between  France  and  Eng- 
land, 291-292 

Hanotaux,  M.,  cited,  122,  220,  271 

Herbalism,  127 

"  Histoire  de  la  Civilization  Fran- 
£aise,"  280,  294 

Holidays  from  home — 

Discomforts  of,    attitude  towards, 

40-42 

Family  gatherings,  24,  37 
Manner  of  spending,  37-38 
Seaside,  at,  38-39 
Varieties  of,  36 

Home,  sanctity  of,  270 

Home  industries,  33,  154,  174,  206 

Homologation,  245 

Hors  cFccuvres,  28-29 

Horseflesh,  34 

Hospitality — 
Delicacy  in,  7 

Lack  of  means  for,  20,  25,  28 
Restaurants,  in,  24 

Hotel-keeping,  218 
X 


Hotels,  discomforts  of,  40-41 

Housekeeping — 

Easy-going  view  of,  18-19 
Expenses  of :  see  Expenditure 

Housework,  men  employed  in,  2,  16, 

105 

House -parties,  42-43 
Houses,  ownership  of,  by  occupiers, 

36,  194 
Hurlbert  cited,  293 

ILE  BARBE,  42 
Imbeciles,  248 
Incomes — 

Officials,  of,  20 

Various,  in  Rheims,  31 
Industries,  home,  33,  154,  174,  206 
Interments,  212 

JEWS,  electoral  rights  of,  1 19 
Jugcs  de  paix — 

Family  councils,  duties  as  to,  243- 

245 

Functions  of,  155-156 
Remuneration  of,  155,  162 
Sittings  of,  157 
Justine,  108-109,  127-128 

KOCK,  PAUL  DE,  46,  261 

"  LA  Course  au  Flambeau,"  96,  1 68, 

184 

"  La  Source  Fatale,"  275 
"LaTerre,"  192,  195,  196 
"  L'Abbe  Tigrane,"  133 
Languages,  teaching  of,  64,  66,  224 
Larrey,  Surgeon,  207-208 
Laughter,  261-262 
Lavisse  quoted,  61 

Law,  bearing  of,  on  private  life,  246 
"  Le  Colosse  aux  pieds  d'argile,"  29 
"Le  journal  d'une  femme  de  cham- 

bre,"  269,  271 

"Le  Medecin  de  Campagne,"  126 
Leclerc,  Max,  cited,  295 
Lemaitre,  Jules,  147 


306 


INDEX 


Lemire,  Abbe",  116 

"L'e"nergie  Frangaise,"  271 

"Les  Rempla9antes,"  46,  184,  297 

Les  Sables  D'Olonne,  39 

Letter-writing,  style  of,  9 

"  L'£vangeliste,"  147 

"L'Hentier,"269 

"L'Immortel,"269 

Lingerie,  l73-'75 

Lion  Rouge,  le,  patronne  of,   215- 

217 

Literature,  knowledge  of,  158,  214 
Loti,  Pierre,  cited,  293 
Loubet,  M.,  97 
Louis  XIV.,  7 

"L'Un  vers  L'Autre,"  102,  147 
Lunatics,  249,  264  note 
Lunch— 

Dejeuner  so  called,  5,  6,  14,  201, 
298 

Formality  of,  5-6 

Tea  so  called,  6 

MACMAHON,  MARSHAL,  122,  187 
"Madame  Bovary,"  126,  130,  268 
"Mademoiselle  Annette,"  272 
Maiden  ladies  :  see  Spinsters 
Maison  de  Retraite,  103-104 
Manufactures,  etc.,  superior  finish  of 

263 
Margueritte  Brothers  cited,  82,  100, 

266  note,  297 
Marketing,  13,  i$ 
Markham,  Mrs.,  cited,  293 
Marriages  (see  also  Wires) — 

Arrangement  of,  by  outsiders,  79- 
80,88 

Betrothals,  interval  after,  57,  82 

Bourgeois  ideas  of,  204 

Ceremonies  of,  83-86 

Civil,  83-84 

Clannishness  in  regard  to,  38,  77, 

87 

Contracts  of,  ancient,  194 
Ecclesiastical,  84-86 
Formalities  antecedent  to,  80-82 


Marriages  (continued) — 

Parental  consent,  law  as  to,  78 
Partnership,  regarded  as,  56,   58, 

81,  266 

Reputation  essential  to,  87 
Settlements,  80-8 1,  91,  278 
Success  of,  57 

Wife's  property,   control   of,  279, 
280 

Martin,  Henri,  294 

Match-making,  56,  78-79 

Matches,  23 

Medicines,  cost  of,  23-24 

Merime'e,  Prosper,  cited,  295 

Mettray,  Maison  Paternelle  at,  227- 
237 

Michelet  quoted,  64,  90,  290 

Mignet  cited,  161 

Minors,  246-247,  249-251 

Mirrors,  3 

Mohammedanism,    State   subsidy  of, 

134,  HI 

Montaigne  cited,  163 
Montesquieu  cited,  260 
Mothers — 

Autocratic  rule  of,  92 

Devotion  of,  94,  95 
Mourning,  31 
Musical  schools,  183 

NAPOLEON  I.,  provisions  of,  as  to 
education,  60 ;  sum  allotted  by,  to 
education,  188  ;  tax  -  collection 
scheme  of,  160-161 ;  poor-relief 
scheme  of,  198 ;  army-surgeon  of, 
207-208 

Napoleon  III.,  241 

New  Year's  gifts,  24,  285-287 

Ney,  Marshal,  207 

Nodier,  Charles,  47  ;  cited,  161 

Notaries — 

Deputies,  as,  116 
Importance  of,  80-81,  90 

Nottingham  lace,  demand  for,  1 75 

Novels :  see  Fiction 

Novikoff,  M.,  cited,  270 


INDEX 


307 


Nuns — 

Aristocratic  spinsters  as,  100 
Bon  Pasteur  institutions  of,  198 
Medical  skill  of,  126-128 
Schools  conducted  by,  186-187 

Nurseries,  impossibility  of,  49 

Nur  ses  of  children — 
Custom  of  employing,  95 
Legislation  against  employing,  46 
Position,  wages,  and  costume  of,  45 

Nurses  of  the  sick,  209 

OFFICERS— 
Characteristics  of,    I2O-I2I,    123- 

1*5 

Burial  of  retired,  212 
Debt  prohibited  to,  81, 121 
Duties  of,  123-124,  210 
Marriage  regulations  for,  41,  122 
Mufti  allowed  to,  120,  288 

Officials- 
Incomes  of,  20 
Proportion  of,  93 
Simplicity  of  life  of,  148,  159 

Ohnet  cited,  176 

O'Rell,  Max,  cited,  296 

Orphans,  246-247 

Out-of-door  life,  179,  204 

PALAIS  BOURBON,  117-118 
Parents — 
Consent  of,  to  marriage,  law  as  to, 

78 
Support  of,  obligatory  on  children, 

196,  198,  280 
Paris — 

Boulevards  of,  204,  208 
Conservatoire,  181-182 
Cost  of  living  in,  22  and  note 
Flats  in,  limits  of,  16,  49 
Fruit  barrows  in,  13 
Lycee  Fenelon,  le,  221-225 
Rents  in,  30,  32 
Restaurant-keeping  in,  200-206 
Sentier,  let  172,  200,  203,  206 
Suburbs  of,  176 


Paris  (continued) — 

Wages  in,  23 

Work-a-day  quarters  of,  179 
Pastors,  protestant — 

Boarders  received  by,  141   142,  147 

Chamber,  not  represented  in,  115 

Homes  of,  141-142 

Numbers  and  sects  of,  147 
Peacock,  T.  L.,  cited,  253-254 
Peasants — 

Difference    between    English    and 
French,  191 

Dignity  of,  199 

Education  valued  by,  1 86 

Financial  condition  of,  32 

Hospitality  of,  192,  197 

Houses  of,  109 

Position  of,  unique,  191,  194,  199 

Progressiveness  of,  186,  194 

Shrewdness  and  thrift  of,  199 

Wills  and  inventories  of,  192-194 

Wives,  position  of,  32 
Phylloxera,  151,  195 
Pontseverez,  M.,  cited,  275 
Poor,  the— 

Asiles  for,  198 

Rates  not  levied  for,  162 

State  relief  of,  198 
Poullaine,  Jean  de  la,  cited,  293 
Prtfailles,  40 
Presents :  see  Gifts 
Priests,  Roman  Catholic- 
Deputies,  as,  115-116 

Dress  of,  137 

English  fiction  regarding,  274 

Hospitality  to,  138 

Political  views  of,  139 

Position  of,  133 

Sphere  of  influence  of,  92 

Stipends  of,  135 
Promen fuses,  52 
Prud'ftommes,  178  and  note 
Prussian  war  indemnity — 

Amount  of,  equalled  by  phylloxera 
ruin,  151,  195 

Payment  of,  112,  170,  192 


308 


INDEX 


Puritanism    and    Reformation,    261, 
270,  296 

RABELAIS,  261 

Rambaud,     M.,    cited — on     country 

houses,   8;  on   baths,    lo-li  ;    on 

tax-collectors,    161  ;     on     English 

humanity,    264  note;    on   English 

relations  with  France,  294 
Reading  clubs,  30 
Recitation,  42-43,  54 
Reformatories  for  boys — 

Citeaux,   agricultural    penitentiary 
at,  237 

Mettray,  Maison  Pater nelle  at,  227- 

237 

Religions,  State  support  of,  134,  141 
Rents — 

Comparison  of,  in  Paris  and  pro- 
vinces, 30,  32 

Rise  in,  21 

Republic,  origin  of  title,  90 
Reputation,  care  for,  20,  52,  87,  104, 

129 
Restaurants — 

Charges  at,  34,  201 

Hospitality  at,  24 

Tea,  6,  12 

Waiters  in,  203 
Retirement,  bourgeois  ideal  of,  205, 

218 

Rtveillon  supper,  288 
Revolution,  history  of,  204 
Ribot,  M.,  cited,  62 
Riches,  35,  129,  130 
Rod,  Edouard,  cited,  272 
RdtisscurS)  29  ;  of  restaurants,  202 
Russia,  French  fiction  in,  270 

SACERDOTALISM,  92 
SarTray,  Dr.,  cited,  127 
St.  Georges-de-Didonne,  40 
St.  Just,  161 

Sand,  George,  60 ;  cited,  191,   195, 
196 


Schoolmasters- 
Certificates  of,  190 
Pay  of,  189 
Village,  position  o;— modern,  186  ; 

former,  187-188,  190 
Schools  of  agriculture,  149.    (See  also 

under  Education) 
Science — 

Instruction  in,  222,  224 
Interest  in,  265 
Seaside  holidays,  38-39 
Seminarists  as  conscripts,  137,  209 
Senators,  remuneration  of,  117 
"  Serge  Panine,"  176 
Servants — 

Address  by,  form  of,  9-10 
Breakfast  customs  of,  12 
Breton,  189 

Discomforts  of,  106-107,  no 
Etiquette  among,  in 
Freedom  enjoyed  by,  107-108 
Hiring  of,  at  fairs,  188 
Marketing  by,  13,  15 
Married,  46,  280 
Men  as  indoor,  2,  16,  105 
Number  of,  kept,  16 
Obligingness  of,  in 
Sleeping    quarters    of,    106,    108- 

no 

Sumptuary  laws  as  to,  69 
Thrift  of,  in-112 
Wages    of,    22-23,    108-109;    °f 

nurses,  45 

Signature  with  title,  8 
Shop  Seats  Act,  282 
Shopping,  13,  15 
Smoking,  6 

"  Sociologie  Objective,"  295 
Spinsters- 
Age  determining,  99-100,  165 
Attitude  towards,  104 
Conventional  restrictions  on,  55,  99 
Professions  occupied  by,  101-102 
Stage- 
Estimate  of,  183 
Lessons  inculcated  by,  95-96,  183 


INDEX 


309 


Stephens,  Morse,  cited,  294 

Suffrage — 

Sentiment  as  to,  92 
Various  forms  of,  118-119 

Sunday  extras,  28 

TALLYRAND,  188 
Tax-collection,  method  of,  161 
Tax-collectors — 

Former,  160-161 

fuges  de  paix  contrasted  with,  155, 
162 

Remuneration  of,  162 
Taxes— 

Directes,    21,     162 ;    window    tax, 
162,  1 80 

Indirectrs,  162 
"  Tchevelek,"  86 
Tea  restaurants,  6,  12 
"Terre  qui  meurt,"  195 
Thierry,  G.  M.  A.,  cited,  264 
Thiers  cited,  115 
Third  person  singular,  9-10 
"  Thou  "  and  "  thee,"  9,  209,  260 
Tips,  24 

Toilette,  care  for,  20,  25,  26,  263 
Toulouse,  lycee  at,  225-226 
Trade  :  see  Commerce 
"Travail,"  176 
Travel,    French   companionship   for, 

40,  213,  215 
"  Trilby,"  47 
Trousseaux,  86-87 

"  UNE  ame  obscure,"  269,  271 
United  States  of  America — 

Wear  and  tear  in,  93,  258 

Women's  position  in,  57 
Uzanne,  Octave,  cited,  196 

VAL-DE-GRACE,  church  and  hospital 

of,  207-209 
Vandam,  Mr.,  293 
Vanves,  lycee  of,  62 
Visiting-cards,  289  290 


|   Visitors,  staying,  scarcity  of,  16 
Visits:  see  Calls 


WAGES— 

Domestic — in   Paris,   33  ;  in  Bur- 
gundy, 108-109 
Industrial,  in  Rheims,  31 
Nurses,  of,  45 
Watch  Night  supper,  288 
Waugh,  Rev.  B.,  247 
Wedding  presents,  82-83,  86 
Weddings :  see  Marriages 
Widows,  position  of,  81,  277-278 
Wills,  restrictions  as  to,  282-283 
Window  tax,  162,  180 
Wine- 
Children  drinkers  of,  48 
Conscripts  prohibited  from,  71 
Etiquette  for  offering,  5 
Wives- 

Companionableness  of,  19 
Officers',  41 

Position  of,  32,  58,  59,  89,  90 
Property    of,     under     control    of 

husbands,  17,  279,  280 
Women  (see  also  Mothers,  Spinsters, 

Wives)— 
Business — 
Capacity  of,  165,  167,  173,  177, 

200,  213,  218 
Life  of,  1 68 

Remuneration  of,  169-170 
Seats  for,  in  shops,  282 
Code  Civil  in  relation  to,  178,  243, 

246,  278,  279,  281 
Convents,  in  (1900),  101 
Emigration  of,  95 
Foreign  residence  disliked  by,  94, 

105 

Individualism  of,  93-94 
Laws  in  favour  of,  178 
Management,  capacity  for,  89-90, 

279 

Merchants,  as,  172-178 
Ouvrierest  Parisian,  174 


310 


INDEX 


Women  (continued)— 
Palais  Bourbon,  accommodation  at, 

for,  117 

Professional,  101-103 
Professions  open  to,  281 
Prominence  of,  in  French  history, 

9 


Women  (continued)  — 
Sacerdotalism  of,  92 
Schoolmistresses,  pay  of,  189 
Smoking  not  a  habit  of,  6 
Widows,  81,  277-278 

ZOLA  cited,  176, 191,  196,  199,  274 


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ROUND  ABOUT  WILTSHIRB.      A.  G.  Bradley. 
SCOTLAND  OF  TO-DAY.     T.  F.  Henderson  and 

Francis  Watt. 
NORWAY  AND  ITS  FJORDS.     M.  A.  Wyllie, 


Some  Books  on  Art. 


ARTANDLIFB.  T.  Sturge  Moore.  Illustrated. 
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AIMS  AND  IDEALS  IN  ART.  George  Clausen. 
Illustrated.  Second  Edition.  Large  Post 
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Six  LBCTURE.S  ON  PAINTING.  George  Clausen, 
lllastrated.  Third  Edition.  Large  Post 
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FRANCESCO  GUARDI,  i7ia-i793.  G.  A- 
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ILLUSTRATIONS  OF  THK  BOOK  OF  Jo». 
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JOHN  LUCAS,  PORTRAIT  PAINTER,  18^8-1874. 
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22 


METHUEN  AND  COMPANY  LIMITED 


SOME  BOOKS  ON  ART— continued. 

ONE  HUNDRED  MASTERPIECES  OF  SCULPTURE. 
With  an  Introduction  by  G.  F.  Hill.  Illus- 
trated. Demy  Svff.  IQJ.  6d.  net. 

A  ROMNEY  FOLIO.  With  an  Essay  by  A.  B. 
Chamberlain.  Imperial  Folio.  ^15  151. 
net. 

THE  SAINTS  IN  ART.  Margaret  E.  Tabor. 
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SCHOOLS  or  PAINTING.  Mary  Innes.  Illus- 
trated. Cr.  Bv0.  5*.  net. 


THE  POST  IMPRESSIONISTS.    C  Lewis  Hind. 

Illustrated.     Royal  8vo.     js.  6d.  net. 
CELTIC  ART  IN  PAGAN  AND  CHRISTIAN  TIMES. 

J.  R.  Allen.    Illustrated.    Second  Edition. 

Demy  8vo.    7*.  6d.  net. 
"CLASSICS  or  ART."    See  page  13. 
"  THE  CONNOISSEUR'S  LIBRARY."  See  page  14 
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"THE  LITTLE  GALLERIES/'    See  page  17. 


Some  Books  on  Italy. 


A  HISTORY  or  MILAN  UNDER  THE  SFORZA. 

Cecilia  M.  Ady.     Illustrated.     Devty  Bvo. 

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A    HISTORY   OF    VERONA.       A.    M.    Allen. 

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Bagot.     Illustrated.     Fcap.  %vo.     $s-  net. 
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FLORENCE  AND  THE  CITIES  OF  NORTHERN 

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SIENA  AND  SOUTHERN  TUSCANY.      Edward 

Hutton.        Illustrated.        Second   Edition. 

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IN  UNKNOWN  TUSCANY.      Edward  Hutton. 

Illustrated.      Second  Edition.      Demy  Bzo. 

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VENICE    AND    VENETIA.       Edward   Hutton. 

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SICILY  :   The  New  Winter  Resort.      Douglas 

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FICTION 


PART  III. — A  SELECTION  OF  WORKS  OF  FICTION 


Albanesl  (E.  Maria).    SUSANNAH  AND 

ONE    OTHER.       Fourth    Edition.       Cr. 

Bvo.     6s. 
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THE  BROWN  EYES  OF   MARY.     Third 

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I    KNOW    A    MAIDEN.     Third  Edition. 

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THE  INVINCIBLE  AMELIA;    OR,    THE 

POLITK    ADVENTURESS.       Third    Edition. 

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THE     GLAD     HEART.       Fifth    Edition. 

Cr,  Bvo.     6s. 
BOLIVIA   MARY.     Cr.  Bve.    6s. 

Bagot  (Richard).  A  ROMAN  MYSTERY. 

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THE   PASSPORT.     Fourth  Edition.     Cr. 

ANTHONY  CUTHBERT.   Fourth  Edition. 

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LOVE'S  PROXY.     Cr.  Bvo.    6s. 
DONNA    DIANA.      Second  Edition.      Cr. 

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CASTING    OF    NETS.     Twelfth    Edition. 

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Bailey  (B.C.).  STORM  AND  TREASURE. 

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THE  LONELY  QUEEN.       Third  Edition. 

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Baring-Gould   (S.).       IN   THE   ROAR 

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6s. 
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TACQUETTA.  Third  Edition.  Cr.  Bvo.  6s. 
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NOEMI.  Illustrated.  Fourth  Edition.  Cr. 

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•MARY   PECHELL.     Cr.  Bvo.    6s. 

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FICTION 


•Inner  Shrine*  (Author  of  the).     THE 
WILD  OLIVE.     Tkird  Edition.    Cr.  Bvo. 


Jacobs  (W.  W.)  MANY  CARGOES. 
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*Al?o  Illustrated  in  colour.  Demy  Bvo. 

S&.  URCHINS.     Sixteenth  Edition.      Cr. 

Bvo.     3-r.  6d. 
A     MASTER    OF    CRAFT.         Illustrated. 

Ninth  Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     3*.  6d. 
LIGHT  FREIGHTS.     Illustrated.    Eighth 

Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     y.  (>d. 
THE     SKIPPER'S    WOOING.       Eleventh 

Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     •*$.  6d. 
AT  SUNWICH  PORT.     Illustrated.    Tenth 

Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     -ts.  (>d. 
DIALSTONE  LANE.    Illustrated.      Eighth 

Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     y.  6d. 
ODD  CRAFT.     Illustrated.     Ftfth  Edition. 

Cr.  Bvo.      3*.  6d. 
THE  LADY  OF  THE  BARGE.     Illustrated. 

Ninth  Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     31.  (>d. 
SALTHAVEN.    Illustrated.    Third  Edition. 

Cr.  Bvo.     3*.  6d. 
SAILORS'     KNOTS.       Illustrated.      Fifth 

Edition.     Cr.    Bvo.     y.  6d. 
SHORT   CRUISES.     Third  Edition.     Cr. 

Svo.    y.  6d. 

James  (Henry).  THE  GOLDEN  BOWL. 
Third  Edition.  Cr.  Bvo.  6t 

LeQueux  (William).  THE  HUNCHBACK 

OF   WESTMINSTER.       Third  Edition. 

Cr.  Bvo.     6s. 
THE    CLOSED    BOOK.      Third  Edition. 

Cr.  Bvo.     6s. 
THE    VALLEY     OF     THE     SHADOW. 

Illustrated.     Third  Edition.     Cr.  Bvo.     6s. 
BEHIND  THE  THRONE.    Third  Edition. 

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London  (Jack).  WHITE  FANG.  Eighth 
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Lucas  (E.  V.)-    LISTENER'S  LURE  ;  AN 

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MR.  INGLESIDE.    Eighth  Edition.    Fcap. 

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LONDON   LAVENDER.     Cr.  Bvo.    6t. 

Lyall  (Edna).  DERRICK  VAUGHAN, 
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CHRISTINA  M'NAB.  Fifth  Edition. 
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PETER  AND  JANE.  Fourth  Edition. 
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THE  GATELESS  BARRIER,  fifth  Edi- 
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Maxwell  (W.  B.).  THE  RAGGED  MES- 
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THE  GUARDED  FLAME.  Seventh  Edi- 
tion. Cr.  Sv0.  6s. 

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HILL  RISE.    Fourth  Edition.    Cr.  Svo.    6s. 

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Ft>?.  6s. 

THE  REST  CURE.  Fourth  Edition.  Cr. 
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Milne   (A.   A.).         THE    DAY'S    PLAY. 

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DIVERS  VANITIES.     Cr.  Bvo.    6s. 

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Onions  (Oliver).  GOOD  BOY  SELDOM  : 
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Oppenheim  (E.  Phillips).  MASTER  OF 
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THE  MISSING  DELORA.  Illustrated. 
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Orczy  (Baroness).  FIRE  IN  STUBBLE. 
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Oxenham    (John).      A    WEAVER    OF 

WEBS.  Illustrated.   Fifth  Ed.    Cr.Bvo.  6s. 
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26 


METHUEN  AND  COMPANY  LIMITED 


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PEOPLE.     Seventh  Edition.    Cr.  Zve.    6s. 
MRS.    FALCHION.      Fifth  Edition.      Cr. 

8va.     6s. 
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The    Last   Adventures   of   '  Pretty   Pierre.' 

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Romance   of  Two    Kingdoms.     Illustrated. 

Seventh  Edition.     Cr.  8vo.     6s. 
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Tnird  Edition.     Cr.  8vo.     3*.  6d. 
NORTHERN    LIGHTS.     Fourth  Edition. 

Cr.  8ro.    6s. 

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I  CROWN  THEE  KING.     Illustrated.     Cr. 

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TOBY.     Third  Edition.     Cr.  8vo.     6s. 
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Edition.     Cr.  Zro.     6s. 
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VIRGINIA   PER 


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FELIX  CHRISTIE.  Second  Edition.  Cr. 
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Weyman  (Stanley).  UNDER  THE  RED 
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Cr.  8ve.  6s. 

Whitby  (Beatrice).  ROSAMUND.  S*c*»« 
Edition.  Cr.  8t*.  fe 


FICTION 


27 


Williamson  it.  N.  and  A.  M.).  THE 
LIGHTNING  CONDUCTOR:  The 
Strange  Adventures  of  a  Motor  Car.  Illus- 
trated. Seventeenth  Edition.  Cr.  8i'O. 
6s.  Also  Cr.  &vo.  is.  net. 

THE  PRINCESS  PASSES  :  A  Romance  of 
a  Motor.  Illustrated.  Ninth.  Edition. 

LADY ''BETTY  ACROSS  THE  WATER. 

Eleventh  Edition.     Cr.  Bvo,     6s. 

SCARLET   RUNNER.     Illustrated.     Third 

Edition.     Cr.  8vo.     6s. 
SET     IN    SILVER.       Illustrated.      Fourth 

Edition.     Cr.  &vo.    6s. 


LORD  LOVELAND  DISCOVERS 
AMERICA.  Second  Edition.  Cr.  Kvo.  6s. 

THE  GOLDEN  SILENCE.  Sixth  Edition. 
Cr.  &vo.  6s. 

THE  GUESTS  OF  HERCULES.  Third 
Edition.  Cr.  8r».  6s. 

•THE   HEATHER    MOON.      Cr.  *vo.    6s. 

Wyllarde  (Dolf).  THE  PATHWAY  OF 
THE  PIONEER  (Nous  Autres).  Sixth 
Edition.  Cr.  Bv0.  6s. 

THE      UNOFFICIAL      HONEYMOON. 

Seventh  Edition.     Cr.  Svo.     6s. 
THE  CAREER  OF  BEAUTY  DARLING. 

Cr.  8f  o.     6s. 


Methuen's  Two-Shilling  Novels. 

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*BOTOR  CHAPERON,  THB.    C.  N.  and  A.  M.    1 

Williamson. 

*CALL  OF  THE  BLOOD,  THB.    Robert  Hichens. 
CAR    OF    DESTINY    AND    ITS     ERRAND    IN 

SPAIN,  THE.     C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
CLEMENTINA.    A.  E.  W.  Mason. 
COLONEL  ENDERBY'S  WIFE.    Lucas  Malet. 
FKLIX.     Robert  Hichens. 
GATE  OF  THE  DESERT,  THE.   John  Oxenham. 
Mv  FRIEND  THE  CHAUFFEUR.      C.  N.  and 

A.  M.  Williamson. 


PRINCESS  VIRGINIA,  THK.    C.  N.  and  A.  M. 

Williamson. 

SEATS  OF  THE   MIGHTY,  THB.     Sir  Gilbert 
Parker. 

SERVANT  OF  THE  PUBLIC,  A.    Anthony  Hope. 
*SET  IN  SILVER.    C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 
SEVERINS,  THB.     Mrs.  Alfred  Sidgwick. 
SIR  RICHARD  CALMADY.    Lucas  Malet. 
•VIVIEN.    W.  B.  Maxwell. 


Books  for  Boys  and  Girls. 

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CROSS  AND  DAGGER.  The  Crusade  of  the 
Children,  1212.  W.  Scott  Durrant. 

GETTING  WELL  OF  DOROTHY,  THB.  Mrs. 
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MASTER  ROCKAFELLAR'S  VOYAGB.  W.  Clark 
Russell. 


ONLY   A    GUARD-ROOM    DOG.        Edith   E. 

Cuthell. 

RED  GRANGE,  THE.     Mrs.  Molesworth. 
SYD    BELTON:     The    Boy   who    would    not 

go  to  Sea.     G.  Manville  Fenn. 
THERE  WAS  ONCB  A  PRINCB.      Mrs.  M.  K. 

Mann. 


METHUEN  AND  COMPANY  LIMITED 


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CHARM,  THB.    Alice  Pcrrin. 

•DEMON,  THE.     C.  N.  and  A.  M.  Williamson. 

GUARDED  FLAME,  THE.     W.  B.  Maxwell. 

JANE.     Marie  Corelli. 

LADY  BETTY  ACROSS  THE  WATER.    C.  N. 

&  A.  M.  Williamson. 
•LONG  ROAD,  THE.     John  Oxenham. 
MIGHTY  ATOM,  THE.     Marie  Corelli. 
MIKAGB.     E.  Temple  Thurston. 
MISSING   DKLORA,  THB.     £  Phillips  Oppen- 

bdm. 


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SPANISH  GOLD.     G.  A.  Birmingham. 
TALES  OF  MEAN  STREETS.    Arthur  Morrison. 
THE  HALO.     The  Baroness  von  Hutten. 
•TYRANT,  THE.    Mrs.  Henry  de  la  Pasture. 
UNDER  THE  RED  ROBE.    Stanley  J.  Weymaa. 
VIRGINIA  PERFECT.    Peggy  Webling. 
WOMAN    WITH   THB   FAN,   THK.        Robert 
Hichen*. 


The  Novels  of  Alexandre  Dumas. 

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ACT*. 

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AMAURY. 

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BLACK  TULIP,  THB. 

BLACK  :  the  Story  of  a  Dog. 

CASTLB  or  EPPSTEIN,  TUB. 

CATHERINE  BLUM. 

CECILS. 

CHATELET,  THB. 

CHEVALIER   D'HARMENTAL,  THB.     (Double 

volume.) 

CHICOT  THB  JESTER. 
CHICOT  REDIVIVUS. 

COMTB  DE   MONTGOMMERY,    THB. 

CONSCIENCE. 

CONVICT'S  SON,  THE. 

CORSICAN  BROTHERS,  THB  ;   and  OTHO  THE 

ARCHER. 

CROP-EARED  JACQUOT. 
DOM  GoRENrtOT. 
Due  D'ANJOU,  THB. 
FATAL  COMBAT,  THB. 
FENCING  MASTER,  THB. 
FERNANDE. 
GABRIEL  LAMBERT. 
GEORGES. 

GREAT  MASSACRE,  THB. 
HENRI  DB  NAVARRE. 
HKLEMB  DB  CHAVERNT. 


HOROSCOPE.  THB. 

LEONE-LEONA. 

Louisa  DB  LA  VALLIERB.    (Double  volume.) 

MAN  IN  THE    IRON   MASK,  THE.     (Double 

volume.) 
MA!TRE  ADAM. 
MOUTH  OF  HELL,  THE. 
NANON.    (Double  volume.) 
OLYMPIA. 

PAULINE;  PASCAL  BRUNO;  and  BONTEKOB. 
P&RE  LA  RUINB. 
POKTE  SAINT-ANTOINE,  THB. 
PRINCB  or  THIEVES,  THE. 
REMINISCENCES  OF  ANTONY,  THB. 
ST.  QUENTIN. 
ROBIN  HOOD. 
SAMUEL  GELB. 

SNOWBALL  AND  THE  SULTAHBTTA,  THS. 
SYLVANDIRE. 

TAKING  or  CALAIS,  THE. 
TALES  OF  THE  SUPERNATURAL. 
TALES  or  STRANGE  ADVENTURE. 
TALES  OF  TERROR. 

THREE  MUSKETEERS,  THE.   (Double  volume.) 
TOURNEY  OF  THE  RUE  ST.  ANTOINE. 
TRAGEDY  or  NANTES,  THK. 
TWENTY   YEARS   AFTER.    (Double    volume.) 
WILD-DUCK  SHOOTER,  TKB. 
WoLr-LEADBX,  Tuc. 


FICTION 


29 


Methuen's  Sixpenny  Books. 

Medium  8v0. 


Albanesl    (K.    Maria).     LOVE    AND 

LOUISA. 

I    KNOW   A   MAIDEN. 
THE  BLUNDER  OF  AN  INNOCENT. 
PETER  A  PARASITE. 
•THE   INVINCIBLE   AMELIA. 

Anstey  (F.).    A  BAYARD  OF   BENGAL. 
Austen  (J-).     PRIDE  AND  PREJUDICE. 
Bagot  (Richard).  A  ROMAN  MYSTERY. 
CASTING  OF  NETS. 
DONNA  DIANA. 


Balfour   (Andrew). 
SWORD. 


BY    STROKE    OF 


Baring-Gould  (SO-    FURZE  BLOOM. 

CHEAP  JACK  ZITA. 

KITTY  ALONE. 

URITH. 

THE  BROOM   SQUIRE. 

IN  THE  ROAR  OF  THE  SEA. 

NOEMI. 

A  BOOK  OF  FAIRY  TALKS.    Illustrated. 

LITTLE   TU'PENNY. 

WINEFRED. 

THE   FROBISHERS. 

THE  QUEEN   OF   LOVK. 

ARMINELL. 

BLADYS   OF    THE  STEWPONEY. 

CHRIS  OF  ALL  SORTS- 

Barr  (Robert).    JENNIE  BAXTER 
IN   THE  MIDST  OF  ALARMS. 
THE    COUNTESS   TEKLA. 
THE   MUTABLE   MANY. 

Benson  (E.  F.).    DODO. 

THE  VINTAGE:. 

Bronte  (Charlotte).    SHIRLEY. 

THE    HEART 


OF 


Brownell   (C.   L.). 
JAFAN. 

Burton  (J.  Bloundelle).    ACROSS    THE 
SALT   SEAS. 

CaflTyn    (Mrs.).    ANNE   MAULEVERER. 

Capes  (Bernard).    THE  GREAT  SKENE 
MYSTERY. 

Clifford    (Mrs.   W.    K.).     A   FLASH   OF 

SUMMER. 
MRS.    KKITH'S  CRIME. 


Corbett    (Julian)       A 
GREAT   WATERS. 


Croker  (Mrs.  B-  M 

A   STATE   SECRET. 

PEGGY  OF  THE  BARTONS. 

JOHANNA. 


BUSINESS     IN 
ANGEL. 


Dante    (Alighieri). 

COMEDY  (Gary). 


THE     DIVINE 
ROUND    THE 


Doyle  (Sir  A.   Conan). 
RED  LAMP. 

Duncan     (Sara    Jeannette).      THOSE 
DELIGHTFUL  AMERICANS. 

Eliot     (George).     THE   MILL   ON   THE 
FLOSS. 


Findlater     (Jane    H.).      THE 
GRAVES   OF    BALGOWRIE. 


GREEN 

Gallon  (Tom).     RICKERBY'S  FOLLY. 

Gaskell  (Mrs.).    CRANFORD. 
MARY   BARTON. 
NORTH  AND  SOUTH. 

Gerard    (Dorothea).      HOLY    MATRI- 
MONY. 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  LONDON. 
MADE  OF  MONEY. 

Gissing  (G.).   THE  TOWN  TRAVELLER. 
THE  CROWN  OF  LIFE. 


Glanville    (Ernest). 

TREASURE. 
THE  KLOOF  BRIDE. 


THE     INCA'S 


Gleig  (Charles). 


HUNTER'S  CRUISE. 
GRIMM'S 


Grimm     (The    Brothers) 
FAIRY  TALES. 

Hope  (Anthony).    A  MAN  OF  MARK. 

A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

THE    CHRONICLES    OF    COUNT 

ANTONIO. 
PHROSO. 
THE  DOLLY  DIALOGUES. 

Hornung  (E.  W.).     DEAD  MEN  TELL 
NO  TALKS. 

Hyne  (C.  J.  C-).    PRINCE  RUPERT  THE 
BUCCANEER. 

Ingraham  (J.  H.).     THE  THRONE  OF 
DAVID. 


METHUEN  AND  COMPANY  LIMITED 


Le   Queux    (W.).     THE   HUNCHBACK 

OF  WESTMINSTER. 
THE  CROOKED  WAY. 
THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW. 

Levett-Yeats  (S.  K.).    THE  TRAITOR'S 

WAY. 
ORRAIN. 

Linton    (E.    Lynnl.     THE  TRUE   HIS- 
TORY OF  JOSHUA  DAVIDSON. 

Lyall  (Edna).    DERRICK  VAUGHAN. 

Malet  (Lucas).    THE  CARISSIMA. 
A  COUNSEL  OF  PERFECTION. 

Mann    (Mrs.    M.    E.).      MRS.    PETER 

HOWARD. 
A  LOST  ESTATE. 
THE  CEDAR  STAR. 
THE  PATTEN  EXPERIMENT. 
A  WINTER'S  TALE. 

Marchmont   (A.  W.).     MISER   HOAD- 

LEY'S  SECRET. 
A  MOMENT'S  ERROR. 

Marryat  (Captain).    PETER  SIMPLE. 
JACOB  FAITHFUL. 

March  (Richard).  A  METAMORPHOSIS. 
THE  TWICKENHAM  PEERAGE. 
THE  GODDESS. 
THE  JOSS. 

Mason  (A.  E.  W.).    CLEMENTINA. 

Mathers  (Helen).    HONEY. 
GRIFF  OF  GRIFFITHSCOURT. 
SAM'S  SWEETHEART. 
THE  FERRYMAN. 

Meade  (Mrs.  L.  T.).    DRIFT. 
Miller  (Esther).    LIVING  LIES. 

Mitford  (Bertram).  THE  SIGN  OF  THE 
SPIDER. 

Montresor  (F.  F.).    THE  ALIEN. 

Morrison   (Arthur).     THE    HOLE    IN 
THE  WALL. 

Nesbit  (E.).    THE  RED   HOUSE. 

Norris  (W.  E.).    HIS  GRACE. 
GILES  INGILBY. 
THE  CREDIT  OF  THE  COUNTY. 
LORD  LEONARD  THE  LUCKLESS. 
MATTHEW  AUSTEN. 
CLARISSA  FURIOSA. 

Oliphant  (Mrs.).    THE  LADY'S  WALK. 
SIR  ROBERT'S  FORTUNE. 


THE  PRODIGALS. 

THE  TWO  MARYS. 

Oppenheim  (E.  P.).    MASTER  OF  MEN. 

Parker  (Sir  Gilbert).     THE  POMP  OF 

THE  LAVILETTES. 

WHEN  VALMOND  CAME  TO  PONTIAC. 
THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  SWORD. 

Pemberton    (Max).    THE   FOOTSTEPS 
OF  A  THRONE. 

I  CROWN  THEE  KING. 

Phillpotts  (Eden).    THE  HUMAN  BOY. 

CHILDREN  OF  THE  MIST. 

THE  POACHER'S  WIFE. 

THE  RIVER. 

'  Q '    (A.     T.    Quiller   Couch).      THE 
WHITE  WOLF. 

Ridge  (W.Pett).  A  SON  OF  THE  STATE. 

LOST  PROPERTY. 

GEORGE  and  THE  GENERAL. 

A  BREAKER  OF  LAWS. 

ERB. 

Russell  (W.  Clark).    ABANDONED. 

A  MARRIAGE  AT  SEA. 

MY  DANISH  SWEETHEART. 

HIS  ISLAND  PRINCESS. 

Sergeant  (Adeline).    THE  MASTER  OF 

.HEECHWOOD. 
BALBARA'S  MONEY. 
THE  YELLOW  DIAMOND. 
THE  LOVE  THAT  OVERCAME. 

Sidgwiek   (Mrs.   Alfred).    THE    KINS- 
MAN. 

Surtees  (R.  S.).    HANDLEY  CROSS. 
MR.  SPONGE'S  SPORTING  TOUR. 
ASK  MAMMA. 

Walford  (Mrs.  L.  B.).    MR.  SMITH. 

COUSINS. 

THE  BABY'S  GRANDMOTHER. 

TROUBLESOME  DAUGHTERS. 

Wallace  (General  Lew).    BEN-HUR. 

THE  FAIR  GOD. 

Watson  (H.  B.  Marriott).    THE  ADVEN- 
TURERS. 

CAPTAIN  FORTUNE. 
Weekes  (A.  B.).    PRISONERS  OF  WAR. 
Wells  (H.  G.).     THE  SEA  LADY. 

Whitby  (Beatrice).    THE  RESULT  OF 
AN  A:CIDENT. 

White  (Percy).    A   PASSIONATE  PIL- 
GRIM. 

Williamson  (Mrs.  C.  N.).    PAPA. 


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UNWIN    BROTHERS.    LIMITED, 
LONDON   AND    WOKINC. 


DC        Betham-Edwards, 

33.6*         Matilda,  1836-1919. 

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