RURAL LIFE IN FRANCE.*

Mn. RAMERTON has given us the rare treat of an intellectual

surprise. We open his book expecting an hour's pleasant enter- tainment by a writer of known ability, and we find a theme of pro- found interest treated with masterly skill. It is not too much to say that, on laying it down, we know France as we never knew her before,—not the France of great cities, restless, excited, plea- sure-loving always, like the Athenians of old seeking after some new thing, but France as she exists in the length and breadth of her fertile territory, pastoral, frugal, sober, patient of labour, slow to receive new ideas, clinging to the old paths, hating and dreading change, and ready to submit to any Government that, without interfering too much with personal liberty, will protect her in her course of steady industry and of laborious acquisition of wealth, but with latent capacities in her nature for terrible fury if touched on these points ;—a "being breathing thoughtful breath," careful for the morrow after a fashion impossible, it would seem, to our English nature, yet gay with a bright and courteous gaiety foreign to our sadder tempera- ment. The inner life of Rural France, the "very pulse of the machine," is laid bare before our eyes, with such skill in analysis, such almost intuitive perception of the finer shades of character, such wakeful sympathy, such judgment in the selection and (hardest task of all) in the compression of topics and of illustra- tions, that a careful reader may gain from this one entertaining volume more real knowledge of France, more freedom from false conceptions and the prejudices that arise from a half-knowledge, than he could do from anything short of the author's own method, —living familiarly amongst her people. Even then, it may be doubted if the knowledge thus gained would be equally wide and varied, or so little disturbed by personal prepossessions.

On enteling into any detailed consideration of these "Notes," we are met by this difficulty,—where to begin. It would be im- possible to crowd into any space at our disposal all that calls for our attention, from the first page—where we are taken into the author's confidence, share his anxieties as to the choice of a resi- dence, and accompany him on three tours of inspection through the central and southern provinces —till the last, where we leave with regret the shadowy house near the nameless cathedral city, up to whose walls the tide of the great war flowed, to leave them both unhurt. A good map and a careful comparison of trifling indications might enable any one to make a shrewd guess at the name of that city, but we will not attempt to penetrate the judi- cious reserve that surrounds the whereabouts of "my house" with mystery. There is nothing, it is true, in the whole book to which his friendly neighbours could justly take exception ; in addition to which, we are told that though "France is very near to Eng- land, England is as remote from France as some province in the heart of China. A book written in Chinese, or in Egyptian hieroglyphics, or in Babylonian cuneiform characters, would have quite as good a chance of being read in the country 'round my house' as a book written in English." Our own ignorance of France is sufficiently great, but it does not come up to this.

Mr. Hamerton has grouped his varied and most interesting topics under four chief heads,—Society, La Vie de Campagne and de Petite Ville, the Peasantry, Politics and Religion. To these education might be added, only that in France it is inseparably

mingled with the last division, and can searely be considered apart from the influence of the Church. Amusing and instructive as the first division is, in its mingled likeness to and difference from our own modes of life, the weight and value of this book lies in the living picture it gives of the reserve force of the nation, the mighty but hitherto inert mass which Mr. Hamerton predicts

will soon become an active element in the political future of France,—its peasantry. The sketches of politics and of the divi- sion of parties in rural France are very curious, and are valuable as a contribution to a better comprehension of their relative strength. We will touch (necessarily with brevity) upon each.

Mr. Hamerton introduces his readers into the political life of the provinces by a story of how he established a book club under most promising circumstances. Only a room was wanted. This want was supplied by the civility of the sub-prefect, who offered one gratis :-

"Then came the storm. The representative of the Legitimists, who had promised to subscribe (a very ardent Legitimist, himself an appointed agent of Henry V.), at once told me, in the most decided manner, that neither he nor any other member of his party would ever fetch their books from the sons-prefecture, and they tU withdrew in a body. Then the representative of the Republican members of the club met me in the * Round my Howse: ffiges of Rural Life irt France. By P. G. Harnett:ea London: Seeley and Co.

street, and said, 'It is all over the town that the books are to be kept at the sous-prefecture, and all the Republican members have withdrawn their names from the club.'"

A few Bonapartists and a few indifferents were all that remained, and the club collapsed. "This little history," he adds, "may give some faint idea of the extreme division of French society, as a consequence of the events which have agitated the country during the last hundred years." And he draws the fair inference that his English readers will exclaim, "How suspicious and un- charitable are these French ! How much better the English are !" "Let us not be too sure of this," he answers ; and points the moral by recalling the scene in the House of Commons when Mr. Auberon Herbert supported Sir Charles Dilke's motion for an inquiry into the employment of the Civil List :—

" Now," he continues "as we see that members of this aasemby, who sit so high above us, and are an example of mannets for our study and imitation, actually bark, bray, neigh, howl, crow, mow, and bellow when the question of Monarchy is touched upon its extremest outskirts, we ought, I think, to regard Frenchmen with some indulgence, if they do not always disguise their sentiments when their monarchical or anti- monarchical feelings are, not merely tickled rather unpleasantly on the outside by asking a question, but wounded to the quick, and that in the very sorest places."

In rural France there are but three parties. The Legitimists, .comprising the old noblesse, and such outsiders as (wishing to be admitted into what is equivalent to our selectest county society) profess the most ardent devotion to the Church and Henri Cinq ; the Bonapartists, chiefly among the bourgeoisie ; and the Repub- licans; Orleanism, as a political faith, does not exist. Just before the visit of the Count de Paris to Frobsdorf, he came into Mr. Hamerton's neighbourhood. "I thought," he writes, 4‘I knew the people pretty well, but their unfeigned

indifference amazed me Active hatred would be a much more favourable sign for a Royal family than this complete indifference." Indeed, the one great obstacle, he believes, to the re-establishment of Monarchy is the complete death of the senti- ment of loyalty among the people. Even among the old Legiti- mists he questions how far it is a genuine, self-existent feeling, and how far a mere clinging to the supremacy of caste, a longing, backward look towards the days when a French noble was a prince in the land. Of Republicanism he has the highest hopes. It is spreading among the people steadily, if slowly, in spite of all the efforts of Church and State officials, and to a further de- velopment (in that direction) of the present constitution Mr. Hamerton looks confidently, as the only government suited to the present condition of France, or fitted to grow with her growth :—

"It is becoming every year more difficult for the French Government to get elections done according to its own fancy. The electoral body has of late began to perceive that it can have its will, if it has only the resolution to exercise it, and the elections become less and less control- lable by the Government of the day. It may even be asserted that there is a growing tendency to vote for the candidate who is known to be disagreeable to the Government. This is not a good thing in itself, since the Government ought not to have influence enough to cause the election of the candidate whom it dislikes, but the consequences may be total abstention from interference, as it is becoming evident that their own interest advises it. In one department, the municipal elec- tions and those of the arrondissements, have been more and more Republican on every successive occasion, in spite of great clerical and aristocratic influence. A direct interference of the authorities would produce Radical or Communal elections."

Among the peasantry, the ignorance on all historical and poli- tical matters is something astounding. In the late war they believed that the priests were agents of Prussia, and that they sent to Germany all the money raised for parochial purposes. Their explanation of this extraordinary but fixed delusion was that the Pope wished to make himself King of France ; that Napoleon III. bad, for a time, restrained his ambitious schemes by taking possession of Rome, but that now, by means of Prussia, the Church was aiming at the fall of Napoleon and the seizure of France. This canard was the offspring "without father bred" of hatred of the Pope, roused by Papal tamperings with the silver franc-piece. Touch a French peasant in his pocket, and his suspicions are as boundless as his hatred is fierce. On the other hand, the Republic is still a source of misgiving to the landed peasant, whose small plot of ground is dearer to him than life itself. After Sedan,—

"A peasant woman whom we knew came rushing into our kitchen at five o'clock in the morning, sobbing and wringing her hands and yelling out at the top of her voice, 'Ella est dechainee, elle est decheinee l' My wife, hearing the noise, went to see what was the matter, and the same phrase was repeated for her benefit. She thought some wild beast must have broken loose, and asked what beast it was. 'La Repub- lique,' was the answer."

If the peasant woman could have foreseen the state of Paris at the close of the siege, she might have justified herself at the expense of the Republique Francaise. The attitude of the peasantry towards the Church (the men, we mean, for the women are pretty much under the influence of the priests, though not to such an extent as their more educated sisters) is very curious. They are excessively superstitious, but their superstitions are not those of the Church ; they rather appear to belong to the old heathen times, to be remains of those so strikingly described by Michelet. When the priests march round in procession to bless the fields, the men keep aloof, "not thinking it worth while to quit their labour for an hour, even for the most important rural ceremony of the year ":—

"The real feeling of the male peasant in this part of France seems to be that religion is a sort of precaution which may not turn out to be of any use, but which it is as well to take A friend of mine says that they do really believe, but have a kind of surface scepticism which covers their belief; this is one view. The other view is that they have a surface religion which covers a basis of scepticism, as shallow water may cover a rocky bed. They believe in the efficacy of old wives' prayers for the cure of burns or dislocations, and yet, at the same time, if you tell them of a miracle fully authenticated by the clergy, they (the men) will look at each other and smile with the most evident incredulity."

Mr. Hamerton shows how pilgrimages are got up by pious ladies and active priests. In future, no train of pilgrims, however long, will vouch to our minds for the piety of the locality in which it takes its rise. In his position within his own house the French peasant brings down to modern times the image of patriarchal simplicity and dignity. Surrounded by his grown- up children, he rules supreme,—no one questions his right even of personal chastisement ; and in frugality, unwearied industry, and strictest self-control he sets an example worthy of the closest imitation. Custom rules him, as he rules his family, with an iron rod, and the power of custom rests upon a dread of change. "He likes to keep his sons illiterate, for he knows by an infallible class-instinct that the old rural life, whose virtues he appreciates and values, will be a thing of the past when knowledge enters the homestead, with his half-sisters, luxury and discontent." To a large degree, he is right in valuing the old rural life :—

" It implies the constant practice of very great virtues,—temperance, frugality, industry, patience, self-control, and self-denial. In all these virtues the peasant acts as none but a saint or a hero could act, if he were alone, but he is wonderfully sustained by the customs of his class. His character is all of a piece, and ignorance appears to be an essential part of it. No educated person could have patience to endure his monotonous toil, or the simplicity of his fare."

The excessive uniformity of their life, and of the life of each with that of the other (even their dress is regulated minutely by custom), makes it unbearable to a mind once opened to the influences of culture, and "those members of the class who get education never can endure to remain within it." Hence it con- tains within itself the elements of a swift decay, and in a century the apparently changeless life of to-day will have become a tradi- tion of the past.

In strong contrast with the rigorous, penurious life of the

peasant-proprietor is "la vie de petite vile," an airy, sociable, easy life, troubled by no earnest purpose,—" a lotus-land of good eating and drinking," "the very realisation of that contented

felicity which philosophers have so often dreamed of and so rarely enjoyed." Different, again, is the life of the larger country pro- prietors, in which new manners and luxurious ideas are only slowly displacing the old simplicity and dignified hospitality. Another disintegrating power is also at work in changing the face of pro- vincial society. The old families are slowly melting away, under the French law of inheritance. "I know," says our author, "a family personally, the head of which has, perhaps, 13,000 a year, and an ancient title, but he has also nine children, who will have about 000 a year each. The chateau will have to be sold." If

our readers wish to hear how people become coma ; how une flue bien devie conducts herself ; how the vieille file emancipates herself from the surveillance that has held her since her childhood in the strictest bondage ; how marriages are arranged, and how they succeed ; how social intercourse is regulated, and the mar- vellous qualities of a beau nom, we must refer them to Mr.

Hamerton's experiences and observations, only quoting one say- ing, pregnant with significance, regarding our comprehension, as nations, of each other,—that "whatever is done in England is sure to be the opposite of what (in the same kind) is done in France."