Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/366

 YOUNG FRANCE.

Ootobsb 29,  1859.]

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word!” cries Sir  William  Lucy,  in  Shakspeare’s “Henry VI.”  And  truly  so  it  is,  and  there  lies perhaps the  one  great  distinction  between  the English boy  and  the  French  one. The French  boy is the  higher  prized  the  more  subservient  he  is; whereas, put  Eton  and  “subserviency ” together if you  can! Think how  * ‘ submission ” and  no “play ” would  suit  those  rollicking  youths  who  are everywhere destined  to  be  foremost  when  England is to  be  served,  and  who  get  their  real  value  per* haps more  even  from  the  “play ” than  from  the “work;” fancy an  Etonian  kept  from  boating  or cricket  by  his  mother’s  sermons!

This may  require  a few  words  of  explanation: it is  supposed — too  lightly  perhaps — that  because France has  such  a large  standing  army,  and  that French soldiers  do  incontestably  fight  so  well,  it  is an  easy  thing  to  recruit  men  for  the  trade  of  war, and that  it  suffices  to  stamp  on  the  ground  to make  soldiers  rise  out  of  it. This is  erroneous. The conscription  is  submitted  to,  but  hated; and with a system  of  voluntary  recruiting,  it  is  much to be  doubted  whether  France  could  maintain  any army at  all. But this  is  not  our  immediate  point: what we  say  is,  that  in  France  no  man  fights who is  not  a soldier,  and  with  whom  fighting  is not  a trade. The conscription,  which  forces  men of the  lower  ranks  into  the  army; their  incon- ceivable laziness which  accommodates  them  to garrison  life  in  time  of  peace; and  their  natural subserviency, which  bends  them  to  the  will  of their  chiefs  at  all  times — -these  are  some  of  the causes which  help  to  make  good  soldiers  of  the French, but  none  of  these  characteristics  make good citizens — stout-hearted  men. Here is  the secret of  their  submissiveness  to  tyranny. Have the army  for  you,  and  you  may  govern  France. Emerson has  said: “Englishmen  are  manly  rather than warlike. ” The saying  may  be  reversed,  and it would  be  true  to  say  of  the  French  that  they are “warlike ” rather  than  “manly.”

And the  system  works  through  life. To be  the “first boy ” in  a school  in  contemporary  France,  is  to be  the  most  obedient  and  respectful; and  to  be  a “model  young  man,”  when  school  is  lived  through and laid  aside,  is  to  be  in  all  things  submissive  to the  elders  of  the  family,  and  not  a little  guided  by the  influence  of  the  family  confessor. But this  is  a state  of  perfection  to  which,  it  must  be  admitted, few young  Frenchmen,  however  well  educated, attain. What remains  to  them  is  the  capacity  for subserviency, but  it  is  not  always  to  what  is  so worthy  of  respect  as  the  “heads  of  a family” that their  obedience  is  tendered.

Now, in  the  lower  ranks  what  happens? The wretched baby,  swathed  and  sewn  up  physically during the  first  two  years,  emerges  from  this oppression to  find  itself  as  morally  mummied  up as  is  its  more  aristocratical  companion  of  whom  we have  just  spoken. There is  no  “play,”  either,  for this poor  little  atom,  whose  earliest  infliction  is not  to  be  clean,  but  to  be  useful  So  soon  as  the French peasant-boy  can  walk  and  talk  he  becomes the employ^  of  his  parents,  neither  more  nor  less than does  the  clerk  in  some  government  office, furnishing so  many  hours  a day  of  work. His first lesson  is  to  do  something  and  gain  some- thing, and for  any  display  of  superfluous  energy, implying perchance  that  he  might  some  day  be something,  he  is  sorely  taken  to  task.

The writer  of  these  pages  remembers,  one  fine summer morning,  having  talked  to  a farmer’s wife, in  the  central  provinces  of  France,  and questioned her  about  her  children,  the  youngest of whom  held  by  his  mother’s  apron,  and  listened with a fearfully  acute  ear  for  a brat  of  four  years old to  what  was  being  said. The children  of  a neighbouring  chateau  were  being  led  out  to  walk in a field  close  by,  and  were  permitted  by  their guardian bonnes  to  indulge  in  the  recreation  of skipping. Upon the  question  being  (mischiev- ously!)  put  to  the  infant  peasant  of  “whether  he, too, should  not  like  to  be  skipping  with  the  rest?” he threw  an  extraordinary  expression  of  sharpness into his  eyes,  and  replied,  “What  would  you  give me for  it?” (literally, — “Quy  est  ce  que  vous  me donnerez  pour  cela?”)

The notion  of  enjoyment  for  enjoyment’s  sake — the notion  of  any  act  committed  otherwise  than for the  consideration  of  what  was  to  be  gained  by it — had  not  yet  taken  a definite  place  in  the  brains of this  baby  of  four  years  old.

Well, now,  this  was  not  always  the  condition of French  children. On the  contrary,  French history will  furnish  you  in  the  century  and  a-half that precedes  the  so-called  Great  Revolution,  with countless cases  of  boys  who  were  as  reckless,  as irreverent,  as  gay,  as  imprudent,  as  “up  to  a row,”  or  to  any  wickedness  in  the  world,  as  any Etonian since  the  time  of  the  foundation  of  Eton by Henry  VI.;  real  “boys,”  who  snap  their fingers at  the  experience  of  others,  rush  headlong into adventure,  and,  if  they  do  not  bravely  die  for some noble  cause,  may  battle  with  circumstances till they  become  great  men.

The aristocracy  of  France  betrayed  itself  and the country: but  into  the  details  of  all  its  back- slidings it  is  not  our  purpose  to  enter; suffice  it to  say,  there  was  a time  when,  like  England, France had  “younger  sons” — when  men  with ancient names  were  forced  to  do  something  for themselves and  for  the  country; when  unmarried girls were  comparatively  free; when  colonies  were there, asking  for  colonisers;  and  when  marriage was not,  as  now,  based  upon  the  inevitable  sale  of the  man,  in  order  that  the  equality  of  the  fortune may be  restored. The armies  of  Cond6  and Turenne were  full  of  boys,  lads  of  fourteen  and fifteen, who  were  neither  canting  little  Jesuits, nor puny  would-be  exquisites,  nor  infidels  either, like the  products  of  the  Revolution — but  who fleshed their  maiden  swords  gallantly,  died  like Christian gentlemen,  and  would  not  have  told  a lie for all  the  world,  but  whose  chief  virtue  was  far from being  their  capacity  of  obedience. Many of them  had  run  away  from  home  to  join  the standards of  the  King  or  of  “Monsieur  le  Prince,” as it  might  be. The great  and  undeniable  fact  is, that there  were  boys  in  France  before  the  Revo- lution of ’89,  and  that  it  would  puzzle  any  one  to discover  a genuine  boy  there  now.

We will  prove  by- and- by  that  there  were  girls, too, in  France,  some  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago; and that  might  seem  a much  more  hazardous assertion to  persons  familiar  with  the  present immured condition  of  French  young  ladies  of