My First Years as a Frenchwoman, 1876-1879. Mary King Waddington

the instrumental part much better than the singing. French voices, the women's particularly, are thin, as a rule. I think they sacrifice too much to the "diction,"—don't bring out the voices enough—but the style and training are perfect of their kind.

      The Conservatoire is quite as much a social feature as a school of music. It was the thing to do on Sunday afternoon. No invitation was more appreciated, as it was almost impossible to have places unless one was invited by a friend. All the boxes and seats (the hall is small) belong to subscribers and have done so for one or two generations. Many marriages are made there. There are very few theatres in Paris to which girls can be taken, but the Opéra Comique and the Conservatoire are very favourite resorts. When a marriage is pending the young lady, very well dressed (always in the simplest tenue de jeune fille) is taken to the Conservatoire or the Opéra Comique by her father and mother, and very often her grandmother. She sits in front of the box and the young man in the stalls, where he can study his future wife without committing himself. The difference of dress between the jeune fille and the jeune femme is very strongly marked in France. The French girl never wears lace or jewels or feathers or heavy material of any kind, quite unlike her English or American contemporaries, who wear what they like. The wedding-dress is classic, a simple, very long dress of white satin, and generally a tulle veil over the face. When there is a handsome lace veil in the family, the bride sometimes wears it, but no lace on her dress. The first thing the young married woman does is to wear a very long velvet dress with feathers in her hair.

      I think on the whole the arranged marriages turn out as well as any others. They are generally made by people of the same monde, accustomed to the same way of living, and the fortunes as nearly alike as possible. Everything is calculated. The young couple usually spend the summer with parents or parents-in-law, in the château, and I know some cases where there are curious details about the number of lamps that can be lighted in their rooms, and the use of the carriage on certain days. I am speaking of course of purely French marriages. To my American ideas it seemed very strange when I first came to Europe, but a long residence in a foreign country certainly modifies one's impressions. Years ago, when we were living in Rome, four sisters, before any of us were married, a charming Frenchwoman, Duchesse de B., who came often to the house, was very worried about this family of girls, all very happy at home and contented with their lives. It was quite true we danced and hunted and made a great deal of music, without ever troubling ourselves about the future. The duchesse couldn't understand it, used often to talk to mother very seriously. She came one day with a proposal of marriage—a charming man, a Frenchman, not too young, with a good fortune, a title, and a château, had seen Madam King's daughters in the ballroom and hunting-field, and would very much like to be presented and make his cour. "Which one?" we naturally asked, but the answer was vague. It sounded so curiously impersonal that we could hardly take it seriously. However, we suggested that the young man should come and each one of the four would show off her particular talent. One would play and one would sing (rather like the song in the children's book, "one could dance and one could sing, and one could play the violin"), and the third, the polyglot of the family, could speak several languages. We were rather puzzled as to what my eldest sister could do, as she was not very sociable and never spoke to strangers if she could help it, so we decided she must be very well dressed and preside at the tea-table behind an old-fashioned silver urn that we always used—looking like a stately maîtresse de maison receiving her guests. We confided all these plans to the duchesse, but she was quite put out with us, wouldn't bring the young man nor tell us his name. We never knew who he was. Since I have been a Frenchwoman (devant la loi)—I think all Americans remain American no matter where they marry—I have interested myself three or four times in made marriages, which have generally turned out well. There were very few Americans married in France all those years, now there are legions of all kinds. I don't remember any in the official parliamentary world I lived in the first years of my marriage—nor English either. It was absolutely French, and rather borné French. Very few of the people, the women especially, had any knowledge or experience of foreign countries, and didn't care to have—France was enough for them.

      W. was very happy at the Ministry of Public Instruction—all the educational questions interested him so much and the tournées en province and visits to the big schools and universities—some of them, in the south of France particularly, singularly wanting in the most elementary details of hygiene and cleanliness, and it was very difficult to make the necessary changes, giving more light, air, and space. Routine is a powerful factor in this very conservative country, where so many things exist simply because they have always existed. Some of his letters from Bordeaux, Toulouse, and Montpellier were most interesting. As a rule he was very well received and got on very well, strangely enough, with the clergy, particularly the haut clergé, bishops and cardinals. His being a Protestant was rather a help to him; he could take an impartial view of things.

      At Bordeaux he stayed at the Préfecture, where he was very comfortable, but the days were fatiguing. He said he hadn't worked so hard for years. He started at nine in the morning, visiting schools and universities, came home to breakfast at twelve, and immediately after had a small reception, rectors, professors, and people connected with the schools he wanted to talk to, at three started again seeing more schools and going conscientiously over the buildings from basement to garret—then visits to the cardinal, archbishop, general commanding, etc.—a big dinner and reception in the evening, the cardinal present in his red robes, his coadjutor in purple, the officers in uniform, and all the people connected in any way with the university, who were pleased to see their chief. There was a total absence of Bonapartist senators and deputies (which was not surprising, as W. had always been in violent opposition to the Empire), who were rather numerous in these parts. W. was really quite exhausted when he got back to Paris—said it was absolute luxury to sit quietly and read in his library, and not talk. It wasn't a luxury that he enjoyed very much, for whenever he was in the house there was always some one talking to him in his study and others waiting in the drawing-room. Every minute of the day he was occupied. People were always coming to ask for something for themselves or some members of their family, always candidates for the Institute, anxiously inquiring what their chances were, and if he had recommended them to his friends. It is striking even in this country of functionaries (I think there are more small public employees in France than in any other country) how many applicants there were always for the most insignificant places—a Frenchman loves a cap with gold braid and gilt buttons on his coat.

      All the winter of 1876, which saw the end of the National Assembly and the beginning of a new régime, was an eventful one in parliamentary circles. I don't know if the country generally was very much excited about a new constitution and a change of government. I don't think the country in France (the small farmers and peasants) are ever much excited about the form of government. As long as the crops are good and there is no war to take away their sons and able-bodied men, they don't care, often don't know, whether a king or an emperor is reigning over them. They say there are some far-off villages half hidden in the forests and mountains who still believe that a king and a Bourbon is reigning in France. Something had to be decided; the provisoire could no longer continue; the country could not go on without a settled government. All the arguments and negotiations of that period have been so often told, that I will not go into any details. The two centres, centre droit and centre gauche, had everything in their hands as the great moderating elements of the Assembly, but the conflicting claims of the various parties, Legitimist, Orleanist, Bonapartist, and advanced Left, made the question a very difficult one.

      W. as a member of the Comité des Trente was very much occupied and preoccupied. He came back generally very late from Versailles, and, when he did dine at home, either went out again after dinner to some of the numerous meetings at different houses or had people at home. I think the great majority of deputies were honestly trying to do what they thought best for the country, and when one remembers the names and personalities on both sides—MacMahon, Broglie, d'Audiffret-Pasquier, Buffet, Dufaure, and Thiers, Casimir Périer, Léon Say, Jules Simon, Jules Ferry, Freycinet, and many others, it is impossible to think that any of those men were animated by any spirit other than love of the country and an ardent desire to see some stable government restored which would enable France to take her place again among the great powers. Unfortunately the difference of opinion as to the form of government made things very difficult. Some of the young deputies, just fresh from the