Life at a French watering-place differs so essentially from that at
our own Saratoga, Sharon, Richfield, Newport, and Long Branch, that
a few items of observation may be indulged in to show us what an
immense improvement we could introduce into our study of amusement
by following the foreign fashions of simplicity in eating and
drinking.
The Continental people never eat that heavy early meal which we call
breakfast. They take in their rooms at eight o'clock a cup of coffee
and a roll, what they call _caf complet_, or they may prefer tea
and oatmeal, the whole thing very simple. Then at Aix-les Rains or
Vichy the people under treatment go to the bath, taking a rest
afterwards. All this occupies an hour. They then rise and dress for
the eleven o'clock _djeuner
la fourchette_, which is a formal
meal served in courses, with red wine instead of coffee or tea. This
is all that one has to do in the eating line until dinner. Imagine
what a fine clear day that gives one. How much uninterrupted time!
How much better for the housekeeper in a small boarding-house! And
at a hotel where the long, heavy breakfast, from seven to eleven,
keeps the dining-room greasy and badly ventilated until the tables
must be cleared for a one or two o'clock dinner, it is to contrast
order with disorder, and neatness with its reverse.
The foreign breakfast at eleven is a delicious meal, as will be seen
by the following bills of fare: _oeufs au beurre noir_; _saut
printanier_ (a sort of stew of meat and fresh vegetables); _viande
froide panache_; _salade de saison_; _compote de fruit et
ptisserie_; _fromage_, _fruit_, _caf_.
Another breakfast is: _oeufs au plat_; _poulet
la Godard_;
_c'telettes de mouton grillees_; _reviere pommes de terre_; _flans
d'apricot_; and so on, with every variety of stewed pigeon, trout
from the lake, delicious preparations of spinach, and always a
variety of the cheeses which are so fresh and so healthful, just
brought from the Alpine valleys. The highly flavored Alpine
strawberries are added to this meal. Then all eating is done for the
day until the six or seven o'clock dinner. This gives the visitor a
long and desirable day for excursions, which in the neighborhood of
Aix are especially charming, particularly the drive to Chambery, one
of the most quaintly interesting of towns, through the magnificent
break in the Alps at whose southern portal stands La Grande
Chartreuse. All this truly healthy disposition of time and of eating
is one reason why a person comes home from a foreign watering-place
in so much better trim, morally, mentally, and physically, than from
the unhealthy gorging of our American summer resorts.
At twelve or one begins the music at the Casino, usually a pretty
building in a garden. In this shady park the mammas with their
children sit and listen to the strains of the best bands in Europe.
Paris sends her artists from the Chtelet, and the morning finds
itself gone and well into the afternoon before the outside pleasures
of the Casino are exhausted. Here, of course, trip up and down on
the light fantastic toe, and in the prettiest costumes of the day,
all the daughters of the earth, with their attendant cavaliers.
There are certain aspects of a foreign watering-place with which we
have nothing to do here, such as the gambling and the overdressing
of a certain class, but all is externally most respectable. At four
or earlier every one goes to drive in the _voiture de place_ or the
_voiture de remise_, the latter being a handsome hired carriage of a
superior class. But the _voiture de place_, with a Savoyard driver,
is good enough. He knows the road; his sturdy horse is accustomed to
the hills; he takes one for three francs an hour--about half what is
charged at Saratoga or Sharon or Richfield; he expects a few cents
as pourboire, that is all. The vehicle is a humble sort of victoria,
very easy and safe, and the drive is generally through scenery of
the most magnificent description.
Ladies at a foreign watering-place have generally much to amuse them
at the shops. Antiquities of all sorts, especially old china
(particularly old Saxe), also old carved furniture from the well-
known chateaux of Savoy, are found at Aix. The prices are so small
compared with what such curiosities would bring in New York that the
buyer is tempted to buy what she does not want, forgetting how much
it will cost to get it home. Old lace and bits of embroidery and
stuffs are brought to the door. There is nothing too rococo for the
peripatetic vender in these foreign watering-places.
The dinner is a very good one. Cooked by Italian or French cooks, it
may be something of this sort: _potage de riz_; _lavarets St.
Houlade_; filets de boeuf Beaumaire_ (a delicious sauce with basil
mixed in it, a slight taste of aniseed); _bouchers
la reine_;
_chapon roti au cresson_; _asperge au branches_; _glace au
chocolat_; _caf_; or: _potage au Crcy_; _turbot aux cpres_;
_langue de boeuf_; _petits pois, lies au beurre_; _bombe vanille_;
with fruits, cheese, and cakes, and always the wine of the country,
for which no extra charge is made. These delicious meals cost--the
breakfast four francs (wine included), the dinner ten francs. It
would be difficult in our country to find such cooking anywhere, and
for that price simply impossible.
Music in the Casino grounds follows the dinner. The pretty women, by
this time in the short, gay foulards and in the dressy hats in which
they will appear later at the Casino ball, are tripping up and down
in the gas-lighted grounds. The scene is often illuminated by
fireworks. At eight and a half the whole motley crew has entered the
Casino, and there the most amusing dancing--valse, galop, and polka
--is in vogue. The Pole is known by his violent dancing; "he strikes
and flutters like a cock, he capers in the air, he kicks his heels
up to the stars." There is heartiness in the dancing of the Swedes
and Danes, there is mettle in their heels, but no people caper like
the Poles. The Russians and the Americans dance the best. They are
the elegant dancers of the world. French women dance beautifully:
"A fine, sweet earthquake, gently moved By the soft wind of their
dispersing silks."
No lady appears at the Casino bareheaded; it is always with hat or
bonnet, and she lives in her bonnet more or less even at the balls.
If a concert or a play is going on in the little theatre, the same
people take their places in boxes or seats, until every face becomes
familiar, as one knows one's shipmates. Sometimes pleasant
acquaintances are thus formed. A very free-and-easy system of
etiquette permits dancing between parties who have not been
introduced, and the same privilege extends to the asking of a party
of ladies to take an ice. All acquaintance ceases on leaving the
Casino, however, unless the lady chooses to bow to her cavalier.
Sometimes the steward of the Casino gets up a fancy-dress ball under
the patronage of some lady, and then the motley crew appear as
historical characters. It is a unique and gay spectacle. Here in the
land of the old masters some very fine representations of the best
pictures are hastily improvised, and almost without any apparent
effort the whole ball is gotten up with spirit and ingenuity. This,
too, among people who never met the day before yesterday. There is a
wide range of costume allowed for those who take part in these
revelries.
The parquet floor of a foreign Casino is the most perfect thing for
good dancing. They understand laying these floors there better than
we do, and the climate does not alter them, as with us. They are the
pleasantest and easiest of all floors to dance upon.
Not the least striking episode to an American eye is the sight of
many priests and men in ecclesiastical garments at these Casinos.
The number of priestly robes everywhere strikes the visitor to a
French watering-place most emphatically. The schoolmasters are young
priests, and walk about with their boys, and the old priests are
everywhere. A solemn procession crosses the gay scene occasionally.
Three or four acolytes bearing censers, a group of mourners, a tall
and stately nun in gray robes and veil walking magnificently, and
moving her lips in prayer; then a group of people; then a priest
with book in hand saying aloud the prayers for the dead; then the
black box, the coffin, carried on a bier by men, the motley crowd
uncovering as the majesty passes; and the boys follow, chanting,
"The glories of our birth and state Are shadows, not substantial
things; There is no armor against fate; Death lays his icy hand on
kings."
Yes, and on the gay visitor at the Casino. These simple and
unostentatious funerals are very impressive. The priests always walk
bareheaded through the streets on these occasions, and on many
others. Indeed, the priestly head seems impatient of a hat.
The ftes of the peasants are things to go and see, and the
unalterable differences of rank are deeply impressed on the American
mind. An old peasant woman has brought cheese and milk into Aix for
forty years, and now, in her sixties, she still brings them, and
walks eight miles a day. There is no hope that her daughter will
ever join in the gayeties of the Casino, as in America she might
certainly aspire to do. The daughter will be a peasant, as her
mother was, and far happier and more respectable for it, and
certainly more picturesque. How many of the peasant dresses have
given an idea to the modiste! And one sees in the fields of Savoy
the high hat with conical crown, with brim either wide or flat,
which has now become so fashionable; also the flat mushroom hat of
straw with the natural bunch of corn and red poppy, which has gone
from Fanchon up to the duchess. They both come from the fields.
Of course horse-races, formed after the plan of Longchamps, are
inseparable from the amusements of a French watering-place; and in
proportion to the number of guests to be amused; the horses come
down from the various stables. Pigeon-shooting goes on all the time.
It is said that the French have a greater hatred of ennui than any
other people in the world. They do not know what it means. They
amuse themselves all the time, and are never at a loss. The well-
bred French women have as much energy and industry as any New
England woman, but they take their amusement more resolutely, never
losing music, gayety, and "distraction." Perhaps what amuses them
might not amuse the more sober Saxon, but the delicate embroidery of
their lives, with all that comes thus cheaply to them, certainly
makes them a very delightful set. Their manners are most
fascinating, never selfish, never ponderous, never self-conscious,
but always most agreeable. The French woman is _sui generis_. She
may no longer be very young; she never was very handsome. Every
sensation that the human mind can experience she has experienced;
every caprice, whim, and fancy that human imagination can conceive
she has gratified. She is very intelligent; she was born with a
perfect taste in dress; and she is--all the novelists to the
contrary notwithstanding--a very good wife, an excellent mother, a
charming companion, a most useful and sensible helpmeet, with a
perfect idea of doing her half of the business of life, and of
getting out of her hours of leisure all the amusement she can. At a
French watering-place the French women of the better class are most
entirely at home and intensely agreeable.