"VILLAGE LIFE IN NORMANDY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2671, 24 May 1905, Page 70

"VILLAGE LIFE IN NORMANDY.

Normandy bears in some ways a strong resemblance to the English counties of Devonshire and Herefordshire. It is famed for its cider, its cheeses, its cream, and its beauty. Yet no one travelling through Normandy could make the mistake of thinking himseli in an English county, -so ■widely different are the habits of life. The primitive little trains puffing and rattling along the branch lines, the track all unprotected by fences or hedges, and running directly through the main streets of the villages, with no barrier between itself and the countryman standing talking at the door of his bouse, are such as have not been seen in England since Stephenson made bis first experiments. But the amount of noise and jolting this tiumcartrain makes is inversely proportionate to the efficiency of its service. It passes through scenery similar enough, to that of Devonshire, yet. lacking tlie wejLl-kept air of rural England, with its trim hedges and garden-encircled homes. In Normandy hedges are but rarely seen. Tben th© peasants wear almost invariably a working overall, or "blouse," as they call them, like the smock formerly worn by English field labourers. This is nearly always of blue cotton, with sleeves and turn-down collar, and reaches nearly to th.3 knees. Sabots are almost universal, too — great over-shoes made of wood, turning up at the tevs. The clumping of these sabots grows to bo a very familiar sound in one's ears ; even in Paris one finds them occasionally worn by working people. Anotiber carious feature of country life in Nor-n-andy is the amount of work done in th« field by women ; they take their part in the roughest Avork, and toil for just as long. Poor souls ! they lead an unlovely enough life ; many of them labour like bea&ts of burden, and fare worse in the matter of food and lodging. For they live in unventilated and insanitary hovels, and have for their staple article of diet a soup, often made meat, in wßich are large quantities of bread and vegetable, so that it makes a thick mess we should hardly dignify by the name of soup. Meat is much too expensive a luxury for the peasantry to indulge in. It is not surprising, when wages are so extraordinarily low. The manager of a large farm for th© cultivation of trees for wholesale export received, with his board and lodging, the sum of £16 a year, which is just 6s a week. A house servant, whose wages were considered exceptionally good, was paid £2 10s a year ; snd. the day labourer's wages were in proportion. Little wonder that the peasantry cannot afford to buy meat ! And along with these miserable wag.es they work for very long hours — from 5 or 6 o'clock in the morning till 7 or 8 o'clock at night. Tho cenditions of labour are not quite so favourable in Normandy as in New Zealand. The manner in which the laundry is done is very peculiar. Only very wealthy people have their, own washhouses and do their laundry at home. The poorer people make use of the public , "la.voir," ■which is simply a shallow dug-out well with a rough trench thrown up round it, and having an inlet and" outlet for the water. To this all the village women bring the clothes, and by dint of much rubbing and beating contrive, in spite of thse cold water, to do their washing year in, year out. It is a curious sight to pass a group of them kneeling there on their wooden boards, rinsing or beating with sticks, the sound of which can be heard afar, and betrays the presence of one of these "lavoirs." The washerwomen are the gossips of the village; at the "lavoir" they discuss each inhabitant of the place, and blacken tbeir neighbours' reputations while they bleach their clothes. In another matter of washing the good people ol Normandy differ from* their neighbours across the 'Channel. Many of them -consider, daily ablutions, even if only face and bands, quite superfluous, and only on rare and great occasions do they indulge in a wash. Therefore, not so much, from lack of water itself as from, lack of understanding of the pleasure that lias in a free use of it, they are much less lavishly hospitable of it to their visitors than of their c ; der and wine. Indeed, in the wealthiest household in this little community shaving water was brought to an English visitor in the saucepan, in which it had been boiled — so little do they understand what we English coosideiy the gentle amenities of life. In that same household, tco, a white tablecloth on the table for meals was considered quite a luxury, and was used only when visitors were present. On ordinary occasions a piece of red and white American cloth took its place. The mistress of the house triedi to look as thouglh she believed it when one of her English visitors assured her that we had tablecloths for all meals, even when only the family was present; but it was too great a strain ton her politeness, and, though she said nothing, one knew that one was being classed as a romancer. Table manners, too, are primitive. Knives and forks are frequently laid aside to give place to fingers in the consumption of poultry or chops ; and each man helps ■himself with his own fork to such, morsels os he desires from the central dish. But with it all there is an innate hospitality and delicacy of feeling among themf which would do credit to a class much higher than tbeir own: the hospitality that gives of its best, not only ungrudgingly, but with the air of being itself henoured in the giving ; the kindness of feeling that is able to move from ite own standpoint, and place itself at its neighbour's, so that it may see how to give pleasure, and, seeing it, does it.

— A chap who was told by a clergyman to "remember Lot's wife " raplied that he had trouble enough with his own without remembering other men's wiveg.