Swimming in England.
Exceptional Excellence.
Low Average.
Swimming is much more cultivated and practised in France than in England. This is probably due in some degree to the hot French summers, which warm the water so thoroughly that one may remain in it a long time without chill. All along the Saône the boys learn swimming at a very early age. It is the boast of the village of St. Laurent, opposite Mâcon, that every male can swim. Ask one of the villagers if he is a swimmer, and he does not answer “Yes,” but smiles significantly, and says, “Je suis de St. Laurent.” Wherever a river provides a deep pool it is used as a swimming bath. In England the accomplishment is much more rare, and is usually confined to the middle and upper classes, especially in the rural districts. When we read in the newspaper that an English boat has capsized we always expect to find that most of the occupants were unable to swim and sank to rise no more. Amongst English sailors the art seems to be nearly unknown, and they have even a prejudice against it as tending to prolong the agonies of drowning. In the female sex, also, France takes the lead by the number of ladies who can swim a little, though they have not a Miss Beckwith amongst them, any more than Frenchmen can produce a Captain Webb. It is characteristic of England, with her vigorous race, to produce the finest and strongest swimmers, though her general average is so deplorably low. One English family may be long remembered, that of Vice-Chancellor Shadwell, who progressed grandly in the Thames, followed by his nine sons.
Dancing.
Dancing used to be an essentially French exercise, and as it was much practised in the open air it was conducive to healthy activity. The best kind of dancing was that which used to bring together a few peasant families in the summer evenings. The reader observes that I am speaking of the past. In the present day dancing of that kind seems to be almost entirely abandoned. Unhealthy dancing in small crowded rooms is practised to some extent by the middle classes. As for the bals publics, the fewer of them there are the better. In obvious ways, and in ways that I can only hint at, they are injurious to the public health.
Field Sports.
Shooting in France.
Game not over-abundant.
In field sports the chief difference between France and England is not a difference of taste for sport itself, but a difference in game-preserving. In England this is carried to the utmost perfection by the most artificial means and at enormous cost; in France this is done only on a few estates, and ordinary game-preserving is very lax and very economical. Often it is merely nominal. Some man with another occupation is supposed to be the garde, and he walks over the estate occasionally with a gun, killing a hare or a partridge for his private use, and seldom arresting a poacher. Still, the shootings are supposed to be worth something, as they are let, though at low prices. The English believe that there is no game at all in France, except a few partridges; and they might quote French humorists in support of this opinion, as they have laughed at the Parisian sportsman and his empty bags from time immemorial. However, as this is not a comic account, but an attempt to tell the truth, I may say that for several years my sons kept my larder very fairly supplied with game in the shooting season, including hares, partridges, woodcocks, snipes, and wild ducks. The neighbouring squires occasionally kill a deer or a wild boar, and one nobleman has killed many wild boars, some of them magnificent beasts. As a rule, a French sportsman walks much for little game, and is himself quite aware that the game is a mere pretext; the exercise is the real object. If the English reader thinks this ridiculous, I may remind him that English fox-hunting is an application of the same principle. A hundred horsemen follow a single fox, and when he is killed they do not even eat him.[4]