Old-fashioned Stoicism.
Stoicism in the French Peasantry.
There is even a marked difference of opinion between the present generation and that which has just passed away. I have known people, born at the close of the eighteenth century, who still retained an antique prejudice against self-indulgence. They still had the idea that there was something shameful in excessive comfort, that a certain discipline of hardness was necessary to manly dignity, and, in a minor degree, even to womanly. I have known an English gentleman of the old school, a vigorous and rich old man, who never would use a railway rug or a travelling cap; such things seemed to him concessions to the weakness of the age. At seventy, he would sit upright through a long railway journey, and he preferred second-class carriages, as being less luxurious. His sister belonged to the same school; she never would lean back in a chair, and she disliked lounging habits of all kinds, as being associated with the idea of laziness. People of that kind maintained a strict discipline over themselves; the body had to obey the will. I have since found the same stoicism in full strength amongst the French peasantry. If any of their class betray too much care for their own comfort the rest laugh at them. They are hard with themselves, too, on principle, though there is certainly now a tendency to admit comforts which were formerly unknown.
Modern Acceptance of what is Pleasant.
The idea that it is better not to be too comfortable is now, I believe, extinct in the richer classes in England. They have not become effeminate, but they think that it is well to accept all pleasant things in the right time and place. Why not be snug and warm in a railway carriage? Why not lounge in an easy-chair in the drawing-room? The effect of such indulgences has not been, hitherto, so softening as the austerity of a severer age apprehended. Extreme comfort, in an energetic race, produces healthy reactions. It leads directly to ennui, and ennui leads to a desire for a more active physical life. The age of the first-class carriage is also the age of the velocipede. The most comfortable classes in England are also the most addicted to field sports.
Comfort favourable to Health.
The truth is that the kinds of comfort most appreciated in England include several things which are very favourable to health, especially spacious habitations, pure air, plenty of water, thorough cleanliness, and good food. The increase of comfort has been accompanied by an increase of temperance. It has led to no serious evil, save one.
The Strain of Expense.
Comfort combined with Anxiety.
The one evil is the trying strain of expense to which an extremely high standard of living subjects all except the rich. It keeps all current expenses high, and therefore weighs pitilessly on those who must be refined and have not large independent means. A prudent young Englishman may well hesitate before he enters upon marriage with the prospect of a large house full of children and servants in which no shabbiness, bareness, or imperfection is to be tolerated. So far as pecuniary prudence is concerned, he would probably do better to fill a stable with fine horses. The Archbishop of Canterbury, whilst lamenting the early marriages of the improvident classes, has declared that the young men in the comfortable classes “are giving up the idea of marriage.” This is the visible result. There is another consequence not so visible to the world in the harassed lives of unnumbered heads of families, the men whose days and nights are a combination of bodily comfort with mental toil and anxiety, the men to whom physical hardship would come, if they could only have it, as a counter-irritant and relief.