not be incorporated in the army, all his
studies and all his projects being interrupted,
probably, for ever. Not only is he forbidden
to marry until he " has satisfied the law "—
that is the expression—but he dares enter
into no engagement of the affections. It is
only in romance that maidens can be expected
to wait seven years. This is why, as a matter
of course, all young affections become in
France to be considered necessarily evanescent.
The notion is so rooted in the national
mind, that the contrary appears ridiculous.
However, we may add in passing, that as soon
as the great event has happened, and a good
number has been drawn, in very quiet demure
places mothers hasten to marry their sons—
to find wives for them—and, if they fail,
mourn like Rachael. In the agricultural provinces,
an old bachelor and a bad subject are
synonymous terms.

That expression, a good number, is suggestive
of speculation. We are accustomed to
consider the French as a military nation, par
excellence. We have read their history, and
seen their children in shakos, with tin swords
and guns. There can be no mistake. The
conscription must be a mere matter of form,
when the whole population is ready to rush
to the field of glory. Nearly all that we
know of the people seems to justify this conclusion;
and yet nothing can be more erroneous.
The conscription law is looked upon
in every class as a disaster and a curse; and
parents are almost afraid to set their affections
on a son until they are sure he is not to
be taken from them. This is perhaps, to a
certain extent, the case in other countries,
where the state exacts the same terrible
power of choice. But few people are so stationary,
so fond of the horizon visible from
their village steeple, so suspicious of the
people in the next parish, so fearful of distant
danger, and, we may add, so inaccessible to
the idea of personal sacrifice for the public
good when that sacrifice is exacted as a permanent
duty, and is not suggested in an
appeal to their enthusiasm, as the French.
The law of conscription is an attempt to obtain
in an administrative and regular way the
results of that terrible patriotism which once
enabled the country in danger, to send fourteen
shoeless armies to the defence of the frontier.

Public opinion expresses itself by the
mouths of women, because men in general
are checked by the fear of incurring the
blame of timidity for themselves or their
children. The mothers speak out. The law,
they say, is a barbarous law, at variance with
the progress of our civilisation. It either
destroys the legitimate hopes of a young man
who may have given promise of remarkable
talent all do to their mothers; or inflicts a
fine on his family which necessitates many
years of saving, and leaves him without some
of the means of instruction which he requires.
This is the view of the humbler
bourgeoisie. Among the peasantry the terror
of the coming appeal to choice is greater
still. Power of purchasing escape is of course
for them very rare. Those to whom the lot
falls must go. They do not, however, criticise
the law, though they detest it when it
applies to them, because they conceive it to
be part of the natural order of things. Indeed,
scarcely one Frenchman in a thousand
of whatever class can understand how a
nation can politically exist without this regulation.
To tell them that the English raise an
army by other means is only to provoke a smile
of incredulity. They either disbelieve you,
or disbelieve in the army. They have more
than once, in French romances, the scene
being laid in England, read of some gallant
youth, apprentice to a linen-draper, or son of
an alderman, and named Sir Tomi, who,
having satisfied the law, and drawn a good
number, has the world all before him when
to choose; and so forth.

The aversion to military life general in
France exhibits itself in many ways. All
those who can afford it buy a substitute.
Instances of the contrary are so rare, that
they are cited as wonderful examples. When,
therefore, the period of drawing comes on,
there is a general revelation of the state of a
family's means. Genteel misery is at once
seen through. The parents who can allow
their son to join the army must be poor
indeed. Most strain a point to obtain a substitute,
from affection, but many do it from
ostentation, and others from the sad necessity
of keeping up appearances. If Jules is not
bought in, the grocer no longer gives credit,
and the butcher sends in his bill. Nobody
believes in a suddenly developed martial propensity.
If he go for a soldier, it is because
he is too poor to escape. What! Not
able to spare twelve hundred francs, or fifteen
hundred, or two thousand, or four or five
thousand — for so the price rises as danger
increases! Mothers stint the whole household
for years, and sisters drop sous into
money-boxes to avert the disaster.

In Paris and all large cities there are
regular assurance companies, which undertake,
on payment of so much down before
the lottery is drawn, to promise a substitute.
It is a popular opinion, often justified by the
result, that it is unsafe to have dealings with
these companies. They are called " dealers in
men," " marchands d'hommes," as are also
more particularly those worthy individuals
who make it their trade to find out idle and
capable young fellows, ready to sell their services,
either directly, or through the medium
of the assurance companies, to disconsolate
parents and the impartial state. There is
always a market for courage and recklessness;
and many young men, who from indolence
or misfortune cannot make the two
ends of the year meet to their satisfaction,
are always ready to sell themselves at the
tariff of the day. Bills of various sizes, but
generally very small, posted up in obscure