France in eighteen hundred and two

The French Revolution having overthrown those humane establishments, which had for long ages subsisted in the country, some private individuals are generously endeavouring to repair those breaches which crime has effected in the order of society.

Nothing tends more to the happiness of society than the discovery of practical methods which may increase the comforts of those who are no longer able to support themselves.

When a nation has increased in number and power, it is bound to provide for its people additional means of subsistence. Beneficence should not be stationary when nations are progressive. I will now enter into a detail of the establishment of Chaillot, which is equally praiseworthy for its benevolent views and ingenuity.

I happened to fall into company with a ci-devant nobleman, named Duchaillot,[1] who, during the time of the Terror, lost all his fortune and took refuge in Berlin.

I found he possessed a sound and inquisitive mind, and was thoroughly conversant in every branch of domestic economy. He inquired whether we had in Great Britain and Ireland any institutions which offered a retreat for old age. I answered they were numberless. But this answer did not satisfy him, and he placed his question on a different footing. “Have you,” said he, “any institution independent of charitable purposes, in which male and female persons, after they have reached the age of seventy can by right and without asking the favour of any individual, place themselves in order to pass the remainder of their days in comfort and repose?” As I failed to recollect any such establishment in England, he immediately said: “Come and dine at my house to-morrow and I will show you one.”

The house of Monsieur Duchaillot is beautifully situated at Chaillot, in the Champs Élysées, commanding an extensive view of the city, the Seine and the Champ de Mars. In front, there is a large and elegant parterre, terminating in an extensive kitchen garden. Behind there is another large house, formerly the monastery of S. Perine, which also belongs to this establishment, and a field of about four acres, bordered by a well-cultivated garden.

In this retreat I found above one hundred aged persons, of both sexes, whose manners and appearance showed that they had once figured in the genteeler walks of life, and whose countenances indicated the most perfect happiness and content.

“This,” said he, “is the retreat I have established for old age.”

The chambers occupied by the female part of the society compose the right wing of the house. Each female has a bed-chamber to herself, and there is a parlour or sitting-room appointed to two females. Their clothing, if required, is found for them.

The left wing of the house is occupied by the males, the arrangements being precisely similar to that adopted for the females. Husbands and wives have rooms to themselves.

The diet corresponds with the neatness and simplicity of the apartments.

At one o’clock a plentiful dinner is served to the whole society in the refectory, and at seven they re-assemble for supper. Besides a sufficient quantity of meat and vegetables each person is allowed a pound-and-half of bread and a bottle of wine daily.

In case of sickness they are removed to a part of the house used as an infirmary, where medical attendance is provided, and they receive every possible attention. In case of decease, they are decently interred in the neighbouring church, at the expense of the society, or elsewhere at the expense of their friends.

Their time is entirely at their own disposal. They may even employ themselves in any lucrative occupation, provided it does not interfere with the quiet and general rules of the house.

I observed several females engaged very profitably in needle work and embroidery. What little emoluments they acquire by their industry supply them with pocket-money. The men pass their time in reading, walking in the neighbouring fields or in the garden. I observed they were usually less active than the women, but much more devout. I met an old Abbé whose whole time is spent in reading his breviary, missal and other religious books. His library was composed of about 200 volumes.

Another, about seventy-four years of age, had seen much of the world. His manners were prepossessing, and his conversation proved him a man who lived for others rather than himself.

He was pious without austerity, cheerful without dissipation, and polite without frivolity. He had seen better days, and been one of those sufferers whom the Revolution had plundered and proscribed on account of his attachment to religion. He never spoke with the least asperity of what had happened, he only shrugged his shoulders and smiled contemptuously at the miserable efforts of his countrymen to establish liberty and equality. He was well read in French literature and fond of astronomy. But his favourite books were a Bible and Don Quixote, Cervantes being an author to whom he was especially partial.

Just as we were sitting down to dinner one of the old gentlemen entered, and with great vivacity, informed Monsieur Duchaillot he proposed going to the play. On inquiry, I found he had been an amateur of music; and that at seventy-two years of age his taste for it was still so predominant that he was about to avail himself of a ticket a friend had sent him to see the second representation of Poesiello’s Zingari in Flora, at the Opera Buffa.

I have entered into these details to show that there is no restriction on their amusements, and that they are entirely their own master. Upon the whole, I observed that they were all more or less engaged in religious exercises.

At that period of life when mind and body require repose, when it is necessary old age should “walk pensive on the silent solemn shore of that vast ocean it must sail so soon,” what can be more consolatory than a retreat where wants are supplied and infirmities alleviated without reluctance or repining?

It has been alleged against most governments of Europe that there is nothing seen but youth going to the gallows, and old age to the workhouse.

A government is no more responsible for the misfortunes than for the crimes of its subjects, and all that can be expected is that it should give a proper direction to charitable provisions, and guard them with the sacred sanction of the law.

It will be found a true maxim of public economy that these charitable institutions should spring from the natural sympathy of mankind—nothing is needful for government than to see that they are administered honestly.

This fact has been illustrated in Britain, where there exist more usual monuments of piety and benevolence, than in all the other countries of Europe put together.

In the course of my visits to Chaillot, Monsieur Duchaillot often expressed a wish that a similar establishment should be attempted in England. At first it appeared to me liable to some objections, but these he successfully removed. I thought that respect for aged parents being a quality inherent in the character of every Briton, that such an institution might have a tendency to look as if we meant to canonise ingratitude and place old age in the light of a burdensome load upon the community.

Barbarous natives are accustomed to destroy the old in order that the young may live. But in civilised countries, where agriculture, arts and commerce flourish, and where a greater degree of population promises a greater degree of stock, such motives could never for a moment enter the breast of a human being. I am aware however that some eight years ago it was seriously proposed in the Jacobin Club, to knock all the old people on the head or starve them to death, lest they should consume what would be necessary for the support of soldiers and citizens.

But even in that wild and guilty assembly there were some persons who had not utterly abandoned the feelings of men, and this abominable principle was not carried into execution.

Monsieur Duchaillot combated my opposition to his scheme, by pointing out that it is the object of the institution at Chaillot not to destroy but to give efficacy to domestic attachments. All persons who enter there can experience the attentions of their kinsmen by receiving their visits or visiting them.

Secondly, the institution is only intended for those who cannot provide for themselves, and whose friends and relations cannot provide for them.

Thirdly, more comforts and enjoyments, more attention can be procured under one establishment than when a number of persons are dispersed individually in private houses.

Fourthly, it is not necessary that every one who becomes a member of this Society should be either a father or a mother. There are a multitude of unmarried persons of both sexes, to whom such an establishment offers a happy asylum.

Fifthly, many fathers and mothers of families would prefer the society of persons of their own age and circumstances, and if they are discontented with the institution they can leave it when they choose.

After hearing these arguments I became convinced that similar establishments would be thankfully received by every rational man in our country, who at all reflects on the uncertain chances of prosperity in life.

How many industrious persons contemplate the approach of old age with horror. How many respectable worthy people meet misfortune in the decline of life. Is it right there should be no refuge between death and the workhouse? Should not some encouragement be held out for securing a retreat against misfortune and the inevitable ills attendant on old age?

I will now give M. Duchaillot’s own account of his establishment.

RETREAT FOR OLD AGE AT CHAILLOT.

Several zealous and humane persons, who wish to assist and befriend the unfortunate, have united to execute a beneficent plan, by which industry itself may generate the means which will give a certain property to those who, worn out by age and misfortune, possess none. To attain this object a small voluntary sacrifice only is required, according to a progression almost imperceptible to persons who are not even in easy circumstances. The difference between this institution and hospitals consists in this, the subscriber has a right to the possession of this property for life, acquired by his own economy and labour, and for which he is indebted neither to the compassion nor the liberality of others. Here no act of patronising benevolence humbles self love or mortifies pride.

This institution encourages morality, by habituating persons to make a proper use of their small surplus, resulting from their profits or labour, which is too often squandered in debaucheries. It will animate them to be industrious as an infallible resource against that adversity which is inseparable from old age without fortune.

The plan is simple and inexpensive, its execution prompt and within the reach of every one.

Some years ago Mr. Pitt submitted several excellent proposals to amend the Poor Laws. They struck me forcibly as being useful, sensible and moral. They were aimed so as to give the poor occupation in their homesteads, instead of dragging them to the workhouse. This was a generous idea, worthy of the great mind that conceived it, unhappily it was never carried into effect.

Since my first visit to Chaillot I have had excellent accounts of the progress of the institution. The First Consul pays thirty subscriptions and has founded several places in the establishment and confided the superintendence of them to the Archbishop of Paris, an aged and respectable man, who from his own experience of misfortune will be able to select such unfortunate persons as deserve no longer to remain so.

The Archbishop, accompanied by a number of his clergy, thought proper to visit Chaillot before making any nominations. He was delighted with the beauty of the situation, the purity of the air, the neatness, order and decorum which prevailed. When dinner was on the table eighty-seven aged persons of both sexes appeared, with countenances expressive of the greatest happiness and satisfaction; many of them declaring they felt as much at their ease as when in their own families.

The Archbishop at first imagined he was the eldest person present, but it was found on examination that many had the advantage of him in years.

He was so sensibly affected by this serene spectacle, that he expressed his regret that he had not before been made acquainted with this asylum. For in that case the First Consul must have forced him out of it, to have raised him to his Episcopal See of Paris.

The indispensable condition of acquiring the right of admission is to take a subscription. The rules are that every subscriber pays from the age of ten till thirty years of age, tenpence or a franc a month. Fifteen pence per month from thirty to fifty—twenty pence or two francs a month from fifty to seventy years of age. These different payments amount in their entirety to £45, which must be completely paid before a person can acquire the right of admission. Hence if any one more than ten years of age should offer as a subscriber, he or she must deposit at the time of subscription and according to his or her age, the sum which would have been advanced, had the subscriptions commenced at ten. In order to give encouragement to benevolence, all persons who may be disposed to subscribe, may transfer their right to as many persons as they have made subscriptions on condition that the person to be benefited by the transfer shall not be admitted until the £45 be paid in its entirety. The funds are placed on securities and subjected to an administration which is in every respect safe and undeniable.