It is quietly assumed that French novels are written only for the depraved tastes of French readers. French novels are, in fact, the most cosmopolitan of all literatures since the Latin classics. They have a great circulation in Russia, Germany, Italy, England, and other countries. It appears that they answer accurately to the present state of civilisation. In England they are bought by thousands both in the originals and in translations. In a London drawing-room some years ago I found that everybody could talk about Daudet except myself, and this made me read some of his books that I might appear less ignorant. A writer in the _Saturday Review_[50] speaks of those music halls and restaurants which are chiefly frequented by the _demi-monde_, and then goes on to say: “There is the same fascination in going to these places that there is in reading French novels of more than doubtful morality. Let it be known that there is a book that is hardly decent, and the rush for it is immense amongst our young married ladies, and even among some of the elder spinsters. Indeed, not to have read any book that is more indecent than usual is to be out of the fashion.” This is probably exaggerated, as many books are perfectly decorous in expression whilst depicting an immoral kind of life, and a life may preserve the strictest purity of language though given over to unbridled desires. But, however bad may be the books they read, no one supposes that Englishwomen misconduct themselves in a practical manner because they have read them. Would it be more than fair to extend the same charity to Frenchwomen? It might, at least, be borne in mind that all Frenchwomen are not novel-readers. Many do not read novels at all, others are extremely careful in their choice. All pious women naturally avoid impure literature, and they are a numerous class. Girls are usually limited, in fiction, to translations from English stories and to a few harmless French ones. The habit of novel-reading seems even to vary with localities. The Prefect of the Seine procured some interesting statistics in 1886 about the lending libraries on the outskirts of Paris (for a purpose connected with the budget of the department), and from these it appears that there are the most surprising degrees of variety in the habit of novel-reading in different localities. At Asnières, out of a hundred volumes asked for in the libraries, eighty-six are novels, whilst at St. Denis we find them suddenly falling to twelve in the hundred. At Courbevoie the demand for this class of literature is represented by eighty-two per cent, at St. Ouen by twelve and three-quarters. Other places vary between these extremes. [Sidenote: The _Saturday Review_ on Public Education in France.] [Sidenote: How the French use their Knowledge.]