A summer in Lausanne -- 1891

Lausanne, Switzerland

By the end of the nineteenth century, Switzerland was established as the world's leading country for finishing schools. These upmarket establishments were for young women: by spending a few months or a year at a finishing school after the end of their formal educuation, it was believed that young ladies could polish their manners and learn all the social graces they would need to enter society and, most importantly, find a suitable husband. Deportment and etiquette were taught and the pupils would be encouraged to speak French, to paint and draw their beautiful surroundings and to make friendships.

Before it was a hotel, this was the pensionnat Villa Orama

In the 1890s a pensionnat, or boarding school, was run by a Dr Rapin in the Villa Orama at 27 Avenue de la Gare, Lausanne as a finishing school for young ladies. The large house had been built in the second half of the eighteenth century and, as can be seen in the postcard above, by the turn of the century it would have become the Hotel Jura, but in 1891 it was still a school.

You can see where it was from this map, which dates from around 1911, after the original building had been knocked down and a new hotel, the Jura Simplon 'Modern', built. It was near the centre of Lausanne, close to the train station. That was presumably how most of the young ladies arrived, having travelled across Europe by train. In March 1891 they included Miss Jeannie Wylie, aged 18 (I believe).

One of the first things Jeannie did on arriving was to buy a rather smart leatherbound notebook from Papeterie Mack, in rue de Bourg, just to the north of the school, near the cathedral. This was to be her autograph book in which all her new friends would write poems and messages and paint little vignettes for her to remember them by.

Jeannie was Scottish, so quite a few of the entries in her book have a Scots flavour. I particularly like this specially composed verse, which ladles on the Burns idiom:

"I've read this book from end to end

and looked the pictures through

The French is far beyond my ken

In fac' it gars me grue

I like the guid auld Doric twang

Tae talk, or sing, or rhyme,

An' be it a sermon or a sang

Or e'en a Bairnies hymn

New fanglet ways I canna 'bide

So be it French of German

Awa' wae baith whate'er betide

In either sang or sermon

And as for names o' bonnie lassies

The Minnies, Idas, Ethels, a'

Parents were sure the biggest asses,

Sic' fancy names their bains tae ca'.

Nacht like a guid auld Scottish name

I don't even like 'my pretty Jane'

Come strike the lyre tae ma ane Queen

And sing tae Prestwick's bonnie Jean."

Another poem, which I won't burden you with, spells out 'Jeannie Wylie' with the initial letters of each line. That one's signed 'Ton amie de la chic table' ('Your friend from the smart table') and the date is given as 'Pitt's birthday' (May 28th -- Pitt the Younger!).

Some of the hand-drawn illustrations are lovely, like the one above. Others -- below -- not quite so accomplished.

Chateau de Chillon with the Dents du Midi in the background

This view of the Chateau de Chillon was extremely popular. Courbet had painted it in 1875:

Did our young artist draw the actual castle or did they nip out and buy a postcard to copy?:

After a couple of months in Lausanne, Jeannie -- probably along with the rest of her class -- decamped into the countryside to the north to what was perhaps a sister school, housed in the Chateau de Marnand.

I like this next old postcard of the school because of the message written on the front:

An ecole menagere is a very practical version of a finishing school, specialising in 'le menage', that's to say running a household, so it would include cooking, housekeeping, perhaps even how to take care of children. Tres pratique!

Overall, though, the book gives away what was perhaps the most engaging aspect of the girls' stay in Switzerland: the opportunities it afforded for flirtation. Although it's a little coded, there's a febrile interest in the opposite sex hidden on many pages. One of my favourite pages in the book is this strange amalgamation of memories and secrets, above. Here are some of the phrases:

"Mademoiselle, il faut mettre cela dans la bouche" ("Miss, you must put that in your mouth").

"Je t'aime".

"Leve-toi!" ("Get up!").

"Bonbons, pas pour toi!" ("No sweets for you!").

"Aimes-tu les oranges?" "Seulement la moitie" ("Do you like oranges?" "Just a half").

"Ne vous inquietez pas" ("Don't worry").

"Here alone I wait for thee".

"Oh golly!"

"Veux-tu quelque chose pour ton chapeau?" ("Would you like something for your hat?").

"Veux-tu te baigner?" ("Do you want to go swimming?") "Oh alors!" ("Oh, I say!")

"Je suis amoureuse" ("I'm in love").

As well as the very slightly daring poem above, there's a much longer poem that reveals more. It concerns a young Russian gentleman -- and in the picture with all the tiny vignettes, above, you can see a couple dancing 'a la Russe', so perhaps that's him. The poem goes:

"Honi soit qui mal y pense

I have a charming tale to relate

of things that have happened of quite recent date,

a fair-haired young Russe has come to Lausanne,

and to catch his attention we do all we can.

Diable! [Damn!]

The first time we saw him was at a soiree,

(Doctor Trolliet us had invited to tea)

And he had a flower in his coat, oh alors!

We saw it and gasped as we entered the door

Diable!

But Madame had said, "Soyez comme il faut,

Je vous pris, cheres enfants, ne regardez pas les beaux" ["Behave correctly, please, dear children, do not look at gentlemen"],

So we sat down on chairs very straight

While the two madames had their tete-a-tete.

Diable!

But when we began to play a ___ [can't read] game,

We very soon saw the dear Russe's aim.

For to two pretty girls he paid great attention

As if the others were not worth a mention.

Diable!!

Of course we were angry, that goes without saying,

He to two girls his attention was paying,

When of we others there was a great number

Who could do nothing but look and wonder

Diable!!!

 But that's not all, there's more to relate,

That occurred at an even more recent date.

The next day he came to see us at school

And then his behaviour was even more cool.

Diable!!

Madame a very grand supper was giving

To all her friends in Lausanne who were living.

The Russian turned up in the evening to dance

And of course we all thought we would

then have a chance.

Diable!

But no, no, no, 'twas always the same,

Evidently he wished not the pain

of inventing new phrases for new sets of girls

Who looked at him askance behind their false curls

Diable!

At last we saw that it was no good,

Although we all had done all that we could,

So with many groans when we saw it no use,

We others gave up "that horrid young Russe".

Diable! Diable!! Diable!!!

Villa Orama, 22nd April 1891

(That was a little altered at the second soiree, tu sais!)

Souvenir de ton bonne amie, tu sais qui" ["Souvenir from your good friend, you know who" -- should be "ta bonne amie" but they were just learning French. I think the Docteur Trolliet mentioned must be the husband of the Madame Trolliet mentioned on the school postcard above...] 

I wouldn't normally find such poems that interesting, but I like this one as it records the actual experiences of Jeannie and her friends in what must have been a magical summer of freedom before they were expected to marry.

"Vite, a gauche, ne regarde pas, des garcons viennent!" [Quick, on the left, don't look, some boys are coming!"]

 To finish off, here are some of the names from the book, in case they're of interest to anyone:

Agnes L. Nicholson

S. A. Russell

M. L. Duplan

Ethel L. Morton

Mary H. McNeill 

L. A. B. Sechehaye [their teacher]

Aggie Warden

Jeanne Debonneville

Martha Volkmar

Florrie Isabel Fryer

Alice Kerr

May S. Wilkie

Lina Teucher

Natalie Hapke

Ethel M George (who said, "I think you will always remember the night of May 8th 1891")

Winnie Whale

Evelyn Fullerton

Carrie Faraker

Ina Leckie

Martha M Taylor 

Mini collection 10 -- and going crazy

Some little boxes

I'm very much enjoying the self-indulgence of photographing some of my bits and pieces and putting them into this blog. I hope you're not getting sick of the sight of these pictures. I had yesterday off work and I'm also at home today and tomorrow, for half term, so have got more time than usual to indulge. It should be unalloyed pleasure ... and yet...
     Take these boxes, above, for example. Some of them were on the table in the back room where I sit to make stuff. Some of them were stashed away in boxes under the sofa in there. Two were in drawers -- different drawers. A couple of them I'd forgotten I even had. Still, here they all are together in a nice lot. But, no sooner had I uploaded the image than I glanced up and saw two more nice boxes literally in front of my eyes on the shelf above my desk:

Can you see them? One's got a fairy on it and one's got decoupage roses. But I'd completely forgotten about them. Can you also see the DUST? And all the other nutty stuff, which is actually LESS than normal because I took half of it into the other room yesterday to photograph it?
     The problem is that not only do I have no idea where anything is but I don't have any real idea of what I've got. It makes me feel very rocky and unsettlingly vague. One obvious answer would be to have a massive sort out, throw lots of things away, and start afresh, hopefully able to retain the knowledge of what was left. But I can't see myself doing this because I feel such attachment, such affection for all these stupid things. Most of them have no monetary value whatsoever, but I really love them, specially if I've had them for a long time. And trying to sort it all out just brings out the obsessive in me.

room for a littl'un?

I've already posted the seahorses, but yesterday I had to rephotograph them because I'd found one more tiny one and it was so sweet...

Then I HAD to redo the hands as well because I found lots more as I was paddling round in all the mess. THEN this morning I found two more small brass letter-holder hands but have so far managed to resist the urge to do them all over again. But it's really annoying me that they're missing.

And what do you do about objects like these fish, which are mostly hideous and ill-matching. I only really like the one on wheels (which I love). The rest are just ... there. So should I get rid of them? I realise now that I'm contradicting my declared special love for all these things, but what it shows is that it's given or withheld according to unknowable rules. Take these monkeys, for example -- I love these:

But why? No idea. I love these robots too:

The problem is twofold. One is that I 'collect' so many things and then, on top of that, am a de facto collector of things that just happen to have arrived in the house one way or another and are just asking to be taxonomised.

Some Festival of Britain souvenirs

     The things I actively collect include:

• Festival of Britain memorabilia
• Toy televisions and things in the shape of televisions (eg salt and pepper pots, lighters, ashtrays, viewers, money boxes, etc)
• Colour charts
• Toy typewriters
• Toy radios
• Things in the shape of oranges (eg jam pots, toast racks, lamps)
• Space toys and souvenirs
• Butlins souvenirs
• Clowns and clown heads and other heads
• Lustre teacups
• Things covered in broken pottery mosaic
• Cracker toys and plastic charms

But I also collect, unofficially:

• Printed tin buckets
• Japanese sweet packaging
• Hands
• Vari-vue flickers
• Dexterity puzzles
• Postcards of the Coney Island Parachute Drop
• Toy birds
• Gift tags (these just saved from my childhood)
• Children's books (ditto)
• Mexican Day of the Dead objects
• Flaming hearts
• Cowboy themed things

That's not even counting some things that my husband collects and I don't. Madness, no?
     The other problem is storage and organisation -- lack of both. There are boxes of things in every nook and cranny and none of it is ordered or catalogued in any way -- well, you wouldn't really do that, would you? When we moved down south from oop north a decade ago we moved from a house quite a lot bigger than this one we live in now -- the exchange rate on those Northern Pounds isn't too good. We had one and a bit pantechnicons of stuff. It was terrifying. Most of the stuff we haven't got room for is now crammed into our loft and I quite often lie awake in bed and wonder when the ceiling is going to come down on us... Help!