To cobwebs and dust in the Chateau's old stables...André Godin made a good stove, then he tried to make man good...the story of our Chatelaine continues

Chère amie, cher ami,

My husband’s cousin, who visits us most summers, has a philosophy about horses and suitable marriage partners.

“Never buy a horse faster, nor marry a woman prettier than what you need,” he likes to say. He shakes his head wryly. 

I suppose the same could be said for a gas stove.

On first coming to France, I had been seduced by the beauty of a Godin cooking range. Its gleaming brass knobs and handles, its French-blue enamel coat, its heavy cast-iron hob…I bought two. I used them together, a Grande and a Petite Chatelaine, with matching hood. I expected the ensemble would always be part of my kitchen life.
 
That delicious illusion lasted only a few years. Then, pieces of the grate started to break off. The electrical components, including the ovens, became unreliable. Black smoke billowed when I used the grill. Finally, the beautiful stoves were banished into storage in the old stable block.

Meanwhile, for the last ten years, I’ve been renovating the Petite Maison du Haras. This is a two-story dwelling at the far end of the long building that separates the haras, the stud, from the cour d’entrée, the principal entrance to the Chateau. From the windows of this appartement, the gatekeeper once kept a vigilant eye on comings and goings at Courtomer.

Renovations at the Petite Maison have taken a back seat to the Chateau, the Maison de la Ferme, the Orangerie, the gardien's quarters, and the multitude of roofs that cover these and other bâtiments on the grounds. In fact, as I write, Monsieur Simon, the charpentier, is at work on the roof of the Bergerie, the old sheepcote. We have two more roofs to fix after that. 

All this activity has left little time for the Petite Maison.

But now, at long last, we need a stove in the gatekeeper’s old quarters. We plan to lodge some of our family there in July.

“Mettez votre Chatelaine sur Le Bon Coin, Madame,” had advised Monsieur Xavier, “elle partirait comme des petits pains!”

This is practical advice. Advertised on France’s big “for sale” website, these stoves would sell like hot cakes.

And it would be so easy to call up Darty, France’s big appliance chain, and order a perfectly reliable and moderately priced stove. It would be delivered in less than a week. But as with horses and spouses, practical features just aren’t that alluring. 

I went to have another look at the two Chatelaines. They sat askew in one of the former box stalls in the stable block. 

With a horse and arguably with a spouse, pedigree is part of the attraction. Whether that applies to a stove is an entirely different matter. Still, the Chatelaine stove is more than an object. 

Like the mines and steel mills of the North of France where it is located, the Godin factory and its stoves are part of the story of the French industrial age. Built in the heyday of France’s 19th-century industrial revolution, Godin was devastated by German bombardments in World War I. Rebuilt by 1925, Godin grew to 2,500 employees on the eve of the Great Crash of 1929. It survived the strikes and labor unrest of the 1930s. It produced goods for the Reich during the German Occupation, and avoided post-war repercussions. The brand emerged triumphant during the Trente Glorieuses, the 30 years of rapid economic growth following World War II.

Against this backdrop, the factory put into practice theories that still dominate French philosophy and economic policy -- collective ownership vs private property, the hierarchy of decision-making, worker welfare, and above all, the proper use of wealth.

"La Richesse au Service du Peuple" or "Wealth at the Service of the People," was one of several essays written by Jean-Baptiste André Godin, inventory of the Chatelaine and its sister wares. 

Godin came of age during the July Monarchy, so-named because it came into being on July 26, 1830. The Revolution and its turbulent aftermath were over. France entered a period of political stability and economic growth. Industry, which had been delayed by the years of domestic upheaval and foreign wars, rapidly developed. Godin represented a new persona in 19th-century France -- the self-made industriel, the entrepreneur, confident in his own judgement and instincts.
 
Like many of his fellow industrialists, whose success depended on a willing and capable workforce, Godin took a lively interest in improving the human condition. In the 1840s, he had become an enthusiastic follower of Charles Fourier. Fourier’s vision for humanity included taming the climate and reducing sea water to lemonade. Women, set free from civilization’s dire constraints, would share their love with many. No one would work; all would be play. 
 
For these wonderful changes to take place, society must be utterly transformed. 

Godin funded one of Fourier’s model utopias in Texas. Like Fourier’s other “phalanstères,” it was a flop. The phalanx, named after the military units of Ancient Greece, shipped back to France dispirited, disillusioned, and penniless. Godin was undeterred.
 
André Godin had engineered and sold a better stove. He now set about the creation of his own ideal human community. His wealth would be channeled into making a better man.
 
Meanwhile, the economic prosperity of mid-19th century France was accompanied by a resurgence of revolutionary ideas. “Un vent de revolution…est dans l'air,” warned Alexis de Tocqueville in 1848, on the eve of the third French revolution. The theories of Proudhon, Marx, Blanqui, Blanc… le socialisme, le communisme and ideas even more radical…fell on fertile ground. In Paris, government repression of its opponents exploded into protest and then violent revolt. Placards and pamphlets called for universal suffrage, equality of the sexes, abolition of property, free gas lights, and more. Louis-Philippe, the Monarch of July, swiftly abdicated and fled the country. The newly-proclaimed Republican government just as swiftly repressed the revolutionnaires.

Like most social reformers, philanthropists, and ordinary citizens of 19th-century France, Godin was no fan of revolution either. Cooperation, not class struggle, was the solution to social unrest. Improvement of moral fiber must go hand-in-hand with improved living and working conditions for la classe ouvrière, the working classes.
 
Godin’s Familistère, he explained, would be the path to “le bonheur sans mesure,” happiness without measure. Instead of a military-style phalanx, it was built around the collective life of families and their work.  It would be self-supporting.
 
In 1857, next to his factory, Godin began construction of his “palais social.” This innovative apartment “palace” eventually housed 2,000 families. 
 
The needs of the residents were carefully considered. For their health and amusement, there were communal vegetable gardens and orchards. Community-run shops, a theatre, and a heated swimming pool.  In summer, cool air from the cellars cycled through the “palace.” A glass roof protected the courtyard from wind and rain in winter. Every apartment was – tout naturellement -- heated by a Godin stove.  
 
Years before state-run welfare schemes were instituted in France, the Familistère had compulsory pension schemes, worker’s compensation, and health insurance. Retirement was at age 60. The work day was only 10 hours.
 
Meanwhile, the generation of the future was carefully molded. Mothers could bring babies, aged 15 days, to the nourricière. The staff of the pouponnat cared for toddlers. Education was obligatory up to the age of 15.

But social engineering has its limits. When Madame Godin was informed that she would be moving into an apartment in the Palais social, she filed for divorce. 

Perhaps Madame Godin was more wife than Monsieur Godin needed. And his views on marriage might have aggravated the situation. “Le mariage est un reste d’esclavage,” “Marriage is a relic of slavery,” was another of Godin’s essays. 

Godin moved in with his more accommodating cousin, who had already joined him in his altruistic endeavors. And in 1880, forty years after he had designed the first Godin poële, Godin turned the Familistère and the factory over to his employees. Profits were to fund the schools and social welfare programs, to maintain the buildings and activities, and to be distributed among the workers. 

The model enterprise Godin had created and nurtured endured for almost a century. Throughout the 19th century, Godin stoves regularly won medals in France’s International Expositions. In the 1950s, the company was still a premier producer of household appliances. In 1951, it began to make refrigerators.

But human nature proved as resistant to change as Madame Godin. 

There was a strike for higher wages. Claims that a small coterie of privileged workers controlled all the money and benefits. And the cooperative model of 1880 lacked flexibility. When the Common Market opened in 1957, Godin faltered before the European competition.

Godin’s carefully constructed “Association coopérative du capital et du travail » came to an end in 1968. The company was sold. The Palais Social became ordinary apartments and then fell into disrepair. On the verge of collapse again in 1988, Godin was acquired by Cheminées Philippe, the French fireplace and wood stove brand. Five years later, I bought my Chatelaines. As we have seen, these stoves were not quite what André Godin had promised back in 1846: “Le meilleur et le moins cher,” the best at the best price, despite being very pretty.

These days, it seems, Godin stoves are selling like hotcakes. The “poële Godin” is one of the three most popular wood stoves in France. It might have been the electrical parts that were my Chatelaines’ undoing. The original model was built to run on wood and coal.

But in the end, I’ll be glad to have a fancier stove than Godin intended in my Petite Maison.

                                        A bientôt, au Château!

                                             Elisabeth

www.chateaudecourtomer.com

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