Christine Adams

In the Public Interest: Charitable Association, the State, and the Status of utilité publique in Nineteenth-Century France

In her work on the bourgeois male of the nineteenth century, Carol E. Harrison argues that "Although French law made no distinction between male and female associations, administrative practice ignored women in groups."¹ Most historians accept this point of view—that French administrators generally ignored the associational activities of women, and, indeed, most female groups appear to have garnered little notice from authorities.² While Annie Grange suggests that this may be because so few female associations existed throughout much of the nineteenth century,³ Catherine Duprat has uncovered numerous female societies, especially sociétés de bienfaisance, many of which received more generous treatment from municipal and national officials than their male counterparts. However, she suggests that their official "silence"—the absence of general assemblies and frequent publications, as well as their careful cultivation of the traditional, non-threatening image of dames de charité—kept these associations largely out of public view.⁴ Furthermore, for the most part, those female associations that did exist lacked visible political and financial clout.⁵	1
However, those which possessed either attribute could also find themselves facing governmental surveillance, as numerous branches of the Society for Maternal Charity discovered in the 1840s. As part of its process of centralization, and in an effort to exert greater control over potentially subversive political, and other, associations, the July Monarchy took a series of steps to bring all French associations under closer scrutiny. Despite impeccable credentials as charitable models and despite their "unthreatening" female leadership, maternal societies faced many of the same demands for accountability and conformity that male associations also encountered.	2
The Society for Maternal Charity was one of the most important charities in France throughout the first three-quarters of the nineteenth century.⁶ It drew strong support from the elite and middle classes of society throughout France. In Paris, the membership of the Conseil Général included a strong proportion of aristocratic women, and noble or not, most society members belong to the Parisian notability. Wives of mayors, departmental administrators, magistrates, and bankers made up the lists of the dames administrantes.⁷ While the Paris branch of the organization was the largest and the best funded, provincial branches were organized throughout France, with some of the largest and wealthiest in Lyons, Bordeaux, Lille, Rouen, and Marseilles. By 1813, there were sixty-two societies in addition to that of Paris. In 1831, the number had dropped to only thirty-two; but by 1853, there were forty-three, and sixty-seven by 1862. By the end of the nineteenth century, there were at least eighty-one maternal societies in France.⁸ Although it was a private charity, from the time of its origins, the links between the society and the French government were strong.⁹ French governments, royal and imperial, provided considerable financial and institutional backing for these maternal societies, which assisted poor parturient women of good character who were already mothers of large families.¹⁰ In fact, the aid provided to indigent mothers by the society—secours à domicile (home assistance), delivered in person and accompanied by moral advice and surveillance—would serve as a model for public assistance to poor mothers and families, especially under the Third Republic.¹¹	3
Alisa Klaus and Evelyne Lejeune-Resnick suggest that, despite official and generous support for the Society for Maternal Charity, it was not a politically important organization in the nineteenth century.¹² However, this argument depends on a very narrow definition of the term "political." While not "public" actors in the same sense that men could be political agents, women, especially as members of maternal societies, were participants in civil society, the "sphere of social interaction between economy and state, composed above all of the intimate sphere (especially the family), the sphere of associations (especially voluntary associations), social movements, and forms of public communications."¹³ Not all political activity need be formalized, and women, as active agents in civil society, exercised political influence through their unofficial, or perhaps more accurately, semi-official activities.¹⁴ Bonnie G. Smith, in her seminal study of bourgeois women in northern France, effectively demonstrated that secular male politicians and industrialists saw women's charitable work as highly political and very problematic, especially when they "attempted to convert their domestic vision to social policy."¹⁵ More generally, individuals linked with philanthropic associations during the Revolutionary era and beyond played a key role in formulating a new image of citizenship and enlightened concern for fellow human beings. This philanthropic agenda—shared by men and women—shaped a wide range of educational, judicial, and economic reforms, and the humanitarian ideals of philanthropists undergirded a number of political discourses of the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.¹⁶ In the specific case of the Society for Maternal Charity, elite connections, substantial resources, and a public voice on issues concerning motherhood, the protection of infants, and social policy made it an important, if sometimes muted, influence in the debates over family politics and child welfare in the nineteenth century.¹⁷	4
Consequently, the government took an intense interest in the activities and the financial health of the various branches of the maternal societies, an interest that the provincial branches encouraged under certain circumstances, but did not always appreciate. In 1850, the administrative council of the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux requested an opinion on its legal status from three local consultants. This mémoire was part of a process that had begun eight years earlier, when the society had requested what it thought would be pro forma authorization to accept two modest bequests that had been left to the organization. However, "To its great surprise, Monsieur the Minister of the Interior refused to accord or to cause that authorization, given that the Society would not have a legal existence, that it had not been lawfully recognized as an establishment of public utility...."¹⁸ The stubborn insistence on the part of the charity's administrative council that the society did indeed possess this legal status, and the equally resolute insistence on the part of the government that the society had not followed the prescribed forms to acquire the status of utilité publique, had led to a twelve-year stand-off between the two. This impasse revealed not only the government's heightened interest in controlling associations, even women's associations, but also, the centralizing tendencies of the French government over the course of the nineteenth century, and the resistance to those efforts on the part of local organizations.	5
While most historians, following Alexis de Tocqueville's lead, emphasize the intensification of central planning and control under the Revolutionary and Napoleonic governments, David H. Pinkney focuses instead on the period of the July Monarchy. He argues that the 1840s were the decisive years in the centralization of France, citing improvements in transportation and communication, the greatest barriers to the consolidation of state power in earlier years. According to Pinkney, "The institutions and procedures of the government in Paris in the forties were changing to accommodate the expanding functions of the central government."¹⁹ Stéphane Gerson suggests that it was the July Monarchy that "set into motion the divergent forces of liberalization and governmental intrusion."²⁰ These two forces may appear inherently contradictory, but as Patrick Joyce argues, freedom—liberalism—is not just absence of restraint, it is also a mode of governance, a technique of rule.²¹ As the government's ability to extend its administration improved, previously autonomous organizations found themselves subject to greater interest and regulation, in part because governmental ministers sought to use these putative private associations to achieve particular goals through strategies of positive governance.²² But since associations did not always believe that the strategies suggested by state authorities would achieve the outcomes that they sought, it is not surprising that this greater push for control led to local resistance, at least in some instances.²³ Certainly this was the case for a number of maternal societies.	6
Further, this protracted conflict between the central government and certain branches of the Society for Maternal Charity highlights the complex and conflicted relationship between the French government and private associations, even charitable associations whose purpose was to help those unfortunate members of society that even the government deemed worthy of assistance. It was a relationship complicated by the state's traditional distrust of associations, aggravated by the perpetual fear of disorder throughout the nineteenth century.	7
Paul Nourrisson, in an exhaustive two-volume study, outlines the history of associational life in France. He argues that while liberty of association is a right, essential to a free society, the French state has traditionally looked askance at associations and has sought to control their activities and their status. The justification for this state control was to restrict any association "having an illegal objective, contrary to good morals and to the laws."²⁴ While we may understand the desire for control over political organizations that might pose a threat to the government or public order, especially given the French proclivity for revolutionary activity, why did the state seek to control benevolent organizations, such as charities, sociétés de bienfaisance? Especially those controlled by women? It is certainly true that the ministries of neither Louis-Philippe nor Napoleon III regarded religious organizations as purely benevolent and non-political, and many charities were tainted by their identification with Legitimist groups that opposed both the Orleanist and Bonapartist regimes.²⁵ In fact, the anti-clerical stance of many officials associated with the July Monarchy, as well as the later government of the Third Republic, led to suspicion about the activities of overtly religious charitable groups. The religious underpinnings of women's groups in particular, including maternal societies, could seem suspicious to an anti-clerical regime, especially if some of those women were allied to members of the political opposition.²⁶	8
However, A. de Faget de Casteljau posits a more ominous reason behind the state's interest in all forms of associational life: "The goal ... remains always to break up individuals so that they will be forced to stand alone. Resistance to power then become impossible, authority is shielded, despotism has free rein. One condition suffices: 'isolation of each individual.'" Consequently, "By the sole fact of association, there is thus distrust."²⁷	9
But there was another reason for state interest in charitable organizations. These associations were the frequent recipients of donations and legacies and used these funds to provide services that the state could not afford to supply. Charitable organizations required approval from the government, and an enhanced level of approval, the status of utilité publique, if they wished to have the right to accept donations and legacies. Jean-Luc Marais, in his Histoire du don, notes that from early in the nineteenth century through the Second Empire, the state exercised increased surveillance over donations and bequests to all associations, even those whose public utility was legally recognized. Furthermore, from 1830 until the 1860s, the stricter rules applied especially to religious or ecclesiastic establishments, although they were also extended to other types of beneficiaries.²⁸ In the 1840s in particular, as the French government became increasingly suspicious both of associations and the source of their financing, even charities like maternal societies were forced to prove their legitimacy and their public utility if they wished to establish perpetual sources of funding. In fact, authorities may have been more suspicious of bequests to female-controlled charitable organizations, fearing that the religious fervor of charitable women would lead them to act against the interests of their family when determining the disposition of their property.	10
Tocqueville examined not only what he perceived as the centralizing tendencies of the French government, but also the difficulties that the French experienced in creating a viable and flourishing civil society, buttressed by a vibrant associational life that acted as intermediary (or buffer) between the state and individuals, allowing the French to learn the habits of citizenship and move toward democracy.²⁹ Therein lay both the possibilities and the limitations of civil society. The French state recognized the potential benefits of associational life, which fostered the mobilization of charitable resources, cultural benefits, and other public goods. But it feared the political and fiscal implications of allowing individuals to join together to work toward a common goal. Thus it regulated associational activity, sometimes with a heavy hand. We should not assume that this legal and political control of associational activity is unique to strongly centralized states, like France. William J. Novak has demonstrated that public coercive power underlay much of the theoretically private activity of voluntary associations even in the United States, the archetype of the independent civil society strengthened by a lively associational life.³⁰	11
And while, in general, the state worried about male associational activity, with its overt political implications, far more than that of women, those female-led organizations that achieved local or national—and, thus, political—importance also invited governmental scrutiny of their bylaws, fiscal activities, and charitable practices. Even women's charitable activities could have a political component.³¹ And in some cases, the activities of women could seem potentially more problematic than similar activities on the part of men. With their primary focus on social issues, especially those related to maternity and children, and an approach that did not always dovetail with official policies, women's groups could present unexpected challenges to municipal and national authorities, even as their female membership frequently allowed them to escape official notice.³²	12

Associational Law and Utilité publique
In this essay, I explore the status of charitable associations and their complicated relationship with the state in nineteenth-century France. In addition, I analyze the state's efforts to control and regulate these associations. The state exercised control over associations in a variety of ways, but most notably through legislation, through surveillance (or police), and through subventions to favored organizations.³³ All French governments demanded that charitable associations, like all associations, obtain legal recognition, a requirement that had its roots in the Ancien Régime.³⁴ The Revolutionary and Napoleonic regimes that followed were perhaps even more suspicious of associational life. The Le Chapelier law and the debate that accompanied its passage in 1791 set the parameters for future generations: " ... The State alone is the site of the formulation and the control of the public interest [l'intérêt général]. Between this public interest and private interests, nothing must exist in the midst of society."³⁵ Napoleon was even more overtly hostile toward any organizations or groups. His government's passion for centralization led to intense distrust of any individuals or groups acting outside the tutelage of the state.³⁶ In short, the impact of laws passed under the Ancien Régime continued after the French Revolution and Restoration, and the sentiment that inspired them continued to manifest itself in a series of new laws in the nineteenth century.³⁷	13
The penal code also regulated associations. Any group of more than twenty people that met regularly required government authorization and municipal permission prior to all meetings. This law was unpopular and the subject of much debate over the course of the nineteenth century. Still, until the Law on Associations passed in 1901, the strictures of the penal code changed little, although its application was more or less severe, depending upon the government in power.³⁸ Despite the frequent change of regimes in nineteenth-century France, continuity best defines the state's philosophical and legal approach to associational activity.	14
While explicitly political associations, rather than charitable organizations, were the primary concern of the legislators who fashioned Articles 291–94 of the penal code,³⁹ charities also fell under the requirements of the law. While charities dedicated to the young, the old, poor women, prisoners, and others in need flourished in the nineteenth century, few applied for official recognition, and most possessed no assets beyond the voluntary contributions of members and occasional collections or fundraisers.⁴⁰ These associations were tolerated by the administration, as long as they kept reasonably accurate accounts, and conformed to the relevant laws.	15
For some charities, however, legal approval was insufficient. Officially tolerated charitable associations were subject to the goodwill of the state and the willingness of donors to continue to contribute to their operating costs.⁴¹ Therefore, their existence was likely to be ephemeral. To guarantee its long-term existence, especially in the face of competing interests on the part of the state, a charitable organization needed recognition as utilité publique.⁴² The status of "public utility" gave a charity important and recognized legal rights, although it still officially remained a private establishment.⁴³ Most important, associations reconnues d'utilité publique enjoyed a civil personality and were recognized as gens de mainmorte—institutions, such as corporations (in this case, a charity), that could possess property or other gifts in perpetuity—since they served the state and commune in the exercise of their functions.⁴⁴ The subject of mortmain, perpetual ownership of goods by a collectivity, had long been debated by both the French government and the people, who resented the untaxable wealth of ecclesiastical institutions in particular.⁴⁵ Clearly, it fell within the purview of the state, as part of its policing function, to carefully control which organizations were accorded public utility status, and the benefits that accompanied it.⁴⁶	16
The governments of Charles X (1824–1830) and, even more so, Louis-Philippe (1830–1848) developed and elaborated the theory undergirding the status of utilité publique. Because these associations performed a service of "general interest," the state was willing to cede some power over their operations and their property. These establishments with public utility status enjoyed a certain autonomy—including the right to freely administer their resources in most cases.⁴⁷ But only associations whose public utility was well recognized and that possessed resources sufficient to guarantee their existence could obtain this status and subsequently accept donations and legacies.⁴⁸ And even if an association was recognized as useful, national, and even municipal, authorities might have concerns about the potential political role of an organization.	17

Maternal Societies and Their Status in the Nineteenth Century
For the maternal societies of France, this long-term recognition and legal status were crucial. By the 1840s, these societies already had a long and respectable history. The most celebrated of them all, the Society for Maternal Charity of Paris, had been founded in 1788 by Madame Fougeret, née Anne-Françoise d'Outremont. Madame Fougeret, daughter and wife of philanthropists, was noted as well for her charitable efforts. Her particular concern was the abandoned children who filled the Hôpital des Enfants-Trouvés in Paris. Shocked by the high mortality of these infants, and the difficulty of finding suitable wet nurses for them, she decided that the most desirable option would be to prevent the abandonment of children in the first place—to persuade poor mothers to keep and nurse their children themselves. Philosophical currents of the time, for example the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, suggested that if poor mothers were provided with the financial means to keep and nurse their babies through that first difficult year of life, they would no longer abandon their children. The bond created between the nursing mother and child would be strong enough to prevent any thought of abandonment in the future.⁴⁹ However, in the words of the founder, "The Maternal Charity is not concerned only with saving children; its plan includes the restoration of morality among the people. To fulfill this worthwhile goal, [we] must strengthen family ties, make children dearer to their mothers and fathers, and instill in children the habit of gratitude and respect for their parents."⁵⁰ Consequently, the mothers assisted by the society were required to show proof of legal marriage to the father of their children, as well as good moral character [bonnes moeurs].	18
The Paris Society for Maternal Charity rapidly gained support from the social elite, including the queen, Marie-Antoinette, its first présidente. However, the society effectively disappeared during the Revolution, as many of its founding members emigrated or faced arrest, and the National Convention (at least theoretically) assumed the responsibility of caring for the poor. But the Convention and the subsequent government of the Directory did a poor job of living up to their goal to provide that care. The early, heady pronouncements of the Comité de Mendicité, with its promise to eradicate poverty in France, were, if not forgotten, crushed beneath the weight of the war effort and the breath-taking scope of poverty by the mid-1790s.⁵¹ The situation of the Hôpitaux des Enfants-Trouvés (now called "Enfants de la Patrie"), not just in Paris, but throughout France, served as a barometer of the health of the entire system of public assistance during those grim years. The service was constantly on the brink of disaster throughout the remainder of the decade, and infant mortality was even worse under the Revolutionary government than it had been under the Old Regime.⁵²	19
The French government eventually realized that it possessed neither the money nor the capacity to care for the growing number of poor in France. As a result, under the Directory, the laws restricting charitable activity were abrogated.⁵³ But private charities, deprived of both funds and individuals to staff their organizations, were slow to come back into existence.⁵⁴ Upon coming to power in 1799, Napoleon's government took stronger steps to encourage private charitable efforts, which had all but ended under the Terror. The new minister of the interior, Chaptal, took on the task of regenerating not only public assistance, but private charities as well.⁵⁵ Even former members of the Jacobin government saw the wisdom of encouraging bienfaisance.⁵⁶ There were practical reasons for this; the government faced a crippling burden in caring for the poor of France and wished to encourage the well-to-do to assist those who were less fortunate. The government could not hope to cope with the problem of poverty without making use of its elite citizens, including women.⁵⁷	20
Consequently, in 1801, under the Consulate, the society reconstituted itself, one of the first Parisian philanthropic associations to do so.⁵⁸ Under these more favorable conditions, and due to the pressing needs of their citizens, other cities and towns followed the lead of Paris in establishing similar associations, including Bordeaux and Marseilles.	21
These maternal societies functioned independently until 1810, the year that Napoleon married the Austrian princess, Marie-Louise. The empress's pregnancy intensified Napoleon's interest in issues related to motherhood, and, on 5 May 1810, the emperor issued a decree announcing the formation of the Imperial Society for Maternal Charity. Each of the empire's forty-four bonnes villes and the chef-lieux of the departments were ordered to form a maternal society. Any societies already in existence throughout the empire were expected to bring themselves into conformity with the bylaws of the new Imperial Society. With the organization of this umbrella association, the Imperial Society exercised increasing control over the statutes and regulations of the provincial societies, sometimes to the consternation of the local branches. However, the provincial maternal societies that complied with the imperial dictates benefited from funds provided through a 500,000 franc endowment established by Napoleon. Consequently, by 1812, maternal societies existed in fifty-one departments of the empire.	22
When Napoleon's government collapsed in April 1814, the new government dissolved the Imperial Society and cut loose the dependent branches.⁵⁹ It was at this point that the official status of the provincial branches of the maternal societies became unclear. On 31 October 1814, the royal government issued an ordinance reorganizing the Society for Maternal Charity. The Paris society, recognized as necessary and firmly established, "would immediately resume the administration that directed it prior to the decree of 5 May 1810." The administrative councils of the provincial branches were ordered to continue their operations until they had exhausted the funds on hand; then, according to article 5 of the decree, the Ministry of the Interior would approve maternal societies in cities large enough both to need and support them. These societies were ordered to submit their bylaws and accounts to the approval of the minister of the interior, who would divide an annual sum of 100,000 francs among the various societies.⁶⁰	23
But did this ordinance, coupled with the decree of 1811, confer or at least implicitly recognize the public utility status of the newly independent branches of the maternal society? Apparently it did so for the Paris society. Its annual comptes rendus state proudly that the organization was "recognized as utilité publique by the decree of 25 July 1811."⁶¹ However, for the maternal societies outside of Paris, the meaning of this ordinance became a subject of intense debate, although not immediately. Throughout the 1820s and 1830s, numerous maternal societies were allowed to accept donations and to invest in rentes and property on behalf of their organization.⁶² However, the official status of the provincial branches of the maternal societies would be aggressively challenged in the 1840s, to the great surprise and consternation of those local charitable organizations.	24
In early 1842, the prefect of the Gironde made a routine request on behalf of the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux for authorization to accept a bequest of 1000 francs.⁶³ On 9 February, the minister of the interior inquired whether the Bordeaux society "had been recognized as an establishment of public utility by royal ordinance, and consequently if it is qualified to incur [obligations] and to receive [donations]."⁶⁴ The prefect of the Gironde (undoubtedly coached by the administrative council of the society) responded that: ... a decree of 5 May 1810 authorized, with the approval of the Minister of the Interior, the establishment of Societies of Maternal Charity following the example of Paris in all towns whose population [is large enough] to necessitate an institution of this genre. By a letter of 16 May 1816, Monsieur the Minister of the Interior announced to Monsieur the Prefect that the city of Bordeaux was included among those where the Society for Maternal Charity would be retained. The bylaws were approved by one of my predecessors on 13 December 1815. The prefect went on to remind the minister that the Bordeaux society had been established according to the rules of that era and had subsequently received regular assistance from the state, as well as authorization to accept bequests on numerous occasions. Consequently, there was no reason to refuse authorization to accept this particular bequest.	25
In his response, written on 25 May 1842, the minister of the interior proceeded to outline his disagreement with the prefect's logic. While acknowledging that the Imperial Society for Maternal Charity, established by the decrees of 5 May 1810 and 25 July 1811, had indeed been eligible to receive gifts and bequests with the authorization of the government, following the procedures stipulated for other charities, he went on to remind the prefect: ... that a royal ordinance dated 31 October 1814 abrogated (first article) that organization and declared (second article) that the Society for Maternal Charity of Paris would immediately resume the administration that directed it prior to the decree of 5 May 1810, in (third article) that the administrative councils established in the departments would continue their functions only until their funds on hand were exhausted.... By article four, the same ordinance determined the organization of the Societies for Maternal Charity which could take shape in the future in the departments. As a result, according to the minister, the larger umbrella that had organized the Imperial Society for Maternal Charity no longer existed, and the only legal existence that the Bordeaux society now enjoyed was that conferred on it with the approval of its bylaws on 13 December 1815. However, while that ministerial authorization gave the society of Bordeaux legal recognition, it was not sufficient to confer the status of établissement d'utilité publique. Public utility status alone would qualify a maternal society to receive bequests and donations and to conduct other acts of civil life. Only a royal ordinance could provide a charitable association with the coveted title of utilité publique, according to an Avis du Conseil d'état issued on 17 January 1806. Thus, the minister suggested that the Bordeaux society prepare a formal application for public utility status.⁶⁵	26
The minister's assertions seemed to allow no room for argument or compromise. However, the administrative council of the Bordeaux society had no interest in complying with the minister's demands that it seek legal recognition; the bureaucratic requirements were substantial and could interfere with the smooth functioning of the charity. The arguments of the maternal society of Bordeaux were two-fold; first, the members believed that they already enjoyed the status of utilité publique, much as the society of Paris did; and second, they did not wish to submit their bylaws and statutes once again to the minister of the interior, who would demand that they make numerous changes. The bylaws, in their opinion, had been carefully tailored to the particular circumstances of Bordeaux, and there was no reason to bring them into conformity with national standards.⁶⁶	27
The Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux was not alone in facing government scrutiny. In fact, a substantial number of maternal societies throughout France found themselves in the same position in the mid-1840s. After enjoying years of what they believed was formal recognition by the central government, the provincial branches of the Society for Maternal Charity were suddenly required to seek public utility status if they wished to accept donations and legacies and thus assure a stable long-term existence. Between 1846 and 1850, nine maternal societies requested and received recognition as utilité publique, presumably at the demand of the Ministry of the Interior.⁶⁷ And it was not only the branches of the Society for Maternal Charity that came to the government's attention in those years; other charitable institutions were also asked to provide proof of their legal status following routine requests for prefectoral approval of legacies.⁶⁸	28
The Society for Maternal Charity of Marseilles received its first warning in 1844. A letter from the Ministry of the Interior in January of that year notified the prefect of the Bouches-du-Rhône that the approved bylaws of the society were not on file.⁶⁹ The Marseilles society quickly printed up a copy of its bylaws that, according to its records, had been submitted to the prefect of the Bouches-du-Rhône on 5 January 1816.⁷⁰ However, Madame de Pontevès, president of the Marseilles society, pointed out to the prefect that her society had submitted its bylaws to Minister of the Interior Vaublanc back in 1816, only to be told that his approval was unnecessary.⁷¹	29
Subsequent ministers had not shared M. Vaublanc's laissez-faire attitude regarding charitable organizations. In fact, only a few months after Vaublanc sent his missive, the undersecretary of state for the Ministry of the Interior sent a letter to the prefects countermanding Vaublanc's order and instructing them that all charitable institutions must submit complete reports on their activities each year.⁷² A response to the prefect's letter of 10 May 1844—not sent until 28 August 1847—made it clear that, as far as Louis-Philippe's Ministry of the Interior was concerned, Vaublanc's orders had long since been superseded. Simple approval might be acceptable for smaller organizations; however, the Society for Maternal Charity of Marseilles, "because of its sizeable resources, and also because it requires the civil capacity to be able to accept the Millot bequest, or other bequests and donations that it may receive, should be recognized as an establishment of public utility." He enclosed a copy of the model statutes and bylaws that he had prepared for the maternal societies seeking approval as utilité publique and suggested that Marseilles's society come into conformity with them.⁷³ Madame de Pontevès was as unhappy with this demand as Madame Guestier had been.⁷⁴ But the minister was no more accommodating than he had been with the Bordeaux society and demanded that the Marseilles society bring itself into conformity with national standards.⁷⁵	30

New Concerns about Associations in the 1830s and 1840s
The ministry's heightened interest in charitable associations raises the question: why did the central government suddenly become so concerned over the legal status of these seemingly benign charitable associations in the 1840s—associations that the minister of the interior clearly recognized as useful and worth preserving? Even the issue of donations and legacies had not been important in earlier years. The society of Marseilles had been authorized to accept a number of bequests in the 1820s and 1830s, as had the society of Bordeaux. These bequests were duly approved by the prefects and by royal ordinance. And why was the Ministry of the Interior so interested in regulating seemingly minor points in the bylaws and statutes of these purely local and charitable organizations?	31
It seems that a number of factors converged that brought the uncertain legal status of these maternal societies to the attention of the government in the 1830s and 1840s. The Ministry of the Interior's heightened interest in charitable associations reflected the July Monarchy's more general concern with the regulation and control of associational life in France. Louis-Philippe's government had replaced the more conservative—and more fully legitimate—Restoration Monarchy in 1830, but faced a dilemma. Obviously, Legitimists—stalwart supporters of the Bourbon monarchists—opposed the July Monarchy, and some openly plotted against Louis-Philippe, whom they saw as a usurper.⁷⁶ But because of its revolutionary origins, the government also found it difficult to rein in various groups that wanted to "continue the revolution" and forge a more democratic polity. Even celebrating the origins of the July Monarchy—the July Revolution—could be a tricky proposition, since those festivities revived memories of the barricades and the promise of a more inclusive government. Each year, the ceremony's approach created a certain amount of revolutionary unrest.⁷⁷	32
Following the July Revolution and the establishment of the new Orleanist monarchy rather than a more democratic form of government, a strong republican movement emerged in France, supported by networks of opposition societies. Socialist aspirations also played a role and increasingly came to dominate the manifestos of associations. Organizations such as the Société des droits de l'homme were particularly prominent in channeling discontent with the regime and creating "disorder," especially after the radical Amis du peuple was forced to disband following the June insurrection of 1832.⁷⁸ These organizations circumvented the penal code restrictions on societies by subdividing into groups of fewer than twenty individuals, thus placing themselves outside the jurisdiction of Article 291.⁷⁹ As unrest increased in 1833, the government tried to quell disorder by prosecuting not only revolutionary societies, but also newspapers; however, juries showed little enthusiasm for returning guilty verdicts.⁸⁰	33
This political and social unrest that followed the July Revolution of 1830 provided the backdrop to the Law of 1834, which tightened enforcement of Article 291 of the penal code to make it more efficacious.⁸¹ Henceforth, associations of more than twenty members would be subject to the law, even if the individual sections of the group were smaller. Furthermore, it was no longer necessary that the membership meet on a regular basis to fall under regulation. Penalties for infractions were increased substantially and applied not only to leaders of the association, but to all of the members. In a final blow, cases of infraction would be tried before tribunaux correctionnels, underlining the government's distrust of juries.⁸² During the debates over the passage of the Law of 1834, deputies tried to exempt charitable associations, among others, but the efforts met with little success. The government feared that subversive societies would use any exemptions to their advantage. The pro-government Journal des débats argued, "If one leaves associations, whether religious, or scientific, or literary, a pretext, the battle becomes pointless; for they will all fling themselves into the exception established by the law, and, to make use of the energetic expression of M. Dupin, they will all rush out the door that remains open [elles se précipiteront toutes par la porte qui restera ouverte]."⁸³ More to the point, supporters of the law recognized that seemingly benign institutions were often far from neutral from the state's perspective. Consequently, the law passed with few amendments in April 1834 and granted the government great latitude in its efforts to regulate and control associations, including benevolent ones.⁸⁴ Both the July Monarchy and future regimes would make use of this power. For example, under Napoleon III, the law would be used to target the Society of Saint Vincent de Paul, a well-respected religious charity that was, however, perceived as hostile to the Second Empire.⁸⁵	34
The new strictures of the Law of 1834 led numerous charitable associations to reassess their legal standing vis-à-vis the state, and according to Catherine Duprat, would have logically led to an increase both in requests for legal authorization and the dissolution of more marginal charities. But the new law also inspired more charitable associations to seek public utility recognition to solidify their legal status. A spate of charities, unconcerned about their legal status earlier, went through the cumbersome approval process in the years after 1835. The Caisse d'Epargne was awarded public utility status in 1835, the Orphelines de la Providence in 1836, the Société pour le placement en apprentissage des Jeunes orphelins and the Société philanthropique in 1839, and the Asile-ouvroir de Gérando in 1843. The case of the Société philanthropique is particularly interesting. It had been in existence since 1780, but until 1839, had not felt the need to seek public utility status.⁸⁶	35
While the Law of 1834 was intended to regulate political and popular organizations, the government also had reason to be concerned specifically with charitable associations in the 1830s and 1840s. As the problem of indigence absorbed the attention of French philanthropists and policy makers, the government sponsored numerous inquiries dealing with poverty in France. In 1840, the minister of the interior, Charles, the Comte de Rémusat, opened an enquête on pauperism and public and private charity. The replies of prefects highlighted the reality of suffering throughout France.⁸⁷ It was in response to these far-reaching problems that the number of voluntary associations devoted to the needs of France's poor continued to multiply.⁸⁸ The uncontrolled proliferation of new charities, as well as the overlapping functions of public and private charitable groups and the competition for scarce francs, undoubtedly heightened the state's desire to regulate and to tighten surveillance of charities that might be the beneficiaries of large donations.⁸⁹	36
Donations to charitable associations raised concerns for the government on several levels. French legislators had used public ambivalence, and in some cases hostility, to mortmain, the exemption of ecclesiastical and other property from taxation, to justify, at least in part, its seizure of church property during the Revolution of 1789. That same hostility led to the spoliation of corporations and charitable institutions as well.⁹⁰ Why the apprehension about mortmain? Barthélemy Terrat outlined a number of reasons for official concern in a pamphlet defending the benefits of mortmain.⁹¹ First of all, the state had the responsibility to defend the interests of family members who might lose their inheritance as a result of too-generous donations to charities, especially by individuals under the sway of vanity or inappropriate religious fervor.⁹² The language Terrat employed suggested concern that women especially might be susceptible to these dangerous impulses.⁹³ Legal reforms during the Revolution of 1789, codified under the Napoleonic Code, had increased women's inheritance rights considerably, guaranteeing them a greater portion of the family's property.⁹⁴ Accordingly, the law limited the amount that an individual with legitimate heirs could funnel elsewhere.⁹⁵ But the state's concerns went beyond solicitude for disinherited family members. Large donations to charitable institutions had potential economic repercussions as well: Certainly, a limitation on the freedom to bequeath in the name of family interest was loudly proclaimed, but [it was] also in order to prevent at the source the enrichment of a legal entity [personnes morales]. As in the eighteenth century, an economic argument was called to the rescue. Bigot-Préameneu explained to the Corps législatif that the government "should know the nature and the quantity of the property that is thus placed outside of the market; [the government] must even prevent a blameworthy excess in these transfers [dispositions]." This fear of mortmain hindering the circulation of goods comes up repeatedly over the course of the century, so much so that, going back to the assessments of Turgot, there was real suspicion of the generous benefactor.⁹⁶ The laissez-faire economic approach of the July Monarchy may have made its ministers suspicious about the potential economic consequences of large donations to charitable organizations. But there were fiscal implications for the government as well. The state receives tax payments when property changes hands; because mortmain property no longer changes hands, the government no longer benefits from these taxes.⁹⁷	37
Furthermore, private charities like the Society for Maternal Charity were in direct competition for bequests and legacies with institutions of public assistance. Prior to the First World War, local initiatives, but especially private donations, bequests, and investments financed the majority—about 60 percent—of national hospital costs.⁹⁸ Consequently, the system of public assistance could not continue to exist without a continuous influx of private resources, which gave the government additional incentive to regulate the status of charitable organizations.	38
The religious nature of many charitable associations was problematic for the July Monarchy as well. Despite the fact that the queen, Marie-Amélie, was quite pious, the king and his advisors were not. H. A. C. Collingham notes that "the July Monarchy never lost its secular prejudices."⁹⁹ The particular philosophical and anticlerical bent of the Orleanist regime and the philanthropists who came to power under its rule also contributed to its suspicious attitude toward associations de bienfaisance, especially those of religious, and often Legitimist, inclination.¹⁰⁰ Orleanist officials were supportive of both property rights, and the rights of the state, and very distrustful of the church. Consequently, they worried about the accumulation of riches in the hands of establishments with the right of mortmain, especially ecclesiastical institutions.¹⁰¹ This mistrust, only partially attenuated by the good works of many religious associations, accounts for the fact that the state reserved to itself the right to approve any bequest to a charitable association.¹⁰² While the Society for Maternal Charity was ecumenical, and assisted women of all religious denominations, state officials clearly perceived it as a fundamentally religious institution, directed by pious and politically conservative women. This was not always wrong; many local societies insisted on evidence of religious, as well as legal, marriage on the part of the women they assisted. The official perception was that the society was an intensely religious organization, a view that would lead the government to sharply reduce its subsidies by the 1880s.¹⁰³	39
Furthermore, Catherine Duprat suggests that under the Restoration and the early phases of the July Monarchy, active and well-connected philanthropists had played a key role in governmental agencies, including the Ministry of the Interior. However, by the late 1830s, this close association between governmental ministers and philanthropic societies had come to an end, as the Ministry of the Interior ceased to consult volunteers associated with either private charitable associations or public assistance for advice. As a result, the influence of philanthropists and their societies over the administration of assistance declined.¹⁰⁴ This split undoubtedly rendered the administration less sensitive to both the contributions and the concerns of charitable organizations and more likely to be suspicious of their motives.¹⁰⁵	40
Taken together, these factors created an inhospitable atmosphere for associational activity and led to increased scrutiny on the part of the July Monarchy vis-à-vis all associations, including maternal societies. After 1840 the new stability of the ministerial regime under François Guizot, whose ministry would govern France until 1848, along with the Comte Duchâtel as minister of the interior, created the conditions for bureaucratic intrusiveness.¹⁰⁶ Still, the Society for Maternal Charity was a highly favored organization, presided over by Queen Marie-Amélie, and the Ministry of the Interior was clearly willing to facilitate the status of utilité publique for maternal societies in the larger cities of France. By reducing the number of abandoned children, as well as funneling assistance to poor families, these societies performed an important function that the government appreciated. The government used the infrastructure of the maternal societies to provide other charitable services as well, leading them to function, at times, almost as an arm of the state.¹⁰⁷ The government was parsimonious in granting legal recognition to charities in general; its eagerness to bring the branches of the maternal societies into compliance so that they could receive legal recognition highlights the privileged—and respected—position of the Society for Maternal Charity. Since both the Ministry of the Interior and the maternal societies themselves had an interest in gaining legal recognition for the societies and assuring their continued existence, it should have been an easy matter to resolve.	41

The Continuing Conflict
However, resolution was not a speedy process. The legal situation of neither the society of Marseilles nor that of Bordeaux was resolved under the July Monarchy. Although other more urgent matters occupied their time, the new Republican government, installed in February 1848, was determined to make sure that large maternal societies fulfilled the legal requirements necessary to obtain public utility status. While the relative stability of the Soult-Guizot-Duchâtel ministry may have provided the breathing space for the Ministry of the Interior to set into motion its examination of the legal status of maternal societies, the unrest of 1848 did not deflect its determination to bring about conformity. June 1848 was the Second Republic's most troubled period—street-fighting would break out in Paris before the end of the month, culminating in the notorious June Days. But the wheels of the bureaucracy continued to roll. Perhaps the inertia of the bureaucratic machine is the most telling explanation for the ministry's continued insistence that the maternal societies bring their regulations into conformity. As Balzac wrote of the costly bureaucracy that Napoleon put into place, and that subsequent regimes maintained scrupulously: There are forty thousand government clerks in France.... for this price France possesses the most inquisitorial, fussy, ferreting, scribbling, paper-blotting, fault-finding old housekeeper of a civil service on God's earth. Not a copper farthing of the nation's money is spent or hoarded that is not ordered by a note, proved by vouchers, produced and re-produced on balance-sheets, and receipted for when paid; orders and receipts are registered on the rolls, and checked and verified by an army of men in spectacles.¹⁰⁸ Surely the minute attention of the various clerks in the Ministry of the Interior to the particulars of the maternal societies' bylaws suggests the truth of Balzac's scathing critique. It is also possible that the chaos of the period led to an increased rigidity on the part of officials following up on the initiatives of previous administrations. The Ministry of the Interior sent letters to the prefects of both the Bouches-du-Rhône and the Gironde demanding to know why they had not yet submitted the required application for public utility status.¹⁰⁹ Madame Guestier's response to the prefect's query indicated her continued belief that the ministry's demands were intrusive and redundant.¹¹⁰	42
The back-and-forth between the Ministry of the Interior and the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux (as well as that of Marseilles) took place against the backdrop of both continued political unrest and heated debate in the Constituent Assembly (and later the Chamber of Deputies) over the appropriate role of public assistance and private charities.¹¹¹ As the administrations rapidly changed over the course of 1848 and 1849, Madame Guestier continued her dialogue with the ministry via the prefect, hoping that, at some point, a minister would accept her contention that Bordeaux's legal existence had been securely established since 1815, or at least agree to recognize the statutes and bylaws approved in 1815 without the need for modification. However, despite what one would assume were more pressing concerns during this chaotic period in French political history, the minister of the interior continued to insist that the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux follow the models provided by the central government in revising its statutes and bylaws.¹¹² In the meantime, bequests made to the society by various benefactors continued to pile up.¹¹³ Perhaps the continuous discussions concerning liberty of association kept the issue on the front burner for the fonctionnaires at the Ministry of the Interior. This was in spite of the fact that the government of the Second Republic was much more sympathetic to associational activity than the July Monarchy had been. While prohibiting secret societies, new legislation debated and passed in July 1848 gave political clubs liberty (although subject to governmental approval). Non-political private associations were simply required to declare their existence to municipal authorities. Charitable and industrial associations were exempted from even this formality.¹¹⁴ Effectively, the new legislation abrogated Article 291 of the penal code, as well as the Law of 1834, permitting almost complete freedom of association.¹¹⁵ But these changes in the law had no effect on the situation of the provincial associations seeking recognition of public utility status.	43
For Madame Guestier and the rest of Bordeaux's administrative council, the bylaws proposed by the minister contained two problematic points: the obligation to establish and send to the Ministry of the Interior each year an annual budget (in addition to the annual compte rendu already provided), and the obligation to hire a paid receveur.¹¹⁶ The permanent secretary [secrétaire-général] of the Ministry of the Interior dismissed the society's complaints, but four months later, Bordeaux's administrative council was still contesting the ministry's demands.¹¹⁷ It made one more effort to resist compliance. On 4 June 1850, Messieurs Lacoste, Saint-Marc, and Vaucher rendered the legal opinion already cited on the official status of the Society for Maternal Charity. The consultation rapidly traced the institutional history of Bordeaux's society and its assets, many of which had come from donations.¹¹⁸ However, despite the fact that the government had previously authorized the society to accept these donations, in 1842 the ministry suddenly challenged its legal existence and denied it the right to "conduct any act of civil life." The mémoire expressed the administrative council's deep outrage at the demand that it abandon the bylaws that had governed the society for thirty years to adopt the statutes and bylaws proposed by the central government. Messieurs Lacoste, Saint-Marc, and Vaucher's legal opinion supported the administrative council's contention that the ordinance of 31 October 1814 conferred legal status upon the Bordeaux society, in the same way that it had upon the Paris society, whose legal existence had never been challenged.	44
But the mémoire went on to make another point about the Bordeaux maternal society's right to receive legacies and make sales of property. The Avis du Conseil d'état of 17 January 1806 seemed to suggest that the Bordeaux society did require special approval from the Conseil d'état to achieve sufficient legal standing.¹¹⁹ However, the consultants noted that the Avis du Conseil applied only to "establishments of charity and bienfaisance directed by independent societies [sociétés libres] which gather in a maternity hospice, [or] building for the ill and orphans, [or] the old, and that the Society for Maternal Charity, which offers home assistance, is not an establishment of that genre." For this type of charity, all that was necessary was an ordinance authorizing its establishment, since its public utility was well recognized without specific mention. Under the terms of the Avis du Conseil, the society did not require special approval as a public utility in order to receive donations, "because it effectively has that capacity"—a capacity that the government had previously recognized. Not only had it received funds from the government, but had always been authorized to accept donations and legacies until 1842.¹²⁰	45
The consultation, like other representations in the past, fell on deaf ears, despite the support that it received from Bordeaux's municipal council.¹²¹ However, in March 1851, the Ministry of the Interior's secretary did add a conciliatory note concerning the model statutes that the societies were expected to follow and expressed his willingness to accept even substantial variation to accommodate local customs and needs.¹²² The prefect forwarded the letter to Madame Guestier with the curt suggestion that she give up the fight.¹²³ After all, as the secretary stressed to the prefect in a later letter, dated September 1853, formal recognition as utilité publique would mean that the society's legal status could never again be contested. The tone of this particular letter suggests some concern on the part of the secretary that the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux might disband if pushed too far. He urged the prefect to show tact and consideration while persuading the administrative council to comply with the letter of the law: "The steps that I have indicated that must be followed in this affair demand great restraint and you must show great tact in your communications on this subject with the Board. You will offer advice on the means to reconcile the exigencies of the law which must be executed with the legitimate sensitivity of charitable persons so useful to the poor and so worthy of consideration. In a word, try to eliminate this error, but avoid compromising the existence of the charity."¹²⁴	46
This attitude suggests a more flexible approach on the part of the government of the Second Empire than had been the case with earlier administrations. This may seem surprising in light of the authoritarianism of the early Second Empire, which some have labeled a "police state." In 1852, the government had abrogated the legislation of 1848 that guaranteed liberty of association; this decree of 25 March replaced the law of 1848 with stricter regulation of public association and assembly,¹²⁵ indicating a harsher attitude on its part toward private associations. However, while Napoleon III's government showed a continued interest in regulating and surveying charitable organizations, it also wished to encourage charitable action. By many measures, it showed a favorable attitude toward charities on which it depended to solve a substantial number of France's social problems.¹²⁶ While his government did not favor allowing independent networks of associations to flourish throughout France, Napoleon III was certainly aware that associations controlled by the state, carrying out state-sanctioned activities (especially to assist the working class and the poor), were extremely useful.¹²⁷ The Empress Eugénie was well known for her charitable activities, including the présidence of the Society for Maternal Charity, which presumably enhanced the society's already favored position.¹²⁸	47
However, it was not until 1854 that the prefect of the Gironde finally forwarded to the minister of the interior the required 150 copies of the statutes adopted by the Society for Maternal Charity of Bordeaux; and six months later, in October 1854, the prefect sent an urgent note to the minister, reminding him that the statutes had still not been approved.¹²⁹ The numerous changes that took place in the governance of the various branches of the maternal societies throughout France may have slowed the bureaucratic machinery and the approval process of the utilité publique applications. The decree issued on 25 March 1852 set into motion a process of administrative decentralization. Supervision of the maternal societies shifted from the Ministry of the Interior to the prefect, who could now approve the annual accounts of the maternal societies (although he was still required to forward the information to the minister, along with the compte moral and the list of the members and subscribers). The decree of 2 February 1853 transferred ultimate control to the newly crowned Empress Eugénie. Finally, on 15 April 1853, the emperor promulgated a new règlement for the maternal societies, one that confirmed their regional autonomy and their particular statutes but reinforced the earlier decrees of 1853.¹³⁰	48
Against this backdrop, Bordeaux's administrative council had adopted its (slightly) revised bylaws on 15 February 1853¹³¹ and formally approved its new statutes on 13 December 1853. They were not ratified by imperial decree until 24 February 1855, as the administrative council made numerous adjustments to comply with changing requirements.¹³² Despite their eventual submission to the government's demands, the administrators of Bordeaux's maternal society remained convinced that they had been in the right all along. On the cover of the Statuts et règlement de la Société de charité maternelle, reissued in 1909, it read that the Bordeaux society had been "recognized as utilité publique by the decree of 25 July 1811." They never conceded the point.	49
The resistance on the part of the Society for Maternal Charity of Marseilles was not as extreme as that of Bordeaux; however, Madame de Pontevès was equally unhappy at the prospect of adopting the model statutes and bylaws and made her discomfort clear in a strongly worded letter to the prefect. Like Madame Guestier in 1848, she had hoped that the changing administration would look more sympathetically at her request. This was not the case. Still, she noted that her administrative council "thought that it could not submit to the desires of Monsieur the Minister without having presented to him its observations concerning two articles which contain stipulations [that are] in essence contrary to the customs and ways of our region." The first article that Madame de Pontevès highlighted as objectionable was Article 9, which required the election of a secrétaire-trésorier as a joint and unpaid position. Currently, an honorable and solvent individual was willing to serve as treasurer for free; however, the position of secretary involved a good deal of day-to-day written work, and with so few men of leisure in the city of Marseilles, it was impossible to find someone who could fill that position gratis. Thus, it was necessary to separate these two functions.	50
However, it was Article 12 of the statutes which caused the greatest concern. It seemed to suggest that the materials—such as layettes, food, bottles, and other items—used to assist the poor women of Marseilles would be deposited at the home of the présidente, who would also hold the meetings of the council at her home. Every three months, each dame administrante would receive the material goods and cash necessary to assist the poor women under her patronage. Each poor mother would then present herself at the home of the dame administrante in her quartier in order to receive this assistance.	51
The implications of this system were more than disturbing: it was clear to Madame de Pontevès that "our lodgings are too narrow; that our President could not receive the materials [at her home]; and that the dames administrantes could not agree to receive at their homes a crowd of women who are strangers, coarse and most often carrying their nurslings with them. This inconvenience is such that the Prefecture ... despite a room and a large courtyard earmarked for that purpose, no longer wished to continue because of the noise and the congestion caused by these women." This was why "from the time of its creation, a place has been set aside specifically for this charity in order to hold the material goods [for the poor women] and for the meetings of the council of the dames administrantes. The ladies meet at a set time each week to receive the poor women who request assistance and deliberate to decide who has a right [to assistance] and who should be rejected according to the report of the ladies who visited them." This system of administration required a concierge, who provided a number of services; Madame de Pontevès defensively asserted that to pay separately for the services rendered by the concierge would double the costs to the society, undoubtedly to deflect any criticism that a concierge was an unnecessary luxury for a charitable organization.¹³³	52
In forwarding her comments to the Ministry of the Interior, the prefect dismissed the ladies' desire to keep the functions of secretary and treasurer separate. Since most of the society's funding came from the state, the department of the Bouches-du-Rhône, and the city of Marseilles, and since it earned only 118.50 francs in rentes per year and owned no property, he did not believe that the functions of secretary or treasurer were particularly onerous; the two positions could easily be combined and performed for free. On the other hand, he expressed sympathy with their objections to Article 12, agreeing that it would be difficult to make these distributions from their homes, and that their observations on this point should be taken into consideration.¹³⁴ The Ministry of the Interior's secretary agreed with the prefect's observations, but nonetheless agreed to "provisionally accept the request of the Maternal Society, and ... submit it along with the collection of statues and bylaws for the ruling of the Conseil d'état" if Madame de Pontevès would just send along the documents.¹³⁵	53
Some trifling squabbling over the particulars of the statutes and bylaws continued throughout 1849 and into 1850.¹³⁶ But finally, on 2 January 1851, the President of the Republic (the future emperor, Napoleon III) granted the Society for Maternal Charity of Marseilles formal recognition "as an establishment of public utility."¹³⁷ The functions of secretary and treasurer remained separate, according to the statutes approved. The bylaws specified that all functions would be performed free of charge, except that of secretary. The meeting place of the administrative council was left deliberately vague.¹³⁸	54

Some Conclusions
The relationship of the French state with charitable associations in the 1840s and into the 1850s illuminates multiple political, legal, and social trends of the nineteenth century. While French statesmen like Guizot may have championed a laissez-faire approach to the economy, the state's attitude toward associations most decidedly was not hands-off. The impulse of the French state since the Ancien Régime, intensified during the Revolution and Napoleonic era, was toward greater regulation, bureaucratization, and centralization. This process continued under the July Monarchy and the Second Empire.¹³⁹ Howard C. Payne, writing about Napoleon III, argues that Louis Napoleon had no need to "innovate" to acquire dictatorial control over France; rather, the tools were already well in place under the liberal July Monarchy. Most French citizens believed that a unified public administration should provide "police, surveillance, and forethought—through administrative regulations."¹⁴⁰ Part of that process was to effectively wield and, in some cases, to tighten the laws regulating associations that had been part of the Code Civil under Napoleon. A well-run state, even a liberal state, should make sure that voluntary associations serve the public good—or at least, that they do not run counter to it.¹⁴¹	55
Charitable associations, like maternal societies, fell under the scope of administrative law, which was increasingly intrusive as relations between the French citizenry and executive authority became more highly regulated and formalized. In this context, it is easier to understand the resistance on the part of Bordeaux and Marseilles's maternal societies to the efforts of the central government to make uniform their bylaws and statutes with little regard for or understanding of local needs. Stéphane Gerson found a similar subversiveness on the part of provincial elites who sought to preserve and celebrate local histories outside the uniform blueprint provided by the Ministry of Public Instruction.¹⁴² Timothy Smith, in his study of efforts to introduce welfare programs into Lyons in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, also finds resistance to state interference in the deliverance of charity and the development of public assistance policies. He quotes the president of Lyons's Civil Hospices, who observed in 1909 that his predecessors had fought a battle "against a sort of legislative centralization" that had "sought to impose uniform laws on the country without regard for local circumstances."¹⁴³ The women of the maternal charities were not alone in their desire to maintain local autonomy in the face of increasing encroachment on the part of national authorities. This is not to say that they were hostile to the Ministry of the Interior, nor were they unwilling to collaborate with the government. They did so on numerous occasions and allied themselves under most circumstances with a government that offered them financial support and frequent praise. But this spirit of cooperation did not prevent the maternal societies from resisting direction when they felt it was contrary to their interests, or contrary to the interests of the mothers they served.	56
This process of "police"—of regulation—was carried out by executive power, under the control of the king and his direct agents. The American observer, Lewis Cass, visiting France in the 1830s, was amazed at the degree of centralization in the French government: It is difficult for an American to form a correct notion of the labor which devolves upon a king of France. With us, the political tendency is to subdivide power, and to send it, as much as possible, to be executed in the various localities which its exercise concerns. But here a contrary tendency manifests itself; and a spirit of centralization pervades the system of government, which, while it adds strength to the general administration, greatly augments the royal duties. In our country, such a course of practice would be intolerable were it practicable, and impracticable were it tolerable.¹⁴⁴ Evidence of this may be found in the minute, even obsessive, interest of the Ministry of the Interior in the details of the bylaws and statutes of the various branches of the maternal societies. In addition, the French president, king, or emperor's personal signature on the decrees approving the statutes and bylaws of those societies demonstrates the concentration of power.¹⁴⁵	57
Beyond the simple impulse for centralization, regulation, or police on the part of the French government, it may be easier to understand the French state's interest in regulating these charitable organizations so closely if we consider how the state viewed associations like the maternal societies. Public utility associations were instituted in the interest of the state to assist it in various tasks, and the state considered public utility status "a fiction created by the law for the purpose of the public good. For that reason, the law has over everything that concerns [these associations], and even over their existence, unlimited authority."¹⁴⁶ Indeed, to some extent, the French government saw these charities as an extension of the government, providing useful social services that it could not, or chose not, to provide.¹⁴⁷ As Jean-Luc Marais notes, an établissement d'utilité publique "exists only because the state gives birth to it." And "the State only gives [a charity] life to fulfill a function which it delegates to it."¹⁴⁸ This utilitarian and state-centered view of charitable associations under its patronage strengthened the government's determination to provide careful regulation of and surveillance over them. But it also led to constant struggles between the government and the charities themselves. As Paul Nourrisson points out, the French government tended to regard private charities as an auxiliary of state action, while the members of these groups preferred to view themselves as independent individuals coming together to serve the public good.¹⁴⁹ Charities saw themselves as representing local needs and local interests, and their members resented the efforts of the state to control the shape and form of their activities. This tension could sometimes undercut the cooperative relationship that both the state and the charities themselves desired as charities like the maternal societies sought independence and autonomy that the state was unwilling to allow. And despite its desire to regulate and control, even the government recognized at times that it could not push its agenda too far; recall the permanent secretary's advice to the prefect that he show "great tact" in his communications with Bordeaux's maternal society and to "eliminate the error, but avoid compromising the existence of the charity."	58
In most cases, the French state may have regarded women's associations as "domestic" while those of men were "civic."¹⁵⁰ But those of women could also have civic, even political, implications. Catherine Duprat, highlighting the "silence" of women's associations in the first half of the nineteenth century, suggests that their stereotypical feminine image and the lack of a strong public voice could in fact be an important asset for these groups, masking their true goals—which, she acknowledges, were far from apolitical.¹⁵¹ When women's groups sought to promote a particular moral vision for society, and to influence government policy toward women and children, the political implications became evident even to men who might resist acknowledging the influence of women in the public sphere.¹⁵² This was especially true of a large, generously subsidized, and powerful association like the Society for Maternal Charity. The political potential was clear early in the nineteenth century, as Napoleon took control of and expanded the reach of the maternal societies, and as subsequent ministries subsidized, worked through, and maintained control over these societies. It would become clearer under the secular Third Republic, which objected to the policy of many maternal societies to assist only mothers married in a religious ceremony.¹⁵³ The efforts of maternal societies to accept bequests, as well as subsidies from the Ministry of the Interior, invited governmental scrutiny of their statutes, bylaws, and finances. The ministry was willing to allow some flexibility in those bylaws, as long as they did not come into overt conflict with governmental goals, and as long as maternal societies publicly submitted to governmental tutelage. But from the inception of the Society for Maternal Charity, the central government was well aware of its political potential and was determined to exercise control and surveillance—at the same time that the societies themselves sought autonomy and local control. And the fact of female membership may even have introduced certain complications as the state sought to control these organizations under laws that were conceived to control male associations.	59
Christine Adams is a professor of history at St. Mary's College of Maryland <cmadams@smcm.edu>. A Mellon Grant from the Library of Congress in 1999–2000 and a Faculty Development Grant from St. Mary's College of Maryland made possible the writing of this essay, originally delivered at the Annual Meeting of the Society for French History Studies in Milwaukee in 2003. She would like to thank Carol Harrison, Sharon Kettering, the members of the Washington Area Modern French Group, and the anonymous readers at Law and History Review for their comments on an earlier draft of this article. All translations, unless otherwise indicated, are her own. Notes ^1. Carol E. Harrison, The Bourgeois Citizen in Nineteenth-Century France: Gender, Sociability, and the Uses of Emulation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 22–23. ^2. The chief exception would be associations that called into question the existing social structure—for example, Saint-Simonian or workers' organizations. See Evelyne Lejeune-Resnick, Femmes et associations (1830/1880): Vraies démocrates ou dames patronesses? (Paris: Publisud, 1991), 15–19. ^3. According to Annie Grange, in her study of associational life in Villefranche-sur-Saône, "Les hommes sont pendant toute cette période les principaux acteurs de la vie associative, pour ne pas dire les seuls car les femmes en sont quasiment absentes." She found that approximately 1.5 percent of the associations in the region she studied were exclusively female. L'Apprentissage de l'association, 1850–1914: Naissance du secteur volontaire non lucrative dans l'Arrondissement de Villefranche-sur-Saône (Paris: Mutualité française, 1993), 67, 94. See also 92–93. ^4. Catherine Duprat, "Le Silence des femmes: Associations féminines du premier XIXe siècle," in Femmes dans la cité, 1815–1871, ed. A. Corbin, J. Lalouette, and M. Riot-Sarcey (Grâne: Editions Créaphis, 1997), 79–100, esp. 96–97. Annie Grange also suggests that it was difficult for women to exercise public responsibility, which restricted the visibility of their associational activities. L'Apprentissage de l'association, 94. ^5. Duprat, "Le Silence des femmes." ^6. Jean-Pierre Chaline, "Sociabilité féminine et 'maternalisme,' les sociétés de Charité Maternelle au XIXe siécle," in Femmes dans la cité, 1815–1871, 69. Catherine Duprat also emphasizes the high profile of the Société de charité maternelle in Usage et pratiques de la philanthropie: Pauvreté, action sociale et lien social, à Paris, au cours du premier XIXe siècle, (Paris: Association pour l'étude de l'histoire de la Sécurité sociale, 1996–1997), 2:615–35. ^7. See Duprat, Usage et pratiques de la philanthropie, 2:630–32, for the social composition of the members of the Paris society. ^8. Archives nationales (hereafter AN) F¹⁵ 2565, Compte rendu à S.M. l'Impératrice-Reine et Régente, Protectrice et Présidente de la Société de la charité maternelle, par S.A. Em. le Secrétaire général et S.Ex. le Trésorier général de la situation de la Société dans tout l'empire, et de l'Emploi de ses fonds; et par les Dames du Conseil d'Administration de Paris, des opérations de ce conseil. Imprimé et publié avec l'autorisation de Sa Majesté (Paris, 1813). Other copies exist in some provincial archives, including the Archives départementales de la Gironde (ADG) 4J 728. See also the Almanach royal et national pour l'An M DCCC XXXI, présentéà Sa Majesté et aux Princes et Princesses de la Famille royale (Paris, 1831), 886; Almanach impérial pour M DCCC LIII, présentéà Leurs Majestés (Paris, 1853), 1081; Almanach impérial pour M DCCC LXII, présentéà Leurs Majestés (Paris, 1862); Evelyne Lejeune-Resnick, Femmes et associations, 175; and Alisa Klaus, "Women's Organizations and the Infant Health Movement in France and the United States, 1890–1920," in Lady Bountiful Revisited: Women, Philanthropy, and Power, ed. Kathleen D. McCarthy (New Brunswick and London: Rutgers University Press, 1990), 167. Catherine Rollet-Echalier notes that these societies multiplied especially under the Second Empire. La Politique à l'égard de la petite enfance sous la IIIe République (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1990), 9–10. ^9. Stuart Woolf argues that from the time the society was appropriated by the Napoleonic court, it became an appendage of the imperial administration. See "The Société de charité maternelle, 1788–1815," in Medicine and Charity before the Welfare State, ed. Jonathan Barry and Colin Jones (London: Routledge, 1991), 109. ^10. During the first half of the nineteenth century, subsidies never constituted less than 65 percent of the total revenues of the Paris branch of the Society for Maternal Charity. Duprat, Usage et pratiques de la philanthropie, 2:622. ^11. See Alisa Klaus, Every Child a Lion: The Origins of Maternal and Infant Health Policy in the United States and France (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993), 129–35, and "Depopulation and Race Suicide: Maternalism and Pronatalist Ideologies in France and the United States," in Mothers of a New World: Maternalist Politics and the Origins of Welfare States, ed. Seth Koven and Sonya Michel (London: Routledge, 1993), 196–98; Rollet-Echalier, La Politique à l'égard de la petite enfance, 245–47. ^12. Klaus argues that French women were excluded from policy making because of centralized state structures and a tradition of social intervention; she notes that "The specific political conditions under which women organized for 'maternalist' goals in France prevented them from becoming a distinctive female political force," while Lejeune-Resnick sees dames patronesses, like the ladies of the maternal societies, as simply reinforcing the political goals of men and upholding the bourgeois social structure. Klaus, Every Child a Lion, 92; Lejeune-Resnick, Femmes et associations, 15, 19. ^13. Jean L. Cohen and Andrew Arato, Civil Society and Political Theory (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1992), ix, quoted in Katherine A. Lynch, "The Family and the History of Public Life," Journal of Interdisciplinary History 24.4 (Spring 1994): 674. Evelyne Diebolt also asserts that " ... participation in philanthropic organizations offered numerous women ... the possibility of participating in various civil and public activities. This made it possible for them to exercise a certain authority in social, economic, and political life in France." See "Women and Philanthropy in France from the Sixteenth to the Twentieth Centuries," in Women, Philanthropy and Civil Society, ed. Kathleen D. McCarthy (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2001), 29. ^14. Lynch, "The Family and the History of Public Life," 675; Kathleen D. McCarthy, "Women and Political Culture," in Charity, Philanthropy, and Civility in American History, ed. Lawrence J. Friedman and Mark D. McGarvie (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 179–97. ^15. Bonnie G. Smith, Ladies of the Leisure Class: The Bourgeoises of Northern France in the Nineteenth Century (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 134. See chap. 6 for an analysis of the political implications of women's domestic and social charitable activities. ^16. See Suzanne Desan's review article, "What's after Political Culture? Recent French Revolutionary Historiography," French Historical Studies 23.1 (2000): 170. ^17. See Christine Adams, "Maternal Societies in France: Private Charity before the Welfare State," Journal of Women's History 17.1 (Spring 2005): 87–111. ^18. ADG 4J 727, Copy of legal opinion rendered by Lacoste, St. Marc, and Vaucher, 4 June 1850, attached to Compte rendu des opérations de la Conseil d'adminstration de la Société de charité maternelle de Bordeaux pour l'année 1853. Several other copies exist in the same dossier containing the correspondence dealing with the issue of the Bordeaux society's legal status, and efforts to obtain the appellation of utilité publique. ^19. David H. Pinkney, Decisive Years in France, 1840–1847 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 64. ^20. Stéphane Gerson, The Pride of Place: Local Memories and Political Culture in Nineteenth-Century France (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2003), 67. ^21. Patrick Joyce, The Rule of Freedom: Liberalism and the Modern City (London and New York: Verso, 2003), 1–3. ^22. For a more detailed theoretical discussion of strategies of liberal rule, see Nikolas Rose, "Governing 'Advanced' Liberal Democracies," in Foucault and Political Reason: Liberalism, Neo-liberalism and Rationalities of Government, ed. Andrew Barry, Thomas Osborne, and Nikolas Rose (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996), 37–64. ^23. Gerson cites numerous examples of this resistance in The Pride of Place; see esp. chap. 6. See also Timothy B. Smith, Creating the Welfare State in France, 1880–1940 (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's Press, 2003), 33–36. ^24. Paul Nourrisson, Histoire de la liberté d'association en France depuis 1789 (Paris: Librairie de la Société du Recueil Sirey, 1920), intro., 1:16. ^25. Religion had long played a political role in France, especially since the Revolution. Women, possessing few political outlets, frequently used religious ritual to signal and justify political resistance. For one example of this, see Suzanne Desan, Reclaiming the Sacred: Lay Religion and Popular Politics in Revolutionary France (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1990), chap. 5. On tensions between the ministers of Louis-Phillippe and the Catholic church, see H. A. C. Collingham, The July Monarchy: A Political History of France, 1830–1848 (London and New York: Longman, 1988), chap. 22; on relations between Legitimists and the regime of Napoleon III, see Roger Price, The French Second Empire: An Anatomy of Political Power (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), chap. 9. ^26. Catherine Duprat outlines the affiliations of the members of the Paris society in Usage et Pratiques, 2:616–35. In one well-known example of political protest, Madame de Pastoret, whose spouse was linked with the Bourbons, stepped down from the vice-presidency of the Paris Society for Maternal Charity in 1830, at the time of the July Revolution, although she continued to serve on the administrative council. Fernande Bassan, Politique et haute sociétéà l'époque romantique: La Famille Pastoret d'après sa correspondance (1788–1856) (Paris: Lettres modernes Minard, 1969), 22. ^27. See A. de Faget de Casteljau, Histoire du droit d'association de 1789 à 1901 (Paris: Libraire Nouvelle de droit et de jurisprudence, Arthur Rousseau, éditeur, 1905), 154. ^28. Jean-Luc Marais, Histoire du don en France de 1800 à 1939. Dons et legs charitables, pieux et philanthropiques (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 1999), 55. ^29. On the development of civil society, see Philip Nord's introduction to his The Republican Moment: Struggles for Democracy in Nineteenth-Century France (Cambridge and London: Harvard University Press, 1995), 1–14, as well as his introduction to Civil Society before Democracy: Lessons from Nineteenth-Century Europe, ed. Nancy Bermeo and Philip Nord (Lanham and New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000), xiii–xxxiii. ^30. William J. Novak, "The American Law of Association: The Legal-Political Construction of Civil Society," Studies in American Political Development 15 (Fall 2001): 163. ^31. Raymond Huard points out that "Admittedly, political societies were the most feared by the government, but it must be considered that, more or less, all associations could become political in certain circumstances.... As a consequence the authorities wished to be in control of all and not just of some of the associations." See Huard, "Political Association in Nineteenth-Century France: Legislation and Practice," in Bermeo and Nord, Civil Society before Democracy, 135–36.

In the Public Interest: Charitable Association, the State, and the Status of utilité publique in Nineteenth-Century France

CHRISTINE ADAMS

Associational Law and Utilité publique

Maternal Societies and Their Status in the Nineteenth Century

New Concerns about Associations in the 1830s and 1840s

The Continuing Conflict

Some Conclusions

Notes