Blessed Motherhood, Bitter Fruit: Nelly Roussel and the Politics of Female Pain in Third Republic France

• Acknowledgments
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• Johns Hopkins University Press
• pp. ix-xii
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The research for this book began with a different project in mind. After having studied French fertility decline in the nineteenth century among the working classes, I wanted to find out more about what the French were thinking when they had small families. I began researching the neo-Malthusian (French birth control) movement in the hope of learning what male, and especially female, proponents of birth control were saying about reproduction and gender issues, but I soon discovered that few women numbered among their ranks. One of them, Nelly Roussel, had, however, left an enormous archive.

I am an accidental biographer. As a social historian, it would never have occurred to me to write a biography had not the sources Roussel left behind been so rich. For the first few years of looking at her archive, I tried to avoid “wasting time” reading materials that were not relevant to my project as I had defined it, but I finally gave in to this treasure of personal papers when several friends and colleagues prodded me to write a biography. Many years later, I feel gratified that doing so allowed me to address the questions that had inspired my original project. I have many people to thank for making the final result possible.

First, I owe thanks to the institutional support I received. For my original conception of this project I thank the National Endowment for the Humanities for a Travel-to-Collections Grant and the American Council of Learned Societies for a summer grant. Otherwise, all the support for this project came from the University of Southern California: research grants from Institute for the Study of Women and Men in Society, the Zumberge Faculty Research and Innovation Award, the USC College Award for Research Excellence, and the USC College Faculty Development Award. This funding made travel to France and to conferences possible.

I thank the staffs at the Archives nationales de France, Bibliothèque nationale de France, the Bibliothèque historique de la Ville de Paris, Archives de la Préfecture de la Police de Paris, Laure de Margerie at the documentation department of the Musée d’Orsay, and the staff of International Institute of Social History in Amsterdam. I owe my deepest thanks to Annie Metz, directrice of the Bibliothèque Marguerite Durand, and to her staff. She welcomed me, encouraged me, gave me complete access to Roussel’s papers, and helped me in ways that can only be described as exceptional. She and her staff sustained me with inspiration, patience, sympathy, and friendship as we negotiated our way through Roussel’s less-than-organized collection on each of my annual two-week visits. To say that I could not have written this book without their immense generosity is an understatement.

I received invaluable feedback during various stages of this book at annual meetings of the Society for French Historical Studies, the Western Society for French History, and the Social Science History Association, from audiences at the University of Michigan–Flint, Michigan State University, Western Michigan University, the European History Colloquium at the University of California–Los Angeles, Oregon State University, the Center for Feminist Research at the University of Southern California, and the California Group of French Historians. For feedback, friendship, and support, I thank Susan Ashley, Susanna Barrows, Marjorie Becker, Lenard Berlanstein, Lisa Bitel, Linda Clark, Tom Callaghy, Helen Chenu, Nancy Fitch, Nina Gelbart, Sharif Gemi (one of those who persuaded me to do a biography), Steven Hause, Lynn Hunt, Peg Jacobs, Cheryl Koos, Paul Lerner, Yves Lequin, Andrea Mansker, Ted Margadant, Theresa McBride, Anne Meyering, John Merriman, Leslie Moch, Kristen Neuschel, Karen Offen, Roderick Phillips, Michelle Perrot, Barbara Pope, Lou Roberts, Florence Rochefort, Nick Salvatore, Hilary Schor, Debora Silverman, Bonnie Smith, Richard Sonn, Judy Stone, Ann Sullivan, Mary Lynn Stewart, Patricia Tilburg, David Troyansky, Frans van Poppel, Whitney Walton, and Alan Williams. Although she has not read any part of this book, I am indebted to Joan Scott because her work on gender—as is true of Karen Offen’s—has provided a major source of inspiration, as well as signposts for my thinking about it.

Among those who persuaded me to write a biography was my colleague and friend Mauricio Mazón. He read all my early efforts to grapple with this project and spent much time talking to me about it. I am bereft that he passed away before he could see the final product and before I could thank him adequately. When putting together her edited volume The New Biography: Performing Femininity in Nineteenth-Century France (2000), Joby Margadant gave me invaluable insight with her feedback on my contribution and inspired new ways of understanding Roussel. Similarly, Vanessa Schwartz’s reading of the first half of the book opened perspectives I otherwise would not have had; her friendship has sustained my spirit and determination in the last stages of this book. Jean Elisabeth Pedersen generously shared her own work on Roussel and pointed me to a police file of which I had been unaware. Christiane Demeulenaere-Douyère shared her work on Paul Robin, gave me a photograph of one of Henri Godet’s sculptures, and put me in touch with Michel Robin. Michel Robin, in turn, has been generous in the information offered through his memory of the family history; he and his wife, Martine Robin, have been gracious hosts in Paris. I thank Jean-Philippe Schnell, a descendant of Roussel’s family. In addition to sharing his side of the family history, he introduced me to Henri Godet’s archives in the documentation of the Musée d’Orsay. I also thank graduate assistants Laura Kalba and Megan Kendrick for their expert help, and I thank the staff of the USC History Department, Lori Rogers, Brenda Johnson, and La Verne Hughes for their abiding support and endless patience.

Very special gratitude must go to those who have read the entire manuscript or more than one version of it in various stages of preparation. I thank Henry Tom and the anonymous reader at the Johns Hopkins University Press for astute criticism and affirmation, and Claire McCabe for production assistance, Martha Sewall for assistance with illustrations, and Peter Dreyer for his extraordinarily skillful copyediting. Steve Ross, Lois Banner, and Lynn Dumenil each read the whole manuscript in its final stages and provided invaluable advice, particularly in cutting excess verbiage and antiquarian detail. Rachel Fuchs first drew my attention to Roussel’s archive—and encouraged me to do a biography. She has been a mentor, collaborator, colleague, and comrade. Her friendship, intellectual inspiration, and memories of times spent in Paris have sustained me in this project.

Bob Nye has also played a large role in my intellectual growth. His own scholarship has had a major influence on the way I think about things. From my first biographical paper on Nelly Roussel nearly ten years ago, he has read and commented on everything I have since written—not just the entire manuscript, but more than one version of many chapters. His encouragement, enthusiasm, friendship, and belief in this project kept me going on many occasions. He is one of the most intellectually generous academics I have ever known.

I dedicate this book to the memory of my mother. As a social worker, she influenced my becoming a social historian. As an English teacher, she imparted to me a love of literature, the importance of good writing, and what it takes to write well. Even though putting that knowledge into practice continues to be a struggle, her inspiration lives on. I dedicate this book as well to the memory of my sister Jane Callaghy, whose sudden, tragic, and untimely death gave me occasion to reflect more acutely on the impact she has had on my life, my scholarly ambitions, and my professional trajectory. It was she who first inspired my love of all things French—language and food especially. It was because of her that I became a French historian.

I also dedicate this book to my daughter, Erin Accampo Hern, who has made motherhood a joyful experience for me. I thank her for having to endure my absences, mental and physical, in the process of researching and writing this book. She has had to live with it her entire life. I thank her for making me drop everything to go get ice cream, because being with her in those moments—and all moments—reminds me of my true priorities. I hope that we shall have many more such moments as she now launches herself into adulthood.

Finally, my husband Bob Hern knows more than anyone what it has taken to complete this book. He has been there for me every step of the way. I thank him for his support throughout—he has been father and mother in my absences and husband and “wife” to me, often taking on well over half the household chores, especially in the final stages of the writing. I thank him for his enduring patience, understanding, appreciation, and encouragement in what often seemed to both of us a project whose end point continually receded.