YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Jlrtistie Tnnl
A THOUSAND MILES TOWARDS THE SUN

JOAN OF arc's house AT ROUEN — BY THE LATE SAMUEL PROUT.
I Prontispieze,

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isTic [\km

NORMANDY, BRITTANY, THE PYRENEES,
SPAIN AND ALGERIA.

HENRY BLACKBURN,
EDITOR OF "ACADEMY NOTES," AUTHOR OF "MEMOIR OF RANDOLPH
CALDECOTT," "ART IN THE MOUNTAINS," ETC.

WITH

ONE HUNDI|ED }M THII[TY ILLUSTRATIONS.

LONDON :
SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON AND COMPANiX;
LIMITED,
^t. Bun;Stan'^ ^ov&t.
Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.G.
1892.
All rigjlfs reserved.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, Limited,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.

^^M

PREFACE.

Travelling in Normandy, Brittany, The Pyre
nees, Spain and Algeria, forms a splendid journey
towards the Sun. It may be accomplished in one
long autumn, or the visits may be extended (as
the writer has extended them) over more than
twenty years.
There are so many scene? and objects of interest
on these journeys, which travellers in " trains de
luxe" inevitably miss, that it has, been thought
desirable to collect in one volume a- selection of
notes made in various years ; the point of view
being always that of the^ artist in search of the
picturesque.

PREFACE.

The majority of these pages have already
appeared in print, but some of the aspects of
places and incidents of travel are so changed'
that the descriptions will have fresh interest in
1892. There are some things which haye not changed.
The massive timbers of the houses in Normandy
are still, sound and strong, and the menhirs and
dolmens of Brittany " rear their desolate heads "
as of old. There are still bears in the Pyrenees
and bull-fights in Spain, and the Kabyles are yet
unconquered in Algeria.
The close juxtaposition in one volume of
Normandy, Brittany and the Pyrenees — with illus
trations by Sydney Hall, Randolph Caldecott, and
Gustave Dor6 — present in curious contrast the
characteristics of three provinces of France.
In the latter portion of the book we descend the
southern side of the Pyrenees, and another contrast
presents itself. The white caps and bright faces
of the peasantry have disappeared ; the black man
tilla of Spain and the white haik of North Africa,
veil the faces (and, typically, the independence) of
the women, as compared with their northern sisters
who are the strength of France. But in Spain

PREFACE.

and Algeria the painter is more at home, revelling
in colour and light.
The Illustrations, which to many readers
-will have a personal charm, are the result of an
amount of labour and enthusiasm on the part of
all concerned, which is becoming rarer every day.
Here author, artists, and engravers have worked
in complete rapport, without the aid of kodaks, or
of any of the mechanical processes of illustration
which, from an artistic point of view, disfigure so
many modern books of travel. H. B.

London, October, 1892.

CONTENTS.

L NORMANDY—
Pont Audemer — Lisieux — Caen — Granville — Avranches —
The Valley of the Seine — The Watering Places of
Normandy ... . . 1-60
II. BRITTANY— The Western Wing— St. Malo— The Ranee— Dinan—
Guingamp — Lannion — Brest — Plougastel — Quimper —
Douarnenez — Quimperle — St. Anne d'Auray — Vannes 61-128
III. THE PYRENEES—
Pau — Eaux Chaudes — Eaux Bonnes — Cauterets — Luz — Bar
eges — Bagneres — A Storm — Luchon — Port de Venasque 129-200
IV. SPAIN— Burgos — Madrid — Two Bull Fights — Madrid to Cordova —
Seville — Granada — The Alhambra 201-256
V. ALGERIA— Algiers — Our Moorish Home — The Break of day — Arabs
and Moors — Waiting — A clothes auction — The Arab
quarter — Our Models — The Bouzareah — The Atlas Moun
tains — The Fort Napoleon — Conclusion . 257-320

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

I. NORMANDY—
Joan of Arc's house at Rouen. [S. Prout)
Map of Normandy 
French dragoon 
Old houses, Pont Audemer .
Old wood-carving, Lisieux .
A corner in Lisieux .
Chmch of St. Pierre, Caen .
Old woman of Caen 
A Tofler of the Sea. (Sydney P. Hall)
Mont St. Michel from Avranches. (H. B.
Tower at Vire. (H.B.) . . .
Ancient Cross. {^H. B.)
The Valley of the Seine. (A. E. Browne)
Market women. Lower Normandy. (Sydney P.
Modern seaside houses. (H. B.)

face

Hall) face

Frontispiece I
4 8
i619
21 26
3537
4042
45 5°57

II. BRITTANY. {By Randolph Caldecott.)
Breton Farmer and his cattle .  61
Map, Bay of St. Malo . . . . . . .64
The Ranee ... .  . 68
Under the ramparts, Dinan  . 72
A little mendicant  . 75
Achille and his horse  . . 76
Cattle fair in Brittany . .  face 78
Old farm house .  -79
A licensed beggar .  . . 8l
Sunday morning . .  face 82
The Ossuary at Guingamp . ... . . . . 84
A quiet corner  face 87
" On loue et on echange de petits enfants " . . . . 89
Towers of St. Pol de Leon  face 92
Map, Bay of Brest  93
Going to a Pardon .  face 95
The Gavotte  .  97

LIST OF ILLUSTRATLONS.

PAGE

The Gavotte .

99

Towers of Quimper . .

lOO
Cavaliers and Roundhead
face
102
Harvesting ....
104
Sardine fishing-boats, Douarnenez
face
los
At the Hotel du Commerce, Douarnenez .
107
Near Pont Aven, Quimperle . .
109
Augustinei . . . . ...
i.' '
no
Wayside Cross . . . . ...
"3
At the Pardon, St. Anne d'Auray.
"5
>, >»
117
" ¦ ¦ • •
119120
j> >j
122
Three hot men of Vannes ...
125
On the road
128
III. THE PYRENEES. {By Gustave Dore.)
The Pyrenees
' ' Les Landes " near Pau
Mountain tops
Pau . .
Chateau at Pau .
" A wall of foliage ''
Arms of Pau
Rustic dance .
Environs of Eaux Chaudes .
Near Gabas .
Mountains near Eaux Bonnes
A Mountain village .
The Pic de Ger
A mountaineer
Taking the waters
Cascade du Valentin
Waterfall .
A mountaineer
Cauterets .
Promenade horizontale
En route .
Lac de Gaube
Performing bear
Cat (finial)
Fortified church, Luz
Ruin, near Luz
At Luz
Summer visitors .
Winter visitors
" Une ascension "
face
face
face
face
face
2929
30 31
32 33
3536 3638
39
41 4445
4749 51
52
5353 545758
596060
6i62 6365
LIST QF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE
Trees above Bagneres . . .  169
Storm  . . . . ... 171
A mountain storm  face 173
The battered pines . ....  174
A mountain wreck   175
Sunset after the storm .  177
Luchon   179
Environs of Luchon . .  face 180
The Woods near Luchon . .  face 183
Lac d'Oo   face 185
A visitor .  188
A mountaineer   191
Path to Super-Bagneres  193
Route to the Port de Venasque . . . . . 195

The Maladetta   face 197
Port de Venasque from the South (^. .5.)  198
,, from the North .  199
IV. SPAIN— A Balcony. (John Phillip) . .... ... 201
Burgos Cathedral .... . . ... face 207
Vespers. {£. Lundgren)  face 208
A sketch. [John Phillip)  ... face 214
" Loteria Nacionale." (John Phillip) ... . face 218
Dominguez the " Espada " . .  face 228
A Portrait. ( Walter Severn) .  233
" Caballeros " at Jaen, near Cordova. [E. Lundgren) . face 237
The Court of Oranges ...  239
La Giralda, Seville ...  face 243
Alhambra Towers by moonlight  247
The Alhambra, Granada  face 248
Patio de la Mesquita .  253
V. ALGERIA—
View over the Bay, Algiers  257
The Great Mosque, Algiers' ... .... face 261
A Moorish home. [H. B.)  face 274
Camels  . .  287
Our Model . . .  291
A Portrait .  face 295
A Ship of the Desert. (H.B.)  296
A palm stem  301
An aloe hedge  face 302
Storm at the Bouzareah. (Arthur Severn)  306
The Mountains of Kabylia. (H.B.)  313
A Warrior at Prayers  316
Zouave (finial)  320
3 /

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

NORMANDY

Pont Audemer.

About one hundred and fifty miles in a direct line south
from London, sleeps the little town of PONT AUDEMER,
with its quaint old gables, its tottering houses, its Gothic
" bits," its projecting windows, carved oak galleries and
streets of time-worn buildings, — centuries old. Old dwell
ings, old customs, old caps, old tanneries, set in a landscape
of bright green hills.
" Old as the hills," and almost as unchanged iri~a3pect B

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

are the ways of the people of Pont Audemer, who dress
and tan hides, and make merry as their fathers did before
them. For several centuries they have devoted them
selves to commerce and the arts of peace, and in the
enthusiasm of their business have desecrated one or two
churches into tanneries. But they are a conservative and
primitive people, loving to do as their ancestors did, and
to dwell where they dwelt ; they build their houses to last
for several generations, and take pride and interest in the
"family mansion," a thing unknown and almost impossible
in the middle classes of most communities.
Pont Audemer was once warlike ; it had its castle in
feudal times (destroyed in the 14th century), and the
legend exists that cannon was here first used in warfare.
It has its history of wars in the time of the Norman dukes,
but its aspect is now quiet and peaceful, and its people
appear happy and contented ; the little river Rille winds
about it, and spreads its streamlets like branches through
the streets, and sparkles in the evening light. Like
Venice, it has its " silent highways " ; like Venice, also, on
a small and humble scale, it has its old fagades and
lintels drooping to the water's edge ; like Venice, too,
it has its odours here and there — odours not alway.s
proceeding from the tanneries.
There are few monuments or churches to examine, and
when we have seen the stained-glass windows in the fine
old church of St. Ouen, and walked by the banks of the
Rille to the ruins of a castle of the 12th century at
Montfort, we shall have seen the " chief objects of interest "
in what Murray laconically describes as " a prettily situated
town of 6,000 inhabitants, famed for its tanneries." In the
chief place of the arroiidissement, and in a rapidly increas
ing town, with a reputation for healthiness and cheapness
of living, and with a railway from Paris, we must naturally

NORMANDY.

look for changes and modern ways ; but Pont Audemer is
still essentially old.
If we take up our quarters at the old-fashioned inn
called the Pot d'Etain, we shall find much to remind us
of the 15th century. If we take a walk by the beautiful
banks of the Rille on a summer's evening, or in the fields
where the peasants are at work, we shall find the aspect
curiously English, and in the intonation of the voices
the resemblance is sometimes startling ; we seem hardly
amongst foreigners — both in features and in voice there is
a strong family likeness. There is a close tie of blood
relationship, no doubt, of ancient habits and natural tastes ;
but, in spite of railways and steamboats, the two peoples
know very little of each other.
That young girl with the plain white cap fitting close to
her hair, who tends the flocks on the hillside, and puts all
her power and energy into the little matter of knitting a
stocking, is a Norman maiden — a lineal descendant, it may
be, of some ancient house, whose arms we may find in our
own heraldic albums. She is of noble birth, and has the
advantage over her coroneted cousins in being permitted
to wear a white cap out of doors, and a short costume of
simple stuff; in the fact of her limbs being braced by a
life spent in the open air, and her head not being i)lagued
with the proprieties of cities. She is pretty ; but, what is
of more importance, she knows how to cook, and she has a
little store of money in the bank. She has been taught
enough for her station, and has few wishes beyond it ; and
some day she will marry Jean, and happy will be Jean if
he proves sober and true.
The stalwart warrior whom we have sketched overleaf
sunning himself outside his barrack door, having just
clapped his helmet on the head of a little boy in a
patched blouse and sabots, is surely a near relation , to our
B 2"~^"

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

guardsman ; he is certainly brave, he is full of fun and
intelligence, he very seldom takes more wine than is good
for him, and a game at dominoes delights his soul.

But it is in the market-place of Pont Audemer that we
shall obtain the best idea of the place and of the people.
On market mornings and on f^te days, when the Place is
crowded with old and young, — when all the old caps of
every variety of shape, from the " helmet " to the bonnet
rouge, and all the old brown coats with short tails, are
collected together, — we have a picture the like of which we
may have seen in paintings, but seldom realize in life.
Of the tumult of voices on these busy mornings, of the
harsh, discordant sounds that sometimes fill the air, we
must not say much, remembering their continual likeness
to our own ; but, viewed picturesquely, it is a sight not to
be forgotten.
Here the artist will find plenty of congenial occupation,

NORMANDY.

and opportunities (so difficult to meet with in these days)
of sketching both architecture and people of a picturesque
type — groups in the market-place, groups down by the
river fishing under the trees, groups at windows of old
hostelries and seated at inn doors; horses in clumsy
wooden harness ; calves and pigs, goats and sheep ;
women at fruit-stalls, under tents and coloured umbrellas ;
piles upon piles of baskets, a wealth of green things, and a
bright fringe of fruit and flowers, arranged with all the
fanciful grace of les dames des Halles, in Paris.
All this and much more the artist finds to his hand ;
and what does the architect discover ? First of all, that if
he had only come here before, he might have saved him
self some thought and trouble, for he would have found
such suggestions for ornament in wood carving, for panels,
doorways, and the like, of so good a pattern, and so old, that
they are new to the world of to-day ; he would have found
houses built out over the rivers, looking like pieces of old
furniture, ranged side by side — rich in colour and wonder
fully preserved, with their wooden gables, carved in oak of
the 15 th century, supported by massive timbers, sound and
strong, of even older date. He would see many of these
houses with windows full of flowers, and creepers twining
round the old eaves ; and long drying-poles stretched out
horizontally, with gay-coloured clothes upon them, : flap
ping in the wind, and contrasting vividly with the dark
buildings. But he would also find some houses on the verge of ruin.
If he explored far enough in the dark, narrow streets,
where the rivers flow under the windows of empty dwell
ings, he might see them tottering, and threatening down
fall upon each other — leaning over and casting shadows,
black and mysterious, upon the water — no line per
pendicular, , no line horizontal, the very beau-'^eal of

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

picturesque decay. In short, he would find Pont Audemer
(and the neighbouring town of Lisieux) treasure-houses
of old mysterious " bits," suggestive of simple domestic ¦
usage in one building and princely grandeur in another —
strength and simplicity, grace and beauty of design — all
speaking to him of a past age with the eloquence of
history. Let us look well at these old. buildings, many of them
reared and dwelt in by men of humble birth and moderate
means — (men who lived happily and died easily without
amassing a fortune) ; let us, if we can, without too much envy,
think for a moment of the circumstances under which these
houses were built. To us, to many of us, who pay dearly
for the privilege of living between four square walls — so
slight and thin sometimes that our neighbours are separated
from us by sight, but scarcely by sound — walls that we
hire for shelter, from necessity, and leave generally without
reluctance, partitions that we are prone to cover with
paper in the likeness of oak and marble to hide their
meanness — these curious, odd-shaped interiors, with mas
sive walls and solid oak timbers, should be especially
attractive. How few modern rooms, for instance, have
such niches in them, such seats in windows and snug
corners, that of all things make a house comfortable !
Some of these rooms are twenty feet high, and are lighted
from windows of the oddest shapes and in surprising places.
What more charming than this variety, to the eye jaded
with monotony ; what more suggestive than the apparently
accidental application of Gothic architecture to the wants
and requirements of the age ?
We will not venture to say that these old buildings are
altogether admirable from an architect's point of view, but
to us they are delightful, because they were designed and
inhabited by people who had time to be quaint, and could

NORMANDY.

not help being picturesque. If they are wanting (as many
are wanting) in the appliances and fittings which modern
habits have rendered necessary, it was assuredly no fault
of the 15th-century architect. They display, both in
design and construction, the elements of common-sense
in meeting the requirements of their own day, which is, as
has been well remarked, " the one thing wanting to give
life to modern architecture " ; and they have a character
and individuality about them which renders almost every
building unique. Like furniture of rare design, they bear
the direct impress of their maker. They were built in an
age of comparative leisure, when men gave their hearts to
the meanest, as well as to the mightiest, works of their
hands ; in a simple, industrious age when love, hope, and a
worthy emulation moved them, as it does not seem to
move men now ; in an age when an approving notice in
the columns of a newspaper was not a high aspiration.
But in nothing is the attraction greater, to us who are
accustomed to the monotonous perspective of modern
streets, than the irregularity of the exteriors, arising from
their independent method of construction ; for, by varying
the depth and height and pattern of each fagade, the
builders obtained to almost every house what architects
term the " return " to their cornices and mouldings, i.e.
the corner-finish and completeness to the most important
projecting lines. And yet these houses are built with
relation to each other ; they generally harmonize, and set
off, and uphold each other, just as forest-trees form them
selves naturally into groups for support and protection.
All this we may see at a glance, looking down the
varied perspective of these streets of clustering dwellings ;
and the closer we examine them the more we find to
interest, if not to admire. If we gain little in architectural
knowledge, we at least gain pleasure ; we learn the value

OLD HOUSES — rONT AUDEMER.

NORMANDY.

of variety in its simplest forfjts, and notice how easy it
would be to relieve the monotony of modern streets ; we
realise the artistic value of high-pitched roofs, of contrasts
in colour, — if it be only of dark beams against plaster,^and
of meaning in every line of construction.
These and many more such sheaves we gather from our
Norman harvest, but we must haste and bind them, for the
winds of time are scattering fast. Pont Audemer is being
modernized; and many an interesting old building is
doomed to destruction ; whilst cotton-mills and steam-
engines, and little white villas amongst the, trees, black
coats and Parisian bonnets, all tend to blot out the
memories of mediaeval days. Let us make the most of the
place whilst there is time, — and let us, before we pass on
to Lisieux, add one picture of Pont Audemer in the early
morning, — a picture which every year will seem less real.
Early Morning at Pont Audemer.
That there is " nothing new under the sun " may perhaps
be true of its rising ; nevertheless, a new sensation awaits
most of us, if we choose to see it under various phases.
The early morning at Pont Audemer is the same early
morning that breaks upon the unconscious inhabitants of a
great city ; but the conditions are more delightful, and
very much more picturesque ; and we may be excused for
presenting the picture on the ground that it treats of
certain hours out of the twenty-fcur of which most of us
know nothing, and in which (such are the exigencies of
modern civilization) most of us do nothing.
A storm passed over the town one night in August,
which shook the great rafters of the old houses, and made
the timbers strain ; the water flowed from them as from
the sides of a ship, — one minute they were illuminated, the

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

next they were in blackest gloom. In two or three hours
it has all passed away, and as we go out into the silent
town, and cross the street where it forms a bridge over the
Rille (from which the sketch on p. 8, is taken), a faint
gleam of light appears upon the water, and upon the wet
beams of one or two projecting gables. The darkness and
the silence are soon to be disturbed — one or two birds fly
out from the black eaves, a rat crosses the street, some
distant chimes come upon the wind, and a faint clatter of
sabots on the wet stones ; the town-clock strikes half-past
four, and the watchman puts out his lantern, and goes to
sleep. The morning is breaking on Pont Audemer, and it is
the time for surprises — for the sudden appearance of a
gable-end, which just now was shadow ; for the more
gradual, but not less curious formation of a street in what
seemed to be space ; for the sudden creation of windows
in dead walls ; for the turning of fantastic shadows into
palpable carts, baskets, piles of wood, and the like ; and
for the discovery of a number of coiled-up dogs (and one
or two coiled-up men) who had weathered the night in
sheltered places.
But the grey light is turning fast to gold, warmer tints
begin to prevail, the streets leading eastward are gleaming,
and the hills are glistening in their bright, fresh green.
The sweet morning air welcomes us as we leave the streets
and its five thousand sleepers, and pass over another
bridge and out by the banks of the Rille, where the fish are
stirring in the swollen stream, and the lilies are dancing on
the water. The wind blows freshly through the trees, and
scatters the raindrops thickly ; the clouds, the last remnant
of the night's storm, career through a pale blue space,
the birds are everywhere on the wing, cattle make their
appearance in the landscape, and peasants are already to

NORMANDY.

be seen on the roads leading to the town. Suddenly —
with gleams of gold, with a rushing chorus of insect life,
and a thousand voices in the long grass on the river's bank
— the day begins.
It is market-morning, and we go a little way up the
hill to watch the arrivals — a hill from which there is a
view over town and valley, the beauty of which it would
be difficult to picture in words. Listen ! for there is a
cavalcade coming down the hill ; we can see it at intervals
through the trees, and hear men's voices, the laughter of
women, the bleating of calves, and the crushing sound of
wheels upon the road. It is a peaceful army, though the
names of its leaders (if we heard them) might stir up
warlike memories ; there are Howards and Percys amongst
them, but there is no clash of arms, they come of a brave
lineage, their ancestors fought well under the walls of Pont
Audemer, but they have laid down their arms for centuries
— their end is commerce and peace.
Let us stand aside under the lime-trees, and see them
pass. But they are making a halt, their horses go straight
to the water-trough, and the whole cavalcade comes to a
stand in the road ; the old women in the carts (wearing
starched caps a foot high), with baskets of eggs, butter,
cheeses, and piles of merchandise, sit patiently until the
time comes to start again ; and the drivers, in blouses and
wooden sabots, lounge about and smoke, or sit down to
rest. The young women who accompany the expedition,
and who will soon take their places in the market, now
set to work systematically to perform their toilets, com
mencing hy washing their feet in a stream, hard by, and
putting on the shoes and stockings which they had carried
in a basket during their wet march ; then more ablutions,
with much fun, and laughter, and tying up of tresses, and
producing from baskets the wonderful caps which have

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

been sketched so oiien-^souffle's of most fantastic shape and
startling dimensions. This is the crowning work ; the
picture is now complete. Bright, fresh morning faces
glowing under white caps ; neat gray or dark blue stuff
dresses, with white bodices or coloured handkerchiefs ; dark
grey woollen stockings, shoes with buckles, and perhaps a
silver cross, a rosary> or a flower. And we must not forget
the younger men (with coats, not blouses), who plume
themselves in a rough way, and wear felt hats with
wonderful brims ; nor, above all, a peep through the trees
far away down the valley, at the gables and turrets of
Pont Audemer, glistening through a cloud of haze. This
is all ; a word more would spoil the picture: like one of
Edouard Fr^re's paintings, the charm and pathos of the
scene lie in its simplicity and harmony with Nature.
If we choose to stay until the day advances, we may see
more market-people come crowding in, and white caps
will crop up in the distance through the trees, till the
green meadows blossom with them and sparkle like a lawn
of daisies ; we may hear the ringing laughter of the girls
to whom market-day seems an occasion of great rejoicing,
and be somewhat distracted with the steady droning patois
of the old women ; but we come to see rather than to hear,
and, returning to the town, take our station at the corner,
of the market-place, to sketch a group of Norman maidens
who are alone worth coming out to see.

NORMANDY.

Lisieux.
" O the pleasant days, when men built houses after their own minds,
and wrote their own devices on the walls, and none laughed at them ;
when little wooden knights and saints peeped out from the angles oi
gable-ended houses, and every street displayed a store of imaginative
wealth." — La Belle France.
Wz now pass on to the neighbouring town - of LisIEUX,
which is even more interesting than Pont Audemer in
examples of domestic architecture of the Middle Ages —
resisting with difficulty a passing visit to Pont I'Ev^que,
another quaint old town a few miles distant. " Who does
not know Pont I'Eveque," asks an enthusiastic Frenchman,
— " that clean little smiling town, seated in the midst of
adorable scenery, with its little black, white, rose-colour,
and blue houses ? One sighs, and says, ' It would be good
to live here,' and then one passes on and goes to amuse
oneself" — at Trouville-sur-mer !
If we approach Lisieux by the road from Pont Audemer
(a distance of about twenty-six miles), we shall get a
better impression of the town than if riding upon the whirl
wind of an express-train, the approach to Lisieux from the
railway station being singularly uninteresting. By road
we pass through a prettily wooded country, studded with
villas and comfortable-looking houses, surrounded by
pleasant fruit and flower gardens, the modern abodes of
wealthy manufacturers from neighbouring towns, and of a
few English families. We ought to come quietly through
the suburbs of Lisieux, if only to see how its 13,000
inhabitants are busied in their woollen and cloth factories ;
how they have turned the old timber-framed houses of

14 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
feudal times into warehouses, how the banners and signs
of chivalry are desecrated into trade-marks, and how its
inhabitants are devoting themselves heart and soul to the
arts of peace. We should then approach the town by
picturesque wooden bridges over the rivers which have
brought the town its prosperity, and see some isolated
examples of carved wood-work in the suburbs, in houses
surrounded by gardens, which would have been missed by
any other road.
The churches at Lisieux are scarcely as remarkable as
its domestic architecture ; but we must not neglect to
examine the pointed Gothic of the 13th century in the
cathedral of St. Pierre. The door of the south transept,
and one of the doors under the western towers (the one on
the right hand), is very beautiful, and quite mauresque in the
delicacy of its design. The interior is of fine proportions,
but it is disfigured with a coat of yellow paint, whilst
common wooden seats (of church-warden pattern) and
wainscoting have been built up against its pillars, the
stone-work having been cut away to accommodate the
painted wood ! There are some good memorial windows ;
one of Henry II. being married to Eleanor (11 52), and
another of Thomas a Becket visiting Lisieux when exiled
in 1 169.
The church of St. Jacques with its fine stained-glass,
the interior of which is much plainer than St. Pierre, will
not detain us long ; it is rather to such streets as the
celebrated Rtte aux Fevres that we are attracted by the
decoration of the houses, and their curious construction.
There is one wooden house in this street, the entire front
of which is covered with grotesquely carved figures,
intricate patterns, and graceful pillars. The exterior
wood-work is blackened with age, and the whole building
threatens to fall upon its present tenant, — the keeper of a

NORMANDY. ' 15

c-a.lL The beams which support the roof inside are also
richly decorated. ,
To give the reader any idea of the variety of the
wooden houses at Lisieux would require a series of
drawings or photographs : we can do little more in these
pages than point out these charming corners of the world
where something is still left of the work of the Middle Ages.
The general character of the houses is better than at
Pont Audemer, and the style is altogether more varied.
Stone as well as wood is used in their construction, and
the rooms are more commodious and more elaborately
decorated. But the exterior carving and the curious signs
engraved on the time-stained wood are the most distinctive
features. Here we may notice, in odd corners, names and
legends carved on the panels,- harmonizing curiously with
the decoration : just as the names of the owners (in
German characters) are carved on Swiss chalets ; and the
words " God is great," and the like, form appropriate
ornaments (in Arabic) over the door of a mosque. Here
upon heraldic shields, or amidst groups of clustering
leaves, we may trace the names of the founders, often the
architects, of the houses in which several generations have
lived and died.
The strange familiarity of some of these crests and
devices (lions, tigers, dragons, griffins, and other emblems
of ferocity), the English character of many of the names,
and the Latin mottoes, identical with some in common use
in England, may give us a confused and not very dignified
idea respecting their almost universal use by the middle
classes in England. M. Taine, the well-known French
writer, remarks that " c'est loin du monde que nous
pouvons jugez sainement des illusions dont ils nous
environnent," and perhaps it is from Lisieux that we may
best see ourselves wearing "coats of arms."

i6

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

It is considered by many an unmeaning and unjust
phrase to call the 19th century " an age of shams," but it
seems appropriate enough when we read in newspapers
of " arms found " and " crests designed " ; and when we
consider the extent of the practice of assuming them, we
cannot think much of the fashion.
It was assuredly a good time when men's lives and
actions were handed down, so to speak, from father to son,
and the poor man had his locum tenens as well as the rich ;

and how he loved his dwelling, how he decked it with
ornament according to his taste or his means, how he
watched over it and preserved it from decay, how, in short,
his pride was in his own hearth and home, — these old
buildings tell us. The influence of all this on character,
its tendency to contentment and self-respect, are subjects
suggestive enough, but on which we must not dwell. It
flourished during the 13th and 14th centuries, and it de
clined when men commenced crowding into cities, and
were no longer content to do without what they could not

NORMANDY. 17

produce. W^ithout entering into a genealogical discus
sion, we have plenty of evidence that after the Conquest
the arms of the Normans were spread over England ; but
not in any measure to the extent to which they are used
amongst us. In these days nearly every one has a
" crest " or a " coat of arms." Such things did not, and
could not exist in mediaeval times, in the days when' every
one had his place, from the noble to the vassal, when every
man's name was known, and his title to property, if he had
any, clearly defined. A " title " in those days meant a
title to land, and an acceptance of its responsibilities.
How many " titled " people in these days possess the one
or accept the other 1 It would seem reserved for the 19th
century to create a state of society when the question
" Who is he t " has to be perpetually asked and not always
easily answered.^
Let us stay quietly at Lisieux, if we have time, and see
the place, for we shall find nothing in all Normandy to
exceed it in interest ; and the way to see it best, and to
remember it, is, undoubtedly, to sketch. Let us make out
all these curious " bits," these signs and emblems in wood
and stone — twigs and moss, and birds with delicate wings,
a spray of leaves, the serene head of a Madonna, the
rampant heraldic griffin ; let us copy, if we can, their
colour and marks of age. We may sketch them, and we
may dwell upon them, here, with the enthusiasm of an
artist who returns to his favourite picture again and again ;
for we have seen the sun scorching the panels and burn
ing the gilded shields, and have seen snow-flakes fall
* The contrast between the present and former states of society might
be typified by the general substitution of the screw for the nail in
building ; both answering the purpose of the modern builder, but the
former preferred, because removable at pleasure. It is a restless age,
in which advertisements of " Families removed " are pasted on the
walls of a man's house without appeairing to excite his indignation. C

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

upon these sculptured eaves, silently, softly, thickly — like
the dust upon the bronze figures of Ghiberti's gates at
Florence — so thickly fall, so soon disperse, leaving dark
outlines sharp and clear against the sky ; the wood almost
as indestructible as the bronze. The historian is nowhere
so eloquent as when he points to such examples as these.
It is evident enough that in those old times, when men
were very ignorant, easily led, impulsive (childlike we
might almost call them), everything they undertook like
the building of a house was a serious matter, a labour of
love, and the work of many years ; to be an architect and
a builder was the aspiration of boyhood, the natural
growth of artistic instinct, guided by so much right as
they could glean from their elders. With few books or
rules, they worked out their designs for themselves,
irrespective, it would seem, of time or cost. And why
should they consider either the one or the other, when
time was of no "marketable" value, when the buildings
were to last for ages, and when there were no such things
as builders' estimates? Like the Moors in Spain, they
did much as they pleased, and, like them also, they had
a great advantage over architects of our own day — they
had little to unlearn. They knew their materials, and
had not to endeavour, after a laborious and expensive
education in one school, to modify and alter their method
of treatment to meet the exigencies of another. They
were not cramped for space, nor for money ; they were
not tied for time ; and they had not to fight against,
and make compromises with, the two great enemies of
modern architects — Economy and Iron.
At Lisieux, as at Pont Audemer, we cannot help being
struck with the extreme simplicity of the method of
building, and with the possibilities of Gothic for domestic
purposes. We see it here, in its pure and natural develop-

NORMANDY.

19

ment, as opposed to the
rather unnatural adoption
of mediaeval art in Eng
land, in the latter half of
the 19th century.
The quiet contempla
tion of the old buildings
in such towns as Pont
Audemer, Lisieux, and
Bayeux must, we should
think, convince the most enthu
siastic admirers of the archaic
school that the mere isolated re
production of such houses in the
midst of modern streets is of
little use, and is, in fact, begin-
ing at the wrong end. It might
occur to them, when examining
the details of these buildings,
and picturing to themselves the
lives of the inhabitants in the
13th or 14th century, that the
forcing system is a mistake ; that
art never flourished as an exotic
and assuredly never will ; that,
before we live again in mediaeval
houses, and realize the true
meaning of what is " Gothic," and
appropriate, in architecture, we
must begin at the beginning, our lives must be simpler,
our costumes more graceful and appropriate, and the
education of our children more in harmony with a true
feeling for art. C 2

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Caen.
" Large, strong, full of draperies, and all sorts of merchandise ; rich
citizens, noble dames, damsels, and fine churches.''
The ancient city of Caen, which was thus described by
Froissart in the middle of the 14th century (when the
English sacked the town and carried away its riches),
might be described in the 19th in almost the same words ;
when a goodly company of English people have again
taken possession of it — for its cheapness.
The chief town of the department of Calvados, with a
population numbering about 50,000 — the centre of the
commerce of lower Normandy, and of the district for the
production of black lace — Caen has a busy and thriving
aspect. The river Orne, on which it is built, is laden with
produce ; with corn, wine, oil, and cider ; with timber, and
with ship-loads of the celebrated Caen stone. On every
side are the signs of productiveness and plenty, and con
sequent cheapness of many of the necessaries of life. Cal
vados, like the rest of lower Normandy, has earned for
itself the name of the " food-producing land " of France,
from whence both London and Paris, and all great centres,
are supplied. The variety and cheapness of manufactures
testify to the industry and enterprise of the people ; there
is probably no city in Normandy where purchases of
clothing, hardware, &c., can be more advantageously made.
There is commercial activity at Caen, and little sympathy
with idlers. If we take up a position in the Place Royale,
adorned with a statue of Louis XIV., or, better, in the
Place St. Pierre near the church-tower, we shall see a
mixed and industrious population ; and hear several dif-

CHURCH OF ST. PIERRE, CAEN.

Face p. 21.

NORMANDY. 21

ferent accents of Norman, patois. We shall also see a
number of modern-looking shops, and warehouses filled with
Paris goods, and even find smooth pavements to walk upon.
We are treading in the "footsteps of the Conqueror" at
Caen, but its busy inhabitants have little time for historic
meniories ; they will jostle us in the market-place, and in
the principal streets they will be seen rushing about as if
" on change," or hurrying " to catch the train for Paris,"
like the resf of the world. A few only have eyes of love
and admiration for the noble spire of the church of St.
Pierre, which rises above the old houses and the market
place with a grand effect. " St. Pierre, St. Pierre," are the
first and last words we heard of Caen : the first time, when,
approaching it one summer's morning from Dives, by_the
banks of the Orne, the. driver of our caliche pointed to its
summit (with the pride of a Savoy peasant, showing the
traveller the highest peak of Monte Rosa), and the last,
when Caen was en file, and " all the world " flocked to
hear a great preacher from Paris, and the best singers in
Calvados. Built in the 13th and 14th centuries, in the best period
of Gothic art in Normandy, its beautiful proportions and
grace of line (especially when seen from the north side)
have been the admiration of ages of architects, and the
occasion of many a special pilgrimage in our own day.
Pugin has sketched its western facade and its " lancet
windows " ; and Prout has given us drawings of the spire,
" percie au jour" — perforated with such accuracy at dif
ferent points, that, as we approach the tower, there are
always one or more openings in view ; as one star disappears,
another shines out, as in many cathedrals in Italy and
Spain. In the interior, the nave is chiefly remarkable for
its fine proportions, but the choir is richly ornamented in
the style of the renaissance. The church of St. Pierre has

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

been restored at different periods, but, as usual in France,
the interior has been coloured or whitewashed, so that it
is difficult to detect old work from new. The sculptured
pendants and the decorations of the aisles will attract us
by their boldness and originality, and the curious legends
in stone on the capitals of the pillars, of "Alexander and
his Mistress," of " Launcelot crossing the Sea on his
Sword," and of " St. Paul being lowered in a Basket," may
take away attention a little too much from the carving in the
chapels ; but when we have examined them all, we shall
probably remember St. Pierre best as Prout and Pugin
have shown it to us, and care for it most (as do the in
habitants of Caen) for its beautiful exterior.^
The most interesting and characteristic buildings in
Caen, its historical monuments, in fact, are the two royal
abbeys of William the Conqueror — -St. Etienne, called the
" Abbaye aux Hommes," and la Ste. T7-init^, the " Abbaye
aux Dames," — both founded and built in the nth century ;
the first (containing the tomb of the Conqueror) with two
plain, massive towers, with spires ; and an interior remark
able for its strength and solidity — " a perfect example of
Norman Romanesque " ; adorned, it must be added, with
twenty-four 19th-century chandeliers with glass lustres
suspended by cords from the roof, and with gas brackets
of a cheap modern pattern. The massive grandeur, and
the "newness," if we may use the word, of the interior
of St. Etienne, are its most remarkable features ; the plain
marble slab in the chancel, marking the spot where
William the Conqueror was buried and disinterred (with
three mats placed in front of it for prayer), is shown with
much ceremony by the custodian of the place.
' It is remarkable that with all their care for this building, the
authorities permit apple-stalls and wooden sheds to be built up against
the tower.

NORMANDY. 23

The Abbaye aux Dames is built on high ground at the
opposite side of the town, and is surrounded by conventual
buildings of modern date. It resembles the Abbaye aux
Hommes in point of style, but the carving is more
elaborate, and the transepts are much grander in design ;
the beautiful key-pattern borders, and the. grotesque
carving on the capitals of some of the pillars, strike the
eye at once ; but what is most remarkable is the ex
traordinary care with which the building has been re
stored, and the whole interior so scraped and chiselled
afresh that it has the appearance of a building of to-day.
The eastern end and the chancel are partitioned off for
the use of the nuns attached to the H6tel Dieu ; the sister
who conducts us round this part of the building softly
raises a curtain, stretched across the chancel-screen, and
shows us twenty or thirty of the nuns at prayer. Visitors
can see the hospital wards in the cloisters, and, if they
desire it, ascend the eastern tower, and obtain a view over
a vast extent of country, with the town of Caen set in the
midst of gardens and green meadows, and the river wind
ing far away to the sea.
"These two royal abbeys," writes Dawson Turner,
" which have fortunately escaped the storm of the Revolu
tion, are still an ornament to the town, an honour to the
sovereign who caused them to be erected, and to the artist
who produced them." Both edifices rose at the same time
and from the same motive. William the Conqueror, by
his union with Matilda, had contracted a marriage pro
scribed by the decrees of consanguinity. The clergy, and
especially the Archbishop of Rouen, inveighed against the
union ; and the Pope issued an injunction, that the royal
pair should erect two monasteries by way of penance,
one for monks, the other for nuns ; as well as that the
Duke should found four hospices, each for one hundred

24 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
poor persons. In obedience to this command, William
founded the Church of St. Stephen, and Matilda the
Church of the Holy Trinity.
At Caen we are in an atmosphere of heroes and kings,
we pass from one historical site to another until the mind
becomes half confused ; we are shown (by the same valet-
de-place) the tomb of the Conqueror and the house where
Beau Brummel died. We see the ruins of a castle on the
heights where " le jeune et beau Dunois " performed histori
cal prodigies of valour ; and the chapel where he " allait
prier Marie, benir ses exploits." But the modern military
aspect of things is, we are bound 1:o confess, prosaic to a
degree ; we find the Dunois of the period occupied in
more peaceful pursuits — mending shoes, tending little
children and carrying wood for winter fires.
There are many other buildings and churches at Caen
which we should examine, especially the exterior carving
of " St. Etienne- le-vieux," which is now used as a ware
house. The cathedrals and monuments are generally,
as we have said, in wonderful preservation, but they
are desecrated without remorse ; on every side of them,
and indeed, upon them, are staring advertisements of
" magazines," dedicated " an- bon diable" " au petit diable"
or to some other presiding genius ; of " magasins les plus
vastes du motide," and of " loteries Jtationales de France " ;
whichever way we turn there are these, staring affiches ; in
the "footsteps of the Conqueror" the bill-sticker is master
of the situation.
Sunday in Caen. — It is early on a Sunday morning in
August, and Caen is en fete. We have reason to know
it by the clamour of church-bells which attends the sun's
rising. There is terrible energy, not to say harshness, in
thus ushering in the da;y. There seems no method in the
madness of these sturdy Catholics, for they make the

NORMANDY. 25

tower of St. Pierre vibrate to most uncertain sounds ; the
bells ring out all at once with a burst, tumbling over one
another (hopelessly involved) en masse ; a combination
terribly dissonant to musical ears. Then comes the
military riveille and the deafening "rataplan" of regi
mental drums, . and . the town is soon alive with people
arriving and departing by the early trains ; whilst others
collect in the market-place in holiday attire with baskets
of flowers, and commence the erection of an altar to the
Virgin in the middle of the square. Then women bring
their children dressed in white, with bouquets of flowers
and white favours, and a procession is formed with a priest
at the head, and marshalled through the principal streets
and back again to where the altar to " Our Lady " stands,
now decorated with a profusion of flowers and an effigy of
the Virgin.
The bells continue to ring at intervals, and omnibuses
loaded with holiday people rattle past through the rough
paved streets with much shouting and cracking of whips.
Everybody seems to be out this morning ; the old fashion
and the new become mingled and confused, old white caps
and Parisian bonnets, old ceremonies and modern ways ;
the Norman peasant and the English school-girl walk side
by side in the crowd, whilst the western door of the
church of St. Pierre, to which a crowd is tending, bears
in flaming characters the name of a vendor of '¦'¦modes
parisiennes." Men, women, and children, all in Sunday
attire, fill the streets and quite outnumber those of the
peasant class, the black coat and hat predominating every
where. A play-bill is thrust into our hands, announcing
the performance of an opera in the evening, and . we are
requested frequently to partake of coffee, syrup and
bonbons as we make our way through the Rue St. Pierre
and across the crowded square.

26

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Stay here for a moment and witness a little episode —
another accidental collision between the old world and the
new. An undergraduate, just arrived from England on
the " grand tour," gets into a wrangle with an old woman
in the market-place ; an old woman of nearly eighty years,
with a cap as old and ideas as primitive as her dress, but
with a sense of humour and natural combativeness that
enables her to hold her own in lively sallies and smart
repartees against her youthful
antagonist.^ It is a curious con
trast, the wrinkled old woman of
Caen and the English lad — the
one full of the realities and cares
of life, born in revolutionary days,
and remembering in her child
hood Charlotte Corday going
down this very street on her
terrible mission to Paris ; her
daughters married, her only son
killed in war, her life now (it
never was much else) an unevent
ful round of market-days, eat
ing and sleeping, knitting and
prayers : the other — young, careless, fresh to the world,
his head stored with heathen mythology, the loves of the
gods, and problems of Euclid — taking a light for his pipe
from the old woman, and airing his French in a discus
sion upon a variety of topics, from the price of apples
to the cost of a dispensation ; the conversation merging
finally into a religious discussion, in which the disputants
are more abroad than ever — a religion outwardly repre-

^ This old woman was well known at Caen, and her encounter with
the " garqon anglais" is matter of history amongst her friends in the
town.

NORMANDY. 27

sented, in the one case by so many chapels, in the
other by so many beads.
It is a " grande file" to-day, according to a notice pasted
upon a pillar of the church, " avec hidulgence pUnihe!'
" Grand messe h 10 a.m.,
Les Vepres k 3 p.m.,
Salut et Benediction du Sacrement,
Sermon, &c."
Let us now follow the crowd into the church of St.
Pierre, which is already overflowing with people coming
and going, pushing past each other through the baize
door, dropping sous into the " tronc pour les pauvres" and
receiving, with bowed head and crossed breast, the holy
water, administered with a brush.
We pay two sous for a chair and take our places, under
a fire of glances from our neighbours, who pray the while
and tell their beads ; and we have scarcely time to notice
the beautiful proportions of the nave, the carving in the
side chapels, or the grotesque figures, when the service
commences, and we can just discern in the distance the
priests at the high altar (looking in their bright stiff robes,
and with their backs to the people, like golden beetles
under a microscope). We cannot hear the Latin service
distinctly, for the moving of the crowd, the creaking of
chairs, and the whispering of many voices ; but we can
see incense rising, children in white robes swinging silver
chains, and the cocked hat of the tall " Suisse " moving to
and fro.
Presently the congregation sits down, the organ peals
forth, and a choir of sweet voices chants the " Agnus Dei."
Again the congregation kneels to the sound of a silver
bell ; the smoke of incense curls through the aisles, and
the golden beetles move up and down. Then there is
much scraping of chairs, and shuffling of feet, and a

28 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
general movement towards the pulpit, the men standing
in groups round it with their hats in their hands ; then a
pause, and for the first time so deep a silence that we can
hear the movement of the crowd outside, and the distant
rattle of drums.
All eyes are now turned to the preacher ; a man of
about forty, of an austere but ordinary and rather low type
of face, closely shaven, with an ivory crucifix hanging at
his girdle and a small black book in his hand.
His voice was powerful (almost too loud sometimes) and
most persuasive; he was eloquent and impassioned, but
he used little gesture or any artifices to arrest attention.
He commenced with a rhapsody — startling in the sudden
flow of its eloquence, thrilling in its higher notes, tender
and compassionate (almost to tears) in its lower passages
— a rhapsody to the Virgin —
" O sweet head of my mother ; sacred eyes ! "
and then an appeal — an appeal for all true Catholics to
" the Queen of Heaven, the beautiful, the adorable." He
seemed to elevate our hearts with his moving voice,
almost to a frenzy of adoration ; he taught us how the
true believer, " clad in hope," would one day (if he leaned
upon Mary his mother in all the weary stages of the
" Passage of the Cross "), be crowned with fruition. He
lingered with almost idolatrous emphasis on the charms
of Mary, and, with his eyes fixed upon her image, his
hands outstretched and a thousand upturned faces listening
to his words — the aisles echoed to the theme —
" With my lips I kneel, and with my heart
I fall about thy feet and worship thee."
* * *
A stream of eloquence followed — studied or spontaneous

NORMANDY. 29

it mattered not — the congregation held their breath and
listened to a story for the thousandth time repeated.
The preacher paused for a moment, and then, with
another burst of eloquence, he brought his hearers to
the verge of a passion which was (as it seemed to us)
dangerously akin to human love and the worship of
material beauty. Then he lowered our understandings by
the enumeration of " works and miracles," and ended with
words of earnest exhortation, the burden of which might
be shortly translated : " Pray earnestly, and always, to
Mary our mother, for all souls in purgatory ; confess your
sins unto us your high-priests ; give, give to the Church
and to the poor, strive to lead better lives, look forward
ever to the end ; and bow down, O, bow down, before the
golden images [manufactured for us in the next street]
which our Holy Mother the Church has set up."
With a transition almost as startling as the first, the
book is closed, the preacher has left the pulpit, the con
gregation (excepting a few in the side chapels) have
dispersed ; and Caen keeps holiday after the manner of all
good Catholics, putting on its best attire, and disporting
itself in somewhat rampant fashion.
The streets are crowded all day with holiday people, and
somewhat obstructed by the fashion of the inhabitants
taking their meals in the street. We also, in the evening,
dine at an open cafe with a marble table and a pebble
floor, amidst a wonderful clamour and confusion of voices.
But we are in good company : three tall mugs of cider
are on the next table to our own ; a, dark stout figure, with
shaven crown, is seated with his back, to us — it is the
preacher of the morning, who with two lay friends for
companions, also keeps the feast.

30 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Granville.
The town of Granville by the sea, with its dark
granite houses, its harbour and fishing-boats, presents a
scene of bustle and activity in great contrast to the
Cathedral towns. There is an upper and lower Granville
— a town on the rocks, with its old church with five gilt
statues, built almost out at sea, and another town on the
shore. The streets of the old town are narrow and badly
paved, but there is great commercial activity, and a general
sign of prosperity amongst its seafaring population. The
approach to the town on the shore, is very striking ; we
emerge suddenly through a fissure in the cliffs, into the
very heart and life of the place — into the midst of a
bustling community of fishermen and women. There is
fish everywhere, both in the sea and on the land, and the
flavour of it is in the air ; there are baskets, bales, and
nets, and there is, it must be added, a familiar ring of
Billingsgate in the loud voices that we hear around us.
Granville is the great western seaport of France, from
which Paris is constantly supplied; and, in spite of in
adequate railway communication, it keeps up constant
trade with the inland towns. All through the fruitful land
that we have passed, we could not help being struck with
the inadequate means of transport for goods and pro
visions ; at Coutances, for instance, and at Granville (the
great centre of the oyster fisheries of the west) they have
not completed connections with the principal centres, and
we may still see long lines of carts and wagons, laden with
perishable commodities, being carried no faster than in the
days of the first Napoleon. But we, who are in search of

NORMANDY. 31

the picturesque, should be the last to lament the fact, and
we may even join in the sentiment of the Maire of
Granville, and be " thankful " that the great highways of
France are under the control of a careful government ; and
that her valleys are not (as in England) strewn with the
wrecks of abandoned railways — ruins which, by some
strange fatality, never look picturesque.
Granville is a favourite place of residence, and a great
resort for bathing in the summer ; although the " Eta-
blissement " is second-rate, and the accommodation is not
equal to that of many smaller watering-places of France.
It is, however, a pleasant and favourable spot in which to
study the manners and customs of a seafaring population.
For besides the active human creatures which surround us,
those who settle down for a season and spend their time
on the sands and on the dark rocks which guard this iron-
bound coast, soon become conscious of the presence of
another active, striving, but more silent community, digging
and delving, sporting and swimming, preying upon each
other, and enjoying intensely the luxury of living.
If we, nous autres, who dwell upon the land and prey
upon each other according to our opportunities, will go
down to the shore when the tide is out and ramble about
in the " Rosy gardens revealed by low tides,"
we may make acquaintance with a vast Lilliput com
munity ; we may learn some surprising lessons in natural
history, and read sermons in shells. There is no better
place for exploration of this kind than Granville.
But, amidst this most interesting and curious congrega
tion of fishes — a concourse of crabs, lobsters, eels in holes,
limpets on rocks, and a hundred other inhabitants of the
sea, in every form of activity around us — we must not
forget the treacherous tides on this coast, and the great

3 2 ARTISTIC - TRA VEL.
Atlantic waves that will suddenly overwhelm the flat
shore, and cut off retreat from those who are fishing on the
rocks. This happens so often, and is so full of danger to those
unacquainted with the coast, that we may do good service
by relating again an adventure which happened to the late
Campbell of Islay and a friend, who were nearly drowned
near Granville. They had been absorbed in examining
the rocks at some distance from the shore, and in collect
ing the numerous marine plants which abound in their
crevices, when suddenly one of the party called out —
'"" Mercy on us ! I forgot the tide, and here it comes."
Turning towards the shore, they saw a stream of water
running at a rapid pace between them and the sands. They
quickly descended the rocks, but before they could reach
the ground "the sand was in stripes, and the water in
sheets." They then ran for the shore, but before they had
proceeded far they were met by one of the fisher-girls,
who had seen their danger from the shore, and hastened to
turn them back, calling to them —
" The wave 1 the wave ! it is coming — turn ! turn and
run for the rock — or you are lost ! "
They did turn, and saw far out to sea a large wave
rolling towards the shore. The girl led the way, and the
two friends strained every nerve to keep pace with her.
As they neared the rock the wave began to roll in and for
the last ten steps they were up to their knees in water —
but they were on the rock.
" Quick ! quick ! " said the girl, pointing upward ; " there
is the passage to the Cross at the top ; but if the second
wave comes we shall be too late."
She scrambled. on for a hundred yards till she came to a
fissure in the rock, six or seven feet wide, along which the
water was rushing hke a mill sluice. With some difficulty

NORMANDY.

they reach the upper rocks. Here they rest a moment —
when another great wave rolls in, and the water runs along
the little platform where they are sitting ; they all rise,
and. mounting: the rocky points (which the little Gran-
villaise assures them are never quite covered with water),
cluster together for support. In a few moments the
suspense is over, the girl points to the shore, where they
can hear the distant sound of a cheer, and see people
waving their handkerchiefs.
"They think the tide has turned," says the girl, "and
, they are shouting to cheer us."
She was right, the tide had turned. Another wave came
and wetted their feet,' but when it had passed the water
had fallen, and in five minutes the platform was again dry !
The fisherwomen of Granville are famed for their beauty,
industry, and courage ; they seem to do everything — the
" boatmen " are women, and the " fishermen " young girls.
We may well admire some of these handsome Gran-
villaises, living their free life by the sea, earning less in the
day, generally, than Staffordshire pit girls, but living much
more enviable lives. Here they are by hundreds, scattered
over the beach in the early morning, and afterwards
crowding into the market-place, driving hard bargains for
the produce of their sea-farms, and — with rather shrill and
unpronounceable ejaculations and many most winning
smiles — displaying their shining wares. It is all for the
Paris market they will tell you, and they may also tell you
(if you win their confidence) that they, too, are one day for
Paris. Let us leave the old women to do the best bargaining,
and picture to the reader a bright figure that we once saw
upon this shining shore, a Norman maiden, about eighteen
years of age, without shoes or stockings; a picture of
health and beauty bronzed by the sun. This young
D

34 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

creature, who had spent her life by the sea and amongst
her own people, could not strictly be called handsome, and
she might be considered very ignorant ; but she bloomed
with freshness, she knew neither ill health nor ennui, and
happiness was a part of her nature.
This charming " aphrodite piscatrix " is stalwart and
strong (she can swim a mile with ease), she has carried her
basket and nets since sunrise, and now at eight o'clock on
this summer's morning sits down on the rocks, makes a
quick breakfast of potage, plumes herself a little, and
commences knitting. She does not stay long on the beach,
but before leaving makes a slight acquaintance with two
strangers, and evinces a curious desire to hear anything
they may have to tell her about the great world. It is too
bright a picture to last ; she too, it would seem, has day
dreams of cities ; she would give up her freedom, she
would join the crowd and enter the " great city," she would
have a stall at "les Halles" and see the world. Day
dreams but too often fulfilled — the old story of centralisa
tion doing its work. Look at the map of Normandy, and
see how the great western railway from Paris is putting
forth its arms, which, like the devil-fish in Victor Hugo's
" Travailleurs de la Mer" will one day draw irresistibly to
itself our fair " Toiler of the sea."
" What does Monsieur think ? " (for we are favoured
with a little confidence from our young friend,) and what
can we say ? Could we draw a tempting picture of life in
cities — could we, if we had the heart, draw a favourable
contrast between her life, as we see it, and the lives of girls
of her own age who live in towns, who seldom see the
breaking of a spring morning, or know the beauty of a
summer's night ? Could we picture to her, if we would,
the gloom that shrouds the dwellings of many of her
Northern sisters ? and could she but see the veil that hangs

Aiiit #^_n~*^

a "toiler of the sea.''

D 2

36 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
over cities on almost any morning in the year, she might
well be reconciled to her present life !
Is it nothing, we are inclined to ask her, to feel the first
rays of the sun at his rising, to be fanned with fresh breezes,
to rejoice in the wind, to brave the storm ; to have learned
from childhood to welcome as familiar friends the changes
of the elements, and, in short, to have realized in a health
ful life the " mens sana in corpore sano " ? Would she be
willing to repeat the follies of her ancestors in the days of
the Trianon and Louis XIV. ? Would she complete the
fall which began when knights and nobles turned courtiers
and roues ? Let us read history to her and remind her
what centralisation did for old France ; let us whisper to
her, whilst there is time, what Paris is like in our own
day.

( 37 )

Avranches.
"here are some places in Europe which
English people seem, with one con
sent, to have made their own ; they take possession of
them, peacefully enough it is true, but with a determination
that the inhabitants find it impossible to resist. Thus it
is that Avranches — owing principally, it may be, to its
healthiness and cheapness of living, and to the extreme
beauty of its situation — has become an English country
town, with many of its peculiarities, and a few, it must be
added, of its rather unenviable characteristics.
The buildings at Avranches are not very remarkable.
The cathedral has been destroyed, and the houses are of
the familiar French pattern ; some charmingly situated in
pleasant gardens commanding the view over the bay. The
situation seems perfect. Built upon the extreme western
promontory of the long line of hills which extend from
Domfront and the forest of Audaine, with a view unsur
passed in extent towards the sea, with environs of undu
lating hills and fruitful landscape, with woods and streams

38 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
(such as the traveller who has only passed through Central
France could hardly imagine), we can scarcely picture to
the reader a more favoured spot.
" No district in Normandy," a resident assures us,
" affords a more agreeable resting-place than the hills of
Avranches, excepting, perhaps, the smiling environs of
Mortain and Vire. Mortain is within easy distance, as
well as Mont St. Michael (which we have sketched from
the terrace at Avranches,) and Granville. To the extreme
south is seen the Bay of Cancale in Brittany, and the pro
montory of St. Malo ; to the north, the variegated land
scape of the Cotentin — 'hills, valleys, woods, villages,
churches, chateaux smiling in the sunshine, the air melo
dious with the song of the lark and innumerable nightin
gales.' "
True as is this picture of the natural beauty of the
position of Avranches, we will add one or two facts,
gathered lately on the spot, which may be useful to new
comers. Within the last few years house-rent, though still
cheap, has greatly increased ; and the prices of provisions,
which used to be so abundant from Granville and St. Malo,
have risen, as they have, indeed, all over France. The
railway from Granville to Paris makes matters worse, and
the resident sees the butter, eggs, and fowls, which used to
throng the market of Avranches, packed away in baskets
for Paris and London. The salmon and trout in the
rivers are already netted and sold by the pound, and
larks are very seldom heard in the sky. Thus, like Dinan,
Tours, and Pau, Avranches feels the effects of rapid com
munication with the capital, and will in a few years be any
thing but a cheap place of residence. A few years ago a
good ten-roomed, unfurnished house, with garden ground,
could be obtained for i,ooo francs a year, but in 1890 it
cost 2,000 francs. However, from information gathered

NORMANDY. 39

only yesterday, we learn that " house-rent bears favourable
comparison with many English provincial towns ; that
servants' wages are not high, and that provisions are com
paratively cheap " ; also that the climate is " very cold
sometimes in winter."
An amusing book might be written about English society
in French towns ; no one indeed knows, who has not tried
it, with what little society-props such coteries as those
at Avranches are kept up. But what we might say of
Avranches would apply to nearly every little English colony
abroad. There are two sides to the picture, and there is of
course a good, pleasant side to the English society in most
French towns ; there is also great necessity to be " particu
lar," however much we may laugh. English people who come
to reside abroad are not, as a rule, very good representa
tives of their nation : neither they nor their children seem
to flourish on a foreign soil ; they differ in their character
as much as transplanted trees, and in a few years seem to
have more affinity with the poplars and elms of France
than with the sturdy oaks of England.
Let us not be thought to disparage Avranches ; if it is
our lot to live here, we may enjoy life well ; and if we are
not deterred by the dull and " weedy " aspect of some of
the old chateaux, we may also make some pleasant friends
amongst the French families in the neighbourhood. In
summer time we may almost live out of doors, and ramble
about in the fields and sketch, as we should do in England ;
the air is fresh and bracing, and the sea-breeze comes
gratefully on the west-wind. We may stroll through
shady lanes and between hedge-rows, and hear the
familiar sound of church bells ; but here the similarity to
England ceases, for we may enter these buildings at any
hour and find peasant women at prayers.
And we may see sometimes a party of English girls from

ggggifA

TOWER AT VIRE, NEAR .AVR.\NCHES.

NORMANDY. 41

a French school, with their drawing-master, sketching
from nature and making minute studies of the branches of
trees. They are seated on a hillside, and there is a charm
ing pastoral scene before them — wood and water, pasture-
land and cattle-grazing, women with white caps, and little
white houses peeping through the trees.
But the trees that they are studying are small and
characterless compared with our own ; they are scattered
about the landscape, or set in trim lines along the roads :
our fair artists had better be in England for this work.
There is none of the mass and grandeur here that we see
in our forest-trees, none of the suggestive groups with
which we are so familiar, even in .the parks of London,
planted " by accident " as we are apt to call it, but standing
together with clear purpose of protection and support — the
strong-limbed facing the . north and . stretching out their
protecting arms, the weaker towering above them in the
centre of the square, whilst those to the south spread a
deep shade almost to the ground. French trees are under
an Imperial necessity to form into line ; the groves at Fon-
tainbleau are as straight as the Fifth Avenue at New
York. There are no studies of trees in all Normandy like
the royal oaks of Windsor ; there is nothing to compare in
grandeur with the stems of the Burnham beeches, set in a
carpet of ferns ; and nothing equal in effect to the massing
of the blue pines, with their bronzed stems against an even
ing sky, in Woburn Park in Bedfordshire. We may bring
some pretty studies from Avranches and from the country
round, but we should not come to France to draw trees.
There are, however, some studies which we may make near
Avranches of scenes which are full of interest. If we
descend the hill and walk a few miles in the direction of
Granville, we may see by the roadside the remnants of
several w,ayside " stations " of very early date.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Let us sit down by the roadside to sketch one of these
(a.d. 1066), and depict for the reader, almost with the
accuracy of a photograph, its grotesque proportions. It
stands on a bank, in a prominent position, by the road
side, a rude contrast to the surrounding
scenery. Presently there comes up an old
cantonnier in a blouse and heavy sabots,
who has just returned from mending the
roads ; he takes off his cap, crosses himself
devoutly, and kneels down to pray. The
sun shines upon the cross and upon the
kneeling figure ; the soft wind plays about
them, the bank is lovely with wild-flowers ;
there are purple hills beyond, and a com
pany of white clouds careering through
space. But the old man sees nothing but
the cross ; he has no eyes for the beauty
of landscape, no ear for the music of the
birds or the voices of nature ; he sees
nothing but the hideous image of his
Saviour ; he kneels as he knelt in child
hood before the cross ; he clasps his worn
hands, and prays, with many repetitions, words which
evidently bring comfort to his soul. In a few minutes
the old man rises and puts on his cap, with a brass plate
on it with the number of ihis canton, produces a little can
of soup and bread, and sits down on the bank to breakfast ;
ending by unrolling a morsel of tobacco from a crumpled
paper, putting it into his mouth, and going fast asleep.
Many more such scenes we could record, but they
are more fitted for the pencil than the pen ; the artist
can fill his sketch-book without going far from Avranches.
^ But as autumn advances our thoughts are naturally
turned more towards " le sport " ; and if we are fortunate

NORMANDY. 43
enough to be on visiting terms with the owners of the
neighbouring chateaux, we may be present at some in
teresting scenes that will remind us of pictures in the
galleries at Versailles.
" With good books, a good rod, and a double gun, one
could never weary of a residence at Avranches," says an
enthusiastic settler who has found out the best corners in
the trout-streams, and possibly the denizens of the neigh
bouring woods. The truth, however, is that in spite of the
beautifully wooded country and the rivers that wind so
picturesquely beneath us, Avranches is scarcely the spot
for a sportsman to select for a residence. In the season
there are numerous shooting-parties, and occasionally a
very fair bag may be made ; but, game not being pre
served systematically, the supply is variable, and accounts
of sport naturally differ very widely. We can only say
that it is poor work after English covers, and that we
know some residents at Avranches who prefer making
excursions into Brittany for a week's shooting. Trout may
be caught in tolerable abundance, and salmon of good
weight are still to be found in the rivers ; but they are
diminishing fast, being, as we said, netted at night for the
Paris market. There is one drawback to the pleasures of
sport in France, which should be mentioned here, namely,
the heavy octroi duty which a successful shot has to pay
upon every head of game which he brings home.
It was in the shooting season of the year, when game
had been unusually scarce for the sportsman and provok-
ingly plentiful to behold in the market-place at Granville —
when the last accounts we had of the success of a party
(who had been out for a week) was that they had bagged
" only a few woodcocks, three partridges, and a hare or
two," — that the following clever sketch appeared in the
newspapers.

44 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

An enthusiastic French marquis offered a friend whom
he met in Paris a few days' shooting on his estate. He
accepted, and went the next day ; the journey was seven
hours by railway, but to the true sportsman this was nothing.
The morning after his arrival he was attended by the
marquis's keeper, who, in answer to the inquiries of the
visitor, thus mapped out the day's sport : —
" Pour commencer, monsieur, nous chasserons dans les vignes de
M. le Marquis, oil h. cette saison nous trouverons certainement des
grives [thrushes]." " Et aprfes ? " says the visitor. " Eh bien ! aprfes,
nous passerons une petite heure sur la grande plaine, ou, sans doute,
nous trouverons une masse d'alouettes [larks]. Ensuite je montrerai k
monsieur certaines poules d'eau [moor-hens] que je connais ; fichtre !
nous les attraperons. 11 y a Ik-bas aussi, dans le marais, un petit lac
oil, I'ann^e passde, j'ai vu un canard, mais un canard sauvage ! Nous
le chercherons : peut-etre il y sera."
" But have you no partridges ? " " Des perdreaux ! mais oui ! je le
crois bien ! (il demande si nous avons des perdreaux !) il y en a, mais
ils sont difficiles. Nous en avions quatre, mais, le mois passd, M. le
Marquis en a tud un et s&ieusement bless^ un second. La pauvre
bete n'est pas encore gudrie. Cela ne nous laisse que deux. Nous
les chasserons sans doute si monsieur le veut ; mais que ferons-nous
Vannde prochaitie ? Si monsieur veut bien achever cette pauvre bete
blessde, ga peut s'arranger."
" Well, but have you no covert shooting, — no hares ? "
" Les li^vres ? mais certainement, nous avons des lifevres. Nous
irons dans la foret, je prendrai mes chiens, et je vous montrerai de
belles lifevres. J 'en ai trois, — Josephine, Alphonse, et le V\&xx. Adolphe.
Pour le moment Josephine est sacr^e, — elle est mfere. Le petit
Alphonse s'est mari^ avec elle, comme 5a il est un peu pfere de
famille; nous I'epargnerons, n'est-ce-pas, monsieur? Mais le vieux
Adolphe, nous Ic tuerons ; c'est ddjk temps ; voilk cinq ans que je
le chasse ! "

NOR.U.ANDY^

45

The
Valley of
the Seine.
the fruitful
hills that border
the river Seine,
and form part of the great watershed of Lower Normandy,
Nature has poured forth her blessings ; and her daughters,
who are here lightly sketched, dispense her bounties.
It is a pleasant thing to pass homeward through this
food-producing land— to go leisurely from town to town,
and see something more of country life in Normandy — to
see the laden orchards, the cattle upon the hills, and the
sloping fields of corn. It is yet eariy in the autumn, but
the variety of colour spread over the landscape is delightful
to the eye ; the rich brown of the buckwheat, the bright

46 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

yellow mustard, the green pastures by rivers, and the
poppies in the golden corn ; the fields, divided by high
hedges, and interspersed with mellowed trees ; the orchards
raining fruit that ghtters in the sunshine as it falls ; the'
purple heath, the luxuriant ferns. There is "tme r^colte
magnifique" this year, and the people have but one
thought, " the gathering in " ; the country presents to us a
picture — not like Watteau's "fetes galantes," but rather
that of an English harvest-home.
We are in the midst of the cornfields near Villers-sur-
mer, and the hill-side is glorious ; it is covered to the very
summit with riches — the heavily laden corn-stems wave
their crests against a blue horizon, whilst, in a cleft of the
hill, a long line of poppies winds downwards in one scarlet
stream. They are set thickly in some places, and form a
blaze of colour, inconceivably, painfully brilliant — a con
centration of light far beyond the power of imitation by
the pencil. We could not paint it if we would, but we
might see in it an allegory of plenty and of peace — of the
peace which the peasantry of France so urgently desire.
We see her blood-red banner of war laid down to garland
the hillside with its crimson folds, and her children laying
their offerings at the feet of Ceres and forgetting Mars
altogether. The national anthem becomes no longer a
natural refrain — anything would sound more appropriate
than " partant pour la Syrie " (there is no time for that
work) — to our Httle friend in fluttering blouse, who sits in
the grass and " minds " fifty head of cattle by moral force
alone ; we should rather sing —
"Little boy blue, come blow me your horn.
The orchards are laden, the cow 's in the corn ! "
We should not leave this pastoral scene, at least until
the evening; when the sun goes down behind the sea,
leaving a glow upon the hillside and upon the crowd of

NORMANDY. 47

gleaners who have just come up, and casts long shadows
across the stubble and on the sheaves of corn ; when the
harvest moon shines out, and the picture is completed — the
corn-sheaves lighted on one side by the western glow, on
the other by the moon ; like the famous shield over which
knights did battle — one side silver, the other gold.
All this time we are within sight, and nearly within
sound, of the " happy hunting-grounds " of Trouville and
Deauville, two famous watering-places on the coast ; but
the country people are singularly unaffected by the
proximity of these towns invented by Dumas and peopled
by his following. It is true that on the walls of a little
village inn there is something paraded about a " Trouville
Association, Limited," and a share list exhibited by the
host, who is an agent ; but these things do not seem to
find much favour amongst the thrifty peasantry. They
have, in their time, been tempted to unearth their treasures,
and to invest in bubble companies like the rest of the
world ; but there is a reaction here — the Normans evidently
thinking, like the old Colonnae, that a hole in the bottom
of the garden is about the safest place after all. And they
have, it is true, some other temptations, which come to
them with a cheap press, under the titles of " La Siireti
financikre," " Le Moniteur des tirages financiers" " Le petit
Moniteur financier" etc. — newspapers whose special business
it is to teach the people how to dispose of their savings ;
and there are many other things in these halfpenny French
newspapers which find their way into remote corners of
France, which must make the cure sometimes regret that
he had taught his flock to read.
In these rich and prosperous provinces the people,
revolutionary and excitable as their ancestors were,
certainly appear happy and contented ; the most un
educated of them are quick-witted and ready in reply ;

48 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

they are not boori.sh or sullen ; they have more readiness,
at least in manner, than the Teutonic races, and are, as a
rule, full of gaiety and humour. These people do not
want war : they hate the conscription which takes away
the flower of the flock ; they regard with anything but
pleasure the rather dictatorial "Moniteur" that comes to
them by post sometimes, whether they ask for it or not,
and would much rather be let alone.
It is worthy of note that the people in this part of
Normandy are becoming less political and more con
servative every day — a conservatism which, in their case,
may be taken as a sign of prosperity, and of a certain
unwillingness to be disturbed in their business ; they are
content with a paternal government — at a distance ; they
wish for peace and order, and have no objection to be
taken care of They are so willing to be led, that, as a
Frenchman expressed it to us, " they would prefer, if they
could, to have an omnipotent Postmaster-General to in
spect all letters, and see whether they were creditable to
the sender and fitting to be received ! "
Such is a picture of Lower Normandy, the land of
plenty where we wander with so much pleasure in the
summer months, putting up at wayside inns (where the
hostess makes her " note " on a slate and finds it hard
work to make the amount come to more than five francs,
for the night, for board and lodging for " monsieur ") and
at farm-houses sometimes ; chatting with the people in
their rather troublesome patois, and making excursions
with the local antiquary or cure to some spot celebrated in
history. They are pleasant days, when, if we will put up
with a few inconveniences, and live principally out of
doors, we may see and hear much that a railway traveller
misses altogether. We shall not admire the system of
farming, as a rule (each farmer holding only a few acres).

NORMANDY. 49

and we shall .find some of the cottages of the labourers
very primitive, badly built, and unhealthy, although gene
rally neat ; we shall notice that the people are rather
cruel and careless of the sufferings of animals, and that no
farm-servant knows how to groom a horse ; we shall see
them clever in making cider, and prone to drink it ; we
shall see plenty of fine, strong, rather idle men, and women,
in the fields carrying tremendous burdens, but hardly any
children : they are almost as rare in the country as a lady
or a gentleman. Indeed, in all our country wanderings
the " gentry " make little figure, and appear much less
frequently on the scene than would be supposed. There
are, of course, propri^taires in this part of Normandy, who
spend both their time and money in the country, and are
spoken of with respect and affection by the people ; but
they are rarce aves, men of mark, like the founder of the
Protestant colony at Beuzeval on the sea.
Nearly every Sunday after harvest-time there will be a
village wedding, where we may see the bride and bride
groom coming to take the first sacrament, seated in a
prominent place in front of the altar, and receiving the
elements before the rest of the congregation — the bride
placing a white favour on the basket which contains the
consecrated bread, and afterwards coming from the church,
the bride with a cap nearly a foot high, the bridegroom
wearing a dress-coat, with a tremendous bouquet, and a
wedding-ring on his forefinger ; and if we stand near the
church porch, we may be deafened with a salute fired by
the villagers in honour of the occasion, and overwhelmed
by the eloquence of the "best man," who takes this
opportunity of delivering a speech ; and finally, the bells
will ring out with such familiar tone that we can hardly
realize that we are in France.
These people are of the labouring class, but they have
E

so ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
some money to commence life with : the poorest girls
seldom marry without a portion ; indeed, so important is
this considered amongst them that there are societies for
providing portions for the unendowed, and they are, with
few exceptions, provident and happy in married life.
They are so in the country at least, in spite of all that
has been said and written to the contrary. A lady who
has had five-and-twenty years' acquaintance with French
society assures us that "the stereotyped literary and
dramatic view of French married life is wickedly false."
The corruption of morals, she says, which so generally
prevails in Paris, and which was so systematically ag
gravated by the luxury and extravagance of the second
Empire, has "emboldened writers to foist these false
pictures of married life on the world."
Of one more ceremony we must speak, differing in
character, but equally characteristic and curious. We are
in the country again, spending our days in sketching,
or wandering amongst the hills ; enjoying the " perfect
weather," as we call it, and a little careless, perhaps, of the
fact that the land is parched with thirst, that the springs
are dried up, and that the peasants are beginning to despair
of rain.
We see in the landscape at our feet a little white smoke
curling through the branches of trees, and hear in faint,
uncertain cadence the voices of men and children singing.
Presently there comes up a pathway, between two lines
of poplars, a long procession, headed by a priest, holding
high in the air a glittering cross ; there are old men with
bowed heads, young men erect, with shaven crowns, and
boys in scarlet and white robes, carrying silver censers ;
there is a clanking of silver chains, a tinkling of little bells,
and an undertone of oft-repeated prayer. The effect is
startling and brilliant ; the sunlight glances upon the white

MARKET WOMEN, LOWER NORMANDY.

Face p. 50.

NORMANDY.

51

robes of the men, in alternate stripes of soft shadow and
dazzling brightness ; the wind plays round their feet as
they march heavily along, in a whirl of dust which robs
the leaves of their morning freshness ; whilst the scarlet
robes of the children light up the grove as with a furnace,
and the rush of voices disturbs the air. On they come
throu(^'i the quiet country fields, hot and dusty with their
long march — the foremost priest holding his head high,
and doing his routine work manfully, never wearying of
repeating the same words, or of opening and shutting the
dark-bound volume in his hand ; and the children, not yet
tired of singing and of swinging incense-burners, keeping
close together two and two in line ; the people following
being less regular, less apparently enthusiastic, but walking
close together in a long winding stream up the hill.
What does it all mean ? Why, that these simple people
want rain on the land, and that they have collected from
all parts of the country to offer their prayers, and their
money, to propitiate the Deity.
But we are in a land where we are taught, not only to
pray for our wants, but to pay for their expression ; so
let us not question the motive of the procession, but follow
it again, in the evening, into the town, where it becomes
lost in the crowded streets — so crowded that we cannot
see more than the heads of the people ; but the line is
marked above them by a stream of sunset, which turns
the dust-particles above their heads into a golden fringe.
They make a halt in the square and sing the " Angelus,"
and then enter the cathedral.
Such scenes may still be witnessed in Normandy
(although, of course, becoming less primitive and charac
teristic every year) by those who are not compelled to
hurry through the land. And the best way to travel is
by diligence. The seat on the banquette on a fine
E 2

52 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

summer's day is one of the most enjoyable places in life ;
it is cheap, and certainly not too rapid, five or six miles an
hour. The roof is overloaded with goods and passengers,
which gives a pleasant swaying motion to the vehicle ; but
the road is so smooth and even that " nobody cares " — the
rocking to and fro is soothing, and sends the driver to
sleep, the pieces of string that keep the harness together
will hold for another hour or two, and theV^azy machine
will last our journey at least. In this beautiful country
we should always either drive or walk, if we have time ;:
the diligence is the most amusing and sometimes the
slowest method of progress. Nobody hurries, although
we carry " the mails," and have a letter-box in the side of
the conveyance, where letters are posted as we go along.
It is scarcely like travelling ; the free and easy way in
which people come and go on the journey is more like
" receiving visitors " than taking up passengers. As we
jog along, to the jingling of bells and the creaking of rusty
iron, the people that we overtake on the road keep ac
cumulating on our vehicle one by one, until we become
incrusted with human things like a rock covered with
limpets. There is no shaking them off; the driver does
not care, and they certainly do not all pay. It is a pleasant
family affair which we should all be sorry to see disturbed ;.
and the roads are so good and even, that it does not
matter much about the load. The neglect and cruelty
to the horses, which we are obliged to witness, is-
certainly one drawback, and the dust and crowding
on market days are not always pleasant ; but we can.
think of no other objections in fine weather to this quiet
method of seeing the country.

NORMANDY.

53

The Watering-places of Normandy.
" Trouville est une double extrait de Paris, — la vie est une fete, et
le costume une mascarade."
The principal bathing-places on the north coast are the
following, commencing from the east — DIEPPE, FECAMP,
.Etretat, Trouville, and Deauville, Villers-sur-
mer, Houlgate, Cabourg, and Cherbourg. We will
say a few words about Trouville and Etretat
Life at Trouville is the gayest of the gay. It is not
so much to bathe that we come here, as because on this
fine sandy shore near the mouth of the Seine, the world of
fashion and delight has made its summer home ; because
here we can combine the refinements, pleasures and
" distractions " of Paris with northern breezes, and indulge
without restraint in those rampant follies that only a
Frenchman or a Frenchwoman understands. It is a
pretty, graceful and rational idea, no doubt, to combine
the ball-room with the sanatorium, and the opera with any
amount of ozone ; and we may well be thankful to Dumas
for inventing a seaside resort at once so pleasant and so
gay. Of the daily life at Trouville and Deauville there is
literally nothing new to be told ; they are the best, the
most fashionable, and the most extravagant of French
•watering-places ; and there is the usual round of bathing
in the early morning, breakfast at half-past ten, donkey-
riding, bicycle racing, and driving in the country until
the afternoon, promenade concerts and indoor games at
four, dinner at six or seven (table-d'hdte, if you please.

54 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

where new-comers are stared at with that solid, stony stare,
of which only the politest nation in the world is capable),
casino afterwards, with pleasant, mixed society, concert
again and " la danse"
Of the fashion and extravagance at Trouville a moralist
might feel inclined to say much ; bu^ >ve are here for a
summer holiday, and we vizist be gay ooth in manner and
attire. Dress is the one thing needful at Trouville — in the
water or on the sands. Look at that old French gentleman,
with the decoration of the Legion of Honour on his breast ;
he is neat and clean, his dress is, in all respects, perfection ;
and it is difficult to say whether it is the make of his boots,
the fit of his gloves, or his hat, which is most on his mind
— they furnish him with food for much thought, and some
times trouble him not a little. Of the ladies' attire what
shall we say? It is all described in the last number of
" Le Follet" and we will not attempt to compete with that
authority ; we will rather quote two lines from the letter
of an English girl who thus writes home to quiet friends :
" We are all delighted with Trouville ; we have to make
f,ve toilettes daily, the gentlemen are so particular."
Of the bathing at Trouville, a book might be written on
costume alone — on the suits of motley, the harlequins, the
mephistopheles, the spiders, the " grasshoppers green," and
the other eccentric costumes de bain — culminating in a
lady's dress trimmed with death's heads, and a gentleman ".s,
of an indescribable colour, after the pattern of a trail of
seaweed. Strange, costly creatures — popping in and out
of little wooden houses, seated, solitary, on artificial rocks,
or pacing up and down within the limits prescribed by the
keeper of the show — tell us, " Monsieur Tadministrateur,"
something about their habits ; stick some labels into the
sand with their Latin names ; tell us how they manage to
feather their nests, whether they "ruminate" over their

NORMANDY.

55

food — and we shall have added to our store of knowledee o
at the seaside !
It is all admirably managed (" administered " is the
word), as everything of the kind is in France. In order
to bathe, as the French understand it, you must study
costume ; and to make a good appearance in the water
you must move about with the dexterity and grace
required in a ball-room ; you must remember that you
are present at a bal de mer, and that you are not in a tub.
There are water velocipedes, canoes for ladies, and floats
for the unskilful ; then a lounge across the sands and
through the " Etablissement," before an admiring crowd, in
costumes more scanty than those of Neapolitan fish-girls !
Yes, youth and beauty come to Trouville-by-the-sea ;
French beauty of the Dresden china pattern side by side
and hand in hand with the young English girl of the
heavy Clapham type (which elderly Frenchmen adore) —
all in the water together, in the prettiest dresses, sweetly
trimmed and daintily conceived ; all joining hands, men
and women having a " merry-go-round " in the water —
some swimming, some diving, shouting and " playing
fantastic tricks before high heaven," to the admiration of
a crowded beach !
" Honi soil qui mal y pense" when English ladies join the
party, and write home that " it is delightful, that there is a
refreshing disregard for what people may think, at French
watering-places, and a charming absence of self-conscious
ness that disarms criticism " !
But the system of bathing in France is so sensible and
good compared with that in England ; the facilities for
learning to swim, the accommodation for bathers, and the
accessories, are so superior to anything we know of in
Europe, that we hardly like to hint at any drawbacks.
We need not all go to Trouville (some of us cannot afford

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

it), but we may live at most of these bathing-places at less
cost, and with more comfort and amusement than at home.
The aspect of Trouville is thus described by the late
Blanchard Jerrold, who knew the district better than
most Englishmen : " Even the shore ha' been subdued to
comfortable human uses ; rocks have' been picked out of
the sand, until a carpet as smooth as Paris asphalte has
been obtained for the fastidious feet of noble dames, who
are the finishing bits of life and colour in the exquisite
scene. Even the ribbed sand is not smooth enough ; a
boarded way has been fixed from the casino to the mussel-
banks, whither the dandy resorts to play at mussel
gathering, in a nautical dress that costs a sailor's income.
The great and rich have planted their Louis XIII.
chateaux, their ' maisons mauresques ' and ' pavilions
a la renaissance,' so closely over the available slopes,
round about the immense and gaudily appointed casino
and the Hotel of the Black Rocks, that it has been found
necessary to protect them with masonry of more than
Roman strength. From these works of startling force and
boldness of design, the view is a glorious one indeed. To
the right stretches the white line of Havre, pointed with
its electric //;«r^ ; to the left, the shore swells and dimples,
and the hills, in gentle curves, rise beyond. Deauville is
below and beyond — a flat, formal place of fashion, where
ladies exhibit the genius of Worth to one another and to
the astonished fisherwomen.
" Imagine a splendid court playing at seaside life ;
imagine such a place as Watteau could have designed,
with inhabitants as elegantly rustic as his, and you
imagine a Trouville, It is the village of the millionnaire—
the stage whereon the duchess plays the hoyden, and the
princess seeks the exquisite relief of being natural for an
hour or two. No wonder every inch of the rock is

MODERN SEASIDE HOUSES IN NORMANDY.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

disputed ; there are so many now in the world who have
sipped all the pleasures the city has to give. Masters of
the art of entering a drawing-room — the Parisians crowd
seaward to get the sure foot of the mussel-gatherer upon
the slimy granite of a bluff Norman headland ; they bring
their taste with them, and they get heartiness in the
bracing air. The salon of the casino, at the height of the
season, is said to show at once the most animated and
diverting assemblies of Somebodies to be seen in the
world." Deauville, separated by the river Touques, is a place
of greater pretension even than Trouville, but the death of
the Due de Morny stopped its growth — large tracts of
land, in what should be the town, still lying waste. It is
quiet compared with Trouville, select, " aristocratic," and
boasts "the handsomest casino in France ;'' it is built for
the most part upon a sandy plain, but the houses are sa
tastefully designed, and so much has been made of the
site, that from some points of view it presents, with its
background of hills, a singularly picturesque appearance.
No matter how small or uninteresting the locality, if it
is to be fashionable, il ny aura point de difiiculte'. If there
are no natural attracticn.s, the ingenious and enterprising
speculator will provide them ; if there are no trees, he will
bring them ; no rocks, he will manufacture them — no river,
he will cut a winding canal — no town, he will build one —
no casino, he will erect a wooden shed on the sands !
But of all the bathing-places on the north coast of
Normandy the little fishing-village of Etretat will
commend itself to most people, for its bold coast and
bracing air. . Situated about seventeen miles north-east of
Havre, shut in on either side by rocks which form a
natural arch over the sea, the little bay of Etretat, with its

NORMANDY. 59

brilliant summer crowd of idlers and its little group of
fishermen who stand by it in all weathers, is one of the
quaintest of the nooks and corners of France. There is a
homelike snugness and retirement about the position of
Etretat, and a mystery about the caves and caverns —
extending for long distances under its cliffs — -which form
an attraction that we shall find nowhere else. Since
Paris has found it out, and taken it by storm as it were,
the little fishermen's village has been turned into a gay
parterre ; its shingly beach is lined with chairs, and its
shores are smoothed and levelled for delicate feet. The
Casino and Etablissement are all that can be desired, whilst
pretty chalets and villas are scattered upon the hills that
surround the town. There is scarcely any "town" to
speak of ; a small straggling village, with the remains of a
Norman church, formerly close to the sea (built on the
spot where the people once watched the great flotilla of
William the Conqueror drift eastward to St. Valery), and
on the shore, old worn-out boats, thatched and turned into
fishermen's huts and bathing retreats.
Etretat has its peculiar customs ; the old fisherwomen,
who assume the more profitable occupation of washer
women during the summer, go down to the shore as the
tide is ebbing, and catch the spring water on its way to
the sea, scooping out the shingle, and making natural
washing-tubs of fresh water close to the sea, — a work of
ten minutes or so, which is all washed away by the next
tide. At Etretat almost everybody swims and wears a
costume of blue serge, trimmed with scarlet or other bright
colour ; and everybody sits in the afternoon in the gay
little bay, purchases shell ornaments and useless souvenirs,
sips coffee or ices, and listens to the band.
The show is nearly over for the season, at Etretat, by
the time we leave it ; the puppets are being packed up for

6o ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Paris, and even the boxes that contain them will soon be
carted away to more sheltered places. It is late in Sep
tember, and the last few bathers are making the most of
their time, and wandering about on the shore in briUiant
attire. But their time is nearly over ; Etretat will soon be
given up to the -fishermen again; like the bears in the
high Pyrenees, that wait at the street corners of the
mountain towns, and scramble for the best places after the
visitors have left, the natives of ifetretat are already pre
paring to return to their winter quarters.
It is the finest weather of the year, and the setting sun
is brilliant upon the shore ; a fishing-boat glides into the
bay, and a little fisher-boy steps out upon the sand. He
comes down towards us, facing the western sun, with such
a glory of light about his head, such a halo of fresh youth
and health, as we have not seen once this summer in the
"great world." His feet are bare, and leave their tiny
impress on the sand, a thousand times more expressive
than any Parisian boot ; his little bronzed hands are
crystallized with the salt air, his dark-brown curls are
flecked with sea-foam, and flutter in the evening breeze ;
his face is radiant — -a reflection of the sun, a mystery of
life and beauty half revealed.
After all we have seen and heard around us, it is like
turning from the contemplation of some tricky effect of
colour to a painting by Titian or Velasquez ; it is, in an
artistic sense, a transition from darkness to light — from the
glare of the lamp to the glory of the true day.

BRITTANY.

" the western wing.
In an old-fa.shioned country-house there is often to be
found a room built out from the rest of the structure, form
ing, as it were, the extreme western wing. It has windows-
looking to the west, its door of communication with the
great house, and, in summer-time, a southern exterior wall
laden with fruit and fragrant with clematis, honeysuckle, or
jasmine. The interior differs from the rest of the mansion
both in its furnishing and in the habits of its occupants.
It is a room in which there is an absence of bright colours,.
where everything is quiet in tone and more or less har
monious in aspect ; where solid woodwork takes the place
of veneer and gilding, where furniture is made simply and
solidly, for use and ease, where decoration is the work of
the hand — holding a needle, a chisel, or a hammer. The
prevailing colours in this quaint old room, which give a
sense of repose on coming from more highly decorated

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

saloons, are blue, grey and green — the blue of old china,
the grey of a landscape by Millet or Corot, the green that
we see in the works of Paul Veronese.
This " western wing " is haunted, and full of mysteries
and legends ; its furniture is antique, and has seldom been
dusted or put in order. Nearly every object is a curiosity
in some way, and was designed in a past age ; on the high
wooden shelves over the open fireplace there are objects in
wrought metal work, antique-shaped pots and jars. About
the room are fragments of Druidical monuments, menhirs
and dolmens of almost fabulous antiquity, ancient stone
crosses, calvaries and carvings, piled together in disorderly
fashion with odd-shaped pipes, snuff-boxes, fishing-rods,
guns, and the like ; on the walls are little oil paintings of
mediaeval saints in roughly carved gilt frames, and a few
low-toned landscapes by painters of France ; on shelves and
in niches are large brown volumes with antique clasps, and
perhaps a model in clay of an old woman in a high cap, a
priest, or a child in sabots.
The room is a snuggery, well furnished with pipes and
tobacco, and hitherto evidently not much visited by ladies ;
but the door is open wide to the rest of the mansion,
through which the strains of Meyerbeer's opera of Dinorah
may sometimes be heard. The lady visitor is welcome to
this out-of-the-way corner, but she must not be surprised
to find herself greeted on entering in a language which,
with all her knowledge of French, she can scarcely under
stand ; to be asked, perhaps, to take" a pinch of snuff, and
to conform in other homely ways to the habits of the
inhabitants. Such a quiet, unobtrusive corner — pleasant with its open
windows to the summer air, but much blown and rained
upon by winter storms — is Brittany, the " western wing "
of France, holding much the same position geographically

BRITTANY. 63

and socially to the rest of the country, as the room we have
pictured in a great house, to the rest of the mansion.
Brittany is essentially the land of the painter. It would
be .strange indeed if a country sprinkled with white caps,
and set thickly in summer with the brightest blossoms of
the fields, should not attract artists in search of picturesque
costume and scenes of pastoral life. Rougher and wilder
than Normandy, more thinly populated, and less visited by
tourists, Brittany offers better opportunities for outdoor
study, and more suggestive scenes for the painter. No
where in France are there finer peasantry ; nowhere do we
see more dignity of aspect in field labour, more nobility
of feature amongst men and women ; nowhere more
picturesque ruins ; nowhere such primitive habitations and,
it must be added, such dirt Brittany is still behindhand in
civilisation ; the land is only half cultivated and divided into
small holdings and the fields are strewn with Druidical
stones. From the dark recesses of the Montagnes Noires
the streams come down between deep ravines as wild and
bare of cultivation as the moors of Scotland, but the
hillsides are clothed thickly in summer with ferns, broom
and heather. Follow one of these streams in its windings
towards the sea, where the troubled waters rest in the
shade of overhanging trees, by pastures and cultivated
lands, and we may see the Breton peasants on their farms,
reaping and carrying their small harvest of corn and rye,
oats and buckwheat ; the women with white caps and wide
collars, short dark skirts, and heavy wooden sabots, the men
in white woollen jackets, breeks {bragous bras), and black
gaiters, broad-brimmed hats and long hair streaming in the
wind — leading oxen yoked to heavy carts painted blue.
Here we are reminded at once of the French painters of
pastoral life, of Jules Breton, Millet, Troyon, and Rosa
Bonheur ; and as we see the dark brown harvest fields, with

64

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

the white clouds lying low on the horizon, and the strong
erect figures and grand faces of the peasants lighted by the
evening sun, we understand why Brittany is a chosen land
for the painter of paysages. Low in tone as the landscape
is, sombre as are the costumes of the people, cloudy and
fitful in light and shade as is all this wind-blown land,
there is often a clearness in the atmosphere which brings
out the features of the country with great distinctness,
and impresses them upon the mind.

St. Malo— Dixan.
On a bright summer's morning in July the ballon captif,
which we may use in imagination in these pages — our
French friends having taught us its use in peace as well as
in war — floats over the blue water-gate of Brittany like a
golden ball. The sun is
high, and the tide is
flowing fast round the
dark rock islands that lie
at our feet, pouring into
the harbour of St. Malo,
floating the vessels and
fishing-boats innumerable
that line the quays in
side the narrow neck of
land called Le Sillon, which connects the city with the
mainland, and driving gay parties of bathers up the sands
of the beautiful Bale d'Ecluse at Dinard.
On the little map we can see at a glance the relative
positions of St Malo, St Servan, and Dinard, also the
mouth of the river Ranee which flows southward, wide and
strong, into innumerable bays, until it winds under the
walls and towers of Dinan. Looking down upon the city,

BRLTTANY. 65
now alive with the life which the rising tide gives to every
sea-port, seeing the strength of its position seaward, and
the protection from without to the little forests of masts,
whose leaves are the bright trade banners of many nations,
it is easy to understand how centuries ago St. Malo, and
St. Servan were chosen as military strongholds, and how
in these later times St. Malo has a maritime importance
apparently out of proportion to its trade, and to its popu
lation of not more than 15,000 inhabitants.
From a bird's-eye point of view we may obtain a clearer
idea of St. Malo and of its neighbourhood than many who
have actually visited these places, and can judge for our
selves of its probable attractions for a summer visit. It
seems unusually bright and pleasant this morning, for the
light west wind has cleared the air, and carried the odours
of St. Malo landward. There is to be a regatta in the
afternoon, the principal course being across, and across, the
mouth of the Ranee, between St. Malo and Dinard, and
already little white sails may be seen spread in various
directions, darting in and out between the rock islands
outside the bay. On one of these islands. Grand Be,
(marked with a cross on the map), is the tomb of the illus
trious Chateaubriand, a plain granite slab, surmounted by a
cross, and railed in with a very ordinary-looking iron railing.
This gravestone, which stands upon an eminence, and is
conspicuous rather than solitary, is described by a French
writer as a romantic resting-place for the departed diplo
matist, characteristic and sublime — "ni arbres, ni fleurs,
ni inscription — le roc, la mer et I'immensite ! " but as a
matter of fact it is anything but solitary in summer-time,
and it is more visited by tourists than by sea-gulls. The
waves are beating round it now, but at low water there
will be a line of pedestrians crossing the sands ; some to
bathe and some to place immortelles on the tomb. F

66 ARTLSTLC TRAVEL.
The sands of Le Sillon are covered with bathers and
everywhere there is life and movement ; the narrow, winding
streets of St Malo pour out their contents on the seashore ;
little steamers pass to and from Dinard continually, fishing
and pilot boats come and go, and yachts are fluttering
their white sails far out at sea. Everything looks gay, for
the sun is bright, and it is the day of the regatta.
Looking landward, the eye ranges over a district of flat,
marshy land, that once was sea, and we may discern in the
direction of Dol an island rock in the midst of a marshy
plain, at least three miles from the sea. On the summit of
this rock is a chapel to Notre Dame de I'Esperance, and
near.it, standing alone on the plain, is a column of grey
granite nearly thirty feet high, one of the " menhirs " or
" Druid stones " that we shall see often in Britanny.
Eastward there is the beautiful bay of Cancale, famous for
its oyster-fisheries ; the village built on the heights is
glistening in the sunlight, and the blue bay stretches away
east and north as far as Granvillle.
The Bretons, both in St Malo and the suburb of St.
Servan, are a little demoralised in summer, and wish to be
" fine." To-day being a f^te day, they are en grande toilette,
and the white caps worn by some of the women are
trimmed with real old lace. In the shops and on the
promenades the majority of people are dressed as in Paris ;
the country people and the fishing and poorer class of
Malouins, only, wearing any distinctive costume. The
fishermen of Cancale make money and save it, and send
their children to school by train to Rennes, and the fisher
man's daughter comes back in a costume that makes her
neighbours envious. Every year more white caps are
thrown aside, for Mathilde will not be outdone by Louise ;
and so the change goes on, and each year the markets of
St Malo and St. Servan have less individuality of costume.

BRITTANY. 67
We have come to Brittany to sketch and to note what
is most characteristic and picturesque. So far, on the
threshold, as it were, what have we seen ? Coming from
England, and sailing southward into its blue bay on a
summer morning, there was an impression of brightness
and colour unusual to our own shores. In St. Malo itself
three pictures remain upon the memory. The first is the
sunset between the islands and across the sands, near the
bathing-place of Le Sillon ; the second the moonlight view
of its cathedral tower at the end of a narrow street, filling
it and towering above it with a grandeur of effect almost
equal to that of St. Stephen's at Vienna ; the third picture
is in the old courtyard of the H6tel de France. This house,
or part of it, belonged to the family of the Vicomte de
Chateaubriand, and it was here, in a room facing the sea,
that the celebrated author and diplomatist was born. On
the hotel the family arms (the peacock's plume) are em
blazoned, and just outside its gates, in the little dusty
square called " La Place de Chateaubriand," a new bronze
statue, bright and shining, has lately been erected to his
memory. Travellers imprisoned between the narrow streets
and dingy walls of St Malo, fortified and barricaded
against the fresh breezes of the sea, may perchance seek
the cool courtyard of the H6tel de France as a place of
refuge during the heat of the day, and, if not quite tired of
hearing of Chateaubriand, may dwell in imagination upon
the historic associations of this house. In a corner of the
courtyard, now used as a cafe, there is an old stone
staircase leading to the first ^tage, such as we may see in
many a French chiteau, and upon it there lingers this
afternoon an English girl in the graceful costume of to-day.
She wears a rich, dark, close-fitting dress in simple folds,
spreading where it trails upon the rough granite steps with
the stealthy grandeur of a peacock's tail upon a ruined
F 2

68

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

wall. As she turns her head and leans over between the
pillars of the covered balcony, her " Rubens hat " and fair
hair are framed in antique carved stone. The effect is
accidental, but the harmonious combination of costume
and architecture brings out suddenly the beauties of
each, and gives us a glimpse, not to be forgotten, of
the graces of a past age.

The Range.
The tide is now flowing fast up the Ranee, filling its
numerous bays and inlets, floating odd-shaped little boats
and rafts that are moored off the villages on its banks,
running up here and there inland between rocks and trees
and forming miniature lakes, which will disappear as the
tide goes down. The little steamer for 'Dinan starts from
the Quai Napoleon, and goes up on the flood in about
three hours, having just time to reach Dinan and return to
St Malo before the water has subsided. The fore-deck is
crowded with market-women and small merchandise, and
on the after-deck, which is but a few yards square, there
are some French and English tourists under a canvas
awning, which is useful alike for shelter from sun, rain, and
cinders. Steering south-east by south, we steam gently

BRITTANY. 69

up the Ranee (getting a fine view of St Servan in passing),
a river that, near its mouth, seems to have no boundaries
or banks, that flows in and out amongst cultivated fields,
then suddenly through narrow defiles of rocks and under
the shadow of forest trees that might be in Switzerland.
Once or twice we sail, as it were, in an inland lake, or, as
the French call it, " une petite Mediterran6e " ; we can
neither see where we entered nor any outlet on our route.
There are fishing and market boats, lying in quiet corners,
and one or two pleasure yachts with flags flying, moored
in the prettiest spots near modern summer chilets, the
slate roofs of which appear above the trees. We pass one
considerable village, St. Suliac, on the east bank, behind
which is the ancient fort of Chiteauneuf ; and, on the west,
the grey walls of more than one old chateau are visible.
The water is blue and tidal until we arrive at a lock a few
miles farther, when the little steamer ploughs through a
narrow canal-like stream, and sends the water flowing over
the banks, washing the stems of the poplar trees, and
r smothering their leaves in clouds of smoke.
We are entering Brittany now, and are far out of hearing
of the waves that beat upon St Malo, and of the band of
the casino on its sands. On either side the valleys are
rich with verdure and with orchards of fruit There are
farmhouses and villas dotted about, and peasants at work
in the fields. We pass close to the banks during the last
mile, and are shut in by rocks and trees ; but all at once
the view enlarges, and there rises before us a scene so
grand and, at the same time, so familiar that we feel
delighted and rewarded at having approached DiNAN by
water. The prevailing tone of landscape during the last
few miles has been sombre, and the valleys in shadow
with their dark granite rocks and gloom of firs have con
trasted picturesquely with the sunshine on distant fields.

70 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
As we reach Dinan in the afternoon, the valley of the
Ranee is in shadow, whilst above and before us, crowning
a hill, are the old roofs, towers, and spires of Dinan shining
in the sun. The sides of the valley here are almost
precipitous, and across it, high above our heads, is a plain
modern viaduct, reaching to the suburb of Lanvallay.
Dinan is on the left bank of the Ranee ; and near the
bridge where we land the steep streets of the old town
reach to the water's edge. Above our heads are feudal
towers, and parts of old walls and the grey roofs of houses
between the trees, and away southward the valley of the
Ranee winding out of sight. We said it was a familiar
picture for the approach to Dinan by water, and the view
from the hills on the opposite bank of the Ranee, seen
under summer suns, have been perpetuated on canvas by
many an English artist. It is well to see Dinan thus,
en cotdeur de rose, for on a nearer and longer acquaintance
our impressions may change.
Dinan — situated on the summit and slopes of wooded
hills, their dark granite sides appearing here and there
through the trees ; with its mediaeval towers and terraces, its
old grey houses with pointed roofs, and its handsome white
modern houses — forms a background to the market-women,
with their stalls of fruit and vegetables, peasants in blue
blouses, and the usual summer crowd, including Parisians
in suits of white, with broad straw hats and blue umbrellas,
thronging on the quay waiting for our little steamer.
As we climb up a steep, dirty street, leading from the
quay, called the Rue de Jersual, and under a Gothic
gateway — past old houses, with high-pitched roofs and
leaning timbers, rising one above another in irregular steps
— we hear the sound of the loom in the darkness on either
side, and the inhabitants come out to stare as usual ;
shining red faces, under white caps, lean out from little

BRITTANY. 71
latticed windows and from doorways, and in the gutters
many a little pair of sabots stuffed with hay, is rattling on
the stones. It is a ladder of cobblestones and dirt, cool
and slippery, sheltered by projecting eaves from the
afternoon sun, the principal approach from the river a
century ago, up which a stream of modern pilgrims now
files into the upper town. They pause to take breath at
the top (300 feet), and then disperse on the Place, where,
in front of dusty rows of trees, the omnibuses and carts,
which have come round by the broad, circuitous road, are
setting down travellers. We have ascended at least 300
feet to the Place, and take up our quarters in the wide
open square, looking as dusty and uncared for as usual in
French provincial towns, and commanding, as usual also,
no view of the country round. Nurses, in white caps, sit
knitting under the shadows of stunted trees, while the
children play in the dust ; cavalry officers of all grades
play at cards and drink absinthe at little tables half hidden
by trees planted in boxes at the hotel doors ; ladies and
children, a priest, a workman in blue blouse dragging a
load of stones, a woman coming from market, and an
Englishman or two, on pleasure intent, with draggled
beards and grey knickerbockers much too wide for them,
as is the fashion of the time. Above the trees, the houses
across the square rise in, irregular lines, their steep roofs,
old and sun-stained, are full of variety and colour; behind
them tree tops wave, and great masses of white clouds
drive northward to the sea.
Dinan is full of interest both for the artist and the
antiquary, and the environs are full of variety and beauty ;
on every side will be found charming wooded walks and
valleys, from which we can see Dinan, set high on green
hills, the sky-line a fringe of trees and towers. The walks
on the ramparts, with their lines of poplars and the views

72

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

across the deep fosse below will give an idea of the military
architecture of the middle ages, and especially of the
natural strength and importance of Dinan as a fortified
city when beseiged by the Duke of Lanca,ster in 1359
and defended by the brave Du Guesclin. In St. Malo,
Chateaubriand was the hero ; in Dinan it is Du Guesclin,
constable of France in the fourteenth century. Whichever

4<'kik^^;^«

way we turn we find some new view and point of interest,
and the inhabitants are so accustomed to the incursion of
strangers, and reap so many benefits by their coming, that
we are allowed to sketch almost undisturbed.
The ramparts are comparatively deserted by day, and
form a promenade by moonlight worth coming far to see.
If ever there was a spot on earth prepared for lovers, it is

BRITTANY. 73
the broad walk on the southern ramparts of Dinan, where
the moon shines upon the path between tall waving
poplars and silvers the distant trees, where there is
scarcely a sound to break the stillness, where there is room
for every Romeo out of hearing of his neighbour, and
where the sounds of the city are hushed behind granite
walls. It is naturally romantic and beautiful, and, with
the associations which cling around its towers, has a charm
which is almost unique ; but let us tell the truth. There
are clusters of white roses clinging to the old masonry
above, which have scattered their full-blown leaves at our
feet, and below, in the deep dell which formed the ancient
fosse, there is honeysuckle in the straggling garden ; but
the odours that rise on the evening air are not of roses nor
of honeysuckle, nor from the broad champaign around.
There surely was never a beautiful spot so defiled. As a
picture, the general aspect of Dinan will remain in memory
A — a picture not to be effaced by the erection of large new
parracks, or by the railway now constructing in the valley
— stately Dinan with its ancient groves and terraces, its
hanging gardens, and sylvan views.
We must not linger in such a well-known part of
Brittany, but we must take one walk, leaving the town by
the ramparts towards the north. Here in the midst of a
tangle of briars and bushes, hemmed in on every side, run
over with ivy and every variety of creeper, shut off entirely
from some points of view by an orchard laden to the
ground with fruit and by a garden of flowers, is the one
tower left of the famous chateau of La Garaye. The
grey octagonal turret, with its crumbling Renaissance
ornament, stands high above the surrounding trees, and
catches the evening sunlight long after the avenues of
beeches by which it is approached is in gloom. The place
is as solemn and quiet, at the end of a long avenue, as any

74 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
poet could desire ; but as we approach the gate of the
chateau of " the lady with the liberal hand," whom Mrs.
Norton has immortalised in her poem, there are the usual
signs of demoralisation. There are pigs about, and
tourists ; and the show is charged for in the usual way.
We pay our money and take away some souvenir of the
place. Americans who have read (and recited often in
their own homes) " The Lady of La Garaye " sometimes
make Dinan the extreme western point of their tour in
Europe, and have trodden the ground into a hard track to
the chateau with their pilgrim feet ; but the position is
inconvenient for American tourists who have much to see,
and so, it is understood, they are going to buy the turret
and take it home. The idea is not as absurd as it may
sound ; it is a very pretty ruin, but it will fall soon if not
cared for, and the low wall on either side of the turret will
disappear behind the fruitful orchard. The old hospital is
now used as a farm-shed, but wants repairing to be habit
able ; and the ancient cider-press, with its massive wooder
beams, lies rotting in the sun. The farm children are
gathering blackberries from the bushes which grow between
the hearthstones of the old banquet-hall, poultry swarm in
my lady's boudoir, and there is a hum of bees and
insects about the ruin.
As we leave Dinan by diligence with much cracking of
whips and jingling of bells through a long straggling
suburb, the peasants stare at us from their dark dwellings ;
we stop at wayside inns — unnecessarily, it would seem —
and are surrounded by beggars of all ages and sizes.
Here a little child comes suddenly to earth at the sound of
wheels and peers from the darkness of her home under
ground with the brightness and vivacity of a weasel ; her
black eyes glisten with astonishment and with the instinct
of animal nature scenting food ; she transforms herself

BRITTANY.

75

in an instant from buoyant youth and almost cherub-like
beauty, to a cringing, whining mendicant "Quelque
chose, quelque chose pour I'amour
de Dieu," in good, clear French,
nearly all the words that her
parents would have her learn, in
the intervals of playing and road-
scraping — the latter her only
serious business in life. But the
school-master is abroad in Brit
tany ; the edict has gone forth that
every child of France shall hence
forth learn the French tongue ;
and this little creature will be
taught and tamed, and civilised
into ways that her parents never
knew. One more picture on the road,
,an incident common enough, but
characteristic and worth recording.
noon, with a deep blue sky and a burning sun. So
fierce is the heat that it has silenced for a time the
barking of dogs and the arguments of some of our
passengers. Just outside a village the straight road, un
sheltered even by poplars, is fringed with low brushwood
and long grasses withering under a curtain of dust. There
is nothing stirring but a little yellowhammer and a magpie
on the road, a cantonnihe in wide straw hat, chipping at a
heap of stones, and the lumbering diligence in which we
travel ; no shelter but in a wood hard by.
Presently we come to a halt in a narrow part of the road,
where M. Achille Dufaure's empty wood cart stops the way.
It is a suggestive picture, which we may call " The Hour
of Repose." In the foreground, in the burning road is a

It is a sultry after-

76

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

tall white horse, encumbered, now in his old age, with a
great wooden collar and clumsy harness, chained to a dark
blue cart with dirt-encrusted wheels, half-smothered on this
summer's day with a blue woolsack over his shoulders,
foaming at the mouth, and streaming with the wounds of
flies and other injuries, but pricking his ears as of old at
the sound of approaching wheels. In the background, but
a few yards off, is a cool wood of beech and elm, dark in
its shadows, green in its depth with ivy and fern, and
fringed against the sky with tops of waving poplars. This

broad mass of green, which comes between the brightness
of sky and the burning road, with its foreground of dry
grasses, is relieved on one spot by a cool ripple of blue — it
is Achille lying on his face asleep, his blouse just lifted by
a breeze ; he will repose for two or three hours, whilst his
horse stands in the sun, and the hot shadows lengthen
from his heels. No amount of shouting on the part of
our driver will waken the sleeper ; blessings and curses,
cracking of whips and blowing of horns, are all tried in
vain, and the monotony of our journey is relieved by the

BRITTANY.

77

diligence being dragged (as it might have been at first)
over the field at the roadside and we resume our way.
As we travel westward, the aspect of the land becomes
suddenly changed ; it is clouded over and rained upon,
and is a sombre contrast to the former brightness. After
the glare of the sun the senses are grateful for quiet tones ;
but the sight is strange, almost mournful. The district is
only a few miles from busy towns and sea-ports and on
the main line of railway from Paris to Brest, but it is out
of the world, and seems, under its cloudy aspect, farther
than ever removed from civilisation ; we pass substantial-
looking farmhouses, but the dwellings of the peasants are
generally hovels, with tumble-down mud walls and im
movable windows ; in their gardens are dungheaps and
stagnant pools of water. We see women at work in the
fields, girls tending cattle, and the men, generally, looking
on. Everything we pass on the road looks comparatively
untidy, rough, and poor, with the poverty of ignorance and
neglect rather than of means, for the soil is rich, and yields
well. The country is really fruitful, but an acre of land
is often divided into twenty different lots, in each of which
there are separate crops of hemp, buckwheat, or potatoes,
or they are filled with gorse for winter fodder for cattle.
The high hedges are made of mud-banks, gorse, and ferns,
and the gates between them are formed of felled trees,
the stem forming the bar, the roots being left as a counter
poise to lift the gate on its rough, wooden latch.
The rain ceases as we approach Lamballe ; the air is
fresh with the wind coming from the bay of St. Brieuc, and
as the sky clears, we obtain, at intervals on the undulating
road, views over finely wooded valleys, with high hedge
rows, banked up and planted with elms and oaks. The
chestnut trees, wet with the rain, are rich in colour, and
the fields of buckwheat lighten the landscape again.

78 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
Another turn in the road, and we are in evening light,
there is open pasture land, and the cattle are winding
home ; at another, a farmer is meditating on his stock
in the corner of a field. Thus we pass from one picture
to another, quaint and idyllic, the last reminding us more
of Troyon than of Rosa Bonheur.
In St, Brieuc we find ourselves in a busy city of 1 5,000
inhabitants, apparently too much occupied with trade
and agriculture to think about beautifying their houses
and streets. There are many narrow, irregular streets,
in which the old houses have been replaced by others
generally modem and mean ; " une vraie ville de rentiers
qui aurait besoin d'etre ' hausmannisee. ' " There is a
large square Place for the military, and a market-place
near the cathedral, where the old women congregate. St.
Brieuc is the principal town in the department ; it carries
on a large export trade in the produce of the country, espe
cially in butter and vegetables, for the English and Euro
pean markets. Cattle are exported largely from Legue,
the actual port, about two miles off, in the centre of the
bay of Brieuc, hidden from the town by intervening hills.
In the country round and on the hills overlooking the
sea, there are men and women at work in the fields, girls
carrying milk on their heads from the neighbouring farms,
and others busy in the farmyards. The buckwheat harvest
has commenced, and the fields are being robbed of their
rich colour ; but the scene is bright with fresh green and
yellow mustard, and rich here and there with clover. The
sombre figures are the peasantry with their dark costumes.
Here we feel inclined, for the first time, to stay and sketch,
wandering along the coast to the fishing villages on the
western shore of the wide-spreading bay of St Brieuc,
visiting the farms and homesteads, and making studies.

CATTLE FAIR IN BRITTANV.

Face p. 78-

BRITTANY.

79

It is at a village on the cliff near Fort Rosalier that we
first see a number of men and women winnowing, their
arms extended in the breeze, a bright and characteristic
scene ; a picture soon to vanish before patent winnowing-
machines and other improvements.

About midway between St. Brieuc and Guingamp, on
the north side of the railway, is the quiet little town of
Chatelaudren. It is washed and watered by the Leff, the
"river of tears," which, coming from the mountains that
we see to the south, winds its way through rich valleys,
seaward. In its course, and in its time, the Leff has done
much havoc in this peaceful valley, inundating and destroy
ing Chatelaudren in 1773, and still occasionally overflowing
its banks. To-day it is to the angler a capital trout
stream, if he will follow its course southward to the
mountains ; to the artistic eye it is a sparkling river of
light, set in a landscape of green and grey. The land is
thickly cultivated, and well grown with crops almost down
to the sea ; and on every side in this autumn time there
are signs of industry. From the fields we hear voices of

8o ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
women at work ; in the farmyards there is the dull thud of
the flail and the burr of the winnowing machine. Across
the sloping fields from the sea come sounds of singing and
laughter, disconnected and weird sometimes, from being
caught up by the wind, then dropped and taken up again.

Guingamp.
Eight miles from Chitelaudren, in a green valley
watered by the river Trieux, is the quiet old town of
Guingamp. Its past history, like that of nearly every
town in Brittany, has been so eventful that its present
normal state may well be calm ; but once a year its
inhabitants neither work nor repose. In the month of
September they hold their annual Fete de St. Loup, and
pilgrims come from all parts of Brittany by excursion
trains to the famous " Pardon " of Guingamp.
Guingamp is a town of not more than 8000 inhabitants,
with one principal street, which winds irregularly down
like a stream, spreading and overflowing its banks at one
point, in triangular fashion, in what is called the market
place, then narrowing again, and working its way through
a suburb of small houses into the great high-road to
Morlaix. It has two monuments — the church of Notre
Dame, and a bronze fountain in the market-place. The
timbered houses are old, and many of their gables lean ;
the cobblestones in the streets. are rough, and the public
promenade of dust, with withering trees, built on the old
ramparts, looks as dreary as any we shall see on our travels.
But it is surrounded by green landscape, and the view from
the walks on the ramparts, seen through the tops of
poplars, is of a green valley with trees and grey rooftops
between which winds the river Trieux, slowly turning
waterwheels.

BRITTANY.

Si

The church was built between the fourteenth and
sixteenth centuries, and represents several styles of archi
tecture — Romanesque, Gothic, and Renaissance. It was
originally founded as a castle chapel, and part of the
structure is as early as the thirteenth century. It has
three towers, the centre one having a spire.

^?^^* r^£:^^§^^^^#C^^

Brittany is a land of lasting monuments ; and of its
buildings it has been well said, "ce que la Normandie
modelait dans le tuf, la Basse-Bretagne le ciselait en
granit"; but remembering the magnificent churches to be
seen in Normandy, we need not detain the reader long in
Guingamp. If we were asked by tourists if the church of
¦ Notre Dame at Guingamp was worth going very far to
see, we should answer*. No. It is only as a picture that it
attracts us much. We shall see finer buildings in other
parts of Brittany, but nowhere a more characteristic
assembly. The most curious feature is a chapel forming
the north porch, which is open and close to the street,
lighted at night for services, and separated only from the

82 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
road by a grille. This portail, as it is called, forms the
chapel of Notre Dame de Halgoet, and is the sacred
shrine to which all come at the f6te of Guingamp. It is
ornamented by rich stone carving and grotesque gurgoyles.
The people of Guingamp love the chapel of Notre Dame
de Halgoet ; it is a retreat for them by day and by night,
a place of meeting for old and young, with a perpetual
beggars' mart at the door. This north porch with its
open grille is a house of call for rich and poof of both
sexes, and placed as it is in the centre of the town,
abutting upon the principal street, it forms part of their
everyday life to go in and out as they pass by. It is one
of the many welcome retreats in France ; in a land of
perpetual noises and glare, of shrill, uncouth voices and
latchless doors, the chu-oh gives peace and shade.
In the centre of Guingamp is its market-place, and in
the centre of the market-place is a fountain, consisting
of a circular granite basin with a wrought-iron railing.
There is a second basin of bronze, supported by four
sea-horses with conventional wings, and a third by four
naiads ; the central figure is the Virgin, her feet resting
on a crescent. This fountain was constructed by an
Italian artist, and its waters played for the first time on
the night of the annual Pardon, in 1745.^
A few yards from the cathedral, on the opposite side of
the street, is the old H6tel de I'Ouest, where travellers are
entertained in rather rough but bountiful fashion.
" Take a little trout or salmon, caught this morning in
the Trieux, a little beef, a little mutton, a little veal, some
tongue, some omelettes, some pheasant, some fish salad,
some sweets, some coffee, and then — stir gently," is the
prescription for travellers who stay at the H6tel de I'Ouest.
' The religious aspect of these Pardons, and the gathering of the
pilgrims, is described at page 1 1 3.

SUNDAY MORNING.

Face / 82.

BRITTANY. 83

As this is a good inn, it may be worth while to state that
the total charge for three English travellers, who spent a
night and part of a day there, was 12 fr. 80 c.
Excepting at the time of fetes, Guingamp is almost as
quiet and primitive in its ways as in the days of the Black
Prince ; but on one summer's morning we hear an unusual
sound from the great bell of Notre Dame, and find a pro
cession of priests and choristers winding up the principal
street, followed by hundreds of the inhabitants. What is
the occasion ? " The mother of the Maire is dead," is the
answer ; " she was a bountiful lady, beloved by all, and we
are to bury her this morning." And so the inhabitants
turn out en masse, and march with slow steps, for about
half a mile, to the cemetery. It is a dark, silent stream of
people, filling the street and carrj-ing everything slowly
before it ; the only sounds being the chanting of the choir,
and the repetition of prayers. We follow to the cemetery,
which is crowded with graves, each headed by little iron or
wooden crosses, hung with immortelles. The procession
divides and disperses down the narrow paths, a few only of
the friends of the deceased standing near the grave.
At one comer of the cemetery is a shabby little wooden
building, like a gardener's tool-house, which seems to
excite much interest A girl, with shining bronzed face,
in a snow-white cap, holding a little child by the hand, is
coming out of the door ; we venture to ask the reason of
her visit " Just to see my father for a minute," is the
ready answer.
In a little wooden box, about the size of a small dog
kennel, is her father's skull, or chef as it is called ; he is
tumbling over with his neighbours in other boxes as in the
sketch overleaf, which, rough as it is, has the grim merit of
accuracy. The sight is a common one in Brittany, but it
is startling and takes us by surprise at first, to see at
G 2

84

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

least fifty of these shabby boxes, some on shelves in rows,
but generally piled up in disorder and neglect The lady
who is being buried so solemnly this morning will some
day be unearthed,
and her chef, in a
box duly labelled
and decorated with
immortelles, will
take its place in
the ossuary of
Guingamp. Looking round
over the thickly-
wooded but rather
sombre landscape,
and on the old
grey roofs of the
town, one is a little
at a loss to account
for the rapturous
descriptions which neariy all travellers give of Guingamp.
On a fine summer's morning the landscape is seen to
perfection ; but to tell the truth, the scene is not very
striking either for beauty or for colour. Guingamp has
been described as " a diamond set in emeralds," and we
read of its landscape riant, and so on. " Guingamp m'a
pris le cceur," says another traveller ; but their interest is
in the past, they people it with memories.
The artist and the angler may*linger in its valleys, and
make it headquarters for many an excursion. If we might
suggest one more, we should ( ay — go and see the ruins
of the abbey of Ste. Croix, in a south-easterly direction,
following the course of the river Trieux. Turn round to
the right hand, just by a wayside cross, and enter a large

BRITTANY. 85
farmyard. The women are busy winnowing, not with
hands upraised in the wind, as we may see them at
St Brieuc, but twirling by hand a new patent blue-painted
rotatory winnowing-machine with a burring sound, in a
cloud of choking dust They are storing their harvest in
a large barn, the remains of an ancient Gothic church, the
abbey of Ste. Croix, with its choir window piled up with
straw. The garden reaches to the river, where ancient
and historic trout disregard the angler of to-day. The
farm and its surroundings are as picturesque as any
painter could desire.
The inhabitants of this suburb have a real grievance ;
they had lived for generations in familiar sight and sound
of the cathedral of Guingamp ; they saw its spire and
towers at evening, standing out sharp and clear against
the western sky, and were in feeling living almost in the
town itself, when suddenly the engineers of the " Chemin
de Fer de I'Ouest " threw up a mountain of earth in their
midst, and shut out the town and the sunset light from
them, and from their children, for evermore.
Twelve miles north-east of Guingamp is Lanleff — " the
land of tears," celebrated for one of the most curious archi
tectural monuments in Brittany, the circular temple of
Lanleff. Leaving Guingamp, we pass through a solitary
wooded country, the undulating road soon rising high above
the valley of the Trieux. The air is fresh and invigorating,
and the views from the summits of the hills extend over a
wide range of land. At Gommenech we enter the valley
of the Leff that we passed at Chatelaudren. There is no
prettier river, or one that should more truly delight an
artist's eye, than the Leff in its long, winding journey from
the mountains to the sea.
Sheltered by woods, shut in here and there by granite
walls, with ruins crowning the heights, between green

86 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
banks and through sloping fields, it is one of those pictur
esque rivers which are peculiar to Brittany of which we
seldorri hear mention, but which many an English angler
knows well.
Continuing northward, we soon arrive at the summit
of a hill overlooking the bay of Paimpol and the thickly
wooded country round ; we have passed good country-
houses on the route, with flower-gardens skirted by
hanging woods ; and as we approach Paimpol, there are
houses scattered in sheltered bays, with fishing and
pleasure boats aground ; an old church surrounded closely
by houses, a little Place, a custom-house, a quay, boatmen,
and fisherwomen ; but — where is the water ? It has re
treated for more than a mile, and the long bay or estuary
and the port of Paimpol are a desolate waste of mud.
Paimpol is a small but busy fishing village, much fre
quented in the summer by the French for bathing. It is
not fashionable, but the inns are comfortable, and the
country is full of attractions for the summer visitor. The
houses on the Place and in the narrow streets are old and
weather-worn ; some are dark and mysterious-looking, and
have that peculiar smuggling aspect with which we soon
become familiar on this coast.
In a corner of the quiet churchyard of Paimpol there
reposes at full length, in stone, " L'Abbe Jean Vincent
Moy," many years curi of this place and honorary canon
of St Brieuc ; and round about him, placed thickly in
rows, the former inhabitants of Paimpol rest under black
wooden crosses. The cure is carved in dark green stone,
from which time has taken the sharpness of the chiselling ;
but the expression is life-like, representing him in the
popular act of blessing. Thde is a cup of holy water at
his feet, supplied by an old woman who kneels before the
tomb on the damp ground. It is her pious office to guard

A QUIETll CORNER.

Face p. 87.

BRITTANY. 87

the tomb of her pastor, and brush off the autumn leaves
which fall thickly from a grove of elms. They move
slowly and die leisurely at Paimpol ; this old woman's
time is not yet, for she " has only eighty years." In four
newly made graves there repose Eugenie, Marie, Mathilde,
and Hortense, and their respective ages are eighty-two,
eighty-four, eighty-eight, and eighty-nine 1
At Paimpol in summer every one seems to take life
easily, the French visitors driving about, bathing, boating,
and living perpetually in the fresh, pure air ; the native in
habitants getting up boat-races, and dancing the " gavotte "
at night, in streets lighted by paper lanterns in old Breton
fashion. There is unusual brightness on this sombre, storm-washed
shore ; there is the dazzle of a crimson pennant, and the
flashing of a snow-white sail ; there are green banks, in
contrast to water of the deepest blue, for in these little
inlets of the sea the summer sun clothes everything with
brightness in a moment. Perhaps we have seen Paimpol
en couleur de rose, for there has been blue sky overhead
nearly every day for a fortnight, and the sun is so hot at
midday that the market-women put up their red umbrellas,
and the men descend into cool cellars for shelter and
refreshment. It is a shaded walk of about a mile and a half from
Paimpol to the abbey of Beauport. The road and the by
paths are shut in by high banks, so that we come upon it
rather suddenly, looking down upon the mins, through the
bare windows of which we can see the sea. The Gothic
chapel is a complete ruin, but part of the abbey building is
in good preservation, and inhabited. One room is turned
into a school-house, and a great roofless hall, once the
refectory, is used as a threshing-floor. The romantic
aspect of the ruins of Beauport, with its surrounding

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

scenery, has been described in every book on Brittany, and
the view of it by moonlight over the bay of Paimpol is as
famous as that of " fair Melrose." To this ancient abbey
come pilgrims of the nineteenth century to study and
wonder at the art of life shown by the monks of the
thirteenth. Here the fruitful land meets the bountiful
sea, and there is no arid line of demarcation ; the corn
waves at the water's edge, and the flowers bloom and
shed their leaves into the water. ^ The soil is rich, and the
air is soft, and in this autumn time the harvest seems
everywhere ready to man's hand — a harvest of fruit and
grain on land, and of fish and rich seaweed upon the
shore. The abbey of Beauport is considered by M. Merrimee to
be " the most perfect example of the monastic architecture
of the thirteenth century " — in fact, the most important and
beautiful ruin in Brittany. " It lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
And bowery hollows, crown'd with summer sea."
As we wander round the gardens and through the
avenues of trees that line the raised walks on the break
water, or under the shadow of high brick walls, laden with
old fruit-trees, it is easy to realise in our minds the lives of
its former occupants. The picturesqueness of Beauport,
especially the view, from the eastern side, of the chapter
house and other dwellings, should attract artists. This
afternoon there is one large white umbrella planted firmly
in the gravel of its deserted walks, and one canvas spread
with a green landscape in which old, grey, mullioned
windows, and the stems of weather-beaten trees, form
prominent features. *
From Paimpol to the town of Lannion is twenty miles
by the road, crossing the river Trieux by a lofty suspension

BRITTANY.

89

bridge at Lezardrieux, and halting at the ancient cathedral
town of Treguier by the way.
It is near Lannion that we make the discovery of a
watering-place, called Perros-Guirec, where we can live
in the summer season for five francs a day, and where

'* On loue et on ^change de petits enfants ;
On coupe des oriclles et la queue aux chiens.d'aprfes la demiere mode."
it is difficult to spend more. The bay of Perros-Guirec
is just sufficiently off the track of tourists to make it
delightful in summer. There are two small inns on the
shore, one at either extremity; but the actual village of
Perros-Guirec is situated amongst the trees which crown
the northern promontory of the bay; there are a few
summer-houses and gardens, an old church, and near it a

90 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

convent. It seems hard to break up the peace of this
retreat by printing a description, but here, we are bound to
record, is a spot where we can spend our summer days
with the greatest delight. We can live as we like, dress as
we like, bathe in the water at our feet, sit and sketch in
the shade of woods, through the branches of which we see
the shining sea. The air, so fresh and bracing, sweet with
the breath of pines, is more grateful in the hot summer
months than at Dinard or Trouville, and the sights and
sounds are certainly more healthful and restful.
It is evening as we return from a walk by the sea north
of Perros-Guirec ; before us is a wide and beautiful bay,
extending for nearly half a mile in a noble cui-ve of shore ;
it is shut off from the land by sloping hills, and bounded
at either extremity by rocks. The tide is nearly out, and
the sand is as pure, smooth, and untrodden, as on
Robinson Crusoe's island. There are no projecting rocks
or stones on this wide plain ; nothing to be seen on its
surface but our long dark shadows and two little crabs,
behind their time, making hard for the retreating water.
We cross the bay leisurely, treading lightly on the carpet
of sand, and watching the sunset light on the rocks and on
the little islands which make this coast such a terror to
navigators. They are smiling this evening in that roseate
hue which storm-washed red granite rocks put forth on
gala days, and their purple reflections in the water are as
deep and glowing as from the steep walls of the Lago di
Gardo under an October sun.
The two crabs soon disappear in the water, but as we
cross the bay, two other lijtle spots appear at some
distance on the sand. The sight is so unusual here that
the thought of Crusoe on his island occurs again, and we
approach cautiously. The objects are larger and farther
off than at first appeared, in fact nearly a quarter of a

BRITTANY. 91

mile ; they consist of two little neat bundles of clothing,
one of which appears to be a silk dress surmounted by a
white straw hat ! There is nothing near them but sand, no
sign of human creature ; but, presently looking seaward,
the mystery is explained by two heads appearing suddenly
on the surface of the sea, one with long hair floating from
it. We beat a retreat and learn afterwards that an
evening walk in " ce pays ici " is often supplemented by
an evening bath. Thus Monsieur and Madame, strolling
together on the sands, make a diversion without ceremony
or "machines," and without the slightest "mauvaise
honte." A little to the north of Perros-Guirec is the village of
Ploumanach, almost built out into the sea. It is a place
to be visited above all others on this coast for its wildness,
and to see the hardy fishing population, living amongst a
loose mass of rocks, nearly surrounded by water. Looking
northward, on a clear day, we may see a group of islands,
one of which, the abode of innumerable wild-fowl, is said,
(with doubtful authority) to be the Island of Avalon, or
Avilion, where King Arthur was buried.
Lannion, at the time of writing, may be said to be one of
the outposts of French tourist civilisation in the C6tes-du-
Nord. Hither come in summer time a few Parisians, and
families from the interior, for the bathing ; driving to and
from Perros-Guirec and other places on the coast daily, but
seldom actually staying on the seashore. In their train
come the latest fashions, both in manners and in dress, and
it is here we may notice, especially on Sundays and fetes,
the strange contrasts in costume between the Bretons and
" the French," as the natives persist in calling their visitors.
It is on their way down to the Jardin Anglais one Sun
day morning that a gay Parisian and his wife walk through
the market-place and down one of the old steep streets ; .

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

behind them come nurse and b^b^ all " en grande toilette de
I'ete." The lady wears a white dress, which trails over the
cobblestones ; the gentleman is in brown holland, with
white shoes, white tie, and a new straw hat shaped like a
Prussian helmet and decorated with a crimson band ; the
baby is decorated in as much of the fashion of the day as
its size will permit ; the nurse, the neatest of the party,
wears a spotless white cap and a short dark dress. An old
dame, seated at her doorstep, taking a bountiful pinch of
snuff, emits a harsh sound, more like " Jah ! " or " Yah ! "
than the customary approving " Jolie ! " which comes so
trippingly on every French tongue. The Breton woman,
in her old-fashioned gown, black stockings, and neat stout
shoes, who owns the house she lives in, and perhaps half a
dozen others, regards the fashionable visitors with anything
but pleasure, and resists the advance of fashion into Lan
nion as an evil almost equal to an inroad of Prussians.
Every one makes a short stay at Lannion, in order to
visit the thirteenth-century castle of Tonquedec, in a
valley about eight miles south of the town. This castle is
one of the best preserved specimens of military archi
tecture in all France, and it is one of the beauty spots in
Brittany. Travelling in a south-westerly direction, by road to the
busy city of Morlaix, and by rail to Landerneau (leaving
to the north the wild district of St Pol de Leon indicated
in the sketch), we come to the department of Finisterre
and have a different aspect of Brittany altogether. At
Landerneau we are on the high-road to Brest. The
railway from Landerneau to Brest is carried for the most
part at a high level, and from the windows on the left
hand we obtain beautiful views of the scenery of the bay.
Below we can see the stores of timber for naval use, and
are otherwise reminded of our approach to a sea-port by

BRITTANY.

93

the company which collect at the small stations en route.
In the crowded carriage are weather-beaten fishermen and
countrywomen with market baskets, and, in one corner,
two boys with fair fresh faces, set in wide straw hats, bear
ing upon them the inscriptions of Vulcan and Vengeance.
Brest is a naval station of such importance that even
travellers in search of the picturesque should not pass it by
without a short visit ; the arsenal, docks, and harbour are
on a scale of completeness second only to Cherbourg ;
moreover, Brest is the most convenient point from which to
visit other parts of the coast of Finist^re, especially the
fishing village of Le Conquet, the abbey of St. Mathieu on
the extreme western point of Brittany, and the island of
Ouessant. Brest is situated on an elevated position on the
north side of one of the finest natural harbours in the
world. In order to realise the
beauty of the inland bay
of Brest, we must look
down again from our
imaginary ballon captif,
and see its blue waters,
green banks and woods
coming down to the
water's edge ; the coun
try dotted with white
villas and little wooden chalets belonging to the wealthy
traders of Brest, and here and there the sombre avenues of
a chiteau with grey, high-pitched roofs and pointed turrets
peeping through the trees.
Across this inland sea, traversed by little steamers and
dotted Jwith white sails — raised high upon the heath-clad
hills which form the western spur of the Monts d'Arree —
is the little town of Plougastel.

94 artistic tra vel.
Plougastel.
It is too late to cross the bay on the occasion of our visit
to Plougastel, and so we take the last train to Kerhuon
station, where there is a ferry. A vessel has just been paid
off at Brest, and in the railway carriage are several sailors
on their way home. One of them gets out with us at
Kerhuon, and we go down together to the river. By some
mischance the ferry-boat is missing, and all is darkness at
the httle boathouse. The young sailor, ready at expedi
ents, puts down his pack, collects some furze, and lights a
fire as a signal. We sit and wait and shout at intervals,
burning the fuel, until just about midnight, when we hear
the plash of oars, and a dark object glides past ; it is a
fishing-boat with one mast, with three men in the stern, and
two women rowing. After a little parleying they agree to
take us across for thirty centimes each, and the women
turn the boat round, running it heavily against the stones
of the causeway. We get in quickly and stand in the
bows, whilst we silently cross the Landerneau river. It is
a strange, mysterious boat-load ; not a word is uttered,
there is no sound but the heavy plodding and working of
the oars, and the night is so dark we cannot see the faces
of the men or the nature of the packages that weigh down
the stern. The moon, rising through the clouds, just
illumines the darkness as we near the shore ; it shines on
the smooth, wet mast, on the waterproof hat of the marine
standing up in the boat, and reveals close to us the strong,
stout arms of a girl, bared to the shoulder, her head con
cealed in a dark, tight-fitting headdress, with lappets like
an Egyptian sphinx ; the head is raised for a moment, and
eyes are turned upon us as we leave, but no word is uttered,
scarcely a " Bon soir ! " as the boat drifts away into the
night.

GOING TO A PARDON.

Face p. 95.

BRITTANY.

The moon shines as we ascend the hill — winding up a
path between great rocks and under the shadow of stunted
trees, to Plougastel — revealing a poor-looking town of
plain stone houses, silent and deserted at this midnight
hour. At a corner of two streets our companion points
out the inn and takes leave, having to go to his home at
the further end of the town. We knock for admittance,
but without avail ; heads are put out of various windows,
but the answer is that every house is crowded, for " to
morrow is the f^te"; and, truth to tell, curses are heaped
upon the strangers for disturbing the dogs, who begin to
howl as they trot by on their midnight errands. There is
nothing to be done until daybreak, and so the night is
spent in the open air.
We have come to Plougastel to see the people, and also
its famous calvary, which stands in the middle of a
desolate churchyard strewn with newly cut stone. As the
day begins to dawn, we make our way to the church, and
to the spot where we can just discern the calvary, with its
carved figures standing darkly against the sky. There is
a flutter at our approach, for birds have been nestling
behind the headless horsemen, and sheltering in the nooks
and corners of the ancient pile. We leave them to silence
a little longer, and stroll out to the highest ground to see
the sun rise. Soon there is a streak of light from the east,
which gives shape and outline to the church tower and the
grey roofs of Plougastel, and, as we reach the high ground
outside the town, the landscape southward is lighting in
the morning sun ; we see cultivated valleys and park-like
views, with pleasant green slopes leading down to the sea.
But beautiful as is the foreground, with its undulating
green, interspersed with granite boulders, with dew upon
gossamer webs and little clouds of vapour stealing between
clumps of grass, the view across the bay, where the distant

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

headlands (indicated on the map on page 93) take a pearly
tinge, is the best sight of all. A little northward and
westward are the masts, chimneys, and church spires, and
the smoke and steam, of Brest, for the morning is breaking
over a busy scene at the arsenal and dockyards ; but here,
as the sun shines out, the sounds in the long grass are of
grasshoppers, birds, and bees.
It is the morning of the fete ; the thrush clears his
throat, and so do the peasants in their own way, as they
come slowly up the hill. Let us leave the view and go
into the streets of Plougastel, already full of people, some
of whom might be the descendants of Eastern races
wearing Egyptian or Phrygian head-dresses, caps from
Albania, embroideries from Greece, and sashes from
Arabia. Here, then, for the first time in our travels in
Brittany, we find colour predominating in the costumes of
the people. Some of the women wear close-fitting dark
green caps embroidered with gold thread, their dark skirts
also bordered with embroideries or stripes of colour ; some
wear white stockings and neat-fitting, red or black slippers
or shoes. But the prevailing headdress of the women is
the white cambric coiffe with large side lappets and wide
collars which we see elsewhere in Finist^re ; the men have
broad-brimmed hats with embroidered strings or ribbons.
Some of the men who come from the south wear striped
trousers with a red sash, and spare blue jacket with
numerous silver buttons, as in the sketch opposite. Some
are dressed entirely in blue cloth or serge, with sashes and
red caps, but others have broad white trousers and belts,
their jackets and blouses embroidered on the shoulders
and sleeves. There is colour everywhere, subdued by the
dark blue of blouses and the sober brown and green stuff
gowns of the older women.
It is said that the people of Plougastel, preserving many

BRITTANY.

97

of their old costumes and traditions, still live much apart
from their neighbours ; a life half seafaring, half agri
cultural, whose origin is traced to some early immigration
of Eastern races.

THE GAVOTTE.

The Breton ronde or round dance, of which the gavotte
is a good example, is one of the most characteristic scenes
to be witnessed in Brittany. At nearly every f^te and
H

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

gathering — in the streets, in the fields, or in the town-hall
— we see the peasants dancing the gavotte, the musicians
being generally two, one with the ancient Armorican bag
pipe (binioti), the other with a flageolet.
The dancers generally keep good time, going through
a variety of figures, but always returning to the ronde,
dancing together, hand in hand, with great precision and
animation, and a certain kind of grace. The gravity of
manner and the downward look of the women in certain
figures, as they advance and retire with hands down, give
a peculiar quaintness to the gavotte, which, apparently
rollicking and unrestrained, is in fact, orderly and regular
in every movement. The circular motion of the dancers,
now revolving in several circles, now in one grande ronde,
is traced by M. Emile Souvestre, and other writers, to
Druidic origin and the movements of the stars.
But as the dancers come swinging down the centre of
the hall, hand in hand, now meeting, now parting ; as
fresh couples join and others fall into the rear ; as we
hear the measured tread and the voices which never seem
to tire, we should be content to describe the " gavotte "
as a good old country dance of singular animation and
picturesqueness ; a scene of jollity and at the same time
of good order, of which the sketches by Caldecott give an
admirable idea.
We give a few bars of a favourite, air, played at
Chateauneuf du Faou, which seemed to give the performers
intense enjoyment, for they returned to it again and again.

«^-^-

^

^^^^S^

ess

isv-^^^s.tfi

BRITTANY.

99

There was one figure
dressed in the latest
fashion of Quimper, who
was looked upon with
doubtful admiration by
the other dancers, but
who will serve to remind
us that distinctive cos
tume, even in these out-
of-the-way places, is a
flickering flame, and
that in a few years such
scenes as these will have
lost their character.
At dusk oil lamps are
lighted, a crowd
fills the hall, and,
late into the night
when far away
from the
scene, we
can see
the steam
rising be
tween the
rafters ,,„
and hear
the clatter
of sabots.

THE GAVOTTE.

II 2

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Quimper — Douarnenez.
In the valley of the Odet and the Steir, where two
rivers join in their southern course to the sea, there rise
the beautiful spire^ of Quimper, the present capital of
Finist^re; a town containing about 13,000 inhabitants,
now the centre of the commerce and industry of southern
Finist^re. This ancient capital of Cornouaille, with its
warlike and romantic history of the middle ages, the centre
of historic associations in the times of the War of the
Succession, preserves many landmarks and monuments
that will interest the traveller and the antiquarian. The
fine Gothic cathedral has a richlysculptured porch with
foliated carving of the fourteenth century. Above and
between the two towers is an equestrian statue of the
somewhat mythical King Gradlon, who held a court at
Kemper in the fifth century, whose prowess is recorded in
the early chronicles
of Brittany, and in
the romances of the
Round Table.
In spite of rail
ways, telegraphs,
and newspapers, and
the bustle of com
merce that fills the
streets and market
of Quimper, some of the inhabitants of the neighbouring
valleys find time, on St Cecilia's Day, to perform a
pilgrimage to this cathedral and to sing songs in honour
of St. Corentin. Thus we see how conservative Brittany
clings to its monuments and legends, and how its people
still dwell in the past

BRITTANY. loi
The cathedral of Quimper is the centre and rallying-
point for all the country round, the home of Catholicism,
the "one church" to the inhabitants of Finistere. No
picture of the wide Place by the river, where the great
gatherings take place on fete-days, and where so many
curious costumes are to be seen together, is complete
without the two modern spires of the cathedral rearing
high above the town. The procession of people passing
up the wide street on a Sunday morning leading to its
doors — a dense mass of figures, fringed with white caps,
like foam on a heaving sea, the figures framed by pro
jecting gables nearly meeting overhead — forms another
picture which has also for its background the two noble
spires. The old houses in the market-place in the
cathedral square, and the old inn, the H6tel du Lion d'Or
(this last well worthy of a sketch), are overshadowed by
the pile. The people that come in by the old-fashioned
diligences and the country carts and waggons go straight
to the cathedral on arrival in the square.
One of the most complete and characteristic of Mr.
Caldecott's sketches during our stay in Brittany was a
scene in a cabaret, or wine-shop, where the farmers who
have come in to market, whose carts we may see on the
cathedral square, meet and discuss the topics of the day.
It was the nearest approach to an open political discussion
that we could witness on our travels, and a good oppor
tunity to see the conser\rative Breton farmer, the " owner
of the soil," one who troubles himself little about " politics,"
in the true sense of the word, and is scarcely a match in
argument for the more advanced republican trader and
manufacturer of Quimper ; but who, from hereditary
instinct, if from no other motive, is generally an upholder
of legitimist doctrines and a royalist at heart
Seated on the carved oak bench on the left is a young

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Breton clodhopper or farm-help, whose ill-luck it has been
to be drawn this year ; who leaves his farm with regret —
a home where he worked from sunrise to sunset for two
francs a week, living on coarse food and lodging in the
dark withlthe pigs. As he sits and listens with perplexed
attention to the priucipal speaker, and others gather round
in the common room to hear the oracle, we have a picture
which tells its story with singular eloquence, and presents
to us the common everyday life of the people of lower
Brittany with a truthfulness and vivacity seldom, if ever,
exceeded. The only bright colour in the picture is in the
red sashes of the men and in one or two small ornaments
worn by the women.
It is worth while for every one who stays in Quimper
to see something of the coast, and to make a tour of at
least two or three days to Pont I'Abbe, Penmarch, Pont
Croix, the Pointe du Raz, and Douarnenez. In this short
journey the traveller will see some of the finest coast
scenery in Brittany, and people differing in character and
costume from other parts of Finistere ; a hardy fishing
population, tempted to dangers and hardships by the
riches to be found in the sea.
On the roads in this neighbourhood we obtain fine views
of open landscape, with solitary figures here and there
working in the fields, and occasional glimpses of the sea.
It is a windy land ; the colour is sombre, and the clouds
which come up in heavy masses from the sea cast deep
shadows over the ground.
If we try to recall the impression of the scene, it is
principally of clouds, as in landscapes by Ruysdael or
G^ricault. The land for miles is without sign of habita
tion, the highest point of interest is a bank of furze, a
stunted tree, or a heap of broken stones, chipped perhaps
from a fallen menhir; a solitude that seems more

»
aa z
&o14
az

<
><

BRITTANY. 103

hopeless and remote from the tumultuous aspect of the
heavens. It is a dreary road from Audierne to the Pointe du
Raz, passing the villages of Plogoff and Lescoff. At this
point the rocks are higher above the sea than at Penmarch,
and the scene is altogether more extensive and magnificent.
We are on an elevation of eighty or ninety feet, and
almost surrounded by the sea. To the south and east is
the wide bay of Audierne, to the west the lie de Sein, the
ancient home of Dmidesses, and the horizon line of the
Atlantic. A cloud of sea-birds rises from the rocks below, and
floats away like a puff of steam ; there is an orange tint in
the seaweed piled upon the shore, and a purple tinge upon
the distant hills across the bay of Douarnenez ; but the
green upon the scanty grass in the foreground is cold in
colour, and almost the only flowers are yellow sea-poppies
and the little white bells of the convolvulus. On every
side are piles of rocks stretching out seaward as barriers
against the waves of the Atlantic ; a dangerous, desolate
shore, on which many a vessel has been wrecked. To the
north is the Druids' " Bale des Tr6passes," where, ac
cording to ancient legends, the spirits of the departed wait
on the shore to be taken in boats to the He de Sein. It
is a Celtic legend, recounted in every history of Brittany.
The exposed position of the Pointe du Raz, the strange
fantastic grandeur of the rocks, and the wildness of the
waves that beat upon the shore in almost all weathers, are
alone worth a visit. The numerous artists who stay at
Quimper, Douarnenez, and Pont-Aven, in the summer
months would do well to pitch their tents for a time near
the Pointe du Raz, if only to watch from this elevation the
changing aspects of sea and sky, to see the sea, calm and
blue in the distance, but dashing spray in sunshine over

I04

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

walls of rock, and seaweed gatherers on a summer evening ¦
getting in their harvest, as deep in colour as the corn.
It is a fine drive over undulating hills to Douarnenez,
with views of landscape more fertile than any we have
seen since leaving Quimper ; landscape with open moorland,
interspersed with fields of corn, where harvesting is being
actively carried on, as in the sketch. Here we get a glimpse

of one of the old farmhouses of Finistere, and (on a very
small scale) of the farmer himself approaching in the
distance to superintend operations.
A few miles farther, and the landscape is again bare and
uncultivated ; we see peasants in the fields at rare intervals ;
flocks of black and brown sheep feeding on the open land.
There is a charm of wildness and a peculiar beauty about
this scenery here that we who write for artists should
insist upon with all the power of the pen.

Douarnenez.
Douarnenez, the headquarters of the sardine-fisheries,
has a population of about 9000, almost entirely given up to
this industry ; the men in their boats, and the women and
girls in the factories. It is a busy, dirty, and not very

SARDINE FISHING-BOATS, DOLfARNENEZ,

Face p. 105.

BRITTANY. 105

attractive town, with one principal street leading down to
the port ; but walk out of it in any direction, so as to
escape the odours of the sardine factories, and the views
from the high ground are most rewarding.
There is no prettier sight, for instance, than to watch
the arrival of a fleet of several hundred fishing-boats
rounding the last promontory, racing in whilst they are
eagerly watched from the shore. At one point the little
fleet divides, to come to anchor at different inlets of the
bay. Of the scene down at the port where the boats
unload ; of the massing of a forest of masts against the
evening sky, with rocks and houses high above as a
background, we can only hint in these pages.
At Douarnenez, in summer, the inhabitants are accus
tomed to an inroad of visitors who come for the bathing
season, and there is a little colony of artists who live com
fortably at the principal inns en pension for five or six francs
a day, but it is not as quiet as Pont-Aven, near Quimperle
-{{he French artists' favourite haunt), for the streets are
clos^iy^uilt and badly paved, and the busy inhabitants v.'ear
sabots whicX are rattled down to the shore at all hours of
the day and niCTht, according to the tide. Moreover the
inhabitants of thetown are scarcely typical Bretons ; they
are a little dempralr^e^.hy success in trade, a little inclined
to smuggling, and decideciiy /ond of drinking. The men,
living hard lives, facing the most fearful storms of the
Atlantic in their exposed little boats, out sometimes for
days without a 'take,' are apt to be uproarious when on
shore. The hardy, bright-featured women of Cornouaille
have a rather sad and reckless look at Douarnenez ; their
homes are not too tidy as a rule ; the little children play
in narrow streets steaming with refuse from the sardine
factories, where their elder sisters are working in gangs,
with bare feet and skirts tucked up to their knees, sifting.

io6 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
sorting, and cooking sardines, and singing snatches of
Breton songs the while. The lower streets, steep and
narrow, are blocked with fish-carts, and the port is crowded
with boats with nets drying in festoons. But the view of
Douarnenez seen at a little distance out at sea, with its
high rocks and overhanging trees almost reaching to the
water's edge, and above, the spire of the old church ol
Ploare standing sharp against the sky, will remain best in
the memory. There is no end to the beauties of the bay
of Douarnenez, if we explore the neighbourhood, starting
off early for the day and not returning until sundown.
The children of Douarnenez have learned to beg, and
along the broad road which leads to Quimper, beggars are
stationed at intervals to waylay the charitable. Driving
home one afternoon in a little covered carriage, a dark
object appears before us on the way. Near it, at the
side of the road, is a little shed roughly made with poles
and brambles, and protruding from it, two sabots filled with
straw, two sticks, and a pair of bragous bras. The rest of
the structure consists of dried ferns, and a poor deaf
human creature propped up to receive the alms of the
charitable, a grim figure watching and waiting in the sun
and wind.
In the evening there is a great Bohemian gathering at
the H6tel du Commerce ; its artistic visitors overflow into
the street, and make themselves heard as well as seen.
There is a clatter of tongues and a cloud of smoke issuing
from the little cafe presided over by the neat figure in the
sketch. Those who have been to the H6tel du Commerce
at Douarnenez will recognise the portrait at once ; those
who have not must picture to themselves a girl with dark
hair and brown complexion, a headdress and bodice in
which scarlet and gold are intermingled ; a dark skirt with
a border of yellow or orange, and a spotless white apron

BRITTANY.

107

and sleeves. In soft shoes she flits silently through the
rooms and supplies our clamorous wants in turn ; neither
remonstrance nor flattery will move her, or cause her to
raise her eyes.

The picturesque town of QuimperlE, on the rivers
Elle and Isole, from which so many English travellers
have been scared, in years gone by, by Murray's laconic
admonition, " No good inn," is a most pleasant and
comfortable resting-place. It is approached on a high
level when coming by railway from Quimper, the road
from the station winding round the hills down to the
Place, where there is the comfortable H6tel des Voyageurs.
On arriving at Quimperle, the aspect of the people is more
cosmopolitan, for we are approaching the borders of the

io8 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
province of Morbihan, and are on the highway between
Nantes and Brest
The people at the station are not numerous, and they
are nearly all third-class travellers. The quiet, almost
taciturn company consists of a tourist, a sergent de ville, a
commercial man of Quimperle, the same old woman that
we meet everywhere on our travels, in the comfortable
dai-k hood and cape of the country, and a peasant-woman
taking home her sack of meal.
Quimperle contains about 6500 inhabitants, principally
occupied in agriculture. It is surrounded by hills covered
with orchards and gardens shut in by high walls ; an old
and sleepy place, full of memories of the past, and with,
apparently, little ambition for the future. There is an
ancient abbey church, built in the eleventh century, on
the plan of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem.; in the
crypt is the tomb of St. Gurloes, one of the early abbots
of Quimperle. The large grey-roofed building on the
Place adjoining this church, now used as the Mairie, was
formerly a convent of Benedictine nuns ; and other
buildings, such as the old inn, the Lion d'Or, were origin
ally used by the abbots of St Croix.
But Quimperle, in spite of its railway, is a town where
grass grows between the paving-stones of its streets ; a
place which owes much of its attraction to its picturesque
site and its ancient buildings, to its market-days, its
weddings and fetes. In the lower town there are some
old narrow streets, with most picturesque wooden gables,
and there is one dilapidated square, called " the Place of
Revolution,'' where there would seem little left to destroy.
A painter might well make Quimperle a centre of
operations, for its precincts are little known ; the gardens
shine with laden fruit-trees, and the hills are rich in colour
until late in autumn ; and in the evening there is no

BRITTANY.

109

>-^" 5:1^ ""W

no

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

better place for rest than under the trees on the Place
Nationale. Here the people pass to and fro, there are
more women than men to be seen, for the latter are resting
from their labours, in the cafes ; and beyx)nd, and high
above this group, are the houses of the old town,
surmounted by the two square Gothic towers, with spires
covered with lichen, of the church of St. Michel. Under
the trees near the river Elle are women selling sardines
and fruit
The great attraction to Quimperle is in the country
round; in the beauty of the woods and the windings of
the streams. In this neighbourhood the artist and the
angler may settle down together and spend the summer
months delightfully.
We said that Quimperle, a town with a railway station,
on the great highway between Nantes and Brest, owes
most of its life and pictur
esque attraction to women,
weddings, fltes, and flowers.
Let us picture a prominent
personage at the old H6tel
du Lion d'Or. She has a
beautiful name, Augustine,
pronounced with enviable
accuracy by all the house
hold. She hovered about us
like a fairy, attending to our
wants in the most delicate
way ; to outward seeming a
ministering angel with pure
white wings, but, in truth, a
dmdge, a methodical house
wife, massive, and hard to the
touch. She did the work of

BRITTANY.

three Parisian garqons, and walked upstairs unaided with
portmanteaus which would require two men to lift,
anywhere out of Brittany. She slept in a box in the
kitchen, and dressed "somehow" in five minutes. She
ate what was left, contentedly, at the end of the day,
and rose at sunrise to do the laborious work of the
house ; helping also at harvest-time in the fields. She
had the sweetest of smiles (when she liked), an uncon
querable habit of taking snuff, and a murderous way of
killing fowls in the early morning which we shall not
easily forget.
How it comes to pass that this girl of nineteen occupies
such an important position in the household is one of those
things which are peculiar to Brittany. The strong indi
viduality, industry, and force of character of the women
make themselves felt wherever we go. Whilst the men
slumber and smoke, the women are building little fortunes
or propping up old ones. All through the land, in the
houses, in the factories, and in the fields, the strong, firm
hand and arm of a woman does the w-ork.
The pedestrian or sportsman, in his wanderings through
Brittany, will, if he knows the country, seek, at the end of
a long day, the countiy aitberge where a "household fairy"
presides. The land is full of legends and tales of gnomes
and witches, but the reality is a white-capped figure, that
welcomes the traveller at the inn-door, the modern re
presentative of "mine host." Her brightness and attrac
tion, and at the same time her whole armour and coat
of mail, are her stiffly starched cap, epaulets and apron of
spotless white. She presides at the fetes and weddings
which are celebrated at the inns, and joins in the frohcs at
the end of the day, dancing with the rest up and down the
street, and submitting with modest but hearty goodwill to
some rather demonstrative tokens of esteem. " How is it

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

that these widespread collars are never crumpled ? " some
one asks. " Oh, we just turn them round and throw them
over the shoulder for a minute ! " is the quick answer.
Let us refer to our notebook to see how one of these
weddings is managed in Quimperle. It is just after
harvest, and the time for rest and festivity in many a
village round. Coats and gowns that have been laid by
for months are brought out, and many an antique-shaped
garment sees the light for the first time for a year. Two
or three weddings are arranged for the same day, and at
early morning all meet at Quimperle. The girls come on
foot, dressed in their local costumes, excepting a little
innovation of finery here and there ; the " boys " for they
are little more in age, have modernised themselves, and
wear a clumsy imitation of the conventional suit of black,
being especially proud of Parisian hats. But excepting in
the matter of costume, they do as their forefathers did ;
they spend the day in the streets of Quimperle, parading
arm-in-arm with their brides, stopping to take, and to give,
refreshment at every inn-door and at the homes of all their
friends. We meet them early in the morning crossing the
principal square ; they have registered their marriages, and
have taken the sacrament in the church of St. Michel, in
the upper town, and for the rest of the long summer day
and half into the night they dance the " De Rober " up and
down the streets, hand in hand together, to the music of
the bagpipe and the flageolet.

BRITTANY.

113

THE PARDON OF STE. ANNE D' AURAY.
On the 24th of July we take up our quarters at the
comfortable 'H6tel Pavilion d'en Haut,' at Auray. To
morrow is the great day of the Pardon of Ste. Anne, the
occasion of the annual pilgrimage to the miraculous well,

whither from far and near, on foot and on horseback, in
carts and many strange road conveyances, and by excur
sion trains, come pilgrims to the shrine of Ste. Anne. Like
the great annual gatherings at Guingamp and at Ste. Anne
la Palue, the Pardon of Ste. Anne d'Auray attracts a strange
medley of people, and thus it is that the ordinarily quiet
little town, four miles from the shrine, is crowded to
overflowing. I

114 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
The town of Auray, which contains about 5000 inhabit
ants, is finely situated above the river which bears its name.
It was formerly a port of commercial importance, but its
trade has drifted to Vannes and L'Orient, and it is best
known to travellers as a starting-point for visiting the fields
of Carnac and Locinariaker ; also as a pleasant and healthy
place of residence, where fishing and shooting can be
obtained. There are no objects of great antiquity to be
seen at Auray itself; its historic castle has disappeared, but
there is much to interest the traveller in the old streets
with timbered houses, leading down to the river.
On a wide Place a few yards off, called the Belvedere, is
a column to ascend to see the view, looking northward and
eastward, in the direction of Vanne.s, over a wide stretch of
cultivated land, pastures, and woods, dotted with white
houses and church spires, one of which is Ste. Anne
d'Auray. Immediately beneath is a rocky, precipitous path
down to the river, with small vessels loading and unloading,
and the grey roofs of toy-like houses and warehouses on
the quay. A sudden cloud of smoke, which curls through
the gorse and bushes which conceal the greater part of the
river from view, comes from a little steamer which has
arrived from Belle-Ile with the evening tide, and has
brought another crowd of pilgrims for Ste. Anne. All is
quiet and beautiful from this vantage-ground ; the air is
soft, and slowly waves the tree-tops in the avenue which
skirts the Belvedere on its southern side ; there is nothing
to indicate the tumult of to-morrow.
The morning of the 25th of July is bright, and the gilt
statue of Ste. Anne glitters above the trees. If at this
moment we could look down from the spire of its church,
upon the country round, we should see on every road, and
across the open land, little dark specks, which are pilgrims
all tending one way — to the shrine. They have been

BRITTANY.

IIS

coming all through the night, camping in the fields and
sleeping at the roadside. The broad Roman road from
Vannes is covered with carts and carriages, and more
people are arriving by the river.
The crowd that has assembled in the open square near
the church of Ste. Anne at six in the morning numbers
several thousands, and in
creases every hour. They
are pilgrims of every
grade, from the marquis
and his family, who were
driven from Vannes the
¦evening before, and stay
comfortably at the large
hotel, to the solitary herds
man in goatskin coat and
wooden shoes stuffed with
straw, who has walked for
two days and nights from
his home in the Montagnes
Noires. But they have
¦come on the same errand,
and will stand side by
side before an altar in one
of the side chapels, and
burn their candles together.
They both believe, or are He^
taught to believe, in a
legend that some time in
the seventeenth century a
saint appeared to one
Nicolazic, who rented a farm near this spot, and com
manded him to dig in a field for her image, and to erect
a chapel to her memory. They both have heard of the
I 2

1 1 6 AR TIS TIC TRA VEL.

miraculous cures at the well of Ste. Anne, and believe
that no household can prosper, no ships are safe at sea,
no cattle or crops can thrive, unless once a year, at least,
they come to burn candles to Ste. Anne ; and they both
have wife, mother, or sister christened Anne, the name in
fact of nearly every child we see to-day.
The miraculous well of Ste. Anne is in a large inclosure
at the western end of which is the Scala Santa, a small
raised chapel, open to the air and covered by a cupola ;
a modem wooden erection about twenty feet from the
ground, approached on either side by a covered flight of
steps. It is from this platform that the opening ceremony
of the Pardon takes place in the afternoon of the 25 th of
July, when after a procession round the town with a brass
band and banners, the Bishop of Vannes, or other digni
tary, addresses the people in the open square. The
procession is a long one, gay with the green-and-gold
embroidered vestments of the priests, and bright with the
white robes of the acolytes v/ith their crimson sashes ;
a quickly moving procession of bareheaded men singing
the litany of Ste. Anne, with banners (representing dif
ferent departments and communes) waving above them,
and silver crosses and relics carried high in the air. The
crowd presses forward to see, and forms a narrow lane to
let them pass to the Scala Santa, where the head of the
procession comes to a standstill, and as many of the
priests and attendants as can crowd on to the steps stand
as a sort of bodyguard, whilst the bishop addresses the
multitude assembled in the square beneath.
Then the outsiders of the crowd get up and watch the
proceedings (including a cook in white cap and apron,
who sits upon the hotel wall), some eagerly from curiosity
apparently, some with devotion, and some, it must be
confessed, with an easy, jaunty air more appropriate to a

BRITTANY.

117

show in a country fair. There are several hundreds on
the grass before us in the bright sun, sitting together in
parties kneeling in prayer, or standing close together intent
upon the scene.
What those upturned faces were, and what the good
bishop saw beneath him in' "the crowd, as he rolled forth a
discourse full of earnestness and
eloquence, Mr. Caldecott's pencil
has recorded. The sketches
give, as no words could do, the
mingled expression of feeling
on the faces of the pilgrims.
The words spoken were the old
story : first, the history of " the
miracle of Ste. Anne," then an
exhortation as to the importance
of confession and of works of
charity and masses for the dead.
The costume of the people that
listen is nearly the same as in
1623, when Ste. Anne "ap
peared in a wheat-field to a
peasant "; . and yet — and in spite
of all accounts of the earnest
devotion of the people — if we
look at the aspect of the crowd, we seem to understand the
matter better than we ever did before.
They stand bareheaded in the sunshine, old and young,
rich and poor ; on the left, a pretty bourgeois daughter
from Auray, in plain cloth dress with velvet body, dark,
green shawl, and neatest of shoes ; behind her, in the
background, a contingent from more remote districts,
farmers and small traders, the majority being comfortable
people who have come by train. A spare old woman

ii8 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
with eccentric expression and worn hands, holding pur
chases, or plunder, in her apron, is not a pauper, but a
hanger-on at a large household, who has saved money.
Next, nearer to us, is a peasant farmer, with long grey
hair, in white jacket and breeches and leathern girdle,
who has come on foot from his home in the interior. He
has walked all through the night to be present at the
Pardon, as he has done every year, going through the
round of services and exercises, contributing several francs
in money to the church, buying a few charms and trinkets,
and then plodding home.
Let us add a few notes of the scene on Sunday, the
second day of the Pardon, when the crowd is greatest, and
when there must be collected at least 5000 people ;
when, besides the peasants and country people, visitors
from Paris and other parts of France have filled to over
flowing the large modern hotel, the courtyard of which is
full of carriages and conveyances of all kinds. In the
streets and round the open square there are booths for
the sale of trinkets and toys, rosaries, tapers, statuettes,
and medals of Ste. Anne, besides the more common
objects for sale at a country fair. In the roadway women
cook fish and cakes {gaieties) at charcoal fires ; there are
itinerant vendors of gigantic wax candles, there are peep-
shows and other amusements, skittles and games like
quoits, played with leaden counters of the size of a five-
franc piece. There is every kind of amusement in honour
of Ste. Anne, and the family meetings and gatherings that
take place round the cafes and in the open fields, suggest
a picnic more than a pilgrimage.
But it is in the street leading to the church door, and in
the adjoining cloisters of a convent, that the more serious
aspects of the Pardon are to be witnessed, some of which
it would be impossible to record in a sketch.

BRITTANY.

119

From four o'clock in the morning masses have been
said, and in and out of the church there has been a
continual stream of people, all in holiday attire, and
nearly all wearing strings of beads, crosses, or silver orna
ments bearing the image of Ste. Anne. They form in

groups on the grass in the centre of the cloistered square,
close together, some kneehng, some standing erect, with
eyes strained upwards at a cracked and weather-worn
statue of the Christ ; they tell their beads, and drop sous
into a box at the foot of the cross, the poorest contributing
something.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

They pass round the cloisters in a continual stream,
missing nothing set down for them, but stopping and
kneeling at each "station" with expressions of devotion
and awe at some grotesque paintings on the walls repre
senting the Passion. They stop and pray, some on one
knee only with beads in hand, some kneeling low on the
pavement, sitting on the heels of their sabots for rest.

They have come a long and weary march, they are at the
end of their pilgrimage, and so it happens that sitting and
praying they fall asleep. A heavy thwack from a neigh
bour's umbrella falls upon the shoulders of the sleepers,
and again they go the round.
By midday the crowd has increased so that movement
in the road is difficult. Coming slowly up the narrow

BRITTANY.

Street — blocked by carriages, by vendors of "objets de
devotion," and by the crowd that passes up and down
— is an apparently very poor, old man with long dark
hair, a white sheepskin jacket and bragous bras, a leather
girdle and sabots, holding in his hand a hollow candle
three feet high ; it has cost him six sous, and he will
place it presently at the altar in the church with the rest.
Following him is a farmer and his wife, well-to-do people,
who have come by train, and combine a little marketing
with their religious observances. Following them are
two young married people with their child, all dressed in
the latest costumes of Paris, the father manfully taking off
his light-kid gloves, and carrying his candle with the rest.
The scene in the church, where services have been held
at intervals all day, and the people crowd to burn candles
at the side altars, is of people handing up babies, beads,
and trinkets to be blessed ; of the flaring of candles, of the
movements of tired priests, and the perpetual murmur of
prayers. We have spoken often of the simple, practical, and
graceful dress of the women ; but here at Auray we must
confess that many of the country people in full holiday
attire are anything but graceful in appearance. At a side
altar of the chapel there is a young face, very fair, with
large devotional eyes, deepened in colour and intensity by
her white cap ; but . below it is a stiff, shapeless bodice as
hard as wood, and a bundle of lower garments piled one
upon the other, till the figure is a rather ungainly sight ;
her large capable hands hold her book, her rosary, and a
stout umbrella ; she is encumbered with clothing, but she
differs from her modernised sisters in one thing ; her dress
is not on her mind when she says her prayers. She is on
her knees nearly all day at Auray ; but, working or
praying, half her young life has been spent in this position.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

In spite of the grotesque element, which is everywhere at
Pardons, the sight is often a sad one ; sad, especially, to
see so many young faces clouded by superstitious awe.
The saying would seem to apply to Brittany, that
" national piety springs from a fountain of tears."
We have purposely said little of the repulsive side of
the spectacle ; of the terrible-looking men and women who
have come out of their hiding-places to kneel at the shrine
and to beg from strangers, who wander about like savages
and are propitiated with beads. Figures strange, weird,
and grotesque, the like of which we shall see nowhere else
in the world, pass round the cloisters of Ste. Anne d'Auray
for two days in the year.
There is one half-witted man from the sea-coast,
evidently soon " going home "; as he drags himself along,
the shadows seem to deepen, and the light from human
eyes to burn more fiercely in their
tenement. Fed with seaweed,
thatched with straw, exposed to
the wildest winds of the Atlantic,
his home little better than a hole
in the rocks, what wonder that he
"^s^o comes across the hills once a year
to the Pardon of Ste. Anne for a
blessing ; that he prays for a land beyond the sea, visioned
in his mind by innumerable candles, and paid for in ad
vance through weary years in his Passage to the Cross !
Many of the pilgrims go through other religious obser
vances before leaving Auray, including washing in the
well, going step by step up the Scala Santa on their hands
and knees ; and all — the poorest and most pitiable — leave
something in the coffers of Ste. Anne.
And so the long day passes, and at last the tide recedes.
What if a strong north wind and the running river Auray

BRITTANY. 123
could bear them away seaward, to be seen no more !
What if all the wretchedness, dirt, and disease, collected,
as if by a miracle, at Ste. Anne for two days, could, by
another miracle, be swept away for ever !
Vannes.
A FEW miles from Auray and Carnac is the ancient city
of Vannes, the chief town of the department of Morbihan
and the capital of Basse-Bretagne. This city, from its
position, is the natural point of departure for travellers
entering Brittany from the east, as it is also the natural
place of rest when coming from the west.
The part of Vannes of most interest to travellers is the
old city, with its narrow streets and overhanging houses,
and the remains of its walls and gates. In the narrowest
part, near the Place Henri-Quatre, there rises between the
eaves of the houses the square tower and spire of the
cathedral of St. Peter, a structure dating from the eleventh
century, altered and almost rebuilt in the fifteenth. The
interior of the cathedral is gloomy, and the streets which
surround it are dark and old. There are some cloisters
and a finely sculptured porch of dark stone. The prin
cipal chapel in the interior is dedicated to the Spanish
Dominican monk St. Vincent Ferrier, who evangelised the
province in the time of Duke John V., and died at Vannes
in 1 41 9. The relics of this saint are once a year carried
in procession round the town.
There is one side chapel with an altar, on which are
three glass cases, in one of which are relics, and in another,
some wax models of bones and imitation jewels ; above
these, between the folds of a curtain half drawn aside,
is a painting of Ste. Marie de Bon Secours, to whom the
chapel is dedicated. The light through a narrow stained-

124 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
glass window falls upon the figure of an old woman,
holding beads in her worn hands, who kneels upon the
scagliola steps before the altar. There is nothing un
common in the sight ; but there is a romantic story that
this old woman and the beautiful Madonna are one and
the same ; that she had sat in her youth as a model for the
Holy Virgin, and that she kneels every day before the
portrait of her old self.
Vannes is an ecclesiastical city of much importance,
the see of an ancient bishopric, and a radiating point for
the church in Morbihan ; but, as a matter of fact, we see
and hear very little of the church at Vannes ; and it seems
by contrast with the country — where every wayside has its
cross or holy fountain, every district its little chapel or
altar with saints and relics amongst the trees, every group
of peasant-women a pastor — that the country people have
more than their share of homilies and exhortations.
Coming from the interior, we miss the attitude of re
ligious awe amongst the women, which seems to be put
off at the city gates ; and we miss, also, the individuality
of costume, which vanishes fast in towns. If we were to
picture the people as we see them on Sunday, in Vannes,
they would be very ordinary indeed, with just a sprinkling
of white caps, and a few touches of embroidery on a shawl
or a blouse, to remind us that we are in Morbihan ; and in
their general attitude they would seem as much at a loss
for occupation as in other centres of civilisation where
galleries and museums are closed on Sundays.
There is a museum of Celtic antiquities at Vannes,
containing a collection of ornaments, flints, &c., found in
the cromlechs at Carnac and the neighbourhood, which is
well worth visiting ; and there are various shows and
amusements for the people on the Place and in the public
gardens ; but the fact remains that the majority of the

BRITTANY.

125

working inhabitants sidle off on Sunday morning, gravi
tating one by one towards every house of call, outside of
which hangs a bunch of dried mistletoe or broom.
The people that we see are for the most part pleasant
and prosperous-looking, busy in commerce or in agriculture.
There is, it is true, more than one regiment of the line
quartered here, and the cafes, bright with plate-glass and
gilding, are full of warriors of various sizes ; in the morning

THREE HOT MEN.

and in the evening the air vibrates with regimental drums,
but there is little else to remind us that the inhabitants are
the direct descendants of a warlike nation, and that barons
and knights once defended the battlements and towers of
Vannes. The morning is spent at billiards in most of the
cafes, and near some, especially frequented by the towns
people, there are such groups as the above.

126 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
Before leaving Vannes, we should go down at night to
the old Place Henri-Quatre, where the roofs of the houses
meet overhead ; where, in moonlight, the gables cast won
derful shadows across the square, and above our heads
rise the towers of the cathedral with a grandeur of effect
not to be seen at any other time, or from any other point
of view. It is then that the cathedral precincts look most
mysterious in their darkness ; narrow, irregular streets,
with open gutters, lighted only by a glimmer from latticed
windows, and where, from old doorways, figures are dimly
seen to pass in and out It is a poor quarter, where a
Dutch painter would find work for a lifetime.
We said that there was no light in the streets, but,
passing round the cathedral, there is a strong light from a
lantern held close to the ground ; it is the chiffonnier of
Vannes (who, like his Parisian confrere, has learned the art
of pecking and discrimination from the fowls) wandering
through the night with his basket and iron wand.
One more note made in Vannes in stormy autumn-time.
We go down to the port, sheltered from the wind by a
high wall, through which narrow passages have been made
to reach the sea. It is nearly dusk, and the rough-hewn
edges of the stone wall stand out sharply against the sky.
As we pass one of these, facing the west, the narrow
opening to the shore is illumined by a blood-red sunset
light, so bright by contrast that three figures coming
towards us from the seashore, step as it were out of a
furnace. They have men's voices, and as they approach
and pass us hurriedly, we see that their heads are bare,
and that their robes touch the ground. Upon their
shoulders they carry a " dear brother " to his rest — the
drift of last night's storm-tide. Next morning a rough
stone cottage-door just outside the town is hung round
¦with black — the drapery giving an appearance of height.

BRITTANY. 127

and almost grandeur of dimensions, to the little interior —
and resting upon the step is the projecting end of a
wooden coffin painted white. There are candles burning
on either side ; a metal crucifix is placed on the doorstep,
and on a little table on the ground in the road is a vase of
flowers. The neighbours pass up and down crossing
themselves, and muttering Latin words of prayer for the
dead, and the little children stand and stare. Two days
after there is a bright procession, headed by a priest and
acolytes in white robes, with hymns and incense, followed
by a little crowd bareheaded, all struggling against the
wind, to a plot of ground on a promontory near the
seashore, where the poor Breton is taken to his rest
There is a crowd of his forefathers here before him, with
black wooden crosses where their heads should be ; they
are planted out in rows, and labelled with wooden sticks
to mark their species, and the garden is walled in with
stones and great rock boulders to keep out the wind. But
it is a dreary place ; the wind finds it out from behind the
stones, blows down the wooden crosses, and strews the
ground with seaweed and dead leaves ; nothing resists the
havoc of the wind over the graves but some bright yellow
immortelles and some metal images of the Christ.
We have said little of the ancient chateaux of Brittany,
many of which are in good preservation, and are inhabited
by direct descendants of the barons of the fifteenth
century ; but we virould suggest to the traveller, before
leaving Vannes, to visit the picturesque castle of Elven,
where Henry of Richmond, afterwards king of England,
was confined for fifteen years ; and, if possible, to go by
road to Josselin, where there is one of the finest chateaux
of the Renaissance.
What clings to our recollections of Brittany? Some

128 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
things that are not beautiful, and which by no stretch of
fancy can be described en couleur de rose.
But the best and most' lasting impression of Brittany
is of a country, interesting for its isolation from the rest
of Europe ; of a people who are, as has been well said,
" dwelling in an heroic past that possibly never existed,
consoling the failures of their destiny by beautiful fancies,
and throwing a grace over their hard, unhopeful lives with
romantic dreams and traditions "; of a people who invest
every road and fountain with a holy name^for wherever
two roads meet, there is a cross or a sign, and wherever
three streams meet, they are called La Trinite ; — of a land
that stands alone in Western Europe, its rocks unmoved
by the shocks of tempest from, without, and its manners
unpolished by advancing civilization from within ; of a
land where men look to the sea as well as to the earth for
their harvest, where the plough comes down to the water's
edge and the nets of the fishermen are dried upon fig-
trees, where laden orchards drop their fruit over weather
worn walls on to the sands, and fish, leaping from the sea,
alight sometimes in a field of corn ; of a land brightened
for a few weeks in summer with the flower of buckwheat,
and the coral of its stems, where the^wind sweeps over waves
of grass and grain, and scatters the harvest over the sea.

t', •

. '¦ . /-*.»' ' '

,fc

¦ . * ^
¦ - . J

,'1

,-» • .l-s
I ''I ¦

'¦I r'l

THE PYRENEES.

Face p. 129.

LES " LANDES " NEAR PAU.

THE PYRENEES. Pau.
There are some places in the Pyrenees that we shall best
describe by comparing them for an instant to their
prototypes in Switzerland.
Thus, in its situation, and in the circumstance of its being
chosen as one of the. starting-places for the mountains, Pau
is the Berne of the Pyrenees. Like Berne, it has its history,
its monuments, its peculiar customs, its interest as the
capital of an industrious and thriving province, and, above
all, the view of distant mountains from its terraces and
park. From the terrace on the " Place Royale " at Pau, one of
the principal public walks near the centre of the town, a
view of the whole western range is spread out before us,
K

I30

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

with the fertile Val d'Ossau in the middle distance, and the
roaring "Gave," fed by glacier streams and swollen by
torrents, immediately at our feet ; and we could not, if we
would, choose' a more fitting or delightful spot to make our
first acquaintance with the Pyrenees. We are here, as it
were, on the threshold of the sanctuary, at the very feet
of the mountains ; we feel their presence, and long to
approach them.
How shall we picture the scene on a fine summer after
noon in August ? A luxuriant beauty of landscape — in the
middle distance an undulating sea, soft in outline, varied in
tint, half cloud, half mountain-top ; rich pasture-land in the

valleys, dotted here and there with pretty white cottages,
and chateaux peeping through deep masses of foliage — a
bright golden hue over the land, a purple mist amongst the
hills, and a sweet wind coming from the south.
The Pic du Midi d'Ossau, which is the most prominent
of the distant peaks, is about twenty -six miles from us, and
is 9790 feet above the sea, but the outlines are so blended
with the clouds, and the forms are altogether so indistinct,
that we can form very little idea of their distance or height.
The population of Pau is about 30,000, of whom a large

Illi l|! I
nil ¦

Illllifl'lli'ilAl'

THE PYRENEES. 131

number are foreigners, attracted both by the natural beauty
of the situation and the reputation of the town as a mild
and healthy winter place of residence. There are three or
four important streets, of which the principal is the " Rue de
la Prefecture," but the majority are narrow and irregularly
built, and have no particularly attractive features. There
are, however, abundant signs of prosperity and wealth in
the large new houses that are rising in every direction, and
in the extent and almost Parisian variety of the wares in
the shops, although at this time of year the streets are half
deserted, and the principal ones have almost as silent an
aspect as a fashionable street in London out of the season.
It is only in the busy market-place, and in some of the
nooks and corners of industry in the town, that we find
much sign of commercial activity : and it is only on Sun
days and f^tes, that many of the B^arnais are to be seen.
Their costume is now so thoroughly modernised, that if it
were not for the peculiar caps {burets) worn by the men,
and the striped handkerchiefs of the women, there would be
little in the groups of peasantry to distinguish them from
the inhabitants of any town in France.
The climate of Pau, and its value to invalids as a place
of winter residence, has, Hke that of other towns in the
south of France, been a little over-rated, but statistically it
is one of the most healthy, and it has natural attractions
almost unequalled. We have only to spend a few weeks
here, to walk in the evening in the beautiful Park, to see
the moonlight view from its terraces, to explore the
environs, and enjoy the air even in this hot summer-time,
to understand what brings so many of our countrymen
hither. The remarkable stillness of the atmosphere (which
in summer is seldom close, and in winter is delicious) is
ascribed to the peculiar position of the town, which is
sheltered on the north by the distant rising ground of the
K 2

132

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

Landes, on the south and east by the mountains, and on
the west by the Park itself, which presents a perfect wall of
foliage against the wind. It is almost impossible to credit
the story, that in spite of the traditional stillness of the
atmosphere at Pau, seventy-nine oak and beech trees were
once destroyed here in a day, during a storm.
To the passing visitor, the stillness of the air, the silence
and somewhat neglected appearance of the town and its
public walks, give it a mournful look. We see at once
that Pau is not a favourite resort in summer, and are not

CHATEAU AT PAU.

long in perceiving (what we shall have plenty of evidence
of by-and-by) that the French people care little or nothing
for scenery, and continually turn their backs upon the
mountains. If the public walks and buildings have a generally
neglected air ; if the pavement of the principal streets is;so
much out of repair that "au bout de cinq minutes vos
pieds vous disent d'une maniere tr^s-inteUigible, que vous
etes ^ deux cents heues de Paris ;" if the Park in autumn
time is so strewn with dead leaves that its paths , are

THE PYRENEES.

133

obliterated — there is little sign of neglect or decay at the
chateau. Here, if anywhere, we should have hailed any
marks of dilapidation, but everything is new and bright ;
for — as a half-satirical Frenchman expressed it, as nearly
as we can remember his
poetic simile — " as the snow
falls, obliterating land
marks and leaving all pure
and white to view, so has
an imperial providence,
watching over Pau, covered
these tottering ruins with
fresh white stone, to the
despair of the antiquary
and the comfort of the
custodian." It is impossible to wan
der about Pau and the
neighbourhood without be
ing struck with the con
tinual allusions to the
memory of Henri IV., as if
he had reigned only yester
day, and also at the same
time without noticing the
absence of anything like
a noble monument to his
memory. On the terrace
of the Place Royale, the
Bearnais have erected a
white marble statue to
their beloved monarch ; 'J
there are three bas-reliefs
on the pedestal, representing, first, the infancy of the

' A WALL OF FOLIAGE.'

134 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
prince, passed in the neighbouring mountains ; second, his
humanity at the siege of Paris ; and third, his bravery
at the battle of Ivry. As a work of art it is altogether
poor and feeble, and in character and expression fails
completely ; we cannot realize either the " Solomon of
peace " or the " Caesar of war," nor trace any signs of that
intrepidity of character, energy, or bo?ihomie of which we
hear so much. M. Taine asks why they have made him
look so sad, and suggests, perhaps with some reason, that
he was tired of hearing his praises sung by a faithful
people 1
The following, written in especial praise of "noust
Henri," " our Henry," as they loved to call him, is worth
quoting — "D'autres du grand Henri, on raconte la gloire,
Un pofete fameux,' au temple du mdmoire,
Entre les meilleurs rois, a plac^ son beau nom ;
Sa vertu, sa valeur, ont partout grand renom.
Moi, je vais le montrer sortant de la coquille
Parmi ses Bdarnais, au sein de sa famille.
Je dirai dans mes vers, comment ce roi nouveau
Fut soign^ par nos mains en quittant son berceau.
O France ! ce bon prince, objet de ton ivresse,
Ce prince h. qui le peuple a gard^ sa tendresse,
Tu le dots au Blarn.

\

*

Pretgs-nous la couleur et une style fleurie,
Allons, ne tarde pas ;. c'est pour notre Henri.''

The Bearnais poems and ballads are exotic, and do not
bear transplanting ; we would suggest, however, to those
who care for these things, that there is something very
like true poetry — stored up or thrown aside — in the old
song-books of the Bearnais, which visitors may discover
for themselves, on high shelves, in the old book-shops at
Pau, covered with the dust of time.
But we have come to see the mountains rather than the
' Voltaire.

THE PYRENEES.

135'

towns, and, having taken our places for to-morrow for
Eaux Bonnes, will go once more to the Place Royale,
to see the view.
The air is perfectly still on the terrace, but a few miles
trom us we can see tree-tops bending in the breeze, and
the light fleecy clouds that surround the summits of the
more distant mountains keep changing form as we watch
them, now descending into far-off valleys, nestling in their
darkness for a while, like little snow-fields — then dispersing
suddenly, and casting soft shadows in their flight across
the plain.
As we linger until sunset, the outlines of the mountains
have graduaUy blended with fresh companies of dark clouds
coming from the south, leaving the valley half hidden in a
veil of mist, and the Pic du Midi d'Ossau alone above them
shining in the sun. The aspect of the clouds is rather
ominous for the journey, but of this we take little heed.
The air, so pure, so soft, so still, seems to us perfection ;
we can do nothing but marvel at the beauty of the scene
and thank from our hearts the princes of Beam, for
planting their palis by the Gave de Pau.

136 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Eaux Chaudes.
In a little corner, on the right bank of the Gave, where
the mountain sides are almost perpendicular, and the river
roars below ; at a point where from a mixed bed of granite
and limestone the hot sulphurous springs burst forth, we
find the historic watering-place called Eaux Chaudes,
consisting of a little street of poorly-built houses, two or
three hotels, and a massive marble " Etablissement des
Bains." The latter is built on a platform almost over
hanging the torrent, it has a large hall or pump-room, and
promenade, fitted up with seats and stalls for the sale of
all kinds of knicknacks ; there are a number of private
baths, and accommodation for patients suffering from
rheumatism and other ailments, who are under the care of
a resident physician. There are people sitting in a little
gardei?- trimly laid out, in front of the " Etablissement,"
and others walking about with tumblers, going through a
course of the waters ; following the routine of the last
three hundred years, since the time when the bishop of
Oloron, Chancellor of Beam, first established here a
" maison d'habitation," by order of Henry of Navarre.
The situation of Eaux Chaudes is so confined that every
square yard of space has had to be utilised, and at the
side of one of the hotels a little terrace or promenade has
been constructed almost over the Gave. On this the
" administration " have planted trees and placed seats, and
it is between this spot and the lEtablissement that the

ENVIRONS OF EAUX CHAUDES.

Face p. 136.

THE PYRENEES. 137

valetudinarian, who is not robust enough to clamber up the
mountains, has a small piece of level ground where he can
spend his days, varied only by a drive up the valley to
Gabas, or down by the route we have just come.
If there is a gloomy and deserted appearance about
Eaux Chaudes, even on a fine summer's afternoon, when
the sun, which only shines upon the town for a few hours,
is lighting up the trees above our heads with that peculiar
golden green that tinges orange groves in the setting sun ;
when the cattle are returning from the high pastures and
the tinkle of bells is heard in every direction, and the
visitors (perhaps a hundred, in the summer) are moving
about in their confined area ; what must it be like when
the clouds come down, as they do nearly every other day,
and completely shut the inhabitants off from all view,
either of the sky, or of the route up the valley, and when
the roar of the wind is added to that of the torrent?
It has been frequently urged in guide-books that it is
better for travellers to take up their quarters here, than
at Eaux Bonnes, but after repeated visits we decidedly
recommend the latter. Eaux Chaudes is cheaper, and is
not overwhelmed with the " haut monde "; but it is situated
in a gloomy, thorough draught'^
The environs are wild and beautiful in the extreme, and
it is to explore these at leisure, to sketch the valley from
different points, to examine the extraordinary stratifications
of granite and limestone, to mark the traces of extinct
glaciers, to collect fossils or wild flowers, to fish in the
Gave, or to hunt the izzard (each one according to his
taste), that this valley especially recommends itself for a
lengthened visit.
The finest excursion is up the valley, southwards, past
^ Eaux Chaudes and Eaux Bonnes are situated 27 miles and 24
miles south of Pau at the upper end of the Val d'Ossau.

138

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

Gabas, a little hamlet five miles from Eaux Chaudes, to
the " Plateau de Bioux Artiques," three miles further, from
which we obtain a fine view of the Pic du Midi d'Ossau,
that famous mountain (9800 feet high) the proximity of
which we are liable to forget when shut up in these valleys.
There is a good carriage road to Gabas, and the valley,
notwithstanding its height, and the sterile aspect of the
gorge we have just left, is one of the most varied and
beautiful in the Pyrenees. As the valley opens out again
we see the sides of the mountains covered with green
pastures and wild flowers.
Gabas itself is a lonely little hamlet, the last on the
French side of the Pyrenees, a halting-place for travellers,
and for the carriers who pass here on their way into Spain.

The stern, cold appearance of this part of the valley,
with its grey rocks and forests of pines, is relieved by the
beautiful purple iris that sheds a bloom over the lower
slopes of grass, and by occasional patches of snow in the
crevices of the rocks.

THE PYRENEES.

'39

..'>;%

Eaux Bonnes.
The distance from Eaux Chaudes to Eaux Bonnes by
the road, is not more than five miles, and there is constant
communication by carriages and diligences during the sum
mer months ; but on the path over the Col de Gourzy,
the mountain that separates us from Eaux Bonnes (6000
feet high), we obtain such splendid views, that it is the
route to be recommended for riding or walking, although
rather rough and steep.
As we approach Eaux Bonnes, the view of the valley is
more beautiful and forms a fresh picture at almost every
turn of the road, and our attention is so entirely fixed upon

J40 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
what is passing below, (where we can just distinguish the
figures of the peasantry arriving at, and leaving Laruns,)
that we have scarcely once looked upwards. What is it
that we see immediately overhead ? What are those little
specks of red and white moving amongst the trees ? They
are the picquets, or outposts, of a " high civilisation " to
which we must now introduce the reader.
A few more turns in the ascent, and we can distinguish
people riding or walking, first by twos and threes, then a
crowd. Where do they come from ? We can see no sign
of a town — nothing but a smooth path and a few yards of
a carriage-road, neatly swept and railed off like the drive
in a private park. We are no longer mountaineers ; we
are " en promenade." " Je comptais trouver ici la cam-
pagne," writes M. Taine ; "je rencontre une rue de Paris,
et les promenades du Bois de Boulogne 1 " We were of
course somewhat prepared for this, but not altogether for
the extraordinary sight that burst upon us on turning the
road once more, and coming suddenly upon Eaux Bonnes.
Here in a cleft in the mountain-side, overhung and over
shadowed by rocks and trees, is this famous, fashionable
little hotel-village. On an area of not much more than
two or three acres, the ingenious founders of this little
town h&v o managed to lay out a " Place " with trees and
fountains, and two rows of hotels and pensions on either
side, forming what is called the Grande Rue. At the
upper end, built into the rock, is the Thermal Establish
ment, with its courtyards and promenades for bathers, and
near it a little church. One or two streets lead out wher
ever a nook and. cranny could be found for them. One is
called the Rue des Cascades, and another, which resembles
nothing so much as the shape of a slice cut out of a cake,
is dignified with the name of Rue de Cauterets. In which
ever direction we turn there are houses built into, and often

THE PYRENEES.

141

forming part of, the mountain, resting on ledges of rock,
like the eyries ; but so cleverly contrived is the arrange
ment of the place, so admirably
has space been economised, that
there is a feeling of freedom
about it, quite inconsistent with
living in a bird's-nest
Thus with the mountains
several thousand feet above our
heads, and the Val d'Ossau
stretching away for many miles
at our feet, with rocks over
hanging and tree-tops waving
below through which we can
see the blue sky — with scarcely
a foot of level ground anywhere
(save the " Promenade Horizon-
tale," of which we shall speak
presently), with cascades and
waterfalls almost at our win
dows, we find ourselves as
comfortably and luxuriously
housed as in any city of the
plains. As we approach the door of
the H6tel de France, we are
blocked several times by a
crowd on foot and on horse
back ; and in the gardens, or
" Place," in front of the hotels,
there are at least a hundred and
fifty people making holiday
after the manner of their respective nations.
Looking down upon this Place from our hotel window

142 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
on a bright sunny afternoon, it is the gayest scene imagin
able, and we scarcely know which to admire most, the
costumes of the fair riders who about this hour (five p.m.)
come flocking in, some dressed in white riding-habits and
scarlet hats, or their cavaliers in buff and green, like
members of the "Ancient Order of Foresters," or their
dandy guides, in embroidered Spanish costumes, silk
sashes, and white stockings ; or the gay trappings of their
thin steeds ; or the motley little crowd that stands about
to see the arrivals. This last comprises every Parisian
fantaisie and extravagance in attire, brought up here in
those huge " Noah's-ark " boxes (the " b^tes noires " of all
occupants of the diligence banquette), bright plumage for
the inhabitants of our little nest — strange importation into
the Vale of Bears !
The noise and bustle in the square, — instruments play
ing more discordant music than any Italian organs, the
squeaks and rattles of juvenile civilization, the chattering of
their bonnes, the incessant ringing of bells, the shouts and
cracking of whips, the voices of different nations — all
confined within a limited space, and echoed back from the
surrounding rocks, can scarcely be conceived.
But everything is sunshine, politeness, and apparent
gaiety, ~- la vie aux eaux ; " a scene thoroughly unique,
curious and grotesque — " grotesque qu'un peu d'eau chaude
ait transporte dans ses fondri^res la cuisine et la civili
sation ! "
The cuisine is well provided, as we shall find presently
if we join the company who are now assembling in the
handsome salon of the hotel for the table d'h6te. They
consist principally of French people ; there are a few
Spaniards, and fewer English, Germans and Russians.
The English, are in a decided minoritj' at Eaux Bonnes, as
elsewhere in the Pyrenees, and are, to tell the tmth, not too

THE PYRENEES. 143

popular. The ruddy English face does not command
universal sympathy and attention here, as in Switzerland,
even amongst the class most open to impressions — waiters,
servants; and guides. For once, and perhaps it is good for
us, we do not have everything our own way.
The table is laid for about eighty people, and sixty or
seventy sit down. The French — the habitues (" pension-
naires ") — occupy one end, nearest the head of the table.
They are elegantly dressed, courteous, and well bred,
belonging principally to the well-to-do classes of French
society. There are a few notabilities, in fact were we to
mention the names of some assembled to-day, they would
be familiar in the diplomatic and literary circles of several
European capitals. That M. Fould is here, is a fact con
sidered worthy of large type in the local papers, with the
intelligence that "chaque matin il vient en caliche comme
un simple mortel, prend son bain, d^jefine et s'en retour-
nerait k la fin de la saison avec une nouvelle jeunesse ! "
Next to the French sit the Spaniards, who are also well
dressed but far less talkative ; then there is a hiatus, with
the Russians, Americans, English, Germans, and "casuals "
at the bottom.
As we are a holiday party, and have brought the latest
Parisian fashions, the toilettes are not only handsome, but
there is a distinguished air about the company which one
rarely sees at an hotel in France, excepting at the capital.
We are merry and noisy, we might almost say up
roarious, in spite of nationalities, and the gaps in our
ranks. A wonderful clamour of plates and dishes, snatches
of conversation, lively sallies across the table, disjointed
accounts of " ascensions " more or less 'exciting according
to the style of the narrator, a rather: peculiar manner of
eating, and an unparalleled consumption of vin ordinaire,
is roughly what is passing at the further end of the table.

144

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

Our own part of the company, at the lower end of the
table, is scarcely so brilliant in appearance, or so fluent
in French, nevertheless we are sociable enough. There
are grave "patres familiarum," who are here with their
families, for the benefit of the waters, one or two members
of the Alpine Club, who have "come down" to Eaux

Bonnes for a change, and entertain us with accounts of
their guides, who seem to be a peculiariy lazy race, and
soon "knock up," as the saying is; London physicians,
taking a brief but vigorous holiday, forgetting appoint
ments, breathing the free air of unpunctuality, and
revelling in a suit of tweed ; a few ordinary tourists, and

THE PYRENEES. 145

the two English ladies that we meet almost everywhere in
Europe travelling together.
It is now past seven o'clock and most of our party
have dispersed, the majority betaking themselves to the
"Promenade Horizontale." This 
walk, which we will call by. the
less prosaic title of the Lady's
Mile, is a perfectly level and
smooth promenade cut round the
mountain side for nearly half a
mile, and is the only level ground
at Eaux Bonnes. It is lined for
some distance with little shops and stalls, where bright-
coloured Spanish wools, trinkets, and toys are sold, where
bagatelle and tir au pistolet, round-abouts and peep-shows
— all the " fun of the fair " in fact, is set out for the
amusement of idle Eaux Bonnes. From the seats placed
at intervals on this wonderful platform the views down the
valley, northwards, are most beautiful, with the little
villages like specks in the distance, and the town of
Laruns spread out in the shape of a cross at our feet.
As soon as it is dark the stalls and little wooden shops
are lighted up, and promenading continues until about
nine o'clock. The evenings are cold by contrast — colder
than anything we have yet experienced, and many retire
to the salons of the hotels, or to a little " cafe chantant "
in a hole cut in' the rock. There is a Cabinet de Lecture,
but there are not many readers, and a Casino, which is
also rather thinly attended.
The little square in front of the hotels is also full of
people, who assemble in the evening with their families,
to hear a band that we have already heard too often ;
there are a great many guides and couriers sauntering
about, and considerable interest seems to be taken in an
L

1 46 AR TIS TIC TRA VEL.
expedition to hunt the izzard, which is to take place to
morrow. But it is not until later in the night, when Eaux Bonnes
has gone to sleep that we can appreciate the beauty of
our mountain home, when the universal hubbub has
subsided, and we can hear for the first time the sound
of innumerable cascades, and the rustle of invisible tree-
tops in the evening breeze ; when the smoke from this
great seething kitchen has ceased to curl up the rocks,
revealing the stars shining down with a brightness that we
never see in the plains.
The weather seemed so favourable for seeing the
mountains, that we determined to make our first ex
cursion the very next day, intending, if possible to ascend
the Pic de Ger, the extraordinary conical mountain that we
see in the illustration at page 144. With some difficulty,
and at a high rate of pay, we had managed to obtain
guides who would walk, and carry our provisions without
extra porters to help them. Our chief guide prophesied
a clear day for the excursion (which did not strike us as
exhibiting much wisdom or foresight), adding that " il faut
profiter du temps " in this treacherous Val d'Ossau, for
that " there was no knowing what might happen."
What did happen may be judged from the next
illustration, and to what an unwelcome sound we awoke
next morning — the sound of pattering of feet and the
pattering of rain. Water everywhere — clouds resting upon
the housetops, shutting off all view beyond our little
square, and the brave army of invalids taking the waters.
Let us follow them to the " Etablissement," that we can
just see through the rain, at the end of the street ' It is a
plain building of no architectural pretensions, which vvas
once considered large, but is now quite inadequate to the
requirements of Eaux Bonnes in the height of the season.

THE PYRENEES.

'47

Visitors complain loudly of want of accommodation, es
pecially in bad weather, when they have to stand upon j
the damp ground to wait their turn to drink the waters, i
and often find it difficult to get
baths at the prescribed hours.
There are three sulphurous springs
that supply these baths : La Source
Nouvelle, 86°, La Source Vieille,
88°, from which they drink, and La
".Source de la Douche, 91°.
Whether it be good for any one,
especially those affected with pulr
mqnary complaints (these waters
being prescribed in the early stages
of consumption), to stand about
here in the damp, on these cold
wet mornings, we will not stay to
inquire, regretting only with our
French friends that " I'economie de
I'administration suppose qu'il faisait
toujours beau temps ! " and does
not provide for bad weather.
About ten o'clock we return to
breakfast, and for an hour after
wards there is nothing to do on
this wet morning but to listen to
the German band, who, prisoners
like ourselves, take up their posi
tion in the salon of the principal
hotel, and discourse most eloquent
music At eleven, it being a fete-day,
and the weather slightly clearing, there is a general
movement to the chapel, which is also much too small for
L 2

148 ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

the wants of the visitors, many of whom have come from
the village of Aas
" Cette eglise," says Taine, " est une bolte ronde, en
pierres et en platre, faite pour cinquante personnes, ou Ton
en met deux cents. Chaque demi-heure entre et sort un
flot de fiddles. Les pr^tres malades abondent, et disent des
messes autant qu'il en faut : tout souffre aux Eaux Bonnes
du defaut d'espace, et on fait queue pour prier comme pour
boire." Soon after noon the cloud that had so completely
encompassed us, disperses, and in half an hour has
disappeared altogether. The streets and walks quickly
dry up, and are again crowded with people. The day is
too far advanced, and the weather too uncertain to make
any long excursions, so that we may as well employ our
time in looking about us a little, and observing a few of
the peculiarities of " Les Eaux."
Everything, we notice, seems adapted for a long stay ;
people who come here are evidently expected to remain
for the season, and visitors who wish to see the chief
places of interest and hurry off again, meet with various
opposing forces. If you wish to take a bath, you are
expected to subscribe for a " course," available for the
season ; at the Casino and reading-rooms the system is the
same, and hotel prices are exorbitant by the day, but
moderate by the week. To get a good mount you must
hire your steed by the week or month, and take him for
better or for worse ; and there are cascades to be viewed
on the same principle.
We are all kept in good order here, everything is en?
rigle and au rigle, and if we stay a whole season, we need
not be at a loss how to get through the days. It is all
arranged. There is the particular promenade for the early
morning facing the east, the exact spot where you are to.

THE PYRENEES.

149

walk (and no further) between the time of taking each
glass of water, the morning cascade, the noon siesta, the
ride at three ; another cascade and more water, or a bath,
at four, promenade at five, dinner at six, " promenade
horizontale " until eight, then the Casino, dancing, " soci^t6,"
ecart6, or more moonlight walks — and then, decidedly
early to bed.
How little the French people really know of the
Pyrenees, beyond the walks round their favourite watering-

place, can only be judged of by those who have met
them on their travels, and conversed much on such
subjects. It has been said that the modern Parisian is " too much
at ease, too much protected, that his]life is scattered about
in too many little delicate sensations," that he is unfitted
either physically or mentally for a mountain life, and that
the true zest for the enjoyment of nature is wanting in
him. Whether this be quite true or not, there is no doubt

ISO ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
that he suffers dreadfully from ennui. M. Taine admits
the fact, and says : —
" Cet ennui prouve que la vie ressemble ^ I'Opera ; pour
y €tre heureux il faut I'argent d'entree, mais aussi le
sentiment de la musique. Si I'argent vous manque, vous
restez dehors k la pluie parmi les decrotteurs ; si le
sentiment vous manque, vous dormez maussadement dans
votre superbe loge."
In spite of the theory (encouraged in French journals) that
in society here, conversation is " extr^mement spirituelle,"
that one meets only "artistes, hommes superieurs, et les
gens du grand monde," that grace, elegance, and " la fleur
de tons les plaisirs" flourish and abound, M. Taine finds
the fact very different, and sums up the habits of visitors
with the remark that they seem " to wear a great many
hats, to eat a great many peaches, and to talk " immensely,"
but that in the matter of men and ideas they differ little
from the rest of the world."
We have been to-day to see the Cascade du Valentin,
and met plenty of people on the way thither. There is
quite an assemblage at each of the favourite places of
resort, and the roar of the waterfall cannot altogether
drown the voices, or the orders for " cognac " and " sirops "
at the little cafes which command the best view. The
draught of air rushes down with a chilling sensation after
walking in the sun, that renders it dangerous to sit long
together in one spot ; yet in spite of the cold and spray,
which falls like rain, we see several figures muffled up in
cloaks, sketching the various points of interest.
These cascades, which Murray speaks of as " the pretty
but trifling waterfalls of the Valentin," have seldom, we
believe, been depicted with more power of the pencil than
in these drawings by M. Dore. He has succeeded in
giving the variety of form and undulating surface of this

THE PYRENEES.

151

enormous mass of water, as it forces its way through rocks
and trees, now a broad and overwhelming cataract, now a
pool of smooth water reflecting the branches of the over
hanging beech-trees, now escaping again in a hundred
different ways, bounding from rock to rock, catching the
sunshine in its course, and shedding prismatic colours on
the rocks, now gathering its forces again, and roaring
down into the valley far below, where we can trace it,
a broad river, hurrying to the sea.
We have hitherto spoken of Eaux Bonnes in its summer

aspect, when it is crowded and gay, but perhaps the best
time to see and to enjoy the scenery, is in the fine weather
that we often have towards the middle of October, when
all the little shops that lined the allees and promenades
are not only shut up, but have departed bodily, and been
tmndled down to Pau ; when the rows of seats that
command the best views are untenanted ; when, in short,
" la vie " has departed, and there is only one hotel open

152

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

for the solitary traveller— then, indeed, there is not a more
pleasant or peaceful spot in which to spend the autumn
days. The natural beauty of its situation, the forms of
the surrounding mountains, the variety of interest in its
walks, leave an abiding sense of beauty in the mind, long
after the sounds of bells and whistles, and penny trumpets,
the shouts and screams, and the perpetual fanfare making
holiday, have died away.

CAUTERETS.

Face p. 153.

THE PYRENEES. 153

Cauterets.
" Cauterets est un bourg au fond d'une vallde, assez triste, pavd,
muni d'un octroi. H6teliers, guides, tout un peuple affamd nous
investit ; nous sommes raccrochds par des servantes, des enfants, des
loueurs d'ines, des gargons qui par hasard viennent se promener
autour de nous."
It is nearly dusk when (in about twelve hours after
leaving Eaux Bonnes) we drive into the garden in front
of the H6tel de France at Cauterets. The rooms are
brilliantly" lighted up, and in the salon we see people
dancing ; in the gardens and under the trees we hear
laughter and the voices of women, and, here and there,
glow-worm lights betray the presence of the smoking sex.^
The extraordinary cures effected by the waters of
Cauterets are the constant theme of conversation in the
Pyrenees, and they are particularly esteemed by Spaniards,
who come here in such numbers as to give Cauterets quite
the appearance of a town on the other side of the frontier.
There are several sources of the waters, varying in
temperature and slightly in composition. The Etablisse
ment called La Raillere, which is considered one of the
most efficacious in pulmonary complaints, is built upon a
raised terrace about a mile from the town, at the foot of
Mont Regn^re, on the road to the Lac de Gaube, to and
' This by courtesy and in ignorance of facts ; for we afterwards
found that cigarettes were in request, both with Spanish and French
ladies.

154

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

from which omnibuses are passing with patients all day.
The thermal building comprises, according to Dr. Taylor,
" twenty-three cabinets de bain, a fountain for the water-
drinkers, an ascending and descending douche, a large
peristyle in marble arches, and an extensive terrace, in
front to take exercise in dry or wet weather,"
The best excursion in the neighbourhood — the one, in
fact, which has brought us to Cauterets — is to. see one of
the few lakes of which the
Pyrenees can boast, the Lac de
Gaube (5866 feet above the sea),
for there is nothing wanting so
much, in the scenery of the
Pyrenees, as lakes reflecting the
blue sky. Even the waterfalls,
numerous and picturesque as
they are, appear somewhat in
significant compared with those
of Switzerland, although there is
a softness and luxuriant beauty
in their surroundings that com
pensates in great measure for
any lack of grandeur. At the
hotel we announce our intention
to walk to the Lac de Gaube, and to dispense with guides
and ponies.
" Ces Anglais will ruin the Pyrenees ! " is muttered sotto
voce. It takes about two hours and a half to reach the Lac de
Gaube ; the path is easily found, and is well trodden during
the season. Leaving the valley of Latour (in which
Cauterets is situated) on our left hand, the road ascends,
first through a wood and by several cascades, then
through pine-forests by a steep path for about six miles.

THE PYRENEES. 155

when we reach the Pont d'Espagne. Here we make a
halt bef9re crossing into Spain, and wander about amongst
the moss-grown rocks and debris through which the Gave
rushes down, casting up a shower of spray which keeps the
trees and shrubs in perpetual freshness.
From the Pont d'Espagne to the Lac de Gaube is
about two miles — first by a steep ascent leading through
a pine-wood, thence over a path strewn with rocks and
loose stones — in a little less than an hour we reach the
lonely mountain lake, so solitary, so still, and so different
from all we have passed on our way, as to take us quite by
surprise. It is about two miles in circumference, and is said to be
the largest in the Pyrenees. At one end is a little cabin,
and hard by, on a rock, a white marble monument to the
memory of an Englishman and his wife who were drowned
here when on their wedding tour. The guides and the
people who live in the little cabin tell the story, and, almost
in the same breath, ask if we will not take a row across
the lake.
The Lac de Gaube is a perfect mountain-basin, the
water being prevented from escaping into the valley by a
natural granite wall, which forms a sort of embankment at
the northern end. From this point we obtain a grand
view of the snow-covered Vignemale, reflected in the still
water. The sides of the lake are steep and rugged, with
masses of fir-trees reaching almost to the water's edge,
making a dark sombre foreground.
At the upper end of the lake, we can just trace the
waterfall which winds down from its glacier source ; and
if we were to sleep in the little cabin, and row across the
lake in early morning, we might, with a good guide, reach
the summit of one at least of the snowy peaks we see in
the next illustration (between 10,000 and 11,000 feet).

iS6 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
commanding a more extensive view than from the Maladetta,
or other accessible mountain of the High Pyrenees.
The variety and beauty of the excursions in the neigh
bourhood of the Lac de Gaube, and the pleasant valley of
Cauterets, by woods and waterfalls, to the snow-clad
summits of the great chain, have detained many of our
countrymen for weeks, and it is only to be regretted that
we have still but imperfect information about some of the
routes. The local guides prefer keeping to the beaten
tracks, and require much persuasion and good pay, before
undertaking any new expedition. There is one other
excursion that should not be missed by those who are good
climbers, and are favoured with clear weather, viz., to the
Lac d'Estom by the Valley of Latour.
Every day during our stay is occupied in some pictur
esque excursion in the environs, which we never seem to
have exhausted, and every evening we are launched on a
sea of small dissipations, the like of which we could never
have imagined possible on the steep side of a mountain
3000 feet above the level of the sea.
We had donkey-races, running in sacks, and climbing
poles ; in fact, it was more like a village merry-making in
England than anything else. There were "courses de
cruches," races with vessels full of water carried on the
heads of young girls, most of whom were drenched in a
most pitiless manner ; whilst one, " Mademoiselle Sophie,"
the most active and spirited of the party, carried off a
prize of 10 francs for having maintained the "cruche en
6quilibre.'' Our remembrances of Cauterets are (independently ot
the fair) of an expensive residence, of a most fashionable
promenade, of the noises of whips cracking, pianos jingling,
of singing, of smoking ad libitum; of tall men riding
diminutive ponies, and " les grandes dames " gaily capari-

THE PYRENEES.

157

^4 i 'I* ^ A

' - I'll''' W^V.-.;- -^ij'

^- ? i^i%&^

LAC DE GAUBE.
158

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

soned mules ; of the town looking as if it was perpetually
going out to dinner in sedan-chairs, of salons, of " journals
pour rire et pour instruire," with articles diluted to holiday
calibre, of cascades and springs, of water — water, every
where ; of English scrambling up the rocks, of Frenchmen
" en promenade," and of Spaniards sitting under the trees.
Our thoughts, if we analyse them, are not so much of
the mountains and of the pine-forests that overhang its
streets, as of smooth lawns and parterres ; not of torrents.

but of the prettiest artificial cascades ; not of rocks in their
natural beauty, but of granite, smoothed and " faced," and
turned into dwellings for the lords of the creation ; of
waters bottled off and stamped with the seal of the empire ;
and of the very stones at the road-side, numbered and
registered like citizens of France.
In short, everything was civilised at Cauterets, they had
civilised a bear ; and nothing will leave a more mournful

THE PYRENEES.

159

memory, not even the tragedy at the Lac de Gaube, than
the picture of this dancing bear (performing almost in sight
of his comrades looming down from the mountains), and of
his fellow in misfortune, the monkey that took the money.
A satire upon society — a thing to be remembered, was
the appearance of this last little figure, a type of the
artificial atmosphere of the place — ^the " fun of the fair " for
one sou ; a strange, sad-looking being (wearing a red
" b^ret " on his head and a bright embroidered sash), with
very little of the animal about him — altogether a forlorn
and most dissipated-looking little monkey, thus over
dressed and out of his element — the image, in little, of
many who crowd round him, the perfect type of " la vie."

i6o

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Luz — Bareges — Bagneres.

The situation of Luz, in a large natural basin surrounded
on all sides by mountains, is preferred by many visitors to
St. Sauveur. It is more open, and the walks are more
varied ; it is less fashionable and pretentious, and once was
much cheaper than St Sauveur as a place of residence.
But partly from its central situation, partly from the
fame of Madame Cazeaux's dinners at the H6tel des
Pyrenees, and chiefly from the report of its cheapness, it
has now become dear ; and we doubt if M. Taine saw it
in its crowded, noisy state to-day, with its modern white
houses and hotels, he would be disposed to call it any
longer a " petit village, tout rustique et agreable."
An old fortified church, built in the time of the Templars,
where service is still performed behind its ramparts, and
the remains of a chateau which crown the heights, are the
chief objects of interest at Luz ; but the majority of
travellers pay it only a flying visit. The French people
prefer St. Sauveur or Cauterets for a residence, and the
tourists make it merely a place for a mid-day halt. In the
heat of the day in summer its principal street is crowded
with vehicles stopping at the hotels, with horses and guides

RUIN, NEAR LUZ.

Face p. 1 60.

The PYRENEES.

i6r

and hangers-on of all descriptions, with beggars ad libitum
and any number of pigs.
We scarcely know how to give an adequate impression
of the importance of the pigs in a place like Luz. They
occupy the principal position in
the streets and in the doorways of
buildings, and the inhabitants seem
with one consent to give way to
them. In driving into the town
we must turn out of the way for
fear of disturbing a group that
are fast asleep in the middle of
the road ; and when we alight at
our hotel we shall probably find a
crowd of loungers superintending
the operation of washing them in
the stream that flows through the
street, water being poured over
them with a large iron ladle as
they repose in the sun, submitting
placidly to the operation of basting
before their time. At Granada, in
Spain, every one keeps a pig in
the autumn, to fatten for Christ
mas, and it is considered unlucky
not to possess one. The Spanish
gentlemen who sit about the door
ways here and watch these opera
tions, must be gratified at the
adoption of at least one of their
customs by the people of Luz.
There is a good carriage-road
from Luz to Bareges, the distance
being about five miles of continual ascent, through a
M

i62

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

somewhat gloomy valley, which is often flooded in spring
and winter ; giving it that forsaken and ruinous appear
ance that we see in the valley of the Rhone near Sion.
As we approach Bareges the mountains close in upon us,
and their sides become more and more barren, the wind
blows in gusts, and the air is quite cold in the shade.
The waters of Bareges are so much esteemed for their
curative properties that the baths are crowded with invalids,
and the French administration has established a military
hospital here for the treatment of gun-shot wounds and

other injuries. It is said that as many as ten or twelve
thousand persons take the waters here during a summer
season. It is most disagreeable to the taste and smell, and
this, added to the discomforts of a crowded place and
a decidedly triste situation, does not appear veiy inviting
to a visitor.
But the weather is fine, and warm in the middle of the
day, and we find ourselves tolerably comfortable in our
mountain lodging, nearly 4000 feet above the sea ; in the
midst of a community of sick men, old women, and decrepit.

THE PYRENEES.

163

all huddled together on a ledge of rock, like birds in a
nest. The stormy winds that blow down the valley in
sudden gusts, and moan in the crevices of the rocks, sound
rather drearily, it is true, but what will it be, in a few
months' time, when, increased to a hurricane and accom
panied with snow, they will sweep away in their winter
strength both " man and his dwelling-place "; and Bareges
will have a second season, with another class of visitors
who are less fastidious perhaps, less infirm, less careful to

drink the waters, but otherwise not unimportant, and as
certainly to be expected in season as their summer friends.
The presiding deity of Bareges is the " Pic du Midi de
Bigorre." The inhabitants love, honour, and obey its
teaching ; they look to it for the signs of the times and
seasons, and the sense of its presence is ever near them.
In the lonely track over the Tourmalet, and down the
valley of the Adour towards Bigorre, it is continually in
sight, and by the movements of the clouds round its
summit, or by the sharpness of its outline against the sky,
the wayfarer is encouraged or cautioned on his route.
Before we leave Bareges we take advantage of a clear
M 2

1 64 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
day to see the view from the Pic du Midi, where there is
now an observatory with telegraphic communication with
Bagneres de Bigorre which is considered to be unequalled
in the Pyrenees for its extent Its extraordinary position,
standing considerably northward of the central chain, with
no mountains of equal height (9439 feet) near it, and its
accessibility to the summit, render it more worth ascending
than any other of equal height It takes three hours on
foot, and nearly four on horseback. There is a clear path,
and no guide is necessary.
We first follow the route leading over the Tourmalet,
and then, turning to our left, ascend a shoulder of the
mountain until we come to a little lake, and a cabin, where
it is possible to get a night's lodging. From this point,
where we make a short halt, the path leads in a zigzag
direction, up the now steep and barren side of the Pic,
from whence we occasionally obtain distant views of the
valley. The view from the summit, which is at least 1 500 feet
above the lake, and more than 5000 above Bareges,
surpassed all expectation in its grandeur and extent. Our
position here was so isolated, that even the vast chain of
the Pyrenees, to the south, seemed to be separated from
us, and so precipitous were the sides of the Pic du Midi
that we scarcely felt as if we were on terra firma. Before
us, the solitary Pic de Montaigu, and the plains of France
extending into apparently illimitable space, and behind, all
the most prominent peaks of the Pyrenees. It was like
looking down upon a gigantic carte relief, showing the
little towns, the bright green valleys, the dark rocks and
the fields of snow. Immediately at our feet there was
nothing but rock, but lower down there were slopes of
grass, bright with gentian and other wild flowers ; the base
or frame of this giant mountain being "cast " — as Mr. Packe

THE PYRENEES.

i6<;

calls it — " in a brown micaceous schist, which, cropping
out from the surface, sparkles with metallic brilliancy."
It is difficult to describe, without repetition, the views
from these summits, as they must necessarily have so many
points of similarity, but the reader may take the word of
every one who has had a successful day for the expedition,
that there is nothing comparable to it, at the same altitude
in the Pyrenees.
As we said before, it is rare to get a clear day for these

T^S^S^-

r

"UNE ASCENSION.'

ascents ; let us now hear M. Taine's account of one on a
cloudy day.
" Depart a quatre heures du matin dans la vapeur. Les
paturages a travers la vapeur ; on voit la vapeur. Le lac a
travers la vapeur ; meme vue !
" Commencement de I'escarpement ; montee au pas a la
queue I'un de I'autre, chaque cheval ayant le nez contre la
queue du precedent, et la queue contre le nez du suivant,
comme au jour de sortie aux colleges d'equitation.

i66 ARTISTIC TRA VEL.
" Premihe heure : Vue du dos de mon guide et de la
croupe de son cheval.
" Deiixihne heitre : La vue s'elargit ; j'aper^ois I'oeil gauche
du cheval du guide. Cet ceil est borgne, et il ne perd rien !
" Troisikme heure : La vue s'elargit encore. Vue de deux
¦croupes de chevaux et deux vestes de touristes, qui sont a
quinze pieds au-dessus de nous. lis jurent et je jure.
Cela nous console un peu.
" Quatriime heitre: Joie et transports; le guide me
promet, pour la cime, la vue d'une mer de nuages.
" Arriv^e: Vue de la mer de nuages. Par malheur nous
sommes dans un des nuages. Aspect d'un bain de vapeur
quand on est dans le bain.
" Bin^fices : Rhume de cerveau, rhumatisme aux pieds,
lumbago, congelation — bonheur d'un homme qui a fait une
ascension ! "
Leaving Bareges and its invalids, it is with a certain
sense of relief that we find ourselves once more winding
slowly up the Bastan valley, on our way to Bigorre. The
distance from Bareges to Bagneres de Bigorre is nearly
twenty miles, but the steepness of the ascent, and the time
occupied for resting, make it a journey of about eight hours.
Our path, which is nearly due eastward, passes between
the Pic du Midi and the principal chain of the Pyrenees,
the Tourmalet forming the connecting link between the
mountains ; and it is not until we reach the col, which takes
about two hours and a half, that we get any considerable
view, or feel to some extent released from our prison-house.
When we have descended for about an hour, by some
very steep and rough zigzags cut in the rock, we get a fine
view of the Pic du Midi, and are once more amongst
pleasant pastures watered by the river Adour, which here
takes its rise and which we follow on its left bank almost
to Bagneres.

THE PYRENEES. 167

Another hour's descent, and we meet gaily-dressed
people, riding and walking about, who seem to belong, as
it were, to another world (each valley is so shut in and
distinct), and in the little town of Gripp, where we halt,
there are carriages that have brought pleasure-parties from
Bigorre, whose drivers are clamorous for a "back-fare."
We drive down the valley in the cool of the evening,
rattling through the streets of the town after dark, just
sufficiently lighted to enable us to see the crowd that is
walking up and down an " allee," shaded by two rows of
fine trees, and bounded on either side by cafes and shops.
Bagneres de Bigorre is not only one of the most ancient,
but it is one of the largest and most prosperous towns in
the Pyrenees, having a resident population of upwards of
8000, besides accommodating in the season 4000 or 5000
visitors.^ Its situation, neither in the mountains nor in the
plains, the cheapness of provisions and other commodities,
the moderate rent of houses, the mild saline springs, and the
general character of the town for health, combine to recom
mend it to English people who reside permanently abroad.
It is a pleasant change to come down again towards the
plains and spend a few days quietly in a town ; and curious,
to find the English language spoken continually, to hear
the click of croquet (" le jeu d'arc," as the French call it),
to see cricket bats, and to be asked in English at the shops
if we will buy any " Pale Ale." On Sunday morning at
the little English church, at the Club, and even in the
streets, we might almost fancy ourselves in a country town
in England, so familiar and so frequent are the signs of our
nationality everywhere.
On market-days there is colour and some variety of
• Froissart speaks of it as " a goodly enclosed town called Bagnferes,
the inhabitants of which had a hard time of it in 1 369, when war
broke out between France and England."

i68 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
costume. There are itinerant merchants in Spanish
costume, with gay silk ribbons, woollen rugs, &c., for sale ;
and there are rows of shops for the display of woollen
goods, which may be bought here much more reasonably
than at Eaux Bonnes or Luchon. An old woman, with a
large capulet over her head, in a fashion more picturesque
than comfortable, one would imagine, offers us ten fine
fresh figs for a sou (we have had to pay twice as much for
the same at Seville), and young girls with pretty coloured
handkerchiefs tied round their heads, sell flowers and fruit
to passers-by.
If we were to go to market this morning, we could pur
chase ducks, fowls, and turkeys at prices that would make
the British householder envious to hear of ; and there is an
air of plenty and 'contentment about the place that does
one good to witness.
The people that come in from the neighbourhood in
such numbers, that in the evening we can hardly force our
way through the crowded allee, look healthy and pros
perous ; and we cannot help contrasting them in our minds,
with the inhabitants of other beautiful valleys, such as
Stachelberg in Switzerland, or Tintern on the Wye.
Happy the people of such valleys as that through which
the Adour flows, that they can live and thrive on agri
cultural labour, and put by for a rainy day, more in one
month than a Dorset labourer is able to do in a year.
The walks in the neighbourhood are delightful ; you
cannot proceed in any direction for half an hour without
coming upon some fresh view of the mountains. On one
occasion we spent the day on the heights above Bagneres,
sketching, and watching the changing aspects of the Pic
du Midi, as it every now and then emerged from clouds
(which never entirely left it, although it was clear else
where), and we were glad of any shade or wood in our path.

THE PYRENEES.

169

As we sat under the trees, there were sounds of voices,
and, looking upwards, we discovered men and boys, and
even children, perched up sixty
or seventy feet high in the air,
either on the branches of the
trees, or on three poles fixed
triangularly in the ground.
Travellers see strange sights,
in the Landes there were men
literally " as trees walking " ;
here they seem to nestle in the
branches, and cradle in the wind.
They are spreading nets for the
wood-pigeons that flock to this
neighbourhood in great numbers
in the autumn months, and are
perched up aloft to throw their
nets ; the poles and branches
bending with their weight, sway
ing backwards and forwards in
the wind, in a manner that
appears most dangerous to the
^f [lflKi.»lf-,. pv; /„^ We had been wandering hither
and thither, with that uncertainty
which is the delight of a moun
tain ramble ; we' had come sud
denly upon a flock of sheep, and
had a sharp battle with the dogs
in charge of them ; we had nearly
trodden upon a shepherd boy,
who lay hidden in the long grass,
and who, careless apparently of his flock, and heedless of
us, was singing some quaint Bearnais air from memor>-.

I70

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

We had passed up, far above pasture-land and trees, and
gained a point where, if the eye could have penetrated the
atmosphere that alone limited the horizon northward, it
seemed as if we might have seen half over France ; from
the west towards the Bay of Biscay, and to the east almost
to the Mediterranean shore, we could trace the line of
mountains, and to the south a multitude of snowy peaks
and promontories.
We sit down to rest for a while — to watch the effect of
the sun leaving the highest peaks, whilst the town of
Bagneres, several hundred feet below, is disappearing fast
from view and sparkling with little glow-worm lights when
— looking farther down the valley — we see a slowly-moving
dark line, serpent-like in motion, winding noiselessly
through the trees (some monster apparently, attracted by
these earth-stars), now burrowing underground, and now,
as it comes nearer, showing two flaming eyes, and a tail
with glittering scales. This monster is a creation of the
" Compagnie du Chemin de Fer du Midi," and in its sides
there are lighted cells containing atoms of human life.
What, we wonder, does the little shepherd boy, what do
all the children of the mountains, think of steam ?

THE PYRENEES.

171

" La gorge ^tait illuminde dans ses profondeurs ; ses blocs entass^s,
ses arbres accrochds aux roches, ses ravines d^chir^es, son Gave
^cumant, apparaissaient dans une blancheur livide, et s'dvanouissaient
comme les visions fugitives d'un monde tourment^ et inconnu." — Taine.

Storm.
It is not uncommon for travellers who have come to the
Pyrenees in summer-time for health and recreation, and
whose only chance of enjoyment is the continuance of fine
weather, to regard with something of anxiety the slightest
sign of clouds gathering round the distant peaks ; and it is
also not uncommon to see, at the same time, a long pro
cession headed by a priest, winding slowly up the valley.
The country, green and bright as it looks, is really
suffering from drought, and, as a last resource, the cure, or
priest, has been appealed to. A mass is celebrated, the
hat is handed round, money is subscribed liberally, and —
in due time, the rain comes.
In our wanderings in the Val d'Ossau and the Val de
Luz, we had frequently noticed traces of the ravages
of the storms, and in the windings of the Gave, the

172 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

marks where in many places it had overflowed its banks ;
but the beauty of the weather, which continued day
by day with almost a monotony of sunshine and blue
sky, and the calm and peaceful aspect of security with
which the inhabitants seemed to be gathering their harvest
and tending their flocks, left us quite unprepared for the
startling change that a few hours brought about.
The morning had been fine and cloudless, as usual, with
a sun almost as powerful as in the tropics ; it was too hot
to do anything apparently, but work in the fields, as the
women and young girls were doing, some bareheaded
and barefooted, binding the sheaves of Indian corn, and
struggling under loads of hay that an English labourer
would hesitate to carry.
There was little to indicate a coming storm within half-
an-hour of its breaking, but then the signs were unmis
takable and not to be disregarded.
First of all, a few little clouds were seen to gather at the
head of the valley in a wild, uncertain manner, and every
now and then we heard trees rustling in the wind higher
up the mountains, although not a leaf stirred near at hand ;
presently we seemed encompassed by four winds at once,
and the dust and leaves, and sheaves of corn, were whirled
in the air with the suddenness of an explosion. The sun
was still shining brightly, and there were few clouds over
head, but, as if with a sudden instinct of self-preservation,
every living thing in the valley and on the mountains
hurried home. The women left the fields, the men their
work in the forests, the birds were silent, the dogs dis
appeared, the cattle of their own accord drew away to
shelter higher up the vaUey, and even the pigs (who sleep
in companies by the roadside) roused themselves for once
and shuffled home.
Down the narrow street of the little village, a herd of

A MOUNTAIN STORM.

Face p. 173.

THE PYRENEES. 173

goats are hustling and struggling, under the heels of a
sullen grey pony, who, with his fore-feet planted firmly in
the ground and his mane and tail spread out by the wind,
stands immovable, without a purpose apparently but ob
struction. A few of the most active of the inhabitants
are tying their carts and implements to the trunks of trees
and stowing away loose timber, but the majority are
engaged in barring their doors, or peering furtively from
dark windows and apertures, in a manner that suggests a
Poussin or a Teniers.
Soon all interest is centred in the approaching storm,
and it is a difficult task to describe the change, the almost
dramatic .suddenness with which a sunny smiling valley is
turned into a howling wilderness. A shadow should be
cast over these pages, something more expressive than
words, more powerful even than Dore's pencil, should be
enlisted in the service, and something should be done, were
it possible, to give the moaning of the wind. The sound is
piteous, and now almost constant, interrupted only by the
thunder, and the distant roar of waterfalls.
The sun has not quite left the lower part of the valley,
but the mountain-tops are in darkness, excepting when a
sudden lightning flash reveals their outlines for a moment.
Another ten minutes and the clouds come down, closing
over us, like a dark veil stretched completely across the
valley. The wind that fanned us so gently but an hour
since, sweeps past with the noise and fury of battle,
bending the tall pine trees as it passes over them, dashing
the waterfalls into spray, and scattering far and wide the
sheaves of corn. Suddenly another element is added — a
downpour as of a cataract, swelling the Gave to a roaring
torrent, which now joins in the tumult.
Let us see what havoc is being made on its banks.
Following its windings as far as we can discern through

'74

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

the clouds and rain, there are several companies of weather-
beaten pines, against which the storm is raging in all its fury.
As the clouds pass over they are continually concealed from
view, as if in the smoke of battle, every here and there
their ranks appearing — now resisting, now falling, bending,
or snapping before the blast, but generally reappearing
with a persistence that suggests to the spectator something
human and heroic in the fight
Nothing, however, that we have yet seen — not the

grandeur of the storm, its suddenness, or its power ot
destruction — is so extraordinary as the mass of water
which has risen on every side. The lower parts of the
valley have become one vast lake, dotted with island tree-
tops, haystacks, timber, and wrecks of all kinds, carried
down by the flood. The villages built on rising ground
(with foreknowledge of these disasters), escape the deluge,
but many outlying buildings and parts of the road have

THE PYRENEES.

175

altogether disappeared. In scarcely less time than it takes
to write it, we see acres of water where there were culti
vated fields, and the rain that came with the thunder and
the wind, now falls steadily and straight like a waterspout
In half an hour all is again changed, the rain ceases as
suddenly as it came, the mist clears, and the clouds drift
away through the trees. The sides of the valley are
streaked with torrents looking like veins of silver, every

little cascade has become for the time a torrent, and the
swollen Gave, now dark, muddy, and turbulent, burdened
with floating timber and debris of all kinds, has scarcely
any limit, for there is water everywhere.
When the storm ceased, the water subsided in the upper

176 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
part of the valley almost as rapidly as it had risen ; but
the scene here was, if possible, more desolate, from the
havoc that had been made amongst the trees in exposed
situations. One point was very striking, where we came to a piece
of pasture-land separated on either side by a narrow gorge.
This promontory was a complete mountain-wreck ; it had
been exposed to the full fury of two winds meeting in
their downward course, and everything had " gone by the
board " — trees were stripped of their branches, torn down,
snapped and twisted into strange fantastic shapes, scarcely
a whole stem out of a regiment of stately pines — nothing
but waifs and strays, like a harvest-field when given up to
the gleaners.
Nothing was to be heard at this spot but the rushing of
waters, no human being was in sight, no cattle had returned
to pasture, nothing living apparently, save two young
eagles that flew low in the valley, and a solitary lizard
{that had had much more water than was good for him)
that came out of his hiding-place, and spread a spangled S
upon the rock.
Then when the clouds had gathered up from the valley,
there came a stream of light from the west, that, glancing
from the rocks and torrents on either side, fell full upon
this promontory, gilding the stems of the shattered pines,
and marking in characters only too distinct the devastating
work of storms.
A few hours only and the waters will subside, and it will
again be " summer in the Pyrenees."
A word about Dore's illustrations of these storms, which
seem to us some of the finest works of this character he
has ever achieved. As we stood in our secure shelter, watch
ing, what it did not require much stretch of the imagination
to picture as a battle, we confess to have been completely

AFTER THE STORM.

•78

ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

carried away by the human aspect of the fight, and can
hardly agree with those who think that in depicting such
subjects, M. Dore has given too much scope t© his fancy.
And the sunset after the storm, which is one of the
grandest sights in the Pyrenees, calls to mind even more
vividly the same groups of forest trees, not in war, but in
peace — ^when their dark funereal plumes (tattered and
weather-stained, like the colours and trophies of war) are
tinged with a deep orange hue, and we see
" The grace and glory of their feathery branches
Spread like wings that love the light,"
and wish that any words of ours could induce more
landscape painters to depict these scenes — scenes worthy
of the full expression of a poet's heart either by his pencil
or his pen.

( '79 )

Luchon.
" II est convenu que la vie aux eaux est fort podtique, et qu'on y
trouve des aventures de toute sorte, surtout des aventures de cceur.
" II est ^galement convenu qu'aux eaux la conversation est extrSme-
ment spirituelle, qu'on n'y rencontre que des artistes, des hommes
supdrieurs, des gens du grand monde ; qu'on y prodigue des iddes, la
gi'ice et I'dMgance, et que la fleur de tous les plaisirs et de toutes les
pensdes y vient s'dpanouir." — Taine.
In the midst of a broad and fertile valley, with mountain
slopes of pasture and wood on either side ; amidst groves
of trees, from under banks covered with moss and lichen,
burst forth the far-famed springs of Luchon ; the resort of
invalids and " malades imaginaires," — from the days when
Roman emperors drank these waters and Fabia Festa paid
her vow to the god Lixon, giving the name of Luchon to
the little town built near the rocks, whence the healing
waters" flowed — to the present time, when several thousand
people throng its streets.
Luchon is a favourite resort of nations both north and
south of the Pyrenees. It is easily reached from Paris,
and there are, also, several bridle-paths by which it may be
N 2

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

approached from Spain. The latter are often taken^ust
as in the hot summer months the modern Florentine, who
is stout of heart and strong in the chest, forsakes the dried-
up banks of the Arno for the bracing air of Switzerland,
making his way, as we have seen him, over the snows of
the St. Theodule to Zermatt — so do certain brave-hearted
Madrileiios come over by the bridle-paths from Jaca,
Pantecosa and the Port de Venasque, and make their
sudden appearance on horseback at Luchon.
How shall we describe this shrine — the object of so
many pious pilgrimages? Perhaps we cannot do better
than compare it, for an instant, with Chamounix, in
Savoy. If we can imagine Chamounix, a town consisting of
about two hundred hotels and lodging-houses, in the midst
of a fertile valley, and surrounded with trees ; if we can
picture (a stretch of imagination, we admit) a little park
outside the town, with trim lawns, beds of flowers, foun
tains, an artificial lake with gaily-painted boats upon it
a la Bois de Boulogne, and a pretty boulevard (lighted by
gas at night), with trees planted at regular intervals ; and if
we can further, picture Chamounix without Mont Blanc,
without its glaciers or any ice or snow, and without its
bracing air that is born of them, a place where guides are
rarcB aves and ice-axes almost unknown ; where guns are
fired indeed often enough — not to signalise an ascent of
Mont Blanc, but of a fire balloon ; where kid gloves are
more the mode than suits of tweed, and where Frenchmen
take the place of Englishmen in native esteem — ^we get
some idea of Luchon.
There is a certain similarity in the two places ; they are
both the head-quarters from which to make excursions ;
both are situated on rivers in the midst of a broad valley,
with high mountains each side. There is a drive up to the

¦o.
¦*.

THE PYRENEES.

end of the Val de Lys, as to the Col de Balme ; and there
is a climb, to the Port de Venasque, nearly as steep and
precipitous as to the Breven, (see page 196), with a view
therefrom of the Mont Blanc of the Pyrenees with its
snowfields and glaciers.
The comparative heights. Sec, of the two places are
thus — but the snow-level is more than 1000 feet higher, in
the Pyrenees :

Height above
Sea-level.

Average height
of surroundiDg
Mountains.

Average
Temperature.

Population about

LuCHON . . .
Chamounix . .

20643300

8000
11,000

52° Fahr.
37° Fahr.

30003000

The town of Luchon, as far as visitors are concerned,
consists chiefly of one long street lined with old trees, and
furnished with hotels, cafes, lodging-houses, and shops.
At the upper end is the little park just mentioned, with
the Thermal Establishment, a handsome building erected
close under the mountain-side, and in front of which is the
principal promenade. The opposite end of this street,
called the "A116e d'Etigny," leads to the old town of
Luchon, and to the road down the valley towards Toulouse.
The noise, dust, and bustle, in the All^e d'Etigny in the
height of the season, when more than a thousand visitors
are added to the native population, is extraordinary.
There are several wide roads leading from it, and many
chalets and houses dotted about the plain, but as it is the
fashion to live in the Allee d'^^tigny, the crowd is con
centrated on this narrow little slip of land, whether riding
or walking, reading or sleeping — day or night, there is
hardly any peace upon it.
The scene is a very brilliant one on a sunny day, with

i82 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

the perpetual movement of the gaily dressed crowds of
French and Spanish holiday loungers. There is more
local colour and variety here than at Eaux Bonnes ; there
are more Spaniards, more red berrets, gay sashes, and
more striking feminine costumes. The shops are filled
with Spanish wools and Parisian goods ; signboards are
festooned from the trees, and a thousand coloured objects
arrest the eye. The middle of the roadway is crowded
with carriages and horses ; the trappings are gay, of course,
and the drivers not the least dandified of the party. The
horses or ponies they ride, or drive, are little, lean, attenu
ated animals, of a breed unknown elsewhere, averaging
about twelve or fourteen hands high — narrow-chested and
stiff-looking like wooden toys, certainly not worth more
than 3/. or 4/. a piece. But how they scamper all day up
and down this Allee, jingling their little bells ; how their
drivers shout and crack their whips, asking less and less
for a " course " as the sun goes down ; and how popular
they are, in spite of the danger to life and limb as they
career along, is something almost indescribable.
All this we see at a first glance as we drive at a hand-
gallop up the avenue, and with shouts and cracking of
whips turn into the courtyard of the H6tel d'Angleterre.
It is situated about the centre of the Allee d'Etigny, in a
pleasant little garden, slightly sheltered from the road, and
we are fortunate at this time of year in getting good
rooms at the back. We are near the stables, and there are
fowls, pigeons and peacocks in the courtyard, all favour
able to early rising.
The hotel is full of visitors, chiefly " pensionnaires " —
French and Spaniards, and two or three English — all
methodical in their habits of early rising, taking baths an d
exercise, and punctual to a fault in assembling to break
fast at ten, and dinner at half-past six.

" Tout en haut, entre les troncs, brille un pan de
ciel blue ; I'ombre et la lumiere se coupent sur la
mousse grise comme des dessins de soieries sur un
fond de velours."

Face p. 183.

THE PYRENEES. 183

We have not been many hours in Luchon when we are
besieged with enquiries as to what " ascensions " we have
made, and it is quite clear that we shall have no peace
until we have gone the "regular round." But before
exploring the environs, or indeed going very far beyond
the little " pare " we must see more of the people.
It is about eight o'clock on a summer's morning when
we first walk out in Luchon. The mountains look fresh
and green from the late rains, little flakes of cloud just
touch their tops, and here and there some detached
portions float down and nestle amongst the trees, or on
projecting slopes of grass, where we can distinguish
(through a telescope) sheep grazing, and children gather
ing wood into the chalets.
The streets are full of bathers hurrying to and from the
" Etablissement" ; and as it is rather too early to see the
habitues to perfection, we stroll up the "All^e des
Soupirs," behind the baths for a couple of hours, by a
steep, smooth path through a wood, towards Super-
Bagn^res. Every five minutes w^e get more lovely views
of the valley, and of the peaks that rise on every side
above Luchon. The town is almost under our feet, so
precipitous are the sides of the mountain, . and we see
little of it besides slate-roofs and chimney-pots, with one
straight row of tree-tops peeping through the smoke
and steam, that rise from the town. If we were not
bound to see the company to-day, we could well spend
all our time in sketching here, or in wandering about
Super-Bagn^res.^ 1 It is a pity so little is said in English guide-books about Super-
Bagnferes ; the distance to the cabin at the summit is only five miles,
and it is an easy ascent. The beautiful walks through the forests,
which M. Dor6 has sketched for us, and the panoramic view from the
summit, taking in the plains of France on one side, and the Maladetta
on the other, are well known to those who stay at Luchon.

iS4 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

It is now half-past ten o'clock. Luchon has taken its
bath, has drunk the waters, has breakfasted well, and is
prepared to promenade, or to make a petite excursion ; let
us descend to the " Allee d'Etigny " and see " the world."
The street is more crowded than ever, and the costumes
more brilliant and extravagant than any we have yet seen
in the Pyrenees. The general effect of the colours of the
figures, on foot and on horseback, is certainly very pretty ;
and if some of the ladies' dresses startle us a little by their
originality — and if we are rather taken aback by seeing a
French gentleman in a suit of scarlet, walking along
swinging a child's rattle, or riding a diminutive pony, with
his legs nearly reaching to the ground — the tout-ensemble
we must admit to be charming.
Here is a group just starting for a ride ; and what strikes
us most of all is, perhaps, the size and length of spike of
their spurs, the formidable weight of their whips, and
the insignificant, meek-looking little animals they are
going to mount. Four French gentlemen are about to
ride a few miles up the valley, and the concourse to see
them start, and the interest taken in the matter, is
wondrous. There are perhaps a hundred spectators on
foot, and fifty men and boys on horseback waiting for hire.
These last keep up a constant shouting and cracking with
their whips, which irritates the ear like irregular line-
firing. The start takes about half an hour, but the crowd
is an admiring one, and in no hurry.
With the departure of the cavalcade the crowd disperses,
the majority tending towards the park, or " English
garden " ; where, under the shade of the trees, by the aid
of syrups and ices, and to the sound of falling water, the
next few hours may be dozed away.
It would be almost impossible to give to any one who
had not seen the Bois de Boulogne near Paris within the

11 iliiltll!i'iP* "I "i""" 'I'iflWi
^ O ' II I' 'I

LAC D'OO.

Face p. 185.

THE PYRENEES. i8?

last few years, a just idea of the ingenuity displayed in
turning the bed of a mountain valley, covered but a few
years since with debris (as seen in the illustration at p. i8o),
into a perfect promenade, and miniature park, with its
artificial lake, dainty walks lined with tulip trees and
beds of flowers, real waterfalls imprisoned and turned into
" cascades " ; fountains and grottoes, chalets and arbours —
all designedly pretty and in order. The little boats that
pass to and fro on the lake, trail their awnings in the
water, purposely, to reflect their bright colours ; and
the Swiss chalets on its banks, and the houses in the
town — white, with green shutters and red curtains at
their windows — are all decorated with an eye to the
picturesque. As the afternoon draws on, there comes an almost
continual sound of wheels, and horses' feet ; the jingle of
bells, and cracking of whips, drown the noise of the
cascades again, and clouds of dust now roll down the
valley, marking the track of carriages returning from
the " Val de Lys " and the " Lac de Oo."
It is only four o'clock. Why do they return so soon ?
" C'est le temps de promenade!'
Is it then «//" promenade " ? But let us follow in the
direction of the people that we see assembling on a raised
walk near the ;£tablissement, where a brass band is the
centre of attraction, and around which the numerous chairs
are fast becoming occupied. The gaiety of this promenade
is even more striking than that of the morning, and we are
introduced to many fresh varieties of the "butterfly"
species. How we all wander up and down, and talk and pay little
attention to the music, may be easily understood ; but how
we dress, how demonstrative and how brilliant we are in
this clear bright sunny air, can hardly be conceived at a

1 86 ARTISTIC TRAVEL. \
distance. Nor can we altogether picture to the reader the
effect of the Seiioras and Senoritas who have doffed the
charming black mantilla and red camellia in the hair, and
come abroad in all the glory of modern Parisian costume ;
nor the knowing little hats with peacock's feathers worn
by pretty Parisiennes ; nor the children — children only in
size and love for bonbons ; nor the Spanish dons in white
paletdts and chimney-pot hats ; nor the dogs, whose
" paradise of whelping and wagging of tails " is clearly not
here, for they also are on good behaviour, and can do
neither one nor the other. They are muzzled, wrapped
in flannel, and carried in baskets, and generally so
clipped and washed, that in appearance they belie their
origin. Before five o'clock the numbers increase to a crowd,
and at this fashionable hour the habitues — ^what in
modern slang would be called the swell — make their
appearance. There were two figures who always walked arm-in-arm
together, and came on the scene about this time, who were
as familiar to us as the rocks and the trees ; one a tall
Spaniard, faultlessly dressed in a black velvet costume of
the time of Charles II., with black silk stockings, shoe-
buckles, collars, and ruff. His friend, a Frenchman, (we
presume as a contrast), was the most perfect presentment
of an English cattle-drover it has ever been our lot to
encounter, the intention of the " get-up " being to signify a
gentleman who was fond of " le sport," and as such he
evidently found favour amongst the ladies. These two
young gentlemen carried everything before them. They
were in society, they knew everybody, and disported
themselves in the park every afternoon, to the perfect con
tentment of Luchon.
The band plays well, but it does not matter : we come

THE PYRENEES. 187

to see, and not to hear. It adds, however, to the dramatic
effect, and it is difficult to get rid of the idea that this
raised platform is not the stage of some Italian opera, with
all these gay moving figures the performers ; the back
ground the scenery to " Guillaume Tell," and the audience
the group seated on the chairs.
But it is not all gaiety. If we look about us a little we
shall see at this time of day numbers of strangers who
occupy the chairs ; for, just as the heat of the sun at noon
draws forth myriads of insects and atoms of mysterious
life, so does this afternoon promenade attract to it visitors
seldom seen at any other time. Amongst them are the
ennuyes — " ennuyes parce qu'ils ont trop de fortune et trop
peu de chagrin " — men of middle age, and old, in as great
numbers, and put to as great straits in the task of killing
time, as may be seen in any city in Europe. Old and
faded dandies, preserved with the greatest care, made
" youthful for ever " by art, lounging away their days in
that difficult time between dijeuner and diner, alleviated
only by this afternoon promenade, which may bring with
it, perchance, a timely little flirtation, or something ex
citing to read in the feuilleton of the "Petit Journal,"
which is sold to the company for a sou. Curious anomaly
of life ! — strange indeed that men should wish to kill the
hours and not the years ; that those who find most
difficulty in getting through the day, should, above all
others, dread growing old !
Some of the Frenchwomen that we meet with at these
watering-places, on the contrary, are very merry and
industrious ; they knit and knit as if for their very lives.
The family group near us, consisting of maman and her
four daughters, are shouting with laughter; they are
delighted with bonbons and with the gambols of a pet
poodle. Their happiness is harmless, and certainly unique ;.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

but the majority of the people at Luchon are, truth to tell,
suffering from the terrible " ennui."
Is this really so ? Is it possible that in the midst of
beautiful scenery, in a delightful climate, and surrounded
with every luxury, we can be weary of existence ; or, with
so many resources, be at any loss for
a topic of conversation ?
Let us take the testimony of a
Frenchman. " Avancez 1 — ecoutez,"
says M. Taine, to two people who
have just sat down : —
"Le monsieur est arrive avec en
train; il a souri finement et avec un
geste d'inventeur heureux ; il a re-
marqu^, qu'il faisait chaud. Les yeux
de la dame ont jete un eclair. Avec
un sourire ravissant d'approbation,
elle a repondu que c'etait vrai.
" Jugez comme ils ont dil se contraindre. Le monsieur
a trente ans — il y a douze qu'il salt sa phrase. La dame
en a vingt-deux — il y a sept ans qu'elle salt sa phrase.
Chacun a fait entendre trois ou quatre mille fois la
demande et la reponse. Pourtant ils ont eu I'air d'etre
interesses- *

-surpris

I" 1

The time now draws near six o'clock, and there is a sound
of relief; and up and down the Allee d'Etigny alarm-bells
are rung as if there was a general conflagration. It is

' What a characteristic contrast to the bored young Englishman at
Chamounix ! His resources are not great — he is not stoique, but he
cannot help being energetic. " We were compelled," he writes home,
" to spend some days unprofitably at that modem Capua, Chamounix
— bargaining for artificial agates, eating heavy dinners, racing to the
Montanvert against time, and feeding our imaginations on all sorts of
ambitious schemes against the neighbouring passes and peaks."

THE PYRENEES.

needless to add that Luchon listens with willing ears to the
voice of the charmer.
After dinner we go again to the Pare, and stroll about
amongst the crowd, which is much more numerous and
miscellaneous in its character.
The inhabitants of the old town, whom in our gaiety we
had altogether forgotten, now join the throng. Groups of
peasants — men and women, and hundreds whose occupa
tions are to minister to the various wants of the visitors
now take their evening holiday, and promenade and romp,
or listen to the band.
As soon as it is dark the gardens are prettily lighted by
gas, fire-balloons are sent up, rockets fly about, and dancing
alfresco is commenced ; and it is then, when the mountains
are hidden from sight, and there is nothing to remind us of
their presence, that we see how perfect is the likeness to
the "Bois de Boulogne" or the "Champs Elysees." It is
also perfect in its similarity to Paris in the various little
out-door amusements — roundabouts, " tir au pistolet,"
little games of chance, and the various devices for getting
rid of small change, for which the Champs Elysees are
famous. To complete the illusion, we pay twopence for a chair,
and six sous for " La Presse " of yesterday (which has just
arrived by the evening post), and listen, as well as we can
in the hubbub, to a rather harsh interpretation of some
well-known operatic airs, which comes from an elevated
wooden kiosk hard by. The shrill discordant sounds of
some of the notes we attribute to the dampness of the
little wooden house in which, pending the erection of a
."grand casino," some of the stringed instruments are
kept. But we are not to be left long in meditation, we (visitors)
are all, as we said before, essentially dramatic, and have

I90 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

our parts to fill ; if we are good for nothing else, we can
buy flowers and sugar-plums as long as our purse holds
out, and contribute something for the general good.
V/e had done our duty this evening — we had bought
little books of native costume which were utterly untrue,
we had bought red " berets " which we could not wear, we
had steadily refused, and afterwards purchased, knick-
knacks and bouquets innumerable and inconvenient to
carry ; and now, having successfully resisted a demand to
pay twice for the same chair, and having lighted a last
cigar, would be at peace.
But it is not to be. A neat little woman, with a white
apron, a shining face, and a white handkerchief round her
head, suddenly makes her way through the crowd, and
bringing a chair, seats herself close beside us. She has
brought with her a small round box, which placed on end
makes a table ; it is gaily painted, fitted at the top with a
little brass roulette, and lighted with a well-trimmed lamp.
With a brief introduction, and the faintest apology for
intruding upon " Monsieur," she commences conversation ;
and in less time than it takes to write it, the whole history
and gossip of Luchon, of its distinguished and undis
tinguished visitors, has been told, and told so well, and
the family trials and hopes of "son mari" and "les
petits enfants," are so skilfully interwoven into the story,
that we find ourselves, unconsciously as it were, in the
confidence of this little woman, and could not put her off
with a word, or explain that we hate bonbons and never
gamble. And now will not Monsieur begin — see, all the wheels
are spinning? And so we follow suit and turn the wheel.
The chances are dead against us, of course, but what
matters it that the wrong numbers always turn up — what
heed of the feigned astonishment on the patient face at

THE PYRENEES.

191

our bide ? Before the light goes out we shall have an
empty purse and a pocket full of bonbons, and perhaps
have made a home happy.
These games of chance are considered the especial " fun
of the fair," and every one joins in them. Look at the
party of little girls seated in a circle near us ; and kneeling
on the ground before them a grey-haired mountebank,
dressed in a half Spanish, half Basque costume, who is
telling them love stories, and enlivening the dull parts
with interludes of a little game of chance, which might
in the half-light be thimble-rigging, but which is innocent
enough ; and when the band leaves off playing, and there
is a general movement homewards, see with what a gentle,
courtly grace this knight of other days takes leave of his
friends with an " au revoir."
It is now past nine — in half-an-hour the Pare will be
deserted, and at ten Luchon proper will be in bed.
The atmosphere is so close and hot
sometimes at Luchon, that we can do
little in the middle of the day besides
sit about in the garden of the hotel
looking on to the road, or stroll into
the beautiful woods hard by. But there
is plenty to amuse, if we remain at our
own doors. At the windows of the
white houses opposite we may see
1^^^; Spanish women seated, working, or
leaning out upon red cushions, which
^^1^^ gives the street quite an Eastern effect,
'sa- ^^ and every now and then there is
an " arrival." If perchance it should
be by the mountains, if some intrepid Senor, having braved
the mountain journey, rides up the Allee, preceded by
his guide, suggesting in his imposing appearance and por-

192 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

tentous mien, Bon Gaultier's lines, in the ballad (jf the
" Broken Pitcher "—
" When up there rode a valiant knight.
From the town of Oviedo,
Alonzo Guzman was he hight.
The Count of Tol-lol-ledo '—
we are delighted at the "distraction," and throng round
to watch the proceedings with an air of intense interest.
We amuse ourselves with feeding the peacdcks in the
garden, we read the one local paper over and over again,
and wish heartily, for the sake of an excitement, that a
paragraph — stating that the Empress of the French is
expected at Luchon would prove true to-day.
We go out again to the Pare, where "les elegants,
couches sur les chaises, lisent leur journal, et fument
superbement leur cigare," and endeavour to solve the
mystery, why the women of all classes are so much more
cheery than the men, why we so seldom meet a sad French
woman, why the young ladies never seem tired of discours
ing of ' les paysanneries adorables de George Sand,' why
their elders are never weary of embroidering, and why
nearly every French visitor we meet bears a decoration,
which might be that of the Legion of Honour !
We stroll up one of the paths throiigh the trees behind
the " Etablissement," where the stifling sulphurous air
ascends from the vast caverns whicj undermine the moun
tain-side, and come suddenly upon a French artist
sketching, as we supposed, the valley of Luchon. No, his
subject was neither rocks nor trees, neither the distant
mountains, nor the sunset in the valley ; it was " Still Life,"
an elaborate painting on ivory, of grapes and peaches,
silver, and dead birds ! A " pot-boiler," probably, a work
of necessity, and more certain to find a purchaser than
sketches of mountains or trees, but all of a piece with this

THE PYRENEES.

193

artificial life and atmosphere, of which perhaps the reader
has heard enough.
The weather is uncertain, but fine enough for short

excursions, so we will be off to-morrow to the Port de
Venasque, bidding farewell to Luchon, where we have seen
"le monde" — "le monde illustre," le monde parisien,"
and, to be truthful chroniclers — " le demi-monde."

194

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Port de Venasque.
The journey to the Port de Venasque occupies usually
ten or eleven hours. We leave Luchon soon after seven
a.m., taking a light pony carriage a distance of six miles
and a half to the open ground where the Hospice de
Luchon is situated — a large, low building, affording shelter,
and rough accommodation, for those who need it on their
passage to and from Spain ; a snug, dirty, smuggling-
looking dwelling, the headquarters probably of all kinds
of expeditions, hunting, shooting, pedestrian, and con
traband. Here we left the carriage to wait our return ; and, cross
ing the river Pique (now quite a narrow stream) by a bridge
a little below on the right, we got to work at once, and
commenced the wild ascent of the Port de Venasque.
From the Hospice we could see our route windinr up, in
irregular zigzags, several thousand feet above, just visible
here and there, as it rounded a promontory, or when a
string of laden mules, that were ascending before us, turned
the sharp corners and appeared for an instant on the
extreme overhanging edge of the mountain-side. The
path, which led by a more gentle ascent through woods and
over green pastures, immediately in front of us as we stood
at the Hospice, was the route to the Port de Picade ;

THE PYRENEES.

195

another and more circuitous route into Spain, by which we
may return.
For the first half-hour after leaving the Hospice, we
walk over grassy slopes, keeping well under the shadow of
the rocks, but are soon obliged to emerge upon the more
exposed part of the path, where the sun's rays are so
powerful that if we had had a guide, we should have been
glad to have given him our coats to carry.
As we get higher (stiU keeping in sight of the Hospice),
the air becomes more rarefied, and we are surprised to find
a wind. The path is one continual ascent, winding up and

up without a break, or scarcely an unexposed position on
the side of the rock, and we can now easily understand the
danger of this pass in stormy weather, and almost believe
in the pathetic story of the fate of nine tinkers, who are
said to have been carried down by an avalanche. After
o 2

196

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

reaching a spot where we halt for a few minutes by the
banks of five little blue lakes that we find nestling in the
mountain-side, close to our path, the work begins in
earnest, and it would be safer for every one to trust to his
own feet. The way, so far, has been one that could easily
be taken on horse
back in fine weather,
but as we near the
summit it is nothing
but a steep shelving
path, cut in the wall
of rock, narrow and
slippery, covered with
loose shale, and here
and there some snow.
We have to keep
quite close to the
rocks to get any foot
hold and can at times
scarcely hear each
other's voices for a
rushing sound, like
falling water, but
which is only the wind
amongst the pines.
We have lost sight of the Hospice for half-an-hour,, and
can see neither where we came from nor whither we are
tending. At every turn of i^^e. zigzag path the wind
becomes more powerful, and it is necessary to make a
steady stand against each gust as it sweeps down, bringing
with it a shower of small stones, which strike against our
faces as sharp and cold as hail ; and thus on we plod, with
the bright blue sky above, and clouds and the four little
lakes apparently still close to our feet ; when suddenly a

I

<E-Ht)Q
<?J<s
MKH

THE PYRENEES. 197

door opens in the great wall of rock, and we are ushered
into Spain by the wind 1
The view that has suddenly burst upon us is so mag
nificent from this elevation, that in spite of the hurricane
(for it is here no less, although it is a calm, sultry day in
the valley), we steady ourselves by joining hands, and
stand in the Brkke. The Maladetta, taken from a spot
not far below, is the prominent feature, surrounded by the
grandest ranges of the Pyrenees. The intervening valley
is desolate-looking, a sort of "no-man's land" — Spanish
soil, indeed, but territory which no Spaniard is likely to
take the trouble to dispute possession of.
M. Dor6's drawing of the Maladetta Is almost photo
graphic in its truth and accuracy of outline, and in giving
the sterile, desolate aspect of the intervening valley, a scene
which has been described by many pens but by few pencils.
Its isolated position, and the extent of glaciers and snow-
fields, that we can see to best advantage from a point a
little above the " Port," where we attain an elevation of
upwards of 8000 feet, give the Maladetta an appearance of
height that is quite illusory, and the reader who is only
familiar with Swiss mountains may be surprised to learn
that the highest peak, the " Pic de Nethou " (the one on
the left in the illustration) is only 11,168 feet above
the \ea.
There is one solitary hut, on the Spanish side, that we
see below, with just sufficient accommodation to shelter a
passer-by, but scarcely to give him a night's lodging with
a chance of rest ; for the rafters are loose, and the hay that
formed a bed for some of our friends (who spent the night
here when on an expedition to ascend the Maladetta) was
nearly blown away when we last visited it. On the calmest,
brightest day in summer there comes up the dark valley
we have passed a cold and bitter wind — a wind that those

iq8

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

who have once felt seldom forget — the same that haunts to
this day the capital of Spain, and sweeps in chilling gusts
through the corridors of the Palace at Madrid.
Leaving this scene of dreary magnificence, we descend
to the cabin, and making a short halt to dispatch a bottle
of most excellent Malaga wine, we continue our journey ,'Jn
an easterly direction, keeping close to the spur, or ridge

dividing France and Spain, having the Maladetta on our
right hand. Looking back, we can see with our glass far
down into the valley leading to Venasque, and distinguish
one or two bright moving specks, which prove to be a
party of Spaniards on their way to Luchon, having sent
their families and luggage, by a detour of several hundred
miles, by Perpignan and Toulouse. They do not halt at
the cabin, but moving slowly up to the door of rock,
silently disappear. \
Nothing can be more extraordinary than the contrast
between the French and the Spanish side of the Port de
Venasque ; the latter (called the Peria Blanca, or white
rock) shelving up the serrated ridge of a sheer precipice as
shown in the sketch.
Continuing our route, over rocks and loose boulders and

THE PYRENEES.

199

patches of coarse grass, we pass a few huts for shelter for
cattle, and meet a number of baggage-mules on their way
to Spain, with their drivers in picturesque rags — each
furnished with a red sash, and generally a pistol or a knife
in his belt — and in about half-an-hour reach the Port de
Picade, where we obtain an altogether different view,
looking towards the Catalonian mountains, which is in
many respects finer, and more varied, than that from the
Port de Venasque. We now re-enter France, and, de
scending rapidly through a wood, rattling down with a
hundred goats at our heels, keep
ing well to windward of them as
a matter of comfort, we arrive
again at the Hospice just as the
sun's rays are leaving the valley,
and the old man and the fowls are
going to roost.
It takes some time to find our
'cocher" (who has been enjoying
a long nap under the trees) and to
get our horses put to, but once
started we make up for lost time
The two hind wheels of our little
basket carriage are closely locked,
the whip is cracked until the lash
has a large tuft at the end and will
crack no more, and all the izzards,
foxes, and bears in the neighbour
hood are put on the qui vive ; the
reins are thrown loosely over the
backs of our two little lean coursers,
and away we go — winding down the side of the valley on
the smooth steep road with the silent swiftness of sleighing,
the gay trappings, and the fox-tails at the horses' heads.

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

flying in the wind, and the bells jingling merrily. We
nearly knock over one or two peasants with laden mules,
and once are nearly overturned ourselves, but are so near
the ground, and leaning back so comfortably in our little
land-sleigh, that we would not slacken pace for the world ;
and thus glide into Luchon a little after dusk, having
made a run of six knots in about half-an-hour.
And so we end our mountain journeys as we began
them, riding and driving where, according to the muscular
theory, we ought to have been on foot, enjoying these
excursions much more for the little spurt at the beginning
and the end !
There are many other walks, and -rides, in the neigh
bourhood of Luchon, of which we should like to speak, but
space will not permit ; moreover, we are reminded by our
French friends that we have done all that is expected of
us, and may rest content — that, in short, we may enjoy the
"bonheur d'un homme qui a fait une ascension," and
repose in peace after the labours of the climb.

SPAIN.

Burgos.

The " Parador de las Diligencias Generales" is probably a
good specimen of the old inns of Spain on the great high
roads ; constructed to accommodate a large number of
people, providing them with tolerable fare at not very ex
tortionate prices. It is, as the guide-books say, " an old-
fashioned 'parador,' decent and humble " ; a rambling old
building, with some of the bedrooms below the level of the

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

road, and as we were late arrivalsvve were honoured with
one of these.
It was nearly twelve o'clock at night and bitterly cold,
and it certainly seemed an age before any one could be
prevailed upon to show the weary travellers their rooms.
We were led up and down an infinite number of stairs,
through dark passages, and finally under an archway into
an enormous bedroom. The furniture was modem, and
took up so little space that it suggested the idea of a
prison cell. The windows were barred with iron, the floor
was cement or stone, coloured red, and the ceiling
supported by massive pillars. Our next-door neighbours
were mules and their drivers, whom we could hear distinctly
all night, as well as the noise of rats chasing each other
down the damp white-washed walls. The very stolid
Seiiora who lighted us down assured us that the other
rooms were all occupied, and that we had the best in the
Fonda. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to thank
her for her attention (which she evidently expected) and to
wait for the morning.
'^Sunday, Oct. ^th, 1864. — Our first morning in 'sunny
Spain.' We find our cellar very dull and cold, and 'tis
raining fast. Through the bars of our prison we can just
see the leaden sky and part of a low barrack wall.^
" When we at last found our way out and into ' el comedor '
(a low, dingy, and most dirty salle a manger on the first
floor, ornamented with an almanac several years old, and a
few gaudy prints of saints upon the walls), we got some
good chocolate and bread, and later in the day there was a
table-d'hdte, to which about thirty people sat down. They
were chiefly Spaniards, of all ages and degrees ; and they
' The passages with inverted commas are extracts from an old diary,
printed verbatim, in order to give the exact impressions of places
visited. We went purposely to one of the old Spanish inns.

SPAIN. 203
smoked between the courses, filling the room gradually
until we lost sight of our opposite neighbours. It was
interesting to watch the efforts of small boys of ten or
twelve to make one cigarette last out between three or
four of them, smoking it in tums, and placing the damp
morsels on the edge of their plates whilst they had an
interlude of dinner. Other habits less tolerable and less
appetising kept us on the qui vive throughout the meal.
The fare was good for Spain (as we afterwards discovered) ;
there were a number of dishes dressed with oil, very
coarse meats, poor fruit, and wine."
It is right to mention here, for the benefit of future
visitors, that this " Fonda " is now ,by no means the best in
Burgos ; and is itself much modernised.
Burgos is well described as dull, damp, cold, and wind
blown, and from its elevation and scarcity of trees, very
much exposed to the northerly winds. The cold lasts for
seven or eight months in the year, and even in summer
there is none of that softness in the air that we should
expect in 42° 21' north latitude. After travelling in the
south of France, and being burnt with the heat of the sun
in the Pyrenees, this sudden change was as striking as ic
was unexpected.
"The whole aspect of the town was so very dull and
cheerless on this cold Sunday morning, and the costume of
nearly every one we met in the streets so modern and
familiar-looking, that, after all we had read and expected
of Burgos, we almost wished we had never come.
" Could this really be the city of the ballad of ' The Cid's
Wedding ' ?—
' Within his hall of Burgos, the King prepares the feast ;
He makes his preparation for many a noble guest.
It is a joyful city, it is a gallant day,
"Tis the Campeador's wedding, and who will bide away .''

204 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
' They have scattered olive-branches and rushes on the street,
.•\nd the ladies fling down garlands at the Campeador's feet.
With tapestry and broidery their balconies between.
To do his bridal honour, their walls the burghers screen.
' They lead the bulls before them all covered o'er with trappings ;
The little boys pursue them with hootings and with clappings ;
The fool, with cap and bladder, upon his ass goes prancing
'Midst troops of captive maidens, with bells and cymbals dancing.
' With antics and with fooleries, with shouting and with laughter.
They fiU the streets of Burgos — and the Devil, he comes after ;
For the King has hired the horned fiend for twenty maravedis.
And there he goes, with hoofs for toes, to terrify the ladies.'
" Was it then all romance ? Could the life and beauty of
a place have so completely vanished, if it ever was anything
more than a myth ? ' Cold, damp and windblown ' is
almost all that modern writers have to say for a city which
in centuries past was one of the glories of Spain ! Had
the climate changed "i Did the worthy citizens of Burgos
go about in the month of October (as we see them now)
muffled up to their eyes to keep out the keen and terrible
wind ? And is all this mud, damp, and dreariness a
modern innovation, the result of railways and improve
ments which the Burgalese hates with all his heart ? "
But if all local colour and apparent life and gaiety have
vanished, and the monotonous lines of modern buildings
disappoint one at first sight, there is much that is curious
and picturesque to be found.
The town is built on the side of a hill, in the form of a
semicircle, sloping gently down to the river Arlanzon,
which is crossed by three fine bridges. Remains exist of
the citadel and of the old ramparts, and there are one or
two Moorish archways in a good state of preservation.
The " Calle Espolon " is one of the principal streets
facing the river, not far from our Fonda, but most of the
buildings are modern ; and it is not until we go up to the
central square or market-place, with its massive arcades and

SPAIN.

old curiosity shops, that we meet with anything particularly
characteristic or Castilian. Here we read that in former
times. public festivals and bull-fights were held, and "lords
and ladies crowded the balconies in gay attire," and that
the " arcades were thronged with the people." It is now a
rather tumble-down-looking market-place, surrounded by
curiosity-shops, and others filled for the most part with
trinkets and odd wares, sham Toledo blades (made in
Birmingham), counterfeit coins and relics, odds and ends
from all countries, but, curiously, nothing of Spain. We
count twenty shops where they seem to sell nothing, but
which are open, and their proprietors stand smoking in the
doorways. Peep inside, and you will most likely see four
or five figures seated round a brazero, roasting chestnuts.
But it is all so dark that you cannot make out what wares
they have.
One of these little shops, by the sign over the door, is
a bookseller's, and we venture in. We have evidently
disturbed a family party, and feel conscious of having
intruded. " What did the Seiiores want ? "
"A Guide to Burgos — a book of any kind about
Spain — or a map. Perhaps ' Don Quixotte,' or a rare
edition of the ' Cid ' ? — Might we look at his collection ? "
A light was held by a woman whilst we hastily ran over
the titles of the books that were ranged on the shelves.
There were a few educational works for the use of the
colleges at Burgos ; one or two descriptions of the
cathedral ; " The History of Cristo de Burgos " ; an account
of some recent religious ceremonial at the cathedral, with
poor illustrations on wood ; a Spanish drama in six acts,
with marginal directions to the players as to attitude and
expression, on each page ; "Caesar's Commentaries" ; and
a few works of fiction, which appeared at a hasty glance to

2o6 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

be new, and published at Burgos. There were piles of
worthless-looking prints and song-books — the latter un
translatable into English — and one or two copies of an
attempt at an illustrated magazine, full of advertisements
of certain "funcions " to be held at various churches in the
province of Burgos, and to all appearance very uninterest
ing, and a poor speculation for the proprietors. Poor,
indeed, seemed the prospect for the proud " caballero,"
who scarcely acknowledged our presence (and who, by the
way, looked entirely out of place, and superior to his
position), and for the group round the brazero, if they had
to subsist on the profits of the sale of books in that little
shop ! Here and elsewhere on the Plaza the people were
very quiet and civil, and, if we gave no trouble and lifted
anything down ourselves that we wanted to see, we were
free to look about us as long as we pleased ; for your
Castilian, true aristocrat that he is, will lay his hand to
nothing menial.
There are numerous stores and old-clothes shops where
nearly everything sold is in the modern European style.
It is true that a few mantas and red sashes hang in the
doorways, and we see one rusty Castilian sword and a
pair of Moorish spurs ; but the peasantry evidently prefer
trumpery French trinkets and " sham " jewellery, which is
sold in abundance. We search in vain for much sign of
industry or serious commerce, and cannot get rid of the
impression that even the people themselves seem mas
querading. Spaniards seem to suffer in appearance more than any
other European nation by adopting the modern costume.
A swarthy, stout Senor, in a scanty paletdt, badly-made
trousers, and " chimney-pot " hat, loses what he most
prizes and depends upon, — his dignity of bearing ; and
there is no question that " las Senoras," who look grand in

BURGOS CATHEDRAL.

FacAp. 207.

1

SPAIN. 207
their dark dresses and black lace mantillas (which are still
de rigueur in the churches), do not appear to advantage in
Parisian bonnets and bright colours.
The Cathedral of Burgos is renowned as one of the
finest in Europe. As in many other cities, this noble pile
is so built up against and crowded by dwellings that it is
almost impossible to get any good view. But in whatever
direction we approach, nothing can conceal the lofty spires,
towering above the town, models of lightness, symmetry,
and beauty. An old Spanish ballad speaks of the stars
shining through their perforated stone, as the pride of
Burgos. The effect reminds one of the tower of Strasburg,
although the latter appears higher from standing alone.
Commenced in the thirteenth century, this cathedral has
been rnodified and added to down to the sixteenth, in the
style of the Renaisisance.
Our illustration is taken from a considerable elevation,
and shows the west front; the only point where a good
exterior view can be obtained. The architectural details
are from photographs, and are as accurately drawn as was
possible on a small scale.
An examination of the cathedral and its chapels, as
indicated by Mr. Ford or Mr. Street, would have been a
week's work, which we did not attempt ; the ordinary
visitor will be content probably, as we were, to be shown its
chief beauties in one day. The sculpture in the chapels
and on some of the monuments, the exquisite carving of
figures and flowers in walnut-wood in the choir, and the
general proportion and lines of the building, seemed to us
most worthy of observation. The pictures are not very
remarkable, as far as we were permitted to see them, but
the interior was undergoing repair, and some of the chapels
were covered up. The stained glass windows have nearly
all been destroyed, and the flooring is at present greatly

2o8 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

out of repair. Those who ascend to the summit of one of
the spires will be repaid by an examination of the beautiful
exterior carvings, and also of the statues which decorate its
pinnacles. We spent nearly all day in the cathedral and its
cloisters and chapels. We went into the sacristy, and
were hurried through several rooms without being allowed
time to exaipine their contents, but saw the worm-
eaten coffin of the Cid, which is chained up against a
wall. There were several services during the day ; the women,
in black and wearing the mantilla, knelt in groups on mats
on the floor at the base of the pillars ; the men chiefly
stood and crowded round the altars and chapels. Every
group was picturesque ; the kneeling figures dimly seen
along the dark aisles, the men in their cloaks or mantas
standing in indistinct masses, had the effect which the
unknown architect probably had in his mind when he
designed this nave, 200 feet long, with a vaulted roof
supported by twenty pillars, nearly 200 feet high.
The absence of all chairs and seats, and consequently
the easy, natural attitudes of the worshippers, give solem
nity and grandeur to the scene which the modern cos
tumes, partitions, and heaps of chairs, in most European
cathedrals, prevent us from obtaining.
" Some of the peasantry looked as if they had stepped
out of a picture by Murillo or Velasquez. One man
especially we made a note of He sat upon a marble
tomb like an emperor, and looked as regal. He wore
a coloured handkerchief bound turban-wise round his head,
a Veronese-green vest, a red sash, and long quaint-shaped
shoes, fastened to his feet and legs with dark sandals ; his
cloak was brown, lined with a plaid, which he wore in
such a manner as if, unconsciously, to show the lining,

"il 'il' ' ¦
l^^tr 'l.-'hMl, f, - J ''^'l'
r. f'f-'-j,
t ¦¦', r ' "

iT /-K^ J7"

VESPERS. — BY E. LUNDGREN.

i^ac^ /. 208.

SPAIN. 209
throwing it over one shoulder in graceful folds. Every
time he moved he fell into a grander attitude, looking like
the figure on the tomb of Lorenzo de' Medici — a poor,
proud Castilian he, of the old type, little heeding that
an irreverent nineteenth-century artist was taking notes
of him.
"Another man, whom Muriho would have delighted to
honour — ragged, dirty, proud of course — the colour of an
old canvas, knelt down by our side in one of the chapels,
and • abstractedly ' disappeared with the wide-awake hat
belonging to one of our party."
There are several fine churches in Burgos to be visited,
and we are told not to omit to see the tomb of the Cid,
whose bones are kept in a " common walnut um " in a
room fitted up as a chapel in the Town Hall. But
perhaps our time will be better occupied in a drive of a
few miles towards the hills to see the tomb of Juan II. and
Isabella of Portugal. It is here, in a Gothic church of the
Cartuja of Miraflores, that we can appreciate the mag
nificence of carved alabaster. Two recumbent figures,
raised about six feet from the ground, on a pedestal of the
same material (the ground-plan of which is in the shape
of a star), form one mass of carving in bold relief and most
delicate ornamentation. Figures of saints surround it,
whilst lions and other animals crouching in different
attitudes, in the recesses and niches beneath them, group
boldly and effectively. The modelling of the animals is
excellent, and is only surpassed in workmanship by the
wonderful imitation of lace and embroidery on the figures.
Close to these monuments is the tomb of Don Alonzo,
their son, around which the clustering branches of a vine
are festooned upon a Gothic arch ; and here again the
workmanship is most elaborate. There were other monu
ments and specimens of carving in the chapel, and several
P

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

stained glass windows ; but all the riches and magnificence
crowded together here, could not dissipate the desolate air
of eveiything about this almost deserted convent.
It was sad to walk in the lonely cloisters and hear from
the poor monks (the two or three remaining ones who
conduct strangers over the convent) what the '^Miraflores"
must once have been, and suggestive as a contrast, after
the alabaster tombs of kings, to visit the " champ de repos,"
of 419 Carthusian monks "who lie here in death, as they
lived, humble and forgotten, without a name or a date,
amongst the weeds, shaded by tall and sombre cypresses,
which raise their arrowy spires to heaven."
Quitting Burgos at half-past ten at night, we went direct
to Madrid. The following is a note on the journey.
"A very lovely sunrise, the next morning, over the
Guadarama mountains, presenting one of those strange
bright contrasts between the deep-red glow of the waving
lines of hills, and the cold, clear, blue sky, that is seldom
seen in any other country. Warmth of colour, and cold
photographic hardness of form and outline, with a back
ground of the most tender, delicate blue."
At this part of our journey we might have been in the
East, for all the signs of life or vegetation that could be
seen ; nothing but ridges of brown, barren mountains,
rising one behind the other in dreary monotony ; no towns,
no villages of any importance, and hardly any inhabitants.
There are fifty-seven tunnels between Irun and Madrid,
and the railway winds in and out between the mountain
ranges, keeping an average level of 1500 feet above the
sea. As we approach Madrid there are more signs of
cultivation, and we pass first something that looks like a
farm, and then a manufactory with a chimney that reminds
one of Manchester — the style is unmistakable.
About 9 A.M. we pass the " Escorial," the tomb of the

SPAIN.

Spanish kings, and soon after lO A.M. arrive at Madrid.
We are late, of course. The " curves " and " gradients "
that we have passed over during the night are not favour
able to a high rate of speed, and we are fortunate if we
average more than eighteen miles an hour. The time
wasted at stations where there were no passengers, or any
sign of a town ; the listless way of doing everything
connected with the traffic, and the national hatred of
punctuality, all tend to the same end. Matters do not
seem to improve, judging from a letter from a passenger
by the "express" train, who writes of this part of the
journey, — "On we plodded, up hill and down hill, as if
drawn by short-winded and broken-kneed engines, the
very dogs coming out, running along and barking at us in
front and in rear, doubling us round and round as if we
were some old patache, with which they could keep up
races at will."
The fact is, that we are really travelling by a luggage-
train, and that, owing to the poverty of the system of one
line of rails for all traffic, the train is composed chiefly of
cattle and goods trucks, which we have to " shunt " and
take up at the various small stations, and which sometimes
reach to an enormous length, with two or three passenger
carriages in the middle. In winter, on steep gradients and
with frequent snow on the Guadarama mountains, it is
almost impossible to keep correct time, as one unpunctual
train disarranges the whole system for the day or longer.
In spring and autumn the traffic is greater than the
railway company can properly undertake, and much
crowding, discomfort, and delay, is the consequence : and
all this on a line which at other times has not sufficient
funds to pay working expenses.

p 2

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Madrid.
Every traveller goes to the " Puerta del Sol," the great
central '^ place',' the life and heart of Madrid.
From our window in the "Fonda de los Principes'' we
look down upon a bright and brilliant scene, unlike
anything in any other capital in Europe. The houses and
public buildings are, it is true, of no particular style of
architecture, and the shops and their contents are more
Parisian than Spanish ; but in spite of the prevailing
modern European style of dress, there is colour and
variety of costume in the crowd. The mantilla is still
occasionally worn, and Spaniards of all degrees take care
to display the gay-coloured silk linings to their cloaks ;
there are the tassels and bright worsted trappings to the
mules, and the quaint dresses of the water-carriers con
tinually passing with their loads ; detachments of troops
are moving about in every direction, and the crowd is as
great at this spot as on the Paris Boulevards.
All the principal streets lead into or towards this spot,
where there is constant trafiRc night and day. The
" Puerta del Sol '' is about 400 feet in length north and
south, and 150 feet wide, being rather narrower at either
end. The building which occupies the western side is the
" Palacio del Gobernacion," the Home Office, and also the
central dep6t for troops. Opposite are shops, with one or
two of the principal hotels above. The south end is
formed by the " Hdtel de Paris," and the Calle de Alcald.
Six other streets converge upon the " Puerta del Sol "
(the Gate of the Sun), which seems, to draw,, irresistibly,
towards itself the traffic of the city ; and as the Madrileiios
are more alive by night than by day, the noises and

SPAIN. 213

movement seem incessant to any one unaccustomed to
the place.
There is a fine fountain in the centre of the " Puerta "
well supplied with water, which is now playing, as we
write, at least sixty feet high, flashing in the moonlight,
and giving that bright aspect to the place which strikes
every visitor. The pavements are broad under our
windows, and at twelve o'clock to-night there are at least
five hundred people standing about or walking. We
remarked that few people left the pavement or stood in
the centre of the square, but were unaware at the time
that there was a regulation prohibiting groups of persons
standing together in the centre of the square.
On the " Prado " and the " Fuente Castellana," the chief
afternoon promenades, an Englishman will be stmck with
the style of the carriages, and with the number of
" thoroughbreds " that pass up and down over the half-mile
of straight drive, the handling being of course after the
manner of the " Bois de Boidogne'.' It is not fashionable to
walk anywhere ; it is even thought better to sit in a closed
cab which jolts you terribly, at the rate of four reals (less
than one shilling) an hour, over the rough stones on their
roadways. Every day whilst we have been here some of the royal
family drive past our hotel on the " Puerta del Sol " in
closed carriages drawn by six mules with gay trappings.
Their approach, long before the carriages are in sight, is
heralded by a faint squeak from something between a
penny trumpet and a French horn, issuing from the gate
of the " Palazzo del Gobernacion." The number of squeaks
is regulated according to rank, thus : — three squeaks for
the Queen, two for the Infanta, and so on. There is a
perpetual interchange of visits between royal personages,
who live at opposite sides of the city, and call on each

U4 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

other every day. A cradle and perambulator often follow
on these visits in an open carriage, drawn by four mules
with outriders and attendants. It is one of the sights for
a stranger to see.
We should not omit to make mention here of the
" Guardias Civiles " (Civil Guards) who are constantly on
duty about, the Palace and the Government Offices. They
are a fine body of picked men (like the Irish constabulary),
representatives of public order, the prop and stay of the
Government, whatever partj'^ may be in power. We shall
see them constantly in Andalusia, riding about the country,
with their long cloaks covering both horse and man. The
sketch of one of them, lounging about near the " Puerta del
Sol " in his picturesque uniform, is by the late John Phillip.
A glance at the map of Spain will show how central is
the capital of Spain, both by natural position and the
formation of roads and railways. Everything is brought
to the capital, and every one must go to the capital to
supply his most ordinary wants. There is hardly any
road in Spain that does not lead to Madrid. The adven
tures of a gentleman who journeyed from Oporto to
Salamanca, an account of which appeared in the news
papers a few years ago, may be remembered. It gave
a good idea of what travelling on cross-roads is like since
the introduction of railways.
If the traveller when he enters Spain may be likened to
a fly which has just stepped into a spider's web and must
take the consequences, in Madrid he has arrived at the
centre, and his enemy is upon him. There is no escape,
he must pay — and pay. Twenty-five shillings a day, and
even more in the height of the season, it costs each person
at a good Fonda. The system of monster hotels — where
there is no host to welcome you, or to care for your wants
where no one troubles himself whether you go or stay, and

A SKETCH.— BY THE LATE JOHN PHILLIP, R.A.

Face p. 214.

SPAIN. 215
where you feel from the moment you enter that you are
part of a huge machine, is not the ideal hostelry. But in
Spain "everything does go by contraries," and a " Grand
Hdtel" in Madrid is like a drop of water in a thirsty land.
In the common out-door life of Madrid, Paris is copied,
and, if it were not for the unmistakable Spanish faces, the
people might be Parisian. Their horses are splendid, their
carriages are English-built, and both " fours-in-hand " and
" tandems " are seen on the Prado.
But there is one special characteristic in the crowd near
the " Puerta del Sol," a crowd that never disperses day or
night It is in the number of idlers, of dark men standing
about from morning till night wrapped in cloaks. The
majority are, to tell the truth, an ill-looking set (of the
traditional stage villain type) ; they have scowling faces, a
slouching aspect, and an ill-mannered address if spoken to.
They loiter in all the frequented places in Madrid, and are
very much in the way. They hardly speak to one another,
and scarcely seem to have energy enough to light a
cigarette, scratching their fusees sometimes (as we have
seen them) on the coat of a passer-by, in a contemplative,
patronising fashion, that takes a stranger rather aback.
Many a young Madrilerio is content to lounge his life
away in this fashion ; and if he has an income sufficient to
keep him in "' cigaritos" to pay for his weekly seat at the
" Plaza del Toros," and to provide him the bare means of
subsistence, he will do no work. He is ready in case of an
^meute, or for a place under Government — neither would
come amiss to him. It is all he seems fitted for, and
apparently the height of his ambition. In the morning a
lounge on the '' Puerta del Sol," in the afternoon a walk or
ride on the " Prado," in the evening to a cafe or theatre,
varied occasionally by a bull-fight or cock-fight — seem the
average employment of half the young men in Madrid.

2i6 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
There is not much betting or "sporting" in our sense of
the word, even at the bull-fights, and they seemed to us on
most occasions to do what Englishmen alone have been
accused of, " to take their pleasure sadly."
The women seem more cheerful and industrious, although
we see comparatively few in the streets. In the early
mornings they go in great numbers to the various churches,
dressed in black and wearing the mantilla, but in the after
noon, bright, if not tawdry, colours are the "mode" and
Spanish features and complexions are put through the
forcing process of wearing Parisian bonnets.
Nothing is wonderful in Spain. The great cafe under
the " Grand H6tel de Paris " is crowded day and night
with people, some of whom look so poor and spend so little
that it is a marvel to the uninitiated how they all live.
Our lasting impression of the people of Madrid will be,
that one-third spent their lives in carriages, one-third in
cafes, and one-third begged their bread.
The beggars are a great feature in all the streets, and
pursue you with loud clamours for " cuartos " in the name
of " our Lady of Atocha." They lounge about in groups
in the most public places, and thrust themselves before you
with an insolent, and sometimes threatening aspect, that
does not by any means incite to charity. But they are
licensed and numbered, and beg " officially " in the name
of " our holy mother the Church."
In the interests of art, with which we have here most
concern, we may hope that those picturesque groups of
men, women, and children of all ages, that obstruct the
entrance to every church, and stain the very doors with
their filthy garments, may " never cease out of the land " ;
but for the sake of order, and public decency, we might
ask the authorities at Madrid to protect strangers from
annoyance and often insult.

SPAIN. 1X-J

Notwithstanding the evident poverty and distress whillh
existed in Madrid when we were there, the dearness of
provisions, and the poor quality of nearly everything ex
posed for sale in the markets, it is cheering to have another
proof of the truth of the saying that there are " two sides
to every picture," and to learn from the newspapers that
the Madrileiios are not in the depths of despair : —
" In spite of all this distress," writes a correspondent, " we have had
a very merry Christmas here in the capital ; flocks of fat turkeys
gobbhng about the streets for weeks ; the Plaza Mayor, and its
adjacent districts, one vast show of meat and vegetables, with great
piles of grapes, pomegranates, and oranges, endless stalls of turrons,
marzapanes, and other sweetmeats of the season, booths of children's
toys, with all the paraphernalia of the Holy Manger, angels, shepherds,
vifise men, and ' star in the East '; and all over town long strings of
boys, as well as of grown-up men, with penny drums and farthing
trumpets, keeping up a jolly noise for a day and a night, to the total
murder of wholesome sleep."
If our " Lady Bountiful " smiles, all goes well ; wherever
be the secret springs — from whatever point the sun of
prosperity shines — whether the good genius be a " patron-
saint " of the Church, or a patron-sinner, who holds for
the time the keys of the public treasury, certain it is that
at Christmas-time at Madrid, and during the Holy
Week at Seville, the tide of wealth flows — as it flows
sometimes in the great oil cities of the West. If this be a
puzzle to " estranferos" it is a perfect mystery to the more
thoughtful of the inhabitants of Madrid, who feel certain,
and do not hesitate to express their opinion, that " a crash
must come some day, when the pay of the Guardias
Civiles will get too far into arrear; when the cry for
bread will drown the noise of penny drums and farthing
trumpets, and we shall no longer read of three hundred
Members of the Upper House, each driving to save his
country in a coach and pair " !

2i8 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Two Bull-Fights.
We were sitting one evening in a crowded cafe near the
Puerta del Sol, wondering, for want of something better to
do, by what mysterious means such an extensive establish
ment could manage to exist, when nearly every visitor
contented himself with a glass of sugar and water, for
which he paid a penny, and perhaps sat there the whole
evening, smoking the cigaritos that he brought with him.
Flowers were offered for sale by most diminutive
Seiioritas ; toys, books, songs, and newspapers, were handed
about by itinerant vendors ; and lottery tickets with such
excellent numbers that we could have made a rapid
fortune in a week if we had desired it and — if we were
fortunate.'^^ We were listening to a monotonous song from
a rather demonstrative young lady in a short Andalusian
costume, who accompanied herself on a guitar, and were
becoming gradually confused with the noise of hundreds of
voices and the fumes of cigarettes, when a group of men
entered, on whom all eyes were instantly turned.
We heard the names of " Cuchares " and " Dominguez "
whispered about, and soon learnt that these were the
" Espadas " and the performers who were to appear at the
bull-fight the next day. They were fine, athletic, well-
made men, with bright eyes and manly bearing ; quiet in
demeanour, looking very clean and neat in their tight-
fitting suits of black, with embroidered hussar jackets,
Spanish "sombreros," and hair cut closely, with the ex
ception of one little plaited pigtail hanging down the back.
' Lotteries are " Cosas de Espana," and are popular amongst all
classes ; there is a Mamtal del Later o published at Madrid to guide
the uninitiated.

-i:^^^^S*

ifr^EEJ^Nfi^

LOTERIA NACIONALE  BY JOHN PHILLIP, R.A.

SPAIN. 219
With them came in a crowd of young Madrileiios, the
sporting fraternity of Madrid, who discussed the chances of
the morrow with much animation. The performers were
by far the least excited of the group, and sat and sipped
their coffee or " agua " with the greatest composure.
Before we left the cafe we noticed the sporting group in
deep consultation with one Count — — , who it appeared
had obtained permission to act as amateur "Espada."
The man was no novice, having a private bull-ring.
On the following day we go early to obtain tickets, as it
is supposed that some of the royal family will be present at
the " funcion," and tickets will be difficult to procure in the
afternoon, excepting at exorbitant prices.
The crowd, however, is here before us, in such numbers
and apparently so eager that expectation is raised to the
highest pitch, and the excitement is catching. It is no
orderly queue of people waiting two and two for their
turn, as is customary on the Continent, but a crushing,
struggling, and surging mob, that sends up volumes of
smoke, and ejaculations that are certainly not blessings.
The majority fight their way to the " despacho " (a little
wooden erection in the Calle de I'Alcala) and fight their
way back ; then, buying a fan for one real, and a little blue
play-bill for a cuarto, they disappear until the afternoon.
The chief cause of all this disturbance is not the genuine
eagerness of the crowd, but the system of speculators
buying up tickets to sell again at exorbitant rates.
Whilst w^e are watching and making up our minds for a
struggle, a tall, bright-eyed gamin comes up and offers
his services.
" Shall he get a ' carta ' for us ? "
" Yes, for the cheapest place on the shady side!'
In an instant he is plunging and crushing amongst the
crowd, crawling, over their heads ; and, holding out our

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

money with a long arm, he succeeds in getting one of the
few remaining seats for two reales.
" But this ' carta ' is not marked ' al sombra', and we
cannot sit in the sun."
" The Senor can have a fan for two reales, and it is the
best side of the Plaza."
The seats on the sunny side are about half the price of
those marked " al sombra,'' and the young gentleman, who
kept a store of the former, had tried to foist one of them
upon us, pocketing the difference. Paper fans are sold for
those who take these seats, but it is almost impossible to
see when facing the sun.
The performance commenced at three, and before two
the whole population seemed to be moving towards the
" Plaza de Toros."
" For once all men seemed one way drawn,
Saw nothing else — heard nothing."
Across the "Puerta del Sol," down the Calle de Alcala,
past the deserted " Museo," the almost as sohtary " Prado,"
and through the Puerta de Alcala, flowed the great river
of men and women, gathering tributary streams at every
street-corner, all eagerness and haste to see, what they had
seen a hundred times before.
There was one figure — and one only — in this crowd that
told its purpose, and the sight was a sad one. A sorry
steed, a veritable Rosinante, with gay tassels and trappings,
was doing its best to prance and career up and down to
attract the people, tottering under the weight of a lusty
" picador," padded and covered with an arrangement of cork
and leather to protect him from the bull's thrusts ; followed
by a boy on foot, whose office it would be to drive the poor
beast when in the arena, and compel him to face the bull.
The " picador " rides gaily along, bowing to the people on
each side, until they reach the entrance to the arena.

SPAIN.

In every book that we ever read on Spain, it is stated
that the best bull-fights are to be seen at Seville ; but
having seen them both at Madrid and Seville, we venture
to think that this is no longer correct. " Corridas de toros,"
like everything else in Spain, have been affected by over-
centralisation and railways ; and the influx of strangers to
Madrid has attracted the most distinguished "Espadas"
(with the fiercest bulls) to the capital, and caused more
money to be spent upon performances here than in any
part of Andalusia.
The " Plaza de Toros " at Madrid is a low, ugly-looking
building outside, with the general poor appearance of a
second-rate circus, but with the addition of a peculiar and
terrible smell as of shambles. The entrance to our seats
was through a narrow passage behind some stables, where
there were ten or twelve horses, (some eating their last
meal), and where harness and various " properties " were
piled up ready for use.
" On entering the ring," says Mr. Ford, " the stranger
finds his watch put back at once eighteen hundred years ;
he is transported to Rome under the Caesars ; and, in
truth, the sight is glorious of the assembled thousands
in their Spanish costume ; the novelty of the spectacle,
associated with our earliest classical studies, is enhanced
by the blue expanse of the heavens spread above as a
canopy." The interior of the building is in the form of a Roman
amphitheatre, with a ring of about iioo feet in circum
ference. Its general appearance is shabby and ruinous.
Round the lower part, where we had taken places
purposely, in order to get a good general view, there are
ten rows of open seats rising one behind the other, with
the number of inches allotted to each person painted upon
them ; behind are two tiers of shabby boxes, separated

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

from the rest by a wooden railing, as a still further
protection from the bulls. There is a royal box on the
principal tier, and a few spacious ones on each side,
decorated with tawdry hangings and devices, are reserved
for the Court. We are separated from the ring by two
wooden barriers about five and six feet high respectively,
with an alley or passage between, all round the ring,
serving as a place of refuge for the performers when hotly
pursued, and for adventurous "Madrileiios" who wish to
be near the scene of action. Opposite the royal box are
the doors where the bulls enter, and at the sides two
others for the performers. The seats about us and the
benches above are worn and weather-beaten, and there
seems to have been little attempt made to repair or
redecorate the building.
There is, as has been truly said, a " business-like and
murderous look about the whole building " which is
unmistakable. When we entered, the arena was as
crowded with people as the course at Epsom on the Derby
Day before the great race ; but at the sound of a trumpet
the ring was gradually cleared, and we soon became
tightly wedged up on all sides, beyond all possibility of
retreat if we had desired it. In front, leaning on the ropes,
were young men and boys armed with sticks and fireworks,
ready to take part in the performance if they could get a
chance, which they occasionally managed to do.
The crowd was not demonstrative or very noisy ; it
was, on the whole, a good-humoured holiday mob, which
seemed to care more for a " cigarito " than anything else
in the world ; but there were a few connoisseurs near us
and round the bull-contractor's box who were discussing
the chances of the day, and might have been betting, but
that there is so little real speculation or " sporting "
amongst Spaniards. The excitement of real danger to the

SPAIN. 223
performers, and curiosity as to how each bull would
behave, seemed to be the paramount attractions.
We said that the crowd was not noisy, but, when the
seats were nearly full, the sound that went up from more
than eight thousand people was almost deafening ; and
the smoking was a wonderful sight, resembling an
enormous circle of burning peat, or the smouldering of
camp fires. Almost the only distinguishable sounds were
the scratching of fusees or matches, and the cry every
where for water — Agua I agua ! agua ! The water-carriers
were in constant requisition all through the performance,
for the heat was very great. Many of the people were
dressed in Spanish costume, and were evidently from the
country and suburbs of Madrid ; but all true Madrileiios
of course wore black coats and Paris hats, and the ladies
in the boxes, of whom there were a number, wore hats as
well as the mantilla.
Just before the commencement of the performance the
sun shone out brilliantly, and in an instant a thousand
paper fans of all colours fluttered in the breeze, looking in
the distance, as if a swarm of butterflies had suddenly
started into life.
At a signal from the trumpeter the band played, and
from a general movement in the crowd we knew that the
royal box had its occupant, and that the signal to com
mence had been given.
A side-door is opened, and the combatants enter in
procession, led by two mounted officers of police in ancient
Spanish costume, with black hats and cloaks. The pro
cession itself, and the whole effect when the spectators
rise to see the entry, is so imposing and unique, that we
should recommend every one to see this, if not to stay for
the fight. After the " alguaciles " or officers come the
" picadores," mounted on their poor steeds and armed to

224 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
the teeth, holding heavy lances in their hands ; after them
the " banderillos " and " chulos," or combatants on foot,
fine, active men, in the costume we are accustomed to see
in the opera of " Figaro " or " The Barber of Seville."
Next follow the " matadores " (or " espadas!' as they are
generally called), the "maestros," whose office it is to
kill the bull single-handed. Lastly, come a number of
attendants, and a team of mules three abreast gaily
caparisoned, which are afterwards employed to drag away
the dead.
The performers bow before the royal box, and a key of
the door by which the bulls are to enter is thrown to them
by the president. All then retire from the ring excepting
two " picadores " on horseback ; the trumpet sounds again,
and the door is thrown open.
This is the supreme moment ; every eye and ear is on
the stretch, and there is a general hush throughout the
crowd. A low roaring is heard in the dark passage
leading from the stables, and in a few seconds, with a
plunging, awkward motion, the bull rushes into the centre
of the ring and stands still ; dazzled apparently with the
brightness and sudden change from his dark prison, and
startled with the shout that greets his entry. The first
bull on this day was a handsome black beast, rather small,
of Andalusian breed, with enormous horns, and apparently
of great strength and activity. His coat was glossy and
bright, and was decorated with ribbons of the colour of his
owner {azul turqui), pinned on to his shoulder.
His first impulse seemed to be to find his way out of
all this uproar, and get back to his den ; but all such
thoughts evidently vanished when he caught sight of the
" picadores " drawn up near the barrier one on each side
of the ring. He faced about at once, and with a motion,
well described "as though body and legs were borne

SPAIN. 225
helplessly along by the enormous throat, which, working'
in every muscle, seemed to sway itself over the earth by
its own mere weight," he rushed headlong at man and
horse and threw them both to the ground with a crash.
Instantly the "chulos" and "banderillos" entered the
ring, and with their bright red flags drew away the bull
from the fallen picador. Then commenced a chase and a
series of passages and rushes, in which the chulos dis
played marvellous dexterity in evading the bull, sometimes
waiting for his approach, and, just as the animal stooped
to toss, stepping on its forehead, walking along its back,
and jumping easily off again. Sometimes they were so
hotly pursued that they had to drop their flags and leap
the barriers.
In the meantime the fallen " picador " had been dragged
with difficulty from under his wounded horse and re
mounted, and the ring was again cleared of every one
on foot The same scene occurred with slight variations ;
the more skilful "picadores" managed sometimes to
receive the charge of the bull with their lances and to
drive him back ; but, in the end, the horses were fearfully
wounded by the bull's horns, often falling dead under their
riders. The " picadores " appeared much shaken by the
falls, and it looked dangerous work, but we heard that
they were seldom seriously injured. After several horses
had been killed, the " picadores " retired, and the more
skilful and graceful part of the performance commenced.
The trumpet sounded again, and the "banderillos,"
advancing with two little barbed darts about a foot long,
entered the ring, and, standing upright with their arms
raised above their heads, received the charge of the bull,
jumping aside and endeavouring at that instant to fix the
darts on his shoulder — an operation which, as our neighbour
informed us, "should be done neatly — one on each side."
Q

226 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
This of course enrages the bull, and renders the sport most
exciting to those who love it
He roared and tore up the earth with rage, and rushed
headlong after his tormentors, who had- hairbreadth
escapes, jumping the barriers when the bull was almost
upon them. They immediately returned to the charge,
and darted about the arena, waving their cloaks in the
bull's face, and tormenting him until his rage was terrible
to behold.
The excitement at this time was at its highest pitch, and
to enter the ring at all seemed, to novices, most dangerous.
Two "banderillos" advanced cautiously, holding their
darts high in the air. They stood too close to each other,
and when the bull rushed at them one tripped against the
other and fell dowri. tn an instant the ring was filled with
"chulos" to the rescue, who, in their turn, were scattered
right and left ; several ran for the barrier within a few
yards of us, and the bull followed them closely.
We saw him coming plunging towards us, and although
several women shrieked and people jumped from their
seats, we did not at the moment apprehend danger.
Surely, we thought (if there was time to think), it is so
arranged that the bull cannot leap both barriers and reach
the seats. But this was one of the " cosas de Espana " that
we had yet to learn ; we did not know that this was a
favourite part of the performance, and the " fun " that all
those young gentlemen with red handkerchiefs and sticks
like Smithfield cattle-drovers, had come out to see.
The bull tried to leap the barrier, and failed ; he turned
away with a sullen roar, and ploughed up the earth about
him. The " banderillos " and " chulos " returned again to
the ring, but he was either craven or obstinate, or (as we
thought) out of breath, and nearly beaten ; nothing would
stir him. - .

SPAIN. 227

Then the monotonous cry, that we had heard incessantly
throughout the fight, of " Agua 1 agua ! " was changed
to another cry — for " fire." " Fuega I fuega ! fuega ! "
was echoed round the ring, and in answer to the call a
" banderillo " advanced with two darts, shaped like the
.others, but covered with white paper. He stealthily
approached the bull, who stood motionless near the middle
of the ring, and, skilfully planting the points of the darts
in the bull's shoulder, beat a rapid retreat. The darts
were loaded with hand-rockets, and immediately exploded
on his back. He turned round and leaped into the air in
terror and pain, while the people rose and screamed with
excitement. Suddenly seeing his tormentor leaning over
the barrier, he made after him, and getting his fore-feet and
head on to the wood-work, he fairly toppled over and fell
into the passage between the two partitions. Here he
was immediately set upon by the young gentlemen, who
with their sticks tried to drive him back. He turned upon
them, however, and cleared the second barrier, how we
know not, and, sooner than we can write it, was amongst
us, and walking up the seats within a few feet of where we
sat. The proverb that " he who hesitates is lost " was
never better illustrated. To hesitate, to mn away, or to
make room for the bull, would have been fatal ; the plan
adopted instantly by all was to fasten upon him in a body,
man, woman, or child, whoever was nearest, and so by
sheer dead weight of numbers walk him back into the
ring! And now the third act commenced, the ring was cleared
and one of the " espadas " entered alone. He was dressed
as daintily as if he were going to a ball, with an em
broidered suit of gay colours, and light silk stockings,
exactly as we see him in the next illustration. He threw
his cap to the ground, and, with his sword in his right hand,
Q 2

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

and a " mtdeta " or red flag in his left, advanced to meet
the bull, amidst the cheers of the people.
It was an exciting moirient for any one to see for the
first time (not realising that the animal was now thoroughly
fatigued) this man standing alone before the bull, his life
depending upon his quickness of eye and his trusty sword,
his fine figure (clad with almost effeminate delicacy and
grace) separated not three feet from his enraged antagonist.
The bull hesitated, but soon made a rush at the " espada,"
who skilfully turned it off by waving the red flag in the
bull's face and jumping aside. This was repeated a dozen
or twenty times, during which the bull was slightly
wounded ; at last choosing his opportunity when the bull
had lowered his head to the right position, the " espada "
pointed his sword steadily at a spot behind the horns, and
the bull ran upon it and killed himself, — falling dead at
one blow. This was applauded vehemently ; hats and caps
were thrown by the spectators into the ring, which the
performer had the trouble of throwing back again to the
owners — a peculiar form of compliment which every one
seemed to appreciate.
Immediately the gates were thrown open, and the mules
were brought in to take away the dead ; they were
splendid animals, and galloped off rapidly with the bull
and afterwards with the dead horseS. In about ten
minutes the ring was cleared and another victim mshed in.
The second bull was a poor-looking animal — tame and
frightened — that ran away from the " picadores," and tried
to escape out of the ring. However, after a time, he turned
upon his tormentors, and the same performances were
gone through as before, but with less spirit The only
event of importance was the entry of the amateur
"espada," whom we had seen in the cafe the previous
evening. He was greatly cheered by the people, and

DOMINGUEZ THE "ESPADA.

Face p. -z-zZ.

SPAIN: 229

showed plenty of courage and self-possession ; but it was a
wretched blundering busines.s, wounding the bull cruelly
with false thrusts, and failing to kill him in the required
time. The poor beast had to be put out of his misery by
a professional executioner.
This was enough ; we had done our duty, and had seen
a bull-fight as it is conducted in the capital of Spain.

A Burlesque Bull-Fight.
Let us. now, very shortly, describe a burlesque bull-fight
which took. place at Seville on one of the red-letter days
of the Church's calendar, "for the benefit of certain masses,
and other acts of piety and charity,"
The great attraction was the first appearance of an
"intrepid senorita" — tauromaniac we should be disposed
to call her — who was to face a bull . singlehanded. This,
of course, drew crowds of spectators ; and when the ring
was cleared, and the young lady entered, in a kind of
"bloomer" costume, with a cap, red spangled tunic and
trousers, the audience rose to welcome her. She bowed to
the president, and was conducted at once into the centre of
the arena, when lo ! a great tub, with one end open, was
brought and placed upright and the " intrepid " lifted into
it ! It reached to her armpits, and there she stood waving
her banderillas or darts, when at a given signal a bull
was let loose in the arena. It was a young bull, with horns
cut short and padded at the ends ; and as the animal
could only toss or do any mischief by lowering its head to
the ground, the risk did not seem great or the performance
very promising.
For some time the bull would not have anything to do
with the tub, evidently not considering it fair game, but

230 ARTISTIC TRA VEL.
after walking two or three times round the arena he turned
suddenly, and without the slightest warning rushed head
long at the strange object. Away went the tub, rolling
half across the arena, with our fair seiiorita, who had
evidently rehearsed her part, coiled up inside !
This was all very well, and the lady might enjoy a sport
usually confined to the hedgehog and other lower animals ;
but when the bull, who soon began to get angry, at last
caught up the barrel on his horns, and rushed bellowing
round the ring, it looked serious for the tenant. There
was a general rush of " banderillos " and " chulos " to the
rescue, but some minutes elapsed before they could
surround the bull and release the performer from her
perilous position. When extricated she was smuggled
ignominiously out of the arena, and we saw the brave
senorita no more : the bull was not killed, but " bundled "
out of the ring.
The next act was " Skittles." Nine negroes (" Bedouins
of the desert "), dressed grotesquely, stood up like nine
pins, within a few feet of each other, and a frisky
" novillado," or young bull, was let in to knock them over.
They understood their duty, and went down flat at the
first charge. The bull stmck out right and left, and soon
overturned them all. They then sat in rows in chairs, and
were again bowled over, to the delight of the assembly.
This was great fun and was repeated several times — the
bull liked it, the "ninepins" seemed to like it, and the
audience shouted with delight.
The third act was a burlesque of the " picadores." The
trumpets sound again, the doors are thrown open and on
they come in close phalanx, cheered by at least 5000
people ; the five donkeys with their ears well forward, and
their tails set closely between their legs; the ragged
" picadores," without saddle or bridle, riding with a jaunty

SPAIN. ¦¦¦:¦;¦ 231

air, and a grim smile on their dirty faces, that was comical
in the extreme. Would that Gustave Dore could have
seen the group !
They ride once round the ring when the doors are
opened again, and the bull goes to work. He charges
them at once, but they are so closely packed that they
resist the shock and the bull retires. He has broken one
of the poor animal's legs, but they tie it iip with a hand
kerchief, and continue marching slowly round, keeping
well together as their only chance. A few more charges
and down they all go. The men run for their lives and
leap the barriers, and the donkeys are tossed up in the air !
The finale was a. wonderful sight. Two or three young
bulls (with their horns padded) were let into the ring, and
then all the people. We left them there, rolling and
tumbling over one another in the darkness, shouting and
screaming, fighting and cursing — sending up sounds that
might indeed make angels weep.
Such is a general outline of the performance, which had
many variations and interludes, and lasted more than three
hours. But this scene of riot made, as so often happens in
Spain, one of those pictures that delight an artist. The
" Plaza de Toros " at Seville is half in ruins, one side of
the wall being destroyed, and through this gap we could
see the city. The foreground was an irregular mass of
people, scarce distinguishable in the twilight, but twinkling
with the light of thousands of "cigaritos," and covered
with a complete canopy of smoke floating in the still air.
Beyond, the city towers just tinged with the sun's
departing rays, and " La Giralda," high above them all
glowing as if it were yet broad day.

232 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Madrid to Cordova.
" Swallow, swallow, flying, flying south,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves.
And tell her— what I tell to thee."
To swallows flying from England's wintry winds, who,
when summer is over, disperse like autumn leaves — to
those who, dreading the sea passage to the south of Spain,
think the overland route would be preferable, this chapter
is dedicated. The general reader may pass over it as a
mere chapter of accidents, incident to a journey before the
completion of railways ; but similar events are occurring
on the cross-roads of Spain in 1892.
At one point on the road, where the railway ended
temporarily between Madrid and Cordova, there were
several diligences (great lumbering conveyances covered
with mud, of which it would be difficult to say whether
they were dirtier inside or out) drawn up in a line near the
railway, in the middle of a pond, with their gaily capari
soned team of mules standing up to their knees in water.
Seats were at last found for the ladies of our party in
the " intirieur" and in the "banquette" on the top; the
rest rode where they could, one with the driver on one
diligence, and the others on the roof with the luggage.
A Spanish " diligenda " holds between twenty and
thirty people, besides luggage and merchandise. On the
chief high roads it is drawn by a team of ten or twelve
mules, the country being hilly, and the roads heavy. They
are harnessed two abreast, a boy riding on one of the
leaders, and it is on his care, and the sagacity of the
animals, that the guidance and safety of the vehicle
depend. The driver holds loosely the reins of the two

¦ SPAIN.

233

last, but he has little or no power to guide or control the
movements of the vehicle with such a team, and it is only
fair to say that he seldom attempts it.
Each diligence is accompanied by a "mayoral," or
conductor, a very important personage, who has charge of
the whole equipage, and who, with his embroidered jacket
and gaiters with silver buttons, his red sash, and bright
handkerchief round his head, is here, there, and everywhere
during the journey ; and if, as is generally the case, he is a

jolly fellow, he is the life of the party. He has the
important office of assigning the passengers their seats,
and deciding when the diligence is to stop.
There is a coup6, called a "berlina',' holding three
people; an " intirieur" a "rotonde," and a "banquette"
above, called a "coupf,' with seats for three or four. The
roof is a sort of warehouse, where passenigers* luggage and
merchandise are stowed away, including provisions of all

234 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
kinds, both alive and dead. When all other seats" are
taken, passengers are packed away on the roof, and often
have an exciting time of it in warding off" the charges of
portmanteaus and boxes as the diligence sways from side
to side, and when it becomes dark, as may be imagined,
the combat thickens.
The pace is generally good, averaging eight miles an
hour, including hills and short stoppages. But the roads
are falling into neglect and disiise, and in many places
between Madrid and Cordova the railway has destroyed
the old road without leaving any substitute.
Accidents happen continually, but they are seldom
serious, and are taken as a matter of course. As far as
our experience goes, the chances are about equal as to
whether you arrive at your journey's end without some
sort of contretemps. A common one is this : the diligence
is approaching a town after a long day, coming down hill
at a swinging trot, at the rate of about ten miles an hour,
sometimes even faster, for the Spaniard is like the
traditional English postboy, who always reserved a gallop
for the last mile ; the postilion, who has perhaps been in
the saddle for twenty or thirty hours without rest, takes
this opportunity to doze, or more frequently to drop the
reins, and concentrate his whole attention upon making
a new thong to his whip. Suddenly his horse stumbles
and falls ; away rolls the postboy into a ditch or down an
embankment ; down go the mules, tumbUng over arid over
one another, and pile up in an instant into a dusty,
struggling heap, upon the top of which the heavy diligence
rolls, and there stops, or falls, as sometimes happens, over
on one side. -
The scene of uproar and confusion that ensues can
hardly be described. The stmggles of the mules to
extricate themselves, and of the passengers to get clear, of

SPAIN. 235
their heels ; the shouting and yelhng of the driver and
postboys ; the groans of the wounded animals, who are
often crushed under the diligence ; and the apparently
inextricable confusion of everything, must indeed be
witnessed to be understood. Sometimes the diligence has
to be unloaded, and some of the mules taken out of the
team, causing a delay of several hours ; but the journey is
generally accomplished without any more serious mishap
than a stunned postboy, or two or three mules left dead on
the roadside.
It is very amusing, before it becomes monotonous, to sit
in the coup^, or berlina, and listen to the compliments,
threats, and expostulations in turn of the driver (called the
" moto "), who has charge of the team, and who is per
petually jumping down and running by the side to keep
them in a trot. Every animal has a name, and answers to
it ; and if the " mayoral " happens to mention to the driver
in a low tone that " Brunella," or " Zitella," or some other
delinquent, is not pulling properly, she immediately begins
tugging and stmggling as if she were doing half the work
of the team ; " Brunella " probably remembering well the
penalty for non-fulfilment of duty, her tender driver
thinking nothing of getting down and picking a handful of
the sharpest stones that he can find, and throwing them at
the animal's head.
At the stages where they change they often get into the
greatest confusion, and much time is lost. Just as you are
dozing, or in the middle of the night, you become gradu
ally conscious of a sound of scuffling, shouting, and
swearing, and the free use, apparently, of the names of all
the saints in the calendar, and you wake up to find the
nose of a mule rubbing against your window, and that he
has his fore-feet on the body of another lying on the
ground ; and gradually, by the light of a lantern, you

236 ARTISTIC TRA VEL.
discover the whole team tied into an apparently inextric
able knot, whilst the excited drivers are stmggling to get
them into line again.
Towards the end of our journey we were getting up into
our seats again, when a tremendous noise of shouting
was heard in the darkness near us. It turned out that
the team of mules had started off down the mountain,
dragging with them the boy who had been placed in
charge. Then of course there was a grand chase, and
they were finally brought back in a desperate state of
entanglement and confusion. This caused another delay
of nearly an hour, by which time many of us had again
gone to sleep, when the signal was given to start. With a
lurch and a crash (occasioned by our being pulled off the
"jack," or lever, on which the diligence rested whilst the
wheel was being fitted, tearing it to pieces by dragging the
vehicle over it, because no one had taken the trouble to
move it av/ay), we started at once into a gallop, several of
the animals having their legs over the traces, and for
two or three hours without a halt kept rushing through
the darkness; sometimes jolting against the; bank, "ship
ping" earth and stones, and swinging from side to side
in a manner w hich would have sent us all out of our
seats if we had not been closely packed. The rain fell
heavily, and we were soon ploughing through mud and
crossing torrents, which made the latter part of our progress
very slow and tedious. As we got farther south and began
to descend, the air became much softer, the vegetation
altered with the change of climate, and aloes and the prickly
cactus grew on the road-side — and so on to Cordova.

" CABALLEROS " AT JAEN, NEAR CORDOVA.

Face p, 237.

SPAIN. 237

Cordova.

The welcome sight of the towers of Cordova, as we
turned the last hill a few miles east of the city, on our
Weary journey from Madrid, gave an impression of size
and grandeur which was altogether unreal. As we
approached its gates, the great mosque with its Moorish
battlements towering above all other buildings, showed at
a glance where the chief object of interest in Cordova was
centred; but the' most imposing entrance into this city
is from the south, by the road from Malaga, crossing the
Guadalquivir, near the mins of an aqueduct and close to
the walls of the mosque, which, from this point of view,
appears like a town in itself.
When we look out of our window at the " Fonda Rizzi"
the next morning, we find a half-ruined, half-deserted city.
The houses are white and flat-roofed, the air is soft and
balmy; we can see orange-gardens and "patios" fiUed
with exotic plants, and the aspect is almost Oriental.
There are several palm trees in the city, and in the distance
olive-groves and fertile plains, through which we can trace
the windings of the river Guadalquivir.
The aspect of the city when we walk through it is in
keeping with its outward appearance. There is very little
sign of bustle and activity, and here the only life it exhibits
seems to be owing to ' the constant passage of travellers
between Madrid and Seville. The manufacture of the
famous Cordova leather is almost a thing of the past,
although they are still at work in a few factories. The
public buildings and the churches give evidence of poverty
and neglect, and are not architecturally interesting ; and it
is only when we come to the mosque and the remains of
Moorish buildings that we feel rewarded for the journey.

238 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Directly on leaving the " Fonda " we find ourselves shut
in, in a series of narrow courts or alleys, so narrow that we
can touch both sides at once. The walls of the houses are
whitewashed, with little narrow windows looking on to the
street. In purely Oriental towns the charm of these little
windows is, that they are often the framework for a magni
ficent pair of eyes that dart their glances upon the passers-
by ; many of these windows were once so illuminated, but
tiihes have changed.
But we have no time for reverie — a string of donkeys
laden with paniers containing merchandise and fruits of all
kinds ; live fowls hanging down, a dozen together tied by
the leg oh one side and two or three- little lambs on the
.other, thrown across a donkey's back like a sack, the
cavalcade driven by muleteers in gay sashes, embroidered
gaiters, and velvet hats ;' followed by water-carriers, men
and women, — make us beat a retreat into the nearest door
way to let them pass. Following them to the " Plaza," or
market-place, a large neglected-looking square, with arcades
chiefly appropriated to tinkers and Jews' clothes-shops, we
see what little there is left of native costume in Cordova.
Its appearance, to tell the truth, is dilapidated and
" seedy " — there is • no better word. Italians are much
more picturesque than the groups we see here, and are
more consistent in their dress. The Senoras wear a red
rose or sprig of jessamine in their hair, and throw a
mantilla over their heads ; but their dresses come from
Lyons or Marseilles ; and the poorer classes imitate their
betters and buy all the modern finery they can.
A few of the old nobility still reside in Cordova and
its environs, and it is fair to presume that that old lady
that we see nearly every day, bumped and jolted over
the stones through the very few wide and paved streets
of which Cordova can boast, is a representative of some

SPAIN.

239

ancient house : she has imported a new open carriage from
Madrid, and it is evident that, the cobble-stones and the
rather unscientific " whip," who is belabouring the mules
that complete the equipage, will make short work with
the springs. She is going to take her daily ride on the
" alameda," ssid promenade by the banks of the Guadalquivir.
There, was really little to see besides the mosque, which
we went to every day. It occupies an immense area,
surrounded by a high wall of Moorish work. We enter

THE COURT OF ORANGES.

first (under a horseshoe arch) the " Court of Oranges," an
oblong court or garden, upwards of 400 feet long, with trees
and fountains in the centre. Nothing can exceed the
beauty of this court, with its orange trees, palms, and
cypresses. To come suddenly out of the glare of the burn
ing streets into the cool shade, where fountains are playing,
birds singing, and breezes bearing upon them the most

240 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
delicious odours, is what we read of in the "Arabian
Nights," but seldom realise.
The first sight of the interior of this extraordinary place
of worship is utterly unlike that of any other building in
Western Europe. It has a very low roof, with the familiar
horseshoe arch, supported by a forest of marble pillars.
The area of the interior is 642 feet by 462 feet, and the
roof cannot in some places be more than 30 feet high.
Near the centre there is a lofty capilla, erected by the
Christians when the mosque was first used as a cathedral.
In this — especially in the " coro " — there is some fine
carving, and also in a number of side chapels, dedicated to
various saints.
There are some " treasures " in the sacristy, but not of
great value, and scarcely worth the trouble of searching out.
The real treasures are in the variety and beauty of the
Moorish ornamentation to be met with at every turn, some
of which is in excellent preservation.
Everything about Cordova had a dreamy, forsaken look,
and a forsaken sound. Even at Toledo we sometimes
heard the tones of the guitar, but at Cordova scarcely ever.
From the few people that we saw altogether during our
visit, it hardly seemed possible that the city should contain
upwards of 40,000 inhabitants ; and quite in the region of
romance and fable that this same Cordova was once the
" largest city in the western world, that it measured twenty-
four miles by six, the whole space covered with houses,
palaces, mosques, and gardens, down to the banks of the
Guadalquivir."

SPAIN. 241

Seville.
" O northern lotos, say a prayer for one
Enthrall'd amidst these daughters of the sun ! "
Our first impressions of Seville were those of disappoint
ment. As we drove through it we had glimpses of the
noble tower "La Giralda" of which we have endeavoured
to give the reader some idea in the next illustration ;
and we knew that in its cathedral, its "Alcazar," its
collection of pictures, and in its associations, there were
few cities to compare with it for interest — still, it fell far
short of anticipations.
The houses are low, the streets are very narrow and
badly paved, and there is no rising ground from which to
get any good generalview.
From the balcony of the "Fonda de Paris," in the " Plaza
de Magdalena," we can see something of the city and its
inhabitants. There is a little stall underneath our window
where more cold water has been sold and consumed than
we ever saw distributed gratis within the same space
of time at any public fountain. The little bell tinkles
incessantly, and the cry of "Agua, agua!' is kept up all
day — water, with a dash of sugar in it for the more
luxurious — seems to be the " staff" of life."
And what are the inhabitants like ? Curiously like the
rest of the civilized world, and with little variation in dress
from our own people. The man who sells the water is a
little gayer in his attire, and his hair is trimmed with a
delicate pigtail like the Madrid dandies. His customers
are, from Murillo's dirty street-boys upwards to grave
senores in cloaks and bright-red umbrellas, embroidered
with black. Las senoras wear the mantilla almost always,
and very few bonnets are to be seen.

242 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

The buildings are substantial and bright-looking, with
plain whitewashed walls, and courtyards opening to the
street There is much bustle and apparent business in the
principal streets, and the shops are filled with French and
foreign goods.
Our first visit was to the Cathedral, in the morning when
the sun was high, as this is the only time when the pictures
can be well seen.
¦ The Cathedral, the Court of Oranges, with the chapter
and offices, form a square pile of great extent, raised upon
a platform or terrace. In the illustration we have given
the best view of the " Giralda" and part of the Gothic
Cathedral, which are seen towering above all other build
ings. Those who have heard in Mahommedan countries
the muezzin's cry from the towers of a mosque, calling upon
the faithful to " come to prayers, come to prayers, it is
better to pray than to sleep," cannot help thinking of that
time, when Seville was "the beloved city of the Moslem —
the gold and lace tent of the sensual Eastern — who planted
it on the banks of the Guadalquivir to dream life away
amid the enchantments of refined taste, which he lavished
his gold and genius to adorn, and his blood to defend and
fortify." Nothing that we have yet seen in Spain brings more
vividly before us the colossal scale on which the Moors
worked than " La Giralda',' which is a square Moorish
tower, about 350 feet in height, ascended by a series of
inclined planes, like the tower of St. Mark's at Venice.
Remains of Moorish ornamentation may be traced upon it,
but the upper part, the belfry, and the bronze figure of
" Faith " on the top, are comparatively modern additions.
From this tower we obtain our only good view of Seville.
^e can distinguish a few of the principal streets and
plazas ; and the terraced houses, with their pretty balconies

LA GIRALDA, SEVILLE.

Face p. 243.

SPAIN. 243
and green patios, but the buildings are so close to each
other that they almost seem to touch. Immediately be
neath is the Gothic cathedral, with its pinnacles and
enormous roof with flying buttresses ; near it is the
Alcazar, the old Moorish palace, with its beautiful courts
and gardens, extending as they once did to the river-side,
to a spot where we see the "Torre del Oro" the famous
tower of gold (a Moorish outwork or fortification); and the
Guadalquivir winding for miles through olive-groves, and
away towards Cadiz among the cork trees.
From "La Giralda " we can also take a distant view of
the " Plaza de Toros," and see the perfoi'mance and the
multitude without being present at its horrors. Across the
river is the rather disreputable suburb called Triana, in
habited by a race of gipsies, who live in a half-Arab
fashion, conforming as little as possible to Spanish habits.
It is the very place for picturesque old buildings, and for
painters who wish to study the costumes and habits of the
gipsies of Andalusia.
Two other features on the map beneath are the wide
Campo Santo — the playground of Seville ; and one enor
mous building, in itself almost a town, the tobacco
manufactory, covering a quadrangle of 600 feet, where
about 4000 persons are constantly employed.
Seville is situated in a flat country, with nothing remark
ably pretty or attractive about it, on the banks of a narrow
river with anything but a " crystal bosom," on which there
are some barges, and a small steamer sending out volumes
of smoke. Its streets are badly paved, and the roads in
the environs are almost impassable after rain.
From the tower of St Mark's at Venice the view is
somewhat similar, but there is nothing here to compare
with the " Canale Grande " and the broad lagunes ; and we
cannot, in whatever direction we look, discern much that is
R 2

244 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
imposing, either in the situation or the buildings of
Seville. If in the twelfth century it was one of the most consider
able cities in Spain, it is still the most favoured spot ; the
fertility of the soil and the beauty of the climate, rendering
it at all times a desirable residence.
The Cathedral is in itself worthy of a pilgrimage.
The interior is sombre and blocked with the " coro," and
it takes some minutes before one can appreciate its real
extent The ground-plan is enormous, 400 feet by 260
feet. It is divided into seven naves, the centre being 1 34
feet in height ; thirty-six pillars support the roof, each
1 5 feet in diameter, and " around them are grouped shafts,
slender, thin and light, like so many reeds around an oak-
trunk, terminating in slender palm-branches, blending
gently with each other."
" Bound with leaf garlands tender, rise stately and slender
The grand massive pillars." ....
On our first visit we were conducted in a dreamy manner
through upwards of thirty chapels. V/e were shown the
splendours of the " retablo " of the high altar ; the " coro,"
with its statues of " prophets, priests, and kings " ; and the
" capilla real," with its tombs and arabesques.
Coming out through the beautiful " Puerta del Puerdon,"
(a remnant of the ancient mosque), into the " Court of
Oranges," we see the " Giralda," with its fretted arabesque
ornament glowing in the last rays of the sun, and are
again, in imagination, in the land of the Moors.
Seville is the birthplace of Murillo, and the Caridad (a
hospital and church in one) contains some of his finest
works. Here is the great picture of the " Miracle of the
Loaves and Fishes," and opposite to it " Moses in the
Wilderness." They are well hung, but rather too high for
close examination.

SPAIN. 245
At the Museo, which is open free on Sundays and f^te-
days, there is a separate room set apart for the Murillos.
The Alcazar is part of a Moorish palace, rebuilt by
" Pedro the Cruel" in 1353, with the aid of architects from
the Alhambra. From the Cathedral tower we noticed
traces of the original extent of this building, reaching to
the " Torre del Oro " on the river side, and in several other
directions. It has been added to at several periods and in
different styles of architecture.
The other Moorish building that we visited was the
C asa de Pilato, which is said to be like Pontius Pilate's
house at Jemsalem. In parts of the interior it resembles
the Alcazar, although of course much smaller. There is
a beautiful patio paved with marble, with a fountain
ornamented with dolphins, and statues of goddesses at the
four angles. There are several handsome apartments and
a magnificent staircase leading to a gallery. From the
terrace-roof there is a good view over the city and into
the now neglected gardens, giving a good idea of the
"housetops" of the East, and the general character of the
buildings at Jerusalem.
But are we sure that we have seen Seville — the Seville
that we are to " see and die," the capital of Andalusia, the
seat of refinement and learning, the chosen home of the
apiaroi of the south of Spain ? If in Madrid politics are
uppermost in men's minds — if in Cadiz or Barcelona
commerce is of the most importance — in Seville they
should give place to poetry, music, and the " belles lettres!'
Seville is not itself without " life'' — life in music, in dance,
in song — animation everywhere.
Passing down almost any street in Seville, the senses are
gratified with the most delightful perfumes issuing from
the inner patios, and with sounds of music and dancing.
Enter, by a door of open metal-work, through a hall paved

246 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
with marble, into the inner court, filled with plants and
flowers ; a fountain is playing in the centre, and an awning
overhangs, which keeps the air cool all the day long.
There, with such surroundings as rare tropical plants,
sculpture, antique hanging lamps, and prettily-tiled walls,
the Sevillians spend their lives in their summer drawing-
rooms, and in their cosy little " boudoirs " leading on to
balconies, of which we just get a peep here and there.
All the principal rooms lead on to the central court,
where visitors are received, concerts are held, and the main
business of life is transacted ; varying, of course, very much
according to the. position, or taste, or wealth of the owner.
Everything, has such an air of home comfort and luxury
about it, that we, in our insular ignorance, are quite taken
by surprise. Here at least is one continental nation that
understands the meaning of the word " comfort," and can
appreciate " home."
Would that we had had time to do Seville justice and to
stay during the summer months, for the style of living
of which we have spoken is peculiar to Seville and to
Seville alone ; but it is only in summer that it is seen to
advantage, for " patio hfe ends in September and does not
recommence until May."

( 247 )

Granada.
" The gardens of thy Vega, its fields and blooming bowers —
Woe, woe ! I see their beauty gone, and scatter'd all their flowers."
There are some places in Europe, such as the Rhine, and
the city of Rome, about which so much has been said, oi
sung, in praise, that they rarely fail to disappoint the
traveller who sees them for the first time. There are some
again, that realise more than almost any ideal. The
Lake of Lucerne, Switzerland, in spring-time ; St. Mark's
Sqilare, Venice, from the Grand Canal, by moonlight j
" The Golden Horn," Constantinople, at sunset ; and — at
all times and seasons — Granada.
Whether it be from association, or the romantic beauty
of the situation, everything seems to combine to satisfy the

248 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
spectator. Poet, philosopher, antiquary, artist (or mere
holiday lounger, who may be all, or none, of these), will
each find something to his mind, and each, according to his
taste and temper, will be more or less gratified.
The illustration is taken from the garden of the
" Generaliffe," which is situated on the heights above the
Alhambra, from which it is separated by a deep ravine ; we
can see a portion of the town and the plains beyond, and
can form some idea of the general plan of the palace itself.
We can trace the old walls and towers for a considerable
distance, the latter — formerly the residences of the sultanas
and their families — still bearing traces of rich decoration ;
we can see the conical roofs of the " Court of Lions," and
beyond these the great square building erected by Charles
v., for which a portion of the Moorish palace was removed.
It is evident from this drawing what a splendid situation
the Moors selected to build upon, and what noble views
they must have had from their windows over the Vega,
thirty miles in extent. We see the town below, the rows
of stately elms, the luxuriant gardens, and cornfields
beyond ; but even here, the pride and great glory of
Granada we cannot see — the snow-capped mountains of
the. Sierra Nevada, which rise in the opposite direction,
and form of themselves a perfect picture of Alpine beauty.
Here at least, at Granada, we can live quietly and enjoy
ourselves. There is a little inn built into a part of the old
walls of the Alhambra, called the "Fonda de los Siete
Suelos "; it is nearly half a mile from the town, up a steep
ascent, and, although a "perfect place" in summer for an
artist to work, we could hardly recommend it as convenient
for i. short visit. It has, of course, the advantage of the
moonlight walks on the terraces, but in winter (to be
matter-of-fact) it is damp and extremely inconvenient to
return to after dark from the town.

rffTMfiiN'rssi'^pf

p< <nSwW

SPAIN. 249
After a good night's rest, and considerable study of
" Murray," perhaps the best way to see the sights of
Granada is to engage the services of a guide by the day,
as you are not allowed, without special permission, to visit
the Alhambra alone. E. Bensaken {pire), the same guide
who assisted Ford and Owen Jones in their labours, was
formerly to be heard of at this hotel, and seemed qualified
to speak of the Alhambra. His information was not
always accurate, but he knew more about the place than
any other local guide. He had an especial attraction for us,
because he had Moorish sympathies, and told his story of
the ruin and degradation of the place with an earnestness
that was partly genuine. It was like a voice from the
dead — " the last wail of the banished Moor."
Bensaken was a " character.'' Born at Gibraltar, of
Moorish parents, he was brought up as a money-changer ;
and afterwards served under the Count Montijo (uncle of
the Empress Eugenie), whilst Captain-General of Granada,
until he was put into the Inquisition. Twenty years
ago Bensaken acted as chief guide and interpreter at
Granada, and had the privilege of showing many royal
personages over these buildings, our Prince of Wales
amongst the number. He printed a short account of
Granada, which he sold to travellers ; but it was always
better to draw him out and hear him talk.
Early on the first morning after our arrival, we set off" to
visit the apartments of the Alhambra. Fighting our way
through the crowd of beggars, who lay in wait for our
coming, we pass up some steep and irregularly paved
streets, and under a massive archway built in the time of
Charles V, and are immediately within the precincts of
the Alhambra. We walk up long avenues, planted on
either side with tall elms, between which we catch glimpses
of the red towers far above us, and soon arrive at the

250 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
' Gate of Justice," with its horseshoe arch, and marble
pillars, and the superscription —
" There is no power or strength but in Allah."
Thence by a path between high walls to a large open
terrace, called " The Place of the Cisterns," commanding a
fine view of the surrounding country ; past the palace of
Charles V. (the prominent building in the last illustration)
to a little mean-looking door in one corner of the square,
and are, without being aware of it, within six yards of the
chief object of our pilgrimage. We are at once conducted
through the " Patio de la Alberca," or the " Court of the
Fishponds," oblong in shape, with a sheet of water in
which are reflected the slender columns of a portico, rich
with moresque decorations.
A few paces further, at the end of a corridor, is the
" Court of Lions." Its appearance was quite familiar —
having been so often described, pictured, modelled, and
copied, in part and in whole ; there seemed as if there were
nothing new to examine or discover ; and we could not
help comparing notes, in our mind, with Owen Jones's
restorations, and mentally admiring the fidelity of his copy
of this court.
But here we have the marks of time, the mellow tints of
age upon the marble shafts and conical roofs, and the
deep-blue sky overhead ; and its proportions have an effect
of elegance and lightness for which we were unprepared
from Owen Jones's model. The open court is grass-grown,
and the fountain is dry ; one side is under repair, and
busy hands are at work reproducing (not restoring) what
time and vandals have destroyed, or allowed to go to ruin.
Some of the lace-like ornamentation is in wonderful pre
servation, and here and there we can trace the remains
of the original colours with which this court was decorated.

SPAIN.

No doubt sentiment and association have much to do
with this ; but even to the unlearned in styles of archi
tecture, the principles on which the Moors built, seem to
appeal more directly to the imagination. Simplicity, re
finement, and truth are their chief characteristics. Looking
at the severe exteriors of their towers and walls,. giving no
indication of the art, and luxury, and grace, that they
concealed, we cannot admire too much the completeness of
the general plan. Their palaces were formed, as Owen
Jones remarks, "like those of the ancient Egyptians, to
impress the beholder with respect for the power and
majesty of the king, whilst within, the fragrant flowers and
running streams, the porcelain mosaics and gilded halls,
were constantly made to remind the owner how all that
ministered to his happiness was the gift of God."
In decoration, both in form and colour, they worked oh
fixed principles. Owen Jones's analysis of their method of
colouring has become well known in England since the
Exhibition of 1851, and we can here judge for ourselves
how valuable and true his teaching is. What he says
about " form " cannot be too often repeated : — •
" A still further charm is found in the works of the Arabs and Moors
from their conventional treatment of ornament, which, forbidden as
they were by their creed to represent living forms, they carried to the
highest perfection. They ever worked as Nature worked but always
avoided a direct transcript ; they took her principles, but did not, as
we do, attempt to copy her works. In this again they do not stand
alone ; in every period of faith in art, all ornamentation was ennobled
by the ideal ; never was the sense of propriety violated by a too
faithful representation of nature."
Nothing in the architectural history of any nation is
more remarkable than the orthodojj: spirit in which the
Moors worked, scarcely showing any sign of contact with
other nations, or even a trace of the influence of Christian
art, in any of their buildings ; preserving to the last

252 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
their distinctive character, their refinement and exquisite
taste. The doorway of the ''Patio de la Mesquita" is a good
example of Moorish ornamentation ; of suggested strength
and fitness, combined with delicacy, and appropriateness
of design. The upper portion is a specimen of relief work
zvithout colouring: the lower part, on each side, is white
tiling, the patterns upon it being in blue, yellow, and black.
At the capitals of the marble pillars may be observed
portions of texts from the Koran, and it is interesting to
notice how beautifully the cuneiform inscriptions blend
with the other parts of the decoration.
We spoke of the general principles on which the Moors
worked, and of their being forbidden by their creed to copy
or to represent any living thing ; but they have, in this
instance, approached very closely to an imitation of nature,
in the introduction of the form of a shell into the orna
mentation.' Many of the passages inscribed on the walls of the
Alhambra are very appropiate and suggestive. In the
"Hall of the two Sisters" there is a sentence that
runs thus :
" Look attentively at my elegance, and thou wilt reap the advantage
of a commentary on decoration."
And we may be sure that this would never have been
written if the architects had not felt that, in so doing, they
were not sounding their own praises, but inculcating a
principle. The Court of Lions measures lOO feet by 50, and is
surrounded by a portico supported by 144 marble columns,
arranged irregularly. The variety and beauty of the
ornamentation are seen almost to better advantage in the
' The lions supporting the central fountain in the " Court of Lions "
were ra.7>At purposely unnatural, on the same principle.

•7lliiiillllilll1iTTm

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PATIO DE LA MESQUITA, GRANADA.

254 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
brownish tint in which they now are, and it seemed to us
that the whole aspect of this court could scarcely be
improved by the addition of colour.
Leading from the Court of Lions is the " Hall of the
Two Sisters," with its beautiful stalactite roof, a " profusion
of vaults and miniature domes." The walls are richly
decorated and inscribed with sentences from the Koran :
" There is no conqueror but God," &c., &c.
And on shields, several times repeated :
" God alone the conqueror.''
In this hall it would seem as though the skill of Moorish
artizans had been exerted to the utmost ; the most precious
woods and marbles, the rarest mosaics, and the most
delicate carvings and sculpture having been employed to
embellish it.
On the opposite side of the Court of Lions, and also
leading out of it, is the " Court of the Abencerrages," and
at the end, the Hall of Justice.
But what, perhaps, strikes the visitor most is the " Hall
of Ambassadors." Its noble proportions (37 feet square
by 75 feet high), its position, the views from its arched
windows over the distant country, and also into the " Court
of the Fishpond," with its flowers, seen through another
corridor; the recesses in the windows, the proportion of
every door and window, and the delicacy of the decorative
work, interlaced, as usual, with inscriptions and praises to
God. We were shown the Baths — a suite of luxurious apart
ments, with a central patio or "chamber of rest," which
has been richly " restored " in colour ; also other chambers
and the Mosque.
But time, and Charles V.'s furniture and whitewash.

SPAIN. 255
(when he turned the Mosque into a chapel,) have obliterated
nearly all the Moorish work, although the ceiling is very
fine. In this chamber we were shown, a beautiful recess
where the Koran was kept.
When we look at the arrangement of the halls and
chambers of the Alhambra, with separate apartments for
each of the Sultanas, and think of the sumptuous accom
modation provided for them, and indeed for every member
of the enormous retinue of the Palace, our thoughts may
turn for a moment to what we read of the interior arrange
ments of our own palaces in the sixteenth century.
Is it not chronicled somewhere that in the reign of
" good Queen Bess " the maids of honour had to petition
to " have their chambers ceiled, and the partition that was
of boards, to be made higher, for that the servants looked
over "; and that the chamber for the squires of the body
was so " ruinous and cold," that they begged to have it
" ceiled overhead and boarded under foot " to make it
habitable ?
Whatever be thought of Moorish architects, judged by
the standard of other nations, may we not attribute, as
least a part, of their great success to the fact that they
were artists as well as architects ; that their education
comprised a knowledge of engineering, of chemistry, of
painting, and indeed of everything that was directly or
indirectly applicable to their art ?
In the first visit to the Alhambra it is difficult to see
and remember much more than we have indicated (for you
are not permitted to stay long in one apartment), but after
two or three visits the eye becomes accustomed to the
style of architecture and decoration, and comprehends the
intention and plan of many parts, of the building and
ornamentation, which at first sight seemed confused.
So much injury has been done to the Alhambra by

256 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
visitors, that the custodian is not permitted to let any one
remain within the walls unattended, and, of course, prefers
showing the rooms to a large party at a time — a tiresome
and irksome regulation that takes away from the pleasure
of contemplating quietly the beauties of the place. It was
only after. repeated application, and by representing that
we were artists anxious to make studies of portions of the
building, that we obtained permission to remain a few
hours alone in any of the courts.
To ascend the Alhambra towers, and walk on its
terraces, was the chief delight of our stay at Granada, and
we have endeavoured to give, in the illustration on p. 247,
some idea of their effect by moonlight.
After some time has been spent . in the study and
examination of these ruins — a time ever to be remembered
— we are naturally led to inquire what is the great charm
about the works of the Moors, and about the Alhambra
especially, which makes us love to linger within its walls ?
In Castile — at Burgos, Segovia, and Toledo — we have
seen some of the noblest examples of early Christian
architecture ; but if we are not mistaken, we have seen
nothing, as striking in beauty and power, and assuredly
nothing that will leave such an impression on the mind in
after years, as the " Alhambra."

¦s^/^j^^simsme\n.

ALGERIA.

ALGIERS.
" Ah oui, c'est qu'elle est belle avec ces chateaux forts.
Couches dans les prds verts, comme les gdants morts !
C'est qu'elle est noble, Alger la fille du corsaire !
Un r^seau de murs blancs la protege et I'enserre."
The first view of the town of Algiers, in North Africa,
with its pretty clusters of white houses set in bright green
hills, or as the French express it, " like a diamond set in
emeralds," the range of the lesser Atlas forming a back
ground of purple waves rising one above the other until
they are lost in cloud — was perhaps the most beautiful
sight we had witnessed, and it is as well to record it at
once, lest the experience of the next few hours might
banish it from memory.
It was a good beginning to have a stately bare-footed s

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Arab to shoulder our baggage from the port, and wonder
ful to see the load he carried unassisted.^ As he winds
his way through the narrow and steep slippery streets
(whilst we have enough to do to keep pace with him, and
indeed to keep our footing), it is good to see how nobly
the Arab bears his load, how beautifully balanced is his
lithe figure, and with what grace and ease he stalks along.
As he slightly bows, when taking our three francs (his
"tariff" as he calls it), there is a dignity in his manner,
and a composure about him that is almost embarrassing.
How he came, in the course of circumstances, to be
carrying our luggage instead of wandering with his tribe,
is a question which may answer itself in the course of the
narrative. The first hurried glance, as we follow our cicerone
up the landing steps — at the dazzlingly white flat-roofed -
houses without windows, at the mosques with their gaily
painted towers, at the palm trees and orange trees, and at
the crowd of miscellaneous costumes in which colour
preponderated everywhere — gives the impression of a
thoroughly Mahommedan city, and now as we walk down
to the Place and look about us at leisure, we find to our
astonishment and delight that the Oriental element is
still most prominent.
The most striking and bewildering thing is undoubtedly
±he medley that meets the eye everywhere ; the conflict of
races, the contrast of colours, the extraordinary brightness
¦of everything, the glare, the strange sounds and scenes
.that cannot be easily taken in at a first visit ; the variety
' It is generally admitted, we believe, that " a vegetable diet will not
produce heroes," and there is certainly a prejudice in England about
the value of beef for navvies and others who put muscular power into
their work. It is an interesting fact to note, and one which we think
speaks volumes for the climate of Algeria, that this gentleman lives
almost entirely on fruit, rice, and Indian corn.

ALGERIA. 259

of languages heard at the same time, and above all the
striking beauty of some faces, and the luxurious richness
of costume.
First in splendour come the Moors (traders looking like
princes), promenading or lounging about under the trees,
looking as important and as richly attired as was ever
Caliph Haroun Alraschid. They are generally fair and
slight of figure, with false effeminate faces, closely-shaven
heads covered with fez and turban, loose baggy trousers,
jacket and vest of blue or crimson cloth, embroidered with
gold ; round their waists are rich silken sashes, and their
fingers are covered with a profusion of rings. Their legs
are bare and their feet are enclosed in the usual Turkish
slipper. This is the prominent town type of Moor or Jew, the
latter to be distinguished by wearing dark trousers, clean
white stockings, French shoes, and a round cloth cap of
European pattern. There are various grades, both of the
Moor and Jew, some of course shabby and dirty enough ;
but the most dignified and picturesque figures are the tall
dark Arabs and the Kabyles, with their flowing white
bournouses and turbans of camel's hair, and their in
dependent noble bearing. Here we see them walking side
by side, and their conquerors in full military uniform and
their conquerors' wives in the uniform of Le Follet, whilst
white-robed female figures flit about closely veiled, and
Marabouts (the Mahommedan priests) also promenade in
their flowing robes. Arab women and children lounge
about selling fruit or begging furtively, and others hurry
to and fro carrying burdens ; and everywhere and ever
present in this motley throng, the black frock-coat and
chimney-pot hat assert themselves, to remind us of what
we might otherwise soon be forgetting — that we are but
four days' journey from England. S 2

26o ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
There is noise enough altogether on the Place to be
wilder any stranger ; for besides the talking and singing,
and the cries of vendors of fruit and wares, there is
considerable traffic. Close to us as we sit under the trees
(so close as almost to upset the little tables in front of the
cafes), without any warning, a huge diligence will come
lunging on to the Place groaning under a pile of merchan
dise, with a bevy of Arabs on the roof, and a party of
Moorish women in the " rotonde " ; presently there passes
a company of Zouaves at quick step, looking hot and
dusty enough, marching to their terrible tattoo ; and next,
by way of contrast again, come two Arab women with
their children, mounted on camels, the beasts looking
overworked and sulky ; they edge their way through the
crowd with the greatest nonchalance, and with an im
patient croaking sound go shambling past
The " Place Royale " faces the north, and is enclosed on
three sides with modern French houses with arcades and
shops, and when we have time to examine their contents,
we shall find them also principally French. Next door to
a bonnet-shop there is certainly the name of Mustapha
over the door, and in the window are pipes, coral, and
filigree work exposed for sale ; but most of the goods
come from France. Next door again is a French cafe,
where Arabs, who can afford it, delight in being waited
upon by their conquerors with white aprons and neck-ties.
The background of all this is superb : a calm sunlit sea,
white sails glittering and flashing, and far to the eastward
a noble bay, with the Kabyle Mountains stretching out
their arms towards the north.
At four o'clock the band plays on the Place, and as we
sit and watch the groups of Arabs and Moors listening
attentively to the overture to " William Tell," or admiringly
examining the gay uniforms and medals of the Chasseurs

wi^: -^-"^^^ ' A

THE GREAT MOSQUE, ALGIERS.

Face p, 261.

ALGERIA. 261
d'Afrique — as we see the children of both nations at high
romps together— as the sweet sea-breeze that fans us so
gently, bears into the newly constracted harbour together
a corvette of the Imperial Marine and a suspicious-looking
raking craft with latteen sails — as Marochetti's equestrian
statue of the Duke of Orleans, and a mosque, stand side
by side before us — we have Algiers presented in the
easiest way imaginable, and obtain some idea of the
general aspect of the place and the people, and of the
relative position of conquerors and conquered.
As our business is principally with the Moorish, or
picturesque side of things, let us first look at the great
Mosque-which we glanced at as we entered the harbour,
part of which is sketched opposite.
Built close to the water's edge, so close that (before the
new quay was built) the Mediterranean waves sapped
its foundations — with plain white shining walls, nearly
destitute of exterior ornament, it is perhaps the most
perfect example of strength and beauty, and of fitness and
grace of line, that we shall see in any building of this type. ^
It is thoroughly Moorish in style, although built by a
Christian, if we may believe the story, of which there are
several versions ; how the Moors in old days took captive
a Christian architect, and promised him his liberty on
condition of his building them a mosque ; how he, true to
his own creed, dexterously introduced into the ground
plan the form of a cross ; and how the Moors, true also to
their promise, gave him his liberty indeed, but at the
cannon's mouth through a window, seaward.
The general outline of these mosques is familiar to most
readers, the square white walls pierced at intervals with
• This beautiful architectural feature of the town has not escaped
the civilising hand of the Frank ; the oval window in the tower is
gone, and in its place is an illuminated French clock !

262 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
quaint-shaped little windows, the flat cupola or dome, and
the square tower often standing apart from the rest of the
structure (as in the vignette on page 257), like an Italian
campanile. Some of these towers are richly decorated
with arabesque ornamentation, and glitter in the sun with
colour and gilding, but the majority of the mosques are as
plain and simple in design as shown in the large sketch.
Here, if we take off our shoes, we may enter and hear
the Koran read, and we may kneel down to pray with
Arabs and Moors ; religious tolerance is equally exercised
by both creeds. Altogether the Mahommedan places of
worship seem by far the most prominent, and although
there are Roman Catholic churches, and buildings held by
other denominations of Christians, there is none of that
predominant proselytising aspect which we might have
expected after fifty years' occupation by the French. At
Tetuan, for instance, where the proportion of Christians to
Mahommedans is certainly smaller, the " Catholic church "
rears its head much more conspicuously.
In Algiers the priestly element is undoubtedly active,
and Sceurs de Charity are to be seen everywhere, but the
buildings that first strike the eye are not churches but
mosques ; the sounds that become more familiar to the
ear than peals of bells, are the Muezzin's morning and
evening salutation from the tower of a mosque, calling
upon all true believers to —
" Come to prayers, come tck prayers,
It is better to pray than to sleep."
The principal streets in Algiers lead east and west from
the Place to the principal gates, the Bab-Azoun and the
Bab-el-Oued. They are for the most part French, with
arcades like the Rue de Rivoli in Paris ; many of the
houses are lofty and built in the style perhaps best known
as the " Haussman." But much of the upper town is still

ALGERIA.

Moorish, and is approached by narrow streets or lanes —
steep, shppery, and tortuous, which we shall examine by-
and-by. The names of some
of the streets are curious, and
suggestive of change. Thus
we see the " Rue Royale," the
" Rue Imperial " ; there is, or
was until lately, a "Place
Nationale," and one street is
still boldly proclaimed to be
the " Rue de la Revolution " !
In passing through the
French quarter, through the
new wide streets, squares and
inevitable boulevards, the num
ber of shops for fancy goods
and Parisian wares, especially
those of hairdressers and
modistes, seems rather extraordinary ; remembering that
the entire European population of Algeria, agricultural as
well as urban, is not much more than that of Brighton in
England. Before we proceed further, let us glance at the general
mode of living in Algiers, speaking first of the traveller
who goes to the hotels.
The ordinary visitor of a month or two will drop down
pleasantly enough into the system of hotel life in Algiers ;
and even if staying for the winter he will probably find it
more convenient and amusing to take his meals in French
fashion at the hotels, ringing the changes between three or
four of the best, and one or two well-known caf^s. There
is generally a table-d'h6te, but strangers can walk in and
have breakfast or dine very comfortably at little tables
" a part" at a fixed hour and at a moderate price. The

264 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
rooms are pleasant, cool, and airy, with large windows
open to the sea. Everything is neatly and quietly served,
the menu is varied enough, with good French dishes and
game in abundance ; the hosts being especially liberal in
providing those delicious little birds that might be larks or
quails — which in Algiers we see so often on the table and
so seldom on the wing.
Half the people that are dining at the " Hotel d'Orient,"
to-day are residents or habitues ; they come in and take
their accustomed places as cosily, and are almost as
particular and fastidious, as if they were at their club.
There is the colonel of a cavalry regiment dining alone,
and within joking distance, five young oflScers, whose
various grades of rank are almost as evident from their
manner as from the number of stripes on their bright red
kepis ranged on the wall of the salon. A French doctor
and his wife dine vis-a-vis, at one table, a lady solitaire at
another ; some gentlemen, whose minds are turned to
commerce, chatter in a corner by themselves ; whilst a
group of newly-arrived English people in the middle of the
room, are busily engaged in putting down the various
questions with which they intend to bore the vice-consul
on the morrow, as if he were some good-natured house-
agent, valet-de-place, and interpreter in one — placed here
by Providence for their especial behoof
It is all very orderly, sociable, and comfortable, and
by no means an unpleasant method of Irving for a time.
There is the cercle, the club, at which we may dine
sometimes ; there are those pretty little villas amongst
the orange trees at Mustapha Superieure, where we may
spend the most delightful evenings of all ; and there are
also the Governor's weekly balls, soirees at the consulate,
and other pleasant devices for turning night into day, in
Algiers as everywhere else — which we shall be wise if we

ALGERIA. 265
join in but sparingly. And there are public amusements,
concerts, balls, and the theatre — the latter with a company
of operatic singers with weak lungs, but voices as sweet as
any heard in Italy ; and there are the moonlight walks by
the sea, to many the greatest delight.
The ordinary daily occupations are decidedly social and
domestic ; and it may be truly said that for a stranger,
until -he becomes accustomed to the place, there is very
little going on.
You must not bathe, for instance, on this beautiful
shelving shore. " Nobody bathes, it gives fever," was the
invariable answer to enquiries on this subject, and though
it is not absolutely forbidden by the faculty, there are so
many restrictions imposed upon bathers that few attempt
it ; moreover an Englishman is not likely to have brought
an acrobatic suit with him, nor will he easily suit himself
with a " costume de bain " in Algiers.
There is very little to do besides wander about the
town, or make excursions in the environs or into the
interior (in which latter case it is as well to take a fowling-
piece, as there is plenty of game to be met with) ; and
altogether we may answer a question often asked about
Algiers as to its attractions for visitors, that it has not
many for the mere holiday lounger.
But for those who have resources of their own, for those
who have work to do which they wish to do quietly, and
who breathe more freely under a bright blue sky, Algiers
seems to us to be the place to come to. The " bird of
passage," who has unfortunately missed an earthquake,
often reports that Algiers is a little dull ; but even he
should not find it so, for beyond the "distractions" we
have hinted at, there is plenty to amuse him if he care
little for what is picturesque. There are (or were when we
were there), a troop of performing Arabs of the tribe of

266 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
" Beni Zouzoug,'' who performed nightly the most hideous
atrocities in the name of religious rites : wounding their
wretched limbs with knives, eating glass, holding burning
coals in their mouths, standing on hot iron until the feet
frizzled and gave forth sickening odours, and doing othei'
things in an ecstasy of religious frenzy which we could not
print, and which would scarcely be believed in if we did.
There are various Moorish ceremonies to be witnessed.
There are the sacrifices at the time of the Ramadhan,
when the negro priestesses go down to the water-side and
offer up beasts and birds ; the victims, after prolonged
agonies which crowds assemble to witness, being finally
handed over to a French chef de cuisine.
There are the mosques to be entered barefoot, and the
native courts of law to be seen. Then, if possible, a Moor
should be visited at home, and a glimpse obtained of his
domestic economy, including dinner without knives or
forks. An entertainment consisting entirely of Moorish dances
and music is easily got up, and is one of the characteristic
sights of Algiers. The young trained dancing-girls, urged
on to frenzy by the beating of the tom-tom, and falling
exhausted at last into the arms of their niasters (dancing
with that monotonous . motion peculiar to the East, the
body swaying to and fro without much movement of the
feet) ; the uncouth wild airs they sing, their shrieks dying
away into a sigh or moan, will not soon be forgotten, and
many other scenes of a like nature, on which we need not
dwell — for are they not written in twenty books on Algeria
already ?
But there are two sights which are seldom mentioned
by other writers, which should be alluded to in passing.
The Arab races, which take place in the autumn on the
French racecourse near the town, are very curious, and

ALGERIA. 267

well worth seeing. Their peculiarity consists in about
thirty Arabs starting off" pell-mell, knocking each other
over in their first great rush, their bournouses mingling
together and flying in the wind, but arriving at the goal
generally singly, and at a slow trot, in anything but racing
fashion. Another event is the annual gathering of the tribes,
when representatives from the various provinces camp on
the hills of the Sahel, and the European can wander from
one tent to another and .spend his day enjoying Arab
hospitality, in sipping coff"ee and smoking everywhere the
pipe of peace.
These things we only hint at as resources for visitors,
if they are fortunate enough to be in Algiers at the right
time ; but there are one or two other things that they are
not likely to miss, whether they wish to do so or not.
They will probably meet one day, in the " Street of the
Eastern Gate," the Sirocco wind, and they will have to
take shelter from a sudden fearful darkness and heat, a
blinding choking dust drying up as it were the very breath
of life ; penetrating every cavity, and into rooms closed
as far as possible from the outer air. Man and beast lie
down before it, and there is a sudden silence in the streets,
as if they had been overwhelmed by the sea. For two or
three hours this mysterious blight pours over the city, and
its inhabitants hide their heads.
Another rather startling sensation for the first time is
the " morning gun." In the old consulate, which was in a
Moorish house in the upper town, the newly-arrived
visitor may have been shown imbedded in the wall a large
round shot, which he is informed was a messenger from
one of Lord Exmouth's three-deckers in the days before
the French occupation ; and not many yards from it, in
another street, he may have had pointed out to him certain

268 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
fissures or chasms in the walls of the houses, as the havoc
made by earthquakes ; he may also have experienced in
his travels the sudden and severe effect of a tropical
thunderstorm. Let him retire to rest with a dreamy recollection of such
events in his mind, and let him have his windows open
towards the port just before sunrise — when the earth
quake, and the thunder, and the bombardment, will pre
sent themselves suddenly and fearfully to his sleepy senses.
But it may have roused him to see one of the sights of
Algiers. Let him go out at once to the almost deserted
Place, where a few tall figures wrapped in military cloaks
are to be seen quietly sidHng out of a door in the corner
of a square under the arcades — coming from the club
where the gas is not quite extinguished, and where the
little green baize tables are not yet put away for the
night ;^ and then let him hurry out by the Bab-el-Otced
and mount the fortification.s, and he will see a number of
poor Arabs shivering in their white bournouses, perched
on the highest points of the rocks like eagles, watching
with eager eyes and strained aspect for the rising of the
sun, for the coming of the second Mahomet. Let him
look in the same direction, eastward, over the town and
over the bay to the mountains far beyond. The sparks
from the chariot- wheels of fire just fringe the outline of
the Kabyle Hills, and in another minute, before all the
Arabs have clambered up and reached their vantage
ground, the whole bay is in a flood of light. The Arabs
prostrate themselves before the sun, and "Allah il
^ How often have we seen in the Tuileries gardens, the bronzed
heroes of Algerian wars, and perhaps have pitied them for their worn
appearance ; but we shall begin to think that something more than
the African sun and long marches have given them a prematurely
aged appearance, and that absinthe and late hours in a temperature of
90° Fahrenheit may have something to do with it.

ALGERIA.

269

Allah" (God is great) is the burden of their psalm of
praise. But Mahomet's coming is not yet, and so they return
down the hill, and crowd together to a very different scene.
The officers whom we saw just now leaving the Place,
have arrived at the Champ de Mars, the drill-ground
immediately below us, and here, in the cool morning air,
they are exercising and manoeuvring troops. There are
several companies going through their drill, and the bugle
and the drum drown the Muezzins' voices, who, from
almost every mosque and turret in the city, repeat their
cry to the faithful to " Come to prayers."

270

A R TIS TIC TRA VEL.

Our Moorish Home.
In the midst of the Moorish quarter, up a little narrow
street (reached in five or six minutes from the centre of
the town) passing under an archway and between white
walls that nearly meet overhead, we come to a low dark
door, with a heavy handle and latch which opens and shuts
with a crashing sound ; and if we enter the courtyard and
ascend a narrow staircase in one corner, we come suddenly
upon the interior view
of the first or principal
floor of our Moorish
home. The house has two
stories, and there is
also an upper terrace
from which we over
look the town. The
arrangement of the
rooms all opening in
wards, is excellent ;
they are cool in sum
mer, and warm even
on the coldest nights, and although we are in a noisy and
thickly-populated part of the town, we are ignorant of
what goes on outside, the massive walls keeping out
nearly all sound. The floors and walls are tiled, so that
they can be cleansed and cooled by water being thrown
over them ; the carpets and cushions spread about invite
one to the most luxurious repose, tables and chairs are
unknown, there is nothing to off"end the eye in shape or
form, nothing to offend the ear — not even a door to slam.
Above, there is an open terrace, where we sit in the

ALGERIA. 271
mornings and evenings, and can realise the system of life
on the house-tops of the East Here we can cultivate the
vine, grow roses and other flowers, build for ourselves
extempore arbours, and live literally in the open air.
From this terrace we overlook the flat roofs of the
houses of the Moorish part of the city, and if we peep over,
down into the streets immediately below us, a curious hum
of sounds comes up. Our neighbours are certainly in
dustrious ; they embroider, they make slippers, they
hammer at metal work, they break earthenware and
mend it, and appear to quarrel all day long, within a
few feet of us ; but as we sit in the room from which our
sketch is taken, the sounds become mingled and subdued
into a pleasant tinkle which is almost musical, and which
we can, if we please, shut out entirely by dropping a curtain
across the doorway.- Our attendants are Moorish, and
consist of one old woman, whom we see by accident
(closely veiled) about once a month, and a bare-legged,
bare-footed Arab boy who waits upon us. There
are pigeons on the roof, a French poodle that frequents
the lower regions, and a guardian of our doorstep who
haunts it day and night, whose portrait is given at
page 295.
Here we work with the greatest freedom and comfort,
without interruption or any drawbacks that we can think
of The climate is so equal, warm, and pleasant — even in
December and January — that by preference we generally
sit on the upper terrace, where we have the perfection of
light, and are at the same time sufficiently protected from
sun and wind. At night we sleep almost in the open air,
and need scarcely drop the curtains at the arched doorways
of our rooms ; there are no mosquitoes to trouble us, and
there is certainly no fear of intmsion. There is also perfect
stillness, for our neighbours are at rest soon after sundown.

272 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
Such is a general sketch of our dwelling in Algiers ; let
us for a moment, by way of contrast, return in imagination
to London and picture to ourselves our friends as they are
working at home. It is considered very desirable, if not
essential, to an artist, that his immediate surroundings
should be in some sort graceful and harmonious, and it is
a lesson worth learning, to see what may be done, with
ingenuity and taste, towards converting a single room, in
a dingy street, into a fitting abode of the arts.
We know a certain painter well, one whose studio it is
always a delight to enter, and whose devotion to Art (both
music and painting) for its own sake has always stood in
the way of his advancement and pecuniary success. He
has converted a room in the neighbourhood of Gower
Street into a charming nook where colour, form, and
texture are all considered in the simplest details of
decoration, where there is nothing inharmonious to eye
or ear, but where perhaps the sound of the guitar may be
heard a little too often. The walls of his studio are
draped, the light falls softly from above, the doorway is
arched, the seats are couches or carpets on a raised dais, a
Florentine lamp hangs from the ceiling, a medley of vases,
costumes, old armour, etc., are grouped about in pictur
esque confusion, and our friend, in an easy undress of the
last century, works away in the midst. Not to particularise
further, let the reader consider for a moment what one step
beyond his own door brings about, on an average winter's
day. A straight, ungraceful, colourless costume of the
latter half of the nineteenth century which he must assume,
a hat of the period, an umbrella raised to keep off sleet
and rain ; and for landscape a damp, dreary, muddy, black
ened street, with a vista of areas and lamp-posts, and, if
perchance he be going to the Academy, a walk through
the parish of St. Giles !

ALGERIA. 273

Perhaps the most depressing prospect in the world is
that from a Gower Street doorstep on a November morn
ing about nine o'clock ; but of this enough. We think of
our friend as we sit out here on our terrasse — sheltering
ourselves on the same day, at the same hour, from the
sun's rays — we think of him painting Italian scenes by the
light of his gas " sun-burner," and wish he would come out
to Algiers. " Surely," we would say to him, " it is some
thing gained, if we can, ever so little, harmonise the reali
ties of life with our ideal world — if we can, without remark,
dress ourselves more as we dress our models, and so live,
that one step from the studio to the street shall not be the
abomination of desolation."

The_ Break of Day.
Let us turn again to Nature and to Light, and transport
the reader to a little white house, overlooking a beautiful
city, on the North African shore, where summer is per
petual and indoor life the exception ; and draw a picture
for him which should be fascinating and which certainly is
true. Sunrise, December 10. — The mysterious, indefinable
charm of the first break of day, is an old and favourite
theme in all countries and climates, and one on which
perhaps little that is new can be said. In the East it is
always striking, but in Algiers it seems peculiarly so ; for
sleeping, or more often lying awake, with the clear crisp
night air upon our faces, it comes to our couch in the
dreamiest way imaginable — instead of being clothed (as
poets express it) with the veil of night, a mantle seems
rather to be spread over us in the morning ; there is
perfect quiet at this hour, and we seem to be under a spell
not to disturb the stillness — the dawn whispers to us so
T

274 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
softly and soothingly that we are powerless to do ought
but watch or sleep.
The break of day is perhaps first announced to us by
a faint stream of light across the courtyard, or the dim
shadow of a marble pillar on the wall. In a few minutes,
we hear the distinct barking of a dog, a slight rustle in the
pigeon-house above, or a solitary cry from a minaret which
tells us that the city is awaking. We rouse ourselves and
steal out quietly on to the upper terrace to see a sight of
sights — one of those things that books tell us, rightly or
wrongly, is alone worth coming from England to see.
The canopy of stars, that had encompassed us so closely
during the night, as if to shut in the courtyard overhead,
seems lifted again, and the stars themselves are disappear
ing fast in the grey expanse of sky ; and as we endeavour
to trace them, looking intently seaward, towards the North
and East, we can just discern am horizon line and faint
shadows of the " sleeping giants," that we know to be not
far off. Soon — in about the same time that it takes to
write these lines — they begin to take form and outline one
by one, a tinge of delicate pearly pink is seen at intervals
through their shadows, and before any nearer objects have
come into view, the whole coast line and the mountains of
Kabylia, stretching far to the eastward, are flushed with
rosy light, opposed to a veil of twilight grey which still
hangs over the city.
Another minute or two, and our shadows are thrown
sharply on a glowing wall, towers and domes come dis
tinctly into view, house-tops innumerable range themselves
in close array at our feet, and we, who but a few minutes
ago seemed to be standing as it were alone upon the top
of a high mountain, are suddenly and closely beleaguered.
A city of flat white roofs, towers, and cupolas, relieved
here and there by coloured awnings, green shutters, and

A MOORISH HOME.

Face p. 274.

ALGERIA. 275
dark doorways, and by little courtyards blooming with
orange and citron trees — intersected with innumerable
winding ways (which look like streams forcing their way
through a chalk cliff) — has all grown up before our eyes ;
and beyond it, seaward — a harbour and a fleet of little
vessels with their white sails, are seen shining in the
sun. Then come the hundred sounds of a waking city,
mingling and increasing every moment ; and the flat roofs
(some so close that we can step upon them) are soon alive
with those quaint white figures we meet in the streets,
passing to and fro, from roof to roof, apparently without
restraint or fear. There are numbers of children peeping
out from odd corners and loopholes, and women with
them, some dressed much less scrupulously than we see
them in the market-place, and some, to tell the truth,
entirely without the white robes aforesaid. A few, a very
few, are already winding their way through the streets to
the nearest mosque, but the majority are collected in
groups in conversation, enjoying the sweet sea-breeze,
which comes laden with the perfume of orange-trees, and
a peculiar delicious scent as of violets.
The pigeons on the roof-tops now plume their gilded
wings and soar — not upward but downward, far away into
space ; they scarcely break the silence in the air, or spread
their wings as they speed along.
Oh, what a flight above the azure sea !
" Quis dabat mihi pennas sicut columbae ; "
» * * *
the very action of flying seems repose to them.
It is still barely sunrise on this soft December morning,
the day's labour has scarcely begun, the calm is so perfect
that existence alone seems a delight, and the Eastern
aroma (if we may so express it) that pervades the air
T 2

276 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
might almost lull us to sleep again, but Allah wills it
otherwise. Suddenly — with terrible impulse and shrill accent im
possible to describe — a hurricane of women's voices suc
ceeds the calm. Is it treachery .? Is it scandal ? Has
Hassan proved faithless, or has Fatima fled ? Oh, the
screeching and yelling that succeeded to the quiet beauty
of the morning ! Oh, the rushing about of veiled (now all
closely veiled) figures on house-tops ! Oh, the weeping
and wailing, and literal, terrible, gnashing of teeth ! " Tell
it not upon the house-tops " (shall we ever forget it being
told on the house-tops ?) " let not a whole city know thy
misdeeds," is written in the Koran, " it is better for the
faithful to come to prayers " ! oh, how the tempest raged
until the sun was up and the city was alive again, and its
sounds helped to drown the clamour I
Let us come down, for our Arab boy now claps his hands
in sign, that (on a little low table or tray, six inches from
the ground) coffee and pipes are provided for the un
believers ; and like the Calendar in Eastern Story, he
proceeds to tell us the cause of the tumult — a trinket
taken from one wife and given to another !
Oh, Islam ! that a lost bracelet or a jealous wife should
make the earth tremble so !

( 277 )

Arabs and Moors.
Of the various studies to be made in Algiers, there are
none at the same time so quaint and characteristic as the
Moors in their own homes, seated at their own doors or
benches at work, or at the numerous cafes and bazaars ;
and nothing seems to 'harmonise so well in these Moorish
streets as the groups of natives (both Moors and Jews) with
their bright costumes, and wares for sale. Colour and
contrast of colour, seem to be considered, or felt, every
where. It is scarcely too much to say that no two
Orientals will walk down a street side by side, unless the
colours of their costume harmonise or blend together (they
seem to know it instinctively), and then there is generally
some quiet contrasting tone for a background, and a sky
of deep, deep blue. A negress with a dark blue veil over
her head sells oranges or citrons ; an Arab boy with a red
fez and white turban, carries purple fruit in a basket of
leaves ; and so on. The reader may think this fanciful,
but it is truer than he imagines ; let him come and see.
It was not easy to sketch in the open street on account
of the curiosity it excited, a crowd sometimes collecting
until it became almost impossible to breathe. The usual
plan was to go to the caf(6s and divans, and by degrees to
make friends with the Moors.

278 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Waiting.
There was one cafe, in a street that we have been to so
often, that it is as familiar to us as any in the western
world ; and where by dint of a little tact and a small
outlay of tobacco, we managed to make ourselves quite at
home, and were permitted to work away all day, com
paratively unmolested. It was a narrow and steep over
hanging street, crowded at all times with Moors, on one
side embroidering or pretending to sell goods of various
kinds ; on the opposite side there was a cafe, not four feet
distant, where a row of about eighteen others sat and
smoked, and contemplated their brethren at work. The
street was full of traffic, being an important thoroughfare
from the lower to the upper town, and there were per
petually passing up and down, droves of laden donkeys ;
men with burdens carried on poles between them ; vendors
of fruit, bread, and live fowls (carried by their legs, heads
downwards), and crowds of people of every denomination.
In a little corner out of sight, where we were certainly
rather closely packed, we used to install ourselves con
tinually and sketch the people passing to and fro. The
Moors in the cafe used to sit beside us all day and watch,
and wait ; they gave us a grave silent salutation when we
took our places, and another when we left, but we never
got much further with our unknown neighbours. If we
can imagine a coterie in a small political club, where the
open discussion of politics is, with one consent, tabooed
for fear of a disturbance, and where the most frolicsome
of its members play at chess for relaxation, we shall get
some notion of the state of absolute decorum which
existed in our little cafi maure.
It was very quaint The memory of the grave quiet
faces of these most pohte Moorish gentlemen, looking so

ALGERIA. 279
smooth and clean in their white bournouses, seated
solemnly doing nothing, haunts us to this day. Years
elapsed between the first and last visit to our favourite
street, yet there they were when we came again, still doing
nothing ; and opposite to them, the merchants who do no
trade, also sitting in their accustomed places, surrounded
with the same old wares. There was the same old negro
in a dark corner making coffee, and handing it to the same
customer, sitting in the same place, in the same dream.
There is both art and mystery in " doing nothing " well
which these men achieve in their peculiar lives ; here they
sit for years together, silently waiting, without a trace of
boredom on their faces, and without exhibiting a gesture
of impatience. They — the " gentlemen " in the cafe on the
right hand — have saved up money enough to keep life
together, they have for ever renounced work, and can look
on with complacency at their poorer brethren. They have
their traditions, their faith, their romance of life, and the
deeply-rooted belief, that if they fear God and Mahomet,
and sit here long enough, they will one day be sent for to
Spain, to re-people the houses where their fathers dwelt.
This corner is the one par excellence, where the Moors sit
and wait There is the " wall of wailing " at Jerusalem ;
there is the " street of waiting " in Algiers, where the Moors
sit clothed in white, dreaming of heaven — ^with an aspect
of more than content, in a state of dreamy delight
achieved, apparently, more by habit of mind than any
opiates — the realisation of " keyf!'
A Clothes Auction.
Not far from this street, but still in the Moorish quarter,
we may witness a much more animated scene, and obtain
in some respects a still better study of character and
costume — at a clothes auction in the neighbourhood of the

28o ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
principal bazaar. If we go in the afternoon, we shall
probably find a crowd collected in a courtyard, round a
number of Jews who are selling clothes, silk, and stuffs,
and so intent are they all on the business that is going
forward, that we 'are able to take up a good position to
watch the proceedings. We arrived one day at this spot,
just as a terrible scuffle or wrangle was going forward,
between ten or a dozen old men (surrounded by at least a
hundred spectators) about the quality or ownership of
some garment The merits of the discussion were of
little interest to us and probably of little importance to
anybody, but the result was in its way as interesting a
spectacle as ever greeted the eye and ear.
This old garment had magical powers, and was a
treasure to us at least. It attracted the old and young,
the wise and foolish, the excited combatant and the calm
and dignified spectator ; it collected them all in a large
square courtyard with plain whitewashed walls and Moorish
arcades. On one side a palm tree drooped its gigantic
leaves, and cast broad shadows on the ground, which in
some places was almost of the brightness of orange ; on
the other side, half in sunlight, half in shadow, a heavj'^
awning was spread over a raised da'fs or stage, and
through its tatters and through the deep arcades, the sky
appeared in patches of the deepest blue — blue of a depth
and brilliancy that few painters succeed in depicting. It
gave in a wider and truer sense, just that quality to our
picture — if we may be excused a little technicality and a
familiar illustration — that a broad red sash thrown across
the bed of a sleeping child in Millais' picture in the Royal
Academy Exhibition of 1867, gave to his composition, as
many readers may remember. But we cannot take our
eyes from the principal group, or do much more than
watch the crowd in its changing phases. To give any idea

ALGERIA.

of the uproar, the " row " we ought to call it, would be to
weary the reader with a polyglot of words and sentences,
some not too choice, and many too shrill and fiercely
accentuated ; but to picture the general aspect in a few
words is worth a trial, although to do this we must join
the throng and fight our way to the front Where have
we seen the like ? We have seen such upturned faces in
pictures of the eariy days of the Reformation by Henry
Leys ; we have seen such passion in Shylock, such despair
in Lear ; such grave and imposing-looking men with
" reverend beards " in many pictures by the old masters ;
but seldom such concentration of emotion (if we may so
express it), and unity of purpose, in one group. Do our
figure-painters want a subject with variety of colour,
character and movement in one cahvas ? They need not
go to the bazaars of Constantinople, or to the markets of
the East. Let them follow us here crushing close to the
platform, our faces nearly on a level with the boards.
Look at the colours, at the folds of their cloaks, bournouses
and yachmahs — purple, deep red, and spotless white, all
crushed together- — with their rich transparent shadows, as
the sun streams across them, reflected on the walls. The
heavy awning throws a curious glow over the figures, and
sometimes almost conceals their features with a dazzle of
reflected light. Look at the legs of these eager traders, as
they struggle and fight and stand on tiptoe, to catch a
glimpse of some new thing exposed for sale ; look at them
well — the lean, the shambling, the vigorous, the bare
bronze (bronzed with sun and grime), the dark hose, the
purple silk and the white cotton, the latter the special
affection of the dandy Jew. What a medley, but what
character here — the group from knee to ankle forms a
picture alone. And thus they crowd together for half-
an-hour, whilst all ordinary business seems suspended.

282 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
Nothing could be done with such a clatter, not to mention
the heat Oh, how the Arab gutturals, the impossible
consonants (quite impossible to unpractised European
lips) were interjected and hurled, so to speak, to and fro !
How much was said to no purpose, how incoherent it
all seemed, and hov/ we wished for a few vowels to cool
the air ! In half-an-hour a calm has set in and the steady
business of the day is allowed to go forward ; we may now
smoke a pipe in peace, and from a quiet corner watch the
proceedings almost unobserved, asking a question or two
suggested by the foregoing scene. Is expression really
worth anything ? Is the exhibition of passion much more
than acting ? Shall grey beards and flowing robes carry
dignity with them any more, if a haggle about old clothes
can produce it in five minutes ?
And so we sit and watch for hours, wondering at the
apparently endless variety of the patterns, and colours of
the fabrics exposed for sale ; and perhaps we doze,
perhaps we dream. Is it the effect of the hachshish? Is
it the strong coffee ? Are we, indeed, dreaming, or is the
auction a sham ? Surely that pretty bright handkerchief
— now held up and eagerly scanned by bleared old eyes —
now rumpled and drawn sharply between haggard fingers
— is an old friend, and has no business in a sale like this .^
Where have we seen it before ? Yes — there is no mis
taking the pattern, we have seen it in Spain. It was
bound turbanwise round the head of a woman who
performed in the bull ring at Seville, on the occasion of a
particularly high and rollicking festival of the " Catholic
Church '' ; it was handed out of a diligence window one
dark night on the Sierra Morena, when a mule had broken
its leg, and the only method of getting it along was to tie
the injured limb to the girth, and let the animal hop on
three legs for the rest of the way. It found its way into

ALGERIA. 283

the Tyrol, worn as a sash ; it was in the market-place at
Bastia in Corsica, in the hands of a maiden selling fruit ; it
flaunted at Marseilles, drying in the wind on a ship's spar ;
and the last time we saw it, if our memory serves us well,
it was carefully taken from a drawer in a little shop, " Au
Dey d' Alger" in the Rue de Rivoli in Paris, and offered
(by that greatest of humbugs, Mustapha), as the latest
Algerian thing in neckties, which he asked fifteen francs
for, and would gladly part with for two.
It was a pattern we knew by heart, that we meet with
in all parts of the world, thanks to the universality of
Manchester cottons. But the pattern was simple and good,
nothing but an arrangement of red, white and black stripes
on a maize ground, and therein lay its success. It had its
origin in the first principles of decoration, it transgressed
no law or canon of taste, it was easily and cheaply made
(as all the best patterns are), and. so it travelled round the
world, and the imitation work came to be sold in, perhaps,
the very bazaar whence the pattern first came, and its
originators squabbled over it as something unique.
But we can hardly regret the repetition of these Moorish
patterns, for they are useful in such a variety of ways.
Wind one of the handkerchiefs in and out amongst dark
tresses, and see what richness it gives ; make a turban of
it for a negress's head ; tie it nattily under the chin of a
little Parisienne, and hey presto I she is pretty ; make a
sash of it, or throw it loosely on the ground, and the effect
is graceful and charming to the eye. In some Japanese
and Chinese silks we may meet with more brilliant com
binations ; but the Moors seem to excel all other nations
in their skilful juxtaposition of colours. We have seen a
Moorish designer hard at work, with a box of butterflies'
wings for his school of design, and the hint might be
taken at home.

284 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

The Arab Quarter.
Let us leave the Moors and their beautiful fabrics for a
while, and glance at the Arab quarter of the town. We
may see Arabs by-and-by in the plains and in their
tents, in their traditionary aspect ; but here we come in
contact with a somewhat renegade and disreputable race,
who hang on the outskirts of civilisation. Many of them
have come from the neighbouring villages and from their
camps across the plains of the Sahel ; and have set up a
market of their own, where they are in full activity, trading
with each other and with the Frank. This market-place
is a sort of commercial neutral ground, where both Arabs
and Kabyles meet the French in the strictest amity, and
cheat them if they can. Here they may be seen by
hundreds — some buying and selling, some fighting and not
unfrequently cursing one another heartily ; others seated
close together in rows upon the ground, like so many white
loaves ready for baking. Calm they are, and almost dig
nified in appearance, when sitting smoking in conclave ;
but take them individually, these trading men, who have
had years of intercourse with their French conquerors, and
they disappoint us altogether. They are no longer true

ALGERIA. 285

followers of the Prophet, although they are a great ob
struction to traffic, by spreading carpets on the ground
in the middle of the road, and prostrating themselves
towards Mahomet and the sun. Trade — paltry, mean, and
cowardly as it so often makes men — has done the Arab
irreparable harm : it has taught him to believe in counter
feits and little swindles as a legitimate mode of life, to
pass bad money, and to cringe to a conqueror because
he could make money thereby. He could not do these
things in the old days, with his face to the sun.
The Arab is generally pictured to us in his tent or with
his tribe, calm, dignified and brave, and perhaps we may
meet with him thus on the other side of the Sahel, but
here in Algiers he is a metamorphosed creature. The
camels that crouch upon the ground, and scream and bite
at passers-by, are more dignified and consistent in their
ill-tempered generation than these " Sons of the Prophet,"
these " Lights of Truth." And they have actually caught
European tricks. What shall we say when two Arabs meet
in the street, and after a few words interchanged, pass
away from each other with a quickened, jaunty step, like
two " city men," who have lost time, and must make it up
by a spurt ! Shall we respect our noble Arab any more
when we see him walking abroad with a stereotyped,
plausible smile upon his face, and every action indicating
an eye to the main chance ? It may seem a stretch of
fancy, but even the bournous itself, with its classic outline
and flowing folds, loses half its dignity and picturesqueness
on these men.
A step lower, of which there are too many examples in
the crowd, and there is a sadder metamorphose yet — the
patriarch turned scamp — one who has left his family and
his tribe to seek his fortune. Look at him, with his ragged
bournous, his dirt and his cringing ways, and contrast his

286

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

life now, with what he has voluntarily abandoned. Oh !
how civilisation has lowered him in his own eyes, how his
courage has turned to bravado, and his tact to cunning ;
how even natural affection has languished, and family ties
are but threads of the lightest tissue 1 He has failed in his
endeavour to trade, he has disobeyed the Koran, and is an
outcast and unclean — one of the waifs and strays of cities !
As we wend our way homeward, as John Bunyan says,
" thinking of these things," we see two tall white figures
go down to the water-side, like the monks in Millais'
picture of " A Dream of the Past" They stand on the
bank in the evening light, their reflections repeated in the
water. It is the hour of prayer ; what are they doing ?
They are fishing with a modern rod and line, and their
little floats are painted with the tricolour !

( 287 )

Our Models.
From the roof-tops of our own and the neighbouring
houses we have altogether many opportunities of sketch
ing, and making studies from life. By degrees, by fits
and starts, and by most uncertain means (such as attract
ing curiosity, making little presents, etc.) we manage to
scrape up a distant talking acquaintance with some of the
veiled, mysterious creatures we have spoken of, and in
short, to become almost " neighbourly."
But we never get much nearer than speaking distance,
conversing from one roof to another with a narrow street
like a river flowing between us ; and only once or twice
during our winter sojourn, did we succeed in enticing a
veiled houri to venture on our terrace and shake hands
with the " Frank." If we could manage to hold a young
lady in conversation, and exhibit sufficient admiration of
her to induce her, ever so slightly, to unveil whilst we made
a hasty sketch, it was about all that we could fairly suc
ceed in accomplishing, and " the game was hardly worth
the candle " ; it took, perhaps, an hour to ensnare our bird,
and in ten minutes or less, she would be again on the wing.
Veiled beauties are interesting (sometimes much more

288 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
interesting for being veiled) ; but it does not serve our
artistic purposes much to see two splendid black eyes and
a few white robes.
However, models we must have, although the profession
is almost unknown in Algiers. At Naples we have only
to go down to the sea-shore, at Rome to the steps of St.
Peter's, and we find "subjects " enough, who wiU come for
the asking ; but here, where there is so much distinctive
costume and variety of race, French artists seem to make
little use of their opportunities.
It takes some days before we can hear of any one who
will be willing to sit, for double the usual remuneration.
But they come at last, and when it gets abroad that the
Franks have money and " mean business," we have a num
ber of applicants, some of whom are not very desirable,
and none particularly attractive. We select " Fatima "
first, because she is the youngest and has the best costume,
and also because she comes with her father and appears
tractable. She is engaged at two francs an hour, which
she considers poor pay.
How shall we give the reader an idea of this little
creature, when she comes next morning and coils herself
up amongst the cushions in the corner of our room, like a
young panther in the Jardin des Plantes ? Her costume,
when she throws off her haik (and with it a tradition of the
Mahommedan faith, that forbids her to show her face to an
unbeliever) is a rich loose crimson jacket embroidered with
gold, a thin white bodice, loose silk trousers reaching to
the knee and fastened round the waist by a magnificent
sash of various colours ; red morocco slippers, a profusion
of rings on her little fingers, and bracelets and anklets ot
gold filigree work. Through her waving black hair are
twined strings of coins and the folds of a silk handkerchief,
the hair falling at the back in plaits below the waist

i ALGERIA. 289
She is not beautiful, she is scarcely interesting in ex
pression, and she is decidedly unsteady. She seems to
have no more power of keeping herself in one position or
of remaining in one part of the room, or even of being
quiet, than a humming-top. The whole thing is an un
utterable bore to her, for she does not even reap the reward
— her father or husband, or male attendant, always taking
the money.
She is petite, constitutionally phlegmatic, and as fat as
her parents can manage to make her ; she has small hands
and feet, large rolling eyes — the latter made to appear
artificially large by the application of henna or antimony
black ; her attitudes are not ungraceful, but there is a want
of character about her, and an utter abandonment to the
situation, peculiar to all her race. In short her movements
are more suggestive of a little caged animal that had better
be petted and caressed, or kept at a safe distance, accord
ing to her humour. She: does one thing, she smokes
incessantly and makes us cigarettes with a skill and
rapidity which are wonderful.
Her age is thirteen, and she has been married six
months ; her ideas appear to be limited to three or four ;
and her pleasures, poor creature, are equally circumscribed.
She had scarcely ever left her father's house, and had
never spoken to a man until her marriage. No wonder
we, in spite of a little Arabic on which we prided our
selves, could not make much way ; no wonder that we
came very rapidly to the conclusion that the houris of
the Arabian Nights must have been dull creatures, and
their " Entertainments " rather a failure, if there were no
diviner fire than this.
We get on but indifferently with our studies with this
young lady, and to tell the tmth, not too well in Fatima's
good graces. Our opportunities are not great, our com-
U

290 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
mand of Arabic is limited, and indeed. We do not feel
particularly inspired. We cannot tell her many love
stories, or sing songs set to a " tom-tom " ; we can,
indeed, offer "backshish" in the shape of tobacco and
sweatmeats, or some trifling European ornament or
trinket ; but it is clear that she would prefer a greater
amount of familiarity, and more demonstrative tokens of
esteem. However, she came several times, and we suc
ceeded in obtaining some valuable studies of colour, and
" bits," memoranda only ; but very useful, from being
taken down almost unconsciously, in such a luminous key,
and with a variety of reflected light and pure shadow tone,
that we find unapproachable in after work.
As for sketches of character, we obtained very few of
Mauresques ; our subjects were, as a rale, much too rest
less, and we had one or two " scenes " before we parted.
On one unfortunate occasion our model insisted upon
examining our work before leaving, and the scorn and
contempt with which it was regarded was anything but
flattering. It nearly caused a breach between us, for, as
she observed, it was not only contrary to her creed to have
her likeness taken, but it would be perdition to be thus
represented amongst the Franks.'' We promised to be as
careful of this portrait as if it were the original, and, in
fact, said anything to be polite and soothing.
On another occasion, we had been working on rather
more quietly than, usual for half-an-hour, and were really
getting a satisfactory study of a new position, when, with
out apparent cause or warning of any kind, the strange,
pale, passionless face, which stared like a wooden
marionette, suddenly suffused with crimson, the great
' For fear of the " evil eye.'' There is a strong belief amongst
Mahommedans that portraits are part of their identity ; and that the
original will suffer if the portrait receive any indignity.

OUR MODEL.

U 2

292 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
eyes filled with tears, the whole frame throbbed convul
sively, and the little creature fell into such a passion of
crying that we were fain to put by our work and question
ourselves whether we had been cruel or unkind. But it
was nothing : the cup of boredom had been filled to the
brim, all other artifices had failed her to obtain relief from
restraint, and so this apparently lethargic little being, who
had, it seemed, both passion and grief at command, opened
the flood-gates upon us, and of course gained her end.
There was no more work that day, and she got off with a
double allowance of bonbons, and something like a recon
ciliation. She gave us her little white hand at parting —
the fingers and thumbs crowded with rings, and the nails
stained black with henna — but the action meant nothing ;
we dare not press it, it was too soft and frail, and the rings
would have cut her fingers, we could only hand it tenderly
back again, and bid our " model " farewell.
We got on better afterwards with a Moorish Jewess who,
for a " consideration," unearthed her property, including a
tiara of gold and jewels, and a bodice of silver embroidery
worked on crimson velvet ; we purposely reverse the posi
tion and speak of the embroidery first, because the velvet
was almost hidden. She came slouching in one morning,
closely wrapped in a dirty shawl, her black hair all dis
hevelled and half covering her handsome face, her feet
bare and her general appearance so much more suggestive
of one of the " finest pisantry in the world," that we began
to think that this must be one of our failures. But
when her mother had arranged the tiara in her hair, when
the curtain was drawn aside and the full splendour of the
Jewish costume was displayed — when, in short, the dignity
and grace of a queen were before us, we felt amply
rewarded. The Jewish dress differs from the Mauresque entirely ;

ALGERIA. 293

it is European in shape, with high waist and flowing robes
without sleeves, a square-cut bodice, often of the same
material as the robe itself, and a profusion of gold orna
ments, armlets, necklaces, and rings. A pair of tiny velvet
slippers (also embroidered) on tiny feet, complete the
costume, which varies in colour, but is generally of crimson
or dark velvet.
As a " model," although almost her first appearance in
that character, this Jewish woman was very valuable, and
we had little trouble after the first interview, in making her
understand our wishes. But we had to pay more than
in England ; there were many drawbacks, and of course
much waste of time. On some holydays, and on all Jewish
festivals, she did not make her appearance, and seemed
to think nothing of it when some feast that lasted a week
left us stranded with half-done work.
Without being learned in costtimes des dames, we believe,
we may say, that the shape and cut of some of these
dresses, and the patterns of the embroidery (old as they
are) might be copied with advantage by Parisian modistes ;
the more we study these old patterns, the more we cannot
cease to regret that the Dece ex machind, the arbiters of
fashion in the city where Fashion is Queen, have not
managed to infuse into the costume of our time more
character and purity of design — conditions not incon
sistent with splendour, and affording scope for any amount
of extravagance.
We are led irresistibly into this digression, if it be a
digression, because the statuesque figure before us displays
so many lines of grace and beauty that have the additional
charm of novelty. We know, for instance, that the pattern
of this embroidery is unique, that the artificer of that
curiously twined chain of gold has been dead perhaps
for ages, that the rings on her fingers and the coins

294 AR TIS TIC TRA VEL.

suspended from her hair are many of them real art
treasures.' The result of our studies, as far as regards Moorish
women, we must admit to have been, after all, rather
limited and unsatisfactory. We never once lighted upon
a Moorish face that ihoved us much by its beauty, for the
reason that it nearly always lacked expression ; anything
like emotion seemed inharmonious and out of place, and to
disturb the uniformity of its lines. Even those dark
lustrous eyes, when lighted by passion, had more of the
tiger in them, than the tragedy queen.
The perfection of beaut} , according to the Moorish ideal,
seems to depend principally upon symmetry of feature,
and is nothing without roundness of limb and a certain
flabbiness of texture. It is an ideal of repose, not to say of
dulness and insipidity ; a heavy type of beauty of which we
obtain some idea in the illustration before us, of a young
girl, about thirteen years old, of one of the tribes from
the interior. The drawing (on p. 291,) by a Frenchman,
pretends to no particular artistic excellence, but it attempts
to render, and we think succeeds in rendering, the style of
a Mahommedan beauty in bridal array ; one who is about
to fulfil her destiny, and who appears to have as little
animation or intelligence as the Prophet ordained for her,
being perfectly fitted (according to the Koran) to fill her
place in this world or in the next.
Thus decked with her brightest jewels and adorned with
a crown of gold, she waits to meet her lord, to be his
" light of the harem," his " sun and moon." What if we,
with our refined aesthetic tastes, what if disinterested
spectators, vote her altogether the dullest and most
' The "jewels" turned out to be paste on close inspection, but the
gpld filigree work, and the other ornaments, were old, and some very
valuable and rare. ' ' '

A PORTRAIT.

Facf p. jgs-

ALGERIA. 295

uninteresting of beings ? what if she seem to us more like
some young animal, magnificently harnessed, waiting to be
trotted out to the highest bidder?. She shakes the coins
and beads on her head sometimes, with a slight impatient
gesture, and takes chocolate from her little sister, and is
petted and pacified just as we should soothe and pacify an
impatient steed ; there is clearly no other way to treat her,
it is the will of Allah that she should be so debased !
One day we had up a tinker, an old brown grizzled
Maltese, who with his implements of trade, his patchwork
garments and his dirt, had a tone about him, like a figure
from one of the old Dutch Masters. He sat down in the
corner of our courtyard against a marble pillar, and made
himself quite at home ; he worked with his feet as well as
his hands at his grinding, he chattered, he sang, and
altogether made such a clatter that we shall not be likely
to forget him. This gentleman, and the old negro that
lived upon our doorstep, (sketched opposite) were almost
the only subjects that we succeeded in inducing to come
within indoors ; our other life studies were made under less
favourable circumstances.
From the roof of our own house, it is true, we obtained
a variety of sketches, not (as might be supposed from
pictures with which we are all familiar) of young ladies
attired as scantily as the nymphs at the ThMtre du
Chatelet, standing in pensive attitudes on their housertbps,
but generally of groups of veiled women — old, ugly,
haggard, shrill of voice, and sometimes rather fierce of
aspect, performing various household duties on the roof
tops, including the beating of carpets and of children, the
carrying of waterpots and the saying of prayers.
A chapter on " Models " would not be complete with
out some mention of the camels, of which there are
numbers to be found in the Arab quarter' of the town.

296

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

Some of them are splendid creatures, and as different from
any exotic specimens that we can see in this country as an
acclimatised palm tree from its wild growth.
Some one tells us that these Algerian "ships of the
desert" have not the same sailing qualities, nor the same
breadth of beam, as those at Cairo. But (if true) we
should have to go to Cairo to study them, so let us be
content It would be interesting to see one or two of

our popular artists, who paint camels and desert scenes
without ever having been to the East, just sit down here
quietly for one day and paint a camel's head ; not flinching
from the work, but mastering the wonderful texture and
shagginess of his thick coat or mane, its massive beauty,
and its infinite gradations of colour. Such a sitter no
^portrait painter ever had in England. Feed him up first,
get a boy to keep the flies from him, and he will sit almost
immovably through the day. He will put on a sad

ALGERIA. 297

expression in the morning, which will not change ; he will
give no trouble whatever, he will but sit still and croak.
Do we seem to exaggerate the value of such studies ?
We cannot exaggerate, if we take into full account the
vigorous quality which we impart into our work. And we
cannot, perhaps, better illustrate our argument in favour of
drawing from, what we should call, natural models, than
by comparing the merits of two of the most popular pic
tures of our time, viz. :— Frith's " Derby Day',' and Rosa
Bonheur's "Horse Fair!' The former pleasing the eye
by its cleverness and prettiness ; the latter impressing the
spectator by its power, and its tmthful rendering of
animal life.
The difference between the two painters is, probably,
one, more of education than of natural gifts. But whilst
the style of the former is grafted on a fashion, the latter is
founded on a rock — the result of a close study of nature,
chastened by classic feeling, and a remembrance it may be
of the friezes of the Parthenon.

The Bouzareah.
It would be passing over the most enjoyable part of life
in North Africa, if we omitted all mention of those delight
ful days, spent on the hill-sides of Mustapha, on the heights
of the Bouzareah, and indeed everywhere in the neigh
bourhood of Algiers, sketching in winter time in the open
air. Odours of orange-groves, the aromatic scent of cedars,
the sweet breath of wild-flowers, roses, honeysuckles, and
violets, should pervade this page ; something should be
done, which no words can accomplish, to give the true
impression of the scene, to picture the luxuriant growth of
vegetation (radiant in a sunshine which to a northerner is

29S ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
unknown), and to realise in any method of description, the
sense of calm enjoyment of living this pure life in a climate
neither too hot nor too cold, neither too enervating nor too
exciting ; of watching the serene days decline into sunsets
that light up the Kabyle Hills with crests of gold, and end
in sudden twilights that spread a weird unearthly light
across the silver sea.
There is plenty to interest us here, if it is only in sketch
ing the wild palmettos, or in watching the half-wild Arabs
who camp in the neighbourhood, and build mud huts which
they affect to call cafes, and where we can, if we please,
obtain rest and shelter from the mid-day sun, and a con
siderable amount of " stuffiness," for one sou. But there is
no need to trouble them, as there are plenty of shady
valleys and cactus-hedges to keep off the sun's rays ; the
only disturbers of the peace are the dogs that guard the
Arab encampments, and have to be diligently kept off with
stones. Perhaps the best spots for quiet work are the precincts
of the Marabouts' tombs, where one can study unobserved
behind some old wall and return quietly to the same spot,
day after day. And here, as one experience of sketching
from Nature, let us allude to the theory (laid down pretty
confidently by those who have never reduced it to practice)
that one great advantage of this climate is, that you may
work at the same sketch from day to day, and continue it
where you left off! You can do nothing of the kind. If
your drawing is worth anything, it will at least have
recorded something of the varying phases of light and
shade, that really alter every hour.
Let us take an example. About six feet from us, at
eight o'clock in the morning, the sheer white wall of a
Moslem tomb is glowing with a white heat, and across it
are cast the shadows of three aloe leaves, which at a little

ALGERIA.

299

distance, have the contrasted effect of the blackness of
night' Approach a little nearer and examine the real
colour of these photographic leaf-lines, shade off (with the
hand) as much as possible of the wall, the sky, and the
reflected light from surrounding leaves, and these dark
shadows become a delicate pearl-grey, deepening into
mauve, or partaking sometimes of the tints of the rich
earth below them. They will be deeper yet before noon,
and pale again, and uncertain and fantastic in shape, before
sundown. If we sketch these shadows only each hour, as
they pass from left to right upon the wall (laying down a
different wash for the ground each time) and place them
side by side in our note-book, we shall have made some
discoveries in light and transparent shadow tone, which
will be very valuable in after time. No two days or two
hours are under precisely the same atmospheric condi
tions ; the gradations and changes are extraordinary, and
would scarcely be believed in by any one who had not
watched them. Thus, although a colour-sketch cannot be
continued to any good purpose when once left off, an
infinite and overwhelming variety of work can be obtained
in one day, in the space of a few yards, by the side of som.e
old well or Marabout's tomb.
Our favourite rendezvous was a little Arab cemetery
about six miles from Algiers, on the heights westward in
the direction of Sidi Ferruch, near a little village called
the " Bouzareah." This spot combined a wondrous view
both of sea and land, with a foreground of beauty not easy
to depict It was a half-deserted cemetery with tombs of
Marabout priests over which the palm trees waved, and
' Under some conditions of the atmosphere we have obtained more
perfect outlines of the leaves of the aloe, with their curiously indented
edges and spear-points, from their shadows, rather than from the
leaves themselves. ' ¦ ' '

300 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
little gravestones here and there surmounted with crescents.
Sheltered from the sun's rays, hidden from the sight of
passers-by, surrounded with a profusion of aloes, palms,
cacti, and a variety of shrubs and flowers, peeping out
between the palmettos that spread their leaves like fans
upon the ground — it combined everything that an artist
could desire.
Here we worked, sitting close to one of the tombs for its
shade, with the hush of the breeze, the distant sighing
sound of the sea, the flutter of leaves, bees and butter
flies, and one other sound that intermingled with strange
monotony close to our ears, which puzzled us sorely to
account for at first. It turned out to be a snore ; the
custodian of one of the tombs was sleeping inside with his
fathers, little dreaming of our proximity. We struck up
an acquaintance with him, after a few days of coyness on
his part, and finally made him a friend. For a few sous a
day he acted as outpost for us, to keep off Arab boys and
any other intruders ; and before we left, was induced to sit
and be included in a sketch. He did not like it, but he sat
it out and had his portrait taken like any Christian dog ;
he took money for his sin, and finally, by way of expia
tion, let us hope, drank up our palette water at the end
of the day 1
If there is one spot in all Algeria most dear to a Mussul
man's heart, most sacred to a Marabout's memory, it must
surely be this peaceful garden of aloes and palms, where
flowers ever grow, where the sun shines from the moment
of its rising until it sinks beneath the western sea ; where,
if anywhere on this earth, the faithful will be the first to
know of the Prophet's coming, and where they will always
be ready to meet him. But if it be dear to a Mussulman
heart it is also dear to a Christian's, for it has taught us
more in a few weeks than we can unlearn in years. We

ALGERIA.

301

cannot sit here day by day without learning several truths
more forcibly than by any teaching of our schools ; taking
in, as it were, the mysteries of light and shade, and the
various phases of atmosphere effect taking them all to
heart, so that they influence work for years to come.
Is it mere heresy in art, or is it a brighter light dawning
upon us here, that seems to say, that we have learned and
achieved more, in studying the glowing limbs of an Arab
child as it plays amongst these wild palmettos — because
we worked with a background of such sea and sky as we
never saw in any picture of the " Finding of Moses " ; and
because in the painting of the child, we had not perforce to
learn any " master's " trick of
colour, nor to follow conven
tional lines? And do we
not, amongst other things,
learn to distinguish between
the true and conventional
rendering of the form, colour
and character, of palm trees,
aloes and cacti ?
First of the palm.' Do
we not soon discover how
much more of beauty, of
suggested strength, of grace,
lightness and variety of
colour and texture, there is
in this one stem, that we
vainly try to depict in a
wood engraving, than we had previously any conception
of; and how opposed to facts are the conventional
methods of drawing [palm trees (often with a straight stem
^ The palm-stem we have sketched is of a different variety and less
formal in character than those generally seen in the East.

302 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
and uniform leaves looking like a feather broom on a
straight stick), which we may find in almost any illustrated
book representing Eastern scenes, from Constantinople to
the Sea of Galilee.
Take, for instance, as a proof of variety in colour and
grandeur of aspect, a group of palm trees that have stood
guard over the Mahommedan tombs for perhaps a hundred
years ; stained with time, and shattered with their fierce
battle with the storms that sweep over the promontory
with terrible force. Look at the beauty of their lines, at
the glorious colour of their young leaves, and the deep
orange of those they have shed, like the plumage of some
gigantic bird ; one of their number has fallen from age, and
lies crossways on the ground, half-concealed in the long
grass and shrubs, and it has lain there undisturbed for
years. To paint the sun setting on these glowing stems,
and to catch the shadows of their sharp-pointed leaves, as
they are traced at one period of the day on the white walls
of the tombs, is worth long waiting to be able to note
down ; and to hit the right tint to depict such shadows
truly, is an exciting triumph.
Second, of the aloe ; and here we make as great a dis
covery as with the palm. Have we not been taught (in
paintings) from youth upwards, that the aloe puts forth its
blue riband-like leaves in uniform fashion, like so many
starched pennants, which painters often express with one
or two strokes of the brush ; and are we not told by
botanists that it flowers but once in a hundred years ?
Look at that aloe hedgerow a little distance from us,
that stretches across the country, like a long blue rippling
wave on a calm sea, and which, as we appjjoach it, seems
thrown up fantastically and irregularly by breakers to a
height of six or eight feet, and which (like the sea), on a
nearer view changes its opaque cold blue tint, to a rich

AN ALOE HEDGE.

Face p. 302.

ALGERIA. 303
transparent green and gold. Approach them closely, walk
under their colossal leaves, avoid their sharp spear-points
and touch their soft pulpy stems. What wonderful variety
there is in their forms, what transparent beauties of colour,
what eccentric shadows they cast upon each other, and
with what a grand spiral sweep some of the young shoots
rear upwards ! So tender and pliable are they, that in
some positions a child might snap their leaves, and yet so
wonderful is the distribution of strength, that they would
resist at spear-point the approach of a lion, and almost
turn a charge of cavalry. If we snap off the point of one
of the leaves it is a needle, and a thread clings to it which
we may peel off down the stem a yard long — needle and
thread — nature-pointed, nature-threaded ! Should not
artists see these things ? Should not poets read of them ?
Of the cactus, which also grows in wild profusion, we
could say almost as much as of the palms and aloes, but
it might seem like repetition. Suffice it, that our studies
of their separate leaves were the . minutest and most
rewarding labour ever achieved, and that until we had
painted the cactus and the palmetto growing together, we
had never understood the meaning of "tropical vegetation."
Many other subjects we obtain at the Bouzareah ; simple
perhaps, and apparently not worth recording, but of im
mense value to a student of Nature. Is it nothing, for
instance, for a painter to have springing up before him
in this clear atmosphere, delicate stems of grass, six feet
high, falling over in spray of golden leaves against a
background of blue sea ; darting upward, sheer, bright,
and transparent from a bank covered with the prickly
pear, that looks by contrast, like the rock-work from which
a fountain springs ? Is it nothing to see amongst all
this wondrous overgrowth of gigantic leaves, and amongst
the tender creepers and the flowers, the curious knotted

304 ARTISTIC TRA VEL.

and twisted stem of the vine, trailing serpent-like on the
ground, its surface worn smooth with time ? Is it nothing
for an artist to learn practically, what "white heat " means ?
It is well worth coming to North Africa in winter, if,
only to see the flowers, but of these we cannot trust
ourselves to speak — they must be seen and painted.
It is difficult to tear ourselves away from this spot, and
especially tempting to dwell upon these details, because
they have seldom been treated of before ; but perhaps the
question may occur to some — are such subjects as we have
depicted worth painting, or, indeed, of any prolonged or
separate study? Let us endeavour to answer it by
another question. Are the waves worth painting, by
themselves ? Has it not occurred to one or two artists
(not to many, we admit) that the waves of the sea have
never yet been adequately painted, because it is generally
considered necessary to introduce something else into the
composition, be it only a rope, a spar, or a distant ship ?
Has it not been discovered (though only of late years) that
there is scope for imagination and poetry, and all the
elements of a great and enthralling picture, in the drawing
of waves alone ; and should there not be, if nobly treated,
interest enough in a group of colossal vegetation in a bril
liant atmosphere, without the usual conventional adjuncts
of figures and buildings ?
So far, whilst sketching at the Bouzareah, we have
spoken only of the foreground ; but we have been all the
time in the presence of the most wonderful panorama of
sea and land, and have watched so many changing aspects
from these heights, that we might fill a chapter in de
scribing them alone.
The view northward over the Mediterranean, westward
towards Sidi Ferrach, southward across the plains to the
Atlas, eastward towards Algiers and the mountains of

ALGERIA.

305

Kabylia beyond ; each point so distant from the other
that, according to the wind or time of day, it partook of
quite distinct aspects, fill up so many pictures in the
mind's eye that a book might be written, called "The
Bouzareah " (beautiful view), as seen under the different
phases of sunshine and storm.
It has often been objected to by artists that these
Eastern scenes have "no atmosphere," and no subtle
gradation of middle distance ; that there is not enoug]^
repose about them, in short that they lack mystery and
are wanting in the poetry of cloudland. But there are
clouds. We have seen, for the last few mornings (looking
through the arched windows of the great aloe-leaves) little
companies of small white clouds, casting clearly-defined
shadows across the distant sea, and breaking up the
horizon line with their soft white folds — reappearing and
disappearing by some mysterious law, but seldom cul
minating in rain.
Yes, there are clouds. Look this time far away towards
the horizon line across the bay, and watch that rolling sea
which looks like foam, that rises higher and higher as we
watch it, darkening the sky, and soon enveloping every
thing in a kind of sea fog, through which the sun gleams
dimly red, whilst the white walls of the tombs appear cold
and grey against a leaden sky. See it all pass away again
across the plain of the Mitidja, and disappear in the
shadows of the mountains.
There is a hush in the breeze and all is bright again, but
a storm is coming. Take shelter, if you have courage,
inside one of the Marabouts' tombs (there is plenty of
space), whilst a tempest rages that should wake the dead
before Mahomet's coming. Sit and wait in there, whilst
one or two strong gusts of wind pass over, and then all is
still again ; and so dark that we can see nothing inside
X

A STORM AT THE BOUZAREAH.

ALGERIA. 307

but the light of a pipe in one comer. We get impatient,
thinking that it is passing off.
But it comes at last It breaks over the tombs, and
tears through the plantation, with a tremendous surging.
sound, putting to flight the Arabs on guard, who wrap
their bournouses about them and hurry off to the village,
with the cry of " Allah il Allah ; " leaving the care of the
tombs to the palms, that have stood guard over them so
long. Oh, how they fight and stmggle in the wind ! Ifjw^
they creak, and moan, and strike against one another, like
human creatures in the thick of battle 1 How they rally
side by side, and wrestle with the wind — crashing down
suddenly against the walls of the tomb, and scattering
their leaves over us ; then rallying again, and fighting the
storm with human energy and persistence ! It is a fearful
sight — the rain falling in masses, but nearly horizontally,
and with such density that we can see but a few yards from
our place of shelter — and it is a fearful sound, to hear the
palm trees shriek in the wind.
There was one part of the scene we could not describe,
one which no other than Dante's pen, or Dora's pencil,
could give any idea of; we could not depict the confused
muttering sound and grinding clatter (if we may call it
so), that the battered and wounded aloes made amongst
themselves, like maimed and dying combatants trodden
under foot. Many scenes in Nature have been compared
to a battle-field ; we have seen sheaves of corn blown
about by the wind, looking exactly like the tents of a
routed host ; but this scene was beyond parallel — the
hideous contortion, the melancholy aspect of destruction,
the disfigured limbs in hopeless wreck, the weird, and
ghastly forms that writhed and groaned aloud, as the
storm made havoc with them.
And they made havoc with each other. "What would
X 2

3o8

ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

the reader say, if he saw the wounds inflicted by some of
the young leaves on the parent stems — how they pierce and
transfix, and sometimes saw into each other, with their
sharp serrated edges, as they sway backwards and forwards
in the wind. He would say perhaps that no sea monster
or devil-fish, could seem more horrible, and we wish him
no wilder vision than to be near them at night, when
disturbed by the wind.
We have scarcely alluded to the palmetto leaves and
branches that filled the air, to the sound of rushing water,
to the distant roar of the sea, nor to many other aspects of
the storm. It lasted, not much more than an hour, but
the water covered the floor of our little temple before the
rain subsided, and the ground a few feet off where we had sat
was completely under water. Everything was steaming
with vapour, but the land was refreshed, and the dark
earth was richer than we had seen it for months— there
would be no dust in Algiers until to-morrow.

ALGERIA. 309

On the Mountains.

The beautiful mountain scenery, south of Medeah, on
the lesser Atlas, led us to spend some time in sketching
and in exploring the country. In spite of its wildness and
solitariness we could wander about with perfect security,
under protection of the French outposts. The crisp keen
air at this altitude tempted us on and on. The mountain-
ranges to the south were like an undulating sea, divjfied
from us by lesser hills and little plains, with here ind
there valleys, green and cultivated ; but the prevailing
character of the scenery was rocky and barren. The great
beauty was in the clouds that collected in this region at
intervals, spreading a grateful shade and casting wonder
ful shadows on the rocks. The rain would fall heavily
through them sometimes for three or four minutes, like
summer showers, and the little dried-up torrent beds
would trickle for a while ; the Arabs would collect a few
drops, and then all would be gone — the clouds, the rivulets,
and every sign of moisture on the ground — and the moun
tains would stand out sharp and clear against the sky,
with that curious, pinky hue, so well portrayed in the back
ground of Lewis's picture of "A Camp on Mount Sinai."
Here we could pitch our tent in the deepest solitude, and
romance as much as we pleased without fear of interrup
tion. The only variation to the almost death-like silence
that prevailed, would be the distant cry of a jackal, which
disturbed us for a moment, or the moaning of the wind in
some far-off valley, for the air seemed never still on these
heights. A stray monkey or two, would come and fur
tively peep at our proceedings, but would be off again
in an instant, and there were no birds ; indeed, since we
left Blidah we had scarcely heard their voices. The few
Arab tribes that cultivated the valleys, seldom came near

3IO ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
us ; so that we sometimes heard no voices but our own
from morning till night
One day proved an exception. We had been making a
drawing of the prospect due south, in order to get the
effect of the sun's rays upon a sandy plateau that stretched
between us and the next range of mountains ; it was little
more than a study of colour and effect, for there was not
much to break the monotony of the subject — a sand-plain
bounded by barren rocks. We had nearly finished our
work, when two dark specks appeared suddenly on the
sky-line, and quickly descending the rocks, began to cross
the plain towards us. With our telescope, we soon made
out that they were horsemen at full gallop, and we could
tell this, not by the figures themselves, but by the long
shadows that the afternoon sun cast from them upon the
plain. In a few minutes they rode up to our tent. They
were not, as our porters had insisted, some Arabs on a
reconnoitring expedition, but two American gentlemen on
hired horses from Algiers, who were scampering about the
country without any guide or escort.
There was an end to all romance about desert scenes
and being "alone with Nature"; we could not get rid of
the western world, we were tourists and nothing more 1
But in the solitude of these mountain wanderings, we
had an opportunity of seeing one phase of Arab life which
was almost worth the journey.
We had started early one morning from Blidah, but not
so early, that in deference to the wishes of some of our
companions, we had first attended service in a chapel,
dedicated to " Our Lady of Succour." We went into the
little building, which, like some rare exotic, was flourish
ing alone, surrounded by the most discordant elements —
situated hard by a mosque and close to some noisy Arab
dwellings. Service was being performed in the usual

ALGERIA.

311

manner, the priests were bowing before a tinsel cross, and
and praying (in a language of their own) to a coloured
print of " Our Lady," in a gilt frame. There were the
customary chauntings, the swinging of censers, the creaking
of chairs, the interchanging of glances, and the paying of
sous. Sins were confessed through a hole in the wall, and
holy water was administered to the faithful, with a brush.
Everything was conducted with perfect decomm, and was
(as it seemed to an eye-witness) the most materialistic
expression of devotion it were possible to devise. ^
Before the evening of the same day, we make a halt
amongst the mountains. A few yards from us we see in
the evening light a promontory ; upon- it some figures,
motionless, and nearly the same colour as the rocks —
Arabs watching the setting sun. The twilight has faded
so rapidly into darkness ¦ that we can see no objects
distinctly, excepting this promontory, on which the sun
still shines through some unseen valley and lights up the
figures as they kneel in prayer.
It was not the first nor the last time, that we had
witnessed the Arabs at prayer, and had studied with a
painter's eye their attitudes of devotion, the religious
fervour in their faces, and their perfect abandon. The
charm of the scene was in its primitive aspect, and in
the absence of all the accessories, which Europeans are
taught from their youth up, to connect in some way, with
every act of public worship. Regarding the scene from a
purely artistic point of view, we can imagine no more
fitting subject for a painter than this group of Arabs
at their devotions — Nature their temple, its altar the
setting sun, their faces towards Mecca, their hearts towards
the Prophet, their every attitude breathing devotion
and faith.

312 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

The Fort-Napoleon Kabylia.
The curtain fell upon the Kabyle War at the time of our
first visit, and detachments of troops were at once told off
to build a fort about two days' journey on horseback from
Algiers. All around, on every promontory and hill, the
little white tents were scattered thickly, and the sound of
the bugle and the sight of the red kepis of the soldiers,
prevailed everywhere. The long war with the Kabyles, the
mountain tribes, was practically over, and civilians came
up from Algiers — some to see, some to trade — and quite a
little colony sprang up. And here, on one of the heights
shown in the sketch, we establish ourselves again. Whilst
the Kabyle villages still smoulder in the distance, and
revenge is deep in the hearts of the insurgent tribes, " one
peaceful English tent" is pitched upon the heights of
Beni-Raten, and its occupants devote themselves to the
uneventful pursuit of studying mountain beauty. The
view from this elevation is superb — north, south, east and
west, there is a wondrous landscape, but northward
especially — where far above the purple hills, higher than
all but a few snowy peaks, there stretches a horizontal line
of blue, that seems almost in the clouds. Nothing gives
such a sense of height and distance, as these peeps of the
Mediterranean, and nothing contrasts more effectively, than
snowy peaks in sunlight against the blue sea.
All this we are able to study, in perfect security and
with very little intermption ; sketching first one mountain
side clothed with a mass of verdure ; another, rocky,
barren, and wild ; one day an olive-grove, another a
deserted Kabyle village, and so on, with an infinite variety
which would only be wearisome in detail. It is generally
admitted (and we should be unwilling to contest the point).

ALGERIA.

313

that English landscape is unrivalled in variety of cloud
effects, and that it is ch.\e&y form and colour that we study
with advantage in tropical climates. But directly we
ascend the mountains, we lose that still, serene atmosphere
that has been called the " monotony of blue." We read
ofteii of African sun, but very seldom of African clouds
and wind. To-day we 'are surrounded by clouds below us,
which come and gather round the mountain-peaks and
remain until evening. Sometimes just befortittunset, the
curtain will be lifted for a moment, and the hill-sides wih

be in a blaze of gold ; again the clouds come round, and
do not disperse till nightfall, and when the mountains are
once more revealed, the moon is up, and they are of a
silver hue.
The air is soft on these half-clouded days, in spite of
our height above the sea; and the showers that fall at
intervals, turn the soft soil in the valleys into a hot-bed,
as we should call it in England. The weather was nearly
always fine, and we generally found a little military tent
(lent to us by one of the Staff) sufficient protection and
shelter, even on this exposed situation.
But we are not likely to forget the winds that lived in
the valleys, and came up to where our tents were pitched —

314 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.
sometimes one at a time, sometimes from three or four
points of the compass together. It is a common phrase,
to speak of "scattering to the four winds"; but here the
four winds came and met near our little camp, and some
times made terrible havoc. They came suduenly one day
and took up a tent, and flung it at a man and killed him ;
another time they came sighing gently, as if a light breeze
were all we need prepare for, and in five minutes we found
ourselves in the thick of a fight for our possessions, if not
for our lives. And with the wind there came sometimes
such sheets of rain, that turned the paths into watercourses,
and carried shrubs and trees down into the valley ; all this
happening whilst the sea was calm in the distance, and the
sun was shining fiercely on the plains. These were rough
days, to be expected in late autumn and early spring, but
not to be missed for a little personal discomfort, for Algeria
has not been seen without its storms.
Before leaving Kabylia, let us, from our note-book,
just picture the rather incongruous elements of which
our little society is made up. There has been a general
movement lately, amongst the conquered tribes, who are
beginning to re-establish themselves in their old quarters
(but under French rule), which brings together for the night
about a hundred Kabyles, with their wives and children.
Around the camp this evening there are groups of men
and women standing, that bring forcibly to the mind, those
prints of the early patriarchs from which we are apt to
take our first and, perhaps, most vivid, impressions of
Eastern life ; and we cannot wonder at French artists
attempting to illustrate Scriptural scenes from incidents
in Algeria. There are Jacob and Joseph, as one might
imagine them, to the life ; Ruth in the fields, and Rachel
by the well ; and there is a patriarch coming down the
mountain, with a light about his head as the sun's last rays

ALGERIA.

315

burst upon him, that Herbert might well have seen, when he
was painting Moses with the tables of the law. The effect
is accidental, but it is perfect in an artistic sense, from
the solemnity of the man, the attitude of the crowd
of followers, the background of mountains which are
partially lit up by gleams of sunset, and the sharp shadows
cast by the throng.
This man may have been a warrior chief, or the head of
a tribe ; he was certainly the head of a largS. family, who
pressed round him to anticipate his wants and do him
honour. His children seemed to be everywhere about
him ; they were his furniture, they warmed his tent and
kept out the wind, they begged for him, prayed for him,
and generally helped him on his way. In the Koran there
is a saying of similar purport to the words " happy is the
man that hath his quiver full of them " — this one had his
quiver full of them, indeed, and whether he had ever done
much to deserve the blessing, he certainly enjoyed it to the
full. From a picturesque point of view he was a type of
beauty, strength, and dignified repose — what we might
fitly call a " study," as he sat waiting, whilst the women
prepared his evening meal ; but whether from a moral
point of view he quite deserved all the respect and defer
ence that was paid to him, is another question. As a
picture, as we said before, he was^ magnificent, and there
was a regal air with which he disposed the folds of his
bournous, which we, clad in the costume of advanced
civilisation, could not but admire and envy. He had the
advantage of us in every way. He had a splendid arm,
and we could see it ; the fine contour, and colour, of his
head and neck were surrounded by white folds, but not
concealed. His head was not surmounted with a battered
" wide-awake," his neck was not bandaged as if it were
wounded, his feet were not mis-shapen clumps of leather.

A WARRIOR AT PRAYERS.

ALGERIA. 317

his robes — but we have no heart to go further into detail.
There is a "well-dressed "French gentleman standing near
this figure, and there is not about him one graceful fold,
one good suggestive line, one tint of colour grateful to the
eye, or one redeeming feature in his (by contrast) hideous
tout ensemble. These are everyday truths, but they strike
us sometimes with a sort of surprise ; we have discovered
no new thing in costume, and nothing worth telling ; but
the sudden and humiliating contrast gi^s our artistic
sensibilities a shock and fills us with despair.
A little way removed there is a warrior on horseback at
prayers, his hands outstretched, his face turned towards
the sun. It is as grand a picture as the last, but it does
not bear examination. He came and sat down afterwards,
to smoke, close to our tent, and we regret -to say that
he was extremely dirty, and in his habits, rather cmel.
There were red drops upon the ground where his. horse
had stood, and his spur was a terrible instmment to con
template ; in the enthusiasm of a noble nature he had
ridden his delicate locomotive too hard, and had, ap
parently, sometimes forgotten to give it a feed. It was a
beautiful, black Arab steed, but it wanted grooming sadly ;
its feet were cracked and spread from neglect, and its
whole appearance betokened rough usage. Perhaps this
was an exceptional case, perhaps not ; but to the scandal
of those whose romantic picture of the Arab in his tent
with his children and his steed, are amongst the most
cherished associations, we are bound to confess that we
have seen as much cruelty as kindness, bestowed by the
Arabs and Kabyles, on their horses, and incline to the
opinion that they are, as a rule, anything but tender and
loving to their four-footed friends.
The Kabyles came round our tents in the morning before
leaving, and the last we saw of our model patriarch, was

3i8 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

flying before an enraged vivandikre, who pursued him
down the hill with a dish-cloth. He had been prowling
about since dawn, and had forgotten the distinction between
" meum " and " tuum."
Another day, there is a flutter in our little camp, for
" the mail " has come in, in the person of an active young
orderly of Zouaves, who, leaving the bulk of his charge to
come round by the road, has anticipated the regular
delivery by some hours, scaling the heights with the
agility of a cat, and appearing suddenly in^our midst.
If he had sprang out of the earth he could not have
startled us much more, and if he had brought a message
that all the troops were to leave Africa to-morrow, he could
scarcely have been more welcome. And what has he
brought to satisfy the crowd of anxious faces that assemble
round the hut, dignified by the decoration of a pasteboard
eagle and the inscription '^Bureau de Paste!'
Some of the letters were amusing, one was from a boot
maker in Paris to his dear, long-lost customer on the
Kabyle hills. He " felt that he was going to die," and
prayed "M'sieu le Lie\denant" to order a good supply of
boots for fear of any sudden accident, " no one else could
make such boots for Monsieur." And so on, including
subjects of about equal importance, with the latest Parisian
gossip, and intelligence of a new piece at the " Variet^s."
One other letter we may mention, that came up by the
same post, to one other member of that little band, perched
like eagles on the heights ; it was also unimportant and
from home, and the burden of it was this — "Broad-
TOUCH " had stretched ten feet of canvas for a painting
of one rolling wave, and "INTERSTICE" had s'tudied the
texture of a nut-shell until his eyes were dim.

ALGERIA. 319

Conclusion.
If the foregoing sketches have seemed to some readers
a thought too slight and discursive, and to be wanting
in details of places, it is because, perhaps, they have
reflected a little too naturally, the habit of a painter's
mind, and have followed out the principle of outdoor
sketching, which is to "hit off" as accurately as possible,
the various points of interest that come under observation,
and, in doing so, to give colour rather than detail.
But for this, perhaps, most readers will be thankful, and
for two reasons. First, because it is a fact, that English
people as a rule, care little or nothing for Algeria as a
colony — that they never have cared, and probably never
will. Second, because, in spite of the assertion of a late
writer, that "Algeria is a country virtually unknown to
Englishmen," we believe that the English public has been
literally inundated with books of travel and statistics on
this subject.
It is only in its picturesque aspect, and as a winter
residence for delicate people, that Algiers will ever claim
much interest for English people. Algeria has, however,
one special attraction, in which it stands almost alone, viz.,
that here (within four days' journey from England) we
may see the two great tides of civilization — primitive and
modern — the East and the West — meet and mingle with
out limit and without confusion. There is no violent
collision and no decided fusion ; but the general result is
peaceful, and we are enabled to contemplate it at leisure ;
and have such intimate and quiet intercourse with the
Oriental, as is nowhere else to be met with, we believe, in
the world. In fine, for artists, Algiers seems perfect ; a
cheap place of residence with few " distractions,'' without

/
320 ARTISTIC TRAVEL.

many taxes or cares ; with extraordinary opportunities for
the study of Nature in her grandest aspects, and of character,
costume, and architecture of a good old type. And what
they really gain by working here is not easily written down,
nor to be explained to others ; nor is it all at once dis
covered by themselves. It has not been dinned into their
ears by rote, or by rale, but rather inhaled, and (if we may
so express it) taken in with the atmosphere they breathe.
If they have not produced anything great or noble, they
have at least infused more light and nature into their worjc,
and have done something to counteract the tendency to
mannerism that is the curse of modem schools.
But not only to artists and amateurs — to those fortunate
people whose time and means are as much at their own
disposal as the genii of Aladdin's lamp ; to those who can
get " ordered abroad " at the season when it is most plea
sant to go ; to those who live at high pressure for hah
a year, and need a change — not so much, perhaps from
winter's gloom as from " clouds that linger on the mind's
horizon " ; to all who seek a new sensation, we would say
— pay a visit to the " city^f pirates," the " diamond set in
emeralds " on the African shore.

LONDON : PBINTED BY WM. CLOWES AND SONS, LTD., STAMFORD ST. AND CHARING CROSS.

Cheap Edition, Demy Zvo. Cloth, 5^.
RANDOLPH CALDECOTT
A Personal Memoir.
By HENRY BLACKBURN.
y^itii One Hundred and Seventy-Two Illustrations.

London : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, & COMPANY, Limited,
ST. DUNSTAN'S house, fetter lane, LONDON, E.C.
1892.

A few Copies remaining of the Original Edition, Royal 8vo. Cloth Gilt, 14s.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
" In the late Randolph Caldecott we have lost a humorous designer of rare
distinction and originality. ... In other men you detect certain traditional
habits of race, inherited defects ; just as Goldsmith tells us that the family of
the Blenkinsops could never look straight before them, nor the Hugginsons
blow out a candle. Mr. Caldecott betrayed nos^int of his artistic progenitors,
and if he imitated no one he was equally difficult to imitate. His success ' in
the line of children ' prompted many rivals but no equals, and their efforts
only serve to show how uncapturable was his spirit of fun and frolic, how
intangible his delicate and winning gift of grace." — Saturday Review.
"We do not hesitate to give a high place amongst Christmas books to the
' memoir of Randolph Caldecott. It is written by a friend and fellow-labourer,
one who knew the artist well ; written most sympathetically and adorned with
a copious and representative collection of drawings." — Spectator.
" Caldecott had in him the makings of an artist in the stricter sense. The
drawings, paintings, and reliefs which he exhibited at Burlington House and
elsewhere failed to make much impression through the timidity of their
technique ; but they had sterling artistic qualities nevertheless. In Mr.
Blackburn's book two or three of his reliefs are reproduced, and we are
enabled to see how excellent they are in arrangement of mass and rhythm of
line. "Going to Cover" and "A Horse Fair in Brittany" would make
beautiful friezes, so far as their length would go." — St. yames' Gazette.
" Mr. Blackburn's sympathetic book exhibits his friend and fellow-labourer
in a most attractive light. . . . He had qualities which not more than four or
five English artists could approach." — New York Tribune.
" Mr. Henry Blackburn, the art critic, so widely known as the editor and
originator of the " Academy Notes," has ^vTitten this personal memoir with
the object of giving some information as to the early work of this artist.
Randolph Caldecott's Picture Books are known all over the world, they have
been widely discussed and criticised, and they form undoubtedly the best
monument to his memory ; but certainly the material here collected will aid
in forming a better estimate of Caldecott as an artist. To all those who love
art and the narration of a singularly pure and successful career in it, Mr.
Blackburn's memoir will be as ' welcome as the flowers in May.' " — Sydney
Morning Herald.
" Mr. Henry Blackburn's ' Randolph Caldecott ' is a very charming book.
It tells the story of the artist's early life, his fondness for art, and his many
experiments in modelling, decorative work and the like. The illustrations
are produced with remarkable success." — Graphic.
"By all means set high upon your list this book, which is not only a
biography but an autobiography, in right of its illustrations ; and in riglit also
of the many genial and humorous letters of the artist it contains." — Truth.
" This is a delightful volume." —/"a// Mall Gazette.

YALE UNIVERSITY

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