v< km Ex Libris • C. K. OGDEN ^^\/ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES AUVERGNE, PIEDMONT, AND SAVOY: A SUMMER EAMBLE. BY CHARLES RICHARD WELD. LONDON : JOHN W. PAEKER, WEST STKAND. MDCCCL. DC 611 TO LADY SIMPKINSON, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, BY HER SINCERE FRIEND, CHARLES RICHARD WELD. Somerset Ilo'use, May, 1850. iP^Mf^V^.Q And, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Think not of any severing of our loves ! Yet, in my heart of hearts, I feel your might ; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. Wordsworth. CONTENTS. CHAPTEE I. Advantages of a holiday — Advice of Democritus, Junior — Difficulty in selecting a route — Auvergne, Piedmont, and Savoy decided on — The system of passports — English railways and railway carriages — Boulogne — Auction of conger eels — Paris — Exhibition of modern pictures at the Palais des Tuileries — Great national ' exposition' — Scenes of the late revolution — Victor Hugo's speech respecting theatres — Anecdote of Bonaparte and Catalani — Newspapers in Paris — Ninevite remains in the Louvre — Public buildings in Paris contrasted with those in Loudon pp. 1 — 30 CHAPTEE II. Orleans — Visit of the President of the Eepublic — Sensation created by the handsome English lady — Ancient houses — Statue of La Pucelle — Schiller's impersonation of the Maid — Kush to Bourges — Deserted hostel — Cathedral — Jewelled windows — Antiquity of the town — Jacques Coetir's Louse — His strange fortunes Convent of the Sceurs Bleues — Interesting conference with a nun — Beauty of the women at Bourges — Proceed to Nerondes — Travelling difficulties — Journey to Moulins — Curious head-dress — St. Pour^ain — Illness of the Author's friend — Auvergne unvisited by cholera — Arrive at Clermont 31 jy CHAPTEE III. Clermont— Its picturesque character — Built of lava — Cathedral — Notre Dame du Port — Musee — Geological collections — Botanical garden — Fountain of St. Alyre — Its curious properties — Mademoiselle Rachel — Her performance at the theatre — Excursion to the Puy de Dome — Striking view from the summit — Geological features — A VI CONTENTS. Pascal's experiments — Persecutions by the cburch of Rome — Val de Fontauat — Gergovia — Caesar's defeat — Val de Royat — Its great beauty pp. 59 — T-i CHAPTEE IV. Peter the Hermit — Crusade — Coimcil of Clermont — Difficulty of changing English gold — Interview with chief banker — Journey to Mont Dore — Rochefort — Hotel competition — Value of a friend — Satisfactory bargain — Stroll through the village— The baths — Valley of Mont Dore — Public breakfast — Equestrian parties — Excursion to the Pic de Sanoy — Grand cascade — Steep ascent — Riding hints — Cascade du Serpent — Summit of the Pic — Volcanic action — Magnificent view — Crater lakes — Opera glasses: their advantage over telescopes — The Puy Ferrand — Gorge de Chaude- four — Descent — Ride in the pine forest — Table-d'hote — Profusion of dishes — English servant — Salon ; evening amusements — Bourree dance 74 — 97 CHAPTEE Y. Early hours at Mont Dore — Bathing rules — New Bath guide — Priestess of the waters — St. Laurent — Water drinkers — Somnambulist patient — Beauties of the valley — Excursion to La Bourboule — Quereihl — Plat a Barbe cascade — Lovely forest scenery — Government phy- sician — Springs of La Bourboule — Their qualities — Chapel — Rocky dwelling — Roche des Fees — Roche Vendeix — The Roi des Pillards — Saw Mills — Peasants'-bouses — Auvergnat patois — Excursion to St. Nectaire — The Tartaret — Extraordinary volcanic country — Dan- gerous riding — St. Nectaire — Romanesque church — Feast of the Virgin — Magdelaine de St. Nectaire — Incrusting springs — Druidical monument — Castle of Murol — Robert Chambe — Fine view from the Donjon tower — The strongholds of ancient power , 98 — 116 CHAPTEE VI. On angling — The lakes of Auvergne — Angling laws in France — Eng- lish streams, and English fishing regulations — Trout in Auvergne — Paucity of anglers — Curiosity respecting flies and fly-fishing — Guide-book maker — Excursion to the Lac de Guery — Net-fishing — Interview with the fishermen — Their ignorance of fly-fishing — Row CONTENTS. vii on the lake — Success with the artificial fly — Visited by party from the baths — Evening fishing — Eide home — A few hints to the angler pp. 117—129 CHAPTEE YII. The Roches Tuilliere et Sanadoire — M. Lecocq's description of them — French sentimentality — Excursion to the Gorge de Chaudefour — Plateau valley of Chambon — The gorge — Extraordinary needles — Precipices of the Puy Ferrand — Desire to scale them — Nature of the pass over the Puy Ferraiid — Start alone to cross it — Dense forest — ^Awkward position — Steep ascent — Black precipices — Honors of soUtude — Dangerous position — The ' Mauvais Pas' — Attain the Col — Excessive fatigue — Desirableness of taking a guide — Roche Cuzeau — Grandeur of the mountain top — Fossil bones — Downward journey — Anrive at the baths 130 — 144 CHAPTEE VIII. Want of enterprise among the visitors at Mont Dore — An adventurous lady — Madame B : her love of admiration — The small foot — Vanity rebuked — M. Polignac — Climate of Mont Dore — The Post- mistress — Hints to tourists — Emeute — The tyranny of power — Return to Clermont — Petite route — Randanne — Count de Mont- losier — His philanthropy — Arrive at Clermont — Fair — Quack doctors — Quack dentist — Journey to Le Puy — Wretched diligence — Issoire — Brioude — Arrive at Le Puy 145 — 161 CHAPTEE IX. Plutarch's definition of a friend — The luxury of a wash — Le Puy — Its origin — The cathedral — Notre Dame de Le Puy — Rehc of papyrus — Numerous holy relics — Museum — Roman remains — Fossil bones — Lace manufacture — Picturesque head-dress — Market-place — Rocher de St, Michel — Curious chapel — Geological theory of the Valley of Le Puy — Castle of Polignac — Puit de I'Oracle — Mask of Apollo — Cardinal Polignac — Les Orgues d'Espailly — Their powerful magnetic properties — Temple of Diiina — Tablc-d'hute — Royalist landlord — Travelling difficulties — Extortionate voituriers 102—1^8 X CONTENTS. Mont Cenis — Hospice — Lake — Hotel de la Poste — Dinner — Descend to Lanslebourg — Conflicting evidence respecting the Hotel Eoyal — Curious reception — Indulge in tea — Make arrangements to cross the mountains — Excursion in search of a natural obelisk — Termignon — Pine forest — Remarkable scene — The Aiguille Loulie — Its imposing appearance — Threatened by a thunder-storm — Excellent dinner — Wall verses — Italian criticism — Anecdote of an autograph's probable immortality pp. 292 — 312 CHAPTER XVII. Early start — Our guide, Jaqnes Trag — Lans le Villard — Bessans — Gigantic cattle fold — Confused mountain nomenclature — Bonval — Halt to lunch — Primitive accommodation — Wounded girl — Sup- posed to be surgeons — Rye bread — Mode of cutting it — Pig-skin wine vessels — Excessive steepness of Mont Iseran — Chamois and Marmottes — Thin snow bridge — Rarity of the atmosphere — Its effect on my companion — Reach the Col — Glorious panoramic view — Iced drink — Excessive cold — Difficult track — Draughts of snow- water — Laval — Savage gorge — Numerous death crosses — The last mile — Arrive at Tignes — Rough accommodation — Poor fare 313—325 CHAPTEE XYIII. Midnight row — Morning toilet — Promised a dejeuner a la fourchette — A hare — Turns out to be a torn cat — The midnight disturbance explained — Our bill — Leave Tignes — Lovely weather — Grand scenery — Dense pine forests — Fragile causeway — Extraordinary position of a village — Life of the Savoy mountaineers — Their con- tentment — Passage of the "Vaudois — Henri Arnaud — St. Foi — Mont Chaffe Quarre — ^Sketching disappointments — Hints to sketchers — Sketching Mirror — Rocky path — Bourg St. Maurice — Col de Bon- homme — Moutiers — Salt works — Defile of the Doron — Salt springs — Process of evaporation — Ingenious contrivance — Effect of great earthquake of Lisbon on the salt springs — Quantity of salt pro- duced — Proceed to I'Hopital — Beautiful scenery — I'Hopital — Cheating landlord — Chateau Duing — Lake Annecy — Disappointing walk — Blue colour of the lake — Bishop of Annecy — Superstition of the peasants — Chant des Alpes — Town of Annecy — Hire a char — Drive to Geneva 32(3 — 343 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTEE XIX. Emigrants in Geneva — Luxury of our hotel — Fiud our portmanteaus — Table d'hote — Cafes — Patriots — Their conduct — News of France's proposed interference — Its effect on the Genevese — The English church — Destruction of one of the Genevese show-houses — Feruey fallen into the hands of the spoiler — Fragment of paper in Voltaire's bed-room — Fishing adventure — Catch a large trout by gas-light — Leave Geneva — Conclusion pp. 344 — 351 AUVERGNE, PIEDMONT, & SAVOY A SUMMER RAMBLE. CHAPTER I. TT was with no inconsiderable difficulty that I satis- -*- factorily answered the important question, which I put to myself more than once as the spring of 1 849 ripened into summer, — Where shall I spend my vaca- tion ? I say important question, for he whose entire life is a holiday of oppressive idleness little knows the happiness which these yearly breathing-times may be made, by judicious management, to confer on the working-man. They give exulting elasticity to the spirits ; destroy incipient disease, so often engen- dered by too sedentary a life ; and are, as it were, a species of winding up of the clockwork of human machiner}', which enables it to perform its functions smoothly for another cycle. Democritus Junior wisely said, * Although our ordinary air be good, yet it is not amiss to alter it: no better physic than change of air and variety of places. For peregrina- tion charms our senses with such unspeakable and sweet variety, that some count him unhapj:)y that AUV. B 2 CHOICE OF COUNTRY. never travelled.' Travel, therefore, being decided on, the question was — where to go? One consideration happily narrowed the difficulties. This was my re- solve to wander on the Continent. Not that I dislike my own country. Far, very far, from this. There is scarcely a scene of beauty in England, Ireland, aiid Scotland, which I have not visited ; nor was it until I had done so, that I sought for more communings with nature in other lands. Among the many advantages derivable from selecting the Continent for a tour, not the least is, that it takes a man away from epistolary intrusions. And in these days, when the fingers of the postman are scarcely ever off your knocker from early foggy morn to smoky London eve, — not to mention the charm of a telegraphic message coming upon you at supernatural hours, — I should like to know how it is possible to cast off the cares of business with these penny plagues drumming away at your mind all day long. I remember reading an announcement of the Lon- don and Brighton Railway Company, offering to con- vey the mails ten times daily to Brighton without cost to government — the Company expecting to be amply remunerated by carrying merchants and others on their line who would, with such plaguey prospects before them, select Brighton as a happy, peaceful place to abide in during the summer months. Well, there is no accounting for taste. There are those to whom the face of nature is a blank — who, without that perpetual boiling excitement which is only to be THE CONTINENT. 3 found in great cities, are miserable, and to whose quick bosoms, quiet, as Bjron says, is a hell. With all such I differ entirely, and perhaps it may be as well to tell them here, on the threshold as it were, if they contemplate following me, that they will find me leading them more amono;st Tlie pomp of groves aud garniture of fields, than into crowded cities and towns. The Continent, then, being resolved on, the next consideration was, seeing that it is a large word, what part of it should be selected for my wanderings. Extending before me a large comprehensive map of Europe, on which I had traced my previous tours, I saw that within the time at my disposal not much new ground remained for me to break. There were portions of countries in which I had not travelled, which I desired to see ; but although they presented the same physical features which they did half a dozen years ago, their people were in a state of active fermentation, which bade fair to make journeying among them far from agreeable. Delirant reges, plectuntur Acliivi, says Horace, and I had no ambition to be mingled with the Greeks, or people who might come in for unmerited punishment. I was all for peace and tran- quillity; and however entertaining and exciting it might be to read at home of the glorious struggles of oppressed nations to obtain freedom, I felt no inclina- tion whatever to be in at the death of oppressors, or B 2 4 AUVERGNE. the shootinp^ of patriots. It may appear strange that with these feelings, choice should have been made of France, a country, as all the world knows, famous for its anti-pacific tendencies. But I regarded the people in a meteorological aspect, arguing that, as a natural storm is succeeded by a calm, so their late little ebullition of feeling would, in all human proba- bility, be followed by temporary repose and tran- quillity. Much of France was already known to me, but there was a portion of it which I had often in- tended to visit, but had always been prevented by unforeseen circumstances. This was Auvergne, a country possessing great interest to the lover of beautiful scenery, as well as to the geologist ; and I said, if the inhabitants of that province remain, during the period of my visit, as quiet as their extinct volcanos, few obstacles will arise to impede free locomotion. So Auvergne was decided on, as the more immediate object of the Tour ; but sundry longing glances were cast at the glorious province of Dauphine, mercilessly shorn of its euphonious name since the revolution of 1792, and now forming the three departments of Isere, Drome, and Hautes Alpes. There are giants in that land, whose heads are white with the snow of ages — mountains, in other words, rising in bold and successful rivalry to Alpine elevations. I felt, looking at them even on the cold, flat map, that they were full of magnetical attraction for the tourist, so I indulged in day-dreams that I might be enabled to visit them, climb some of their TRAVELLING ARRANGEMENTS. 5 rugged sides, and repose in the cool shade beneath their engirdUng forests. Then Piedmont seemed but a step removed ; and, being there, the eye was lured insensibly over the Graian Alps into Savoy, where the wanderer, as I well knew, finds — Health in the breeze, and freshness in the gale. It will be seen in the sequel how far these hopes were realized. With the strong conviction, based on the experience of much travel, that the chances of smoothly gliding from place to place are greatly aug- mented in proportion to the smallness of the impedi- menta which a tourist carries with him, my baggage was filed down to the limits of a portmanteau, capable, however, of being expanded (for luggage, like an avalanche, is wonderfully apt to swell in importance as it travels), and a knapsack, an old and valued companion during many Alpine excursions, and one that has stuck to my back as the truest friend through many a trying day. Having made other little travelling arrangements, I was ready to start. But in the exercise of that glorious liberty which la belle France especially prides herself in, the new Republic decreed, as in the ancient kingly days, that no one would be suffered to travel in their country without a passport, and doubtless, with a particular desire to show the true meaning, according to their Republican ideas, of the ubiquitous national motto, they further decreed that five shillings was to be paid by each person 6 PASSPORTS. desirous of spending his money in their territory.* Now, in the olden time this tax would not have been so much grudged by Englishmen, who happily yet drain the cup to the loyal chorus — God save the Queen ! — for then the French passport was headed in imposing characters, — AU NOM DU ROI, and was followed by the words — " Nous, Ambassa- deur Extraordinaire et Plenipotentiaire, de Sa Ma- jeste le Roi des Francais pres Sa Majeste Britannique, &c. Prions les Autorites Civiles et Militaires chargees de la Police Interieure du Royaume, et de tons les Pays Amis ou Allies de la France, de laisser passer librement," &c. &c. It was gratifying to be thus taken under the protection of a great ambas- sador, who, by signing his name at the bottom of the broad sheet, gave evidence of the sincerity of his prayer. And all this was given gratis. Now look on this picture. ' REPUBLIQUE FRAN9AISE. ' Au nom du Peiiple Frangais. ' Nous, Consul-General de France en Angleterre, Prions les Officiers Civiles et Militaires de laisser passer,' &c. Here truly is a falling off — in place of * Recent events lead to the liope tliat passports will ere long be entirely abolislied in France. Already some of tlie severe restrictions imposed by tliem Lave been abrogated. PASSPORTS. / an Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary at the court of her Britannic majesty, praying the authorities of France, and, be it observed, of all nations friendly or allied to Finance, to aiford the traveller free liberty of locomotion — we have an ob- scure consul, whose name is unknown, and signature undecipherable, taking upon himself, in the name of the French people, to ask for freedom of passage for the traveller. And for this precious document a fee of five shillings is exacted. The French people, — who are they ? — what are they ? An undivided, in- divisible fraternal unity. Their numerous parties contradict this ; and I must say that I should be very sorry to depend for protection on the Montagnards. I had the curiosity to ask the clerk at the consulate office in the city, how many passports were issued weekly. His reply was, that they averaged, during la belle saison, three hundred. This number, at the rate of five shillings each, makes the very respectable sum of £75 per week — a belle saison, truly, for the consul ; but probably he is not permitted to pocket all these little fees. Doubtless, seeing how slenderly the ambassador is ])aid, in comparison to ours in France, the greater proportion of the above sum goes into the coffers of the Republic, so that the English traveller may have the honour and glory of contri- buting to teach freedom to the French. Having procured and paid for my passport, I felt at liberty to commence my travels; and on the 1st of August, 1849, (I have great faith in odd numbers) 8 RAILWAY TRAVELLING. I set forth, accompanied by a friend, who was my companion throughout the tour. I was going to say that we passed out of our Father-land along the well-worn and easy bars of the South-Eastern Railway, but when I remember the insufferable hardness and ruggedness of those wooden seats in the second-class carriages on that railway, 1 retract the word easy, and beg to substitute for it the more appropriate term, agonizing. Some wag who evidently possesses much hemispherical feeling, declared that the aforesaid seats changed their consistency and outward form, as hours passed over the head of the unfortunate traveller. Thus he not infelicitously figured the seats during a journey: First ten miles Second do. Fourth do. Eiglith do. and I would ask any man of feeling, not hippo- potamusly thick-skinned, who has travelled in a second-class railway carriage in England, whether there is not some such difference between the first ten miles and those bordering on the hundredth. It is evident that railway directors never travel in second-class carriages, — for if they did, it is quite cer- tain that some portion of the many millions of money squandered by them, on ornamenting viaducts and RAILWAY TRAVELLING. 9 Other ducts, in wild districts, would have been ex- pended in cushioning the second-class carriages. Not in the profusely luxurious stuffy manner of the first- class seats, where a man in summer is bolstered up like a patient in the last stage of chalky gout, but comfortably padded. The extraneous parings from the first-class would be sufficient to effect this. If the endeavour to obtain an Act of Parliament to permit railway directors to raise the fares ten per cent succeeds — which I very heartily hope may not be the case — I trust that our sapient legislators will insist on a proviso, that the second-class railway carriages shall be cushioned. If we could only compel a few of the angularly-built M. P.'s to travel in these car- riages, the boon would assuredly be accorded to the public. Our uncomfortableness and grumbling were in some manner dissipated when we arrived near Folkestone, by finding that we and our baggage were to be slid down an inclined plane, and almost shot on board the Boulogne packet. This, it must be confessed, is a very great improvement over the old omnibus and cart method, which was in vogue last year: your body going in the omnibus, and your soul in the cart with your portmanteau, which you were assured you would find on board. How the carriages descend that inclined plane is no mystery, natural laws explain the circumstance most satisfactorily ; but how the engine, with all its iron strength, muscles, and sinews, does such success- ful battle against the gradient, when ascending it, is b3 10 BOULOGNE. a marvel. But that it does so is certain, and with a fair degree of speed, too. Over the passage across the channel we shall throw, as night did, a veil of darkness. On landing at Bou- logne we passed our bodies through the swarm of Hotel touters, and our portmanteaus through the Cus- tom House, and retiring to a quiet room in our usual resort, the Hotel des Bains, wondered at being in France, having left London in the afternoon, and pitied our fathers, who considered it expeditious travelling when they effected such a journey in two long days. The following morning dawned auspiciously for the commencement of our travels. Strolling along the quay before breakfast, I was amused on witnessing the sale by auction of congeries of huge conger eels, several hundreds of which were twisting and twining in Medusa hair fashion. The auctioneer was a sturdy fishwife, who, with stentorian voice, lauded the quality of the sea serpents. At ten we started for Paris, and having tender remembrances of our second-class rail- way carriage seats, we duly appreciated the comfort of the same class carriage seats on this line. Not only, as many of my readers know, are they cushioned, but their dimensions, and the space between the seats, are much greater than in our wooden boxes. That there may be no doubt about the matter, here are the respective measurements : Breadth of English seat in S. E. R. . . 13 inches Do of French seat 21 inches Pistance between the seats | ''' ^°g^^f "^^^^^^^ J^^^f ^'^ Lm b rench do 17 do. THE FRENCH CAPITAL. 11 And for this additional comfort you have to pay not more, but considerably less than is exacted in Eng- land for equal distances. The fare from London to Folkestone, 82 miles, hard plank seats, is 17 francs and 64 cents. The fare from Boulogne to Paris, 163 miles, or double the distance, is only 21 francs, cushions included. The journey to Paris this year presented very dif- ferent aspects to those visible when I last visited that city. Impelled by an ardent, though, perhaps, rash curiosity, I went there in July 1848, immediately after the June insurrection. At all the stations alone; the line the greatest excitement prevailed. At Amiens, the embarcadere was occupied by two regiments under arms, awaiting orders to start at a moment's notice for Paris. Pour passer le temps, — the fine military bands were playing lively airs, which echoed through the vast area, and the gay and pretty Vivandieres were administering consolation in the form of petit verves to the troops. Now, as we drew near Paris, I was much surprised to find the stations, which had been burnt at that stormy period, yet in ruins. Are they allowed to remain so in order that they may remind travellers of what has been ? When the fortifications which enfold the French capital within their fraternal embrace are passed, and the railway terminus is approached, the traveller natu- rally felicitates himself on his arrival at Pari?. But his hopes outrun realities ; a weary half hour, at least, intervenes between him and his hotel. The Octroi, 12 meurice's hotel. that metropolitan monument of liberty, has to be passed. You may have a ' Jesuite au feu d'enfer'* in your carpet bag, a sucking-pig, or tin canisters filled with wine in your portmanteau. In short, there is no knowing what 3'ou may have, or may not have, and so among your coats and linen they search for edibles. At length, however, 3^ou are permitted to depart with your harmless portmanteau, or carpet bag, and calling out for Meurice's one-horse omnibus, you are rattled over interminable stones, which, from their unevenness, you imagine have not settled down since they were impressed into barricade service, and finally reach that celebrated hotel. All this happened to us, as it has, very probably, to the reader. It is the espe- cial privilege of men who travel en garqon, to be located in rooms occupying the most elevated position in hotels. On this occasion, we were quartered in small, but very comfortable apartments, at the top of the house, from the balconies of which we looked over the vast and ponderous Tuileries and their gar- dens, alive as ever with groups o^ bonnes and lounging idlers. At night, a resplendent moon poured a flood of * Gastronomers who frequent Paris for eating purposes well know the meaning of this term. But readers who have souls above such sensual considerations will require to be told that the importation of turkeys into France being attri- buted to the Jesuits by men of erudition, the word ' Jesuite' in several provinces stUl signifies a turkey. THE TUILERIES. 13 silver light over the palace home of France's last king, whose reverses prompted the question whether, her silver beams, Sleep they less sweetly on the cottage thatch Thau ou the dome of kings ? And the answer by the same poet naturally fol- lowed, — Xature rejects the monarch, not the man ; The subject, not the citizen : for kings And subjects — mutual foes — too often play A losing game into each other's hands. Indeed, it was strange to look on that huge build- ing, the scene of so many stirring events, and think of the weak old man, its last occupier, who a few months ago was hedged around with all the pomp and circumstance of royalty, now occupying humble rooms in a small watering-town in England, and tottering along the sea-beach. Rousseau said of Paris, ' that all the time he was in it, he was only trying how he should leave it.' And Hazlitt, who visited it in 1826, describes it as 'a beast of a city to be in, to those who cannot get out of it.' But great have been the improvements con- nected with that metropolis since Hazlitt's time, and among them, none conducing more to the traveller's comfort than the establishment of railways, which enable him to leave the city at most cardinal points of the compass, when a fit of locomotion is on him, without the necessity of securing a place, a week in advance, in a dislocating diligence. 14 THE TUILKRIES. Now, having been pent up in our Babylon the greater during many months, we had every inclination to avail ourselves immediately of these fiery-footed steeds to convey us to lands where we might quaff A beaker full of the warm south. But we were tempted to pause for a few days to see two sights, which are not included in the list of per- manent Paris lions. These were the great exhibition of modern pictures, or Salon de 1849, as it is called; and the Quinquennial Exposition of Arts and Manu- factures. It is one of the golden rules of republicanism to make everything national useful to the commonwealth, and everything useful, national. Thus when the Palais des Tuileries was proclaimed ' Propriete Nationale,' its vast halls were turned into hospital wards, and when the wounded of the June insurrection were either cured, or, by dying, ceased to burden the Re- public, and the Tuileries became again disposable to national uses, it was determined to appropriate it to the exhibition of modern pictures. This certainly was wise, for it was nothing short of an insult to mask the old paintings in the Louvre with the per- formances of young France ; and by the move the public were admitted to a second exhibition — the home of their late king, and that of their darling Napoleon. The ' Salon' was thrown open to the public every day in the week but Friday, on which day one franc was charged for admission. As THE ' SALON.' 15 communism formed no part of om' political creed, we determined to go on the select day. On paying our money we were presented with a yellow piece of paper, bearing the words — ' Salon de 18-49 — Palais des Tuileries. Billet de circulation pour les jours reserves,' and we passed up I'Escalier d'honneur, and into the far-famed apartments of the Tuileries. And here, at the ver}^ threshold, we were saluted by living images of liberty, in the shape of flocks of swallows, that flitted to-and-fro through the vast halls and galleries, evidently entirely at their ease, their nests forming stucco-like ornaments to the cornices. The reader may remember that at the Salon of 1848, the Direction des Beaux Arts resolved that every picture sent for exhibition should be exhibited. It was thought desirable to act on the motto of Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite, by permitting the veriest dauber to exhibit his performances as well as a Vernet, leaving: the new sovereign of Paris and France — the immaculate people — to judge of the merits of the pictures. The result was, that 4599 paintings and 3S5 pieces of sculpture were sent in. Public opinion was not tardy in passing judgment on these per- formances. More than two-thirds were condemned as utterly contemptible — unworthy the name of paintings. We are told that in the exercise of their new privileges, and of that ready wit for which the Parisians are celebrated, stinging criticisms were attached to 16 THE ' SALON.' the paintings and sculptures most remarkable for their grotesqueness and eccentricity. On a nonde- script figure — ''aux graveurs artistes, la patrie recon- naissante.' On a portrait of a hirsute gentleman, * I'homme est I'animal qui ressemble le plus au singe.' On a verdant landscape, ' paturage par un peintre en herbe,' &c. Such, in short, was the storm of laughter and ridicule raised against these villanous productions, that their owners removed them under the cover of night, glad to escape from universal derision. So severe a lesson has not been bestowed entirely in vain. This year (1849), the number of paintings exhibited is 2586, being 2013 less than those of the preceding year. But let it not be imagined that they are master-pieces. Had we not heard of the infa- mous celebrity of the Salon of 1848, we should have thought nothing could have been worse than the collection of daubs plastered in mosaic-coloured confusion on the walls. Vice, it is said, to be hated, * needs but to be seen,' and the same rule surely holds good with respect to bad pictures. It was melancholy to reflect on the enormous amount of labour bestowed on the acres of canvass in the present exhibition. The religious and historical paintings abounded with morbid sentimentality. A M. Coutel, in a picture entitled in the cata- logue, ' Calvaire,' has introduced a pugilistic en- counter between two soldiers at the foot of the cross, one of whom is clad in a tight-fitting coat of THE 'SALON.' 17 flaming orange. jNIagdalens swarm, whose models must have been ballet girls ; legions of angels, cherubs, demons, and all the accessoi'ies of the Ro- man-catholic church, are to be seen in every possible sprawling attitude, to the admiration, probably, of the ignorant, who, as Sir Walter Scott truly said, ever prefer exertion and agility to grace, but on which the educated gaze with feelings of profound pity and disgust. Historical subjects are similarly treated. We have the calamitous death of the late Archbishop of Paris under half a hundred different representations. Attired in his purple prelatical robes, he expires like a dolphin, exhibiting all the hues of the rainbow. His vestments are dappled with blood — in some instances you would think that the green tinge of corruption appeared through them. Then he appears surrounded by maids — ballet girls again — who strew flowers on his bier ; then, by poissardes, with brawny arms and dishevelled locks, who kneel for his dying blessing. The result of all these contradictory paintings being, that the stranger can form no idea whatever of the attendant circum- stances under which the good priest died. The imaginative pictures are, if possible, even lower in character; for here the painter, being at liberty to exercise his own ingenious devices, has done so to the utter defiance of propriety. Not unha})pily has it been said, if Nature were a French courtezan, the poetry and painting of France would be the finest in the world. Wherever we turned we were met by 18 TUE ' SALON.' illustrations of the truth of this remark. The por- traits were not only wretched paintings, but conceived in the worst possible taste. The only exception was that of Cavaignac, by Vernct, and this, unfortunately, was not a striking likeness. We traversed room after room, hoping to the end that some oasis might ap- pear amidst the desert : but in vain ; and we sat down weary and exhausted, after having gone through twenty huge apartments. Then national feelings of pride found quick expression, and we thought of our own modest-sized exhibition, with its Turners, its Linnells, its Stanfields, Grants, Creswicks, &c. &c., and we exclaimed, what is to be seen here that can be compared for a moment with the works of those artists? It would be very unfair, however, to judge the respective merits of the two national exhibitions as a whole, as long as the French admit all classes of pictures, and the English academicians select only the best out of a multitudinous heap. And it would, per- haps, be a profitable lesson to our artists, and instruc- tive to the public, if on one occasion every painting sent in w^ere exhibited. The sculptures which we visited differed but little in mediocrity and bad taste from the paintings. There were numerous groups in every possible and impossible attitude, reahzing the stigma applied to French sculptors, that they would if they could Make the Apollo dance. The apartments, which to the stranger are an exhi- bition in themselves, have a faded, dingy appearance, THE TUII.ERIES. 19 and bear the marks of the rough treatment they re- ceived during their occupancy by the mob after the late outbreak. Scarcely an article of furniture re- mains ; and, remembering its fate, I was surprised to see the large silver statue, emblematic of Peace, which had been presented by the city of Paris to Napoleon in 1807, and which gives its name to the saloon in ■which it is placed, still resting on its pedestal. Re- publican principles suggest that it would have been proper to have sent it into the world in the form of broad pieces to do good — a destiny to which the silver Apostles, in a church at Naples, were obliged to submit under Bonaparte's rule. The finest and most interesting apartment is that now called, ' Galerie de Diane,' but which was for- merly styled the * Salle des Ambassadeurs.' Here Louis XIV., seated on his gorgeous throne, received ambassadors ; and here, in his cinnamon-coloured coat embroidered with diamonds, his wig powdered with gold dust, and his red-heeled shoes, the monarch moved, surrounded by his fawning courtiers, who, as history tells us, shaded their eyes from so dazzling a spectacle, until assured by the words — ' Gentlemen, I, too, am mortal.' The immense hall scarcely sufficed to hold the troop of parasites that buzzed round their sensual master. ' Quand j'aurai de la peine aux Carmelites,' said the unhappy Louise, about to retire from these courtiers, ' je me souviendrai de ce que ces gens la m'ont fait soufFrir ;' and not only she, but thousands of unoffending human beings, who 20 EXPOSITION OF ARTS. were mowed down when the dreadful day of retribu- tion arrived. This celebrated hall was used as a dining-room during the reign of Louis Philippe. The last apartment in the suite thrown open to the visitor is the ' Salon de Famille.' It was Louis XIV.'s sleeping-room, and has been used as such by every succeeding sovereign who has occupied the Tuileries. Here the late king slept the night before his miserable flight from his capital. The decorations are very quiet. The impression left on the mind after walking through these now dreary and deserted apartments partakes much of that experienced by contemplating the outside of the Tuileries — vastness and grandeur — but nothing of the elegant or beau- tiful. The feelings of disappointment which the ' Salon' had created quickly evaporated when we visited the * Exposition' of Arts and Manufactures. This is in- deed a magnificent national undertaking, worthy a great nation.* With the view of endeavouring to restore confidence which the late revolution has so much shaken, manu- facturers and tradesmen determined to make the Ex- position of 1849 superior, if possible, in every respect * These expositions liad their origin under the Directory. The first lasted only tliree days. The second took place in 1801, on which occasion one soKtary bronze medal was awarded. In 1802 the first piece of so-called French muslin was exhibited, which was pronounced, however, by the ex- amining committee, to be of English manufacture. The succeeding expositions produced much higher developments. EXPOSITION OF ARTS. 21 to that which preceded it — and they succeeded. In 1844 there were 3960 exhibitors; the present Ex- position boasts 4532. The articles exhibited are also more numerous, and of a better quality. Govern- ment granted 600,000 francs for the erection of a suitable building. This is divided into aisles, each being appropriated to different manufactures, the names of the towns producing them appearing inscribed on the roof. Many of the objects were of great beauty — the bronzes especially elegant. The products of Algiers occupied a large space. Every article of use or luxury was to be found in this huge bazaar. It is a wise regulation that no object is allowed to be sold — otherwise visitors would be tempted above the power of resistance. Crowds of people of all classes moved through the alleys — working-men in their blue blouses seemed, however, to form the majority. The most perfect order pre- vailed. Elegantly dressed ladies occupied seats at the entrances and exits, holding out velvet purses furnished with little bells, which rung in the cause of orphans. It is worth noticing, that at this Exposition, in con)mon with those that have preceded it, a very large majority of the prizes have been bestowed on manufacturers inhabiting the northern departments of France. Dupin, in his ' Forces Productives,' states, that at a recent exposition, 293 medals of gold, silver, or bronze, were awarded to parties living in the north of France, and only 107 to those in the 22 EXPOSITION OF ARTS. south. The records of 'brevets ' granted from 1791 to 1825, show that 1699 were for inventions made by natives of the north of France, and only 413 for those made by southerns. But the great superiority of intellect of the north over the south, is evinced even more remarkably by the members of the Aca- demy of Sciences, — forty-eight of whom were born in the 132 departments of the north of France, and only seventeen in the fifty-four departments of the south. Great and stirring exertions are being made to 'get up' an Exhibition of Arts and Manufactures in London for 1851. In so eminently commercial a country as England such an exhibition ought to be, not only successful, but superior to all others of a similar nature. It is, I think, to be regretted that government will not supply the funds for a suitable building, by which means the exhibition would be truly nati(mal. I was unwilling to leave Paris without re-visiting the scenes of the June insurrection. But scarcely a trace of that bloody period remained. The houses which I had seen tottering to their fall, riddled by cannon balls, had either been entirely rebuilt, or repaired; the human tide which, at that period, surged angrily to and fro through the narrow streets surrounding the Hotel de Ville, now glided along in peaceful tranquillity. Business, which was entirely suspended in the Faubourg St. Germain, now as- EFFECTS OF THE REVOLUTION. 23 sumed a stirring appearance. In short, if, by a stretch of fancy, the disfiguring, skeleton-like trees of liberty could be transformed into May-poles, nothing would remain to tell of the searing-iron which had passed over so large a portion of the city. But although these outward signs of the past had disappeared, a few days' sojourn in Paris were amply sufficient to prove that the deeper evils occasioned by the late convulsion are far from being numbei-ed among past events. An eminent French writer has said of his own countrymen, — ' Nous sommes un peuple malheureux. Nous sommes nes pour les courtes joies et les longues douleurs. Rien ne nous reussit. Pour nous 93 est le lendemain de 89, Waterloo est au revers d'Austerlitz. Nos fautes devorent sans cesse le fruit de nos grandes actions.' This is an honest avowal, and, as regards the overthrow, particularly truthful. For that event had for its ostensible purposes the happiness and liberty of the people; but these blessings have not followed it; and, on the other hand, the elements of national prosperity have been converted into discord and dis- trust. And the people are becoming daily more and more impatient at the state of affairs. The National Assembly, from which so much was expected, turns out after all to be no gold-laying goose, but a far more costly species of legislation than the old Chamber of Deputies. A widely-circulated popular Paris periodical, contrasting the two systems, ob- 24 STATE OF FRANCE. serves: — 'Nous avions il y a un an, des deputes qui ne nous coutaient rien. Nous avons a present des representants qui nous coutent fort cher, — et qu'on a baptises recemment du nom de vingt-cinq francs joitriens, adjectif un peu long, mais significatif. Les deputes nous coutaient simplement des ministeres. Les representants nous coutent chacun vingt-cinq francs, c'est-a-dire, le valeur d'un souverain d'Angle- terre attendu que chacun d'eux est le diminutif d'un souverain.' So unhinged, indeed, are the pohtical elements in France, that if a second Bonaparte were to arise, gifted with those amazing powers which awed men, and enabled that great spirit, by a coup-de-main, to assume the rank of head; — one, in short, who, as he, 'sait tout faire, pent tout faire, et veut tout faire ;' the people, ever fond of change, would, in all human probability, flock round his standard, and swear ready allegiance. But the present chief of the Republic is not the man to do such things. The French may truly be said to fabricate — Tlie sword that stabs tlieii' peace! But although a dread of something undefinable and fearful pervades the minds of all classes, the usual levity of their character is as conspicuous as ever. When the nation breathed a little freer at the termi- nation of that scene, probably unparalleled in dark- ness in the history of nations — the Reign of Terror — the French metropolis assumed an air of gaiety which could scarcely be credited, had we not veracious his- BALLOON ASCENT. 25 torians who witnessed what they describe. Women clothed themselves in dresses of the flimsiest texture, and fashionable people gave what were called ' Bals des Victimes,' at which the relatives of the unfor- tunate wretches who perished by the guillotine were present, wearing their hair dressed as if in readiness to suffer decapitation. Shortly after the June insurrection, when all the theatres and places of public amusement were closed, and the Parisians were reduced to the verge of de- spair for amusement, it was announced that a balloon would ascend from the Champs Elysees on a Sunday afternoon. I was in Paris at the time, and I verily believe that two-thirds of the population poured forth to witness the almost childish sight. It seemed as if the woes of the city were about to depart for ever with the aerial machine. The past was utterly for- gotten in the excitement of the hour. Thus are they Pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw. But their levity was brought before me in even a more painful manner. While the streets were yet stained with blood, Victor Hugo harangued the National Assembly, urging the expediency of making immediate grants of money to the theatres to enable them to resume their performances. I was present during his address. The galleries of the Assembly were filled with actors and actresses; the latter oc- cupying the front scats, and dressed in the height of fashion. The poet-orator was fortunate. While he AUV. C 26 MADAME CATALAN I. spoke, perfect silence prevailed. The subject was evidently of general interest. ' The salvation of the country,' he exclaimed, ' depends on your theatres. Close them, and insurrections will continue. Open them, and peace and tranquillity will be restored.' He argued rightly ; it was, doubtless, good policy to draw disaifected people from low clubs and plotting places to the theatres. Napoleon himself had endea- voured to throw out a similar species of lure. When la maravigliosa Angelica, as Catalani was called, made her debut in Paris, Bonaparte immediately saw, that if so powerful an attraction could be retained perma- nently in the metropolis, the thoughts of scheming revolutionists might be turned into less mischievous channels at the Opera than at the Jacobin clubs. He sent for Catalani. The singer appeared before the great conqueror with fear and t)embling: — ' Madame, you must remain in Paris ; you shall have a salary of one himdred thousand francs annually, — a vacation of two months, — and your talents will be duly appre- ciated.' ' Sire,' repUed Catalani, ' I have accepted an engagement to sing in London.' ' Madame, it is decided that you remain in Paris ;' and Napoleon bowed her out of the room. The great singer was so awed by his presence that she had not the courage to tell him that, having contracted an engagement with the Ambassador of England at the court of Portugal, she could not honourably avoid appear- ing in London. She was obliged to leave the country in a small vessel, to the captain of which she PARISIAN NEWSPArERS. 27 paid one hundred and fifty louis to convey her to England. But to return to Victor Hugo and his speech. What hopes of solid happiness can be entertained for a country whose salvation is said to depend on its opera or theatres? And that the expression found ready and willing acceptation was evident, for the representatives present applauded to the echo. They did more, they voted large sums to the theatres. May not Rabelais' double etymology be still applied to the French metropolis ? — Par-ris and Lutetia. The farina of deep-dyed sentimental romance and folly borne on the wings of thousands of Feuilletons, which quickens even with blowing, doubtless greatly contributes to maintain this levity. The number of newspapers published in Paris is perfectly astounding. They are screamed about the Boulevards and principal streets from morning to night. The prices are regulated to suit the means of the humblest mechanic. Some are given away. Here is the announcement of one : — ' Journal des Fiancees. Ce Journal est distribue le Lundi de chaque semaine aux principales families qui marient leurs enfans.' Political brochures are poured from obscure presses with marvellous rapidity, affording unquestionable evidence of the restless state of the times. The same thing happened in 1789. Arthur Young relates under the date of September in that year. — * The business going forward at present in c 2 28 NINEVITE ANTIQUITIES. the pamphlet shops of Paris is incredible. Every hour produces something new. Thirteen came out to-day, sixteen yesterday, and ninety-two last week.' It is pleasing to see amidst all this political chaos that the city is yearly undergoing improvements. Hopes are entertained that before long the Louvre will be completed. It ought to be finished, to make the concatenation of original ideas inviolable and com- plete. A striking instance of the attention paid to science and art by the French government, be it republican or monarchical, is presented by the exhi- bition of antiquities from Nineveh, to which a room in the sculpture department of the Louvre has been appropriated. M. Botta has been more fortunate than Mr. Layard. His bulls are now to be seen in all their mystic majesty, whilst those exhumed by the enterprising Englishman are yet lying prostrate on the Busrah strand. The old Custode drew especial attention to the lotus leaf surmounting the head-dress of the kings. He maintained stoutly that it was the fleur-de-lys, and that the Bourbons were descended from the Ninevites ! Paris is certainly a splendid city, compared to which, our metropolis is dreary and dusky — A tliing of beauty is a joy for ever, says Keats. Public edifices of harmonious propor- tions — vast and grand, are especial joys to the denizen of large cities. How numerous are the buildings in Paris which afford pure delight to the spectator ! ARCHITECTURE. 29 How comparatively few are they in London I With all our wealth, we fail to produce a real great work. Look at the New Houses of Parliament — but the reader will ask, from what point? Reasonably, too, for the entire river facade of that huge pile can only be seen in its comprehensiveness from the decks of penny steamboats. In a climate like that of London, florid Gothic architecture is nearly as inappropriate as Chinese, and yet millions of pounds are expended in minute cai'vings and tracery, the details of which cannot be seen excepting by telescopic eyes. The architect must have had the comfort of sparrows much at heart when he designed those legions of kings and queens and bearded figures — lions, unicorns, and dressings (court dressings) of the windows, for to their uses will they be applied. In the folds of a ruff, in the gatherings of a mantle — nay, in the very face of majesty — for sparrows are impudent creatures — will the nests of these birds be made. The beautiful capitals of the Corinthian pilasters in Somerset House, where I reside, and on which I have the happiness of looking from my bed-room window, are alive before the breeding season with these birds; and long before they have constructed their nests, the leaves of the acanthus and the spiral volutes are eclipsed by bunches of hair and pendant straws. Great architects have always held that buildings should be framed in the spirit of their purposes. The New Houses of Parliament arc utterly meaningless ; 30 ARCHITECTURE. they might have been built for the performance of gorgeous ballets, for a series of Puseyite chapels, for showy shops ; in fact, for anything rather than the solenni and grave deliberations of a great national legislative assembly. Remembering that for these purposes they were erected, it is lamentable to reflect how small a modicum of aesthetic perception they manifest. But this is no fitting place to show how entirely the excellent architectural precept of Vitruvius — Utilitas, Jirmitas, venustas — has been disregarded in the erection of the greater part of our public build- ings, and in none more than the New Houses of Parliament. 31 CHAPTER II. TOURISTS are not sufficiently sensible of their obligations to engineers, by whose clever con- trivances they are enabled to skim like summer but- terflies from pleasure to pleasure. From Paris to Orleans was wont to be a tedious, ' dislocating kind of journey ; now, thanks to a rail- way, it is an after-dinner affair. We dined at Veray's, — as the cathedral clock struck nine, we entered the court-yard of the Hotel Orleans in the ancient city of La Pucelle. But the railway has failed to impart any of the life and movement of Paris to Orleans. It stagnates still in all its dull provinciality. True, our hotel quivered yet with the excitement which had been occasioned by the visit of Louis Napoleon a few days previously, who paraded the streets with a cavalcade of officers, on his way to open a new line of railway. Our landlady was, however, much more eloquent respecting a certain lady, whose beauty had turned the heads of half Orleans. The lady in question had preceded the President of the Republic, and engaged a set of rooms in the hotel commanding a view of the street Attired in a ' parure superbe,' she gazed eagerly on Louis Napoleon as he passed, and, like a fair lady of old, waved her scarf to the 32 ORLEANS. gallant knight. She was, added the landlad}^ a countrywoman of yours; her name — but, dear reader, you cannot suppose that this will be divulged. The principal and, indeed, only interest of Orleans lies in the past, the evidences of which are fast crumbling away. The zealous antiquary will find houses which bear high-sounding names, to which they may or may not be entitled. That called Jeanne d'Arc has certainly no pretensions to the honour of having sheltered the 'Maid,' for the chamber in which she reposed appertained to a build- ing destroyed long ago. There is, however, an un- doubted genuine relic of La Pucelle preserved in the private museum of M. Vergniaud. It is the banner that was carried in the procession to celebrate the raising of the siege of Orleans, and presented to the town by Francis I. The material is canvass, painted on both sides. On one side, the Virgin and Child are depicted in the centre ; on her right ap- pears Charles VII., kneeling,— and on her left, the Pucelle, also kneeling, with her hands uplifted in the attitude of prayer. She is equipped in full armour, with the exception of her helmet, which is on the ground beside her. The expression of her face is remarkable, being characteristic of great energy and firmness. Her long dark hair sweeps down her back, being simply bound round by a fillet. On the other side of the banner is a curious view of ancient Orleans, showing the old bridge, which was the scene of brave deeds enacted by the Pucelle. The passage JEANNE d'aRC. 33 and possession of that bridge formed the turning point of the fearfully contested day. The French captains urged prudence and delay. The Maid, im- pelled by the commanding voices of her celestial council, declared for immediate action. When it was decided that the bridge should be forced, Jacques Boucher, her host, entreated her to take some food before starting. ' Jeanne,' said he, ' mangeons cette alose avant que vous partiez.' ' En nom de Dieu,' was her reply, ' on n'en mange ra jusqu'au souper, que nous repasserons par dessus le pont et ramenerons un Goddam, qui en mangera sa part.'* And, true to her presentiment, the Maid returned in the evening over the bridge. It is not creditable to the inhabitants of Orleans that no appropriate statue of their chiefest glory exists. The present bronze figure of the Maid, at one ex- tremity of the Place du Martyre, is a vile affair. Its position warrants the conclusion that the citizens are ashamed of it. An admirable site for a statue is now furnished by the new street, Jeanne d'Arc, which is central and spacious. And for the statue itself, the sculptor could not err, if he moulded his marble or bronze into the image portrayed in the fine lines of Schiller: — Ein Zeiclien liat der Ilimmel mir verlieisseu; Er sendet mir den Helm, er kommt von ilim, Mit Gotterkraft bcriihret mioli sein Eisen Und mich durchflammt der Mutli der Cherubim; * Memoires coucernant la Pucelle, (Collection, vol. viii. p. 173.) c 3 34 BOURGES. In's Kriegs-gewiilil hinein will es micli reissen, Es treibt micli fort mit Sturmes imgestiim; Den Feldraf hor' ich maclitig zu mir dringen, Das Schlaclitross steigt irnd die Trompeten klingen. A rush for four hours through a country which, from its tame and flat nature, gave no encourage- ment to slower traveUing, brought us to Bourges. The city cannot be discerned from the railway station, although it is situated on high ground. We were conveyed in a very shaky and infirm omnibus to our destination, the Hotel du Boeuf Couronne. Ere we had threaded half a dozen of the crooked streets, we were quite willing to admit that Bourges is one of the most ancient and worst built cities in France, a cha- racter which Make Brun insists on as being due to it. As our crazy vehicle went rumbling on its laby- rinthine way, it really appeared marvellous that we did not pitch into some wide-mouthed shop. The in- habitants stood in the streets with open mouths, star- ing at our erratic movements, speculating, doubtless, on the motley freight of passengers. At length, after numberless ups and downs, twinings and twirlings, we were deposited in the yard of our hostel. It was difficult to conceive that the driver had not made a mistake, so unlike was the building to an inn. But the heavy old sign, bearing a bloated ox, crowned right regally, testified to the character of the quaint mansion. Few signs of life animated it. No bustling landlord or fidgetty landlady appeared at the door; no officious gar9ons came running forth. We stood HOTEL ACCOMMODATION. 35 beside our luggage, wondering whether we should have to carry it to our apartments, or whether any apartments were to be had. At length a girl issued from the cuisine. To our request to be shown sleep- ing-rooms, she led us down the long court-yard, at the extremity of which was a doorway : through this we followed her; to the right, on a level with the ground, was a large cobwebbed chamber, with a dark- looking little bed in one corner, standing on long shanks of legs, a couple of heavy and massive chairs, a table, and a secretaire, completed the furniture of the room; there was an apartment of similar size, similarly furnished, overhead — these were our lodg- ings. A pressing request led the fiUe to exchange slop-basins for others of larger proportions, which came in piping hot from kitchen service; and we further succeeded in inducing her to bestow on us the luxury of two clean towels. I have described our sleeping accommodations thus minutely, that the reader may form an idea of the hotel luxuries to be met with at Bourges — begging that he will bear in mind that we were at the principal hotel. But there is a charm in that old building, or buildings, rather, for there are several houses surrounding the court- yard ; and it was pleasant to hear, that through many centuries and many changes, the ' Boeuf Couronne' had opened its doors to wayfarers under the master- ship of many generations of landlords. The broad glare of an unclouded day was mellow- ing into eve as we left our inn and ascended the 36 CATHEDRAL OF ST. ETIENNE. narrow Rue Bourbonnoux, on our way to the Cathe- dral. This glorious fane stands, as it should do, on the most elevated ground in Bourges, and is its great ornament Few temples reared to the majesty of an Almighty Being are finer than that of St. Etienne. It is a marvellous edifice. For the souls of master- minds can be read on the stones, which are wrought into forms of extraordinary beauty, yet moulded into one harmonious whole. The architecture is pointed florid Gothic, — the most appropriate for a cathedral dedicated to Roman Catholic worship. The facade presents five huge deeply-recessed por- tals, studded with innumerable statues and carvings. Entering, the eye is awed by the majestic grandeur of the lofty nave, with its four aisles, supported by a forest of pillars. Moving onwards, delight succeeds, as the chapels round the choir are seen with their windows blazing with many-coloui'ed lights. It might seem that kings and princes in the olden time, whose bodies are now dust in the vast crypts beneath, had plucked the jewels from their diadems in mo- ments of religious zeal, and set them in the glowing windows. The sloping sunbeams, streaming through the rich mosaic, paved the cathedral floor with brilliant hues. Then pealed the organ, for it was the hour of vespers; and as the dulcet sounds rose and fell through the vast expanse, the elaborate tracing and carving glimmered In tlie soft cliequerings of a sleepy light. CATHEDRAL AT BOURGES. 37 The citizens of Bourges have, indeed, good cause to be proud of their cathedral. Tliey di-eamt not of a perishable home Who thus coiild build And yet the spirit of beauty which predominates throughout had not power to awe the hand of the spoiler. During the revolution of 1792, the entire fabric narrowly escaped destruction. The portals, with their rich imagery, were terribly mutilated ; and it was only because the power to destroy could not keep pace with the desire, that the building escaped : it has lately undergone a thorough restoration. Close to the cathedral stands the Archbishop's palace, a fine edifice, seeing that his Grace takes very high rank in the church, having for his suffra- gans a large number of bishops. The see was founded as early as the year 252. St. Ursin, the first arch- bishop, took the title and rank of patriarch and primate of the provinces of Aquitaine. A delicious public garden partly surrounds the palace. Through a fine avenue of linden trees the towers of the cathedral appear in their gray tinted beauty. At one extremity of the avenue, a fragment of the old walls of the town, in geological parlance, crops out. The extraordinary thickness of these defences renders it comparatively easy to understand the difficulty which Caesar met with in capturing the city. We are told that, during the struggle against 38 C/ESAR AT BOURGES. the Romans at the close of Caesar's proconsulship, the territory of the Bituriges became the seat of war. As the conqueror and his army approached, upwards of twenty towns were burnt by the inhabitants. A general council was held, to consider whether Ava- ricum, the Latinized name of Bourges, should be burnt or defended. Its defence was eventually re- solved on. Caesar forthwith commenced operations for besieging the place. The terrible Roman ma- chines for battering and undermining the walls were set in motion. The walls were constructed of alter- nate layers of wooden beams and stone, so as to form a secure defence — the stone preventing them being consumed by fire, and the wooden beams deadening the shock of the battering-ram. The skill and energy of the Romans, however, at last prevailed, and after about a month's continuous siege, the city fell before the conqueror. The Romans had been so exasperated by the massacre of some of their countrymen at Genabum (Orleans), and by the toilsome nature of the siege, that they wreaked a deadly vengeance on the unfortunate inhabitants, sparing neither age nor sex. Out of 40,000 per- sons who had been confined in the city, only 800 escaped. It is no slight evidence of the energy of man, that this depopulated town recovered such a blow. It rose again to considerable importance. According to Make Brun, Augustus made it the capital of TABLE d'hote. 39 Aquitania, and it was further improved and fortified by the Romans. In the early ages of the French monarchy, Bourges suffered greatly from war, and it became the scene of much persecution during the civil conflicts in the sixteenth century. Indeed, there is no town in France possessing a more chequered or bloody history than attaches to Bourges — and it is more wonderful that it exists at all, than that we see it a strange con- torted labyrinthine kind of place. Its inhabitants, never daunted, seem to have set about rebuilding their battered city as soon as the conflict had passed, — solidly, too, if there be truth in the saying that — Bourges, Autun, Le IMans, et Limouges, Furent jadis les quatrevilles rouges, alluding to the general use of red brick in the edifices. We supped with a motley set at the table d'hote of the Bceuf Couronne. The conversation ran hot and strong upon, and against, the republic, which, among a large party, had not a single defender. If our hotel was silent and dull during the day, it certainly was the very reverse in the night ; but I cannot say that the noises were the most agreeable in the world. We had not been in bed an hour before bein"- made sensible that we were in the midst of a formidable colony of rats : the nimble-footed vermin, like true imps of darkness as they arc, carried on 40 INVASION OF RATS. their nocturnal revels with amazing and never-tiring vigour behind the panneled lining of our walls. Their name must have been legion. I thought of Curran, who declared, on the occasion of his passing a night in a bed tenanted by myriads of fleas, that had they only been unanimous in their movements, they would infallibly have had sufficient strength to have dragged him from his couch. And substituting eating for dragging, it seemed to me that the rats around my room were sufficiently numerous to pick my bones clean, had they boldly ventured out en masse to the attack. Occasionally, after a squeak behind the panel, I heard one scampering across the room. Then I hurled a boot in the direction whence the noise proceeded, and all was still as death. But I had committed no slaughter; for soon the long- w^hiskered gentry recommenced their orgies with re- newed vigour — evidently led on by some hoary-coated rascal, who had been long on the stage — I felt as a Gulliver among them. But what will not a tired traveller endure ! Ere long I became accustomed to my noisy com'panions, and went to sleep with their scratchings and gnawings in my ears. The bright beams of morning streamed into my room through the network of a clustering vine which mantled the window. Large bunches of grapes were fast assuming the deep purple hue of maturity, afford- ing evidence that we were already in the land of Bacchus, though the sacrifices offered up to the rosy JACQUES CCEUR. 41 god are, it must be admitted, not of the most potent nature. Unmutilated bv the rats, who had slunk into their holes, I dressed and sallied forth on an exploring expedition. And first I went to the celebrated Hotel de Ville, formerly the private mansion of Jacques Coeur, a perfect Rothschild in his time, who, forgetting the wholesome precept, ' Put not your trust in Princes,' enriched his master, Charles VII., and was repaid by long imprisonment, and banishment from his native city. The house of this millionnaire, like the life of its master, is a species of mystery. It is in the richest and most beautiful style of florid Gothic, and consists of a multitude of courts and turrets, chambers and galleries, winding stairs and narrow dungeons. An especial charm lies in the nature of its construction, no two portions being alike ; indeed, Jacques seems to have been as fond of variety in his habitation as the great king Ahasuerus, who reigned from India even unto Ethiopia, and whose palace was so gorgeous, and replete with varied furniture, that even ' his drinking vessels were diverse one from another.' Unhappily, the uses to which Jacques Cceur's man- sion has been put, as Hotel de Ville, have caused much destruction and alteration of its internal arrangements. There is, however, ample evidence left to show, that Jacques was a man of wonderfully refined taste, though mixed up, withal, with a certain 42 JACQUES CCEUR. dash of pleasant quaintness. His motto, which meets the eye in various positions, reflects the man — A VAILLANTS ^ U / MEN IMPOSSIBLE. The chapel, — for Jacques, like all good and great men, was not unmindful of the duty and worship due to his Creator, — is a perfect gem, abounding in sculptures, carvings, paintings, and religious devices, which would rejoice the eye of a Puseyite. The enormous wealth of Jacques Coeur, which was amassed in his callings of merchant and jeweller, caused the ignorant and envious of his times to re- gard him as possessing the secret of the Philosopher's Stone. This belief was strengthened by the number of singular emblems and devices pervading his house. In one place, he is yet to be seen mounted on a mule, shod with shoes reversed. This singularity may, perhaps, be explained by his desire to commemorate a successful ruse, the tracks of his mule leading pur- suers to the inference, that the animal had travelled the opposite direction from that which it really had gone. Robbers' horses have sometimes been shod in a similar manner. The real fact is, that Jacques was too wealthy and successful to remain unmolested by numerous enemies. He was accused of adulterating the coinage — a strange charge to bring against a man who was thought to possess the power of transmutation. JACQUES CtEUR. 43 Charles YII. consented to appoint a special commis- sion, to try his benefector for the crimes alleged against him. The commissioners themselves were Jacques Coeur's principal foes. He refuted tri- umphantly all the charges brought against him. The fearful ordeal of torture was then threatened. The accused was introduced into the chamber of horrors. At the sight of the terrible apparatus his courage forsook him. In the anguish of his soul he pro- nounced his guilt. His enemies triumphed. Poor Jacques was condemned to death, a sentence which the king commuted to perpetual banishment, on the understanding that two hundred thousand crowns should be paid to him from the confiscated property of the ruined merchant. The remainder of Jacques Coeur's life is full of interest and strange romance, which learned men have endeavoured to make clear. Voltaire says that, on being banished from France, the exile established himself in the island of Cyprus, where he carried on mercantile transactions, and amassed a second large fortune. Thevet adds to this story, that he married, and had two daughters; but Bonamy, in an elaborate paper on his life, (read be- fore the Academie des Inscriptions,) shows these relations to be fabulous. It is, however, certain that Jacques Coeur's mis- fortunes did not impair his wonderful energy, for we find him taking an active part in the war of Pope Calixtus III. against the Turks. The Pope gave him 44 TUE SCEURS BLEUES. the command of a portion of his fleet. Coeur em- barked, but, falling sick, stopped at Chios, where he died in 1461, and was buried in the church of the CordeHers in that island. It is not my intention to attempt a description of the numerous interesting buildings in Bourges ; but before leading the reader out of the quaint old city, I must take him into the convent of the Soeurs Bleues, and make him a confidant of a tete-a-tete which I enjoyed with a fair Sister in that establish- ment. The convent in question is remarkable for the ex- treme elegance of its construction. It was formerly known as the Hotel Allemand, deriving its title from a family of that name. It was built in the early part of the sixteenth century, and is a beautiful specimen of the Renaissance style. Its elegance, however, is completely veiled from the street by a high dead wall, along which a traveller might pass a hundred times, and remain in utter ignorance of the gem which it conceals. Indeed, I had some difficulty in finding the door, for the long, winding street of Les Vieilles Prisons, in which the convent is situated, abounds in dead walls and narrow wickets, similar to those attached to the convent. At length I hit the mark ; and, ringing a bell, entrance was afforded me by one of the sisterhood, who requested me to walk in. A few steps brought me within a court, surrounded on three sides by the now convent walls. The transition from the present to the past was most striking. The A TETE-A-TETE. 45 poetry of architecture pervaded the scene. Elegant tourelles, frosted over by exquisite tracery, rose before me ; the facade presented a multitude of orna- ments, the outpourings of the rich imagination of the sculptor; oriel-windows, winding stairs half-covered bv clustering vines, the elegance of which was suc- cessfully rivalled by the stone imitations ; statuettes wonderfully perfect — in short, all the beauties of the Renaissance style of architecture were here in copious profusion. ' This is very beautiful,' I observed to the Soeur who stood beside me. She was young — handsome, too — though her dress was not calculated to enhance her personal beauties. It consisted of a coarse black stuff robe, with blue sleeves, a hood concealing the greater portion of the head, worsted stockings, and heavy, unfeminine shoes. A large silver cross and rosarv depended from her waist. ' I am glad Mon- sieur thinks so,' she replied, regarding me with her large blue eyes ; then, suddenly depressing them, she desired to know whether I was 'un bon Cathohque.' This was a staggering kind of question to put at the outset of my visit, and it seemed to me that further exploration of the convent would depend on the tenour of my reply. * I humbly trust,' said I, ' that I am not a very bad Cathohque, but it is right to tell you that I do not profess the Roman Catholic religion — I am a Protestant.' At this declaration the coimtenance of the nun became clouded, and I expected to be im- mediately turned into the street. My fears, however. 46 RELIGIOUS ENTHUSIASM. were groundless. ' Ah,' said she, sighing deeply, * how can you be a Protestant, for hors de la religion Catholique on ne pent pas etre sauve.' ' Hold,' I replied, ' if charity be part of your creed, how can you say who shall be saved ?' This, I trusted, would put a stop to our religious controversy ; but I was mistaken. With all the zeal of a Jesuit, she com- menced an attack upon my creed, beseeching me, if I valued eternal salvation, to abjure the Protestant faith, and to then and there embrace the true religion. Heaven forgive me if, as her eloquence and enthu- siasm lighted up her fine features, I thought more at the moment of this world and of its pleasures. The place seemed made for love. Those bowers, redolent of flowery perfumes, were never intended to echo the melancholy voice of cloistered nuns ; and as she led me from chamber to chamber, and stood at the threshold of the miniature chapel, — a very gem of architecture, — dulcet music swell'd, Concordant with tlie life-strings of tlie soul : It tkrobb'd in sweet and languid beatings there. *My sisters,' said my fair guide, 'are playing the organ.' ' It is very sweet,' I replied ; ' and with such an abode as this, such music, such sisters, life must be happiness.' ' Alas ! not entirely so ; we have our sorrows here. But we endeavour to live, not for this world, but to merit a better one.' I had touched another chord. ' Then you do not love the world ?' ' No, indeed, for it is full of deceit.' THE kun's zeal. 47 Was I conversing with an Eloisa ? Was the fair being before me the prey of disappointed love ? Had she, like her predecessor, passed through the agonies of blighted affections, and trembled, -vrept, and pray'd, Love's victim once, thougli now a sainted maid ? That countenance, those full beaming eyes, them- selves love and light, were assuredly not originally destined to remain throughout youth unmoved by affection. And so young still ; and all those womanly feelings were chilled and dead. For ever ? Yes ; vows had been taken — solemn vows which may not be broken ; an impassable barrier interposed be- tween her and the world. Therefore did she chng to the fascinations of the Roman Catholic religion, which consoled her in her loneliness. I sat down on a stone seat in the court, for the purpose of sketching one of the fairy-like tourelles. The nun sat beside me. I spoke of the bright cheer- ful world without — of its pleasures, its joys : of which, without being bound up by religious vows, the true Christian might lawfully partake. She recurred to her favourite theme — the transcendent excellence of the Roman Catholic church. Then I praised the sur- rounding architecture, admired the loveliness of the trim flower-garden — a mosaic of bright hues. The nun heeded me not, but at each pause ever pressed her point. To win my soul to her creed, was evidently of far greater importance to her than my admiration of the 48 ARCHITECTURE OF BOURGES. building. I fear that she found me a stubborn lis- tener; but she endeavoured to do her spiriting so gently, that I did not feel displeased, though she was in sober earnest. Altogether it was a most curious inter- view, terminating, on my part, by my requesting her to accept a small donation for the tronc des pauvres, and trusting that, widely as we should in all proba- bility be separated in this world, we might meet in that to come, Wliere friends and lovers meet to part no more, Eeacliing tlie haven of perpetual peace. The nun greatly disliked the appellation of Sceurs Bleues. ' It is true,' said she, ' that they call us so ; but this is on account of our blue sleeves. Our proper title is, * La Societe de la Sainte Famille." The head establishment of this order is at Brian^on. The society numbers six hundred members. Here the nuns employ a considerable portion of their spare time in instructing the children of poor parents, a large room in the convent having been set apart for that purpose. There are other architectural gems at Bourges, the examination of which well repays the traveller. The finest mansions are grouped around the Cathedral : these are yet occupied by wealthy citizens, who seem perfectly content to spend their days in the antique old city, and sigh not for the vanities of Paris, accompanied, as they are, by periodical revolutions. Among the beauties of Bourges, I BEAUTIES OF BOURGES. 49 must not leave unchronicled the fair sex. We were much struck by the almost universal grace and beauty of the girls and women. Nor are they insensible of it. Standing one evening near a group of Hebes, who, I confess, divided my attention with the Maison de Cujas, and were, I think, more worthy of it, one of the girls was accosted by a youth with the words ' Oh, Pauline, comme vous etes belle aujourd'hui !' 'Mais, comme toujours,' was the reply, which, it must be granted, betrays a frankness on the part of the fair maiden worthy of imitation. It is this wealth of female loveliness which doubtless caused one of the principal thoroughfares in Bourges to be called Rue du Dieu d'Amour, for where beautiful women abound, there will the little ubiquitous god be espe- cially found. But we could not dally amidst such sweets; we were but passing pilgrims, and the time had arrived for our departure. We summoned the landlord of the Bceuf Couronne to our council, and prayed him to advise us concerning the best mode of travelling to Auvergne. His information respecting diligences was most scanty, amounting simply to the fact, that no conveyance ran direct between Bourges and Cler- mont, but that he believed we should find a diligence at Nerondes, which would take us to the desired destination. Nerondes is, or was, in August, 1849, the terminus of the railway which it is proposed to construct between Orleans and Lyons. It is only a few miles to the east of Bourges. Our landlord AUV. D 50 NERONDES. counselled us to proceed to Nerondes by an early morning train, holding out the pleasant expectation that we should arrive at Clermont in the evening of the same day. So we left the old town of Bourges after breakfast, and were deposited at Nerondes in the course of an hour. Our hopes of seeing a crowd of diligences bound for various towns in the centre and south of France were quickly dissipated, for the place was solitary, not a vehicle of any kind being within sight. A wooden shed, inscribed ' Bureau des Diligences,' stood near the station. There, at all events, we could glean some more precise informa- tion than our host at Bourges possessed. The affair was presided over by a demoiselle, who told us that there would be no diligence to Clermont before eleven o'clock at night, and that we could be for- warded only on the condition of there being vacant places, the said diligence travelling from Paris on the railway. This was vexatious intelligence. For here we were, at a miserable little town, containing no earthly or unearthly object of interest, with twelve mortal hours before us, to be spent we knew not how, and with the uncomfortable idea that, after all, we might not obtain seats in the diligence. We thought of Bourges, for there the day could have been spent pleasantly and profitably. However, there was nothing for us but to make the best of it; and leaving our lug- gage in the bureau, we walked along the dusty road to Nerondes, about half a mile from the station. Its one dirty, dreary street contrasted vilely with Bourges. THE CHURCH. 51 We entered the principal inn. The salon was re- dolent of stale tobacco smoke, and peopled with clouds of buzzing flics. Our inquiries respecting a dinner elicited the information that there would be a table d'hote, on the arrival of two diligences from Paris, at five o'clock. At this we expressed our de- termination to dine; and after drinking some wine and water, we went out in quest of the church. This happily proved to be a building of far greater pre- tensions to the picturesque than we dared hope for. Sketching it, would be work for some hours ; and so long and steadily did we apply ourselves to the task, that I verily believe there is not a stone of the edifice, nor a lichen of the many hues with which it was coloured, that are not daguerreotyped on our memories. But with all our affection for the church, we could not magnify' it into a cathedral, and our labour came to a termination with yet a large gap between us and the table d'hote. The surrounding flat country presented no induce- ment for a ramble, so I took repose in the poetic groves of Shelle}', and was deep in Queen Mab when the hour of five was struck by the church clock. Shortly afterwards the expected diligences rolled into the town, stopped before the Poste, and disgorged a marvellously numerous population out of their hot and stuffy insides. Amidst much bustle and great noise we dined, sitting opposite to the conducteurs of the two vehicles ; who, from the enormous quantity of provisions which they consumed, afforded pretty d2 52 FRENCH DILIGENCES. conclusive evidence of having a night's travel before them. How we got over the long hours which intervened until eleven o'clock is even yet a mystery. About that time the train from Paris arrived, bringing with it sundry diligences divested of their wheels, among which was that bound for Clermont. Our hopes of proceeding in it, however, were but of very short duration, for it was full. This was disappointing enough, and the more so with the prospect of being obliged to remain at Nerondes for the night, and perhaps for another day even. It was no small relief, therefore, to learn that we might have seats in the ban- quette of a diligence as far as Moulins ; and as this town was in the direction, though not the shortest, towards Clermont, we at once engaged the seats, and after a sad waste of time in squabbling and talking re- specting luggage, were driven out of the station-yard into the dark night, having a dreamy kind of notion that we might see Moulins by the morning's dawn. Arthur Young, who was no satin-cushion traveller, writes of French diligences more than sixty years ago « They are detestable. This is the first one that I have been in, and it shall be the last.' Without a single change, or attempt at amelioration, the French have been satisfied to use these lumbering, lying vehicles year after year, since the days when Young cast them off as hopeless for his travelling pur- poses, and took to* his light gig. The rushing and inspiriting locomotive has had no quickening effect MOULINS. 53 on administrators of vapourless locomotion. They still adhere to their sluggard pace, seldom exceeding five miles an hour. We passed a wretched night in the banquette — on a seat harder than the hardest pig-skin saddle. The cold was excessive, and the scanty leather curtains wholly insufficient to exclude the night air. Our third in misery was a French merchant from the Havannah, who, dried up and half withered by the heat there, had come home, and was now on his way to the baths of Mont Dore. Enveloped in a huge Spanish cloak, he shrunk into his corner, nor stirred nor spoke during the journey. Glorious, most glorious was the lighting up of the east as the sun burst from his chambers ! The mag- nificent spectacle, not often seen by a Londoner, by the way, tended to make amends for the fatigues of the night ; and as we rolled onwards, and Moulins came to view at the end of the characteristic poplar avenue, thoughts of Sterne's ' Maria' came across me. Far different to that gentle imaginary maiden were the stout-legged women trudging to the Moulins market. Their head-dress was a most extraordinary piece of straw architecture. In the ' Dictionnaire de Com- merce,' published in 1723, we have, under the head- ing of ' Chapeau de Faille,' the following description: — ' Espece de chapeau fait de jonc on de paille de seiglc, dont les artisans et le menu peuple se servent en ete. II y en a aussi de fins, et d'une forme sin- guliere que les femmes dans quelque provinces de 54 HEAD-DRESSES. France portent au lieu de parasols^ centre I'ardeur du soleil. Les uns et les autres sont en forme de tissus fails de ces legeres matieres diversernent mises en couleur.' Here in 1849 were some of these sin- gularly fantastic affairs, resembling a huge chanticleer with outspread wings, bedizened with various bright- coloured ribbons. Women, through all ages, have loved to encase their heads in hats and bonnets of wondrous shapes. Montesquieu, in his ' Lettres Per- sanes,' says, alluding to the head-dresses of his countrywomen — ' II a ete un terns que leur hauteur immense mettoit le visage d'une femme au milieu d'elle meme ; dans un autre c'etait les pieds qui occu- paient cette place; les talons faisaient un piedestal qui les tenoit en I'air. Qui pourrait le croire ? We derived great anmsement from these head-dresses, which are entirely confined to this part of France. Our hopes of finding a diligence at Moulins, to convey us to Clermont, were doomed to disappoint- ment. At the bureau we heard the same story, that all the public conveyances to Auvergne started from Paris, and therefore it was as problematical as ever whether the next diligence from Nerondes would arrive with vacant places. The diligence in which we had travelled was bound to Vichy, and under the circumstances we were advised to share its fate and fortunes -as far as St. Pourcain, which would take us another stage in the direction of Clermont. So to St. Pour9ain we went, where, in the middle of its sole street, we were deposited with our luggage. FRENCH CABRIOLET. 55 There was nothing inviting in the aspect of the place or its dirty and forbidding inn. We at once determined on progressing in some way or other, and even re- solved to walk, if all other means of locomotion failed. Our Cuban friend was equally anxious to arrive at the end of his jom'ney. After considerable difficulty, we contrived to disinter, from the dusty depths of a rambling remise, a cabriolet, which the host was willing to hire for the purpose of conveying us to Clermont. It was a wretched vehicle, and must have seen its best days when the present century was in its teens. Nor was it without sundry testings and trials that it was allowed to depart on its perilous journey. The landlord mounted the crazy carriage, and swayed his huge body to and fro, causing the astonished springs to groan beneath the unaccustomed weight. Satisfied with the result, the horse was ordered out, and after the usual tedious delays which ever accompany a start in France, we passed out of the vard, the landlord doino; us the honour of enact- ing the part of coachman. It was now ten o'clock, and we were about forty miles from Clermont. To our question, how long it Vv'ould take us to travel to our destination, our driver, with an expression of countenance which gave the lie direct to his words, assured us we should be at Clermont in eight hours; but as our rate of travelling did not exceed four miles an hour, and our horse was not the most lively in the world, we soon abandoned all hopes of seeing Clermont by the light of that day's sun. As we pro- 56 ROUTE TO CLERMONT. ■ gressed, our rate of speed fell off in an alarmintr ratio, and before long our horse's pace dwindled to a walk, from which all the vociferations of our coach- m^,n, accompanied by numberless applications of the whip, entirely failed to rouse him. Such was the state of our fortunes, when the trampling of horses and rumblinjT of wheels were heard behind us. On looking round, we beheld a huge diligence emerging from a cloud of dust, the horses, wonderful to relate, careering along with, for a French public conveyance, surprising celerity. It was on the point of passing us, when our driver threw down the reins of his horse, jumped from his seat, and rushed after the diligence, vociferating loudly. The conducteur descended from his high seat of office ; an interview took place between him and our coachman, and the latter returned to us, an- nouncing that the diligence was travelling to Cler- mont, that there were three vacant places, and that we had better avail ourselves of them. His advice was not to be rejected. In a few minutes our lug- gage and ourselves were transferred to the public vehicle, and we now began again to entertain hopes of sleeping that night at Clermont. These were strengthened by seeing, after we had travelled about an hour, the celebrated Puy de Dome, like a shadowy earth bubble, with its attendant range of volcanic mountains, rising to the south. By degrees we drew nearer to them, and towards the afternoon fairly emerged from the monotonous, though rich plains THE CHOLERA. 57 of Limagne, and entered the uplands. As we ap- proached Clermont the diligence stopped to enable the passengers to alight and walk up a steep hill. While descending from the coupe, my eyes fell on the face of my friend, who looked woefully ill. He had been seized by a -violent fit of what had every appearance of being cholera— he was suffering acute agony, and writhed in pain. With che assistance of a fellow passenger, I supported the invalid into a neigh- bouring vineyard, where we laid him down in the shade of the vines, for the heat was excessive. Among the passengers was a physician, who, on hearing of my friend's illness, offered his services. I drew him aside, and expressed my apprehensions that cholera was the cause of the sudden illness. ' On that score,' said he, * you may be perfectly tranquil, for no case of cholera has ever occurred in Auvergne.' He was not bold enough to say that the terrible disease would never enter the pro- vince, but he assured me that my friend was not suffering from it. The result confirmed his assertion.* In the course of a short time my companion had sufficiently recovered from the spasms to be moved into the diligence, which was waiting for us; and giving hitu my seat in the coupe, we set off' on our * He was correct, also, in declaring that cliolera Lad not visited Auvergne. It had firch'd this region of extinct vol- canos, slaying tliousands, but in no instance had it penetrated the province. Another proof of the mysterious nature of this disease. D 3 58 CLERMONT. last stage, and finally reached Clermont about five o'clock, — after difficulties which the reader will ad- mit were sufficiently harassing. We found the Hotel de I'Ecu, which is the best in Clermont, in a state of mad bustle and excitement, consequent on the arrival, the previous evening, of Rachel the actress, and a troupe of artists from the Odeon. This was made an excuse for putting us into shabby holes of bed-rooms; however, by dint of remonstrating, I finally contrived to obtain better apartments. As usual, the beds were clean and comfortable, but the noise extended far into the night. 59 CHAPTER III. A GLANCE at Clermont is sufficient to make the visitor aware of its volcanic origin. Not that the public buildings, as such, were vomited forth from the surrounding craters, but the materials com- posing them are dark lava. The entire town is built of this substance, and the streets paved with it ; the inhabitants, however, wearied and saddened by the lugubrious hue of their houses, determined a few years ago to whitewash them, which had the effect of in- stantaneously changing their dull complexion — and now Clermont, under its white mask, wears a more cheerful aspect. The roadways, nevertheless, are as black and dirty as they were sixty-two years ago, when Young wrote of them — * Clermont is in the midst of a most curious country, all volcanic; there are many streets that can, for blackness, dirt, and ill scents, only be represented by narrow channels cut in a night dunghill.' But so much of the picturesque attaches to these narrow and crooked ways that, as a mere wayfarer, I was glad they had not given place to wide, straight thoroughfares, intersecting the town at right angles to each other. No one can deny that the broad streets in our provincial towns, with their spacious trottoirs, and prim, stiff, cast-iron gas lamp- 60 CLERMONT. pillars, are not a thousand times more convenient than the alleys of communication in a French country town, and that our houses, all cast, as it were, from the same mould, are more comfortable than the pro- jecting gables and high-roofed edifices of our neigh- bours. But as a beggar in rags and unshorn hair is a more picturesque object than a spruce tradesman, so are these continental houses and streets, dirty and tattered though they be, far more engaging to the artist than those of our clean English towns. Our first visit was to the cathedral, which stands in the centre of the town on the summit of an eminence ; houses cluster round it, incasing its sides, and in many places blotting out the beautiful tracery of the windows. Strange that so many splendid cathedrals at home and abroad should continue to be so dis- figured ! The phrenzied hand of revolution has dealt harshly with the great house of God in Clermont, and had not a brave citizen stood up in its defence, the enraged and maddened mob would have levelled it to the ground. Already the spoilers had com- menced the work of destruction, when M. Latour suggested that the building would be useful for public meetings. This happy thought turned their wrath aside, and the cathedral was spared. More astonishing is the preservation of some exquisite painted windows which shed hues of interwoven brilliance throughout the vast interior. The present inhabitants of Cler- mont do not appear to have any great respect for their cathedral, as they make it a thoroughfare from one NOTRE DAME DU PORT. 61 Street to another. The view from the summit of the tower is particularly striking ; the Puy de Dome, the chief of a host of Puys, rises grandly over its sub- jects :— Si Dome etait siu- Dome, On verrait les portes de Eome, says the popular adage ; and although the mountain is only 4846 feet above the sea, its bold configuration yet gives it an air of imposing grandeur. The architectural gem of Clermont is the very ancient church of Notre Dame du Port, situated in one of the most labyrinthine parts of the town. It is a Romanesque edifice, dating probably from the tenth century. The walls are of castle-like thickness, defying the sun's powers as well as those of man. At the time of our visit, the weather out of doors was suffocatingly oppressive, while within this old church the temperature was deliciously cool. Beneath the choir, inlaid with rough mosaics, is a most curious crypt, the abiding- place of one of the numerous family of black virgins, who are traditionally reported to have sprung from deep wells, but which, unlike Truth, the inhabitant of those localities, have done little to en- lighten mankind. Out of respect to the black vestal, the vault is lighted by ever-burning lamps, which cast a religious hue on the surrounding objects. From early morn, until the church doors are closed, the floor is filled by kneeling figures, supplicating aid from the little sombre image, in groups forming capital studies for the artist. 62 BOTANICAL GARDEN IN CLERMONT. The geological student will do well, before entering into the heart of Auvergne, to visit the Musee of Clermont, where a very extensive and complete col- lection of mineral specimens will be found, as well as coloured sections of the strata. These will greatly aid him in comprehending the geological features of the country. Among the minerals, but out of place, is the skull of a skeleton found on the summit of the Puy St. Romain, in 1840, in a grave of cinders cased with tufa-bricks ; a bracelet was on the right arm, and a sword lying by its side. In the library, which adjoins the mineralogical room, is a well- executed marble statue of Pascal. On one side of the pedestal is a representation, in gold, of the Puy de Dome, and a barometer; but a strange liberty has been taken with the mountain, the artist having depicted it as peaked, while it is in reality a dome. It required considerable courage to enter the botanical gardens, so fiercely did the sun blaze. There are a vast number of eastern plants, which seem to thrive well in the open air, but the garden generally exhibits few signs of attention ; the walks were covered with weeds, and hundreds of lizards darted about in unmolested playfulness. One of the most curious sights of Clermont is what is vulgarly called the petrifying spring, in the Faubourg St. Alyre. This is a fountain, which contains so large a proportion of carbonate of lime, as to incrust, in a very short time, any object placed FOUNTAIN OF ST. ALYRE. 60 within it. In the course of ages it has formed a bridge of tufa of great length and thickness, and another is in process of formation, which grows at the rate of three inches annually. The water is collected in two large tanks, from which it drips into two chambers furnished with shelves. On these are placed various objects for incrustation. Stuffed mon- keys, parrots, dogs, cats, and birds, were in different stages of transition; some nearly covered by the stony coat, others with their fur or hair delicately powdered, wearing a grisly appearance. The largest animal was a donkey, whose back and sides were coated. Fruits and the most delicate plants were undergoing the same process. The sediment deposited is so fine, that it is perfectly practicable to obtain the sharpest casts from moulds. The water is used also for bathing purposes. I was rather amused by the pains taken to impress upon me that no danger of being turned into stone during the process of taking a bath was to be feared. It appears, however, that some individuals are apprehensive of such a calamity, for they assign it as a reason for not availing themselves of the baths. In former days, when priestcraft was little scrupulous as to the means it employed to gain and retain ascendancy over human minds, St. A lyre, under whose particular protection the waters of the fountain were supposed to be, was declared to have endowed them with miraculous virtue, in proof of which their incrusting qualities were adduced. In the hands of the ministering powers of the Convent 64 RACHEL. of St. A lyre, various marvellous cures were said to have been performed by the v^^aters, and multitudes flocked to fling their diseased limbs into the spring and their alms into the church coffers. To the geologist, the fountain of St. Alyre reveals one of nature's wonderful processes. As Dr. Dau- beny observes, the extraordinary quantity of travertine constantly deposited by the water affords undoubted evidence of a languid action of volcanic forces at work underneath, the remains of that period of mighty throes and convulsions, which, at some long past and unknown epoch, desolated this portion of France. On the second evening after our arrival at Cler- mont, we went to see Mademoiselle Rachel in Racine's 'Phedre.' It was her last performance here. I had secured orchestral stalls in the morning, on payment of five francs each. Such seats in London, when Rachel performed there, cost twenty-five. The theatre was crowded with the elite of Clermont. The women shone more by reason of their gaudy - coloured attire than their beauty. The enthusiasm and furore were of course immense, evaporating in huge bouquets and garlands, which more than once converted the stage into a parterre of flowers. Rachel is unquestionably a great actress, wielding all the passions with consummate skill and powerful effect. These, however, are sadly thrown away on the French drama, in which there is scarcely any true poetry. Rachel, as Lady Macbeth^ in that glorious traged}'. RACHEL. G5 unfettered by rhyming verse, would indeed be worth seeing. 'Je regrettois,' says Voltaire, alluding to English dramatic writers, * cette heureuse liberte que vous avez d'ecrire vos tragedies en vers non rimes ;' and certainly the frothy, mucilaginous, ear-wearying rhymes in a French tragedy are sorely detrimental to impressive dramatic effect. When we left the theatre an electrical storm was playing off its matchless fire- works ; forked lightning, blue as steel, illumined the city, flashing out the outline of the old cathedral ; while the thunder roared grandly, and echoed mag- nificently among the mountains. The lightning mounts liis steed, he strides the air, And the abyss shouts, from her depths laid bare, ' Heaven, hast thou secrets ?' In the midst of the storm, the great actress de- parted from Clermont. Her carriage was a huge first-class diligence, the freighting of which had much amused me during the afternoon ; for on it had been piled some dozens of large black cases, containing theatrical dresses. Rachel occupied the coupe : the interieur and rotonde were filled by the artistes form- ing her troupe. Her destination was Moulins. For her provincial tour of three months she receives, we were told, eighty thousand francs. No marvel, there- fore, at this rate of payment, that she is reputed wealthy. The simple fact that Mademoiselle Rachel was lodging in our hotel was quite sufficient to draw crowds round the doors all the day long; while within, bustle, confusion, and noise reigned during the twenty- 66 ENVIRONS OF CLERMONT. four hours. Our quarters greatly improved in comfort after the departure of the actors. The guide-book held out pleasant promise that numerous riding-horses were to be hired in Cler- mont; and accordingly we made our plans to ride to the foot of the Puy de Dome. But, as we were told, the revolution had ruined the horse-keepers, and not even a pony was to be hired at present. Knowing from experience how little the informa- tion of French innkeepers is to be depended on, we made further inquiries in the town. It was quite true ; the horse-keepers were * banqueroute,' — not a steed was to be had, — so we hired a char- abanc for our excursion. For some three or four miles beyond Clermont the road is hemmed in by high walls, affording no prospect but their own dreary barrenness. This longitudinal prison is provoking enough, as the mountain views, where they can be seen, in the vicinity of Clermont are fine and striking. The road ascends continually, so much so, indeed, that no time is gained by charabanc travelling. In a couple of hours we arrived at the small village of La Baraque, situated on the table land at the base of the Puy. Here we came to a halt at a cabin, on the front of which was set forth, in rude, misshapen cha- racters, the name and calling of Monsieur Bartoneuf, who enjoys the monopoly of being sole guide to the wonders of the mountain. He presently made his appearance, bearing a geological hammer and staff, THE PUY DE DOME. 67 and mounting behind us in the charabanc, we drove on to the foot of the mountain. Here we descended from our vehicle, and struck across an extensive sloping plain of lava and scoriae, wearing as barren and ashy an appearance as if but lately cooled. Presently we came to the ascent, rising at a pretty sharp angle. Here the sward was of the tenderest and softest velvet of Nature's cunning looms, enamelled by countless flowers of exquisite beauty. Flocks of sheep, whose fat flanks afforded pleasant evidence of the nutritious nature of their food, were feeding on the mountain, and myriads of bright-hued insects skimmed over and mingled with the flowers. Up the Puy no guide is needed. The huge mass rises with true honesty of purpose, displaying its stu- pendous dome unwrinkled and unfissured. So any one with vigorous limbs may test their powers by strik- ing straight upwards, while he whose legs lack good country education, may attain the summit by gradual zifT-zao-s, which, however wearying to his impatience, will be holiday work for his feet. The view from the top of the Puy is most singular. The whole country, with the exception of the plain of Limagne, is a congeries of volcanos. The guide, if you let him have his way, will give you a list of Puys, interminable and confusing. But I chose to dispense with diis part of M. Bartoneuf's duties, preferring rather to contemplate the wonderful sio-ht undisturbed. One of the most striking features 68 PUY DE DOME. in these voleanos is the peculiar regularity of their craters. They are hollow, inverted cones, clothed to the bottom with delicate sward, and, as Scrope has observed, 'it is a somewhat singular spectacle, to see a herd of cattle quietly grazing above the orifice whence such furious explosions once broke forth.' It is remarkable that the Puy de Dome, which rises from among these voleanos, should differ entirely in its mineralogical character from the Puys on either side of it. Dr. Daubeny, who has examined these mountains with great attention, states that the Puy de Dome is composed almost entirely of a rock with a felspar base allied to trachyte, but of a more earthy character, and containing more rarely crystals of glassy felspar. On the topmost point of the mountain is a small obelisk of lava, used in the triangulated survey of the country ; it bears, in deeply cut characters, the words — ' Napoleon Empereur.' The Puy de Dome is a classical mountain to the natural philosopher, for on its summit, two centuries ago, was performed the decisive experiment which established the law of atmospheric pressure at different elevations. Pascal, whom Clermont justly considers as her most illustrious son, had proved, by an ex- tremely cautious but conclusive inductive process, the existence of a real vacuum in the upper end of a barometrical tube. The Jesuits, headed b}' Father Noel, rector of their college at Paris, stoutly attacked Pascal's conclusions, contending that the space above PASCAL. 69 the mercurial column was corporeal, because it was visible and admitted light, — that nature abhon-ed a vacuum, and that the finer parts of the air were vio- lenth' forced through the pores of the glass to occupy the deserted space. The open and ingenuous mind of the philosopher was irritated by these miserable sophisms and wretched dogmas. He boldly cast off the fetters of the church, and loving truth above all things, declared that ahhorre7}ce could not, in strict logic, be applied to nature, which is a mere personifi- cation, and incapable of passion, and added, ' when the weakness of men is unable to find out the true causes of phenomena, they are most prone to employ their subtlety in substituting imaginary ones, which they express by specious names, which fill the ear without satisfying the judgment.' When Pascal wrote thus he was only twenty-four years of age. But he did not rest satisfied with controversy. He deter- mined on an experiment which should visibly demon- strate the pressure of the atmosphere at various eleva- tions. From Paris he wrote to his brother-in-law Perier, who resided at Clermont, requesting him to carry a barometer to the summit of the Puy de Dome, and observe the effect of the atmosphere at that ele- vation. This was in November, 1647. Circumstances prevented the experiment being performed until the following year. On the 19th September, 1648, Perier and a few friends met in the lowest part of Clermont, provided with two glass tubes hermetically sealed at one end. These were filled and inverted, as usual. 70 PASCAL. and the mercury was found to stand in both tubes at the height of 28 inches. Leaving one of the tubes behind, Perier proceeded to the top of the mountain, when he was greatly dehghted to find the mercury sink more than three inches, and remain stationary at the height of 24*7 inches. In descending the mountain, he observed that the mercury gradually rose, and on arriving at the station in the town from whence he set out, the mercur}^ stood exactly at the same point as at first. This experiment, it might be imagined, would have set at rest for ever all doubts respecting the eifects of atmospheric pressure. But althouffh reasonintT men became convinced of the ex- istence of a vacuum, there were others who clung with strange pertinacity to their old creed. The Jesuits of the college at Clermont scrupled not to pervert Pascal's words, and even contest the fidelity of his ex- periments. Charges of heresy even were threatened. But truth ultimately prevailed, and the great waiter subsequently directed his pov>'erfu] pen with great force and justice against that formidable order. His opinion of them ma}' be gathered from this sentence in his ' Pensees:' ' Les Jesuites concluent toujours que leurs adversaires sont heretiques.' He might, with good reason, have supposed them using the language of the prelates in the Council of Trent, who, says Bacon, ' declared that astronomers feigned eccentrics and epicycles, and such engines of orbs, to save the phe- nomena, though they knew there were no such things.' In descending the Puy de Dome we visited the VAL DE FONTANAT. 71 Puy de Pariou, which possesses the most perfect crater among the Clermont group of volcanos. It is 3000 feet in circumference, and 300 feet deep. The edge of the orifice is very sharply defined, and so narrow, that in many places it is scarcely wide enough to afford footing. Another singularly perfect crater, though somewhat smaller, adjoining the Puyde Pariou, is called the Nid de Poule, but it would be more appropriate to call it Nid d'Autruchc, or boldly assign it to the Dinornis of New Zealand. We returned to Clermont by the Val de Fontanat ; an elysium for French tourists. It is certainly a charming valley, abounding in scenes of great beauty, but scarcely merits the pompous and high-flown descriptions given of it by native writers. However, coming on such a scene, after passing through the dreary plains of France, would, by its delightful con- trast, heighten all the beauties of the landscape. Fountains of crystal water gush forth in great pro- fusion from beds of basalt down the valley, turnino- numerous tiny water-wheels in their progress, and thus contradicting the Spanish ])roverb, which says, ' Aguas pasadas no muelen molino.' The waters, after doing good service in the valley, are collected at Royat in a large tank and conducted by pipes to Clermont. A short distance above Royat our guide drew our attention to an aqueduct cut in the granite, the work, as he declared, of the Romans, who made use of it to supply their camp on the hill of Gergovia with water. 72 VALLEY OF ROY AT. This was the scene of Caesar's memorable defeat by the Gauls, fifty-three years b. c, which compelled him to evacuate the country. The French are proud of this achievement. ' We ought not to remain satisfied,' says an Auvergnat, swelling with provincial pride, in a book descriptive of Clermont and its neighbourhood, ' until an obelisk be erected on the topmost point of the mountain of Gergovia, which should inform strangers that here, Vercingetorix, at the head of 40,000 Gauls, defeated the Roman army commanded by Csssar. It would be well to add, that Gergovia is also memorable as the site of the chief city of the Averni, whence Auvergne. There is an endless variety of sweet subjects for the pencil in the valley of Royat. The Puy de Dome fills the back ground looking up the valley with imposing effect, sometimes being seen through groves of rich chestnut trees. The village is a wretchedly dirty place, intersected by narrow alleys, through which crawl a miserable squalid population. Below the village, the stream which comes down the valley has cut through the bed of basaltic lava to a depth of sixty-five feet, and carved out a kind of grotto, one of the show places of Royat. At a small inn — ' Le Rendezvous des Artistes,' — we parted fi-om our guide. He evidently set a high value on his services, for he demanded a fee of ten francs. A little discussion soon led EFFECTS OF THE REVO! UTION. 73 him to be most thankful for half that sum, to which, ho\\'^ver, we added a pour boire and a dinner. He had lost, he said, by the maudite revolution, twenty- five Louis last year, not a traveller having ventured into the wild district of Auvergne. The aubergiste, whose house was said to be much patronized by visitors, showed us his book. I had the curiosity to enumerate the number of his artist guests during past years. They were, in 1846, la; 18-47, 10; 1848, 1. * C'est la revolution, n'est ce pas,' said I, pointing to the last figure, ' qui est cause de ce petit chiffre la?' ' Ah, mon Dieu ! — oui,' was his reply. Refreshed by a bottle of very good wine, we set off for Clermont, distant three miles, and entered it as its — spires, Were lighted up by the fires Of the sun going down in the west. AUV. K 74 CHAPTER IV. CLERMONT is certainly an interesting city. There is no end to its architectural relics of olden davs, and to its narrow streets, which seem to defy the improving or spoiling hand of time. They carry the imagination back to past ages — when Peter the Hermit in his pilgrim robes stood surrounded by the imposing majesty of pope, archbishops, and bishops, and urged the multitude to hasten and do battle against the Saracen. That, indeed, was a stu- pendous triumph. For when the hermit had forsaken the studious repose of the cloisters for the plains of Palestine, his fondest, wildest day-dreams must have fallen short of this first visible outbreak of religious enthusiasm. An old chronicler declares, that neither Clermont, nor the adjoining towns and villages, could lodge the people who came to hear the hermit's exhortations. The thousands were lashed into the maddest excitement by the tongue of that one man. The pious among the clergy hailed with devout joy this opportunity of propagating the saving doctrines of the cross ; the worldly, that of more strongly riveting on the heart of man their own spiritual influence. The most horrible execrations were uttered against the Turks. Their expulsion from the Holy Land THE CRUSADES. 75 was determined on. * Dieux le volt ! Dieux le volt!' shouted the surging multitude. * Yes,' ex- claimed Pope Urban, ' God willeth it ; His divine commandment has been echoed this day by your voices.' Then, elevating a cross before the multitude, he added — ' Jesus Christ has left his tomb to present you with this symbol — let it be bound on your shoulders and your breasts — let it shine on your banners, and decorate your weapons, that you may always remember that Christ died for you, and that, therefore, it is your bounden duty to die for him.' Again the heaving and agitated mass cried — ' Dieux le volt I'* The Pope then commanded silence, and the work of absolving the assembly from their sins commenced. Superstition, as was usual at that period, accom- panied this great demonstration. It was firmly be- lieved by the people that their determination to tear ** Wordswortli has finely described this scene — And shall, the pontiff asks, profaneness flow From !Xazarcth — source of Chi-istian piety — From Bethlehem, from the mounts of agony And glorified ascension? Warriors, go; With pi'ayers and blessings we your path will sow; Like Moses, hold our hands erect, till ye Have chased far off, by righteous victory, These sons of Amalek, or laid them low. ' God wiUeth it,' the whole assembly cry, Shout which the enraptured multitude astounds ! The council roof and Clermont's towers reply, ' God willeth it,' from hill to hill rebounds, And in awe-stricken coimtrics far and nigh, Through Nature's hollow arch the voice resounds. E 2 76 THE CRUSADES. the unbeliever from the tomb of Christ was instanta- neously known in the most remote parts of Europe. The wonderful (quickness with which the call for soldiers in the cause was replied to, doubtless gave ground for this belief The proposed expedition had scarcely been rumoured in England, ere Richard, of courage leonine, buckled on his armour, and took the road of God, as the route to the east was de- voutly called. The results were as mighty as the most fanatical devotee could desire ; and to this day the citizens of Clermont are proud that in their city such a mighty movement was originated. Urban II. was not the only Pope who honoured Clermont with a visit. Several of his successors attended councils. Alex- ander III. presided at that held in 1162, when the Emperor Barbarossa and his adherents were excom- municated ; and on several occasions the thunders of the church were hurled from Clermont at kings and princes. And in later times, as I shall have occasion to show, when sovereigns could be no longer perse- cuted, humble individuals fell beneath the intolerance and oppression of the ghostly power of Clermont. I was not a little surprised to find that, although a large amoimt of trade was carried on between Clermont and Paris, English gold was refused. The landlord of our hotel declared that he did not know the value of our sovereign, but he would venture to take it for twenty francs. We had been careful to supply ourselves in Paris with a certain MONETARY TRANSACTIONS. 77 number of Napoleons for our wants in the south-cast of France, being told that at Clermont English gold would be received; however, experience proved the reverse. Not wishing to submit to a sacrifice, I asked the address of a banker, and was directed to the most important in Clermont. I found my man ensconced in a very business-like-looking apartment, surrounded by money-bags, which gave fair evidence of his ability to purchase my English gold. To my question to this effect, he replied that it would be in his way of business to do so. Looking at the last Paris paper, which quoted the course of exchange at 25fr. 40ct., he offered to give me 23 francs for each pound, and was as much sur- prised at my refusal to part with my gold on these terms, as I was at his offer. I left his office, and had just gained the street, when a clerk ran after me, and begged that I would return to the banker. I did so, expecting a more liberal offer. ' Monsieur,' said the Clermont Plutus, for I heard afterwards that he was a very wealthy man, ' I have requested you to return ; I will purchase your sovereigns. You shall have 23 francs and 50 cents for each.' ' Indeed,' I replied, ' I shall have no such thing, and you shall not have my gold.' I left the room, not a little indignant at being recalled, and determined to keep my sovereigns until some more auspicious occasion should offer of changing them. Nor had I reason to repent my resolve, for a Parisian at Mont Dore subsequently gave me the full value for them. I have mentioned 78 ROUTE TO MONT DORE. this little monetary transaction as a caution to tra- vellers proposing to visit Auvergne. They will do well to exchange their English gold in Paris, unless they are content to submit to such a sacrifice as the Clermont banker proposed. We took our dep^irture from Clermont for Mont Dore in a small diligence, which held out promises of reaching its destination in six hours. There are two roads — the grande and petite route ; and as both present interesting scenery, we resolved on going by the first, and returning to Clermont by the second. In both cases the road, as far as the base of the Puy de Dome, is the same ; there the division takes place. We were amused by the conducteur opening the door of the coupe in which we were seated, when the dili- gence stopped at the foot of the mountain, and, with a gracious smile, saying, 'Messieurs, vous avez le droit de vous promener.' Our third in the coupe, a Parisian gentleman, on his way to Mont Dore in quest of hccilth, laughed heartily, and declared that the Republique was particularly liberal, as it gave its citizens three great privileges — walking, mounting guard, and paying taxes. The distance to Mont Dore by the grande route is thirty-three English miles, the half of which a good pedestrian will probably walk. The hills are, indeed, endless, the road being carried, in utter defiance of all modern engineering philosophy, over, instead of round them. However, after all, the tourist is no loser by this undulatory traverse, for it gives him far ROCHEFOUT. 79 better opportunities of seeing the country than if he were confined to the valleys. And a most remarkable country it is, — very volcanic, and presenting in many places vast masses of scoriform and highly cellular lava. These are so numerous at Gravenoire, that, as is stated, a professor in the Academy of Clermont, when the volcanic nature of that mountain was first asserted, contended that the scoriee could much more easily be accounted for by the existence of large iron foundries, which he had heard were formerly in ope- ration on the spot. Stupendous, indeed, they must have been, — Titanic Vulcans the workers. And here must the furnalia have been held in honour of the god of furnaces. There is, however, a happy blending of pastoral and sylvan scenes with the rugged desolation pro- duced by the volcanic fires when the world was pro- bably in its infancy ; and there are many spots of great beauty which arrest the traveller's attention. The diligence stopped at Rochefort, a small town, most picturesquely situated between Clermont and Mont Dore, to allow the passengers to breakfast, and, what was of more importance, the horses to dine, — for the poor beasts are condemned to drag the lum- bering vehicle the entire distance. The aforesaid breakfast was to us an earl}' dinner, and we whiled away the remaining time before the diligence started, by sketching the ruined castle on the summit of the Roche-fort, which belonged, in time past, to the Dauphins of Auvcrgnc. 80 MONT DORE. The afternoon was fading into eve when we mounted the last hill, from which we saw the valley of Mont Dore. The road is one continuous descent to the village. Long before reaching it, we met groups of pedestrians, who, by their gay attire, gave evidence of our proximity to a French watering-place. They stared at us with all the eagerness which the arrival of a public coach in a retired town invariably creates. Who were we ? — Frenchmen or foreigners ; convalescents or invalids? Would we assist at the parties of pleasure, or be dull and melancholy ? We entered the village; the diligence which left Clermont at the same hour that we had done, but which had travelled by the petite route, was close behind us, and so we clattered through the one street, and finally came to a halt in a square formed by the largest hotels. As at the watering places in the Pyrenees, we were immediately surrounded by a great concourse of men and women, clamorously urging us to patro- nize the hotels which they represented. At Cler- mont, a friend of M. Lecocq's, the well known savant, had kindly recommended us, on the part of the latter, who was from home, to the Hotel Boyer Parisien, and had inscribed the recommendation on a page of my note-book, adding, that the juste prix for boarding and lodging was five francs a day. The house to our left bore the name in large gilt letters. Hotel Boyer Ber- trand Parisien, and never doubting the identity of this estabhshment with that recommended by M. Lecocq, we ordered our luggage to be carried thither. HOTEL BERTRAND. 81 The landlady-, a bustling personage, led the way up stairs to two well-furnished rooms, with beds in the recesses. For these rooms, and boarding, she de- manded sixteen francs a day. This was six more than had been written down as the juste prix, so I was resolved to try the magic of M. Lecocq's name. Pulling out my note-book, I opened it at the page where his recommendation was written. ' See, Madam,' I said, 'M. Lecocq, whom you doubtless know well, as he has often lodged in your house, has recommended us to come here, and has stated that the juste prix for such accommodation as you offer is five francs a day per head.' And as I said this, I drew the landlady's attention to the figure five. * Monsieur Lecocq est un fameux homme,' re- plied Madame, * and bien bon ; but five francs is too little for such apartments and living as my house affords.' ' Well,' I answered, ' we will not waste time or words on the question. You declare that you cannot accommodate us for the sum mentioned by M. Lecocq, so we must try our fortune elsewhere, for there are, I see, many hotels in Mont Dore.' With these words, I took up my cloak to leave the room ; but, as I half expected, Madame Bertrand was not disposed to part with us. ' Restez, Messieurs, restez !' she exclaimed ; and so we were installed in our new quarters, at the charge of five francs a day, to which we an-reed to add half a franc daily for the servants. After all, it appeared that, owing to the similarity of names, we had not come to the hotel recommended E 3 82 BATHS. by M. Lecocq, but it was clearly not Madame Ber- trand's interest to set us right. The day was too far advanced to enable us to do more than make a home acquaintance with the village and valley. The first is learnt by heart in a few minutes. One church, one large bath-house, some half dozen hotels, and some half hundred small houses, constitute the place, forming one street. The village has grown with the reputation of the baths. No bold speculator built the hotels first, trusting that patients would fill them; but hotel after hotel has been added to meet the demand for more accommodation; and the consequence is, a number of huge buildings standing here and there, turning their backs on the lovely valley. Indeed, although most beautiful scenes abound within rifle shot of the village, not a single boarding-house commands them. So the tourist who is here for other purposes than bathing, will mourn over the barbarous taste of the Mont Dore architects. The baths are more remarkable for their solidity than elegance. Built of stone, they cover a large space of ground, and include the hot springs, which were well known to the Romans. The principal source is still covered with its original Roman roof A covered portico admits of promenading dui'ing the morning, when the waters are drunk. There is a large salon, used occasionally for reunions and balls. By the side of the Dordogne, a small stream which rises at the head of the valley and flows past the village, a promenade has been made, at one end of BATHS. 83 which the Roman remains which have from time to time been discovered are placed. They are numerous, and inchide portions of gigantic columns, capitals, &c., testifying to the colossal nature of the buildings reared by the Romans. The view, looking towards the head of the valley, is extremely fine; peaked mountains, dominated by the Pic de Sancy, the hio-hest elevation in central France, stand up in all the wild array of basaltic forms, fissured and stream- in f with waterfalls. To the right, dense woods clothe the sides of the valley, surmounted by a peak which, from its cowl-like summit, has received the name of the Capucin. Looking downwards, the valley expands and assumes a more pastoral appearance ; meadows of emerald green line the slopes, peopled by flocks and herds, which are destined to play no unimportant part in the domestic economy of Mont Dore. The morning after our arrival I rose early, with the intention of indulging in a warm bath. On ap- plying to the director of the bath establishment, I found that unless I entered myself as an invalid, requiring a series of baths, I could not obtain one during the early morning hours. The service^ as it is called, for the patierits, commences at four, and continues until about nine, though in crowded sea- sons the baths are used earher and later. After nine o'clock, I was perra'itted to bathe. A rough Au- vergnat, the very reverse of Egeria's nymph, in- sisted on undressinf^ me, declaring that it was always customary for gentlemen frequenting the baths to be thus attended. 84 SPRINGS, My valet was very loath to permit me to enter the hath until he knew the temperature which Monsieur le Mcdccin had prescribed. It was in vain I assured him that I was no invalid, but merely desirous of a bath for my own gratification. This appeared so exceedingly improbable to him, that he absolutely refused to fill the bath until he had inquired from the dii'ector whether my statement were correct. He returned satisfied, but still could not understand how I could take what he called outward medicine. There are various springs under the same roof. All the waters rise from fissures in the trachytic rock. Here is a list of them, and of their temperature : — Fahrenheit. Fontaine de St. Marguerite Cold. Do. de Tambour ditto. Do. de Caroline 113° Bains de Cesar 113° Grand Bain 10G° Bain E.amond 107° Source Higny 107° Eontaine de la Madelain 113*°5 Left happily, at length, to my own devices, 1 luxuriated in my bath, turning on the hot or cold springs as suited my inchnation. The water has not that soft, satinizing effect which characterises the baths at Schlangenbad, where, according to the au- thority of the author of the * Bubbles,' the French gentleman, after immersion, became absolutely amou- reux de soi-meme; but they impart a soothing, plea- sant sensation, which causes one to dally long in the element. MADAME BL;RTRAND's TABLE d'hOTE. 85 On ringing a bell, my attendant came with a large wooden cylinder full of warm sheets and towels, with which he rubbed me in true shampooing fashion. By the time I had completed my toilet, the summons for breakfast pealed from the hotels. On repairing to my quarters, I found the company assembling fast, and ere we sat down I was enabled to form outward acquaintance with my fellow-guests. There were about half a hundred ladies and gentlemen. Remem- bering the sanatory fame of Mont Dore, I was quite prepared to see pale faces and decrepit forms, such as are frequently found in watering places — but not so here. Health of the ruddiest and most vigorous nature seemed to have taken up her abode with them. Sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks abounded among the ladies, and the gentlemen appeared fully equal to climbing the steepest heights in the vicinity. It may have been that the waters had produced these happy results, — that the guests had arrived invalids^ but that now, as the season was far advanced, health and activity had taken the place of sickness and weakness. Certainly a merrier party never were assembled than those whom we had the happiness of meeting at the table-d'hote of Madame Boyer Bcr- trand's hotel. My friend and myself were the only English present, the rest of the company being prin- cipally Parisians. The breakfast differed in no way from a dinner, excepting in the absence of soup. There were innumerable dishes, messes, and hashes, such as are prodigfiliy outpoured from the abundant 86 PREPARATIONS FOR EXCURSIONS. resources of a French cuisine ; and most ample justice was done to them. Indeed, the man who is horrified by seeing the fair sex partake of more than a sippet, or a dainty shce of a pullet, would be fairly outraged at Mont Dore. It should be remembered, however, that the air is most appetizing — that the patients, or visitors rather, have been up since dawn, and have eaten nothing since five o'clock the pre- vious evenino;. The one only condiment forbidden by the me- decin is mustard. On my asking.for this, the garden stared ; ' Mais, Monsieur,' said he, with great gravity, *c'est expressement defendu.' But tumblcrs-fuU of sour wine at breakfast are en regie — we alone drank coffee. Breakfast over, the company dispersed to their rooms, and presently re-appeared, ecjuipped for riding. The little square before oar hotel was filled with troops of horses, of all sizes, colours, and shapes, the owners energetically vociferating the excellent qualities of their steeds. As the hire of a horse for the entire day is only three francs, nobody thinks of walking; those ladies who are unable to ride are carried in chairs, by stalwart porteurs, even to the summits of the highest mountains. It was a curious spectacle to see the preparations of the various parties for their excm-sions. Great was the competition to obtain the most serviceable-looking horses; and as these were few in number, and the bidders many, they were soon hired. The majority of the nags were diminutive, and it was not uncommon to see PIC DE SANCY. 87 herculean riders mounted on dwarfish ponies, with hmbs not much larger than those of a fine mountain dog. The gay dresses assumed b}' equestrian parties in the Pyrenean watering-places were wanting at Mont Dore. There, it is not uncommon to see ladies arrayed in every variety of garb and colour, with boots and spurs, and red sashes, galloping wildly over the mountains. The Mont Dore damsels were of soberer inclinations, being perfectly satisfied with the quiet amble of their steeds. The first excursion generally made is to the Pic de Sancy. I joined a party thither, consisting of two ladies and three gentlemen. Our road lay up the valle}'. In a few minutes we had passed the houses, and felt the fresh mountain- breezes round us. About a quarter of a mile from the town, a \^■aterfall, called the Grande Cascade, appears in the fissure of a precipice, composed of strata of trachyte, tufa, and basalt. It is dashed to spray and foam long before reaching the bottom, re- calling to mind the lines of Shelley, applied to the nymph of another cascade — She leapt down tlie rocks With her rainbow locks Streaming amongst the sti'eams. In an hour we attained the head of the valley, and crossing the Dordognc, here a brawling, noisy infant of a river, plunged into the wild hollows of the broken land, amidst abrupt rocks and desolate chasms, and, passing these, came upon a steep rocky path. 88 EQUESTRIAN PRECAUTIONS. which led to the Pic. It was severe work for the horses. No one would have congratulated me on the selection I had made ; but, in truth, I had contented myself with simply choosing a wiry, sinewy beast, whose knees gave no indications of having made intimate acquaintance with the rocks, I have great faith in mountain-horses— nor without reason ; for during many tours in Switzerland, and numerous excursions in the Pyrenees, where the mountains are little better than rocky ladders, the horses which I have ridden have in no one instance fallen. Careful ridino- is necessary to lead to such a result. I cannot think that the advice, so often given, to leave the horse to himself, is judicious. Let him use his eyes, as he assuredly will, but let the rider also use his own ; which, being more elevated than those of his horse, may be made to do good service. The reins should be held very lightly; but no one who has any regard for his neck will part with the bridle, and permit his horse to feel himself at uncontrolled liberty. If I have been indebted to the instinct of my horse for preservation in treacherous and dan- gerous Alpine passes, which I am very willing to concede, I hold it to be equally true that there have been moments when a steady hand and a quick eye have, on my part, conferred a similar benefit on my horse. The rider, while giving his beast credit for great instinct, must not forget that the animal is devoid of all understanding, excepting his four pillars of sup- CASCADE DU SERPENT. 89 port. The royal psalmist has told us this, as the reader will see if he turns to the S'27id Pnahn. We had not ascended many yards, when a sharp turn brought us before a charming cascade, which shot into life and light from the depths of a pine-forest, and fell like shivered diamonds amongst the rocks below. It bears the name of the Cascade du Serpent, and certainly bears, in its twining and wreathing fall- ins; columns of water, some resemblance' to a brood of hissing snakes. Up, still up — the sun's rays beating down upon us with painful intensity. Our progress was slow ; but, as we ascended, fresh views of great magnificence came within our range. At the base of the cone, which constitutes the true Pic de Sancy, we dis- mounted, and leaving our horses in the care of some peasant-children, who pick up a few sous by this occupation, we clambered up the steep cone. It is not often that the ascent of a high mountain is rewarded by perfect transparency of atmosphere ; too frequently, mists gather round the summit and preclude all view. On this occasion we were most fortunate — not a cloud flecked the vault of heaven ; and our height occasioned a coolness which was truly delightful. The Pic de Sancy, according to a recent government survey, is 6171 English feet above the sea-level. Thus it takes respectable rank amongst mountains; but it has claims of interest apart from its elevation. It is the culminating point of that vast volcanic 90 THE GORGE d'eNFEU. crust, which swells and heaves through an area of fifty-six miles in circumference. Here the throes of nature were of the maddest and most stupendous description. The fundamental granite rocks — the foundations, as it were, of the world — were broken like glass, and gave waj before the enormous up- heavinn; force which brou2;ht forth mountains. The depths of hell were laid bare. Huge con- torted pinnacles of pitchstone porphyry, and breccia containing sulphur, are seen immediately beneath the Pic de Sancy, to the N.W., shooting up from the sides of the Gorge d'Enfer.* Around, nothing but vol- canic mountains meet the eye, their craters, — in many instances lakes, — fringed with woods, gleaming like orbs of molten silver. I had here a good opportunity of testing the value of excellent opera- glasses, which, having done efficient service during the London season, had accompanied me in my travels. After their last night at the opera, I had a strong leather case made for them, which I sus- pended by a strap round ray shoulder — thus they were easily accessible. The advantage which they possess over a telescope is very great ; they can be used in a moment and require but little adjustment, and fatigue the eye much less than a telescope does ; and, if they are powerful, will be quite as * Dr. Daubeny suggests, in reference to this Gorge, that the name of Auvergne may be derived from certain appear- ances, that might have reminded its first settlers of the lake Avernus, near Naples. THE GORGE DE CHAUDEFOUR. 91 serviceable. With mine, I was enabled to scan the whole range of the Mont Dore region, which is, indeed, pregnant with interest. The summit of the Pic de Sancy would make a fitting platform for a geologist ; and I could not help wishing that the Dean of W had the geological section of the British Association grouped around him, while he held forth from the top of the obelisk which crowns the Pic. With such materials at hand, what a splen- did lecture would he give ! We had not been long on the mountain-top ere we were joined by other parties, who had left the village after us. The guides mustered strongly, and vied with each other in naming every peak and ravine, but, apart from this, their geological information was most barren. Not much lore ought, perhaps, to be expected from the poor fellows, when it is remem- bered that their pay is only two francs a-day. Descending the cone, we mounted our horses, and cantered over a plateau of sward to the crest of the Puy Ferrand, for the purpose of obtaining a view of the Gorge de Chaudefour, with its extraordinary pyramids of breccia, which seem like colossal needles set in the flanks of the mountain. I longed to make closer acquaintance with these wonderful creations ; and, as will be seen, had an opportunity subse- quently of doing so. On our way down the Pic, the guide pointed out two little bubbling springs — small beginnings of great things : the rill trickling from one is called the Dore, 92 THE FRENCH OPPOSED TO SOLITUDE. that from the other the Dogne, and they, uniting, are married into the Dordogne, which becomes a portion of the Gironde. The French are not true lovers of nature — that is, of fresh, retiring nature, with the bloom of beauty on it. They cannot understand, because they do not feel, how much may be learnt in the seclusion of a forest. Warburton, writing to his friend Hurd, longs for his companionship in his country retirement, that he may 'pick off for his amusement, during their rambles, a thousand notions which he had hung upon every thorn.' Oft on the dappled turf at ease, I sit and play with similes, Loose types of things through all degrees. This does not suit the bent of a Frenchman's mind. He must make nature a ball-room, trick her out with gaudy belles, and then his sentimentality will outpour in addresses to the lieux charmants, delicieux, &c., thus sanctified to him. So it was in the Pyrenees : Large parties would go forth, scouring the highways, dashing along in herds to well-known and frequented places, while the sublimity of the magnificent moun- tains, and the retirement of the gloomy grandeur of the pine-forests, were equally neglected. I never could prevail on a Frenchman, there or here, to join me in an excursion, which held out no other promise than that of communing with Nature in her most majestic mood. My newly-made friends preferred spending the hours which intervened before dinner riding along ATTRACTION OF TUE DINNER-BELL. 93 the road clown the valley — 1 struck into the dark recesses of a pine-forest, following a path which led I knew not whither, nor cared, provided it was not to the abodes of man. And what have I to chronicle, that will benefit or interest the reader, respecting my explorations in these unfi-equented groves ? But little ! This I may, however, write — that there are lovely sylvan scenes in that dark forest which clothes the western side of the valley, and that when the visitor at Mont Dore is tired of the bustle and prattle of the baths, he can in a few minutes escape from them, and wander lonely as a cloud. That floats on high, o'er vales and hills, through the depths of these pine wildernesses. I was not, however, so deeply enamoured of my solitude as to forget the dinner-hour. But, indeed, if within earshot of Mont Dore les Bains, the loud bells ringing together in the various hotels will render it impossible to do so. They ring thrice — loud, long peals, which must sound very unsatisfactory to those who would, but may not dine. Ere the second sum- mons has died away, the majority of the company may be seen buzzing about the long dinner-tables, eager expectants of the coming feast — and as soon as the first stroke of the third peal is heard, all are seated and ready for the attack. Seeing, and having sensual demonstration of, the number and excellence of the condiments prepared for the guests at our hotel, it puzzled me much to guess aright from whence the 94 L'NEXPECTED ATTENTION. raw materiel came. True, a clever clief-Je-cuIsine will metamorphose an ignoble animal into a noble dish, but he must have a beast to begin with — ' Catch you^ hare first' — says the wise recipe — and, of a truth, the volcanic regions of Mont Dore do not produce many things available for the cuisine. As usual, the oldest residents in the hotel were placed nearest the head of the table, where, by the way, we observed the best dishes circulated. We juniors were at the bottom, not, however, without companions — pleasant, sociable Parisians, who chatted without reserve on the political aspect of their country, unanimous in deploring and condemning the Uepublic, but utterly unable to suggest any better form of government. I was deep in an argument with my neighbour, when a voice behind me exclaimed, in sterling English — ' Would you like some potatoes, sir ?' and turning round, I saw a servant with a dish of fine mealy potatoes in his hands. ' You are English,' I said— ' Yes, sir.' * A servan t of the house ?' ' No, sir. My master is Monsieur Polignac, sitting near the head of the table.' He added, that observing we were English he had thought we should like some potatoes, and had accordingly brought us a dish. This was kind and attentive, nor did his remembrance of us terminate with the esculent. On several occa- sions he laid violent hands on the best dishes near his master, and marched with them down the room to offer them to us. His well-meant kindness received a check one day. A little shrivelled-up Gascon, who seemed as if all the juices in his body had been GASCON IRRITABILITY. 95 expressed, and who doubtless longed for the graviest and raciest dishes, looked desperately angry when, on three different occasions, our English friend handed us dainties, which he whisked back again to their original sites without giving our neighbours a chance of arresting their progress. ' Ecoutez,' said the Gascon, ' if you pass me again with a dish without oifering it to me, I will report you to Madame the hostess.' ' I am not Madame's servant,' replied John, who, though English, spoke French as fluently as his own language. ' Then,' said the Gascon, ' the dishes are hers, and you have no right to meddle with ti-em.' 'What a old fool he is!' exclaimed John to us ; ' can't he mind his own business ?' Our neighbour pricked up his ear at the malediction, which no doubt made it tingle, for although, happily, entirely ignorant of the Saxon tongue, he had a cunning perception that honest John w^as not blessing him. The clatter of knives and forks gradually ceased — but still fresh dishes made their appearance : truly Madame Bertrand is no niggardly provider ; and I am in duty bound to record that, whenever we dined at her table d'hote, we had to complain more of superabundance than the contrary. Day after day, larse bowls, full of delicious wood-strawberries came to table, chicfest and most patronized fruit of the dessert. With the ladies rose the gentlemen ; the former retired to their rooms, but soon re-appcared in their bonnets. Then in parties we strolled up or down the valley, until the evening dews warned us — 96 VARIED AMUSEMENTS. or at least the more tender sex — to return. Another retiring, and the ladies came forth in evening costume, and entered the salon set apart for the guests. This, at our hotel as at the other establishments, was a large room, containing a piano and half-a-dozen card and chess tables, with the French newspapers. In a similar watering-place in Switzerland or Germany, Galignani would have been taken ; here, however, it was not required. These evening reunions are ex- ceedingly pleasant— were, it would perhaps be safer to write — for they must take their tone and colour from the company, — and it may have happened that our fellow-lodgers were superior to the general run of visitants. There was a total absence of ill -breeding, nor did I once see the floor polluted by a custom which has become disgracefully common in France. Whist, for the most slender stakes, is the favourite game — gambling being wholly discountenanced — and there is no chance of a man being arrested in his travels by losing all his money here. On two evenings during the week there is dancing, which is never pro- longed beyond midnight. Here I saw the celebrated Auvergnese dance called the Bourree, which is accom- panied by music of a wild character. Thus, the lover of gaiety must not expect to find the pleasures of a fashionable German watering-place at Mont Dore. Generally speaking, before eleven o'clock the entire village, with its mixed population, is buried in pro- found repose, and I do not think that the most ad- venturous Romeo would succeed in finding a Juliet VARIED AMUSEMENTS. 97 Standing at her balcony, sighing deep love, and gazing on the crystal stream, sparkling like silver beneath the beams of the moon, which during the first week of our sojourn lighted up the beautiful valley. AUV. 98 CHAPTER V. CLATTER, clatter! patter, patter 1 it must be rain, and yet how brightly the sun shines I I jumped from my bed, and, rushing to the window, threw it wide open. Not a cloud obscured the sky; the floodgates of heaven were closed fast for this day; but the patter went on. It was caused by the sabots of children, boys and girls, trotting up and down the street, with sheets and towels for the use of the patients, who were about undergoing sudatory and other ingenious watery processes. The man or woman who requires a long sleep will do well to court it during the early night hours at Mont Dore ; for, from the earliest dawn, or even before it, slumber becomes difficult of peaceful accomplishment. So tired was I, that the pattering of sabots, and even louder noises, had failed to awaken me on the first morning of my abiding in Madame Bertrand's com- fortable house ; but on this, the second, I was con- strained to leave the pleasant land of dreams long ere my spirit wished to do so. Then succeeded more violent noises ; heavy steps on the stairs, — heavier over my head, — the creaking and straining of wood. Then a fall, as it were of a heavy body, — another edition of creaks and groans, succeeded again by steps on the THE BATHS AT WOXT DORE. 99 Stairs, louder than before. I look out of the window, and presently see emerging from the door a roughly- constructed sedan chair, and seizing my opera glasses — which I always place convenient to the window, for neighbourly and friendly purposes — I see within the chair a figure enveloped in mantles, but of what sex I cannot say. Then another wooden box ap- pears, — a third, — and soon the square is full of chairs, each borne off between two men, who are trotting with the patients to the baths. And it is not five o'clock. I thought how applicable to what I had heard and seen are the lines in * The New Bath Guide,' a series of poetical epistles descriptive of Bath at the commencement of this century: — This morning, dear ]Motlier, as soon as 'twas light, I was wak'd by a noise that astonish'd me quite, For in Tabitlia's room I heard sucli a clatter, I could not conceive what the deuce was the matter; And, woidd you believe it, I went up and found her In a blanket, with two lusty fellows around her, "Who both seem'd a going to carry her off in A httle black box, just the size of a cofRu. * Pray teU me,' says I, 'what yc're doing of there?' ' AMiy, master, 'tis hard to be bilk'd of our fare. And so we were thrusting her into a chair; We don't sec no reason for using us so. For she bade us come hither, and now she won't go: We've earned all our fare, for we both came and knock'd her Up, as soon as 'twas light, by advice of the doctor; And this is a job that we often go a'ter For ladies that choose to go into the water.' And so at Mont Dore: sturdy Auvergnats, who figure as guides during the day, are to be seen during the early morning hours carrying off ladies, who r 2 100 BATHS AT MONT DORE. happily make no noisy opposition, to the baths. It is always amusing at a watering place, where inward as well as outward application of the healing fluid is practised, to study the trusting patients, who, having unbounded faith in the efficacy of the waters, convert their stomachs into cisterns, and imbibe tumbler after tumbler full, with a rapidity and perseverance at once amazing and alarming. The priestess of the waters here is no Naiad, if she be descended from Egeria, nor is her fountain enamelled by many-hued mosses. She has, however, numerous votaries : from early dawn, she is surrounded by applicants, each holding forth a glass, eager to have it filled from the ever- flowing spring. Origen tells us that his contempo- raries believed warm springs to be fed by the hot tears of fallen angels ; and who knows but that some of these lovely beings may even now be doing pe- nance in the volcanic depths of Mont Dore. Bearing the brimming goblet, the patients walk to and fro under the portico, sipping and drinking until the dose is taken. Orders have been issued, I believe, that half an hour should elapse between each glass ; but the invalids, real or soi-disant, appear to follow the practice of St. Laurent, the patron saint of the springs of Mont Dore, who, when half roasted, cried out to his torturers to turn him on the other side. A board over the portico carries the legend in the Auvergnat patois, running thus : — Qui le bon San Laurent ftigue mita grillia Ditlii bei le Bourre moucbu me faut vii'a, BATHS AT MONT DORE. 101 which may be rendered : — Quant le bon Saint Laurent fut a moitie grille, n dit au Bourreau — Monsieur, U faut me tourner ! and so may zealous water drinkers be seen taking large mouthfuls of the steaming spring, and turning their heads first to one side then to the other, in order to scald all portions of their oesophagus equally. The power of faith is great. There is a French gentleman here who is drinking, douching, vaporizing, and bath- ing at a furious rate. In the course of a few days I became acquainted with him. * They come and fetch me,' he said, ' at four in the morning ; I am carried in a chair, swathed in flannel, to the baths, where I undergo the various aquatic operations until eight ; then I am swathed in flannel again, carried back to my hotel, put to bed, where I remain until breakfast time.' ' And this by the advice of your physician?' I inquired. ' Not at all,' he replied ; ' I felt unwell — oppressed — ^jaded — and solconsulted a somnambule in Paris : Go, said she, to Mont Dore, and take twenty- four baths, douches, &c. &c., and you will be restored to perfect health. So here I am, and though the medecin* declares that my system will not bear douching, I am determined to persevere.' And, in- deed, his frame was so delicately conjointed, that I should have doubted its capability of bearing up * A government physician resides at all the French waterinfr-placcs, and no person can use the waters Avitliout consulting him, though his attendance during the coui'se may be dispensed with. 102 SCENERY OF MONT DORE. against one of those fearful shocks produced by a douche. But faith has strength to remove moun- tains, and I dare say that the believing Frenchman reaped benefit by following the somnambule's advice. There is no attempt at Mont Dore to emulate the elegance of the German brunnens. There are no delicately formed Bohemian glass goblets, no music ; the want of the latter is certainly a great omission, for— Music is wholesome, tlie doctors all think, For ladies who bathe and for ladies who drink, and I strongly counsel the bath authorities to get up a band as soon as possible. The excursions in the vicinity of Mont Dore are endless. An entire summer might be spent wan- dering from scene to scene, each presenting fresh objects of interest and beauty. M. Lecocq has written a large volume devoted entirely to them, but the work enters too much into detail for the tourist. To the sketcher from nature, Mont Dore will appear a paradise ; my friend found ample work for his pencil, and I, though but a humble performer, shared his artistical enthusiasm. Our second excursion was to the baths of La Bourboule, about eight miles from Mont Dore. We accompanied a very agreeable party, and were, as usual, mounted. We passed down the valley as far as the village of Quereihl, and crossing the Dordogne, WATERFALLS. 103 entered a grand and gloomy pine forest, throuo-h which we rode for two hours. A large clearino- in the forest bears the name of the Salon Mirabeau. This is in true French taste. It appears that some relative of the statesman of that name, held meetincrs of the peasantry in the forest at the time of the great revolution, whence the space was called Salon Mira- beau. It is now much frequented by pic-nic parties, and a most charming spot it is for Watteau-like groups. The very trees seem endowed with love, giving evidence of the truth of old Burton's remark, who says, *In vegetal creatures, what sovereignty love hath may be proved by many pregnant proofs and familiar examples ; — you may oft see two trees bend, and, of their own accord, stretch out their boughs to embrace and kiss each other, thus giving manifest signs of mutual love.' And he cites Am- mianus Marcellinus, who declares that ' trees marry one another, and fall in love if they grow in sight, and when the wind brings the smell to them they are marvellously affected.' Torrents speed through this pine forest, and the lover of waterfalls may feast his eyes on many A sheeted silver waving column. We turned aside to see two — one called Plat a Barbe, which our guide declared had only been dis- covered a couple of years ago ; it is buried in the dark recesses of the forest, plunging down into a grim chasm. The only practicable method of seeing the 104 LA BOURBOULE. entire fall is to hook one arm round a sapling pine which grows on the verge of the precipice, and lean over. The other and finer fall which we saw was called La Verniere. The water comes down in two magnificent curves, with stunning noise, and is re- ceived in a large circular basin begirt with huge rocks, which, when the sun shines, is literally canopied by rainbows. Exquisitely delightful was our ride: for, indeed, it is almost impossible to conceive scenes of greater sylvan loveliness than the forest presented through which we passed. Emerging from it we saw La Bourboule in the valley beneath us, and soon entered the little hamlet. The name is significant of bubbling springs, and here they bubble up hotter than the hand can bear. One of our party claimed the medecin as an acquaintance, so we rode up to his door and dismounted. A fiUe who answered our inquiries stated that the doctor was at home, and showed us into a room, which, from the shutters being closed, seemed to us, after the glare of sunny noon, pitch dark. Presently we heard a voice proceeding from a corner, addressing our friend — *Ah! je suis charme de vous voir.' The speaker saw us, though he was as yet invisible to us. * Pardonnez moi, je vous prie, messieurs,' continued the speaker ; ' mais j'etais si fatigue.' A spectral-like form glided across the floor — a shutter was thrown back, and then we beheld the government physician of La Bourboule in the simple and by no means superfluous drapery of his shirt. He accounted for his state of disha- MEDICINAL SPRINGS. 105 bille by telling us that he had been up since dawn attending to his patients, and was so exhausted and worn out, that he had lain down for a siesta. In a few minutes he had donned his garments, drawn the curtain across the recess, and ordered refreshment for us. Though shrouded by a rough exterior, the doctor's courtesy to us was very great. He treated us most hospitably; and when we had finished our luncheon, he showed us the springs. They issue at the junction of the vol- canic tufa with the granite, which here appears near the surface of the ground, and discharge their water into tanks hewn out of the rock. In the course of constructing; these, some Roman remains were dis- covered. The waters are considered efficacious in cases of rheumatism. M. Chaussy, so was the physi- cian named, led us up a flight of steps to a door, opening into a room immediately over the baths. As he entered it he crossed himself. A rough-looking chest stood at the farther end of the apartment. ' This is our chapel,' he said ; ' and there,' pointing to the chest, * is the altar.' This was bringing cures for body and soul into very close contact. Before the adaptation of this room to the purposes of a chapel, religion was without a public home in La Bourboule. One of the curiosities of the place is a grotto hewn out of the rock, and tenanted by the woman who excavated it. She is proud of her performance ; but the result of her toil, continued during three successive years, is a very dirty, stink- F 3 106 LA ROCHE DES F^ES. ing stye, far more adapted for pigs than for human beings, and the life of the occupant must be one pre- senting the varieties only of dulness and the lowest pleasures. The health-hunter, to whom the waters of La Bour- boule are recommended, and it maybe mentioned, that they are considered most remedial in chronic rheumatism, will find no temptations to turn aside from his lawful pursuit. The boarding-houses are of the most humble description, and nothing is attempted beyond the mere feeding and lodging of the guests. However, with books and horses, several weeks might be spent here, and enjoyed, provided that the beau- tiful scenery in the vicinity were duly appreciated. We returned to Mont Dore by a different route, visiting La Roche des Fees and La Roche Vendeix. The former is associated with the mad pranks of the ' good people,' w4iose delicate foot-prints are pointed out on a rock, which is further remarkable for the great number of basaltic prisms imbedded in its bold summit. They produce a sensible and marked effect on the magnetic needle. The Roche Ven- deix acquired an infamous celebrity in the fourteenth century, by having been selected as the stronghold of Aimerigot Marcel, popularly known as the Roi des Pillards. He formed an alHance with England against France, and faithfully carried it out, by be- coming the most inveterate enemy to his country. At the head of a numerous troop of ruffians he deso- AUVERGNAT SAW-MILLS. 107 lated the neighbourhood of his rocky castle, and was so daring and energetic that Froissart, who treats of his history, declares that ' nothing came amiss to him that was not too hot or too heavy.' No vestige of his den now remains; but so fantastically are the basaltic prisms grouped, that it is not difficult to imagine them to be a part of the castle towers of the robber chief. The ride home was, if possible, even wilder and more charming than our outward route. In the depths of the forest, we came upon saw-mills of rudely picturesque construction. Curious to see how the peasants lived in these solitudes, I entered a cottage. It was a substantially built dwelling, containing two rooms; one, of large dimensions, appropriated to the human wants and requirements of its proprietor and family; the other, much smaller, devoted to the cattle. The family living-room pre- sented many features of comfort. Along one side were four boxes containing beds: on another, a large fire-place, well garnished with pots and pans. From the ceiling hung ruddy-hued pig skins, dis- tended with wine, and rows of rye bread, which, with vegetables, forms the staple food of the Au- vergnats. Meat is rarely eaten. There is scarcely a cabin in the Mont Dore district where wine may not be had; and although the Englishman would doubtless prefer a tankard of foaming ale to the thin wine of la belle France, yet in hot summer lime, a 108 SUNDAY AMUSEMENTS. bottle of vin du pays, with a crust of bread, is very acceptable. There was an air of order and propriety in the peasants' abode, truly pleasant to contemplate. With advantages but little superior to those at the com- mand of the Irish cottier, the Auvergnats are infi- nitely above him in the scale of civilization. No rags shock the eye — no bare feet are to be seen, and there is an appearance of comfort amongst them, which it would be vain to seek for in miserable Ire- land. It is exceedingly difficult to comprehend the Auvergnat patois, and as much so to make the people understand even the most simple phrases spoken in pure French. In all our distant excursions we were accompanied by a guide, which rendered us independent of the peasants; but I would counsel the tourist who prefers wandering alone, to learn a few rustic phrases applicable to the necessities of his ex- cursion. He will find the Auvergnats rough, but honest, sturdy, and strong-limbed, well fashioned for their occupations of hewers of wood and drawers of water, which latter calling they monopolize in Paris. The day of our excursion to La Bourboule was Sunday. In the evening the guests mustered strongly in the Salon, and indulged in an extra hour of cards and dancing. Great persuasions were used to make me join in these amusements, but the customs— pre- judices, the French would call them — of England ST. NECTAIRE. 109 were too deeply rooted within me, and I held out successfully, even against the entreaties of fair lips and sparkling eyes. Another excursion of great interest which we made was to St. Nectaire. This requires a long day. We were on horseback at seven, and after sundry strappings and re-strappings of cloaks and portfolios, cantered down the valley, and turning to the right, ascended a steep mountain, called the Puy de Diane, over which our road lay. From the descent on the other side we saw the Chateau de Murol, which crowns a basaltic-capped hill. The ruined building has an imposing appearance, but no pretensions to the picturesque. We delayed visiting its interior until our return in the afternoon from St. Nectaire. The volcanic country between Murol and that village is exceedingly remarkable. The volcano of Tartaret, which rises near the castle, shows, even yet, traces of its once fearful activity. The entire district has been desolated by its fires. ' The cone of this volcano,' says Mr. Scrope, ' is composed throughout of lava, scoriee, lapilli, and fragments of granite. It has two deep and regular bowl-shaped craters, separated by a hio-h rido-e, and each broken down on one side. They have furnished together a very copious lava- current, which at first spreads over a wide and level surface, then contracting itself as the valley becomes nan-ower, occupies the channel of the former river, and follows all its sinuosities as far as Neckers, below 110 VOLCANIC ASPECTS. which it terminates, at a distance of thirteen miles from its origin.'* Smaller bubbles of the volcanic system, covered with basaltic scoriae, rise to the height of between one hundred and two hundred feet, and stud the country in thick profusion, their bases almost touching each other. Amongst these the road winds, but in many places it is difficult to distinguish the path, so thickly is it strewn with fragments fallen from the hills. These render the footing for horses very insecure ; and just as I was meditating on the chances of a fall, our guide, who was riding in advance, bit the dust in a very sum- mary manner. His horse came down with a run, as sailors would say, but happily the accident proved of no greater inconvenience than delaying us for a few minutes. Very little of the country is capable of culti- vation. Small patches of corn, scarcely larger than a tolerably- proportioned table-cloth, dot the valleys here and there, evidencing an unequal struggle with barren nature, which here refuses sustenance to all living things. The scene is, indeed, most striking; and its wonderful freshness, if this word may be applied to what is burnt and seared, is not one of its least extraordinary features. The lava seems to have just ceased flowing— the volcanos to have hardly stopped smoking; and gazing at the scene, it is easy to realize the words of the psalmist : — « The earth trembled and quaked, the very foundations also of the hills shook. * Geology of central France, p. 117. CHURCH OF ST. NECTAIRE. 1 1 1 and were removed ; there went a smoke out in his presence, and a consuming fire out of his mouth, so that coals were kindled at it.' And when did these events, as applied to the scene before us, come to pass ? The most shadowy traditions are utterly silent on the sub- ject. Thousands of years, nay, hundreds of thousands have rolled aw^ay, yet here, in burning, one might almost say in shining, characters, the past is written as distinctly as if it had occurred but yesterday. Let no one who visits Clermont fail to see this part of Auvergne. St. Nectaire is a small village rising out of the volcanic chaos. It is a ride of an hour and a half from Murol. On a commanding eminence stands a church of Romanesque architecture, dating, as is supposed, from the twelfth century. It includes a large and lofty nave, and two aisles ; the eastern end terminates in three apses of great beauty. The capitals of the large and heavy pillars are carved with quaint sub- jects, scriptural and legendary. It is altogether a very remarkable edifice, and well worthy the atten- tion of the antiquary. In the middle of the nave, on a tawdrily-decorated platform, stood images of the Virgin and Child, dressed in all the finery of a thea- trical wardrobe. The day of our visit was the Feast of the Assumption, and hence this display. All the peasantry within walking distance had flocked to the church ; the men, dressed in light drab frieze trousers and coat, trudged along in huge sabots, of dimensions sufficiently capacious to accommodate elephantine 112 MAGDELAINE DE ST. NECTAIRE. feet. The women's costume presented no remark- able feature — beauty was wholly wanting. The great object of attraction was of course the Virgin ; round her they clustered thick as bees, and brought, as offer- ings, bunches of grapes (rarities here), which they suspended, necklace-fashion, round the necks of the mother and child. A plate, placed at the feet of the Virgin, was half filled by sous cast in by the worshippers. Near the church stands the once powerful castle of St. Nectaire, the abode of the famous Bishop of Le Puy, who made himself so conspicuous in the troubles of Le Velay, in the sixteenth century. Possessing an insurmountable repugnance to the shedding of human blood, he appeared in battle with a huge club, which he wielded with the vigour of a Hercules, to the discomfiture and prostration of his enemies. He had a sister who shared her brother's military ardour. Magdelaine de St. Nectaire, the proud and beautiful amazon, as she was styled, was no imaginary or ideal heroine. Half a hundred youthful chevaliers, sans peur et sans reproche, swore constant allegiance to her; and she was worthy of their devotion. For when the love of her early youth was quenched in the grave of her husband, Guy de Miremont, she vowed to live only for her oppressed country. Ani- mated with the most profound zeal in this cause, she went forth, at the head of her soldiers, to do battle against the Seigneur de Montal, lieutenant of the king, in Haute-Auvergne, and defeated him. ' Ventre HOTEL MEUDON. 113 St. Gris !' exclaimed Henry of Navan*e, when he heard of this gallant deed, ' if I were not king, I would be Magdelaine de St. Nectaire.' The lizard plays now over the site of the castle, and tradition only marks its former vast extent. There is a capital inn at St. Nectaire, of which I can speak from experience, having tested its restora- tive capabilities with much inward satisfaction. To the geologist who picks his way through the country, the Hotel Meudon, by which dignified title the afore- said inn is known, would be most comfortable head quarters. The landlady complained sadly of the want of customers. A large hotel, with its wide doors gaping all day, and its chambers desolate, is a dreary and melancholy spectacle. In England, St. Nectaire would be largely patronized. In France, it sees scarcely any tourists. The hostess ascribed the absence of guests to the revolution, on whose broad and irresponsible shoulders she heaped all her reproaches. Here, as at Mont Dore, the peasants, in a moment of wild and impetuous enthusiasm, wrenched a sturdy pine tree from its mountain home, and planted it in the middle of the village, christening it the * tree of Liberty,' and crown- ing it with flowery chaplets ; they doubtless believed that with the Republic blessings innumerable would flow upon them, but with the decay of the tree perished their fond imaginings, aiul the prospects of the Republic arc as dreary and desolate as the sapless 114 CASTLE OF MUROL. pine trees, which stand up as it were in mockery, Hke withered sticks, which indeed they are, in the villages of Auvergne. There is a very perfect Druidical monument near St. Nectaire. It consists of one altar formed of large slabs of unhewn granite. If the people who reared these monuments had inscribed picture writings on the stones, how greatly would their interest be en- hanced. St. Nectaire possesses hot baths, and a spring even more valuable for its incrusting properties than that of St. Alyre at Clermont. The staple produce is basso-relievo portraits of the Due de Bordeaux, whom the proprietor of the springs unhesitatingly promoted to Henri V. On our return we visited the Castle of Murol. It is usual to dismount at the foot of the hill, but we charged up the steep, following the track of many an ancient knight, and passing through the crumbling gates, entered the large court-yard. Here we turned our horses loose to graze on the rich herbage, and, under the guidance of a female cicerone, explored the castle. The ruins are, like all remains of feudalism, of great massiveness. According to historians, the first trustworthy mention of the castle occurs in 1223, when its lord was Robert Chambe. It after- wards fell into the hands of the Cardinal de Murol, who gave his name to it. Gregoire de Tours speaks of it under the name of Merotiacense Castrum, and records various deeds of valour and barbarity enacted LAKE OF CH AMBON. 115 within its grim walls. At one of the angles rises a huge tower, from whence a glorious view is obtained. Beneath, the country is seared and tortured into the most fantastic shapes, but afar to the south a dark blue mountain range appears, split into a thousand peaks, some of which have been hurled from the per- pendicular by mighty convulsions. To the north- east gleams the Lake of Chambon, lovely in itself, and reflecting loveliness in the garb of hanging beech woods, which fringe the sides of the gorge of Chaude- four. At the extremity of this defile rise long, pointed, rocky needles ; freaks of nature, which might be taken, at first sight, for a number of church spires. To the exploring of this gorge we resolved to devote an early day. The lover of dark places, dungeons, oubliettes, and all the mysteries appertaining to the strongholds of ancient power, will find the Castle of Murol a rich treat. To me these things are associated with painful thoughts. They tell eloquently of oppression and woe; showing that men, in times past, ruled, not mercifully, but in the full exercise of the sentiment, * Let fear be over all.' The minds of our ancestors must, indeed, have been made of ada- mantine stuff, or more probably they were schooled to regard merciful feelings as fit to belong to woman alone. Else how could they have prolonged the merry banquet through midnight hours, knowing that their conquered and unhappy foe was pining in dun- geons fathoms deep beneath them. I rejoice to see the grass waving over these monuments of cruelty, — 116 PUY DE DIANE. to see the free birds winging their flight among the nodding ruins. They tell of better days, — for let desponding social economists rave as they may, the world is more moral than it was three centuries ago. Our ride home was long and tedious, and we were glad to wrap our mantles round us when passing over the elevated plateaux of the Puy de Diane. 117 CHAPTER VI. READER, if you be of Byron's opinion, that ' anglers are detestable creatures, and therefore to be detested by the reasonable portion of humanity, if not actually tortured,* you will do well to skip this chapter ; for I give you fair and honest warning that it is my intention to devote it entirely to my pisca- torial adventures at Mont Dore. I think that my brothers of the angle will thank me for so doing. For should they follow my advice, and spend a sum- mer in wandering through Auvergne, they will be glad to have a few hints respecting the capabilities of the rivers and lakes of that province. Mr. Murray's guide book is not wholly silent on the subject. The compiler thereof — or of the Auvergne portion of it — if no angler, is at least fully aware of the excellence of trout ; for he tells us, in more than one place, that the rivers and lakes in Auvergne furnish delicately- flavoured trout, but he is wholly silent as to the best means of capturing them. However, I felt obliged for the information ; and * And angling, too, that solitary vice, Wliatever Izaak Walton sings or says ; The quaint old cruel coxcomb in his gullet Should have a hook and a small trout to pull it ! Don Jcan. 118 ANGLING IN FRANCE. as soon as I had determined on visiting Auvergne, I resolved to take ray fishing-tackle. Nor had I reason to repent doing so; for though my fishing exploits fell far short of those recorded by anglers in Scotland, yet I derived considerable amusement from them. To the humble individual who has not the good fortune to claim acquaintance with the land-and-water aristocracy of England, the lakes and rivers of France will be pleasant places. On their shores, he need not apprehend being warned oflp by the rough voice of some game-preserving Cerberus, provided that he use no more deadly apparatus than rod and line. For, although the French proprietaires have the right to keep their land free from trespassers, yet they are so numerous, and their holdings so small, that the angler is never prevented following his pastime. The French Fishing Laws — which, I understand, have not been altered by the new republican government — contain the following article : — *It is permitted to every individual to fish, with a fioating line held in the hand, in the waters, rivers, lakes, and canals, the times of spawning excepted.' Thus the angler in France may roam freely from stream to stream as he wills, provided that, in the pursuit of his sport, he respect the law. To me there are few circumstances more annoying and pleasure-destroying in a day's fishing, than to be accompanied by a gamekeeper, who, for the ostensible purpose of landing your fish, adheres to your side PISCATORY REMINISCENCES. 119 like a leech during the entire day. The angler will soon be made aware that he has other duties to per- form, besides those connected with the landing net. I was fishing, a few summers ago, in the waters of a famous English river, preserved by a gentleman who accorded me permission. The day was most auspicious for sport ; and though anglers are generally as much disposed to grumble against weather as farmers, on this occasion the most fastidious would have held his peace. The river, I was assured, abounded in trout ; so I put my rod together under pleasant anticipations of success. Softly fell my fly at the tail of a promis- ing stream, and quick as thought was it seized by a fine fish. In a few minutes the speckled beauty w^as in the net, from whence I expected to see him transferred to the creel. But his good fortune interposed: the gamekeeper drew forth from his capacious pockets a weighing machine, declared the captive one ounce short of the proper weight, and threw him back to his watery home. Header — and now I may address you as a dear brother of the angle — do you remember the size and shape of a two-pound trout wanting one ounce ? Of course you do. Well, you must confess that it costs a pang to part with such a prize. My trout was not in the situation of those described by Gomesius, who de- clares, in his ' De Sale,' that ' Pisces ob amorem mar- cescunt pallescunt, &c.' — he was a fine fat fish, giving no outward indication whatever of having been 120 PISCATORY REMINISCENCES. crossed in love. * And so,' said I, to my attendant, *no one is allowed to kill a trout under two pounds in your master's preserves ?' * No, sir,' was his reply. * And pray,' I continued, ' are there many fish above that weight in the waters ?' The fellow grinned, and replied, 'Not many, I believe, sir.' As far as my experience of that day went, there was not one. I caught upwards of two dozen trout, but no single fin did 1 bring home; not one being entitled to the weighty honour of appearing at table. Now, who but the easiest-going Cockney, who, sitting in a velvet-cushioned arm-chair in a punt, calls it fishing, would give one farthing for such a day's angling as I have described ? Give me, rather, a thousand times, the freedom of the mountain stream, where, though the trout be small, one is left unconstrained and at liberty to mingle one's spirit with the rushing waters, or be- come a part of the exquisite scenery through which the burn will lead you, with its playful and soul-sooth- ing babble. The angler must not expect large trout in Auvergne — two pound weights would be rarely wanted. The average size of the fish is half a pound. In the lakes they run somewhat heavier. Fly-fishing in France is almost unknown— certainly it is very seldom prac- tised. At Mont Dore, where, at the time of my sojourn, there were some three hundred men with nothing to do but to bathe in the morn and amuse themselves during the day, not one possessed a rod, PISCATORY REMINISCENCES. 121 or, as far as I could learn, had ever fished. And yet trout were at the table-d'hote daily. These were caught in the Lac de Guery, about an hour's ride from the baths, by means of nets. The use of flies, natural or artificial, was utterly unknown ; and when it became noised about that Monsieur I'Anglais had strange lures wherewith to catch trout, several gentlemen waited on me to inspect my rod, line, and fishing-book. With the contents of the latter they were greatly taken, and no skulking Indian savage ever examined the dress of an European with more curiosity or minuteness than my French friends manifested in examining the dressing of my flies. There was one individual, whom I had ob- served for some days poking his nose into ever^' hole and corner, asking questions of everybody, and enacting the part of Paul Pry. It turned out that he purposed giving the French public the benefit of his observation, and that he was collecting matter to compile a small guide-book to the baths of Mont Dore. Some good-natured friend acquainted him of my angling pursuits, and advised him to learn from me how I caught trout. So one evening, as I was sitting in the gloaming on the parapet-wall before the hotel, swinging my legs, like a couple of pendu- lums, to and fro, and musing, I was accosted by the guide-book maker, who, doffing his hat, and bowing low, prayed that I would pardon him; but having heard that I was possessed of an infallible and most ingenious method of catching trout, lie would feel AUV. G 122 PISCATORY REMINISCENCES. infinitely obliged if I would show him my contri- vances. I led him upstairs to my apartment, and laid before him my slender stock, of what Burton styles ' pretty devices and sleights for fishing.' Bro- ther angler, fancy the profound ignorance of this man — he was a Parisian, had lived thirty- five years in Paris, and not only had he never seen an artificial fly, but had never heard of one ! He must have had Plutarch early whipped into him, or that part of his writings in which he says — ' Omnino turpis piscatio, nullo studio digna, illiberalis credita est; quod nullum habet ingenium, nullum perspicaciam.' But he was deliiihted with all that I showed him. He would, with my permission, publish my information in his guide — it would form a most important feature in the book — it would, in short, set everybody fishing at Mont Dore. He promised to send me a copy of his work, which was to have been published during the past winter. I greatly regret that it has not reached me ere writing these pages, for I strongly apprehend that the chapter on fishing would yield merry matter for my chapter on the same subject. When it became known that I intended making an angling excursion to the Lac de Guery, several friends expressed a wish to accompany me. The day was fixed, — but for a wonder, the morning broke I oweringly — mists wreathed the Pics, and a driz- zlino- rain descended. It was the only wet day that we had in Auvergne. For fishing, however, it was ar from un propitious, and I made my arrange- THE LAC DE GUKRY. 123 ments for the excursion. But my friends had no angling ardour. The bare idea of a wetting frightened them out of their wits; and sceins; that areruino; the point would be quite unavailing, I consented to post- pone the excursion until the following day, and de- voted the interval to epistolary instead of angling lines : — of course it cleared up at noon, and the morning was followed by an afternoon as favourable as the angler could desire. The next day dawned cloudless. My French friends were in raptures — being too fine for fishing was more than they could understand. We rode to the Lac, ascending steep mountains backed by the Puy Gros, up rocky paths which are the channels of winter torrents. A rough ride it was ; but we were a merry party, and the laugh and the joke were seldom unheard. How the spirits rise as we ascend these sky-dwelling mountains — it is as if the slough of care and sorrow were cast off on the plains. The Lac de Guery is situated in the centre of a plateau, about 4000 feet above the sea level. It is startling at such an elevation to see so large a piece of water. It occupies the crater of a volcano, and as it may puzzle some readers to know how it happens that water reposes so calmly in the lap of fire, it may be mentioned as a solution subscribed to by geologists, that when the volcano became tranquil, the fine trachy tic ashes united with the rain water, and formed a tenacious clay, which has become the bed of several lakes in Auvergne. How trout got into these waters G 2 124 FLY-FISHING. is not so easily explained ; suffice it for our present purposes that they are there. As we approached the sedgy shores of the lonely mere, we descried fisher- men setting nets, a sight far from agreeable to an angler with the artificial fly. We rode round the lake to the scene of their operations, and as we reached the spot, they ran their skiff into a little sandy creek and landed. They were two sturdy Auvergnats, amphibious, fishy-looking fellows, with wild streaming locks, and garments fringed with slimy weeds. Though conversing with each other in patois, one was sufficiently learned in purer French to maintain a conversation with me. To him I expressed my in- tention of fishing with an artificial fly. I might as well, however, have said with an elephant, for he utterly ignoi'ed such a mode of angling. Both men manifested great curiosity whilst I was putting my rod together, and when they saw the flies, nothing could exceed their astonishment. To catch trout with such affairs appeared to them so utterly impossible, that they shook their heads incredulously at the very idea. One went in quest of worms and grasshoppers to place on the hooks, while the other profl^ered corks to serve as floats,that I might know when the fish bit. It was evident that the trout were wholly unaccus- tomed to the fascination of an artificial fly, and it was doubtful whether they would rise at all to one. The M'ater was rather dark, and, observing the Cryptis and Phryganea flies on the shores of the lake, I put up their imitations, which are known to anglers FLY-FISHING. 125 under the names of Oi'angc and Cinnamon flies. This done, one of the fishermen undertook to row me in his skiff to that part of the Like which had not been disturbed by the nets. Two of my French friends accompanied me, — there was no room in the tiny boat for a more numerous cargo. We paddled out to the centre of the lake, and allowing the boat to drift shorewards, I cast my flies on the water. ' Devouring Ephemerals !' said I, in the words of Christopher North, addressing the scaly inhabitants of the crystalline caves beneath, ' here be insects savoury exceedingly, carrying sauce piqnante in their tails. Do try the taste of this bobber ; but either of the two you please.' There was a crisp curl on the lake, and the flies moved on the water with life-like resemblance. At the third cast — there is luck in odd numbers — I rose a fish ; all doubts were removed ; the trout were like their British brethren, capable of being lured by English flies. The eyes of all in the boat were now on me. ' Do you see,' said I to my friends, ' that little islet of floating weeds ? Well, if I am not greatly mistaken, you will see a trout rise near it.' I swept the line round my head and brought my flies light as a feather on the lake. The waters were severed by a silver-like wedge, that came shooting upwards ; a movement of the wrist — indescribable, and only to be acquired by practice, — rivetted the fish to my line, and, in a couple of minutes, the trout — for it was one — was caged in my landing net. ' C'est etonnant !' said one of the French gentle- 126 TROUT CAPTURED. , men. ' Sacre nom de D !' exclaimed the fisher- man ; ' d'attraper une truite comme 9a avec rien /' for the feathery dressings of the hook went for nothing with him. My capture, however, was not large ; in certain English waters he would have been speedily restored to his ele men t, for he hardly weighed one pound. Here he was deemed fully entitled to the honour of pro- motion to Madame Bertrand's table-d'hote, where he and certain of his brethren duly appeared, to their great renown, and the entire satisfaction of the guests. Not many minutes elapsed ere I caught a second trout about the same size as the first ; and I was becoming keenly interested in my sport, when, looking up, I beheld a large cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen on the opposite shore, who had ridden from Mont Dore to witness my operations. They hailed the boat, and requested us to row to them. We did so, and landed among them. Highly amusing it was to hear the descriptions given by my companions of the modus operandi of fly-fishing. If laid down as laws, they would not a little amaze members of the famous angling clubs in the vicinity of London. I w^as not sorry when my friends left me. The attractions of trout fishing were not proof against the stronger temptations of the table-d'hote ; and as the hour of five drew near, they departed. Sweet are vay recollections of that evening spent on the solitary lake. Not a human habitation was in sight, and as the hours advanced — NET-FISHING. 127 The sky an azure field displayed. 'Twas svmli