There are seats on this mound, whence people can watch the bathing; and we often saw a remarkable feat performed from it as well. A race of wonderful water-dogs--said to be a cross between the Newfoundland and the French poodle--is bred at St. Jean de Luz, eight miles from Biarritz. One of their uses is to drive the fish into the nets, and for this purpose one is taken in every boat that puts to sea. The method is extremely simple. As soon as the net surrounds a shoal, the dog is put in the centre, and by beating the water with his paws he effectually drives the finny creatures into the meshes. It was one of this same species of dogs that attracted so much attention at the Port Vieux by leaping after a stick from the mound--a distance of some fifty feet--into the sea. He would do it as often as his master would let him, and appeared to enjoy it immensely, though he always reached the water before the stick, and had then to turn round and hunt for it.

The road, after skirting one side of the yard, crosses the trackway that runs down the pier and doubles up the other side, through the tunnel and past the Port aux Pecheurs, into the Place Ste. Eugenie; whence, continuing by the base of the Hotel d'Angleterre and the casino, it extends to the bathing establishment on the Plage. In the other direction it rounds the Port Vieux, and leads under the cliffs to the other resort of summer bathers; consequently, it might be appropriately termed the "Chemin des Bains."

The pier is a very favourite resort, and many a fierce fight with the waves is enacted at its extremity, in which, alas! the sea has always proved the stronger. As a rule, visitors are not permitted to pa.s.s the "Cucurlon" rock, on which the Virgin's statue stands; but if the weather is very fine, the gate is opened to admit of any who are so minded going to the end. On a wild day, with a high wind blowing inland, the "battle of the waves" is a fine sight, especially from the platform erected below the flagstaff on Cape Atalaya. Thence the full beauty of the huge billows, dashing into clouds of spray against the pier, and, unallayed, pursuing their course with relentless energy till they boom amid the hollow caverns of the hill, may be admired and wondered at.

There are two rocks which (as one looks seaward) rise up to the left of the pier, and serve to break in some measure the force of the waves.

The larger of these in calm weather is frequented by cormorants, and has gained the name of "Cormorant Rock." There were three of these birds on it one very rough day, and we saw a scene enacted which--with due apologies to the late Rev. Charles Kingsley for thus adapting his pathetic verses--we have commemorated in the following lines, under the t.i.tle of

"THE THREE CORMORANTS."

Three cormorant dandies were perch'd on a rock, Were perch'd on a rock as the waves dash'd high; Each thought himself equal to any black c.o.c.k, And proudly determined the sea to defy.

For cormorants fish, and cormorants catch, And they swallow their prey with the utmost despatch, Without all the trouble of boning!

Three cormorant damsels were waiting at home, Were waiting at home for the dandies so dear.

"Oh, say! are they fishing where fierce billows foam?"

And the damsels sat chattering their bills with fear!

For cormorant maidens _can fish_ and _can catch_, And each one considered she'd made a good match.

And now for her dandy was moaning.

Three cormorant dandies were washed off the rock, Were washed off the rock by a powerful wave; And, quite unprepared for the terrible shock, They sank in the depths of a watery grave.

For cormorants fish, and cormorants catch, But if waves dash high they should use despatch, Or their loved ones will always be groaning!

There are some curious rocks in front of the new harbour, notably the "Dragon's-mouth Rock," through which on a rough day the water continuously pours; more to the right, between this and the "Plage," is a curious group known as the "Chinaougue." [Footnote: Have never found any one able to account for this t.i.tle, which is more barbaric than p.r.o.nounceable.] A bridge communicates with the largest, on which "petticoat daffodils" grow, and the couples that may occasionally be seen going over there _doubtless_ do so to gather these. Beyond the Port Vieux and underneath the Villa Belzar other curious formations may be seen, to which an iron gate at the head of a few damaged steps gives access.

At Biarritz itself there is really nothing to be seen except the sea.

And yet this sea is so beautiful in its varied moods, that a lover of nature can watch it day after day for any reasonable period, without a feeling of _ennui_ or a wish for anything more lovely!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE ROCKS OF BIARRITZ.]

There are many pleasant walks and drives around, but most of them require a whole day, and are more preferable as a drive than as a walk.

The shortest is to the lighthouse and back, and this is only a very easy promenade, taking about an hour; so we will deal with it first, leaving the longer ones to await their turn.

We started one afternoon when the sky was cloudless and the coastline very clear, hoping to obtain a good view of the Spanish coast, and a few specimens of maiden-hair fern, if fortune were favourable. We traversed half the town, when Mrs. Blunt suddenly came to a halt opposite the Hotel de France, and pointed to a three-wheeled vehicle of the bath-chair type, to which a weird and very ancient-looking steed was attached. "I think," said she, "that would be more comfortable for me than walking; please inquire if it is on hire." So we applied to a fat dame, who was busily knitting hard by, and having arranged terms, Mrs. Blunt got in and we continued our way.

Down past the bank and at an easy pace to what was once the Villa Eugenie, [Footnote: This building, where Emperor and Empress lived at different times, now belongs to a company under the t.i.tle of the "Palais Biarritz," and is employed as a casino and restaurant. "Sic transit gloria imperatorum."] and continuing up the hill at the same speed, we gradually drew near the lighthouse, and when once the Villa Noailles was left behind and the level road reached again, we were soon at our destination. [Footnote: At low tide there is a way to the lighthouse along the beach in front of the Palais Biarritz, and up a steep path over the rocks. The other is much the better way, however, at all times.] The view of the coast to St. Jean de Luz, San Sebastien, and almost to Santander, was peculiarly good, as well as that on the other side in the direction of Bayonne; and while Mrs. Blunt remained in contemplation from her vehicle, we descended to view the rocks and caves below.

As a rule it is unwise to disclose where botanical treasures grow, as they generally become extinct soon afterwards, from excess of admiration on the part of collectors; but the maiden-hair ferns, for which the lighthouse rocks are known, can take very fair care of themselves, as they grow in such awkward positions--we might say dangerous--that only a few real enthusiasts, or an anxious collector with a _steady head_, are likely to venture to attack their strongholds.

[Ill.u.s.tration: VILLA EUGeNIE.]

We saw many specimens in the interstices of the rocks surrounding a moss-grown pool, but they were quite unapproachable. One clump above we did manage to reach and bear away a few roots of, in triumph; but at one time there was only two inches of stone for the foot to rest on, with sheer rocks below; and consequently, without a rope, the experiment would hardly be worth repet.i.tion. However, without mishap we started on our return journey, and all went smoothly till the Villa Noailles was again reached; but at this point we suddenly noticed that Mrs. Blunt was rapidly out-distancing us. Whether the ancient steed dreamt of its former youth and activity, and "grew young once more," or whether its long rest had made it anxious to reach its stable, we know not; but the unpleasant reality was forced upon us, that it was rapidly bearing Mrs. Blunt away. Miss Blunt had been walking near the vehicle, Mr. Sydney and rather behind; but as Miss Blunt started to run, we rapidly followed, and overtook the steed, which, having by that time pulled up at the bottom of the hill, appeared to be anxious to turn round and have a look at Mrs. Blunt. As it neighed at the same time, perhaps it was asking, "Who's my driver?" but this was mere conjecture on our part, although we were not sorry to restore the animal to the fat old lady--still knitting--and escort Mrs. Blunt back to the hotel, none the worse for her little adventure!

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCENE I.--BEFORE THE START.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCENE 2.--THE ANCIENT STEED GREW YOUNG ONCE MORE.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCENE 3.--WHO'S MY DRIVER?]

The favourite of the short drives is known as the "Tour des Lacs." It embraces the prettiest country in the vicinity, and the whole distance is about six miles. We found it most pleasant to start, after lunch, from the Place de la Mairie, turning up the Rue Gambetta past the market and on to the "Falaises," where the sea-breeze blows fresh and free. Keeping to the right where the road forks, the "abattoir" was soon left behind and the Villa Marbella reached; we then curved round "Lac Chabiague," and ascending slightly between fields gay with the "fleur des frontieres" [Footnote: A lovely blue flower, something like a gentian.] and the wild daphne, we dipped again slightly to the point where the road to St. Jean de Luz forks to the right. Bearing to the left between hedges overgrown with _sarsaparilla_, and entering a shady lane, a few minutes sufficed for us to reach the "Bois de Boulogne," where the road skirts the Lake Mouriscot, and pa.s.ses beside many splendid clumps of the _Osmunda regalis_ fern. The lake is very deep and full of fish; but bathing is certainly not advisable, as there is a great quant.i.ty of reeds and weeds all round the water's edge.

Leaving the pleasant woods, we emerged on to the Route Imperiale--the direct road from the Negresse station (on the main line to Spain) to Biarritz--and following it as far as the metals, we turned to the left up the Irun-Bayonne route. This, however, was not our road for long, as we took the first turning on the left-hand side up a pretty lane, which brought Lake Marion into full view. The other end of the lane joins the "Route Imperiale" again; which, leading in turn past the cemetery, the parish church, and the terminus of the "steam tram-line," enters the town near the International Bank.

It will be noticed that there are several ways of reaching Bayonne. The cheapest and most expeditious, for marketing or other business purposes, is by the narrow-gauge railway, with its curious double carriages, one above the other. By driving the two miles to the Negresse station, and catching the express from Spain, is another way, but one not recommended to anybody but travellers [Footnote: Travellers for the Pau line have to change at Bayonne, consequently it is simpler for them to drive the five miles from Biarritz direct to Bayonne, than drive two to the Negresse station, with the necessity of changing ten minutes after entering the train.] going to stations on the line between Bayonne and Paris. Of the three routes for driving we have already mentioned the most frequented one--at the commencement of the chapter; from the Negresse station by the Bayonne-Irun road is another; and the last and prettiest pa.s.ses behind the Villa Eugenie almost to the lighthouse, but there branches off to the right past the Chambre d'Amour inn, to the pine-woods near La Barre, and thence into Bayonne!

This drive may be prolonged in two directions: firstly, by crossing the Nive and the Adour to the Guards' cemetery (where those who fell in the sortie from Bayonne 1813-14, are buried) at St. Etienne; and secondly, by following the bank of the river for some distance (past the market), and turning up into the country by way of St. Pierre to the Croix de Mouguere. This latter makes a splendid picnic, and the locality is a rich hunting-ground for entomologists.

There are four other excursions that we must not omit to mention, viz., Cambo and the Pas de Roland, St. Jean de Luz, Fuenterabia, and San Sebastien. All of these, with the exception of the first, can be reached by _rail_, and as far as St. Jean de Luz the _road_ from Biarritz [Footnote: There is a more direct route to Cambo from Bayonne.] is common to all; so that to save s.p.a.ce we will only mention it on our way to Cambo.

Starting at an early hour with plenty of provisions, we bowled down to the Negresse station, crossed the line, and ascended the hill above Lake Mouriscot, at the top of which Bidart--the first of the Basque villages--comes into view.

Guetary (3 miles), standing on a hill to the southward, was next seen, and in due time we reached St. Jean de Luz (8 miles), a town of over 4000 inhabitants (possessing a very good hotel and baths, and some historical buildings), situated on a strip of sand between the River Nivelle and the sea. Here the road to Cambo branched off to the left, inland--the high road to Spain continuing near the seaboard--and frequently skirting the Nivelle as far as St. Pee, we pa.s.sed on by Espelette to Cambo. The Hotel St. Martin there, which generally attracts visitors for a few days at least, was not our destination; so we took a glimpse at f.a.galde's celebrated chocolate factory and the old churchyard high above the river--while our horses were being changed--and then resumed our journey to the Pas de Roland. [Footnote: So-called from the fable that Roland, coming to the place and wishing to cross, found the rocks barring his pa.s.sage, so kicked them, whereupon they parted for him to pa.s.s between.] The scenery now became very charming, the winding river (Nive) adding much to the general beauty, especially where it dashed out from between the rugged rocks of the gorge with which Roland's name is a.s.sociated.

After exploring this narrow pa.s.s we found a suitable place for luncheon and sat down.

In returning, we halted near the village of Itsatsou, to gather some of the lovely scarlet anemones [Footnote: A fee of 1 franc for one person, or 2 francs for three, is expected for admission into the fields.]

which grow near there, and cover the fields with such a blaze of colour as makes them conspicuous from a long distance. The rest of the journey in the cool of the afternoon was very pleasant, but our route was the same till reaching Bidart, where we curved to the left, and came by a branch road (previously mentioned), _via_ the Villa Marbella and the Falaises, back to our hotel.

At dinner that night we noticed that there had evidently been some "goings and comings" among the guests; and doubtless the new arrivals were congratulating themselves on having succeeded in getting rooms in the hotel--for be it understood this good house is nearly always full, as it deserves to be. We missed with sorrow the familiar forms of Mr.

and Mrs. Berecasque, who, with all their bigoted hatred for anything approaching to High Church notions, were as a rule exceedingly genial and good-natured, as fat people usually are.

The ladies certainly used to say that Madame had a perplexing way of putting leading questions as to why somebody's daughter went with somebody else's son, or what on earth could that nice gentlemanly young curate (Low Church of course) see in that fast young lady who was always working banners and such like enormities? But we never noticed this; though that which on this particular evening probably no one could fail to notice was, that their places were now occupied by a couple of beings as strikingly thin as Mr. and Mrs. Berecasque had been fat. We were told their name, but there was rather a buzz of conversation going on at the time, and we might not have caught it properly, but it certainly sounded like "Grouser." However, that does not matter much; what is far more to the point is the amus.e.m.e.nt that Mr. Grouser gave to those who had the privilege of sitting near him.

Apparently a self-made man, without any children--who by better educations might have helped him to knowledge--his acquaintance with the French language was like a peasant child's with turtle-soup; perhaps "a lick and a promise" would best explain it. But though only knowing a few words, which he p.r.o.nounced with the vilest of accents, and then only when he had inserted his gla.s.s in his eye, he brought them out with ludicrous frequency whenever he had the chance. Here are examples--"_Hi garsong!_ bring me another plate!" "_Garsong poorquar_ don't you fetch some bread when I've asked three times for it?" "_Hi garsong! sil voo plate_, where are those potatoes?" And so on all through dinner; while he appeared rather to enjoy the merriment he caused, thinking he must have said something really good, although of course he hadn't the slightest idea what it was!

To sketchers and lovers of contrasts a visit to Fuenterabia cannot fail to prove a treat, and a better specimen of an old Spanish town it would be difficult to find. The only convenient train in the morning thither leaves early, and although we preferred driving, we made an early start too, in order to spend a long day. Having accomplished the eight miles and arrived at St. Jean de Luz, we had still a distance of 8 miles more before reaching Hendaye, the frontier town. There were occasional pretty bits of country to be seen, especially in the vicinity of Urrugne (10-1/2 miles), a village in which the Spanish element is noticeable, but the succession of poplars along the roadside all the way--more or less--to Behobie, was very monotonous. At Behobie (14-1/2 miles) the road to Hendaye leaves the direct route to Spain and branches off to the right. Following this, we were soon at the frontier. Hendaye (16 miles) is celebrated for its cognac and a certain liquor called by its name, as well as for an excellent beach and bathing establishment, beyond which there is little worth mention.

Having put up the horses at the Hotel de France, we repaired to the jetty, where happily the tide was high enough to permit of our being ferried across, instead of carried on the back of some brawny (and garlicky) native. As we were half-rowed, half-poled, down the narrow winding channel of the Bida.s.soa, we were once again indubitably "'twixt France and Spain," though the vicinity of the ancient Spanish town, and the lazy sentinels on the river's bank, made the scene much more Spanish than French. Once landed, we strolled slowly across the "_Embarcadero_," and entered the town by the ancient gateway. The princ.i.p.al street, which we then ascended, is indeed picturesque. The miniature verandahs and overhanging roofs of the houses, the latter approaching so close to one another as nearly to permit of shaking hands across; an occasional bright costume appearing at the window or on the verandah; the old church higher up the street, and the battered "Castilio" at the top, furnished ample materials for a very pleasant sketch. The church is well worth a visit, being very old and of interesting appearance. Owing to its sheltered position it did not suffer nearly as much as most of the buildings from the missiles in the late Carlist war. We pa.s.sed several groups of lazy soldiers, who leered at us offensively and made some uncomplimentary remarks, but otherwise--beyond the fact that the women stared a good deal when Miss Blunt attempted to sketch--we met with no discourtesy. The new casino proves an "extra" attraction in summer, but it is to be regretted that, for gambling purposes alone, many people should be drawn to this quaint old-world town, so worthy of a visit for its picturesqueness alone.

At the time when we wished to visit San Sebastien we learnt that the "Citadol" was closed to visitors, owing to some foreigner having foolishly lighted his cigar near a powder magazine. As the "Citadol" is the chief attraction, we penned a highly polite letter to his Excellency the Governor of the Province, asking for his permission to visit this otherwise forbidden ground.

We received a most gracious reply, to the effect that, whenever we liked to come, the place was at our disposal, and accordingly selected the first fine morning for our trip. On this occasion we formed a party large enough for a coach and four, but were very careful to avoid a repet.i.tion of our Betharram experiences.

We discovered no new features of interest as far as Behobie, but the day being very clear, we had a fine view of the distant Pyrenees and the Spanish coastline from various points along the road. Pa.s.sing through Behobie's narrow streets and crossing the Bida.s.soa by the strong stone bridge, we were only a minute "'twixt France and Spain,"

and entering Irun found ourselves in the hands of the Customs authorities. Having "nothing to declare" and nothing contraband undeclared, we were soon permitted to proceed, although our "cocher"

almost immediately afterwards stopped to change horses. Accordingly, we walked on up a pretty lane with ivied walls, near which--in the background--stood an old church. Finding a comfortable place for lunching in the vicinity, we awaited the arrival of the coach, and discussed our hamper before again moving on. Not having too much time, however, we did not delay long, and remounting, bowled merrily along to "Pasages." This was once the safest port on the coast, and in fact is yet; but the acc.u.mulation of sand, &c., at the entrance, has made it practically useless for any ships but those of very light draught. It forms a tidal basin, and houses are built on its sides, along one of which the road for some time skirts, but afterwards a.s.sumes a straight course and descends into San Sebastien. From the highest point of the road, before we commenced descending, we had a splendid view of the town, which looked busy, imposing, and clean.

When once inside, we drove to the Hotel de Londres; then crossed the street to the guardhouse, presented our "permit" for the "Citadol," and after a little fuss and _red tapeism_--such as Spaniards, even more than Frenchmen, dearly love--under the guidance of a soldier, commenced the ascent. How many times we presented our "carta" we know not, but at every turn some official was ready to ask to see it, and this business took almost as long as the actual mounting, though in the end we did manage to reach the summit. The view from thence was very fine, extending for miles in all directions, but after enjoying it for a short time, we descended to visit the graves of the English who fell in defending the place in 1836 against the Carlists, which lie in a little cemetery on one side of the hill. Maiden-hair ferns grow among the rocks by the path, which from time to time discloses views of the town and the pretty rocky island--Santa Clara--in the bay. After descending, we had time for a glimpse at the interior of the church of Santa Maria and the bull-ring, as well as a stroll along the beautiful beach, before it was necessary to start homewards, and when at length we were deposited in safety at our hotel, we all acknowledged that the day had been a very pleasant one indeed! With such enjoyable drives, and the tennis, and the ever-changing sea, we never found time hang heavily on our hands; and if we had, there was the little railway to carry us into the bustle of Bayonne for shopping or listening to the band, where _ennui_ would speedily have been driven away. Speaking of this railway reminds us that at Anglet, one of the stations on the line, there is a very interesting convent of "Silent Sisters" within easy access from the train. Although it is a sad sight to see all these women deluded with the notion that their sins, however great, could not be pardoned without such a bitter expiation; yet the order and cleanliness that is patent everywhere, and the gardens and greenhouses, lend an attraction to the place in spite of its melancholy a.s.sociations. [Footnote: Visitors are expected to purchase a specimen of the needlework exhibited to them, or at any rate to put a donation in the convent box.]

When June has succeeded May, Biarritz begins to empty of its English and American visitors, to give place in July to the Spaniards and French. On the 15th of that month prices go up with a bound, often becoming double and even treble what they were during the winter season. This is the time to stroll on the "Plage" and watch the bathing; to note the varied costumes, see the merry faces, and listen to the children's laughter, mingled with the splash of the waves. But we are only treating of spring, so must not encroach upon summer; but--following our countrymen's example--bid "Au revoir" to Biarritz before the glare forces us to parade the streets with blue spectacles and double-lined parasols.

CHAPTER XIV.

CONCLUSION.

"Where duty leads"--Resorts in the Eastern Pyrenees--Caen--"Riou"--Our paths diverge--"The Lesson of the Mountains"--Farewell.

Although we have in reality come to the end of our tour, and have consequently no more places to discourse on, it may be suggested that our task is but badly ended if we omit to mention such resorts as Amelie, Vernet, Molitg, and other spots, which, if of less importance than those we have visited, are nevertheless _in_ the Pyrenees.

That they are _in_ the Pyrenees cannot be disputed, but being in the eastern portion, the way of reaching them from the resorts among the western heights is so roundabout, that but few people would think of visiting both. However, for the information of any intending travellers, we have collected what reliable facts we could about the above-mentioned places--as well as Capvern, Preste-les-Bains, Panticosa, and a few others--which will be found in the general information [Footnote: See Appendix A.] at the end of the volume, and will, we trust, be of service.