Part 36

Interlachen, with which we had many associations, is a charming spot at which to remain for some time, and I arranged for my family to stay at the Jungfrau Hotel _en pension_, which they did for above two months, and during part of this time I went home on a flying visit. It is an admirable centre for excursions, while the place itself is, especially in the height of the season, exceedingly attractive. The hotels are for the most part situated on the north side of the high road conducting in one direction to Thun and Berne, and in the other to Brienz, Meyringen, and Lucerne, always full of life. Though the hotels are large, they retreat from the road, and have not the towny look which large hotels generally have. The trees, and the flowers, and the pretty chalets, and the wood–carving shops, and the background of mountains—all confer a rustic look, as seen from the highway, which is greatly enhanced by the large open field so properly kept open upon the south side of the road, lined by fine old trees, between which one catches sight of the picturesque church and the equally picturesque houses at some distance, and behind them the ranges of green mountains and the conical tree–covered hill called the Jungfraublick; but beyond all, the grand view of the majestic snow–clad Jungfrau itself, fifteen miles off, seen at the termination of the magnificent vista afforded by the gap in the mountains which lie between it and Interlachen; by a road through which Grindelwald, Lauterbrunnen, the Wengern Alp, and the Murren are reached—all glorious excursions.

Then there are the Lakes of Thun and Brienz, both affording delightful steamboat trips, and in the locality round about innumerable walks. However, like most places among the mountains, great changes in the weather often take place, and frequent thunderstorms with drenching rain, intermingled with glowing hot days, are experienced. We had a fair share of both.

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When I thought to make a run to Scotland, I found that leaving by a train to Berne at 9.50 A.M., and proceeding by Neufchatel and Dijon, I could get to Paris by 5.35 next morning, stopping two hours by the way at Berne. On the return journey, leaving Paris at 7.40 evening, I did not get to Interlachen till near dinner–time next day, being compelled to spend four hours again at Berne. These stoppages are annoying to those who have been at Berne before, and, as a train leaves just immediately antecedent to the arrival of the train from the north, they might at least in that case easily be avoided. But probably the intention is to compel a short stay at Berne.

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We had heard Chateau d’Œx highly spoken of as a pleasant, cool retreat, where we might be invigorated by Highland breezes for the coming winter.

Having engaged a carriage for this rather long drive, we left Interlachen on 28th August about 7.30 A.M., and had a splendid but cruelly hot day. The distance, I should imagine, might possibly be fifty miles, if so much; for certainly we did not go on an average at a greater speed than five miles per hour,—considerable part of the way being indeed just crawling up the hill. After leaving Interlachen by the south bank of Lake Thun, we soon got into the shade of the hill, and it was chilly, causing all wraps to be in requisition. Reaching high ground over Spiez, we took our last view of Interlachen in the distance, with the smoke of morning fires hanging over it. From this point the road lay in a long valley between two ranges of hills, which, after those we had been so long looking upon, did not appear high. Everything was now in bright sunshine, and the valley and the slopes were so verdant and luxuriant as to make the drive lovely, though scarcely, except at one or two parts, could it be called grand. We passed many little villages, all looking so sleepy in the sun, but evidently prosperous. Soon after twelve we stopped at the little town of Boltigen, to rest the horses for two hours and dine at the hotel with the sign, life–size, of the gilded bear, kept by a pleasant young woman, who strove to make us comfortable. The road after Boltigen was still up hill till we reached a point whence descent is made to Sarnen, the centre of the famous Gruyère cheese district, and soon after we came in sight of Chateau d’Œx, with its picturesque church, formerly a castle, on the top of an isolated conical hill, from which the small town takes its name. This chateau or church at once arrests the eye, and gives character to the place; but the town itself lies at the foot of the eminence, and is 3260 feet above the sea. Bold mountains, well wooded, rise on every side, and are probably, some of them, 5000 or 6000 feet high—all contributing to fill a considerable river in the valley a good way below. There are several hotels in the town, and chalet pensions on the slopes above, the pension in all being amazingly moderate, somewhat upon the scale which formerly prevailed throughout Switzerland. The Hotel Berthod, at which we stopped, accommodates about eighty people, and is built of wood, the appointments being somewhat rough, though clean. The season is short, but the hotel is for part of the time full. As it is so much out of the beaten track, the society is probably more select than it sometimes is in other parts of Switzerland. For the active, there are abundance of nice walks in the immediate neighbourhood. The air, though in day–time hot, was invigorating; but as we were getting near the end of the season, it had a tendency at night at this elevation to get cold. We therefore only spent eight days there, though very pleasantly.

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On leaving Chateau d’Œx, we took the diligence to the pretty large town of Aigle, and to reach it had slowly to ascend the mountains to an altitude of between 5000 and 6000 feet. It was a most charming ride or walk, and I got out and walked several miles ahead of the lumbering conveyance. The descent from the summit of the pass continues to Sepey, a village where we halted for lunch, and said to be another charming centre, with pension upon the same moderate scale as we had just experienced. The views here were very fine, but the place itself did not strike me as so desirable as Chateau d’Œx, although it has the advantage of being more accessible. From Sepey we descended to Aigle, where there is a large hotel or hydropathic establishment just out of the town. The diligence deposited us at the railway station nearly an hour previous to the train to Montreux on the Lake of Geneva being due.

From its comparatively sheltered situation, Montreux is much frequented during winter months, and it is a little warmer than Geneva or Lausanne; but during part of the winter the temperature of Montreux is, I believe, lower than that of London and Edinburgh, so that possibly it may therefore not be suitable as a winter resort for those having delicate constitutions. The picturesque and interesting Castle of Chillon lies about two miles off, nearer the upper end of the lake. Our bedroom windows commanded the view of the lake, together with the Dent du Midi in the distance, so that the prospect was always pleasing. Montreux is rather too much of a town, and the walls and houses shut out almost completely the sight of the lake from the road or street. The adjoining town of Clarens, nearly united to it, appears to be, on the whole, nicer for summer residence.

After being at Montreux for a few days, we left by the steamboat, and had a lovely sail to Geneva, where, in the afternoon, just before dinner, we obtained a good glimpse of Mont Blanc in the distance unveiled. Besting one night, we proceeded to Lyons by train next day, and were once more in France.

XVIII.

_BIARRITZ._

I HAD thought it might have been possible to arrange for proceeding across country from Lyons to Biarritz by a westerly line, say by Clermont, instead of by the Mediterranean line, which we had already travelled. But although there are lines in that direction, it seemed extremely difficult to make them fit in so that we could, upon stopping at any place, obtain next day a train at a suitable hour for prosecuting the journey. Not only so, but being quite out of the ordinary beat of tourists, and especially of English tourists, one could not possibly rely on getting such hotel accommodation by the way as is desirable and is procurable on the beaten tracks. I therefore gave up this thought, though not till after some laborious studies of the _Livret Chaix_, and after consulting Cook’s agent at Geneva, who, I found, did not issue tickets towards Biarritz. There seemed no alternative, therefore, but to go by the Chemin de Fer du Midi, the Paris and Marseilles Railway. We had hoped, it being the 12th September, to have seen the Rhone in all its summer beauty, but were disappointed. The day was dull and misty when we started, and soon after it began to rain; so that we could see little, and everything looked dismal, whereas in summer sunshine the prospect is no doubt very lovely. Before we reached Avignon (in six hours ten minutes) the rain ceased. We stopped a night there (see p. 135), and had fortunately good weather. Next afternoon brought us to Nismes, two hours distant from Avignon by rail; and after another night in our old quarters there, and seeing places this time in sunshine instead of shrouded by the mistral, which prevailed during our visit in the previous year, we left at mid–day for Toulouse, arriving at this large city about eleven o’clock at night. There is not another train by which we could have proceeded from Nismes to Toulouse during day, nor is there any place nearer Toulouse where it is desirable to stop except Montpellier; but Montpellier is only an hour distant from Nismes, and better adapted, therefore, for stoppage coming from Toulouse on the return journey, and on our return journey we accordingly spent a night there. Cette, where we changed carriages and were long detained for no apparent good reason, and where there are extensive salines or manufactories of salt, lies very low and is marshy. It is therefore considered a most unhealthy spot, not to be thought of for sleeping at. The journey to Cette is not particularly interesting. Beyond it to Toulouse the country is more inviting. The distance is about 136 miles, and the train most tiresomely stopped several minutes at every little station, twenty–nine or thirty in all, with an extra halt at Narbonne, amounting to twenty minutes, where a hasty though acceptable dinner waited the arrival of the train. The more interesting part of the road was passed in the dark.

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We had been recommended by fellow–passengers to the Hotel Sacaron at Toulouse, and found it remarkably comfortable; but to all appearance it was then out of season, as we seemed to be the only guests, except it might be our old friends the mosquitoes, who, paying nothing but penalties, were unceasing in their attentions, and from whom we might have suffered more than we did had we not been well protected by the snowy–white mosquito curtains. Our daughter, however, had a long watch, and discovered in the morning her forehead was jewelled in thirty–two holes.

Leaving next morning for Pau by the 11 o’clock train, we had no opportunity of getting more than a glimpse at this important provincial town. The houses are large, and the streets—such of them as we saw—are wide. The railway station is handsome and tidy. We arrived at Pau about 5 P.M., by a quick or express train, having only stopped at eleven out of thirty–four stations. Notwithstanding it took us six hours to go little more than 130 miles, being at the rate of 22 miles per hour. However, it was an improvement upon the previous day’s travelling. The only other trains by which we could have gone from Toulouse to Pau were two,—one which left at midnight, getting in at 10 o’clock next morning; and another which left at 5.20 A.M., getting to Pau at half–past 1. I mention these facts just to show that every consideration is not paid here, and elsewhere (and it is better here than elsewhere) on French lines, to the convenience of travellers. Apart from the disagreeableness of starting at such inhuman hours, to travel by the midnight train would be to miss for great part of the way the view of the most interesting scenery along the railway route, which skirts the Pyrenees.

These grand mountains we saw now for the first time. Near to Lourdes the railway approaches them closely, and the church of Lourdes, to which it has been customary of recent years to make pilgrimages, is not far from the railway. It rises loftily from the ground far below. A crowd of pilgrims was marching towards its supposed miraculous shrines. The scenery about Lourdes is very picturesque, and the railway to Pau for a great part of the way runs parallel to and overlooks a mountain river, apparently the Adour, very much resembling at this part such rivers as the Garry in Perthshire: a clear–flowing stream, descending through a rocky bed, with many a rushing fall or rapid between converging rocks.

We arrived at Pau on the Saturday afternoon, and left it on the following Tuesday morning—just having time to rest. I reserve, therefore, any observations regarding Pau till our return journey, when we spent a longer time there. The railway ride (between sixty and seventy miles) from Pau to Bayonne is very beautiful, part of the way being by the banks of the Adour, which, as it approaches Bayonne, becomes wide, and is, indeed, navigable for forty miles up. We were advised to book to Bayonne, and hire thence to Biarritz; but I found the fares asked for the drive so excessive, occasioned, as we afterwards learnt, by races being then held at Bayonne, that we took the train just about to start on to Biarritz. The station La Negresse proved, however, to be two miles out of Biarritz, and only one carriage was waiting disengaged. For this short distance I was charged 8 francs; certainly exorbitant, but during the season at Biarritz everything is very high, and the races had then taken off the usual supply of vehicles, so that we were at the mercy of the gorgeously–attired coachman, who drove us in by a pretty rural road between trees and hedges. In all likelihood he had driven a party to join the train we had just left, so that we may have been indebted even to this chance for finding any conveyance waiting. I do not know why the railway company laid their line so far away from the town, unless it was that they did not appreciate the importance of the station. As an attempt to remedy the evil, a short line intended to connect Bayonne specially with Biarritz has been made; but though the Biarritz terminus is tolerably near the centre of the town, the other terminus does not enter Bayonne, and is a long way from the general railway terminus. It may be useful for excursionists, but it is useless for other traffic, and I should hardly think it would pay.

We had been recommended to the Hotel de Paris, near the rocks, and, with some difficulty, the town being then very full, got accommodation in it; rough enough at the first, but after two nights we obtained a change to first–floor rooms, fairly good. The hotel is situated in a public square planted with trees, the north end being open, overlooking the sea. Here the band played every evening, Sunday included, from half–past 8 till 10 o’clock during the season, making our rooms for the time very noisy; but as our windows looked right down upon the seated enclosure, brightly lighted up with numerous lamps, it was a little variety and divertisement to watch the gay crowd with whom it was at first filled, who paid for admission half a franc each. The charges in the hotels and for lodgings at Biarritz are said to be, during the summer season, immoderately high, and to cost in some cases as much as £5 per day. I cannot help thinking, however, that there must be a little exaggeration in these statements, or some extravagance on the part of the visitor so charged. We were ourselves charged at no excessive rate. The Angleterre and Grand Hotels, with superior arrangements, I believe, charged a good deal more. But there are other and more moderate hotels, such as the Hotel de France and the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, which, however, are both in the town itself, and not so well situated as those I have already named.

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We remained at Biarritz till 13th October, nearly four weeks, and enjoyed it very much, although for a considerable part of the time, particularly during the earlier part, east and north–east winds, said to be unusual, prevailed, rendering the place for the time being cold, and giving us a taste of what winter weather is there, a visitor informing us that he had not found it colder in winter. If, however, it be no colder on winter days than what we did experience, it could hardly be described as trying for persons in good, strong health; but the prevailing winds are west and south–west, both mild and salubrious, though sometimes the south wind blows, and brings with it, in the hot months, the parching heat of the sirocco.

Biarritz is a place of very recent growth. Formerly nobody but English people, for the sake of the bathing it afforded, frequented it. Afterwards the civil war of succession in Spain brought many of the best Spanish families to live in it as a frontier town and among others the Countess de Montijo and her two daughters, one of whom became the wife of Napoleon III. Her fondness for the place induced the Emperor to build the Villa Eugenie as a marine residence, and so, practically, made this delightful watering–place.

There may be said to be two bays, one north and one south; the first lying between the lighthouse and the pier, and the second upon the Basque beach. In the centre of the north bay the Villa Eugenie reposes on a rocky eminence, 40 or 50 feet above the shore to the east of the town, and is seen from many points. East and west of it, the sloping beach, a fine sandy one, stretches away on the right hand to the steep rocks, about 70 feet high, under the lighthouse, resting on a jutting promontory forming the eastern enclosing arm, to the rocks on the west, among which, looking down the small harbour, may be seen the town lying above and back from them. Westward from the Villa Eugenie, perhaps about half a mile distant, an imposing range of lofty hotels—the Grand Hotel and the Angleterre, with the Casino between them, all towering many storeys high—meets the view, and beyond them we see the spire of a large town church; and then still beyond, outward to the sea, running to a point, a range of high rocks or small hills which enclose the bay on the west. Some of the hilly rocks are surmounted by houses, and one prominent one by a semaphore or signal station. The rocks afford some shelter to the beach from the fury of the waves, but are themselves gradually giving way. No doubt at one time they formed a strong natural breakwater and better barrier, and extended well out into the ocean; but year by year they are succumbing to the force of the Atlantic and the storms which visit the Bay of Biscay.

In the centre of the north bay, and to the westward of the Villa Eugenie, a short promenade has been formed, on or adjoining which the great bathing establishment has been erected, the beach here being called the Grande Plage, in contradistinction to the other beaches. From the west end of it the road winds up below the Casino and past the Angleterre, and along by the top of the rocks overlooking the harbour, and through a tunnel under one of the hills to what was intended to be a breakwater, but is now a sort of pier, at which no vessels ever lie, becoming, therefore, only a place people stroll to in moderately calm weather, to watch the waves dashing upon and over the rocks in wild beauty. In rough weather no one dare venture. From this pier the road winds back towards the town and southward round the Port–Vieux, and through a gap in the rocks to the sandy Basque beach, which extends away southward for miles, the rocks rising perpendicularly from it, perhaps 80 feet high, the curve of the rocks forming the south bay. From any of the heights about the Port–Vieux or the Basque, one can see along the coast 20 miles to the entrance of the Bidassoa (the boundary there between France and Spain), and then on from that to the coast–line of Spanish mountains (offering a strong barrier against the aggression of the sea) for at least 40 miles farther, some even saying, though I should doubt it, seen 100 miles altogether. Southward the range of the Pyrenees bounds the horizon, the eye being caught by the Trois Couronnes or three–cornered or peaked mountain, rising boldly as commander of this battalion of the great guardian mountain chain.

The town of Biarritz bears every mark of its rapid construction. The streets are very irregular, the houses having been placed just any way and according to any plan, at the mere caprice of the builders. One leading street, lined by trees, passes through it to the Port–Vieux. In the centre of the town this widens to what may be called a large square or place, whence the omnibuses or diligences start, and where carriages can be had for hire. The Hotel de Ville has been built at one end of this place, which, in the height of the season, must be full of life. The principal shops are in its neighbourhood, some of them exhibiting in their windows articles of lace worn by the Spanish ladies, and Spanish shawls, sword–sticks, stilettoes, as well as other things of a more agreeable use. Itinerant vendors, too, of Spanish goods are always going about during the season, sometimes gaily dressed in a sort of showy fancy Spanish costume; but when the summer season is over, they migrate to Pau, and even to Cannes, Mentone, and other winter–season places, where we frequently saw the same men and women so occupied we had previously noticed at Biarritz. Some shopkeepers from Nice open establishments during the season at Biarritz, and close them when it is over. Besides many good shops, there is a regular market, though of small size. The town covers a considerable extent of ground, and new houses are being constantly built. The ordinary population now exceeds 4000. The English church had been found too small for its occupants, and a large new one was, while we were there, in course of completion.

Many nice–looking villas have been planted on the outskirts of the town, particularly upon and in the direction of the road to Bayonne. The heights above the Basque beach are likewise studded by various distinctive houses; and about a mile from town, isolated from everything about, there is a house belonging to Lord Ernest Bruce, built in the Moorish style with a glass dome, and surrounded by a garden.