Neath Southern skies, a tale of Biarritz and the Pyrenees

Front matter

I I I I 'Neath Southern Skies, A Tale of Biarritz and the Pyrenees, BY W. Graham. LONDON : W. POOLE, 12, PATERNOSTER ROW. Dartford : Printed by J. SNOWDEN, High Street. "AVIS AU LECTEUR." fHE plea of youth has never met with much success from Byron's " Hours of Idleness " to the present day, nor do I desire to curry favour for any attempt of mine either under that pretext or any other. I feel it nevertheless just to myself to remark that this book was written a year ago when I was only two-and-twenty, and as my career is not destined to be a hterary one, there may be much in it betraying the amateur. The first fact I cannot regret : youth may be a fault, but alas ! it is one which corrects itself only too soon. Lest the charge of cynicism be urged I may add I have a great dislike to humbug and cant, and that in my opinion it is high time to turn our eyes on real suffering, as enough centuries have been expended in whining over imaginary woe.

Chapter I

" That tocsin of the soul, the dinner bell." — Byron. "JTT T was the evening of a lovely day in March, not W an Enghsh March day, far from it, but a March day at Biarritz, which is a very different matter. Though almost as hot as an English July, yet a fresh breeze blew from the Atlantic, and the hushed boom of the waves sounded along the shore. One of those perfect days whose long dreamy hours wake in the heart that vague, mysterious longing, that longing for pleasures not of this earth, sought, sighed, toiled for, perhaps through a lifetime, but never, never found. Let those who will sing the praises of the Riviera, give me the httle town on Atlantic cliffs, with the blue Spanish mountains in the distance. Its surroundings may be bleak, but is not the wonderful ocean enough ? It is enough for me : I love it in every aspect, whether its great breakers come tumbling in with all the force of the Atlantic, or if lying still, calm and smiling, mystic as a young girl's innocence, sweet as the first kiss of love.

Table d'hote is also not a bad thing, tho' not so romantic as the last two articles ; stiU we do not often meet with a superfluity of innocence even in young girls now-a-days, and though the first kiss of love is, doubtless, very delightful, they may pall upon one in the plural number : but we cannot do without our dinner. They are, moreover, extremely good at Biarritz. Let us look in on one. Scene, a spacious and handsome room ; guests all seated at tables, all merry and all English, the room as free from French as if it were the dining room of an hotel at the lakes or the Highlands. The hundred or so guests, with the exception of some new arrivals just come by the Paris train, are all gossiping together with that freedom which is produced by the delightful intimacies of such a place as Biarritz.

" Have all the new arrivals come into the room, ' garcpong ' ? " demands pompously in French a typical John Bull. " I cannot 'vorstand you, sare ; pray speak in ze English, I should 'vorstand you moch bettare," rephes the " garcong " to whom the question is addressed. The John Bull growls, and, I regret to say, swears, then on couching his request for information in that language which was not disdained by Milton and Burke, the German waiter replies, " No, there is yet one young gentlemans, ver fine young man. He take a bath ! " he adds — to the waiter personally baths ap pear, alas ! to have been unknown from his youth up. Our countryman seems not much pleased at this in formation, for he is paying great attention to a young lady on his right, on which damsel's right there is a vacant place which, thinks he, this ver fine young man may occupy.

None of the men who over-heard the speech seem particularly delighted either. Men do not like "ver fine young men," and ladies, curiously enough, do. Can there be any connection between these two facts ? No ! perish the thought. Let us take a glance at some guests of the Hotel Barillon who are destined to take part in this narrative. On the right hand side of the table on coming into the room are seated the family of Grays, which consists of Mr. Gray, his wife, and two daughters, very pretty, piquant e-looking Enghsh girls, as alike as two peas ; two men of different nationalities are doing their best to make themselves agreeable to the two sisters, and both, though as different as two men can be, resemble in the fact of each being an oddity. The one is a German, the other an Englishman ; the former em phasizes almost every remark he makes by adding thereto the expression, " I tell you candidlee," and, in common with many persons of diminutive stature, has a great idea of his own importance ; he is a short fair man, with a hght beard, speaks very fast, and from the half-stern, half-careworn look which his countenance wears, one would think that the destinies of the world hung upon his shoulders, and that the burden is rather too much for him ; the Englishman looks what indeed he is, the mildest of the mild, a heavenly smile plays sweetly on his angelic hps as he rephes to a remark of the elder Miss Gray's ; " Oh ! very much so, very much so indeed."

Whatever remark one chooses to make to Mr. Brown is pretty sure to be received with a " very much so." The opportunity is now vouchsafed to him of making use of it, as Miss Gray has just said that Biarritz will be emptying out in another month, and she is very sorry to think of leaving, to which that gentleman rephes, " Oh ! very much so, very much so indeed, I am sure you will be." Both Mr. Brown and Mr. Meyer are great admirers of the Miss Grays ; the little rogues encourage their respectful attentions, and many a laugh they have over them too. The next personage to be described is Miss Lascelles, a young lady stopping at the Hotel with her mother, an invalid, who rarely comes to table d'hote. Miss Lascelles is a tall, slender girl, her figure perfect, her face a delicate oval, cast in a framework of glossy-black hair, resem bles that of a Greek statue in repose, though when in conversation, or if agitated by any emotion, it can 'NEATH SOUTHEEN SKIES. show forth the most animated and interesting expres sion ; beneath all the voluptuous beauty of Edith Lascelles' face there is, however, a certain hardness, a certain sternness.

One can observe on looking closely at her countenance, for at first its exquisite beauty would merely fascinate, that it expresses a nature capable of great things, whether for good or evil ; a nature that can love much, but perhaps hate even more. The company of guests seated at table d'hote have been gossiping together for some time, about an indefi nite number of delightful projects; trips to Pau, Spain, to the Pyrenees, pic-nics, hunting, &c, when they suddenly stop, for in walks a young man, the ver fine young man, whose appearance seemed to have made such an impression on the waiter ; and now, apparently, produces a similar effect on the guests, for, as has been said, conversation stops at his entrance, and every one turns their eyes in the direction of the new arrival ; he is a tall, slender young man, graceful in his build, with dark hair and complexion, his countenance wears an appearance of the most complete calm and repose, which contrasts strangely with the glitter of the fathomless star-like eyes, lighting up the face like lamps : the mouth firm and resolute, is partly shaded by a slight moustache, and a curious expression, half good humoured smile, half sneer, plays constantly about the corners of the mouth.

It is difficult to say whether the face be good or not, but it is, doubtless, a remarkably striking face ; one that would immediately claim attention anywhere, and that once seen could not easily be forgotten. It may be good or it may be e**il, but it is altogether fascinating. Quite unconscious, or in any case regardless of the remarks passed on him, the interesting youth sits down next to Miss Lascelles, and begins attacking dinner with a remarkably good appetite. Reader, are you a frequenter of foreign tables d'hote ? If so, doubtless you know what it is to be placed next to a person whom you have never met before, and to whom you wish to make yourself agreeable, but have an objection to make use of the usual trite remarks about the weather, and such profoundly interesting topics, and yet are at a standstill for others.

If you are a shy and retiring individual, it will, probably, be some time before you make the plunge, and if your neighbour be a lady, she will probably make it for you. In the present case Arthur Fortescue, for such was our young friend's name, opens a conversation with Miss Las celles with a remark of much originality, that " the weather is very different here to in England." A fact surely not unprecedented in the South of France. Everything must have a beginning however, and before long the two young people are engaged in a most animated conversation, which continues till table d'hote is over. Upon the party retiring to the salon, Arthur Fortescue takes a place next to Miss Lascelles in order to continue the conversation. Fortescue was a young man of a by no means ordinary disposition ; he was now twenty-three years of age, and, though possessed of great talents, had frittered away the greater part of his time in frivolous amuse ments, varied by fits of close application to study.

His manners were exquisitely polished, there was, in fact, a great deal of the old Grand Seigneur stamp about him, which one so rarely meets with now, and he could combine a frank heartiness with the most perfect dignity and grace. It is almost needless to say that this charm of manner rendered him a great favourite, and particularly so with the fair sex. Although young Fortescue had misspent much of life, yet he had always been a keen observer, and had read largely. The principal effects which this had worked had. been to give his already strongly sceptical tendencies a yet more decided turn towards scepticism, in almost everything. Far from unkind in disposition, no one could be more ready to pity and alleviate material distress. Did a beggar come to him in the street, or a friend lose his health or his money, Fortescue was always ready with a kind word of en couragement, and help as gracefully proffered as if the recipient were intended to think that the obligation was conferred by him and not received.

In one thing this youth certainly fulfilled the injunctions of Scripture, he kept his good deeds strictly secret, and shunned all mention of them with an almost morbid sensitiveness. On the other hand, for less material sorrows he had but little pity. At a new example of the old truth that " men were deceivers ever," his beautiful lips would only curve in a contemptuous smile, and he would perhaps remark, " Pooh ! women are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves," or something to that effect, and a friend's tale of woe — of sufferings endured through pangs of love would be almost the only topic of conversation to which Arthur Fortescue would not prove a patient and satisfactory listener. Life he relished with that wonderful power of enjoyment which can only be felt by a vigorous, and yet highly wrought, nervous organization; but he cultivated calm with all the assiduity of an ancient epicurean.

Fortescue's great principle of life was " nothing can be good which is destructive of calm," and this kept him free from many of the coarse dissi pations of youth. When charged hy intimate friends with spending time unprofitably, he would reply — " Pray let me enjoy travel and change of scene, and the smile of women when I am young ; when I grow older I shall, perhaps, show you all that I can do rather more than you give me credit for."

Chapter II

" Very often in the midst of their talk he would break off to try to understand what it was the waves were always saying, and would rise up in his couch to look towards that invisible region far away." — Dickens' "Dombey and Son." fUCH was the youth introduced in the last chapter. A day or two sufficed to make him at home in the hotel. We will skip the intermediate space, and request the reader to imagine Arthur Fortescue standing on the steps of the Hotel Barillon waiting for Miss Lascelles to come for a walk on the shore, with a knot of men about who envied him the privilege. Edith Lascelles was one of those unfortunate beings who have never known much sympathy or kindness. She was an only child ; her father had died at a very early period in her life, and her mother was such a confirmed invalid that she was unable to bestow that amount of care upon her daughter which is so necessary to a beautiful girl at that critical age, between sixteen and two-and-twenty.

Of society she had seen very little, and that had not filled her with much admiration. The homage of men she had always received, but their frivolous conversation had simply wearied her. Now, if young ladies find the flatteries of men wearisome, the conversation of their own sex is tolerably sure to prove still more so ; such was the case with Miss Lascelles, she therefore took refuge in books, and was called proud and reserved. At twenty years of age she was, in fact, contemptuous of admiration and of nearly everything else to an extent by no means common at that early epoch. In the month Miss Lascelles had spent at Biarritz she had, as may be imagined, not done much to obtain popularity, for in the constant scandal of the ladies in which our country-women excel all others she took neither part nor lot, while the men were treated by her always with perfect politeness, but yet with a chilling hauteur amounting almost to scorn.

With Fortescue the case had been entirely the reverse, and in two days' time he was equally popular whether playing billiards and consuming brandies and syphons with the men, flirting with the young ladies and flattering the old ones, or playing games with the children. Miss Lascelles, with her acute penetration, saw at once that Fortescue was a being of very different stamp to the usual run of young would-be Don Juans she had hitherto met, while the respectful attention with which he listened to all her opinions, and the occasionally brilliant remarks made by him upon literature and subjects which interested her at once gave him a high place in her favour. The night previous they had arranged to take a long walk, together, on the following morning, and much to everyone's surprise (for no one would have dreamed of the haughty Miss Lascelles thus honouring any man), the two strolled down to the beach together.

It was ten o'clock in the morning and the fresh sea air had that crisp feeling which is so delightful at Biarritz ; the waves were tumbling in to the shore, making lazy dreamy music, and the sun lit up the distant billows, speeding on their way to the coasts of the New World, while two young people in the first flush of youth walked together on the shore of the mystic sea, absorbed in the first dawn of an emotion sweeter to them than all the glory of nature around. A beautiful picture, but yet one that concealed a terrible irony. The great mysterious ocean, the blue sky speckled with fleecy white clouds, and the brilliant sun shining in all its dazzling glory on the waves, contrasted strangely with the young couple on the shore. The former awful in the impen etrable mystery which overhangs nature — the young lovers happy, careless, powerless, and blind.

Ah ! could not the sea have told of the fallen empires whose shores it had lashed, and which had passed away like a dream ? Could it not have told them of young hearts once as high and brave as theirs, now stilled for ever 'neath its dark blue waves ? Could it not have told them that the music of its billows was for ever, but this " vanity, vanity, all is vanity ! " Might not the sun have spoken of the countless generations of men it had seen dance their phantom dance on earth, act out the same old story of love and hate, then disap pear like ripples on a stream ? " For verily man is but as grass, his strength is but labour and sorrow, so soon passeth he away and is gone." And could not the balmy air have whispered to the maiden, as it kissed her fair young face, that light as are the fleecy clouds which hover in the dark blue sky, yet are they not lighter than men's vows of love ?

But sun, sea, and sky were no more communicative than they usually are, and the two strolled past the sad relic of Second Empire great ness, talking happily together until they reached a small recess in the cliffs, at a great elevation and commanding a magnificent sea-view, completely seclu ded from the vulgar gaze by a great wall of rock. There are a thousand such nooks at Biarritz, and what can be sweeter than to he indolently among the rocks drinking in the salt sea breeze, watching the sea gulls, and dreaming happy golden dreams. Idleness you call it, but surely it does less harm than much energy. Ah ! there are worse ways, many worse ways of spending a day than alone with nature, or " With one fair spirit for her minister." " Now I think you should give me great credit for discovering this delightful spot, Mr. Fortescue," said Miss Lascelles as the two seated themselves.

"When T first came to Biarritz, I began looking about every where for a quiet place among the rocks where I might read and listen to the waves, and it was a long time before I could find one that realized my ideal, now this more than does so." " Oh, indeed it is a sweet spot," replied Arthur : "nothing is more delightful to me than to escape for a time from the world and submit humbly to be taught by the waves and the rocks." " Yes, for a time, for a time, Mr. Fortescue ; but I fear from what I have seen of you that you would make a very poor hermit. Now the character would suit me much better ; indeed I am afraid I am getting quite misanthropical, since the discovery of this place a day has never passed but I have come here alone, and spent hours reading and dreaming." " Well, Miss Lascelles, do you know that I consider it a very great compliment that you should break your rule and graciously permit me to be your companion.

Whenever I hear that wonderful sound of the sea," he continued, " I always think of little Doinbey, and his constant pitiful ' What is it the waves are saying ? ' " " Oh ! yes," answered Miss Lascelles, " is not that the question that men have been asking and asking ever since time was, and yet no one has received further answer than little Paul. If we could only discover the secret of the waves, would we not also learn the enigma of life and death ? " " I think we would," replied her companion, " and how little we do know comes over one so vividly and painfully by the sea. It always reminds me of the poem of Heine's about the man standing on the shore watching the stars, and waves, and sky, and waiting for them to tell him something, and then its terrible ending, ' Und ein narr wartet aus Antwort.' " "And a place like this brings the unfathomable mystery which veils nature and our own lives into such contrast with the empty frivolity of society.

The people down there," said Edith with a slight smile, pointing to Biarritz, " continue gossiping and dancing as if they were to hve for ever, and yet the eternities around us remind one day by day that we know not whence we come, whither we go, or even what we are." They talked on about a variety of subjects, and Miss Lascelles found that Arthur had much the same liter ary partiahties as she herself. They were both great admirers of Shelley, and the topic fascinated them as it does all his worshippers. " Ah ! I owe that sea a grudge for his death," said Fortescue, " what might not that man have done and written had he only lived — nine-and-twenty only, and such an immortality ! And how many others hke him may it not hold in its dark depths, though the waves ripple now so smilingly in the sun-beams !

" " What a beautiful life that was he and Byron led together in Switzerland and afterwards in Italy," said Edith; " those two oases in Byron's short stormy life seem to me wonderfully touching and sweet. Yes, he was always at his best with Shelley, and what a best was that too. It is strange the wonderful fascination which lingers round that man ; after all that we have heard about his affectations, and faults, and dissipations, we still sympathize with him and love him, though all personal interest in the other great men of his epoch, except Shelley, has vanished." " And those," Fortescue said, "even who were so hard and uncharitable to Byron in his life felt the remorse he speaks of as years rolled on. How true that verse of his proved — ' Yet I have lived and have not lived in vain : My brain may lose its force, my blood its fire.

And my frame perish e'en in conquering pain ; But there is that within me that shall tire Torture and time, and breath when I expire, Something unearthly that they deem not of, Like the remembered tones of a mute lyre, ShaU o'er their softened spirits sink and move, In hearts all rocky now, the late remorse of love.' Yes ! It was a hard lot, the lot of those two men, cut off just as their early faults and failings were giving way to a calmer judgment and better directed energies; but Byron atoned and more than atoned for all by his last heroic deeds : a few more years and Europe would have been at his feet, with all his faults and shortcomings forgotten ; and Shelley's heavenly benevolence would have weighed down the balance if a heavier number of transgressions than he ever was guilty of had been in the opposite scale."

Now, it is a humiliating confession to make, but sea air is as everyone knows very invigorating, and after all we are but mortal, even when talking of immortals. So after having been absent from the hotel about a couple of hours, Fortescue began to feel uncommonly hungry, and proposed that they should return to dejeuner. On reaching the hotel the first thing they beheld was the two Miss Grays, each seated with her respective admirer in the front, at some distance apart. The eldest, Ethel, telling Mr. Brown, probably the mildest man that ever lived, that he was so horrid and satirical she felt quite afraid of him : while the younger sister Elsie was listening apparently with great interest to a long and high-flown description of doughty deeds done by Herr Meyer, in the Franco-Prussian War, and which she took cum grano salis.

On the arrival of Miss Lascelles and Fortescue, the two girls sprang up with the greatest ardour, rushed at Miss Lascelles, threw their arms round her neck, and, in fact, behaved with the usual effusion which those young ladies in dulged in. Edith was a great favourite of theirs, no one knew how to make herself more agreeable than she, if she wished, and she entered into their pranks with as much amusement as they themselves. The Grays were almost the only people in the hotel with whom she was on a footing of intimacy. They were at present full of a project of a few days' tour in the Pyrenees, in which they wished Miss Lascelles and Fortescue to join them. Both readily consented, and the two admirers, as may be imagined, were not loath to join in the excursion. After the trip had been agreed on, however, and as the party were about to enter the hotel, the eldest Miss Gray said in an under tone, and with a roguish smile, to Fortescue, " I want to speak to you a minute, Mr. Fortescue."

Arthur, though he had only been a few days in the hotel, had already become the prime favourite and chief confidant of the Miss Grays. " Well, what diabolical act am I to aid and abet in your performing now, Miss Gray ? " said he, " always at your service. Shall I blow Brown's brains out or kiss you before his eyes ? I should not have the slightest objection to the latter, but name your deed, name your deed, and I am your man as usual." After a little hesitation and pretty confusion, Miss Gray explained that, " You know, Mr. Fortescue, we think it would be such fun to make Mr. Meyer and Mr. Brown horribly jealous. Don't you think you could get two nice good-looking men to come with us to the Pyrenees ? " " I have not the slightest doubt I could do so, with the greatest ease, if I held out the inducements of your society, but only think what my feelings would be if I saw you flirting with a nice good-looking young man.

No, I distinctly refuse to do any such thing, Miss Gray." " Now, don't be silly, Mr. Fortescue, you know your hands are quite full with Miss Lascelles. No one 'NEATH SOUTHEEN SKIES. ever has made such a success with her before, except ourselves, she has certainly always been very kind to us." " Very well then ! though I think you are extreme ly heartless, I will get Harry Devereux and George Branscombe, the two best looking and nicest fellows here, and if they do not stir the green-eyed monster in the breast of the sweet, but mild Brown, and the stern and warlike Meyer, I don't know who will. But you had better look out for yourselves. Miss Gray, let me offer you my arm," and they marched in to the twelve o'clock dejeuner.

Chapter III

" Blow many follies, how many crimes are committed to escape from the weight of time ! Now in travelling we multiply events and innocently ." — Rogees. fHE next day but one a merry party, consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Gray and the Miss Grays, Mrs. Lascelles and her daughter, Arthur Fortescue, Herr Meyer, and Mr. Brown, George Branscombe and Harry Devereux, started from the Hotel Barillon for the Pyrenees, amid cheers and kindly wishes for a pleasant trip and speedy return from a number of guests, who had gathered round the hotel entrance to see them off. What close intimacies spring up at these continental hotels ! People see more of one another in a few days than they would do under ordin ary circumstances in the same number of months, and life-long friendships are often made, starting as they do beneath such favourable auspices.

The dis advantage of wintering abroad is that, having once done so, whenever the days begin to shorten and the fogs of dear old England threaten imminent death from asphyxia, one longs again to imitate the swallows' flight ; and unfortunately human beings have ties keeping them beneath the leaden skies of their native land, which swallows have not. On reaching the station, Arthur, always ready to do any office of that description, offered to take tickets for the party, and booked for Argeles. While they are engaged in waiting for the train, suppose we describe shortly the characters whose acquaintance the reader has not yet made. Mr. Gray was what might be called an eminently jolly man, a tall, broad- 'NEATH SOUTHERN SKIES. shouldered Englishman, who united a great fund of dry humour and animal spirits to much knowledge of the world and experience.

Mrs. Gray was a lady who possessed a great charm and sweetness of manner, and still showed traces of much beauty in her youth ; the very essence of good nature and kindness, she could enjoy life with an almost girlish zest. Of Mrs. Las celles there is nothing of importance to be said — as has been already remarked, she was a great invalid. The two young Englishmen were as full of fun and animation as one could wish any two young English men to be. Arthur had told them what their employ ment was, and they by no means disliked the programme. Both were much the usual style of broad-shouldered, frank-eyed, clear-skinned young Britons of five or six-and-twenty, perhaps rather above the average of that class, for both were decidedly good-looking fellows. Altogether a pleasanter, cheer ier party it would have been difficult to find.