BIARRITZ
I left Moscow on the 10th of September and arrived at Brest on the
following day. It was the first time in my life that I travelled alone,
and it frightened me somewhat. I never left my compartment until Brest,
and allayed my hunger by cramming myself with bonbons. My husband was
waiting for me at the station and we continued our journey together.
We took a day’s rest at Verona. It was the anniversary of the occupation
of Rome by the Italian troops, and the town was dressed all over with
flags. On our way to the hotel we passed the house which had belonged
to the Capulet family, and saw the balcony on which Juliet appeared to
Romeo and listened to his serenades. After dinner we visited the splendid
“Giusti Gardens,” where we were shown a marble statue worth a fortune,
resounding like bronze when you touched it, and for which an American
collector of works of art had offered the sum of forty thousand francs.
Next afternoon we beheld Genoa, at the foot of the Apennines and the
Mediterranean spreading far and wide, where we stopped a whole day. An
old guide, aged seventy-five, took us through the town. That old man had
been a brave soldier in his day, one of the 1,200 warriors who had fought
and landed with Garibaldi in Sicily. He took us to his private dwelling
to show us his Garibaldian costume, a piece of Garibaldi’s famous red
shirt, and the tip of a cigar which had been smoked by Garibaldi,
which he kept as relics. On our way back to the hotel we passed before
the monuments of Christopher Columbus, Garibaldi and Verdi. On the
front of Garibaldi’s house the Free Masons have carved a garland of
flowers surrounded by hieroglyphics. After dinner we drove to the Villa
Pallavicini. At the entrance into the park stand white marble statues
of Leda, Pomona, Hebe, and Flora. We walked through alleys of lemon,
laurel, cypress and myrtle trees in full bloom. We passed a lake in which
salmon-trout swam, and mounted on the top of a castle of the Middle-Ages.
We entered then a stalactite grotto, with an artificial lake in the
middle, where a mysterious Carcarollo invited us to take a row in his
boat, carrying the arms of the Dukes of Pallavicini. Further on we saw
a pavilion bearing the tempting inscription _tête-à-tête amoureux_, and
wanted to enter it, but our guide said that we had better keep outside,
for as soon as you open the door a tub of water pours over your head,
cooling instantly your amorous ardour.
On the following morning we started for Nice by the Corniche Railway. The
road runs all the time by the sea-shore; here and there it is barricaded
with stones, in order to prevent the railway line from being washed away
by the waves which broke against our carriage wheels.
We put up at Nice at the Hôtel des Étrangers. On entering the apartment
that we were to occupy, we saw a placard stuck to the wall begging the
visitors to turn the key in the lock when going to bed. This warning made
me spend a restless night. I could not sleep, fearing that someone would
come and strangle me; it seemed to me all the time as if a hand fumbled
at the door. The mosquitoes were also awfully troublesome; I began to
chase these little vampires and execute them on the spot, I who could
never hurt a fly! Next morning directly after breakfast, we went to the
Villa Bermont in which the Grand Duke Nicholas, our heir to the throne,
had expired. A chapel has been built on the place where his bedroom
stood. This villa is surrounded by a plantation of 10,000 orange trees.
On our way back we visited the Russian Church; the altar is constructed
of oak brought from Russia, and a big silver cross is made of different
objects taken away by our Cossacks from the French in 1812.
We continued our journey on the following day and arrived at sunset at
Toulon, where we had to wait patiently for the train, which left for
Biarritz at four o’clock in the morning, in a bare room at the station,
where we had the privilege of dozing on hard horse-hair chairs given
us. Our travelling companions lay curled up in uncomfortable armchairs,
nevertheless their noses very soon emitted trumpet-sounds. I drowsed
also, all in a lump on my chair and was chilled to the bone.
When we arrived at Lourdes on the following afternoon, we saw the
platform crowded with pilgrims, crippled and impotent, who come here from
all parts of the world in the hope of a miraculous cure.
The road from Lourdes to Bayonne has a desolate look, without any
vegetation whatever, only groups of trees here and there. We saw
labourers in the fields tilling the ground with oxen harnessed to
ploughs, just as we do in Russia. During the twenty minutes’ run from
Bayonne to Biarritz two very prim, stately old ladies entered our
compartment. They looked extremely haughty and unapproachable, and gave
no outward signs of wishing to enter into conversation. But their manner
changed instantly, when they found out that we were Russians; they became
amiability itself, and expressed their great sympathy for our country.
We put up at Biarritz at the Hôtel d’Angleterre, and had to be satisfied
with a small room at the very top. Our windows looked seawards and showed
the wide expanse of the Atlantic and the agglomeration of rocks of the
most fantastic forms named The Chaos. From below we heard the thunder of
mighty waves dashing on the cliffs with a sound like the booming of many
guns.
In the night the noise of the ocean hindered our sleep, and we decided
to move to the Villa Gaston, a comfortable boarding-house, where we paid
five francs a day for an apartment of two rooms.
Above our heads two pupils of the Conservatory of Moscow played and sang
all day long, practising their scales and vocal exercises not less than
fifty times in succession. It was enough to make you hate music.
Biarritz is built on a rock. Over trenches excavated by the ocean
picturesque bridges are thrown. The top part of the town consists of
splendid hotels and lovely villas which stretch towards Bayonne and the
road to Spain. It is from Biarritz that Christopher Columbus sailed
to discover America. This queen of southern strands is very gay and
fashionable. There are three beaches: La Grande Plage has a splendid
casino; Port-Vieux, incased between rocks and is well sheltered against
the assault of the big billows, where children and invalids bathe in
preference. Above Port-Vieux a tunnel is cut through the rock for
pedestrians, and on the summit of the rock rises the statue of the
Virgin, held in great veneration by the seamen; near it stands a big
cross and a pole with an alarm-bell to signal shipwrecks. A bridge is
thrown over the dyke under which the ocean roars furiously producing
sounds like continual cannon-shots. It is on the third beach, La côte
des Basques, that the waves are the strongest. On Sundays the villagers
from round about assemble here, dressed in their half Spanish costumes,
to dance sprightly mouchachas and the fandangos, with the accompaniment
of castanets and tambourines. Having danced to their hearts’ content,
they undress completely, and enter the water in a long file, holding each
other by the hand, men and women pêle-mêle; after the waves have drenched
them thoroughly, they come out and bake themselves on the sand for a
while.
We took our bath every morning on the “Grande Plage,” where the waves
reached only to the knees, but they were so monstrously long that they
splashed us from head to foot, and pushed us far away from the shore.
One morning whilst my husband was taking his bath and I was merely
present in the character of looker-on, someone called him in Russian
by his name. Sergy turned round and saw Colonel Scalon, an aide-de-camp
of the Grand Duke Michael. “What an unexpected surprise! How do you
do, Colonel?” he exclaimed. “Thank you, I⸺” but at that same moment a
gigantic billow had flung them apart without giving time to the Colonel
to end his phrase.
Bathing hours are very gay on the beach. A crowd of people from all
parts of the world are to be met there. Amongst the lady-bathers an
American actress, wearing a white tight-fitting bathing costume, is the
main attraction for the moment. I ordered myself a similar costume,
which led to a very unpleasant incident. One morning after my bath, I
was returning to my cabin with my soaked bathing-costume, clinging to
my body. The bathing establishment was especially crowded that day, and
the woman on service, who happened to be on my way, handed me the key of
my cabin and led me through the throng, whilst two young ladies, seeing
this favouritism, swelled with resentment at having to wait their turn
longer than I. “Well,” said one of them to her companion in Russian,
throwing a murderous glance at me, “It is known that such creatures as
this eccentric girl are always served the first; courtesans certainly
know how to take care of themselves!” I had great trouble in controlling
myself not to give her a good shaking. It appeared that these unpleasant
compatriots of mine, who had so badly guessed my social position, were
the noisy musical tenants of the Villa Gaston, who exasperated me daily
with their scales and exercises. I shall have my revenge the first
time I meet them. This occurred on the following day. The young ladies
recognised me when I was going out to take my bath, and desirous to
repair their silly mistake, they saluted me obsequiously, colouring to
their hair, but I pretended not to see them and didn’t recognise their
bow.
One afternoon we went by train to Bayonne. There is nothing of much note
in that town. The streets are narrow and encumbered with heavy carts and
chariots. There was a crowd gathered before a small travelling-circus,
where a self-named Hercules, in very dirty tights, lifted up weights of a
hundred kilos, to the loud applause of his enthusiastic audience.
Another day we arranged to visit the “Couvent des Bernardines.” This cold
grey building is situated some miles off from Biarritz and seems to be
shut away from all sounds of the world. From afar the dull sound of a
bell was heard, denoting every half-hour the change of the nun on duty.
Over the entrance door we saw a plate with the inscription to speak in
a low voice when entering the cloister. We saw the nuns walking about
two and two, shadowy white-robed women with black hoods that hid their
downcast faces. There are many young girls belonging to the best French
and Spanish families amongst them. Poor recluses who have taken their
vows for eternal silence which would separate them from earthly love
for ever. A defiance to natural laws I call it! The “Bernardines” are
permitted to converse with their parents for half-an-hour once a year
only. I wonder how they could preserve the gift of speech being deprived
of it such a long time! A sad-faced lay sister ushered us into a large
parlour with long windows and a polished floor. On the walls hung framed
texts and coloured prints of the Virgin and Saints. We were shown all
over the monastery and saw over the doors of the cells placards bearing
the inscription, “God alone!” It was a very hard life in that Order, and
silence was everywhere in this house of silence. In church even the nuns
are hidden behind a curtain.
A pine wood separates the cloister from the convent of the “Servantes
de Marie,” where the nuns lead quite a different sort of life, working
with their tongues just as well as with their hands. They are very
industrious, do carpentry and photography and cultivate their flower
gardens.
The rainy season was coming on. It was time to leave Biarritz and proceed
to the country of “Carmen.” From Biarritz the distance to the Spanish
frontier is short. At Irun, the first Spanish station, we saw policemen
wearing short black mantles and triangular hats, walking up and down
the platform. After San Sebastiano, a picturesque town surrounded by
fortifications, our train rolled along a curving road winding at the
foot of the Pyrenees, vividly outlined on the deep blue sky. Just as we
were preparing to arrange ourselves comfortably for our night’s rest,
travellers charged with parcels entered our compartment. A miserable
child, who was cutting his first tooth, made us pass a bad night. Luckily
I was not a bit sleepy, and leaning on the window I enjoyed the beautiful
night, the moon and stars shining out gloriously.