BIARRITZ, _September 24_.
I hope you may be enjoying better weather than we. Four days of the week
we have rain; the others are stifling hot, accompanied by a horrible
sirocco. Still, the sea is far more beautiful here than at Boulogne, and
the figs and ortolans make it possible to sustain the burden of life.
I made, the other day, an interesting excursion into the mountains, and
saw one of the most remarkable grottoes in existence. You pass beneath a
great natural bridge, made of a single arch, as long as the Pont Royal;
on one side you see a wall of rocks, and on the other a tunnel, natural
also, and very long. For nature, less clever than the engineers,
contrived to make her bridge lengthwise, and the tunnel is the extension
of this. Under the tunnel, and perpendicular to the bridge, flows a
limpid stream. The proportions of all this are gigantic. The air within
is very cool, and one feels as if he were a thousand leagues from
humanity. I will show you a sketch of it, made on horseback. This
enchanting place, which is called simply Sagarramedo, is in Spain, and
if it were in the suburbs of Paris some one would make a show place of
it, charge fifty centimes admission and make his fortune.
In another cavern, a league’s distance from the first, but in France, we
found about twenty smugglers, who sang some Basque airs in chorus, to
the accompaniment of the galoubet. This is a small, shrill flageolet,
which has in its tones something exceedingly wild and agreeable. The
music is full of character, but mournful enough to drive the devil into
the ground, like all the mountaineers’ music. As for the words, I
understood only _viva emperatrica!_ of the last couplet.
We were guided to the place by a singular man, who has made a large
fortune smuggling. He is the king of these mountains, and everybody is
subject to his commands. Nothing could have been finer than to see the
way he galloped among the rocks beside our column, which had great
difficulty in following the beaten paths. He dashed over every obstacle,
calling to his men in Basque, in French, and in Spanish, and never once
making a false step. The empress had charged him to watch over the
prince imperial, whom he made pass, him and his pony, over the most
impossible routes that you may imagine, and watching over him as
carefully as if he had been a bale of contraband goods. We rested for an
hour in his home at San, where we were received by his daughters, who
are well-bred persons, stylishly dressed, not in the least provincial,
and differing from Parisians only in their pronunciation of the _r_,
which for the Basques is always _r-r-r-h_.
We are expecting the armoured fleet; but the sea is so rough, that if it
came we could not communicate with it. There are not many people at
Biarritz, some startling costumes, and few pretty faces. Nothing could
be uglier than the bathers with their black costumes and caps of
oil-cloth.
I have been presented to the duc de Leuchtenberg, who is quite friendly.
I discovered that he read Schopenhauer, believed in positive philosophy,
and had a leaning towards socialism.
I expect to be in Paris early in October. Shall you not be there? I
should be glad to see you before I go into winter quarters. I am growing
scandalously stout, and my breathing is much better than in Paris.
Good-bye, dear friend. I have written a droll little thing, which may
amuse you, if you should condescend to listen.