By far the most interesting village in the neighbourhood of Arcachon,
is Gujan-Mestras.
Gujan-Mestras is the centre of the oyster fishery, and that of the
royan, which is a species of sardine. Nearly all royans indeed are
caught there. The _patois_ of the _parcheurs_ and _parcheuses_ (oyster
catchers) we were told, is partly Spanish. They can talk our informant
said, very good French, but when any strangers are present they talk
a sort of Spanish _patois_. "For instance, _une fille_ would be _la
hille_," he explained. "The Spaniards talk very slowly, as do the
Italians; it is only _les Anglais qui, je trouve, parlent très vite_."
The oysters of Gujan-Mestras are of worldwide renown. Among others, it
will be remembered, Rabelais praised highly the oysters of the Bassin
d'Arcachon. And indeed, it cannot fail to be one of the most important
places for oyster-culture and the breeding ground of the young oyster,
considering what the annual production is--more than a million of
oysters, young, middle-aged, and infants under age.
The day I first saw Gujan-Mestras there was a grey, lowering sky, and
everything was dun-coloured. But the port was alive with activity,
interest, and excitement. The huts, which face the bay, are built
all on the same pattern--of one story, dark brown in colour,
wooden-boarded, and roofed with rounded, light yellow tiles, which look
in the distance like oyster shells. Over the doors of some are little
inscriptions: over some a red cross is chalked, or a _fleur de lys_.
The _parcheurs_ do not sleep here; they live in the village above, but
these huts are simply for use while they are at work during the day.
A road leads up from the station lined with these huts, and a long row
of them faces the bay and skirts one side of it. Beside the water are
many clumps of heather tied up at the stalks, which are for packing
purposes: and there are also many wooden troughs, sieves, and trestles.
The boats used for fishing are mostly long and narrow, black or green
as to colour, and with pointed prows. Most of them had the letters
"ARC," and a number painted on them: for instance, I noticed "ARC. 4S
47" upon one name-board. All the boats have regular, upright staves
placed all along the inner sides, and are planked with the roughest of
boarding.
The first day I saw Gujan-Mestras, as I came up to the landing stage,
the boats were all rounding the corner of the headland, which is
crowned by the big crucifix, and crowding into the little harbour.
As they swung rapidly round, down came the sails with a flop, and in
a moment the gunwales bent low to the surface of the water. A moment
later still, they grounded on the little beach, and were instantly
surrounded by a great crowd of excited, jabbering _parcheurs_,
gesticulating and arguing energetically. They seemed to be expecting
some one who had failed to put in an appearance.
The baskets were soon full of glistening, steely fish, their greenish,
speckled backs in strong contrast to the grey, oval baskets in which
they lay, heap upon heap.
The women helped unlade the boats, and also in cleaning and sorting
the fish. One woman whom I noticed, in an enormous overhanging,
black sun-bonnet, slouched far over her face, her dress, made of
some material like soft silk, tucked up and pinned behind her, went
clattering along in her wooden sabots, wheeling the fish before her in
a rough wheelbarrow. They shone literally with a dazzling centre of
light. Then came slowly lumbering along the road, one of the typical
waggons of the neighbourhood, which are disproportionately long for
their breadth, with huge wheels; at either end two upright poles, and
on each side a sort of fence of staves, yellow for choice.
Presently this was succeeded by a diminutive donkey cart, loaded
with _marchandise_, and covered over in front with a wide tarpaulin.
Inside, I caught sight of a large pumpkin (presumably), sliced open,
its yellow centre showing up vividly against its dark background, some
cauliflowers, watercress, etc., while its owner, a burly countryman in
a full blue blouse and cap, excitedly gesticulated and called out, "_En
avant! Allez!_" to the meek and diminutive one in front.
Under a sort of open shelter were rows of barrels; some arranged
in blocks, some arranged all together in one position. The whole
effect against the glaring yellow of the vine leaves being a strongly
effective contrast, the barrels being the palest straw colour.
We were told that the _parcheuses_ cannot make as much as the men:
perhaps three francs a day would be their outside wage. Indeed
sometimes they found it impossible to earn more than thirty centimes;
and, notwithstanding the low wage, the life of a _parcheuse_ is every
bit as hard as that of her countrywoman in the fields.
At most of the street corners the groups of peasant women sit and knit
behind their wares, wearing flounced caps, (ye who belong to the sex
that needleworks these garments, forgive it, if I have appropriated
to the use of the headgear the adjective that of right belongs to the
petticoat!) and many coloured neckerchiefs. Sometimes they sit in
little sentry boxes, their wares by their side, but oftener they sit,
in open defiance of the weather, with no shelter above their heads.
As for the boys, it is almost impossible to see them without the
inevitable short golf cape, with hood floating out behind, which is so
much affected in that Order! It is difficult to understand quite why
this particular costume has had such a "run," for one would imagine it
to be rather an impeding garment for a boy.
Illustration: GUJAN-MESTRAS, OYSTER CATCHERS.
[_Page 67._
Before I came away that afternoon the fishing nets were being hung
up to dry, and, as we went along, we could see groups of men and
women cleaning, sorting, and chopping oysters, and placing them in
the characteristic shallow baskets that one sees all over the Landes,
and some, on other trestles, were packing them up for transport. One
woman near by was loading a cart with manure, while her companion--one
of that half of mankind which possesses the most rights, but does not
always (in France) do the most work--was calmly watching the process,
without attempting to help! It is true that, in their dress, there was
not much to distinguish the one sex from the other, as most of the
women wore brilliant blue, or red, knickerbockers, no skirt, and coats,
aprons, and big sabots. Some of the latter had very striking faces,
though weather-beaten. Anything like the vivid contrast afforded by the
arresting colours of their knickerbockers, backed by the cold, even
grey of the huts, against which the _parcheuses_ were standing, as
they worked, it would be difficult to imagine.
I believe at La Hume, the adjoining village to Gujan-Mestras, which
appeared to be dedicated to the goddess of laundry work, even as this
place was dedicated to pisciculture, the women go about in the same
gaudy leg gear, but I only saw it from the train, as we had not time to
make an expedition to the spot.
As we were coming back to the train we came upon a line of bare
tables and chairs, looking empty, forlorn, and forsaken (the rain
had apparently driven the oyster workers to the shelter of the huts)
beside the _plage_. Somehow they suggested to me an empty bandstand,
and indeed the _parcheurs_ and _parcheuses_ are the factors of the
entire local "music" of the place. Without them it were absolutely
characterless--devoid of life and meaning.
Illustration: GUJAN-MESTRAS, NEAR ARCACHON.
[_Page 68._
At the station a number of _parcheuses_ were waiting. Suddenly, without
any note of warning, a sudden storm of discussion, heated and
menacing, swept the humble, bare little waiting-room. It arose with
simply a puff of conversation, but it spread in a moment to thunder
clouds of invective, gesticulations of threatening import, lightning
flashes of anger from eyes that, only an instant previously, had been
bathed in the depths of phlegm. It seemed to be concerned (as usual!)
with a matter affecting both sexes, for the _facteur_, and a young man
who accompanied him, kept suddenly turning round on the women, and
literally flinging impulsive shafts of fiery retort, beginning with,
"_Pourquoi? Vous êtes vous-même_," etc., etc. The dispute raged with
terrific force for a few minutes, then it was suddenly spent, and, as
unexpectedly as it had begun, it fell away into a complete silence.