The Roof of France | Page 3

the good qualities

and good looks of the people, or the flawless charm of Lozérien travel.
In years to come I may here be found too eulogistic of all classes with
whom I came in contact, who shall say? A long period of increasing
prosperity, a perpetually swelling stream of holiday-makers, may by
degrees change, and perhaps ultimately pervert, the character of the
peasants, so glowingly delineated in the following pages. Let us hope
that such a contingency is at least very far off, and that many another
may bring home the same cordial recollections of the boatmen of the
Tarn, the aubergistes and voituriers of the Causses, the peasant owners
of the Cité du Diable. I need hardly add that I give a mere record of
travel. The geology of the strange district visited, its rich and varied
flora, its wealth of prehistoric remains, are only touched upon. For
further information the reader is referred to other writers. On the
subject of agriculture I have occasionally dwelt at more length, being
somewhat of a farmeress, as Arthur Young styles it, and having now
studied a considerable portion of France from an agricultural point of
view. The noble dictum of 'that wise and honest traveller'--thus aptly
does our great critic describe the Suffolk squire--'the magic of property
turns sands to gold,' will be here as amply illustrated as in my works on
Eastern and Western France.
One word more. No one must undertake a journey in the Lozère with a
scantily-furnished purse. A well-known artist lately contributed a paper
to the Pall Mall Gazette in which he set forth--in the strangest English
surely ever penned by man, woman, or child--the facilities and delights
of cycling in France on seven francs a day. Why anyone in his sober
senses should dream of travelling abroad on seven francs a day passes
my comprehension. Money means to the traveller not only health,
enjoyment, comfort, but knowledge. Why should we expect, moreover,
to be wholesomely housed and fed in a foreign country upon a sum
altogether inadequate to the tourist's needs at home? The little wayside
inns in out-of-the-way places mentioned by me were indeed very cheap,
but taking into account horses, carriages and guides, the exploration of
the Causses, the Cañon du Tarn and Montpellier-le-Vieux will certainly
cost twenty-five francs per diem, this outlay being slightly reduced in
the case of two or more persons. Of course, when not absolutely
making excursions, when settling down for days or weeks in some rural

retreat, expenses will be moderate enough as far as inns are concerned.
But carriage-hire is costly all the world over, and the inquiring traveller
must have his carriage. There will also be a daily call upon his purse in
the matter of pourboire to guides and conductors. A pound a day is by
no means too liberal an allowance for the wise bent upon having the
best, of everything. Those content to put up with the worst may exist
upon the half.

THE ROOF OF FRANCE

PART I.
MY FIRST JOURNEY IN SEARCH OF THE CAUSSES.
CHAPTER I.
FROM LE PUY TO MENDE.
The traveller in France will not unseldom liken his fortunes to those of
Saul the son of Kish, who, setting forth in search of his father's asses,
found a kingdom; or, to use a homelier parable, will compare his case
to that of the donkey between two equally-tempting bundles of hay.
Such, at least, was my luck when starting for my annual French tour in
1887. I had made up my mind to see something of the Lozère and the
Cantal, settling down in two charming spots respectively situated in
these departments, when, fortunately for myself, I was tempted
elsewhere. Instead of rusticating for a few weeks in the country nooks
alluded to, there observing leisurely the condition of the peasants and
of agriculture generally, I took a contrary direction, thus ultimately
becoming acquainted with one of the most romantic and least-known
regions of Central France.
'Since you intend to visit the Lozère' wrote a correspondent to me, 'why

not explore the Causses? The scenery is, I believe, very remarkable,
and the geology deeply interesting.'
The Causses? the Causses? I had travelled east, west, north, south on
French soil for upwards of thirteen years, yet the very name was new to
me. Having once heard of the Causses, it was, of course, quite certain
that I should hear of them twice.
Meeting by chance a fellow-countryman at Dijon, as enthusiastic a
lover of French scenery as myself, and comparing our experiences, he
suddenly asked:
'But the Causses? Have you seen the wonderful Causses of the Lozère?'
It was a curious and highly-characteristic fact that both my informants
should be English, thus bearing out the assertion of an old French