In the Heart of the Vosges | Page 7

granite peaks, and pitchy-black forest summits,
impenetrable even at this time of the year. As we look down we see that
roads have been cut round the mountain sides, and that tiny homesteads
are perched wherever vantage ground is to be had, yet the impression is
one of isolation and wildness. The town lies in no narrow cleft, as is the
case with many little manufacturing towns in the Jura, but in a vast
opening and falling back of the meeting hills and mountain tops, so that
it is seen from far and wide, and long before it is approached. We had
made the first part of our journey at a snail's pace. No sooner were we
on the verge of the hills looking down upon La Bresse, than we set off
at a desperate rate, spinning breathlessly round one mountain spur after
another, till we were suddenly landed in the village street, dropped, as
it seemed, from a balloon.
A curious feature to be noted in all the places I have mentioned is the
outer wooden casing of the houses. This is done as a protection against
the cold, the Vosges possessing, with the Auvergne and the Limousin,
the severest climate in France. La Bresse, like Gérardmer and other
sweet valleys of these regions, is disfigured by huge factories, yet none
can regret the fact, seeing what well-being these industries bring to the
people. Beggars are numerous, but we are told they are strangers, who
merely invade these regions during the tourist season.
Remiremont, our next halting-place, may be reached by a pleasant
carriage drive, but the railway is more convenient to travellers
encumbered with half-a-dozen trunks. The railway, moreover, cuts
right through the beautiful valley of the Moselle--a prospect which is

missed by road. Remiremont is charming. We do not get the creature
comforts of Gérardmer, but by way of compensation we find a softer
and more genial climate. The engaging little town is indeed one of
nature's sanatoriums. The streets are kept clean by swift rivulets, and all
the air is fragrant with encircling fir-woods. Like Gérardmer and La
Bresse, however, Remiremont lies open to the sun. A belt of flowery
dells, terraced orchards, and wide pastures, amid which meanders the
clear blue Moselle, girds it round about, and no matter which path you
take, it is sure to lead to inviting prospects. The arcades lend a Spanish
look to the town, and recall the street architecture of Lons-le-Saunier
and Arbois in the Jura. Flower gardens abound, and the general
atmosphere is one of prosperity and cheerfulness.
The historic interest of this now dead-alive little town centres around
its lady abbesses, who for centuries held sovereign rule and state in
their abbatial palace, at the present time the Hôtel de Ville. These
high-born dames, like certain temporal rulers of the sex, loved battle,
and more than one chanoinesse, when defied by feudal neighbours,
mounted the breach and directed her people. One and all were of noble
birth, and many doubtless possessed the intellectual distinction and
personal charm of Renan's Abbesse de Jouarre.
There are beautiful walks about Remiremont, and one especial path
amid the fragrant fir-woods leads to a curious relic of ancient time--a
little chapel formerly attached to a Lazar-house. It now belongs to the
adjoining farm close by, a pleasant place, with flower-garden and
orchard. High up in the woods dominating the broad valley in which
Remiremont is placed are some curious prehistoric stones. But more
inviting than the steep climb under a burning sun--for the weather has
changed on a sudden--is the drive to the Vallée d'Hérival, a drive so
cool, so soothing, so delicious, that we fancy we can never feel heated,
languid, or irritated any more.
The isolated dwellings of the dalesfolk in the midst of tremendous
solitudes--little pastoral scenes such as Corot loved to paint--and
hemmed round by the sternest, most rugged nature, are one of the
characteristics of Vosges scenery. We also find beside tossing rivers
and glittering cascades a solitary linen factory or saw-mill, with the
modern-looking villa of the employer, and clustered round it the
cottages of the work-people. No sooner does the road curl again than

we are once more in a solitude as complete as if we were in some
primeval forest of the new world. We come suddenly upon the Vallée
d'Hérival, but the deep close gorge we gaze upon is only the beginning
of the valley within valley we have come to see. Our road makes a loop
round the valley so that we see it from two levels, and under two
aspects. As we return, winding upwards on higher ground, we get
glimpses of sunny dimpled sward through the dark stems of the
majestic fir-trees towering over our head. There is every gradation of
form