Marianne North Travels Across France and Spain
Travellers: Frederick North MP for Hastings; Marianne North (botanical artist); Catherine North (mother of Madge Symonds Vaughan)
Travel writer: Marianne North. Selected from her journals 1859-69 by her sister Catherine Symonds, 1893.
Edited by E Francis 2021
In August 1859, when the House of Commons went into recess, we travelled to the Pyrenees and Spain. We sailed to St Helier in Jersey and then boarded another ship which three hours later arrived in St Malo in Brittany. We then boarded a river steamer which took us to Dinan and then on to Rennes where we took the train to Poitiers . We travelled by rail to Tours, travelling through long tracts of flat , rich country covered with vines, buckwheat, maize, millet and tobacco, to Bordeaux. There we saw the River Garonne where ships of a considerable size loaded and unloaded goods using steam cranes which saved both time and very considerable manual labour.
Bordeaux to Arcachon
Next morning, on our way to Arcachon by train we met a French gentleman who inquired where we were going and strongly recommended the Hotel de L’Empereur. He found a card in his pocket and gave it to us as a reminder before he got out at the next station to join a friend in another carriage. We found out afterwards it was the landlord himself, who changed carriages at every station, catching strangers in each to fill his house. Having a season ticket he went backwards and forwards nearly every day to Bordeaux for the purpose. At Arcachon he put us into his own omnibus, showed us our rooms in the long wooden storied shanty he called an hotel where we next saw him in chef’s whites cooking in the kitchen. That man deserved to make a fortune !
Dax to Pau and Gabas
The railway only went as far as Dax, so then we had to travel by diligence for seven hours in the company of two priests and a nursing mother and child. After a hot, dusty journey we were glad to arrive in Pau and then we went on to the cool shade of Eaux Chaudes, a little bathing place on the edge of a river, where we were to stay.
One fine summer’s day we drove from there to Gabas, where we had ordered mules to meet us. They had men’s saddles and it took some little time before they could procure two of the ordinary women’s saddles of Spain, which are best suited for mountain rides. They have a stuffed coverlet to sit on, cross bars back and front to hold on to and a footboard underneath. One must sit sideways and not wriggle about too much but it’s much less fatiguing for a long journey over steep paths and rocky stair cases.
Gabas to Gavarnie
The ride up to Gavarnie is said to be one of the finest in the Pyrenees. We saw the famous Cirque with its amphitheatre of precipices, snow-clad ledges and innumerable torrents streaming down from them. One of the water falls is said to be the second highest in Europe and has a considerable glacier at its base, through whose icy arch the river Gave de Pau pierces its way.
Luz to Luchon
We rode on to Luz by St Sauveur where we sent the horses home. The Empress Eugenie was staying there with the French court. We saw her walking about in a shady hat and red petticoat, with a huge St Bernard dog or driving in a modest pony carriage with the Emperor without any attendants or fuss of any kind.
After Luz we came to Cauterets and Bigorre and then settled at Luchon for a month. At Luchon I made my first attempt at painting landscapes. The beauty of the view from our window tempted me with its poplar trees, river, rich meadows and the fresh snow on the mountains, with the Port of Venasque in the distance.
Toulouse to Barcelona
On 17th October we travelled by diligence to Toulouse through an incredible storm where we stayed for a day to dry out our luggage. We then travelled by rail from Toulouse to Perpignan. Another diligence took us to Figueras where we stayed the night and then we went on to Gerona, a town full of priests and fine churches raised on terraces, which were approached by marble steps.
Next morning at 3am we were ready to start for Barcelona but were told that the mail was full;another came at 8 am. Barcelona is a magnificent city, the Liverpool of Spain, with a broad sea wall behind which the largest ships ride at anchor.
Barcelona to Valencia via Tarragona
Spanish inns of the second class are so uncomfortable that we decided to go thirty eight hours without stopping to Valencia. We chose a most comfortable diligence, with abundant room for our feet and fitted with a table, looking glass and pair of lanterns. We took a basket of provisions, spirit-lamp and teapot which rendered us independent of Spanish food, and gave us time to see something of the places we stopped at. We were able to take a walk ahead sometimes while the others were eating, which was restful.
Near Tarragona I marked a beautiful subject for a picture – a solitary old Roman tomb among dwarf palms, sweet bay and lavender bushes, with the blue bay beyond, shadowed by the old town and the cathedral on the cliffs above it. We stopped at Tortosa and then arrived in Valencia. The best Spanish lace is made in Valencia and the women sit outside their houses gossiping of an evening making their black silk cobwebs on their knees. They are famous for their beauty and the soft black drapes about their heads are shown to perfection in the warm evening light.
Valencia to Madrid
A few hours drive took us to the railway where we took the night train to Madrid where we found rooms ready for us in the principal hotel. It was like the town itself , a miserably pretentious place. Madrid tries to look like Paris, London, anything but Spain, but its collection of pictures redeems it and one forgot all else in looking at them. It has probably the finest collection of portraits in the world, Titian , Vandyke , Antonio Moro’s portrait of Queen Mary. What a masterpiece of rich colour it was. Velasquez’s Roman – nosed horses seemed to be jumping out of their frames at us, but they were not exaggerated . I saw many such creatures ambling through the streets.
Madrid to Toledo
We travelled from Madrid to Toledo by rail. The position of Toledo is glorious, quite impregnable with sheer precipices all round it, nearly encircled by the winding Tagus at their base. But for the hereditary jealousy of Portugal the river could easily be made navigable when Toledo would become the obvious capital of Spain again. The old Jewish synagogues are very beautiful and unique specimens of Oriental architecture; their ceilings are of Lebanon cedar-wood and the capitals carved in stone with cones and leaves.
We stayed next at Aranjuez where our eyes were again refreshed by the sight of green trees in the royal park. All the centre of Spain (where any irrigation exists) is given up to corn and all trees are cut down for fear of harbouring birds who eat the corn. This is killing Peter to rob Paul , as locusts and caterpillars have it all their own way.
Granada Landmarks
Then came a weary journey to Granada of fifty four hours in a diligence , never stopping by day or night, except to change horses. If we had stayed anywhere for rest there was no certainty of the next diligence (only one in twenty four hours) being able to take us on. Any way our limbs ached too much for sleep . Those days of long diligence journeys are over now and the tourists who abuse modern railways should remember they have something to be thankful for .
We hurried on through the Sierra Morena at night , the bright moonlight illuminating its singular ravines or depressions in the table-land of central Spain. Then again came a long day of level, uninteresting country till we reached the old Moorish town of Jaen, where the road re-enters the hills and we finally emerged on the luxuriant Vega of Granada about midnight and saw the towers of the Alhambra shining out in the moonlight ,with its background of hills and the snows of the Sierra Nevada glittering in the distance beyond them.
Granada certainly satisfies one’s most extravagant expectations. After two days we settled ourselves in the , then,. small hotel of Los Siet Suelos, within the garden of the Alhambra, where we could dawdle or sketch during every hour of daylight among the grand old courts and gateways of the Moorish palaces.
Queen Isabella and her family are buried in Granada Cathedral. Her crown was put on my head and her sceptre in my hand which seemed to bring her nearer to me. In the Carthusian convent was a perfect museum of marbles of every kind of colour , its cloisters decorated with daubs of Roman Catholic martyrdoms, including those of the Carthusian monks of England in the reign of Henry VIII – quite a novel historical fact to my Protestant mind at the time , though I afterwards learned how much my own ancestor , the first Lord North was mixed up in the transaction.
Granada to Malaga
On 30th November we left the Alhambra with a long train of mules , my sister being favoured with a beautiful little cream-coloured horse and side saddle borrowed for her by the landlord’s son.. Roads were bad and our progress slow and we had barely enough daylight left to appreciate the romantic situation of Alhama, where we stopped for the night . On opening the shutters of our unglazed windows next morning we found sleety rain and mist. The descent from those bare mountains to the rich valley behind Velez Malaga was very refreshng , though the road was nothing but the dry river bed , bordered by masses of sugar cane , orange and lemon trees. Any water that dry summer had left was taken off into irrigation channels .
At last we pushed our way throught the oleander bushes to the high road by the sea and followed it for seven hours the next day into Malaga.
Malaga did not attract me ;it was full of invalids and of soldiers returning from the war. We were urged on no account to go on overland as we should certainly be stopped by snow and possibly by brigands; however we risked it and met neither. We reached Casarabonela by moonlight. Its streets were like a stone ladder , so steep and uneven none but mules could have climbed them and we felt their feet were safer than ours for the purpose.
Malaga to Ronda
At last we reached the high table land from whence we could see Ronda, apparently some five miles off; but it took a long time to reach it, our men never having any idea of the time any journey would take or how far away any place was.
Ronda is a most civilised place , though in those days it could only be reached by riding. It had foot pavements , a bull ring and many noble palaces .From the terrace of Ronda one looked down a sheer precipice of 700 feet, the river winding at its foot. In the far distance we could see the rock of Gibralter, no bigger than a pin’s head on the sea horizon. Overhead the great eagles came sweeping down. The views of the strange city as we left it in the morning were most picturesque. A mountain surrounded by mountains, cleft partially in two by the river which fell some 600 feet amid a mass of greenery, turning many old mills, themselves almost hiden in ferns and climbing plants. Through these our path wound from terrace to terrace till we reached the valley below with its old farms and villages, olives , figs and pomegranates. We travelled through scrub woods of arbutus, myrtle , laurestinus and lavender until we reached the village where we had to pass the night.
In the ordinary posada the traveller must expect nothing but a small white-washed cell with a shuttered window, no glass and a brick floor. A bed is put up on arrival, but little else.. We fetched our own water , brought our own provisions, including crockery , knives , forks etc.
Th next day the landlord showed us a short cut and a better bit of road, over which we had an easy ride down and over the plain to Utrera, observing as we passed quantities of red-berried mistletoe on the olive tree and enormous flights of small birds which were probably migrating to warmer winter quarters. The Fonda at Utrera looked quite magnificient after the places we had lately lodged in. The jolly fat landlady petted us and made us a marvellous stew of the dry old roast turkey we had left from our Malaga provisions.
Seville to Cordoba
We sent on our luggage and started the morning there and then crawled over the weary, dusty plain to Seville whose gates we reached after dark. We found our much -wished for hotel, where we made ourselves at home for ten days.
The Cathedral of `Seville soon became and is still, my ideal of church architecture; there is something so dignified it its simple unbroken columns, its deeply pointed arches and windows , while its gloom and mysteriously dark shadows impress one with a sense of vastness. It was Advent and every Friday the Cardinal Archbishop and some hundred priests walked in procession carrying wax candles and seated themselves within the gilded railings round the high altar on which many chandeliers were lighted. It has a very beautiful effect, seen from the darkness of the nave which was crowded with black kneeling figures.
Next, we went on to Cordoba and wandered about under the forest of pillars of which the famous mosque had been built , collected from all parts of the Mediterranean coast by the Moors. After this we floated down the Guadalquivir to Cadiz to wait till some good ship could take us home.
Home to Hastings via Gravesend
Our ship took us homewards on 3rd January 1860. It was a merchant steamer loaded with wine, oranges, quicksilver and oil. There was only one passenger beside our selves and the whole end of the vessel with its eight berths was given to my sister and myself. The sea was kind and we went so close to Hastings we could se the people walking on the Parade. A fog met us off Deal and we had to anchor for the night. We stayed quietly on board till we reached Gravesend and thence home for the usual winter festivities at Hastings.
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© CC BY-NC-SA unless otherwise stated; image copyrights are listed in the credits and they are not licensed for re-use.
Header image: Mountain landscape view of Bagnères-de-Luchon. Coloured lithograph, 1853. © Wellcome Collection. Reference:15515i. Public Domain Mark. Public Domain Mark (PDM) terms and conditions https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0
Body image: Diligence privée by inconnu, 1826/1850. https://www.europeana.eu/item/2048001/AP_10277639 © Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage, Belgium – CC BY-NC-SA https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/