BOOK IV.LIGHTHOUSES IN FRANCE.CHAPTER I.THE TOUR DE CORDOUAN.[50]W“Trulymysterious is the Channel, in that narrow gullet where it engulfs the waves of the North Sea. Violent are the waters of Brittany, as they eddy to and fro in the ravines of its basaltic coast. But the Gulf of Gascony, from Cordouan to Biarritz, is a sea of contradictions; an enigma of strife and struggle. As it stretches southward, it suddenly acquires an extraordinary depth, and becomes an abyss in which the waters are swallowed up. An ingenious naturalist has compared it to a gigantic funnel, which abruptly absorbs all that is poured into it. The flood, escaping from it under an awful pressure, remounts to a height of which our seas afford no other example.”[51]The eloquent historian of the sea does not paint in colours too vivid the raging excesses of the Gulf of Gascony; and, therefore, from a remote epoch, the French government have sought to guard against its dangers by securing a proper lightage of the entrance of the Gironde. To trace the origin of the Lighthouse of Cordouan we must go back to a very distant antiquity. Unfortunately we know little of the history of this marvellous erection on a craggy platform, which is alternately covered and exposed by the waves at every tide. It is certain that the present structure had, at least, two predecessors. If tradition may be credited, the first was raised by Louis the Débonnair. But as no document is extant to support this hypothesis, we are inclined to believe that no lighthouse was built there until the thirteenth century, and that it was then erected in compliance with the urgent request of the merchants of Cordova, and foreign merchants trading in the wines of Bordeaux. Matthew Paris records, in his well-known “Chronicles,” that the Moors having been driven back to the extreme south of Spain, extensive commercial relations were established at this epoch (1236) between the Gascons and the cities of Cordova and Seville. Hence came the name of Cordouan. That this etymology is contradicted by many scholars, and even turned into jest, we are aware, but to ridicule is not to prove. What appears certain is, that the town of Cordova (said to contain 300,000 souls in the thirteenth century, and the ancient capital of the Khalifate of the same name) had two reasons instead of one for demanding the establishment of a lighthouse at the mouth of the Gironde; for its merchants visited Bordeaux not only to deal in its wines, but to selltheir hides and leather, renowned then as now for their fineness and excellent quality.But passing from the domains of conjecture to those of history, we know that the second lighthouse was built in the fourteenth century (1362–70), by the order of Edward the Black Prince. This lighthouse was 48 feet in height. It terminated in a platform, where was kindled a fire of wood under the charge of a holy hermit, who received in reward of his labours a toll from each vessel of two groats sterling. It is generally believed that the rock on which the lighthouse stood was, at that epoch, still united to the Médoc coast. The configuration of the soil, the distance, the depth of the channel, the ravages still effected by the sea at Soulac and at the Point de Grave, are arguments in favour of this opinion.The lighthouse built by the Black Prince did not stand alone upon its rock. As a companion it had a chapel, raised in honour of the Virgin Mary, and several houses, constructed in this sacred locality, gradually formed a kind of village. Here dwelt the hermit, his assistants, and, probably, a small number of pilots and fishermen.An engraving of the date of the fifteenth century represents this ancient tower as an octagonal building, with elongated quadrangular openings. It is doubled, so to speak, up to its first story, with an exterior casing of stone, forming an additional protection. Some of the houses which formerly occupied this particular site were existing at the epoch when the drawing was executed.ANCIENT TOWER OF CORDOUAN.The lighthouse, which at the present time so justly extorts the admiration of all its visitors, was constructed,not on the ruins, but by the side of its predecessor. Begun in 1584 by Louis de Foix, a Parisian architect, to whom Philip II. confided at a later date the building of the Escorial, it was not completed until 1600, and then by his son. Including the solid mass of the platform or base, the tower was 60 feet high, and including the stone lantern, 70 feet. At the date of its erection, the ground was, as undoubtedly it for a long time had been, completely separated from the mainland, and formed an island of a certain extent—the “Isle of Cordouan,” says Louis de Foix himself, in the contract signed with the authorities ofGuienne for the construction of the tower. This island has since disappeared, as well as the houses and chapel of which we have spoken; and now, at the foot of the monument, are only the bare rock and some tongues of sand completely covered at high water.The pharos, as it issued from the hands of the Des Foix, father and son, consisted of a circular platform protected by a broad parapet, and of the tower, which was divided into four stories, not including the lantern. The ground floor presented a great vestibule of a quadrangular form, with four little recesses which served for magazines. Staircases placed in the embrasures of the entrance-gate and of the two windows led to the cellars and the water-tank. On either side of the doorway, prior to the Revolution, were busts of Henry III. and Henry IV. On the first story, which bore the title—probably without any justification—of “the King’s Chamber,” was a saloon of the same dimensions as the vestibule, but more richly decorated, from which access was obtained to the first exterior gallery. A chapel, circular in shape, occupied the second story, and was illuminated by two rows of windows, covered by a spherical vault, and enriched with Corinthian pilasters and elegant sculptures. Above the door of the chapel stood the bust of Louis de Foix; and the following sonnet, composed in the purestgalimatiasof the time, was engraved on a large tablet above it:—QVAND IADMIRE RAVI CEST ŒVVRE EN MON COVRAGEMON DE FOIX MON ESPRIT EST EN ESTONNEMENT.PORTE DANS LES PENSERS DE MON ENTENDEMENTLE GENTIL INGENIEVX DE CE SVPERBE OVVRAGE.LA IL DISCOVRT EN LVY ET DVN MVET LANGAGETE VA LOVANT SVBTIL EN CE POINT MESMEMENTQUE TV BRIDES LES FLOTS DV GRONDEVX ELEMENTET DVN MVTIN NEPTVNE LA TEMPESTE ET LORAGE.O TROIS ET QVATRE FOIS BIENHEVREVX TON ESPRITDE CE QVAV FRONT DRESSE CE PHARE IL ENTREPRITPOVR SE PERPETVER DANS LHEVREVSE MEMOIRE.TV TES AQVIS PAR LA VN HONNEVR INFINIQVI NE FINIRA POINT QVE CE PHARE DE GLOIRELE MONDE FINISSANT NE SE RENDE FINY.All the parts of the primitive construction still exist, and have undergone but little alteration during successive restorations; but such is not the case with the upper portion, which has been completely destroyed, from the gradual sinking of the tower.Above the second gallery, the dome of the chapel was ornamented on the outside by richly sculptured dormer-windows, forming the second tier of windows of that story. It was surmounted by a circular pavilion, vaulted, and decorated with composite pilasters, whose entablature was crowned by the open balustrade of an outer gallery leading into the lantern. This lantern—whose dimensions were somewhat limited—was built of hewn stone, and composed of eight arcades, whose piers were embellished with columns, and whose cupola terminated in a shaft to carry off the smoke of the furnace.Under Louis XV., in 1727, an iron structure was substituted for this stone lantern, whose masonry had been calcined by the fire, and whose broad piers, moreover, had the serious inconvenience of obscuring a very considerable portion of the light; but the furnace was kept at the same elevation; namely, about 120 feet above the level of the highest seas.This elevation, as it did not enable the light to be seenat a sufficient distance, was soon pronounced unsatisfactory. A scheme to raise it 100 feet was planned by the Chevalier de Borda, who submitted it to Teulère, the chief engineer to the city of Bordeaux. The latter pointed out that it was both imperative and possible to increase the height by 65 feet. His designs were accepted, and their successful execution, in 1788 and 1789, in spite of many dangers, procured for Teulère a reputation scarcely inferior to that of De Foix himself.The light is now placed at an elevation above high-water level of 190 feet, and above the ground of 205 feet. But, regarded from an artistic point of view, we must confess that the lighthouse has by no means gained. There is a certain dryness about the too naked forms of the modern construction, which contrasts in a manner much to be deplored with the elegance and richness of the Renaissance work. The present summit (couronnement) is by no means equal to that which formerly existed. Yet, as Reynaud justly observes, the first impression which the edifice produces leaves no room for regret; you are penetrated with a profound feeling of admiration the moment you find yourself in the presence of this majestic monument, towering with so sublime a boldness above the bosom of the ocean.PRESENT LIGHTHOUSE OF CORDOVA.These emotions have been finely expressed by Michelet in his noble book on “the Sea.”“During our six months’ sojourn on this shore,” he says, “our ordinary object of contemplation—I had almost said, our daily society—was Cordouan. We felt keenly how its position as guardian of the seas, as the constant watcher of the strait, made of it an individuality. Erectagainst the broad eastern horizon, it appeared under a hundred varied aspects. Sometimes, in a belt of glory, it triumphed under the sun; sometimes, pale and indistinct, it hovered through the mist, no augury of good. At evening, when it abruptly kindled its red light, and darted forth its glance of fire, it seemed like a zealous inspector, who watched over the waters, impressed and disquieted by his responsibility. Whatever occurred at sea was attributed to it. By illuminating the tempest, it was frequently a source of safety, and yet men ascribed to it the storm. It is thus that Ignorance too often treats Genius, accusing it of the evils which it reveals. Even we ourselves were not just. If it delayed lighting up, if bad weather came, we censured it, we growled at it. ‘Ah, Cordouan, Cordouan, thou white phantom! canst thou, then, bring us nought but storms?’”During the last few years a complete restoration of the lighthouse of Cordouan has been carried out, with the view of replacing the stones—and they were numerous—injured by the weather, and of renewing the sculptures, which it was difficult to trace, they were so worn and abraded. All the buildings which at different times had been erected against the platform-wall to supply the insufficiency of dwelling-apartments in the lighthouse, have been reconstructed. And in 1854 arrangements were made to distinguish it from neighbouring lights; it has now a revolving light, white and red, with a range of twenty-seven miles.INTERIOR OF THE CORDOVA LIGHTHOUSE.The introduction of the dioptric apparatus into the Cordouan lighthouse took place long ago; it belongs, in fact,to the earliest experiments of Fresnel, for it is a peculiarity worth notice in the annals of this patriarch of pharoses, that attention has always been directed to it when any question has arisen of testing a new invention. It was one of the first which saw the inconvenient and unsatisfactorychaufferreplaced, as a means of lightage, by oil lamps. In 1782 it was provided with at least eighty of these, each accompanied by a reflector. A few years later, when Teulère had furnished Borda with the elements of the catoptric system, the largest apparatus was immediately installed at Cordouan (1790). Finally, when Augustin Fresnel, in his turn, invented the lenticular system, it was at Cordouan that experiments were first made with the most important model.Considering, then, the numerous and valuable services which Cordouan has rendered, we ask ourselves, says M. Rénard,[52]whether, among the numerous monuments raised by the pride and daring of man, there are many of so much respectability as this “Patriarch of the Lighthouses!” We cannot acknowledge that any one of them is so justly deserving of our reverent admiration. Nobler, far nobler, and of infinitely greater utility, than the trophies by which the conqueror has tracked his bloody path, or the pompous boundary-stones erected by nations at each stage of their history, it will also be of a more permanent character. For these belong only to individuals or peoples: Cordouan belongs to the whole human race.

BOOK IV.LIGHTHOUSES IN FRANCE.

“Trulymysterious is the Channel, in that narrow gullet where it engulfs the waves of the North Sea. Violent are the waters of Brittany, as they eddy to and fro in the ravines of its basaltic coast. But the Gulf of Gascony, from Cordouan to Biarritz, is a sea of contradictions; an enigma of strife and struggle. As it stretches southward, it suddenly acquires an extraordinary depth, and becomes an abyss in which the waters are swallowed up. An ingenious naturalist has compared it to a gigantic funnel, which abruptly absorbs all that is poured into it. The flood, escaping from it under an awful pressure, remounts to a height of which our seas afford no other example.”[51]

The eloquent historian of the sea does not paint in colours too vivid the raging excesses of the Gulf of Gascony; and, therefore, from a remote epoch, the French government have sought to guard against its dangers by securing a proper lightage of the entrance of the Gironde. To trace the origin of the Lighthouse of Cordouan we must go back to a very distant antiquity. Unfortunately we know little of the history of this marvellous erection on a craggy platform, which is alternately covered and exposed by the waves at every tide. It is certain that the present structure had, at least, two predecessors. If tradition may be credited, the first was raised by Louis the Débonnair. But as no document is extant to support this hypothesis, we are inclined to believe that no lighthouse was built there until the thirteenth century, and that it was then erected in compliance with the urgent request of the merchants of Cordova, and foreign merchants trading in the wines of Bordeaux. Matthew Paris records, in his well-known “Chronicles,” that the Moors having been driven back to the extreme south of Spain, extensive commercial relations were established at this epoch (1236) between the Gascons and the cities of Cordova and Seville. Hence came the name of Cordouan. That this etymology is contradicted by many scholars, and even turned into jest, we are aware, but to ridicule is not to prove. What appears certain is, that the town of Cordova (said to contain 300,000 souls in the thirteenth century, and the ancient capital of the Khalifate of the same name) had two reasons instead of one for demanding the establishment of a lighthouse at the mouth of the Gironde; for its merchants visited Bordeaux not only to deal in its wines, but to selltheir hides and leather, renowned then as now for their fineness and excellent quality.

But passing from the domains of conjecture to those of history, we know that the second lighthouse was built in the fourteenth century (1362–70), by the order of Edward the Black Prince. This lighthouse was 48 feet in height. It terminated in a platform, where was kindled a fire of wood under the charge of a holy hermit, who received in reward of his labours a toll from each vessel of two groats sterling. It is generally believed that the rock on which the lighthouse stood was, at that epoch, still united to the Médoc coast. The configuration of the soil, the distance, the depth of the channel, the ravages still effected by the sea at Soulac and at the Point de Grave, are arguments in favour of this opinion.

The lighthouse built by the Black Prince did not stand alone upon its rock. As a companion it had a chapel, raised in honour of the Virgin Mary, and several houses, constructed in this sacred locality, gradually formed a kind of village. Here dwelt the hermit, his assistants, and, probably, a small number of pilots and fishermen.

An engraving of the date of the fifteenth century represents this ancient tower as an octagonal building, with elongated quadrangular openings. It is doubled, so to speak, up to its first story, with an exterior casing of stone, forming an additional protection. Some of the houses which formerly occupied this particular site were existing at the epoch when the drawing was executed.

ANCIENT TOWER OF CORDOUAN.

The lighthouse, which at the present time so justly extorts the admiration of all its visitors, was constructed,not on the ruins, but by the side of its predecessor. Begun in 1584 by Louis de Foix, a Parisian architect, to whom Philip II. confided at a later date the building of the Escorial, it was not completed until 1600, and then by his son. Including the solid mass of the platform or base, the tower was 60 feet high, and including the stone lantern, 70 feet. At the date of its erection, the ground was, as undoubtedly it for a long time had been, completely separated from the mainland, and formed an island of a certain extent—the “Isle of Cordouan,” says Louis de Foix himself, in the contract signed with the authorities ofGuienne for the construction of the tower. This island has since disappeared, as well as the houses and chapel of which we have spoken; and now, at the foot of the monument, are only the bare rock and some tongues of sand completely covered at high water.

The pharos, as it issued from the hands of the Des Foix, father and son, consisted of a circular platform protected by a broad parapet, and of the tower, which was divided into four stories, not including the lantern. The ground floor presented a great vestibule of a quadrangular form, with four little recesses which served for magazines. Staircases placed in the embrasures of the entrance-gate and of the two windows led to the cellars and the water-tank. On either side of the doorway, prior to the Revolution, were busts of Henry III. and Henry IV. On the first story, which bore the title—probably without any justification—of “the King’s Chamber,” was a saloon of the same dimensions as the vestibule, but more richly decorated, from which access was obtained to the first exterior gallery. A chapel, circular in shape, occupied the second story, and was illuminated by two rows of windows, covered by a spherical vault, and enriched with Corinthian pilasters and elegant sculptures. Above the door of the chapel stood the bust of Louis de Foix; and the following sonnet, composed in the purestgalimatiasof the time, was engraved on a large tablet above it:—

QVAND IADMIRE RAVI CEST ŒVVRE EN MON COVRAGEMON DE FOIX MON ESPRIT EST EN ESTONNEMENT.PORTE DANS LES PENSERS DE MON ENTENDEMENTLE GENTIL INGENIEVX DE CE SVPERBE OVVRAGE.LA IL DISCOVRT EN LVY ET DVN MVET LANGAGETE VA LOVANT SVBTIL EN CE POINT MESMEMENTQUE TV BRIDES LES FLOTS DV GRONDEVX ELEMENTET DVN MVTIN NEPTVNE LA TEMPESTE ET LORAGE.O TROIS ET QVATRE FOIS BIENHEVREVX TON ESPRITDE CE QVAV FRONT DRESSE CE PHARE IL ENTREPRITPOVR SE PERPETVER DANS LHEVREVSE MEMOIRE.TV TES AQVIS PAR LA VN HONNEVR INFINIQVI NE FINIRA POINT QVE CE PHARE DE GLOIRELE MONDE FINISSANT NE SE RENDE FINY.

QVAND IADMIRE RAVI CEST ŒVVRE EN MON COVRAGEMON DE FOIX MON ESPRIT EST EN ESTONNEMENT.PORTE DANS LES PENSERS DE MON ENTENDEMENTLE GENTIL INGENIEVX DE CE SVPERBE OVVRAGE.

LA IL DISCOVRT EN LVY ET DVN MVET LANGAGETE VA LOVANT SVBTIL EN CE POINT MESMEMENTQUE TV BRIDES LES FLOTS DV GRONDEVX ELEMENTET DVN MVTIN NEPTVNE LA TEMPESTE ET LORAGE.

O TROIS ET QVATRE FOIS BIENHEVREVX TON ESPRITDE CE QVAV FRONT DRESSE CE PHARE IL ENTREPRITPOVR SE PERPETVER DANS LHEVREVSE MEMOIRE.

TV TES AQVIS PAR LA VN HONNEVR INFINIQVI NE FINIRA POINT QVE CE PHARE DE GLOIRELE MONDE FINISSANT NE SE RENDE FINY.

All the parts of the primitive construction still exist, and have undergone but little alteration during successive restorations; but such is not the case with the upper portion, which has been completely destroyed, from the gradual sinking of the tower.

Above the second gallery, the dome of the chapel was ornamented on the outside by richly sculptured dormer-windows, forming the second tier of windows of that story. It was surmounted by a circular pavilion, vaulted, and decorated with composite pilasters, whose entablature was crowned by the open balustrade of an outer gallery leading into the lantern. This lantern—whose dimensions were somewhat limited—was built of hewn stone, and composed of eight arcades, whose piers were embellished with columns, and whose cupola terminated in a shaft to carry off the smoke of the furnace.

Under Louis XV., in 1727, an iron structure was substituted for this stone lantern, whose masonry had been calcined by the fire, and whose broad piers, moreover, had the serious inconvenience of obscuring a very considerable portion of the light; but the furnace was kept at the same elevation; namely, about 120 feet above the level of the highest seas.

This elevation, as it did not enable the light to be seenat a sufficient distance, was soon pronounced unsatisfactory. A scheme to raise it 100 feet was planned by the Chevalier de Borda, who submitted it to Teulère, the chief engineer to the city of Bordeaux. The latter pointed out that it was both imperative and possible to increase the height by 65 feet. His designs were accepted, and their successful execution, in 1788 and 1789, in spite of many dangers, procured for Teulère a reputation scarcely inferior to that of De Foix himself.

The light is now placed at an elevation above high-water level of 190 feet, and above the ground of 205 feet. But, regarded from an artistic point of view, we must confess that the lighthouse has by no means gained. There is a certain dryness about the too naked forms of the modern construction, which contrasts in a manner much to be deplored with the elegance and richness of the Renaissance work. The present summit (couronnement) is by no means equal to that which formerly existed. Yet, as Reynaud justly observes, the first impression which the edifice produces leaves no room for regret; you are penetrated with a profound feeling of admiration the moment you find yourself in the presence of this majestic monument, towering with so sublime a boldness above the bosom of the ocean.

PRESENT LIGHTHOUSE OF CORDOVA.

These emotions have been finely expressed by Michelet in his noble book on “the Sea.”

“During our six months’ sojourn on this shore,” he says, “our ordinary object of contemplation—I had almost said, our daily society—was Cordouan. We felt keenly how its position as guardian of the seas, as the constant watcher of the strait, made of it an individuality. Erectagainst the broad eastern horizon, it appeared under a hundred varied aspects. Sometimes, in a belt of glory, it triumphed under the sun; sometimes, pale and indistinct, it hovered through the mist, no augury of good. At evening, when it abruptly kindled its red light, and darted forth its glance of fire, it seemed like a zealous inspector, who watched over the waters, impressed and disquieted by his responsibility. Whatever occurred at sea was attributed to it. By illuminating the tempest, it was frequently a source of safety, and yet men ascribed to it the storm. It is thus that Ignorance too often treats Genius, accusing it of the evils which it reveals. Even we ourselves were not just. If it delayed lighting up, if bad weather came, we censured it, we growled at it. ‘Ah, Cordouan, Cordouan, thou white phantom! canst thou, then, bring us nought but storms?’”

During the last few years a complete restoration of the lighthouse of Cordouan has been carried out, with the view of replacing the stones—and they were numerous—injured by the weather, and of renewing the sculptures, which it was difficult to trace, they were so worn and abraded. All the buildings which at different times had been erected against the platform-wall to supply the insufficiency of dwelling-apartments in the lighthouse, have been reconstructed. And in 1854 arrangements were made to distinguish it from neighbouring lights; it has now a revolving light, white and red, with a range of twenty-seven miles.

INTERIOR OF THE CORDOVA LIGHTHOUSE.

The introduction of the dioptric apparatus into the Cordouan lighthouse took place long ago; it belongs, in fact,to the earliest experiments of Fresnel, for it is a peculiarity worth notice in the annals of this patriarch of pharoses, that attention has always been directed to it when any question has arisen of testing a new invention. It was one of the first which saw the inconvenient and unsatisfactorychaufferreplaced, as a means of lightage, by oil lamps. In 1782 it was provided with at least eighty of these, each accompanied by a reflector. A few years later, when Teulère had furnished Borda with the elements of the catoptric system, the largest apparatus was immediately installed at Cordouan (1790). Finally, when Augustin Fresnel, in his turn, invented the lenticular system, it was at Cordouan that experiments were first made with the most important model.

Considering, then, the numerous and valuable services which Cordouan has rendered, we ask ourselves, says M. Rénard,[52]whether, among the numerous monuments raised by the pride and daring of man, there are many of so much respectability as this “Patriarch of the Lighthouses!” We cannot acknowledge that any one of them is so justly deserving of our reverent admiration. Nobler, far nobler, and of infinitely greater utility, than the trophies by which the conqueror has tracked his bloody path, or the pompous boundary-stones erected by nations at each stage of their history, it will also be of a more permanent character. For these belong only to individuals or peoples: Cordouan belongs to the whole human race.

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