ing into his essentially German nature the excellences of two souls so far apart as Sophocles and Hâfiz, shows a capacity of assimilation and reproduction which is characteristically German. Taken all in all, as a man of various learning, deep thought, laborious scientific research, delicate sensibility, and

rich fancy, there can be little doubt that of all the great creative intellects that in these latter days have given a European ascendency to the literature of the Germans, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe is their most complete and most distinctly marked representative man. Blackwood's Magazine.

THE games and festivals of the modern Basques furnish, perhaps, the nearest approach in Western Europe to what may have been-their grosser and more brutal features excepted-the Olympic and Isthmian games of ancient Greece. Boxing, wrestling, chariot and horse racing have no place in the assemblies of the Basques. The Eisteddfod of Wales presents the literary side of these meetings; the gathering of the highlanders at Braemar, the athletic. But the Basques unite recreation of mind with that of the body; prizes are given equally for the best prose or verse composition, to the best improvisatore, to the successful ball player, and to the athlete. But the most elaborate of all the spectacles, the pastorale or tragédie, a dramatic performance with dance and music, which lasts a whole day, has not even a prize at all; rarely does the sum collected equal the expense of setting up the piece; and, stranger still, the most graceful of all the exercises, the manly dance, is actually paid for by the dancers. At the close of a pastorale the right of performing the first dance on the vacant stage is put up to auction by the actors, and the villages or communes, bidding against each other, purchase the privilege of sending their youth to dance the first saut Basque alone before the public on the stage. It is not money, but artistic enjoyment and local fame, which is the greatest stimulant to success at these fêtes.

In another respect these fêtes are like those of the Greeks; the yare always held in the open air. The pastorale or tragédie is performed on a rough platform, enclosed by no barrier, open to all the spectators, and with the sky alone for its roof. The long ball.court, with its seats at the upper end and down the sides, is equally uncovered. Like the

Greek theatre it is often distinguished for the beauty of the site. In the distance at least the mountains are almost always to be seen; secular trees often overshadow the stone or wooden seats on which the principal spectators sit, and afford a most welcome shade from the mid-day sun; while, near the coast, the breaking wave with its deeper murmur fills up the intervals of the buzz of conversation, of music, of shouting, or of applause. These different kinds of relaxation are not, however, found combined all in any one district. In La Soule, alone, the most easterly of the French divisions of the Pays Basque, are dramatic representations given; it is there too that dancing flourishes most, and there alone are the strange animal dances, with their quaint tunes, still preserved. There too, on the outside of the throng, athletes may be seen throwing the heavy iron bar, or leaping with a somersault in a hop, skip, and jump. In the Labourd and in the neighboring parts of Guipuzcoa and Navarre the ball games are the most keenly practised, though they are common everywhere; and there the gift and habit of improvisation is most frequent, and the coplaçari, makers of couplets, or bersolari, makers of verses, contend against each other in poetic strife; it is there too that prizes are most frequently given for written compositions both in prose and verse.

We propose now to give a brief description of this year's féte at Sare, a village of the Labourd which boasts the best ball-players, and where, owing to the liberality of M. Antoine d'Abbadie the distinguished Membre de l'Institut, the art of improvisation has been most carefully fostered.

The fête was most sadly curtailed by the weather. Nothing could be done

on the second and third days, and but little even on the first. The morning of September 11th opened very gloomily. It had rained heavily during the night, and in the morning rain was still falling. Little by little things looked brighter. It was impossible to begin the sports at the appointed hour, but toward noon men might be seen with sponges sopping up the water on the court. Wood shavings were then strewn over the wettest parts, fires were kindled, and thus the place was sufficiently dried by the afternoon to allow of the first international match between French and Spanish Basques being played.

The ball court here, as often elsewhere, is in the centre of the village, in front of the mairie. Formerly, when leathern gloves alone were used, the length did not exceed ninety yards; but since the invention first of a wooden, then of a wicker gauntlet, bound to the back of the right hand, beyond which it extends about a foot, the length of the court has been extended up to over 100 yards. At Sare the distance from the extreme wall of the court to the mairie is 115 measured mètres (124 yards); yet the ball, which weighs 125 grammes (over four ounces), will sometimes strike the first story before it reaches the ground, and will be returned clear over the 20-feet wall at the other end. This will give some idea of the muscular force required. The ball, though driven with such force, is constantly taken before it touches the ground, and to an uninitiated spectator it appears as if the impact would almost tear off the striker's arm; but an imperceptible yielding movement, only to be acquired by practice, before giving the forward blow, renders itharmless, and even gives an appearance of ease to the stroke. The width of the court is about 25 feet. The chief play ers, on whom the success of the game mainly depends, are on the in-side-the one who stands at the wall and receives the ball from the server, and strikes it back to the farther end of the court. On the out-side it is the butor, or server, and the player who stands at the extreme end of the court; the other players stand between, one of each side opposite the other. The sides may be of three, four, five, or even of six each. The butor, or server, stards at about 25

yards from the wall, and strikes the ball with his open hand as it bounds from a small wooden or stone stand on which he has let it fall, so as to make it touch first a small paved spot in front of the central portion of the wall, then rise and strike the wall, when it is caught at the rebound by the opposing player, and hurled in a magnificent curve to the farther end. The great aim of the server is to strike the flagged space just at its juncture with the wall; the ball does not then rise, but shoots along the ground, trying to the utmost the skill of the striker to take it at all. A very picturesque feature of the game are the attitudes into which the striker is necessarily thrown by the very varied conditions under which he takes the ball. He first stands facing the bowler, follows with his eye the coming ball, turns to sees where it will strike the wall, judges of the rebound, then, swiftly turning, strikes it with his utmost force-sometimes at his full height, if the ball bounds high, sometimes half stooping, sometimes on his back, as the only possible way of taking it when it shoots along the ground. The postures thus assumed often present a fine study for a sculptor. One which frequently occurs when the ball is low is singularly like that of the archer in the Æginetan marbles. The left leg is extended as far as possible forward, the right bent under the body; the fingers of the left hand and arm fall naturally and lightly on the left knee; the head and body are thrown back; the muscles of the uplifted right arm are still in full tension from the force of the blow; and the wistful, eager face and eyes are watching the ball as it speeds in lofty curve to the most distant player. As in cricket, a wet day is in favor of the bowler or server ; a fine day, when the ball bounds high, in favor of the striker. On the present occasion the day was all in favor of the servers; again and again the strikers were on their backs, sometimes fairly rolling over on the ground; yet, such was their skill, they rarely altogether missed the ball. The excitement of the game when the ball is returned four or five times in succession from either end of the court is intense. It is curious then to note how all the heads of the vast crowd turn simultaneously, as if

moved by machinery, in the direction of the ball's flight. This does not very often happen; at the second or third stroke the ball is usually driven along the ground, and is stopped or returned by one of the middle players, and the score is reckoned by the place where it finally rests. The drawback of the game is that the ball is so often sent out of court, and falta, a fault, is called; but it has this advantage over cricket, that every one on both sides is always actively engaged none are standing still. A blow from a ball of such a weight, driven by the gauntlet, is not slight; yet the spectators are quite unprotected, and the squeezing, and ducking, and warding with parasols and umbrellas when the ball comes among them afford great merriment to those in safety at a distance. The players are wonderfully quick in dodging the ball when it is not their interest to take it; but if, in the rush to strike it, a spectator gets in the way, he is bowled over without mercy, and must take his fall good-humoredly. An apology is almost always tendered immediately afterward; but any attempt to resent would be laughed at, or be dangerous, as all present would take the player's part. The counting goes, as in tennis, by 15, 30, 40, and the game. There are chasses and demi-chasses, which it would be difficult and tedious to explain. Three or five umpires are always appointed, and meet in the middle of the court for solemn consultation on any doubtful point. Their decision is never impugned; but in very dubious cases they call in the aid of any of the spectators, but so as always to keep the number of deciding voices odd.

The best players are as well known as are our eminent cricketers. "Who is that?" I asked in my simplicity of a chance neighbor. "That! That is the famus Arrondo," replied he, with a glance of such intensely contemptuous pity that I questioned him no more. As a rule the Spanish Basques are better players than the French, and are often stronger men. The French account for this superiority by the greater laziness of the Spanish. "We work," say they, and have fewer holidays; they don't work, but play whenever they like, and, beside, have many more holidays to practise in." On the present occasion,

however, the Spanish Basques were both smaller and fairer men than the French, and after a fine struggle, in which the game was twice called even, they were beaten. The victory was chiefly due to a douanier, Berterretche, who served on the French side, and to their two strikers, Arrondo and Zilhar. Bravo, Zilhar !" was shouted again and again during the contest; but the beaten party were allowed to have played a fine game. the

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Among other characteristics stranger will notice how, at noon, when the Angelus is sounded, the play stops on the instant, spectators and players uncover, the band plays softly the Angelic hymn, every head is bowed in silence, the fingers move in rapid crossings, and the game proceeds as before. "Who says Basque says Catholic, a country proverb. The games for money prizes are contested by those who may be called, in a sense, professional players; but on other occasions men of all ranks join, and, though never in a public match, at other times the long cassock of a priest may be seen whirling in wondrous gyrations as its owner takes his part in a game where every one else is in shirt sleeves and pantaloons.

Hardly had the game of ball been concluded, and the spectators left the seats which they had patiently occupied for four hours, when the garde-champêtre, a fine old sailor, mounted the wall at the end of the court, and, using his hands like a speaking-trumpet, summoned the improvisatore to gentle contest. First a blind old laborer, Anibar of Sare, appeared, led on by a boy.

a more

As he crept slowly along the wall, twelve feet above the gathering audience below, there was a cry lest he should fall, but the boy held him firmly by the shoulders. Then a pause and a murmur of disappointment began that there would be no other candidate; but a curly headed youth, Pelho of Cambo, came forward, and then a shout announced one of the most noted of the Spanish bersolari, Elicegni, el molinero (the miller) of Oyarzun, in Guipuzcoa; a laborer from Echalar, in Navarre, then stood up; then Makharra of Souraide, and a man from Baigorry, whose heart, however, failed him before it came to his turn, made up the full list. The jury,

have no anxiety; everything is provided for me; my master is kind and good; I don't get into debt, and when I have paid my rent I have still money to put by. I do not borrow to cultivate my land, and have no fear of nortgage and of lawsuit." The improvisation was very rapid. Every verse was saluted with applause; each was evidently ready as soon as his rival ceased, and began the instant that he could be heard. For some six or seven verses Pelho held his own well, but after that the physical strength of the miller began to tell. He seemed as if he could go on forever; but Pelho was beginning to look worn and exhausted, and at the close of the thirteenth stanza the jury mercifully decided that the prize (80 francs) should be divided between them. Two verses of thanks from each to the jury, to the audience, and to M. d'Abbadie, the prize-giver, concluded the scene, and the successful competitors were hurried off to the mairie to receive the prize, Pelho being hugged and slapped and almost torn to pieces by his admiring friends. It was striking to notice here, as in the pastorals, how much further the voice can be heard in the open air in singing, chant, or recitation than in speaking. The jury, though seated near to them, had to shout at the top of their voices to the candidates, and were even then heard with difficulty, while every word of the younger singers was distinctly heard. Each trial lasted from ten to twelve minutes, the better performers getting through double the number of verses which the inferior actors did in the same time. Thus the first pair sung only six verses each, the last thirteen each in almost the same time. The improvisatori are almost all of the class of laborers, peasant farmers, or artisans. On one occasion a girl ap

peared among the candidates at Sare, and hear, O advocates of women's rights-was at once unfairly handicapped by the jury, and ordered to compose in the familiar" thou" conjugation instead of the ordinary "you" form. She did it fairly well, but failed to obtain a prize. There is, however, another prize given at these festivals, for which men of all ranks compete, a written composition in verse, and occasionally in prose. The best writers among both French and Spanish Basques engage in this. While the above improvisations were going on, printed copies of the two prize poems were handed round. The first was gained by Pierre Dibarrart, the precentor of the church at Baigorry, for a song of eleven song of eleven verses called The Charcoal-burner on the Mountain ;" the second by Larrondoberri, a yeoman of Sare, for a fable in the irregular verse of La Fontaine, "The Wolf turned Saint." Neither are above the usual level of prize poems. In fact, these contests, though undoubtedly keeping alive a certain amount of literary taste, have produced no really fine poem. The best, perhaps, is one of recent years on the Basque Language," by Sr. Arrese y Beitia; none of the others are above the rank of pleasing songs.

The

The next day the rain was unceasing, and so few came to the fête that the contest for the best irrintz," the peculiar shrill mountain cry of the Basque, as the "jodel" is among the Tyrolese, could not be entered on. rain, however, did not deter the peasants from bringing their cattle to show for prizes on the Wednesday morning; but nothing else could be done, and, except on the afternoon of the first day, the festival was utterly spoiled by the weather. Cornhill Magazine.

CHAPTER I.

A LITTLE one-horse carriage, very rickety, very steep to climb into, was jingling its way along the road from Orthez to Sauveterre. There was much fuss in its progress, the bells on the horse's collar shook, the wheels rattled,

the drag was loose and made a discordant noise, but for all that the pace was not very great.

There were two occupants of this uncomfortable vehicle, a young lady and a gentleman, and a small trunk was strapped on behind, betraying the fact that they were travellers.