I toiled up the perpendicular cliff again, and took my way over the
grass, for another hour, to Fécamp, where I found the peculiarities of
Yport directly reversed. The place is a huge, straggling village, seated
along a wide, shallow bay, and adorned, of course, with the classic
_Casino_ and the row of hotels. But all this is on a very brave scale,
though it is not manifest that the bravery of Fécamp has won a victory;
and, indeed, the local attractions did not strike me as irresistible. A
pebbly beach of immense length, fenced off from the town by a grassy
embankment; a _Casino_ of a bold and unsociable aspect; a principal inn,
with an interminable brown façade, suggestive somehow of an asylum or an
almshouse--such are the most striking features of this particular
watering-place. There are magnificent cliffs on each side of the bay,
but, as the French say, without impropriety, it is the devil to get to
them. There was no one in the hotel, in the Casino, or on the beach; the
whole town being in the act of climbing the further cliff, to reach the
downs on which the races were to be held. The green hillside was black
with trudging spectators and the long sky line was fretted with them.
When I say there was no one at the inn, I forget the gentleman at the
door who informed me positively that he would give me no breakfast; he
seemed to have staid at home from the races expressly to give himself
this pleasure. But I went further and fared better, and procured a meal
of homely succulence, in an unfashionable tavern, in a back street,
where the wine was sound, the cutlets tender, and the serving-maid rosy.
Then I walked along--for a mile, it seemed--through a dreary, gray
_grand rue_, where the sunshine was hot, the odors portentous, and the
doorsteps garnished with aged fishwives, retired from business, whose
plaited linen coifs looked picturesquely white, and their faces
picturesquely brown. I inspected the harbor and its goodly basin--with
nothing in it--and certain pink and blue houses, which surround it, and
then, joining the last stragglers, I clambered up the side of the cliff
to the downs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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