sufficed to take me to the spot, and I gained a considerable amount of kudos by my exertions on that occasion.

I daresay the present generation of Cantabs is just as fond of fires, and just as willing to work at putting them out, as we were. The young and kindly hearts must be just the same in their feelings now as then. What I should like to hear of is the establishment of a Volunteer Fire Brigade in my old University. I venture to say that, if the colonel of the University Volunteers were to graft the fire brigade on to his system, it would add wonderfully to its popularity. In the rifle corps there is the necessary discipline, authority, and organization. After half-a-dozen drills with the engines there would only be needed a monthly practice to keep the brigade efficient. The college servants should also be enrolled in the brigade, so that there would still be a body of men ready for any emergency in the vacations. If some such plan were adopted, much desultory energy and un

directed power would be brought under control. Clergymen and country gentlemen would acquire a kind of knowledge which might often be very useful in remote districts; and the University which began the Volunteer movement might give an impulse to Volunteer Fire Brigades which would produce beneficial effects from Cumberland to Cornwall.

Some anxious parents might say that they did not send their sons to the University to make firemen of them, and to expose them to the great risks that attend such an employment. But the fact is, that men will go to fires, and will work at them. It must certainly be better to have them there under discipline than as their own masters. The risk would be much less; the good done much greater. And, as the University engines would always move at the first alarm of fire, much valuable property might be saved while the managers of other engines were bargaining as to who was to pay for the engines, as happened at Cottenham, and lately near Preston.

THIS Pastorale was played at Larran, June 20th, 1864.

The benevolent reader will perhaps at once exclaim, with varied energy of expression, according to his or her peculiar temperament: "Where is Larran? and what is a Pastorale?"

Larran is a village of about 1,200 souls, high among the mountains of the French-Spanish frontier, near the head waters of Le Saison (or Cesson, according to Michel), in the arrondissement of Mauléon, in the department of the Basses Pyrénées, the south-westerly depart ment of la belle France, and one of the most lovely in the whole of it. So far, geographically. Ethnologically-which is of still greater importance to the present subject-it is situated in the very heart of La Soule, in the Pays Basque, and thus occupies the proudest of all positions among that remarkable people; for, of the three French districts of the Pays Basque, viz. Le Labourd, La Basse Navarre, and La Soule, the inhabitants of the last are those who claim to be Basques par excellence—the pure, unmingled, aristocratic blood. And, what is still more to the present purpose, it is in the Souletin district alone, nay, only in its more remote parts, that Pastorales are now either acted at all, or in anything like their primitive simplicity.

Now, what is a Pastorale? Reader, the gist, the whole purport of this paper will be an attempt to describe to you a Pastorale. But, before describing the thing, we will endeavour to explain the word. It is evidently of French-Latin origin, and is defined in Boiste's Dictionary as "a theatrical or poetical piece, in which shepherds are the actors, musicians, dancers." This seems to be pretty nearly correct; but the Basques themselves use the French word "Tragédie" as synonymous with Pastorale. The piece we are about to describe is

Richard sans Peur, Duc de Normandie," and in ordinary conversation the terms Pastorale and Tragédie are indifferently used. The reader must not understand, however, by Tragédie, anything like the Tragedies of Corneille or of Shakespeare,

nor

even what is in some respects much nearer, the Plays of Euripides, or of Sophocles, or of the early Athenian stage. This will, we trust, be made plain by the sequel. Meanwhile we must be content with this definition: a Pastorale is a dramatic representation as performed among the Souletin Basques.

How can one get to Larran? Starting from Mauléon or from Tardets, the chief towns in the valley of Le Saison, and which are easily accessible from any of the central stations of the Pau and Bayonne railroad, there is a carriageroad up the valley as far as Licq; but thence the traveller must proceed on his own legs, or on those of horse, mule, or donkey. Following the path up the valley, a valley as lovely in its quiet beauty as a mountain valley of the softer kind can well be-following up this valley, the path winds close along the banks of the Gave, or mountain stream, till the ascent begins which leads immediately to Larran itself. The village is perched on a kind of high plateau or promontory in the hills, so far above the little mountain stream which we have hitherto followed that it can neither be seen nor heard directly from it, though but a hundred yards from the centre of the village there is a point whence nearly the whole course of it may be seen, as it comes leaping, sparkling, foaming down from its iron mountain home. But, high as Larran is, it has still this peculiarity: from no quarter can it be seen as you approach it, until you are almost in its streets; and again, when you are in it, nought can be seen from it but the open sky, and the summits of the neighbouring but still somewhat distant moun

of this village, looked down upon by those majestic spectators, under a literally cloudless sky, and, of course, as its midsummer concomitant in Pyrenean latitudes, a blazing scorching southern sun, that this Pastorale was playedacted for eight long hours, or, reckoning the preliminary procession, for nearly nine.

The performers of these Pastorales are no paid actors-they are no set of artists devoting themselves, either exclusively or in part, to the service of the tragic muse. They are simply the rustic villagers, young or old as the case may be, who, for their own pleasure, or to while away the tedium of a long winter in the mountains, and for the entertainment of their neighbours, or for the still more cherished approval of the fair Basque maidens, learn and act these Pastorales. In the district of La Soule there are generally one or two acted yearly, but seldom at the same village in two consecutive years. In the acting the sexes are rarely, if ever, mingled. Generally all the performers are males, young lads or boys taking the female parts; but, sometimes, once in seven years or so, the maidens of the valley will act a piece, the subject of which is almost always taken from the life of some female saint; and excellently well we are assured they do it-the girls in this case taking the male as well as the female parts. At Larran, the piece we witnessed was performed by the young bachelor lads of the village and of the neighbourhood. None of the actors were above twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age, but they ranged from boyhood up to that age. The piece selected was entitled (as above) "Richard sans Peur, Duc de Normandie ;" but, notwithstanding this French title, the reader must please to remember that every other word of it was Basque (Escuaras), excepting solely in the interlude, wherein some words of Béarnois patois were introduced.

Let us now attempt a description of the accessories. First, of the stage. No stage that ever was constructed could possibly

of rough boards, laid on joists, which again rested on empty wine-barrels set on end. The whole surface of the stage might be some sixty feet by forty. The access to it was by a short ladder of four or five steps from the ground in front. The hinder part abutted on a house, on a level with the first floor, taking advantage of a slope in the ground, so that through the windows and doors of this house, the actors and inmates found egress and ingress to and from the stage. Some five or six feet from the house-wall, a sheet, to which a few flowers and ribbons were attached, was suspended across the stage, and the space thus inclosed between the sheet and the house formed the ordinary greenroom, or retiring-place for the actors when off duty. At the sides, this too was as open as any other part of the stage, and as patent to the curiosity of the spectators. At the upper righthand corner of the sheet was affixed (as is always the case in these Pastorales) a wooden puppet, whose body, legs, and arms could be jerked about by cords; which puppet is supposed, in the Basque idea of Saracenic and diabolic mythology, to represent Mahomet, the god, or idol, whom Saracens and devils equally adore. It is frequently alluded to as such in the course of the performance. This is absolutely the whole scenic decoration; the rest is bare boards.

How shall we describe the actors themselves, and their dresses? How can we speak of simplicity without making it ridiculous? how show originality lurking beneath conventionality, and old ideas of romance united so quaintly with the latest phases of modern caprice in feminine and military toilettes? Can the reader picture to himself Charlemagne, that doughty emperor, in the blue uniform of a national guard, with white cotton gloves for gauntlets, and a gold-headed Malacca walking-cane to represent the sceptre before which trembled almost all of Europe's monarchs; and Richard, Duke of Normandy, the hero of the piece, in similar attire, but with blue glass

Clarissa, too-the fair Clarissa, the only daughter of England's proud king, Astolpho-in hat and feather, ay, white cotton gloves, and crinoline? These are types of most of the dresses on that day. But by the side of these was the graceful Satans' dress-those darling Satans of whom we shall have so much to say-so thoroughly Basque, from the pretty red beret (cap), with its white tassels, to the hempen sandals (spartingues or espadrilles); the short, tightfitting jacket of brightest scarlet, open in front, the crimson sash, the nether garments white, with just three threads of different colours, some inches apart, below the knee. An Archbishop, too, was there, gorgeous in purple spangled cassock and cape, and purple pasteboard mitre, with silver tinsel cross upon it, and gilded crosier. An Angel, too-a boy in satin tunic, white, with garland on his head of green and white, with sash of blue-a wingless angel, but who ever kept a tiny cross upheld between his joined palms and outstretched finger-tips, and ever marched with softly measured steps, and ever spoke in softly chanted tones. Such were the chief costumes. Blue was the colour of the good and the heroic-of Roland, and of Charlemagne, of Richard himself, and of Salomon, king of Brittany, and all the French; while scarlet, horrid scarlet flamed upon the backs of all the bad-the terrible Satans, the heathen Saracens, the perfidious English.

The head-dresses, among all else that was conventional, were truly original, and seemed invented for the occasion. If Charlemagne, for instance, was not Charlemagne in the play, but some one else (reader, express not too strongly thy astonishment; such changes happened continually, for there was a play within the play, in which the metamorphose of the characters was indicated to the eye by change of head-dress only)-if Charlemagne, I say, was not himself, but some one else, he wore a common buff wide-awake; but, when himself, he shone most glorious to behold in tinsel bravery-upon his head he wore what

described as "a structure like a conical bird-cage made of sticks of barley-sugar, with his head in the middle of it." The head-dresses of the blue division were but variations on this, with fieldmarshals' and gendarmes' hats for the minor characters; but the reds, the Sultan and his men, were terrible in gleaming helmets of carmine tinsel, over which nodded fearfully four plumes of mingled. red and white. A small oval lookingglass did duty for a diamond above the front of the mighty Saladin, and by this small mirror his gallant followers did literally often dress themselves. A giant, too, appeared in black, with sombre plumes at least half a yard high upon his lofty head. Let this suffice for the millinery department.

The other properties comprised a full orchestra of three performers, and five instruments. The first performer played a violin simply, like any other village musician'; but his fellow-artists played four instruments, two apiece at the same time, viz. a pipe or fife, and a Basque tambourin. The former was played with the mouth and right hand; the latter rested on the shoulder and knees, and was beaten by a stick with the left hand. This Basque tambourin must by no means be confounded with the instrument of similar name familiar to our childhood in the hands of German peasant girls. It is quite a different instrument-being one of the many variations of the guitar, only made of stouter wood, oblong in shape, about two and a half feet long, but slightly broader at the upper end than at the lower, and with a low bridge, over which are stretched five strings of very coarse material, which are beaten with short stick, about twelve inches long. The music thus produced seems to be not at all unpleasant to dance to, or to give the rhythm to the chants. For other purposes we dare not hazard an opinion.

a

Stage construction, scenery (or rather no scenery), costumes, orchestra, have been more or less described. What remains? Some very useful personages.

rolled into one, and who without false shame pursued his useful labours before the eyes and ears of all the spectators. Secondly, six stage-keepers, one at each corner, and two at the sides of the stage, dressed in white berets, in neat blue and white blouses with turndown collars, belted round the waist, and with white inexpressibles. They were armed with guns and bayonets, which guns they fired (as by proxy) whenever a hero fell, and very often promiscuously besides. And, when the report was heard, the Basque matrons and maidens all called out in charming nervousness (like the unfortunate maidens of a Greek Tragedy) Ay! yai ai! yai! ai! yai yai yai eh!!!! to the great satisfaction of those stalwart warriors, who themselves seldom fired their old flint pieces without firmly shutting both eyes, and turning their heads as far as possible away from the trigger and the stock. The further business of these stage-keepers was to preserve order among those of the spectators (a pretty numerous company), who were admitted to seats on the stage, and to prod small boys in the back with their bayonets, in order to repulse their attempts to escalade the same, or to hunt them out from among the winebarrels below, when their game of hideand-seek grew too uproarious there. They were also useful in crying out "Shoal!" i.e. silence, when conversation grew too animated among the inattentive portion

of the audience.

The reader must now be asked to imagine himself, at nine o'clock on the morning of June 20th, sitting at the open window of a spacious bed-room in the village inn, looking down on the place, and with a side-view of the stage below, commanding a prospect of the doings of the green-room as well as of the performance upon the stage itself. At present the stage is untenanted, save by a few women who are leisurely stitching flowers and ribbons to the sheets they have just put up to form the back of the stage; but nearly all the previous night, beneath the clear, bright moon, private, but by no means quiet, rehearsals of the parts have been going on, mostly

of the steps and dances, not of the speeches. Throughout the whole village, however, some unusual silent stir is visible. The sounds of fife and violin are faintly and irregularly heard; horses are led up the steep hill sides, and small ravines, and through the stony lanes which lead to and through the village; while indoors a universal "toilette" seems going on. In the inn itself each room contains some monarch or hero of the day putting on his bright attire. In the kitchen, Salomon, king of Brittany, turns up the tails of his uniform to a blazing fire, as if it were midwinter instead of midsummer. Strange, halfdressed figures flit from door to door, or appear at open windows in a still odder stage of habiliment. But, at length, all, both men and steeds, are visibly converging to the more distant part of the village. The music settles to a more regular strain, and through openings among the houses glimpses are to be caught of the procession as it winds its way round the village to pay due respect to the authorities-the mayor, the parish priest, the chief custom-house officers, &c. before commencing the business of the day. First marches on foot the orchestra-the aforesaid trio of violin and tambourin players-heading the procession; then follow on horseback seven or eight of the blue or heroic division; then on one mule come the Archbishop, and the Angel-boy clinging most tightly round his grace's waist. A lady (boy, of course) follows next on horseback, in hat and feathers, and in crinoline. Then proudly march on restless steeds the haughty Saracens ; and the three Satans close the processionone in solitary grandeur upon his horse, but his two companions carried back to back upon a single noble steed. At intervals along the line walk the stagekeepers with loaded muskets and fixed. bayonets, and every now and then some straggling shots indicate to our ears at what point of the village they have arrived. At length the whole procession is seen winding down before the church, and across the "place" to the front of the stage. And now the actors separate into two