214 Travels in France 



The town has nothing that deserves description; the great and 

 only thing that is worth seeing, the dock yard, I could not see, 

 yet I had letters ; but the regulation forbidding it, as at Brest, 

 all applications were vain. — 25 miles. 



10/^. Lady Craven has sent me upon a wild-goose chase to 

 Hyeres— one would think this country, from her's and many 

 other descriptions, was all a garden; but it has been praised 

 much beyond its merit. The vale is everywhere richly cultivated 

 and planted with olives and vines, with a mixture of some mul- 

 berries, figs, and other fruit trees. The hills are either rocks, or 

 spread with a poor vegetation of evergreens, pines, lentiscus, etc. 

 The vale, though scattered with white bastides which animate the 

 scene, yet betrays that poverty in the robe of nature which always 

 offends the eye where olives and fruits form the principal clothing. 

 Every view is meagre on comparison with the rich foliage of 

 our northern forests. The only singular features are the orange 

 and lemon trees ; they here thrive in the open air, are of a great 

 size, and render every garden interesting to eyes that travel to 

 the south; but last winter's frost has shorn them of their glory. 

 They are all so nearly destroyed as to be cut almost to the root, 

 or to the trunk, but are in general shooting again. I conjecture 

 that these trees, even when in health and foliage, however they 

 may be separately taken, add but Uttle to the general effect of a 

 view. They are all in gardens, mixed with walls and houses, and 

 consequently lose much beauty as the part of a landscape. Lady 

 Craven's Tour sent me to the chapel of Notre Dame de consolation, 

 and to the hills leading to Monsieur Glapiere de St. Tropes; and 

 I asked for father Laurent, who was however very little sensible 

 of the honour she had done him. The views from the hills on 

 both sides of the town are moderate. The islands Portecroix, 

 Pourcurolle, and Levant (the nearest joined to the continent by 

 a causeway and saltmarsh, which they call a pond), the hills, 

 mounts, rocks, all are naked. The pines that spread on some of 

 them have not a much better effect than gorse. The verdure 

 of the vale is hurt by the hue of the olives. There is a fine outline , 

 to the views; but for a climate, where vegetation is the chief} 

 glory, it is poor and meagre ; and does not refresh the imagina- 

 tion with the idea of a thick shade against the rays of an ardent 

 sun. I can hear of no cotton in Provence, which has been 

 reported in several books; but the date and pistachio succeed:; 

 the myrtle is indigenous everywhere, and the jasminum, com- 

 mune, and fruiicans. In I'lsle de Levant is the genista candescens , 

 and the teucrium herba poma. Returning from my ride to thei 



