INTERIOR OF A FRENCH LIGHTHOUSE. 181 



a wooden pier for the disembarkation of the stones at the spot where they were required. 

 Several of the older seamen objected to the plan as impracticable, but M. Reynaud, who 

 was not familiar with the sea, and who, moreover, was proud of having stemmed the 

 current of rapid rivers, trusted to the stability of his massive piles, clamped together 

 with iron and bronze. But he was soon compelled to admit his mistake. The first 

 storm sufficed to scatter over the waters the whole of these ponderous and solid materials 

 like so many pieces of straw. So a crane was attached to the summit of a rock, to which 

 boats could be moored, and the materials for building were then drawn up to a railway 

 which had been thrown over the precipice that separated this natural landing-place from 

 the site of the tower. 



"Now that we have admired the exterior of the lighthouse, follow me into the 

 interior by the help of these steps, which have been formed by the insertion of bars 

 of copper into the stone. Let us pause for a moment to admire the ponderous bronze 

 doors which hermetically seal the entrance, before we plunge into those vaults which look 

 as if they had been cut out of the solid rock. We are in the first storey, surrounded 

 by stores of wood and ropes and workmen's tools. Above, we perceive cases of zinc, 

 which, we are told, contain oil to feed the lamps and water for the use of the men 

 employed in the building. In the third storey is the kitchen, with its pantry and larder, 

 on a level with the first gallery. We need not enter the three apartments appropriated 

 to the use of the men, for, beyond being very simple and clean, there is nothing to record 

 concerning them. But we have now reached the seventh storey, and we must rest for a 

 few moments in the little octagonal saloon, set apart for the engineers, when they come 

 to inspect the condition of the lighthouse. Here, in the midst of the ocean, more than a 

 hundred feet above the level of the sea, you will find the comfort and almost the elegance 

 of a Parisian apartment. 



"Let us now return to the spiral staircase which has brought us thus far, and 

 which will carry us at once to the portion of the edifice which is more particularly 

 destined to fulfil the special purpose for which the tower is designed. The eighth storey 

 contains vessels of oil, glasses, revolving lamps, some admirable instruments intended 

 for meteorological observations, a thermometer, barometer, and chronometer. Here the 

 spiral staircase terminates in a flattened arch, which supports a slender pillar, cut into 

 steps, which are the only means of communication with the watch-tower above, in which 

 the men take it by turns to keep guard every night. You will be surprised on looking 

 round to perceive that this apartment is coated with different coloured marbles, which 

 line the walls and vaulted roof, and even cover the floor. But this luxury, which 

 may appear to you so much out of place, has been introduced from necessity. The 

 apparatus for lighting the building enters the room through a circular aperture in 

 the ceiling, and hence the most extreme cleanliness becomes necessary, which could 

 alone be obtained by the aid of perfectly polished surfaces." 



The tenth and last flight of steps brings one beneath the cupola, and to the machinery 

 by which a light of the first order is maintained. 



