Non-Fiction > Uncollected essays > Volumes 33-38, 1876-1878 - Cornhill magazine > Volume 33

FOEEST NOTES. 559
tion for beauty. It -u^as in 1730 that the Abbe Guilbert published his
Historical Descrijotion of the Palace, Totmi, and Forest of Fontaine-
hleati. And very droll it is to see him, as he tries to set forth his
admiration in terms of what was then permissible. The monstrous
rocks, ttc, says the Abbe, " sont admirees avee surprise des voyageurs
qui s'ecrient aussitot avee Horace : Ut mihi devio rupes et vacuum
nemus miraii libet." The good man is not exactly lyrical in his praise;
and you see how he sets his back against Horace as against a trusty
oak. Horace, at any rate, was classical. For the rest, however, the
Abbe likes places where many alleys meet ; or which, like the Belle-
Etoile, are kept up " by a special gardener," and admii-es at the Table
du Roi the laboui*s of the Grand Master of Woods and Waters, the
Sieur de la Falure, " cpii a fait faire ce magnifique endroit."
But indeed it is no't so much for its beauty that the forest makes
a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of
the air, that emanation from the old trees, that so wonderfully changes
and renews a weary spirit. Disappointed men, sick Francis Firsts and
vanquished Grand Monarchs, time out of mind have come here for con-
solation. Hither perplexed folk have retired out of the press of life, as
into a deep bay-window on some night of masquerade, and here found
quiet and silence, and rest, the mother of wisdom. It is the great moral
spa ; this forest without a fountain is itself the true fountain of Juven-
tius. It is the best place in the world to bring an old sorrow that has
been a long while your friend and enemy ; and if, like Beranger's, yo^^r
gaiety has run away from home and left open the door for sorrow to
come in, of all covers in Europe, it is here yon may expect to find the
truant hid. With every hour you change. The air penetrates through
your clothes, and nestles to your living body. You love exercise and
slumber, long fasting and full meals. You forget all your scruples
and live awhile in peace and freedom, and for the moment only. For
here, all is absent that can stimidate to moral feeling. Such people as
you see may be old, or toilworn, or sorry ; bvit you see them framed in
the forest, like figures on a painted canvas ; and for you, they are not
people in any living and kindly sense. You forget the grim contrariety
of interests. You forget the narrow lane where all men jostle together
in unchivalrous contention, and the kennel, deep and unclean, that
gapes on either hand for the defeated. Life is simple enough, it seems,
and the very idea of sacrifice becomes like a mad fancy out of a last
night's dream.
Your ideal is not perhaps high, but it is plain and possible. Yon
become enamoured of a life of change and movement and the open air,
where the muscles shall be more exercised than the afiections. When
yoix have had your will of the forest, you may visit the whole round
world. You may buckle on your knapsack and take the road on foot.
You may bestride a good nag, and ride forth, with a pair of saddle-bags,
into the enchanted East. You may cross the Black Forest, and see