The five hundred and three quarto pages of Les Iles
oubliées placed its author firmly on the literary map: within a matter
of months two leading German monthlies, Globus and Vom Fels zum Meer,
had published summaries of the Balearic sections by Friedrich von Hellwald, a
leading travel writer also known as a Darwinist who influenced Nietzsche; a Spanish
translation of the Balearic sections entitled "Viaje a las Baleares"
appeared in the Barcelona journal La Velada (1893-94, Vols 2-3); and three
years later the English version (The Forgotten Isles, 1896) was published
simultaneously in London and New York, a distinction which was to throw the Archduke
Luis Salvador, permanently into the Anglo-Saxon shade. Also worth mentioning here
is an Italian edition of La Sicile, which was brought out in 1897 by a
leading Milan firm, the same year that a second edition of The Forgotten Isles
hit the shelves in London. During the eleven decades which have since passed,
no one has really taken Vuillier's place. In the last thirty years alone, five
local editions of his Balearic and Corsican writings have appeared, as well as
a complete re-edition of La Sicilia.
It is time now
to turn our backs on the wine-dark sea with its seasonally-overrun islands, and
head north to the sleepy, forgotten province of Limousin, exactly half
way between Ibiza and Paris as the swallow flies. The winter temperature in those
hills can drop well below freezing, leading to the development of a caped cloak
which in the days of open-air motoring gave its name to a luxurious vehicle. After
cycling across the western part of the province a decade ago, I made a solemn
resolution to explore further, but the following spring marked my initial encounter
with Ibiza. Sad to say, I have never been back. Both Ibiza
and the Limousin share two features which are irresistible to artists and writers
the world over - picturesque, rolling hills and charming, unspoilt villages. It
was in the 1880s that Vuillier began his autumn visits to this quiet backwater,
drawn by the lovely vistas and quaint local traditions. The upper Corrèze
valley was the perfect place for a budding folklorist to fill notepads and sketchbooks
between island-hopping, and before long he was submitting his first pieces about
rural France to Le Tour du Monde. Five articles appeared between 1892 and 1902,
with evocative titles like "Chez les magicians et les sorciers de la Corrèze"
or "Le culte des fontaines en Limousin". These texts have recently been
rediscovered by local-history enthusiasts in Tulle, whose new editions mirror
the activities of their counterparts in Toulouse, Palermo, Palma de Mallorca,
Barcelona, Cagliari and now Ibiza. Between 1898 and 1902
Charles-Gaston began to acquire land around the waterfall at Gimel near the town
of Tulle. Like the Archduke with his prime pieces of Mallorcan real estate, Vuillier
targeted this picturesque corner not simply to enjoy it, but also to preserve
it from the land sharks. His Nature Park, one of the first of its kind, included
a Pavilion of Living Water' restaurant where tired trampers could fill stomachs
and rest their feet while contemplating the natural marvel. It was so tastefully
done that in 1909 he even received the prestigious Grand Prix du Paysage. But
the trophy hardly had time to gather dust when an Alsatian industrialist arrived
with a hydroelectric scheme which would have spelt the end of the aesthetically-framed
cascade. Our hero emerged from the ensuing eco-battle victorious but not unscathed,
his local reputation tarnished by tabloid-style publicity about Andalusian beauties
brought back from a sketching trip in Granada. Further ammunition was provided
by his fascination with sorcerers and pre-Christian folklore. As
well as travelling, sketching and writing, Vuillier found time to produce two
serious works on social-historical themes, La danse (1898) and Plaisirs
et jeux (1900), the former translated into English, Italian and Russian, and
recently reissued in English; his illustrations for an Arabian book (A Pilgrimage
to Nejd by Lady Anne Blunt, granddaughter of Byron and pioneering horse-breeder)
was followed by others on Indo-China (1898) and Scotland (1898)
as well as Prosper Mérimée's Carmen (1911); finally, two
volumes of verse Aspirations religieuses (1905) and Devant le
tabernacle (1906), wrapped things up. Never, it seems, did our Gaston-Charles
know a dull moment. And so we reach the end of the Vuillier
story. My thanks to Christine Bellan, without whose assistance these articles
would have barely penetrated the surface of this forgotten and much-underrated
figure. I will leave you today with his closing comments on Iviza': Mounted
on an ass, as in primitive days, and accompanied by the hospitable priest of Santa
Eulalia, I started back to Iviza town to catch the steamer for Palma. At a turn
in the path, I looked back and took a last glance at the village with its white
presbytery and old rampart-flanked church. In spirit, I seemed to hear again the
wild scream which had made the professor shudder, the dull report of the murderous
musket, and the cry of distress which followed. I wondered if I should ever again
visit this strange, half-forgotten people, with their barbarous customs and terrible
superstitions. I said as much to the clergyman when he bade me farewell at the
top of the hill. "Quién
sabe?" was his wise reply.
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