"Well, then," you say, "I will ask no recommendation, but on reaching the place I will consult an honest and skilful doctor who will be able to enlighten me." Honest! that is not enough, he must also be very intrepid to tell you frankly any of the bad qualities of the place, for he would be a ruined man, he would take leave of the whole place, would live as solitary as a wolf; and, indeed, would be lucky if some personal injury were not done to him.
I have a perfect horror of the absurdly flimsy houses which speculators build in our variable climate. These pasteboard erections are so many dangerous traps. In the full heats of Summer such bivouacs are all well enough, but often one has to remain in September and October amid the high winds and the torrents of rain.
For themselves the landlords build good substantial houses, but for poor patients they build chalets of wood, ill closed, and not even moss-covered, like the Swiss chalets. It really is treating us quite too ill.
In those villas, apparently luxurious, but in reality wretched, no provision is made for comfort. Drawing-rooms for show,—and commanding a view of the sea, they have, but no provision is made to gratify that feeling of home comfort, so dear to the sick, and more especially so to woman. She feels unsheltered, as though constantly exposed to half a gale of wind, and constantly passing from one temperature to another.
On the other hand, the solidly built house of the Fisherman is often low, damp, and inconveniently arranged in its interior. Often, it has not even a double ceiling, but mere planks, which admit cold draughts into the upper rooms, inflicting coughs, rheumatism, and a score of other diseases.
Whatever may be your choice, Madame, between these two kinds of house, do you know what I heartily wish for you? Laugh, if you please. What I wish you to have, even in June, is a good fire-place, with a very excellent chimney, well closed against the wind. In our beautiful France, with its cold north-west and its rainy south-west, which occasionally predominates for nine months, a good fire may be necessary, even in June. On a damp evening, when your child returns shivering from his promenade, a fire is necessary, to warm him, before he goes to bed.
Two things ought to be especially looked after, wherever you lodge, fire and good water, the latter a thing rarely to be found near the sea. If it is altogether bad, endeavor, by the use of beer or tea, to dispense with drinking the plain water, or if you must use it, let it previously be boiled.
Why cannot I, with a single word, build you just such a villa as I have in my mind? I do not speak of the show-house, the almost castle, such as the wealthy build at the sea side, but of the humble house, fitted for humble fortunes. It is an art which is yet to be created, and one which no one seems to suspect, that of building a house, at once small and substantial. The houses which are built for us, especially at the sea side, are built in direct contradiction with our needs in so changeable a climate. Those Kiosks, with their flimsy ornaments, may do well enough for well-sheltered situations, but make one fancy that the wind must needs blow them into the sea. The Swiss chalets have immense overhanging roofs, which so well protect from the snow, but also have the serious defect of excluding the light. The sun, in our northern seas, should not be excluded, but most cordially received. As to the imitations of chapels, gothic churches, and the like toys, we need say nothing about them, they are really beneath notice, so absurdly ill calculated as they are for comfortable homes.
The first necessity for a sea-side house, is great strength, a solid thickness of walls, which will obviate that rocking which we always feel in slight buildings. We want such a solidity of construction as even in the greatest tempests will give courage to a timid woman, and enable her to say with a smile of pleasure. "How very comfortable we are in here, while such a storm rages without!"
The second point is that on the land side, the house should be so perfectly sheltered that on that side we can sit and forget the sea, and in the neighborhood of that great movement find the most complete repose.