Chapter XVII
arneguy—the cacolet—rolando’s tree—snow-white goats—costume—sauveterre—the pastor—navarreux—spanish air.
We arrived at St. Jean Pied de Port late in the day, and the aspect of affairs at Le Grand Soleil, where we stopped, was by no means exhilarating. Having passed through the black, dirty kitchen, and climbed the dingy staircase, we were shown several rooms, which we could not have, by a very sour-looking old woman, who tried to persuade us to content ourselves with apartments without fire-places. This we resisted determinedly, suggesting that ladies had a right to supersede male travellers, and, assisted by the eloquence of our invaluable cocher, we at length obtained possession of the disputed chambers. As it was soon discovered that we meditated remaining several days, no further opposition was made to our convenience, and the fat landlady, having reproved her thin sister into good humour, we were allowed to command, in the worst of all possible inns, where good-will held the place of performance in most instances, and where carelessness seemed carried to a perfectly Eastern excess.
We began to make immediate enquiries as to the possibility of entering Spain, of visiting the convent of Roncesvalles and the neighbouring mountains; and every sort of contradictory information was given us, enough to bewilder an ignorant traveller into giving up the projected expedition altogether. However, as we resolved that we would not be altogether disappointed, and recollected all the romances invented to deter our daring, by our friends at Pau, we ordered a guide and cacolet and mule to be sent on before, and on the following morning set forth in the carriage as far as Arneguy, the last French town, from whence we were to cross the Gave of Bihobi, and trust ourselves to the perils of a Spanish journey.
Accordingly, we pursued the very good road to that frontier village—one of the most miserable I ever beheld, filled with soldiers and mud and ruin: here we alighted, and walked across the little bridge which divides the two kingdoms. Once in Spain, and having made a drawing of the spot, as a souvenir, we mounted our mule; seated comfortably in the arm chairs, slung at each side of the patient animal, and, with our muleteer and two servants on foot, began the scrambling ascent of one of the most rugged paths I ever beheld.
Every step, however, exhibited new and startling beauties; and the further we advanced the more sublime the mountains became: the foaming stream rushing beneath us, the deep ravines and precipices, the wooded hills and enormous trees, all possessed a character quite unlike that of the two valleys of Béarn, which we had already seen; both of which led into Spain, as did this pass of Roncesvalles; but we now felt ourselves really in another country; and, as we passed the opposite village of Ondarol, and heard that the last houses in France were left behind, and all the mountains, on each side of the ravine, belonged to Spain, there was something singularly agreeable in the idea. Our cocher François had, at the village of Valcarlos, an opportunity of exhibiting his knowledge of Spanish; for the officer there, who took cognizance of us, could not understand either patois or French.
We wound along the beautiful ravine of Valcarlos, by a road more stony and rugged than can be described, trusting to our mule, who kept his feet in a manner perfectly surprising; it was like mounting a ruined staircase, so steep was the path in many places; but, going slowly and carefully as we did, and seated in our comfortable panniers, we felt no inconvenience, and were scarcely conscious of the difficulties, sensibly understood by all our companions, who toiled through the mud, and over the stones and torrents with infinite cheerfulness and perseverance.
The beeches and chesnuts here grow to an immense size, and look so old in their winter guise that one might almost believe they had spread the shade over the paladins of Charlemagne. We could not do otherwise than indulge in this idea, when we reached a spot where an enormous plateau of rock seemed to bar our further progress; and, beside it, we rested beneath a gigantic chesnut, which threw its naked arms far across the ravine below, and, when covered with leaves, must have been a majestic tree. A huge stone lay amongst others near it, and this was pointed out by our guide as the identical stone thrown by Rolando in his anger when his horse’s foot slipped over the rock at the edge of which we stood. The print made by the hoof as it slid along the surface is clearly visible to poetical eyes, and this is one of the numerous Pas de Roland so celebrated in the Pyrenees, where the great hero’s course is marked in many directions.
As we desired to avoid the possibility of a similar accident happening to us, we dismounted from our cacolet, and walked across the ledge to some distance: and, after a short repose beneath the shelter of the overhanging rocks, which a violent shower made most convenient at the moment, we prepared to retrace our steps; satisfied with having advanced so far on the same route taken by “Charlemagne and all his peerage.”
The return was infinitely less easy than the advance, for we had now to descend; and we felt the motion much more, for the mule could not so well keep its feet in spite of the guide’s assistance. We had sundry adventures by the way at Posadas—tasted the bitter Spanish ordinaire wine from a wine-skin, and the excellent maize bread and cream cheese of the country, and returned to Arneguy, much gratified with our trip.
These mountains must be exquisitely beautiful in summer, when all the fine trees are in full grandeur, for I never saw any larger or more flourishing. It is the custom for the French to decry everything Spanish, even to the natural productions; and I had often been told that the moment the French side was quitted all was barren and worthless; I found, however, on the contrary, that the mountain-scenery greatly increased in sublimity the nearer we advanced towards Roncesvalles, and on our return that which had looked well on our way had dwindled into tameness in comparison with what we had left. Our driver, in the true spirit of his country, laboured to convince us that even the Basque on the Spanish side was inferior to that on the French—a fact we were not in a condition to decide on, as readily as we could with respect to the scenery. I think, as a general rule, that a foreign traveller may always be sure, if a country is abused in France, it possesses attractions for him, and vice versâ; for the “toute beauté” of a French amateur is invariably a piece of formality or common-place, unendurable to the lovers of the really beautiful.
Flocks of snow-white goats, with long hair, were climbing up the steepest parts of the mountains; and a few stragglers, with their pretty kids, greeted us on our rugged road: a party of Zingari, with scowling brows but civil demeanor, hurried past us, with a swiftness rather unusual to their indolent race, unless indeed they were afraid of pursuit—as our muleteer seemed to hint by his exclamation of alarm as they appeared. Besides these, and a traveller mounted on a mule, who was, we understood, a rich merchant of Pampeluna, who constantly made the trajet by that bad road, we were little disturbed in our solitude. The Gave sounding far below, the smaller brawling cataracts crossing our rocky path, the overhanging rocks and gigantic trees, the constantly-changing scene, and the novelty of the whole, made our wild and strange journey altogether delightful. We were congratulated on our return that the rain, which overtook us on our way, had not been snow; for in these regions the path is sometimes obstructed in the course of half-an-hour; and a sad story was related to us of a courier despatched to Roncesvalles in sunshine, having been overwhelmed by the snow on his return the same evening. Whether this was a mountain fable we could not be sure; but we had heard so many terrors, and experienced none, that we found it difficult to give credit to all the histories of travellers eaten by wolves and destroyed by avalanches, such as had arrived at Pau from the heights of Gabas and Urdos throughout the winter, only to be contradicted after they had had their effect for the given time.
From St. Jean Pied de Port—where the female costume is pretty, and whose arsenal, and the fine view from it, are all that claim the slightest attention in the most slovenly of ugly towns, and whose church portal tells of former magnificence long since swept away—we took our departure by St. Palais to Sauveterre, crossing the Pays Basque, which is perfectly lovely as to scenery, and, in fine weather, is worth a long journey to visit—so varied, rich, and agreeable is the country in all directions. Sauveterre is a neat, clear, respectable town, finely situated, well-enough paved, and having many attractions—particularly a magnificent ruin of a strong castle, which is called that of the Reine Jeanne, but is, evidently, originally of much more ancient construction. One high tower is very commanding, and must have been formidable in its time: that of the church, on still higher ground above, is of the same date, and is very curious: on the whole, Sauveterre is as picturesque a town as any we had seen, and we were sorry that bad weather a good deal masked its beauties.
We paid a visit to the Protestant church; and the minister’s wife, a very simple, kind person, who deeply regretted the absence of her husband—gone to look after his scattered flock, which is dispersed, in distant hamlets, all over that part of the country towards Navarreux. This excellent man is in the habit of walking many leagues, in the severest seasons, to visit his people, who reside by twos and threes in villages far remote; and he seems to spare no pains in his vocation. His establishment is of the simplest and most primitive kind, evidently quite unknown to luxury; and the sight of the good pastor—which we were fortunate enough to get on the morning of our departure—confirmed our preconceived opinion of his benevolence, if countenance be a faithful index of mind. Our interview happened in this sort.
We had decided to leave Sauveterre early, fearing the weather, and were just starting, when, at the carriage-door, we beheld two figures, which we at once recognized as the returned pastor and his wife: a violent shower greeted them; but, mindless of it, there they stood, under their umbrellas, determined to make our acquaintance, and to thank my companion for a donation she had sent to the poor Protestants under his charge. His fine open, healthy countenance, and cheerful, good-humoured expression, gentlemanlike manners, and easy address, pleased us extremely; and the unassuming little wife, dressed in a cap like a bourgeoise—joining him in kind exclamations of sorrow at losing their friends of the moment—equally amused and gratified us with the naïveté of the whole proceeding. I have no doubt that our apparition in that solitary town was quite an event, and one which the good minister would have been sorry to miss. He had come back late the night before, through a deluge of rain, and by the most difficult cross-roads—of course flooded—after walking twenty or thirty miles; yet he had energy to rise early, dress himself in his best, and come to meet the strangers, before their departure.
I think he must really be a pattern of a minister, and is a worthy example for many richer and less zealous clergymen. The French government is not able to allow more than a thousand francs a-year to the Protestant ministers, and out of this he no doubt gives much in charity, for almost all his flock is poor, and I believe he has a family to support besides: yet he seemed cheerful and contented, and probably thinks himself well off, happy in the exercise of his duty, and in relieving the sufferings of his fellows.
Navarreux is a strongly-fortified little town, looking extremely warlike, filled with troops: it would be difficult to say why, as it is so far from the frontier; but, probably, they are ready, as at Pau, in case of an outbreak on the part of the Spaniards, which seems improbable, but is talked of.54 From hence to Pau the country is pretty; but the nearer approach to the wide, marshy lands round, renders the prospect infinitely less interesting, and the air less refreshing.
I had now accomplished, however imperfectly, a long-entertained intention of visiting Spain; and, although I had merely breathed Spanish air for a few hours, yet it has given me a sort of assurance that I shall, one day, be able to put my favourite project in execution—of travelling over that most poetical and interesting of all countries—at a time, I trust, when its government shall be well established, and peace and order so prevail, that the fear of brigands may not deter strangers from seeking its romantic cities, and crossing its wild and wondrous mountains.
For the present, I take leave of my readers; hoping that, in my next tour, they will indulgently accompany me to Madrid and the Alhambra.
The End
london:
printed by r. clay, bread street hill.
Footnotes
1 See a description of the statues of Cœur de Lion, Henry and Elionor, and Isabella of Angoulême, in “A Summer amongst the Bocages and the Vines.”
2 A wretched and pointless satire had appeared under the title of La Cordonnière de Loudun, in which the Cardinal figured: Père Joseph insinuated that Grandier was the author, and the supposed insult was readily credited.
3 A very excellent picture on this subject, by Jouy, is in the Musée at Bordeaux: I did not see it, but it has been described to me by a person on whose judgment I can depend, who considers it of very high merit, and worthy of great commendation.
4 Calcaire hépathique. The stone used for the casing of the exterior of the Great Pyramid, and for the lining of the chambers and passages, was obtained from the Gebel Mokattam, on the Arabian side of the valley of the Nile. It appears to be similar to that named above, as it is described as being “a compact limestone,” called by geologists “swine stone,” or “stink-stone,” from emitting, when struck, a fetid odour.
5 The same legend is told as having happened in England on the domains of the family of Titchborne.
6 For account of Jacques Cœur and his dwelling at Bourges, see “Pilgrimage to Auvergne.”
7 In the Romance of the Queen Mother, I have given a detailed account, from the most correct chroniclers, of the siege of La Rochelle, and its defence, in 1573.
8 The Iris zippium.
9 Since this was written, I grieve to observe, by the French newspapers, that the tower and part of the church of St. Eutrope, have been destroyed by lightning.
10 This part of the world seemed always to be looked upon as the head quarters of sorcery; for in the Chronicles of Bordeaux we find, in the year 1435, the following notice:—“Les environs de Bordeaux sont fort travaillez par les sorciers et empoisonneurs, dont aucuns furent exécutes à mort et brûlé tous vifs.”
11 See for these particulars, Athanasie Maritime.—Du Mège.
12 See description of the Breche, in the second volume of this work.
13 Du Mège (Statistique III.) This observation scarcely appears to me correct, since the countries bordering on the Loire are certainly not more used to snows than those closer to the mountains. In Béarn these shelving roofs are constantly to be seen.
14 See the Poems of Jasmin.
15 “See Pilgrimage to Auvergne,” chap. xiii. p. 271.
16 See “A Summer amongst the Bocages and the Vines,” vol. ii. chap. i. page 15.
17 “Pilgrimage to Auvergne,” chap, xiii, p. 210.
18 On his statue at Nerac.
19 The curl-papers.
20 Pascal conceives that, in wedding Françonnette, he is devoted to death.
21 Jasmin here quotes several patois songs, well known in the country.
22 Both Gascons.
23 The Athenæum.
24 Gave is the generic name of all the mountain streams in this region, but that of Pau is called “the Gave,” par excellence.
25 All hot! all hot!
26 The poule au Pot is a general dish with the Béarnais.
27 The celebrated Laws of Béarn are called Les Fors.
28 This was written on the spot.
29 Since this was written, the visit has been paid, and the ceremony gone through.
30 For the whole account of the Hautes Pyrénées, I am indebted to my brother, Mr. Dudley Costello, who made the excursion while I remained at Pau.
31 The popularity of this ballad is accounted for by the circumstance of the Prince of Béarn, Henry II. d’Albert, having been made prisoner with Francis; he was, however, more fortunate than the king, for he made his escape. The original runs thus:—
| the captivity of francis i. | |
| Quan lou Rey parti de France, Counqueri d’aütes pays, A l’entrade de Pavi Lous Espagnols bé l’an pris. | Dehens üe tour escure, Jamey sour ni lue s’y a bist; Si nou per üe frinistote.... U poustillou bet beni. |
| “Renté, renté, Rey de France, Que si non, qu’en mourt ou pris,” Quin seri lou Rey de France? Que jamey you nou l’ey bist.” | “Poustillou qué lettres portis Que si counte tà Paris?” “La nouvelle que you porti Lou Rey qu’ere mort ou pris.” |
| Queou lheban l’ale deoü mantoü Troban l’y la flou de lys. Quoü ne prenen et quoü liguen Dens la prison que l’an mis. | “Tourne t’en poustillou en poste, Tourne t’en entà Paris. Arrecommandem à ma femme Tabé mous infants petits. |
| “Que hassen batte la mounede, La qui sie dens Paris, Que men embien üe cargue Por rachetam aü pays.” | |
The chorus is usually at the end of each verse—“La lyron, la lyré,” or “doundoun, doundone.”
32 Antoine de Bourbon.
33 Smiling.
34 Some historians say that Blanche was confined at the castle of Lescar, but there is no foundation for the assertion: no castle but that of Pau or Orthez would have been sufficiently strong to retain a prisoner of so much importance. Moret, and other Spanish authors, relate the event as above.
35 This M. Mazure will by no means allow in his “Histoire du Béarn et du Pays Basque.”
36 M. Boucher. “Souvenirs du Pays Basque.”
37 “Chroniques Eccl. du Dioc. D’Auch.”
38 M. Francisque Michel’s announced work bears the following title: “Recherches sur les Races maudites de la France et de l’Espagne. (Cagots des Pyrénées. Capots du Languedoc. Gahets da la Guienne. Colliberts du Bas Poitou. Caqueux de la Bretagne. Cacous du Mans. Marrons de l’Auvergne. Chreetas de Mayorque. Vacqueros des Asturies.)”
39 Most of the scenes of the story in the Vallée d’Aspe have become familiar to me, and I can vouch for the truth of the descriptions.
40 En and Ena are titles of Béarnaise nobility, answering to the Spanish Don and Doña.
41 Witches or Sorcerers of Béarn.
42 Caver. Chevalier, knight.
43 At the period at which this story is laid, the Cagots were called Chrestiaàs, but the term Cagot, adopted later is more generally known in Béarn.
44 By a charter of 1103, churches allowed an asylum within a space of thirty paces in circumference. Ecclesiæ salvitatem habeant triginta passuum circumcirca.—Marca.
45 The castle of Artiguelouve is still standing—a curious monument of ancient grandeur; it is situated near Sauveterre.
46 i.e. lifting their partners into the air.
47 Tard-venus.
48 Tutte de las bronchos.
49 The number of twelve was reduced to eleven since the period that the village of Bidous was removed from the territorial jurisdiction of Béarn.
50 This practice is similar to that of the Neapolitans, who wear a little hand in coral (gettatura) as a preservative against the evil eye.
51 There are two songs beginning with the same words: both favourites.
52 This song singularly resembles Burns’ charming “Banks
and braes” in its opening, though it is greatly inferior as a
whole.
53 At Utraritz, near Bayonne, they show, in the porch of the church, a similar recess, where once stood the bénitier of the Cagots.
54 This has since occurred, and Espartero is in England and Queen Christine in Spain.