THE RAVINE OF THE ALLIER
The Allier—Difficulty of ascent—Remarkable engineering of
the line—Summer visitors—Difference between the Allier
and the Ardèche—Langeac—Chanteuges—Disorderly monks—Fête
on Whit-Sunday—The Lafayettes—The Margeride and its
inhabitants—Sauges—The Drac—Church—Tour de la Clauze—Tomb
of an English captain—La Voute-Chilhac—Basalt—Used on the
roads—Monistrol d'Allier—S. Privat—Find of an oculist's
tools—Alleyras—Bed of old lake—Langogne—Church—N. D.
du Tout Pouvoir—the Vogué—Proprietorship _versus_
tenancy—Pradelles—Delivered from the Huguenots—Château of De
Belsunce—S. Alban—Cave—Trappist monastery—The Liborne—The rule of
La Trappe.
I pass now from the east to the west by direct flight from the Vivarais
over the plateau of Le Puy to where the Allier descends into the plains
from the lofty ridge of the southern Cévennes.
Almost from its source the Allier has met with difficulties. It has had
to contend with granite, schist, and finally with basalt, and it has
had to form for itself a ravine that widens into a valley below Langeac
where are coal-beds.
That ravine is peculiarly tantalising, because it is difficult to
explore satisfactorily. From Langeac a road runs up the riverside only
till it encounters that from Sauges to S. Privat. Beyond that there is
none. The line, indeed, does follow the stream, and it is of all French
lines the most remarkable for the engineering feats achieved. The road
for the rails has been hewn as a cornice in the face of the cliff,
every salient buttress has been bored through, and every inconvenient
lateral gorge overleaped. In 132 kilometres (81 miles) from the
confluence of the Dège with the Allier up to La Levade, there are
ninety tunnels, which happens to be precisely the number of kilometres
between those points as the crow flies.
Precisely this fact makes the ascent of the ravine by train prove so
unsatisfactory. It consists in a rapid succession of flashes followed
by darkness—a constant flutter, as it were, of the eyelid. Moreover,
the tunnels are carried through the shoulders of the mountain, avoiding
the finest parts of the cañon.
The only possible way of doing justice to the scenery is to halt at the
little stations where poor villages have been planted at the opening of
lateral ravines, and thence follow the river by a footpath as far as it
will lead.
The ascent of the river by train is indeed one of the great curiosities
of the country, and it will be done generally in this way till the
authorities of the department undertake to drive a carriage-road up
the gorge. It is true that the villages are few, the population small,
and trade a negligible quantity at present. But the scenery and the
coolness of the mountain air, and the abundance of crystal water,
are drawing annually more and ever more from the sweltering plains
of Languedoc and the burning zone of Provence to this region for the
summer, and it is accordingly to be regretted that they are debarred by
lack of roadway from exploring what is the most magnificent feature of
the country.
I have described the cañon of the Ardèche; this of the Allier is also
a cañon, but they are as unlike as is a blonde beauty to one who is
dark. They are both superb, but in manner totally different. The Allier
runs through rough basalt and crystalline rocks; the Ardèche flows
between bluffs of limestone. The latter can be descended in a boat, the
Allier cannot. The Allier looks north—the colouring, the vegetation,
the climate are northern; the Ardèche in every one of these particulars
is southern. The Ardèche has cut its way through a level plateau; the
Allier flows between ranges of mountains. The cañon of the Ardèche is a
street; the defile of the Allier is a lane. We cannot seek the Ardèche
in the height of summer; it is just then when we would refresh in the
cool draughts and the blue shadows of the Allier.
The chasm of this latter river has been formed at the point of contact
of the lava with the granite. The volcanoes of Le Velay poured forth
their molten floods which beat against the granitic mass of the
Margeride, and the lava in cooling may have shrunk and cracked and so
allowed the river an opportunity of escaping into the plain. In places
it has cut through granite and schist. It had cut this channel before
the volcanic vents opened. What these latter did was to deposit what
they threw out in the trough of the Allier, and force that stream to
renew its work of excavation; in the latter part of its course the
ravine is cut through lava.
Langeac will serve as a starting-point for visits if the tourist be
not very particular as to accommodation. It does possess one passable
inn, and that is at some distance from the station in the town. The
place itself is of no great interest. It has manufactures, favoured
by the presence of coal-beds near at hand. The church, however, is
curious. It consists of a nave without aisles, but with chapels between
the buttresses, and with an apse, lined within with well-carved oak
stalls of the sixteenth century; once occupied at Mass by canons, now
by schoolboys. The tower is at the east end, and supports an octagonal
campanile.
From Langeac Chanteuges is easily reached. It clusters about a basaltic
hunch at the junction of the Dège with the Allier. The village creeps
up the side of the hill, the summit of which is occupied by a church
and the ruins of a priory. The original church was a fine example of
Romanesque, but is now a sad jumble of styles; every age as it passed
has left a trace on the building. The platform on which it stands is
ascended by a zigzag path; basaltic prisms, range above range, form the
mass of the rock.
The main entrance to the old priory is on the north, and was defended
by a tower. On one of the blocks at the top of the wall may be read the
date 1115. The monks had evidently converted their habitation into a
fortress, and it was precisely this that led to their suppression and
the dispersion of the fraternity.
One Iter de Maudulf, a knight who had led a lawless life, felt a twinge
of compunction, and resolved on quitting the world and embracing a life
of religion. Accordingly he assumed the cowl in Chanteuges. But the
old Adam was not dead in him. _Cucullus non facit monachum._ The choir
offices proved tedious, the meagre fare unacceptable, and the wine
was vinegar. His temper gave way, and with it his good resolutions.
He became restive. In the refectory he talked to the other monks of
the good old days when he roistered and roved over the country; ate
and drank and did wild deeds of devilry. They listened; their mouths
watered, and their fingers itched. Eventually Maudulf succeeded in
corrupting the whole fraternity. The monks abandoned their reading and
psalmody to fortify the height. Every night a diabolical horde issued
from the gate of the monastery, clothed in mail armour under their
serge habits. They swept the country, levied blackmail on the farmers,
stopped and robbed merchants, and plundered the pilgrims bound for the
shrine of Our Lady of Le Puy. In the dead of night they forced their
way into convents, and romped and revelled with the nuns, or else
carried off comely peasants' daughters _en croupe_ to their stronghold
at Chanteuges.
Of all the confraternity, the abbot alone kept his head; but his
objurgations were disregarded, his authority was flouted. In despair he
appealed to the Bishop of Clermont, who at once visited the monastery,
but took the precaution of doing so at the head of a body of armed
men. "I saw," said he, "the abbey in the most deplorable condition.
The buildings were in ruins, the sanctuary was despoiled, the church
converted into a fortress, no one serving God, the holy habitation
transformed into a den of thieves and murderers."
Accordingly the monastery was suppressed, the monks dispersed among
other houses, and the abbey converted into a priory under the rule and
supervision of Chaisedieu. To the present day the belief prevails among
the peasantry that in winter, at night, when a storm rages and the snow
is driving, a black cavalcade issues from the gate, with cowls drawn
over grinning skulls, and with serge habits flapping in the wind, that
it sweeps over the plateau till cock-crow, when it returns through the
portal and vanishes.
East of the church is a little chapel of flamboyant character with
richly sculptured doorway, surmounted by a representation of the
Assumption. It is the sole specimen of this style in the department. At
the Revolution it was converted into a haystore.
The fête at Chanteuges is on Whitsun Day, and has a peculiar
observance. It begins in the Pré du Fou. This field may not be mown
till after Pentecost. A beggar is induced to hide in the long grass.
The youths of the parish, wearing hats decked with cock's feathers,
march to the field in two files led by fifes and drums and preceded by
a banner. The procession circles thrice about the field, and some of
the young men detach themselves from it and beat it in search of the
beggar. If they do not find him at once, others come to their aid. When
the _fou_ has been discovered, he is grasped by the legs, thrown on his
back, and spun round once by each of the youths forming the procession.
Then a pistol is discharged, the procession reforms, and the train
mounts to the church, taking the poor fool along with it. There he is
again thrown down and undergoes the same process of spinning. After
this he is indemnified by a few coppers from each of the spinners,
and every seller of cakes and buns who has a stall there is bound to
supply him with sufficient food to satisfy his maw. The spinning over,
the young men enter the church for Mass. At Chanteuges the festival
of Pentecost is devoted partly to God, partly to dancing, partly to
drinking. God is often forgotten, dancing sometimes, the bottle never.
Opposite Chanteuges is S. Arcons, where the Fioule flows into the
Allier. It rises among the pine-clad heights of Fix S. Genys, and
receives the stream that issues from the Lake of Limagne, a volcanic
basin like that of Bourget, but not of like regularity of outline.
Above Langeac is the land of the Lafayettes. They were great seigneurs
in the Middle Ages. They derive from Gilbert Motier, lord of Lafayette,
who was one of the great captains that drove the English out of France.
He died in 1463, and was grandson of a Gilbert who fell on the field of
Poitiers, 1356, also with his face set against the English. So Marie
Jean Paul, the famous marquess, fought the English on the side of the
Americans, 1777-1785. The Marquess was born at Chavagnac, 1757, on the
tableland about the junction of lines at S. Georges d'Aurac. The castle
was built in 1701.
From Langeac one can explore the granitic Margeride, peopled by a
race distinct from the Cevenols. They are pale, often fair-headed and
blue-eyed, grave, dignified, and intensely conservative. They are and
ever have been sturdy Catholics, have never been shaken, even ruffled,
by the shock to faith given by Calvin and his followers. Whereas a
Cevenol is ready at all times for a prophecy, a revelation, a new
doctrine, the upset of one that is old, taking up what is fresh with
fanaticism, and then letting it drop and lapsing into indifference,
the man of the Margeride remains as constant, as unmoved as his own
rocky mountains. The Margeride, "as seen from the Pec Finiels, is a
long black line drawn against the sky of central France, a wall without
battlements, without towers, without a keep." It is in reality a long
series of successive undulating plains high uplifted, covered with
forests of oaks, beech and pines, or else with pastures on which feed
during the summer the sheep of Basse Languedoc and the oxen of the
Camargue. It is composed of granite, and its loftiest points reach
only 4,650 feet. A visitor will probably content himself with an
expedition to Sauges, that lies in scenery called the Switzerland of
the Margeride. The rich green swath, the dark pine-woods, the abundance
of crystal rills contrast with the bare lava plain and mountain cones
of Le Velay.
The Sauge stream falls in cascade over a dyke of trap that has been
forced through a rent in the granite, near the farm of Luchadou,
built on and out of the ruins of a castle. There a phantom horse,
magnificently caparisoned, is said to be seen grazing. It neighs when
it sees children approach, and invites them to mount its back, which
will lengthen conveniently to accommodate as many as desire to have a
ride. When the horse has received a full complement, it dashes into
the river, and buck-jumps till it has flung all the riders against the
rocks or into the pools.
One day when a couple of dozen children were on its back, as the
steed was galloping towards the stream one little boy sang out
"Gloria Patri," etc., whereby he was able to master the "Drac" and
make it gallop round and round the field till exhausted, when it let
the children descend unmolested. This is none other than the Irish
Pooka. The celebrated fall of the Liffey, near Ballymore Eustace, is
named Pool-a-Phooka, and precisely the same story is told there of
a phantom horse as here at Sauges. The same also in North Wales of
the Ceffyl-y-Dwyr, the water-horse of Marchlyn. Can this myth have
originated and been told by the Celtic race before its separation into
several branches? I can see no other explanation of the puzzle.
The church at Sauges has an early and remarkable belfry. An immense
arch, richly moulded, admits to a porch. Above this is a still larger
relieving arch to sustain the octagonal tower that is on two stages.
Granite and black basalt are employed in bands and in the arches of the
windows, two-light in the tower story, single in that above, and the
whole is capped by a dwarf spire.
Near Sauges is the Tour de la Clauze, erected on a protuberant mass
of granite fissured into blocks. The rest of the castle is completely
ruined. But that which is most curious at Sauges is a monumental
structure composed of a cubical base, on which stand four pillars
supporting arches and a vault with groined ribs. This goes by the name
of the Tombeau du Général Anglais, and is supposed to have been set
up in honour of a Captain MacHarren, who commanded one of the mixed
companies of English and Gascons that held the land or harried it for
the English Crown nominally, actually for themselves. This MacHarren
was probably one of the English garrison that held Sauges till 1360,
when they were driven out by the Viscount Polignac.
La Voute-Chilhac down the river stands on a peninsula between the
Allier and the Avesne that here debouches into it. It possesses a
church of the fifteenth century that has taken the place of one erected
by S. Odilo of Cluny in 1075. The original door-valves remain, but
injured by cutting to make them fit the ogee portal. In the midst it
bears the inscription:—
"Hic tibi rex regum hoc condidit Odilo templum
Agminibus superis quem miscuit arbiter orbis."
There were other inscriptions, but they have been mutilated. Chilhac
stands on a rock composed in the lower portion of beautiful prismatic
columnar basalt, capped with an amorphous flow. It is curious how sharp
the line of demarcation is between the two beds. The situation is
pretty, the church Romanesque.
The course of the Allier above Langeac presents many faces like organ
fronts of basalt; in places the pillars form a _pavé de géants_. The
prisms are employed along the roads to mark distances, and might easily
be supposed to have been specially cut for the purpose. But all lava
does not crystallise into prisms; under pressure it does. When not
squeezed by superincumbent beds it is cinderous. But there is another
form it assumes, that of phonolith or clinkstone, flakes that can be
cut like slates and divided into laminæ. As slates they are employed
extensively in Velay. But why the ejected lava should form films here
and prismatic pillars there, I do not comprehend.
At Monistrol d'Allier the Ance du Sud comes in from the Margeride after
traversing a picturesque gorge. Here may be studied a fine basaltic
face, called Escluzels. There are grottoes in the neighbourhood
excavated in the tufa by the hand of man, but when is not known. A
chapel dedicated to the Magdalen has been scooped out of the rock, but
given a frontage of wall, and is an object of pilgrimage on the Sunday
following July 22nd, when and where may be seen some of the costumes of
the neighbourhood not yet wholly discarded.
On the opposite bank of the Allier is S. Privat, where the stream of
Bouchoure comes down writhing between high precipices. The tower of
Rochegude occupies the summit of a peak 1,500 feet high, commanding
the river and the roads. In 1865 a discovery was made at S. Privat
of a cache of a Roman oculist of the third century. Along with his
little store of coins lay his delicate instruments, and a cube as well,
bearing on each face the name of one of the medicaments employed by
him, and the cube used probably by him for sealing up his packets.
The man seems to have known his business, or at all events of having
both instruments and remedies not by any means barbarous. On reaching
Alleyras the valley opens into a basin. Above the little town shoots up
a mass of rock looking like a gigantic thumb as we approach from the
north, but changing form as Alleyras is passed. It is actually a huge
slab of rock that is detached from the mountain by a wide fissure.
The basin of Alleyras was once a lake, where the river paused to
rest before it renewed its efforts to break a way through the lava.
From this point upwards the scenery is less savage and gloomy. At
Chapeauroux the railway describes a great curve, and pursues its way
through tunnel and over viaduct till it draws up at Langogne, a busy
little town of the Gévaudan, of some commercial importance. A monastery
was founded here in 998 by Stephen Count of the Gévaudan, and Silvester
II. presented to it the relics of SS. Gervasius and Protasius, and
further conferred on the town the more than doubtful privilege of being
out of episcopal jurisdiction, to be looked after or let alone by the
Holy See only. The place suffered severely in the Hundred Years War,
and again and worse even in those of religion. From 1562 for nearly a
century and a half the Gévaudan was devastated turn and turn about by
Protestants and Catholics, and Langogne passed from the hands of one
party to those of the other. In 1568 the Huguenots sacked the town and
set fire to the church and monastery.
The church comprises a nave and side aisles, and is substantially
in the Romanesque style, but with many alterations. There are three
arcades resting on piers with engaged columns in granite, with capitals
carved to represent fruit, acanthus leaves, and the seven deadly
sins. A pretty flamboyant doorway replaces the western porch, which
had been destroyed. Over it is a window in the same style. On the
right of the entrance a doorway, that seems to give access only to a
passage, communicates with a chapel below the soil, dimly lighted, and
containing an image of N. D. de tout Pouvoir, supposed to have been
given by Agelmodis, the widow of the founder of church and monastery.
It was accorded a crown in 1900 by the Pope, and the anniversary of
this ceremony, July 29th, is kept as a fête at Langogne. But the great
festival in the town is on the Sunday following June 19th, when is
the _vogue_, in honour of the two patrons, Gervasius and Protasius.
On that occasion cars are drawn through the streets bearing groups of
allegorical figures; but the special sport of the day is the "chute
d'eau." A species of gallows is erected in the main street, with a
vessel full of water balanced in the middle. The young men vie with one
another as to who by throwing a stick can upset the vessel, and then
dash under it so speedily as not to be splashed by the falling water.
He who succeeds receives a prize.
Langogne is becoming annually more and more a summer resort. The
Languiron here flows into the Allier; it does not fill its bed, which
is the receptacle for the refuse from the abattoir and the town, and
the odours arising from these dejections infect the otherwise pure
mountain air.
It is doubtless excellent in principle that every man should be able
to dwell under his own fig tree and inhabit his own house; but this
has its drawbacks. The theory may be sound, yet the results other than
those anticipated. In England, where most householders are tenants,
if a slate be blown off the landlord is applied to. If the putty be
cracked that retains a window-pane, the landlord must see to it less
the glass fall out. If the plaster scales off in one patch the size
of a leaf, the landlord must replaster the whole face of the house.
If the rats have gnawed through the floor, "Please, squire, have
the boards relaid lest my child puts its leg through." If the well
be contaminated, he is called upon to clear it, under the threat of
complaint to the Local Government Board. But in France, where every man
owns his own habitation, the habitations are allowed to fall into a
ragged and measly condition. If a slate be carried away, the _patron_
tells his wife to put a basin where it can catch the drip whenever it
rains. If the putty falls from the glass, the pane is retained by the
gummed border of postage stamps, renewed when necessary. If the rats
have eaten through the floor, the child must learn to avoid the hole;
it affords a useful lesson in circumspection. If the plaster peals
away in masses from the front of the house, "Shall I squander money in
titivating it?" asks the owner. "My relatives would consign me to an
asylum as incapable of managing my affairs." And as for the well, M. le
propriétaire says to himself, "_I_ never drink water, only wine. If
some of my children get diphtheria, it will leave more money for those
who survive."
This it is that gives to so many of the towns and nearly every village
in France a palsied, neglected look, as if the houses had lost their
self-respect, like a man who has gone down in the world and sunk to be
a tramp.
Pradelles is four miles from Langogne, built in an amphitheatre on the
flanks of the mountains of Le Velay, surrounded by rich meadows, from
which it derives its name (_pratellæ_). The many Prades that occur in
the south are all so called from the pratæ that spread about them.
In 1588 Chambaud, at the head of a large body of Huguenots, besieged
the town. As it had but a scanty garrison, he shouted to those on the
walls, "Ville prise, ville gagnée!" To which a young woman called
back, "Pa'ncaro!" (not yet) and flung a great stone at him which broke
in his skull. This act of heroism saved Pradelles from being sacked
and its citizens from massacre. The memory of that woman, Jeanne de
Verdette, is still green there, and in 1888 the third centenary of the
deliverance was commemorated at Pradelles.
At Naussac, in the opposite direction, on a granite tableland that
goes by the name of the Kidney of Lozère, is an ancient house with a
tower that formed a portion of the château of Mgr. de Belsunce, the
brave Bishop of Marseilles, who was so devoted in his attentions to the
plague-stricken in the terrible pestilence of 1720, which carried off
forty thousand of its population. S. Alban-en-Montagne is four miles
from Langonne in the department of Ardèche. It lies high—3,565 feet.
On the face of an enormous basaltic rock is a remarkable cave divided
into several chambers, and large enough to contain all the villagers.
It was employed as a place of refuge during the wars of feudal times,
and again in those of religion. Access to it is not easy. As the
railway reaches the watershed, barricades on both sides protect it from
snow-drifts. Luc is passed, having an old castle on a rock, the donjon
braced to sustain a colossal statue of the Virgin. Then the train halts
at La Bastide, where is a branch line to Mende.
The Trappist monks have an establishment near this on these bleak
heights. Their buildings are tasteless. Hitherto the monks have been
left unmolested by Government, due possibly to the fact that they
receive and examine the silkworm moths that have laid their eggs,
sent to them from great distances round, to examine if they are free
from the disease that so fatally threatened the silk industry in the
Cévennes.
The breaking out of this complaint caused consternation some years
ago, and M. Pasteur was sent down to investigate it. He found that no
remedial efforts availed, and that the sole way of getting rid of the
disorder was to stamp it out. Accordingly every moth after it has laid
its eggs is enclosed along with the seed that has been deposited in a
muslin bag and sent to be inspected. Each bag is numbered and ticketed
with the name of the sender. The body of the moth is pounded up and
submitted to examination under a powerful microscope, and this reveals
the presence of the germs of _fibrine_ if they exist. Should these be
detected, the eggs of that particular moth are destroyed by fire.
In addition to this service rendered by the Trappists, they have shown
the peasantry of the High Cévennes how to improve the quality of the
land by the use of lime and artificial manures, and they have also
improved the breed of the sheep and cattle.
But these are side products of monachism, and they are benefits that
might just as well be rendered by laymen; and, in fact, the examination
of the silkworm moths is carried out in laboratories established for
the purpose in some of the large towns of Languedoc.
The Trappist Order is the severest of all. The members are condemned
never to speak, never to eat meat or fish, are denied even butter and
oil. They have but two meals a day, and these of vegetables only. They
never take off their garments to wash or to sleep, and do not wear
linen. They go to bed at 8 p.m. in the summer, at 7 p.m. in winter, and
rise at 2 a.m., but have no meal of any sort till midday. Every day
part of their duty is to dig a portion of their future grave.
In Quarles' _Hieroglyphics of the Life of Man_, published in 1635, is
an emblem of a dark lantern placed on a coffin and the sun in total
eclipse, and this is above a poem, of which I give two stanzas:—
"Was it for this, the breath of Heav'n was blown
Into the nostrils of this heavenly creature?
Was it for this, that the sacred Three in One
Conspired to make this quintessence of Nature?
Did heav'nly Providence intend
So rare a fabric for so poor an end?
"Tell me, recluse monastre, can it be
A disadvantage to thy beams to shine?
A thousand tapers may gain light from thee:
Is thy light less or worse for light'ning mine?
If wanting light I stumble, shall
Thy darkness not be guilty of my fall?"
[Illustration: PEASANTS OF THE CAUS]