The city of Bayonne, lying on the left bank of the Adour, and serving as
its port, is one that ought to present much interest to the British
tourist, on account of its associations. For three hundred years, along
with Bordeaux, it belonged to the English crown. The cathedral, a noble
structure of the fourteenth century, was reared by the English, and on
the bosses of its vaulting are carved the arms of England, of the
Talbots, and of other great English noble families. It was probably
designed by English architects, for it possesses, in its vaulting, the
long central rib so characteristic of English architecture, and wholly
unlike what was the prevailing French fashion of vaulting in
compartments, and always without that connecting rib, like the inverted
keel of a ship, with which we are acquainted in our English minsters.
Under some of the modern houses in the town are cellars of far earlier
construction, also vaulted, and in them as well may be seen the arms of
the English noble families which had their dwellings above.
But Bayonne has later associations with us. At the close of the
Peninsular War, when Wellington had driven Marshal Soult and the French
out of Spain, and had crossed the Pyrenees, his forces, under Sir John
Hope, invested the citadel. In February, 1814, Sir John threw a bridge
of boats across the Adour, boats being provided by the fleet of Admiral
Penrose, in the teeth of a garrison of 15,000 men, and French gunboats
which guarded the river and raked the English whilst conducting this
hazardous and masterly achievement. This brilliant exploit was effected
whilst Wellington engaged the attention of Soult about the Gaves,
affluents of the Adour, near Orthez. It is further interesting, with a
tragic interest, on account of an incident in that campaign which shall
be referred to presently.
The cathedral of Bayonne, some years ago, possessed no towers--the
English were driven out of Aquitaine before these had been completed.
The west front was mean to the last degree, masked by a shabby
penthouse, plastered white, or rather dirty white, on which in large
characters was inscribed, "Liberté égalité et fraternité."
This has now disappeared, and a modern west front and twin towers and
spires have been added, in passable architecture. When I was at Bayonne,
more years ago than I care to say, I paid a visit to the little cemetery
on the north bank of the river, in which were laid the English officers
who fell during the investment of Bayonne.
The north bank is in the Department of the Landes, whereas that on the
south is in the Department of the Basses Pyrénées.
About the time when the English were expelled from France, and lost
Aquitaine, the Adour changed its course. Formerly it had turned sharply
round at the city, and had flowed north and found an outlet some miles
away at Cap Breton, but the entrance was choked by the moving
sand-dunes, and the impatient river burst its way into the Bay of Biscay
by the mouth through which it still flows. But the old course is marked
by lagoons of still blue water in the midst of a vast forest of pines
and cork trees. I had spent a day wandering among these tree-covered
_landes_, seeking out the lonely lakes, and in the evening I returned in
the direction of Bayonne, diverging somewhat from my course to visit the
cemetery of the English. This was a square walled enclosure with an iron
gate, rank with weeds, utterly neglected, and with the tombstones, some
leaning, some prostrate, all covered with lichen and moss. I could not
get within to decipher the inscriptions, for the gate was locked and I
had not the key, and was quite ignorant who was the custodian of the
place.
Being tired with my trudge in the sand, I sat down outside, with my back
to the wall, and saw the setting sun paint with saffron the boles of the
pines. I took out my Murray that I had in my knapsack, and read the
following passage:--
"To the N., rises the citadel, the most formidable of the works
laid out by Vauban, and greatly strengthened, especially since
1814, when it formed the key to an entrenched camp of Marshal
Soult, and was invested by a detachment of the army of the Duke
of Wellington, but not taken, the peace having put a stop to
the siege after some bloody encounters. The last of these, a
dreadful and useless expenditure of human life, took place
after peace was declared, and the British forces put off their
guard in consequence. They were thus entirely taken by surprise
by a sally of the garrison, made early on the morning of April
14th; which, though repulsed, was attended with the loss of 830
men of the British, and by the capture of their commander, Sir
John Hope, whose horse was shot under him, and himself wounded.
The French attack was supported by the fire of their gunboats
on the river, which opened indiscriminately on friend and foe.
Nine hundred and ten of the French were killed."
When I had concluded, the sun had set, and already a grey mist began to
form over the course of the Adour. I thought that now it was high time
for me to return to Bayonne, and to table d'hôte, which is at 7.30 p.m.,
but for which I knew I should be late. However, before rising, I pulled
out my flask of Scotch whisky, and drained it to the last drop.
I had scarcely finished, and was about to heave myself to my feet, when
I heard a voice from behind and above me say--"It is grateful, varra
grateful to a Scotchman."
I turned myself about, and drew back from the wall, for I saw a very
remarkable object perched upon it. It was the upper portion of a man in
military accoutrements. He was not sitting on the wall, for, if so, his
legs would have been dangling over on the outside. And yet he could not
have heaved himself up to the level of the parapet, with the legs
depending inside, for he appeared to be on the wall itself down to the
middle.
"Are you a Scotchman or an Englishman?" he inquired.
"An Englishman," I replied, hardly knowing what to make of the
apparition.
"It's mabbe a bit airly in the nicht for me to be stirring," he said;
"but the smell of the whisky drew me from my grave."
"From your grave!" I exclaimed.
"And pray, what is the blend?" he asked.