LUZ AND BARÈGES.
Rain at starting--A blighted view, yet lovely still--Pont d'Enfer
--Nature's voice--Sère and Esquiez--Luz--Its situation and status--An
old house--The ancient Church of the Templars--La Chapelle de St.
Roch--Pyrenean museum--Hôtel de l'Univers--Château de Ste. Marie--"The
Jackdaw's Causerie"--A new "Diet of Worms"--The new bathing
establishment--To Barèges--Pic d'Ayré--Esterre--Viella--Betpouey--Mill
conduits--Cercle des Etrangers--Opinion of the town--Grand
Etablissement--Promenade Horizontale--Hospice de Ste. Eugénie--"The Jay
of Barèges"--Wood anemones--Hepaticas--Valley of Lienz--Pic de
Lienz--Pic d'Ayré's summit--Pic de Néouville--Mountain rhododendrons
--_Anemone vernalis_.
Although we had beautiful weather all the while we remained in
Cauterets, directly we prepared to depart down came the rain, the mists
descended over the hills, and until we reached Pierrefitte we were
unable to obtain more than momentary glances at the beauty we had so
delighted in, before. Having crossed the Gave de Barèges by the Pont de
Villelongue, we were soon in the gorge, the rocks on the left of which
were blasted for five miles, when the road was constructed.
Notwithstanding that it still rained, the clouds were a little higher,
and our view consequently less contracted.
[Illustration: THE GORGE NEAR PIERREFITTE.]
The beauty of the scene was indisputable, and yet it was a beauty less
wild and majestic, and more unequal, than that of the Cauterets Gorge.
The heights on the left had frequently the barest and most
uninteresting appearance, when on the other side the eye was enchanted
with the varied spring tints on the trees massed together up the slopes
from the river, whose limpid green pools or foaming rapids gave such a
charm to the picture. The old road is seen in many parts, and several
of the old bridges, but the one about three and three-quarter miles
from Pierrefitte, at a point where the Gorge widens--known as the Pont
d'Enfer, and built partly of wood as well as stone--is by far the most
interesting. The scenery in its vicinity was particularly beautiful.
The wild quinces, with their white blossoms mingling with those of the
cherry and the light green of the maples, larches, elms, birches, and
limes; the bright fields above, and the ever-lovely river below; with
the massive crags and a babbling waterfall, rendered this part
especially--as well as several others in a lesser degree--enchanting.
An enthusiast might easily write a book on the beauty of this gorge
alone, but in this age he would probably find few readers; of those who
did look at his book the greater number would find it probably too
highly-coloured, while the more enthusiastic ones would lament its lack
of warmth. Not wishing to incur the displeasure of either, we refrain
from saying a great deal about the splendour of this drive; knowing
that to a lover of the beautiful in Nature, all we have left unsaid
Nature will herself say ten times more impressively.
After passing the monument in honour of the "Reine Hortense," which is
five miles from Pierrefitte, and crossing the Bridge de la Hiladère, we
soon caught sight of some villages on the left, where poplars--stiffly
prominent in all directions--spoil much of the picturesqueness of the
surroundings. The villages of Sère and Esquiez, that we saw when
nearing Luz, are ancient and worthy of a visit. Together they formed a
"chef-lieu" before the eleventh century, and the Roman church in each,
but especially that of Sère, is exceedingly interesting. A few moments,
during which we crossed a marble bridge over the Gave de Bastan, and,
bearing to the left, we were in Luz.
Denominated by various titles, from a "poor village" to a "small rustic
town," Luz is by no means an insignificant place. It doubtless owes a
great deal to its situation in a pleasant hollow among the hills, with
a pleasant landscape on all sides, and its appearance is certainly more
quaint and rustic than poor. Undoubtedly there are several old houses,
some looking particularly unsafe; undoubtedly the streets are often
very narrow; and perhaps the inhabitants on the whole may be far from
wealthy; but with all this Luz is not a poor looking village. On a
market-day the streets in the vicinity of the old church, built--partly
in the 12th and finished between the 15th and 16th centuries--by the
Templars, assume a wonderfully gay appearance, and towards the back of
the church we noticed one old house whose balconies, if a trifle warped
and weather-beaten under the thin covering of white paint, were
nevertheless bright with pots of geraniums, wallflowers, and stocks.
The church itself is most interesting, and was at one time very
formidable also. Surrounded by a high wall pierced with loopholes in a
double row, lies the graveyard, which is only a narrow strip between
the ramparts and the church, the body of which lies between two towers.
Under the higher of these, facing north, and built for defence with
loopholes and embrasures, is one of the church doors, which leads to
the high altar steps in a direct line from the entrance into the
churchyard. Further to the right, but also facing north, is the most
remarkable entrance, the inscriptions on the arch dating from the 12th
century. On the extreme right is a door leading into the chapel, built
in the 16th century, and dedicated to St. Roch. We found the inside
interesting, without possessing any very striking features.
[Illustration]
The effect from the main gallery is perhaps best, and the smaller ones
running along the sides have a weird and aged appearance. Near the
entrance to the church, low down, is shown what was once the door for
that wretched race of beings, the "Cagots."
[Footnote: We found it difficult to obtain any reliable information
about these creatures. They seem to have led an existence like the
lepers in Palestine, being avoided and despised by the inhabitants
generally, and they appear to have been both diminutive and ugly.(See
St. Savin, p. 73).]
The Chapelle de St. Roch, which we passed into from the gallery in the
main building, is the most striking of the two. The gallery and stairs
were in a very shaky condition, and two candle-stands near the latter
seemed to have been in their prime many generations ago. The vaulted
roof, with the curious wooden groins, and the ancient _bénitier_
near the door, are worthy of inspection. Without scrambling up the
tower to the "Pyrenean Museum," but not forgetting to examine the old
bell-tower and its bells facing west, we walked down to the left and
joined the main road.
The ancient Castle de Sainte Marie--a very interesting and historic
ruin--being in the vicinity, we followed the principal highway to the
right, and passing the much-recommended Hôtel de l'Univers, were soon
in the proximity of the château, which, standing alone on the summit of
a pointed hill, was charmingly conspicuous. The path, after winding up
the hill, leads to an entrance at the back, which is locked, the castle
being now the property of the Précepteur of Luz, who, however, is
always willing to accommodate strangers by allowing them to enter, as
well as to inspect his garden, and the very striking image of the
Virgin which he has had perched on the front walls. A great number of
jackdaws have taken up their quarters in the old towers, and as one of
them kept continually cawing as though anxious to be heard, we append
what we made out to be the meaning of his chatter (it is said they
never speak without _cause_), which we call
"THE JACKDAW'S CAUSERIE."
"THE JACKDAW'S CAUSERIE."
Caw, caw! cried the jackdaw, and cawed again,
As he circled out of the ancient tower:
Caw, caw! and he circled thrice over the plain,
And cawed once more as he reached his bower.
Caw, caw! I was born in this fortress old,
As old as the hills, some folks might say;
Five hundred centuries, caw, have rolled
Since first it stood in the light of day.
Caw, caw! just to think I have built my nest
Where the Black Prince ruled in such royal state.
Caw, caw! I wonder if ever he guess'd
That this would in time be his castle's fate.
Caw, caw! but I never could quite perceive
Why one tower is round and the other square.
If I'd been the prince, I can well believe
I'd have made the architect build a pair.
Caw, caw! by-the-bye, there was old Coffite[1]
And Jean de Bourbon, that fought so well;
And 'tis said that the prince underwent defeat--
At least my mother this tale would tell.
Caw, caw! they've finished with siege and fight;
The castle's too old for that, of course;
They go in for piety on the right,[2]
And we caw away till our voice grows hoarse.
Caw, caw! I'm a Catholic right sincere,
But somehow or other I cannot see
Why they put up the Virgin's statue[3] here--
The place is as wrong as a place could be.
Caw, caw! I must see how my youngsters look
In their quiet nursery 'mid the stones;
Next week they'll be able "to take their hook,"[4]
And--but there they go with their squeaking tones.
Caw, caw! cried the jackdaw, the world is vain,
But I love to dwell in my ancient tower.
Caw, caw!--why the wretches want feeding again,
They've a "diet of worms" nearly every hour.
And he cawed as he flew to the nursery bower.
[Footnote 1: It is said that Jean de Bourbon, Comte de Clermont, and
Auger Coffite of Luz, took this castle in 1404.]
[Footnote 2: The author does not hold himself responsible for the
jackdaw's slang, which refers to the statue.]
[Footnote 3: This statue is in honour of "Notre Dame de Lourdes."]
[Footnote 4: Again the jackdaw indulges in slang!]
Leaving the jackdaw to pursue his paternal duties, we descended again
to the town, and sheltered awhile from a shower under the balcony of
the new and gaudy-looking bathing establishment, that stands in the
outskirts, towards St. Sauveur. These baths, which are only opened
during the summer, are supplied with water from Barèges, whither we
were only waiting for a fine day to make an excursion. But fine days
just then were rather hard to find, so we contented ourselves with one
that did not look very ominous, and taking a good lunch with us,
started in a landau and four at ten o'clock.
[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF STE. MARIE.]
The road after leaving Luz follows the course of the Gave de Bastan,
skirting in turn the base of the Montaigu [Footnote: Not to be in any
way confounded with the Montaigu near Bigorre. The French mountain
vocabulary is so defective, they often call several heights by the same
name.] and that of the Pic d'Ayré, and, passing through the villages of
Esterre (2 miles), Viella (2-1/4 miles), and Betpouey (3-1/2 miles),
winds in steep zigzags up to Barèges (4064 ft.).
This valley, after what we had seen, did not give us much pleasure; its
appearance on the whole being sterile, though after leaving Luz as far
as Esterre, the brightness of the fields and trees, and the splashing
of the water overflowing the miniature mill conduits, made a pleasant
landscape.
The actual distance from Luz to Barèges is barely four miles, and yet
so great is the height of the latter (1600 ft. above Luz) that it was
nearly one o'clock when we pulled up at the Cercle des Etrangers--the
only specimen of a hotel or café open--for our lunch.
After a pleasant meal we made a move to inspect the town and its
environs, and were not long in forming an opinion, at any rate, on the
former, which we think most visitors at this season of the year would
be inclined to endorse. One long ascending street lined with houses all
shut up, occasional breaks where a narrow alley or the roads to the
hospitals and promenades branched off, the bathing establishments under
much-needed repair, the dirty-looking river dashing down behind, on the
left; the beech boughs clad in dead leaves rustling on the slopes, in
the opposite direction; and a few natives here and there, very untidy
and sleepy-looking, as though with difficulty awaking from the
"dormouse" state, complete the picture of Barèges, which we need hardly
add is in itself a most desolate and dreary-looking place. In
mid-summer, with the sun shining and the trees in full leaf, an
improvement in the scene would be noticeable; but very few, except
invalids specially recommended for a course of the waters, are at
anytime likely to stay there more than a few hours.
[Illustration: BARÈGES.]
We took the road leading up, to the right of the "Grand Etablissement,"
to the Promenade Horizontale, the great summer rendezvous, and passing
the "Hospice de Ste. Eugénie" began the ascent up the easy zigzags of
the "Allée Verte." We had not made much progress when we startled, from
what was doubtless a contemplative mood, a very fine jay. He did not
seem to like the disturbance at all, but kept flying from branch to
branch in the vicinity, repeatedly uttering his guttural cries.
As the tenor of his thoughts--uttered in rather a shrill treble--seemed
to bear considerably on topics of general interest, in spite of the
apparent selfishness that was the key-note of the whole, we think it
expedient to let posterity enjoy the enlightenment we received from
"THE JAY OF BARÈGES."
Lawks a mussy! and shiver my feathers!
Why this is a wonderful sight;
In spite of my earnest endeavours,
I can't quite get over my fright.
'Tis so long since the strangers departed,
They ne'er would return, I had thought;
So no shame at their coming I started,
Though perchance I felt worse than I ought.
Still to think through the days cold and lonely
I've wandered about at my will,
With no one to chase me, and only
The need to prevent getting chill.
Well, I say--when I think of the quiet
And rest that is now at its close--
I have doubts of enduring the riot
After such a long time of repose.
It is not that I hate to see pleasure,
It is not that the world I detest;
But I like to have comfort and leisure,
And not to be teased and oppress'd.
I don't mind the smell from the fountains,
--Though a rotten-egg scent is not sweet--
For I always can fly to the mountains
And seek some umbrageous retreat.
Then the season for shooting is over,
So the sportsmen[1] will leave me alone,
And I'll pose as a Go(u)ld Jay in clover,
Avoiding a _dollar_ous tone.
To my doctor, perhaps, 'twould be better
The final decision to leave;
And I'll follow his choice to the letter,
He's a bird I can always believe.
That reminds me 'tis time for my dinner,
And as I don't wish it to wait,
As sure as I'm saint and no sinner,
I'll be off at my very best rate.
[Footnote 1: The jay, with all its sophistry, did not apparently know
that French sportsmen only kill what they can eat, and therefore its
fears would in any case have been groundless.]
And with a concluding chuckle the bright bird disappeared. We were by
this time beyond the "Forest Administration" hut, and close upon the
snow, which lay in narrow but deep drifts among the trees, the wood
anemones and fine hepaticas growing in groups close by.
As we gradually progressed, the snow occupied the greater part of the
way, and we were forced to betake ourselves to the extreme edge; and
when at last we emerged into the Vallée de Lienz, trees and branches
had to be scrambled over to avoid a wetting, although we were obliged
to cross one or two drifts after all. Getting clear of the trees, we
came in full view of the imposing Pic de Lienz (7501 ft.) on the left,
and the rounded summit of the Pic d'Ayré (7931 ft.). Passing the two
cabins constructed among the rocks in the open, we crossed the swift
brook and began the ascent of the inferior but well-wooded hill below
the Pic de Lienz. There is no proper path up to this Pic (as to most
others), and the grass is rather bad for walking; but the views up the
valley to the mighty Pic de Néouville (10,146 ft.), and the whole range
behind the Pic d'Ayré, are very grand. We only went to the bend just
before the summit of the Col, resting awhile among a huge pile of
boulders, brightened by bushes of the mountain rhododendron, before
commencing to descend. A fine specimen of the rather rare _Anemone
vernalis_ was a prize that fell to us as we carefully balanced
ourselves on the slippery tufts which so often, carrying the feet along
at an increased speed, cause the owner to find himself rather
unpleasantly acquainted with mother earth. However, we reached the huts
again in safety, and made considerably shorter cuts on our way back to
the town, encountering a solitary sheep with a very young lamb at one
of our sharp turns.
We arrived at the café just in time for tea, and then the horses were
put in and we rattled back, having, in spite of the barrenness of
Barèges, spent a very pleasant day.