‘In the sedative climate we have a more neutral state of the
atmosphere—a remarkable freedom from dryness on the one hand, and from
communicable humidity on the other, and in Pau particularly, great
stillness of the atmosphere.’
It is therefore only in cases where a sedative climate would be
beneficial that Dr. Taylor recommends Pau, and in a subsequent chapter
(p. 100) he mentions the kind of cases for which the climate of Pau is
specially beneficial.
Among the characteristics of the climate, he mentions that while
more rain falls in Pau than in London and some other situations in
England, yet from the absorbent nature of the soil, and from some
peculiar electric state of the atmosphere, there is an absence of
‘free communicable humidity;’ and that while 27 inches of rain fall
annually in London, and from 40 to 50 inches in Pau, the number of
rainy days is only 109 against 178 in London. Further, a very important
advantage possessed by Pau is its distinguishing freedom from wind
from apparently any quarter, while the malevolent circius, bise, and
the mistral are never felt there. Dr. Taylor contrasts in tables the
difference of temperature between Greenwich and Pau—as, for example,
in the mean temperature of each for the months between October and
May, showing them to vary, according to the month, from 3 to 7 degrees
in favour of Pau. The mean moisture of the air is also shown to be
generally about one–twelfth less at Pau; while a further circumstance
is that there is more sunshine at Pau, imparting greater cheerfulness
to the winter climate. A very curious additional fact is thus stated
(p. 80):—
‘From an examination of the mean distribution of the winds, according
to the cardinal points of the compass, indicated by carefully–kept
registers for a considerable series of years, we find that they show
northerly winds prevailed in summer, southerly in winter, easterly in
autumn and winter, and westerly in spring and early summer; and when we
recall to the reader what has before been said with regard to the usual
want of force of the winds at all times at Pau, he can easily figure
to himself how the heats of summer being modified by the northerly
wind, the cold of winter shorn of its intensity by the southerly, and
the usual biting keenness of spring softened by the prevalence of
westerly winds, the climate should act beneficially on the irritable
air passages and on the lungs of invalids either predisposed to active
disease or which are already a prey to it.’
At another place Dr. Taylor gives a table of death–rates, from which
Pau would seem to be at the top of the list for least mortality—as, for
example, while in Pau 1 in 45 died annually, in London it was 1 in 40,
in Nice 1 in 31, Rome 1 in 25, Vienna 1 in 22½, etc.; and he adds this
important statement (p. 94):—
‘In the department of the Basses Pyrénées, in a period of seventeen
years, 1777 persons died from 90 to 95, 649 from 95 to 100, and 168
above 100 years of age. In Pau itself, during a period of twenty years,
390 persons died from 80 to 85, 161 from 85 to 90, and 103 from 90 to
100 and upwards. By the last census, there were in Pau several persons
ranging from 100 to 104 years of age, and in the department also
several _centenaires_ who are described as being still very healthy.’
But I must refer to Dr. Taylor’s work for more information on this and
other matters relating to Pau. Besides containing general information
relative to the town itself, it deals in its last half with the climate
of other places, and particularly affords information relative to the
different places of resort in the Pyrenees.
Another book (already referred to, p. 53), by Dr. Frederick H.
Johnson, entitled, _A Winter’s Sketches in the South of France and the
Pyrenees_, is similarly devoted to Pau and the Pyrenees, and is written
in an interesting, graphic manner.
Mr. C. Home Douglas, in his little work called _Searches for Summer_,
takes a rather different view of the climate of Pau from Dr. Taylor,
although opening his observations by saying:
‘Passing from Biarritz to Pau, as we did in the beginning of May,
seemed almost like returning to the still sunny climate of the south
of Spain. The fresh strong Atlantic breeze—invigorating, doubtless, to
many constitutions—gave place to such gentle and balmy air as we used
to open our windows to at Malaga.’
Mr. Douglas, not confining comparison to London, compares the
temperature of Pau with that also of other places in Great Britain,
showing that the sunny temperature of Pau is 4°·1 below that of
Helstone in Cornwall, and is under that of Torquay in Devonshire and
Valentia in Ireland during the same winter months, and quotes Dr. Otley
to the effect that there is greater daily range of temperature at Pau
than in England, adding that the nights must be colder at Pau than in
the west coasts of Britain, and expresses the opinion that ‘no one who
cannot stand severe cold ought to think of going to Pau for the winter;
better go to Easdale in Argyllshire. No one so constituted should think
of going till March at soonest; April, in my opinion, is early enough.’
Mr. Douglas writes as a meteorologist, and his little volume is a
valuable contribution to the consideration of the temperature of the
various places of health resort therein mentioned; but the facts stated
by Dr. Taylor, even though one is inclined to look with suspicion on
medical advocates of special places, show that the value of a place for
an invalid may not wholly depend on the records of the thermometer.
* * * * *
We made Pau only a halting–place for nine days, _en route_ for the
Riviera, and to form some opinion as to its suitability for a longer
stay at another time. Coming from the ever–changing ocean, and from
Biarritz, which had so captivated our fancy, perhaps we did not take
so kindly to Pau, a large inland rural town, as we might otherwise
have done; while, in consequence of the season not having fairly
commenced, the strangers encountered in the streets were few, and the
town consequently was more dull than it would have been later on. The
weather also was such that we had not much opportunity of seeing the
environs.
* * * * *
Before 1840, Pau apparently was a place of no repute. I presume Dr.
Taylor’s recommendation gave it its great stimulus. But in twenty years
after 1840 it had largely increased, evidences of which were, that
the octroi duty had in 1860 realized nearly double, that the British
visitors had amounted to 1000 in number in the year, and that its
population had augmented to 21,000. It has gone on increasing since,
and is now so well frequented as to require no less than three English
churches and one Scotch church, with resident ministers, while the
population is reckoned to amount to 30,000.
The town itself is regularly built, with good leading streets, and
possesses a large market–place, where goods of all kinds, even
broadcloths, are sold in open stalls; and as Pau is the centre of a
very large rural population, it is on market days a busy place; but
there are many good shops in some of the best streets, and the wares
are, I think, cheaper than in Nice and elsewhere in the Riviera. The
two town churches, St. Martin’s and St. Jacques, are new and of white
stone, and with their fine tapering spires are externally handsome, but
internally, except for their stained–glass windows, want the richness
of ornamentation we had seen in so many other Roman Catholic churches
abroad.
* * * * *
The grand sight at Pau is the chain of the Pyrenees. We had only to
go a short way along the country road, in which the Pension Colbert
is, to see them. But a more uninterrupted prospect is had from the
Boulevard du Midi, or terrace of the Place Royale, in front of the
prominent buildings I have already mentioned. Leaning upon the parapet
wall of this fine terrace, and looking almost straight down upon the
valley below, one sees beyond the road and a small outlying portion of
the town and the railway station, the river Gave flowing sluggishly
along, crossed by a handsome low stone bridge of, I think, five arches,
and lined on both sides by rows of tall poplar and other trees, and
bordered by straggling houses, which give some character to the scene.
Then, on the other side, there rises a range of well–wooded knolls
and hills, called the Côteaux of Juraçon and Gelos, the highest about
300 feet in height, and dotted over among the trees by mansions; and
then apparently the ground dips behind them, and in the distance
(the nearest being twenty miles off) the long range of the Pyrenees
stretches out in a continuous line eastward and westward as far as the
eye can see, and forming the natural boundary and barrier between the
two great countries France and Spain. Rising abruptly and prominently
out of the range like two great tusks, are the Pic de Midi d’Ossau,
to appearance nearly opposite Pau, and the grandest of the Pyrenees;
and away to the eastward, the Pic de Gers; while still farther to
the east, but eclipsed by intervening heights scarcely visible from
Pau, the Pic du Midi de Bigorre, each of them, or at least the first
and last mentioned, from 10,000 to 11,000 feet high. From the upper
windows of the hotels on this Boulevard the view must be magnificent.
It was very fine from the windows of the Chateau, but they are of a low
elevation. This view, perhaps the finest in France, is really the great
attraction to the hotels in this quarter, for nowhere else does it seem
possible to obtain the prospect from so high a position, and so free
from intervening obstructions. When we were at Pau, there was no snow
upon the Pyrenees, so that we failed to see them in their best. Even,
however, when snow–covered, they cannot bear comparison with the Alps
as seen from Turin. But the view may be finer when the mountains are
snow–covered and there is a grand sunset, for which Pau is famed. The
mountains in the ruddy glow may then resemble the Bernese Alps, as seen
from Berne in a brilliant sunset. At Turin, as the mountains lie to the
west of the town, the sunset effect must be greatly lost.
* * * * *
The Chateau, which was the residence of the Princes of Bearne in former
times, and where Henry IV. of France was born in 1553, is well worthy
of inspection, and, of course, any stranger coming to Pau pays it a
visit. Three bridges connect it with the town, and at one time it
was doubtless a place of strength. Entering on one side through what
appears to be a modern screen of three open slender arches embellished
by carved work (seemingly rather too delicate for a warlike place), and
passing the sentinel, the visitor is at once in the court–yard, the
remaining three sides of the nearly square yard forming the castle,
pierced by decorated windows. The walls are of great thickness, giving
the idea of massive strength and solidity. In some of the rooms the
walls are covered with tapestry, and in parts the tapestry is a
close imitation in worsted of paintings in oil—a mistake in art, I
think. The ceilings are bold in design, without being either fine
or remarkable. The old beds are curious high boxes of carved oak,
requiring steps to enable the occupants to get up into them. A lower
modern carved bed in one of the rooms, devoid of the canopy of the old
ones, seemed vastly preferable. One of the bedrooms was hung with silk
of the time of Madame de Maintenon, and, as we understood, manufactured
under her superintendence. The most interesting object in the castle
was the cradle of Henry IV., made of a large tortoise shell. There is
a statue of the great monarch in the grounds, and in the country round
about places exist with which he was associated; and, indeed, Pau and
its neighbourhood is a place of great historical interest.
A public park closely adjoins the Chateau. It is filled with lofty
trees, and continues for a long stretch by the banks of the Gave on a
rising ground, through which and under the trees walks have been formed
and seats placed, whence charming views of the river and mountains are
had. The band plays during the season sometimes in the park and at
other times in the Place Royale.
* * * * *
The environs of Pau are said to be beautiful, but we had not much
opportunity of exploring them. Mr. Inglis (the traveller), in a passage
quoted by Dr. Taylor, says:—
‘The Gave serpentines through the charming undulating country that
surrounds the town. Grain, meadows, and vines diversify the scenery,
and innumerable country–houses are everywhere scattered around. Nothing
can exceed the beauty of the promenades in the neighbourhood of Pau.
Some lie alongside the Gave, others along the banks of the smaller
river.’
The road to Bordeaux and the other roads out of Pau seem to be all
lined with regimental rows of poplars, shady perhaps in sunshine, but
stiff. Some neat villas in nicely–planted gardens in the outskirts of
the town—delightful retreats—are let furnished. I had the pleasure of
meeting a very old Scotch friend, who, after having tried many places,
has found the climate of Pau to be most suitable, and has accordingly
built just out of town an elegant villa for permanent residence.
There are, I believe, many excellent excursions from Pau, such as
a drive to Lourdes, 25 miles distant—a long day’s work for the
horses there and back, but, I was told and can readily believe, most
enjoyable. In the summer–time, everybody who can, escapes to the
mountains, where so many charming spots, including Eaux–Chaudes and
Eaux–Bonnes, are to be found.
We paid a visit to the cemetery, which lies back from the Place
d’Armes, and quite out of town, the Protestant ground being, as
customary, separate from the Roman Catholic. There are throughout many
monuments, including one to Marshal Bosquet, whose name is familiar to
us in connection with the Crimean War. After the war he spent his last
years in Pau, his native place. One monument to the memory of a Russian
lady, representing her in the act of kneeling and praying, in very rich
attire, is of white marble, and has no doubt been executed in Italy.
* * * * *
During our stay in Pau, the French General Election took place, and
according to French practice was on a Sunday (14th October 1877).
Everything was quiet, quieter even than it would have been at home,
notwithstanding it was politically a time of great anxiety. Although
there were some small crowds of people hanging about the streets on the
day of election, and on the following day the newspaper shops at the
time of publishing were besieged, all was quite orderly. We had it, of
course, for the comfort of the old ladies, that all the Protestants
were in bodily fear; and perhaps in former times there might have
been some risk, for in some parts of France it was an inconvenient
custom, occasionally exercised on a sumptuous scale, to burn, shoot,
and otherwise destroy Protestants and other obnoxious heretics. In the
present day, however, it would no doubt be considered an economic
mistake to slay, or to drive away to other lands, the birds which
beneficently lay, in hotels, pensions, furnished villas, shops, and
other places, their heart–winning, hate–dissipating golden eggs; and
instead of a display of unpleasant engines of extirpation, there is
great kindliness of feeling towards Protestants, and every provision is
made for alluring strangers to Pau, and detaining them there by means
of cricket and golf grounds, skating–rinks, fox–hunting, lawn tennis,
libraries, museums, and the like active and passive means of enjoyment.