S. JEAN-PIED-DE-PORT
Four valleys--The Basque land--Quarrels with Bayonne--The
Sieur de Puyane--Cambo--Itxasson--Pas de Roland--Stalagmitic
saint--S. Jean-Pied-de-Port--The first book in Basque--
Patronal feasts--Roncevaux--The Song of Roland--The history of
Turpin--Death of Roland--His horn--Convent--Canons--Virgin
with diamonds in her eyes--Spanish kitchen--Smugglers--Escape
of the Princess of Beira--The Couvade.
From the ridge of the Western Pyrenees descend four large valleys
towards the north, each with a river running at the bottom. The
westernmost and least important is that of the Nivelet, that flows
into the Bay of Biscay at S. Jean de Luz. The second thence is the
Nive, that discharges its waters into the Adour at Bayonne. The third
is the Bidouze, which reaches the Adour just below where that river
receives the mingled waters of the two Gaves. The last of these, and
the easternmost of these rivers, is the Cenon, that loses itself in the
Gave of Oloron, near Sauveterre.
In the ancient geography of France these four valleys were somewhat
irregularly divided into districts, of which the westernmost was called
Labourde, and the easternmost Soule, and the central portion was Lower
Navarre. Taken collectively these districts constitute the Basque land,
the population of which was closely related in language, habits, and
blood to the inhabitants of Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and Upper Navarre in
Spain. The narrow strip of land comprising the two cantons of S. Palais
and S. Jean-pied-de-Port was for many centuries regarded as forming
a parcel of the province of Gascony, but Alphonso the Noble took it,
together with Labourde, from the English King John, so that it became
a portion of the kingdom of Navarre, though Bayonne was recovered by
the English. Sancho, King of Navarre, strengthened his hold on it more
firmly, but eventually, when the claim to the crown of Navarre passed
to the Counts of Foix and Viscounts of Béarn, it was the sole portion
of that kingdom that these latter were able to retain, the Spanish
Navarre having been annexed by Ferdinand the Catholic.
The Basques never obtained political independence. They were always
subjected to Frank or English domination; they passed under the
rule of the kings of Navarre and counts of Foix, and finally under
the crown of France. Nevertheless they succeeded in maintaining a
communal right of self-government, and enjoyed great privileges,
notably that of conveying their wares and those of Spain free of duty
to the markets of Toulouse and Bordeaux; rights these that awoke the
jealousy of the citizens of Bayonne, who were incessantly at feud with
them. The Bayonnais claimed Villefranche as belonging to Labourde,
because the tide flowed through the arches of the bridge there. In an
affray over this the mountaineers killed several citizens of Bayonne.
In reprisal, in the reign of Edward III of England, Duke of Gascony
and Aquitaine, the mayor of Bayonne, a Sieur de Puyane, descended on
Villefranche on S. Bartholomew’s Day, when a fair was being held there,
caught five burgesses of note and fastened them to the arches of the
bridge, and let them drown to show by occular demonstration that the
tide did rise to Villefranche, and that therefore it was within the
jurisdiction of Bayonne. The Basques rose _en masse_ and massacred
the Labourdins wherever they caught them. Finally, both parties
appealed to the arbitration of the Sieur d’Albret, and the town of
Bayonne was condemned to pay a heavy sum as indemnity to the families
of the drowned men. The Bayonnais appealed to the King of England.
He mitigated the fine, but the Basques would only consent to his
adjudication on condition of reserving the right to pursue the sons of
the Sieur de Puyane till they had exterminated the family. This was the
last act by which the Basque nation manifested its political existence.
But they retained their special privileges till the French Revolution,
when the common law of France superseded all local independence of
jurisdiction.
Cambo is a pretty, pleasant place, that has of late years risen to
notice as a health resort. It takes its name from what has been
supposed to be an Euscaldunic, i.e. Basque camp. I planned this and
sent plan and description to the Archæologia, in 1852. But with
greater experience of ancient camps than I had then, I have come to
doubt whether it is what has been supposed. It consists of a platform
on a hillock with a network of trenches about it, and ridges between
them sharp as the back of a knife. It may have been used as a camp of
refuge, but it could not contain a large force, and the dykes around
appear to have been formed by currents of water.
Itxasson is an eminently Basque village. The church contains rich
ornaments of silver gilt for the altar, given in the eighteenth century
by an emigrant, Pedro d’Echegaray, on his return from America, where he
had realized a fortune. The Basques, it may be noticed, do not give
their names to houses and farms, but assume as surnames those place
names from which they came.
From Itxasson the Pas de Roland is reached in half an hour on foot.
It is an archway bored in the crag beside the river. Road and railway
have so maltreated the rock that the Pas is now hardly worth a special
visit. It was through this arch that the Roman road passed, and through
it Roland the Paladin went to his death at Roncevaux. According to
local legend Roland set his foot against the rock and burst a way
through it by pressure. Road and rail now enter the mountains following
the river.
At Bidarray, on the mountain-side, is a grotto, about thirty feet deep.
In one corner a ladder conducts to a cavity, at the back of which is
a stalagmitic incrustation three feet high, of a livid hue, rudely
representing a human torso. This is held in high veneration by the
peasantry, and is called “the Saint of Bidarry,” though who the saint
was whom it is supposed to represent nobody can say. A very similar
incrustation occupies a niche in the Gorge of the Ardèche, and is there
held to be a lively presentation of Charlemagne. Sick people seek this
cave and soak rags in the water that dribbles from the figure, and
which has in fact built it up. They apply the rags to the suffering
parts of their bodies, and depart believing themselves to be healed,
but the rags are left behind as _ex votos_.
[Illustration: PAS DE ROLAND]
S. Jean-Pied-de-Port was the key to the port or pass into Spain, and
especially to the communication between Upper and Lower Navarre. It
occupies a point where three streams fall into the Nive. There had been
a Gallo-Roman town three miles distant at S. Jean-le-Vieux, but it had
been destroyed by the Saracens. The present town was founded by the
Garcias, kings of Navarre, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. S.
Jean, from the Treaty of the Pyrenees to the Revolution, during three
reigns, was the capital of French Navarre. There are several old houses
in the town, some of the Renaissance Period, and owing to their being
built of red sandstone have a warm and pleasant aspect. The citadel was
constructed by Deville in 1668, but was remodelled by Vauban, as were
also the ramparts of the town.
The first book in Basque that was printed and published was by Bernard
d’Echepare, curé of S. Jean-Pied-de-Port, in 1545. It consists of two
parts. The first contains Christian doctrine, moral sentences, and
passages from Scripture, good for edification. But strangely united
with this, under the same cover and with continuous numeration of
pages, is a collection of the priest’s erotic poems.
Si ... turpiter atrum
Desinat in piscem mulier fermosa superne,
Spectatum admissi risum teneatis, amici?
He frankly admits that he had had his love adventures. “I would not go
to heaven, not I,” he tells us, “unless I were sure of meeting women
there.”
He gives us a picture of female charms too highly coloured to bear
reproduction. He throws in episodes from his own experience. In one of
his escapades he got into such a scrape that he was incarcerated by
order of the king of Navarre. “Il est à regretter,” says Michel, “qu’il
se soit borné à nous parler de sa détention, sans en indiquer ni la
cause, ni le lieu, ni l’époque.”
S. Jean-Pied-de-Port should be visited at the time of its patronal
fête, 15 to 18 August, where day and night are given up to concerts,
games, masquerades, and allegorical dances performed by the peasants of
la Haute Soule.
But should a visitor be there at midsummer he should make an effort
to push on to Pampeluna for the fête of 7 July, when for over a
week the city keeps holiday--_les gigantes_ parade the streets,
monstrous figures, representing Moors; and the Alcalde and Corporation
dance in front of the cathedral in honour of S. Firmin, the patron
saint. He will, moreover, have an opportunity of seeing the pretty
Navarrese girls, who have come out of the country for the great annual
merry-making.
But the place of highest historic and romantic interest to be visited
from S. Jean-Pied-de-Port is Roncevaux. Here, on 15 August, 778, the
army of Charlemagne met with a crushing defeat, in which Roland and the
twelve peers of the emperor were overwhelmed by rocks hurled down on
them by the Basques.
The contemporary Eginhard tells us that the king invaded Spain at the
head of a huge army, pushed on as far as Saragossa, and there received
hostages from the Saracen chiefs. On his return, whilst entangled in
the Pyrenean pass, the Basques attacked his rearguard, which perished
to a man. Most of the officers of the palace, to whom Charlemagne had
confided the command of the troops, were among the slain, and with them
“Roland, prefect of the Marches of Brittany.”
No revenge could be taken for this disaster, as the light-footed
mountaineers dispersed, and could not be reached. This is all we know
for certain, but even in this account the existence of Roland among
the captains slain is doubtful, as the passage referring to him is an
interpolation, and is not found in the best MSS. copies.
In 810 Louis “le Debonaire,” at that time King of Aquitaine, on his
return from an expedition into Spain, took the precaution of securing
the wives and children of the Basques and retaining them as hostages
till he was safely through the pass. But in 824 the Frank army
descended to Pampeluna, under two counts, and on its way back was
surprised at Roncevaux by the Basques; the troops were slaughtered and
the counts taken. These two disasters in popular tradition were run
into one, and gave occasion to the composition of the “Song of Roland,”
one of the finest pieces of medieval poetry that we possess.
“‘The Song of Roland,’” says Mr. Ludlow, “apart from any
question of literary merit, has a peculiar interest for our
country, not only as forming one of the treasures of the
Bodleian, but from its connexion with one of the half dozen
greatest events in our history--the Battle of Hastings. For
there, as we are told by Wace, William of Normandy’s minstrel
‘Taillefer who full well sang, on a horse that was swift, went
before them singing _Of Charlemagne and of Roland, and of
Oliver and of the vassals who died at Roncevaux_.’”[E]
[E] Ludlow, _Popular Epics of the Middle Ages_. London, 1865.
The very earliest text extant of this poem is in the Bodleian Library
at Oxford. All other songs of Roland are amplifications of later date.
Thus it appears that to the chanting of this ballad by a minstrel
William went forward to the conquest of England.
One of the most popular books of the Middle Ages was the _History of
the Life of Charlemagne and of his Nephew Roland_, which passed as
the composition of Turpin, Archbishop of Rheims, a man who died about
800. It was a historical romance based on old ballads, composed in the
twelfth century, and of no historic value whatsoever. Pope Callixtus II
formally decided, however, in 1122, that it was veracious history.
In this book we have the fully-developed story of the defeat at
Roncevaux. In it, declared by an infallible Pope to be authentic and
trustworthy, we are informed that Charlemagne was eight feet high,
measured by his own feet, “which were of the largest size,” that at a
meal he would consume a quarter of a sheep, and if that were not at
hand, then he would appease his appetite with two fowls, or a duck, a
peacock, a crane, or a hare.
The army had marched into Spain, and Roland and Ganilon the Traitor
had been sent forward to Saragossa on an embassage to the Soudan, who,
according to the counsel of Ganilon, spake fair and consented to all
Charlemagne’s demands. Consequently the host of the Franks returned
through the Pyrenees, unsuspicious of evil. Charles led the van, and
Roland and Oliver the rearguard. Meanwhile the Saracens had gone about
by bypaths, and they suddenly appeared to intercept the march of that
body of men which was under the command of Roland and Oliver. A furious
fight ensued, Oliver fell, and Roland alone survived. Then he put his
ivory horn to his lips and blew such a blast that Charles heard it,
though many leagues away, and he knew thereby that his nephew was in
danger. With the blast Roland broke a blood-vessel, and, sinking to the
ground, he dashed his good sword Durandal against the rocks with intent
to break it, lest it should fall into the hands of the paynim.
To this day at Roncevaux a mass is said in May above the tombs of
the paladins, in the little chapel supposed to have been founded by
Charlemagne, and this mass is for the repose of the souls of those who
fell in the massacre of Roncevaux.
Roncevaux itself consists of a few poor huts about a monumental
convent, from the midst of which rises the church with a massive
square tower. The “royal and illustrious collegiate church” was
considered in Spain to be the fourth in order of the holy spots on
earth. The other three were Jerusalem, Rome, and Compostella. The
chapter was under the special protection of the Holy See, and the King
of Spain nominated the prior. This dignitary and six canons are all
that remain of the ancient order of Roncevaux. Throughout the convent
may be seen its badge, a cross, the middle member curved at the head
like a pastoral staff, and with a sword at the feet.
Pilgrims from France, Germany, and Italy were wont to cross the
Pyrenees on their way to Compostella, and many lost their lives in
the snow. On this account, in 1131, the Bishop of Pampeluna founded a
hospital at Roncevaux for their accommodation, and he dispatched one of
the canons of his cathedral to attend to the requirements and comforts
of the pilgrims. This was the origin of the convent that grew rich
with the gifts of kings and princes who were lodged there. The canons
of Roncevaux wear a sleeveless surplice and a black amice over their
shoulders in summer, but in winter a thick black cloak and a furred
hood. When they go out they wear a short linen scapular over their
cassocks.
Under the tower is a Gothic hall. This, with the cloister and the
church, was erected by Sanchez the Strong, King of Navarre, in the
thirteenth century. He and his wife repose in the church under a marble
tomb.
In this church is a Mater Dolorosa, the eyes of which are apparently
full of tears. This appearance is due to the insertion of diamonds,
but the ignorant peasantry are fully convinced that the eyes of the
Madonna really brim with tears for their sorrows, and out of profound
compassion.
Near the convent formerly stood a pillar commemorative of the defeat of
Charlemagne’s rearguard, but the monument was destroyed in 1794 by two
commissioners of the French Republic, to the performance of a “musique
touchante.” These men headed a column called l’Infernale; it entered
Spanish territory, and carried fire and sword everywhere. They pillaged
the church and the convent, and wrecked all they could lay hands on.
Over this pass fled Joseph Bonaparte, without his crown, after the rout
of Vittoria. At Roncevaux is a little inn where the traveller has an
opportunity of seeing a Spanish kitchen, with a central hearth, about
which are ranged as many little saucepans as there are visitors to be
entertained, and of hearing the custom-house officers play the guitar,
and seeing the muleteers dancing the fandango.
Smuggling thrives in the Pyrenees, indeed it is impossible to suppress
it. The most daring and successful of all smugglers are the Basques,
and the mountains in their part not being of the loftiest, free trade
can be carried on with comparative ease. F. Michel, in _Le Pays
Basque_, says:--
“Contraband is a veritable profession that employs a great many
hands. Men thoroughly upright and strictly honest take part in
it. The chiefs are well known, and one is certain of meeting
with fidelity, integrity, and chivalrous devotion among them.
This may be understood, because their profession depends mainly
on the confidence which their character inspires, and without
which the merchants would not venture to have recourse to them.”
Consider what the length of the chain is--350 miles as the crow flies,
500 if you follow the frontier line. Tobacco is a Government monopoly
in France, and French tobacco is execrable. There are in that 500 miles
a thousand passes: some easy, others difficult. The douane cannot be
everywhere; it can be planted at certain fixed points, but the officers
are not ubiquitous, cannot guard every port, for the ports are in the
region of perpetual snow, where, if stationed, the officers would
freeze at their posts. Besides, the douanier gravitates instinctively
towards the cabaret, where he can have his wine, his coffee, his
absinthe, about a stove. And none of the taverns are planted on the
more difficult cols. Consequently a very considerable traffic is done
across the frontier by these honourable and intelligent men, the
smugglers.
In November, 1835, the Princess of Beira was on her way from Naples
to Spain to be married to the Pretender, Don Carlos. She was his
sister-in-law, but at Rome dispensations are ever obtainable for money.
Ferdinand VII, by his third wife, Maria Christina, daughter of Francis
I, King of the Two Sicilies, had a daughter, Isabella, born in 1830.
Now Don Carlos was the brother of Ferdinand. When this latter died,
in 1834, Carlos claimed the crown. Queen Christina had become regent,
whilst Isabella was a minor. Carlos went to the north of Spain, and war
broke out between the Carlists and the Christinos. Spain, Portugal,
England, and France united in quadruple alliance to support the claims
of Queen Christina. Carlos was in the Spanish Biscay, and he summoned
to him his son by his wife Maria Frances, who was dead, and also his
intended wife, the Princess of Beira. This lady undertook to leave
Naples, traverse France, pick up on her way the Prince of the Asturias,
who was at Toulouse, and join her intended husband in the Basque
province of Spain.
Her journey had to be carried out with precaution, as France
opposed the pretensions of Don Carlos. She managed, attended by the
Count Custine and a Portuguese lady, to secure the Prince of the
Asturias and to make her way to Bayonne. There she remained awhile
in concealment till warned that her retreat was discovered, when she
fled and delivered herself up to the protection and guidance of some
smugglers. After a day spent in wandering through the forest of Mixe,
with which her guides were unfamiliar, she reached in the evening
the valley of Mìharin, between Hasparren and S. Palais. It had been
arranged that she should sup at the cabaret of Sallubria; but the place
was so squalid that Count Custine advised the Princess to throw herself
on the hospitality of the Viscount de Belsunce, who had a château hard
by. This she did, and was received with the utmost civility, though it
was not allowed to transpire who she was. Thence one of the smuggler
guides, Baptista Etchegoyen, was dispatched with instructions to the
contraband Captain Ganis to aid the Princess in her escape. He arrived
in the middle of the night with some of his band, and with horses
carrying bundles containing disguises.
In order to reach the frontier it was necessary to pass through
Hélitte, a station of douaniers, on the high road from Bayonne to S.
Jean-Pied-de-Port. In order to effect this, Ganis took advantage of
a funeral that was to take place at half-past ten in the morning. He
left Méharin at 9 a.m. attending the two ladies, dressed as mourners.
At a little distance from the place the Princess and her attendant
had to alight and go direct to the church, where Ganis informed her
they were to place themselves behind a tall woman in mourning, and to
follow her when she left the church. The ladies assisted at the office
for the dead, with hoods concealing their faces. They followed the
corpse to the cemetery, and passed the station of the douaniers without
attracting attention. On reaching a valley they found horses awaiting
them, and by evening they had reached Macaye, near Hasparren, where
they lodged in the house of Ganis.
Fatigued by the journey, the Princess hoped to pass a quiet night,
but soon after dark an alarm was given. Fifteen to eighteen hundred
men--soldiers, gendarmes, and douaniers--were patrolling the country in
quest of the Princess. A party of these men, suspecting that she was
under the protection of Ganis, approached the house with the purpose
of searching it. The smuggler roused the ladies, made them follow him
on foot, and under his conduct they reached the banks of a river that
was swelled by the rain then descending in torrents. Ganis took the
Princess on his back, and stepped into the water. He was followed by
his brother with the lady-in-waiting. The flood rose to his armpits,
and he had the utmost difficulty in struggling across. Before he had
reached the further bank he heard shouts, and looking back, saw a crowd
of uniforms on that he had quitted. The smugglers and their charges now
made for the road into Spain by Anhoue, and succeeded in passing the
frontier without further adventures.
Next morning the south wind bore to Bayonne the joyous clatter of the
bells of Urdase, and of all the Spanish villages over the frontier,
celebrating the marriage of the Princess of Beira with the Pretender,
Don Carlos of Bourbon. In the meantime the Count Custine had remained
with the Prince of the Asturias in the château of M. de Belsunce.
Baptista now returned for them. They were disguised as Basque peasants,
mounted horses, and departed under the conduct of the energetic and
indefatigable Etchegoyen, who conducted them by a different route from
that taken by the Princess, to where they met her and the Prince, his
father.
It would be unpardonable to quit the Basques without a few words
on the Couvade, a custom once prevalent among them, but by no means
peculiar to them, as it has been found in Asia, Africa, and America.
Immediately after childbirth the woman rises and goes about the
business of the house, whereas the husband at once retires to bed
with the baby, receives the congratulations of the neighbours, and
is fed on broth and pap during ten days. Strabo mentions this usage
above eighteen hundred years ago as prevalent among the Iberians, the
ancestors of the Basques. “The women,” he says, “after the birth of a
child, nurse their husbands, putting them to bed instead of going to it
themselves.” That this custom was widely spread in the south of France
appears from the medieval tale of _Aucussin and Nicolette_. In it the
hero finds King Theodore _au lit en couche_, whereupon he takes a stick
and thrashes him till he vows to abolish the Couvade in his realms.
Diodorus Siculus, at the beginning of the Christian era, tells us that
this custom also prevailed in Corsica.
Marco Polo, in the thirteenth century, met with it in Eastern Asia, so
that the widow’s remark to Sir Hudibras was not amiss--
“Chineses go to bed
And lie-in in their ladies’ stead.”
The same custom is found among the American Indians.
What can be its meaning? What topsy-turvydom of the human brain can
have originated it? Mr. Tylor, in his _Early History of Mankind_, says
that it proceeded from a notion that the woman was a mere machine for
the turning out of babies, and that the babes were not in the least
supposed to belong to her, but to the father. Also that the child was
part and parcel of the father, a feeble and frail parcel, and that the
utmost precaution had to be taken to keep the male parent in health
lest the child should suffer. If the father were to take a pinch of
snuff, the infant would sneeze its brains away; if he were to eat
solid food, the babe would suffer indigestion. A missionary found it
impossible to persuade his Indian servant to eat anything but slops
directly after the birth of a son and heir, as he was persuaded heavy
diet would injure the child. Then the missionary belaboured his servant
with a stick, and sent him to look at his infant smiling in its sleep,
and so convinced the man of his delusion.
This may be the explanation. I cannot say. Mankind does many things out
of sheer cussedness.