THE BASQUES
[Illustration: _The Basque Country_]
Most people, or certainly most women, connect the name basque with a
certain article of ladies' wearing apparel. Just what its functions
were, when it was in favour a generation ago, a mere man may not be
supposed to know. Théophile Gautier has something to say on the
subject, so he doubtless knew; and Victor Hugo delivered himself of the
following couplet:--
"C'était plaisir de voir danser la jeune fille;
Sa basquine agitait ses pailettes d'azur."
The French Basques are divided into three families, the Souletins, the
Bas-Navarrais and the Labourdins. They possess, however, the same
language and other proofs of an identical origin in the simplicity and
quaintness of their dress and customs.
The Labourdin Basques inhabit the plains and valleys running down to the
sea at the western termination of the Pyrenees, and live a more
luxurious life than the Navarrais, even emigrating largely, and entering
the service of the merchant and naval marine; whereas the Navarrais
occupy themselves mostly with agriculture (and incidentally are the
largest meat eaters in France) and contribute their services only to the
army. The contrast between the sailor and fisher folk of the coast, and
the soldiers and farmers of the high valleys is remarkable, as to face
and figure, if not readily distinguishable with respect to other
details.
The Labourdin Basques have a traditional history which is one of the
most interesting and varied records of the races of western Europe. In
olden times the Golfe de Gascogne was frequented by great shoals of
whales, and the Basques, harpooning them and killing them in the waters
of their harbours, came to control the traffic.
When the whale industry fell off, and the whales themselves receded to
the south seas, the Basques went after them, and for long they held the
supremacy as before, finally chasing them again to the Newfoundland
Banks, which indeed it is claimed the Basques discovered. At any rate
the whaling industry proved a successful and profitable commerce for the
Basques, and perhaps led the way for their migration in large numbers to
South America and other parts of the New World.
Among the Basques themselves, and perhaps among others who have given
study to the subject, the claim is made that they were the real
discoverers of the New World, long before Columbus sighted the western
isles. Thus is the Columbus legend, and that of Leif, son of Eric,
shattered by the traditions of a people whom most European travellers
from overseas hardly know of as existing. It seems that a Spanish
Basque, when on a voyage from Bayonne to Madeira, was thrown out of his
course and at the mercy of the winds and waves, and finally, after many
weeks, landed on the coast of Hayti. Columbus is thus proved a
plagiarist.
The Basques as a race, both in France and in Spain, are a proud, jovial
people, not in the least sullen, but as exclusive as turtle-doves.
Unlike most of the peasants of Europe, whether at work or play, they
march with head high, and beyond a grave little bow, scarcely, if ever,
accost the stranger with that graciousness of manner which is usually
customary with the farmer folk of even the most remote regions in
France, those of the Cevennes or the upper valleys of Dauphiné or
Savoie.
Upon acquaintance and recognition of equality, the Basques become
effusive and are undoubtedly sincere. They don't adopt the mood for
business purposes as does the Norman or the Niçois.
The traditions of the Basques concerning their ancestors comport exactly
with their regard for themselves, and their pride of place is noticeable
to every stranger who goes among them. They believe that they were
always an independent people among surrounding nations of slaves, and,
since it is doubtful if the Romans ever conquered them as they did the
other races of Gaul, this may be so. The very suggestion of this
superior ancestry accounts for many of their manners and customs. Full
to overflowing with the realization of their "_noblesse collective_,"
they have an utter contempt for an individual nobility that borders
close upon radicalism and republicanism. The greatest peer among them is
the oldest of the house (_eteheco-sémia_) and he, or she, is the only
individual to whom is paid a voluntary homage.
Like the children of Abraham, the Basques are, away from the seacoast,
for the most part tenders of flocks and herds, and never does one meet a
Basque in the mountains or on the highroads but what he finds him
carrying a _baton_ or a goad-stick, as if he were a Maréchal de France
in embryo. It is their "_compagnon de voyage et de fête_," and can on
occasion, when wielded with a sort of Jiu-Jitsu proficiency, be a
terrible weapon. As many heads must have been cracked by the _baton_ of
the Basque, as by the shillelagh of the Irishman, always making
allowance for the fact that the Basque is less quarrelsome and peppery
than Pat.
There is absolutely no question but that the Basques are hospitable when
occasion arises, and this in spite of their aloofness. In this respect
they are like the Arabs of the desert. And also like the Hebrews, the
Basques are very jealous of their nationality, and have a strong
repugnance against alliances and marriages with strangers.
The activity and the agility of the Basques is proverbial, in fact a
proverb has grown out of it. "_Leger comme un Basque_," is a saying
known all over France. The Basque loves games and dances of all sorts,
and he "makes the fête" with an agility and a passion not known of any
other people to a more noticeable extent. A fête to the Basque, be it
local or national, is not a thing to be lightly put aside. He makes a
business of it, and expects every one else to do the same. There is no
room for onlookers, and if a tourney at _pelota_--now become the new
sport of Paris--is on, it is not the real thing at all unless all have a
hand in it in turn. There are other _pelota_ tourneys got up at
Biarritz, Bayonne and Feuntarrabia for strangers, but the mountain
Basque has contempt for both the players and the audience. What he would
think of a sixty or eighty thousand crowd at a football or a cricket
game is too horrible for words.
_Pelota Basque_ has its home in the Basque country, both in the French
and Spanish provinces, and the finest players of _pelota_ come from
here. _Pelota Basque_ is played in various parts of Spain, as well as
_pelota_ which is played with the three walls and the open hand, and
thus the two games are found in the same country at the same time,
though differing to no small extent.
It is to be regretted that there is not more literature connected with
the game. The history of ball games is always interesting, and _pelota_
is without doubt worthy of almost as much research as has been expended
on the history of tennis.
In Spain _pelota_ is largely played at San Sebastian, Bilbao, Madrid,
Barcelona. There are three walls, and the game is played by four
players, two on each side. Before the three-wall game was ever thought
of, _Pelota Basque_ was played in the principal cities of the Basque
country, and it is still played on one wall in such cities as St.
Jean-de-Luz, Biarritz, Cambo, Dax, Mauléon, Bordeaux, and even at Paris,
and is recognized as the superior variety.
This was explained over the signatures of a group of professional
players who introduced the game to Paris as follows:--
[Illustration: _The Game of Pelota_]
"We, the _pelotarie_ playing here, can play either on _frontones_
of the Spanish or Basque form; but there is no doubt that the
latter is the better game, and we feel we must state that the
measures of the court, and the wall, and its top curves are the
same in the Paris _fronton_ as at St. Jean-de-Luz, which is
considered by all authorities an ideal court. Here we play three
against three, and all the '_aficionados_' who have witnessed a
game of Basque _pelota_ are unanimous in saying it is a sport of a
high grade, although different from the three-wall game.
"We, the undersigned, are the recognized champions of _pelota
Basque_.
ELOY, _of the Barcelona's Fronton_.
MELCHIOR, _of San Sebastian's Fronton_.
VELASCO, _of Biarritz and Bilbao's Fronton_.
LEON DIHARCE, _of Paris and Buenos Ayres Fronton_."
It is by the word _euskualdunac_ that the Basques are known among
themselves. Their speech has an extraordinary sound, the vowels jumping
out from between the consonants as a nut shell crushes in a
_casse-noisette_. No tongue of Europe sounds more strange to foreign
ears, not even Hungarian. On the other hand a Basque will speak French
perfectly, without the slightest accent, when he feels like it, but his
Béarnais neighbour makes a horrible mess of it, mixing Parisian French
with his chattering _patois_. What a language and what a people the
Basques are, to be sure! Some day some one will study them profoundly
and tell us much about them that at present we only suspect. This much
we know, they are allied to no other race in Europe.
Perhaps the Basques _were_ originally Arabs. Who knows? A young Basque
woman who carries a water-jug on her head, and marches along with a
subtle undulation of the hips that one usually sees only in a desert
Arab or a Corsican girl, certainly is the peer of any of the northern
Europeans when it comes to a ravishing grace and carriage.
It is the Pays Basque which is the real frontier of France and Spain,
and yet it resembles neither the country to the north nor south, but
stands apart, an exotic thing quite impossible to place in comparison
with anything else; and this is equally true of the men and women and
their manners and customs; the country, even, is wild and savage, but
gay and lively withal.
One may not speak of two peoples here. It is an error, a heresy. On one
side, as on the other, it is the same race, the same tongue, the same
peoples--in the Basses-Pyrenees of modern France as in the Provinces of
Guipuzcoa, Navarre and Biscaye of modern Spain. The only difference is
that in France the peasant's _béret_ is blue, while in Spain it is red.
The antiquity of _la langue escuara_ or _eskual-dunac_ is beyond
question, but it is doubtful if it was the speech of Adam and Eve in
their terrestrial paradise, as all genuine and patriotic Basques have no
hesitancy in claiming.
At a Geographical Congress held in London in 1895 a M. L. d'Abartiague
claimed relationship between the Basques of antiquity and the aborigines
of the North American continent. This may be far-fetched or not, but at
any rate it's not so far-flung as the line of reasoning which makes out
Adam and Eve as being the exclusive ancestors of the Basques, and the
rest of us all descended from them.
Curiously enough the Spanish Basques change their mother-tongue in
favour of Castilian more readily than those on the other side of the
Bidassoa do for French. The Spanish Basques to-day number perhaps three
hundred and fifty thousand, though included in fiscal returns as
Castilians, while in France the Basques number not more than one hundred
and twenty thousand. There are two hundred thousand Basques in Central
and South America, mostly emigrants from France.
The Basque language is reckoned among the tongues apportioned to Gaul by
the geographer Balbi; the Greco-Latine, the Germanic, the Celtic, the
Semitic, and the Basque; thus beyond question the Basque tongue is a
thing apart from any other of the tongues of Europe, as indeed are the
people. The speech of the Basque country is first of all a _langue_, not
a corrupted, mixed-up _patois_. Authorities have ascribed it as coming
from the Phoenician, which, since it was the speech of Cadmus, the
inventor of the alphabet, was doubtless the parent of many tongues. The
educated Basques consider their "tongue" as one much advanced, that is,
a veritable tongue, having nothing in common with the other tongues of
Europe, ancient or modern, and accordingly to be regarded as one of the
mother-tongues from which others have descended.
It bears a curious resemblance to Hebrew, in that nearly all
appellatives express the qualities and properties of those things to
which they are applied. From the point of grammatical construction,
there is but one declension and conjugation, and an abundance of
prepositions which makes the spoken speech concise and rapid. Basque
verbs, moreover, possess a "familiar" singular and a "respectful"
singular--if one may so mark the distinction, and they furthermore have
a slight variation according to the age and sex of the person who speaks
as well as with regard to the one spoken to.
Really, it beats Esperanto for simplicity, and the Basque tongue allows
one to make words of indeterminate length, as does the German. It is all
things to all men apparently. _Ardanzesaroyareniturricoborua_, one
single word, means simply: "the source of the fountain on the
vineyard-covered mountain." Its simplicity may be readily understood
from the following application. The Basque "of Bayonne" is _Bayona_;
"from Bayonne," _Bayonaco_; "that of Bayonne," _Bayonacoa_.
The ancient and prolific Basque tongue possesses a literature, but for
all that, there has never yet been discovered one sole public contract,
charter or law written in the language. It was never the official speech
of any portion of the country, nor of the palace, nor was it employed in
the courts. The laws or _fueros_ were written arbitrarily in Latin,
Spanish, French and Béarnais, but never in Basque.
The costume of the Basque peasant is more coquettish and more elegant
than that of any other of the races of the Midi, and in some respects is
almost as theatrical as that of the Breton. All over Europe the
characteristic costumes are changing, and where they are kept very much
to the fore, as in Switzerland, Tyrol and in parts of Brittany, it is
often for business purposes, just as the yodlers of the Alps mostly
yodel for business purposes.
The Basque sticks to his costume, a blending of Spanish and something
unknown. He, or she, in the Basque provinces knows or cares little as to
what may be the latest style at Paris, and bowler hats and _jupes
tailleurs_ have not yet arrived in the Basque countryside. One has to go
into Biarritz or Pau and look for them on strangers.
For the Basque a _béret bleu_ (or red), a short red jacket, white vest,
and white or black velvet corduroy breeches are _en régle_, besides
which there are usually white stockings, held at the knees by a more or
less fanciful garter. On his feet are a rough hob-nailed shoe, or the
very reverse, a sort of a moccasin made of corded flax. A silk
handkerchief encircles the neck, as with most southern races, and hangs
down over the shoulders in what the wearer thinks is an engaging manner.
On the days of the great fêtes there is something more gorgeous still,
a sort of a draped cloak, often parti-coloured, primarily the possession
of married men, but affected by the young when they try to be "sporty."
The _tambour de Basque_, or drum, is a poor one-sided affair, all top
and no bottom; virtually it is a tambourine, and not a drum at all. One
sees it all over the Basque country, and it is as often played on with
the closed fists as with a drumstick.
Like most of the old provincials of France, the Basques have numerous
folk-songs and legends in verse. Most frequently they are in praise of
women, and the Basque women deserve the best that can be said of them.
The following as a sample, done into French, and no one can say the
sentiment is not a good deal more healthy than that of Isaac Watts's
"hymns."
"Peu de femmes bonnes sont bonnes danseuses,
Bonne danseuse, mauvaise fileuse;
Mauvaise fileuse, bonne buveuse,
Des femmes semblables
Sont bonnes à traiter à coups de baton."
In the Basque country, as in Brittany, the clergy have a great influence
over the daily life of the people. The Basques are not as fanatically
devout as the Bretons, but nevertheless they look to the _curé_ to
explain away many things that they do not understand themselves; and let
it be said the Basque _curé_ does his duty as a leader of opinion for
the good of one and all, much better than does the country squire in
England who occupies a somewhat analogous position.
It is through the church that the Euskarian population of the
Basses-Pyrenees have one of their strongest ties with traditional
antiquity. The _curés_ and the communicants of his parish are usually of
one race. There is a real community of ideas.
As for the education of the new generation of Basques, it is keeping
pace with that of the other inhabitants of France, though in times past
even rudimentary education was far behind, and from the peasant class of
only a generation or so ago, out of four thousand drawn for service in
the army, nearly three hundred were destitute of the knowledge of how to
read and write. In ten years, however, this percentage has been reduced
one half.
The emigration of the Basques has ever been a serious thing for the
prosperity of the region. Thirteen hundred emigrated from the "Basque
Française" (for South and Central America) and fifteen hundred from the
"Basque Espagnole." In figures this emigration has been considerably
reduced of late, but the average per year for the last fifty years has
been (from the Basse-Pyrenees Département alone) something like
seventeen hundred.
The real, simon-pure Basque is seen at his best at Saint
Jean-Pied-de-Port, the ancient capital of French Navarre. "_Urtun hiriti
urrumoffagariti_," say the inhabitants: "Far from the city, far from
health." This isn't according to the doctors, but let that pass.
To know the best and most typical parts of the Basque country, one
should make the journey from Saint Jean-Pied-de-Port to Mauléon and
Tardets. Here things are as little changed from mediævalism as one will
find in modern France. One passes from the valley of the Nive into the
valley of the Bidouze. There are no railways and one must go by road.
The road is excellent moreover, though the distance is not great. Here
is where the automobilist scores, but if one wants to take a still
further step back into the past he may make the forty kilomètres by
diligence. This is a real treat too, not at all to be despised as a
means of travel, but one must hurry up or the three franc diligence
will be supplanted by a "light railway," and then where will mediævalism
come in. All the same, if you've got a feverish automobile panting
outside St. Jean's city gate, jump in.
There are numerous little villages en route which will not detain one
except for their quaintness. One passes innumerable oxen, all swathed in
swaddling clothes to keep off the flies and plodding slowly but surely
along over their work. A train of Spanish mules or smaller donkeys
pulling a long wagon of wood or wool is another common sight; or a man
or a woman, or both, on the back of a little donkey will be no novelty
either. This travel off the beaten track, if there is not much of note
to stop one, is delightful, and here one gets it at its best.
Stop anywhere along the road at some inn of little pretence and you will
fare well for your _déjeuner_. It will be very homely, this little
Basque inn, but strangers will do very well for their simple wants. All
one does is to ask "Avez-vous des oeufs? Avez-vous du jambon? Du vin,
je vous prie!" and the smiling rosy-cheeked _patronne_, whose name is
Jeanne, Jeannette, Jeanneton, Jeannot or Margot--one or the other it's
bound to be--does the rest with a cackling "Ha! he! Eh ben! eh ben!"
And you will think you never ate such excellent ham and eggs in your
life as this Bayonne ham and the eggs from Basque chickens--and the wine
and the home-made bread. It's all very simple, but an Escoffier could
not do it better.
The peasant's work in the fields in the Basque country may not be on the
most approved lines, and you can't grow every sort of a crop here in
this rusty red soil, but there is a vast activity and an abundance of
return for the hard workers, and all the Basques are that. The plough is
as primitive as that with which the Egyptian fellah turns up the
alluvial soil of the Nile, but the Basque makes good headway
nevertheless, and can turn as straight a furrow, up the side of a hill
or down, as most of his brothers can on the level.
In the church at Bunus is a special door reserved in times past for the
descendants of the Arabs who had adopted Christianity.
Here in the Basque country you may see the peasants on a fête day dance
the fandango with all the ardour and the fervour of the Andalusians
themselves. Besides the fandango, there is the "_saute basque_," a sort
of a hop-skip-and-a-jump which they think is dancing, but which isn't
the thing at all, unless a grasshopper can be said to dance.
"Le Chevalet" is another Basque dance whose very name explains itself;
and then there is the "Tcherero," a minuet-sort of a dance, wholly by
men, and very graceful and picturesque it is, not at all boisterous.
The peasants play the _pastoral_ here as they do in Languedoc and
Provence, with good geniuses and evil geniuses, and all the machinery
that Isaac Watts put into his hymns for little children. Here the grown
men and women take them quite as seriously as did the children of our
nursery days.
[Illustration: "_Le Chevalet_"]
In the Basses-Pyrénées, besides the Basques, is distinguishable another
race of dark-skinned, under-sized little men, almost of the Japanese
type, except that their features are more regular and delicate. They are
descendants of the Saracen hordes which overran most of southern Gaul,
and here and there found a foothold and left a race of descendants to
tell the story. The Saracens of the Basque country were not warlike
invaders, but peaceful ones who here took root, and to-day are known as
Agotacs-Cascarotacs. It is not difficult to distinguish traces of
African blood among them, just the least suspicion, and they have
certain religious rites and customs--seemingly pagan--which have
nothing in common with either the Basques or the French. They are
commonly considered as pariahs by other dwellers roundabout, but they
have a certain individuality which would seem to preclude this. They are
more like the "holy men" of India, than they are like mere alms beggars,
and they have been known to occupy themselves more or less rudely with
rough labour and agricultural pursuits. They have their own places in
the churches, those who have not actually died off, for their numbers
are growing less from day to day. It can be said, however, that--save
the _cagots_ and _cretins_--they are the least desirable and most
unlikable people to be found in France to-day. They are not loathsome,
like lepers or _cretins_ or _goitreux_, but they are shunned by all
mankind, and for the most part remain well hidden in obscure corners and
culs-de-sac of the valleys away from the highroads.
The Spanish gypsies are numerous here in the Basque country, as might be
expected. They do not differ greatly from the accepted gypsy type, but
their marriage customs are curious. As a local authority on gypsy lore
has put it: "an old pot serves as a _curé_ and notary--_u bieilh toupi
qu'ous sert de curé de nontari_." The marriageable couple, their
parents and their friends, assemble in a wood, without priest or lawyer,
or any ceremony which resembles an official or religious act. An
earthenware pot is thrown in the air and the broken pieces, as it
tumbles to the ground, are counted. The number of pieces indicate the
duration of the partnership in years, each fragment counting for a year.
Simple, isn't it!