THE GARONNE--THE LORD OF LANGOYRAN--MIRACLE OF THE MULE--CASTLE OF
THE FOUR SONS OF AYMON--THE AGED LOVER--GAVACHES--THE
FRANCHIMANS--COUNT RAYMOND--FLYING BRIDGES--THE MILLER OF
BARBASTE--THE TROUBADOUR COUNT--THE COUNT DE LA MARCHE--THE
ROCHELLAISE--EUGÉNIE AND HER SONG.
AT four o'clock, on a September morning, we followed our
_commissionnaire_ from the Hôtel de Nantes, at Bordeaux, along the now
solitary quay, for nearly a mile, the stars shining brightly and the air
soft and balmy, to the steam-boat, which was to take us along the
Garonne to Agen--a distance of about a hundred and twelve miles. The
boat was the longest and narrowest I ever saw, but well enough
appointed, with very tolerable accommodation, and an excellent
_cuisine_.
As soon as it was daylight, we began to look out for the beauties of the
river, which several persons had told us was, in many respects, superior
to the Loire; consequently, as we continued to pass long, marshy fields,
without an elevation, covered with the blue crocus, and bordered with
dim grey sallows, we were content, expecting, when we were further from
the neighbourhood of Bordeaux, that these beauties would burst upon our
view. For many hours the boat pursued its way against the stream, but
nothing striking came before our view: the same clay-coloured river, the
same flat bank, with here and there a little change to undulating hills
of insignificant height, and occasionally some village, picturesquely
situated, or some town, with a few ruined walls, which told of former
battles and sieges. All these banks were the scenes of contention
between the Lusignans and the Epernonists, in 1649; and here are many
famous vineyards; amongst them Castres and Portets, renowned for their
white wines; close to which is La Brède, where Montesquieu was born.
The scenery about this part began to improve; some ruins, crowning a
height, appeared, which we found had once been the Château de Langoyran;
about a lord of which an anecdote is told, characteristic of the period
when it occurred. François de Langoyran carried on constant contention
with two neighbouring chiefs, who were friends to England; and, one day,
with forty lances, he presented himself before the walls of Cadillac,
occupied by an English garrison: "Where is Courant, your captain?" said
he; "let him know that the Sire de Langoyran desires a joust with him:
he is so good and so valiant, he will not refuse, for the love of his
lady; and if he should, it would be to his great dishonour; and I shall
say, wherever I come, that he refused a joust of lances from cowardice."
Bernard Courant accepted the challenge, and a deadly strife began, in
which Langoyran was wounded and thrown to the earth. Seeing that his
troop were coming to his rescue, Courant summoned his adversary to
yield; but, he refusing to do so, Courant drew his dagger, stabbed him
to the heart, and rode out of the lists, leaving the imprudent knight
dead on the spot. A later lord of Langoyran became a firm ally of the
English, till they were expelled under Charles le Bien Servi.
Cadillac, where once stood a magnificent castle, built by the Duke
d'Epernon, where Louis XIII. and all his court were entertained with
great pomp, in 1620, and which cost above two millions of francs, offers
now but a retreat for convicts.
Barsac is not far off, well known for its fine white wines; and beyond,
is Sainte Croix de Mont, a village placed on rather a bold eminence. At
Preignac the little river Ciron runs into the Garonne, and brings on its
current wood from the Landes. Sometimes this small stream becomes so
swollen, that it overflows, and renders the road in its neighbourhood
dangerous. After the battle of Orthez, the mutilated remains of the
French army crossed the valley, which this river had rendered a perfect
marsh, at the peril of their lives, in order to pursue their melancholy
journey, flying from the British arms.
Close by is Garonnelle, a port of the _Verdelais_, where, situated a
little way up the country, is a famous chapel, dedicated to Notre Dame
du Luc, to which pilgrims resort, on the 8th of September, from all
parts of France--so great is her renown. The chapel was founded in the
twelfth century, by a Countess of Foix, and re-edified by another, or,
as some say, built first in 1407, under the following circumstances:--
One day, as Isabella de Foix, wife of Archambaud de Grailli, Count of
Bénauge, was visiting her domains, she had occasion to pass through a
wood, when suddenly the mule on which she was riding, stopped, and would
not stir from the spot either one way or the other. It was found that
his foot had sunk into a _very hard_ stone, to the depth of four or five
inches, his iron-shod hoof imprinting a mark on the substance. The lady,
much _surprised_ at such a circumstance, which could be no other than a
prodigy, descended from the animal, had the stone raised, and beheld, as
well as all those who accompanied her, and as all may see who visit the
holy chapel raised in the wood, a perfect portrait of the blessed
Virgin, where the hoof of the mule had been!
This sanctuary was given in charge to the monks of the order of Grand
Mont. The Huguenots pillaged and burnt the chapel, in 1562. It was again
constructed, and given to the Father Celestins, in the seventeenth
century; but in all its perils and dangers the miraculous stone has
remained uninjured, and attracts the same veneration as ever. Perhaps it
is its vicinity which has imparted such virtues to a vineyard near,
which produces the far-famed "Sauterne" known throughout Europe.
We came to a great many suspension-bridges on our way: the French seem
to have a perfect passion for throwing them across their rivers in this
region; and, it is said, not all of them are safe; as, for instance, the
admired and vaunted Cubzac, which, it is now generally feared, will give
way. One of these bridges is at Langon; once a very important town, and
one of late much improved in commerce, in consequence of the traffic
caused by the steam-boats from Bordeaux to Agen.
A famous siege was sustained here, against the Huguenots, in 1587, when
the Lord of Langon defended himself in a gallant manner, though
abandoned by all his people, _his wife alone_ sharing his danger, and
fighting by his side to the last, and even after his castle was taken,
resisting still. The grand route from Bordeaux to Bayonne passes by
Langon. There is no vestige of its castle; but a fine church, built by
the English, exists, where the arms of England are even now conspicuous.
Scattered about, here and there, but distant from the river, ruins of
castles are still to be seen: amongst others, that of Budos is very
picturesque.
At St. Macaire, where furious contentions once took place, during the
wars of religion;--two hundred English prisoners were taken at the time
of the battle of Toulouse. The church has an imposing effect.
Soon after this, the banks of the river become rocky, and are full of
caverns, inhabited in a similar manner to those which so much struck me
on the Loire; but they by no means present so singular or picturesque an
appearance. The remains of the ancient stronghold of Castets look well
placed on a height in this neighbourhood; but the scattered ruins which
cover a hill near, are more interesting than any, although there are now
but little traces of a fortress once the theme of minstrels and
romancers. This is no other than the castle of the Four Sons of Aymon.
The little port of Gironde is remarkable for a dreadful event which
happened there in the last century. There was formerly a ferry where the
bridge now extends; and one day the ferryman insisted on being paid
double the usual fare. There were no less than eighty-three passengers
on board his boat, all of whom resisted the imposition. The
"_ferryman-fiend_" was so enraged, that, just as they reached the shore,
he ran the boat against a projecting point, and overturned it. Only
three persons, besides himself, escaped: the rest were all lost. The
wretch fled instantly, and was never taken; he was condemned to death,
and hung in effigy; and since then an annual procession takes place on
the banks of the Drot, where the catastrophe occurred, and solemn
service is performed for the victims.
The town of La Réole has an imposing effect, rising from the waters. It
has shared the fate of all the other towns on the banks, during the
ceaseless troubles which for ages made this river roll with blood. When
Sully was but fifteen, he was amongst a successful party who took
possession of this place; he entered, at the head of fifty men, and
gained it in most gallant style; but it was lost the next year, under
the following circumstances, which prove that Henry IV. carried his love
of jesting considerably beyond the bounds of prudence.
The command of La Réole, says Péréfixe, was given to an old Huguenot
captain, named Ussac, who was remarkably ugly, to a degree which made
him a mark of observation; nevertheless, his heart was too tender to
resist the fascinations of one of the fair syrens who aided the plans of
Catherine, the Queen-mother. The Vicomte de Turenne, then aged about
twenty, could not resist making the passion of the old soldier a theme
of ridicule among his companions; and Henry, instead of discouraging
this humour, joined in it heartily, making his faithful servant a butt
on all occasions. Ussac could not endure this attack on so very tender a
point, and, rendered almost frantic with vexation, forgetting every
consideration of honour and religion, abandoned the cause of Henry, and
delivered over the town of La Réole to the enemy.
In this part of the country are to be found that race of persons known
to the original natives as _Gavaches_: the word is one of contempt,
taken from the Spanish; and the habit of treating these people with
contumely, which is not even yet entirely worn out, comes from an early
time: that is to say, so long ago as 1526; at which period a great part
of the population on the banks of the Drot, and round La Réole and
Marmande, was carried off by an epidemic; so that the country was
completely desolate; and where all was once fertile and flourishing,
nothing but ruin and misery was to be seen. Henry d'Albret, King of
Navarre, anxious to save it from sterility, and to restore a happy state
of things, re-peopled the lands with emigrants, whom he induced to come
and settle there, from Anjou, Angoumois, and Saintonge. They united
themselves to the very small remnant of those remaining, who had escaped
the contagion, and, in a short time, forty-seven _communes_ recovered
their prosperity.
The strangers who thus filled the places of the former inhabitants,
brought their customs and manners with them; Du Mège remarks that, "to
them are owing the style of building which may be observed in some of
the old houses in this neighbourhood, namely, the very pointed and
inclined roofs, which belong rather to a country accustomed to snow,[14]
than to this where it is not usual."
[Footnote 14: _Du Mège (Statistique_ III.) This observation scarcely
appears to me correct, since the countries bordering on the Loire are
certainly not more used to snows than those closer to the mountains. In
Béarn these shelving roofs are constantly to be seen.]
The descendants of these new colonists have not forgotten their origin;
they inherit the manners of their fathers; wear the same thick hair and
long coats. Their drawling pronunciation, peculiar idiom, and the
slowness of their movements, make them easily distinguished from the
lively Gascons. A curious mixture of dialect resulted from the re-union
of so many provinces with the _patois_ of the country, and the language
still heard there is a jargon of strange sounds.
The capital of what was called _La Gavacherie_, was placed at
Castelmoron-d'Albret, which is now one of the finest and most fertile
cantons in the diocese of Bazas.
There exists a propensity, it seems, in the people of this part of the
country, particularly about Agen, to fix contemptuous epithets on
strangers who settle amongst them; it matters not from what land they
come,--it is sufficient that the Gascon idiom is unknown to them.
The foreigner is generally called, in derision, _lou Franchiman_;[15]
and is, for a long time after his first arrival, an object of suspicion
and dislike.
[Footnote 15: See the Poems of Jasmin.]
This term evidently belongs to the period of the English possession,
when a _Frenchman_ was another word for an enemy.
On these shores, traces of the dwellings of the Romans are constantly
found in Mosaic pavements, and ruins and coins. At Hures, in particular,
some fine specimens have been lately discovered: amongst others,
fragments of pillars of _verd-antique_ and fine marbles of different
sorts. There is also a marvellous rock at Hures, where an invisible
miraculous virgin is still in the habit of performing wonders, though
her statue has been long since removed.
A high hill, once crowned with a castle, rises from the river after a
series of flat meadows. This was once Meilhan, one of the finest castles
in the Garonne, belonging to the Duke de Bouillon, who, suspected of
treason, blew up his magnificent abode, destroying with it the abbey and
church beneath. An immense forest spread far into the Landes from this
point, only a few trees of which remain.
When the castle was destroyed, the clock of the Benedictine church
rolled down into the river, and was afterwards raised in the night, and
taken possession of by the Marmandais; the Meilhanais even still insist
on its being their property.
There are some ruins, in the quarter called La Roque, of a rampart, from
whence is a perilous descent to the shore: here once stood a tower,
through a breach in which it is said that the Maid of Orleans conducted
the soldiers of Charles VII., and took the town. This tower was seen at
so great a distance that it gave rise to a proverb: "He who sees Meilhan
is not within side it."
Over the principal entrance of the castle was a sculptured stone--still
preserved, but in a most ignoble position: it represented a cavalier
armed with a lance, with a shield on his left arm; by the form of which
it would appear to belong to those used by the ancient Franks. The arms
of Meilhan are _three toads_, doubtless the most familiar animal in so
damp and marshy a country.
At a village called Couture, a phrase is left from very old times, when
_a_ Raymond, Count of Toulouse, happening to stop there to rest, asked
for a measure of wine, which he drank off at a draught, though it was no
small quantity; instead, therefore, of saying a bottle of two _litres_,
it is usual to say in this country, "_A measure of Count Raymond's_."
The _Roc de Quatalan_ is near this point, whose name has been derived
from _quatre-a-l'an_; because it causes so many wrecks in the course of
the year.
There is nothing very striking in the appearance of Marmande, once
remarkable for its castle and churches and abbeys; but now only a place
of commerce connected with Bordeaux. Nevertheless, the Romans, Goths,
and Saracens, made it a place of importance, and severally destroyed it
in their turn. Richard Coeur de Lion rebuilt and fortified it, only to
be again ravaged and pillaged by the party of Montford, and, under the
Black Prince, it was taken and retaken. Henry IV. besieged it, and, in
1814, the town of Marmande had to sustain its last attack. It has a good
port, and, apparently, some pretty public walks, and is about half-way
between Bordeaux and Agen.
Caumont appears next, once not only famous for its castle, but its
tyrannical lord; who, in the time of Louis XIII., was governor of this
part of the river, and carried on a system of oppression which became
unbearable. He cast an iron chain across the river, to prevent the
passing of vessels, on which he laid his hands in the most unpitying
manner, taking possession of all he could meet with. At length, the
relation of his cruelties and rapines found a hearing with the King,
who, without consulting any one, had the detested lord of Argilimont, as
his stronghold was called, arrested and condemned; his sentence was
executed at Bordeaux the day after he was taken, and his castle and
estates were bestowed on the Sire d'Estourville.
If half the castles which once bordered this river existed now, the
scenery would be wonderfully improved; but they live in memory alone,
and their sites are all that remain. Gontaud and Tonneins, where proud
towers once frowned, are but insignificant villages now; at the first, a
_patois_ song is said still to be popular, the chorus of which
commemorated the loss of all the people of Gontaud, put to the sword by
Biron, in revenge for the death of one of his best officers: it runs
thus:--
"Las damos, que soun sul rempart
Cridon moun Diou! Biergé Mario!
Adiou, Gountaou, bilo jolio!"
Perhaps that which is most worthy of remark on the Garonne, is the
number of _flying bridges_ which cross it, replacing many an old stone
or wooden one, or a ferry, with which the inhabitants of these parts
were so long contented. It is to the Messrs. Seguin that France is
indebted for these beautiful constructions, the hint of which they are
said to have taken in England. I had seen few of them when I visited
his _family of beauties_ in the valley near Montbard, whose
accomplishments and singular attractions furnished me with a romantic
chapter in my _last pilgrimage_.[16]
[Footnote 16: "See Pilgrimage to Auvergne," chap. xiii. p. 271.]
A stone bridge, built by Napoleon, however, crosses the river at
Aiguillon, which stands at the confluence of the Lot and Garonne, and is
famous for its castle, built by the Duke d'Aiguillon--that minister who,
protected by Mde. du Barry, gave his aid towards preparing the
downfal of France, undermined by the acts of a series of worthless
characters, in every department of the state, from the monarch
downwards. Marie Antoinette held him in especial odium, and he was
exiled, by her desire, to his gorgeous château on the Lot, where he was,
in fact, a prisoner, not being allowed to sleep out of it; on one
occasion, when he visited Agen for two days, word was sent to him that
it was expected he should not prolong his stay. The castle, in his time,
was a Versailles in miniature, and was not entirely finished at the
Revolution.
An ancient Roman tower, of which a few walls only now remain, on the
route to Agen, was once a conspicuous object from the river: it was
called _La Tourrasse_, ("_enormous tower_" in _patois_), and many
discoveries prove the importance of this place in the time of the
Romans.
The Baïse is the next river that falls into the Garonne, following whose
banks towards Nerac is Barbaste and its old château, of which Henri
Quatre was fond of calling himself _The Miller_, which title, on one
occasion, stood him in good stead when a great danger threatened him; a
soldier of the opposite party, who came from this part of the country
where the prince was always beloved, could not resolve to see the
destruction which awaited him if he had advanced a step towards a mine
which was just on the point of blowing up. At the critical instant, he
called out, in _patois_, which none but Henry understood, "Moulié dé
Barbaste, pren garde a la gatte qué bay gatoua:"--'Millar of Barbaste,
beware of the cat' (_gatte_ means, indifferently, _cat_ or _mine_)
'which is going to kitten' (_gatoua_ has the meaning of _blowing up_, as
well.) Henry drew back in time, just as the mine exploded. Thanks,
therefore, to his readiness, and the expressive nature of the Gascon
_patois_, the hero was, for that time, saved; he took care not to lose
sight of his deliverer, and, on a future occasion, rewarded him amply
for the service he had rendered.
The little port of St. Marie, well known as a safe harbour to the
fishermen of the Garonne, once formed part, with the town, of the
possessions of Raymond, the last Count of Toulouse; who, after a series
of persecutions from the Pope and the King of France, (St. Louis,) to
induce him to give up the protection of the Albigenses, was permitted to
retain this portion, only on condition of destroying the fortifications
of the strong castle which existed there. Guy, Viscount de Cavaillon,
his friend and fellow troubadour, on one occasion addressed to him the
following lines, to which he returned the answer subjoined; but,
nevertheless, was obliged to submit to the power of the Church, like the
rest of the world:
"GUY DE CAVAILLON TO THE COUNT OF TOULOUSE.
"Tell me, Count, if you would rather
Owe your lands and castles high
To the Pope, our holy father,
Or to sacred chivalry?
Were it best a knight and noble
Conquer'd by his sword alone,
Bearing heat, and cold, and trouble,
By his arm to gain his own?"
"ANSWER OF COUNT RAYMOND TO GUY DE CAVAILLON.
"Guy, much sooner would I gain
All by valour and my sword,
Than by other means obtain
What no honour can afford.
Church nor clergy I despise,
Neither fear them, as you know;
But no towers or castles prize
Which their hands alone bestow:
Holding honour above all
Gifts or conquests, great or small."
The evening was drawing in too much by the time we reached that part of
the shore, where the few walls of the once stupendous château of the
Lusignans appear, and we could see nothing but the shadow--it might be
of the wings of the fairy, Melusine, hovering in the dim light over
this, one of her numerous castles.
Here lived and contended Hugues de Lusignan, Counte de la Marche, who
had married his first love, the beautiful Isabeau d'Angoulême, widow of
King John of England; whose effigy so delighted me at Fontevraud, lying
beside that of her brother-in-law, Coeur de Lion.[17] But, if that
lovely face and delicate form truly represented the princess, her
character is singularly at variance with her gentle demeanour. She was
the most imperious, restlessly proud, and vindictive woman of her time,
and kept up a constant warfare with her husband and the King of France;
to whom she could not endure that the Count de Lusignan should be
considered a vassal. "I," she cried, "the widow of a king! the mother of
a king and an empress! am, then, to be reduced to take rank after a
simple countess! to do homage to a count!" This was on the occasion of
the marriage of the brother of Louis IX., with Jeanne, Countess and
heiress of Toulouse, to whom the Count of Lusignan owed homage. "No,"
she continued, with indignant fury, "you shall not commit so cowardly an
action: resist: my son, and my son-in-law, will come to your aid. I will
raise the people of Poitou--my allies, my vassals--and, if they are not
enough, I have power alone to save you from such disgrace." Hugues, thus
excited, agreed to follow her counsel; and a long struggle ensued,
sometimes attended with triumph to the haughty countess, sometimes with
discomfiture; and ending by the ruin of her husband and children, and
the confiscation of much of their domains to the crown of France. This
was she to whom the troubadour count addressed these lines, amongst
others:
"So full of pleasure is my pain,
To me my sorrow is so dear,
That, not the universe to gain
Would I exchange a single tear.
"What have I said?--I cannot choose,
Nor would I seek to have the will;
How can I when my soul I lose
In thought and sleepless visions still,
Yet cannot from her presence fly,
Altho' to linger is to die."
[Footnote 17: See "A Summer amongst the Bocages and the Vines," vol. ii.
chap. i. page 15.]
We were seated in the cabin of the steam-boat, resigning ourselves to
patience until Agen should be reached--for it was now dark, and a shower
had fallen which made the decks wet--when we were summoned to brave all
by the promise of a treat above. We had observed, in the course of the
day, a party of young women, each wrapped in a large black cloak, the
pointed hood of which was either drawn over the head or allowed to fall
behind, showing the singular square cap, which at once told they were
Rochellaises. They were at the opposite end of the long vessel; and, as
some were below, we had no idea that they mustered so large a party, for
it appeared that there were no fewer than twenty-one, all from La
Tremblade, or the other islands in the neighbourhood of La Rochelle.
They were taking their usual autumn voyage up the Garonne, and, from
Agen, were destined to various towns as far as the Pyrenees, where they
remain all the oyster season, receiving, by the boat, twice a week, a
consignment of oysters to be disposed of, on the spot where their
residence is fixed. They were generally young, some extremely so, and
very well conducted; sitting together in groups, and talking in an under
tone; but, at this hour of the evening, they all congregated on deck,
and were singing some of their songs as the boat went rapidly on, and
the soft breeze caught up their notes.
When I first joined them, it was so dark that I could distinguish their
figures with difficulty, and only knew, by the murmurs of applause which
followed the close of their chaunt, that they were surrounded by all the
crew, who were attentively listening to their strains. When they found
some strangers had come amongst them they were seized with a fit of
shyness, which I feared would put a stop to the scene altogether; for
the chief songstress declared herself hoarse, and uttered "her pretty
oath, by yea and nay, she could not, would not, durst not" sing again:
however, at last the spirit came again, and, after a little persuasion,
she agreed to recollect something. "Ah, Ma'amselle Eugénie," said one of
the older girls, "if I had such a voice I would not allow myself to be
so entreated." Accordingly she began, and the chorus of her song was
taken up by all the young voices. I never heard anything more melodious
and touching than the song altogether: Eugénie's voice was soft, clear,
and full, and had a melancholy thrill in it, which it was impossible to
hear without being affected; she seemed to delight in drawing out her
last notes, and hearing their sound prolonged on the air. The ballads
she chose were _all sad_, in the usual style of the Bretons: one was
expressive of sorrow for absence, and was full of tender reproaches,
ending in assurances of truth, in spite of fate; and one, "Dis moi! dis
moi!" was a lament for a captive, which, as well as I could catch the
words,--partly French and partly _patois_--was full of mournful regret,
and seemed to run thus at every close:
"The north wind whistles--the night is dark; at the foot of the hill
the captive looks forth in vain,--ah! he is weeping still! always at the
foot of that hill you may hear his sighs.
"'Alas!' he says, 'what is there in the world that can compare to
liberty? and I am a prisoner. I weep alone!'--he sees a bird fly by, and
exclaims, 'There is something still left worth living for--I may be one
day free!'"
"Hélas! le pauvre enfant--il pleure toujours:
Il pleure toujours! au fond de la colline."
Perhaps this song might allude to some of those unfortunate patriots of
La Vendée, whose fate was as sad as any romance could tell.
I never remember to have heard what seemed to me more real melody than
this singing; and was very sorry when the young girls insisted, in
return for their compliance, on one of the crew obliging them with a
song; for he obeyed, and, in one of the usual cracked voices, which are
so common in France, raised peals of laughter by intoning an _English
air_--no other than "God Save the King." This effectually spoilt the
pretty romance of the veiled Rochellaises; not one of whom we could see,
in the darkness, and their voices seemed to come from the depths of the
Garonne, as if they were the spirits of its waters, who had taken
possession of our vessel, and were beguiling us with their sweet voices
into their whirlpools and amongst their sands.
I thanked them for my share of the amusement, and remarked to one near
me how beautiful the voice of Eugénie was. "Yes," said she, "she is
celebrated in the country for singing so well; but, even now, her mother
sings the best; you never heard such a lovely tone as her's; they are a
musical family: every one cannot have such a gift as Eugénie."
This seemed a good beginning for the music and poetry of the south, and
promised well for all that was to come; _but that music was the last_,
as it had been the first, I had heard in France; where, in general,
there is no melody amongst the people, in any part that I have visited.
As for its poetry, we were approaching a place where a celebrated
_patois_ poet resided, who is the boast, not only of Agen, but of
Gascony, and who has made, of late, a great sensation in this part of
France.