"My lord," said she, "I am on my way to Arragon, to my uncle the Count

d'Urgel, and my aunt-in-law, with whom I am resolved to remain; for I

have taken a great displeasure against my husband, Messire Jean de

Boulogne; for it is his business to recover for me my heritage, kept

from me by the Count of Armagnac, who holds my sister in prison; but he

will bestir himself in nothing, for he is a craven knight, fond of his

ease, and has no care but to eat and drink, and spends his goods upon

idle and sensual enjoyment. And he boasts that when he becomes count he

will sell his inheritance in order to satisfy his foolish and childish

wishes; for this cause I am disgusted, and will live with him no longer;

therefore I have brought my little daughter to deliver her into your

charge, and to make you her guardian and defender, to keep and educate

her according to her station. I know well, that, for the sake of love

and relationship, in this my great strait you will not fail me, and I

have no safe person with whom to confide my daughter, Jeanne, but you. I

have had great difficulty to get her out of the hands of my husband,

which I was resolved to do, because I know the danger in which she

stands from him, and from those of the house of Armagnac, being, as she

is, the heiress of Comminges. I, therefore, beseech you to befriend me,

and take charge of her; and when my husband finds she is in your

guardianship, he will be himself rejoiced; for he has often said that

this child would be a source of great uneasiness to him in the future.

"The Count of Foix heard the lady, his cousin, speak these words with

great satisfaction, and instantly imagined within himself, for he is a

lord of great fancy," says Froissart, "of how much service the charge of

this child might be to him, for she might be the cause of making peace

with his enemies, and by marrying her in some high place, he could keep

them in check; he, therefore, replied, 'Madam and cousin, willingly will

I do what you ask, both from affection and parentage, by which I am

bound to assist you. Leave your daughter with me, and rely on it she

shall be cared for and treated as if she were my own child.' 'I thank

you greatly,' said the lady.

"The young daughter of the Count of Boulogne was therefore left at

Orthez with the Count of Foix, and never departed from thence. And her

lady mother took her way to Arragon. She came several times afterwards

to see her child, but did not request to have her again: for the count,

Gaston Phoebus, acquitted himself of his charge as if she had been his

own; indeed, it is said that he has a notion of marrying her to the Duke

de Berri, who is a widower, and has a great desire to marry again."

Jeanne did in fact become the wife of the Duke de Berri, when she was

under thirteen, and he more than sixty; but, after all the care which

had been taken of her, and the "coil" that was made for her, she died

early, leaving no children. Her mother being dead, the inheritance of

Comminges devolved on her aunt, Marguerite, the same who was kept

prisoner by the Count of Armagnac. The fate of heiresses in those days

was sad enough, and that of this countess particularly so. The Count of

Armagnac married her to get her property; after his death she was forced

into an alliance with another of the same family, from whom, however,

she contrived to get a divorce, and then accepted the hand of a Count de

Foix, probably from fear. This latter soon began to ill-treat her,

having failed by entreaties to induce her to make over her possessions

to him; finding her resolved, he leagued himself with one of her old

enemies, Jean d'Armagnac, and they agreed together to share the spoil of

her heritage. She was dragged about, from prison to prison, first in one

strong castle and then in another, for fear of its being known where she

existed; and for many years she languished in this misery. At this time

Charles VII. was at the height of his successes, and some friend had

contrived to inform her of the changed aspect of affairs in France. In

order to induce him to undertake her cause, she, by means of the same

friend, let him know that she had named him heir of all her property and

estates--knowing, probably, too well, how little weight any

consideration but personal interest would have.

The tyrants soon discovered what she had done, and her treatment became

still worse. The arrogance and presumption of the Count d'Armagnac, who

ventured to put after his name, "By the grace of God," and assumed the

airs of a sovereign, added to which, _the unjust manner in which he

acted_, at length irritated the king to such a degree that he summoned

both lords to appear before him at Toulouse, and commanded that they

should bring with them the Countess of Comminges.

Nothing was now to be done but to obey the strongest; and the two

tyrants and their victim came to Charles, as he desired; he then took

the lady under his protection, and the Estates pronounced _her will

valid_; her husband being permitted to enjoy a certain portion during

his life. After this the countess remained with the king, and it is to

be hoped enjoyed a short period of repose. She died at Poitiers, upwards

of eighty years old, and no sooner was she dead than the turbulent and

ambitious Armagnacs took possession, in spite of the king, of all her

estates, about which, for long years, continual wars and contentions

ensued.

* * * * *

Of all the castles in Béarn, perhaps that of Gaston Phoebus at Orthez is

the most suggestive of recollections; but I fear I have been led into so

many long stories beneath its ruined walls that the actual fortress

itself is almost forgotten. We stood upon the irregular mound which its

accumulated ruins present, remarking the fine effect of the distant line

of snowy mountains, whose outlines varied from those familiar to us at

Pau, and enjoyed the sunset from that exalted position, which might have

often been admired in the same spot centuries before, by the lords,

knights, historians, minstrels, and distressed or contented damsels, who

filled the courts of the mightiest chieftain of Béarn.

We descended from the castle, through a long, dilapidated street, which

seemed to know no end, and began to despair of ever reaching the bridge,

when we were accosted by a good-natured looking woman, who offered to be

our guide. After a long walk, through high, narrow, but not ill-paved,

streets, at last we came upon the roaring, foaming Gave: one of the most

impatient rivers that ever was confined by a bridge, or pent up by

crowding houses. On each side rise wild, grey, rugged rocks, some

covered with clinging plants, some naked and barren, over and between

which the passionate torrent comes dashing and foaming, as if anxious to

escape, as fast as possible, from the town which has intruded streets

and mills on its original solitude, since the early period when some

chivalric baron, or, perhaps, the Grosse Comtesse herself, threw over it

the strange old bridge, and placed in its centre the towered arch which

no efforts, early or late, have been able to dislodge. To be sure, this

is scarcely surprising, if, as tradition says, it was no mortal

architect who built this bridge; but a set of workmen whose erections

are not easily destroyed, and who, after all, might have laid the first

foundations of the fortress on the height, as well as this huge tower,

which seems of a-piece with one of the rocks its neighbours. The fact

is, the fairies, who inhabited in former days the caverns of the Gave,

and used to come out by moon-light in little boats on its waters, got

tired of its continual roaring and foaming, and bethought them of a way

to cross to the other side, without being either shaken or tossed by its

turbulent waves, or wetting their tiny feet by stepping from stone to

stone. They resolved, therefore, to throw a bridge over the stream, and,

taking a huge hollowed rock for the purpose, by their united efforts

they cast it across; and, as the water-spirits were offended on the

occasion, and rose up against them, endeavouring to destroy their

labours, they found it requisite to build them a tower in the centre,

which they defended against all comers. This was effected in a single

night; and the shepherds, who beheld in the morning what had been done,

would never have been able to account for it, but that, watching when

the moon was at the full, they perceived the fairies passing in crowds

along the bridge, and directing their way towards the opposite hill,

where the castle stands. They have often been seen dancing round the

ruined well there; and, it is thought, can plunge into the spring, and

reappear far up in the Gave at their pleasure. The shepherds, also,

observed that the castle was under their dominion; for they often

remark, as they approach Orthez, on returning from the market at

Peyrehorade, that the great tower, which is clearly visible on the

height at one moment, sinks gradually into the earth, the nearer they

come, and, at last, disappears altogether, nor is observed again, till

they have mounted the hill, to see if it really "stands where it did;"

where they behold it as firm and as frowning as ever, laughing to scorn

time and the elements, and refusing to offer any clue to its mystery.

The bridge of Orthez has been the scene of terrible contentions, at

different periods. In the tower in its centre is a projecting window,

from whence, tradition says, Montgomery, the Protestant leader, by the

orders of Queen Jeanne de Navarre,--to whom, in this country, all sorts

of horrors are attributed,--caused the priests to be cast into the Gave,

who refused to become Calvinists. The window is called _La frineste deüs

caperas_ (_the priests' window_). In those times of outrage and

violence, this might, or might not, be true; but certain it is that

three thousand Catholics, men, women, and children, perished in the

siege which Montgomery laid to Orthez, and that the sparkling, foaming

torrent which we looked at with such pleasure, then rolled along a

current of blood.

It is said that, during the assault of the town, a Cordelier was

celebrating mass in his convent, and had the courage to finish the

ceremony in spite of the tumult around; he then concealed the sacred

chalice in his bosom, and cast himself from his convent-window into the

Gave. The waters bore him on to the Adour; and his body, tossed and torn

by the rocks, was finally deposited on the bank, beneath the walls of a

convent of the same order, at Bayonne, where the shuddering monks

received and bore his mutilated remains to their chapel, with weeping

and lamenting for the misfortunes of their brethren.

The "Château Noble" of Gaston Phoebus had then to endure a terrible

siege: the Viscount de Terride had sustained himself there as long as

possible; but, wanting provisions, was at length obliged to yield, and

was, with all his garrison, carried prisoner to Pau. There those

officers who, being Béarnais, had been taken in rebellion against their

Queen, were served with a banquet called _le repas libre_, at the

conclusion of which they were all put to the sword.

The costume of the female peasants in this neighbourhood is almost

invariably a short scarlet petticoat, and brown or black tucked-up gown,

with a bright-coloured handkerchief on the head, tied in the usual

_gentil_ style, with all four ends displayed, so as to show their rich

hues,--one being allowed to fall longer than the rest; in dirty weather,

the legs and feet are bare, and the sabots carried. Many very large

straw hats are worn, lined with smart colours, and tied with ribbon; but

it must be confessed that most of these are very old, and have long

since lost their early brilliancy.

There is nothing remarkable in the costume of the men,--the customary

_berret_ being the covering of their heads, and either a blue blouse, or

a dark dress, with red sash, and sometimes a red waist-coat,

diversifying their appearance. We were not struck with the beauty of any

of the peasants we met. Being market-day, the road was crowded for

several leagues, and we thought we had a good opportunity of judging:

however, a French fellow-traveller told us our idea was erroneous, as

the young girls were seldom allowed to come to the market, which was

generally attended by matrons only. However this might be, we certainly

saw nothing beyond very ordinary faces, and the common defect of

mountainous countries--the frightful _goître_--too evident. It is the

custom with most persons, when they first arrive in a place, to adopt

some received opinion, which not the strongest evidence of their senses

is allowed afterwards to shake; and thus it appears heresy, either to

disbelieve in the salubrity of Pau, or in the beauty of the inhabitants

of all the country round. If beauty were merely comparative, the notion

may be true; but, though those who are not affected with _goître_, and

who are not hollow-cheeked, and thin, and brown, are prettier than those

who are,

"Yet beautie is beautie in every degree;"

and "pretty Bessies" appeared to me to be very rare in Béarn.

There is a very imposing building situated on the Gave, of which the

townspeople are extremely proud: it is a corn-mill, of great power,

lately erected, and extremely successful. It appears that the town of

Orthez is in a flourishing condition, as to trade. Here are prepared

most of the hams so celebrated throughout France, under the name of

Bayonne-hams; and here numerous flocks of the fat geese which furnish

the markets of the neighbouring towns with _cuisses d'oies_, so prized

by gourmands, are to be seen. But the most picturesque _flocks_ we

observed on this road, were those of the round, pretty sheep, with thick

snowy fleeces, just returned from the mountains, where, delicate as they

look, they have been accustomed, all the summer, and till late in the

autumn, to climb to the highest point of the Pic du Midi itself. They

were now being conducted to the valleys and plains for the winter, and

the meadows were whitened with them in all directions.

This part of the country was, formerly, thickly-wooded, and occasionally

a few oak woods are passed on the road; but the continuous forest which

once spread abroad in this direction has disappeared. On approaching the

long, desolate-looking bourg of Peyrehorade,--which, however, on

market-days, is bustling and crowded enough--a ruin, on a height not

unlike that of Orthez, looks proudly over the plain, where two Gaves

unite. It is the Château d'Aspremont, once redoubted, and of great

force, and belonging to that good and noble governor of Bayonne, who

sent back to Charles IX. the answer so often quoted, when commanded to

execute all the Protestants in his town of Bayonne--that he had examined

the persons under his command, and had found them brave and true

soldiers, but no executioners.

The singular-sounding name of _Peyre-Hourade_ has the meaning of

_Pierced Stone_, and comes from a Druidical monument in the

neighbourhood. These remains are rare in the Pyrenees, though so

frequently met with in other parts of France. In a meadow, not far

removed from the high-road, is a block of granite, nearly flat, of great

height, standing upright on the narrowest end: there is no quarry of

similar stone in this part of the country; and its isolation and quality

render it a subject of surprise--as much so as the unexplained wonders

on Salisbury Plain. The fairies, no doubt, if any fortunate individual

could make friends with them now, could set the matter at rest;

"But now can no man see none elvés mo!"

CHAPTER XII.

BAYONNE--PUBLIC WALKS--BIARITZ--ATALAYA--GIANT FERNAGUS--ANNE OF

NEUBOURG--THE DANCING MAYOR.

FROM Orthez we continued our way to Bayonne, where it was our intention

to remain a few days. The entrance to Bayonne, that famous city, whose

motto is "Nunquam Polluta"--"_Always pure_," from the separate town of

St. Esprit, which is in the department of the Landes, as well as half of

the bridge which connects it with its more important sister, is

extremely striking. This bridge is over the fine bold river Adour, which

joins the Nive here, and, together, they divide the town between them.

Although Bayonne has few public monuments of much consequence, yet the

cathedral, the towers of the two castles, and other buildings, rise from

the rivers in great majesty; and, as we crossed the immensely long

wooden bridge at a slow pace, gave us a good impression, which a closer

view did not disappoint. It has a singular aspect, unlike that of any

other town, and the air all round it is pure and healthy; and we felt

happy for the time to have exchanged the icy chill of the snowy

mountains for the freshness of the sea breeze.

There are few old towns in France, which can be called fine in

themselves: their advantages lie in situation, and in the modern

additions which have succeeded to the ramparts and close-walled

enclosures of the ancient time, when to crowd streets together and fence

them in was the principal aim; but Bayonne, although still fortified

strongly, is less confined than most cities: a thorough air blows

through the tolerably well-paved streets; open spaces occur every now

and then, narrow and close places have been cleared, and the two fine

rivers and their quays prevent its being so crowded as it might

otherwise be. The houses are very high, which makes the streets appear

narrower than they really are; but they are not very long, and intersect

each other in a manner to prevent their being disagreeable.

There are arcades in the old part, as at La Rochelle and Agen, some of

which are very dark and narrow, and occasionally strange alleys appear,

as sombre and dismal as any in Rouen itself; but this is not the general

character of the town. One long, handsomely-paved street, is bordered

with fine houses and planted with trees, in the style of Bordeaux, and

here are situated most of the hotels; the grand squares of the Theatre

and Douane open from this, and the magnificent allées marines extend

from this spot.

Everywhere in Bayonne, it is easy to escape from the bustle of the city,

and find yourself in a beautiful, shaded walk--an advantage seldom

possessed by a commercial town.

Although many are delightful, and there is only the embarrassment of

choice, the most beautiful and agreeable, it must be allowed, are the

allées marines, which are walks nicely kept, planted with several rows

of fine trees, reaching along the banks of the Adour for an immense

distance, with meadows on the other hand, and a range of cultivated

hills on the opposite shore. The fine broad, sparkling, agitated river,

is dotted with vessels of different sizes, some of them moored to the

bank; a fresh breeze from the sea comes sweeping along, bringing health

on its wings; the citadel crowns the height of St. Esprit; the cathedral

rises above the other town; before is the meeting of the bright waters,

trees, groves, and meadows everywhere; murmuring streams, spanned by

wooden bridges, hurry along to throw themselves into the bosom of the

Adour at intervals, and the whole scene is life and brilliancy.

This walk is a kind of shaded jettée, and has, unlike most French

promenades, nothing formal or monotonous about it: the trees are allowed

to throw their branches out at pleasure, without being clipped into

form; they are irregularly planted, so that the favourite straight lines

are avoided, and the fine sandy soil does not allow the paths to remain

dump half an hour at a time; consequently, it is always a safe lounge,

and, assuredly, one of the most charming possessed by any town I ever

saw. It is as agreeable, although not resembling it in its features, as

the mail which charmed us so much at La Rochelle.

The days were very uncertain, and violent showers overtook us every half

hour, while we remained at Bayonne; yet we contrived to escape damp in

these pretty alleys, which, one minute swimming with water, were, in an

incredibly short space, dry and pleasant again.

The first anxiety on arriving at Bayonne, is always, of course, to get

to the sea; even the cathedral, our usual first visit, we neglected, in

order to take advantage of a gleam of sun, and hasten to Biaritz, which

lies about a league from the town: there is now a fine road to St. Jean

de Luz, by which you reach this celebrated bathing-place; and the

often-described cacolets, which even now travellers venture to tell of,

are dwindled into a tradition. In the season, one or two of these

primitive conveyances may still, it is said, be seen, as the English are

amused at endeavouring to ride in them; but, except one has a preference

for broken limbs to safety, there is no reason why any one should

choose such a carriage. They are, in fact, _now_, two panniers, in which

two persons sit on each side of a horse, with the legs hanging down:

formerly, it was merely a board slung across the animal's back, on which

the traveller sat see-saw with his guide; and numerous are the accounts

of perils encountered on a bad road in these conveyances twenty years

ago. Omnibuses, cabriolets, and coaches of all kinds are now to be had,

and there is neither pleasure nor glory in going uncomfortably in the

obsolete _cacolet_.

Biaritz has greatly changed its aspect, since Inglis described it as a

desolate fishing village: it has grown into a fashionable

watering-place, full of fine hotels and handsome houses, with

accommodations of all sorts; the sands are, in the bathing-season,

covered with pavilions for the bathers, and all the terrors and dangers

of the Chambre d'Amour and the Grottos of Biaritz, are over: that is to

say, as far as regards persons being carried away by the tide, or

surprised by the waves amongst the rocks; for, unless any one was silly

enough to place himself in danger, no risk need be run, as it does not

_now_ come to seek you. The rocks, however, are still terrible to

mariners in a tempest; when, in spite of the warning _pharos_, which

crowns the height, the vessel is driven into these little bays,

bristling with rocks of all sizes and forms, each capable of causing

immediate destruction. No winter passes without dreadful disasters on

this beautifully dangerous coast, which looks not half so fatal as it

really is.

I had so often heard Biaritz described as magnificent, that I had

imagined a bold coast of gigantic cliffs and huge blocks of pyramidal

stone, piled at distances along the shore, like those at the back of the

Isle of Wight, or on the Breton coast. I was, therefore, surprised to

find only a pretty series of bays, much lower, but not unlike the land

at Hastings, with the addition of small circles of sand, strewn with

large masses of rock, over and through which the restless waves drive

and foam, and form cascades, and rush into hollows, roaring and beating

against the caverned roofs and sides with the noise of cannon, increased

in violence according to the state of the elements.

In rough weather the sea is so loud here that the reverberation is

distinctly heard at Bayonne, as if artillery was being fired, and its

hoarse murmur is generally audible there at all times. A fine

light-house has been erected on a height; but this precaution does not

altogether prevent accidents, and scarcely a winter passes without sad

events occurring on this dangerous coast. A few days only before we

visited Biaritz, an English vessel had been lost, with all hands on

board, except a poor man, who had seen his wife perish, and his two

little children washed on one of the rocks: there they lay like

star-fish, and were taken off by the pitying inhabitants. I could not

learn the exact particulars, but I believe only one survived, which was

immediately received into the house of an English family who reside at

Biaritz, and who benevolently took the little stranded stranger under

their protection.

There was always, it seems, a look-out house on the hill above the

rocks; and formerly it was requisite to watch lest the vessels of those

numerous pirates who infested these seas should come down upon the

coast. The mount where it stood is called by its old name, _Atalaya_.

Whether it has anything to do with the former inhabitant of a ruined

tower which still looks over the ocean, as it did in ages past, does not

appear; but it may have been connected with the giant Ferragus, or

Fernagus, of whose castle this piece of ruin alone remains.

The giant Ferragus was one of those tremendous pagan personages, to

conquer whom was the chief aim and end of the Paladins of the time of

Charlemagne; and history has recorded the combat of Roland, the great

hero of these parts, with this redoubted Paynim.

Biaritz was amongst the places in the Pays Basque, named by the cruel

inquisitor, Pierre de Lancre, as "_given up to the worship of the

devil_;" he tells us that the devils and malignant spirits, banished

_from Japan and the Indies_, took refuge in the mountains of Labourd:

"and, indeed," continues this miserable bigot, in whose hands was placed

the destiny of hundreds of innocent creatures, "many English, Scotch,

and other travellers coming to buy wines in the city of Bordeaux, have

assured us that in their journeys they have seen great troops of demons,

_in the form of frightful men_, passing into France." Above all, he

asserts that the young girls of Biaritz, always celebrated for their

beauty, have "in their _left eye a mark impressed by the devil_."

Bayonne has several new quarters still unfinished, which promise to be

very handsome and commodious. There is a sort of imitation of Bordeaux

in the style of building, without altogether such good taste: at least,

this may be said of the theatre, which, though immensely large, is much

less majestic or beautiful; its position is, perhaps, even better than

that of Bordeaux, as it stands in a large uninterrupted square, with a

fine walk and trees by the quay on one side; and all the streets which

extend from it are new and wide.

The street in which the principal hotels are placed is very like one on

the _cours_ at Bordeaux, and is remarkably striking; but, besides this,

there is little to admire in the town, except the singularity of two

rivers running through its streets, like another Venice.

The residence of the Queen of Spain, Anne of Neubourg, widow of Charles

II., at Bayonne, is still remembered, and anecdotes are told of her

during her long stay of thirty-two years. She arrived on the 20th

September, 1706, and was received with great honours by all the

dignitaries: the town was illuminated, and the streets hung with

tapestry, as she passed to the Château-Vieux, where she took up her

abode. She seems to have been very much beloved, to have shown great

benevolence, and made herself numerous friends. Her generosity and

profusion, however, caused her to leave on her departure twelve hundred

thousand francs of debt, which Ferdinand VI. had to pay. Scandal was not

silent concerning her, and a lover was named in the young chevalier

Larrétéguy whose brother was at one time confined in the Château d'If

for an impertinent exclamation which he made one day when the Queen's

carriage was stopped by the crowd on the Pont Majour--"Room for my

sister-in-law." A fine complexion and an air of majesty constituted her

beauty; but she grew enormously fat, and was not remarkable for her

outward attractions.

She seems to have exhibited some caprice in her rejection of a palace

which she had caused to be built at great expense. It was called the

Château de Marrac, and had been erected under her orders with infinite

care: when it was finished she refused to occupy it in consequence of

one of her ladies having presumed to take possession of a suite of

chambers previous to her having been regularly installed as mistress.

This was the reason assigned; but she had, it may be imagined, a better

to give for abandoning a place which had cost her so much money.

She made frequent journeys to St. Jean Pied de Port, Bidache, Cambo,

Terciis, &c., for her health, and was always received on her return to

Bayonne with sovereign honours. The magistrates of the town went, on one

occasion, to meet her with offerings of fruit, flowers, expensive wines,

hams, and game, all in silver filigree baskets, beautifully worked.

During a dangerous illness which she had, the shrine containing the

relics of St. Léon was lowered, as in a period of general calamity; and,

on her recovery, prayers and thanksgivings were commanded, and a solemn

procession of all the officers of the town, civil and military, took

place.

In 1738 she returned to Spain, greatly regretted by all who had known

her at Bayonne; and, it seems, she was so much impressed with sorrow at

having left an abode so agreeable to her that she survived only two

years, and died at Guadalajara in 1740.

An account of a fête, given by the Queen on occasion of some successes

in Spain which greatly rejoiced her, concludes with the following rather

amusing sentence: "After the repast was finished, much to the

satisfaction of all, a _panperruque_ was danced through the town. M. de

Gibaudière led the dance, holding the hand of the _Mayor of Bayonne_;

the Marquis de Poyanne bringing up the rear: so that this dance rejoiced

all the people, who, on their side, gave many demonstrations of joy. It

lasted even till the next day amongst the people, and on board the

vessels in the river; and the windows of every house were illuminated."

Bayonne has a reputation for being in general extremely healthy; and its

position, in reach of the fine fresh sea air, seems to render it

probable. To me, after the close atmosphere of Pau, it was peculiarly

pleasant; and seemed to give new life, and restore the spirits,

depressed by that enervating climate, where, except for invalids, a long

residence is anything but desirable.

There seems but little commercial movement at Bayonne, and no bustle on

the quays; indeed, except at Nantes, I have always, in France, been

struck with the quiet and silent aspect of the seaports; so unlike our

own. Just at the time we were there, great complaints were being made,

in consequence of the prohibition of Spanish ships from touching at any

port of the South of France: commerce was at a stand-still, and all

persons in trade seemed vexed and disappointed at the bad prospect

before them.

CHAPTER XIII.

BASQUE LANGUAGE--DIALECTS--WORDS--POETRY--SONGS--THE

DESERTER--CHARACTER--DRAMA--TOWNS.

THE Basque country,--in which the ancient town of Bayonne, or Lapurdum,

holds a principal place,--is unequally divided between France and Spain.

The one part is composed of La Soule, Basse Navarre, and Labourd, and

extends over a surface of about a hundred and forty square leagues; the

other portion comprises Haute Navarre, Alava, Guipuscoa, and Biscay, and

contains about nine hundred and sixty square leagues: so that the whole

country in which the Basque language is spoken, enclosed between the

Adour, Béarn, the river Arragon, the Ebro, and the ocean, contains not

less than eleven hundred square leagues. Part of this extent is barren,

rude, and wooded, and is said to resemble the ancient state of Gaul, as

described by historians. Though immense tracts of wood have been cleared

away, there is still more in this region than in any other of the

Pyrenees; there are three great forests; one of Aldudes, in the valley

of Balgorry, where exist the only copper-mines in France; the forest of

Irati, near Roncevaux; and that of St. Engrace, which joins the woods of

Itseaux.

The habits, manners, and language, of this people have engaged the

attention of the curious for a series of years; and the speculations

and, surmises to which they have given rise are without end. Although it

is generally thought that the Basques are descendants of the ancient

Iberians, some learned writers contend that the singular language which

they speak, and which has no resemblance to that of any of the nations

which surround them, approaches very near the Celtic.

Whether they are _Vascons_ or _Cantabrians_, they are called, in their

own tongues, _Escualdunac_, and their language _Escuara_. Seventy-two

towns, bourgs, and villages, are named, by Du Mège, as appropriated to

the people of this denomination,--that is, from the mouth of the Adour

to the banks of the Soison and the mountains south of the Pays de Soule.

He remarks that no historian of antiquity has made mention of this

people, or their language, under the name they at present bear; and it

was never advanced till the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the

seventeenth centuries, that the inhabitants of Alava, Guipuscoa, and

Spanish and French Navarre had preserved the ancient language of the

Iberians, and that they were the representatives of that nation; never

having been conquered by any foreign invaders, and never having mixed

their blood.

Du Mège observes, on these pretensions: "History, studied at its purest

sources, and from its most authentic documents, proves that, in the most

distant times, several nations,--amongst whom, doubtless, should be

included those who first inhabited the coasts of Africa,--came and

established themselves in Spain. The Pelasgians, the Greeks of

Zacinthus, of Samos, the Messineans, the Dorians, the Phoceans, the

Laconians, the Tyrians or Phoenicians, the Carthaginians, the Celts or

Gauls, and the Eastern Iberians. Strabo mentions that in the Peninsula

were many different languages _and alphabets_; no doubt, as many

alphabets as idioms. Great care has been taken to discover the origin of

these alphabets, the letters of which _are still to be found in Spain,

in several inscriptions engraved on marble_, and in numerous medals."

Nothing satisfactory, however, has been established respecting the

language; but a probable one appears to be Velasquez' opinion, that it

is formed of dialects of Greek and Hebrew; but this opinion is combated

by many learned Spaniards. One author, in particular, was so violent in

his enthusiasm, that it led him to discover all the ancient history

combined in the Basque language. To him it was of little consequence

that the names mentioned by different authors belonged to Spain, Africa,

England, or Normandy,--the learned Dr. Zuñiga, curé of Escalonilla,

explained them all as _Basque_. Thus, for instance, _Scotland_, called

_Escocia_ in Spanish, he asserts was so called from _escuocia_, a _cold

hand_! Ireland, which is Irlanda in Spanish, means, in Basque,

_Ira-Landa_, i.e., _meadow of fern_: and so on to the end of the

chapter, in a strain which becomes highly comic. Another writer followed

in his steps,--Don Juan de Erro y Aspiroz,--who surpassed him in

absurdity; proving to his own satisfaction, not only that the Basque is

ancient, but that its alphabet _furnished one to the Greeks_, and that

the same nation instructed the Phoenicians in the use of money; added to

which, they passed into Italy, and _from them_ sprung the Romans--those

conquerors of the world.

Certainly, etymologists do fall into strange errors; as when the forgery

_pour rire_ of Count de Gibelin was taken for the Lord's Prayer in

Celtic, and explained as such by the famous Lebrïgant!

Humboldt, in his "Researches" on the origin of the first inhabitants of

Spain, falls into errors which are to be lamented; as his great name may

afford sanction to the dreams of others. He acknowledges that he is

puzzled to find that there is no trace amongst the ancients of the term

Escualdunac. He does not go so far as Zuñiga, who discovers in the name

of Obulco, engraved on ancient medals, Tri-Gali, i.e. "laughing corn" or

Balza-Gala--"black corn:" that Catalonia (evidently a modern name)

signifies, "The country of wild cats." Cascantum--"dirty place;" and

Hergaones--"good place of the spinners!"

Du Mège observes, that Humboldt has unfortunately followed former

writers too much; and though all he writes is worthy of respect, he

fails to convince, in this treatise, having begun on false ground. Since

then, M. de Montglave has "proved" a fact which is very startling,

namely, that there is a great affinity between the Basque language and

the dialects of the indigenous nations of South America![36]

[Footnote 36: This M. Mazure will by no means allow in his "Histoire du

Béarn et du Pays Basque."]

This last circumstance, which new observations seem to render more and

more probable, would at once put an end, if really proved, to all

discussion, and open a new field for speculation. It would be somewhat

curious to establish the certainty of the South Americans having

discovered and colonized Europe many centuries before they were

re-discovered by Europeans!--this, once determined, the Druid stones and

the round towers of Ireland might all, by degrees, be explained: the

obstinate resolve of all learned persons to derive everything in Europe

from the Greeks and Romans, or to go to the far East, when fairly driven

there, to find out origins, is very hard upon the enormous double

continent of the New World, whose wondrous ruined palaces prove the

original inhabitants to have been highly civilized and of immense power:

and which, by its extent and variety, might cast into insignificance

those proud specks which imagine themselves suns, when they are,

perhaps, only motes in the sun's beams.

It scarcely appears that the learned and impartial Du Mège has settled

the question by his arguments; indeed he seems himself aware that it is

yet open, for he rather confutes others than assumes an opinion himself.

He concludes, that the ancient Vascons who overran Aquitaine, in 600,

are certainly not the same people as those who now speak the Escuara

language, and that these _may have been_ "one of those people who

invaded the Roman empire in the reign of Probus, or the remains of those

tribes to whom, in the time of Honorius, was confided the guardianship

of the entrance of the Pyrenees. Thus placed in the defiles of the

mountains, _it was easy_ for them to extend themselves successively into

Aquitaine, Navarre, Guipuscoa, &c., to impose their _language_ and their

laws on the terrified people, and thus _mix themselves with_ the

Vascons and Cantabrians of Spain, and the Tarbelli and Sibyllates of

Gaul."

Whatever may be their origin, the Basques, as they exist at this moment,

are a very singular people, both as to their customs and language: there

is not the slightest resemblance between them and their neighbours; they

are perfectly foreigners in the next village to that which they inhabit.

Some _profane_ persons (M. Pierquin, for instance, who goes near to do

so, in an article on _la France littéraire_,) have dared to insinuate,

that the language of the Basques is nothing more than a mere jargon,

_both modern and vulgar_; but this is so cruel an assertion, and one

which destroys so many theories, reducing learning to a jest, that no

wonder M. Mazure and others are indignant at such boldness.

It must be confessed that, since extremes meet, the same arguments used

to prove the classical antiquity of the language would serve to convince

that it was merely modern, and made use of, by uneducated persons, to

express their wants as readily as possible. There are, in the Basque,

terms which represent ideas by sounds, explaining, by a sort of musical

imitation, many usual acts, and the appearance of objects; but this is

frequently brought forward by its defenders in its favour, and as

establishing its antiquity.

M. Mazure, who appears an enthusiast for the Basque language, produces

several words to show the sublimity contained in their signification:

for instance, he says, "the radical name of _the Moon_, combined with

other terms, gives occasion for superb expressions, full of thought, and

of a character which no modern language could furnish: thus--_ilarquia_,

the moon, signifies _its light_, or its _funereal_ light; and

_illarguia, ilkulcha, ilobia, ilerria, ileguna_, signify the _coffin_,

the _grave_, the _churchyard_, the _day of death_.

"The days of the week are also extremely expressive--as Friday,

Saturday, Sunday, which convey the idea of the _remembrance of the death

of the Saviour--the last day of work--the great day_. A strictly

Christian nation has left, in these words, their stamp." This being the

case, how does it agree with the extraordinarily antique origin of the

Basques? However, it appears that these are exceptions; other words

being sufficiently unintelligible, that is to say, difficult to explain.

M. Mazure considers that the Basque language is, in some respects, the

_most perfect_ that exists, from the _unity of the verb_ which it

preserves: its system of conjugation alone were enough, in his opinion,

to make it an object worthy of study and admiration to all grammarians.

To the uninitiated, the very opposite opinions of M. Mazure and M.

Pierquin are somewhat amusing: the former insists that the Basque has

nothing to do with Hebrew or Phoenician, but inclines to think it a

lost _African_ dialect, such as, _perhaps_, might have been spoken by

the Moors of Massinissa, who peopled Spain, and probably Aquitaine, at

some period unknown.

One singular fact with respect to this mysterious dialect is, that it

possesses no written nor printed books older than two centuries since;

and no alphabet has been discovered belonging to it; consequently it has

no literature; but it has preserved many songs and ballads, some of

great delicacy and beauty; and its _improvvisatore_, by profession, are

as fruitful as the Italians. One popular song, in the dialect of

Labourd, may give an idea of the strange language which occupies so much

attention.

BASQUE SONG.

"Tchorittoua, nourat houa

Bi hegaliz, aïrian?

Espagñalat jouaïteko,

Elhurra duk bortian:

Algarreki jouanen gutuk

Elhurra hourtzen denian.

"San Josefen ermitha,

Desertian gorada

Espagñalat jouaïteko

Handa goure palissada.

Guibelerat so-guin eta,

Hasperenak ardura.

Hasperena, babilona,

Maïtiaren borthala

Bihotzian sarakio

Houra eni bezala;

Eta guero eran izok

Nik igorten haïdala.

TRANSLATION.

Borne on thy wings amidst the air,

Sweet bird, where wilt thou go?

For if thou wouldst to Spain repair,

The ports are filled with snow.

Wait, and we will fly together,

When the Spring brings sunny weather.

St. Joseph's hermitage is lone,

Amidst the desert bare,

And when we on our way are gone,

Awhile we'll rest us there;

As we pursue our mountain-track,

Shall we not sigh as we look back?

Go to my love, oh! gentle sigh,

And near her chamber hover nigh;

Glide to her heart, make that thy shrine,

As she is fondly kept in mine.

Then thou may'st tell her it is I

Who sent thee to her, gentle sigh!

It appears to me, that there is a very remarkable similarity between the

habits of the people of the Basque country and those of Brittany;

although they of the South are not rich in beautiful legends, such as M.

de Villemarqué has preserved to the world: they have dramas and

mysteries just in the same manner: some of which last for days, and are

played in the open air by the people. They name their rocks and valleys

as the Bretons do: as, for instance, they have the _Vallée du Sang_, the

_Col des Ossemens_, the _Forêt du Réfuge_, the _Champ de la Victoire_;

and traditions attach to each of these. There is, however, a gayer,

livelier character amongst them than that which inspires the pathetic

ballads of Brittany. The Basques are very ready to be amused; are more

hilarious and less gloomy than the Bretons: yet they have the same love

of their country, and regret at leaving it. An author[37] who has

written on the subject, says: "To judge properly of the Basque, he

should be seen amidst his pleasures and his games; for it is then that

he exhibits his brilliant imagination. Often, in the joy of a convivial

meeting--when his natural gaiety, excited by wine and good cheer, is

arrived at that point of vivacity when man seems united to the chain of

existence only by the link of pleasure--one of the guests will feel

himself inspired: he rises; the tumult ceases; profound silence is

established, and his noisy companions are at once transformed to

attentive listeners. He sings: stanzas succeed each other, and poetry

flows naturally from his lips. The measure he adopts is grave and quiet;

the air seems to come with the words, without being sought for; and

rich imagery and new ideas flash forth at every moment, whether he takes

for his subject the praise of one of the guests, or the chronicles of

the country. He will sing thus for hours together: but some other feels

inspired in his turn; a kind of pastoral combat takes place--very like

those between the troubadours of old--and the interest of the scene

increases. Presently they start into dances, and their steps accompany

the words, still more like the custom of the jongleurs. The rivals sing

and dance alternately, as the words require it; their movements increase

in expression, the most difficult and the prettiest are striven for by

the dancers, the time being always well preserved, and the spirit of the

poem not lost sight of. When they are obliged to give up, from mere

fatigue, a censor pronounces which is the victor: that is, which of the

two has given the most gratification to the audience."

[Footnote 37: M. Boucher. "Souvenirs du Pays Basque."]

The Basque poet has no view in his compositions but the expression of

his feelings: he has no idea of gain, or reputation, but sings because

he requires to show the emotions which agitate him. It is not a little

singular that, in this particular, he resembles the inhabitants of

Otaheite; one of whom Bougainville describes as having sung in strophes

all that struck him during a voyage.

The Basque language seems very well adapted for light poetry; and,

indeed, is peculiarly fitted for rhyme, and has a natural ease which

helps the verse along, in a manner which belongs to the Italian. The

ideas are always tender and delicate, to a surprising degree, as the

following songs may prove:

BASQUE SONG.

"Su garretan," &c.

I BURN in flames, because my heart

Has loved thee through the dreary past;

And in my eyes the tear-drops start,

To think I lose thee at the last.

My days are pass'd in ceaseless weeping,

And all my nights in vain regret;

No peace awaits me--waking--sleeping,

Until I die, and all forget:

And thou who seest me thus repine,

Hast not a tear for grief like mine!

The Basque poet can seldom read or write: he owes nothing to education:

nature alone is his instructress, and she inspires him with ideas the

most graceful, tender, and, at the same time, correct, for nothing

exceptionable is ever heard in his songs. In many of these there is a

strain which might parallel some of the sweetest odes of the Persians;

from whom, it is not impossible but that they may have derived them; if,

indeed, the early troubadours from the East have not left their traces

in such lays as this:

BASQUE SONG.

"Ezdut uste baden ceruan aingeruric," &c.

I CANNOT think in heaven above

Immortal angels there may be,

Whose hearts can show so pure a love

As that which binds my soul to thee:

And when, my ceaseless suff'rings past,

The grave shall make me all forget,

I only ask thee, at the last,

One gentle sigh of fond regret.

Very often these songs take the form of dialogues: the following is one

very well known in the country:

BASQUE SONG.

"Amodíoac bainarabila choriñoa aircan bezala," &c.

_The Lover_.

LOVE lifts me gently in the air,

As though I were a bird to fly,

And nights to me, like days, are fair,

Because my gentle love is nigh.

_The Mistress_.

Thou call'st me dear--ah! seest thou not

Those words have only pow'r to grieve me?

Why is my coldness all forgot?

And why not, at my bidding, leave me?

_The Lover_.

The love I feel--and canst thou doubt--

I, who would traverse seas for thee!

Who have no power to live without,

And own thy charms are life to me.

_The Mistress_.

If I have charms, thine eye alone

Behold'st the beauty none can prize;

Oh! in the world exists but one

Who fills my soul and dims my eyes:

That one--ask not who he may be,

But leave me--for thou art not he!

The following may serve as a specimen of their passionate expressions:

BASQUE SONG.

"Ene maitcac biloa hori," &c.

My fair one, with the golden tresses,

With rosy cheeks and hands of snow,

With hopeless care each heart oppresses,

Around her step such graces glow.

A cloud, upon her brow descending,

Has dimm'd that eye of dazzling ray,

Upon whose glance, the light attending,

Has led my giddy heart astray.

I see thee, like the flow'r of morning,

In sweetness and in beauty shine;

None like to thee the world adorning--

My life, my soul, my life is thine!

The Basques have compositions in various styles--complaints and

satires--like the professors of the _gaie science_. War and peace are

celebrated by them: there are poems on La Tour d'Auvergne; Napoleon;

Wellington, and the Revolution of July: in tragedy and melo-drama they

peculiarly succeed; and there exists a modern Basque drama, of singular

merit, called Marie de Navarre, the scene of which is laid in the tenth

century, in which great power is exhibited, and considerable dramatic

effect produced.

There is a saying, well known in the country, _"Ce n'est pas un homme,

c'est un Basque;"_ which is intended to express the superiority of the

native of these regions over all others. It appears that the Basque is,

in fact, of much finer form than the rest of the people of the Pyrenees;

and the young women are proverbially handsome. I cannot speak from

extensive observation; but of this often-named peculiarity of personal

appearance I was by no means sensible in the few specimens I have

seen--for all the people of this part of the South seemed to me

extremely inferior in beauty to those of the North; and, taken in

general, it strikes me that the handsomest natives of France I have seen

are to be found in Normandy. I speak merely as comparing the people with

the same classes in England: and to one accustomed to the sparkling

clear eye, fine delicate complexion, tall stature, and finely-developed

figures of both our men and women, the inhabitants of the whole of

France seem very inferior: there is a monotony in their tanned faces,

spare figures, and black eyes and hair, which wearies, and ceases to

create interest after the first. Some individuals in the Basque country,

however, struck me as handsome and very intelligent.

The Basque is bold and brave, and the French armies never had finer

soldiers, as far as regarded spirit, than the natives of these

countries: but neither did any region produce so many deserters; for the

_maladie du pays_ is strong upon them, and they take the first

opportunity of returning to their home amongst the mountains. This is

not confined to the Basque, but occurs to all the mountaineers of Béarn.

One instance will show this feeling; the story was related by a guide to

the Brèche de Roland, who knew the circumstances. A young man had been

forced by the conscription to join Napoleon's army: he was very young at

the time, and went through all the dangers, hardships, and privations

like a mountaineer and a man of courage; but, as soon as he saw an

opportunity, he deserted, and sought the land where all his wishes

tended. He was pursued and traced from place to place; but, generally

favoured by his friends and assisted by his own ingenuity, he always

eluded search, and, with the precaution of never sleeping two nights in

the same village, he managed for several years to continue free. He was

in love with a young girl, and on one occasion, at a _fête_, had come

far over the mountains to dance with her: he was warned by a companion

that emissaries had been seen in the neighbourhood; but he determined

nothing should interfere with the pleasure he anticipated in leading out

the lass he loved. He had a rival, however, in the company, who gave

notice to the officers of justice that the deserter would be at the

dance, and, accordingly, in the midst of the revel--as they were

executing one of those agile dances, called _Le Saut Basque_--the object

of pursuit became aware that, amidst the throng, were several persons

whom he had no difficulty in guessing were his pursuers. They kept their

station close to the path he must take when he left the spot where they

were dancing, and he, with great presence of mind and determined

gallantry, finished the measure with his pretty partner: at the last

turn, he looked briskly round, and observing that one of his companions

was leaning on a thick stick, he suddenly caught it from his grasp, and

with a leap and run, dashed past the party who were waiting for him,

brandishing the weapon over his head and keeping all off. They were so

taken by surprise, that they had no power to detain him; and the

villagers closing round and impeding them as much as possible, the young

hero got off to the mountains in safety. He was, however, taken some

time after this scene, and carried to Bayonne to be tried, when every

one expected that he would meet with capital punishment; but it was

found impossible to identify him--no one could be induced to appear

against him--and the magistrates, wearied out, at length gave him his

discharge, and he returned to live quietly in his village, and marry his

love, after having been a hunted man in the woods and mountains for

nearly ten years.

The Basque is said to be irritable, revengeful, and implacable; but gay

and volatile, passionately addicted to dancing and the _jeu de paume_,

which he never abandons till compelled by positive infirmity. He is very

adventurous, and fond of excitement; it is not, therefore, singular that

he should be a hardy smuggler, so cunning and adroit that he contrives

to evade the officers of the excise in a surprising manner. If, however,

a smuggler falls beneath the shot of one of the guardians of right, all

the natives become at once his deadly enemy, and he has no safety but in

leaving the country instantly. The women assist their relations in this

dangerous traffic, and perform acts of daring, which are quite

startling. It is told of one, a young girl of Eshiarce, that, being hard

pressed by a party of excise, she ran along a steep ledge of rocks, and,

at a fearful height, cast herself into the Nive: no one dared to follow

down the ravine; and they saw her swimming for her life, battling with

the roaring torrent; she reached the opposite shore, turned with an

exulting gesture, although her basket of contraband goods was lost in

the stream, and, darting off amongst the valleys, was lost to their

view.

The Basques have their comedy, which they call _Tobera-Munstruc_, or

_Charivari represented_; and they enter into its jokes with the utmost

animation and delight. They generally take for their subject some

popular event of a comic nature, and all is carried on extempore. The

young men of a village meet to consult respecting it; and then comes the

_cérémonie du bâton_. Those who choose to be actors, or simply to

subscribe towards the expenses, range themselves on one side; two

amongst them hold a stick at each end, and all those chosen pass beneath

it; this constitutes an engagement to assist; and it is a disgrace to

fail. News is then sent to the villages round of the intention to act a

comedy; and preparations are made by the select committee. The

representations are positive _fêtes_, and are looked forward to with

great pleasure; crowds attend them; and their supporters are usually

picked men, who have a reputation for talent and wit. Crimes never come

under their consideration: it is always something extremely ridiculous,

or some ludicrous failing, that is turned into contempt and held up to

risibility. It is quite amazing to what an extent the genius of the

improvvisatores go at times; they display consummate art and knowledge

of human nature, quick _répartie_, subtle arguments, absurd

conjunctions, startling metaphors, and are never at a loss to meet the

assertions of their adversary on the other side; for it is always in the

form of law-pleadings, for and against, that the comedy is conducted.

It is usually carried on in the manner following:

The crowd assembled, a man on horseback opens the _cortège_: he is

dressed in white trowsers, a purple sash, a white coat, and a fine cap,

ornamented with tinsel and ribbons; flutes, violins, tamborines, and

drums, succeed; then come about forty dancers, in two files, who advance

in a cadenced step; this is the celebrated dance called the _Morisco_,

which is reserved for great occasions. This troop is in the same costume

as the man on horseback; each dancer holding in his right hand a wand,

adorned with ribbons, and surmounted by a bouquet of artificial flowers.

Then come the poet and a guard, a judge and two pleaders, in robes; and

a guard on foot, bearing carbines, close the procession.

The judge and advocates take their places on the stage, seating

themselves before three tables, the poet being in front on the left.

A carnival scene now takes place, in which are all sorts of strange

costumes, harlequins, clowns, and jokers; in this a party of blacksmiths

are conspicuous, whose zeal in shoeing and unshoeing a mule, on which a

_huissier_ sits, with his face to the tail, creates great merriment.

When all this tumult is quieted by proclamation, music sounds; the poet

advances and improvises an address, in which he announces the subject of

the piece; his manner is partly serious, partly jesting. He points out

the advocate who is to plead the cause of morals and propriety: this one

rises, and, in the course of his exordium, takes care to throw out all

the sarcasm he can against his rival, who rouses himself, and the battle

of tongues begins, and is carried on in a sort of rhyming prose, in

which nothing is spared to give force to jest or argument against the

reigning vices or follies of the day. As the orators proceed and become

more and more animated on the subject, they are frequently interrupted

by loud applause. Sometimes, in these intervals, the poet gives a

signal, which puts an end to the discussions before the public are

fatigued; and, the music sounding, the performers of the national dance

appear, and take the place of the two advocates for a time. These

combatants soon re-commence their struggle; and, at length, the judge is

called upon to pronounce between them. A farcical kind of consultation

ensues between the judge and the ministers around, who are supposed to

send messengers even to the king himself by their mounted courier in

attendance.

The judge at last rises, and, with mock solemnity, delivers his fiat.

Then follow quadrilles; and the famous _Sauts Basques_, so well-known

and so remarkable, close the entertainments.

These _fêtes_ last several days, as in Brittany, and are very similar in

their style. I am told, however, that, though very witty, these

representations are not fit for _la bonne compagnie_.

"If to what we have been able to collect on what are called Basques,"

says Du Mège, "we add the remarks of General Serviez, _chargé

d'administration_ of the department of the Basses Pyrénées, a complete

picture is presented of the manners and habits of the descendants of the

Escualdunacs, who may be subdivided into three tribes, or families: the

_Labourdins_, the _Navarrais_, and the _Souletins_."

"They have rather the appearance of a foreign colony transplanted into

the midst of the French, than a people forming a portion of the country,

and living under the same laws and government. They are extremely brave,

and are always the terror of the Spaniards in all wars with them; but

their aversion to leaving their homes is very great, and their

attachment to their personal liberty is remarkable. They are much wedded

to their own habits and customs, and are almost universally

_unacquainted_ with the French language. They are said to be the

_cleanest people in the world_; in which particular they singularly

differ from the Bretons, whom, in some respects, they resemble.

"Mildness and persuasion does much with them, severity nothing: they are

choleric in temper, but soon appeased; nevertheless, they are implacable

in their hatred, and resolute in their revenge. Ready to oblige, if

flattered; restless and active, hard-working; _habitually sober and

well-conducted_, and violently attached to their religion and their

priests. They seem rarely to know fatigue, for, after a hard day's work,

they think little of going five or six leagues to a _fête_, and to be

deprived of this amusement is a great trial to them.

"They are tenacious of the purity of their blood, and avoid, as much as

possible, contracting alliances with neighbouring nations; they are

impatient of strangers acquiring possessions in their country. They are

apt to quarrel amongst each other at home; but there is a great _esprit

du corps_ amongst them when they meet abroad. There are shades of

difference in their characters, according to their province. In general,

the _Souletins_ are more cunning and crafty than the rest, resembling

their neighbours of Béarn in their moral qualities. The _Navarrais_ is

said to be more fickle. The _Labourdins_ are fonder of luxuries, and

less diligent than the others; and it is thought, consequently, less

honest; the latter are generally sailors, and are known as good

whalers."

There seems a desire amongst _improvers_ in France to do away amongst

the common people with the original language, or _patois_, which exists

in so many of the provinces; and in many of the schools nothing is

taught but French. This would seem to be a benefit, as far as regards

civilization; but it shocks the feelings of the people, who are

naturally fond of the language of their fathers. The Bretons, like the

Welsh with us, are very tenacious of this attempt: the people of

Languedoc, with Jasmin, their poet, at their head, have made a stand for

their tongue; and the Basques, at the present moment, are in great

distress that measures are now being taken to teach their children

French, and do away altogether with the language of which they are so

proud, and which is so prized by the learned. In a late _Feuilleton_ of

the Mémorial des Pyrénées, I observed a very eloquent letter on the

subject of instruction in French in the rural schools, from which the

Basque language is banished. The children learn catechism and science in

French, and can answer any question put to them in that language by the

master, like parrots, being quite unable to translate it back into the

tongue they talk at home, where nothing but Basque meets their ears.

It is, of course, quite necessary that they should understand French for

their future good; but there does not appear a sufficient reason that

they should neglect their own language, or, at any rate, that they

should not be instructed in it, and have the same advantage as the

Welsh subjects of Great Britain, who did not, however, obtain all they

claimed for their primitive language without a struggle.

The writer in the Mémorial contends that the children should be taught

their prayers in Basque, and should know the grammar of that dialect in

order to be able to write to their friends when abroad--for many of them

are soldiers and sailors,--in a familiar tongue, since those at home by

their fire-sides know nothing of French, and could not understand the

best French letter that was ever penned. The question is, could they

read _at all_, and if the epistle were read for them by a more learned

neighbour, would not French be as easy as Basque? for the friend must

have been at school to be of use.

Be this as it may, the "coil" made for the beloved tongue shows the

feeling which still exists in Navarre for the "_beau dialecte

Euskarien_."

"Do you know what you would destroy?" exclaims M. de Belsunce, in

somewhat wild enthusiasm; "the sacred relic of ages--the aboriginal

idiom, as ancient as the mountains which shelter and serve for its

asylum!

"The Basque language is our glory, our pride, the theme of all our

memories, the golden book of our traditions. Proud and free in its

accent, noble and learned in its picturesque and sonorous expressions,

its formation and grammatical form are both simple and sublime; add to

which, the people preserve it with a religious devotion.

"It is the language spoken by our illustrious ancestors--those who

carried the terror of their arms from the heights of the Pyrenees to

Bordeaux and Toulouse. It is the language of the conquerors of

Theodobert, Dagobert, and Carebert; and of the fair and ill-fated wife

of the latter--the unfortunate Giselle. Were not the sacred cries of

liberty and independence uttered amongst our mountains in that tongue,

and the songs of triumph which were sent to heaven after the victory of

the Gorges of the Soule? It is the dialect named by Tacitus, as that of

those who were never conquered--_Cantaber invictus_: immortalized as

that of the _Lions of War_: spoken by the most _ancient people in the

world_--a race of shepherds with patriarchal manners, proverbial

hospitality, and right-mindedness; light-hearted, friendly and true,

though implacable in vengeance and terrible in anger as undaunted in

courage.

"Our chronicles live in our national songs, and our language proves an

ancient civilization. To the philosopher and the learned who study it,

it presents, from its grandeur, its nobility, and the rich harmony of

its expressions, a subject of grave meditation; it may serve as the key

of the history of nations, and solve many doubts on the origin of lost

or faded languages."

Perhaps M. de Belsunce takes a rather pompous view of the subject; but

he has, nevertheless, much reason in his appeal.

As specimens of this extraordinary language, some of the names of the

Basque towns may amuse and surprise the reader; perhaps, in the

Marquesas islands, lately taken possession of by the French, they may

find some sounds which to Basque sailors, of which a ship's crew is

almost certain to have many, may be familiar.

Places in the district of Forest of Saint Eugrace.

Iratsodoqui. Urruxordoqui. Mentchola. Orgambidecosorhona.

Furunchordoqui, near the Port d'Anie.

The Pic d'Anie is properly called Ahuguamendi.

In Basse Burie occur the following names;--

Iturourdineta. Iparbarracoitcha. Aspildoya. Lehintchgarratia.

In the arrondissement of Bayonne may be met with:--Urkheta, Hiriburu,

Itsasu, Beraskhoitce, Zubernua, and others equally singular in sound.

CHAPTER XIV.

CAGOTS--CACOUS OF BRITTANY.

ONE of the most puzzling and, at the same time, interesting subjects,

which recurs to the explorer in the Pyrenees, is the question respecting

that mysterious race of people called Cagots, whose origin has never yet

been satisfactorily accounted for. All travellers speak of the Cagots,

and make allusion to them, but nothing very positive is told. When I

arrived in the Pyrenees, my first demand was respecting them; but those

of my countrymen who had ever heard of their existence assured me that

their denomination was only another word for _Crétin_ or _Goîtreux_:

others insisted that no trace of the ancient _parias_ of these countries

remained, and some treated the legends of their strange life as mere

fables.

I applied to the French inhabitants; from whom I heard much the same,

though all agreed that Cagots were to be found in different parts of the

mountains, and that they were still shunned as a race apart, though the

prejudice against them was certainly wearing away.

I inquired of our Béarnaise servant whether she could tell me anything

about the Cagots, upon which she burst into a fit of laughter, which

lasted some time, on her recovery from which she informed me that they

were accustomed to use the word as a term of derision. "Any one," said

she, "_whose ears are short--cut off at the tip_, we call Cagot; but it

is only _pour rire_, it is not a polite word."

I hoped, from her information, and the manner in which she treated the

subject, that the Cagots were indeed extinct, and known only as a

by-word, which had now no meaning; but I found, by conversing with

intelligent persons who had been a great deal in the mountains, and

given their attention to such discoveries, that the unfortunate people,

once the objects of scorn and oppression to all their fellow-men, are

still to be found, and still lead an isolated life, though no longer

proscribed or hunted like wild beasts as formerly.

I examined, with the aid of a friend in Pau, the archives of the town,

and found several times mention made of these people up to a late

period, in which they were classed as persons out of the pale of the

law; a price is put on their heads, as if they were wolves; they are

forbidden to appear in the towns, and orders are issued to the police to

_shoot them_ if found infringing the rules laid down; punishments are

named as awaiting them if they ventured to ally themselves, in any way,

with any out of their own caste, and they are spoken of together with

brigands and malefactors, and all other persons whose crimes have placed

them out of the protection of their country.

In Gascony, Béarn, and the Pays Basque, it is well known that for

centuries this proscribed race has existed, entirely separated from the

rest of their species, marrying with each other, and thus perpetuating

their misfortune, avoided, persecuted, and contemned: their origin

unknown, and their existence looked upon as a blot on the face of

nature. At one period the Cagots were objects of hatred, from the belief

that they were afflicted with the leprosy, which notion does not appear

to be founded on fact; in later times, they have been supposed to suffer

more especially from _goître_; but physicians have established that they

are not more subject to this hideous disease than their neighbours of

the valleys and mountains. Nevertheless, a belief even now prevails that

this wretched people, and the race of Crétins, are the same, and that

they owe their origin to the Visigoths, who subdued a part of Gaul.

Ramond, in his "Observations on the Pyrenees," has the following curious

passage: "My observations on the Crétins had thrown little light on the

subject; and learned persons whom I had consulted had not placed it in a

clearer point of view: I found myself obliged to add another proof to

the many that exist, to demonstrate that the resemblance of effects is

not always a sure indication of the identity of causes; when my habitual

intercourse with the people entirely changed the nature of the

question, by showing that it was amongst the unfortunate race of Cagots

that I should find the Crétins of the Valley of Luchon.

"It was with a shyness which I found much difficulty in overcoming, that

the inhabitants of this country avowed to me that their valley contained

a certain number of families which, from time immemorial, were regarded

as forming part of an infamous and cursed race; that those who composed

them were never counted as citizens; that everywhere they were forbidden

to carry arms; that they were looked upon as slaves, and obliged to

perform the most degrading offices for the community at large; that

misery and disease was their constant portion; that the scourge of

_goître_ generally belonged to them; that they were peculiarly afflicted

with the complaint in the valleys of Luchon, all those of the Pays de

Comminges, of Bigorre, Béarn, and the two Navarres; that their miserable

abodes are ordinarily in remote places, and that whatever amelioration

of prejudice has arisen in the progress of time, and the improvement of

manners, a marked aversion is always shown towards that set of people,

who are forced still to keep themselves entirely distinct from the free

natives of the villages in their neighbourhood."

There hare, however, many parts of Béarn, Soule, and Navarre, for

instance, in following the course of the Gave of Oloron, inhabited by

Cagots who are by no means subject to the infirmity of _goître_, by

which it appears that it is merely an accidental complaint with them as

with others.

The prejudice which has peculiarly attributed to them this horrible

affliction is therefore erroneous: and equally so is the idea that they

carry in their appearance any indication of a difference of species:

for, instead of the sallow, weak, sickly hue which it was believed

belonged to them, it is known that they differ in nowise from the other

natives in complexion, strength, or health. Instances of great age occur

amongst them; and they are subject to no more nor less infirmities than

others. Beauty or ugliness, weakness or strength, deformity or

straightness, are common to the Cagots as to the rest of the human race.

This, however, is certain, that in some villages the richest persons are

of the proscribed order; but they, nevertheless, are held in a certain

degree of odium, and their alliance is avoided: the state of misery and

destitution in which they were represented to M. Ramond exists but

partially at present; for, being in general more active and industrious

than the other inhabitants, they very frequently become rich, although

they never are able to assume the position in society which wealth in

any other class allows.

The following is a fearful picture, which it is to be hoped is

exaggerated at the present day. It exhibits the Cagots according to the

opinion a few years ago prevalent, and denies to this people the health

for which others who defend them contend:

"Health," says the French author of "Travels in the French Pyrenees,"

"that treasure of the indigent, flies from the miserable huts of Agos,

Bidalos, and Vieuzac: three villages, so close together, that they

constitute one whole: they are situated in the valley called Extremère

de Sales. The numerous sources which spring beside the torrent of

Bergons, the freshness and solitude of these charming retreats, the rich

shade of the thick chesnuts, which in summer form delicious groves--all

is obscured by the miserable state of the inhabitants: diseases of the

most loathsome kind prevail for ever in this smiling valley: Crétins

abound, those unhappy beings _supposed to be the descendants of the

Alains_, a part of whom established themselves in the Pyrenees and the

Valais. Whether this connexion really exists or not, a stupid

indifference, which prevents them from feeling their position, exists in

common with the Crétins amongst those people known as Goths, or Cagots,

_chiens de Gots_, and _Capots_, who are a fearful example of the

duration of popular hatred. They are condemned to the sole occupation

permitted to them, that of hewing of wood; are banished from society,

their dwellings placed at a distance from towns and villages, and are in

fact excommunicated beggars; forced, besides, in consequence of the

profession of Arianism, adopted by their Gothic ancestors, to wear on

their habits a mark of obloquy in the form of a goose's foot, which is

sewn on their clothes; exposed to insult and every species of severity;

condemned to the fear of having their feet pierced with hot irons, if

they appear bare-footed in towns, and pursued with the most bitter

rigour that bigotry and animosity can indulge in."

The words, _Stupides, Idiots, Crétins_, and _Cagots_ have been

considered synonymous; but this is an error: the last wretched class

being separated in their misery, and distinct from the rest. The

beautiful valleys of the Pyrenees are frightfully infested with the

disease of _goitre_, and few of them are free; but the Cagots merely

share the affliction, as has been said before (following the learned and

benevolent Palassou) with the rest of the inhabitants.

The notion which, at first sight, would seem better founded, is, that

the Cagots are descendants of those numerous _lepers_ who formed a

fearful community at one period, and were excluded from society to

prevent infection; but the more the subject is investigated the less

does this appear likely: though banished, from prudential motives, and

even held in abhorrence, from the belief that their malady was a

judgment of Heaven, those afflicted with leprosy, when healed, had the

power of returning to the communion of their fellows: they were not

excommunicated, nor placed beyond the mercy of the laws: they were

avoided, but not hated; and they had some hope for the future, which was

denied to the Cagots.

In the Basque country they are called _Agots_, and it is ascertained

that, though held in the same aversion as in Bigorre, Navarre, and

Béarn, they have no physical defects, nor any difference of manners or

appearance to the rest of the natives: they are there also vulgarly said

to descend from the Goths.

The popular notion of the shortness of the lobe of the ear, which is

supposed to be a characteristic of a Cagot, seems to be only worthy of

the laughter which accompanied its first announcement to me; yet it is

an old tradition, and has long obtained credence.

The learned Marca, who has treated this subject, remarks: "These

unfortunate beings are held as infected and leprous; and by an express

article in the _Coutumes de Béarn_ and the provinces adjacent, familiar

conversation with the rest of the people is severely interdicted to

them. So that, even in the churches, they have a door set apart by which

to enter, with a _bénitier_ and seats for them solely: they are obliged

to live in villages apart from other dwellings: they are usually

carpenters, and are permitted to use no arms or tools but those

expressly required in their trade: they are looked upon as infamous,

although they have, according to the ancient _Fors de Béarn_, a right to

be heard as witnesses; seven of them being required to make the

testimony of _one uninfected_ man."

Though previous to the time of Louis VI. called Le Gros, in 1108, the

Cagots were sold as slaves _with_ estates, it does not appear that their

fate, in this respect, was different from that of other serfs, who were

all transferred from one master to another, without reserve. A

denomination given to a Cagot, however, in the record of a deed of gift,

mentioned by Marca, gives rise to other conjectures, involving still

more interesting inquiries. It is there stated, that with a "_nasse_"

was given a _Chrétien_, named Auriot Donat; that is to say, the _house_

of a Cagot and himself with it.

In the cartulary of the _ci-devant_ Abbey of Luc, in the year 1000, and

in the _Fors de Béarn_, they are designated as _Chrestiàs_, and the term

_Cagot_, we are informed by Marca, was first employed in acts relative

to them in the year 1551. They are called _gaffos_ in an ancient _Fors_

of Navarre, in 1074; and the term _Chrestiàas_ even now is used to

denote the villages where the Cagots reside.

It appears that the Cagots of the present day are ordinarily denominated

_Agotacs_ and _Cascarotacs_, by the peasants of Béarn and the Basque

country: that of _Chrétiens_ seemed affixed to them formerly, but was

equally so to the lepers who were obliged to live isolated, and their

abodes were called _chrestianeries_.

As the serfs became emancipated, the Cagots, who had been slaves

peculiarly appropriated by the Church, and called by them, it seems,

_Chrestiàs_, were allowed similar privileges: added to which, from

having belonged to the ecclesiastics, and from not enjoying the rights

of citizens, they were exempt from taxes. In later times, this led to

innovations by these very Cagots, who, becoming rich, endeavoured to

usurp the prerogatives of nobility. The Etats of Béarn, issued a command

to the "_Cagot d'Oloron_,"--who appears to have been a powerful

person--to prevent him from building a _dovecote_, and to another to

forbid him the use of arms and the costume of a gentleman.

At the church of St. Croix at Oloron is still to be seen a _bénitier_,

set apart for the use of this race; and at the old fortified church of

Luz, was a little door, now closed up, by which they entered to perform

their devotions.

The prohibition to carry arms, which never extended to _lepers_, would

seem to indicate that the Cagots, always separately mentioned in all the

public acts, were persons who might be dangerous to public tranquillity.

And this, together with the appellation of _Christians_, may give colour

to another opinion, entertained by those who reject the idea of their

being descendants of those Goths who took refuge in the mountains after

the defeat of Alaric by Clovis.

The opinion to which I allude, and which is adopted by Palassou, is that

they come from those Saracens who fled from Charles Martel in the eighth

century, after the defeat of their chief, Abderraman, near Tours: these

Saracens are supposed to have sheltered themselves from pursuit in the

mountains, where, being prevented by the snows from going further, they

remained hemmed in, and by degrees established themselves here, and

conformed to Christianity; but does this account for the contempt and

hatred which they had to endure for so many centuries after? for no race

of people, once converted, were any longer held accursed in the country

where they lived. If, indeed, they remained pagan, this severity might

naturally have visited them; but the Cagots were certainly Christians

from early times, as the accommodations prepared for them in churches

proves.

There seems little doubt that the armies of Abderraman spread themselves

over the Pyrenees, where they long kept the French and Gascons in fear:

traditions of them still exist, and the name of a plain near the village

of Ossun, in Bigorre, called Lane-Mourine, seems to tell its own tale,

as well as the relics found in its earth of the skulls of men,

pronounced by competent judges to be those of the natives of a warm

climate: in other words, of Saracens, or Moors. But still there seems

nothing to prove that the Cagots are the children of these identical

Moors, who are said to have been infected with leprosy, and consequently

shunned by the people amongst whom they had intruded themselves.

Lepers, at all times, were ordered to be kept apart from the rest of the

people, and were placed under the care of the Church to prevent their

wandering and carrying infection with them; and the miserable condition

in which the proscribed race of Cagots existed, probably made them more

liable to take the hideous disease which would have separated them from

their kind, even if not already in that predicament: but there must have

been something more than mere disease which kept the line for ever drawn

between these poor wretches and the rest of the world.

It is expressly defined in the speeches of ministers from the altar to

those afflicted with leprosy:--"_As long as you are ill_ you shall not

enter into any house out of the prescribed bounds." This applied to

_all_ afflicted with leprosy; but the embargo was never taken off the

Cagot.

At one period, the priests made a difficulty of confessing those who

were Cagots, and Pope Leo X. was obliged to issue orders to all

ecclesiastics to administer the sacraments to them as well as to others

of the faithful.

They were during some time called _gezitains_, or descendants of Gehazi,

the servant of Elisha, leprous and accursed; but by what authority does

not appear. The leprosy was called the _Arab evil_, and supposed to have

been brought into Europe by the Saracens: the _suspicion_ of _infection_

which attached to this race might have caused them to be so shunned;

and, whether afflicted or not, they never got the better of this

suspicion.

The greatest number of Cagots are to be found in those parts of the

Pyrenees which lead directly to Spain, which may strengthen the

supposition that the Moors are really their ancestors. A sad falling off

to the glory and grandeur of this magnificent people is the notion that

all that remains of them should be a race of outcasts, loathsome and

abhorred! I cannot induce myself to adopt this idea till more proof is

offered to support it, and better reason given to account for the

contempt and hatred shown to a people, who, though once followers of

Mahomed had become _Chretiàas_.

Amongst other names given them are those of _gahets_ and _velus_, for

which there seems no explanation; but every new fact involves the

question in still deeper obscurity.

It was always enacted that _catechumens_, during the two or three years

of probation which they passed previous to being received as children of

the Church, should live apart from professed Christians, being neither

allowed to eat or frequent the baptized, or give them the kiss of peace:

and the Saracens of course were subjected to the same trials, from

whence might first have arisen the habit of their living apart, and

being looked upon with suspicion, both on account of their former faith

and their supposed leprosy. This is, however, I think, scarcely

sufficient to warrant the long continuance of the enmity which has

pursued them.

One of the acts of the parliament of Bordeaux shows with how much

harshness they were treated, and what pains were taken to keep them from

mixing with the people, long after the panic of leprosy must have

disappeared. In 1596 it was ordained that, "conformable to preceding

decrees, the _Cagots_ AND _gahets_ residing in the parishes and places

circumjacent, shall in future wear upon their vestments and on their

breasts a red mark, _in the form of a goose's or duck's foot_, in order

to be separated from the rest of the people; they are prohibited from

touching the viands which are sold in the markets, under the pain of

_being whipped_, except those which the sellers have delivered to them;

otherwise, they will be banished from the parish they inhabit: also, it

is forbidden to the said _cagots_ to touch the holy water in the

churches, which the other inhabitants take." The same decree was issued

to put in force ancient ordinances concerning them, in Soule, in the

year 1604.

Still further animosity was shown to these miserable people in 1606. The

three states of the said country of Soule, in a general assembly, passed

an order by which it was forbidden "to the Cagots, under pain of

whipping, to exercise the trade of a miller, or to touch the flour of

the common people; and not to mingle in the dances of the rest of the

people, under pain of corporal punishment."

Severe as these laws were, those against _lepers_ were still more

cautious: for whereas Cagots were allowed to enter the churches by a

private way, the lepers were not permitted to attend divine worship at

all; and had churches appropriated to them alone, which was never the

case with the Cagots, who were merely placed apart in the lowest seats.

Much the same arrangements were made respecting the _Cacous_ of

Brittany, who were allowed to occupy a distant part of the churches, but

not to approach the altar, or touch any of the vestments or vases, under

a fine of a hundred sous; but chapels, or _fréries_, were permitted them

at the gates of several towns--an indulgence apparently never permitted

to the _Cagots_.

Lobineau derives their name from Latin and Greek words signifying

"_malady_," a denomination which strengthens the opinion of those who

imagine the crusaders brought the leprosy back from Palestine on their

return from their pilgrimage.

That the Cagots were exempt from leprosy, appears from a circumstance

which took place in 1460, when "the States of Béarn demanded of Gaston

de Béarn, Prince of Navarre, that he would command the rule to be

enforced that the Cagots should not walk bare-footed in the streets, for

fear of communicating the leprosy, and that it should be permitted, in

case of their refusing to comply with the enactment, that their feet

should be pierced with a hot iron, and also that they should be obliged,

in order to distinguish them, to wear on their clothes the ancient mark

of a goose's foot, which they had long abandoned: _which proposition was

not attended to_, thereby proving that the council of the Prince did not

approve of the animosity of the States, and did not consider the Cagots

infected with leprosy."

The law was more severe in Brittany, about the same period; for, in

1477, the Duke François II., in order to prevent the _cacous_,

_caqueux_, _or caquins_, from being under the necessity of begging, and

mingling with persons in health, granted them permission to use, as

farmers, the produce of the land near their dwellings, under certain

restrictions; and at the same time insisted on their renewing the red

mark which they were condemned to wear. He also ordered that all

commerce should be interdicted to them except that of _hemp_, from

whence it comes that the trade of a cordwainer is considered vile in

some cantons of Bretagne, as those of swineherd and boatman were in

Egypt.

In some places in Brittany, the trade of cooper was looked upon with

contempt, and the opprobrious name of _caqueux_ was given to them

because they were thought to belong to a _race of Jews_ dispersed after

the ruin of Jerusalem, and who were considered _leprous from father to

son_.

It was _only as late as_ 1723, that the parliament of Bordeaux--which

had long shown such tyranny towards this unhappy class--issued an order

that opprobrious names should no longer be applied to them, and that

they should be admitted into the general and private assemblies of

communities, allowed to hold municipal charges, and be granted the

honours of the church. They were to be permitted in future to enter the

galleries of churches like any other person; their children received in

schools and colleges in all towns and villages, and christian

instruction withheld from them no more than from another. Yet, in spite

of this ordinance, hatred and prejudice followed this people still;

though, protected by the laws, they fell on them less heavily.

At Auch, a quarter was set apart for the _Cagots_, or _capots_, and

_another_ for _the lepers_. The _gakets_ of Guizeris, in the diocese of

Auch, had a door appropriated to them in the church, which the rest of

the inhabitants carefully avoided approaching.

"This prejudice," says Brugèles,[38] "lasted till the visit paid to the

church by M. Louis d'Aignan du Sendat, archdeacon of Magnoac, who, in

order to abolish this distinction, passed out of the church by the

_porte des Cagots_, followed by the _curé_, and all the ecclesiastics of

the parish, and those of his own _suite_; the people, seeing this,

followed also, and since that time the doors have been used

indifferently by all classes."

[Footnote 38: "Chroniques Eccl. du Dioc. D'Auch."]

Although my idea may be laughed at by the learned, it has occurred to

me, that this race might be the descendants of those Goths who were

driven from Spain by the Moors, introduced by Count Julian in

consequence of the conduct of Don Roderick.

There seems scarcely a good reason why the Goths under Alaric should

stop in the Pyrenees on their way to a safer retreat, when pursued by

the troops of Clovis, the Christian; Spain was open to them, and to

remain amongst the enemy's mountains seemed bad policy. Again, why

should Abdelrahman, after his defeat, when his discomfited people fled

before the _hammer_ of the great Charles, have paused in the Pyrenees?

Spain was their's, and surely the remnant would have sought their own

land, even if detained awhile by the snows, and not have remained a mark

of contempt and hatred in the country of their conquerors.

But when Roderick and his Goths fled from the Moors, after the fatal

battle of Guadalete, and they remained monarchs of Spain, there was no

safety for the ruined remnant but in close concealment; and the Pyrenees

offered a safe retreat. The Christians of France, however, would not

have received them as friends, and they could not return to their own

country; therefore, they might have sheltered themselves in the gorges,

and when they appeared have been looked upon with the same horror as the

Arians of the time of Alaric, or even have been confounded by the people

with those very Moors who drove them out of Spain.

The difficulty, which is the greatest by far, is to account for the

unceasing contempt which clung to them _after_ they became _Chrestiàas_.

An ingenious person of Pau, who has considered the subject in all its

bearings, has a theory that the Cagots are, after all, the _earliest

Christians_, persecuted by the Romans, compelled, in the first instance,

to take shelter in rocks and caves; and, even after the whole country

became converted to Christianity, retaining their bad name from habit,

and in consequence of their own ignorance, which had cast them back into

a benighted state, and made them appear different from their

better-instructed neighbours. Their name of _Christians_ appears to have

given rise to this notion.

I am looking forward very anxiously to a work of M. Francisque Michel,

on the subject, of the Cagots, which I hear is now in the press. His

unwearied enthusiasm and industry, and the enormous researches he has

made both in France and Spain, will, doubtless, enable him to throw some

valuable light on the curious question,[39] if not set it at rest for

ever.

[Footnote 39: M. Francisque Michel's announced work bears the following

title: "Recherches sur les Races maudites de la France et de l'Espagne.

(Cagots des Pyrénées. Capots du Languedoc. Gahets da la Guienne.

Colliberts du Bas Poitou. Caqueux de la Bretagne. Cacous du Mans.

Marrons de l'Auvergne. Chreetas de Mayorque. Vacqueros des Asturies.)"]

CHAPTER XV.

THE CAGOT--VALLÉE D'ASPE--SUPERSTITIONS--FORESTS--DESPOURRINS--THE

TWO GAVES--BEDOUS--HIGH-ROAD TO SARAGOSSA--CASCADE OF

LESCUN--URDOS--A PICTURE OF MURILLO--LA VACHE.

THE subject of the Cagots has occupied the attention of learned and

unlearned persons both formerly, and at the present time; and the

interest it excites is rather on the increase than otherwise; like the

mysterious question of the race and language of the Basques, it can

never fail to excite speculation and conjecture. A gentleman, who is a

professor at the college of Pau, has devoted much of his time to the

investigation of this curious secret, and has thrown his observations

together in the form of a romance, in a manner so pleasing, and so well

calculated to place the persons he wishes to describe immediately before

the mind's eye of his reader, that I think a few extracts from his story

of THE CAGOT, yet unpublished, will give the best idea of the state of

degradation and oppression in which the Cagots were forced to exist; and

exhibit in lively colours the tyranny and bigoted prejudice to which

they were victims. I avail myself, therefore, of the permission of M.

Badé, to introduce his _Cagot_ to the English reader.[40] The story thus

opens:

[Footnote 40: Most of the scenes of the story in the Vallée d'Aspe have

become familiar to me, and I can vouch for the truth of the

descriptions.]

THE CAGOT.

A BÉARNAIS TALE.

"ON a fine night in the month of June, 1386, a mounted party,

accompanied by archers and attendants on foot, were proceeding, at a

quiet pace, along the left bank of a rivulet called Lauronce, on the way

between Oloron and Aubertin. A fresh breeze had succeeded the burning

vapours which, in the scorching days of summer, sometimes transform the

valleys of Béarn into furnaces. Myriads of stars glittered, bright and

clear, like sparkles of silver, in the deep blue sky, and their

glimmering light rendered the thin veil still more transparent which the

twilight of the solstice had spread over the face of the country; while

through this shadowy haze might be seen, from point to point, on the

hills, the ruddy flame of half-extinguished fires.

"From time to time, those who composed the cavalcade paused as it

reached higher ground, in order to contemplate the magnificent spectacle

before them and the effect produced by the doubtful and fleeting shadows

which rested on the fields, on the dark woods, and on the broken and

uncertain line in the southern horizon which indicated the summits of

the Pyrenees. The air was full of the perfume of newly-cut hay; the

leaves sent forth a trembling murmur; the cricket uttered his sharp

chirrup in the meadows; the quail's short, flute-like cry was heard, and

all in nature harmonized with the beauty of the summer night."

The party, who are travelling at this hour in order to avoid the heats

of the day, are then introduced by the narrator as the Baron de Lescun

and his niece, Marie, an orphan confided to his care: they are on their

way to the Court of Gaston Phoebus, Count of Foix, at Orthez, who is

about to give a series of _fêtes_ and tournaments: they have been

joined by a lady and her son--the Dame d'Artiguelouve (a name of old

standing in Béarn, and still existing,)--and the young _domenger_, (the

Bérnais title of _Damoiseau_,) Odon, escorted by their pages and valets.

Conversation ensues between them, in which the young lady expresses some

doubts as to their prudence in choosing so witching an hour, however

beautiful the time, for their journey; when it is known that evil

spirits and sorcerers are abroad on their foul errands.

They presently arrive on the territory of Faget, when they are startled

to observe, as if flitting near them, human forms, which glide

noiselessly along, like shades in the darkness. Some of these mysterious

beings placed themselves in a stooping position on the margin of the

streams, with their faces bent close to the water. Others, divesting

themselves of their garments, entered, with hurried and noiseless stops,

a neighbouring field of oats, and there concealed themselves. Some of

the strangers were astonished at what they saw, and could not resolve in

their own minds whether or not these were, indeed, phantoms that

appeared in their path.

"'Midnight must be near, and the _fête_ of St. Jean is about to begin,'

said the Sire de Lescun; 'for these are the poor people who are on the

watch for the unattainable moment, when, it is thought, the water

changes into wine, and has the power of healing all their infirmities:

the dew of this night, received on the body in the fields, is also said

to be endowed with the same marvellous virtue.'"

A confused noise now met their ears as they entered the forest of

Lorincq, and a singular spectacle was presented to them:

"The forest, all resplendent with illuminations, seemed full of bustle

and animation. Numerous torches sparkled amongst the trees to which they

were suspended or attached; others were borne along, whirled from place

to place, their black smoke sending its long wreaths into the air, and

their red flame flashing through the gloom. A thousand voices burst

forth, as if simultaneously, from height and valley, above, around, and

underneath; an immense crowd hurried along--some mounting, some

descending--amongst the crackling branches, until the intricate alleys

and close retreats of this labyrinth of verdure were filled with human

beings.

"The lame and wounded, the infirm and paralytic grouped themselves

around the fountains, to be ready at the right moment to plunge their

afflicted limbs in the cold waters, and then to cast in their offering

of a piece of money: some, providing for the future, busied themselves

in filling, from the beneficent source, their vases and pitchers to

overflowing; for it was firmly believed, that, in memory of the holy

baptism administered by the patron of the _fête_, Heaven had endowed the

waters with peculiar powers during that favoured night; allowing the

virtue to take effect from midnight to the rising of the sun.

"In the humid fern might be seen cattle sent to graze at will, in the

hope of being cured of some malady, their tinkling bells indicating

where they wandered. Parties of old men, women, and children, dispersed

here and there, were eating cakes prepared for the occasion; while young

men and girls danced in circles beneath the ash and elm trees, to the

sound of the _flute of three notes_, accompanied by the nasal cadence of

the lute of six strings.

"After halting for a considerable time, and taking their part in the

religious advantages of the _fête_, the cavalcade resumed its route; and

soon descended into the valley of the Bayse, as the sky began to be

tinged with the hue of dawn. When they arrived at the hospital of

Aubertin, the first rays of the sun were casting a golden light on the

Roman transepts of the church."

At the moment that the Dame d'Artiguelouve and her son are alighting

from their horses, they are arrested, and impressed with a superstitious

feeling of terror, by observing a fine white courser at the door of the

church, held by a page. This was, at the period, a bad omen for the

stranger who first saw it, and boded no good to any one.

"'I would not', said Joan Bordenabe--a peasant standing by,--'for the

castle of Artiguelouve, have met with so bad an omen, as the Ena[41]

Garsende and her noble son, who have come at once, face to face, with

that animal, covered, as it would seem by his colour, with the snows of

the Pyrenees: by our Lady of Sarrance, their future years will be as

black as he is white!'

"'But,' replied his companion, 'if I were the knight to whom the charger

belongs, I would part with him instantly, even if, at the same time as I

drowned him, I must throw into the Gave my sword and golden spurs: don't

you see that spiteful-looking magpie, which has just started up before

him, after having chattered in his very face? What awful signs of evil

are these! and on such a morning, at the rising of the sun! * * * May

the _bon Dieu_, the Holy Virgin, and the white fairies of the

subterranean caves, who are always combing their hair at the first

glimpse of dawn, and looking into the clear mirror of the fountains,

protect that beautiful young lady, who is at this moment entering the

church. It is to be hoped she has made an ample provision of fennel to

lay under her bed's head, and in her oratory, to counteract the evil

influence of the _Brouches_!'"[42]

[Footnote 41: En and Ena are titles of Béarnaise nobility, answering to

the Spanish Don and Doña.]

[Footnote 42: Witches or Sorcerers of Béarn.]

While the young lady, Marie de Lignac, enters the church to perform her

devotions, the rest of the party leave her, to join the chase of the

wild boar, which the Lord of Artiguelouve, the father of Odon, is

following, as his horns announce, in the adjacent forest.

The Hospital of Aubertin, which still exists, is a building of the

twelfth century, and was one of many establishments depending on the

order of monks hospitalers of Sainte Christine: it served as an asylum

to the pilgrims of St. James, and as a resting-place to travellers going

and coming to and from Spain, Marie found the church filled with persons

of different professions: merchants from Arragon and Catalonia; pilgrims

adorned with palms and cockle-shells, emblems of their wandering;

shepherds in their red dresses and brown berret-caps; and wayfarers of

many sorts, waiting only for the morning to continue their journey in

various directions, and offering up their prayers previously to setting

out. Among others, she noticed particularly a young knight (un beau

caver[43]) devoutly kneeling at the foot of the altar of the Virgin,

while his archers and men-at-arms were engaged in prayer close behind

him: she judged that to him must belong the white charger at the

church-door, which had inspired the peasants with so much superstitious

terror. Nothing appeared to disturb the devotion of the knight; neither

the neighing of steeds without, nor the clatter of the hoofs of mules in

the court, as the different groups prepared to depart; nor the coming

and going of the merely curious, who were busied observing the beauty of

the edifice, the materials of which, according to popular belief, were

furnished by the Holy Virgin herself, who directed the elaborate and

beautiful ornaments of the pillars and cornices still to be seen there.

[Footnote 43: _Caver_. Chevalier, knight.]

The knight's costume was half civil, half military; of one sombre

colour, without blazon or distinction--a circumstance unusual at the

period: the expression of his face was grave and melancholy: he was

somewhat bronzed with the sun, otherwise his complexion was fair, and

his blue eyes were full of character and softness.

Even the appearance of the lady does not cause the knight to cease his

prayers, and she remains looking upon him, half-divided between her duty

and a sudden feeling of admiration and involuntary esteem for which she

is unable to account, except by considering him as an apparition sent

from heaven,--when a violent noise without, accompanied by the cries of

hunters and their horns, effectually put a stop to the religious

occupation of all within the church. All hurry out, and, amongst the

rest--her orisons over--is the young lady, attended by her page. She had

scarcely left the door, and was hastening to the neighbouring hostelry,

when she saw before her, at a very short distance, surrounded by a

furious pack of hounds, who, bleeding and wounded, were yet attacking

their enemy boldly, an enormous wild boar, evidently rendered savage by

his sufferings. The beast rushed along, his white tusks gleaming

fearfully, and his hot breath already reaching the terrified girl and

her feeble protector. Marie turned back, and darted towards the open

door of the church, and in another moment might have been out of the

reach of the infuriated animal; but a stone imprudently aimed at the

boar by a peasant from the wood, sent him, foaming, exactly in the

direction she had taken. She saw there was no escape--made a bound, and

fell senseless on the threshold of the church: the boar had just reached

the spot, and one stroke of his terrible tusk had sufficed to crush the

fragile being, who lay extended before him, when a young peasant, with a

swiftness almost supernatural, interposed between her and her fate; and,

with an axe with which he was armed, discharged so well-directed a blow

on the head of the brute, that he extended him dead at his feet.

Certainly, never had succour arrived at a time of more need; and it was

impossible to deny that the young man's intrepidity had saved the lady's

life: nevertheless, when the crowd collected around them, as Marie,

assisted by her terrified page, began to recover consciousness, and her

deliverer stood, his axe yet reeking with the blood of the animal from

whom he had saved her, and whose carcase lay recking, the skull cleft in

two,--it was with anything but applause or commendation that this act of

self-devotion was hailed by all present.

As they cast their eyes on the coarse and ragged garb of the young man,

those nearest observed on the breast a certain piece of red cloth, cut

in the form of _a goose's foot_: a cry of horror and contempt, mingled

with surprise, accompanied this discovery, and the words--"It is a

Cagot! it is a Cagot!" rang through the assembly, and was repeated by a

hundred voices in different intonations of horror. * * *

The object of this popular disgust was a tall, handsome,

powerfully-built youth, fair, and of fine complexion: he stood in an

easy attitude, in which the majesty of recent action was conspicuous:

his colour was heightened, and his bright eyes flashed with satisfaction

at the deed he had performed; but when he heard the rage of the people

rising, and the fatal and detested name of _Cagot_ sounded in his ears,

a far different feeling--the consciousness of his utter degradation,

which he had for a moment forgotten, returned to him with added force.

Suddenly recalled from his illusion, his head sunk mournfully on his

bosom, and he seemed at once to retire within himself, gathering all

the courage and patience of which he was capable to enable him to

endure the outrages and violence which he knew but too well awaited him.

"'Accursed Cagot![44]--down with the accursed Cagot!' repeated a host of

confused voices.

[Footnote 44: At the period at which this story is laid, the Cagots were

called _Chrestiaàs_, but the term _Cagot_, adopted later is more

generally known in Béarn.]

"'Death to the leprous wretch!--to the river with him!--drag him to the

river!--he has infected our fields--the holy dew is on him yet!'

"'He has laid his infected hands on our master's goods--he has dared to

touch the game!' cried one of the huntsmen, coming up.

"'Hound of ill omen!' thundered Odon d'Artiguelouve, dashing through all

the crowd, with his lady-mother and all his mounted attendants--'has he

dared to place his devilish claw on that which belongs to us?'

"'He has bewitched our woods, and blighted our harvests!' exclaimed a

peasant, giving him a blow, and spitting in his face.

"'To the flames with the sorcerer!--to the fire with the

broomstick-rider!--to the fire with the comrade of the infernal

spirits!' cried others; and one threw at him a half-burnt log of the St.

John's fire, which, striking him on the forehead, sent the unfortunate

Cagot reeling to the foot of a tree, against which he leaned for

support.

This, and much more insult was lumped upon the unfortunate young man,

accompanied by furious howlings and execrations, which became every

moment louder: hisses, laughter, and showers of mud and stones were sent

towards him as he stood, motionless and calm; his eyes half-closed;

without uttering a groan or a word; but, apparently, resolved to endure

without shrinking the undeserved fate which pursued him.

Every moment the crowd increased, and with it the fury of popular

hatred, until, at length, fatigued with the patience of their victim,

the people proposed at once to drag the Cagot to the river. He was,

therefore, seized, bound, and, in spite of his resistance and his

strength, they prepared to carry their threats into execution; at the

same time uttering those savage cries, known in the country as _les cris

Basques_, and imitating, in derision of the wretched creature they were

injuring, the sharp voice of the goose, and the nasal call of the duck.

The young Ena Marie, for whose sake her deliverer was thus suffering,

wept, entreated, and appealed to the senseless multitude in vain, and

implored the mercy of Odon and Dame Garsende, who treated her prayers

with indifference, and appeared to think the conduct of the mob

perfectly justifiable. But, at the moment when all hope seemed lost, the

interference of the young knight of the church prevented the execution

of the crime about to be perpetrated.

Followed by his archers and men-at-arms, he rushed forward, and

commanded that the prisoner should be released, in a tone and with

gestures so commanding, that the astonished crowd was, for a time,

arrested in their project, and a general silence ensued, presently

broken by a voice at a distance, which exclaimed--"Noble and generous

child! the blessing of Heaven be on thee!" All eyes were directed

towards the speaker--an old man with silver hair, clothed in a dark

mantle, with the hood drawn over his head: he stood on an elevated mound

above the scene of action, and on finding himself observed hurried away

from the spot.

Meantime, taking advantage of the awe his appearance had excited in the

public mind, the knight hastened to the poor Cagot, cut with his sword

the cords which bound him, and set him at liberty. Amazement was painted

on the victim's countenance, as he observed the relief which approached

him: to be the object of care to a noble knight--to be defended, treated

like a human creature was indeed a prodigy to him! The being, but an

instant before stupified and inert, from whom insult and injury had

drawn no cry nor tear, this evidence of humanity touched to the quick:

he cast a long look of tenderness and gratitude on his deliverer; and

large tears rolled down his bleeding cheeks. But the panic of the

instant soon passed away; hoarse murmurs arose, and threatening words,

and the tumult recommenced, Odon d'Artiguelouve advanced to the knight,

and demanded, in a haughty tone, by what right he interfered with the

execution of the laws.

"'I am not a stranger to this country,' replied he, calmly, 'though it

is some time since I quitted it; and I know its _fors_ and _customs_

probably as well as you can do, Messire.'

"'Then,' answered Odon, 'you should know that a Cagot is forbidden to

appear in an assembly of citizens, and that all commerce with them is

expressly denied him; that he has no right to touch any article intended

for their use; and yet you defend this wretch, who has defiled, by the

contact of his accursed hand, the game which belongs to a gentleman.'

"'It appears, then,' answered the knight, with bitter irony, 'that a

gentleman singularly loves his game, since he attaches more value to a

boar's head than to the life of a noble lady, which this poor Cagot

preserved at the risk of injuring one of these precious animals.'

"'Was it for high deeds of this nature,' interposed the Lady of

Artiguelouve, seeing that her son's countenance fell, 'that the knight

took his vows, when he received the honour of the accolade?'

"'I swore, madam,' answered the _caver_, 'to consecrate my arms to the

service of religion, and the defence of the widow, the orphan, and the

_unprotected_.'

"'And by what enchantment,' rejoined Dame Garsende, 'does your

knight-errantship behold in us giants or monsters?'

"'A loyal and christian knight ever sees a monster in oppression, madam.

No man can be punished before he is judged, and I see here neither jury,

court of knights, or _cour majour_.'

"'If that is all,' cried Odon, 'every formality shall be gone through.

Seize this miserable wretch, my friends, and drag him to the

justice-seat; we will follow.'"

An immediate movement was made to obey this order; but the knight again

interfered.

"'It is well,' said he; 'but if you have a right to take him before a

court, he has that of claiming sanctuary. From whence come you, friend?'

he added, turning to the Cagot.

"'From the Vallée d'Aspe, sir knight,' was the answer.

"'Then, it would suffice to reach the Pène d'Escot, at the entrance of

this valley, to be in an inviolable security, and we would, if it were

necessary, escort you as far; but closer still a refuge attends you; you

have only to reach the _circle of sanctuary_ which yon church of

Aubertin offers.'"[45]

[Footnote 45: By a charter of 1103, churches allowed an asylum within a

space of thirty paces in circumference. _Ecclesiæ salvitatem habeant

triginta passuum circumcirca.--Marca._]

* * * * *

A great struggle now ensues, the Béarnais resolving to oppose the

Cagot's entrance to the sanctuary, and the knight and his followers

maintaining his attempt. The young Marie of Lignac at length forces her

way through the crowd, and laying her hand on the Cagot, demands, by

virtue of the _fors et coutumes_, that he be given up to the protection

of a noble lady who claims her right to shelter the guilty.

This appeal was not to be treated with contempt; and the mob, perhaps

tired of the conflict, gave way with a sudden feeling of respect; while

Marie led the persecuted Cagot, surrounded by the knight's men-at-arms,

to the door of the church, where he entered, and was in safety.

* * * * *

The next scene of the story introduces the reader to the old knight of

Artiguelouve, and the interior of his castle,[46] where the late events

are recounted to him by his wife and son, with great bitterness; and

envy and offended pride excite the mother and son to resolutions of

vengeance, which the father, a man apparently soured with misfortune,

and saddened by some concealed sin, can only oppose by expressions of

contempt, which irritate the more.

[Footnote 46: The castle of Artiguelouve is still standing--a curious

monument of ancient grandeur; it is situated near Sauveterre.]

The demoiselle de Lignac, meantime, is arrived at the Castle of Orthez,

and received, as well as her uncle, with great honour by Gaston de Foix,

who proposes instituting his beautiful guest the queen of the

approaching tournament.

The unknown knight, having left the Cagot with the monks of Aubertin,

and acted the part of the good Samaritan by his charge, is next seen

pursuing his way southward; where, in the mountains, an interview takes

place between him and his father, who is, it seems, a proscribed man.

They meet after many years of absence, during which the young knight has

won all kinds of honour, having gone to the wars under the care and

adoption of a brave champion, Messire Augerot de Domezain; who, dying of

his wounds, had recommended his young friend to the King of Castile,

from whom he receives knighthood. He learns from his father that the

holy hermit, brother of Augerot, under whoso care he was brought up, is

dead; and he further learns, that the time is nearly come when the

secret of his father's misfortunes will be revealed to him. All that the

knight, in fact, knows about himself is, that a cloud hangs over the

noble family to which he belongs, and that his father is obliged to

conceal himself to escape persecution.

The father and son separate: the one retiring to his retreat in the

Vallée d'Aspe, the other journeying onwards to the court of Gaston

Phoebus.

He has arrived at Orthez, and has just reached the famous _Hôtel de la

Lune_, described by Froissart, when he falls into an ambush, and is

carried off by unknown enemies, and thrown into a dungeon in the ruins

of an abandoned castle, situated on a hill to the south of the Valley of

Geu, between Lagor and Sauvelade--a spot which may still be seen. Here

the unfortunate knight is left to lament and mourn, that all his hopes

of distinguishing himself in the tournament, and of again seeing the

beautiful Marie, are destroyed at once.

The _fêtes_ go on, and every thing at Orthez breathes of gaiety and

splendour; the people have their games; the Pyrrhic dances, called

_sauts Basques_, are in full force, performed by the Escualdunacs in

their parti-coloured dresses, and red sashes; the Béarnais execute their

spiral dances,[47] and sing their mountain-songs and ballads; some cast

great stones and iron bars, in which exercises is distinguished Ernauton

d'Espagne, the strong knight mentioned in Froissart as being able to

bring into the hall of Gaston an ass fully laden with fuel, and to throw

the whole on the hearth, to the great delight of all present. These

scenes give occasion to the author to introduce many of the proverbial

sayings of the people, which are curious and characteristic. Their

strictures on the dress and appearance of the knights and nobles, are

in keeping with the freedom of the habits of the day, when the

commonalty, however oppressed in some particulars, were allowed a

singular latitude of speech.

[Footnote 47: _i.e._ lifting their partners into the air.]

Amongst their homely sayings, occur the following:--

"Habillat ù bastou qu', aüra l'air d'ù baron."

Dress up a stick, and you can give it the air of a baron.

"Nout basquès mey gran hech que non pouchques lheba:"

Do not make a larger fagot than you can lift.

"Quabaü mey eslurras dap l'esclop que dap la lengue."

It is better to slide with _sabots_ than with the tongue.

"Yamey nou fondes maysou auprès d'aigue ni de seignou."

Never build a house near a torrent nor a great lord.

"Las sourciéros et lous loup-garous

Aus curés han minya capons."

Witches and loup-garoux make priests eat fat capons, _i.e. are to

their advantage_--an adage which would seem to infer that the

search for sorcery was known to be a _job_ in all ages.

The tournament goes on: and, to the great disappointment of the lady of

the lists, no stranger-knight appears; and her admirer, Odon, is the

victor over all others; when, just at the last moment, the trumpet of

the Unknown sounds, and he comes into the arena, and challenges the

envious knight, after defeating all the others, Dame Garsende has

recourse to a stratagem to overcome him, which fails in regard to him,

but overwhelms her son in confusion, and causes his defeat: she cuts the

cord of a canopy under which the knight has to pass, in the hope that it

will fall in his way, and encumber his advance; but he adroitly catches

it on the end of his spear, and Odon, in falling from his horse after

the knight's attack, gets entangled in the garlands and drapery, and

makes a very ridiculous figure. Of course the stranger-knight is made

happy in the chaplet placed on his brow by Marie, and the kiss of custom

by which the gift is accompanied. His rival retires, vowing vengeance.

A grand feast then takes place; and as the guests arrive they are

severally recognised by the people. The stranger-knight, whose device is

_a branch of vine clinging to an aged tree_, is hailed with acclamation,

and a tumult of enthusiasm, consequent on his successes and his

honourable reception by Gaston Phoebus; to whom, when questioned as to

his name and family, he replies that he is called Raymond, the adopted

son of Messire Augerot de Domezain. Gaston instantly recognises in him a

knight whose valorous deeds are on record, and who saved the life of

Marie de Lignac's father, at the battle of Aljubarotta.

Raymond produces a chain of gold, which the dying knight had charged him

to deliver to Gaston, to be sent to his daughter; and the tears and

thanks of the young lady are the reward of his accomplished mission.

The stranger-knight is now at the height of favour: adopted by Ernauton

d'Espagne as his brother-in-arms; welcomed by the gorgeous Gaston

Phoebus; hailed by the people; and, above all, loved by Marie. He is, of

course, exposed to the evil designs of Garsende and her son, from which

he twice escapes; but they are obliged to conceal their enmity, and he

is ignorant from whence he is attacked. During a grand banquet, a

minstrel, whose verses had warned him to avoid a poisoned cup, unable to

approach him near enough to deliver a billet, gives it in charge to one

of his favourite men-at-arms, who places it in the sheath of his sword

till he can transmit it to his master. This action is observed by

Garsende; who, afterwards, taking advantage of the soldier's fondness

for the fine vintage of Jurançon, contrives to get possession of the

letter, and excites the jealousy of Marie, who imagines it written by a

woman, deceived by the expressions, "My beloved Raymond," and the

signature of "The Being dearest to your Heart," and the mysterious

rendezvous appointed, all of which is, in fact, written by his exiled

father. This plot, however, fails, through the candour and devotion of

Marie; and the knight keeps the tryst which his father had appointed at

a ruined hermitage, formerly tenanted by the preceptor of Raymond, on a

lonely hill above the Vallée d'Aspe. Here they meet; and a scene of

tenderness on the part of the son, and mystery on that of the father,

ensues; in which the latter entreats yet a little time before he

discloses certain secrets of moment, concerning the young knight, whose

successes appear to produce a strange effect on his mind, almost

amounting to regret, for which the other cannot account. When they part,

he agrees that, when he has once seen him the husband of Marie,--who,

though aware of the mystery which envelopes him, has generously granted

him her hand,--and when he knows him to be _removed from all danger_, he

will no longer withhold the information he has to give.

They separate; but enemies have been on their track; and the father is

watched to his concealed retreat, while Raymond remains sleeping at the

foot of the altar, in the hermitage. The intention of Odon

d'Artiguelouve, who is on the spot, had been to murder him as he slept;

but the information brought him by his spies, who have watched the old

man, entirely changes his intentions. A more secure revenge is in his

power, and he returns to his castle with extraordinary satisfaction;

leaving the happy lover of Marie, and the successful victor of the

lists, to his dreams of future bliss.

The great day arrives on which Gaston de Foix has announced a solemn

festival, to be held in honour of the Knight of the Vine-branch, and

his affianced bride, Marie de Lignac. All the nobles of the country

assemble; and, amongst them, the old "grim baron," Loup Bergund

d'Artiguelouve, and his family. Minstrels sing, music sounds, and

honours and compliments pour upon the favoured knight; and even his

rivals, to judge by their joyous countenances, have only pleasure in

their hearts. The Prince of Béarn, and his brilliant court, enter their

decorated pavilion amidst the shouts of the assembled guests; the people

are admitted to view the jousts; and Raymond advances to the foot of the

throne, and receives a paternal embrace from the courteous Gaston

Phoebus. The signal is given for the amusements to begin, when a loud

voice is heard above the trumpets and the clash of instruments: the

herald-at-arms pauses; and Odon d'Artiguelouve, who had cried, "Hold!"

stands up in his seat, and thunders forth these ominous words:

"'Suspend the solemnities; for I behold here, on this spot, in presence

of our august assembly, one of those impure beings on whom the sun

shines with disgust,--who excite horror in heaven and on earth,--whose

breath poisons the air we breathe,--whose hand pollutes all it touches.

Hold! for, I tell you, there is a Cagot amongst us!'"

As he spoke, he pointed with a frantic gesture of malevolence towards an

aged man, wrapped in a large, dark, woollen cloak, who was vainly

endeavouring to conceal himself in the crowd.

A cry of horror and indignation burst from all sides: all shrunk back

from the profane object indicated; leaving a space around him. A deadly

paleness, the effect of amazement and consternation, passed over the

face of Raymond; for, in the person of the accused, he recognised--his

father!

Raymond almost instantly, however, recovers from the effect of this

terrific announcement; and springing forward, and placing himself before

the old man, cried out, in a loud and firm voice:

"'He who dares make such an assertion has lied!'