Bearn And The Pyrenees Part 43

and if it grows with its beautiful head inclined towards a cottage, woe to the inhabitant; he has but a brief s.p.a.ce of existence left him! Let every one beware of insulting the fountains; for if a stone or any rubbish is thrown into their waters, the person doing so will perish by thunder!

At the entrance of the Vallee d'Aspe, on the Spanish side, is St.

Christine, where formerly stood one of those _hopitaux des ports_, erected by benevolence for the safety of pilgrims and travellers. This was called, in a bull of Innocent III., _one of the three hospitals of the world_; but it has been long since destroyed.

The forests of Itseaux, Gabas, Benou, and Irati, were formerly the most considerable in this part of the Pyrenees: that of St. Engrace is still very extensive. About a century ago the forest of Itseaux was so thick, and so little known in its vast extent, that more than one person was lost in its depths. A singular circ.u.mstance occurred at that period, which may give an idea of the perfection of its solitude. A young girl of about sixteen or seventeen was found there in a savage state: she had been a denizen of the shades from the age of seven or eight. All that was known of her was, that she had been left by some other little girls in the woods, having been surprised by the snow. The shepherds who found her conducted her to the hospital of Mauleon: she never spoke, nor gave any sign of recollecting the past; they gave her gra.s.s and vegetables to eat, but she continued to droop, and in a very short time died of grief for the loss of her liberty.

About twenty years after this a wild man was observed in the same forest: he was very tall, and strongly built, hairy like a bear, active as an izard, and perfectly harmless. His delight was in coursing the sheep and dispersing them, uttering loud peals of laughter at the confusion he created. Sometimes the shepherds sent their dogs after him, but he never suffered them to come up with him. Nothing was known or traced respecting his history, and he appears to have finished his wild career in the forest: probably he was some child left by accident or design in that savage solitude; where, like Orson, some bear nursed him, but who never found a Valentine to restore him to humanity.

Itseaux still presents an immense extent of wood: it covers one side of the mountains of Lescun, fills the valley of Baretous, and joins the great forest of St. Engrace, to the entrance of the Vallee de Soule. It is the largest of the Pyrenean forests.

There is scarcely a valley in the Pyrenees to which some celebrity is not attached. Amongst others, the Vallee d'Aspe resounds with the fame of the pastoral poet, Despourrins: and Ariosto has celebrated that of Gavarnie, where, in the _Tours de Marbore_, he places the abode of some of his heroes.

"Charlemagne, Agramont, tous leurs fameux heros; Les Zerbin, les Roger, les Roland, les Renaud: De ces Palais du Temps habitent les ruines.

Tout parle d'Arioste en ce fameux vallon Et comme aux champs Troyens, chaque roche a son nom."

Cyprien Despourrins, though he wrote as one of the people, and _for_ them, was not a man of obscure birth; his family was originally of a race of shepherds; but one of his ancestors having made his fortune in Spain, returned a great man to his native valley, the beautiful Vallee d'Aspe, and there bought the Abbey of Juzan, and became a proprietor, with many privileges. The father of the poet inherited his estates, and distinguished himself in the career of arms, being cited for his bravery, the character of which bears the impress of the times in which he lived, namely, the end of the seventeenth century. Numerous anecdotes are told of him: amongst others, that he had had a dispute with three foreign gentlemen; and in order to get the quarrel off his hands at once, he challenged them all three at the same time, and came off victorious in the combat. To perpetuate the memory of his victory, he obtained from the King permission to have engraved, over the princ.i.p.al entrance of his house, _three swords_, which may still be seen on the stone of the old building shown as his residence. After this notable exploit, Pierre Despourrins visited the _Eaux de Cauteretz_, where, in the neighbourhood of Argelez he formed an acquaintance with the family of Miramont, and an attachment to the fair Gabrielle, daughter of that house; through his marriage with whom, he afterwards became possessor of the chateau of Miramont, near St. Savin, destined to become famous by means of his son, the famous poet Cyprien. The chateau is still to be seen, and is a great lion in the neighbourhood.

There are constant disputes between the people of Bigorre and Bearn, as to which has the greater right to claim the poet as their own, for he belonged to both; but as he chose the musical _patois_ of the latter in which to sing his pastorals, it appears but just that the Bearnese should have the preference. He was born at Accous, in 1698: his two brothers, Joseph and Pierre, became, one the vicar, the other the curate of the village, and _he_ was called, _par excellence_, the _chevalier_.

There is a curious story told, ill.u.s.trative of the simple manners of these mountaineer-priests. The two brothers were very musical: one played the flute, the other the violin; and every Sunday their talents were exerted for the benefit of their parishioners. All the young people of the place were accustomed to meet in the court-yard of their house; and, seated at a cas.e.m.e.nt, the reverend pair played to their dancing. As soon as the bell sounded for vespers, the ball was suspended, and all the docile flock accompanied the good pastors to church.

The chevalier had inherited his father's warlike qualities, and was, it seems, always ready with his sword. He was at the _Eaux Bonnes_ when he received an affront from a stranger, which--as Sir Lucius O'Trigger has it,--"his honour could not brook." Unluckily, he had not his sword with him, and the affair must be decided at once; he therefore sent his servant to Accous to fetch it, recommending him great prompt.i.tude and address in inventing some story to prevent his father from guessing his errand. The servant used his utmost despatch, and thought he had managed very cleverly to avert suspicion: the old knight, however, was too clear-sighted in such matters; and, having divined the state of the case, mounted his mule instantly, and secretly followed the messenger.

He traversed the mountains of Escot and Benou, and, braving all their difficulties, arrived at the Eaux Bonnes. On asking for his son, he was informed that he was closeted with a stranger: he repaired thither, and, pausing at the door, heard the clashing of swords. Satisfied that all was as he surmised, the imperturbable old knight remained quietly at his post, awaiting the issue of the combat. At length the noise of arms ceased; young Despourrins came out precipitately, and found his father on the watch, who, embracing him tenderly, exclaimed--"Your servant's hasty departure prevented my setting out with him; but I followed closely, guessing that you had an affair of honour on your hands; and, in case you should fall, I brought my sword with me, which has never yet failed at need." "I am your son," replied the Chevalier; "my adversary is grievously wounded; let us hasten to afford him a.s.sistance."

After Despourrins, the son, was established near St. Savin, and the estates of the Vallee d'Aspe were abandoned by his father for his new domain, he seems to have given himself up to the charms of poetry and music, living the life of a shepherd, and familiarizing himself with the habits, customs, manners and pleasures of that simple race, until he spoke with their words, and thought with their thoughts. Whoever has visited the beautiful Valley of Argelez, and wandered amongst the wilds in the neighbourhood of the once famous abbey of St. Savin, can well understand the poet's delight in such a retreat, and will not wonder when he is told that Despourrins often pa.s.sed whole nights in the woods, singing his verses, like one transformed to a nightingale. Even now the songs he sung are remembered and cherished; and though the _pastous_ of his native mountains probably know nothing of the poet, his lays are constantly on their tongues. One of the most famous is a romance, called "La Haut sus las Mountagnes," which I give entire, with a translation in prose and verse, in order to show the nature of this Troubadour language, which differs from the Gascon dialect, in being softer and less guttural; in fact, resembling rather more the Italian than Spanish language:--

La haut sus las Mountagnes, u Pastou malhurous Segut au pe d'u Hau, negat de plous, Sounyabe au cambiamen de sas amous.

"Co leuye, co boulatye!" dise l'infourtunat, "La tendresse et l'amou qui t'ey pourtat Soun aco lous rebuts qu'ey meritat?

"Despuch que tu frequentes la yen de counditiou Qu'as pres u ta haut bol, que ma maysou, N'ey prou haute enta tu d'u cabirou.

"Tas ouilles d'ab las mies, nous degnen plus meacla; Touns superbes moutous, despuch enca, Nou s'approchen deus mes, qu'entaus tuma

"De richesses me pa.s.si, d'aunous, de qualitat: You nou soy qu'u Pastou; mes noun n'y a nad Que nous surpa.s.si touts, en amistat,

"Encouere que ay praube, dens moun pet.i.t estat, Qu'ami mey moun Berret tout espelat, Que nou pas lou plus bet Chapeu bourdat.

"Las richesses deu mounde nou ben queda turmen; Et lou plus bet Seignou, dab soun aryen, Nou bau pas lou Pastou qui biu counten.

"Adiu, co de tygresse, Pastoure chens amou, Cambia, be pots carabia de serbidou: Yamey noun trouberas u tau coum you!"

TRANSLATION.

High up, amongst the mountains, an unfortunate shepherd was seated at the foot of a beech, drowned in tears, musing on the changes of his love.

"Oh light, oh fickle heart!" said the unhappy youth; "for the tenderness and the affection which I have borne towards you, is this wretchedness a fitting reward?

"Since you have frequented the society of persons of condition, your flight has been so high that my humble cottage is too low for you by at least a stage.

"Your flocks no longer deign to mix with mine; your haughty rams, since that period, never approach mine but a battle ensues.

"I am without wealth or dignity; I am but a simple shepherd but there is none that can surpa.s.s me in affection.

"And methinks, according to my simple ideas, that I prefer my _berret_, old and worn as it is, to the finest ornamented hat that could be given me.

"The riches of the world only bring uneasiness with them, and the finest lord with all his possessions cannot compare to the shepherd who lives content.

"Adieu, tigress-heart! Shepherdess without affection; change, change, if you will, your adorers, never will you find any so true as I have been."

I here give a metrical version of the same song:

DESPOURRINS.

"La Haut sas las Mountagnes."

ABOVE, upon the mountains, A shepherd, full of thought, Beneath a beech sat musing On changes time had wrought: He told to ev'ry echo The story of his care, And made the rocks acquainted With love and its despair.

"Oh! light of heart," he murmur'd, "Oh! fickle and unkind!

Is this the cold return My tenderness should find?

Is this a fit reward For tenderness like mine?-- Since thou hast sought a sphere Where rank and riches shine,

"Thou canst not cast a thought Upon my lowly cot; And all our former vows Are in thy pride forgot.

For thee to enter in, My roof is far too low, Thy very flocks disdain With mine to wander now.

"Alas! I have no wealth, No birth, no n.o.ble name, A simple shepherd youth Without a hope or claim; But none of all the train That now thy favours share Can bear, as I have borne, Or with my love compare.

"I'd rather keep my habits, Tho' humble and untaught, Than learn the ways of courts, With dang'rous falsehood fraught; I'd rather wear my bonnet, Tho' rustic, wild, and worn, Than flaunt in stately plumes Of courtiers highly born.

"The riches of the world Bring only care and pain, And n.o.bles great and grand With many a rich domain, Can scarcely half the pleasures, With all their art, secure, That wait upon the shepherd Who lives content and poor.

"Adieu, thou savage heart!

Thou fair one without love: I break the chain that bound us, And thou art free to rove.

But know, when in thy vanity, Thou wanderest alone, No heart like mine will ever Adore as I have done."

The royal circle of Neuilly has been enlivened sometimes by the sound of the Bearnese minstrelsy; and, on one occasion, listened to a band of mountaineers from Luchon, who undertook, a few years since, a journey through Europe, singing their choruses in all the princ.i.p.al cities. On hearing the above song of Despourrins, the King exclaimed, with his usual ready kindness,--"Your songs alone would be sufficient to make one love your country."

Several celebrated singers, favourites in the Italian world, were natives of Bearn: one of these, Garat, surnamed "the musical Proteus,"

was born at Ustaritz. Nothing appeared impossible to this prodigious singer: his voice was splendid and his taste exquisite: his only defect was an inordinate vanity--by no means an uncommon fault in artists of this description. A person on one occasion, thinking to embarra.s.s him, inquired how high in the scale he could go; "I can mount as high as it pleases me to go," was his reply. He used frequently to surprise the Parisians by the introduction of Basque and Bearnese airs, whose peculiarity and originality never failed to cause the most lively admiration and enthusiasm; but he did not announce them as mountain songs till he had secured the praise he sought for them, having pa.s.sed them for Italian productions. A similar _ruse_ was practised by Mehul, when he brought out his "Irato," which the public was given to imagine was composed by an Italian _maestro_. Its success was very great, and Geoffrey, the editor of a popular paper, in noticing the opera, exclaimed,--"O, if Mehul could compose as well as this, we might be satisfied with him." When the triumphant composer threw off his incognito, the unlucky critic was not a little mortified. The celebrated singer Jelyotte was from Bearn, and Louis the Fifteenth used to delight in hearing him sing his native melodies: in particular one beginning, "De cap a tu soy Marion," one of Despourrins' most spirited pastorals:--

"I am your own, my Marion, You charm me with each gentle art; Even from the first my love was won, Your pretty ways so pleased my heart; If you will not, or if you will, I am compell'd to love you still.

"No joy was ever like my joy, When I behold those smiling eyes, Those graceful airs so soft and coy, For which my heart with fondness dies: And when I seek the charm in vain, I dream the pleasure o'er again.

"Alas! I have no palace gay, My cottage is but small and plain; No gold, nor marble, nor display, No courtly friends nor glitt'ring train; But honest hearts and words of cheer Are there, and store of love sincere.

"Why should we not be quite as blest, Without the wealth the great may own?