Twixt France and Spain Part 10

Arriving again at the hotel, the chatter of the women over some new arrivals was as deafening as ever. Our good guide Poc considered it was not to be borne any longer, so having counted the women and their a.s.ses, he cleared a s.p.a.ce in preparation for a mock sale at which they were all to be put up, and having got us in front as make-believe purchasers, proceeded with the business, which we called

"THE GUIDE'S AUCTION."

This way, sirs, this way! Will you please to walk up?

The auction I'm ready to start: I'm instructed to sell all these valuable lots, And the bidding I hope will be smart.

You see by the catalogue, forty clear lots-- Thirty women; ten a.s.ses; some small.

To proceed then, we'll take them, sirs, just as they are, Say forty fine donkeys in all.

They've plenty of sinew, and as to their voice, I think about that you well know.

The first lot then, gents; shall we say fifteen francs?

Well then, ten; but that's rather too low.

In our country for ladies we've heaps of respect, But we've fully enough and to spare; And we know that "two women a market will make, And that three are enough for a fair."[1]

Now then, gents, please be sharp! No advance? No advance?

The candle[2] burns fast to the end.

Ten francs for this wonderful native--ten francs!

Why, surely, that's nothing to spend!

No bidding? Good gracious! Why what shall I do To oblige you? I'll cla.s.s them as one: Now what do you say for the whole forty lots?

Make a bid, sirs, I want to have done.

Fifty francs for the lot; see the candle's nigh out: Fifty francs, take them all as they rise.

What! No one will buy them? Alas! I must say You're all most uncommonly wise.

They clamour and chatter the whole of the day, I believe they snore loudly at night; Oh, if only a Barnum would take them away, You don't know how I'd dance with delight!

[Footnote 1: His exact words were, "Dans mon pays, monsieur, nous disons qu'il faut trois femmes pour faire une foire, et deux pour un marche."]

[Footnote 2: Alluding to the custom in France of burning bits of candle to denote the time in which the bidding may proceed; usually when the third piece goes out the bidding for the special lot is finished, and the next is proceeded with.]

This last verse was very easy to understand, as the women are always anxious to obtain occupation for a lesser remuneration[1] than the qualified guides, who naturally dislike this interference between them and their earnings, although no bad feeling really exists on the matter.

[Footnote 1: There is a good tale told, _a propos_ of this, of a gentleman in San Francisco who wanted some wood chopped. An American offered to do it for a dollar, but a Chinaman asked only half. The gentleman, thinking it best to help his own countryman, gave the Yankee the job; but happening to pa.s.s the yard during the day, he found the Chinaman busily at work. "Hullo!" cried he, "I didn't give the job to you. Who told you to cut this wood?" "Melican man" (American man), responded the pigtailer. "And how much is he paying you?" "Hap dollar,"

replied the Celestial. And the swell went away resolved never to help his countryman again.]

After an enjoyable kettledrum, the tea being our own and made under personal supervision, Miss Blunt perched herself on a hillock to sketch, and Mr. Sydney explored the neighbourhood for flowers, of which gentians were the princ.i.p.al object of his search. Both having in a certain degree attained their ends, we started again at half-past four, and after a pleasant drive, which lasted two hours instead of three--the time occupied in coming--we reached our quarters in the best of tempers and not with the worst of appet.i.tes.

CHAPTER IX.

FROM LUZ AND ST. SAUVEUR TO BAGNeRES DE LUCHON.

A smiling valley--Lourdes again--The chapel in the crypt--St. Peter's statue--Burnished toes--Solemn quietude--Preparing for the great pilgrimage--"Ornamented" crosses--Mr. Sydney's new vocation, "guide, philosopher, and friend"--Bigorre again--An open-air concert --Harmonious echoes--Paying through the nose--The fete at Payole--Sport a la francaise--Costumes--The view from the Col d'Aspin-- Arreau--Quaint houses--La Chapelle de St. Exupere--A whining "gardien"--Eglise de Notre Dame--The River Neste--Hotel de France--Borderes--Avajan--Louderville--Oxslips and cowslips--Wild narcissus--Col de Peyresourde--The view--Garin--Cazaux--St.

Aventin--Lovely avenues--Our destination.

With a morning as lovely as the day of our arrival had been dreary, we left at 9.15 for Bagneres de Bigorre, the first part of our long drive.

The valley, more fully clothed than it was a week ago, looked so fresh in the warm sunlight, with the river winding along, that we felt very loath to leave. The gorge below, all the way to Pierrefitte, added its share of beauty, and the graceful white heath growing up its sides loaded the air with a sweet scent. The wide expanse of the Argeles valley, with the busy farmers ploughing, sowing, or cutting the heavy clover crop; the lazy oxen ever patiently plodding beneath their heavy burdens; the Chateau de Beaucens--where the orchids grow--perched up on the hillside; the surrounding peaks throwing off their snowy garb; and the beautiful young leaves and tints, everywhere mingling with the brightness of the flowers blooming on the slopes or amid the waving gra.s.ses, made a scene as picturesque as it was charming.

Compared with the scenery so far, the remainder of the drive to Lourdes, which we reached in three hours from the time of starting, though full of many pleasant corners in which the river heightened the effect, was nevertheless not so fine; but Lourdes itself looked more attractive than on our former visit. After lunch, while the horses were resting, we drove in a local milord [Footnote: A kind of victoria.] to the church, as we had omitted before to visit the chapel built in the crypt underneath. In the entrance is the fine bronze statue of St Peter clasping the key, similar to the one in Rome both in size and in the highly-burnished appearance of the toes of the right foot, for which latter the affectionate pilgrims are answerable. On either side of the statue a corridor lined with marble tablets--presented by "grateful"

individuals in acknowledgment of cures and cleansings--and dotted with confessional boxes, leads down to the chapel. The repulsive gaudiness of the tinsel display in the church above it is almost absent here, and though the same exaltation of the Virgin over our Saviour is manifest, yet otherwise this chapel, with its vaulted roof and its quietude, seems far more fitted for meditation and prayer.

Taking the easy gradient at the west end of the church, between the gra.s.sy slopes planted with lilacs and other shrubs and trees, we arrived at the grotto. A huge platform was in course of erection, for the great pilgrimage expected from England in about a week, and the noise of the workmen combined with the spa.r.s.e gathering of "worshippers" detracted greatly from the former pitiable solemnity of the scene, though the stand of candles was flaring with light, and the crutches, in their horrid rows, were still there.

We left Lourdes again at three o'clock, the sun still very warm, as the lazy att.i.tudes of the peasants working in the fields attested; and, pa.s.sing several crosses at the roadside--"ornamented" with pincers, hammer, nails, and sword, with a bantam c.o.c.k on the top--reached the base of the col (600 feet high) which separates the respective basins of the Adour and the Echez. Half-way up the hill we discovered Mr.

Sydney, who had walked on ahead, very busy with a team of oxen, towards which, having encountered them without a driver, he had taken upon himself to act as "guide, philosopher, and friend"; and by dint of great application of his umbrella, open and shut, in the last-mentioned capacity, he brought them to, and kept them at, a standstill by the side of the road till the carriage pa.s.sed.

From the top of the hill we enjoyed an extensive view, the Pic du Midi de Bigorre standing out wonderfully clear. Descending again, we joined the Tarbes road crowded with market carts, and leaving the village of Montgaillard on the left, duly arrived at Bagneres de Bigorre, where we were received with open arms by Monsieur and Madame Bourdette.

The morrow being Sunday, was spent in resting, the magnificent weather still continuing. The trees on the Coustous and the different hills around were at length well covered with foliage, and gave a prettier appearance to the town, which the ever-flowing streams by the roadsides greatly added to. In the evening the Orpheon (or local Choral Society) gave an open-air concert from the roof of one of the Coustous cafes. A tremendous crowd of some 2000 persons had gathered under the trees to listen, and kept perfectly still while the songs proceeded.

The solos were not particularly wonderful, but the beautiful blending of the voices in the Pyrenean part-songs was a very great treat, and the sounds, floating deliciously away on the soft evening air, could be heard like some whispering echo for a long distance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ]

We had some difficulty in arranging for a carriage, on the following day, for Luchon, as a great number had been engaged for the fete at Payole, and for those not yet taken high prices--considering the time of year--were asked. Not wishing, however, to lose a day, we settled for a landau and three horses to do the journey in two days--for 110 francs, including _pourboire_--stopping the night at Arreau. The day broke, like its predecessors, perfectly fine, and at 10.30 we made our adieus to Bigorre, and were on our way.

The scenery all the way to Payole was more charming than when we drove there [Footnote: See pages 40-44.] previously, and on our arrival at the Hotel de la Poste there was a considerable difference visible there. The courtyard was filled with carriages, and a busy throng buzzed about the doors, while the windows were occupied by a variety of forms. Having with great difficulty secured utensils, we unearthed the lunch, and proceeded with our meal at a side-table. The partic.i.p.ators in the fete, who were all men, occupied the centre table, and others were at the side. The noise they made was not appetising, and though they mixed wines considerably, their jokes did not improve; yet the scene was a very typical one of "Frenchmen out for a holiday." After our repast, we adjourned to see the fete, and a wonderful treat it was!

Tame rabbits and fowls, fastened to a stake driven into the hillside, some 90 to 100 yards from the road, were the targets, at which a perpetual round of shots soon commenced. Double-barrelled guns loaded with ball were the usual weapons; one or two single-barrelled pieces and a rifle or two being occasionally seen.

The marksmen seemed peculiarly poor ones, from the country lad, or the genuine 'Arry, with huge check clothes, to the moustached "masher,"

with tight trousers and rounded jacket. About one "poulet" in fifty shots succ.u.mbed, and a white rabbit's dismissal was received with loud acclamations.

At 2.30, exactly two hours after our arrival, we were off again, and soon entered the pine forest. It looked very bonny in the bright sunlight, while the view from the Col d'Aspin was singularly felicitous. Not a cloud anywhere. The mighty Posets, the Pic d'Arbizon, and the other snow-crowned heights, softened by distance and beautified by the tints in the foreground, stood out against the azure sky in all their splendour.

The Aure valley, as we descended, and the tiny hamlet of Aspin, looked very peaceful and lovely; in fact, the whole of the extensive scene--considered one of the finest to be enjoyed by driving in the Pyrenees--seemed to spread out its charms before us.

Winding down the splendid road, Arreau was soon in view, and at 4.30 we drove under the portico of the Hotel de France, somewhat dusty, but wholly pleased. With some time to spare before dinner, we set out to explore this wonderfully quaint, and--though dirty--strikingly picturesque old town. A road leads from the courtyard of the hotel straight to the very ancient-looking market-place and the river, at which point the latter is crossed by a very old wooden bridge.

Traversing this, and pa.s.sing several curious houses with verandahs reaching over the street, we found ourselves at the ancient Chapelle de St. Exupere, built during the 9th and 10th centuries, but now restored.

The windows are of fine stained gla.s.s, and the view from the belfry tower, over the peculiar old town--with its curious turrets and roofs, whose best days have long pa.s.sed--is worth the somewhat arduous mount to get to it. The peasant girl who stands inside the door, and in a sing-song voice that never varies mixes up saints, fathers, towns, corn, potatoes, bells, and "quelque chose pour le gardien," in her rigmarole, was the least attractive adjunct of the venerable pile!

Down a little alley, across the river, directly opposite the church, Miss Blunt discovered a suitable spot for a sketch, [Footnote: Unhappily this sketch was afterwards lost, so cannot be reproduced] and on the production of materials and a chair from a neighbouring grocer's she set to work, and in spite of the nearness--we might say the "too odoriferous nearness "--of a dust-heap, a drain, and a swarm of midges, she gallantly pursued her task till it reached a highly satisfactory termination.

Leaving the "ambrosial spot" (Jupiter save us!) we followed the road leading past the old market-place at right angles to the wooden bridge, and reached the church of Notre Dame. Though more modern than the "Chapelle," it is at least three centuries old, having been built on the ruins of the one originally erected in the 12th century. The wooden reredos behind the altar, and other wooden carvings, seemed especially good, but the cure, jingling a bunch of keys, preceded by an abbe, seemed anxious to see us depart; so we prematurely left. Strolling back through the town, and over the stone bridge that spans the Neste, we walked for a short distance on the other side, and then past the post-office and the Hotel du Midi, to our own quarters for dinner. The Hotel de France, as it is called, is the best in Arreau, but is nevertheless not much more than a fairly large country inn. The rooms are very clean, and the food good, but the arrangements are somewhat primitive; yet for all this we were very well satisfied on the whole, though the necessity of starting at nine o'clock next morning prevented us indulging in rhapsodies.

When we left the courtyard and pa.s.sed through the back part of the town by the old church, the sky was still of the same lovely hue, though unhappily there was hardly a breath of wind. Notwithstanding that Arreau is charmingly placed, and that the trees were fairly forward there, we soon found at a very slight increase of alt.i.tude that this was not to last; in fact, almost at once after pa.s.sing Borderes (2-1/4 miles)--an old village with a castle of Jean V., a change was apparent. Two miles further brought us to the insignificant hamlet of Avajan, and another three of continual ascent to the outskirts of Louderville (3280 ft.), with its old watch-tower (14th cent.) and cool cascade. Here we had a fine view of the valley below, and pa.s.sed fields covered with oxslips, cowslips, and other flowers; while lower down, meadow after meadow was whitened by the lovely wild narcissus.

Following at a very easy pace the long zigzags (two hours and a half from Arreau), we reached the highest point of the road at the Port or Col de Peyresourde [Footnote: 35 miles from Bigorre, n. from Arreau.]

(5070 ft), whence the view, though much more limited than that from the Col d'Aspin, extends over the valleys of Louron and Arboust, and many snow-peaks as well.

As we descended the splendid winding road at a rattling pace, with the slipper on the wheel, we quickly left barren trees and slopes behind, and even at Garin, that curious village built among the rocks, the silver birches were opening their leaves. Pa.s.sing in turn the villages of Cazaux, with its 12th century church, and St. Aventin, with its double-towered church of a similar date, also, we sped under most splendid avenues of sycamore, elm, lime, and ash, past dashing streams and bright flower-clothed slopes--always descending--till we entered Luchon: Luchon surrounded by magnificent hills, Luchon guarded by the distant but ever-majestic snow summits, Luchon bathed in the scent of lilac and other sweets, Luchon cooled and beautified by avenues and squares of bright trees, and by gardens filled with the loveliest of shrubs and flowers. Such was the Luchon presented to us as we drove through the splendid streets and reached our hotel.