Twixt France and Spain Part 2

They are sweet and tender, Short and thick or slender.

Then, we know well your breath won't smell And sickness' pangs engender.

Men of Garlic, stop your scorning, Change your food and hear our warning, See the day of Progress dawning, Give three cheers-- Hurray!

Doubtless the fact of the verse being in English will militate against its efficiency, but before we had time to turn it into French, we had pa.s.sed to the right of the quaint old town of Nay, and were entering Coarraze (10 1/2 miles). As we bore off to the right across the river, the old castle--where Henry IV. spent a great part of his childhood like any peasant child--towered above us, and the scenery around became considerably more picturesque than any we had pa.s.sed through that morning. The banks of the river were more shapely, and the alternation of bushes and meadow, with the varying lights and shades on the distant peaks and the nearer slopes, would have seemed more than beautiful, if our wedged positions and the accompanying warmth had not somewhat evaporated our admiration. Though the heat remained, the sun had disappeared behind huge banks of clouds, as we at length entered Betharram (15 miles), so, instead of pulling up at the hotel, we drove on to the beautiful ivy-hung bridge, a great favourite with artists. This really belongs to the hamlet of Lestelle, which adjoins Betharram, and is so picturesque that the villagers ought to be proud of it; doubtless in the old days, when Notre Dame de Betharram's shrine was the cherished pilgrimage--now superseded by the attractions of N. D. de Lourdes--many thousand "holy" feet crossed and recrossed this ancient bridge!

In order to reach the hotel we had to ascend slightly to turn the vehicle, much to the consternation of one of the party, who, clasping the back rail with both hands and endeavouring to look brave, could not withhold a small scream which escaped from the folds of her veil.

The dining-room of the hotel smelt decidedly close, so we spread our sumptuous lunch on tables outside; but Jupiter Pluvius soon showed his disapproval of our plans, and forced us to go within, where a fine specimen of a French soldier had done his best to fill the place with smoke. However, we managed fairly well, in spite of some sour wine which we tried, under the name of "Jurancon vieux,"

for the "good of the house" and the "worse of ourselves." As the rain pa.s.sed off ere we had finished, we afterwards repaired to the "Via Crucis," where there is a small chapel at every turn till the "Calvary" is reached at the summit. The first chapel is beside the road, midway between the hotel and the bridge, and the view from the summit on a fine day is said to be very good; but when only half-way, the rain came down in such torrents that we were glad to return to the inn for shelter. For two hours the downpour lasted, but it cooled the air and rendered the return journey a little more supportable; and when we arrived at the house, we also arrived at the decision that never again to a picnic, as far as we were concerned, should thinness and rotundity go side by side!

There is no doubt that a landau is the most comfortable vehicle for a drive of any length, although some very comfortable little T- carts, with good ponies between the shafts, can be hired too. We often used the latter for drives to a.s.sat and over the suspension- bridge--so old and shaky--and home by Gelos and Jurancon; while at other times, taking the necessaries for afternoon tea, we drove as far as Nay, crossing the river to enter its ancient square--in which stand the Townhall and the Maison Carree, of historical fame --and then leaving the tanneries and houses behind, sought some quiet spot down by the water, for sketching and enjoying our tea.

Rides or drives on the coteaux (hills) in the vicinity are very pleasant, as the views from certain points are particularly fine.

Of these the most popular is to Perpignaa, two hours being sufficient for the drive there and back. It is a nice walk for an average pedestrian, and the road is easy to find. We generally started in the afternoon, pa.s.sing across the bridge and through Jurancon, and where the road forks, bearing along the Gan road to the right. Then, taking the first turning to the right, leading between fields, we reached an avenue of trees, with a village beyond. We then followed the road across the bridge to the left, and kept bearing in that direction till we reached the foot of the coteau, where there is only one route, and consequently no chance of taking any but the right one! We heard of a case of two young ladies going off in a donkey cart, intending to sketch the view above Perpignaa, who, when they reached the avenue, turned down to the right and wandered along the bank of the Gave as far as the donkey would go, and then sketched a church steeple in despair. But such a mistake is quite unnecessary; and they would doubtless have remedied theirs, if they had not found it obligatory at last to push behind in order to make the donkey move homewards. Although very hoa.r.s.e and tired when they arrived, they had voice enough left to say they "wouldn't go sketching in a donkey cart again!"

From the foot of the hill the road zigzags, making a fairly easy gradient to the summit, on which stands a house whose owner kindly allows visitors to walk about his grounds and partic.i.p.ate in the view. When riding, we followed the road that continues on the right for several miles, in order to prolong the pleasure produced by the exercise and the view.

Another pleasant ride is by way of the coteaux to Gan, and back by the road, or _vice versa_; but we always preferred the former, as the horses had the hill work while fresh, and then the level home.

In the first instance we found this track by accident. We had pa.s.sed through Jurancon, and at the spot where the road forks debated which to take, finally deciding on the left one, but this we only followed for a few yards, taking again the first turning to the right, which brought us over the railway line direct to the hills. Winding up through the trees, we pa.s.sed a tricyclist pushing his machine before him, who informed us that we were on the way to Gan. Of this, after we had ridden up and down, wound round hillsides and pa.s.sed through pleasant dingles, we were at length a.s.sured by descending into that village, from which we got safely home in spite of a "bolting" attempt on the part of one of the "fiery" steeds.

To thoroughly enjoy the longer drive to Pietat it is better to make a picnic of it. We started about ten one lovely morning, turning to the left beyond Jurancon, crossing the line to Oloron--on the main road--and later on, bearing more round in the same direction, and beginning to ascend. As on the hills to Gan, we were perpetually mounting only to descend a great part of the distance again, but ever and anon catching glimpses of the valley in which a.s.sat and Nay lay, and of Pau itself, besides the lovely snow hills stretching as far as eye could reach. When Pietat was arrived at, there was but little to interest us in what we saw there of a half- finished church and two cottages; but the view on all sides after we had walked along the gra.s.sy plateau was very lovely, especially as the lights and shades were everywhere so perfect. Having selected a cosy spot and spread the luncheon, we were besieged by children anxious to sell us flowers and apples, and to share whatever we would give them. They were hard to get rid of even with promises of something when we had finished, and when at last they did go, an elderly female took their place with most generous offers of unlocking the church for us. There was an old sweet-toned bell in front of the western door, and a half-finished sculpture of the "Descent from the Cross" over it. The interior of the edifice was sufficiently roofed for a portion to be utilised for prayer, and the high altar and two lateral ones were already erected.

After culling a quant.i.ty of the beautiful feather moss from the hedgerows, we re-entered the carriage, and descended the hill into the Gave valley, crossing the suspension-bridge by a.s.sat, and through the village into the main road, and home by Bizanos. It was the time of the carnival, and on the following day Bizanos--which has an evil repute for bad egg-throwing on festive occasions--was to be the scene of the mumming. Luckily they did not attempt to practise on us, though as we drove up through the town we met bands of gaily-dressed individuals parading the streets.

These bands consisted of about thirty, mostly men decked in a preponderance of red, white, and blue, and usually accompanied by a tableau arrangement on a cart. Every twenty yards they stopped, went through a series of antics, supposed to be country dances, to the tune of the cornet and a fiddle, and then brought round the hat, frequently embracing any woman who objected to give her sous.

A carnival such as this combines a holiday with money-making to the mummers, and as long as they can get money in this fashion, they certainly cannot be blamed for taking their amus.e.m.e.nt in such a highly practical manner.

There are several private coaches at Pau, which turn out in grand style on race days; and b.a.l.l.s, concerts, and kettledrums abound, with private theatricals occasionally. We attempted to get up "Poor Pillicoddy," but were very unlucky about it. Firstly, when in full rehearsal, our Mrs. O'Scuttle became unwell, and we had to look for another, and when we had found her and were getting into shape again, her nautical husband put the whole ship on the rocks and wrecked our hopes by losing his voice.

However, our departure was very nigh, and packing is an excellent cure for disappointment, though we were interrupted in that one morning with a request to write "something" in the visitors' book.

With the memories of our pleasant stay upon us, we do not think we can err in reproducing one contribution, which was styled

"IDYLLIC COLBERT."

(_With apologies to_ Mr. W. S. GILBERT.)

If you're anxious for to dwell in a very fine hotel By the mountain's wide expanse, You at once had best repair to that house so good though _chere_ Called the "Grand Hotel de France."

Or if for food your craze is, you still can give your praises To the _chef_ of its cuisine_.

Your taste you need not fetter, for 'tis said in Pau, no better Has ever yet been seen.

But this I have to say, you will not like your stay As much as if at Pension Colbert you the time had spent, And such a time, I'm very sure, you never would repent.

If I'm eloquent in praise of those most peculiar days Which now have pa.s.sed away, 'Tis to tell you, as a man, what awful risks I ran Lest my heart should chance to stray.

I never would pooh-pooh! 'tis cruel so to do, Though often weak and ill, For they my plaints would stop, with a juicy mutton-chop, Or a mild and savoury pill!

And this I have to say, you're bound to like your stay, And never in your life I'm very sure will you repent The time in Pension Colbert's walls and well-trimmed garden spent.

And if a tantalizing pa.s.sion of a gay lawn tennis fashion Should fire your love of sport, On the neat and well-kept lawn, a net that's _never_ torn Hangs quiv'ring o'er the court.

Or if your voice you'd raise in sweet or high-tun'd lays, You'll find a piano there, And _birdies_ too will sing, like mortals--that's a thing You'll never hear elsewhere-- And then you're bound to say that you have liked your stay, And never in your life I'm very sure will you repent The time in Pension Colbert's walls and well-trimm'd garden spent.

If for hunting you've a liking, you can don a costume striking, And proceed to chase the fox.

Or if you're fond of driving, _perhaps_ by some contriving You may mount a coach's box.

If picnics are your pleasure, you can go to them at leisure, And lunch on sumptuous fare, And though maybe, perforce, you'll get lamb without mint sauce.

They never starve you there.

And always you will say, that you've enjoyed your stay, And never in your life I'm very sure will you repent The time in Pension Colbert's walls and well-trimm'd garden spent.

As Mrs. and Miss Blunt and Mr. Sydney had definitely decided to spend the time at Biarritz while I stayed at Bigorre, I turned my attention to discovering if any other acquaintances were proceeding in the same direction as myself. In this I was successful, and in company with Mr. H---- and his two daughters, and Mrs. Willesden and Miss Leonards, bade "au revoir" to Pau, with the prospect of a long spell of beautiful scenery if the clerk of the weather could only be controlled, by longings and hopes.

CHAPTER II.

BAGNeRES DE BIGORRE.

Backward Spring--Hotel Beau Sejour--Effect of the war of '70 on the English Colony--The "Coustous"--The Church of St. Vincent-- Geruzet's Marble Works--Donkeys--Up the Monne--Bains de Sante-- Bains de Grand Pre--Salut Avenue and Baths--"Ai-ue, Ai-ue"-- Luncheon--Daffodils--The Summit and the View--The "Castle-Mouly"-- The Tapere--Mde. Cottin--Mont Bedat--Gentians--The Croix de Manse-- "The Lady's Farewell to her Asinine Steed"--Market-day--The Old Iron and Shoe Dealers--Sunday--A Cat Fight--The English Church--To the Col d'Aspin--"The Abbe's Song"--Baudean--Campan, its People and Church--Wayside Chapels--Ste. Marie--The route to Gripp, &c.-- Payole--The Pine Forest--The Col d'Aspin--The View from the Monne Rouge--"The Plaint of the Weather-beaten Pine"--The Menu at Payole --Hurrah for the Milk!--Departures--Divine Music--Aste--Gabrielle d'Estrelle--The Ivied Ruins--The Church--Pitton de Tournefort-- Gerde--The Pigeon Traps--The Cattle Market--The Jacobin Tower-- Theatre--Grand Etabliss.e.m.e.nt des Thermes--Hospice Civil--Eglise des Carmes--Mount Olivet--Madame Cheval, her Cakes and Tea--Bigorre in Tears.

We had a bright day for our journey to Bigorre, and the country looked pretty, though very backward for April, but this was owing to the late frosts, which had been felt everywhere. Bigorre itself was no exception, and instead of all the charms of spring ready to welcome us, the leaves were only just taking courage to unfurl. Our first impressions were consequently anything but favourable, though our comfortable quarters in the Hotel Beau Sejour compensated us to a certain degree. To the French and Spaniards, Bigorre is only a summer resort, but as it is considered to possess a very mild climate, many English reside there all the year round. In fact, before the war of 1870 there was quite an English colony there, but the chance of a Prussian advance dispersed it, and many were the hardships endured by some of those who had stayed to the last moment, in their endeavours to reach the coast.

Our first two days were more or less wet, and by reports of heavy snowstorms around us, we were unanimously of opinion that we had come too early. However, with a little sun the place soon began to look more cheerful, and a few days' fine weather wrought quite a change.

The hotel looks down on the Place Lafayette and the commencement of the avenue known as the "Coustous." This name puzzled us! We tried to find its derivation in French, without success, and Greek and German were no better. Latin seemed to solve the difficulty with the word "Custos," since it is said that the ancient guardians of the town formerly marched up and down beneath these fine old trees; so we decided to hunt no further but to translate "Coustous" into the "Guards' Walk." Having settled that knotty point, we took a stroll in the avenue, and later, paid a visit to the parish church of St. Vincent which is close by. It is particularly chaste inside, some portions dating from the 14th century, but the 15th and 16th have each had a share in the construction. Some of the altars are made of fine Pyrenean marble, and the Empress Eugenie is said to have given the wooden image of the Virgin on the pedestal.

As the various marbles obtained in the vicinity are exceedingly interesting, and in many cases very beautiful, a very pleasant half-hour can be spent at one of the many marble works which the town possesses. Fired with this idea ourselves, one gloomy day after lunch we sallied from the hotel, down the road to the left of the church, through the public gardens, and--attracted by the marble pillar--down the lane to the right of it, which at length brought us to the works of Monsieur Geruzet. The huge blocks of the rough stone were first inspected, then we saw the various processes of cutting, ornamenting and polishing, and finally were ushered into the showroom, where all kinds of articles from a sleeve-stud to a sideboard were on sale. The cigar-trays and letterweights were most reasonable, but it is not necessary to buy at all--and gratuities are not supposed to be permitted.

There were some fine turn-outs in the donkey line which deserve notice, the peculiarity of these animals here being, to go where they are wanted, and even to trot about it. Looking out of the window one morning, we were immediately attracted by the tiniest of donkeys galloping across the "place" with two big men behind it; and later on in the day, a neat specimen of the same tribe pa.s.sed down the "Coustous," dragging a small dogcart, almost completely filled by the form of a French female, two or three times as large as her donkey.

But like other things, the "genus asininus" is very variable, almost as much so as the barometer, and those "on hire" for riding purposes were quite as obstinate as their relations in other countries; at least so the ladies declared who tried them, and they ought to know. Their bitter experience was gained in a trip up the Monne, the highest mountain in the immediate vicinity, being 2308 feet above Bigorre, or 4128 above the sea. Our party was seven in all, supplemented by a broken-winded and coughing horse (called Towser; French, _Tousseux_), two very obstinate donkeys, and a particularly polite donkey boy. Add to these, three luncheon- baskets and various sticks, umbrellas, and parasols, and the cavalcade is complete. We left the hotel and pa.s.sed up the Coustous in rather mixed order, which improved as we turned into the Rue d'Alsace, and leaving the Great Bathing Establishment [Footnote: Grand Etabliss.e.m.e.nt de Thermes.] and French Protestant Church on the right, and the Baths of Sante and Grand Pre on the left, entered the "Salut" avenue, which in due time brought us to the baths of the same name. The ascent, which by the road is most circuitous and easy, commences from thence. But though easy, the donkeys did not attempt to conceal their dislike for the work at a very early stage, and when the blasting in the quarries was hushed, "the voice of the charmer" (i.e. donkey boy) might have been heard, painfully resembling the sounds made by the traveller with his head over the vessel's side, urging them on, "Ai-ue--Ai-ue." As we rounded the last of the minor peaks, "the keen demands of appet.i.te"

were not to be resisted; so on a nice green plateau, with the object of our desires in full view, we discussed the luncheon.

Shawls were spread, plates handed round, bottles gurglingly uncorked, and chicken and "pate de foie gras" distributed until everyone was steadily at work. The mountain air seemed to affect the "vin ordinaire"; everyone averred it was as good as "Margaux,"

while the chicken was voted delicious, and the pate superb.

This important business over, a start was again made, and though the donkeys were still obstinate, we managed to make progress.

Daffodils were growing in profusion as we neared the summit, making the hill crest seem crowned with gold. At last, after one or two nasty narrow bits of path, barely affording sufficient footing for the animals, we gained the top, anxious to enjoy the view.

Unhappily, the tips of the highest peaks were hidden in the clouds, but the general view was excellent, so we endeavoured to be content. With our backs to Bigorre, we had the Pic du Midi (9440 ft.) and the Montaigu (7681 ft.) right before us, with the small Val de Serris and the finer Val de Lesponne beneath. More to the left, the continuation of the Campan Valley leading to Luchon, in which, as far as Ste. Marie, the route is visible. On the extreme left lay the four villages of Gerde, Aste, Baudean and Campan, with the Pene de l'Heris (5226 ft.) and the Ordincede rearing above them. Looking in the direction of Bigorre, we could see on our right the trees fringing the hills above Gerde, and known as the Palomieres; and slightly to the left Lourdes and its lake, with the entrance to the Argeles valley further round in the same direction and close to the wooded hill known as the Castel Mouly (3742 ft.).

The Tapere (a small stream) flows from this last-named hill into a narrow glen, on the left side of which Madame Cottin wrote the "Exiles of Siberia." The hill above, known as "Mont Bedat," and surmounted with a statue of the Virgin, is a favourite walk from the town, the ascent for a moderate walker taking about forty-five minutes.

After twenty minutes to enjoy this panorama we began the descent on the Castel-Mouly side, and were very soon forced to make short and sometimes slippery cuts, to avoid the banks of snow lying in the path. We easily managed to strike the proper path again, however, and soon found ourselves at our "luncheon plateau." We now bore along to the left, finding several large gentians, and gradually, by dint of short cuts, we reached the Croix de Manse--a plateau where four roads meet. Taking the one leading from the Bedat, we were soon deposited at the hotel in safety.

The ladies were inexpressibly glad to give up their donkeys, and Miss Leonards considered her experiences so bitter as to wish them to be handed down to posterity under the t.i.tle of

"THE LADY'S FAREWELL TO HER ASININE STEED."

My donkey steed! my donkey steed! that standest slyly by, With thy ill-combed mane and patchy neck--thy brown and cunning eye, I will not mount the Monne's height, or tread the gentle mead Upon thy back again: oh slow and wretched donkey steed!

The sun may rise, the sun may set, but ne'er again on thee, Will I repeat the sorry ride from which at length I'm free; I'd sooner walk ten thousand times, though walking would be vain, Than ever mount, my donkey steed, upon thy back again.

Perchance in _nightmare's_ fitful dreams thou'lt amble into sight, Perchance once more thy cunning eye will turn on me its light.

Again I'll raise my parasol--_in vain_--to make thee speed, A parasol is nought to thee, my wretched donkey steed.