On these antique towers, it is said the thunder never fell but once--_that once_ was on the 14th of May, 1610, at the very moment when the steel of Ravaillac found the heart of Henry of Navarre. The event is thus recorded:--

"A fearful storm burst over the town of Pau on this day; a thunderbolt fell, and defaced the royal arms over the castle-gateway; and a fine bull, which was called _the King_, from its stately appearance, the chief of a herd called _the royal herd_, terrified by the noise and clamour, precipitated itself over the walls into the ditch of the castle, and was killed. The people, hurrying to the spot, called out The _King_ is dead! The news of the fatal event in Paris reached Pau soon after, and they found their loss indeed irreparable."

The shades of Henry and Sully are said sometimes _to walk_ along the ramparts even now; and it was formerly believed that near the great reservoir, into which it was said Queen Jeanne used to have her Catholic prisoners thrown, numerous ghosts of injured men might be seen flitting to and fro. One evening I was returning, later than usual, from the promenade in the park, and had paused so often on my way to observe the effect of the purple and rosy-tinted mountains glowing with the last rays of sunset, that it was in quite a dim light that I reached the spot beneath which the ivied head of the old, ruined, red Tour de la Monnaie shows the rents of its _machicoulis_. A double row of young trees is planted here, at the foot of the artificial mound which supports the castle walls, and at the end of the alley is the reservoir, with the square tower of Gaston Phoebus above it. I was startled by a sudden apparition, so vivid that it seemed impossible to mistake its form, pa.s.sing by the reservoir, as if after descending the steep which leads to it. I _seemed to see_ a grey, transparent figure in armour, the head covered with a helmet, with a pointed frontlet, such as I had seen in an old gallery, filled with rusty coats of arms, at the Chateau of Villebon, near Chartres, where Sully had lived for five-and-twenty years, and where he died. The figure was slight, and moved slowly, waving its head gently: it was in good proportion, but at least eight feet high. I stopped astonished, for the vision was so very plain--and then it was gone. I continued my way, and again I saw it, and it appeared as if several others, less tall, but still in armour, were by its side, by no means so distinct. I paused again, it was growing darker and darker, and I then could distinguish nothing but a row of slender trees, whose delicate leaves were shivering in the evening breeze, and whose stems waved to and fro. I went home--through the chill damp castle court, and across the bridge to the dismal street--impressed with an agreeable, though somewhat tremulous conviction, that I must have seen some of the ghosts which haunt the walks of the old castle.

I expected to hear that the memory of Queen Jeanne was venerated on this spot; but was surprised to find that she holds a place in tradition little more honourable than that occupied by our b.l.o.o.d.y Queen Mary; for there is scarcely any atrocity in history of which she is not the heroine: whatever might have been her fame with her Protestant subjects, those who succeeded them seemed carefully to have treasured the remembrance of all the cruelties executed by her orders, which, it must be acknowledged, were little in accordance with the religion of peace she professed to have adopted. Her son, whose faith was of so changeable a character that it suited all parties, is the pride and boast of the country; but the object of love appears to be the amiable Princess Catherine, his sister, for whom her mother built, in a secluded spot in the royal park, a residence, called _Castel Beziat_, the last stones of which have now disappeared, as well as the _gardens_ originally planted by Gaston XI., in 1460, and said, in the time of Henri II. and Marguerite, _to be the finest in Europe_. It is difficult now to imagine where they were; but they are said to have been on the south side, and probably extended along that part now occupied by the Ba.s.se Plante and the baths of Henri Quatre, as far as the present entrance of the park.

Catherine was more sought in marriage, perhaps, than any princess of her time; but her only attachment--which was an unfortunate one--was to the Count de Soissons, who, being her brother's enemy, avowed or concealed, was an unfit match for her, and the alliance was opposed by all her friends. She seemed to possess the accomplishments of her grandmother and mother, and was very popular in Bearn, which she governed, during Henry the Fourth's absence, with great justice and judgment; the Bearnais, however, greatly offended her by their violent opposition to her marriage with the person she had chosen; and she left the Castle of Pau in anger, and never returned. She was forced into a marriage with the Duke de Bar, and her people saw her no more.

There is a romantic story told of an act of the princess's, which shows her kind character, and amiable feeling. There was formerly in the gardens of Castel (or Castet) Beziat, (the _Castle of the beloved,_) a fountain, afterwards called _Des cents Ecus_, which had its name from the following circ.u.mstances:

The Princess Catherine of Navarre was one day walking in a musing mood, probably thinking of the many difficulties which opposed her union with him she loved, and almost wishing that her stars had made her one of the careless peasant-girls who tended her flocks in the green meadows beside the murmuring Gave; for happiness was denied her, as she said in after times, when married to a man who was indifferent to her, "Qu'elle n'avait pas son _compte_," mournfully playing on her disappointment.

Suddenly she heard voices, and, peeping through the thick foliage, she perceived two young girls seated by the side of the fountain. One was drowned in tears, and the other was leaning over her, with tender words and caresses, endeavouring to console her sorrows. "Alas!" said the fair distressed, "I can see no end to my sorrow, for poverty is the cause; you know, my parents have nothing but what they gain by labour, and though _his_ friends are richer, their avarice is extreme; and they say their son's bride must have a dower of a hundred crowns. Ah! my dear friend, what hope then have I! I have heard that there are fairies who have the power to a.s.sist true love; if I knew where they were to be found I would consult them, for never was love truer than ours, or more unfortunate."

Her friend did not attempt to combat her affection, but encouraged her with soothing words to have patience, and hope for the best. "Let us meet again here," said she, "every day, and devise some plan; perhaps Heaven will hear our prayers, and take compa.s.sion on your sorrow.

To-morrow, at this hour, let us meet." "We will so," said the weeping girl, "for if I have no other consolation,--you, at least, give me that of talking of him."

The friends departed, leaving the listening princess full of interest and curiosity: she was resolved to surprise and befriend the lovers whose case was so touching. "There is, then, equal sorrow in a lowly state," she mused, "and love seems always doomed to tears; however, there are some obstacles which fortune permits to be removed--would that I could look forward to relief, as I am resolved these shall!"

The next day saw the two friends again seated on the borders of the fountain; but scarcely had they taken their accustomed place, when they observed, lying on a stone close by, a little bag which seemed to contain something heavy; they opened it, and found a paper, on which these words were written: "Behold what has been sent you by a _fairy_."

The delight of this discovery may be imagined, and the pleasure of the princess, by whose command, a few days afterwards, the union of the lovers was accomplished.

It appears that the Castle of Pau was originally built in 1360, or about that time, by the famous prince, Gaston Phoebus, of Foix, who called himself, when addressing the Princess of Wales, "_a poor knight who builds towns and castles._" The great hero of Froissart is even more identified with Pau and its neighbourhood than Henry the Fourth himself, who, though he was born here, lived more at Coarraze and Nerac than in this castle of his ancestors; for he was even nursed in the village of Billieres near, where his nurse's house is still shown.

Catherine de Medicis, and her beautiful and dangerous _troupe_ of ladies, on the famous progress she made to Bayonne, visited the Castle of Pau, with a deep interest; she there succeeded in detaching the affections of the weak father of Henry from his n.o.ble-minded wife, and in laying the foundation of that tragedy which her dauntless and vindictive spirit had conceived. The ma.s.sacre of St. Bartholomew may be said to have begun on the day that those fatal visitors crossed the drawbridge of the Castle of Pau. Her daughter, Marguerite, the victim of her schemes--an unwilling actor in the drama--suffered much sorrow and privation within these walls, after her marriage with a prince who never could surmount the distaste which circ.u.mstances of such peculiar horror as attended their union had given him; and the once cheerful place--the scene of splendour for centuries--lost its glory and its happy character after the beloved family of Queen Jeanne had deserted its towers.

Everything connected with the birth of Henry IV. is in general well-known, and has been so frequently repeated, that it is almost unnecessary to relate any circ.u.mstances attending that anxiously looked-for event,--cordially hailed by his grandfather, Henry. The account, however, given by Favyn is so characteristic that it cannot but be read with interest _a-propos_ of the chateau where it occurred:

"The Princess of Navarre, being near her term, took leave of her husband, and set out from Compeign the 15th of November. She crossed all France to the Pyrenees, and directed her steps to Pau, where her father, the King of Navarre, then was. She arrived in the town after eighteen days' journey. King Henry had made his will, which the princess was very anxious to see; because it had been represented to her that it was to her disadvantage, and in favour of _a lady who governed_ her father. For this cause, though she had tried every means to get a sight of it, it was a thing impossible; the more so, as, on her arrival, she had found the king ill, and dared not speak to him on the subject. But the coming of his _good girl_, as he called her, so delighted him that it set him on his legs again. The princess was endowed with a fine natural judgment, fostered by the reading of good books, to which she was much addicted; her humour was so lively that it was impossible to be dull where she was; one of the most learned and eloquent princesses of her time, she followed the steps of Marguerite, her mother, and was mistress of all the elegant accomplishments of the age. The king, who was aware of her wish respecting the will, told her she should have it when she had shown him her child; and, taking from his cabinet a great box, shut with a lock, the key of which he wore round his neck by a chain of gold, which encompa.s.sed it five-and-twenty or thirty times, he opened the box, and showed her the will. But he only showed it at a little distance; and then locked it up again, saying, 'This box and its contents shall be yours; but, in order that you may not produce me a crying girl or a puny creature, I promise to give you all on condition that, while the infant is being born, you sing a Gascon or Bearnais song; and I will be by.' He had lodged his daughter in a room in the second story of his castle of Pau; and his chamber was immediately beneath: he had given her, to guard her, one of his old _valets de chambre_, Cotin, whom he commanded never to stir from the princess night nor day, to serve her in her chamber, and to come and tell him the instant she was taken ill, and to wake him if he was in ever so deep a sleep. Ten days after the princess's arrival at Pau, between twelve and one o'clock at night, the day of St. Lucie, 13th of December, 1553, the king was called by Cotin, and hurried to her chamber: she heard him coming, and began immediately singing the canticle, which the Bearnais women repeat when lying in:

"Noustre Dame deou cap deou poun, Adjoudat me a d'aqueste h.o.r.e,"

for at the end of every bridge in Gascony is an oratory, dedicated to the Virgin, called, _Our Lady at the end of the bridge_; and that over the Gave, which pa.s.ses into Bearn from Jurancon, was famous for its miracles in favour of lying-in women. The King of Navarre went on with the canticle; and had no sooner finished it than the prince was born who now reigns over France. Then the good king, filled with great joy, put the chain of gold round the neck of the princess, and gave her the box containing the will, saying, 'This is your property, and this is mine;'

at the same time taking the infant, which he wrapped in a piece of his robe, and carried away to his chamber. The little prince came into the world without crying, and the first nourishment he had was from the hand of his grandfather; for, having taken a clove of garlic, he rubbed his little lips with it; then, in his golden cup, he presented him wine; _at the smell of which, the child having lifted up his head_, he put a drop in his mouth, which he swallowed very well. At which the good king, full of joy, exclaimed, before all the ladies and gentlemen in the room, 'You will be a true Bearnais!' kissing him as he spoke."

Every time I pa.s.s through the court-yard of this dilapidated building, I feel that it can never revive from its ruin; the desolation is too complete; the defacement too entire. What interest can exist in restorations to effect which so much must be cleared and sc.r.a.ped away that scarcely a trace of what was original can remain? How restore those medallions on the outer walls, which the taste of the first Fair Marguerite, and her Henry, placed in rows at one extremity of the court?

how restore those beautifully-carved door-ways, and cornices, and sculptured windows, elaborate to the very roof? or renew the _facade_ next the mountains without effacing that singular line of _machicoulis_ which divides the stages. How replace the terrace--once existing, but long gone--without destroying venerable morsels of antiquity, precious in their ugliness! and how render the whole place sightly without clearing away the rubbish of the old _Tour_ _de la Monnaie_, now built in with shabby tenements? Yet this will probably be done. Considering the state of the town, and the many improvements requisite in it, it would seem more judicious, perhaps, to effect, these, and to abandon the idea of _restoring_ the castle. To repave the court, and clear away dirt, might be done with little time and cost; and the old fabric would not suffer by this act. At present the most neglected part is the entrance; and it is sufficiently unsightly. However, I ought to congratulate myself that I did not see it _when it was worse_--as I am constantly told when I complain of the wretched state of the streets.

It is said that part of the royal family are even yet expected to pay a visit to Pau, in the course of next spring, to be present at the inauguration of a new statue of the Great Henry, lately arrived, which is to be erected in the Place Royale.[30]

[Footnote 30: Since this was written, the visit has been paid, and the ceremony gone through.]

CHAPTER IV.

TROUBADOUR.

NAVARRE has not produced many poets in early times; and the only troubadour whom it claims, is the famous lover of Blanche of Castile, the accomplished Thibault of Champagne, who rather belongs to Provins, where he lived so much, and sang so many of his beautiful lays, than to the Pyrenees. All critics, ancient and modern, from Dante to the Abbe Ma.s.sieu, have agreed in admiring his compositions, in which grace, tenderness, and refinement, shine out in every line, enc.u.mbered though his language be with its antique costume. His mother was Blanche, daughter of Sancho the Wise, King of Navarre; his birth took place in 1201, a few months after the death of his father; and it was with difficulty the persecuted widow could retain her government of Champagne and Brie. In 1234, he was called to the throne of Navarre, by the death of his maternal uncle, Sancho le Fort. Soon after this, he left for the Holy Land; therefore, what time he spent in Navarre, does not appear. On his return from _Romanie_, he died at Pampluna, in 1253, and was buried at his beloved Provins, that city of nightingales and roses.

His songs are very numerous, and have much originality. The following will serve as specimens:

CHANSON.

"Je n'ose chanter trop tart, ne trop souvent."

"I FEAR to sing too seldom or too long-- I cannot tell if silence be the best, Or if at all to tune my tender song-- For she denies me pity, hope, and rest.

Yet, in my lay, I might some note awake, To please her ear more than all lays before; Though thus, she seems a cruel joy to take, That I should slowly suffer evermore.

"At once I'd cast my idle lute away, If I were sure no pleasure could be mine; But love has made my thoughts so much his prey, I do not dare to love her, nor resign.

Thus I stand trembling and afraid to fly, Till I have learnt to _hate_ her--lovingly.

"By love and hate's alternate pa.s.sions torn, How shall I turn me from my thronging woes?

Ah! if I perish, tortured and forlorn, But little glory from such triumph flows.

She has no right to keep me her's, in thrall, Unless she will be mine, my own, my all!

"Well does she know how to delight--inflame, With soft regards and smiles and words at will, And none within her magic ever came, But learnt to hope he was the favour'd still.

She is worth all the conquests she has won: But I may trust too far--and be undone!

"She keeps me ling'ring thus in endless doubt, And, as she pleases, holds me in her chain, Grants she no smiles--I can adore without; And this she knows, and I reproach in vain!

I am content to wait my chance, even now, If she will but one ray of hope allow."

JEU-PARTIE.

"BALDWIN, tell me frank and true, What a lover ought to do; One, who, loving well and long, Suff'ring and enduring wrong, At his lady's summons flies, And presents him to her eyes, With a welcome, when they meet, Should he kiss her lips or feet?

"Sire, methinks he would be loth, Not to kiss her rosy mouth; For a kiss at once descends To the heart and makes them friends; Joy and sweetness, hope and bliss, Follow in that tender kiss.

"Baldwin, nay, you ought to know, He who dares such freedom show-- As though a shepherd maid were she, Would never in her favour be:

I would kneel in humble guise, For I know her fair and wise, And humility may gain Smiles no boldness could obtain.

"Sire, though modest semblance oft Meet a guerdon, coy and soft, And timid lovers sometimes find Reward both merciful and kind: Yet to the lips prefer the feet Seems to my mind a care unmeet.

"Baldwin--for worlds I would not lose Her mouth, her face, her hand--but choose To kiss her pretty feet, that she May see how humble truth can be.

But you are bold and daring still; And know Love's gentle lore but ill.

"Sire, he must be a craven knight, Who, with her lovely lips in sight, Is all content and happy found, To kiss her foot-print on the ground!

"Baldwin, quick gains are quickly o'er, Got with much ease, and prized no more.