THE PALOMBIERE.
It is not intended to detail the many incidents that befell them on the way, the chit-chat of steamboats, railroads, and hotels. Their father cared not to hear of these trifles; he could read enough of such delightful stuff in the books of whole legions of travellers; and, as they did not note anything of this kind in their journal, we are left to suppose that they encountered the usual pleasures and _desagremens_ which all travellers must experience on similar journeys. As money was no object, they travelled with expedition--making only a short stay in the great capitals through which they pa.s.sed, in order to have their pa.s.sports _vised_, and sometimes for the purpose of using the great emperor"s letter for the replenishment of their exchequer. This magic doc.u.ment proved all-powerful everywhere they went; and as they knew it would be so in all corners of the habitable globe, they could rely upon it with perfect confidence. Pouchskin"s leathers bag was always well weighted with the yellow metal,--and _specie_, whatever stamp it may bear, is current all over the world.
Their journal merely mentions the route followed. From their hunting-ground they returned down the Tornea river, which, running due north and south, of course did not compromise the terms of their covenant; neither were the conditions infringed by their taking at any time the backtrack when engaged in the chase, for, as already known, there was a specification in the baron"s letter, that allowed of this deviation. All that was required of them was that they should not recross a meridian when on their actual route of travel.
A ship carried them from Tornea to Dantzic. Hence they pa.s.sed to Berlin, and on through Frankfort, Stutgard, and Strasbourg, to Paris.
Paris, it is true, was a little out of their way; but what Russian could travel across Europe without paying a visit to Paris? Pouchskin cared little about it. The old grenadier had been there before--in 1815--when he was far from being welcome to the Parisians; and Alexis would rather have gone by another and more direct route, that is, through Switzerland; but the gay Ivan would not hear of such a thing. To see Paris he was determined; and see it he did; though what he or they did there is not mentioned in the book of the chronicles of our young bear-hunters.
From Paris they travelled by rail, almost directly south--though still slightly westward--to the celebrated baths of Bagneres. Here they found themselves not only within sight, but actually among the _foot-hills_ of those mountains, for the tourist scarce second in interest to the Alps themselves, but perhaps for the naturalist even more interesting than these.
At Bagneres they made but a short stay, only long enough to recruit their strength by bathing in its thermal springs, and to witness a spectacle which is regarded as the grand lion of the place--the _Palombiere_.
As you, young reader, may not have heard of the _Palombiere_, and may be curious to know what it is, I give the account of it, which I find recorded in the journal of Alexis.
About two miles from Bagneres rises a ridge of considerable elevation-- running parallel with the general direction of the Pyrenees, of which it may be considered an outlying step, or "foot hill" (_pied mont_). Along the crest of this hill stands a row of very tall trees, from which the branches have been carefully lopped, leaving only a little bunch at the top of each. On coming close to these trees--provided it be in the months of September or October--you will observe a something between them that resembles a thin gauzy veil of a greyish colour. On getting still nearer, you will perceive that this veil is a net--or rather a series of nets--extended from tree to tree, and filling up all the s.p.a.ces between them--from the highest point to which the branches have been lopped down to within three feet of the ground.
Another singular object, or series of objects, will long ere this have attracted your attention. You will see standing, at certain intervals apart, and about thirty yards in front of the trees, a row of tall tapering sticks--so tall that their tops are fifty yards from the ground! They might remind you of the masts of a ship; but that there are in each case two of them together,--the one standing vertically, and the other bending over to it, with a slight curve. On this account you may be more struck with their resemblance to the "shears" seen in shipyards, by which the masts are "stepped" into their places. These masts, as we may call them, are not all of one stick of wood, but of several pieces spliced together; and notwithstanding their prodigious length--fifty yards, you will remember--they are of no great thickness.
In fact, although the two are joined together at the top--as we shall presently have occasion to show--when a strong wind blows, both bend, and vibrate back and forward like an elastic trout rod. At their bases they are only five feet apart; and the curving one is intended to act as a stay to the other. Both, as already stated, meet at the top, and looking up you will see--while the sight makes you dizzy--a little roundish object at the point of the junction. It is a basket set there firmly, and just big enough to hold the body of a man. If you look carefully you will see a man actually within it; but, to quote Shakespeare"s quaint simile, he will appear to your eyes not half as gross as a beetle! In all likelihood he is not a man, but only a boy; for it is boys who are selected to perform this elevated and apparently dangerous service.
How did the boy get there? will probably be your next question. By running your eye along the curved pole, you will perceive a row of projecting pegs extending from bottom to top. They are quite two feet apart; but had you been present while that youth was making the ascent-- which he did by the help of these pegs--you would have seen him scramble up as rapidly, and with as little concern, as a sailor would ascend the ratlines of a ship! It is his trade to do so, and practice has made him as nimble as he is intrepid; but you, who are unaccustomed to witness such tall gymnastics, cannot help again recalling Shakespeare, and exclaiming, with the great dramatic poet, "Fearful trade!" Quite as fearful, indeed, as the gathering of "samphire."
But what is this trade? What is all this contrivance for--these nets and tall masts, with "crows" nests" at their tops? What are the boys doing up there? And what are they about below--those men, women, and children--a crowd composed of all ages and all s.e.xes? What are they doing?
_Pigeon-catching_. That is what they are doing, or rather what they are aiming to do, as soon as the opportunity offers. These people are simply pigeon-catchers.
What sort of pigeons? and where do they come from? These questions must be answered.
To the first, then, the answer is the common European wild pigeon (_columba palumbis_). It is well-known in England by the name of "wood-pigeon," and in France it is called _ramier_. In England the wood-pigeon is not migratory. In that country there is a much milder winter than is experienced in the same or even a more southerly lat.i.tude on the Continent. This enables the pigeon to find food throughout all the year, and it therefore remains in England. In continental countries--Prance among the number--the severity of the winter forces it southward; and it annually migrates into Africa--the supposed limit of its flight being the chain of the Atlas mountains. Of course the wood-pigeon is only one of many birds that make this annual tour, taking, as the rest do, a "return ticket."
Now the _ramiers_ of France, in pa.s.sing southward, must ply their wings a little more strenuously to mount over the snowy summits of the Pyrenees; but they only commence ascending to this higher elevation when near the mountains. The ridge at Bagneres chances to lie in the line of their flight--of course, not of all of them, but such as may be sweeping along in that particular meridian; and, pa.s.sing between the tall trees already mentioned, they get caught in the meshes of the nets. The moment they strike these--several of them coming "b.u.t.t" against one at the same instant,--a trigger is pulled by the men--who are below concealed under screens--and this trigger, acting on a string, causes the net to drop, with the fluttering victims safely secured in its meshes.
When the flight has pa.s.sed, the women, girls, boys, and even the children, rush forth from their hiding-places; and, seizing the struggling birds, put a quick termination to their fruitless efforts, by biting each of them in the neck. Old, half-toothless crones--for this is especially their part of the performance--will be seen thus giving the final _coup_ to the beautiful but unfortunate wanderers!
And still we have not explained what the boys are doing up yonder.
Well, we shall now announce their _metier_. Each has taken up with him a number of little billets of wood, fashioned something like the letter T, and about six inches in length. When this billet is flung into the air, and twirls about in its descent, it exhibits some resemblance-- though not a very close one--to a flying pigeon-hawk. The resemblance, however, is near enough to "do" the pigeons; for when they are within about one hundred yards of the crows" nest, the boy launches his billet into the air, and the birds, believing it to be a hawk, immediately dip several yards in their flight--as they may be seen to do when a real hawk makes his appearance. This descent usually brings them low enough to pa.s.s between the trees; and of course the old women soon get their teeth upon them.
The pigeon-catching is not free to every one who may take a "fancy" to it. There are pigeon-catchers by trade; who, with their families, follow it as a regular calling during the season, while it lasts; and this, as already stated, is in the months of September and October. The _Palombiere_, or pigeon-ridge, belongs to the communal authorities, who let it out in sections to the people that follow the calling of pigeon-netting; and these, in their turn, dispose of the produce of their nets in the markets of Bagneres and other neighbouring towns.
Every one knows how excellent for the table is the flesh of this beautiful bird: so much is it esteemed, that even at Bagneres, in the season of their greatest plenty, a pair will fetch a market price of from twelve to twenty sous.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
THE PYRENEES.
Speaking geologically, the Pyrenees extend along the whole north of Spain, from the Mediterranean to the province of Galicia on the Atlantic; and in this sense the chain may be regarded as between six and seven hundred miles in length.
More properly, however, the term "Pyrenees" is limited to that portion of the range which lies directly between France and Spain; in other words, along the neck or isthmus of the Spanish peninsula. Thus limited, the range is less than half the above length, or about three hundred miles; while its average breadth is fifty.
Though less elevated than the Alps, the Pyrenees mountains are no molehills. Their highest peak, Maladetta, towers above 11,000 feet; and several others are of nearly equal height--while more than forty summits reach the elevation of 9,000!
The most elevated peaks are near the centre of the Pyrenees, the range gradually dipping downward as the extremities are approached. For this reason the most practicable pa.s.ses are found near the eastern and western ends; though many also exist in the central part of the chain.
In all, there are fifty pa.s.ses or "ports," as they are called, leading from the French to the Spanish side; but only five of these are practicable for wheeled vehicles; and a large number are only known (or at all events only travelled) by the smugglers--_contrabandistas_--a cla.s.s of gentry who swarm on both sides of the Pyrenean frontier.
The superficial extent of these mountains is about 11,000 or 12,000 square miles. Part of this is French, and the remainder Spanish territory. As a general rule, the "divide," or main axis of the ridge forms the boundary line; but in the eastern section, the French territory has been extended beyond the natural frontier.
The geological formation of the Pyrenees consists both of primitive and secondary rocks--the latter being greater in ma.s.s, and composed of argillaceous schist, grauwacke (schistose and common), and limestone.
Mines of lead, iron, and copper are found in this formation--the lead containing a proportion of silver. The primitive rocks are granite; and run in zones or belts, extended lengthwise in the direction of the chain; and it is in the rupture between these and the transition strata, that the chemical springs, for which the Pyrenees are so famous, gush forth. Of these remarkable fountains--many of them almost at boiling heat--no less than 253 have been discovered in different parts of the range. A great number of them are celebrated for their medicinal virtues, and are the favourite summer resorts of invalids, as well as the votaries of pleasure, from all parts of the world--but more especially from France and Spain.
The botany of the Pyrenees is full of interest. It may be regarded as an epitome of the whole European _flora_: since scarcely a plant exists, from the Mediterranean to the Arctic sea, that has not a representative species in some part of this mountain chain. In the valleys and lower slopes of the mountains the forest is chiefly composed of Lombardy poplars and sycamores; a little higher, the Spanish chestnut, oaks, hazels, and alders, the mountain ash and birch trees abound; and still farther up you enter the region of the pines--the _pinus sylvestris_ growing in dense continuous forests, while the more graceful "stone pine" is seen only in isolated groups or scattered trees. Everywhere a rich _flora_ meets the eye; flowers of the most lovely hues reflected in crystal rivulets--for the waters of the Pyrenees are pure beyond comparison, such a thing as a turbid stream being unknown throughout the whole range.
Above the pine forests the mountains exhibit a zone of naked declivities, stretching upward to the line of congelation--which in the Pyrenees is higher than upon the Alps. The former has been variously estimated: some fixing it at 8,300 feet, while others raise it as high as 9,000; but, indeed, it would be more just to say that the snow-line depends greatly upon the locality of the particular mountain, and its southern or northern exposure.
In any case, it is more than 1,000 feet higher than on the Alps; the superior elevation being accounted for, by the more southern lat.i.tude of the Franco-Spanish chain. Perhaps the proximity of the sea has more to do with this phenomenon than the trifling difference of lat.i.tude?
Upon the higher declivities and summits, snowfields and glaciers abound, as in the Alps; and even in some of the pa.s.ses these phenomena are encountered. Most of the pa.s.ses are higher than those of the Alps; but in consequence of the greater elevation of the snow-line, they remain open throughout the winter. At all seasons, however, they are by no means easy to traverse; and the cold winds that whistle through them are scarce to be endured. The Spaniards, who have a proverbial expression for almost every idea, have not neglected this one. In the ports (_puertos_) of the Pyrenees, say they, "the father waits not for his son, nor the son for his father."
If the pa.s.ses across these mountains are higher than those of the Alps, the transverse valleys are the reverse; those of the Pyrenees being in general much lower. The consequence is, that from the bottom of these valleys the mountains themselves appear far loftier than any of the Alpine peaks,--the eye taking in at one view a greater angle of elevation.
The _fauna_ of the Pyrenean chain, though less full and varied than its _flora_, is nevertheless of great interest. In the more densely wooded solitudes, and higher declivities of the mountains, a large bear is found, whose light fulvous-coloured body and black paws p.r.o.nounce him a different animal from the _ursus arctos_. If he be the same species, as naturalists a.s.sert, he claims at least to be a permanent variety, and deserves his distinctive appellation of _ursus pyrenaicus_.
Wolves abound; Spanish wolves, long famed for their fierceness; the common whitish-brown wolf (_canis lupus_), and a darker and still larger variety--in short, a black wolf, designated the "wolf of the Pyrenees,"
though it is equally a denizen of the other mountain _sierras_ of Portugal and Spain.
The European lynx (_felis lynx_), and the wild cat, both skulk through the Pyrenean forests; the former now only rarely seen. Along the naked cliffs leaps the "izzard," which is identical with the chamois of the Alps (_antelope rupicapra_); and in the same localities, but more rarely seen, the "bouquetin," or "tur" (_aigocerus pyrenaicus_)--a species of ibex, _not_ identical with the _capra ibex_ of Linnaeus and the Alpine mountains.
Birds of many European species frequent the lower forests of the Pyrenees, or fill the sheltered valleys with their vocal music; while, soaring above the mountain summits, may be seen the great vulture-eagle, or "lammergeyer," watching with greedy eye the feeble lambkin, or the new-born kid of the ibex and izzard.
With such knowledge of their natural history, it was with feelings of no ordinary interest that our young hunters turned their faces towards that vast serried rampart that separates the land of the Gaul from the country of the Iberian.
It was by the Val d"Ossau, literally the "valley of the bear," that they made their approach to the mountains,--that valley celebrated as the residence and hunting-ground of Henri of Navarre: but now, in modern days, noted for its valuable thermal springs of _Eaux Bonnes_ and _Eaux Chaudes_.
Up this mountain gorge went our heroes, their faces turned southward, and their eyes carried high up to the Pic du Midi d"Ossau--the mountain of the bears--an appropriate name for that beacon which was now directing their course.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
AN ODD AVALANCHE.
It is needless to say that the young Russians were delighted with the scenes that met their eyes in this fair southern land; and many of them are found faithfully described in their journal. They noted the picturesque dresses of the Pyrenean peasantry--so different from the eternal blue blouse which they had met in northern and central France.
Here was worn the "barret," of scarlet or white, the rich brown jacket and red sash of the peculiar costumes of the Basque and Bearnais peasants--a fine race of men, and one, too, historically n.o.ble. They saw carts drawn by large limbed cream-coloured oxen; and pa.s.sed flocks of sheep and milch goats, tended by shepherds in picturesque dresses, and guarded by numbers of large Pyrenean dogs, whose chief duty was to protect their charge from the wolves. They saw men standing knee-deep in the water, surrounded by droves of pigs--the latter voluntarily submitting themselves to a process of washing, which resulted in producing over their skins a roseate, pinky appearance. It could be seen, too, that these _pachyderms_ not only submitted voluntarily to the operation, but with a keen sense of enjoyment, as evinced by their contented grunts, and by their long tails, hanging "kinkless" while the large calabashes of water were poured over their backs. Perhaps to this careful management of the Pyrenean pigs are the beautiful "Bayonne hams"
indebted for their celebrity.
Further on, our travellers pa.s.sed a _plumire_, or "hen-bath." Here was a tank--another thermal spring--in which the water was something more than "tepid." In fact, it was almost on the boil; and yet in this tank a number of women were ducking their hens--not, as might be supposed, dead ones, in order to scald off their feathers, but live fowls, to rid them, as they said, of parasitical insects, and make them feel more comfortable! As the water was almost hot enough to _parboil_ the poor birds, and as the women held them in it immersed to the necks, the _comfort_ of the thing--so thought our travellers--was rather a doubtful question.
A little further on, another "custom" of the French Pyrenees came under the eyes of the party. Their ears were a.s.sailed by a singular medley of sounds, that rose from a little valley near the side of the road. On looking into the valley, they saw a crowd of forty or fifty women, all engaged in the same operation, which was that of flax-hackling. They learnt from this that; in the Pyrenean countries the women are the hacklers of flax; and that, instead of each staying at her own home to perform the operation, a large number of them meet together in some shaded spot, bringing their unhackled flax along with them; and there, amidst jesting and laughing and singing, the rough staple is reduced to its shining and silky fineness.