peasants of ossau—captivity of francis the first—death of joyeuse—death of the duke de maine—dances. A great deal has been said and written about the peasants of the VallÉe d'Ossau; and most persons appear to have been guided rather by enthusiasm than truth, exaggerating and embellishing facts as it suited their views or their humour. It is the custom to admire the young girls and children who pester travellers with shabby, faded little bouquets, which they throw into the carriage-windows, and to see something peculiar in the custom; but it does not strike me that there is the slightest difference in this, or any other usage, between the Pyrenees and all parts of France, through which I have passed. On the road from Calais, as well as in the VallÉe d'Ossau, ragged dirty groups, eager for sous, place themselves in your way, and endeavour to obtain money: on fÊte-days they may look better; but on ordinary occasions there is certainly but little to admire, either in their dress or manners. A lively but sarcastic French writer has observed on the proneness of tourists to exalt the peasants of Ossau into the Arcadian beings of Virgil and Theocritus, representing them as assembling together to sing the verses of Despourrins: that—"it is, perhaps, better to see romance than not to see at all; but those who have discovered these pastoral heroes and heroines, can assuredly never have met with them on the Ger or the Pic du Midi: the only songs that one can hear in that neighbourhood are drawling, monotonous lines, without either rhyme or reason,—a sort of ballad like that of the wandering Jew. As for their occupations, they are commonly employed in knitting coarse woollen stockings, or in preparing, in the dirtiest manner in the world, the poorest and most insipid cheese that ever was made. The youths and maidens are by no means Estelles and Nemourins. I am aware that this account will be considered profane, and the writer of these facts, a morose, disagreeable person; but the truth is, nevertheless, better than false enthusiasm, which causes misrepresentation; and, having always before our eyes so much that is glorious and sublime, it cannot be necessary to inflate the imagination for ever À propos de rien. "Let those who would form an idea of the singing of the Ossalois observe them on a fÊte-day, in some of their villages, when the young people are returning home. They separate in two It must be allowed that, whenever a good voice occurs in this part of the country, it is an exception to the general rule; but this happened not long since, in the case of a young and very handsome girl of Ossau, whose melodious voice and fine execution attracted the notice of an amateur, by whom she was introduced to the theatre at Berlin, and obtained great applause and success. She may be considered as a nightingale who had lost her way amongst a wood of screech-owls; for her talent was quite alone. She used to sing an old historical romance of the valley, composed on the captivity of Francis I., which has seldom since found a voice capable of giving it effect. There is something in this old ballad very like those of Spain, both in character and rhythm; and there exist several others, on historical subjects, which have the same kind of simple merit: the captivity of francis i. ———— "Quan lou Rey parti de France," &c. ———— When the king, from France departing, Other lands to conquer sought, 'Twas at Pavia he was taken, By the wily Spaniard caught. "Yield thee, yield thee straight, King Francis, Death or prison is your lot;" "Wherefore call you me King Francis? Such a monarch know I not." Then the Spaniards raised his mantle, And they saw the fleur-de-lys;— They have chained him, and, full joyous, Bore him to captivity. In a tower, where sun nor moon-light Came but by a window small; There he lies, and as he gazes, Sees a courier pass the wall. "Courier! who art letters bringing, Tell me what in France is said?" "Ah! my news is sad and heavy— For the king is ta'en, or dead." "Back with speed, oh, courier, hasten— Haste to Paris back with speed, To my wife and little children; Bid them help me at my need. "Bid them coin new gold and silver, All that Paris has to bring, And send here a heap of treasure, To redeem the captive king." ———— The following is also a favourite ballad on the battle of Coutras and the death of Joyeuse, the magnificent favourite of Henry III., whose contemptuous remark on his effeminacy was the cause the death of joyeuse. Between La Roche and Coutras Was heard our battle cry; And still we called—"To arms! to arms!" Our voices rent the sky. Our king was there with all his men, And all his guards beside, Within, the Duke de Joyeuse, And to the king he cried: "Oh, yield, King Henry, yield to me!"— "What simple squire art thou, To bid King Henry yield him, And to thy bidding bow?" "I an no simple squire, But a knight of high degree; I am the Duke de Joyeuse, And thou must yield to me." The king has placed his cannon In lines against the wall,— The first fire Joyeuse trembled, The next saw Joyeuse fall. Alas! his little children, How sad will be their fate!— A nurse both young and pretty, Shall on them tend and wait: And they shall be brave warriors, When they come to man's estate. ———— The next ballad is in the same strain: It is seldom now that the tamborine or pipe, celebrated by Despourrins, is heard as an accompaniment to the dances of the peasants. A violin is the usual music; and the antique and pastoral character is at once destroyed. Sometimes it is possible to see a real mountain-dance, which is certainly picturesque, if not graceful, and belongs peculiarly to the spot, and the objects which inspired it; as, for instance, "The Dance of the Wild Goat," "The Dance of the Izard," "La Gibaudrie," "La Ronde du Grand Pic." The young men are very agile in these exercises; but, in general, the woman's part is very inferior: they, indeed, seldom dance together, and usually are only spectators. This seems to indicate an Eastern origin. There is one exception to this rule in a ronde, executed by both sexes, hand-in-hand; but in this the men leap and cut, while the women move their feet slowly and heavily: in fact, they look half asleep, while the young As I have not seen any of these dances, nor the peasants in their holiday costumes, I have some difficulty in imagining that there is either beauty or grace amongst them. At the Eaux Bonnes, our female attendant wore her red-peaked capeline in the house, which had a singular effect, but was by no means pretty: indeed, the only impression it gives me is, that it is precisely the costume which seems to suit a daunce o' witches; and cannot by possibility be softened into anything in the least pleasing to the eye. All the peasants I saw at different periods of the year had a remarkably slovenly, dirty, squalid appearance; and, except in the instance of one little girl of about thirteen, I saw none who had the slightest claim to beauty, or could excite interest for a moment. There is a humble, civil air about the people in the VallÉe d'Ossau, which propitiates one: the berret is always taken off as a stranger passes, and a kind salutation uniformly given. But, beyond this, there is nothing worthy of remark as respects the common people, who appear to be a simple race, content to work hard and live poorly. Our guide pointed out to us a village, from the valley, perched up on a height in the midst of snows, where, he said, the inhabitants, who were |