Two Summers in Guyenne: a Chronicle of the Wayside and Waterside

Part 1

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TWO SUMMERS IN GUYENNE

A Chronicle of the Wayside and Waterside

BY EDWARD HARRISON BARKER

Author of 'Wayfaring in France', 'Wanderings by Southern Waters,' ETC.

WITH MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

PREFACE

Of the four summers which the writer of this 'Chronicle of the Wayside and Waterside' spent by Aquitanian rivers, the greater part of two provided the impressions that were used in 'Wanderings by Southern Waters.' Although the earlier pages of the present work, describing the wild district of the Upper Dordogne, through which the author passed into Guyenne, belong, in the order of time, to the beginning of his scheme of travel in Aquitaine, the summers of 1892 and 1893, spent chiefly in Périgord and the Bordelais, furnished the matter of which this volume is mainly composed. Hence the title that has been given to it.

It may be thought that there is not a sufficient separation of interest, geographically speaking, between the tracts of country described in the two books. The author regrets that it is not possible to convey in a few words an idea of the extent of the old English Duchy of Aquitaine as it was defined by the Treaty of Brétigny. Still less easy would it be to deal rapidly with its physical contrasts, its relics of the past, and its historical associations. Surely no writer could pretend to have exhausted the interest of such a subject even in two volumes.

Before the final expulsion of the English, Aquitaine was gradually taking the name of Guyenne; but when this designation came to be definitively applied, at the time of the Renaissance, Gascony was not included in it, nor were Poitou, Saintonge, Angoumois and Limousin. Even when thus restricted in its meaning, Guyenne still represented a very considerable part of France, including as it did the regions or sub-provinces known as the Bordelais, Périgord, the Agenais, the Rouergue, and the Quercy.

If the author's work during the fifteen years that he has been living in France has served to make the people, the scenery, and the antiquities of this ever-fascinating country somewhat better known to those who speak the English language, he believes that it is to his favourite mode of travelling that such good fortune must be largely attributed. His faring on foot has caused him to see much that he would otherwise have never seen; it has also widened his knowledge of his fellow-men, and has helped him to control prejudices which are not to be entirely overcome, but ever remain an insidious snare to the traveller and student of manners.

E. H. B.

PARIS, May, 1894.

CONTENTS

THE UPPER DORDOGNE ACROSS THE MOORS OF THE CORRÈZE IN THE VISCOUNTY OF TURENNE IN UPPER PÉRIGORD IN THE VALLEY OF THE VÉZÈRE IN THE VALLEY OF THE ISLE FROM PÉRIGUEUX TO RIBERAC (BY BRANTÔME) THE DESERT OF THE DOUBLE A CANOE VOYAGE ON THE DRONNE BY THE LOWER DORDOGNE BY THE GARONNE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

DOORWAY OF THE ABBEY CHURCH AT BEAULIEU (CORRÈZE) A BIT OF AUVERGNE THE DORDOGNE AT LA BOURBOULE A MOORLAND WIDOW THE VALLEY OF THE RUE A WOMAN OF THE CORRÈZE A PEASANT OF THE MOORS PLOUGHING THE MOOR A GORGE IN THE CORRÈZE TURENNE A PEASANT OF THE CAUSSE CHÂTEAU DE FÉNELON RETURNING FROM THE FIELDS BEYNAC CLOISTERS OF THE ABBEY OF CADOUIN CHÂTEAU DE BIRON: THE LODGE TRUFFLE-HUNTERS CHÂTEAU DES EYZIES CHÂTEAU DE HAUTEFORT A HOUSE AT PÉRIGUEUX THE TOUR DE VÉSONE THE 'NORMAN GATE' AT PÉRIGUEUX THE DRONNE AT BOURDEILLES THE ABBEY OF BRANTÔME CHÂTEAU DE BOURDEILLES THE DRONNE AT COUTRAS A STREET AT ST. ÉMILION THE CHÂTEAU DE MONTAIGNE AFTER THE FIRE MONOLITHIC CHURCH AND DETACHED TOWER AT ST. ÉMILION CONVENT OF THE CORDELIERS: THE CLOISTERS TOUR DE L'HORLOGE AT LIBOURNE THE HILL OF FRONSAC BAZAS INTERIOR OF THE CHÂTEAU DE VILLANDRAUT THE GARONNE CHÂTEAU DE MONTESQUIEU THE GARONNE AT BORDEAUX THE PALAIS GALLIEN AT BORDEAUX

THE UPPER DORDOGNE.

I had left the volcanic mountains of Auvergne and had passed through Mont-Dore and La Bourboule, following the course of the Dordogne that flowed through the valley with the bounding spirits of a young mountaineer descending for the first time towards the great plains where the large towns and cities lie with all their fancied wonders and untasted charm.

But these towns and cities were afar off. The young Dordogne had a very long journey to make before reaching the plains of Périgord. Nearly the whole of this distance the stream would have to thread its way through deep-cut gorges and ravines, where the dense forest reaches down to the stony channel, save where the walls of rock rising hundreds of feet on either side are too steep for vegetation. Above the forest and the rock is the desert moor, horrible to the peasant, but to the lover of nature beautiful when seen in its dress of purple heather and golden broom.

I had not been long on the road this day, when I saw coming towards me an equipage more picturesquely interesting than any I had ever met in the Champs-Elysées. It was a ramshackle little cart laden with sacks and a couple of children, and drawn by a pair of shaggy sheep-dogs. Cords served for harness. A man was running by the side, and it was as much as he could do to keep up with the animals. This use of dogs is considered cruel in England, but it often keeps them out of mischief, and I have never seen one in harness that looked unhappy. Traces must help a dog to grow in his own esteem, and to work out his ideal of the high destiny reserved for him; or why does he, when tied under a cart to which a larger quadruped is harnessed, invariably try to persuade himself and others that he is pulling the load up the hill, and that the horse or donkey is an impostor?

The width of the Mont-Dore valley decreased rapidly, and I entered the gorge of the Dordogne, where basaltic rocks were thrown up in savage grandeur, vividly contrasting with which were bands and patches of meadow, brilliantly green. Yellow spikes of agrimony and the fine pink flowers of the musk-mallow mingled with the wiry broom and the waving bracken about the rocks.

It was September, but the summer heat had returned, and when the road passed through a beech wood the shade was welcome. Here over the mossy ground rambled the enchanter's nightshade, still carrying its frail white flowers, which really have a weird appearance in the twilight of the woods. The plant has not been called circe without a reason. Under the beeches there were raspberry canes with some fruit still left upon them. After leaving the wood, the scene became more wild and craggy. The basalt, bare and sombre, or sparsely flecked with sedums, their stalks and fleshy leaves now very red, rose sheer from the middle of the narrow valley, down which the stream sped like fleeing Arethusa, now turning to the right, now to the left, foaming over rocks or sparkling like the facets of countless gems between margins of living green.

Then I left the valley in order to pass through the village of St. Sauve on the right-hand hill. There was little there worth seeing besides a very ancient Romanesque archway, or, as some think, detached portico leading to the church.

Many of the women of St. Sauve wore the black cap or bonnet of Mont-Dore, which hangs to the shoulders. It is a hideous coiffure, but an interesting relic of the past. The prototype of it was worn by the châtelaines of the twelfth century. Then, however, it had a certain stateliness which it lacks now. It is only to be seen in a very small district.

I consulted some of the people of St. Sauve respecting my plan of following the Dordogne through its gorges. They did not laugh at me, but they looked at me in a way which meant that if better brains had not been given to them than to me their case would be indeed unfortunate. I was advised to see a cobbler who was considered an authority on the byways of the district. I found him sitting by the open window of his little shop driving hob-nails into a pair of Sunday boots. When I told him what I had made up my mind to do, he shook his head, and, laying down his work, said:

'You will never do it. There are rocks, and rocks, and rocks. Even the fishermen, who go where anybody can go, do not try to follow the Dordogne very far. There are ravines--and ravines. Bon Dieu! And the forest! You will be lost! You will be devoured!'

To be devoured would be the climax of misfortune. I wished to know what animals would be likely to stop my wayfaring in this effectual manner.

Part 2

'Are there wolves?'

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