Part 25 (2/2)
That Napoleon should not care for a royal soldier, whose fame he desired his own deeds should eclipse; and of whom, as of all ill.u.s.trious men, living or dead, the _little_ great man was jealous, is not surprising.
He had nothing in common with Henri Quatre; and the Revolution, which had brought him forward, had swept away antique memories. The statue of their once-adored Henri had been cast into the Seine with ignominy, by the French, and his name was execrated, as if he had been no better than the legitimate race whom popular fury condemned to oblivion: Napoleon's policy was not to restore an abandoned wors.h.i.+p; and he would have seen the last stone fall from the castle of Pau without notice. But that the long line of kings, who were always boasting of their descent from the immortal Bearnais, should have neglected, contemned, or pillaged his birth-place, reflects little honour on the memory of any. The son of Mary de Medici came only to Bearn after his father's death, to carry off all that was precious in art, collected by the kings and queens of Navarre, for centuries--treasures which, according to the historians of the time, had not their parallel in the sixteenth century. The palace of the Louvre became rich in the spoils of Bearn: tapestry, pictures, furniture, objects of _virtu_ of all kinds were borne away, and nothing left in its original place. Louis the Fourteenth and his successor occupied themselves little with the country, except to levy subsidies upon it: they knew nor cared nothing for Navarre; except as it supplied them with t.i.tles or gave them funds. Louis the Sixteenth, the last of the Bourbons who took the oath to observe the _Fors_[28] of Bearn, promised to act differently, and to occupy himself with this forgotten nook of his dominions; but the fatal events, prepared by his profligate predecessors of the last two reigns, which hurled him from his throne, prevented the accomplishment of his intentions.
[Footnote 28: The celebrated Laws of Bearn are called _Les Fors_.]
As for the sovereign people, when they became rulers, the contempt with which they overwhelmed everything aristocratic, was bestowed in full measure on the abode of him who had been their friend: and the triumph of vengeance, ignorance, and ingrat.i.tude, was complete, here as elsewhere.
The neglected castle of the sovereigns of Bearn,--for none of whom, except the immediate family of the brave and bold Henry, need one care to be a champion--remained then a mighty heap of ruin, which every revolving year threatened to bring nearer to utter destruction; when another revolution, like an earthquake, whose shock may restore to their former place, rocks, which a preceding convulsion had removed, came to ”renew old aeson:” Louis Philippe, to whom every nook and corner of his extensive kingdom seems familiar, so far from forgetting the _berceau_ of his great ancestor, hastened to extend to the castle of Pau a saving hand, and to bring forth from ruin and desolation the fabric which weeds and ivy were beginning to cover, and which would soon have been ranged with the sh.e.l.ls of Chinon, Loches, and other wrecks of days gone by.
When the architect, employed by the king to execute the Herculean labour of restoring the castle of Pau, first arrived, and saw the state of dilapidation into which it had fallen, he must have been appalled at the magnitude of his undertaking. Seeing it, as I do now,[29] grim, damp, rugged, ruined, and desolate, even in its state of transition, after several years of toil have been spent upon its long-deserted walls; I can only feel amazed that the task of renovating a place so decayed should ever have been attempted; but, after what has been done, it may well be hoped and expected that the great work will be, in the end, fully accomplished; and ten years hence, the visitor to Pau will disbelieve all that has been said of the melancholy appearance of the chateau of Henri Quatre.
[Footnote 29: This was written on the spot.]
What must have been the state of things before the pretty bridge, which spans the road and leads from the castle terrace to the walk, called La Ba.s.se Plante, existed? I am told that a muddy stream, bordered with piles of rubbish, filled up this portion of the scene; but, in less than a year, all was changed, and the pleasant terrace and neat walks which adorn this side of the castle are promises of much more, equally ornamental and agreeable.
Some of the tottering buildings attached to the strangely-irregular ma.s.s, were, it seems, condemned by the bewildered architect to demolition, as possessing no beauty, and enc.u.mbering the plans of improvement; but the late Duke of Orleans came to visit the castle, and had not the heart to give consent that any of the old walls, still standing, should be swept away. He looked at the place with true poetic and antiquarian feeling, and arrested the hand of the mason, who would have destroyed that part called _La Chancellerie_, which extends between the donjon of Gaston Phoebus to the Tour Montauzet. The prince represented to his father his views on the subject, which were instantly adopted--a question of taste in that family meets with no opposition--and all was to have been arranged according to the ideas of the heir of France, who seemed inclined to make Pau an abode at a _future day_: the King was to have visited the interesting old castle: much animated discussion and much enthusiasm prevailed on the subject in the interior of the royal circle, and the Berceau of Henri Quatre seemed destined to proud days again.
”When, hus.h.!.+ hark! a deep sound comes like a rising knell!”
The wail of a whole nation tells that that _antic.i.p.ated future_ may not come! A cloud has again gathered over the valley of the Gave, and a sad pause--the pause of blighted hopes--has chilled the expectations in which Bearn had ventured to indulge.
But the castle is not, even now, neglected: the architects are still there; workmen are still busy, chiseling and planing; the beautiful arabesques and reliefs are coming forth to view, restored with all their original delicacy: the ceilings are glowing with fresh gilding, the walls are bright with fresh tapestry, and the rooms are newly floored.
But for the dreadful event which must cast a gloom over France for some years, the castle would, probably, have been sufficiently put in order for a royal visitor this year; but all the magnificent furniture, sent down from Paris to fit up the _suite_ intended for use, now stands unarranged, and a stop is put to embellishment. Amongst the most curious and interesting pieces of this furniture, are the bed and chair of Jeanne d'Albret, her screen--perhaps worked by her own hand--and the bed of Henry II.: all fine specimens of art in this style; the latter, in particular, is quite unique, and is one of the most curious I have ever seen: the sculpture is very elaborate; at the foot reclines, in relief, a Scotch guard, such as always lay at the threshold of the sovereign, at the period when this piece of furniture was made. An owl of _singular expression_ sits watching, opposite, surrounded by foliage and poppies, quite in character with the sleepy scene: the posts of the bedstead are beautifully turned: it is so formed as to draw out and close in, forming a _bed by night_, _a cabinet by day_; and the carved arch at the back is sculptured in the most exquisite manner. A _prie-Dieu_ of the same date is near; but all this furniture is merely _housed_ for the present, as nothing is arranged; one, of course, looks at these specimens with an admiration which has nothing to do with Henri Quatre's castle, as they would be equally well placed in M. de Somerard's museum, at the delightful Hotel de Cluny.
A tapestry screen, said to be of the time of Charles VII., has a place in this heterogeneous collection: it represents the Maid of Orleans, crowned by victorious France, whose _lilies_ are restored, and her enemies trampled under her feet; in the back-ground is the sea, with strange-looking monsters huddled into its waves, in apparent terror: these are the Leopards of England taking flight from the sh.o.r.es of France. The colours are well preserved in this piece of work, and the whole composition deserves to be remarked, if not for the correctness of its drawing, for the _navete_ of its details.
It might have been better to have filled the castle with furniture belonging exclusively to the time, or anterior to that of Henry IV.; and it struck me that much which has arrived from Paris, of the period of Louis XIV., is out of keeping with the _souvenirs_ of the castle of Pau.
I almost hope that, if ever it is entirely restored, these pieces of furniture will be banished, and others, more antique, subst.i.tuted. The tapestry with which the walls are covered is very curious and appropriate; it is chiefly of the time of Francis I.; and some beautiful Gobelins, of modern date, representing different scenes in the life of Henry, equally so.
The most, indeed the only, beautiful portions of the castle, are the ceilings of the princ.i.p.al staircase and pa.s.sages leading from it; the medallions of which present the heads of Marguerite de Valois and her husband, Henry d'Albret, with their interlaced initials and arms on the walls: these again occur on the mantel-pieces, in the midst of very exquisite arabesques, which the skill of the modern sculptor is restoring with singular delicacy.
The object which excites the most interest in the castle, is the famous sh.e.l.l of a tortoise, of immense size, said to have served as a cradle to the little hero whose birth was hailed with such rapture by his expectant grandfather. One would fain believe that this is indeed the identical _berceau de Henri IV._ so much talked of; but it is difficult to reconcile all the improbabilities of its being so: the subst.i.tution of another, after the real sh.e.l.l had been burnt in the castle-court, may do credit to those who cherish the hero's name; always provided no less generous motive induced the act; but the tale told to prove its ident.i.ty is, unfortunately, not convincing.
The sh.e.l.l is suspended in the centre of a chamber, formerly the _salle de reception_ of Henry II. d'Albret, and surrounded with trophies, in tawdry taste, which it is the intention to have removed, and the gilt helmet and feathers replaced by some armour really belonging to King Henry.
Those who contend for this being the genuine sh.e.l.l say, that, when on the 1st of May, 1793, the revolutionary mob came howling into the castle-court, with the intention of destroying every relic of royalty, the precious sh.e.l.l was hastily removed, and _another put in its place_, belonging to a loyal subject who had been induced to sacrifice his own to save the public treasure. M. de Beauregard had, it seems, a cabinet of natural history, in which was a tortoise-sh.e.l.l of very similar size and appearance: this he gave up, and, with the a.s.sistance of other devoted persons, it was conveyed to the castle, and put into the accustomed place, while the real sh.e.l.l was carefully hidden in a secure retreat. The mob seized upon the subst.i.tute, and, with frantic cries, danced round the fire in the court while they saw it burn to ashes, little dreaming how they had been deceived: years after, the truth was revealed, and the cradle of the Bearnais was produced in triumph.
Whether, in the midst of the terror attending the proceedings of savages athirst for blood, it was likely that such cool precautions were taken to save a _relic_ when _lives_ were at stake, is a question which seems easily answered; but there is such a charm about the belief, that, perhaps, _'tis folly to be wise_ on the subject.
The fine marble statue of Henry, which is appropriately placed in one of the chambers, was executed soon after the battle of Ivry: it is by Francavilla, and very expressive: it belonged to the Gallery of Orleans, and was presented to the town of Pau by the King.
The room said to be that where Henry was born, and where Jeanne d'Albret sang the famous invocation, ”_Notre Dame au bout du Pont_,” is on the second story of a tower, from whence, as from all this side of the castle, is a magnificent view of the mountains, and the valley of the Gave. There is nothing now left but bare walls; but on the chimney is sculptured the tortoise-sh.e.l.l cradle, and the arms of Bearn and Navarre; these rooms will be all repaired and restored; at present, the whole _suite_ reminded me of the desolation of the castle of Blois, which was desecrated in the same manner by soldiery, who made it a barrack. The room which was Henry's nursery has a few of the original rude rafters of the ceiling remaining, which one would wish should not be removed; but it is said that it is necessary. The thick coating of whitewash cleared away from the chimney-piece will, probably, disclose more sculpture, similar to that in the other rooms.
Queen Jeanne had been unfortunate in losing her other children, one of whom died in a melancholy manner. While she was out hunting with her father and her husband, the nurse and one of her companions, being at a loss to amuse themselves, thought of a game, in which they threw the child from one window to the other, catching it in turns. The poor little prince was made the victim to this cruel folly, for he fell on the balcony which extended along the first-floor, and broke one of his ribs. He suffered much, and survived only a few days. No wonder Queen Jeanne sent her little son, Henry, to a cottage, to be nursed, where there was no upper story!
Nothing can be less imposing, on the interior side of the court, than the castle of Pau: ruined, dilapidated buildings surround the rugged old well which stands in the centre; towers and _tourelles_, of various shapes, lift their grey and green and damp-stained heads in different angles; low door-ways, enc.u.mbered with dust and rubbish, open their dark mouths along the side opposite the red square tower of Gaston Phoebus, which frowns at its equally grim brother, whose mysterious history no one knows; other doors and windows are finely-sculptured; and medallions, much defaced, adorn the walls.
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