Legends -- Pyrenees; Pyrenees -- Description and travel; Pyrenees -- History
No one presumably would stay in Tarbes for two days unless he were
an official tied to duties in it and enjoying a salary, or were
possessed with a passion for horses. For, indeed, in Tarbes itself
there is nothing to be seen save the Haras and the depot for remounts
to the cavalry. The cathedral is the most cumbrous, ungainly minster
in all France. The public buildings lack interest. One thing Tarbes
does possess, that it shares with the meanest village in the same
arrondisement--the view of the Pyrenees.
Inglis, who trudged the Pyrenees in 1830, thus describes the prospect:--
“I have read in some book that the most beautiful part of
every country is where the mountains sink down into the
plains, and of this assertion the situation of Tarbes offers
an excellent illustration. If I had never gone further into
the Pyrenees than Tarbes I might have said that nothing can
exceed the beauty of its neighbourhood. The charming plain that
environs it--yet not altogether a plain--stretches to the foot
of the mountains, rich in every production of the southern
latitude, beautifully diversified with wood, and watered by
the meanderings of the Adour and of several lesser streams.
The celebrated Valley of Bagnères opens to the left, that of
Lourdes to the right; while in the south, apparently at but a
few leagues distant, the Pic du Midi towers above the range of
mountains that extend to the right and to the left, as far as
the eye can reach.
“After the long continuation of carriage-travelling from
Avignon to Tarbes--oh, how I enjoyed this morning! It was a
glorious morning, and the magnificent range of the Pyrenees,
rising sharply from the plain, was bathed in sunbeams, which
gilded the eminences, reposed on the slopes, and gleamed in
among the valleys. If this book should chance to be read by
anyone who knows the scenery of Scotland, let him recollect the
road from Stirling along the foot of the Ochill Hills, and he
will have a better conception of the country through which I am
now conveying him, than could be conveyed by a thousand minute
descriptions. It is true his imagination must assist me; he
must imagine the Ochills seven to eight thousand feet high in
place of two thousand; he must substitute Indian corn of the
most luxuriant growth, for oats and barley; and, in place of
whin-blossoms covering the knolls, he must fancy them clothed
with vine; he must add the charm of a southern sky, and the
balminess of a southern clime.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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