In Soule the belfry is formed by extending upwards the western wall of the church in the form of three gables, looking like three obelisks. The bell is hung in the central one. The origin of this custom is thus explained by M. Cénac Montaut:
“In former times, when the Basques had some difficulty about accepting all the truths of the Gospel, the clergy were unable to make them comprehend the doctrine of the Holy Trinity. One of the priests, like S. Patrick with the shamrock, saw he must appeal to the senses in order to reach the mind and heart. Entering his rude pulpit one day, he addressed his flock something after the following manner: ‘Some of you, my dear brethren, recently objected that the God of the Old Testament, in the tables of the law, wished to be worshipped as one God, and that to add now the Son and Holy Spirit to the Deity is to overthrow the law of Sinai and affect the divine Essence itself.… My dear brethren, hitherto we have had but one gable on our belfry, directing towards heaven the innermost prayer of the heart, and bearing the bell by which God seems to speak to us in return. If, now, two other gables were added to this, would not this triple tower, standing on one base, and pointing to the same heaven, still constitute one belfry?’”
This appeal was effective. Those who had been unable to accept the abstract doctrine of the Trinity perfectly comprehended this material unity. The other priests of Soule hastened to make use of so happy an oratorical figure, and all through the valley of the Gave rose the three-gabled, dogmatic belfries, such as we see at the present day.
Near the church is often a modest white house with a small garden containing a few trees and flowers, where the Daughters of the Cross devote themselves to the instruction of children, planting the seeds of piety in their youthful hearts.
The Basque houses, with their triangular, tile-covered roofs, often project like a châlet, and are painted white, green, and even pink. The casements are made in the form of a cross, and stained red. The doorway is arched like a church-portal, and has over it a Virgin, or crucifix, or some pious inscription. There is no bolt on the door; for a Basque roof is too inviolable to need a fastening. At the entrance is a bénitier (for holy water), as if the house were to the owner a kind of sanctuary to be entered with purification and a holy thought. You enter a large hall that divides the house into two parts, and contains all the farming utensils. It is here the husbandman husks his corn and thrashes his wheat. The uncolored walls of the rooms are hung with a few rude pictures, as of the Last Judgment, the Wandering Jew, or Napoleon. There are some large presses, a few wooden chairs, a shelf in the corner with a lace-edged covering for the statue of the Virgin, who wears a crown of immortelles on her head and a rosary around her neck. At one end of the room is a bed large enough for a whole family, and so high as almost to need a ladder to ascend it. The open pink curtains show the holy-water font, the crucifix, and faded palm branch annually renewed. There is no house without some religious symbol. The Basque has great faith in prayer. He stops his plough or wild native dance to say the Angelus. He never forgets to arm himself with the sign of the cross in a moment of danger. He makes it over the loaf of bread before he divides it among the family. The mother makes it on the foreheads of her children at night. At Candlemas a blessed candle burns under every roof in honor of the true Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world. It is the boast of the country that Protestantism never found entrance therein, even during its prevalence in Béarn at the time of Joan of Navarre, though that princess took pains to have the Huguenot version of the New Testament translated into Basque and published at La Rochelle in 1591 for their benefit. The whole Bible is now translated, M. Duvoisin having devoted six years to the work, and Prince Lucian Bonaparte a still longer time in settling the orthography and superintending the edition.
It must not be supposed, however, that the Basques are an austere race. They are very fond of their national dances, and excel in the jeu de paume. Among their other amusements is the pastorale, acted in the open air with a chirula (a kind of flute) and a tambourine for the orchestra. The subject is borrowed from the Bible, the legend of Roland, the wars with the Moors, etc. They are composed by native poets, and have a certain antique simplicity not without its charm. The people flock to these representations, as to their Cantabrian dances, in their gayest attire. The old man wears a béret drawn over his forehead, while his long hair floats behind in token of the nobility of his ancient race. He wears short breeches, long woollen stockings, and leather shoes with handsome silver buckles.
The young Basque, straight, well formed, and proud in his bearing, wears his blue béret jauntily perched on one side of his head. His jacket is short. Silver clasps fasten his collar and wristbands. He wears sandals on his feet, with red bars across the instep. A bright red sash girdles his waist—as of all mountaineers, enabling them to endure fatigue the better, like the surcingle of a horse. “Beware of that young man with the loose girdle,” said Sulla, speaking of Cæsar. For among the Romans the word discinctus was applied to the indolent, cowardly soldier, as alte cinctus (high-girdled) meant a prompt, courageous man.
The girls, slender in form, with regular, expressive features, are veiled in a black mantilla, or else carry it on their arms. A gay kerchief is wound around the back of their heads like a turban, leaving visible the shining bands of their beautiful black hair.
The old women wear white muslin kerchiefs on their heads, with one corner falling on the shoulder. On the breast is suspended a golden heart or Saint-Esprit. Sometimes they are enveloped from head to foot in a great black cloak, which is absolutely requisite when they attend a funeral. This mantle forms part of the trousseau of every bride of any substance, and she wears it on her wedding-day, as if to show herself prepared to pay due honor to all the friends who should depart this life before her. It must be a great comfort for them to see this mourning garment prepared in advance, and the sight of the bride veiled in her long black capuchin must diffuse a rather subdued gayety over the wedding party.
The Basques pay great respect to the dead. When a man dies, his next neighbor on the right carries the crucifix before his bier in the funeral procession, and his nearest neighbor on the left walks at its side. And the whole neighborhood assembles around it in church, with lighted candles in their hands, to hear the Mass for the Dead. They adorn their graveyards with shrubs and flowers. And they never omit the month’s-mind, or anniversary service.