The eloquent historian of the sea does not paint in colours too vivid the raging excesses of the Gulf of Gascony; and, therefore, from a remote epoch, the French government have sought to guard against its dangers by securing a proper lightage of the entrance of the Gironde. To trace the origin of the Lighthouse of Cordouan we must go back to a very distant antiquity. Unfortunately we know little of the history of this marvellous erection on a craggy platform, which is alternately covered and exposed by the waves at every tide. It is certain that the present structure had, at least, two predecessors. If tradition may be credited, the first was raised by Louis the Débonnair. But as no document is extant to support this hypothesis, we are inclined to believe that no lighthouse was built there until the thirteenth century, and that it was then erected in compliance with the urgent request of the merchants of Cordova, and foreign merchants trading in the wines of Bordeaux. Matthew Paris records, in his well-known “Chronicles,” that the Moors having been driven back to the extreme south of Spain, extensive commercial relations were established at this epoch (1236) between the Gascons and the cities of Cordova and Seville. Hence came the name of Cordouan. That this etymology is contradicted by many scholars, and even turned into jest, we are aware, but to ridicule is not to prove. What appears certain is, that the town of Cordova (said to contain 300,000 souls in the thirteenth century, and the ancient capital of the Khalifate of the same name) had two reasons instead of one for demanding the establishment of a lighthouse at the mouth of the Gironde; for its merchants visited Bordeaux not only to deal in its wines, but to sell their hides and leather, renowned then as now for their fineness and excellent quality.
But passing from the domains of conjecture to those of history, we know that the second lighthouse was built in the fourteenth century (1362–70), by the order of Edward the Black Prince. This lighthouse was 48 feet in height. It terminated in a platform, where was kindled a fire of wood under the charge of a holy hermit, who received in reward of his labours a toll from each vessel of two groats sterling. It is generally believed that the rock on which the lighthouse stood was, at that epoch, still united to the Médoc coast. The configuration of the soil, the distance, the depth of the channel, the ravages still effected by the sea at Soulac and at the Point de Grave, are arguments in favour of this opinion.
The lighthouse built by the Black Prince did not stand alone upon its rock. As a companion it had a chapel, raised in honour of the Virgin Mary, and several houses, constructed in this sacred locality, gradually formed a kind of village. Here dwelt the hermit, his assistants, and, probably, a small number of pilots and fishermen.
An engraving of the date of the fifteenth century represents this ancient tower as an octagonal building, with elongated quadrangular openings. It is doubled, so to speak, up to its first story, with an exterior casing of stone, forming an additional protection. Some of the houses which formerly occupied this particular site were existing at the epoch when the drawing was executed.
ANCIENT TOWER OF CORDOUAN.
The lighthouse, which at the present time so justly extorts the admiration of all its visitors, was constructed, not on the ruins, but by the side of its predecessor. Begun in 1584 by Louis de Foix, a Parisian architect, to whom Philip II. confided at a later date the building of the Escorial, it was not completed until 1600, and then by his son. Including the solid mass of the platform or base, the tower was 60 feet high, and including the stone lantern, 70 feet. At the date of its erection, the ground was, as undoubtedly it for a long time had been, completely separated from the mainland, and formed an island of a certain extent—the “Isle of Cordouan,” says Louis de Foix himself, in the contract signed with the authorities of Guienne for the construction of the tower. This island has since disappeared, as well as the houses and chapel of which we have spoken; and now, at the foot of the monument, are only the bare rock and some tongues of sand completely covered at high water.
The pharos, as it issued from the hands of the Des Foix, father and son, consisted of a circular platform protected by a broad parapet, and of the tower, which was divided into four stories, not including the lantern. The ground floor presented a great vestibule of a quadrangular form, with four little recesses which served for magazines. Staircases placed in the embrasures of the entrance-gate and of the two windows led to the cellars and the water-tank. On either side of the doorway, prior to the Revolution, were busts of Henry III. and Henry IV. On the first story, which bore the title—probably without any justification—of “the King’s Chamber,” was a saloon of the same dimensions as the vestibule, but more richly decorated, from which access was obtained to the first exterior gallery. A chapel, circular in shape, occupied the second story, and was illuminated by two rows of windows, covered by a spherical vault, and enriched with Corinthian pilasters and elegant sculptures. Above the door of the chapel stood the bust of Louis de Foix; and the following sonnet, composed in the purest galimatias of the time, was engraved on a large tablet above it:—