THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Mrs. George Gore 
 
* 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY 
 
TRAVEL BOOKS. 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 THR6UGH NORMANDY. By Katharine S. Mac- 
 
 quoid. With 90 Illustrations by T. R. Macquoid. 
 
 " One of the few books which can be read as a piece of literature, whilst 
 at the same time handy and serviceable in the knapsack." — British 
 Quarterly Review. 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth extra, 7s. 6d. 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. By Katharine S. Macquoid. 
 
 With numerous Illustrations by Thomas R. Macquoid. 
 "Tourists who propose visiting Brittany this summer maybe advised 
 to take iVl rs. Macquoid's volume with them." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth gilt, profusely illustrated, 10s. 6d. 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS FROM NORMANDY AND 
 BRITTANY. By Katharine S. Macquoid. With numerous Illus- 
 trations by Thomas R. Macquoid. 
 "An attractive volume, which is neither a work of travel nor a collec- 
 tion of stories, but a book partaking almost in equal degree of each of 
 these characters. The illustrations, which are numerous, are drawn, as 
 a rule, with remarkable delicacy as well as with true artistic feeling " — 
 Daily News. 
 
 Square 8vo, cloth extra, with numerous Illustrations, 9s. 1 
 NORTH ITALIAN FOLK. By Mrs. Comyns Carr. Illus- 
 trated by Randolph Caldecott. 
 " A delightful book, of a kind which is far too rare. If anyone wants 
 to really know the North Italian folk, we can honestly advise him to omit 
 
 the journey, and sit down to read Mrs. Carr's pages instead 
 
 Description with Mrs. Carr is a real gift It is rarely that a book is 
 
 so happily illustrated." — Contemporary Review. 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY. W. 
 
OLD HOUSES, QUIMPER. 
 
THROUGH BRITTANY 
 
 By KATHARINE S. MACQUOID 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THROUGH NORMANDY " 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS R. MACQUOID 
 
 SOUTH BRITTANY 
 
 CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2013 
 
 * 
 
 http://archive.org/details/throughbrittanysOOmacq 
 
DC 
 
 TO 
 
 CUTHBERT E. PEEK, Esq. 
 
 Lar d v in, anaout a rez ar vrd 
 Lec'h, war ar garrek, sao derd ; 
 Lec'h 'kan ar barz war dreuz he zor, 
 Ha war ann aod e trouz ar mor ? 
 
 Ja, ar vrd-ze eo Breiz-Izell ; — 
 War ar hed pa daolan eur zell, 
 En neb lec'h na welan hini, 
 A c'houlen ken braz meuleudi. 
 
 LUZEL. 
 
 %J) *JJ t> rSt 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Introductory Chapter 
 
 NANTES AND THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. Nantes . . 25 
 
 II. La Guerande — Le Bourg de Batz — Le Croisic — Le Pouli- 
 
 g^en 47 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 III. La Roche Bernard — Blain — Redon — Rochefort — Lande 
 
 of Lanvaux 65 
 
 IV. Vannes 73 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 V. Elven — Predion 94 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 VI. Sarzeau — St. Gildas — Sucinio 103 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 VII. Malestroit— Josselin — Ploermel — St. Jean Brevelai . . 1 17 
 
 THE MORBIHAN, OR LITTLE SEA. 
 
 VIII. The Islands — Locmariaker — Gavr' Inis . . . .130 
 IX. St. Anne d'Auray — The Chartreuse — Auray . . .147 
 
 X. Carnac — Plouharnel — Erdeven 165 
 
 XI. St. Nicholas des Eaux 177 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XII. Baud — The " Venus " of Quinipily — Pontivy . .186 
 
 XIII. The Fair of St. Nicodeme 198 
 
 XIV. Hennebont— L' Orient 217 
 
 FINIS TERE. 
 
 XV. Quimperle 226 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 XVI. Le Faouet — Sainte Barbe — Saint Fiacre — Kernascleden 237 
 
 FINISTERE. 
 
 XVII. Pont Aven — Rustefan — Tregunc — Concarneau . . 250 
 XVIII. Quimper 265 
 
 THE WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 XIX. Pont l'Abbe— Penmarc'h 278 
 
 XX. Audierne — Pointe du Raz — Pont Croix . . . 285 
 XXI. Douarnenez — Locronan — Crozon — Chateaulin — Ru- 
 
 mengol — Daoulas 305 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 frontispiece. — Old Houses, Quimper. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. Breton Beggar Children I 
 
 2. Cathedral and Castle, Nantes 27 
 
 3. Castle of Clisson ......... 44 
 
 4. Porte St. Michel, La Guerande 49 
 
 5. Old Walls and Gateway, La Guerande . . . . 51 
 
 6. Le Croisic . . . .56 
 
 7. Salt-sellers (Bourg de Batz) . ...... 58 
 
 8. Chateau de Blain 65 
 
 9. Tour de Clisson ......... 78 
 
 10. Tour d'Elven 9 6 
 
 11. Josselin 124 
 
 12. The Port Vannes 131 
 
 13. Dol-ar-Marchadouan, Table des Marchands .... 140 
 
 14. Grotto of Gavr' Inis 144 
 
 15. Auray 162 
 
 16. Stones of Carnac 167 
 
 17. Dolmen of Corconno 175 
 
 18. Cottage Door, St. Nicholas 179 
 
 19. The "Venus " of Quinipily 190 
 
 20. Castle of Pontivy 196 
 
xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 21. Church of St. Nicodeme 200 
 
 22. Cap-seller 206 
 
 23. Quimperle 228 
 
 ♦24. Outside Quimperle 233 
 
 25. Church of Ste. Barbe 241 
 
 26. Church of St. Fiacre 245 
 
 27. The River, Pont Aven 251 
 
 28. Rustefan 253 
 
 *29. Washing-place on the River 259 
 
 ♦30. Girl gathering Onion Heads 263 
 
 31. Quimper 270 
 
 32. A Street in Quimper 275 
 
 33. Cloister, Pont l'Abbe 280 
 
 34. Pointe du Raz 292 
 
 The illustrations marked * are from sketches by Percy Macquoid. 
 
 The accompanying map is only to be taken as a general guide to the 
 reader. Travellers are advised to provide themselves with a good 
 map, for instance, Carte de la Bretagne — published by Augte. Logerot, 
 55, Quai des Augustins, Paris. 
 
LIST OF DISTANCES. 
 
 English Kilo- 
 Miles, metres. 
 
 Paris to Chartres 55 88 
 
 Chartres to Le Mans 60 123 
 
 Le Mans to Angers 60 97 
 
 Angers to Nantes 55 88 
 
 Nantes to St. Nazaire 40 64 
 
 St. Nazaire to Guerande 12 19 
 
 Guerande to Le Croisic 8 13 
 
 St. Nazaire to Redon 41 67 
 
 Redon to Vannes ....... 33 54 
 
 Vannes to Elven 7 11 
 
 Vannes to St. Gildas i8£ 30 
 
 Vannes to Zarzeau 15 24 
 
 Vannes to Ploermel via Malestroit ... 36 58 
 
 Ploennel to Josselin 12 
 
 Josselin to Vannes -via St. Jean Brevelay 26 42 
 
 Vannes to Auray 12 19 
 
 Auray to Carnac 8 13 
 
 Auray to Pontivy . 34 55 
 
 Pontivy to St. Nicholas 9 J 15 
 
 St. Nicholas to St. Nicodeme .... 3 5 
 
xiv 
 
 LIST OF DISTANCES. 
 
 English Kilo- 
 
 Miles, metres. 
 
 St. Nicodeme to Baud 7 11 
 
 Baud to Hennebont I2| 20 
 
 Hennebont to Quimperle" 18 29 
 
 Quimperle to Pont Aven ..... 10 16 
 
 Pont Aven to Concarneau 8| 14 
 
 Quimperle to Le Faouet 13 21 
 
 Le Faouet to Kernascleden 10 16 
 
 Quimperle to Quimper 28 45 
 
 Quimper to Pont l'Abbe" n§ 18 
 
 Quimper to Penmarc'h 18^ 30 
 
 Quimper to Pont Croix 23^ 38 
 
 Pont Croix to Audieme 4 6 
 
 Audierne to La Pointe du Raz .... 9| 15 
 
 Audieme to Douarnenez . . . . . 14^ 23 
 
 Douarnenez to Quimper 14! 23 
 
 Quimper to Chateaulin ...... 18 J 30 
 
 Chateaulin to Brest ...... 45 72 
 
INDEX FOR TRAVELLERS IN 
 SOUTH BRITTANY. 
 
 JT is always more prudent to write and order rooms a day or two 
 beforehand. Except in a few towns, the charge for a bedroom is 
 two. francs a night. In some towns the charge is one franc per bed. 
 A bottle of Yin ordinaire is almost always included in the dinner 
 charge. In South Brittany the best places to stop at and make excur- 
 sions from are — Vannes, Auray, Carnac, Quimperle, Quimper, Pont 
 Aven, and Douarnenez. Small carriages with one horse can be hired 
 readily at the charge of ten francs per day, with pourboire; but a 
 bargain should always be made. A distance of eight kilometres almost 
 equals five English miles. The high roads are excellent, but by-roads 
 in wet weather are sometimes very bad. K.. stands for kilometres, 
 f. for francs, c. for centimes. The railway fares seem to be so variable, 
 that those stated can only be taken as an average calculation. 
 
 Nantes (Loire Inferieure), page 25. 
 
 Railway omnibus, 60c; town omnibus, 20c. Buffet at station. 
 Hotel de France, Place Graslin, has a cafe and excellent restaurant ; 
 
 table d'hote breakfast, 3f. ; dinner, 4f. 
 Hotel de Bretagne, Place du Port Communeau. 
 
 Theatres — 
 Grand Theatre, Place Graslin. 
 Theatre de la Renaissance, Place de Brancas. 
 Post Office, Rue du Chapeau Rouge, near Rue Boileau. 
 Telegraph, I, Rue St. Julien, near Place Royale. 
 
xvi 
 
 INDEX FOR TRAVELLERS. 
 
 Money changer, Monsieur Pabet, 3, Place Royale. 
 Bookseller, Madame Veloppe, 1, Quai de la Fosse. 
 
 Baths at — 
 Hotel de France. 
 
 Floating Baths, Quai Duguay Trouin and Quai Turenne, &c. 
 Rail to Clisson, one hour, 1st class, zi. 50c. ; 2nd class, 2f. ; 3rd 
 class, if. 50c. 
 
 Rail to St. Nazaire about two hours, 1st class, 51". 50c. ; 2nd class, 
 
 4f. ; 3rd class, 3f. 25c. 
 Nantes time is seventeen minutes slower than Paris time, but the 
 
 trains start by Paris time. 
 Diligences to Pornic start from 2 and 6 Quai Turenne. 
 Diligence to Blain starts from I, Rue Talensac. 
 Diligence to Chateaubriand starts from Rue de PErdre. 
 Steamers to Bordeaux twice a week. 
 Steamer to Angers, daily, at 7 A.M., Quai Maillard. 
 Steamers to St. Nazaire and Paimboeuf twice a day ; from Quai 
 
 de la Fosse, 7 a.m., 3 p.m. 
 Steamer to Nort Quai Ceineray, daily, 7 a.m. 
 
 St. Nazaire (Loire Inferieure), page 45. Buffet. 
 Hotel Bely. Breakfast, 2f. 50c. ; dinner, 3f. 
 Hotel de la Marine on the port. 
 
 Rail to Vannes, 1st class, I3f. 75c; 2nd class, nf. 50c; 3rd 
 class, 6f. 50c. 
 
 Diligence by Escoublac to La Guerande, 19k., and Le Croisic, 
 32k., 8.30 a.m., 7.45 p.m., 2f. 80c. and 3f. 90c. ; leaves La 
 Guerande for Le Croisic, 9.45 A.M., 9 P.M. ; returns to St. 
 Nazaire from Le Croisic, 5.30 a.m., i P.m., calling at La 
 Guerande and Escoublac. A carriage from St. Nazaire to Le 
 Croisic, "via Guerande and Bourg de Batz, i8f. 
 La Guerande (Loire Inferieure), page 49. 
 
 Hotel du Commerce. 
 Le Croisic (Loire Inferieure), page 56. 
 
 Bathing-place. Hotel and Etablissement des Bains. A hydro- 
 pathic establishment. In the town a small cheap boarding- 
 house, Pension Jeanne. 
 
INDEX FOR TRAVELLER . 
 
 xvii 
 
 Le Pouliguen (Loire Inferieure), page 62. 
 
 Bathing-place, Hotel des Etrangers. Lodgings may be had both 
 at Le Croisic and Le Pouliguen. 
 
 La Roche Bernard, page 64. 26k. from La Guerande. There is a 
 small inri, but it is sometimes shut up. 
 Diligence to Pont Chateau station, 19k., 7.30 A.M. ; returns from 
 Pont Chateau to La Roche Bernard, 5.20 p.m., 21*. 25c. 
 
 Redon (Hie et Vilaine), page 66. Buffet. 
 Hotel de Bretagne. 
 
 Rochefort-en-Terre (Morbihan), page 67. Reached fromMalansac 
 station or by carriage from Vannes. 
 Diligence leaves Malansac, 5k., 9.25 a.m., 3.48 P.M., 50c. ; leaves 
 Rochefort for Malansac, 7.30 a.m., 2.55 p.m. 
 
 Vannes (Morbihan), page 73. Omnibus, 30c. 
 
 Hotel du Dauphin, Place Napoleon le Grand, comfortable ; good 
 table d'hote, breakfast, 2f. 50c. ; dinner, 3f. Hotel de France. 
 A carriage may be hired (Rue du Mene, just opposite Hotel de 
 Commerce,) with one horse, to Elven, 8f. ; the peninsula of 
 Rhuys, I5f. ; to St. Anne, &c, I2f. Jean Picard's boat to 
 Locmariaker, Gavr Tnis, &c, I5f. 
 
 Rail to Auray, 1st class, 2f. 50c. ; 2nd class, 2f. ; 3rd class, 
 if. 50c. 
 
 Diligence to Sarzeau, 24k., 4 P.M. ; leaves Sarzeau, 7 a.m., 
 if. 25c. 
 
 Post Office, Place Napoleon. 
 Photographer, Place Napoleon. 
 
 Booksellers, Madame Galles, Rue de la Prefecture; Monsieur 
 Cauderan, Rue de la Prefecture. 
 
 Sarzeau (Morbihan), page 104. 
 Hotel des Voyageurs. 
 
 St. Gildas, page 105. The Sisters take boarders at a very reason- 
 able rate. There is good bathing at St. Gildas. 
 
xviii INDEX FOR TRAVELLERS. 
 
 Port Navalo, page 116. 
 
 Hotel de la Marine. The Belle He steamer stops here for pas- 
 sengers on its way to and from Auray. 
 
 Ploermel, page 118. 
 
 Hotel des Voyageurs ; can be reached by carriage from Vannes. 
 about 50k. by way of Malestroit, or by diligence from Questem- 
 bert station ; diligence leaves Questembert at 10 a.m., 4 P.M. 
 
 A diligence runs between Ploermel and Josselin, 12k. 
 
 Josselin (Morbihan), page 123. 
 
 Hotel Grande Maison Croix d'Or. From Josselin to Vannes, 
 by St. Jean de Brevelai, 42k. 
 
 JLocmariaker (Morbihan), page 137. 
 Hotel Marchand. 
 
 St. Anne d'Auray (Morbihan), page 149 
 Omnibus, 50c. 
 Hotel Lion d'Or. 
 
 Auray (Morbihan), page 162. 
 Buffet. 
 
 Hotels— 
 
 Pavilion d'en Haut, extremely clean, well-served, and comfortable, 
 but more expensive than either Vannes or Quimper. 
 
 De la Poste ; a carriage with one horse may be had for about iof. 
 per day. 
 
 Steamer leaves Auray three times a week for Belle He. 
 
 Rail to Baud, 1st class, 2f. ; 2nd class, if. 50c. ; 3rd class, if. 25c. 
 
 Carnac (Morbihan), page 165. 
 Hotel des Voyageurs. 
 
 Plouharnel (Morbihan), page 172. 
 Hotel des Voyageurs. 
 
 Baud (Morbihan), page 186. 
 
 Inn Chapeau Rouge, dinner excellent. 
 Omnibus, 50c. 
 
 Rail to Pontivy, 1st class, 4f. 50c. ; 2nd class, 4f. ; 3rd class, 3f. 
 
INDEX FOR TRAVELLERS. 
 
 xix 
 
 St. Nicolas des Eaux (Morbihan), page 177. No inn. 
 
 Pontivy (Morbihan), page 195. 
 
 Hotel Grosset, good; breakfast, 2f. : bottle of wine, if. 
 Carriage to Hennebont, via St. Nicodeme, 20f. 
 
 Hennebont (Morbihan), page 217. Inn. 
 
 Rail to L'Orient, 1st class, if. 50c. ; 2nd class, if. ; 3rd class, 75c. 
 Rail to Quimperle, 1st class, 3f. 50c; 2nd class, 2f. 75c; 3rd 
 class, if. 95c. 
 
 L'Orient (Morbihan), page 225. Buffet. 
 Omnibus, 25c. 
 Hotel de France. 
 
 Quimperle (Finistere), page 226. 
 Omnibus. 
 
 Hotel des Voyageurs, the only good one. 
 
 Carriage to Le Faouet, Ste. Barbe, and St. Fiacre, 24k., iof. 
 
 Carriage to Pont Aven. 
 
 Rail to Quimper, 1st class, 5f. 75c. ; 2nd class, 4f. 25c. ; 3rd class, 
 3f. ioc. 
 
 Le Faouet (Morbihan), page 238. 
 Inn, Lion d'Or. 
 
 Pont Ayen (Finistere), page 250. 
 
 Hotel des Voyageurs (Mdlle Julia Guillou), very good and cheap. 
 
 Concarneau (Finistere), page 257. 
 
 Quimper (Finistere), page 265. 
 Omnibus, 60c. 
 
 Hotel de l'Epee, comfortable and moderate. 
 
 Diligence to Pont l'Abbe, 18k., 5 p.m., if. 25c. ; from Pont 
 
 l'Abbe to Quimper, 8 A.M. 
 Ddigence to Douarnenez, 23k., and Audierne, 44k., 2.30 p.m. ; 
 
 from Audierne to Quimper, 4 P.M., 3C 
 Rail to Chateaulin, 1st class, 3f. 75c. ; 2nd class, 2f. 80c. ; 3rd 
 
 class, 2f. 25 c. 
 
 b 
 
XX 
 
 INDEX FOR TRA VELLERS* 
 
 Carriages, Rancillac Rue. 
 Bookseller, Salaun. 
 Post Office, Quai du Steir. 
 Telegraph, 6, Rue Sainte Therese. 
 
 Pont L'Abbe (Finistere), page 279. 
 Hotel Duhamel, 
 
 Audierne (Finistere), page 287. 
 
 Hotel du Commerce. Breakfast, 2f. 50c. ; dinner, 3f. A carriage 
 can be hired here for Pointe du Raz. Pont Croix and Douar- 
 nenez for I5f. 
 
 Douarnenez (Finistere), page 305. Bathing-place. 
 
 Hotel des Voyageurs, good table d'hote ; expenses 6f. 30c. to 7f. 
 
 per day. 
 Boat to Crozon. 
 
 Carriage to Crozon and Chateaulin. 
 
 Crozon (Finistere), page 311. 
 Hotel Renoult. 
 
 Camaret (Finistere), page 312. Inn. 
 
 Chateaulin (Finistere), page 314. 
 Omnibus, 50c. 
 Hotel de la Grande Maison. 
 
 Rail to Brest, 1st class, 8f. 50c. ; 2nd class, 6f. 80c. ; 3rd class, 
 
 5f. 40c. 
 Carriages, Guedas. 
 
 Brest (Finistere), page 320. 
 Omnibus, 50c-. 
 Hotels — 
 
 Grand Hotel, good and expensive. 
 Hotel des Voyageurs, Rue de Siam. 
 
I.oudsyrL; Ch. 
 
& Windus j RecadiRy. EiwVWellsr 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 RITING a book on 
 Normandy of any 
 moderate dimensions 
 seemed a presump- 
 tuous and almost im- 
 possible task — it was 
 unsatisfactory and 
 tantalising to hint 
 only at subjects full 
 of interest, and to 
 show corners instead 
 of the whole of many 
 places worthy a much 
 closer and deeper in- 
 vestigation than I had space or science to give ; but this 
 feeling of hopelessness becomes far stronger in writing about 
 Brittany, where perhaps one can say truthfully every barren 
 plain bears, either visibly or beneath its brown soil, some 
 mysterious token of an epoch before history began, and 
 frequently also of one or other of the various invaders, 
 who, though they have impressed their presence on the 
 
 B 
 
THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 hills and riversides and barren heaths, yet have left the 
 ancient people much as they found them. 
 
 The cross now surmounts the menhir, and the statue of 
 the Virgin is niched over the fountain of remote date, 
 where once the Korrigan reigned supreme ; but the worship 
 is still full of dark superstition, a strange mixture of Chris- 
 tianity and of the paganism of the weird days when the 
 sacred vervain could work miracles and the mistletoe was 
 the emblem of the priests. The old stories of human 
 sacrifices seem, according to many writers, to have been 
 libels on the Druids ; but it is impossible to contemplate 
 the monstrous misshapen blocks of stone, scattered over 
 the length and breadth of the province of Brittany, without 
 an intense conviction that these stones have witnessed fear- 
 ful rites, in which probably demons have been worshipped 
 and called on to consecrate the tombs, if they are tombs, 
 of departed chiefs honoured by these colossal memorials. 
 
 After the prehistoric period and its remains, which seem 
 to be involved in such a sea of dispute that it is useless 
 to venture an opinion thereon, we come to traces of Roman 
 and Gallic occupation. It is true these are far less fre- 
 quent than in Normandy ; but still there are Roman roads 
 and Gallo-Roman villas and tiles, while coins, &c, that have 
 been unearthed are to be seen in the museums of the larger 
 towns, besides the many interesting relics in private local 
 collections. 
 
 Then there are the marvellous legends of King Grallon, 
 or Gradlon, an emigrant from Great Britain, and his wicked 
 daughter, Ahes or Dahut, and the submersion of the city 
 of Is ; legends of the Bluebeard of Cornouaille, the fierce 
 Comorre, of the marvellous SS. Corentin, Gildas, Ronan, 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 3 
 
 and others, whose words seem to have been law in the land. 
 Then we come to King Arthur and the Knights of the 
 Round Table, whose chief exploits, according to Breton 
 chroniclers, happened in Brittany, and not in Britain ; 
 Avalon, the lie de Sein, and the forest of Broceliande, 
 where Merlin still lies sleeping, being all in Brittany. 
 
 Then come records of wars with the Frankish Kings of 
 France, against whom Brittany maintained her independ- 
 ence as a nation, as she also did finally against the Norman 
 invaders of the ninth century; and next, most deeply inter- 
 esting to us English, the struggle between the rival houses 
 of Montfort and Blois, with Du Guesclin for its central 
 figure. Then comes good Duchess Anne, whose memory 
 lives in stone in some of the towns of her duchy ; and last 
 of all the annexation, which has provoked a lament, still 
 living in the heart of all true Bretons. "We are not 
 French," they tell you, "we are the people of our own 
 country." It is this special nationality that makes Brittany 
 more interesting than any other part of France; it is a 
 country by itself, and its people are more unlike the 
 French than the Welsh or Scotch are unlike their English 
 neighbours. This is especially the case in the three depart- 
 ments of Morbihan, Finistere, and the Cotes du Nord, 
 although the north-east portions of this last are becoming 
 very French. 
 
 The struggles of the Chouans during the French Revolu- 
 tion, although chiefly occurring in La Vendee, still reached 
 into Brittany, and every now and then we are reminded 
 of them. 
 
 In Finistere the most striking scenery, both inland and 
 seacoast, is to be found. Here, too, are some of the finest 
 
4 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 churches — the cathedrals of Quimper and St. Pol de Le'on, 
 the churches of Le Folgoet and of Pont Croix and of the 
 Creizker. Costume varies in the most surprising manner 
 throughout the province of Brittany j there are always the 
 same main features — the square-cut bodies and straight- 
 falling skirts of the women, the short jackets and large 
 black hats of the men, and the black velvet and silver 
 button trimmings — but the caps and collars vary almost in 
 every commune ; and if a Breton girl of the peasant class 
 leaves her native place and takes service in a town at some 
 distance she still wears the cap of her country ; and for this 
 reason market-day in the larger towns offers a most com- 
 posite display of costumes — in Finistere and Morbihan of 
 caps and collars, in the Cotes du Nord of the neckerchief 
 and bibbed apron. 
 
 In Morbihan we felt that we were among a different 
 race to the inhabitants of Nantes and other parts of the 
 Loire Infe'rieure, but it is not till one enters Finistere that 
 one understands the phrase Breton breto?inante. Either 
 Sunday or market-day in Quimper shows one the true Breton, 
 with his long tangled hair, his trunk hose, his gaily em- 
 broidered garments, his immense black hat, and his fierce 
 black eyes gleaming beneath it. He speaks Breton too, 
 and has very little comprehension of French ; he drinks 
 whenever he can get the chance, though he is said to do this 
 only at the Pardons ; he is very rough and impulsive, and 
 he seems often to treat his wife like a beast of burden. 
 But he is the most picturesque-looking creature possible, 
 and has a certain grand dignified manner at times which 
 contrasts as strangely with the dirt and squalor in which 
 he lives as the handsome old carved beds and presses 
 
INTR OD UCTOR Y CHA PTER . 
 
 5 
 
 and chests in his house contrast with the uneven mud 
 floors, and the proximity of the cow-house and the pigs and 
 poultry, which last mingle with the children on the dirty 
 ground. 
 
 The Loire Infe'rieure and Ille et Vilaine are for the most 
 part more like France than Brittany. It is in Morbihan 
 and Finistere that those who wish to make acquaintance 
 with the Celtic Bretons should chiefly travel. The great 
 feature of Pardons and fete-days in Finistere is the variety 
 of brilliant colour in the women's dresses, and this is gene- 
 rally good and harmonious, especially when a little wear in 
 the intense sunshine has toned its effects ; for, judging by 
 our own experience, the months of July and August are 
 one uninterrupted glow oi fine weather, although Nantes 
 has the reputation of having a hundred and thirty rainy 
 days in the year. 
 
 The traveller, then, who seeks for novelty and originality 
 should visit the three departments of Morbihan, Finistere, 
 and Cotes du Nord, which Breton writers agree in dividing, 
 according to the ancient bishoprics, into the countries of 
 Vannes, of Cornouaille, of Le'on, and of Treguier. 
 
 Vannes, which is entirely Celtic in its features, repre- 
 sents Morbihan. The Vannetais were the fighting men of 
 Brittany. Caesar said, when he tried to conquer them, that 
 they had bodies of iron and hearts of steel They are graver 
 than the men of Cornouaille, more sombre and self-pos- 
 sessed, and there is a sternness in their legends and tradi- 
 tions. The Vannetais played the fearful game of Soule long 
 after it had been given up by the other provinces. It is 
 near Vannes that we meet with legends of hideous dwarfs 
 who inhabit the dolmens and cromlechs, and of malicious 
 
6 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 Korrigans who haunt the fountains ; and it is chiefly in 
 Morbihan that we find the special and most interesting 
 features of Brittany, its megalithic remains — it is extra- 
 ordinary how soon these uncouth blocks of stone exert a 
 power of fascination, a kind of weird influence, which makes 
 one after a while inclined to travel wherever menhirs and 
 dolmens are to be seen and examined. 
 
 Cornouaille, with its chief city of Quimper, does not 
 embrace the whole of Finistere, but reaches from Quimperle 
 to Brest northwards, and as far as Morlaix and to Pontivy 
 eastwards. This is perhaps, as a whole, the most interesting 
 part of Brittany — la vraie Bretagne breto?ina?ite ; and we very 
 soon notice the difference in character between the Kerne- 
 wotes and the Vannetais : the first are so much dirtier, so 
 much gayer, so much more excitable and turbulent. In 
 the market at Quimper or Quimperle the talk and laughter 
 are incessant ; there is much less of the silent, solemn aspect 
 which repelled us at Vannes and at St. Nicodeme. But 
 on the coast, with its cruel rocks jagged and torn by the 
 frightful violence of the sea, where every year so many 
 vessels leave their spars and the bones of their crews to 
 whiten on the brown " goemont," the spirits of the people 
 seem to be overshadowed by the perils and disasters that 
 lurk around the iron-bound coast, and which are hinted at 
 in the weird legends of the Baie des Trepasses and of the 
 Druidesses of Sene. 
 
 The men of Penmarc'h and Douarnenez are almost as 
 silent as the Le'onnais. The country, too, of Cornouaille is 
 wildly beautiful, even grand, at its seacoast — a series of 
 jagged and terrible rocks and lofty headlands, between 
 which sandy bays encourage stretches of foam-fringed blue 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER, 
 
 sea. The two ranges of hills — les Montagnes Noires, reach- 
 ing from Carhaix to the Menez Horn, or Menehom, near 
 Chateaulin, ancLon to the sea, and the Montagnes d'Arre'e, 
 a range of hills stretching across the country from east to 
 west, between Morlaix and Huelgoat — are both in Finistere ; 
 also many charming rivers — the Elle, the Odet, the Elorn, 
 and others. In Cornouaille especially, although we heard of 
 this also in Morbihan, the old custom of asking a girl in 
 marriage by means of the Bazvalan still exists. 
 
 Next comes Leon, the country north of Brest and of the 
 Montagnes d'Arree, of which St. Pol de Leon, the ancient 
 Occismor, was the capital. If we felt the difference between 
 the men of Morbihan and the men of Cornouaille, the 
 change from the Kernewote to the Leonnais is far more 
 striking. At Landiviziau, in the Leonnais, we engaged 
 a driver for some days, and were constantly struck by the 
 contrast between his rough, noisy, impulsive ways and 
 those of the quiet, decorous peasants in the villages we 
 passed through. It soon came out that our coachman 
 was a Kernewote, and had been brought up in the mines 
 at Huelgoat, till his love for horses made him take a 
 situation in a stable at Landiviziau. 
 
 The Leonnais are said to be extremely devout, but their 
 religion and their superstitions are of a darker, gloomier 
 character than those of their neighbours of Treguier. Their 
 marriages are the most improvident in Brittany. As soon 
 as the matter is arranged and the marriage day settled 
 between a very poor young man and woman, the young 
 people go round and invite all their friends and chance 
 acquaintances. Each guest brings a present in the shape 
 of food, flax, furniture, sometimes money ; and these pre- 
 
THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 sents form the marriage feast for sometimes two or three 
 hundred wedding guests, and also help to set up the house- 
 hold of the young pair, who, in some cases, would not have 
 a bed to lie on without the help of their friends. 
 
 The reverence of the Leonnais for children is remarkable. 
 At St. Pol, Souvestre says, no woman will suckle an infant 
 without crossing herself, and if you pass a woman with a 
 child in her arms you must say, " God bless you ! " He also 
 says that a man will not strike even his worst enemy if he 
 has a child in his arms. 
 
 Throughout Brittany beggars are not only tolerated, but 
 are treated with much kindness and hospitality; but in 
 Leon the beggar is an honoured guest, and in recompense 
 he relates all the local news which he has collected in his 
 wanderings — news of births, marriages, and deaths, of the 
 cures effected at a Pardon or by the water of a fountain ; and 
 when these are exhausted he recites some of the ballads 
 and poems which, handed down from father to son, and per- 
 petually added to by the talent for improvisation which 
 belongs to many of these strange people, have had much to 
 do in preserving the nationality of Brittany and keeping out 
 the inroads of civilisation. 
 
 The Breton dislikes strangers ; he does not care for foreign 
 news or for politics, unless these relate to his beloved hills 
 and valleys and landes, or to the storm-beaten coast which 
 he inhabits ; but he loves to hear laments for le temps passe, 
 or ballads such as " Le Combat des Trente " or " Jeanne la 
 Flamme," which recall the valour of his ancestors ; although 
 these would be more likely to find favour in Cornouaille or 
 Morbihan than in Leon. There is less ballad-making in 
 this quiet sombre province than in Treguier or Cornouaille ; 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 9 
 
 yet some of the saddest of the charming poems in the 
 " Barzaz Breiz " are in the dialect of Leon — " La Fiancee de 
 Satan," " Notre Dame du Folgoet," " L'Heritiere de Ke'rou- 
 laz," and " Le Marquis de Guerand." 
 
 No one should travel in Brittany without the " Barzaz 
 Breiz ; " it seems to open one's eyes to the inner life — half 
 mystic, half devout — which is the essence of the Breton 
 character, and which will probably enable the Bretons as a 
 nation to preserve for some time their idiosyncrasy against 
 an influx of railways and tourists. Every event, every 
 legend, is chronicled in verse, and many of these lays are 
 very ancient. " Le Rossignol," on which Marie de France 
 founded her lay, is said to be earlier than the thirteenth 
 century; and yet, till Monsieur de Villemarque began his 
 labours of love, it does not appear that much effort had 
 been made to chronicle these dramatic ballads and poems, 
 which have lived in the memories and on the lips of the 
 people. The subject of the Breton bards is so very interest- 
 ing and yet so far-reaching that I dare not dwell on it, 
 especially as Monsieur de Villemarque has treated it ex- 
 haustively in others of his books besides the interesting 
 preface to the " Barzaz Breiz." 
 
 Mr. Tom Taylor* has admirably translated several of 
 these very remarkable and spirited poems, but there are 
 still many others of great beauty, and which, to those 
 who have become acquainted with Brittany and the 
 Bretons, are most vivid and lifelike. 
 
 But Brizeux, the poet of Brittany, in " Les Bretons " and 
 other works, gives most realistic as well as most poetic 
 pictures of the manners and customs of his countrymen. 
 * "Ballads and Songs of Brittany." 
 
10 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 The last province is Tre'guier, which answers as nearly 
 as possible to the Cotes du Nord. The Tre'gorrois at 
 first sight is less intensely national than either the man of 
 Vannes, of Leon, or of Cornouaille. His costume is less 
 special, and^French is more generally spoken throughout his 
 country ; there are also more manor-houses than fortresses 
 in Treguier, life is more gentle, and there is less squalid 
 poverty than in Cornouaille ; and nowhere else, not even 
 in Leon, is the power of the priesthood so paramount. 
 One cannot travel without becoming aware of this fact. As 
 the coasts of Cornouaille and Leon furnish the best sailors 
 to France, so Treguier is the great nursery of the Breton 
 priesthood. Here chiefly the kloar or kloarek, as the student 
 for holy orders is called, studies his vocation, although there 
 are seminaries all over the country. Taken from a poor 
 peasant home, he lives and lodges hardly ; and when he 
 comes home for long summer and winter holidays is treated 
 with reverence by all, even by his parents, and it often 
 happens that, during these idle hours spent with old com- 
 panions among the orchards and in the harvest-fields, he 
 sees some maiden whose good looks tempt him to regret his 
 vocation, and to rebel against the life which dooms him to 
 celibacy. Brizeux has shown this in " Loic." 
 
 The Tregorrois have a special talent for improvisation, 
 and their voices are said to be more musical than those 
 of their neighbours when they sing their ballads at the 
 Pardons. Their religion is less gloomy than that of the 
 Leonnais. One should, perhaps, go to a wedding or a 
 wrestling-match in Cornouaille, a funeral in Leon, and a 
 festival or a pilgrimage in Treguier, where processions 
 and hymns, songs and dances, replace the rougher sports 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 ii 
 
 enacted at the Pardons of the Kernewote, although dancing 
 seems to be a popular amusement everywhere. These 
 popular rites, especially the weddings and Pardons of Brit- 
 tany, give a colour and interest to its towns and villages as 
 special as attractive, and take the traveller back to the 
 Middle Ages as he gazes at the quaintly garbed processions 
 and violent sports ot the stalwart dark-eyed people, so 
 uncouth, yet so indescribably picturesque. A knowledge of 
 Breton is very helpful in listening to the ballads ot the 
 mendicants or old women, who in some parts of the country 
 still make a profession of story-telling. 
 
 The religious plays of the Bretons were still acted a 
 few years ago in Treguier. There are many interesting 
 churches and chateaux to be seen in this part of the 
 country. Besides the ruined abbey of Beauport, Treguier 
 possesses two most interesting cathedrals, those of Dol and 
 Treguier. 
 
 At first sight the Bretons appear cold, sullen, and repel- 
 ling ; but they are really a very interesting people, and yet 
 very unlike their Norman neighbours. They are sadly ad- 
 dicted to drink, and are very dirty in their habits, especially 
 in out-of-the-way districts; they are obstinate, but they 
 seem fairly honest and sincere, and the men are brave and 
 independent ; they seem too to be a religious, thoughtful, 
 and self-respecting race. Their language is troublesome 
 to learn, as there are several different dialects. In many 
 villages in Finistere only a few of the inhabitants speak 
 French. There is perhaps more resemblance between 
 Britons and Bretons than between Bretons and French- 
 men ; one special point of resemblance is that of being good 
 sailors. The French navy is chiefly composed of Bretons. 
 
12 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 Brittany has also a special attraction for English people, 
 for if, as the French people say, we were conquered by the 
 Duke of Normandy, and are therefore, after all, only a 
 Norman colony, we certainly colonised Brittany, and the 
 first reputed king of that country was born in Troynovant, 
 the ancient London, in the time of the Emperor Gratian. 
 
 It seems to be certain that in the century preceding the 
 birth of Christ Great Britain and Ireland were inhabited 
 by the same race, who at that time peopled the north-west 
 provinces of France, or, to speak more correctly, by a mix- 
 ture of two races, the Gaels and the Cymri. When the 
 Romans invaded Armorican Britain, or Brittany, the western 
 portion of Celtic Gaul consisted of six provinces, inhabited 
 by people who spoke the same language, but each possess- 
 ing an independent form of government. The Romans 
 called these people Diablinthes (afterwards Madonienses 
 or Malouins), Rhedones (or people of Rennes), Nannetes 
 (or people of Nantes), Curiosolites (afterwards people of 
 Tre'guier), and people of St. Brieuc, under the names Tre- 
 corenses and Briocenses, Veneti and Ossismienses. When 
 part of the territory of the Veneti and that which remained 
 of the Curiosolites was merged in the diocese of Coriso- 
 pitenses, or Quimper, the Ossismiens called themselves 
 Legionenses or Le'onnais, a name given them by the 
 Romans. The diocese of Quimper went by the name 
 of Cornu-Galliae, or Cornouaille ; and the northern part 
 of Breton Armorica, comprising the dioceses of Le'on, St. 
 Brieuc, and Dol, by that of Donnone'e. 
 
 There is no authentic history of ancient Brittany ; the 
 Druids, who still existed in the seventh century, and their 
 bards have left no records but those which still linger in some 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 '3 
 
 of the more ancient ballads ; and, although there were many 
 Christian monasteries at that time, the monks seem to 
 have been too busy in weaning the people from their 
 ancient faith to occupy themselves with chronicling the 
 events of their time. 
 
 According to some authorities, the history of Brittany 
 begins with Brutus, grandson of Ascanius, who founded the 
 city of Occismor before he landed in Great Britain and built 
 Troynovant, while others say that Gomer, the son of 
 Japhet, settled in Armorica, and begot the Celtic race 
 there. M. de la Borderie divides Breton history into three 
 periods : from B.C. 56 to a.d. 938, that is from Julius Caesar 
 to Alain Barbe Torte, the first Duke of Brittany ; from 938 
 to 1532, when, after the death of Duchess Anne, Brittany 
 was annexed to France; and from 1532 to 1789. And 
 these periods he again subdivides into B.C. 56 to a.d. 455, 
 Gallo-Roman period; 455 to 753, the immigration from 
 Great Britain under Conan Meriadech, the subversion of the 
 Druids, and the struggles of the Breton kings with the 
 Carlovingians ; 753 to 938, during which period the exist- 
 ence of Brittany as a separate nation was severely menaced. 
 
 The first real history we come to is the memorable 
 war undertaken by Julius Caesar on the occasion of the 
 resistance which the warlike Veneti offered to his all-con- 
 quering arms. And this war seems to have been the 
 cause of the Roman invasion of our island ; for, Great 
 Britain having aided the Veneti, when Caesar had con- 
 quered that people he made his first voyage across the 
 channel in order to punish the Britons for their audacity. 
 A fabulous history of Breton kings begins with Conan 
 Meriadech, who, in the reign of the Roman emperor 
 
THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 Gratian, at the end of the fourth century, came over from 
 Great Britain with the Roman general Maximus, recently 
 proclaimed emperor by his own troops. Maximus had 
 robbed Conan of the probable succession to the kingdom 
 of Britain, and he offered as a recompense to associate him 
 with the conquests he proposed to make in Gaul. Conan 
 landed at Occismor, then occupied by a Roman garrison, 
 and as soon as the country was conquered he was crowned 
 king at Rennes. The Bretons had never submitted willingly 
 to the Roman yoke, and Conan having restored to them all 
 the privileges of which the invaders had robbed them, soon 
 found himself able to pacify the nation he had conquered. 
 
 He sent to Britain for the wives and children of his 
 companions, and also wrote to Dionotus, then King of 
 Troynovant, to ask his beautiful daughter Ursula in mar- 
 riage. She set sail, magnificently habited, and accompanied 
 by a very large number of beautiful damsels, her com- 
 panions. They had hardly started when a fearful storm 
 arose, and wrecked their fleet of boats on the coasts of Hol- 
 land, near the mouth of the Rhine. Here the unhappy virgins 
 were cruelly massacred by a horde of Picts and Huns ; but 
 St. Ursula and her companions were canonised by the Church 
 as martyrs. At this time Brittany seems to have been 
 divided between Druid worship, the pagan mythology of 
 the Roman invaders, and the beginning of Christianity, 
 in the third century preached by St. Clair, and watered into 
 fuller progress by the blood of the martyrs SS. Donatien 
 and Rogatien. 
 
 The two most celebrated of the Druid academies were in 
 Belle He and the isle of Ushant ; there was another in the 
 isle of Sein, but this was devoted to priestesses who were con- 
 
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. 
 
 15 
 
 suited by sailors as to the issue of their voyages. The priests 
 of Belle He had a college in the peninsula of Quiberon, and 
 it is supposed that at a fixed time every year the Druids of 
 the whole of Brittany, from Belle He, Ouessant, Douarnenez, 
 Pointe du Raz,Ile de Batz, with deputations from Mona, the 
 Hebrides, the Orkneys, and Ireland, met at Carnac. There 
 the priestesses, barefooted, dressed in white, crowned with 
 vervain, the sacred reaping-hooks hanging from their golden 
 girdles, carried solemnly in a snow-white veil the Selago 
 {Pulsatilla) gathered on the sixth day of the moon. At the 
 conclusion of these solemnities, which no profane eyes ever 
 witnessed, an enormous rock was erected in memorial. 
 
 The power of the Druids was immense, but the intrepid 
 Conan Meriadech resolved to destroy this empire, especially 
 as he saw danger to himself in the dislike with which these 
 heathen philosophers regarded him. He convoked the 
 states-general at Rennes. The Druids declared that only 
 three classes were suitable for election in this assembly — the 
 people, the nobles or fighting-men, and the priests. Their 
 decision being accepted, almost all Christian priests were 
 elected, and the Druids found themselves a small minority. 
 Then Moderan, the Bishop of Rennes, rose and declaimed 
 against the practices of the Druids, till Uheldeda, the high 
 priestess, moved to fury, rose also and cursed Conan and 
 crushed the mystic plant which she had brought solemnly 
 into the assembly. 
 
 This was enough. Conan bade the Druids depart for 
 ever from the assembly; their colleges were closed, and 
 they were forbidden to instruct the youth of Brittany. 
 
 But the curse of Uheldeda lived. Calamities which hap- 
 pened from time to time were said to be caused by the 
 
i6 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 priestesses of Sein, or Sene, and Conan sent troops to the 
 island to bring the culprits to his presence. The soldiers 
 landed at Sein, burned the sacred groves, and killed the 
 Druids who had gathered to defend their priestesses. 
 Uheldeda and some of her companions stabbed themselves, 
 singing their own death dirge ; those who survived were 
 brought before Conan, and were at once condemned to 
 death. A few days later a violent fever ended the life of 
 the conqueror of Brittany. He died regretted by all but the 
 partisans of the Druids, and was buried at St. Pol de Leon. 
 
 The great improbability of the sole sovereignty of Conan 
 Meriadech seems to lie in the fact that at that time Great 
 Britain was divided into numerous petty states, and also 
 that for centuries afterwards Brittany seems to have been in 
 the same condition. But whether Conan Meriadech be an 
 historical or a traditionary personage, it is certain that all 
 the kings and dukes of Brittany acknowledged him as their 
 ancestor. 
 
 Christianity seems to have entered Brittany before this, 
 SS. Clair and Adeodatus having evangelised Nantes and 
 Vannes in the third century, and a goodly company of 
 saints seems to have followed. In the sixth century 
 there evidently existed in Armorica at least four little 
 kingdoms, governed by either kings or counts : Donnonee, 
 between the mouth of the Couesnon and the Morlaix 
 river, containing the ancient bishoprics of Dol, St. Malo, St. 
 Brieuc, and Treguier; Le'on, reaching from the Morlaix 
 river to the Elorn, the ancient diocese of Leon ; Cornouaille, 
 between the Elorn and the Elle, ancient diocese of Quimper ; 
 Broeree, or Le Vannetais, ancient diocese of Vannes and 
 the county of Poher, really a part of Cornouaille. 
 
ZNTR OD UCTOR Y CHAPTER. 
 
 *7 
 
 After Conan come several mythical kings, always in close 
 alliance with the sovereigns of Britain. The most notable 
 is Grallon the Great, about 490, with his three counsellors, 
 St. Corentin, St. Ronan, and St. Wingaloc, and his notorious 
 daughter, the Princess Dahut or Ahes. In the sixth cen- 
 tury appeared the famous Merlin, born in the isle of Sein, 
 the offspring of a nun and a demon, who hoped by the 
 means of this child to destroy Christianity ; but as Merlin 
 was baptized the parents were disappointed. He went 
 heartily into the service first of Uther Pendragon and then 
 of his son Arthur. Arthur and his cousin Hoel the Great 
 came to their respective thrones about 513'; but Arthur was 
 so fiercely attacked by the Scots and Picts that Hoel had 
 to go over from Brittany to his assistance. 
 
 This Hoel le Grand seems to have stayed some time in 
 Great Britain, and to have been present at the creation of 
 the Knights of the Round Table. Till the reign of Comorre, 
 Count of Poher, in 520, the Breton princes had not sub- 
 mitted to France; but this wicked prince, finding himself 
 hated by all his neighbours, made himself the vassal of 
 Child ebert, King of Paris, and with his assistance took pos- 
 session of the lordship of Donnonee. 
 
 About this period cider was invented by St. Guenole as 
 an ascetic drink. Vannes, at this time in possession of the 
 Franks, was taken by Waroch II. about 577, and then came 
 constant warfare between Bretons and Franks. In the reign 
 of Hoel II. Riwallo Murmaezon established the kingdom 
 of Donnonee, but it seems to have been as much disturbed 
 as the rest of Brittany. In the middle of the sixth century 
 Conobert, Count of Nantes, having sheltered the family of 
 his wife's brother-in-law, Chramme, son of King Clotaire I. 
 
 c 
 
i8 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 of France, Clotaire invaded Brittany ; and, although his son 
 finally submitted, he burned him alive with all his family. 
 
 Judhael was one of the good Kings of Donnone'e, and the 
 famous bard Taliessin, an exile from Great Britain, and who 
 lived in a cromlech in the peninsula of Rhuis, interpreted a 
 dream, which foretold to Judhael the wonderful qualities of 
 his son Judicael. At this time Hoel III. was on the throne 
 of Brittany, and when Judicael died, after a good and 
 glorious reign, the kingdom of Donnone'e was reunited to 
 that of Brittany. Solomon II. was then reigning; and in 
 the time of his successor, Alain, the tyranny of the Angles 
 caused an immense expatriation of Britons, who under the 
 guidance of Cadwallador took refuge in Armorica, landing 
 at Guy d'Aleth (St. Malo). At the death of Alain discord 
 descended on Brittany, which King Pepin of France was 
 astute enough to profit by. He sent an army and con- 
 quered the towns of Nantes, Rennes, Dol, and St. Malo, 
 setting up governors and imposing a tribute. 
 
 Charlemagne insisted on the payment of this tribute, and 
 much war and disorder arose in consequence, as the Bretons 
 were still too much divided among themselves to elect a 
 king to lead them against the invader. There were still 
 two princes left of the ancient race of Conan, named 
 Riwallo and Nomenoe. Nomenoe had submitted to the 
 emperor, and had been named in 826, by Louis le Debon- 
 naire, Grand Justiciary ; but, at the death of Louis le 
 Debonnaire, when Danish pirates made a descent on the 
 Cotes du Nord and attacked Treguier, Nomenoe took the 
 command of the army, and after a bloody battle, in which 
 the loss on each side was equal, he showed so much skill 
 in treating with the pirates that they promised never to 
 
INTR OD UCTOR Y CHAPTER. 
 
 19 
 
 revisit the Breton shores. In 841 Nomenoe threw off the 
 yoke, and five years later the independence of Brittany was 
 re-established. It is curious that a direct line of kings 
 seems to have been established about the same time both 
 in Britain and in Brittany. 
 
 In the reign of Alain the Great, Charles the Simple revived 
 the question of tribute, which the Kings of France had 
 ignored since the days of Nomenoe; and in 921 he gave 
 to Rollo, Duke of Normandy, the right of exacting it. This 
 exaction caused perpetual feud between the Normans and 
 the Bretons. Alain III. was chosen by Robert the Magnifi- 
 cent guardian of his young son William the Bastard. He 
 was poisoned, and buried in the Abbey of Fecamp. 
 
 In the fourth and fifth centuries there seem to have 
 reigned, either as kings or counts, Conan Meriadech, 
 Salaiin or Solomon I., Grallon, and some others. 
 
 Sixth century — Hoel I., Hoel II., Hoel III., and several 
 Kings of Donnonee, including Judhael. 
 
 Seventh century — Solomon II., Judicael of Donnonee, 
 Alain, and another Grallon. 
 
 Then comes a period of anarchy till — 
 
 841. Nomenoe. 
 851. Erispoe. 
 857. Solomon. 
 
 874. Pasquilen and Gurvaud. 
 877= Alain I. (Le Grand). 
 
 907. Norman invasion. A period of anarchy till 931, when there was a 
 general massacre of Normans. A Breton chief named Alain 
 Barbe Torte, or Le Renard, had taken refuge in England with 
 King Athelstan, in 936 he returned to Brittany, and in 937 
 forced the Normans to retire to Nantes. In 938 he took 
 Nantes and finally expelled the invaders, and became the first 
 Duke of Brittany. 
 
20 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY, 
 
 Dukes : — 
 
 937. Alain (Barbe Torte). 
 952. Hoel and Guerach. 
 990. Conan I. (Le Fort). 
 992. Geoffroy I. and Judicael. 
 1008. Alain III. and Eudon. 
 
 1040. Conan II. (This is the Conan conquered by William, Duke of 
 Normandy.) 
 
 1066. Hoel V. (son of Alain Cagniart and Judith). 
 1084. Alain IV. (Fergent). 
 1 1 12. Conan III. (Le Gros). 
 1 148. Eudon and several others. 
 
 1156. Conan IV. Henry II., Plantagenet, takes Nantes and forces 
 Conan to promise his young daughter Constance to his son 
 Geoffrey, and then insists that Conan shall abdicate till 
 Geoffrey is of age to marry. 
 
 1 175. Geoffroy II. (Plantagenet). 
 
 1196. Constance and her son Arthur. Arthur so named to conciliate 
 the Bretons. The succession at the death of Arthur devolved 
 on Alice, daughter of Constance by her third husband, Guy 
 de Thouars. 
 
 1213. Alice and her husband Pierre Mauclerc (of the house of Dreux). 
 1237. John I. (Le Roux). 
 1286. John II. 
 1305. Arthur II. 
 13 12. John III. 
 
 1 341. The War of Succession ' between Jeanne la Boiteuse and 
 
 Charles de Blois and John and Jeanne de Montfort. 
 1364. John IV. 
 1399. John V. (Le Bon). 
 1442. Francis I. 
 1450. Peter II. 
 
 1457. Arthur III. 
 
 1458. Francis II. 
 1488. Anne. 
 
 The cheapest ways of reaching Brittany are via Little- 
 hampton to Morlaix, and by Southampton to St. Malo. 
 The pleasantest way is via Folkestone, and from Paris via 
 Chartres, Angers, Le Mans, and Nantes, stopping at all 
 
INTR OD UCTOR Y CHAPTER . 
 
 21 
 
 these interesting towns, and spending several days in Angers 
 and its neighbourhood. Once in Brittany, it is much pleasanter 
 to travel in the small carriages which are to be had everywhere 
 for ten or twelve francs per day, with one horse, sending on 
 heavy luggage by the railway, which goes completely round 
 and across the province, although it avoids many of the most 
 interesting places. The following route may serve as a help 
 to travellers intending to go completely through South 
 Brittany — although the country is so full of interest that there 
 are many places worth a visit which are not in the list. 
 
 Nantes — rail or steamer to 
 St. Nazaire — carriage to 
 
 Guerande, Le Bourg de Batz, Le Croisic, and Pouliguen 
 From Guerande to La Roche Bernard — by carriage 
 Or back to St. Nazaire, and then by rail, via Redon, in 
 
 Vannes 
 By carriage from Vannes to 
 ( Ploermel 
 
 Carriage to • 
 ^Sarzeau 
 St. Gildas 
 Sucinio 
 Tumiac 
 JPort Navalo 
 Carriage or rail to 
 Ste. Anne — and tc- 
 Auray 
 Carriage to 
 C Carnac 
 
 Josselin 
 Elven 
 
 Boat to 
 
 C The Morbihan 
 
 | Plouharnel 
 Erdeven 
 
22 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 Baud — by rail, and then drive to 
 ( St. Nicholas 
 
 I St. Nicodeme to Pontivy — drive to 
 Guemene — rail or drive from Pontivy to 
 Hennebon — rail to 
 L' Orient — rail to 
 
 Quimperle — drive to Le Faouet, &c., and to 
 Pont-a'ven — drive to 
 Concarneau — drive to 
 Rosporden — rail to 
 
 Quimper — carriage, diligence, or boat to 
 
 Pont l'Abbe — drive to 
 
 Penmarc'h 
 Diligence or carriage from Quimper to 
 
 Audierne — drive to Pointe du Raz, Pont Croix, and Douarnenez 
 Douarnenez 
 Boat to Crozon, &c. 
 Douarnenez — drive to 
 Chateaulin (Landevennec) — rail to 
 Brest. 
 
 A slight acquaintance with the Finistere dialect makes 
 travelling more interesting, as this unlocks the reserve of 
 the peasants ; and I especially advise all who intend to 
 visit Brittany to read before they start the " Barzaz Breiz " 
 of Monsieur de Villemarque, " Les Bretons," and the other 
 poems of Brizeux, and " Les Derniers Bretons," by Emile 
 Souvestre ; also to procure in Vannes the excellent little 
 " Guide des Touristes dans le Morbihan," by the late 
 Monsieur Fouquet. For those who seek the real attractions 
 that Brittany holds in the way of antiquities, I strongly 
 recommend a very plain and explicit little book, "Guide 
 to the Chambered Barrows, &c, of South Brittany," by Rev. 
 W. C. Lukis, F.S.A. The little guide Joanne is too well 
 known to need recommendation ; it is a most useful hand- 
 book, except that it does very scant justice to the inter- 
 esting old town of Vannes. 
 
INTR OD UCTOR Y CHAPTER. 
 
 2j 
 
 I have said little of the strange habits and customs of 
 Brittany, of the almost idyllic charm that seems to hang 
 about their lazy, happy, outdoor village life, with its merry- 
 making and dances, and the never-failing ballads and tales, 
 or the weird music of the bagpipe ; but the traveller will 
 learn all this for himself if he visits either the out-of-the-way 
 places along the coast or in the interior. Above all, he 
 will notice the reckless and improvident system of farming 
 — the absence of corn and hay ricks — the corn being threshed 
 as soon as reaped in some of the finest August weather in 
 the open air. Every day as one travels in this fresh un- 
 spoiled country one is charmed and amused by some beauty 
 of nature or some strange and unusual sight or custom ; 
 and one feels that many months might be passed in Brittany 
 before this pleasure could be exhausted. There are several 
 interesting places, both in Loire Inferieure and in Ille et 
 Vilaine, not described in this book, as, for instance, the 
 towns of Chateaubriand and of Ancenis, and the ruined 
 castles of Champtoce — the scene of the horrors enacted by 
 Gilles de Retz — of Oudon on the Loire ; and nearly facing 
 it the ruins of Champtoceaux, where Clisson's daughter, 
 the cruel Margaret de Penthievre, imprisoned her sovereign, 
 John V. of Brittany, to avenge the treason of the duke's 
 father, John IV., towards her own father, the famous 
 Constable. 
 
 I have to acknowledge much kindness and courtesy from 
 Mr. George Bullen and the authorities in the Reading 
 Room of the British Museum, and from the librarian of 
 Quimper ; I have also gained some valuable facts regarding 
 the lines of Carnac, &c, from Sir Henry Dryden and Rev. 
 W. C. Lukis. 
 
24 
 
 THROUGH BRITTANY. 
 
 I do not recommend Brittany to the commonplace self- 
 centred traveller, who can put up with no discomfort, who * 
 sacrifices his sense of beauty to a fastidious appetite, and 
 who considers that he asserts his position by asking the 
 unsophisticated innkeeper for luxuries and extra comforts. 
 He had better keep on the "grande route" eastward and 
 southward of Paris, and be fleeced with dignity. Brittany 
 will be to him as unsatisfactory as the walk was to one of 
 the boys in the story of " Eyes and No Eyes." But to the 
 real pilgrim in search of new ideas, and of peaceful and 
 often rugged beauty, freshness, and originality, and, above 
 all, constant variety and amusement, I promise real enjoy- 
 ment, clean and comfortable beds, and, with scarcely an 
 exception, good simple food at very moderate prices, and 
 very honest and fair-dealing innkeepers. 
 
NANTES AND THE PENINSULA OF LE 
 CROISIC. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 E did not reach Nantes till quite late at night. The 
 
 next morning, being a bright Sunday, we got an ex- 
 cellent first impression of the city. The large open Place de 
 Graslin, in front of the Hotel de France, and the streets 
 leading from it, were filled with people on their way to 
 church ; and as we went down the Rue Crebilion — a 
 handsome street, full of good shops — towards the cathedral 
 we saw groups of peasants in the flower-market. The 
 women wore caps of the most quaint and original shape, 
 and the dear little round-eyed children had white close-fitting 
 skull caps and long white pinafores. The Place Royale, at 
 the end of the Rue Crebilion, where the flower-market is 
 held, is very large, with a fine fountain in the centre. The 
 profusion of rare flowers on all sides reminded us how much 
 Nantes lies south of Paris. Magnolias, Cape jessamines, and 
 most exquisite roses were offered us for a few sous the bouquet 
 —and large bouquets too. We turned up a little street on the 
 left of the square to see the church of St. Nicholas, a very 
 
26 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 beautiful new building from the designs of Monsieur Lassus. 
 The present Bishop of Nantes, it is said, refused to be conse- 
 crated until this church was completed. Evidently no expense 
 has been spared ; but it is not quite finished, some of the 
 stone being left unsculptured. We went down again to the 
 Rue d'Orleans, and crossed the bridge over the Erdre, or 
 rather the canal which connects that river with the Loire. 
 The quays here were full of people, some of them in pic- 
 turesque costumes. We especially noticed a great variety 
 in the handkerchiefs or small shawls worn by the women 
 — from richly embroidered cashmere to dark brown cotton, 
 covered with white and orange sprigs and borders. These, 
 with the Nantais caps and dark cloth dresses, make a 
 charming costume. 
 
 There are good shops in the Rue d'Orleans, which 
 changes into the Grande Rue as it approaches the Cathe- 
 dral. We passed the Place de Change, where once stood the 
 most curious house in Nantes— the Maison des Enfants 
 Nantais — now taken down. The two famous Christian 
 martyrs of Nantes — St. Donatien and his brother St. 
 Rogatien, sons of the Count of Nantes — who suffered for 
 the faith in the third century, were called " Les Enfants 
 Nantais." 
 
 Up the Rue Briord, on the left, are some curious old 
 houses — for we found ourselves here in a far more ancient 
 part of Nantes than the new western portion round the Place 
 Graslin. The ancient Nantes seems to have scarcely ex- 
 tended west of the Erdre ; and memories of the Revolution 
 and of the butcher Carrier, and of the agony and sorrow 
 that have been suffered in some of these houses, become 
 vivid in the old streets near the cathedral. Nos. 9 and 13 
 
" LES ENFANTS NANTAIS." 
 
 27 
 
 of Rue Briord are both old houses. The first is called Hotel 
 de la Bouvardiere, and was built for the well-known Pierre 
 Landais, the treasurer of Francois II., Duke of Brittany, 
 whose romantic rise and fall have been told by Monsieur 
 Souvestre, in a little story called "Pierre." Later on it gave 
 shelter to the Duchess Anne during the siege of Nantes. 
 Afterwards it became the property of the Due de Mercosur. 
 Marguerite de Valois also resided there, and Lanoue Bras- 
 
 Cathedral and Castle, Nantes. 
 
 de-Fer. Madame de Se'vigne, Le Notre, and Lebrun are 
 said to have successively resided in No. 13. In the Rue 
 Fene'lon close by, in the house No. 3, called La Maison 
 a Tourelles, Henry IV. is said to have lodged with Gabrielle 
 d'Estrees. 
 
 We went back to the Grande Rue, and soon reached the 
 Place St. Pierre in front of the cathedral. There is nothing 
 to notice in the exterior of this building ; but going round 
 it in the Rue St. Laurent on the right is a very remarkable 
 
28 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 house of the fifteenth century called La Psallette, with a 
 curious staircase and chimney-piece. 
 
 The first effect of the interior of the cathedral is most 
 imposing. The nave is very lofty, 120 feet high, and the 
 arches are singularly graceful. The mouldings of the piers 
 are not broken by caps, but run round triforium and roof. 
 The east end is Romanesque in design, and looks stumpy and 
 heavy contrasted with the nave. The cinquecento screen, 
 too, is very inharmonious, but probably this will be removed 
 when the extensive alterations now in progress are completed. 
 We did not see the gem of the cathedral, the famous tomb 
 of the last Duke of Brittany, Francis II., and his second 
 wife, Marguerite de Foix. This monument has been boarded 
 up for eighteen months, while additions are being made to 
 the east end of the cathedral. We were much disappointed, 
 as the tomb is said to be one of the finest works of Michel 
 Colomb, a native of St. Pol de Leon, and the predecessor 
 of Jean Goujon. It was erected in 1507 by the order of 
 Anne of Brittany. One of the statues at the corners of the 
 tomb, that of Justice, is a portrait of the Duchess Anne 
 herself. The tomb was placed originally in the church Des 
 Carmes, but during the Revolution it was rifled of its con- 
 tents. In 181 7 it was removed to the cathedral, and the 
 remains of the famous Constable de Richemont, Duke 
 Arthur III. of Brittany, were placed within it. 
 
 Near the entrance of the church the bases of the piers are 
 ornamented with bas-reliefs ; above these are canopies which 
 seem to want statues under them. Service was just going to 
 begin, and the nave was crowded with people. The variety of 
 charming, caps was bewildering. The dresses were mostly 
 sombre in colour, of good dark cloth, which clung in 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 29 
 
 straight massive folds ; but the handkerchiefs worn on the 
 shoulders were generally very bright in hue, the ends hid- 
 den in front under the bibs of the universal black aprons. 
 This handkerchief seems special to the Loire Inferieure and 
 the Cotes du Nord. We sometimes saw it in Morbihan, 
 but rarely in Finistere. 
 
 Presently the procession issued from the sacristy and came 
 round the church, two immense Suisses walking in front 
 with halberts,, and carrying in their right hands sticks with 
 huge metal tops, which they strike on the ground as they 
 go. The service was very fine, and the devotion of the 
 congregation was most striking. It reminded us more of 
 the congregation of a Belgian church than of a French one, 
 except that the remarkable costumes made the kneeling 
 groups so much more picturesque, and the strong-featured, 
 large-eyed, earnest Breton faces gave so much intensity to 
 the expression of devotion. Even as the people left the 
 church there was much more devout seriousness in their 
 behaviour than we had noticed in Normandy. We saw 
 scarcely any chattering, laughing recognitions; till some 
 little way from the church an almost stiff seriousness seemed 
 to make a general silence. 
 
 The Chateau cannot be seen after four o'clock, so we 
 went there at once by the Cours St. Pierre ; this and the 
 Cours St. Andre are broad public walks planted with avenues 
 of trees to the east of the cathedral ; they reach from each 
 side of the Place Louis Seize to the river Erdre on the north 
 and to the Loire on the south, and occupy the site of the old 
 fortifications. The Cours St. Andre reaches nearly to the 
 Erdre, and has at that end statues of Olivier de Clisson and 
 of Bertrand du Guesclin, the famous Breton, whose fame and 
 
30 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 exploits seem to pervade the whole province, although the 
 most personal associations connected with hirn are to be 
 found in the Cotes du Nord. 
 
 In the centre of the Place is a statue of Louis XVI., and 
 at the end of the Cours St. Pierre, nearest the Loire, are 
 statues of Duchess Anne and the Constable de Richemont. 
 There is a broad flight of steps here leading down to the 
 Loire, and at this point the largest of the daily markets is 
 held for fruit and vegetables ; but we turned aside to go 
 into the Chateau, which is still a very imposing building, 
 although some of its fortifications have been destroyed. 
 
 The castle of Nantes does not appear in the early history 
 of the town. It was not founded till the ninth or tenth cen- 
 tury, enlarged in the eleventh and in the thirteenth, and 
 almost entirely rebuilt by Francis II., the last hereditary 
 Duke of Brittany, in 1480. All the fortifications are said 
 to be the work of this prince, especially the facade, where 
 three out of the four towers built by him remain. The 
 three towers facing the quay are in excellent preservation, 
 and are said to date from the time of Duchess Anne, who 
 was born in the castle of Nantes, January 25th, 1477. 
 
 She left Nantes in 1488, just before her father's death, 
 and for some years her hand was contested by several 
 claimants for the fair duchy of Brittany. At last she mar- 
 ried Charles VIII. of France, but in 1498 she came back to 
 Nantes a widow. She then announced her intention ot resid- 
 ing in the city, and giving herself up to the government ot her 
 beloved country; but her marriage to Louis XII. in the fol- 
 lowing year took her back to France. She seems, however, 
 always to have regretted Brittany, and she bequeathed her 
 heart to Nantes at her death in 1513. 
 
THE CASTLE. 
 
 3i 
 
 About twenty years later the duchy of Brittany was 
 solemnly annexed to the crown of France. Instead of 
 being governed by her own dukes, she was henceforth ruled 
 by a governor appointed by the King of France. It seems 
 as if, like the Irish, to this day the Breton people rebel 
 against the annexation, and that they still cherish a hope of 
 independence • and it is this feeling, doubtless, that has kept 
 them so distinct a race from their Norman neighbours. In 
 this busy town of Nantes there is, of course, the mixed 
 population usually found in a maritime place of trade, for, 
 by means of the port of St. Nazaire, Nantes is in communi- 
 cation with every part of the world, and is consequently the 
 resort of crews of all nations ; but even in Nantes we were 
 much struck by the entirely different physiognomy of the 
 peasants from any we had hitherto seen. 
 
 We passed through the castle gateway, and we stood still in 
 surprise. Coming out of the glare and bustle and modern life 
 of such a thoroughly mercantile town as Nantes, it seems like 
 enchantment to find this exquisite old interior, with its lofty 
 sculptured dormers and cool shady trees. Some guns and 
 piles of shells in a corner told the real nature of the place ; 
 a group of soldiers, who were playing at some game, turned 
 and stared at us. From the courtyard we saw where the 
 powder explosion took place in the Tour des Espagnols in 
 1800, destroying the tower and killing several persons. In 
 this tower still existed the chapel in which Duchess Anne 
 was married to Louis XII. of France. 
 
 A very tall man appeared, in answer to our summons, to 
 guide us over the castle. He showed us first the curious well 
 in the courtyard, and then took us through a little ground- 
 floor chamber, which he said was as old as Duchess Anne, 
 
32 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 to the floors above the staircase.. He told us he was a 
 retired soldier, and he seemed to think the greatest treat he 
 could offer us was the contemplation of Chassepots of all 
 ages and sizes. I think he must have taken us into four very 
 large rooms filled with murderous weapons. There was the 
 needle-gun, the Snider, the Martini-Henry, and other rifles; 
 but his favourite among all was the Chassepot, and he 
 was constantly explaining to me the exact manner of using 
 this weapon. Finally he took me into a corner, and 
 raising an old gun a little way off its stand, he said in a 
 low voice, handling the weapon with reverent affection, 
 " This, madame, is the first gun I ever carried." 
 
 He next showed us a room full of cuirasses, which he 
 evidently thought a great treasure. I think it was a shock 
 to him as well as a surprise when we hinted that the English 
 made good firearms, for he had been showing us a heavy 
 old blunderbuss as a specimen of English make, and had 
 contrasted it with a modern French Chassepot. " Ah," he 
 said incredulously, " but all the good guns which are not 
 French are German." 
 
 Still he was a pleasant, intelligent guide, and when we 
 reached the top of the Chateau he explained very distinctly 
 the different points in the grand view that lay stretched out 
 on every side. 
 
 It is really necessary to visit either the top of the castle 
 or of the cathedral to gain an idea of the immense breadth 
 of the Loire, subdivided by so many islands that to gain 
 the opposite side of the suburb, built on several of these 
 islands, one has to cross a line of six bridges. There are 
 altogether twenty-one bridges over the rivers Loire and 
 Erdre, between which part of the city is built. One gets 
 
THE CASTLE. 
 
 33 
 
 also from this height an excellent idea of Nantes itself. 
 Our guide pointed out with much pride the three new 
 churches, St. Nicholas, St. Clement, and the chapel of 
 Notre Dame de la Sallette. He spoke most reverentially 
 of the bishop, Monseigneur Fournier, He said it was 
 entirely owing to his persevering zeal that the beautiful 
 church of St. Nicholas had been so successfully completed. 
 
 Our guide pointed out the side of the castle from which 
 the Cardinal de Retz escaped, by means of a cord, to the 
 Loire — for the river before the building of the quays entirely 
 surrounded the castle. Madame de Sevigne visited the 
 castle soon after this escape. Besides the cardinal, the 
 castle served as a prison to the infamous Gilles de Retz, or 
 Rais, to Fouquet, and to Madame la Duchesse de Berri, 
 who was detained there for a short time after her famous 
 arrest in the Rue Haute-du-Chateau. 
 
 So far as regards its history, Nantes is one of the most 
 eventful towns in France. We hear of it as evangelised by 
 St. Clair, its first bishop, towards the close of the third 
 century. Then comes the persecution of the Christian 
 population by the Romans and the martyrdom of SS. Dona- 
 tien and Rogatien. Then, when the invasion of the bar- 
 barians recalled the Roman armies to Italy, Nantes appears 
 to have been governed by native princes, and by the saintly 
 Bishop St. Felix of Bourges in the sixth century. The rise of 
 Nantes dates from this period, and under the government 
 of the Frankish kings her importance increased. 
 
 Till the reign of Nomenoe, King of Brittany, the city 
 seems sometimes to have belonged to Brittany, sometimes to 
 Poitou and Anjou, but from this period Nantes is always 
 ranked as a Breton city. It was entirely ravaged and burned 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 by the Normans at the end of the ninth century, and lay 
 desolate and ruined for about thirty years. Then Duke 
 Alain Barbe Torte rebuilt it, and divided it into three por- 
 tions; one he kept as an appanage of the dukedom of 
 Brittany, one he ceded to the bishop, and the third to the 
 Count of Nantes. 
 
 This division caused incessant disorders and disputes, and 
 for more than a century Nantes seems to have had a con- 
 stant change of government, till, in 1084, Alain Fergent 
 succeeded to the double heritage, being both Duke of Brit- 
 tany and Count of Nantes. The town was regaining its 
 old prosperity, when, in 11 18, it was entirely destroyed 
 by fire. With the exception of some portions of the 
 cathedral, the whole of the present city has been built 
 since this period. 
 
 The short reign of Geoffrey of Anjou brought a fresh ele- 
 ment of discord into Brittany by the setting up of an English 
 claim to the duchy; to this day the name of Henry II. is 
 abhorred in Brittany : also the marriage of Prince Arthur's 
 half-sister Alice to the Frenchman, Pierre Mauclerc, was 
 looked on as a disgrace to the country ; and at the death 
 of Duke John III., in 134 1, came the long civil war between 
 the rival claimants for the duchy, Charles de Blois, who 
 had married the duke's niece Jeanne la Boiteuse, and 
 De Montfort, the duke's younger brother, also called John, 
 the husband of the famous Jeanne la Flamme. The French, 
 under the command of Du Guesclin and Clisson, took the 
 side of Blois, while Montfort was supported by the English 
 under the command of Sir John Chandos. Nantes was 
 the first large Breton city taken by Charles de Blois, at the 
 beginning of the war in 1341. The first John de Montfort 
 
THE COUNTESS OF MONTFORT. 
 
 35 
 
 was taken prisoner there and sent to Paris ; but, says 
 Froissart, "the Countess of Montfort, who possessed the 
 courage of a man and the heart of a lion, was in the city 
 of Rennes when she heard of the seizure of her lord, and, 
 notwithstanding the great grief she had at heart, she did 
 all she could to comfort and reanimate her friends and 
 soldiers. Showing them a young child, called John aftei 
 his father, she said, ' Oh, gentlemen ! do not be cast down 
 by what we have suffered through the loss of my lord : he 
 was but one man. Look at my little child here • if it please 
 God he shall be his restorer, and shall do you much ser- 
 vice. I have plenty of wealth, which I will distribute among 
 you, and will seek out for such a leader as may give you a 
 proper confidence.' " 
 
 But this child, afterwards John IV., gave great offence 
 to his subjects of Nantes at the end of this war. In the 
 interim Nantes had been besieged, sometimes by Du Gues- 
 clin, sometimes by De Montfort. When, after the death of 
 Charles de Blois and of the King of France, this John 
 de 'Montfort was declared duke, he summoned the English 
 under the Earl of Buckingham to besiege Nantes. John, 
 now Duke of Brittany, kept his court at Hennebon, but his 
 nobles and soldiers refused to follow him to Nantes to 
 fight against their own countrymen ; so the English army, 
 after waiting some months before Nantes, and suffering 
 greatly from the constant sallies of its garrison, retired to 
 Vannes ; and after a while the Duke of Brittany gave up 
 his allies and made peace with the young King of France, 
 Charles VI. 
 
 In 1434 Jean V. and the bishop, John of Malestroit, laid 
 the foundations of the new cathedral of Nantes ; and a few 
 
36 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 years after the wicked Gilles de Rais was hung and burned 
 on the Pies de Biece, in Nantes. 
 
 But it was the reign of Duke Francis II. that was the 
 glory of Nantes. The story of this prince and his favourite, 
 Pierre Landais, is a romance. The brightest days of the 
 duchy of Brittany preceded its extinction, for Anne, the 
 daughter of Francis, was the last reigning duchess. At the 
 time of the annexation to France, Nantes was almost the 
 most important town in the kingdom. Her population 
 even then was 40,000; it is now about 112,000, and her 
 revenues amount to three millions. The plague often deci- 
 mated her population, but for all that her commerce seemed 
 perpetually to increase. Nantes, to her honour, refused to 
 obey the orders of her governor, the Duke de Montpensier, 
 at the massacre of St. Bartholomew ; but in the war of the 
 League she took the side of Mercoeur against Henry IV. till 
 peace was concluded, and the famous Edict signed, in 1598. 
 At Nantes, in the time of Louis XIV., took place the sudden 
 disgrace of Fouquet. 
 
 There has always been a sturdy resistance to tyranny in 
 the people of Nantes. Once, when there was a revolt against 
 an oppressive tax, the governor seized and imprisoned the 
 wife of a carpenter who had been very prominent in the 
 popular outcry. The people at once seized on the bishop, 
 and kept him prisoner till the woman was released. 
 
 The saddest part of the prosperity of Nantes was that 
 derived, even till the year 1790, from the immense slave- 
 trade carried on from this port between the coast of Africa 
 and the American colonies, from ten to twelve thousand 
 slaves being taken yearly to the Antilles. Besides this its 
 chief commerce was in linen cloth and in hats. 
 
CARRIER AND THE NOYADES. 
 
 37 
 
 Nanles declared herself at once for the Republican move- 
 ment in 1789, and she paid dearly for her impatience of 
 authority. She tried to repress the Vendeean revolt under 
 La Rochejaquelein, Cathelineau, "the saint of Anjou," as he 
 has been called, and others ; but the Royalists invested the 
 city, and would probably have taken it but for the death of 
 Cathelineau. 
 
 But before the city had time for congratulation on its 
 deliverance from the hated aristocrats, it found itself 
 divided by the intrigues of two parties, the Mountain and 
 the Gironde, and was given up to the supreme govern- 
 ment of the blood-thirsty monster Carrier. Then Nantes 
 was flooded with blood, not only of the captive Vendeeans 
 but of the wretched inhabitants. Besides the murders of 
 the guillotine, thousands of innocent victims, women and 
 little children, were shot in squadrons, and drowned in the 
 infamous Noyades in the Loire. The river became so choked 
 with corpses that it bred fever and death in the city. At last 
 a young man, named Mark Antony Jullien, had the courage 
 to denounce Carrier to the Committee of Public Safety, 
 and the monster was recalled and executed in Paris. 
 
 Charrette, the Vendeean leader, was taken prisoner and 
 shot in Nantes, 1796. The last important political event 
 of Nantes was the well-known arrest, in 1832, of the Duchess 
 de Berri, mother of the Count de Chambord ; the last com- 
 mercial event is the new port of St. Nazaire, and the rapid 
 and upward progress of this little bathing village. 
 
 We came home along the quay, and passed the Place 
 du Bouffay, the saddest spot in Brittany, for the guillotine 
 stood here in the days of Carrier, and swam the city with 
 blood, and until of late this Place was the place of public 
 
38 
 
 N ANTE 3, 
 
 executions. Here was fought, in 1386, the famous duel 
 between Robert de Beaumanoir and Le Sieur de Tourne- 
 mine ; here Chalais died in the days of Louis XIII. ; and 
 here four Breton gentlemen perished for their share in 
 the plot of Cellamare, among them the young and heroic 
 Marquis de Pontecallec. The Palais du Bouffay stood 
 formerly between this and the castle. It was a curious 
 old building of the tenth century, built by Conan, Count 
 of Rennes, when he conquered Nantes ; and in the Grosse 
 Tour du Bouffay "the abbot of St. Jean d'Angeli was 
 found one morning dead, his head and face swollen as 
 black as a coal and his tongue pulled two feet from his 
 mouth," says the old chronicler Alain Bouchart. 
 
 There are some interesting old houses in the Rue de la 
 Juiverie ; north of the Place close by is the church of Ste. 
 Croix, which was rebuilt in the seventeenth century on the 
 ruins of a pagan temple. It has a round tower, on which 
 the old belfry from the Tour du Bouffay has recently been 
 placed. 
 
 From the Place du Bouffay we went a little way along 
 the quay till we reached the famous line of bridges which 
 extend more than a mile before they reach the farther bank 
 of the Loire. The road between them has to traverse first 
 the He Gloriette, on which are the Hotel-Dieu and the 
 Prairie de la Magdelaine, and then the expanse of mea- 
 dows across which an arm of the river finds its way to 
 the sea. Across this, and beyond the Pont de Pirnil, the 
 last of the six bridges, is the great Hopital general de St. 
 Jacques. This hospital can furnish beds for one thousand 
 six hundred patients, chiefly for those mentally afflicted, 
 although it also receives others. The church of St. Jacques, 
 
JARDIN DES PLANTES. 
 
 39 
 
 close by, is of the Transition period, badly restored in the 
 fifteenth century. 
 
 Coming back from the bridges, we found the Quai Fles- 
 sels and the Quai Brancas separated by a bridge, where the 
 Erdre falls into the Loire. On the Quai Brancas we passed 
 the Halle aux Grains, above which is the Public Library. 
 This is truly excellent so far as regards its contents, but is 
 much too small ; for travellers who care for such treasures 
 it contains some very valuable manuscripts. 
 
 A little way on is the Bourse. It has two facades orna- 
 mented with statues ; but it is an uninteresting modern 
 building. Near it is held the great Sunday flower-market 
 of Nantes. Most of these quays are lined with houses and 
 shops ; those most frequented seem to be the quay near 
 the Chateau and the Quai de la Fosse. This last is very 
 full of life j it reaches from the Bourse to the extreme end 
 of the town. We went up the Rue Jean Jacques Rousseau 
 — one of the nine streets made by Graslin, and leading 
 from the Place which bears his name — and soon reached 
 the Hotel de France. 
 
 Near the Place Graslin, along the Rue Voltaire, is a 
 curious old house called Chateau des Irlandais, with a 
 pretty staircase tower ; but we could not gain admittance, 
 although it seemed as if the interior ought to be worth 
 seeing. 
 
 Our guide at the castle had pointed out to us the 
 Jardin des Plantes, and had told us it was better worth 
 seeing than anything in Nantes. Perhaps he meant 
 next to his beloved Chassepots. He said we should go 
 between two and three o'clock, as the band played then, 
 and there was a promenade. But we could not get there 
 
4 o 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 till this was over, though we took a carriage; for this 
 garden is a very long walk from the Place Graslin, being 
 some distance beyond the castle. Down the Rue St. 
 Clement, which leads from the Place Louis Seize, are the 
 two new churches of St. Clement and Notre Dame de la 
 Sallette ; but they are not equal to St. Nicholas. Most of 
 the convents are in this street, and behind it, close to the 
 Jardin des Plantes, is the cemetery of La Bouteillerie. 
 
 The gardens are most delightful. We entered through a 
 screen of magnolias, and soon found a grand avenue of 
 these beautiful trees covered with blossoms. The effect of 
 this superb tree, with its broad satin-looking leaves with 
 their hoary lining, and its large, delicious, creamy blossoms, 
 growing on all sides in the open air, is very impressive. 
 It is said that a plant of magnolia was first brought to 
 Nantes from North America in 171 1. At the end of twenty 
 years it outgrew the conservatory in which it had been 
 placed, and the gardener resolved to destroy it; but his 
 wife, wishing to preserve the beautiful plant, placed it in 
 the open ground where it had shelter from the north wind. 
 It grew and prospered, and its offspring now adorn these 
 interesting gardens. 
 
 One of the oldest magnolias is that at the end of the lime- 
 walk. There are forty-eight magnolia-trees in the great 
 avenue ; but, besides these, we saw all kinds of tender 
 plants blossoming freely out-of-doors — the exquisite blue- 
 pencilled plumbago, the banana palm, and many others. 
 There is water on every side, sometimes widening into a 
 lake and sometimes a narrow stream, bordered by weeping 
 willows and filled with rare flowering plants. Besides the 
 flowers, which are abundant, there is a wealth of rare trees ; 
 
ARCHIVES OF NANTES. 
 
 and the heat was so intense that we found the refreshing 
 shade under some of these most grateful. These gardens 
 are indeed a very enticing retreat. 
 
 On our way back we passed the Lycee and the Archaeo- 
 logical Museum, crossed the Place Louis Seize, and went 
 up the Rue Royale. At the top of this is the Prefecture, 
 built by Ceineray in 1763 : it has a fine staircase. Farther 
 on is the Museum of Natural History, on the Place du Port 
 Communeau, and a little to the south of this the Hotel de 
 Ville. There is nothing .to see here but a little casket 
 which once held the heart of Anne of Brittany. Close 
 by the Hotel de Ville is the Society of the Freres Chre- 
 tiens ; and a little way on, at 8, Rue St. Jean, is a re- 
 markable old house, called the house of the Sisters of St. 
 Vincent de Paul. The statue of this saint, at one of the 
 corners, is modern. In the Rue St. Vincent, leading from 
 the Place St. Jean, are some curious old houses. The 
 Rue St. Leonard runs beside the Hotel de Ville. At 
 No. 23 in this street there is this inscription on a tablet on 
 the wall : " Moliere a joue la comedie dans ce jeu de 
 paume." 
 
 We crossed the Erdre by the Pont de 1'Ecluse so as to 
 come out by the museum. We had not time to examine 
 the collection of pictures, but it is said to be very good. 
 Across the Place Bretagne the Rue Mercceur leads to the 
 Palais de Justice ; above the frieze is a group by Sue, a 
 sculptor of Nantes, " Justice protecting Innocence against 
 Crime." Here are the archives of Nantes, and among 
 them are records of the fearful Reign of Terror. This 
 entry seems almost incredible: "December 20, 1793. — 
 Twenty-seven executions took place on the Place du 
 
42 NANTES. 
 
 Bouffay; seven of them women." Among theseywere "four 
 sisters," demoiselles de la Metairie, or, as they are styled 
 in the record, " Gabrielle Metairie, aged 28 j Margue- 
 rite, 27; Claire, 26; Olympe; and their faithful servant 
 Jeanne Ray." Their accusation is the having been found 
 " les armes a la main." The executioner hesitated to fulfil 
 his office, and three days after died of remorse. " L'imbe- 
 cile s'est laisse mourir de peur," said Carrier, with a laugh. 
 
 In front of the Palais de Justice is the statue of Billault, 
 and from here the Rue Lafayette, a street built of stone 
 houses, leads into the Rue Crebillon. It is a pity these 
 streets are not wider, for the houses in them, built of stone 
 of Saumur, are very handsome. 
 
 Across the Cours Cambronne, from the Place Graslin, 
 with the marshal's statue in the centre, one reaches the 
 Quai de la Fosse. It might be very pleasant here, with 
 its magnolias and chestnut-trees, if it were not spoiled, 
 as the other quays are along the Loire, by the line of rail- 
 way. The effect must have been imposing; but this 
 has been sacrificed to utility, and one wonders how the 
 Nantais could have consented thus to injure the look of 
 their city. 
 
 At No. 5, the beginning of the Quai de la Fosse, Maison 
 des Tourelles, Henri Quatre signed, in 1598, the famous 
 Edict of Nantes, which granted the same privileges to those 
 of the reformed religion as to Roman Catholics, and 
 which gave a great stimulus to trade. Its revocation in 
 1685 caused an insurrection in the city which occasioned 
 much bloodshed. There are other old houses besides this 
 one on the Quai de la Fosse, although the quay itself seems 
 the centre of modern bustle and life. At its farthest western 
 
"LES SALORGES." 
 
 43 
 
 extremity is an avenue of magnolias, with a sort of summer- 
 house commanding a very extensive prospect ; and close by 
 is the Escalier Ste. Anne, leading to the avenue and church 
 of that saint, also commanding a fine view. At the top of 
 the staircase is a statue of St. Anne. 
 
 The view over the Loire, its islands, the city, and sur- 
 rounding hills is very fine from this part of the town, and 
 is quite worth driving to see, for Nantes is spread out so 
 far eastward and westward that the little carriages which 
 stand for hire near the Bourse and the river Erdre are 
 very useful, and might with advantage be more frequently 
 stationed about the town. Near Ste. Anne is the gloomy 
 granite building called Les Salorges, from which the noyades 
 took place. 
 
 There is a great deal still to see in the manufactories beside 
 the Loire, the largest magazines of conserves alimentaires 
 in Europe; but so much lies before the traveller who 
 means to explore Brittany that I think he will not feel 
 inclined at the outset of his journey to stay very long in 
 Nantes. The Passage Pommeraye, which connects the 
 Rue Crebillon with the Rue de la Fosse, is very curious. 
 It has three arcades of shops, one above another, connected 
 by an immense double iron staircase. One of the remark- 
 able features of Nantes is its enormous tobacco manufac- 
 tory, near the Paris railway station. At certain hours the 
 streets near the factory are thronged with the great number 
 of persons employed, who seem to be chiefly women. 
 
 A very interesting excursion to be made from Nantes 
 for those who have time to spare is to Clisson, to which 
 the railway now goes. As it is in La Vende'e, and not in 
 Brittany, we did not visit it ; but its ruined castle, once the 
 
44 
 
 NANTES. 
 
 residence of the famous Constable, is very picturesque and 
 well-placed, and the cour/try around it is interesting. 
 
 Not far from Clisson is the Chateau de la Seilleraye, 
 
 Castle of Clisson. 
 
 which Madame de Sevigne mentions in a letter to Madame 
 de Grignan. This chateau was designed by Mansard, and 
 the north side of the gardens was planned by Le Notre, 
 
OLD CHATEAUX. 
 
 45 
 
 the famous creator of the gardens of Versailles. In this 
 chateau there is a portrait of Madame de Sevigne\ There 
 are also the old chateaux of Chassay, near St. Luce station, 
 and La Gacherie, on the right bank of the Erdre, fifteenth 
 century ; there is also the chateau of Goulaine. La Gacherie 
 was the scene of the fetes given by Rene de Rohan to his 
 sister-in-law, Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre, and 
 sister of Francois I. This chateau has a grand old fire- 
 place. 
 
 A pleasant excursion on the Erdre is by the little steamer 
 to Nort, near which is the chateau of Luciniere ; and last, 
 but most interesting, the Chateau de Buron, about ten miles 
 out of Nantes. The oldest portion of this chateau was 
 built by the Due de Rohan in 1385, and the rest is six- 
 teenth century. The son of Madame de Sevigne sold it in 
 1700 to the Hersart family, who caused it to be restored 
 by Ceineray. The room occupied by Madame de Sevigne 
 is panelled in carved oak of the Louis Quatorze period. 
 
 The railway to St. Nazaire is bordered along the quay by 
 magnolias and horse-chestnuts ; but after this is past it is 
 not interesting, except that just before reaching Donges we 
 have on the right La Grande Briere, a most extraordinary 
 kind of dry swamp, from which large quantities of bog 
 oak are dug. It is said that all the trees discovered here 
 lie one way, their roots to the south-west and their tops 
 north-east. We looked out at Donges with interest, for it 
 was here that Madame de Lescure, afterwards Madame 
 de la Rochejaquelein, wandered about in disguise when 
 she and her mother and child had to shelter them- 
 selves among the peasants after the final defeat of the 
 Royalist army. 
 
4 6 
 
 hi ANTES. 
 
 It was getting dusk when ve reached St. Nazaire, so we 
 did not see the dolmen just outside the town. We heard 
 that the inns were full, and we were anxious to secure a 
 carriage for our expedition to Le Croisic next morning. 
 
 Pornic, the scene of " Fifine at the Fair," &c, is the 
 favourite bathing-place of the Nantais; but it is in La 
 Vendue, not in Brittany. 
 
THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 La Guerande. 
 Le Bourg de Batz. 
 
 Le Croisic. 
 Le Pouliguen. 
 
 E started early for Le Croisic, having arranged to go 
 
 first to La Guerande to breakfast. It was a singu- 
 larly bright morning, and* our little horse went along briskly. 
 We asked our driver to stop at Escoublac, as we had heard 
 the strange legend belonging to it, and he pulled up at the 
 wretched little cabaret. It is a dreary-looking village, 
 about two miles from the sea, surrounded by flat meadows 
 and backed by a range of sand-hills. It once stood much 
 nearer the sea, but the old village of Escoublac has been 
 completely swallowed by the sand. Even now clouds of 
 sand blow over the present village from the sandy dunes 
 which lie between it and the sea. The story of its disap- 
 pearance is told as an established fact. 
 
 Once upon a time a venerable old man with a long white 
 beard, and a young, pleasant-faced woman, came begging to 
 Escoublac. They were in rags, and they seemed poorer than 
 the poorest peasant that had ever been seen in the country. 
 They asked for food and a night's lodging ; but so hard- 
 hearted and niggardly were these inhabitants of Escoublac 
 
4 8 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF LE CR0IS1C. 
 
 that no one gave the old man and the woman so much as 
 a draught of cold water. 
 
 Now, as is well known through the length and breadth oi 
 the land, hospitality is considered in Brittany as a sacred 
 duty, and the beggar is regarded as one of God's afflicted, 
 and is given the warmest corner by the fire, and often the 
 most savoury morsel in the pot. 
 
 At last, when the venerable old man and the pleasant- 
 faced woman had reached the end of the village, and had 
 found every door closed against them, they stood still. The 
 woman clasped her hands in supplication, and seemed to 
 weep; but the old man turned away with an indignant 
 gesture, pulled three hairs from his beard, and blew them 
 towards the sea ; then he and the woman flew towards the 
 clouds, and were soon out of sight. 
 
 Almost at once there blew such a gale from the west as 
 had never been felt at Escoublac. It rained thick clouds 
 of sand, which spread over the doomed village, and by 
 next morning there remained no trace of it or its inhabitants 
 but the cock on the summit of the church spire, which being 
 so much higher than the houses had not been swallowed up j 
 and this spire remained for some years above ground. 
 
 It has always been believed that God the Father and the 
 Blessed Mary, having heard of the want of charity among 
 the inhabitants of Escoublac, came down to punish them in 
 person. 
 
 The old chateau of Escoublac is called Lesnerac ; it is 
 how all modern, except a tower and some of the windows. 
 
 A tall blind beggar stood by the little cabaret where we 
 halted. He said a long prayer for us, and wished us pleasure 
 and success in our travels. We put some sous in his greasy 
 
LA GUERANDB. 
 
 49 
 
 old cap, and he then began a much longer prayer, which we 
 did not hear the end of, as we went to look at the little 
 church. After leaving Escoublac we began to see salt- 
 marshes spread over the country, and soon in the distance 
 appeared the grey walls of La Guerande. 
 
 We passed one or two chateaux, and drove into the 
 Faubourg St. Michel, a long straggling street with houses 
 on both sides. At the end of this we saw before us a very 
 
 Entrance Gateway. 
 
 picturesque old gateway flanked by two machicolated towers 
 with pointed caps, and overgrown in places with ivy and 
 creeping plants. This is the Porte St. Michel, and over the 
 low-browed circular-headed entrance are carved the arms 
 of Guerande, and right and left of the gateway are forti- 
 fications and boulevards, shaded with elms and poplar- 
 trees. 
 
 We drove straight to the quaint inn in the middle of this 
 
 E 
 
50 THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 charming little town. In spite of some attempts at modern 
 improvements, Gue'rande seems to have stood still since 
 the Middle Ages. The old grey walls, which surround it in 
 a sort of oval, are perfect, and are pierced by four gates, 
 facing north, south, east, and west. The Portes St. Michel 
 and Vannetaise have towers, those called Bezierne and Le 
 Saille have only loop-holes. There were once ten towers 
 on the walls of La Gue'rande, and nearly all of them re- 
 main. Inside the town there seem to be plenty of quaint 
 old houses, surrounded by their gardens. 
 
 While our breakfast was getting ready we went on to 
 the church. It is a fine, impressive building. The older 
 portion of the nave, which has not been restored, has a 
 wooden roof, with quaintly carved tie-beams. The carving 
 on each is different. The sculptured capitals of the nave 
 are very remarkable, and are also all different ; the massive 
 piers are green with age ; but the stained glass is modern and 
 quite unworthy of the church. Near the western doorway 
 an external pulpit is built in the thickness of the buttress. 
 
 We went on beyond the little inn, past old houses with 
 vines clinging against and hiding the offending whitewash 
 which spoils them here and there, till we came to a smaller 
 church, the Chapelle de Notre Dame de la Blanche. The 
 interior is very good. It was built by John de Montfort in 
 1348, and turned into a barn at the Revolution; but it has 
 been restored within the last twenty years, and is a very 
 interesting relic. 
 
 After breakfast we went through the Porte de Saille, and 
 mounting some steps found ourselves outside the walls on a 
 delightful walled rampart planted with a double row of trees, 
 and commanding an extensive view. The country appears 
 
THE RAMPART. 
 
 5i 
 
 to swarm with windmills. On one side are the sand-hills of 
 Escoublac, and farther on are the salt-marshes of Le Bourg 
 de Batz and of Le Croisic glittering in the sunshine. The 
 salt heaps from here looked like prodigious white anthills. 
 In the distance was the sea. 
 
 We walked along the rampart some way round the 
 
 Part of Walls and Gateway, La Guerande. 
 
 town under the shade of the trees, but we soon left off 
 looking at the distant country, cut up into squares by 
 the salt-pans. The beautiful old machicolated walls of 
 Guerande were a far more interesting study. Their 
 grey is delightful in colour, hoary with white and silver- 
 green lichen, and in many parts they are wonderfully 
 preserved. The gates and towers are very picturesque, 
 
5* THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 overgrown with ivy and wild flowers. The ancient moat 
 still surrounds a great part of the walls, but it is stagnant 
 and covered with duckweed varied with tufts of rushes. 
 Here and there a row of poplar-trees is planted against the 
 old grey walls, but everywhere the ivy and honeysuckle are 
 paramount, while bluebells and other delicate flowers have 
 niched themselves in among the stones, and give a change 
 of colour. 
 
 These walls were built by Duke John V. in 1431, out of 
 the city tolls. There is nothing like them all through Brit- 
 tany ; indeed, La Guerande is thoroughly original and unlike 
 any other town. It was called by the Romans Aula Guiriaca, 
 and by the Bretons Werrann, or Guer-rann, perhaps from 
 Guerech I., Count of Vannes, who often inhabited the 
 town. Lewis of Spain took Guerande by assault in 1342, 
 when five churches were destroyed and 8,000 of the in- 
 habitants were murdered. The articles of peace which 
 settled the War of Succession were signed at Gue'rande, in 
 1380, because it was near the sea, as it was the season of 
 Lent, " pour avoir du bon poisson pour le careme." In 1386 
 John IV. married, in the church of St. Clair de Saille', 
 Joan of Navarre, afterwards the wife of Henry IV. (Boling- 
 broke). Guerande was also taken by Du Guesclin in 1373. 
 
 Our landlady at the inn reproached us for having come 
 on a week-day, and indeed we had planned to go there on 
 Sunday. 
 
 " Ah ! " she said, " it is on Sunday that you would see 
 dresses. You would see our people and the salt-workers 
 from the Bourg de Batz and from Le Saille. There are no 
 people like them in the world." 
 
 We very much regretted that we had not followed her 
 
A BREAKDOWN ON THE ROAD. 
 
 53 
 
 advice, for neither the farming population of La Guerande 
 and its outskirts, nor the paludiers, as the salt- workers are 
 called, of Le Bourg de Batz and Le Saille, wear their cos- 
 tume on working days, and as Pardons and rural fetes seem 
 unknown here Sunday is the great opportunity for dis- 
 play of costume. It is strange that living so close together 
 in this little peninsula the men and women of these races 
 should never intermarry. The men and women of Batz 
 are a very handsome and exclusive people, quite unlike 
 any other in Brittany, with special habits and customs, and 
 with evidently a great contempt for the more peaceful 
 metayers of La Guerande. 
 
 The road to Batz is very even and monotonous. The salt- 
 marshes spread out towards the sea, divided into squares, 
 with narrow ledges between just wide enough to hold the 
 bare feet of the paludieres, whom we saw paddling in the 
 ceillets with their long-handled shovels. They seemed to 
 be chiefly women, and looked very picturesque with then- 
 bare legs and green-black skirts and curious white caps and 
 aprons. Everywhere, at certain intervals, were huge conical 
 salt-heaps, covered over with earth to preserve the salt 
 from injury. 
 
 In the midst of our observations we felt a sudden shock 
 — down went the side of our comfortable little carriage — 
 one of the hind wheels spun across the path, and left us in 
 an immovable slant at the side of the road. 
 
 Our driver, of course, swore and gesticulated and stamped 
 furiously, and would have continued the performance, but 
 we told him we were determined to go on to Le Croisic, and 
 that he had better ride back to Guerande and get another 
 vehicle. He then said he knew the axle was cracked 
 
54 2 HE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 when we started from St. Nazaire, but he thought it 
 would have lasted the day ; and then he began again to 
 curse and kick a stone in the road which he said had 
 caused the disaster. 
 
 At last we persuaded him to give this up and go back 
 to Guerande ; but at parting he advised us not to be too 
 hopeful. 
 
 " It is possible I cannot get another vehicle, and in that 
 case — " He left off with a serious shake of his great head. 
 
 " And in that case ? " we asked anxiously. 
 
 He shook his head again, stuck his heels into the horse's 
 sides, and rode back to Guerande. 
 
 Our situation was not cheerful. The hedges on either 
 side were too high to permit a view over the country, and 
 even if we could have seen over them there is little variety 
 in these interminable salt-marshes, with here and there a 
 woman or man disturbing the water in the salt-pans, or 
 scraping a sort of white scum to the edge. There was not 
 so much as a cow to look at ; and, besides this absence ot 
 interest, the road was white and straight and dusty, and the 
 sun was blazing fiercely down on our heads. 
 
 We felt greatly comforted when an old woman with a 
 basket on her head came in sight. She stopped at once 
 when she saw our disaster, and loudly expressed her sym- 
 pathy. She was the most talkative Breton woman we had 
 as yet met with, and she was very inquisitive. She was 
 carrying fruit to Le Croisic, she said, and she took her 
 basket off her head, and placed it on the ground beside her. 
 
 We asked if we could have some of the fruit. " Oh yes ! 
 we could have it. She had meant it for Le Croisic ; but 
 to refresh distressed travellers, oh yes ! " She opened her 
 
BOURG DE BATZ. 
 
 55 
 
 stores, and displayed some very small gooseberries and some 
 small yellow plums. They were not very good, but still 
 they were a welcome refreshment. 
 
 We asked our friend how much we had to pay. At first 
 she declined to make a charge. It was of no consequence, 
 she said; then, "What monsieur and madame please." 
 And finally she asked about three times as much as we 
 should have paid at Nantes or Angers, and went off satisfied 
 that she had conferred a favour on unfortunate travellers. 
 
 At last, after a long waiting, a cumbrous hooded vehicle 
 came in sight, with our driver and two rough companions. 
 
 He informed us that this was the only carriage to be got 
 in La Guerande, and that we might think ourselves very 
 fortunate to get it. It was very uncomfortable, quite unlike 
 our trim, easy-going basket-carriage — indeed it bumped 
 terribly ; fortunately the road was level. As we went along 
 we saw maize or corn being threshed by a machine drawn 
 by horses, as in Spain. 
 
 There were plenty of women at work in the salt-pans, 
 skimming the salt off the water with their long wooden 
 scrapers, putting the salt into basins and from them on 
 to the heaps. We soon drove into the Bourg de Batz. 
 a most ordinary-looking village surrounded by salt-pans, 
 with huge salt-heaps taking the place of hay-stacks at 
 the angle of the enclosures round the cottages. The 
 women looked tall and well-made, and their head-dress was 
 rather peculiar than picturesque — a roll of hair in front, 
 round which was twisted narrow white tape, and the cap 
 placed above, with straight sides swathing the face. 
 
 We saw very few men, and these wore snowy white smocks, 
 trousers, and gaiters buttoned with very small buttons from 
 
56 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 the ankle to the knee. We only met one man with white 
 bragous bras, and with a large black hat, like the hats of 
 Quimper and the rest of Lower Brittany. The brilliant white 
 of this costume gives an air of cleanness and refinement that 
 contrasts strangely with the poor-looking granite houses. We 
 drove on to Le Croisic, through the salt-marshes. These 
 perpetual long squares into which the country is divided 
 give a dull monotonous effect ; but before us, and indeed 
 
 Le Croisic. 
 
 all round us, we could see the sea, and very soon we reached 
 Le Croisic. 
 
 At first sight it looks a dull little fishing-village. The 
 port is completely enclosed by small islands, and a long 
 artificial promontory or causeway, called the Chaussee de 
 Pembron, built to preserve the salt-marshes from the inroads 
 of the sea, for there seems to be little doubt that the whole 
 of the peninsula, including Le Croisic, Batz, and Le Pouli- 
 guen, was at one time an island, and that by degrees the 
 channel between it and the mainland has transformed itself 
 into salt-marshes. There are plenty of fishing-boats and 
 
LE CROISIC. 
 
 57 
 
 stalwart -looking fishermen ; but, following the straggling 
 line of granite houses which surrounds the bay, we re- 
 marked that many of them were very curious, and almost all 
 were very ancient in appearance. Farther on is some 
 higher ground, grassed sand-hills with furze and broom at 
 intervals, and shaded by trees, and from this, at some dis- 
 tance, we saw the pier stretching out into the sea. Near 
 the pier is the Etablissement des Bains and the hotel. 
 
 A very picturesque old beggar, with an immense rusty 
 black hat and long hair streaming over his shoulders, was 
 sitting asleep under a furze-bush ; under another a woman 
 was mending an old pair of red trousers. 
 
 The Pointe du Croisic is about half a mile beyond the 
 bathing-place, and from this point the coast is really interest- 
 ing; the rocks become higher and take fantastic shapes — 
 sometimes isolated, as one sees them at Etretat (that charm- 
 ing Norman town by the sea), and then again hollowed out 
 by the force of the waves into grottos, in which, at high 
 tide, the sea plunges with a deafening roar. Farther on the 
 rocks stretch out in a point named Grand Autel ; and not 
 far beyond this is the Trou du Kourican, a deep hollow said 
 to have been inhabited by a race of dwarfs. Farther on 
 still is a little cove called Sable Menu, a capital bathing- 
 place for those who prefer to dispense with cabins. 
 
 It is a long way to Grand Autel, and it is much better to 
 drive on to the Etablissement before beginning to explore 
 the coast, instead of alighting in the town, for there is little 
 to see in Le Croisic itself, though it is a good plan to stay a 
 few days there, so as to see something of the very original 
 inhabitants of this peninsula. 
 
 The church Notre Dame de la Pitie is not remarkable. 
 
THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 Another chapel, St. Goustan, is now closed, but the women 
 of Croisic still pray there for those at sea. From the Mont 
 Esprit, at the end of a promenade called Le Mail, there is 
 an excellent view of the town and harbour of Le Croisic : 
 the town surrounded by the sandy waste of salt pans, and 
 
 Salt-sellers (Bourg de Batz). 
 
 rising from these the church towers of Batz and of La 
 Guerande. Beyond the harbour is the Atlantic ; there is a 
 fine sea-view from Mont Lenigo. The population seems to 
 be partly composed of fishermen and partly of salt-workers ; 
 but there is here, as well as in the Bourg de Batz, a certain 
 separateness and exclusiveness both of costume and ideas. 
 
MARRIAGE DRESS. 
 
 59 
 
 The people of Le Croisic call themselves Croisicais, in 
 contradistinction to Bretons, but they do not seem so fine a 
 race as the people of the Bourg de Batz. Alain Bouchart, 
 the historian, was born at Le Croisic \ and in the fifteenth 
 century this town seems to have been rich and prosperous, 
 the centre of the salt-trade. 
 
 We stopped at Bourg de Batz, as we drove home, to look 
 at some ruins near the church. These are very interesting, 
 of late fifteenth century. They are part of a church dedi- 
 cated to Notre Dame du Murier. From these ruins we 
 went into the church. On the steps a group of young girls 
 met us, and asked with an air of mystery if we wished to 
 see a bride in her marriage dress. We said yes, eagerly, for 
 we had heard that these wedding clothes of the Bourg de 
 Batz were quite a thing to see. 
 
 "Then if Messieurs and Madame will go and see the 
 church first, the bride will be ready when they come out." 
 
 The church is uninteresting, the end of the chancel devi- 
 ating to the right so as quite to spoil the effect. I believe 
 our impatience to see the marriage dress rather hurried 
 our examination of the building. When we came out the 
 eldest of the girls had disappeared, but the other three 
 grinned and showed their white teeth as they ran on in 
 front to guide us. 
 
 They had turned out of the main street rather beyond 
 the church, and presently they stopped at the door of a 
 little one-storied house. The doorway was so low that both 
 my companions had to stoop considerably as they stepped 
 down into the room within. Standing in the middle of the 
 floor, radiant with delight at her own appearance, and, as 
 one of my companions observed, in the anticipation of francs, 
 
60 THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 was the black-eyed damsel who had invited us to see the 
 bride ; but, before we could look at her, she darted up to a 
 little cracked looking-glass set on an armoire, to see if her 
 cap was straight. Then she walked with an air of great im- 
 portance into the middle of the floor, smoothing out her 
 splendid golden apron with both thumbs, and informing us 
 with much excitement that the costume was as old as her 
 grandmother, and had been worn by her own mother at 
 her wedding. 
 
 The dress was very rich, both in colour and material. 
 The skirt and body were of plum-coloured cloth, trimmed 
 at the bottom of the skirt and round the armholes with 
 broad black ribbon velvet • the sleeves were red ; but 
 the glory of the costume was the brilliant yellow apron 
 and bib, or plastron, as.it is called, of rich watered silk. 
 The bib covered the chest, and was stiffened and quilted 
 as if it was meant for armour. The apron-skirt was 
 very wide and long, covering quite three-quarters of the 
 gown, and reaching to its hem. On her head was a white 
 cap made of lace, in shape like the ordinary Batz cap, and 
 outside this was a wreath of white flowers. 
 
 Before we had finished looking at the dress she held up 
 one of her feet that we might inspect her scarlet knitted stock- 
 ings, with prodigious and elaborate clocks of green and white. 
 Her shoes were violet, and round her waist she wore a white 
 ribbon sash trimmed with silver lace. But the effect of the 
 whole costume was spoiled by the girl's dirty greasy face 
 and hands. She looked like a sweep on May-day. We 
 should have liked better to see the clothes without her im- 
 personation of the character. 
 
 " Shall you wear this dress when you marry ? " we asked. 
 
THE PALUDIERS OF LE CROISIC. 61 
 
 She shook her head. " No ; it is the old fashion, and that 
 is passing away. Our brides wear a small apron now, brown, 
 or black, or violet ; and they do not wear a stiff plastron ; 
 and it is more elegant to wear a white shawl which comes 
 below the w r aist." 
 
 So the ancient marriage costume of the Bourg de Batz 
 will soon be forgotten ; and when the projected railway is 
 opened between St. Nazaire and Le Croisic doubtless the 
 primitive and isolated character of the people will also be 
 somewhat changed. 
 
 One of our party was asked to put on the bridegroom's 
 dress — white baggy trousers reaching to the knee, and, 
 meeting these, white stockings fastened by ribbons with long 
 ends i two long white flannel waistcoats bound with black 
 velvet; a long brown jacket, with closely set rows of buttons, 
 and a large square falling white collar. The chief feature 
 of this dress was the enormous three-cornered black hat, 
 once a characteristic part of the costume of the paludiers. 
 It is now rarely seen on any but the old men. Formerly 
 the way in which it was worn was significant of the state of 
 the wearer ; a bachelor wore the point over his ear, a married 
 man wore it behind, and a widower in front. Sometimes 
 these hats were trimmed with coloured worsted fringe. They 
 are eminently picturesque, and must have had a charming 
 effect worn with the snow-white linen costume of the 
 paludier. 
 
 In one corner of the room was a bridal bedstead with 
 gaily trimmed green hangings. On this mattresses and 
 pillows were piled nearly to the top, this being a sign of 
 opulence in a Breton household ; for formerly the paludiers 
 of Le Croisic were rich, and had some reason for the 
 
b2 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 exclusiveness with which they kept themselves apart from 
 the ordinary Breton peasant. They are still very superior 
 in cleanliness, and many of them are better grown 
 and handsomer ; but one does not see in their houses the 
 rich furniture one has heard of, and there is both here and 
 at Le Croisic an air of desolation. 
 
 The glory of this peninsula has departed since the imposi- 
 tion of the salt tax, for salt-making and the cod-fishery are 
 the sole occupations of the people of Batz and of Le 
 Croisic. The landowners take three parts of the profits 
 reaped on the salt-pans, and the poor paludiers get 
 only a quarter. But their work does not seem hard. The 
 sun and air are the chief agents in the evaporation of the 
 water, which, however, has to pass from one set of pans to 
 another through little subterraneous channels before it is 
 allowed to reach the ceillets, as the squares are called, from 
 whence the salt is finally taken to be stored into the conical 
 heaps one sees spread over the country. 
 
 We drove home by Le Pouliguen, a much shorter and 
 prettier road than that by Guerande — the road on each side 
 bordered by long stretches of sand-hills grown over by a 
 kind of dwarf pine covered with fir-apples. Farther on were 
 vineyards, and as the road rose these were planted in 
 terraces one above another. 
 
 Le Pouliguen is a pretty little place, with a bay of silver- 
 white sand. The bathing here is excellent ; and as it is a 
 cheaper and less known place than Le Croisic, it is much 
 sought after by quiet economical Bretons. The hotel is small, 
 but lodgings can be had close to the sea. There is a fine 
 view over the mouth of the Loire, and in the distance can be 
 seen the Pointe de St. Gildas in La Vende'e, and the isle of 
 
ST. NAZAIRE. 
 
 C3 
 
 Noirmoutiers, the island to which St. Philibert, the founder 
 of Jumieges, was banished by the malice of the Maire du 
 Palais Ebroin. Philibert founded a monastery and died there. 
 
 We felt more inclined to stay at Pouliguen than to return 
 to St. Nazaire, for there is too much seaport element in St. 
 Nazaire to make it a desirable bathing-place. 
 
 In 1637, Gaston d'Orleans begged from Louis XIII. a 
 few days' respite from his marriage with Mademoiselle, in 
 order that he might visit the Pierre Percee near St. Nazaire. 
 This pierced rock stands on an islet at the mouth of the 
 Bay of Pouliguen. Here the prince and his friends amused 
 themselves by shooting seabirds by hundreds. They then 
 went on to another village, called " Le Croysil," by land. 
 One of the prince's companions seems to have been much 
 surprised at the amount of furnishings in the bedroom sup- 
 plied to Gaston at Le Croisic : "100 brass candlesticks, 30 or 
 40 embroidered cushions," and so on, with other things. " I 
 asked the hostess the meaning of this abundance. ' It is the 
 custom of the country,' she said ; ' those who are wealthy 
 are always thus furnished.'" Near Pouliguen is the old 
 Chateau de Careil. Poid-guemi means " white bay." 
 
 There is, however, a pretty little bay on the right of 
 St. Nazaire, and next morning we walked along the dunes 
 which overlook this till we reached the bathing-place. There 
 is fine smooth sand here, and the bathing is good and safe 
 — not always the case on the rock-bound coast of Brittany. 
 A pretty view of the town is to be had beyond an inter- 
 vening group of trees ; but it is rather a long walk back to 
 the hotel. 
 
 There seems to be a comfortable little inn, Hotel de la 
 Marine, close to the basin where the steamers arrive from 
 
6 4 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF LE CROISIC. 
 
 Nantes. Although St. Nazaire is a very ancient town, there 
 is actually nothing to see except the harbour. It is really 
 the port of Nantes, and is interesting as the point of 
 embarkation for Mexico, the Antilles, and Spain. Near the 
 railway station is a huge dolmen, the largest in the depart- 
 ment. Several bronzes and gold pieces have been dug out 
 beneath this huge monument. During the Wars of the 
 League, the Royalists, commanded by La Tremblaye, took 
 the town, and, cutting off the governor's head, sent it to the 
 Prince of Dombes at Rennes. 
 
 It is certainly better to arrive from Nantes by steamer, it 
 the journey to Vannes is to be made by railway from St. 
 Nazaire, because as far as Savenay one has to retrograde 
 and take the train thence to Redon. It is a roundabout 
 journey with two stoppages. 
 
MORBIH AN, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 La Roche Bernard. 
 
 Blain. 
 
 Redon. 
 
 Rcchefort. 
 Lande of Lanvaux. 
 
 PLEASANTER way of reaching Vannes is to drive from 
 
 La Guerande to La Roche Bernard, a pretty little town 
 with some quaint old houses charmingly placed on the river 
 Vilaine. Its great feature is its lofty suspension bridge, 197 
 metres long and 33 metres above high- water mark. Between 
 La Roche Bernard and Pontchateau is the Chateau de la 
 Bretesche and its forest, which served as a refuge to the Pro- 
 testants of La Roche Bernard, and their minister, Louveau, 
 in 1570 and 1590. An omnibus runs between La Roche 
 Bernard and Pontchateau station, on the Vannes line 
 between Savenay and Redon. 
 
 Pontchateau seems a pretty little place. Magnolias, 
 catalpas, and sumac-trees are abundant. There is a fine 
 menhir near Pontchateau, called le Fuseau de la Madelaine, 
 and at some distance from it is the famous Chateau de Blain, 
 said to have been founded by Alain Fergent, though some 
 of it is much later. All that now remains are two towers, 
 a portion of the dwelling-house, a ruined chapel, and some 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 MORBIHA N. 
 
 of the walls. There were once nine towers ; of those now 
 remaining, one is attributed to Alain Fergent, and to the 
 other the ever-present Clisson has left his name ; it is called 
 La Tour du Connetable — Blain having come by marriage into 
 the family of Clisson. His daughter Beatrix carried this 
 
 Chateau de Blain. 
 
 property into the House of Rohan when she married, and it 
 remained in the possession of the Rohans till 1802. It is 
 a very fine ruin. Four sisters de l'instruction Chretienne 
 got out at this station of St. Gildas. The community now 
 occupies the old Benedictine Abbey of St. Gildas des Bois. 
 
REDOX. 
 
 6- 
 
 The church here, although not so old as the first foundation 
 ot the abbey, is still a remarkable specimen of thirteenth- 
 century architecture. The convent buildings are of much 
 later date. The abbot of St. Gildas des Bois was the only 
 one who had a right to use a crozier and mitre in the 
 diocese of Nantes. 
 
 We had now pine-woods on each side of the railway and 
 just before we reached Redon the country opened into a long 
 stretch of wooded hills with bits of blue distance seen here 
 and there. Redon stands at the angle of the three depart- 
 ments, Ille et Vilaine, Loire Inferieure, and Morbihan. It 
 is quite worth while to stop here to see the grand old 
 church of St. Sauveur, which forms a striking object from 
 the railway station. The central tower is very ancient and 
 remarkable ; the transept is as old as the twelfth century ; 
 and there are traces of Norman work in this fine old 
 church. There are several interesting monuments, and the 
 cumbrous high altar was the gift of Cardinal Richelieu, 
 who was Abbe' of Redon. 
 
 The town of Redon really owes its origin to the abbey, 
 which was founded as early as 832 by Nomenoe. The 
 abbey buildings, which are now occupied as a college, are 
 not earlier than the seventeenth century. There are some 
 old gabled houses in the Grande Rue. 
 
 After we left Redon the pine-trees disappeared, the edges 
 of the railway banks were purple with heather, and above were 
 chestnut-trees. As we got nearer Valines the country was 
 pretty and English looking, though here and there groves 
 of firs and stretches of brown moorland reminded us of the 
 Border. Hitherto, except in the salt works and the costume 
 in the peninsula of Le Croisic, and the caps and kerchiefs 
 
68 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 of Nantes, we had not noticed any very special features in 
 Brittany; but here came a change in the scenery. The 
 fields, instead of being divided by hedges, were fenced by 
 fragments of granite fastened together by wattles. 
 
 About half-way between Redon and Vannes is the station 
 of Malansac, and from here there is a correspondence to 
 Rochefort-en-terre. This old lordship passed, in 1349, by 
 marriage, from the house of Rochefort to the house of 
 Rieux. There are still some towers standing of the old 
 castle. The church has been restored and altered out of all 
 interest, but the town is full of quaint old houses and steep 
 streets. The town is well placed, and from the castle the 
 view is very picturesque. 
 
 It is better to take a carriage at Rochefort to accomplish 
 the expedition to the lande of Lanvaux and its neighbour- 
 hood, described by Monsieur Fouquet in his useful little 
 book, " Guide des Touristes et des Archeologues dans le 
 Morbihan." The menhirs here are said to be flung about 
 promiscuously; they are very numerous, and with the 
 curious dolmens are worth seeing, forming a kind of fitting 
 entry to the dreary Morbihan country, with its long stretches 
 of barren moor and its awful Druidic monuments. The 
 menhir called the Chapeau Rouge stands close to the road 
 leading to Malestroit, and near the village of Carhon is an 
 enormous dolmen, or grotto, 42 feet long ; but the place is 
 reported to be full of interest for students of archaeology, 
 so many of these curious remains being still said to exist on 
 the wild plains of Lanvaux. The following legend is told 
 to account for the immense stretch of dreary waste which 
 reaches westward from above Rochefort to Plaudren and 
 its neighbourhood. 
 
THE LEGEND OF THE LANDE OF LANVAUX, 69 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE LANDE OF LANVAUX. 
 
 Once on a time this huge desolate waste had more 
 villages on it than any other of the plains to the north of 
 Vannes, and just where now exists the gloomy pond of 
 Coetdelo stood a pretty smiling village surrounded by 
 fields and orchards. 
 
 It so happened that St. Peter and St. Paul were travelling 
 through the world to see what was doing, and thev 
 reached this village in a pouring rain which hdd drenched 
 them to the skin. They were poorly clothed, and carried 
 wallets on their shoulders to hold the crusts they begged as 
 they went along, and sticks in their hands to keep off dogs. 
 
 The two saints knocked first at the door of the finest 
 house in the village, and asked leave to dry themselves by 
 the kitchen fire. Now it happened that Mr. Richard, 
 the owner of the house, who was both dishonest and 
 uncharitable, opened the door himself. As soon as he saw 
 the saints, thinking them beggars, he threatened that if 
 they did not instantly decamp he would set his dog on them. 
 At this the poor saints were so greatly terrified that they ran 
 away to the other end of the village, and this time they 
 knocked at the door of the poorest hovel in the place, and 
 asked for shelter. 
 
 This was the hut of Gaffer Misery, who, seeing his visitors 
 wet through and shivering, welcomed them kindly. " Sit 
 down, good friends," he said, " rest yourselves and dry 
 your clothes," and then he set light to a bit of charred 
 wood which he had picked up that morning, and offered 
 them a drink of sour milk. For food he could only give 
 them some crusts of black bread which he had himself 
 
70 
 
 MO £ BIH AN. 
 
 begged that morning, for poor Misery was old and infirm, 
 and no longer able to work for his living. 
 
 When the charred log had burned out, and the bread 
 was all eaten, St. Peter said to Misery — 
 
 "Thou art a good man. Thou hast given us all that 
 thou hast received, and thy charity is real, for it was given 
 for the love of God. May thy faith equal thy charity. 
 Wish, and thy desire shall be granted." 
 
 At these words Misery recognised the presence of saints. 
 He fell on his knees before them. 
 
 "I have only one possession. Blessednesses," he said, 
 " and that is an apple-tree ; but every year I am robbed of 
 its fruit while I go out begging. Grant me, then, that 
 whosoever shall climb my apple-tree shall have no power 
 to descend from it without my leave. In this way I shall 
 discover the thief, and your Blessednesses will have done for 
 me a thousandfold more than I have done for you." 
 
 " Thy wish is granted," said the saint, and St. Peter and 
 St. Paul vanished from the sight of the beggar. 
 
 Next autumn Misery's apple-tree was laden with fine 
 fruit. " Aha ! " he thought ; " I shall for once eat these 
 nice apples myself." 
 
 One morning he came out of his hut, and looking up at 
 the tree to see if the fruit were ripe enough to gather, he 
 saw the leaves shaking violently, and behold ! there was 
 Mr. Richard among the branches, making vain efforts to 
 descend. 
 
 "How now!" exclaimed Misery; "it is you, is it, Mr. 
 Richard, you who have plenty, who steal the goods of the 
 poor? However, all the parish shall learn that you are a 
 thief. Stay where you are, my fine gentleman ! " 
 
THE LEGEND OF THE LANDE OF LANVAUX. 71 
 
 And Misery ran off and summoned all the villagers, 
 without paying heed to the rich man's cries for help. 
 
 The neighbours came trooping up, nothing loth, and 
 laughed and cried shame loudly on Mr. Richard, who was 
 detested both for his avarice and his churlish ways. 
 
 Mr. Richard, overcome with shame, implored Misery to 
 help him out of the tree. 
 
 " I will pay you the value of all the fruit I have ever 
 taken," he said, " and a fat sum besides." 
 
 But Misery shook his head and left him struggling in the 
 tree till nightfall. Then he went and released the culprit. 
 
 " Take care, Mr. Richard," he said, " I let you off scot 
 free this time, but don't try to steal my apples again \ if you 
 do you will have to stay up in the tree." 
 
 Mr. Richard scrambled down in such a hurry that he 
 nearly broke his neck : but he took Misery's advice and left 
 the apple-tree alone. 
 
 At last Misery became very ill. All at once Death 
 appeared to him, and said in a loud voice, " Come along, 
 Misery, you must follow me. Are you ready ?" 
 
 " My good friend," said the beggar, " you must know 
 that I am always ready to follow you, for I have nothing to 
 take out of the world and nothing to leave in it. Still, no 
 soul ever yet quitted life without one lingering wish, and I 
 ask one last service of you. You are so kind-hearted that 
 you will not refuse me, especially as it will cost you little 
 trouble and time to render it. Close to my door is a 
 beautiful apple-tree laden with fruit just ready for eating ; 
 now before I die I wish to eat one of these apples, and I 
 ask you to be so good as to fetch me a nice one." 
 
 "Is that all?" said Death. "For once in a way I 
 
MORBIHAN, 
 
 should like to make myself agreeable, and to you more 
 than to any one else, my poor Misery." 
 
 So Death hurried off and climbed the apple-tree. But 
 when he tried to come down it was another matter. There 
 he stuck fast. He strove to break down the tree ; he begged, 
 he howled, he raved, he struggled. All in vain ; even Death 
 was obliged to submit to a power stronger than his own. 
 
 He called loudly on Misery, but Misery was deaf. 
 
 " Ah, my friend," said Death, "let me go; I have so 
 much in hand that I have not a minute to spare." 
 
 " That is all very well," said Misery ; " you may be in a 
 hurry to depart, but I am not." 
 
 " But," said Death, " I swear to let you off this time, and 
 if you release me I will leave you in peace for ten years." 
 
 " Ten years ! I want to live till the Last Judgment. 
 Grant that, and you may come down." 
 
 " Have your way, Misery. You shall exist till the end 
 of all things." 
 
 And Death sprang furiously from the apple-tree, his 
 scythe in his hand ; and in his rage he mowed down men, 
 houses, and trees — only Misery remained on the desolate 
 waste. 
 
 There is very much of interest in the neighbourhood of 
 both Rochefort and Redon, and they can both be reached 
 easily from Vannes. Indeed, the whole of Morbihan 
 teems with interest, and although much has been done of 
 late years in the way of research, owing to the presence of 
 many distinguished local archaeologists, still one feels that 
 much still lies buried and perhaps unnoticed in this weird, 
 marvellous country. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 VANNES. 
 
 FEELING of intense interest grows and deepens as 
 
 one really enters this strange weird province, and it is 
 scarcely possible that the earnest and diligent traveller will 
 be disappointed in his investigations, though Brittany is a 
 land to which the old story of " Eyes and No Eyes" applies 
 far more than to Normandy, and one is painfully conscious 
 how much escapes even very intent research. But even 
 those who prefer mere holiday cannot travel in Morbihan 
 without becoming fascinated by the strange mysterious 
 power of these weird misshapen stones scattered over it, 
 and will soon cease to wonder at the awe with which the 
 peasants regard them. The whole department is full of 
 interest, and also full of practical teaching for the archasolo- 
 gist ; while those who only aim at acquiring a taste instead 
 of science in such researches, will not only learn much 
 without any effort of their own but will feel inspired to 
 study this most interesting lore. 
 
 The caps of the women at Vannes station looked charm- 
 ing, and entirely different from any we had seen, but the 
 
74 
 
 MO RBI HAN. 
 
 faces beneath them were not attractive — they were gloomy 
 and serious. No one seemed to be in good spirits, and 
 although many both of men and women had good dark eyes 
 and regular features their first aspect was decidedly de- 
 pressing. The women appeared cowed and silent, without 
 any of the French gaiety we had seen so much of at Chartres 
 and Le Mans, and the men looked surly, and gave short 
 sullen answers j but as we got into the town our first im- 
 pression of it was very pleasant. We had been led to 
 expect a dirty town with narrow twisted streets, in which 
 there was not much to reward the trouble of those in search 
 of picturesque antiquities, and in which it would not be 
 pleasant to lodge ; but when we reached the inn we had 
 selected on the fresh open Place Napoleon, we found that 
 at least there were air and cleanliness to be found in 
 Vannes; and when we began to penetrate the streets of 
 the old walled town, we found, too, how very interesting 
 it is. 
 
 This old walled part is by far the smallest portion of the 
 city, which has spread round it on all sides ; but the cathe- 
 dral, the shops, and the Mairie are within the quaint, ancient 
 walls, which may be traced all round the old town, and 
 which, though often built up by houses, retain their machi- 
 colations, and present continually the most charming little 
 bits to the artist. Some of these walls are of the Gallo- 
 Roman period, and others are of various periods from the 
 fourteenth to the eighteenth centuries. The old gate called 
 Porte Prison, or Porte Pater, from St. Paterne or Pater, is 
 the most interesting and curious ot the remaining gates. 
 The streets twist and wind so much that it is not easy at 
 first to find one's way directly from one point to another. 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 75 
 
 We went down the Rue de la Prefecture on our way to 
 the cathedral, stopping at the late Monsieur Galle's Library 
 as we passed, and getting a talk with its courteous mistress. 
 
 The old stone houses are very quaint. Each story so 
 projects over that below that where one street runs at an 
 angle from another the corners of the eaves almost touch. 
 This is especially to be seen in the Place Henri Quatre, at 
 the end of the Rue de la Prefecture. There are many 
 curious old houses here, notably the block at the corner of 
 the Rue des Chanoines. We went down this street, beside 
 the now ruined cloisters of the cathedral. There is not 
 much to remark in the exterior of this building except the 
 ugliness of the spire. 
 
 The cathedral is dedicated to St. Peter, but St. Clair 
 is said to have been the first missionary to Vannes. He 
 appeared in Morbihan in the third century. St. Clair died 
 in 280, in the reign of Probus, after converting to Chris- 
 tianity the military labourers employed by this emperor 
 in replanting the Gallic vineyards torn up by the orders of 
 Domitian. These converts placed under the protection of 
 the reigning Pope, St. Comely, the cattle which -they 
 employed during their labours. This is said to be the 
 origin of the special worship of St. Comely throughout 
 Brittany. St. Patem II., elected by the voice of the 
 people Bishop of Vannes in 575, is said to have taken 
 possession of a magnificent public building in the heart of 
 the city, hitherto used for public assemblies at pagan rites, 
 and, having purified it, he consecrated it for Christian 
 worship. It is therefore probable that this Gallo-Roman 
 building was used as the church till Vannes was pillaged 
 by the Northmen in the tenth century. 
 
76 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 The cathedral now existing is supposed to have been 
 begun in the eleventh century. It contains specimens of 
 the architecture of almost all the centuries between the 
 eleventh and the eighteenth. It consists of a nave, with 
 five chapels on each side ; of these the largest is the chapel 
 of St. Vincent. Old documents prove that the first cathe- 
 dral closely resembled in construction the abbey church 
 of St. Gildas de Rhuys. The nave seems to have been 
 sixty years in building ; and in the sixteenth century the 
 Italian Archdeacon Danielo built the chapel of the Saint 
 Sacrement, which is also called the Chapel of the Pardon. 
 This is round, and is far more curious than admirable. John 
 Danielo, its founder, was buried here in 1540. 
 
 The chapel of St. Vincent Ferrier is of the seventeenth 
 century. The possession of the relics of this saint is the 
 great glory of Vannes. Duke John V. persuaded the 
 Spanish Dominican monk to take up his abode at Vannes 
 in 141 7, and, though he only lived two years in Brittany, he 
 seems to have evangelised the whole country. He was 
 buried in the cathedral of Vannes ; and when the Duchess 
 Jeanne died, she was, at her own request, buried at the feet 
 of St. Vincent. He was canonised in 1456 at the earnest 
 supplication of the duke and all his people, and his relics 
 are still carried in procession through the town on the first 
 Sunday in September, as a commemoration of their pre- 
 servation to the town of Vannes, for Philip II. of Spain 
 tried to get possession of them at the end of the next 
 century. 
 
 As we came out of the cathedral we saw one of the 
 special features of a Breton town — a small cart, covered 
 with a dark hood, full of sacks of charcoal. A large yellow 
 
" VANNES ET SA FEMME." 77 
 
 dog was fastened under it, and beside it walked a huge 
 Breton in a broad low-crowned black hat, a black jacket, and 
 dark trousers. He stalked along with much dignity, and 
 there was something strangely masterful in his large narrow 
 dark eyes and long straight nose— masterful and yet repel- 
 ling, quite another order of face from that of a Norman 
 charcoal dealer. Opposite the cathedral is the curious old 
 doorway of what was formerly the Chapelle du Presidial. 
 
 From the cathedral we went along the Rue St. Pierre, 
 and then to the right, down the Rue des Orfevres, till we 
 came to a confectioner's shop, No. 15. We asked here if 
 we could see the room of St. Vincent Ferrier, and were 
 guided through some back premises to a little staircase so 
 narrow and steep that it made one giddy to climb it. At 
 the top is a very small room, which is said to have been 
 occupied by St. Vincent. It is now converted into a chapel. 
 A little way farther on, at the corner of the Rue Noe, are 
 two grotesque half-length stone figures called Vannes et sa 
 femme. They support the corner of the projecting upper 
 story, and are very quaintly coloured. Farther down the 
 street is an old archway called Arche de Noe. 
 
 From the Rue Noe we found our way on the left into the 
 Rue des Halles, and this led us out on the Place des Lices. 
 This in 1380 was the scene of the Battle of the Five, which 
 took place just twenty-nine years after the Battle of the 
 Thirty. This battle of Vannes consisted of five English 
 and five French knights, and was fought in the presence of 
 Duke Jean IV. and of the Earl of Buckingham. The French 
 appear to have had the best of it. It was also on the Place 
 des Lices, in 141 7, that St. Vincent Ferrier preached to the 
 people, and, though he only spoke the Spanish tongue, he 
 
7? 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 made himself miraculously understood by all. The famous 
 Chateau de l'Hermine, the residence of the Dukes of Brit- 
 tany, once stood on the Place des Lices. The Public 
 Library and the Museum of Natural History are placed here. 
 From the Place des Lices we went on to the Place de la 
 Mairie, a very quaint opening, on which stands the old 
 Mairie with its double flight of steps, and on the left an old 
 
 Tour de Clisson. 
 
 garden wall, over which appeared great magnolia-trees 
 covered with creamy blossoms. 
 
 We went down beyond the Mairie into the Rue Basse 
 Cour, and soon reached the famous Tour du Connetable, 
 once, according to some writers, the north-east angle of 
 the Chateau de l'Hermine, which, as has been said, stood 
 on the Place des Lices. 
 
 After the battle of Auray, Clisson quarrelled with Jean IV., 
 because the duke gave the estate of Gavre, near the Con- 
 stable's castle of Blain, to the English knight, Sir John 
 
CLISSON AND DUKE JOHN IV. 
 
 79 
 
 Chandos. On this Clisson took service with the King of 
 France, who made him Constable on the death of Du 
 Guesclin. " Henceforth," says Froissart, " Sir Olivier de 
 Clisson spent all day and all night in contriving how he 
 might best damage both the English and his old master." 
 
 When the duke heard that Clisson was going to help raise 
 the enormous ransom asked by the English for the eldest son 
 of Charles de Blois, and to marry this heir of Penthievre 
 to his own daughter Margaret de Clisson, he became 
 furious, fearing that Clisson meant to dethrone him. He 
 was very unpopular with his own subjects from his fond- 
 ness for the English, and he had lately offended these 
 allies. He resolved, therefore, by one bold stroke to 
 recover the favour of the English, and put a stop to the 
 invasion which the Constable had planned against that 
 country, and for which troops were assembling both at 
 Harrleur and at Treguier. " The Duke of Brittany," says 
 Froissart, " to accomplish his plan, appointed a great par- 
 liament to be held at Vannes, and sent very affectionate 
 letters to his barons and knights, to entreat that they would 
 be present ; but he was particularly pressing with the Con- 
 stable of France, adding that he was more anxious to see 
 him than all the rest. The Constable never thought of 
 excusing himself, for the duke was now his acknowledged 
 lord, and he wished to be in his favour. He came therefore to 
 Vannes, as did great numbers of other barons. The assembly 
 was numerous and lasted some time, and many things were 
 discussed which concerned the duke and the country ; but 
 the intended invasion of England was never touched on, for 
 the duke pretended to know nothing about it and kept a 
 strict silence. The parliament was held in the castle of La 
 
8o 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 Motte at Vannes, where the duke gave a grand dinner to 
 the barons of Brittany. . . ." The Constable returned the 
 duke's hospitality, intending when all was done " to make 
 for Treguier, and embark on board his fleet, which was 
 
 ready for him You must know that in these days 
 
 the Duke of Brittany was building a very handsome and 
 strong castle called the Castle of Ermine, which was almost 
 completed. Being eager to catch the Constable, he said to 
 him, the Lord of Beaumanoir, and other barons, 1 My dear 
 sirs, I entreat that before you quit this country you will 
 come and see my castle of Ermine, that you may view what 
 I have done and the plans I intend executing.' They all 
 accepted his invitation, for his behaviour had been so kind 
 and open that they never thought he was imagining mis- 
 chief. . . . When arrived, the duke, the Constable, the 
 Lords of Laval and Beaumanoir, dismounted, and entered 
 within its apartments. The duke led the Constable by the 
 hand from chamber to chamber .... they came to the 
 keep, and stopping at the entrance, the duke said, 'Sir 
 Olivier, there is not a man on this side of the sea who under- 
 stands masonry like you ; enter, therefore, I beg you, and 
 examine the walls well, and if you say it is properly built it 
 shall remain, otherwise it shall be al 
 
 "The Constable, who thought nothing ill was intended, 
 replied he would cheerfully do so, and desired the duke to 
 go first. ' No,' said the duke, ' go by yourself, while I talk 
 a little here with the Lord of Laval.' 
 
 "The Constable, desirous to acquit himself, entered the 
 tower and ascended the staircase. When he had passed 
 the first floor, some armed men who had been there posted 
 in ambush, knowing how they were to act, shut the door 
 
IMPRISONMENT OF CLISSON. 
 
 81 
 
 below them and advanced on the Constable, whom they 
 seized, and, dragging him into an apartment, loaded him 
 with three pairs of fetters. As they were putting them on 
 they said, 'My lord, forgive what we are doing, for we are 
 obliged to do it by the strict orders we have had from 
 the Duke of Brittany.' " 
 
 The Lords of Laval and Beaumanoir, hearing the noise, 
 remonstrated, but the duke caused Beaumanoir also to be 
 imprisoned, and but for the firm remonstrances of Laval 
 would perhaps have put both captives to death. Dom 
 Morice, in his History of Brittany, gives a much worse 
 account of the conduct of the duke. He says that the 
 duke desired Sir John de Bazvalan to have the Constable 
 secretly murdered during the night. Bazvalan remonstrated, 
 but the duke would not listen, and insisted on the Constable's 
 death. But in the morning he repented, and sending for 
 Bazvalan asked if his orders had been obeyed. " Yes, my 
 lord, he was drowned last night, and his body is buried in 
 a garden." At this the duke was full of grief, and bade 
 Bazvalan leave his presence and never see his face again. 
 The knight departed and left the duke to the agony of his 
 remorse, but after a time he went back and told hira that 
 the Constable still lived. 
 
 According to Froissart, the Lord of Laval, Clisson's 
 brother-in-law, gave the duke no respite till he had named 
 the ransom for which he would liberate his illustrious 
 prisoner. It was at last settled that the Lord of Beau- 
 manoir should be set free that he might collect the ransom, 
 and that 100,000 francs, the town of Jugon, and the strong 
 castles of Broc, Lamballe, and Josselin should be ceded 
 to the Duke of Brittany. The Constable was released, 
 
 
 
82 
 
 MO RB THAN. 
 
 but he was so disturbed by the insult he had received that 
 he gave up the invasion of England, and also the office of 
 Constable of France, saying that he would "no longer hold 
 what he could not gain any honour by." 
 
 As one reads Froissart one cannot wonder at the hatred 
 felt by the French historians to the English ; they seem to 
 have been always going up and down throughout the land 
 fighting or marauding. It is quite a relief to find one of the 
 gossiping Flemish chronicler's chapters with this heading : 
 " Sir Robert Knolles and Sir John Chandos march from 
 Domme without doing anything." 
 
 Clisson's daughter, the stern, vindictive wife of Jean de 
 Penthievre, avenged her father's captivity most mercilessly 
 on the duke's son, John V., whom she kept imprisoned in 
 her castle of Champtoceaux. It was during this imprison- 
 ment that Duke John vowed to give his weight in gold to 
 the cathedral of Nantes, a vow which he accomplished on 
 his liberation. 
 
 The Constable's Tower has a double interest now — one 
 may say a treble charm, for it is equally picturesque on 
 close inspection and as viewed from the Garenne Avenue, 
 and, besides the tradition respecting Clisson's imprisonment, 
 it is now the museum of the interesting relics discovered in 
 the dolmens and barrows of the Morbihan. This museum 
 is well worth several visits, there is so much there to 
 provoke curious speculation, although seemingly nothing 
 to throw distinct light on the troubled question of the 
 purpose and origin of these weird stones. 
 
 We went in by a little door in the old grey wall to a 
 flower-tangled garden, and there was the old tower with its 
 severe machicolations above, speaking of a rude military age, 
 
TOUR DE C LIS SON. 
 
 83 
 
 while over the walls below all kinds of climbing plants were 
 striving to cover the grey stones with clinging wreaths, 
 the darkness of ivy green and the rich red of American 
 creeper leaves asserting their hues above the more subdued 
 tints. 
 
 The museum occupies two floors of the tower — octagon- 
 shaped chambers with deeply splayed windows. It is 
 said that the sea once washed the wall of this tower. 
 The moat is below it, but there are houses built between. 
 The first floor contains various interesting objects of the 
 Middle Ages, some curious embroidery, and some beautiful 
 Aubusson tapestry, a curious collection of coins and seals, 
 and fragments of interesting statues ; but on the floor above, 
 reached by the old staircase, are much more interesting 
 treasures : all the remains found in the wonderful barrows 
 or cromlechs of Mont St. Michel at Carnac, of La Butte 
 de Tumiac, and others at Plouharnel, Locmariaker, &c. 
 The collection of celts, or axe-heads, formed of fibrolite, 
 jadeite, and some other materials, all exquisitely polished 
 and sharpened, is said to be unique. There are also neck- 
 lace beads with pendants and bracelets, of callais or green 
 turquoise (these from Mont St. Michel, Carnac), fragments of 
 bones, and other curious objects found in these dolmens, 
 especially a collection of urns. 
 
 A little way beyond the tower, at the bottom of the 
 Rue Basse Cour, we passed through a small gate in the 
 wall, commonly called Porte Poterne; but it is a mere 
 door, and not older than the seventeenth century. From 
 this a bridge led over the moat or river, and facing us, 
 right and left, was an avenue of trees which seemed 
 to surround this part of the town \ this is the promenade 
 
84 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 called Douves de la Garenne, and beyond, in a line from 
 the bridge, is the Garenne itself. 
 
 We crossed the bridge, and then looked back ; and I do 
 not think for entire picturesqueness and delightful colour the 
 view we saw was surpassed in any town in Brittany. There 
 was the Tour du Connetable frowning darkly at us from the 
 old town wall, houses nestling beneath it among trees and 
 gardens ; in the foreground, beside the water, a range of 
 washing-sheds, and dotted along the bank, as far as we 
 could see, boxes full of clothes, and groups of standing and 
 kneeling women, now soaping diligently at a well-worn blue 
 petticoat, now rinsing a snowy shirt in the brown stream. 
 Close by one of the washers was a dear little baby in one 
 of the boxes, crowing and laughing at the noise around it. 
 
 The sun was setting, and the level light fell brightly on 
 the women's white caps, while it softened to a dreamy olive 
 the surrounding scene. An artist could have filled a sketch- 
 book on the bridge — the washerwomen's brown faces and 
 snowy caps and low-toned blue and grey gowns, grouped 
 so harmoniously with their surroundings. As in Normandy, 
 gay colour is rarely visible in Morbihan, although one occa- 
 sionally sees a red skirt. 
 
 This view was so enchanting that we stayed a long time 
 on the bridge, watching the lights change on the washers 
 and the shadows deepen on the castle and the trees. It had 
 grown dusk as we came slowly along the avenue on the left, 
 tracing out the interesting old wall — not so old, however, here 
 as on the north and west of the town — till we reached Porte 
 Pater, or Porte Prison, as it is now generally called, because 
 at one time it served as a place of confinement for male 
 criminals, as the Constable's Tower did for females. 
 
PORTE PRISON. 
 
 65 
 
 It is a remarkable old gate, a Gothic doorway flanked by- 
 two massive towers, between which is a lion bearing on a 
 shield the arms of Brittany. The machicolations of the wall 
 adjoining this gate are of the fourteenth century. The six 
 outlets from the walls of Vannes correspond finally, if not 
 directly, with the six Roman roads spoken of by ancient 
 writers. The Porte Prison is almost in a line with the 
 ancient road to Bohalgo, and the Porte Poterne opens 
 almost directly on the ancient road to Nantes. Passing by 
 Porte Prison, and keeping along the Rue du Mene, we 
 come to the oldest part of the walls. The oldest bits of 
 foundation existing in Vannes — and these are said to be 
 undoubtedly Gallo-Roman in construction — reach from the 
 Porte Prison to the Tour du Mene on the north, and from 
 behind the Hotel du Commerce to the Marche au Seigle on 
 the west. It is very interesting, though it takes some time, 
 to trace these old, very picturesque walls all round the 
 town ; but the light grew so dim that we were not able to 
 finish our circuit that evening. 
 
 Next morning we went down to the Porte St. Vincent 
 through the town by the Rue des Halles, a quaint old 
 street; then into the Rue Noe, where once stood a 
 remarkable house called Maison du Parlement, or Chateau 
 Gaillard ; and then, by the Rue des Orfevres, to the Place 
 Poissonnerie. A busy market was going on all over this 
 ill-paved Place, with a branch of trade in it we had not 
 hitherto seen. Brown and white salt piled in straw baskets 
 was set among vast heaps of cabbage, carrots, onions, beans, 
 and lettuce ; but there was scarcely any attempt to arrange 
 the vegetables in stalls or booths, as in Normandy ; they lay 
 rather huddled together on the uneven stones of the Place. 
 
86 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 There was much pleasant variety of costume : the women 
 in black or brown gowns, with chocolate or purple necker- 
 chiefs, figured in white, and reaching to their waists. Brown, 
 patient, stolid old women, with baskets of fresh sardines 
 glistening with exquisite colour, asked us to buy as we 
 passed, but without any of the tempting ways and amusing 
 words of the Norman market-women. Lumps of butter, 
 the size and shape of a tall hat, were everywhere exposed 
 on the tops of large baskets, without any attempt to 
 shade them or set them off with cool green leaves ; and 
 the fowls, instead of being packed in baskets, hung in 
 feathered bunches tied by the legs. There was " a rough- 
 and-ready " practical look about everything. 
 
 We turned to the left, and found ourselves close to the 
 Porte St. Vincent ; more interesting from association than 
 in appearance, for it is in the Italian style of the seventeenth 
 century. The old gate was doubtless of the same date as 
 this, the most modern portion of the old walls. On one 
 of the stones of the wall adjoining this was found the 
 inscription, " Cest cepvre a este parfaict Pan 1593." The 
 statue of St. Vincent was destroyed during the Revolution, 
 but a new one has been placed in its niche; and the 
 relics of the Spanish saint are each year borne in procession 
 through the archway and round the walls of Vannes. 
 
 This gate of St. Vincent leads directly on to the port. 
 At high water this is a pleasant spot. On the right side of 
 the water is the long promenade of the Rabine, with its 
 double avenue of trees j and on the left there seem to be 
 houses with gardens full of trees ; beyond, there is also a 
 walk beside the river planted with trees. It is worth while 
 to walk beside the river to get the view of the old walled 
 
THE LEGEND OF ST. TRYPHENA. 
 
 87 
 
 town surmounted by the cathedral, though this is seen 
 much better from the river itself ; but the best view is from 
 the avenue leading to the Garenne. 
 
 Till we were settled at Vannes we did not know the 
 interesting history of the Hotel de France, or I think we 
 should have taken up our quarters there. It stands on the 
 site of the ancient Chateau de la Motte, said by tradition to 
 be the actual residence of Waroch L, Count of Vannes, the 
 father of St. Tryphena and the protector of St. Gildas ; 
 but this tradition is scouted by historians, who affirm that 
 Waroch held his court in the isles to the south of the 
 Morbihan, these isles having been colonised by Britons 
 flying from their country in the fifth century. This legend 
 of St. Tryphena and her husband Comorre, the Breton 
 Bluebeard, is the chief legend of Vannes. This is not the 
 legend on which is founded the open-air play of Ste. Triffine. 
 
 The famous St. Gildas le Sage had become the trusted 
 friend and chief adviser of Count Waroch and the apostle 
 of Morbihan. Tidings of his sanctity and his influence 
 having reached the ears of Comorre, Count of Cornouaille, 
 a wicked and vicious lord, who seems to be the received 
 prototype of Bluebeard, he sent and begged the saint to 
 visit him, and St. Gildas judged it expedient to accept this 
 invitation, in the hope of converting this bloodthirsty wolf 
 into a meek lamb. He therefore left his monastery beside 
 the Blavet, and, accompanied by some of his monks, 
 repaired to the castle of Comorre. 
 
 But Comorre did not want to be converted, He had 
 seen the beautiful Tryphena at the court of her father 
 Waroch, and had fallen violently in love with her and made 
 an offer of marriage ; but, as he was known to be a wife- 
 
88 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 killer, he had been at once refused — his practice being to 
 marry a wife and then, as soon as she was with child, to 
 murder her. In this way he had killed five wives of whom 
 he had been at first violently enamoured. He hoped by 
 means of St. Gildas to induce Count Waroch to accept his 
 suit, and the cruel monster so worked on the saint that he 
 went to Waroch and persuaded him to consent to the 
 marriage. 
 
 After much promise of good behaviour on the part of 
 Comorre, the marriage took place. For some time the tyrant 
 kept his word, but one day, on his return home after a short 
 absence, he found his wife embroidering a little cap. " Who 
 are you working for ? " he said sternly. " For the little son 
 I hope soon to give you," said Tryphena. He went away 
 frowning heavily, and from this day Tryphena became aware 
 of a change in her husband's behaviour. She was much 
 terrified, and she resolved to return to her father and stay 
 with him till after the birth of her child. 
 
 Accordingly one morning she mounted her horse and set 
 out for Vannes ; but just before she reached the city the 
 tyrant overtook her, and as she knelt on the ground implor- 
 ing mercy he seized her by her beautiful hair and cut off 
 her head. 
 
 Count Waroch, hearing of this disaster, caused (says 
 Albert le Grand) his daughter's body to be carried to the 
 great hall in the Chateau de la Motte, at Vannes, and 
 then set off to find St. Gildas, and implored him to restore 
 Tryphena to life. But instead of obeying the count's sum- 
 mons St. Gildas recommended this affair to the prayers of 
 his monks, and then started off for the Castle Finans, 
 in the forest of Quene'can, the residence of the barbarous 
 
THE LEGEND OF ST. TRYPHENA. 
 
 89 
 
 Comorre, and summoned the murderer to answer for his 
 crimes. Comorre remained behind his closed gates without 
 answering this appeal ; and then the saint flung a handful 
 of dust against the castle wall, which crumbled and fell, 
 thereby destroying the garrison and grievously wounding 
 the tyrant. 
 
 St. Gildas went on to Vannes, put Tryphena's head on 
 her body, and restored her to life. She at once declared 
 that she would follow . the saint wheresoever he went 
 and devote the rest of her life to God's service. " Not 
 so, my daughter," the holy man said \ " it were not seemly 
 for a woman to follow a monk. Remain with your father 
 till your child is born, and then I will consecrate you to 
 God's service in some convent of nuns;" which, adds 
 the chronicler, she did, and when her child was born soon 
 after she called it Tremeur, and handed it over to the care 
 of St. Gildas, to be brought up in the monastery of Rhuys. 
 
 Monsieur Lallemand contradicts Albert le Grand, and 
 says there is not the slightest foundation for supposing that 
 Count Waroch dwelt at Vannes. He mentions the Chateau 
 de la Motte as the place of assembly of the States of Brittany 
 when they demanded vengeance of King Philip Augustus on 
 John Lackland for the murder of his nephew Arthur, and 
 offered the government of the dukedom to his mother 
 Constance, at that time married to her third husband, 
 Guy de Thouars. It was for some time used as the palace 
 of the Dukes of Brittany; but, in 141 7, Duke John V. and 
 his duchess, Jeanne of France, daughter of Charles VI., 
 who resided in the Chateau de l'Hermine, on the Place 
 des Lices, offered St. Vincent Ferrier the Chateau de 
 la Motte; but the humble-minded preacher refused the 
 
QO 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 splendid gift, preferring his little room in the Rue des 
 Orfevres. 
 
 It is said that the ancient foundations of the Chateau de 
 la Motte date from the sixth century, but it was entirely 
 rebuilt in the eighteenth century by Bishop Fajon as the 
 episcopal palace ofVannes. After this it was used as the 
 Prefecture, till the present new and very ugly building was 
 erected outside the town walls, near the Porte Prison or 
 Pater. Since then the Chateau de la Motte has been used 
 as an hotel for travellers. 
 
 The present episcopal palace is on the left as one faces 
 Vannes from the Rabine. The Jesuit College of St. Francois 
 Xavier lies nearer the town behind the bishop's palace. It 
 once belonged to the sisters of St. Ursula, who now occupy 
 much smaller buildings in the old Capuchin convent on the 
 Place du Morbihan. The College of St. Yves seems to have 
 been the oldest of the ecclesiastical institutions ofVannes. It 
 began in the sixteenth century, but it languished until it was 
 placed under the direction of the Jesuit fathers in the reign 
 of Louis XIII. It is said at one time to have numbered 
 1,200 pupils; and in 1660 the chapel, which had always 
 been small, became so ruinous that Catherine de Franche- 
 ville, sister of Claude of Francheville, seneschal and chief 
 magistrate of Vannes, made an offering of 300 louis d'or, 
 and during thirteen following years gave 1,600 livres a year, 
 and other large sums as they were wanted, towards the 
 building of a new chapel. The fathers wished to place the 
 arms of Mademoiselle de Francheville over the door of the 
 building; but she refused this, and proposed the words, 
 "Fundavit earn altissimus," instead. After 1762, when the 
 Jesuits were expelled from all public posts, the college went 
 
THE ORDER OF THE ERMINE. 
 
 91 
 
 through many changes. At the time of the descent on 
 Quiberon it was converted into a powder magazine and a 
 depot for artillery. Finally, in 1802, it became the Com- 
 munal College, which still exists in the building on the Place 
 Napoleon. 
 
 There are several very interesting religious houses in 
 the town and its suburbs. This Mademoiselle Catherine 
 de Francheville, whose life seems to have been full of 
 good works, founded in Vannes a house of retreat for 
 women desiring to withdraw for a period from the bustle 
 and gaiety of ordinary life. Before her death she had the 
 consolation, says Monsieur Lallemand. of seeing four similar 
 houses established in Brittany — at Rennes, St. Malo, 
 Quimper, and St. Pol de Leon — all of which acknow- 
 ledged her as their foundress, although she was too 
 humble to permit herself to be chosen as superior to any 
 of them. Frangoise d'Amboise, widow of Duke Pierre II., 
 founded the convent of Trois Maries, and took the veil 
 therein in 1469. 
 
 Duke John IV. instituted the Order of the Ermine at 
 Vannes. The ermine being the ancient device of Mor- 
 bihan, that little animal is also found on the coins issued 
 in the reign of this prince. The collar of the order was 
 filled by figures of the ermine, with the motto, " A ma vie," 
 on a ribbon across the body of each. This order was insti- 
 tuted in 135 1, after the battle of Auray and the death of 
 Charles de Blois. 
 
 There are so many excursions to be made from A^annes, 
 that a fortnight or even longer will not exhaust the interest 
 of the neighbourhood. Plenty of curious stones, dolmens, 
 basin stones, are near the town, and may be visited on loot, 
 
92 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 taking as a local guide Monsieur Fouquet's useful little 
 manual, " Guide des Touristes et des Archeologues dans le 
 Morbihan," which, however, is not always exact. 
 
 Very near the town, on the Elven road, is the enor- 
 mous rock of Hesqueno, close to the farmhouse of that 
 name. Some way farther along the road is the village 
 of Bohalgo, and near this is a barren moor covered with 
 broken stones. From here one sees Vannes on the west, 
 and on the north the steeple of Rohic. Across the moor, 
 and beyond a little brook, is an open grotto formed of 
 fragments of rocks. This is called the Grotto of Jean II., 
 and also the Capitol. It forms a charming contrast to the 
 arid desolate moor. The little stream, the trees, and the 
 rocks make it a most picturesque retreat. Following the 
 little stream, and passing through a wood of chestnut-trees, 
 we come to a crucifix which stands on the high road to 
 Nantes. When a young peasant can clasp this cross 
 completely in his arms, he is, in popular belief, fit to take a 
 wife. These stone crucifixes, sometimes most roughly 
 carved, are frequent throughout Brittany, at the corners of 
 roads, and often in some very lonely deserted spot. Some- 
 times they are simple crucifixes, sometimes they have 
 two or three figures at the foot of the cross, and in the 
 extreme west and north of the country immense Calvaries 
 become frequent, with numerous groups of figures rudely 
 carved. 
 
 There are also excursions to St. Ave, near which are 
 the ruins of a Roman hous^ , and on a moor, to be recog- 
 nised by its three windmills, called the Three Kings, are some 
 curious stones with cup-markings. Beyond St. Ave is the 
 camp of Villeneuve, a hill on which may be distinctly traced 
 
ST. UFEVRIER AND THE PIXS. 
 
 93 
 
 a triple Roman fortification. Sene and the isle of Conleau, 
 and many other curiosities, should be visited ; they are at 
 distances not too far for good walkers. 
 
 The sailors of the peninsula of Se'ne are called Sinagots, 
 and use a very useful kind of boat pointed at each end. In 
 Sene, as in other villages on the Morbihan, the men are 
 fishers and the women cultivate the soil. 
 
 At Limur, in this peninsula, is a little chapel dedicated to 
 St. Ufevrier. In the chapel is a statue of the saint, one foot 
 of which is pierced through and through with pins. St. 
 Ufevrier is supposed to be a husband-finding saint, and the 
 young girl who can succeed in sticking a pin firmly in his 
 foot will have a husband before the end of the year. She, 
 on the contrary, whose pin falls out will have to wait some 
 time for a lover, and it may be will not get one. 
 
MORBIH AN. 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Elven — Tredion. 
 
 had heard so much of the Chateau de Largouet and 
 its Tour d'Elven that we wanted a long day ther*:. So 
 we started early, having arranged overnight to have our 
 breakfast packed to take with us, which was done very 
 nicely by our landlady. The first part of the road was 
 bordered by chestnut-trees, and then the country opened 
 widely on each side, showing stretches of blue distance. 
 Not long afterwards we came in view of the tower of 
 Elven, which is a landmark for some time before it is 
 reached. After driving rather more than two hours from 
 Vannes a road appeared on the left, cut across a desolate 
 common overgrown with furze, at the farther side of which 
 was the tower. 
 
 Our driver said that visitors usually went on foot from 
 this point, as the road was very bad ; but, although it was 
 still early, the heat had become intense, and there was no 
 shade to be seen on the long track across the common, 
 so we did not feel inclined to walk. The road was 
 
TOUR D'ELVEN, 
 
 95 
 
 certainly very bad. Our little carriage pitched up and 
 down alarmingly; and when we reached the thick wood 
 which surrounds the tower, and hides it on nearer ap- 
 proach, we all preferred to walk, for the road had become 
 a series of ruts almost a foot in depth, and so rough that it 
 was not easy even to walk on their edges. Our guide said 
 the incessant rains of the last few weeks had made the 
 approach much worse than usual. At length we reached the 
 end of the picturesque maze which seemed to circle round 
 the fortress, and came out in sudden view of the ruins. 
 
 Then we saw that a much older large round tower had 
 been hidden by the massive donjon, and that we were 
 surrounded by the ruins of the old castle. Beyond was 
 another square tower, overgrown with ivy. The effect was 
 very striking. 
 
 Monsieur Octave Feuillet, who has laid the scene of the 
 most dramatic portion of his book, " Le Roman d'un jeune 
 Homme pauvre," in the Tour d'Elven, gives a most faithful 
 and admirable description of the ruins in the sentences be- 
 ginning, " Rien de plus imposant, de plus fier et de plus 
 sombre que ce vieux donjon," &c. 
 
 The donjon is in excellent preservation, and is almost 
 perfect ; and this tall octangular tower with its crenelated 
 top, and a smaller tower rising from the platform within the 
 battlements, has a most marvellous effect, surrounded on all 
 sides by its deep wooded moat, while all about are the ruins 
 and the surrounding trees. The tall dark frowning Tour 
 d'Elven looks doubly grim seen through the tender green 
 of ash and beech. Just facing its low-browed portal a 
 narrow drawbridge crosses the moat. 
 
 There is a small farmhouse close by inhabited by the 
 
96 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 concierge. He was going out, but he said his sister could 
 show us the tower just as well as he could. 
 
 We were too hungry to explore it at once ; so we strolled 
 down among the trees beyond the ruins, seeking a pleasant 
 spot to breakfast in. We soon found a charming green 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 ilk 
 
 
 R 
 
 
 
 
 © 
 
 w 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 Tour d'Elven. 
 
 slope crowned by high trees, which made a screen from 
 the blaze of the sunshine ; in front was the open country 
 stretching away for some distance ; and here we unpacked 
 the two baskets provided by our landlady. The fare was 
 excellent, but alas ! although she had packed serviettes for 
 
THE CASTLE OF LARGOUET. 
 
 9 7 
 
 each person and a table-cloth, she had left out plates and 
 knives and forks ; and, although some of the breakfast 
 consisted of what Monsieur Fouquet calls " provisions de 
 bouche," we found it extremely difficult to carve chicken 
 with a penknife. However, we managed to enjoy our 
 breakfast thoroughly, and that sunny morning on the grass 
 outside the old castle of Largouet will always be a bright 
 memory of Brittany. 
 
 The concierge passed us on his way. He stopped to tell 
 us that he was a martyr to neuralgia, and he wanted to 
 know if we could tell him of a cure. 
 
 The sun had risen above our screen of trees, and shone 
 down on us so fiercely that we were glad to go back among 
 the ruins. Our driver, who had turned his horse loose into 
 one of the fields, went and summoned a guide, while we 
 stood gazing up at the lofty imperious-looking tower. It 
 may arise partly from its position, girt as it is on all sides 
 with trees, and yet rising loftily above all \ it may be from 
 its dark, frowning appearance ; but we thought this tower 
 of Elven, for its size, the most imposing-looking ruin we saw 
 in Brittany.* 
 
 The castle was built in 1356 by Odon de Malestroit, 
 who is said to have used for its model a strong fortress 
 which he took in Palestine, when he accompanied St. 
 Louis to the Crusades. This castle of Largouet passed 
 with the rest of the Malestroit property to the Rieux family 
 by marriage during the civil wars which preceded the 
 marriage of Duchess Anne with Charles. Then it was taken 
 and dismantled. It was not till the end of the fifteenth 
 
 * M. Fouquet says that in the moat and among the ruins may be 
 found a rare snail-shell (H. Quimperiana). 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 century that the Marechal de Rieux found time and money 
 to restore the castle from its ruins ; and he contented him- 
 self with rebuilding the donjon, the present Tour d'Elven. 
 Before this, the castle — perhaps one of the other more 
 ruinous towers — had served as a prison to our Henry VII., 
 who was detained here partly from political motives con- 
 nected with England, and very much from the jealousy felt 
 by the Duke of Brittany respecting his title, the earldom of 
 Richmond having been an appanage of the dukedom of 
 Brittany ever since the Norman Conquest. Later still the 
 whole property passed into the possession of Fouquet, the 
 minister of Louis XIV. And besides these, other historical 
 memories cling round the old walls. 
 
 But all our musings over the dark old fortress vanished at 
 the sight of our guide, who came rolling over the grass-grown 
 orchard between the drawbridge and her house, in sabots 
 much too big for her brown stockingless feet. She was the 
 first thorough Breton peasant we had come in close con- 
 tact with, and she looked too picturesque for common life. 
 Her short green-black gown had burned and faded in the 
 sunshine till it was full of charming colour; her large 
 straight blue apron nearly met behind her, and the bib came 
 high in front ; the body of her gown had a square opening in 
 front, and seemed to be worn over a thick calico nightgown 
 with a large falling white collar and sleeves. She wore the 
 short Vannes cap, with its broad hem thrown back from 
 the forehead. She was old and fat and brown, but she had 
 been handsome once, and she looked like a picture. 
 
 She went on before us across the drawbridge, and unlocked 
 the door of the tower. As we passed through into the inner 
 entrance she showed us the immense thickness of the 
 
A BRETON GUIDE. 
 
 99 
 
 walls. There are two staircases ; the one which mounts 
 to the top is of a good width. As one mounts one circles 
 round, looking now down into the ruined interior, now 
 out of external loopholes at the surrounding country. We 
 passed the chapel on our way up, built in the thickness 
 of the walls, and marked by a large Gothic window. 
 At last we reached the top, and our guide invited 
 us to walk round the grassed platform on to which we 
 issued to see the view ; but although it is supported by the 
 machicolations, the edge is ruined and broken, and at such 
 an immense height it is not a tempting promenade. Our 
 guide waited a few moments, and then, shrugging her 
 shoulders, she said, " When I was young I would have run 
 round it without waiting to be asked twice." 
 
 The surrounding country is flat, but there are many ruined 
 castles and manor-houses grouped round the fortress ; among 
 them, to the north-west, the remains of the Chateau of 
 Kerleau, once belonging to the family of Descartes, and, to 
 the north, the Chateau of Kerfily, with its huge round tower. 
 
 Our guide seemed to take little interest in the chateau) 
 but she was curious about the affairs of the outside world. 
 She seated herself at one of the openings in the staircase, 
 and while my companions went to look at the chapel she 
 catechised me respecting the English. " I see no one," she 
 said, " but the visitors who come ; and they are so different : 
 a few talk, some say nothing. But I wish, to know if the 
 English are really so rich a people as folks say they are." 
 
 She was shocked to hear how dear provisions were in 
 England, and then she asked particularly the rate of 
 servants' wages, and seemed disappointed to find that a 
 London and a Paris cook were paid at nearly the same 
 
100 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 rate. I think I dissipated many of her notions about the 
 English. 
 
 One of my companions asked her to let him sketch her. 
 and the good-natured dame was delighted at the idea. " But 
 Monsieur must have my fete-day cap." And she ran off as 
 fast as her old bare brown legs would go up the outside 
 staircase of her house to her bedroom, to put on her Sunday 
 cap — one of the muslin caps with long broad-hemmed lap- 
 pets reaching to the waist, which we had so much admired 
 in Vannes. She then placed herself as easily and naturally 
 as possible on a fragment of granite, and sat there chatting. 
 A favourite pig came and grunted round her, and then lay 
 down to sleep at her feet. She made a pleasant picture, 
 sitting under green leaves made almost transparent by the 
 sunshine and showing patches of the intense blue overhead. 
 Either the heat or the pig's example overpowered its 
 mistress, for she began to nod drowsily, and presently told 
 the artist that she was hungry, as she had not yet break- 
 fasted. Poor good-tempered old woman ! — and this was 
 nearly two o'clock. 
 
 She came out again on the top of her staircase, after 
 breakfast, looking most picturesque there with the sur- 
 rounding of tender green, and wished us good-bye as we 
 went back to the road on our way to the village of Elven. 
 
 It is worth going to see as a specimen of a Breton 
 village. The houses are grim and cheerless, and the people 
 savage-looking and unversed in ail civilised ways ; they came 
 to the low arched doorways and gazed at us curiously, as 
 if they did not often see strangers. The church was in pro- 
 cess of restoration, and, so far as we could judge in its 
 incomplete state, seemed to be in judicious hands. 
 
A GALLO-ROMAN VILLA. 
 
 IOI 
 
 At one comer of the churchyard is the bone-house, and 
 in this is the portrait of a woman. About ninety years ago, 
 in digging a grave in this churchyard, the body of a woman 
 was discovered, perfectly preserved and dried to a mummy. 
 Some oi the oldest of the villagers then remembered that 
 this was the body of a young girl of remarkable virtue and 
 piety, who had died many years before. Her preservation 
 was considered miraculous. She was treated as a saint, and 
 her remains, placed in the chapel of the churchyard, were 
 looked on with much veneration ; but, says M. de Fremin- 
 ville, " the cannibals of 1793, being driven back into Elven 
 by the Royalists, broke to pieces and scattered these relics." 
 When public worship was restored, however, a portrait of 
 the saint was placed over the spot occupied formerly by 
 her body, and this is still treated as an object of reverence. 
 
 About four kilometres from Elven are the remains of a 
 Gallo-Roman villa; but to find it it is necessary to ask the 
 way to the village of St. Christophe, and it saves time to 
 take a child from Elven as a guide. Several curiosities, 
 still to be seen in the museum at Vannes, were found here 
 in 1842, when the remains of the villa were discovered. 
 Near it is an ancient votive column with this inscription : 
 
 " MaGN — IMP — CMS — AVRELIAN — INVICT — TRIB — Po — III P. 
 
 P — A D. M.," in five lines, one above another. 
 
 The peasants had actually hollowed out this column to 
 make a drinking trough for cattle ; but it has now been 
 rescued, and has had a granite cross placed on it to secure 
 it from future injury. Nine centuries before Odon de 
 Malestroit built Elven, the Romans had a station at St. 
 Christophe. 
 
 It is pity that there is no means of sleeping at Elven 
 
102 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 — the auberge certainly does not look inviting — as the neigh- 
 bourhood, especially to the north, between Elven and 
 Tredion, teems with interesting stones. Not very far from 
 Elven, down a road on the left leading to Tredion, is a 
 valley with hills on both sides. From this point it is 
 necessary to go on foot down a steep path on the left to a 
 wretched little village called Des Princes. North of this is 
 a dolmen supported by a double range of upright stones, 
 called La Loge du Loup. There is also a large tract of waste 
 land on the right of the road to Tre'dion full of strange 
 megalithic blocks. One of them is an immense stone table 
 lying on a heap of rocks, and on this table is placed a huge 
 rock the top of which is scooped in hollow basins or cups. 
 This is called La Roche Binet, and seems to be a complete 
 puzzle to archaeologists. 
 
 There is a little inn at Tre'dion where one can rest and 
 feed the horses, but it is better to take one's own provisions. 
 It is a pretty little place ; the old chateau has been com- 
 pletely modernised. Beyond Tre'dion, down a narrow lane, 
 is the village of La Grande Villeneuve ; and all round this, 
 on the moor and in the fields, are dolmens, menhirs, broken 
 fragments of hollowed stones — more than one day's work 
 tor the archaeologist. 
 
 It is possible to return to Elven by way of Kerfily on foot, 
 sending the carnage round by the road. The remains of 
 the old castle, which belonged in the fifteenth century to 
 the family of Couetquen, and afterwards to that of De 
 Brigniac, are preserved in the courtyard of the present 
 chateau. As one cannot sleep at Elven it is impossible to 
 accomplish these expeditions and to see the Tour d'Elven 
 in one day, but it is a great pity to miss either. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Sarzeau — St. Gildas — Sucinio. 
 
 DELIGHTFUL excursion from Vannes is that of the 
 
 peninsula of Rhuys. It is less specially Armorican 
 in its associations than some other parts of Morbihan, but 
 it is full of interest of a mixed kind. There we find traces of 
 St. Gildas, the hermit of the sixth century ; and of Abelard, 
 the scholar monk of the Middle Ages. Three centuries 
 later comes the famous castle of Sucinio, the residence of the 
 Dukes of Brittany, and the birthplace of Arthur, Constable 
 de Richemont, the successor of Du Guesclin and Clisson. 
 Three centuries later still, in the little town of Sarzeau, at 
 the beginning of the peninsula, was born the famous author 
 of "Gil Bias;" while the chief monument of the district, 
 the famous Butte de Tumiac, goes back to remote ages — 
 perhaps to a time before the soil had been trodden by foreign 
 invaders. Besides these varied associations there is the 
 curious old Port Navalo, Caesar's harbour, with a Roman 
 road running from it to Nantes by way^of Vannes. Indeed, 
 it seems difficult to find a country fuller of interest than 
 
104 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 Morbihan ; and almost the most interesting part of it is to 
 be found in its peninsula of Rhuys and on the shores of its 
 little sea. 
 
 We drove first to Sarzeau, passing the pretty chateau of 
 Kerlevenan. Our driver wished us to go first to Sucinio, 
 but we were anxious to get to St. Gildas before low water, 
 as there is good bathing there. The road between Vannes 
 and Sarzeau is not interesting, but the day was so exqui- 
 sitely clear and bright, and our horse went so well, that we 
 found the drive delightful. On our way we passed a small 
 cemetery. In this was a bone house, with curious little boxes 
 inside painted black and white and shaped like toy dog- 
 kennels, with the inscription, " Ci-git le chef de Monsieur," 
 and then followed the name. Each box contained a skull. 
 It seems to be a received custom after a certain time to dig 
 up the skeletons of departed friends, their bones being put 
 in the ossuaries and the skulls in these hideous little boxes. 
 
 We had heard a good report of the inn at Sarzeau, and 
 were much disappointed with its appearance ; but, spite of 
 the little dingy room to which, after some delay, we were 
 admitted, we found the fare and cooking excellent, although 
 the native wine of Sarzeau still merits its historical reputation 
 of roughness and acidity. The kind dark -eyed hostess was 
 k full of apologies because she had so little variety to offer ; 
 but she gave us cutlets, an omelette, "biftek" and fried 
 potatoes — all excellent and well-cooked — good bread and 
 butter, pears, and a good bottle of vin-de-grave, and then 
 apologised for charging us two francs each. 
 
 There is nothing to see in Sarzeau but the house where 
 Le Sage was born, standing back from the road with its gate 
 set in the old grey garden wall, gay with tufts of red valerian. 
 
THE ABBEY CHURCH OF ST. GILD AS. 
 
 Its present owner was in the little garden, and he very kindly 
 asked us to come in and see the bedroom in which the 
 author of "Gil Bias" is said to have begun life in 1688. 
 The walls are panelled and painted pale blue, but there is 
 no specialty in the room ; and the owner told us that Le 
 Sage must have left Sarzeau when very young, as his father 
 gave up the house soon after his birth. 
 
 St. Gildas is only six kilometres from Sarzeau. The 
 village looked small and insignificant, but we found the 
 abbey church extremely interesting ; the choir and apse, 
 with its three round chapels, and the transepts, are very old, 
 the nave of much later date ; it has been badly restored. 
 The monastery is said to have been founded in the sixth 
 century by St. Gildas, surnamed Le Sage ; his tomb stands 
 behind the high altar, for though he died in his hermitage, 
 in the He Houath, his body was miraculously restored to the 
 monks of Rhuys. 
 
 There are in the north transept three other very old 
 stone coffins. Inscriptions on two of these show that they 
 mark the graves of St. Rivo and St. Felix, abbots of St. 
 Gildas ; a third, nearer the altar, is supposed to belong to 
 St. Goustan, or Dunstan. He was converted by St. Gildas 
 when he was a pirate in the isle of Ushant, and he became 
 a lay brother in the abbey of Rhuys. It is said that his 
 whole life was passed in prayer. In the choir, very much 
 obliterated, are five gravestones, to the memory of four 
 children of Duke John I., who died 1246-51 at Sucinio, 
 and also of Jeanne of Brittany, who died 1388. She was 
 daughter to John of Montfort. 
 
 At the west end of the nave are two large capitals scooped 
 into the form of benitiers. They are very curiously sculp- 
 
106 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 tured, and are said to have belonged to the ancient nave. 
 The capitals of the columns on each side of the choir are 
 also very curious, but the figures on these, as well as those 
 on the benitiers, are much disfigured by whitewash. 
 
 As we came up the aisle again, thinking of the two famous 
 abbots St. Gildas and Abelard, a side door opened, letting in 
 a flood of sunlight, and in came a tali sister and a troop of 
 schoolgirls clad in dark blue gowns with white aprons and caps. 
 
 They ranged themselves in the rows of seats facing the 
 confessional in the south aisle, and first one little maid, and 
 then, when she retired, another, stepped forward and knelt 
 down to make her confession. It was a very tranquil, 
 primitive scene, and, except for the later date of some of the 
 building, just such a scene as might have been witnessed by 
 Abelard himself. 
 
 The church, which formed part of the abbey in the time 
 of St. Gildas, was destroyed by the Northmen, but the Abbot 
 Rivo carried away the bones of the saint into Berri, where a 
 monastery was dedicated to St. Gildas on the banks of the 
 Indre. Some of these relics were, however, brought back to 
 the peninsula by St. Felix, who, in the reign of Duke Geoffrey, 
 entirely rebuilt the monastery, and placed the remains of 
 St. Gildas in the tomb behind the high altar. 
 
 St. Gildas was educated in England, in the monastery of 
 Hydultus, in Cornwall ; but being moved to visit Brittany, he 
 became the apostle of Morbihan in the fifth century, and the 
 chief friend and adviser of Guerech, or Waroch, Count ot 
 Vannes. 
 
 It was after the saint's celebrated interference in defence 
 of St. Tryphena that Guerech persuaded him to leave his 
 hermitage on the banks of the Blavet, and establish himself 
 
ST. GILDAS. 
 
 107 
 
 and his monks in a castle belonging to the count in the 
 peninsula of Rhuys. 
 
 Here St. Gildas founded a large monastery, which attained 
 a great reputation for sanctity, and which, after the death of 
 St. Gildas, became the bourne of a celebrated pilgrimage. 
 
 It appears that the approaching death of the Abbot 
 Gildas was revealed not only to himself, bat also to the 
 monks of St. Hydultus, Cornwall, where the saint, as has 
 been said, was educated with St. Samson of Dol and St. Pol 
 de Leon ; and many of these Cornish monks came over to 
 Brittany to take a last farewell of the renowned saint in his 
 retreat in the little isle of Houath. For some time before 
 his death he had retired there with two or three of his 
 monks, after having devolved the entire care of the monas- 
 tery to the Prior of Rhuys. St. Gildas gave his last coun- 
 sels to these British monks, and also to those of his own 
 community who had come over from Rhuys to bid him 
 farewell, and then he desired to be carried into the chapel 
 of the hermitage, where, having made his confession to the 
 Prior of Rhuys and received the last sacraments, he thus 
 addressed his monks : — 
 
 " I beg you, my brothers, when I shall have expired, not 
 to enter into any disputes concerning my body ; place it in 
 a boat, and place under my head the stone which all 
 through my life has served me for a pillow, after which you 
 must quit the boat and launch it on the open sea, and let 
 it go where God pleases. He will provide it a resting-place 
 where it seems good to Him. May the God of peace 
 dwell in you always." 
 
 This last commendation was needed, for as soon as St. 
 Gildas was dead, and his body, dressed in abbatial robes 
 
ro8 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 and invested with the insignia of office, lay in the boat 
 according to his commandment, a great dispute arose 
 between the monks of Cornwall and the monks of Rhuys ; 
 the former alleging that, as St. Gildas had professed and 
 received ordination in their abbey of St. Hydultus, he be- 
 longed to them ; they moreover showed the orders they had 
 brought from their abbot to take possession ot the holy 
 relics. " But," says Albert le Grand, " God set them at 
 one again ; for, when they least expected it, the boat in 
 which the holy body lay sank gently to the bottom of the 
 sea, to the great surprise and regret of all;" they sought it 
 perseveringly for several days along the shore, but in vain. 
 
 At last the Cornish monks gave up the search and went 
 back to their own country, but the monks of Rhuys perse- 
 vered in seeking for it for three months, and then held a 
 solemn prayer-meeting and a fast of three days, at the end 
 of which it was revealed to one of them the place and time 
 when the body would be restored. Accordingly, in Rogation 
 Week, as the monks went in solemn procession after their 
 custom to the oratory of Ste. Croix, built by St. Gildas, they 
 perceived close by a boat dry on the sand, in a little cove, 
 and in the boat lay the body of St. Gildas as perfect as 
 when they last saw it. As a memorial of this recovery they 
 took the stone from under the head of the saint and placed 
 it in the chapel of the Holy Cross ; and, carrying the body of 
 St. Gildas back to the abbey of Rhuys, they buried it there 
 on the 1 2th day of May, 570. 
 
 The cemetery occupies the site of the ancient parish church, 
 not far from the abbey church, but the abbey buildings have 
 nothing ancient about them. It is probable that the ori- 
 ginal abbey was built of wood, for the Normans utterly 
 
ABELARD, ABBOT OF ST. GILD AS. 
 
 destroyed it ; but, in 1008, Duke Geoffrey I. rebuilt it in 
 stone, and established there a community of Benedictines, 
 whose first abbot was Felix, afterwards canonised. Judicael, 
 Bishop of Vannes, and Hadwise, widow of Geoffrey, sup- 
 ported St. Felix in his attempts at civilisation. He restored 
 agriculture round his monastery of Rhuys in the eleventh 
 century, and showed himself to be a true benefactor to 
 Brittany. The present buildings are now inhabited by 
 sisters, who during the bathing season take boarders at a 
 very moderate rate, and have instituted a bathing esta- 
 blishment a little way along the coast. But the site of St. 
 Gildas and its garden also are full of interest as having been 
 associated with the fifth abbot, the famous Abelard, called 
 by Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, "The Socrates 
 of France ; the sublime Plato of the West ; our Aristotle ; 
 the equal or the master of all logicians past and present ; 
 the recognised prince of science of the whole universe." 
 
 This good Abbot of Cluny, who received the persecuted 
 man when he fled from St. Gildas, told also of Abelard that 
 death found him standing ready, not asleep like so many 
 others. In 1 1 25, when Abelard gave up his oratory of Para- 
 clete, near Nogent-sur- Seine to Heloise, the monks of St. 
 Gildas were in want of an abbot, and they besought the 
 celebrated scholar to come among them as their head. 
 
 He came, but Abelard was not fitted for the post. Dis- 
 gusted by the misconduct of the community, he tried to 
 establish a stricter, purer rule of life, and he roused the 
 fierce strong nature of these Breton monks to revolt. They 
 tried more than once to poison the quiet refined scholar, 
 who shrank from their rough profligate behaviour, and when 
 these attempts failed they tried to stab him. At last, 
 
no THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 wearied out and fearing for his life, Abelard escaped through 
 a little door in the garden wall which is said still to exist : 
 it is at least pointed out by the good sisters. Abelard fled 
 to Cluny, where he at last found peace and shelter till his 
 death. Many of his letters to Heloise were written from 
 St. Gildas. 
 
 " I inhabit a barbarous country," he writes, " at the end 
 of the world on the shores of the ocean. My only asso- 
 ciates are ferocious and turbulent persons, whose language is 
 strange and horrible to me. My walks are on the inacces- 
 sible shores of a stormy sea. My unlicensed and rebellious 
 monks acknowledge no rule but that of misrule. I wish 
 you could see my house j you would never take it for an 
 abbey; the doors are ornamented with the feet of deer, 
 wolves, bears, wild boars, and hideous heads of owls. 
 Every day I encounter fresh dangers. I fear each moment 
 to see a sword suspended over my head." 
 
 Abelard was a Breton, born near Nantes in 1079. It is 
 possible that some part of the present church of St. Gildas 
 may have been standing in his time, but the archives of the 
 abbey were unfortunately burned in 1796 by the mayor of 
 the town. The convent garden is, however, full of memo- 
 ries of the persecuted abbot. There is a little wood there 
 with a terrace commanding a very extensive sea-view ; and 
 as we wandered down to the rocks, which stretch out in 
 long grey and brown tongues into the Atlantic, we pictured 
 the sad, solitary monk wandering there, finding more sym- 
 pathy in the wild waves leaping up against the bold brown 
 rocks than he could find among the fierce undisciplined 
 men who had called him to rule over them, and whom he 
 could not control. 
 
THE CASTLE OF SUCINIO. 
 
 in 
 
 There is a peculiar silvery quality in some of these rocks 
 which makes them glitter like brilliant metal in the sunshine. 
 The tongue-like projections have little bays between them, 
 some wild and rocky, some few sandy and fit for bathing 
 We saw a lady bathing her child from one of these lower 
 rocks ; and as we came back there were pleasant groups in 
 the court in front of the convent, the children dancing the 
 old French round of " La Boulangere a des ecus." 
 
 Men and women are lodged separately in the convent at 
 a very moderate rate. The air seemed delightful, and the 
 bold sweep of ocean was finer than any sea we had yet seen 
 in Brittany. To women seeking a healthy quiet bathing- 
 place St. Gildas offers many attractions. The soil is very 
 fertile, and vegetation is luxuriant and rapid. 
 
 It is evident, from some of the letters of Abelard and 
 from other sources, that at one time this peninsula was 
 covered, in part at least, with forest trees. The Dukes of 
 Brittany had a hunting-lodge at the east end of the penin- 
 sula, now converted into farm buildings, which still retain 
 the ancient name Couet-er-Sall (le Bois de la Salle). 
 Rhuys or Rhoe-is signifies royal, and the peninsula was 
 always the property of the reigning duke, whose right of 
 seignory extended over the whole country except that held 
 by the abbot and monks of St. Gildas. It seems a peaceful 
 sequestered strip of land, so remote from the strife of great 
 cities that one does not wonder at the name given by the 
 Breton duke to his castle by the sea — Soucy-N'y-Ot— a 
 name, however, which did not succeed in banishing sick- 
 ness, and death, and war, and strife, from its walls. 
 
 As we drove back to Sarzeau we passed the restored 
 chateau of Ker Thomas, inhabited by a son-in-law of Mon- 
 
112 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 sieur de Francheville, the present owner of Sucinio and of 
 very extensive property in the neighbourhood. 
 
 We had intended to go on from St. Gildas to the Butte 
 de Tumiac, as it is only five kilometres distant ; but our 
 driver declared that the road was impracticable, so we drove 
 back to Sarzeau and thence to Sucinio. 
 
 We saw the ruins of Sucinio, the summer palace of the 
 Dukes of Brittany, for a long while before we approached 
 them. Indeed the castle is seen for miles from several 
 sides, standing in lonely, dreary vastness beside the Atlantic, 
 without a tree to break the naked desolation of the flat 
 salt marshes that stretch between its walls and the sea. 
 One almost shivers at the exceeding bareness of these ruins. 
 The masonry of the walls and towers is so admirable and 
 so perfectly preserved externally that it defies ivy and other 
 parasites in their attempts to clothe the bold outlines of the 
 truly royal pile. 
 
 In shape it represents a pentagon, surrounded by a wall 
 divided by six towers ; there were formerly seven, or some 
 say eight. Three of these towers, those of the entrance 
 gateway and that in the centre of the north wall, are very 
 large. The northern tower seems to be much older than 
 the rest, and was probably built by John I. (Le Roux). 
 He founded Sucinio about 1229, on the site of an ancient 
 monastery ; but it was almost entirely rebuilt in the fifteenth 
 and sixteenth centuries. Still the difference in the masonry 
 and in the shape of the machicolations proves that the walls 
 now remaining are not all of the same period. Some Gothic 
 windows on the right of the entrance show the site of the 
 ancient chapel. 
 
 We crossed the drawbridge over the deep but now dry 
 
SUCINIO. 
 
 "3 
 
 moat, followed by a troop of barefooted children eager to 
 act as guides. Above the gateway is a lion bearing on a 
 shield the arms of Brittany \ his right paw holds a lanee ; 
 on each side is a stag couchant. There have been three 
 gates, one within another, and the marks of the hinges and 
 the grooves for the portcullis are easily seen. We were 
 surprised to find so large an area within, for though the 
 exterior of the castle looks imposing, it loses in size be- 
 cause there is nothing by which to measure it — it stands in 
 such complete isolation on the flat seashore. The lofty 
 north-west tower is the most perfect, and by the staircase in 
 this we mounted to the battlements, and walked some way 
 along them. The view is splendid. South-east are the 
 church towers of Le Croisic and Le Bourg de Batz, and the 
 mouth of the Loire, with the isles of Hcedic and Houath. 
 Farther still, a long low line in the horizon is Belle He. 
 West is the peninsula of Quiberon, and nearer the abbey 
 of St. Gildas ; beyond all, the vast Atlantic. 
 
 There is something indescribably sad in this huge dis- 
 mantled fortress standing thus alone on the shores of the 
 ocean, without any of the foliage which usually surrounds 
 and clothes the walls of an ancient castle. It is literally 
 " the Castle by the sea." There is a tradition that Sucinio 
 was anciently inhabited by Raymondin and his wife, the 
 fairy Melusine. " He was called Count of Foret, now called 
 He de Rhuis," says Jean la Haye, " and they built a monas- 
 tery in honour of the Trinity, where they are honourable 
 buried." 
 
 Our barefooted retinue did not give us much time for 
 contemplation ; girls as well as boys clambered about like 
 goats, perching themselves on crumbling comers of the bat- 
 
 1 
 
ti 4 
 
 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 dements and then on the edge of loopholes in the staircase, 
 till their antics became really alarming. As soon as we 
 began to descend the ruined staircase they ran on in front, 
 and when we reached the landing they showed us a commu- 
 nication with a long gallery, which seems to extend within 
 the wall as far as the chapel ; down in the vaults, at the foot 
 of the towers, are loopholes made for the use of cannon. 
 
 In the civil wars of Brittany Sucinio often changed 
 masters. It was taken by Charles of Blois, by John of 
 Montfort, and by Du Guesclin. The Duchess or Joan of 
 Navarre, third wife of John IV., afterwards the wife of 
 our Henry IV., gave birth at Sucinio, the 24th August, 
 1393, to the famous Arthur of Richemont, the companion 
 in arms of Joan of Arc, and the famous successor as Con- 
 stable of France to Du Guesclin and Clisson. Finally, he 
 succeeded his nephew, Peter II., as Duke of Brittany, but 
 he only reigned fifteen months. In 1532 Francis I. pre- 
 sented Sucinio to the beautiful Francoise de Foix, Countess 
 of Chateaubriand. Later on it came into the possession of 
 Catherine de Medicis. Henry IV. gave it up to Marshal 
 Schomberg. During the wars of the League it fell to the 
 Leaguers under the Duke de Mercceur, and in the reign of 
 Louis XIV. it belonged to the Princess de Conti, the 
 daughter of the Duchess de Lavalliere. Finally, in 1795, 
 at the fatal expedition to Quiberon, the Chevalier de Tin- 
 ten iac landed a division of the Royalist army before Sucinio, 
 and took possession of it. This is the last time that Sucinio 
 appears in history. The Royalist troops did it much damage, 
 and destroyed all the remaining woodwork, but it will take 
 more than one century to crumble the firmly cemented old 
 stones that still remain in lonely grandeur by the seashore. 
 
BUTTE BE TUMIAC. 
 
 "5 
 
 It is perhaps better to see Sucinio and St. Gildas, and 
 then return and sleep at Sarzeau, but we had feared to risk 
 this ; and the distance from Vannes is so trifling that it is 
 easy to make another expedition from thence, breakfasting 
 at Sarzeau. 
 
 It is not a long drive on to Tumiac, but the road is 
 wretched. The butte or tumulus is now closed; since the 
 excavations made in 1853 earth has fallen in and choked 
 the opening. 
 
 There is said to be a very curious dolmen within the 
 tumulus • and at the museum of Vannes we saw thirty 
 celtae, three necklaces of callais or green turquoise, and a 
 bit of human bone which had not been burned, all which 
 treasures were found in excavating this tumulus, in 1853, 
 by Monsieur L. Galles and Dr. Fouquet. 
 
 But though one cannot see the interior, it is worth while 
 to visit the butte for the magnificent view from its summit. 
 It is a great mound, about fifty feet high and nearly three 
 hundred feet in diameter, covered with grass, and from it 
 one commands the whole of the Morbihan. To the south 
 and east one gets about the same view as from the battle- 
 ments of Sucinio ; but to the west one sees Locmariaker, 
 and the strangely jagged and rugged shores of the little sea. 
 
 About two kilometres farther on we come to Arzon, but 
 at low tide it is better to go on foot down a narrow lane, 
 past the chapel of Le Croisy to Le Petit Mont. There is a 
 remarkable dolmen here in a large barrow, about thirty feet 
 high. This was explored in 1856, and in it was found one 
 chamber with sculptures on the supporting stones. On one 
 of these two human feet are distinctly traced in outline. 
 This is the only example of human presentment in any 
 
n6 THE PENINSULA OF RHUYS. 
 
 Breton Celtic stones. It is a very little way from Arzon 
 to Port Navalo, and not far off there are menhirs and 
 dolmens worth seeing, at Pencastel and Bernon. The 
 Pointe St. Nicholas is also to be noticed. Veneti, Romans, 
 and Templars have all occupied it in turn. . 
 
 Port Navalo itself is a very ancient seaport, and is now a 
 pleasant little bathing-place, with quaint, simple inhabitants. 
 The steamer which plies between Auray and Belle He 
 stops at Port Navalo. It takes two hours and a half to 
 reach Belle He, and for those who like sailing the journey 
 is very pleasant, and the fortifications on the island are very 
 remarkable. They were begun by Marshal de Retz, con- 
 tinued by Fouquet, and much increased from the designs of 
 Napoleon, who meant to complete them, but left them 
 unfinished. However, they are now supposed to be perfect. 
 
 The coast scenery is very fine in Belle He, but it must be 
 seen from a boat to be thoroughly enjoyed. It is a large 
 island, eighteen kilometres long and ten wide, but the 
 ancient monuments mentioned by old travellers have all 
 disappeared. It is very fertile, and has a breed of good 
 horses. The caps of the women are remarkably pretty — 
 a long sugar-loaf crown, not upright, but almost horizon- 
 tal, and fluted from end to end with fine goffering. We 
 thought some of the girls quite as pretty as their caps. 
 
I\IORBIHAN. 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Malestroit. 
 Ploermel. 
 
 Josselin. 
 
 St. Jean Brevelai. 
 
 l HE longest excursion to be made from Vannes is that 
 
 to Ploermel and Josselin, and this requires two or 
 three days. 
 
 It is possible to go by rail from Vannes to Questembert, 
 and thence by the correspondence to Ploermel, passing 
 through Rochefort and Malestroit, and then on from Ploer- 
 mel to Josselin by an omnibus which runs between the two 
 towns, only six kilometres apart. But it saves time to take a 
 carriage direct from Vannes to Ploermel, although the dis- 
 tance is considerable (forty-five kilometres), by way of Elven. 
 We were advised not to pass through Elven, but to make a 
 de'tour from the main road to Malestroit, which is about 
 eighteen kilometres from Ploermel. This lengthens the 
 journey. But Malestroit is a very quaint little town, which 
 till the wars of the League was walled ; then Mercceur so 
 effectually destroyed its fortifications that only faint traces 
 of them remain. 
 
 There is a most remarkable old window in the little ivy- 
 
u8 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 clad cemetery chapel, with legends relating the story of each 
 compartment. Both this chapel and the parish church of 
 Malestroit are partly of the twelfth century and partly 
 Gothic architecture of the fifteenth. ' There are several 
 curious old fifteenth and sixteenth century houses. One of 
 these, at the corner of a street facing the Halles, reminded 
 us of the houses at Lisieux. There are on it quaintly 
 sculptured figures of a sow spinning, a huntsman blowing 
 his horn, and other grotesque subjects, the most strange 
 being that of a Breton in a stocking nightcap, holding his 
 wife by the hair while he beats her with a stick. These are 
 called Malestroit and his wife. Malestroit belonged to the 
 Breton family of that name, and was once a strong place of 
 defence with a castle. 
 
 Monsieur Fouquet mentions several points of interest 
 close at hand, and recommends Se'rent, on the direct road 
 between Elven and Ploermel, as a good place to dine and 
 sleep at. But in these long expeditions it is always safer 
 to take either breakfast or dinner in the carriage, as fre- 
 quently white bread is not to be obtained in even a good- 
 sized village. One can see the stone bridge of thirteen 
 arches at Rue St. Andre' on the way to Ploermel. 
 
 It is too late to see Ploermel on arriving in the evening ; 
 the streets are so narrow that one needs broad daylight to 
 make out the curious old houses in them. Like Malestroit, 
 Ploermel has lost its walls, but it has a sixteenth-century 
 church, which is considered very fine. There is some very 
 quaint carving outside — a barber sewing up his wife's mouth, 
 a pig playing the bagpipes, and other grotesque subjects. A 
 curious window behind the organ represents the life of St. 
 Armelj and there are two recumbent statues in armour of 
 
CHENE DE MI-VOIE. 
 
 119 
 
 Dukes John II. and III. of Brittany, brought from the Car- 
 melite church founded by John II. in the early part of the 
 fourteenth century, and destroyed at the Revolution. The 
 detail of the armour on these statues is remarkable. The 
 courtyard of the Carmelite convent still exists, and in it are 
 four statues in Kersanton granite ; one of these represents 
 Philip de Montauban, the Chancellor of Duchess Anne, and 
 another his second wife, Anne du Chatelier. James II. of 
 England lodged in Ploermel, when he reviewed his troops on 
 their return from Ireland in 1690. 
 
 The environs of Ploermel are pretty and wooded — there 
 is an abundance of chestnut-trees in this country — but the 
 great attraction it offers is its nearness to the Chateau of 
 Josselin. i\bout two miles to the west of Ploermel we pass 
 a fine lake, called L'Etang du Due ; but the country between 
 this and Josselin is very bare and flat, a great stretch of 
 moorland covered with heather. One sees the famous 
 obelisk some time before it is reached. This was erected 
 in place of a crucifix destroyed at the Revolution. The 
 crucifix had been placed on this spot, called Mi-voie, to 
 mark the site of a huge oak, called Chene de Mi-voie, 
 destroyed during the wars of the League, but around which 
 was fought the famous Combat of the Thirty, in which thirty 
 Bretons on the side of Charles de Blois defeated thirty 
 adherents of De Montfort, twenty of whom were English, 
 under the command of an English knight named Bembro. 
 
 It seemed strange that Froissart does not speak of this 
 combat, and that it is only mentioned in the ballad, and in 
 the author quoted by De Freminville ; but Monsieur de Fre- 
 minville asserts that this can be accounted for by the well- 
 known partiality and jealousy of English writers. He also 
 
120 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 says that in some of the MS. copies of Froissart he alludes 
 to this combat ; but adds that Froissart, being very politic, 
 suppressed in certain copies of his work all passages likely 
 to wound the susceptible vanity of Englishmen. Lately we 
 heard that in a MS. Froissart in Paris this chapter has been 
 found, and M. de Villemarque, in his notes to the " Battle of 
 the Thirty," says that Froissart speaks of it in vol. iii. p. 34. 
 
 It happened in the year 135 1, during one of the truces 
 which occurred in the long war between Blois and De 
 Montfort for the possession #f the dukedom, that Bembro, 
 or Brembro, held Ploermel for De Montfort, and Robert de 
 Beaumanoir, Marshal of Brittany, held Josselin for Charles 
 of Blois. During the truce the English, according to these 
 Breton writers, behaved like brigands, harrying the peasants 
 and pillaging travellers even on the lands of Josselin. At 
 last some of these tormented sufferers escaped to the castle of 
 Josselin, and throwing themselves at the feet of De Beauma- 
 noir implored his protection against the marauding English. 
 
 De Beaumanoir hastened to Ploermel, and rebuked 
 Bembro for his infraction of the truce, but the Englishman 
 replied so insolently that the marshal defied him to prove 
 his right in a combat of thirty to thirty. 
 
 De Beaumanoir had some trouble in making his selec- 
 tion, so many of his bravest knights being eager to fight ; 
 while Bembro, not being able to find thirty English in his 
 garrison, was obliged to make up his number with Flemings 
 and Bretons of the Montfort party. On the 27th March, 
 1350, the two parties met midway, at the oak, between 
 Josselin and Ploermel. Arrived here they dismounted, and 
 Bembro placed his men in a single line, serried closely one 
 against another, and bristling with pikes. 
 
BATTLE OF THE THIRTY. 
 
 121 
 
 At first the Bretons lost several men ; and De Beaumanoir 
 being wounded, and losing much blood, asked for drink; 
 to which Geoffrey du Bois answered, "Bois ton sang, 
 Beaumanoir, et ta soif passera." Just as the marshal was on 
 the point of being captured by Bembro, Alain de Keranrais 
 pierced the English captain's visor, and, after another blow 
 from Geoffrey du Bois, Bembro fell dead ; but, spite of the 
 death of their leader, the English fought valiantly. It was 
 not till William de Montauban, a Breton squire, pretended 
 to fly, but really only retreated to the spot where the horses 
 had been left, and then, returning on horseback, charged 
 the enemy and rode many of them down, that the French 
 gained the victory. 
 
 On the obelisk is this inscription : — 
 
 " Vive le Roi long- temps 
 Les Bourbons toujours." 
 
 Then follows the date, &c. ; and then, — 
 
 "Posterite Bretonne imitez vos ancetres." 
 
 Below are the names of the victorious Bretons. 
 
 The following is a literal translation of the ballad in 
 Villemarque's book : — 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY. 
 Li 
 
 The month of March with its hammers comes and knocks at our 
 doors. The trees are bent by the rain, falling in torrents, and the 
 roofs crack under the hail. 
 
 But these are not only March hammers which knock at our doors ; 
 it is not only hail which cracks the roofs. 
 
 It is not only hail, it is not only the rain falling in torrents that strikes ; 
 worse than the wind and the rain are the detestable English ! 
 
122 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 ir. 
 
 St. Kado, our patron, give us strength and courage, so that we 
 may to-day conquer the enemies of Brittanv. 
 
 If we come back safe and sound we will offer to you a girdle and a 
 golden gown, a sword and a sky-blue mantle ; 
 
 And every one will say when they look at you, O blessed St. 
 Kado,— 
 
 " In paradise, as on the earth, St. Kado has not his equal." 
 in. 
 
 " Tell me, tell me, how many are they, my young squire ?" 
 
 " How many are there of them ? I will tell you presently : one, 
 two, three, four, five, six : 
 
 " How many are there ? I am going to tell you : how many are 
 there, my lord ? — five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, 
 thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen. 
 
 " Fifteen ! and others come with them — one, two, three, four, five, six, 
 seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen." 
 
 " If there are thirty like ourselves, forward, friends, and courage ! 
 Straight at the horses with the halberts. They shall not again cut our 
 corn in the ear ! " 
 
 The blows fell as rapidly as hammers on an anvil ; blood overflowed 
 like a brook after a shower ; 
 
 The armour was torn and rent like the rags of a beggar ; the cries 
 of the knights were as fierce as the roaring of the stormy sea. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The badger-head (Bembro) said then to Tinteniac, as he drew near, — 
 " Hold, Tinteniac, take a blow of my good lance, and tell me if it is 
 an empty reed." 
 
 "That which will be empty in a moment is thy skull, my good 
 friend : more than one crow shall scratch and pick thy brains." 
 
 Before he ended speaking he gave him such a blow of his mallet 
 that he smashed both head and casque as if both had been a snail. 
 
 Seeing which, Keranrais began to laugh heartily : 
 
 "If they were all served like this one, they would conquer the 
 country." 
 
 '•' How many slain, good squire ? " 
 
 " The dust and blood hinder me from seeing." 
 
 " How many have we slain, young squire ? '* 
 
 " Here are five, six, seven, quite dead." 
 
BATTLE OF THE THIRTY. 
 
 123 
 
 v. 
 
 They had fought from break of day to noon ; from noon till night 
 they fought the English. 
 
 The Lord Robert of Beaumont cried out, — 
 " I thirst ; oh, I greatly thirst ! " 
 When Du Bois threw at him these words : — 
 " If you thirst, friend, drink your blood ! " 
 
 And Robert hearing him turned away his face for shame, and fell on 
 the English and killed five. 
 
 " Tell me, tell me, my squire, how many are left ! " 
 
 "My lord, I will tell you : one, two, three, four, five, six." 
 
 " Spare the lives of these, but let them pay one hundred golden sous 
 — one hundred sous of brilliant gold shall each pay for the good of 
 the country." 
 
 VI. 
 
 He would have been no friend of the Bretons who had not applauded 
 in the town of Josselin, when our men came back with broom flowers 
 in their helmets ; 
 
 He would not have been a friend of the Bretons, nor of the saints of 
 Brittany either, who had not blessed St. Kado, patron of his country's 
 warriors. 
 
 Who did not admire, applaud, and bless, and who did not sing, — 
 " In paradise, as on the earth, St. Kado has not his equal ! " 
 
 This is all very well, but as the combat was to be fought 
 on foot it seems that the defeat of the English was effected 
 rather by the treachery of William de Montauban than by 
 the valour of the Bretons. 
 
 Very soon after leaving the obelisk we come in sight 
 of the tower, roofs, and chimneys of Josselin rising above 
 the trees which border the river Oust, beside which the 
 castle stands, and soon after this we see the houses of the 
 town, built on the side of a hill, and clustering round the 
 famous old castle which commands the river. 
 
 There is no trace that any town existed at Josselin before 
 
I2 4 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 the beginning of the eleventh century, and then it was called 
 into being by a miracle. 
 
 Some two hundred years before, a poor labourer noticed, 
 during winter, as he went to his work, a wild briar still 
 covered with green leaves. It stood just where the present 
 church of Notre Dame du Roncier now stands; and as 
 days went by, and neither snow nor frost seemed to nip or 
 
 Josselin. 
 
 wither the fresh green leaves, the labourer grew curious, 
 and at last took his spade and dug round the wild briar. 
 Beneath its roots he found a wooden image of the blessed 
 Virgin. As he gazed at it he was startled to see a soft light 
 shining round it; but he raised it, and, carrying it honiL, 
 placed it reverently on a table in his rude cottage. Next 
 morning he rose early, but when he looked for the image it 
 had disappeared. Again he dug beneath the wild briar, and 
 
NOTRE DAME DU RONCIER. 
 
 125 
 
 again he found the wonderful image. This occurrence being 
 repeated, he decided on leaving the image where he had 
 found her. The news of the miracle spread rapidly even in 
 those times of infrequent communication between districts ; 
 pilgrims came flocking even from far-off villages to worship 
 at the briar which had thus become a shrine of Our Lady; 
 and at last a chapel was built on the exact spot, dedicated 
 to Notre Dame du Roncier, and the miraculous image was 
 placed on the altar. Little by little houses gathered round it ; 
 and finally, in the year 1000, Guethenoc, Count of Porhoet, 
 a king in power though not in title, built walls round the 
 little town and fortified it strongly. In 1030 his eldest son, 
 Josselin, called the new town by his own name. Count 
 Guethenoc built the first castle of Josselin in 1008. It was 
 razed to the ground by Henry II. of England when he 
 besieged the town. 
 
 The present castle was built by Olivier de Clisson in the 
 fourteenth century, on his marriage with Marguerite de 
 Rohan, of whose dowry the lands of Josselin formed a part, 
 as the Counts of Porhoet were lords also of Rohan and of 
 Guemene. 
 
 The donjon built by Clisson was demolished early in the 
 seventeenth century with other French strongholds ; the 
 ramparts, too, and several of the towers were beaten down. 
 These have never been restored, and great part of the 
 moat has been filled up ; but much of the castle remains, 
 and it forms an interesting link in the history of the fierce 
 French Constable, " the butcher of the English." 
 
 There are two entirely different aspects of the Chateau de 
 Josselin — the view from the river, which gives the idea of a 
 fortress, with quaintly capped round towers, and the interior 
 
126 
 
 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 facade seen from the courtyard. This is a rich specimen of 
 domestic Gothic, with crocketed dormer windows, and gal- 
 leries of carved stonework, full of fleurs-de-lis, ermines, and 
 a constant recurrence of the motto of the Rohans, "a plus;" 
 also the letters A. V., surmounted by the ducal crown of 
 Brittany. These are said to stand for Alain IX., who is 
 known to have added to the castle in the fifteenth century, 
 and who was the husband of Margaret of Brittany, the 
 daughter of John II., A. V. standing for Alain Vicomte. 
 There is a grand old fireplace in the salon of the chateau ; 
 but, beyond this, the interest lies wholly in the exterior. 
 
 The church in itself is not remarkable, but it is specially 
 interesting as the burial-place of Clisson and of his wife 
 Marguerite de Rohan, heiress of Josselin. This tomb once 
 stood in the centre of the chancel, but it was terribly injured 
 at the Revolution, and removed from its position in front of 
 the altar. It has now been restored and placed in one of the 
 side chapels, the walls of which show remains of a painted 
 Danse Maccabre. The tomb is in black and the statues are in 
 white marble. Clisson is armed all but his head, which 
 is bare ; his armour, and the dress of his wife, are said to 
 have been elaborately sculptured, but the Goths of the Revo- 
 lution destroyed many of these details. The oldest parts of 
 the church are the chapel of Ste. Catherine, on the left, and 
 the chapel of Ste. Marguerite, on the right of the chancel. 
 This last chapel is said to have been the oratory of the 
 lords of Clisson, where they could assist at mass unseen by 
 the people. On the walls are various allusions to the name 
 of Marguerite de Rohan. The whole of the eastern end of 
 the church is said to have been built by the Constable. 
 
 There is also an old church that once belonged to the 
 
ROHAN. 
 
 127 
 
 ancient priory of Ste. Croix, eleventh century, and the church 
 of St. Martin; but this had been very badly restored. 
 There are several curious old houses, especially one with a 
 carved wooden front near the west front of Notre Dame du 
 Roncier. There is quite enough to see in and near Josselin to 
 occupy a whole day. It is a pleasant walk beside the river 
 Oust to the shrine of St. Gobrien, where patients afflicted with 
 boils and tumours come for relief, and, making a pun on the 
 word clou, offer iron nails in little heaps on the tomb of the 
 saint. There is also a drive of two or three hours to the 
 forges of Lanouee, and to Rohan, and the chapel of Notre 
 Dame de Bonne Encontre, built on a rock, by John II., 
 Duke of Rohan, and uncle to the good Duchess Anne. 
 Here, at the high altar, is a picture in which several 
 members of the puissant family of Rohan are represented. 
 The ancient castle of Rohan has been so destroyed that its 
 site can only just be traced. These Rohans were the 
 proudest of the proud nobles of Brittany; they were 
 Vicomtes of Leon, and had besides many other titles ; but 
 in the fifteenth century the Vicomte de Rohan betrayed 
 Duke Francis, and fought for France. Since this treachery 
 the name of Rohan is hated by the Bretons. Besides a 
 plus their motto was, — 
 
 "Roi ne puis 
 Prince ne daigne 
 Rohan je suis." 
 
 We found that it would take less time to return to Vannes 
 byway of St. Jean Brevelai ; and, though it is along journey, 
 there is so much of interesting research lying round about 
 this part of Morbihan that I strongly advise all tourists in 
 search of stones to take this route ; but to see even a portion 
 
128 THE ENVIRONS OF VANNES. 
 
 of what there is to see, it is necessary to sleep a night at 
 Josselin and to start early next morning and breakfast at 
 St. Jean, more than twelve miles distant. There is a very 
 fine Calvary of the sixteenth century at Guehenno ; it was 
 buried at the time of the Revolution to preserve it from 
 mutilation, but about twenty years ago it was dug up and 
 replaced in its position. The porch of the church of St. 
 Jean is curious ; but the attractions of this little town are 
 the menhirs and dolmens in its neighbourhood. One of the 
 dolmens on the lands of Coh-Koet has a capstone about 
 twenty feet long by nearly fourteen broad. About half a 
 mile to the south is to be seen a huge menhir, supposed to 
 weigh 25,000 kilogrammes. Going southward is the chapel 
 of Notre Dame de Kerdroguen — a place of pilgrimage — 
 and near this is a large group of about a hundred menhirs, 
 several of which are prostrate, and several have cup- 
 markings. 
 
 One goes on from St. Jean, by a cross-road on the right, 
 to Plumelec, where there is some curious carving on the 
 walls of the church ; thence to Plaudren. Here one must 
 stop, for there is a vast lande or moor here on which 
 Monsieur Fouquet says eight lines of prostrate menhirs 
 may be traced, besides broken dolmens and basin-stones, 
 and, towering above all, the huge menhir called Gres de 
 Gargantua. There is another lande to the west covered 
 with remarkable stones, a continuation of the Lande of 
 Lanvaux, and in 1865 excavations were made hereabouts. 
 It is said that beneath one of the menhirs, near a place 
 called Levallon, an ancient horse-shoe was discovered. 
 There are various famous stones still to the west — La 
 Roche des Coupes, La Gree aux Cerfs, La Roche Bigot, 
 
CHURCH OF ST. AVE. 
 
 129 
 
 La Roche Morvan, &c. ; but to find these one must 
 take a guide at Kermado, a little village lying near the 
 lande. 
 
 From Plaudren we go home to Vannes, and pass the 
 interesting little church of St. Ave, or Bourg d'en Bas, 
 rather more than two miles from the city. In the nave 
 and choir are inscriptions, one dated 1424 and the other 
 1465. The carving on the wall plates here is most care- 
 fully executed. It is rather a long drive from St. Jean to 
 Vannes — about fourteen miles. 
 
 E 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 THE MORBIHAN, OR LITTLE SEA. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Islands — Locmariaker — Gavr' Inis. 
 l HE next expedition we made from Vannes was to the 
 
 Morbihan, or little sea, as the Celtic word signifies. We 
 had been told that this sea is often dangerous on account 
 of the currents which meet from three different points at a 
 passage called the Jument, and in stormy weather do much 
 damage ; but our landlord of the Dauphin assured us that, 
 though the navigation of the sea of the Morbihan is difficult, 
 it is not dangerous with a boatman well acquainted with 
 its perilous rocks and currents, and that the boatman he 
 recommended, Jean Picard, was an experienced sailor and 
 quite to be trusted. 
 
 In the evening came Monsieur Picard, a big bluff boat- 
 man, rather lame, with a frank cheery voice. He was a 
 very picturesque-looking person in his blue and white striped 
 shirt. Unlike most Bretons, he was blue-eyed and fair- 
 skinned ; he was very tall and broad-chested, with a hand- 
 some pleasant face, and white hair. As he stood very erect, 
 
THE PORT OF VANNES. 
 
 straw hat in hand, talking impressively of the safety of his 
 boat, the Anna Blanche, and of his own assured experience, 
 it seemed impossible to have any doubts. " If Madame 
 will trust herself with me," he said loftily, " she has nothing 
 to fear." 
 
 We agreed to go down to the port next morning at half- 
 past six o'clock. We had been advised to see Locmariaker, 
 &c, by land journey from Auray, but we rejoiced extremely 
 that we had followed out our own plan, for a day on the 
 
 The Port of Yannes. 
 
 Morbihan is one of the special pleasures of Brittany, only 
 that I advise those who may attempt it to take provisions 
 with them in the boat, so as to avoid a tiresome delay at 
 the little inn of Locmariaker. 
 
 On the previous evening we had become acquainted with 
 Monsieur Closmadeuc, the learned and intelligent possessor 
 of Gavr' Inis, and a distinguished local antiquary. He had 
 asked us to call on him as we went down to the boat ; so 
 on our way in the early morning we went to his house, and 
 
'32 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 found him up and most kindly ready to tell us all we 
 wanted to know. 
 
 Our boat was waiting with a great sullen boy in charge of 
 it. The Afuia Blanche looked large and heavy enough to 
 insure safety; the rigging and its sails seemed to us the 
 clumsiest we had ever seen. Monsieur Picard kept us wait- 
 ing some little time in the sunshine, even at that early 
 hour very intense ; but the port and the fishing-boats, and 
 so much of the grey old town to be seen there, looked 
 exquisite in the pure, fresh atmosphere. 
 
 As we glided down the river or port of Vannes, it seemed 
 to be very muddy. On the left it is bordered by steep 
 banks, on the right by a quay with avenues of trees ; but, 
 spite of the mud, there were plenty of bathers as we got 
 farther from the town. In about a quarter of an hour the 
 river widened and divided, and we saw islands before us — 
 one arm of our river went to Vincin and another to Sene, 
 leaving narrow slips of land between. 
 
 " We are in the Morbihan now," Picard said; " the land 
 on the right is the Pointe de Roguedas, and on the left is 
 the He Bcedic." 
 
 We asked how many isles there were, for the lovely blue 
 sea, which seemed every moment to be widening before us, 
 was studded with green hills rising from it, covered in some 
 instances with cottages and trees. Monsieur Picard said he 
 believed about sixty, though the tradition is that there are 
 as many islets in the Morbihan as there are days in the year. 
 
 Three communes meet on the mainland to the right — 
 Sene, Arradon, and Baden. The He Bcedic, on the left, 
 belonged formerly to the monks. Next on the right is Pen 
 Boc'h. Many Roman remains have been found here, and the 
 
the currents. 
 
 r.33 
 
 Jesuits have built a church and a college. On the left is the 
 long line of the He d'Arz, once a priory of St. Gildas. The 
 houses cluster round the church, which is said to be curious 
 and very ancient. There are 1,200 inhabitants on the He 
 d'Arz, chiefly women, the wives and widows of Breton sea- 
 men. Farther on the left are Armel and Sarzeau. Facing 
 us, still farther on, is the very green line of He aux Moines, 
 the largest of the islands in the Morbihan ; it has 1,800 
 inhabitants. Now we are past the black rock of Pen Boc'h, 
 standing up like some angry pionster in the sea, which 
 eddies and foams round it, and we come to a gay chateau 
 built by some rich tradesman from Paris ; on the little green 
 islet opposite, called Logoden, which he has purchased, he 
 keeps his poultry and his oyster-beds. Now we glide past the 
 He aux Moines, six kilometres long. The sun is shining 
 brightly in a cloudless sky, but there is a pleasant air on the 
 sea. As we pass near the end of the He aux Moines por- 
 poises are rolling and tumbling in the golden rippling water. 
 A boat pointed at both ends, with a square brown sail, passes 
 us. and Picard says it is a sinagot, or Sene fishing-boat. 
 
 For some time we have been noticing the currents boiling 
 and bubbling up from below, but here we get into a fiercer 
 current, and the water bubbles and boils and foams worse 
 than ever. The boy who helps Monsieur Picard looks 
 anxious, and says something in Breton ; and as Picard sees 
 that I listen, he turns loftily, and says, — 
 
 " Fear nothing, madame ; you are with me. The naviga- 
 tion of the Morbihan is difficult, but when you are with me 
 there can be no danger. Go ; I tell you there is none ! " 
 
 He then explained that the water of the " oc-cean," as he 
 pronounced it, entered the sea through the narrow strait 
 
134 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 between the points of Port Navalo on one side and Kerpenhir 
 on the other, and that it divided itself into three currents. 
 The first and least dangerous current follows the coast of 
 Locmariaker and the loch or river of Auray ; the second passes 
 between the He aux Moines on the right and the coasts of 
 Baden and of Arradon on the left, and makes itself felt at 
 Vannes ; the third follows the line of coast of the peninsula 
 of Rhuys, and fills the large bays as far as Noyalo. During 
 about four hours the sea finds itself restricted between the 
 coast of Arzon and the isles which lie opposite, and the 
 current becomes fearfully rapid. It is said that no boat 
 dares to brave its violence with sails set. 
 
 There are some very curious stones on the He aux 
 Moines, a circle of menhirs called the cromlech of Ker- 
 gonan, and several dolmens, one of which, Penhap, com- 
 mands a fine view over the Morbihan. 
 
 Picard pointed out to us, near Arradon, a green hill, 
 which he said was a very curious dolmen called Erroch. 
 This can be reached on foot from Vannes, and from it there 
 is about the best distant view of the old city. 
 
 As we advance southward the currents increase. It is very 
 curious to watch them boiling up from below, and seaming 
 the smooth waters with foam in various directions. The 
 boat rocks and tosses, and every now and then we pass a 
 rock with warning posts and buoys to mark it. " N'ayez 
 pas peur," says Picard, in a fatherly tone. He had talked 
 politics at the beginning of the journey, but his whole atten- 
 tion was now fixed on the chenal or water-path between the 
 currents. He jerks his head to point out Arzon and the 
 Butte de Tumiac, which last makes a striking landmark for 
 the sailors. The green hilly islands around us hereabouts 
 
LA JUMENT. 
 
 135 
 
 are covered with small white houses, each on its own bit 
 of land. The He aux Moines, which seems to follow us, so 
 long is it, is inhabited by sailors, many of them sea-captains 
 who go on the " long cours," so that the land on the island 
 is cultivated by women. 
 
 "Yes, yes," says Picard. •'•'There are widows on that 
 isle. There are often deaths on the sea." 
 
 Now we are in the rapid current of water called La Ju- 
 ment (Er Gazeg), where at full tide the water runs ten miles 
 an hour. 
 
 " We are only just in time," says Picard. " An hour 
 hence I would not venture with Madame into La Jument ; 
 for men it is different." He says this with a superior air, 
 and then swears at the clumsy silent boy, who looks as 
 alarmed as if we were going to the bottom. 
 
 As we pass between the island of Gavr' Inis and the 
 dangerous rock called Er Gazeg, or La Jument, we see in 
 the distance, on the left, the spire of Arzon, and on the 
 right the houses and church of Baden. 
 
 The water boils yet more fiercely as we glide out of the 
 passage through a smooth glassy surface seamed with ever- 
 bubbling currents. 
 
 Now, as we look sideways, far away on the left, is a 
 charming picture — the broad Atlantic and Port Navalo with 
 its lighthouses standing on the brink of the vast stormy 
 ocean. On our right we see the mouth of the loch or 
 river of Auray. 
 
 It is the combination of so many opposing elements that 
 makes a day on the Morbihan one of the rare pleasures of 
 a journey in Brittany — especially on such a bright day as 
 that on which we sailed across it. The soft blue sky, in 
 
THE MORBIHA N. 
 
 which as the day wore on faint mist-like clouds gathered 
 slowly ; the clear intense sunshine that sparkled everywhere 
 and brightened the colour of the green hilly islets ; the 
 many-hued water, and the deep red, brown, and yellow 
 sails of the fishing-boats that every now and then shot past 
 us with a laughing greeting shouted in Breton to Picard, and 
 always answered so as to provoke hearty laughter; the 
 pleasant-looking houses and farmsteads nestling on the 
 island, suggestive of happy simple homes ; and then the 
 angry, murderous-looking rocks — Er Meud (Le Mouton), 
 Les Tisserands, and Er Gazeg — with their significant warn- 
 ing posts, and the whirling fury of the black water and its 
 white foam around them, foaming as if it tried to root up 
 these rocks which have wrecked so many a boat and flung 
 so many bodies to the bottom of the stony sea ; all these 
 things combine to make an ever-varying interest, but the 
 rocks and their warnings destroy the illusion which has 
 gathered about the pretty homes on the He aux Moines 
 and the He d'Arz, and send one's eyes and thoughts wan- 
 dering out to the wide Atlantic, where the husbands of these 
 solitary wives are toiling, or, unknown to them, perhaps at 
 rest for ever. 
 
 The tradition of these islands is that newly made widows 
 are awakened at night by the sound of falling water, which 
 drips, drop by drop, at the foot of their beds. The Ankou, 
 a spectre much like the Irish banshee, is also a sure harbinger 
 of death or misfortune. We had been told another tradition 
 of these islands, that the maidens still retain the privilege of 
 choosing husbands after the fashion of the stalwart damsels 
 in the " Coming Race." But Picard laughed heartily at the 
 notion, and said it was made up by " the gentlemen who 
 
L O CM ARIA KER . 
 
 137 
 
 want something to fill their books with." "There are many 
 of those tales," he added. 
 
 Presently he points over his shoulder. Facing us is an 
 island with a tower at the corner, built on a rock ; and now, 
 as we turn to the right, we see the white houses, the long 
 low shore, and the church of Locmariaker. 
 
 Our clumsy silent sailor-boy, who has scarcely spoken, 
 now vociferates something in Breton, at which Picard looks 
 behind him, and shrugs his shoulders. 
 
 " Ah, we should have started half an hour sooner," he 
 says reproachfully. " We are too late for the tide. It is 
 no longer possible to land at Locmariaker." 
 
 And looking forward we see long lines of sandbank 
 covered with seaweed intervening between us and the 
 curious ridge of stones which serves as a pier to Loc- 
 mariaker. The water in the channels between these lines 
 is too shallow to float our heavy boat, so we land on a great 
 heap of seaweed, and make our way across the mud and 
 over some blocks of granite to firm land. 
 
 There is a strange weird desolation in the aspect of Loc- 
 mariaker, or Lieu de la belle Marie, as its name signifies. 
 Everywhere are broken dolmens, fragments of menhirs ; the 
 granite houses are few, and have a poverty-stricken look. The 
 place seems as if it had known better days. Monsieur de 
 Freminville considers that it occupies the site of the ancient 
 Dariorig, the capital of the Veneti in the time of Caesar, 
 but the absence of fr_esh water seems to prove that no large 
 city could have existed here. There has, however, been 
 decided evidence found, in the shape of tiles, bricks, coins, 
 &c, that there was once a Roman station. 
 
 It is a most dreary spot, with scarcely a tree to break 
 
138 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 the desolate waste strewn with granite remains ; remains, 
 too, of the strangely impressive character to which by this 
 time our eyes had grown accustomed, though the mystery 
 which surrounds their origin is so full of awful surmise that 
 a sort of superstitious terror makes one shrink from them. 
 What was their purpose, and who set them up ? — for their 
 weight is stupendous ; the great menhir is computed to 
 weigh 250,000 kilogrammes (more than 500,000 pounds). 
 
 Antiquaries and savants of all nations wrangle and argue, 
 and yet come to no assured conclusions; and if, indeed, 
 these stones have never witnessed human sacrifices, still they 
 have held the bodies of those departed. And one goes on 
 to wonder who were these departed chiefs and heroes, and 
 with what strange heathen rites have they been interred. 
 Weird scenes of incantation may have been enacted round 
 about the grey stones that lie scattered on the rocky shores 
 of the little sea. 
 
 One hypothesis is that Carnac and its surroundings cover 
 the site of a huge temple and burying-place, and that the 
 great menhir of Locmariaker stood at the extreme end of 
 this array of stones as a symbol of worship. 
 
 On our way from the landing-place we passed the entrance 
 of the huge tumulus of Mane'-er-H'roeck, or Montagne de la 
 Fee, but we found that to see it we should have to go to the 
 Mairie for the key, and we had heard at Vannes that the 
 dolmen or grotto within is inferior in interest to the others. 
 
 At the museum at Vannes we saw a collection of inter- 
 esting objects found when the tumulus was opened in 1863. 
 The celts are admirable and very numerous, but there was a 
 total absence of any human remains. Monsieur Fouquet 
 seems to think that these have been destroyed by the rain 
 
MEN-ER-H'R OECK. 
 
 139 
 
 which penetrated through the earth of the tumulus. The 
 most surprising part of these excavations is that they should 
 not have been attempted before, for the height of some of 
 these tumuli, one would have thought, must have suggested 
 the presence of a tomb or temple. Close to the Mane-er- 
 H'roeck are two fallen menhirs. 
 
 The church stands in the midst of the village, but the 
 interior has been smothered with whitewash. 
 
 We took a guide at the inn ; but, though this saves time, 
 I think it is pleasanter to seek for oneself, especially as we 
 found some trouble in staying as long as we wished to 
 examine the stones. Our guide took us north of the village 
 into a waste field, to see a large half-buried dolmen, called 
 Be-er-Groah. The capstone is enormous ; twenty- seven 
 feet long and more than fourteen feet wide. Mr. Lukis 
 says that some of the supports are sculptured, but we did 
 not notice this. The colour of these stones is charming. 
 In the same field is a prostrate menhir at least twenty feet 
 long. Then we went along a new road and turned into a 
 waste overgrown with furze on the right, where we came first 
 to the wonderful menhir, Men-er-H'rceck (Pierre de la Fee), 
 lying like a monstrous giant among the furze. It is now 
 broken into four pieces ; but it must have been, when erect, 
 more than sixty-seven feet long, thirteen feet wide, and 
 about seven feet in thickness. It is supposed to have been 
 once erect, and to have been struck by lightning and broken 
 in the fall, or it may have been broken before it was 
 set up, or purposely destroyed in the seventh century, 
 when an edict of the Council of Nantes decreed that all 
 objects which ministered to the superstition of the people 
 should be removed. One wonders how such a colossal 
 
140 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 block of stone could have been set up. This menhir, it 
 is said, would weigh 250,000 kilogrammes. 
 
 Very near to this wonderful menhir is the magnificent 
 dolmen called Dol-ar-M arc hadouan (Table des Marchands). 
 It is also called Table de Cesar, although it certainly must 
 have been here long before Caesar came to Brittany. It is 
 raised about eight feet from the ground, though still partially 
 sunk in a circular barrow. The capstone is very fine, nearly 
 twenty feet long and about thirteen feet wide. It is supported 
 by three menhirs only ; on the face of the northern support 
 
 Table des Marchands. 
 
 are some curious sculptures and series of lines in relief. We 
 scrambled down underneath this wonderful misshapen stone 
 table, and looking up saw that in the centre of the huge 
 capstone is the figure of a large stone axe in its handle. I 
 managed, with assistance, to scramble on to the top of the 
 dolmen, and was repaid for the trouble by the view over the 
 Morbihan, and over the weird, desolate village of Loc- 
 mariaker, grey and colourless, the only relief to the eye being 
 in the bright costumes of the women. Many of the younger 
 ones wore red skirts and creamy-coloured flannel aprons, 
 
MANE-LUD. 
 
 141 
 
 tied twice across the back of the skirt ; their white calico 
 caps had long lappets like those at Vannes. The men 
 seemed to be fishers. 
 
 From the great dolmen we went, still northward, to what 
 is called Mount Helleu, or the Mane-Lud. This seems to 
 have been a very extensive group of stones, and is thought 
 to have been a celebrated place of burial. The tumulus 
 measures 260 feet in length, and the great dolmen at the 
 western end is still half-buried. The largest capstone is 
 broken in two, but is nearly thirty feet long. The supports 
 and the floor stone are both carved. When the tumulus 
 was first opened there was found, at its eastern end, a row 
 of menhirs set side by side, on five of which was set a horse's 
 head, and in the centre a heap of stones enclosing a small 
 grotto, built of stone and vaulted with slabs. At one end 
 steps lead down into a sort of gallery with menhirs on each 
 side, set close one against another. In the midst of this is 
 the little closed grotto or crypt, in which were found human 
 bones, some of which had not been burned, wood ashes, a 
 fibrolite axe, a fragment of quartz, and some broken pot- 
 tery. The tumulus was called the Mane-Lud, or hill of 
 ashes, because the dried mud of which it is composed, and 
 which has been frequently excavated, was at first mistaken 
 for ashes. 
 
 Not far from this is the cemetery, on the site of a sup- 
 posed ancient amphitheatre, where many Roman remains 
 have been found. 
 
 Farther down the peninsula southward is the curious 
 ruined dolmen of Les Pierres Plates. It is very long, and 
 the passage is bent. Some of the supports of the dolmen 
 are carved, but in opening it much injury has been caused 
 
142 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 by removing the surrounding earth. Monsieur de Fre'min- 
 ville gives an interesting account of its original appearance. 
 
 It is said that the whole elevation on which the chapel 
 of St. Michel stands is full of Roman foundations called 
 Er Castel, although no longer visible. There are still 
 several dolmens and menhirs scattered about this long 
 narrow strip of land, lying between the mouths of the two 
 rivers Crach and Auray. It seems best to visit Locmariaker 
 from Vannes, because one thereby explores the Morbihan 
 and has afterwards the satisfaction of examining in detail 
 in the museum the wonderfully interesting relics found at 
 the Mane-er-H'roeck, &c. \ but the tide hurries one away too 
 quickly, and it is really worth while for those who care for 
 these strange weird stones to visit them again by land from 
 Auray. 
 
 The tide warned us not to linger, and we went to the very 
 primitive pier, as desolate as the rest of the village, and 
 soon saw our boat coming across from the point we had 
 landed at. The long lines of seaweed had disappeared, and 
 the water washed over the ridge of stones, so that it was 
 easy to get on board. As we rowed away, Locmariaker 
 looked much more attractive than when we approached it. 
 The wind had risen, and we found that there would be 
 some difficulty in landing at Gavr' Inis on account of the 
 currents. We had to tack frequently to avoid being drawn 
 into the fiercest of these. Even as we approached the 
 seething edge our boat was whirled round and round. We 
 seemed to circle the c/ienal or water-path between the island 
 and La Jument. Finally, having gone completely round the 
 green hill which rises abruptly from the water crowned by its 
 huge tumulus and fringed by jagged tongues of granite, we 
 
GAVE? INIS. 
 
 143 
 
 glided into a little creek in front of Monsieur Closmadeuc's 
 house, and scrambled over a heap of loose slippery rocks 
 to firm land. Our boatman went to find one of the farm 
 labourers to guide us; the farmer who lives on the island 
 has charge of the monument, and expects half a franc each 
 for permission to see it. While we waited we climbed up 
 to the top of the hill, and had a grand view over the Mor- 
 bihan, with the peninsula of Rhuys on the left and Loc- 
 mariaker on the right. Beyond was the tumulus of St. 
 Michel, at Carnac, and facing us the Atlantic. Presently 
 our guide appeared. He was a wild-looking fellow, and wore 
 a loose white flannel jacket and trowsers and a battered 
 straw hat, his open shirt displaying his red hairy chest. He 
 passed us quickly, and then beckoned us down into a sort 
 of cutting in the side of the mound. This was the entrance 
 to the grotto, and we were very sorry we had not each 
 brought a candle, for although our guide lighted one with 
 a flint and steel from one of his bulging pockets, its light 
 was not sufficient for the close examination we wished to 
 make of the interior. We had come away from Locmariaker 
 deeply impressed -with the power and wonderful resources 
 of the people who had erected these monstrous monu- 
 ments ; but when we entered the grotto of Gavr' Inis we 
 felt that it surpassed all we had seen. We entered at 
 first a long narrow gallery, nearly five feet wide and about 
 forty feet long ; on each side are strangely carved menhirs 
 placed closely side by side, and overhead are large flat blocks 
 or dolmens; it is also paved with slabs of granite. This 
 passage opens into a grotto about seven or eight feet square, 
 and nearly six feet high. The roof consists of one immense 
 stone, more than twelve feet long by nine feet in width. At 
 
144 
 
 THE MORBIHAN. 
 
 this end, on one side, there is a small triangular opening which 
 admits some light, and which led to the discovery and exca- 
 vation of this marvellous grotto in 1832. The walls consist 
 of eight menhirs most strangely carved and ornamented 
 with curving lines. On one of them, at the extreme end on 
 the left, are two rings carved out of the stone with hollows 
 underneath ; the hand may be passed through the rings. 
 
 Grotto of Gavr' Inis. 
 
 It has been supposed that human victims have been 
 tied to these rings ; but as when the tumulus was opened 
 it contained no relics, it is evident that it must have been 
 previously visited, and therefore all is conjecture. 
 
 These carved stones of Gavr' Inis are superior to any 
 hitherto discovered in Brittany. There is a facsimile of 
 one of the stones in the museum at Vannes, but it does 
 
ROGUEDAS, 145 
 
 not give any idea of the variety of these strange designs, 
 which must have been executed with stone implements, 
 for among all the relics found in the grottoes within the 
 tumuli of this period there has not been found any iron 
 instrument. Besides the so-called serpents and the rings, 
 there are celts, and the strange waving lines are said to 
 resemble the tattooing used in New Zealand. 
 
 Another overwhelming feature of the grotto of Gavr' Inis 
 is that some of the stones are of a substance totally unlike 
 the granite of which the island is composed, and when one 
 sees the enormous size and weight of the stones, and reflects 
 on the currents which surround the island and the diffi- 
 culty of landing there, it is impossible to imagine how these 
 ponderous masses were brought over from the mainland 
 and carried to the top of the hill, unless, indeed, as Mr. 
 Lukis suggests, both Gavr 3 Inis and the He Tisserand were 
 once parts of the mainland. Monsieur Closmadeuc has 
 written a little pamphlet, " Gavr' Inis et son monument," 
 which is to be bought at the farmhouse, where visitors are 
 expected to sign their names. Formerly there was a crucifix 
 to be seen here which was found on the island, but it has 
 been removed to Vannes. 
 
 The sun was sinking and day was going, but it was still 
 so lovely on the water that we were unwilling to return to 
 Vannes. The green islets looked yet more exquisite in this 
 soft warm light ; and when we came to Roguedas, or Roh- 
 Gueldas, we drew close in shore, and lay in the little bay 
 while one of our party landed to bathe. 
 
 The yellow banks, crowned with fir-trees, rise up steeply 
 above the dark rocks, which run out like brown tongues 
 into the sea; the water comes rippling on to the yellow 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 MORBIHAN* 
 
 sand which fringes this beautiful little bay. Presently a 
 priest appeared on the right climbing over the dark brown 
 rock, and springing from one point to another ; and in their 
 present glistening and slippery condition this was perilous. 
 Picard took off his hat and addressed the priest as Monsieur 
 l'Abbe. " Monsieur is one of the Jesuits," says Picard. 
 "I told Monsieur et Madame they had a seminary at 
 Penboc'h." 
 
 This bay of Roguedas is a lovely nook; just now the 
 water is brown and green with the reflections from the pine- 
 trees above. 
 
 Now we pass Bcedic; and here we are again in the 
 Vannes river. The river is full of bathers, who do not 
 seem to mind the mud; and we reach the port about half- 
 past six, having spent nearly twelve delightful hours on 
 the islet-studded little sea. 
 
MO RBI HAN, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Ste. Anne d'Auray — The Chartreuse — Auray. 
 'HERE is enough to see in the country round Vannes to 
 
 fill a volume; it is better, therefore, just to indicate 
 some of the remaining localities which possess interest for 
 the diligent traveller. The shores of the Morbihan, Arradon, 
 the dolmen of Er-roch, Lodo and its Roman remains, the 
 view of the sea itself from Roguedas, the He aux Moines 
 with its curious barrows, and the He d'Arz, are all worth a 
 visit ; and many other excursions may be made. 
 
 For picturesqueness of effect and beauty of colour, per- 
 haps the most charming part of a stay at Vannes is to be 
 found in evening walks round the old town walls beneath 
 the long rows of tall poplar-trees, which make a fringe 
 beyond what remains of the moat. In that delicious vague 
 light the houses, built here and there on the old wall, lose 
 their modern trite aspect, and are in harmony with the 
 hoary machicolations beside and beneath them : there is 
 light enough to show the green of the vines and fig-trees in 
 the gardens below — a light which sometimes concentrates 
 itself on large creamy magnolia blossoms, relieved by the 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 blackness of their leaves — while under the avenues groups 
 of white-capped Breton girls and matrons move noisily on 
 their wooden shoes, and talk softly in an unknown tongue, 
 sometimes bearing on their heads the exquisitely shaped 
 brown and red pitchers we had already noticed at Guerande, 
 and which are evidently a specialty of Southern Brittany, 
 for in the north they are not to be found. 
 
 We drove by way of Ste. Anne, or Kanna, to Auray, for 
 there is much worth seeing on the road. The road is 
 reaUy the ancient Roman way j and about two miles from 
 Vannes is a little chapel of the fifteenth century, dedicated 
 to Notre Dame de Bethlehem. Inside the chapel, beside the 
 altar, is a picture representing the miraculous origin of the 
 building. 
 
 During the Crusades one of the lords of Garo, being taken 
 prisoner by the Saracens, was shut up in a chest with his 
 squire, and ordered to be thrown into the sea; the chest 
 was fastened up, but the lord prayed earnestly for deliver- 
 ance, and vowed to build a chapel in honour of the blessed 
 Virgin at Garo if she would deliver them from death. Sud- 
 denly the squire became aware of the crowing of a cock. 
 " It is the voice of a cock of Garo," he said ; and they both 
 cried out till some peasants, attracted by the noise, came and 
 released them. The first chapel, built on the spot where the 
 chest was found, was much older than the present building. 
 
 A little beyond Belean, as the village near the chapel is 
 called, and on the left of the road to Meriadec, in a little 
 wooded valley, are some ruins of the Chateau of Garo. The 
 old Roman road is to be traced sometimes on the right 
 and sometimes on the left of the present one. On the hill 
 of Coetsal are four or five basin-stones on each side of the 
 
STE: ANNE. 
 
 149 
 
 road. Among these rocks peasants suffering from colic or 
 lumbago go and pass a night in the rock basins, and, rubbing 
 the suffering part against the rough stones, they pray to St. 
 Stevan for relief. The stones of Meriadec are also reported 
 to have healing properties. It is said that on one of the 
 altars in the village church there is a collection of stones with 
 which the peasants rub their foreheads to cure headache. 
 
 Beyond Meriadec, on the right, is an upright stone, once 
 a Roman boundary. It was taken up some years ago, and 
 a Roman inscription was found on the part below ground. 
 
 Long before we reached it, the golden image of St. 
 Anne, placed on the summit of the spire, shone out brightly 
 as a landmark, and people flocking towards it showed the 
 reverence paid to this famous shrine of the patron saint of 
 Brittany. A pardon had been held there on the previous 
 Sunday, July 26th, St. Anne's Day, and to-day being the 
 octave there was to be a distribution of indulgences, and a 
 solemn blessing after vespers of crosses, medals, rosaries, &c. 
 When we reached the church we found the space round 
 it and the fountain filled with booths for the sale of these 
 objects, as well as of photographs, coloured prints, articles 
 of cheap jewellery, &c. 
 
 Masses had been said constantly ever since very early 
 morning ; and when we looked into the church we found 
 that there was no possibility of getting in easily till the next 
 service, it was so crowded ; and there seemed to be quite as 
 many pilgrims outside buying tokens at the stalls. Women 
 carrying candles of various sizes in boxes, for offerings at the 
 altars, were doing a brisk trade. Silver rings, bearing the image 
 of St. Anne, were in great request, also pilgrims' badges — 
 pretty little bits of worsted fringe and bead fastened to a 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 pin, and worn on the coat or dress in memory of the 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 Beyond the church is the miraculous fountain, where it 
 is said most wonderful cures are effected. Here there was 
 a very busy scene : people went down to the edge of the 
 water to wash their eyes and faces and infirm limbs; 
 maimed and crippled beggars were here in great force, bent 
 on exhibiting their sores and deformities. As we turned 
 to leave the fountain two old women came up with cups 
 freshly dipped in the spring, and frowning at our want of 
 faith they told us, in Breton, to drink, and also to wash our 
 eyes with the water. Some of the beggars were horribly 
 repulsive and dirty-looking, but they seemed to be treated 
 with great kindness and respect. 
 
 Across the end of the large enclosure which surrounds 
 the church and fountain is the famous Scala Sancta. It 
 consists of a raised cupola in the centre, under which is an 
 altar whence mass can be said for fifteen or twenty thousand 
 persons, and on each side is a long and broad flight of stone 
 steps. On the right, kneeling worshippers of all sorts — a 
 baker, with his basket full of loaves, was among them — were 
 going up the steps, rosary in hand. By degrees they reached 
 the top, always kneeling ; and having kissed some relics 
 exposed there under glass they descended on foot the 
 opposite side. The expression of earnest devotion on some 
 of the faces was very beautiful. An old dame at the bottom 
 of the steps on the left gave me directions how to proceed, 
 and was most anxious that I should perform the ceremony 
 correctly. 
 
 After breakfast we went into the church. It is a handsome, 
 modern building of Renaissance period, built quite lately ; 
 
THE MIRACLE OF THE BORCENNO. 
 
 from the roof hang large models of three-mast vessels. The 
 congregation was entirely of peasants — the women dressed 
 in black, with a great variety in the shape of their white 
 caps ; the men in white flannel jackets bound and trimmed 
 with black velvet, black trousers, and immense high stick-up 
 collars. The elder men had long grey hair streaming over 
 their broad shoulders. 
 
 Just outside the porch stood a little girl, who might have 
 stepped out of a picture by Velasquez, with her stiff skirt, 
 and long sleeves, spreading collar, and close-fitting white 
 cap. Each little chubby hand held the end of a brilliant 
 yellow rosary close against her bibbed blue apron, a crucifix 
 hanging from the centre of the beads. 
 
 There had been in ancient times a chapel dedicated 
 to St. Anne near the village of Keranna, or Kanna, but 
 this edifice had long disappeared, although in a wheatfield 
 called the Borcenno the presence of some ruined portion of 
 it beneath the soil had always announced itself miraculously. 
 It is said that even so late as the seventeenth century, when 
 it was attempted to plough one special bit of ground in the 
 Borcenno, the horses plunged and reared, and on one occa- 
 sion broke the plough in their determined resistance to cross 
 the holy spot. It happened that a pious countryman, named 
 Nicolazic, rented the farm of Borcenno. He had always 
 been noted for his religious and exemplary life and for his 
 calm wisdom. He was startled, in the year 1623, by an 
 extraordinary light in the middle of the night, which seemed 
 to proceed from a torch held in a visible hand. 
 
 Six weeks later, one Sunday evening, as he was walking 
 in his wheat-field, the same light reappeared without the 
 hand. Some evenings after this he went seeking for some 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 strayed bullocks, and as he returned home with them, in the 
 same field, near a little spring till then scarcely noticed, the 
 bullocks started and refused to move forward. Nicolazic 
 and his companion advanced, and saw before them a lady 
 dressed in white, and with a soft light shining round her. 
 They ran away terrified, and when they came back, ashamed 
 of their cowardice, the vision had disappeared. But it was 
 soon afterwards repeated frequently, and after a while the 
 lady in white declared herself to be St. Anne, and revealed 
 to Nicolazic that he was to build her a church on the site 
 of the ruined chapel which had existed nine hundred and 
 twenty-four years ago in the Borcenno. 
 
 The poor man was frightened and incredulous, and when 
 at last, convinced by repeated dreams and visions, he con- 
 sulted the clergy of Keranna, they denounced him as a 
 superstitious fool, and, finding he persisted in believing the 
 vision, they threatened him with excommunication. Finally 
 lie set to work with a friend, and, following the counsel he 
 had received from St. Anne, he dug up a wooden statue, 
 much mutilated and worm-eaten, but which still could be 
 identified as an image of the saint. The clergy of Ke- 
 ranna refused to believe in the statue, but the news of what 
 had happened soon spread, and crowds of devout persons 
 came from far to behold the wonderful image. This news 
 reaching the ears of the good Bishop of Vannes, he caused 
 diligent inquiry to be made by the Capuchin fathers of 
 Auray, and by other learned priests, into this wonderful 
 matter ; and they having convinced themselves of the truth 
 and good faith of Nicolazic, reproved the local clergy for 
 such want of faith, and built first a temporary shelter and 
 then a church for the recovered image. The church, how- 
 
PILGRIMAGES. 
 
 153 
 
 ever, was not finished till 1645. The charge of the church 
 and the fountain beside which the first vision of St. Anne 
 had appeared to Nicolazic was confided to Carmelite monks, 
 who seem to have planned the entire mass of buildings, 
 with the fountain, church, and Scala Sancta within the 
 enclosure. At the Revolution, when the church and con- 
 vent were sold, the whole erection was much destroyed and 
 injured, and the image, which had been hidden, was dragged 
 to light and burned. A small bit, however, was rescued, 
 and may be seen in the pedestal of the modern statue of 
 St. Anne. 
 
 Pilgrimages seem to have been made to Ste. Anne ever 
 since the discovery of Nicolazic ; the most frequented are 
 those of Whitsuntide and the 26th of July, the Feast of St. 
 Anne. Among others, Anne of Austria sent a representa- 
 tive to beseech the intercession of the patron saint of Brittany 
 for the birth of a Dauphin. The present church and the 
 Scala Sancta are new erections ; the convent still remains, 
 and is now a seminary for priests. At the other end of 
 the village is a large school for girls. We heard that there 
 were many English girls here. 
 
 From Ste. Anne we drove on through very charming coun- 
 try to the Chartreuse. Our way lay beside a ravine through 
 which the river Brech tumbles among rocks and pine-trees, 
 sometimes serving to work mills picturesquely niched among 
 the rocks. To the east of the village of Brech is a most 
 singular group of rocks — one enormous boulder seems to be 
 poised on the top of the others. Finally we came in sight 
 of the valley of Kerezo, so full of tragical memories, Kerezo 
 having been the scene of the famous battle which decided, 
 in 1364, the fate of Charles de Blois. Delightful memories 
 
54 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 of dear old gossiping Froissart and his heroes, Du Guesclin, 
 Clisson, and Chandos, and Beaumanoir, revived at the name 
 of the battle of Auray, and took us back to the great civil 
 war of Brittany. 
 
 Duke Arthur II. left four sons. John III., his successor, 
 dying without issue in 1341, Jeanne de Penthievre (the 
 lame daughter of Duke Arthur's second son), who had 
 married Charles de Blois, claimed and had her right to the 
 duchy acknowledged. According to Froissart, her uncle, 
 Duke John, married her to this powerful noble to secure her 
 claim. But Duke Arthur's younger and only surviving son 
 John, Count of Montfort, half-brother to John III., main- 
 tained that his was the better right, and enforced it by the 
 protection of his allies the English, and the heroism of his 
 wife, the celebrated Jeanne de Montfort, who, says Froissart, 
 " had the heart of a lion." Montfort died in 1345, but his 
 widow fought for her son's rights, and the war lasted twenty- 
 three years. It was finally decided on the bloody field of 
 Auray, where, in 1364, Charles de Blois was killed, and Du 
 Guesclin taken prisoner by the young Earl of Montfort's 
 general, Sir John Chandos. 
 
 The Lord of Beaumanoir seems to have been anxious to 
 prevent the battle, and went and came between the two 
 armies with propositions of peace. But at last Sir John 
 Chandos told him all such attempts were useless. " The 
 Lord John de Montfort," said Chandos, "is determined 
 
 to risk the event of a combat He will this day 
 
 be Duke of Brittany, or die on the field." 
 
 De Beaumanoir went back to Lord Charles de Blois, and 
 said, " My lord, my lord, by St. Yves I have heard the 
 proudest speech from John Chandos that my ears have 
 
BA TTLE OF A URA Y. 
 
 155 
 
 listened to for a long time. He has just assured me that the 
 Earl of Montfort shall remain Duke of Brittany, and will 
 clearly show you that you have not any right to it." 
 
 " These words brought the colour into Lord Charles's 
 cheeks. He answered, ' Let God settle the right, for He 
 knows to whom it belongs.' And thus said all the barons 
 of Brittany. 
 
 " He then ordered his banners and men-at-arms to march 
 in the name of God and of St. Yves. 
 
 "A little before eight o'clock the two armies advanced 
 near to each other. It was a very fine sight, as I have 
 heard those relate who saw it, for the French were in such 
 close order that one could scarcely throw an apple among 
 
 them without its falling on a helmet or a lance On 
 
 the other hand, the English were drawn up in the handsomest 
 order. 
 
 " The Bretons, under the command of Sir Bertrand du 
 Guesclin, posted themselves with his banner, opposite to the 
 battalion of Sir Robert Knolles and Sir Walter Huet. The 
 Bretons of either party placed the banners of their two 
 lords, who was each called duke, opposite to the other. 
 
 " Sir John Chandos proved himself more able than his 
 opponents ; for he was at the same time bold and hardy, 
 redoubted by his adversaries in battle, as well as wise and 
 discreet in council, giving the clearest orders. He advised 
 the earl in everything, and, in order to animate him and his 
 people, said to them, ' Do so and so ; march to this side 
 or to that.' The young Earl of Montfort believed all he 
 said, and followed his advice. 
 
 " Among other knights, Sir Olivier de Clisson played his 
 part handsomely, and did marvels with his battleaxe, by 
 
156 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 which he opened and cut through the ranks, so that none 
 dared approach him. Once, indeed, his eagerness brought 
 
 him into great peril He received in this affair a 
 
 stroke of a battleaxe, which struck off the visor of his 
 helmet, and its point entered his eye, which he afterwards 
 lost. He was not, however, for this a less gallant knight 
 during the whole of the day. 
 
 " Battalions and banners rushed against each other, and 
 sometimes were overthrown, and then up again. Among the 
 knights, Sir John Chandos showed his ability. Valorously 
 fighting with his battleaxe, he gave such desperate blows 
 that all avoided him, for he was of great stature and strength, 
 well-made in all his limbs. He advanced to attack the 
 battalion of the Earl of Auxerre and the French. Many 
 bold actions were performed, and through the courage of 
 himself and his people he drove this battalion before him, 
 and threw it into such disorder that in brief it was discom- 
 fited. All their banners and pennons were thrown on the 
 ground, torn and broken. Their lords and captains were 
 in the greatest danger, for they were not succoured by any, 
 their people being fully engaged in fighting and defending 
 themselves. To speak truly, when once an army is discom- 
 fited, those who are defeated are so much frightened that, if 
 one fall, three follow his example, and to these three ten, 
 and to ten thirty ; and also, should ten run away, they will 
 be followed by a hundred. Thus it was at the battle of 
 Auray 
 
 " When the English and Bretons of the Montfort party 
 perceived the French to be in confusion, they were much 
 rejoiced. Some of the French had their horses got ready, 
 which they mounted, and began to fly as fast as they could. 
 
BATTLE OF AURAY. 
 
 157 
 
 " Sir John Chandos then advanced and made for the bat- 
 talion of Sir Bertrand du Guesclin, where many courageous 
 deeds were doing ; but it had been already broken, and many 
 knights and squires slain. Sir Bertrand was made prisoner 
 by an English squire under the pennon of Sir John Chandos. 
 
 li The Lord Charles and his companions kept their ground 
 a long time by their valour in defending themselves. At 
 last, however, it was of no avail, for they were defeated and 
 put to the rout by numbers, for the whole strength of the 
 English was drawing towards them. 
 
 " The banner of the Lord Charles was conquered, cast to 
 the ground, and the bearer of it slain. He himself was also 
 killed, facing his enemies, with many other knights and 
 squires of Brittany. 
 
 " This battle was fought near to Auray, in the year of our 
 Lord 1364. 
 
 " After the total defeat of Lord Charles's army, when the 
 field of battle was free, and the principal leaders were 
 returned from the pursuit, Sir John Chandos, Sir Robert 
 Knolles, Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt, Sir Matthew Gournay, 
 Sir Hugh Calverly, and others, drawing near the Earl of 
 Montfort, came to a hedge, where they began to disarm 
 themselves, knowing the day was theirs. Some of them 
 placed their banners and pennons in this hedge, with the 
 arms of Brittany high above all in a bush, as a rallying post 
 for their army. 
 
 " Sir John Chandos, Sir Robert Knolles, Sir Hugh Calverly, 
 and others, then approached the Earl of Montfort, and said 
 to him, smiling, 'My lord, praise God, and make good 
 cheer, for this day you have conquered the inheritance of 
 Brittany.' 
 
158 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 " He bowed to them very respectfully, and then said, loud 
 enough to be heard by all around him, ' Sir John Chandos, 
 it is to your valour and prudence that I am indebted for the 
 good of this day. This I know for a truth, as well as all 
 those that are with me. I beg you will therefore refresh 
 yourself out of my cup.' He then extended to him a flagon 
 full of wine, and his cup out of which he himself had just 
 drunk, adding, ' After God I owe more thanks to you than 
 to the rest of the world.' 
 
 " As he finished these words the Lord de Clisson returned 
 
 out of breath, and very hot Whilst they were thus 
 
 together, two knights and two heralds returned, who had 
 been sent to examine the dead bodies in the field. .... 
 They cried with a loud voice, 1 My lord, be ot good cheer, 
 for we have seen your adversary, Lord Charles de Blois, 
 among the dead.' 
 
 "Upon this the Earl of Montfort rose up and said he 
 wished to see him himself, for that 'he should have as 
 much pleasure in seeing him dead as alive.' 
 
 "All the knights then present accompanied him to the 
 spot where he was lying apart from the others covered by a 
 shield, which he ordered to be taken away, and looked at 
 him very sorrowfully. After having paused awhile, he 
 exclaimed, ' Ha, my Lord Charles, sweet cousin ! how 
 much mischief has happened tq,Brittany from your having 
 supported by arms your pretensions ! God help me, I am 
 truly unhappy at finding you in this situation, but at present 
 this cannot be amended.' 
 
 " Upon which he burst into tears. Sir John Chandos per- 
 ceiving this, pulled him by the skirt, and said, ' My lord, 
 my lord, let us go away, and return thanks to God for the 
 
BA TTLE OF A URA Y. 
 
 159 
 
 success of the day, for without the death of this person you 
 never would have gained your inheritance of Brittany.' 
 
 " The earl then ordered that Lord Charles's body should 
 be carried to Guingamp, which was immediately done with 
 great respect, and he was there most honourably interred. 
 This was but his due, as he was a good, loyal, and valiant 
 knight." 
 
 In memory of his victory, Montfort, now Duke John IV., 
 instituted the Order of the Ermine, and founded on the 
 site of the battle the chapel of St. Michel-au-Mont, which, 
 in 1480, was given to a community of Cistercians, who 
 added a convent to the chapel, henceforward called the 
 Chartreuse. This valley of Kerezo, therefore, was the site 
 of two great tragedies. 
 
 Before reaching the Chartreuse we came to an opening 
 where several roads met, and here begin the associations of 
 the terrible modern catastrophe of Auray. In the midst of 
 this opening is a granite column surmounted by a cross. 
 We left our carriage here, and went up an avenue of firs to a 
 large enclosure bordered by evergreens. This is the Champ 
 des Martyrs, where the unfortunate survivors of Quiberon 
 were shot in cold blood. At the farther end is the expiatory 
 chapel. 
 
 One feels doubly sad here, for the tragedy of Auray seems 
 to have been one of those calamities which might, humanly 
 speaking, have been prevented. 
 
 In 1795 some thousands of French emigrants seem to have 
 felt that the time had come for the deliverance of France 
 from the yoke of the Convention ■ and as Brittany was in- 
 surgent and the peasants were armed, the emigrants were 
 landed by a British fleet at Carnac, on the 14th June, 1795. 
 
i6o 
 
 MORBIHA N. 
 
 The Bishop of Dol, Monseigneur de Herce, reopened the 
 desecrated church of Carnac and said mass there, and the 
 peasantry flocked from all parts to welcome the invaders, 
 and if the advice of De Tinteniac had been followed, and the 
 troops had at once been led to battle, victory would probably 
 have followed the efforts of these brave gentlemen, deter- 
 mined to conquer or to die, and seconded by a people 
 outraged by sanguinary despotism. But a chief was wanted 
 to make this revolt successful. Though 17,000 Chouans, 
 hardened by three years of incessant fighting, assembled, 
 the disunion of the officers, the want of discipline among 
 the men, and the incapacity of the commanders, ruined 
 everything. 
 
 Ten days were lost in useless disputes, and then, instead 
 of pushing into the interior, so well known to the peasants, 
 they retreated into the narrow peninsula of Quiberon and 
 Fort Penthievre, and this before such a general as Hoche. 
 Sombreuil and his veteran troops could not cope with the 
 impatience of the raw volunteers, who, however, when dis- 
 lodged from Fort Penthievre by Hoche, fought bravely and 
 fell in their ranks. A storm prevented the British vessels 
 from rendering much assistance, or from rescuing more than 
 a few of the survivors. At last, on the mistaken under- 
 standing that their lives would be spared, Sombreuil and 
 950 survivors surrendered. 
 
 But as it appears that no real promise was given by Hoche 
 himself, the unhappy men were marched to Auray and shot 
 down in the Champ des Martyrs. Many touching incidents 
 are told of this tragedy. Kerzarion and Soulanges, whose 
 conduct was most heroic, when called to the place of exe- 
 cution, proposed to their companions to walk thither bare- 
 
THE CHARTREUSE. 
 
 161 
 
 foot, in imitation of our Lord ; and so they did. Sombreuil, 
 Monseigneur de Herce, and twenty others, were taken to 
 Vannes and shot in the Garenne. 
 
 From the Champ des Martyrs we proceeded to the 
 Chartreuse, and went first into the sepulchral chapel which 
 contains the mausoleum of the victims. Above the door 
 is the inscription, " La France en pleurs l'a e'leve." On the 
 sarcophagus are marble busts of Sombreuil and Soulanges, 
 and at the other end Talhouet and D'Hervilly ; above them 
 is Monseigneur de Herce, Bishop of Dol ; and on each side 
 and on the walls of the chapel are bas-reliefs very well 
 executed. 
 
 A poor deaf and dumb man, the guardian of the chapel, 
 unlocked the bronze door of the mausoleum and beckonen 
 us in. He then lit a candle and let it down into the 
 opening in the centre of the tomb, that we might see the 
 bones of the martyrs. This seemed a horrible and un- 
 necessary exhibition, but as the guide cannot speak it is 
 difficult for him to explain what he is going to show. When 
 we left the chapel he took us across a' pleasant old court- 
 yard, and gave us up to one of the Soeurs de la Sagesse, 
 who now have charge of the Chartreuse. She showed us 
 the convent chapel and a pleasant dreamy cloister, with oil- 
 paintings on its walls representing the acts of St. Bruno, 
 copied from those of Le Sueur in the Louvre and finally, 
 as we told her we dearly loved flowers, she led the way to 
 the convent garden — a sweet, peaceful enclosure, with seats 
 under a spreading fig-tree, and glimpses through the cool 
 green leaves of plots of artichokes and gourds and the 
 inevitable cabbage, bordered by very dwarf espaliers, and 
 little pear-trees, and standard roses, and the huge bronze 
 
 M 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 disks of sunflowers rejoicing in the golden blaze into which 
 we feared to venture. There is nothing really ancient 
 about the Chartreuse, but it is a pleasant, quiet retreat, and 
 seemingly full of leisure. The sister smiled when we said 
 this. 
 
 " We have always plenty to do," she said ; " but then we 
 have no distractions to hinder us in our work." 
 
 We felt rested when we said good-bye, and much enjoyed 
 the delightful drive to Auray. 
 
 Auray. 
 
 Such a quiet grey little town, beautifully placed on its 
 lovely river, one side of which ; is bordered by grey falaises, 
 which show here and there among the dark trees which 
 clothe them. The pavement of Auray is so uneven that we 
 made as much noise as a diligence would in clattering up 
 to the Pavilion d'en Haut, where we found our kind friends 
 from Chateau le Salo waiting our arrival ; and as soon as 
 we had dined we walked down in the half light beside the 
 river to the chateau — a most lovely walk. 
 
 The first part of the walk through the town was very 
 
AURAY. 
 
 163 
 
 quaint. One old house had four stories, each projecting 
 beyond the lower one ; all were slate-fronted, the blue 
 slate tinged here and there with orange and silvery white 
 lichen; each story was supported by carved corbels and 
 huge moulded beams, now covered with whitewash. A 
 group of women sat on chairs in the street below, with 
 handkerchiefs tied over their caps; some were sewing, 
 others knitting, but they all looked lazy. Under one chair 
 a cat was playing with a baby. The street goes down 
 steeply to the water, and this adds to its picturesqueness. 
 There was no one walking beside the river, though it looked 
 so lovely in the fast waning light. 
 
 The barking of dogs guided us to the chateau, and we 
 soon found our friends grouped in the cool 01 the evening 
 in front of their pretty house. As we came back, a few 
 hours later, the moon shone out from dark, threatening 
 clouds, and showed the quaint little town shrouded by the 
 surrounding trees. 
 
 There are scarcely any remains of the old castle of Auray, 
 which was taken early in the war by the first De Montfort 
 from Geoffrey de Malestroit. This castle is spoken of in a 
 charter of the eleventh century. The only traces of it are on 
 one of the steepest of the rocks beside the river. It seems 
 often to have changed masters during the War of the Suc- 
 cession. There are several very curious old houses in 
 Auray, and the view from the Belvedere is very remark- 
 able and extensive. It commands the Morbihan, the 
 peninsulas of Rhuys, Locmariaker, and Quiberon, and also 
 the long grey lines of weird, mysterious Carnac. But 
 though, beyond the great beauty of its situation on a river 
 girt in with wooded hills, there is little to see, Auray is a 
 
164 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 delightful town to stay in ; it is a wonderful little gem of 
 verdure in this desolate, granite-strewn country. 
 
 The inn, Pavilion d'en Haut, is thoroughly comfortable 
 and well-kept ; its mistress is the very ideal of a landlady in 
 her kind solicitude for the comfort of her inmates, and the 
 servants are well-trained and obliging. Frangoise, the cham- 
 bermaid, with her picturesque flat head-dress, something 
 like that of a Trastevere woman, her quaint dress, and white 
 apron and sleeves, must have been beautiful; she is still 
 very remarkable-looking, and she was delighted to stand for 
 her portrait to one of my companions with polishing brushes 
 on her feet. The other inn is the Hotel de la Poste, said 
 to be very good also. 
 
 Besides its comforts, Auray is surrounded with interesting 
 localities, and is an excellent resting-place from which to 
 make excursions. 
 
MORBIHAN 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Camac— Plouharnel — Erdeven. 
 
 UR friends had arranged to call for us the next morn- 
 
 ing. They arrived early, and we started in two 
 carriages for Carnac. On our way we stopped to see a 
 large dolmen or stone chamber, called Kerhuen Tangui, in 
 an orchard some little way on the left of the road. The 
 country so"on loses its green cultivated aspect, and we enter 
 on a vast expanse of moor covered with crimson heath and 
 brown furze. 
 
 It is better to enter on the plains of Carnac from their 
 extreme eastern end, at the opposite point from Mont 
 St. Michel. As soon as we were near enough to the 
 stones, we left our vehicles and sent them on to Carnac. 
 On the way to Kerlescant, on the right, is a long ridge or 
 mound, called Moustoir, with a menhir at one end, but the 
 mound has been filled in, except one chamber. It was 
 explored in 1856, and many curious relics were found in 
 the stone chambers within the barrow ; these relics we had 
 already seen in the museum at Vannes. The first lines of 
 stones we reached are called the lines of Kerlescant, but 
 
*66 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 these do not reach so far as the others — Mr. Lukis says not 
 more than a thousand feet They consist of thirteen lines of 
 menhirs, which increase in size towards the western end, but 
 very many of them lie on the ground. All about, the ground 
 either displays ridges, or there are bits of fallen granite 
 often overgrown by furze. At the western end are some 
 traces of a circle of stones in a plantation of fir-trees. 
 
 We went on some little distance, and came to the begin- 
 ning of another series of lines with one tall menhir among 
 them. On the left of these stones is the Chateau of Kercado. 
 We heard that there was an interesting chambered tumulus 
 to be seen here, but we did not explore it. In the midst of 
 this second series of lines, called Kermario, there is a wind- 
 mill, which makes a sort of landmark. There are only ten 
 lines here, but they are about four times as long as those of 
 Kerlescant, and the stones are larger. Many of the stones 
 are prostrate, and very many have been removed. Outside 
 the last line to the south, and near its western end, is the 
 ruined dolmen of Kermario. The lines end here, and there 
 is no trace of a circle. A few vacant fields have to be tra- 
 versed before the stones again appear. Then we come to 
 the beginning of the lines of Mdnec, eleven in number, and 
 not quite so long as those of Kermario. Two roads cross 
 these avenues, which end at the village of Menec. Here there 
 is a large circle, but houses and gardens have been built within 
 and around it. Some of these stones are very large, and are 
 the avenues usually described by travellers, many of whom 
 seem to consider that the lines of Carnac once formed an 
 unbroken series of avenues ; but the recent investigations of 
 Sir Henry Dryden and Mr. Lukis have proved that each of 
 the three sets of avenues was originally complete in itself, 
 
MONT ST. MICHEL. 
 
 167 
 
 each series wider at its western end than it is at the eastern 
 extremity. It is to be hoped that the results of the valuable 
 labours of these gentlemen will soon be given to the public. 
 
 At first we had felt a little disappointed, so many of the 
 menhirs lie prostrate, and so many have been removed or 
 overgrown by furze and interfered with, as at Menec, by walls 
 and houses; but as one saw on all sides menhirs, ruined 
 barrows, the whole plain seemingly given up to these strange 
 memorials, the scene became very impressive. From the 
 
 Stones of Carnac. 
 
 stones at Me'nec it is a steep climb to the top of the great 
 tumulus of Mont St. Michel, which stands at some height 
 above the plain. On the top are a small chapel and a Calvary. 
 The entrance to the tumulus is now closed, but it is said 
 to contain a small burial-place of two chambers formed of 
 upright menhirs, and covered with large flat stones. In this 
 tomb or chapel were found, in 1862, nearly thirty-seven 
 celts, some of them of great size and exquisite polish, some 
 of jade, others of tremolite, a stone which hitherto has not 
 
M0RB1HAN. 
 
 been found nearer than the Italian valleys of the Alps ; a 
 hundred and one uncut polished jasper necklace beads ; 
 several pendants, some of callais; some smaller necklace 
 beads, and other articles of interest. We had seen all 
 these in the Tour de Clisson, at Vannes. Both above and 
 between the granite floor of the tomb and the natural rock 
 were found fragments of burnt wood and bone. These bones 
 had certainly formed part of a human skeleton. 
 
 The view from the top is very grand. As one faces 
 southward there is the Atlantic with Belle He, a long line in 
 the distance, and the smaller isles of Houath and Hcedic ; 
 the river or estuary of Crach ; on the left the bay of Quiberon 
 and Fort Penthievre, the long peninsula recalling sad memo- 
 ries of Sombreuil and his ill-fated companions. But all mere 
 human interest was blotted as we stood on the north side 
 of the tumulus. Below us, and stretching away eastward, 
 the three avenues of grey stone, often prostrate and over- 
 grown with furze and brambles — woefully lessened in num- 
 ber, for all the houses hereabouts are built of the stones of 
 Carnac — seem to stand erect as one gazes. Many of them 
 taper downwards, and the effect in the dusk or by moonlight 
 must be most weird — an army of grey phantoms on their 
 way to the sea. Westward is a long stretch of waste, but we 
 knew that in the distance the long grim lines of Erdeven 
 ended a tract of wild country, silently leading the eye to 
 the far-off sea. 
 
 As we gazed, the legend' of the people of Carnac seemed 
 a natural outcome of superstition. They firmly believe 
 that St. Comely, the great patron of cattle and of agricul- 
 ture, being pursued by an army of pagans, ran away for 
 safety to the seashore. He found no boat there, and being 
 
CARNAC. 
 
 169 
 
 in deadly peril of his life, he transformed the furious pagan 
 horde who were raging for his destruction into the grey- 
 shapeless blocks that now cumber the plain of Carnac and 
 the surrounding villages. But this story does not help the 
 intense interest one feels at Carnac, or the dim mystery in 
 which, after so much research has been spent on it, the 
 history and purpose of these stones lie buried. 
 
 There were once from twelve to fifteen thousand menhirs ; 
 but so many of them have been destroyed and used for 
 building that probably there are not more than half of 
 them remaining. One theory is that this was an immense 
 place of pagan worship, and also of — as so many ruined 
 dolmens or barrows show — interment, and also, as has 
 been said, that the huge fallen menhir at Locmariaker was 
 its most sacred and eastward point, and marked the grave 
 of the greatest Celtic chieftain. It is singular that the 
 direction of the avenues is from west to east, with the large 
 end or head to the west, and that almost all the dolmens 
 are built in this direction. There are many other large 
 tumuli besides those already mentioned. 
 
 A week may be spent very pleasantly at the little inn of 
 Carnac, for this wonderful spot teems with interest, and its 
 wild plain should be seen under various aspects — none, 
 perhaps, so much in harmony with its weird vastness as 
 storm and wind and fast-driven rainclouds. 
 
 From Mont St. Michel we went on to Carnac, and saw 
 the curious old church at the beginning of the village, with 
 its quaintly crowned porch surmounted by a huge uncouth 
 stone canopy, said to be carved from the stones of Carnac. 
 On the walls are frescoes representing events in the life of 
 St. Comely, and in the churchyard is a statue of the saint. 
 
170 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 Here on the eve of the Pardon, as evening falls, first a 
 woman comes leading a sick cow, and makes twice or thrice 
 the tour of the church; then she stops before the saint's 
 statue and kneels down, seeming, if one may judge by 
 her jerk of the rope, to try to prevail on the cow to do 
 likewise. Presently, in the growing darkness, a man comes 
 with a sheep, and follows exactly in the woman's foot- 
 steps ; a boy follows with a goat \ then more women and 
 more cows — always circling the church with the same 
 sad, downcast look on their faces. Late in the night they 
 take their cattle down to the well ; but they will not allow 
 any stranger eyes to gaze on these midnight rites. Some of 
 our friends watched for several nights, but in vain. Evidently 
 spies had been posted, and directly strangers approached 
 the spot there was nothing to be seen. 
 
 The priests dislike these mysterious rites, which are 
 probably as pagan as the reverence with which the people 
 of Carnac, and indeed most Breton peasants, regard the 
 menhirs and dolmens of their neighbourhood. There is a 
 strange mystic link between the sombre, silent people and 
 the weird, ungainly stones, to many of which miraculous 
 powers are still attributed. 
 
 From Carnac we went down to a field called Boceno to 
 see the excavations of which we had already heard so much 
 at Vannes. There we had the good fortune to meet with 
 the discoverer, Mr. Miln, a Fellow of the Scotch Anti- 
 quarian Society, and he most kindly showed us the interest- 
 ing ruins already brought to light by his excavations. 
 
 In 1874 he exposed the foundations of a Gallo-Roman 
 house having one large and three small apartments : three of 
 these were floored in concrete, one being tiled. But during 
 
THE EXCAVATIONS IN THE BOCENO. 
 
 171 
 
 Mr. Miln's absence the country people plundered these foun- 
 dations, carrying off stones, &c. for building ; so that the re- 
 mains here are indistinct compared with the discoveries made 
 since the spring of 1875. These consist of baths, or thermes, 
 with sudatorium, tepidarium, frigidarium, hypocauste, &c. 
 Adjoining these and communicating with them is a villa 
 with concrete floors and mural decorations in red fresco 
 and polished sea -shells. Westward is a small temple of 
 Venus ; statuettes of Venus, Minerva, and the Goddess of 
 Maternity, and other curious objects, were found in this. 
 Traces of a wall were found leading from this temple to the 
 baths. South of the temple four other mounds have been 
 excavated, showing walls of houses of rougher masonry: 
 here there is no concrete flooring, and the walls have not 
 been plastered. 
 
 As we looked round there seemed to be still many unex- 
 plored ridges and swellings ; and it is possible that the 
 energetic and enthusiastic explorer may in time discover a 
 buried city close to Camac. It is strange that the local 
 archaeologists should not have noticed the irregular appear- 
 ance of the Boceno ; but for Mr. Miln's enterprise and 
 persevering energy these remains might still be lying undis- 
 covered. But the whole extent of this part of Morbihan is 
 so full of barrows and ridges that there seem to be still 
 discoveries to be made in coming generations. It is a pity 
 that the peasants are so impracticable and indifferent : we 
 were shown the hole where they had wrenched away the 
 leaden tubing between the baths since their discovery. 
 
 However, the men working under Mr. Miln seemed 
 thoroughly in earnest ; and we felt so interested in 
 their labours that we were sorry not to stay and watch 
 
72 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 the result of a fresh excavation just begun. Mr. Miln 
 kindly gave us permission to ask the landlady of the 
 inn at Carnac to show us the curiosities discovered in 
 the villa and temple, and we went on to the Hotel des 
 Voyageurs. 
 
 The things discovered are very interesting. Among them 
 are portions of wall with a design in red fresco bordered 
 by small polished sea-shells inlaid in the plaster ; polished 
 stone weapons, bone implements, bronze ornaments, parts 
 of weapons, nails and tools of iron, broken sword-blades, 
 fragments of glass, fragments of grey and black Samian 
 pottery, a quantity of marble and polished stone paving 
 tiles, deer horns of various kinds, bones of ruminants, oyster 
 and other shells of edible shell-fish, and the little statuettes 
 already mentioned. 
 
 After seeing these curious objects we drove on to Plou- 
 harnel. On the way, on the left near the sea, is the dolmen 
 of Kerroh. Here the largest of the flat or cap-stones has 
 slipped from its place ; one end is now on the ground. Going 
 back to the road, near Plouharnel, on the right, is a very 
 ruined dolmen. There are cup-markings on the large stone 
 of this dolmen. 
 
 There is nothing to see at Plouharnel, which looks dreary 
 and deserted (though the inn is a comfortable little resting- 
 place for a day or two), so we drove to a very large dolmen 
 on a moor covered with broom and heather. This is a 
 wonderful group of huge stones, called La Roche Guy on. 
 We scrambled down beneath the huge covering stones, and 
 found three distinct grottoes, one of which has a sort of 
 enclosed chamber within it. 
 
 These grottoes were explored by the landlord of the 
 
LA ROCHE GUYON. 
 
 *73 
 
 hotel at Plouharnel in 1849, and two gold collars and some 
 fragments of urns were found in them ; in the enclosed 
 chamber were human bones, ashes, charcoal, and a good 
 many broken urns. 
 
 Our kind friends from Chateau le Salo had provided an 
 excellent dinner, which we were all quite ready for after our 
 long day's work. It was very delightful to sit on this ele- 
 vated spot and look across the expanse of rich brown moor, 
 enamelled with tiny flowers and broken by rugged blocks of 
 moss-grown granite, to the sea. The breeze from this came 
 almost too strongly, and threatened to throw our tablecloth 
 down into the chambers below the dolmen which our hostess 
 made a table of. 
 
 There was a strange, almost an awful contrast between 
 the mirth of the young ones of our party and the green- 
 grey monstrous stones beside which we sat. A group of 
 barefooted children came and tormented us, chattering 
 their guttural language ; but our host poured out a volley 
 of strong- sounding Breton words which seemed to frighten 
 them, for they at once scampered across the moor. 
 
 We again examined the grottoes under the dolmen, and 
 then went back to the inn at Plouharnel, where the landlady 
 showed us one of the gold collars found at Roche Guyon, 
 and several celts found elsewhere, in jade and also in 
 bronze. 
 
 We found by this time that we had had a hard day's 
 work, and that some days were required to explore the many 
 interesting stones scattered round Plouharnel. To examine 
 them carefully would take several weeks, for the large trian- 
 gular tract of country between Plouharnel, Erdeven, and 
 Ploemel literally teems with dolmens, menhirs, and unex- 
 
174 
 
 MORBIHA N. 
 
 plored ridges. For those who wish to see as much as 
 possible in a short time, the best way is to sleep at 
 Plouharnel, and next day examine on the Auray road the 
 dolmen of Les Grottes de Grionec. 
 
 In a field on the left before reaching it is a dolmen, near 
 the village of Runusto ; it is now half-buried in earth, but 
 it has been explored. The Grottes de Grionec are very 
 interesting — three chambers almost buried in a large mound. 
 We had already seen at Vannes the curious articles found 
 in one of the chambers in these grottoes. Some of the sup- 
 porting stones are carved. 
 
 On the right of the road is another dolmen, and farther 
 on, on the same side as the Grottes de Grionec but farther 
 from the road, is a dolmen with four chambers, called 
 Klud-er-ier. Although these grottoes seem all to have been 
 explored, yet we heard of more than one who had found 
 curious relics either in the grottoes or in the excavated 
 earth beside them. There are several other dolmens about 
 Here, and it is wiser to take a guide from Plouharnel so as 
 to avoid losing time in searching for them. 
 
 Returning westwards a little way north of Roche Guyon, 
 on the right of the road to Erdeven are some very large 
 menhirs near a windmill ; these are called Pierres du Vieux 
 Moulin. Nearly opposite, on the left of the road, are the 
 remains of the avenues of Ste. Barbe. On the right of the 
 mill is a hill with a dolmen on it called Mane-Remor. 
 From here there is a good view over the stone-cumbered 
 plain, and at the bottom of this hill northward is the 
 famous dolmen of Corconno — an enormous sepulchre, now 
 used as a barn. We heard that it had once been inhabited 
 for ten years by an idiot, a native of Corconno. The 
 
DOLMEN OF CORCONNO. 
 
 175 
 
 covering stone is immense, 22 feet long. A little way- 
 east of Corconno is a very curious erection — a square of 
 menhirs, once 100 feet square ; but most of those remaining 
 are now prostrate. 
 
 Another dolmen, on a rising ground called Mane-er-Groah, 
 a gallery with two half-buried chambers, and we are close 
 to the long grey avenues of Erdeven. Although this is the 
 eastern end, the first menhirs are medium size. For some 
 distance ten lines can be traced, and it is supposed they 
 
 Dolmen of Corconno. 
 
 once reached in a north-west direction about seven thou- 
 sand feet ; but many of them lie prostrate, others have been 
 removed. Still this is the most imposing of all the ranges, 
 and seems to have been the beginning of them. On the 
 right of the avenues is a hill, Mane-Bras, on which are two 
 open dolmens and an unexplored ridge. 
 
 Mr. Lukis's handbook is a most valuable and necessary 
 help on these excursions ; but even with it and the aid of 
 a pocket-compass it is better to get a boy to act as guide ; 
 
i 7 6 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 for here, as indeed throughout Brittany, the country is 
 intersected with narrow twisting lanes sunk between banks, 
 and often not going in the direction which they seem to 
 promise. 
 
 From Plouharnel it is an easy drive to Quiberon. Even 
 without the miserable memory of the ill-fated expedition 
 of 1794, and the butchery executed on Sombreuil and 
 his companions, emigres and Chouans alike shot down 
 in the Champ des Martyrs and the Garenne, there is some- 
 thing very sad and desolate in this long narrow strip of 
 land. It must have been much more of a desert, however, 
 before the Princess Bacciochi planted the pine-trees, which 
 give a less naked aspect to the isthmus, although they 
 rather enhance its sombreness. Just beyond Fort Pent- 
 hievre are the menhirs of St. Pierre, a set of prostrate 
 lines which seem to run into the sea. At Quiberon the 
 isthmus widens slightly into a peninsula, with an excellent 
 and sheltered harbour. Some remains of the old church 
 of Quiberon are to be found in that now existing dedicated 
 to Notre Dame de Locmaria. Mr. Lukis speaks of curious 
 cup-markings on a projecting rock near Port Haliguen. 
 
 There are many excursions to be made from Auray 
 besides those to Carnac and its immediate surroundings. 
 Locmariaker should certainly be seen from Auray, even 
 if already visited from Vannes, the road between the two 
 places is so full of interest ; and there are also many things 
 to see between " Locmariaker and Carnac, among others 
 the chateau of Plessis-Kaer. But, indeed, throughout the 
 whole department of Morbihan one finds constantly a 
 menhir or dolmen, or the ruins of some Roman road or 
 ancient fortress. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ST. NICHOLAS. 
 
 had heard a vivid description of the fair of St. 
 Nicodeme, and were anxious to be present at it ; 
 but at Auray they seemed to know nothing about it. Even 
 when we reached Baud, and asked the station-master, he 
 shook his head : " Yes, yes, there is a Pardon ; but when it 
 occurs — ma foi, some time in August. That is all I know." 
 
 This was discouraging, but as we saw on the map that 
 St. Nicholas des Eaux looked close to St. Nicodeme, we 
 decided to go on there by rail, in search of more definite 
 tidings. 
 
 We crossed the Blavet, a broad river here, running through 
 a wooded valley. A little way from the station, up the cote, 
 on the left bank of this stream, we came upon the quaint 
 old village of St. Nicholas. It looks so primitive, so seques- 
 tered, that doubtless it is rarely visited ; even Bretons seem to 
 know nothing about it, and yet its position beside the lovely 
 winding river, its two straggling, irregular lines of granite 
 cottages, hardly to be called a street, running up from the 
 river, shaded by huge spreading chestnut boughs that cross 
 
 N 
 
1 7 8 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 one another overhead, the quaint costumes of its people — 
 nearly all the girls and women had distaffs in their hands — 
 and the utter isolation in which they seem to live, give it 
 the attraction of novelty to the traveller. 
 
 The solid granite dwellings composing this village were 
 mostly built in twos and threes, with circular-headed door- 
 ways, and sometimes only one small square window. 
 
 The upper half of the door was open to admit light, 
 the lower half seemed to be kept closed and bolted. Look- 
 ing into the cottages, we saw that a portion of the space 
 within was given to the family, the rest to the cow-stable ; 
 the floor, as usual, was of uneven earth, on which stood 
 handsome ar moires in dark oak with brass fittings. Outside 
 against some of the walls leant huge brass pans, and brooms 
 made of fresh green boughs. 
 
 The sun was so bright overhead that the interiors of the 
 cottages looked very dark, and the absence of white caps 
 among the women increased this gloom, the universal head- 
 dress being a rusty black velvet or blue cloth hood, fitting 
 the head closely and coming down on the shoulders in a 
 pointed cape lined with scarlet, yellow, or green. Under 
 one's feet the ground showed that corn had lately 
 been threshed there. Long-legged white pigs and lean 
 fowls were eagerly picking up the stray grains scattered 
 about, gleaming like gold as the sun found its way down 
 to them through the fan-like leaves of the chestnut-trees 
 above. 
 
 Exquisite yellow-green vine sprays clung about some of 
 the cottages, and flung themselves on to the thatch as if 
 they meant to reach the chimneys ; and these wreaths in 
 their grace and beauty were in strange contrast to the 
 
THE VILLAGE. 
 
 179 
 
 clumsy-looking, large-featured, coarse faces that stared at us 
 from under the faded hoods of the women and the large 
 
 Cottage Door and Women of St. Nicholas. 
 
 hats and matted locks of the men. Nearly every woman 
 was knitting or had a distaff. 
 
 A little way up from the river, on the right, a path led to 
 the church, and as this was locked we seated ourselves at 
 
180 MORBIHAN. 
 
 the foot of a wooden Calvary just outside it, while a woman 
 fetched the key. 
 
 A goodnatured-faced peasant, with her child and distaff, 
 came up shyly, and seated herself beside us. She could 
 not speak much French, and the child, who, she said, 
 learnt it at school, was too shy to talk ; but the woman 
 was anxious to learn what had brought us to St. Nicholas. 
 We asked about St. Nicodeme. 
 
 " But yes, there is a fair and a Pardon there to-morrow 
 and next day; the angel will come down and light the 
 bonfire ; he has gold wings, the angel — ah ! that is indeed 
 a sight worth coming to see ! " 
 
 We asked if we could sleep at St. Nicholas, but our 
 friend shook her head doubtfully. " There is the cabaret 
 beside the river," she said, " but — " and she shrugged her 
 shoulders. We had already had a glimpse of this cabaret, 
 and had decided not even to eat there. 
 
 The clumsy woman, who had gone to fetch the key, came 
 back with a red swollen face, and large tears rolling down 
 her cheeks. Her Breton was unintelligible, but we learnt 
 from our friend that she had a dying sister, who had 
 suddenly grown worse. It was touching to see the sympathy 
 created among the neighbours as the poor woman went 
 back sobbing to her cottage ; but they said the sister would 
 linger some time yet. 
 
 A quaint group of women had now collected before the 
 church, almost all dressed alike : black gowns — in some 
 faded almost to green — the square opening of the under 
 body trimmed with broad black ribbon velvet, velvet also 
 round the cuffs of the tight-fitting black sleeves ; down each 
 front of the corset worn over the body was a row of silver 
 
CARVING IN THE CHURCH. 181 
 
 buttons, set so close that the edges overlapped one another j 
 the armholes of this corset were also trimmed with very 
 broad black velvet. The square opening in front of the 
 body was filled by a white neckerchief fastened at the throat 
 by a pin ; this relieved the otherwise sombre garb, for, 
 except the apron and silver buttons, all the rest was black 
 or dark blue, unless the wind or any other accident dis- 
 played the coloured lining of the hood. The aprons were 
 of coarse striped woollen. This stuff is spun and woven by 
 the peasant women out of any woollen material they can 
 get j they will even ravel out old woollen stockings or an 
 old petticoat, and spin the wool so collected into fresh yarn. 
 
 The women seemed surprised that we should care to visit 
 the church ; the inquisitive traveller was clearly a novelty to 
 them. It is an ancient chapel of the priory of St. Gildas, 
 the ruins of which still exist on the opposite side of the 
 river. The interior of this church or chapel is very curious. 
 Four praying figures project from the four central columns ; 
 below the waggon-headed roof is a richly carved wooden 
 frieze, and in one of the transepts this carving is equally 
 perfect and remarkable ; grotesque heads are united by a 
 waving border of serpents and dragons issuing from the 
 carved mouths. It is said that the story of St. Tryphena is 
 shown on this frieze. The whitewashed beams, too, are 
 carved, the ends fixed into huge dragon mouths, which pro- 
 ject from the frieze. In one corner of the nave we saw a 
 large bell \ there was not a seat of any kind in the church ; 
 the whitewashed walls were green with damp, and the floor 
 was of uneven clay; there was no sign of daily use about the 
 place, and it felt so damp that we were glad to get back 
 into the golden sunshine outside. 
 
1&2 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 A little way on beyond the church, down a narrow green 
 lane, still on the right, we came to a flight of broken moss- 
 grown stone steps. These led into a square enclosure 
 paved with broken flag-stones and surrounded by ruined 
 walls overgrown with trees and ivy; ferns and grasses 
 springing from the joints of the stonework. In the centre 
 stood a grand old fountain going fast to decay ; brambles 
 flaunted great red arms from the ivy-covered top, and 
 between them showed a richly crocketted canopy, sur- 
 mounting the empty niche of the saint of the fountain. 
 
 While we stood wondering whether this had not in former 
 years been the bourne of some celebrated pilgrimage, a 
 woman came down the steps carrying a huge pail in one 
 hand and bearing a large brown pitcher on her head. She 
 was dressed like the rest of the villagers, and had the same 
 awkward, half-savage ways. She glared at us for an instant 
 from under her hood, and then knelt down and filled her 
 pail and her pitcher, but so clumsily, and with such waste 
 of water, that she must have soaked her heavy blue skirts 
 and filled her sabots with the splashings ; she wore no 
 stockings to suffer by the wetting. 
 
 It was strange not to find a trace of the adroit deftness 
 of the French women in these large-eyed, sad-faced, clumsy 
 village Bretonnes ; coquetry and grace seemed equally un- 
 known to them ; certainly, as a Frenchman once said, " II 
 n'y a pas l'ombre de seduction chez ces femmes." 
 
 Coming down through the pretty little village -again — 
 wondering how it could be so near the world and yet so out 
 of it — we found several women standing knitting at the 
 cottage doors. They were evidently waiting for our reappear- 
 ance, but not one of them could speak French ; a shake of 
 
JEAN JACQUES. 
 
 1^3 
 
 the head, and a grin showing the long front teeth, and 
 " ja — ja," proved to be the universal answer to our questions. 
 One of my companions opened his book to sketch a group 
 of children perfect in their dress and attitudes, but after 
 staring wonderstruck for a few minutes they all started away 
 in dumb terror. 
 
 Now that we were sure about the fete, we resolved 
 to go on to Baud and return next morning to St. Nico- 
 deme, for it was evidently impossible to get a lodging 
 at St. Nicholas ; the cabaret was woefully dirty, and the 
 mistress pointed out to us with much triumph a huge pile 
 of dark-looking loaves on the filthy floor ready for the fair 
 to-morrow. 
 
 We asked if we could have a voiture, and she called a 
 sulky-looking lad to answer us. 
 He came gnawing a straw. 
 
 " A voiture ! " he said contemptuously. " Oui, Dame, I 
 should think so. If Messieurs et Dame will come with me 
 I will arrange for them with Jean Jacques." 
 
 We followed him up the road a few yards. At the door 
 of a cottage sat an old beggar dressed in a ragged shirt, 
 drab trousers, and gaiters. Long grey hair streamed over 
 his shoulders, and his bare chest showed through his open 
 shirt-front. 
 
 A colloquy in Breton, and then to our dismay we learned 
 that this dirty old bundle of rags was the Jean Jacques who 
 would drive us to Baud, and that he would be ready 
 directly. 
 
 "But is there no other vehicle?" we asked. 
 The sulky lad's contempt was beyond endurance. "No, 
 there is no other vehicle, and people should think them- 
 
184 MORBIHAN. 
 
 selves lucky to get this ; it is quite possible that some one 
 will arrive by the next train who will want Jean Jacques 
 and his white horse, and then where will Messieurs et 
 Madame be ? " 
 
 After this harangue he ran away, and having settled the 
 bargain with Jean Jacques, whose French was execrable, we 
 walked disconsolately down to the river, Jean Jacques, in a 
 very cracked voice, calling something in Breton, which a 
 woman told us signified that he would be ready in five 
 minutes. 
 
 On the hill opposite St. Nicholas is the village of Cas- 
 tennec and the farm De la Garde. This is said to be the 
 site of the ancient Roman station of Sulis, on the road 
 between Dariorig and Vorganium (now Carhaix). Many 
 Roman relics have been found here, and at the foot of this 
 hill, beside the Blavet, St. Gildas and St. Bieuzy made a 
 hermitage among the rocks, which form here a sort of natural 
 shelter. It was from this hermitage that Count Guerech 
 summoned the saint to avenge the wrong done to Tryphena. 
 There is a fine view from the top of the hill of Castennec. 
 
 We sauntered on to the bridge and enjoyed the lovely 
 view up and down the river, but the five minutes grew into 
 thirty at least. 
 
 At last we heard a shout, and, turning round to look up 
 the road, we saw our vehicle. On inspection it proved to 
 be a miserable little cart, without any springs. Two sacks 
 stuffed with bean-straw were laid across the seats, and a 
 little white horse stood between the shafts. 
 
 Jean Jacques was sweeping the inside of the cart most 
 vigorously with a huge besom made of the green broom- 
 plant. He had washed himself, and had wonderfully 
 
THE DRIVE TO BAUD. 
 
 185- 
 
 smartened his appearance. The upper portion of his rags 
 was covered with a white flannel jacket trimmed with black 
 velvet and small brass buttons ; he wore a large flat straw 
 hat, also trimmed with black velvet. But the horse was 
 deplorable — small, with drooping head, looking as if his 
 bones were unset and he was only held together by his 
 dirty white skin. 
 
 We clambered into the vehicle with heavy hearts ; but no 
 anticipation could have prepared us for the reality. Directly 
 we started the jolting was terrible ; and, besides this, the 
 horse had a perpetual zigzag movement which sent us from 
 side to side of the cart, and doubled the length of our 
 journey. . I felt no better than a shuttlecock, the side of the 
 cart representing the battledore. We tried to speak to Jean 
 Jacques, but he shook his head imperiously, and answered 
 in Breton, or in French almost as incomprehensible. One 
 might have taken him for a hideous old wizard, with his 
 gleaming eyes and flowing grey hair, but for his religious 
 reverence. At every church and every Calvary we passed 
 he slackened his pace, uncovered, and mumbled a long 
 prayer, after which he always whipped his horse violently, 
 and jolted us worse than ever. 
 
 That drive to Baud was certainly "like a hideous dream," 
 though it lay through a picturesque country, the road on 
 each side constantly bordered by tall slender silver birch- 
 trees, through which we got glimpses of the Montagnes 
 Noires. The climax of our torture was reached when we 
 rattled over the stones at Baud, and we got down with 
 thankful hearts at the little inn. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Baud — The "Venus" of Quinipily — Ponfivy. 
 
 /~^VUR drive of an hour and a half had shaken us nearly to 
 pieces ; and as Baud seemed to offer no inducement to 
 explore, but looked a sleepy, uninteresting town, we rested 
 at the little inn, Chapeau Rouge, before setting out to see 
 the famous statue of Quinipily. The inn seemed to be kept 
 by a father and (laughter ; the latter waited on us, and was 
 much disappointed to hear that we could not stay the night, 
 but that we intended to spend next day at St. Nicodeme. 
 
 " Ah ! " she said sadly, " it is so with travellers • they 
 miss much that they should see. Ah ! it is a pity not to 
 stay ; if Monsieur saw us on Sunday he would find plenty 
 to fill his sketch-book with ; no need to go to St. Nicodeme 
 for that. Our dresses are something to see as we come out 
 of church. We have velvet so wide " — measuring about 
 three inches — " on our skirts." 
 
 Her working dress was very quaint, the broad lappets of 
 her flat muslin cap being pinned across the back of her 
 head so as to give the appearance of a white pyramid j her 
 black cloth dress had the square opening of the body filled 
 
THE WAY TO THE STATUE. 
 
 187 
 
 as usual by a white muslin kerchief, but the sleeves were 
 different from any we had seen — wide and open at the wrist, 
 with white loose sleeves beneath them. 
 
 She was very piquante-looking. She was much fairer 
 than any Bretonne we had yet seen, but afterwards at 
 Quimper we found the same type of face, and also in Pont 
 Aven and its neighbourhood. She said that though her life 
 had been passed at Baud, and though St. Nicholas was the 
 next station, she had never seen the Pardon of St. Nicodeme ; 
 " but then " — she gave a deep sigh — " we are five kilometres 
 from the railway." 
 
 She fetched a dark-eyed little boy to guide us to the 
 statue, and certainly we should not have found our way 
 easily alone. We soon leit the high road and went across 
 a field of sweet-scented clover and then through a plot of 
 buckwheat, covered with delicate white flow r ers trembling 
 cn their scarlet stalks. Spreading chestnut-trees rose up 
 here and there out of the hedges, giving grateful shade, 
 for the sun was still hot, and we were glad to reach 
 a lofty wood clothing the side ot a steep hill. The path 
 we followed is cut on the side of this hill, and we saw the 
 high road at some distance below through the trunks of the 
 trees. These are planted so closely, and are so tall and 
 overshadowing, that there is a dim mysterious light in the 
 wood, in keeping with the strange relic of pagan superstition 
 to which the path leads.' Blocks of moss-stained granite 
 show here and there among the trees ; brambles and furze 
 border the winding uneven path, which takes its way, now 
 uphill now downhill, between the tall dark trees. It is 
 a singularly lovely and romantic walk. Here and there, 
 where the trees opened, the golden afternoon sunshine 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 streamed through, lighting up the grey-green trunks and 
 glowing on the crimson arms of brambles as they lay, 
 seemingly idle, but really strangling the seeded gorse. About 
 half-way through the wood is a huge rock clothed with moss 
 and brambles ; a niche has been carved in the granite, and in 
 it is a statue of the Blessed Virgin. Little steps cut on one 
 side lead to a turfed resting-place above, and from here one 
 sees the dark forest of Camors beyond the trees of the wood. 
 
 We had seen from St. Nicholas the hill of Castennec, on 
 the opposite side of the Blavet, and had learned that 
 anciently it was occupied by the Roman station of Sulis. 
 On this hill, near the farm La Garde (now Couarde), once 
 stood the mysterious statue we were going to see. There 
 is no precise information to be gathered about its origin. 
 Some authorities say it is Egyptian, some Gallic or Roman ; 
 others again say that it only dates back to the sixteenth 
 century. So much, however, is certainty — it was called La 
 Couarde, or La Gward ; it was looked on with great reve- 
 rence, and it was worshipped with foul and pagan rites till 
 the end of the seventeenth century. Offerings were made 
 to it, the sick " touched " it in order to be cured of diseases, 
 and women after the birth of a child bathed in the large 
 granite basin at its feet. 
 
 But the clergy at last interfered to stop this heathen worship, 
 and besought Claude, Count of Lannion, to destroy the statue 
 of La Couarde. The count therefore caused the statue to 
 be taken from its pedestal and thrown down from the top of 
 the hill of Castennec into the river below ; but this dethrone- 
 ment of their idol enraged the peasantry, and when, soon 
 after, abundant rain set in and destroyed their harvest they 
 looked on this as a sign of the vengeance of their insulted 
 
THE STORY OF LA COUARDE. 
 
 189 
 
 goddess. They assembled in great numbers, drew the statue 
 from the bottom of the river, dragged it up the hill again, 
 and set it triumphantly in its ancient place. According to 
 M. Fouquet, of Vannes, La Couarde was thrown twice into 
 the Blavet ; the second time by Count Claude, in 1671, and 
 on this occasion her bosom and one arm were mutilated. 
 
 The same dark heathen rites were enacted before it after 
 its second restoration till 1696, and then Charles Rosmadec, 
 Bishop of Vannes, resolved to stamp out this degrading 
 paganism from his diocese. He called on Peter, Count of 
 Lannion, the son of Claude, to break up and utterly destroy 
 the image of La Couarde. 
 
 But though Count Peter was an obedient son of the 
 Church, being also an intellectual man and an antiquary 
 he could not bring himself to destroy this relic of the super- 
 stition of so many ages. He therefore decided on removing 
 the statue and its huge granite basin to the courtyard of 
 his own chateau of Quinipily, and forty yoke of oxen are 
 said to have been employed in dragging the huge mass of 
 granite from Castennec to the chateau. More than once 
 during its passage the soldiers came to blows with the 
 peasants, furious at the loss of their idol. The nature of 
 the worship paid to La Couarde seems to have deceived 
 Count Peter into the belief that the image was a Roman 
 Venus ; he therefore caused it to be placed on a lofty pedestal 
 above a fountain, with these inscriptions on the four sides 
 of the pedestal : — 
 
 " Verteri Victrici vota C.I.C." 
 
 "C. Caesar Gallia tota subacta dictatoris nomine inde capto ad 
 Britanniam transgressus, non seipsum tantum sed patriam victor 
 coronavit," 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 " Venus, Armoricorum oraculum, duce Julio C. C. Claudio Marcello 
 et L. Comelio Lentulo, coss. ab. V.C. DCCV. 
 
 "P. Comes de Lannion paganorum hoc numen populis hue usque 
 venerabile superstitioni eripuit, idem que hoc in loco jussit collo cari 
 anno domini 1696." 
 
 The chateau of Quinipily has disappeared ; there is now 
 
 The Venus. 
 
 only a farm ; and passing by this we caught a glimpse of the 
 statue among the trees. 
 
 We went through a gate, and soon reached a stone foun- 
 tain overgrown with briars and clinging green sprays. In 
 front of this fountain was a huge oblong granite basin, 
 curved at one end, the dark water within almost choked by 
 
THE " VENUS" OF QUINIPILY. igi 
 
 an overgrowth of small star-like yellow flowers. On a tall 
 pedestal rising above the fountain, and surrounded by 
 shadowing apple-trees, was the statue. 
 
 Even without its weird history, there is something strange 
 and uncanny in this huge misshapen figure — a large, 
 uncouth, grey woman, about seven feet high. A sort of 
 stole passes round her neck and falls on each side nearly to 
 her knees. Round her head is a fillet, and on this, above 
 the forehead, are three large distinct letters I I T, a puzzle 
 to French antiquaries. The arms are too thin for the body, 
 and are folded, the hands placed one on the other. The 
 sculpture is as rude and coarse as possible, the body is large 
 and uncouth, the bust flattened, and the eyes, nose, and 
 mouth exactly like those ot an Egyptian idol ; the fingers 
 and toes are indicated by mere lines, and the legs scarcely 
 relieved from the rough granite block. 
 
 I confess that I felt a certain awe in the contemplation 
 of this ugly shapeless idol, and there is a malicious, inscru- 
 table look in its face. It looks a fit emblem of dark pagan 
 worship. We climbed up to the top of the high bank 
 against which the fountain stands, and went some little way 
 back. The idol loomed through the trees in gigantic weird- 
 ness. She was far more impressive from this distance. 
 It appears that Count Peter caused her to be rechiselled 
 when he set her up at Quinipily, and it is possible that the 
 letters on the fillet round her head, I I T, may have been 
 sculptured at that time, also the stole which now partially 
 clothes her figure. It is this rechiselling which puzzles the 
 antiquaries. Monsieur de Penhouet says she is the work of 
 Moorish soldiers in the Roman army, but we thought she 
 looked like an Egyptian idol. It is certain that she could 
 
192 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 never have been meant to represent a Venus, she is too 
 uncouth and disproportioned. 
 
 Farther on, behind the statue, we came to another ruined 
 fountain, from which a tiny thread of water trickles silently- 
 through the grass. This fountain is dank with huge coarse 
 weeds, and embraced by boisterous, rampant brambles, 
 its dark water choked by fallen sprays and decaying leaves ; 
 a gamut of exquisite colour, from tawniest brown to cold 
 sage, lay on or beneath the water. The desolation was com- 
 plete ; there was no link to connect the place with those 
 who must once have lived and died in the old chateau ; 
 and as we turned away from the damp mouldering fountain 
 through the veil of apple-trees before us loomed the grey 
 pagan idol with its misshapen limbs, its mocking smile 
 seeming to assert sway over the wilderness. 
 
 The light was growing grey and subdued. An hour later 
 we felt it would be more in harmony with this place, which 
 seems a fitter haunt for bats and owls, and for the ivy and 
 dark weeds near the fountains, than for the glow in which 
 we saw it on arriving, the golden star-like flowers open- 
 ing their tiny hearts to the sunshine, and the rosy apples 
 moving gently on their grey-green boughs above the yellow 
 grass. 
 
 One of my companions stayed behind to sketch, the 
 other to pelt the idol with the apples that lay strewn among 
 the grass. I gravely warned him of the consequences of 
 insulting an idol ; but he only laughed, and I walked back 
 through the lovely lonely wood. 
 
 All at once I heard a loud barking, and looking down 
 through the trunks and branches of the trees on the steep 
 hil* *o the road so far below, I saw a huge yellow and white 
 
A YELLOW DOG. 
 
 193 
 
 dog leaping and springing from one rocky projection to 
 another. 
 
 He was evidently coming up towards me ; and he barked 
 in such an angry way that I felt terror-struck. " This comes 
 of insulting the statue," I thought. I stood still, so did the 
 dog ; but then on he came, looking so fierce and barking 
 so savagely, that I called out for help, though I feared my 
 voice would scarcely reach my companions. I managed 
 to stop the dog by holding up my parasol, but he was so 
 near me that I felt as if he must fly at me in another minute. 
 
 It was a great relief to hear the shouts of one of my com- 
 panions, who as soon as he came in sight flung a stone, and 
 the dog ran howling down the hill as fast as he had come 
 up. This ' may serve as a warning to travellers not to 
 irritate the ungainly stone woman of Quinipily, lest she 
 send her familiar in the shape of a yellow dog to punish 
 the insult. 
 
 •We had dismissed our little guide, and found our way 
 home through an apple-orchard, the level light gilding the 
 lichen on the old gnarled trunks of the trees. Presently 
 there came towards us from among the trees a man wheeling 
 a barrow, followed by two quaint brown children. One 
 child had a dark blue frock ; the man and the other child 
 were clothed in low-toned grey and brown, with some relief 
 in white. The little group, with its sweet background, looked 
 like an animated " Frederick Walker." They were going 
 home to supper, and were soon out of sight among the trees. 
 
 We were very pleasantly surprised at the dinner provided 
 for us at the Chapeau Rouge. It was far more elaborate and 
 better served than many meals we had had in more preten- 
 tious places. This inn seems a comfortable little resting-place 
 
 o 
 
i 9 4 
 
 MO RBI HAN. 
 
 for weary travellers, and we were sorry we had decided to go 
 on to Pontivy. The country all around Baud is very lovely 
 and full of variety. There is a fountain and also a chapel 
 at Baud dedicated to Notre Dame de la Clarte, and cele- 
 brated for the cures worked on eye diseases, and in this 
 neighbourhood can be procured the curious stone called 
 staurotides, which always breaks in the form of a cross. 
 
 Locmine is about eight miles from Baud. There was 
 once an old monastery here, but only a chapel remains of 
 this attached to the modern church. In this chapel, dedi- 
 cated to St. Colomban, is a very curious window full of 
 quaint legends relating to the saint. In the Litany of St. 
 Colomban are these invocations : " St. Colomban, patron 
 of Locmine, pray for us;" and farther on, "St. Colom- 
 ban, succour of fools, pray for us." It appears that the 
 people of Locmine have been unmercifully rallied about 
 these invocations. Before reaching Locmine, at the door of 
 a barn on the right of the road, are two rough granite figures, 
 said to have been brought from Quinipily in 1804 by the 
 mason Kergonstin. Prosper Me'rime'e tries to prove that 
 these figures are coeval with the " Venus," and that all are of 
 comparatively modern date ; but Monsieur Fouquet, who 
 seems a far more patient and painstaking observer than 
 Merimee, gives it as his opinion that the rough stonecutter 
 who hewed out these two uncouth figures was probably the 
 man employed to retouch and rechisel the " Couarde " 
 when set up at Quinipily. These last statues are called 
 Les Hercules de Bot-coet, and are really not worth seeing. 
 
 About three miles and a half west of Baud, near the Blavet, 
 is the chapel St. Adrien. There are two fountains within and 
 one without the chapel, and all are said to work wonderful 
 
PONTIVY. 
 
 ? 95 
 
 cures. When the water fails to effect the desired miracle, the 
 patient rubs himself with a round stone placed beside the 
 fountain. In extreme cases, when the patient is too ill to 
 walk to the fountain, his shirt is taken instead and plugged 
 into the water. If the collar and cuffs float he is sure to 
 recover, but if they sink he dies. 
 
 We heard that the walk from Auray to Baud was very 
 delightful, and that Pluvigner makes a very pleasant halt. 
 Pluvigner takes its name from Vigner, or Fingar, an Irish 
 prince, who fled to Brittany in 443 because he was perse- 
 cuted for holding the Christian faith. He afterwards 
 returned to Ireland, and being there martyred was canonized 
 by the name of St. Vigner. Near Camors, which lies be- 
 tween Pluvigner and Baud, are some remains of the 
 foundations of an ancient fortress, called Porhoet-er-Saleu, 
 said to mark the site of a castle once belonging to the 
 wicked Comorre, Count of Porhoet, in the sixth century. 
 Is the forest of Camors called after the Bluebeard husband 
 of St. Tryphena ? 
 
 There is little to see at Pontivy. The old town is full of 
 narrow twisting streets and quaint old houses ; its new half, 
 Napoleonville, dates only from the First Empire, but it is 
 empty and grass-grown. It is a clean airy town, however, 
 and full of soldiers, and the Place is immense. A pine- 
 wood appears at one end above the houses. The church 
 is only remarkable for eight curious painted statues at the 
 west end. 
 
 But the castle of Pontivy is very fine, and in excellent pre- 
 servation. It is built on the side of a hill not far from the 
 Blavet. The two enormous flanking towers have high conical 
 roofs with tall chimneys. These tow r ers are sunk in a fosse, 
 
196 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 over which a bridge leads into the castle ; and all along the 
 top of the curtain wall are quaint dormer windows. The 
 original castle was of very ancient date, and fell into complete 
 decay in the fourteenth century. Duke John de Rohan, a 
 hundred years later, built this castle on the ruins of its pre- 
 decessor, as if he meant it to be a stronghold for ever. But 
 
 Castle of Pontivy. 
 
 it is no longer a fortress. Gay wild flowers flaunt on the 
 crumbling grey stones. Instead of soldiers, rosy-faced 
 children go in and out through the dark frowning gateway. 
 Sisters of the charity of St. Louis now keep a school within 
 the old ivy-clothed walls. 
 
 On the Place d'Armes is a statue of General le Normand 
 
SEEN FROM A WINDOW. 
 
 197 
 
 de Lourmel, killed at Sebastopol. There is an inscription 
 on the house in which he was born at Pontivy. The town 
 takes its name from a monastery founded by St. Ivy, a monk 
 of the abbey of Lindisfarn, in the seventh century. Only 
 one of the old town gates remains. 
 
 About four miles distant is Noyal Pontivy. There is an 
 interesting church here, and in the churchyard is the tomb 
 of St. Meriadec. The church of Quelven is also near Pont- 
 ivy, and is worth seeing. It is a pity that there is not more 
 interest attached to the town to detain the traveller, for 
 the inn, Hotel Grosset, is good, clean, and cheap. 
 
 From our bedroom window a charming scene greeted 
 us in the early morning. At one side was a small farm- 
 yard, peacocks and turkeys strutting about, screaming and 
 gobbling, among the humbler ducks and fowls; on the 
 other side were gardens filled with pear-trees and spreading, 
 shady fig-branches ; and immediately opposite our window 
 ran a pergola of vines, clematis, and westeria, foliage and 
 blossoms mingled in wild luxuriance. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FAIR OF ST. NICODEME. 
 
 ^HE breakfast spread for us was one of the most taste- 
 ful we had seen in Brittany. Cherries glowing with 
 colour and yet cool with the freshness of morning dew, 
 raspberries with frosted leaves, plums, golden pears, almonds 
 in their lovely green covering, little cakes of various shapes, 
 were arranged in pretty little dishes on a long table, with 
 flowers at intervals ; and the meal served, beginning with 
 delicious lobster, was quite as good to the taste as to the 
 sight. We were waited on entirely by quiet, middle-aged 
 women, who seemed to understand their business, and the 
 master of the hotel was also its chef. 
 
 He provided us with a very comfortable, almost new, 
 carriage and a good horse, and we started early for the 
 Pardon of St. Nicodeme, the morning being, like all we 
 had had since our arrival in Brittany, a blaze of unclouded 
 sunshine. We soon overtook carts of all kinds going in 
 the same direction, chiefly long carts with three or four 
 benches or planks set across them \ and these were crammed 
 with men, women, and children in holiday costume, the 
 
CHURCH OF ST. NIC ODE ME. 
 
 salient points in which were the white jackets and huge 
 black hats of the men, and the long white coiffes of the 
 women. Black was the prevailing colour of the bodies and 
 skirts of their gowns. There were also numbers of men 
 and women on foot, trudging along the road, many of them 
 driving their pretty little cows before them. Sometimes 
 we passed an old woman struggling with a refractory pig. 
 
 The fine grey spire of the church of St. Nicodeme was 
 visible for some time before we reached it. At last we 
 came to a road or lane on the right shaded by spreading 
 chestnut trees, and our driver stopped. 
 
 These Breton side-roads have a character peculiarly their 
 own. In the north they are deeply sunk between high 
 brake and furze-covered banks, along the tops of which is 
 often a concealed footpath ; but in the south these banks 
 are lower, and, as at St. Nicodeme, huge trees grow behind 
 them, and send their branches across from side to side so 
 near the road that certainly the lofty hooded waggons of 
 Normandy would find no room to pass under the leafy roof. 
 
 Our driver told us this side-road led to the church ; and, 
 indeed, without the information we should have guessed 
 this, as people were hastening into the lane from all direc- 
 tions. Our driver added that the road was too rough for 
 his vehicle to go over, so we alighted. 
 
 The lane was full of strings of people, men, women, and 
 children, hurrying towards the church. We found it neces- 
 sary to walk needfully, for the road was channelled with deep 
 cart-ruts, and these were filled with mud and water. At the 
 end of the lane we found ourselves in a bewildering throng 
 of carts, horses, cows, pigs, and people crowded in front of 
 and against the low stone wall that fences in the church and 
 
200 
 
 M ORBIHAN. 
 
 its celebrated fountain. At the moment a man had quite 
 blocked up further passage by calmly plaiting the cream- 
 coloured tail of his horse : this was so long that it reached 
 across the road, which narrowed as it neared the church. 
 St. Nicodeme is a handsome stone building of the six] 
 
 St. Nicodeme. 
 
 teenth century, with a fine tower and spire ; but it is its 
 situation that is so charming. It stands in a sort of hollow 
 the ground rising from it on every side planted chiefly with 
 huge chestnut trees. Under the shade of these, beyond 
 and beside the church, we saw a great crowd of people, all 
 
THE FOUNTAIN OF HOLY WATER. 
 
 201 
 
 seemingly farmers and peasants — there appeared no mixture 
 of bourgeois element — but before going into this crowd we 
 turned aside to see the fountain. A visit to this is evidently 
 an important part of the duty of the day. Three or four 
 old women came towards us at once with jugs and cups of 
 the holy water to drink and wash our faces in, for which 
 they expect a few centimes. The fountain is of rather later 
 date than the church. In one of the three compartments 
 into which it is divided stands the figure of St. Nicodeme ; 
 on one side of him a man and a woman are kneeling — 
 they offer him an ox. In the other niches are St. Abibon 
 with two men — one on horseback, the other kneeling — and 
 St. Gamaliel between two pilgrims, one of whom oners him 
 a pig. These saints are all Jews. 
 
 Men, and women too, were bathing their faces and eyes 
 in the fountain, and also drinking the water eagerly. It 
 is said to have antiseptic properties. Standing and lying 
 about were dirty, picturesque beggars, exhibiting their twisted 
 and withered limbs and incurable wounds to passers-by. 
 There is another fountain surmounted by a Calvary. 
 
 The finely sculptured portal of the church was thronged 
 with these sufferers, some of them eating their breakfasts 
 out of little basins. One ragged child held out a scallop- 
 shell for alms, keeping up a chorus of whining supplication. 
 Among these squalid objects a beautiful butterfly was hover- 
 ing i a baby child stretched up its hands crying for the 
 insect. The interior of the church had evidently been so 
 recently whitewashed that there had been no time to wash 
 the stains and splashes from the dirty flagstone pavement, 
 and, as there were no chairs, this was covered by kneeling 
 worshippers. On the ceiling the stations of the cross were 
 
202 
 
 M ORBIHAN. 
 
 painted in very gaudy colours. The high altar was a blaze 
 of lighted candles ; grouped round it were some really rich 
 crimson and white banners worked in gold ; at a side-altar 
 a priest was saying a litany. 
 
 There were most picturesque figures among the kneeling 
 worshippers, and through the groups two girls wandered up 
 and down with bundles of lighters for the votive candles ; 
 some old women, too, carried about bundles of these 
 candles. Many of the kneelers pulled my skirts to attract 
 attention to a wounded leg or arm, or to inform me in a 
 whisper that they were ready to pray the Blessed Virgin 
 and St. Nicodeme to give me a safe journey if I had a few 
 centimes to give away. 
 
 It was so cool within the church that the air felt oven- 
 like when we came out again, although the grey old building 
 was surrounded by huge spreading chestnut-trees. Close 
 to the church, ranged under the green fan-like leaves, were 
 booths hung with strings of rosaries, crosses, medals, badges, 
 rings, and other jewellery j ornamental pins, for fastening 
 the chemisettes and shawls of the peasant women, were dis- 
 played in cases. Pretty silver rings bearing the image of St. 
 Nicodeme were selling rapidly at a fabulously low price. 
 
 In other booths were set forth a store of large, gaudily 
 coloured prints of various saints and sacred subjects. Chief 
 amongst them was a gorgeous full-length of St. Nicodeme, 
 wearing the papal tiara, a violet cassock, green chasuble, 
 and scarlet mantle. Over his head, in a golden nimbus, 
 a bright green dove descended on the saint, who stood 
 between a tall poplar-tree and a palm bursting into blos- 
 soms of various colours ; there were hymns on either side 
 of the paper. A carter with his whip under his arm, the 
 
SHAVING IN THE FAIR. 
 
 203 
 
 heavy lash twisted round his neck, knelt down reverently to 
 look at this gorgeous print, and a withered old man leaned 
 over him to explain the words of the hymns, which w T ere in 
 French. To them it was plainly as impressive as if it had 
 been really a work of art. 
 
 Farther on, the glen behind the church was crowded with 
 people, buying, selling, eating, drinking, under the chestnut- 
 trees. Here were booths for clothes and crockery, and open 
 stands for eatables and drinkables. An old man was selling 
 sieves, wooden bowls, and boxes heaped up indiscrimi- 
 nately on the grass, for sieves are in great demand at this 
 harvest season. 
 
 Near the church, against the ivy-covered trunk of an 
 enormous chestnut -tree, several men were seated with 
 lathered faces ; trwo were being shaved, the others patiently 
 waited their turn. The rapidity of the barbers was most 
 amusing. Two used the soap-brush and two the razor, and 
 their labours seemed to be unending. We thought the edge 
 of the razor could not be worth much, judging by the stiff, 
 stubbly-looking chins. It is customary to let the beard grow 
 some weeks before the festival 0: St. Nicodeme, and then to 
 be clean shaved in the early morning. We came upon many 
 of these al fresco barber-shops under the trees in different 
 parts of the fair. 
 
 As we walked through the crowd we saw how varied and 
 picturesque the dress of the men was ; the jacket generally 
 of white flannel cut square at the neck, trimmed with black 
 velvet, with a row of embroidery thereon and strings of 
 metal buttons; the outside pockets of these jackets were 
 cut into seven or eight Vandykes bound with black velvet, 
 each of the points being fastened by a brass or silver button. 
 
204 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 The black beaver or felt hats were enormous in the brim, 
 very low-crowned, and trimmed with a band of broad black 
 velvet fastened by a silver buckle, with two ends hanging 
 behind. The trousers and knee-breeches were chiefly blue 
 or white linen, although some were of black and brown 
 velveteen, loose, but without the bagginess so common in 
 Lower Brittany. The older men wore black gaiters reaching 
 to the knees and fastened by a close row of tiny buttons. 
 Round the waist many of them wore a broad, thick, buft 
 leather belt, with quaint metal clasps. This hung so low 
 and loosely that it seemed worn only for ornament. 
 
 We asked a tall Breton farmer with bare feet thrust into 
 his sabots what was the use of this belt. " It has none," he 
 said complacently ; " I wear it for fashion's sake." 
 
 The waistcoat was also white flannel, trimmed with so 
 many rows of embroidered velvet that it had the effect of 
 several waistcoats worn one above another; four or five 
 dozen of silver buttons were set in two rows down each side 
 of the outer waistcoat so closely that the edges of the 
 buttons overlapped. This costume was, perhaps, the most 
 uncommon we saw. The older men wore their hair very 
 long, sometimes hanging over their shoulders almost to 
 their waists; their dark gleaming eyes and thick straight 
 eyebrows gave them a very fierce appearance. 
 
 Some of the men were tall, and they all stalked about 
 among the women as if they were beings of a different 
 order. They seemed rarely to speak to them. Each sex 
 herded chiefly in groups apart, except that the men took the 
 centre of the fair as their right, and paced up and down like 
 princes. There seemed to be no curious strangers present 
 except ourselves, and yet they took little notice of us. Even 
 
COOKING IN THE FAIR. 
 
 205 
 
 when we got farther up the glen and more into the crowd 
 we saw no mixture of townsfolk. It was a festival of 
 peasants. 
 
 We were specially struck by the face of a fine old man 
 with flowing white hair, but most malevolent black eyes, 
 who stood fanning with his broad-leaved beaver hat a grid 
 iron full of silvery sardines, frizzling and crackling over a 
 pan of charcoal on the grass. When they were cooked he 
 speedily found customers for them. 
 
 Close by was a stand covered with huge loaves of buck- 
 wheat bread, which were rinding ready sale; and as we 
 moved on we saw impromptu fireplaces in all directions. 
 On one side a huge steaming pipkin hung from a tripod of 
 sticks ; from this a coarse ragout of meat and potatoes sent 
 out a not too savoury smell. Farther on a large pot of 
 coffee stood on a glowing lump of charcoal. 
 
 And now we came upon booths with cold eatables dis- 
 played on the stalls : sausages of ah kinds, and a sort of cold 
 meat pudding, in great request, but of by no means enticing 
 aspect, made of chopped meat stewed in a goose skin or 
 bladder with plenty of pepper. Farther back from the main 
 avenue, under the trees, were carts full of immense cider- 
 barrels covered with fresh green brake. A woman wearing 
 the black hood lined with scarlet we had seen the day 
 before at St. Nicholas stood at a table in front of one of 
 these carts drawing cider as fast as she could into jugs, 
 glasses, &x. ; and all round her were groups of men talking 
 together, and getting less silent and morose as they drank 
 glass after glass and toasted one another. 
 
 A low stone wall, overgrown with grass, divided this 
 wooded glen from the country beyond on the left, and atop 
 
206 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 of this wall a pleasant-looking countrywoman in a well- 
 starched, spotless white muslin coiffe, the two broad-hemmed 
 lappets pinned together behind her head, had spread out her 
 wares on a gay-coloured handkerchief. Caps, and collars, 
 and chemisettes were displayed to the best advantage in this 
 elevated position. She sat on the wall beside her goods, 
 smiling and chattering with all who passed by, and she- 
 seemed to be driving a good trade, though it was puzzling 
 
 Cap-seller. 
 
 to know how her customers would dispose of such easily 
 crumpled articles in the midst of the ever-moving crowd. 
 
 So far we had been struck by the quiet and decorum 
 of the scene. It was really too quiet ; there was so little 
 jollity in it, none of the repartee and the merry laughter so 
 often heard in a Norman fair. Men and women alike 
 looked serious and self-contained. The happiest faces were 
 
THE CHILDREN. 
 
 207 
 
 those of the dear little children, toddling and tumbling about 
 in all directions. Some of these, in their close-fitting skull- 
 caps, thick woollen skirts reaching to their heels, and large 
 white collars, were perfect little Velasquez figures; others 
 wore round hats, set on the back of their heads ; almost all 
 had clear complexions, and handsome, large, round dark 
 eyes. 
 
 Still farther on we heard a rather monotonous beat of 
 drum. There was a performance going on here ; but it 
 seemed only to consist in the explanation, in a drawling 
 recitative, of various pictures exhibited by the showman. 
 Behind this we found ourselves in the cattle-market, a part 
 of the glen where the grass was less worn away and where 
 the trees were more thickly planted. Here the sunshine 
 came in golden chequers and patterns through the broad 
 leafy boughs on men who stood about plaiting and unplait- 
 ing the long tails of their horses, and on women who dragged 
 their pretty little black and white cows along, sometimes by 
 a rope fastened to the horns, sometimes by the horns them- 
 selves, but quite as often they hurried on regardless of every- 
 body, with the cow's head gripped tightly under one arm, 
 chattering eagerly in Breton. 
 
 Pigs were also being hauled about, filling the air with 
 their noise. One woman had got a pig by the tail, and she 
 dragged it squealing through the very thickest of the crowd; 
 another had fastened a rope to her pig's leg, and was coaxing 
 it in a way that reminded us of the nursery story. There 
 was plenty of noise here, rude rough voices and much ges- 
 ticulation, as the people vociferated guttural Breton at one 
 another. It was difficult to move, too, through the confused 
 mass of people and animals. No one seemed to care or to 
 
208 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 look where he or she went — it was apparently assumed that 
 every one would take care of himself or herself ; lacking 
 this, there was every chance of being knocked down and 
 trampled under foot by the crowd or the cattle. 
 
 There had been an auction of beasts going on under the 
 trees ; groups of wild-looking men with long hair streaming 
 over their black embroidered jackets — with larger hats than 
 any we had as yet seen — were talking fiercely about the 
 cattle, with much gesticulation and with flashing eyes. 
 These were Finistere men, from Scaer and Bannalec. We 
 were told that the design embroidered on the back of their 
 coats signified the Blessed Sacrament ; they looked far more 
 fiery and savage than the white-coated men of Morbihan, 
 but they were less sullen and silent. 
 
 There was abundant variety, too, in the costume of the 
 women. Gorgeous green gowns (black and grey were the 
 predominant colours), trimmed with broad black velvet, 
 both on the skirt and on the sort of double body which 
 seemed to answer to the coat and waistcoat of the men ; 
 the black velvet covered with gold and scarlet embroidery. 
 The head-gear of St. Nicholas, with the brilliant green, 
 scarlet, or yellow linings, was most abundant ; but there was 
 besides a large proportion of white coiffes and caps and 
 quaintly shaped collars. Most of the women wore gold or 
 silver hearts and crosses depending from a velvet ribbon 
 round the throat. Few of them showed any hair on their 
 foreheads; and it is perhaps this usage of concealing the 
 hair, added to the large melancholy eyes, which gives so 
 solemn an expression to the face of the Bretonne peasant. 
 They tell you that they have their hair cut off because there 
 is no room for it under the coiffe; besides, once married, they 
 
DRINKING BOOTHS. 
 
 209 
 
 do not consider it right to show their hair j in reality, they sell 
 it to the travelling barber who will give the best price for it. 
 
 Wherever space could be found among the trees long booths 
 were set up, some of them garlanded with green boughs. 
 Looking through one of the low-arched openings of the booths, 
 we saw a striking rustic picture — tables reached from one 
 end to the other, covered with bottles and glasses, hard- 
 featured men and women sitting alternately on each side. 
 The men were evidently drinking cider freely, but at present, 
 at any rate, the women had empty glasses in front of them, 
 and were listening to the conversation their lords held with 
 each other across the table. With some exceptions, they all 
 looked as serious as if the fete were a funeral. 
 
 Formerly all the cattle of the neighbourhood, decorated 
 with ribbons, were led in procession to the church to be 
 blessed, drums beating and banners flying ; but this custom 
 seems to have been given up, though some animals are still 
 offered to St. Nicodeme, and these are sold afterwards at 
 higher prices than the rest, as the presence of one of them 
 in a stable is supposed to bring luck. 
 
 On the eve of the festival the penitents go in proces- 
 sion, barefooted and bearing lighted candles, and receive 
 absolution; it is to be hoped that these were the visitors 
 who left the fete early, for by three o'clock most of the men 
 had been drinking hard. 
 
 Time was going fast, and we began to be curious as to 
 the hour of the descent of the angel, which our friend at 
 St. Nicholas had said was the best part of the fete. Asking 
 a smart young girl who sold lemonade, we learned that it 
 would come down after vespers, and we made our way back 
 through the crowd to the rising ground on the left of the 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 church. Already the cider was beginning to take effect : 
 there was much more noise and chatter ; the men stood 
 about in groups, in eager discussion, using rapid, vehement 
 gesticulation. The heat had become overpowering, the sun 
 seemed to scorch us as we walked, but the chestnut trees on 
 this hill-side were even larger than those below, and so long 
 as we could remain under them there was dense and most 
 refreshing shade. 
 
 We found the interest was now concentrated on a large 
 open space around the Calvary which stood on the rising 
 ground. Close beside it was a tall pole, with a large heap 
 of brushwood piled high up round its base. A man was 
 going up a ladder placed against this pole, fixing on it at 
 intervals hoops covered with red and blue paper ; finally 
 he fastened a painted flag on the top of all. 
 
 Presently we saw that a cord was being lowered from the 
 top of the lofty church tower. Several eager watchers among 
 the chestnut trees below secured the end of this cord when 
 it reached the ground, and brought it in triumph to a post 
 at the foot of the pole, about one hundred yards from the 
 church. The cord was fastened securely below a square 
 box set on the top of the post, and from this time a breath- 
 less suspense hung over the swaying, rugged-looking crowd 
 — that is, over the elders and the children ; the younger men 
 and women seemed to choose this time for walking up and 
 down, in and out, through the groups of gazers, sending 
 saucy or sheepish glances at one another, without the 
 exchange of any words. 
 
 We were specially amused in watching three young, pretty, 
 and very gaily-dressed girls, who walked up and down, 
 looking neither right nor left, but evidently considering 
 
A BAZVALAN. 
 
 % 
 
 211 
 
 themselves the belles of the fete. A little man with twisted 
 legs, with a joke for every one, seemed in universal favour 
 among the women. He was no doubt the bazvalan, the 
 tailor match-maker of the neighbourhood. We saw his 
 cunning dark face and keen black restless eyes in all parts 
 of the throng, and, to judge by his long colloquies with 
 some of the older matrons, he was doing a profitable 
 business, for it appears that Breton peasants' marriages 
 are still made by means of this worthy. He was almost 
 the only man who seemed to talk much to the women. 
 
 All at once the bell rang out for vespers ; most of the 
 women and children flocked into church, followed by a few 
 of the men. 
 
 Meantime the throng of men about us increased — those 
 who had been drinking in the booths came across to the 
 Calvary, and we had full opportunity of studying their dark 
 remarkable faces. 
 
 There is no need for the Breton to disclaim, as he does, 
 any kindred with the French. A special nationality is 
 stamped on his face. These peasants, especially the men 
 of Morlpihan and Finistere, are a race apart ; with their long 
 dark deep-set eyes gleaming from under thick dark eye- 
 brows, their tangled hair spreading over the shoulders and 
 often reaching almost to the waist, their dark skins and 
 long straight noses, and their quaint costume, they are 
 wholly un-French. They are taller, too, and larger framed 
 than the generality of Frenchmen are ; they look more 
 powerful in every way, and they have a seriousness, amount- 
 ing to dignity, which is wholly distinctive. 
 
 Even when he is drunk, and this is a too frequent occur- 
 rence, the Breton strives to be self-controlled and quiet. 
 
212 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 When he is sober, there is a touch of the North American 
 Indian in his stolid indifference, and also in the apparent 
 contempt with which he regards his spouse ; for the Breton 
 peasant-woman, spite of her rich costume on Sundays and 
 gala days, is after marriage a mere hewer of wood and 
 drawer of water, often the slave of her drunken unfeeling 
 husband. Possibly this slavery takes away sell-respect, 
 and gives to the married Bretonne the clumsiness and half 
 savage manner which must strike the stranger as much as 
 her want of gaiety and light-heartedness. There are, of 
 course, abundant exceptions, and in Finistere the women 
 are handsomer and less sad-looking than in Morbihan. 
 
 One never sees in Brittany a young man and woman 
 strolling together in the evening. Only a few days of 
 courtship seem to be allowed before marriage to the Bre- 
 tonne peasant. After marriage her slavery begins. We heard 
 that in many places, notably at Scaer and its neighbourhood, 
 the old betrothal and marriage customs, so graphically de- 
 scribed by Brizeux, Souvestre, and other writers, still exist. 
 
 All at once there was a stir among the crowd. It had 
 been impossible to stand waiting near the pole exposed to 
 the full blaze of the sun, so we had taken shelter under 
 the huge chestnut trees ; we ventured into the sunshine 
 now, for the excitement was contagious. Almost before we 
 reached the pole, we saw coming down the cord a pretty 
 little angel about three feet high, with bright golden wings. 
 It stood an instant beside the post to which the rope was 
 fastened, and then went up again and remained stationary 
 outside the tower, the only sound heard in the breathless 
 silence of the crowd being the click click of the wheels on 
 which the little creature moved. 
 
THE DESCENT OF THE ANGEL. 
 
 213 
 
 This, we learned, was a trial descent, it being necessary 
 to make sure that the machinery acted properly before the 
 real descent took place. It was to happen as soon as vespers 
 was said. We stood our ground bravely for another quarter 
 of an hour in the scorching sunshine. The heat has grown 
 so intense that the sticks and furze-bushes piled up round 
 the pole in readiness for the bonfire feel as if they came out 
 of an oven. Suddenly the bells peal loudly, and a glittering 
 procession comes singing out of the church, with lighted 
 candles, crosses, and crimson and gold banners. First 
 come the choristers, then the priests, and then a long train 
 of men and women, chanting as they come. 
 
 As soon as the procession has circled the hill, it halts. A 
 gun is fired from the church-tower, and down comes the 
 pretty little angel, this time very rapidly, its bright wings 
 flashing in the sunshine. It holds a match in one out- 
 stretched hand, and touches first the box on the post, and 
 then the bonfire. A peasant, with many coloured ribbons 
 in his hat, who has been making all ready, helps the angel's 
 work. There is a loud, deafening explosion, then a dis- 
 charge of squibs and crackers from the box, and then the 
 furze and faggots of the bonfire ignite and blaze fiercely. 
 The heat has made the piled-up faggots like touchwood ; the 
 sudden blaze is electrifying ; long tongues of red flame leap 
 up till they reach the first of the hoops on the pole. Bang, 
 bang, bang ! and off go the fireworks of which they are com- 
 posed. The noise is tremendous and ear-splittings and the 
 flames go leaping higher and higher till all the suspended 
 fireworks, including the flag at top, have exploded, blazing 
 and banging, and dispersing themselves in shreds of flying 
 fire above the heads of the excited crowd. 
 
214 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 It was somewhat alarming to see the towering body of 
 fierce red flame, brilliant even in the powerful sunshine, 
 one moment carried up as if to reach the sky, next swoop- 
 ing sideways in pursuit of the flying shreds of burning 
 paper that flew through the air ; and in the midst of the 
 stifling heat and smoke and din — for the crowd had found 
 a universal voice at last — the little golden-winged angel 
 mounted quickly to the steeple again, followed by strange 
 uncouth howls of delight, which seemed to be the approved 
 method of expressing satisfaction. 
 
 It was a good moment to study these stolid, self-con- 
 tained Bretons ; moved out of the calm reserve which to 
 most of them must be a second nature, the faces were 
 wonderfully wild and expressive. The long fierce black eyes 
 gleamed with delight, and no doubt, in some, with religious 
 fervour — and as the bonfire blazed higher and higher, cast- 
 ing a lurid glare on all around, most unreal and theatrical in 
 effect — the whole expression of some of the faces changed. 
 
 The scene seemed made for a painter — these tall black- 
 browed men, with their powerful savage faces and long 
 streaming hair, their white flannel coats and broad black hats 
 — all faces upturned to the red ever-mounting flame ; every 
 now and then some man or boy dashed frantically almost 
 into the swaying fire and snatched one of the flying shreds 
 of burning paper to preserve it as a relic \ at a little 
 distance behind the men, keeping apart, were groups of 
 women in their quaint costume, some wearing snowy caps, 
 others with the sombre coiffes of St. Nicholas, with their 
 bright linings. Beside the tall Calvary, its stone steps 
 thronged with little awe-struck, bright-eyed children, was 
 the procession of clergy and choristers; in front the 
 
THE EXCITEMENT OF THE CROWD. 
 
 215 
 
 blazing bonfire, all around the huge-spreading boughs of the 
 chestnut-trees crowning the green hill and circling round its 
 base ; and below in the distance, seen through the spreading 
 boughs, the old grey church tower and spire towered over 
 the booths grouped around. 
 
 The heat of the sun was still so intense, though evening 
 was coming on, that the men could scarcely bear to keep 
 their hats raised above their heads as the procession wound 
 once more slowly round the Calvary and returned to the 
 church, singing as they went. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking effect of the whole scene was 
 the contrast between the strong, wild excitement, betrayed 
 more in look and gesture than by any prolonged outcry, 
 and the trumpery cause that aroused it. It was difficult to 
 believe that some of these excited creatures, plunging madly 
 to secure charred fragments of red and blue paper, could be 
 the grand, dignified-looking men we had been watching all 
 the morning. Possibly the mixture 01 cider and religious 
 enthusiasm helped somewhat to this result. 
 
 We heard that the fete would last two days ; but as there 
 seemed to be no preparation made for either dancing or 
 wrestling, we preferred to leave St. Nicodeme before dusk, 
 for more drinking was plainly to wind up the proceedings 
 of the day, and it was evident that the greater number of 
 the crowd would spend the night on the ground, either in 
 the carts which showed everywhere among the tree trunks, 
 or on the grass under the chestnut boughs. 
 
 We found it much more difficult to leave the fete than to 
 enter it. Around the booths and outside the church, carts 
 and cattle seemed mixed together in inextricable confusion, 
 and even when we had struggled through the leafy lane 
 
2l6 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 and regained the main road we found it thronged by groups 
 as anxious to get away as we were ; though several of these, 
 most quaintly picturesque in costume, seemed to have lin- 
 gered too long in the cider booths. We saw men, women, 
 and children fast asleep beside the road, with cows and 
 sheep and pigs grazing and bleating and grunting around 
 them — in some cases straying so far down the dusty road 
 that we wondered whether the owners would succeed in 
 overtaking them. We passed one man on horseback 
 more than half asleep, who, in happy ignorance of the 
 ridiculous figure he cut, was seated with his face to the 
 animal's tail, nodding and swaying from side to side so 
 violently that it was certain he and his beast would soon 
 part company. 
 
 From St. Nicodeme we drove on to Baud, and thence to 
 Hennebont. The road is very lovely, sometimes densely 
 wooded, and then opening on vistas of distant country 
 which looked exquisite under first a brilliant and then a 
 mellow sunset j but gradually the tender greens grew grey, 
 and then it became so dark that by the time we rattled into 
 Hennebont we could only make out that it looked a most 
 old-fashioned interesting little town. The people of Henne- 
 bont seemed to be all in bed, and our smiling landlady 
 gaped with surprise at our late arrival. We congratulated 
 ourselves on having dined at Baud, for the house seemed 
 generally asleep. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Henneb ont — L ' Ori ent . 
 
 |_JENNEBONT looked lovely in the freshness of early 
 morning. It is charmingly placed on two wooded 
 hills on each side of the Blavet, which is wide enough here 
 for craft of three hundred tons. There is a port, from 
 which most of the corn grown in the centre of Brittany is 
 exported. The quaint old town is divided into the Vieille 
 Ville, on the farther side of the Blavet ; the Vieille Close, 
 with its grey remains of machicolated walls peeping out 
 here in a bold round tower, and farther on in a stretch of 
 crenulated curtain ; and the Ville Neuve, reaching up the 
 side of the hill, so that it is a steep walk to the church of 
 Notre Dame du Paradis. 
 
 The church stands in the midst of a large grass-grown 
 Place surrounded by old houses, and is of sixteenth century 
 architecture, built by the alms of pilgrims collected by a 
 blacksmith ; the portal reminded us of Honfleur, and, curi- 
 ously enough, this church also is said to be the work of an 
 English architect. There is a large porch inside the western 
 doorway, and it was full of a kneeling congregation who could 
 not find room inside. Afterwards, when the crowd dispersed, 
 
218 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 we found there was nothing specially interesting within the 
 church except some very old carving on one side of the doors. 
 
 The women's caps are very ugly here, like clumsy white 
 hoods ; but the town is full of charm. It consists chiefly of 
 one long irregular street of old houses. Some of the eaves 
 project from four to five feet; the fronts are carved stone, 
 the upper story being half timbered, with carved wooden 
 brackets. In this street is a curious old well surmounted 
 by scroll iron-work of simple design. Over a linendraper's 
 shop was suspended the figure of a woman painted in gay 
 colours, and holding handkerchiefs and stuffs in her hand. 
 
 We turned up a street on the right, and passing through 
 an old gateway flanked by two towers, evidently one of the 
 old gates of the Ville Close, found ourselves in a yet older 
 street than any we had seen. Round and about are many 
 peeps of the old crenulated wall, which must have been 
 standing when Jeanne-la-Flamme shut herself up in the 
 castle across the water, and defied all the attempts of 
 Charles de Blois to take the town. 
 
 It is probably the remembrance of Froissart's quaint 
 history of the famous siege of Hennebont during t ie War of 
 Succession in Brittany that makes this town specially inter- 
 esting to the English tourist, although borir town and castle 
 described by the old chronicler were those on the farther 
 side of the Blavet, the Vieille Ville. 
 
 We went along the boulevard beside the old walls of the 
 Ville Close. The view is very pretty over the river, and the 
 walk beside the river itselt is delightful. At one part there 
 is a fine echo ; boulders show among the trees, and every now 
 and then comes a fringe of grey trembling-leaved poplars. 
 We came continually on bits of the old town wall, and the 
 
JEANNE-LA -FLAMME. 
 
 219 
 
 falaise opposite reminded us of the Loch at Auray. We 
 crossed the bridge leading from the quay, and stood to look 
 back at the charming view of the town, with its white cheerful 
 houses, its grey battlements showing here and there, and 
 the tall spire of the church rising above all, dark green 
 woods framing in the picture. The water in the river was 
 an exquisite mingling of gold and grey, like the scales of a 
 roach, and beside it was a house built on solid rock, covered 
 with ivy and trees. Near this was the post-office. 
 
 There seemed to have been a terrible slaughter among 
 the pine-trees which surround Hennebont. Huge heaps of 
 logs lay about the port waiting to be shipped. The shipping 
 and masts add yet another feature to the quaint variety 
 offered by this very charming town. 
 
 The way up to the Vieille Ville is very steep and toil- 
 some. Its height above the surrounding country must have 
 given the garrison of the castle an immense advantage over 
 the besiegers below ; and it was doubtless to compensate 
 for this advantage that the Bishop Guy de Leon, when he 
 left the Countess, advised the construction of the huge 
 wooden tower which Sir Walter Manny and his followers 
 so valiantly destroyed. But the steepness of the street 
 must surely have tried the mettle of the Countess Jeanne's 
 horse, for, says Froissart, " She clothed herself in armour, 
 was mounted on a war-horse, and galloped up and down 
 the streets of the town, entreating and encouraging the inha- 
 bitants to defend themselves honourably. She ordered the 
 ladies to cut short their kyrtels, carry stones to the ram- 
 parts, and throw them on their enemies. She had pots of 
 quicklime brought her for that purpose." 
 
 We had been told that in the house of the Widow 
 
220 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 Picbon, Rue de la Vieille Ville, was a most curious cellar, 
 with a vaulted stone roof of eight arches, supported in the 
 middle by a circular pier, and that by means of a trap- 
 door leading from it there had once been a subterraneous 
 communication between the castle and the Ville Close. 
 After some trouble — for these primitive inhabitants of the 
 Vieille Ville spoke very little French — we found out the 
 house of Widow Pichon ; first one, and then two, three, 
 four natives undertaking to guide us to her door. 
 
 Madame Pichon came to speak to us ; she could talk 
 French. " I am very much grieved," she said, " but what 
 can be done ? " — she closed her straight lips and shrugged 
 her shoulders — " we have been chopping wood for a week 
 past, and it all lies over the opening to the cellar; it will 
 take some time to remove it, even if I can get it moved, 
 
 and Jean Marie is not at home; and but I am very 
 
 sorry, madame and messieurs." 
 
 She seemed heartily sorry, and our conductresses all 
 looked far more sympathetic than is common among 
 Bretonnes, so we asked to be taken to the ruins of the old 
 castle. There are only a few fragments left to mark the 
 site of Jeanne's celebrated resistance, but the view is very 
 fine over the town of Hennebont and the river. It was from 
 this castle that the Countess made the famous sally which 
 gained her the title of Jeanne-la-Flamme. 
 
 JEANNE-LA-FLAMME. 
 I. 
 
 What is it that climbs the mountain side ? 
 It is, I think, a flock of black sheep. 
 
 It is not a flock of black sheep, but I do not say it is not an army, 
 A French army, which comes to lay siege to Hennebont. 
 
JEANNE- LA -FLAMME. 
 
 221 
 
 II. 
 
 While the Duchess goes in procession round the town all the bells 
 are pealing. 
 
 While she ambles along on her white horse, her child on her knees, 
 As she passes the people of Hennebont shout joyfully, 
 "God protect the son and his mother! May He confound the 
 French ! ' ' 
 
 As the procession ended the French were heard to cry, 
 
 " Now we will take them alive in their form, the doe and her fawn ; 
 
 we have brought golden chains to couple them together." 
 Then Jeanne-la-Flamme answered from the topmost tower — 
 "The doe will not be taken, but as for the wicked wolf* I cannot 
 
 tell. It may be that if he feels cold to-night his" den will be warmed 
 
 for him.'' 
 
 As she ended these words she ran furiously down. 
 She clothed herself with an iron coat, and she covered her head with 
 a black helmet. 
 
 And she armed herself with a sharp steel sword, and she chose out 
 three hundred soldiers. 
 
 And with a flaming torch in her hand she rode out of one corner of 
 the town. 
 
 ill. 
 
 Just then the Frenchmen were singing gaily, sitting round the table. 
 Making merry within their closely-shut tents, the Frenchmen sang 
 late into the night, 
 
 When all at once a strange voice in the distance chanted these words : 
 " More than one who laughs to-night shall weep before daylight. 
 More than one who eats white bread shall bite the cold black earth. 
 More than one who pours red wine shall soon shed rich blood. 
 More than one who will soon be ashes now plays the boaster." 
 More than one leaned his head on the table dead drunk, 
 When all at once this cry of alarm sounded : 
 " Fire ! friends ! fire ! fire ! 
 
 Fire ! fire ! friends, let us fly ! It is Jeanne-la-Flamme who has 
 lighted it ! " 
 
 Jeanne-la-Flamme is truly the most intrepid woman in the world ! 
 Jeanne-la-Flamme had set fire to the four corners of the camp ; 
 And the wind had fed the flames, and the black night was illuminated ; 
 
 * This is a pun on the resemblance between the Breton word bleiz i wolf, and 
 the name Blois. 
 
222 
 
 M ORBIHAN. 
 
 And the tents were burned, and the Frenchmen roasted ; 
 And three thousand of them were burned to ashes, and only a hun- 
 dred escaped. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Next morning Jeanne-la-Flamme sat smiling at her window ; 
 And looking out on the country and seeing the ruined camp, 
 And the smoke curling above the tents, now reduced to little cinder- 
 heaps, 
 
 Jeanne-la-Flamme smiled ! "What fine manure, my God ! 
 
 My God ! what fine manure. For one grain we sow ten will come up ! 
 
 The ancients said truly, ' There is nothing like the bones of Gauls — 
 like the bones of Gauls pounded in a mortar — to make the wheat 
 grow.' " 
 
 This fierce outburst of Jeanne is intensely Breton, and, as 
 Monsieur de Villemarque, from whose " Barzaz Breiz " I 
 have translated it, says, is far stronger than Froissart's 
 account of the incident. Jeanne was Flemish by birth, but 
 in this ballad she comes before us as a thorough Breton in 
 her hatred of the French. 
 
 Mr. Tom Taylor, in his charming book, " Ballads and 
 Songs of Brittany," gives a very spirited translation of this 
 ballad, which he calls " Jean o* the Flame." 
 
 But after this heroic deed, which Froissart relates more 
 circumstantially than the ballad does, the French under 
 Lord Lewis of Spain pressed the siege so vigorously, and 
 so battered the walls by the machines sent for from Rennes, 
 that " the courage of those within began to falter. At 
 that moment the Bishop of Leon held a conference with 
 his brother, Sir Herve de Leon," who had now gone over 
 to the side of Blois, "and at last agreed that the Bishop should 
 endeavour to gain over those within the town, so that it 
 might be given up to the Lord Charles ; and Sir Herve on 
 his side was to obtain their pardon from the Lord Charles, 
 
THE RESCUE BY SIR WALTER MANNY. 223 
 
 and an assurance that they should keep their goods, &c., 
 unhurt. They then separated, and the Bishop re-entered 
 the town. 
 
 " The Countess had strong suspicions of what was going 
 forward, and begged of the lords of Brittany, for the 
 love of God, that they would not doubt but she should 
 receive succours before three days were over. But the 
 Bishop spoke so eloquently, and made use of such good 
 arguments, that these lords were in much suspense all that 
 night. On the morrow he continued the subject, and suc- 
 ceeded so far as to gain them over, or very nearly so, to his 
 opinion ; insomuch that Sir Herve de Leon had advanced 
 close to the town to take possession of it with their free 
 consent, when the Countess, looking out from a window of 
 the castle towards the sea, cried out most joyfully, ' I seethe 
 succours I have so long expected and wished for coming ! ' 
 She repeated this twice, and the townspeople ran to the 
 ramparts and to the windows of the castle, and saw a 
 numerous fleet of great and small vessels, well trimmed, 
 making all the sail they could towards Hennebont. They 
 rightly imagined it must be the fleet from England, so long 
 detained at sea by tempests and contrary winds." 
 
 The lords of Brittany took heart at this, and the Bishop 
 indignantly left them and went to the French camp, while 
 the Countess, in the mean time, " prepared and hung with 
 tapestry halls and chambers to lodge handsomely the lords 
 and barons of England whom she saw coming." 
 
 Sir Walter Manny, the leader of the English, did not lose 
 any time, but the day after his arrival proceeded to the 
 attack of the large machine which was placed so near the 
 walls. He "sallied quickly out of one of the gates, taking 
 
224 
 
 MORBIHAN. 
 
 with him three hundred archers, who shot so well that those 
 who guarded the machine fled ; and the men-at-arms who 
 followed the archers, falling upon them, slew the greater part, 
 and broke down and cut in pieces this large machine. And 
 though the French came up in great numbers, and the 
 English," after a brave onslaught, were obliged to retreat, 
 they did so " in good order until they came to the castle 
 ditch. There the knights made a stand till their men were 
 safely returned. Many brilliant actions, captures, and rescues 
 
 might have been seen The chiefs of the French 
 
 army perceiving they had the worst of it sounded 
 
 a retreat, and made their men retire to the camp. As soon 
 as they were gone the townsmen re-entered the gates, and 
 went each to his quarters. The Countess of Montfort came 
 down from the castle to meet them, and with a most cheerful 
 countenance kissed Sir Walter Manny and all his compa- 
 nions one after the other, like a noble and valiant dame." 
 
 The besiegers lost heart, and on the morrow left Henne- 
 bont and set out for Auray, which the Lord Charles was 
 besieging. 
 
 We tried to call up the scene as we looked down from 
 the wooded height on to the river and the Ville Close oppo- 
 site, and really the Vieille Ville is so grey and grass-grown 
 that one might almost fancy it had been asleep since the 
 time of its wonderful rescue by Sir Walter Manny and his 
 archers. It was very pleasant to see with our own eyes the 
 theatre of so many childish imaginings, for I fancy the 
 episode of Sir Walter Manny and the heroic Countess of 
 Montfort has always been a favourite with English children. 
 Hennebont is certainly a place to be visited ; there is a 
 special charm about it not to be found in any other town ; 
 
V ORIENT. 
 
 225 
 
 but this may be said of so many towns in Brittany, that 
 perhaps it hardly conveys the special distinction which 
 seems to characterize Hennebont. 
 
 About a mile along the right bank of the Blavet are the 
 ruins of the Cistercian Abbey of la Joie, founded at the 
 end of the thirteenth century by Blanche de Champagne, 
 wife of Duke John le Roux. She died at the castle of 
 Hede, but was buried at La Joie in 1283. 
 
 On the railway between Auray and Hennebont there is a 
 station called Landevant. There is a fine view here, and 
 once there was a fine church, but it has been most shame- 
 fully dealt with in its restoration. 
 
 It is usual to go on from Hennebont to L' Orient, but as 
 we heard that this town was extremely uninteresting we 
 went on by rail to Quimperle, passing on our way through 
 some of the loveliest country we had yet seen, and feeling 
 ourselves at last in Lower Brittany. L'Orient is only two 
 hundred years old, says M. Fouquet, and has therefore no 
 attraction for the antiquary; but it appears to be a well 
 built modern town, with long streets, a handsome suspension 
 bridge, and a fine military port and arsenal at the mouth 
 of the Scorff. 
 
 The two most interesting points of L'Orient to the tra- 
 veller are, in the cemetery, the tomb of Brizeux, the national 
 poet of Brittany, and, near the principal church, on the 
 Place Bisson, a column bearing a bronze statue of Hippolyte 
 Bisson, a young officer of the French navy, born at Gue- 
 mene-sur-ScorfT, who in 1827, in the Archipelago, blew up 
 his own vessel, with the Greek pirates who had boarded her, 
 having first allowed the survivors of his crew to escape. 
 
 Q 
 
FINISTfeRE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 ,UIMPERLE seemed to us, as we approached it by 
 
 railway, the prettiest town in Brittany we had yet 
 seen. As we arrived we found ourselves on a level with the 
 top of the church, for the railway is higher even than the 
 upper town in which is the church of St. Michel. The valley 
 in which the rivers Elle and Isole meet lies much lower, 
 and we looked down from a height on the old town built on 
 the rivers which run through the narrow picturesque streets. 
 
 This old town in the valley was formerly the Ville Close, 
 but the ancient walls of Quimperle were all destroyed in 
 the seventeenth century ; only one old tower still exists — at 
 the end of the Rue du Chateau. The houses in this 
 street are very picturesque, with pretty gardens forming a 
 sort of terrace beside the river Elle or Isole, for the street 
 runs between the two rivers, and in the distance there is a 
 view of the lovely hills which surround the town. 
 
 The Hotel des Voyageurs is well kept, and the landlord, 
 who is also the chef, is most attentive to his guests. 
 
 It would be difficult to overpraise the attractions of 
 Quimperle. It is perhaps the most exquisitely placed town 
 in Brittany, and its environs are full of charming scenery. 
 
CHURCH OF STE. CROIX. 
 
 227 
 
 The only historical monument possessed by Quimperle 
 was its abbey church of Ste. Croix, rebuilt in 1029 for a 
 community of Benedictines by Alain Caignart, Count of 
 Comouaille ; but while repairs were in progress in 1862 the 
 central tower fell down and destroyed the church. It has 
 been very well restored on its old model, but of course no 
 longer possesses its ancient interest. It is a basilica in 
 imitation of the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 
 Under the choir is a curious crypt, which remains in its 
 original condition ; it consists of a nave and two aisles, 
 divided by short columns. Here is the tomb of St. Gurloes, 
 Abbot of Ste. Croix, said to have been martyred here in 
 1057. In his hand is the crosier, and his feet rest on a 
 dragon. The saint's Breton name is St. Urlon, and his 
 intercession is chiefly invoked for gout, which is called 
 "le malde St. Urlon." 
 
 The site of the ancient abbey of Ste. Croix was in the 
 sixth century occupied by the hermitage of Gunthiern, a 
 Welsh king, who, after his abdication, sought shelter in 
 Brittany, and gave himself up to a religious life, and was the 
 founder of the original monastery. Till the Revolution the 
 tomb of Alain Caignart was to be seen in this crypt. 
 
 The inn, Lion d'Or, was once the house of the Abbots 
 of Ste. Croix, and had fine gardens running down to the 
 river. The Place in front of this inn, with its quadrangle of 
 clipped trees, is very quaint. 
 
 When the first De Montfort, the husband of Jeanne-la- 
 Flamme, died at Hennebont, he was buried at Quimperle, 
 beneath the high altar of the Jacobin or Dominican con- 
 vent called the Abbaye Blanche, from the colour of the 
 robes worn by the monks. There now only remain of this 
 
228 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 convent the door and doorway, leading into the building 
 inhabited by Les Dames de la Retraite. 
 
 Next day, Tuesday, was market day, and we went to the 
 market place with a friend who lives in Quimperle. The 
 market place is in the upper town, but peasants in won- 
 derfully quaint costumes were to be seen about everywhere. 
 The upper town seems pleasant and quiet, with convents 
 and houses surrounded by delightful gardens with old grey 
 
 Quimperle. 
 
 walls, but the way there is very steep. As we passed the 
 church of St. Michel, on our way to the market, we stopped 
 to look at the porch, which is remarkable. Opposite to this 
 is a very curious old carved wooden house of the fifteenth 
 century. But it was difficult to look at anything in the 
 midst of the talking, laughing, picturesque crowd of market 
 people. It was not only the costumes that were different 
 to Morbihan, for here long hair and bragoubras were 
 
THE MARKET. 
 
 229 
 
 frequent; but the people seemed so much wilder, and 
 more excitable and noisy. 
 
 The pig -market was the most popular resort. The pigs 
 are brought to market in carts, and as they are wanted 
 are hauled out by their tails, struggling and screaming 
 furiously. One old woman had a couple of pigs in leash, 
 and she was exhorting them in Breton to keep the peace, 
 for they were squealing loudly. A little way off we saw 
 an old woman selling a cow ; several long-haired, fierce- 
 looking, very dirty men on their knees were inspecting the 
 beast and feeling its different points. The old woman, in 
 a large square plaited collar, and a cap with long lappets, 
 stood erect, expatiating on the good qualities of the animal. 
 At last one man, who had all this time been trying to milk 
 it, got up, shook his head, and wiped his fingers on the 
 cow's tail. At this the others dispersed, and the old woman 
 shrugged her shoulders and led her cow away in a puffet. 
 
 Beyond this group we came to a row of carts filled with 
 immense round baskets of live cocks and hens, their combs 
 making a blaze of colour. Amid the noise and squalor and 
 dirt, it was refreshing to come upon a dear little child in 
 its mother's arms, with a superb skull-cap of crimson and 
 blue ribbon embroidered with gold ; and in the general 
 market there was a great display on some of the stalls of 
 bright-coloured gauze ribbons with broad gold and silver 
 stripes. These, our friend said, were worn on the skull-cap 
 underneath the net or muslin cap on fete days ; and after- 
 wards when we got farther west we saw an abundant use 
 made of these ribbons, both as headgear and as sashes. 
 There were stalls, too, full of black ribbon velvet of all 
 widths, and a curious kind of binding or tape, a most 
 
230 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 delightful combination of blue, green, and yellow. People 
 seemed to be buying in all directions, but some of the 
 men were so repulsively dirty that we shrank from being 
 jostled by or against them. 
 
 All at once we came upon a gaping staring crowd sur- 
 rounding a donkey-cart. In this was a porcupine in a cage. 
 Four dressed-up monkeys were perched about the cart, 
 and following it was a huge bear led by a chain, with a long 
 pole in his paws. The owner, a man in a blue blouse, 
 always made the bear bow to the audience before he 
 began his uncouth gambols with the pole. These animals 
 were making a progress through Brittany ; for, after this, 
 we constantly fell in with them at various towns. 
 
 The environs of Quimperle are enchanting both for 
 beauty and variety ; excellent trout fishing is to be had ; 
 salmon, too, has been caught in the river Elle. Either for 
 angler or artist, I cannot conceive more exquisite enjoy- 
 ment than in long summer evenings or early mornings spent 
 in wandering up and down the banks of the lovely rivers, 
 passing by picturesque bridges and old mills on the way 
 to the wild rocky passes higher up the valley. 
 
 One day our friend drove us to a pass called La Roche du 
 Diable. The road going there was very lovely, and re- 
 minded us much of Devonshire. About half a mile or so 
 before we reached the rocks we had to leave the carriage, 
 as the road was very steep. We stopped at a cottage by 
 the roadside, and got a little girl to guide us ; and after 
 a fatiguing climb — for the sun's heat was, as usual, intense 
 — we reached the top of the rocks, our little guide going 
 before and springing from one stone to another like a goat. 
 
 The view on all sides is lovely. Masses of rocks are 
 
LA ROCHE DU DIABLE. 
 
 231 
 
 piled round in every direction, pine-trees springing up among 
 them wherever they can get a footing. In front the rock 
 goes down a precipitous depth to the river bed, and rises 
 on the other side in rugged masses of grey precipice. 
 Far below, between most fantastic piled-up crags, rushes the 
 clear brown stream, breaking every now and then into foam, 
 when the dark red and brown rocks force it to circle round 
 them on its way down the valley. At one point a circle of 
 very lofty rocks seems to close the water in, and here it 
 looks like a dark lake shut in for ever ; but higher up the 
 valley its shining thread is again visible. Some way below 
 us a little oak-tree had niched itself among the lichen- 
 covered boulders, and stood as if perched in air. Still 
 higher up the valley is a country house, which must com- 
 mand an exquisite view of the whole scene. Among this 
 rocky, wooded country there is excellent hunting in the 
 winter both of wolves and wild boars. One could spend 
 days in exploring these rocks, although the descent into the 
 valley in some parts looks impossible, it is so rugged and 
 precipitous. 
 
 On our way back to the carriage we stopped at a low- 
 roofed cottage and asked for milk ; but, though the friend 
 who went with us spoke in Breton, she only understood the 
 Treguier dialect, and it was some time before the clumsy 
 sad-faced mistress could understand what we wanted, and 
 then she bargained for the price of the milk before she 
 would give it The cottage was a most primitive abode, 
 the earthen floor very uneven, with large stones imbedded 
 in it. Facing the door and the one window were box- 
 bedsteads, the woodwork perforated in the form of stars, and 
 these filled with silvered and red paper. Below each bed- 
 
QUIMPERLE. 
 
 stead stood a carved oak chest, and on one side was an 
 enormous armoire which seemed as if it might have con- 
 tained the wardrobe of the whole family. Over our heads 
 were skins of lard and piles of pancakes, or gauffres. There 
 was no sign of poverty, but squalor reigned paramount, 
 and this was increased by the want of light ; for, to 
 avoid the tax on windows, the poorer class of Bretons 
 usually admit light by the door : there is rarely more than 
 one window, and this is seldom cleaned. 
 
 We went into the church of this village — a primitive little 
 place. On our way home, just before we reached Quim- 
 perle, we turned off on the right, and followed the course of 
 the river some distance on the opposite banks. It is very 
 beautiful here ; on one side enormous masses of rock over- 
 hang the road, and on the other is the black swiftly-flowing 
 river, with king-fern growing abundantly on the banks. 
 
 To the north of Quimperle', along the lovely banks of the 
 Elle, is the chapel of Rosgrand. There is here a good 
 Renaissance rood-screen. 
 
 To the south the scenery is very beautiful ; here is the 
 huge forest of Carnoet, where the Dukes of Brittany once 
 had a castle. The Bluebeard, Comorre, is said to have 
 dwelt here, and from this castle St. Tryphena is supposed 
 to have fled. Only a few bits of ruined wall now remain. 
 At the edge of the forest, in a grove of lofty trees, is the 
 old church of Lothea, said to have been built by the 
 Knights Templars. Mass is said in this church only once 
 a year, on the occasion of the Pardon of Toulfouen, which 
 takes place on Whitsun Monday. This is said to be a 
 most picturesque scene, and is called " the Pardon of the 
 Birds/' from the number of birds sold there. 
 
ABBEY OF ST. MAURICE. 
 
 233 
 
 The forest of Carnoet is watered by the Laita, as the 
 river formed by the Elle and Isole is called after their union. 
 The ferry was called the Passage de Carnoet, and had a 
 marvellous., legend attached to it, called " The Old Oak of 
 the Laita." 
 
 Outside Quimperle. 
 
 At the farthest end of the forest are the ruins of the 
 abbey of St. Maurice, built in the twelfth century by Duke 
 Conan in honour of St. Maurice, a monk who was buried 
 in the now ruined abbey. Over the doorway was this proud 
 legend : " Cette maison durera jusqu'a ce que la fourmi 
 ait bu la mer, et que la tortue ait fait le tour du monde." 
 
234 
 
 SCAER. 
 
 The old Breton Benedictine chronicler, Dom Morice, 
 was a native of Quimperle ; and so is the best historian of 
 the poetry and legends of this interesting country, Monsieur 
 de Villemarque, author of the "Barzaz Breiz." 
 
 One can hardly say enough in praise of this most fasci- 
 nating little town, and we met with so much hospitality 
 and kindness there that we were quite sorry to leave 
 Quimperle, or Kemper-Elle — in allusion to the meeting of 
 the rivers, kemper signifying meeting. 
 
 Very many excursions may be made from this charming 
 little town — to Carhaix and Huelgoat by way of Gourin, 
 also to Scaer, a wild place near the Isole, full of old cus- 
 toms and traditions. 
 
 At Scaer the old custom of asking a girl in marriage by 
 means of the bazvalan is universal. The bazvalan is usually 
 a tailor — a trade so despised among the Bretons, that they 
 say, in speaking of one of the craft, " Sauf votre respect." 
 When the bazvalan goes a-wooing, he usually carries a wand 
 of green broom in his hand. Hence his name, as baz signi- 
 fies " stick/' and valan, "jof broom." It is requisite that the 
 bazvalan should be naturally eloquent and also very good- 
 tempered. He must be able to describe elaborately the 
 possessions and good qualities of his clients, and also he 
 must have a ready answer to any objection that may be 
 offered. 
 
 When he presents himself at a house he says " Good-day ! " 
 while yet on the threshold ; and if he is not at once asked 
 to come in, or if the mistress turns her back upon him and 
 holds a pancake to the fire, it is a bad omen, and he goes 
 away. If, as he turns away, he meets a crow or a mag- 
 pie, he goes back again. But if, on his first approach, 
 
THE BAZVALAN. 
 
 235 
 
 before he has finished his greeting, the mistress cries out 
 " Come in ! " — if he sees smiling faces, then all is well ; he 
 enters and takes a seat. 
 
 He then whispers his errand to the mother, who goes 
 outside and confers with him. She then returns and con- 
 sults with her daughter, and consent is given. 
 
 The wedding takes place at the end of a month, and 
 meanwhile everything in the house is cleaned, waxed, and 
 polished, till the beds and presses are like looking-glasses, 
 and the brass pans and pewter spoons glitter like gold and 
 silver. 
 
 The bridesmaids and groomsmen are chosen, and on a 
 Saturday evening the wedding-party goes up to the presby- 
 tery, and the young couple are betrothed. Then there is a 
 supper, and next day the banns are published, and the 
 bazvalan gives the invitations to the wedding in verse. 
 Accompanied by the brother of the bride, he goes about 
 from house to house, taking care to present himself at meal- 
 time in the richest dwellings. He gives three taps at the 
 door, and then says, " Prosperity and joy to this house ! I 
 am the wedding messenger." 
 
 At daybreak, on the wedding morning, the house of the 
 bride is surrounded by a merry assemblage on horseback, 
 who come to escort her to church. The bridegroom, with 
 his best man, heads this procession. The bazvalan dis- 
 mounts, and, placing himself on the door-step, begins the 
 customary improvisation. This sort of song is answered by 
 a person called the breutder who acts the same part towards 
 the bride as the bazvalan does towards the bridegroom. 
 
 The bazvalan gives his blessing to the house. 
 
 The breutaer asks what ails him. 
 
236 
 
 SCAER. 
 
 The bazvalan says he has lost his little dove and cannot 
 find her. 
 
 The breutaer, after some fencing, says he will go and 
 look for her. He goes in, and returns with a little child. 
 
 Then, when the bazvalan says this is not the dove he 
 seeks, the breutaer brings forward the girl's mother, or 
 sometimes a widow. 
 
 At last the bridegroom is allowed to enter and seek his 
 bride, guided by the bazvalan; she is usually found very 
 richly dressed, and weeps at her parents' feet while a solemn 
 blessing is pronounced over her. She and the bridegroom 
 exchange rings, and then, after some other quaint cere- 
 monies, the bride is placed by the breutaer behind her 
 bridegroom on his horse, and the cavalcade moves on to 
 the church. 
 
 In the " Barzaz Breiz," Monsieur de Villemarque gives a 
 specimen of this curious dialogue in the ballad called 
 "La Demande en Manage," and in the 23d and 24th 
 cantos of "Les Bretons," by Brizeux, the ceremonies of 
 betrothal and of marriage are both described. 
 
 It is specially at Scaer, in the little stream of Coatdry, 
 that the staurotides, or cross stones, are found. Once upon 
 a time a pagan chief threw down and destroyed the crucifix 
 in the chapel of Coatdry, and ever since that time the 
 Divine mark has been stamped on the pebbles in the 
 brook of Coatdry. 
 
 There are many other places of interest to be reached 
 from Quimperle, especially Pont Aven and its lovely neigh- 
 bourhood, and northwards the curious and sequestered 
 churches of St. Fiacre and Ste. Barbe. 
 
MORBIHAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Le Faouet — Sainte Barbe — Saint Fiacre. 
 
 ^^"E started for these two churches early one morning 
 in a very comfortable carriage with one horse, for 
 Le Faouet is only about thirteen miles from Quimperle, and 
 Ste. Barbe less than two miles farther. Our driver was even 
 more stolid than the average of Breton drivers ; he seemed 
 to think every question addressed to him an infliction, and 
 never answered if he could help doing so. 
 
 We drove along a narrow road between the two rivers, 
 from which we got a lovely view of Quimperle. The country 
 was richly wooded, and the road bordered with trees. We 
 passed several villages, Kerlavarec and Caros-combout ; soon 
 after passing this our silent driver roused up for a moment, 
 and pointing out a small stream which we were about to 
 cross, said that that was the boundary between Finistere 
 and Morbihan. It was curious to see how the trees seemed 
 to grow stunted, and how much more dreary the country 
 became, as we advanced into Morbihan. The woods we 
 had grown accustomed to of late were replaced first by 
 broad fields of red-stalked sarrazin, snowy just now with 
 
LB FAOUET. 
 
 graceful white flowers ; and as we went farther on these 
 were succeeded by the wild brown landes of Morbihan. 
 
 Just as we reached the top of a steep hill our driver 
 pointed to the right, and we saw, rising out of a deep 
 wooded valley, the graceful grey spire of St. Fiacre. The 
 effect was very striking : there was no house, not a curl of 
 smoke to be seen, only this exquisitely carved spire m the 
 midst of trees. 
 
 Our driver informed us that it was usual to visit St, 
 Fiacre before proceeding to Le Faouet; but we were 
 hungry, and as he said that Le Faouet was not quite two 
 miles off, we knew we should have plenty of time to see 
 the church on our return. 
 
 Le Faouet is a delightfully quaint place : the stone houses 
 with red roofs, covered with golden lichen, are built round 
 a large open market place, surrounded by a low wall and 
 shadowed by avenues of lofty elm-trees. The Halles, a very 
 long curious old building, with an open timber roof, occu- 
 pies a large portion of the market-place. Market was going 
 on when we arrived, and the scene was very vivid and 
 striking. There were no bragous or black embroidered 
 jackets here; we saw again the white, black-bound jackets 
 of Morbihan, and the loose linen and cloth trousers. 
 The women wore chiefly the cloth and velvet hoods we 
 had first seen at St. Nicholas, except that at Le Faouet the 
 hood linings were more subdued in colour — tawny greens 
 and yellows. The tails of the great grey cart-horses almost 
 touched their hoofs ; but there was none of the plaiting of 
 the tails we had seen in other parts of Brittany. In the 
 market there was a great display of the silver buttons used 
 for the men's coats and waistcoats, and for the bodies of 
 
STB. BARBE. 
 
 239 
 
 gowns ; the fruit was very good, abundant, and cheap, 
 selling at an absurdly low price. 
 
 The church seemed ruinous, and had that deserted look 
 one sees so often in these village churches, from the entire 
 absence of chairs or benches. What would one of our 
 comfort-loving British congregations say if they had to 
 kneel on damp green flagstones during a whole service ? 
 There are several curious old houses in Le Faouet, and 
 altogether it is a very primitive out-of-the-world village. It 
 once had a castle, which was taken by King Edward III. 
 during the War of Succession, and the town seems to have 
 been pillaged by the brigand Fontenelle in 1695. 
 
 After breakfast we drove off to Ste. Barbe, up a pretty 
 but steep road. We had not gone far before we discovered 
 that our driver did not know the way, and although the 
 chapel is not much more than a mile from Le Faouet, 
 we lost more than an hour in seeking it. As we climbed 
 higher and higher the steep uneven downs and roads must 
 sorely have tried the springs of our vehicle ; on reaching 
 the highest point of the hill we saw the country spreading 
 all around below us, but still no sign of a church, and we 
 began to think that Ste. Barbe was, like the castle of St. 
 John, an invisible building. 
 
 Just before we reached the open down, we passed a hut 
 made of faggots, furze, and heather. In the opening a 
 sabotier sat carving wooden shoes, and he must already 
 have made a large stock of them, for the ground about the 
 hut was strewn with large yellow chips and shavings; in 
 front of the hut lay thick blocks of wood waiting to be 
 made into sabots. 
 
 But our driver pointed forwards where the hill seemed to 
 
240 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 end in a sudden shelf fringed with pine-trees. On the left 
 was a cottage, and on the right a sort of kitchen garden 
 surrounded by a low stone wall with tall stone supports at 
 intervals, as if there had once been a lofty iron fencing. 
 
 Still we saw no chapel ; but at the sound of wheels a 
 wild-looking old man, with a bare red chest, came rushing 
 out of the cottage, and our driver told us we were to alight. 
 
 The old man led us on to what seemed the edge of the 
 hill, and then we suddenly saw before us a broad flight of 
 mossy stone steps with stone balustrades on each side, and 
 at the foot of this staircase, closed in by a wall of tall rocks, 
 was the chapel, built seemingly in the air ; for the shelf of 
 rock we had seen before us is really the edge of a deep 
 ravine, which goes down precipitously on all sides — except 
 the projecting spur on which the chapel is built — to the 
 brawling Elle far below. Never was a legend so graphically 
 vouched for as this story of the chapel of Ste. Barbe, now 
 four hundred years old. 
 
 One summer's day, in the fifteenth century, Jehan ot 
 Toulbodou, in Locmao, was hunting in the valley, and was 
 suddenly overtaken by a terrific storm. Shut in between 
 the lofty rocks beside the river, he saw more than one 
 thunderbolt fall at his feet, and at last the lightning struck 
 on the rock under which he had sheltered himself, and a 
 detached mass seemed to be falling on him. He uttered a 
 brief prayer to his patroness, Ste. Barbe, and a vow that if 
 his life were spared he would build a chapel on that very 
 spot. The rock stopped in its progress half-way down the 
 mountain-side, where it still remains. Jehan de Toulbodou 
 kept his vow, and soon after began to build a chapel on 
 the rock, and dedicated it to Ste. Barbe. 
 
STE. BARBE. 
 
 At the top of the staircase on the right is a belfry, resting 
 on pillars ; but no words can describe the singular and 
 romantic effect produced by the position of the chapel, 
 niched on the side of the precipice and walled in on one 
 side by steep and lofty rocks. The colour, too, is remark- 
 able ; it is built of pink granite, and time has frosted 
 this over with silver lichen. When we reached the bottom 
 
 Ste. Barbe. 
 
 of the first flight of steps, we found a second and double 
 staircase leading down on the left to the church, and on the 
 right to a ledge of rock from which we had a good view 
 of the church and the valley below. Beyond the river 
 there is an immense range of country, partly cultivated, 
 partly broken by dark thickly-wooded hills. The first flight 
 of steps leads on to a sort of raised terrace supported by a 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 LE FAOU&T. 
 
 lofty archway, at the end of this terrace is the little chapel 
 of St. Bernard, built on another spur of rock above the 
 church. 
 
 We saw rings outside the moss-grown wall of this chapel, 
 and were told that devout pilgrims to Ste. Barbe have 
 attempted to creep round this little chapel, built on the 
 sheer edge of the rock, by clinging from ring to ring. This 
 must be a most perilous feat. 
 
 After visiting this chapel we went down the grey time-worn 
 stone staircase on the left to the chapel or church of Ste. 
 Barbe. On it is this inscription : " Le commencement de 
 cette chapelle fut le 6 i6me jour de juillet Tan 1449." 
 Perhaps one of the most singular parts of its construction 
 is the place of the high altar. The door seems to open 
 upon this, and the chapel extends lengthways right and left 
 of it. The statue of Ste. Barbe occupies a prominent posi- 
 tion. There are also statues of the Blessed Virgin, of St. 
 Corentin, and of St. Ursula. There have been several 
 others, now destroyed. Ste. Barbe also appears in a 
 window at the end of the church, surrounded with storm- 
 clouds and lightning. There is a vaulted stone roof, and 
 at one of the outside angles is a graceful little tourelle. 
 
 But there is a damp deserted look about the building. 
 One can fancy that mass is only said there on the occasion 
 of the pilgrimage or Pardon of Ste. Barbe ; both our guide 
 and driver knelt down and said their prayers devoutly before 
 the high altar. Outside, the rock-wall is so near the church 
 that there is only a narrow path between. We were glad to 
 emerge from this narrow passage on to a little grass platform 
 on the side overlooking the valley, though the descent is 
 so steep that it made one dizzy even at some little way 
 
STE. BARBE. 
 
 243 
 
 from the edge. The view of the whole scene from here, 
 with the river winding through it, is very beautiful. The 
 rose-tinted, lichen- crusted church, the frowning brown 
 rocks all round tapestried with ivy and other clinging 
 greenery, and then the broken massive time- stained steps, 
 with their heavy green-grey balustrades, bits of lady-fern 
 and ivy-leaved toad-flax nestling here and there in the 
 chinks, making a background for red crane's-bill and yellow 
 hawkweed blossoms, are full of exquisite colour. 
 
 A pilgrimage to Ste. Barbe must be a strange sight. As 
 we circled round the church and found our way back to the 
 other flight of stone steps, we wondered how a crowd 
 could find safe footing on this little spur of precipice. 
 Probably the pilgrims remain on the down above, and take 
 it by turns to come to the chapel and offer their devotions. 
 We could have stayed several hours at Ste. Barbe ; and 
 there is good fishing to be had in the Elle. Down far 
 below we saw an angler beside the dashing, sparkling 
 river, and Le Faouet is considered an excellent resting- 
 place for anglers, though the best trout stream near Quim- 
 perle lies between that town and Pont Aven. We learned 
 that the neglected garden on the plateau above surrounds 
 the tomb of a M. Berenger. 
 
 Going back by the direct road, we soon found ourselves 
 at Le Faouet, and in about another half-hour at St. Fiacre. 
 It lies at the bottom of the valley, and we had to leave our 
 carriage at the entrance of a very muddy road ; spite of so 
 many weeks of fine dry weather this was almost impracti- 
 cable. Our way lay through a farmyard, and the ruts made 
 by heavy cart-wheels were full of water, which overflowed 
 the road. But we soon passed this, and came to an open 
 
244 
 
 LE FA OCTET. 
 
 bit of ground with a few stone cottages on each side, and 
 in its midst the beautiful Church of St. Fiacre. 
 
 St. Fiacre was built in the middle of the fifteenth century, 
 and, though the architecture is very florid, its spire is one 
 of the most beautiful of the Breton churches of that date. 
 Two lesser spires are connected with the floriated gallery 
 below the principal fleche by flying buttresses ; the effect is 
 both rich and graceful. The porch was once filled with 
 statues of saints, now destroyed ; only St. Christopher has 
 escaped. 
 
 The chapel is divided into five bays by a single row of 
 arches supported on columns. There are eight curious 
 windows, the work of Androuet of Quimperle, in 1552. 
 There is some good colour in the east window : it represents 
 the Passion and Resurrection ; that in the north transept 
 the Nativity, the Visit of St. Elizabeth, the Circumcision, 
 the Sermon on the Mount, and St. John Baptist. The most 
 curious window is in the side of the south transept — the 
 legend of Sj;. Fiacre, the patron saint of gardeners, with 
 these inscriptions beneath the different panels : " Comment 
 la vieille vint se plaindre et accuser Saint Fiacre a l'eveque 
 de Meaux, disant que 9a gatait son bois." — " Comment S. 
 Fiacre guerissait les aveugles." — " Comment la vieille tansa 
 S. Fiacre pour Famour qu'il abattait le bois, et le fit cesser 
 de par Dieu, et il cessa." In one of the windows the angels 
 Wear red wigs. 
 
 The glory of St. Fiacre is its jubk or rood-screen. It is 
 certainly a most wonderful piece of carved wood-work, but 
 we were greatly disappointed to find it gaudily gilt and 
 painted in staring colours. The door-posts of the screen 
 represent St. Fiacre in the various acts of his life. On the 
 
THE ROOD-SCREEN. 245 
 
 frieze to the right a wolf in a monk's frock is represented 
 preaching, and at the foot of the pulpit is a fox coaxing 
 chickens to come and listen to the preacher. Farther on 
 the fox is running away pursued by the fowls, which peck at 
 him \ farther on still the fox lies dead, and the fowls are 
 
 St. Fiacre. 
 
 eating him. Above the frieze is a gallery surmounted by a 
 Calvary, and supported by five arches with pendants formed 
 of angels. In the niches are the figures of the Blessed 
 Virgin and the angel Gabriel, and of Adam and Eve at the 
 foot of the tree of good and evil. 
 
 The carving on the eastern side of the screen is quite 
 
£46 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 different. Here the pendants are boldly relieved figures, 
 and are said to emblematize some of the seven deadly sins. 
 The first is a disgusting representation of gluttony, and 
 one of the others is a Breton bagpipe-player, or sonneur — 
 a type of the excesses committed at the Pardons, of which 
 he is a usual accessory. We wished we had taken our 
 driver's advice and visited St. Fiacre in the morning, for 
 so little light comes in through the cobwebbed painted 
 windows, that it is difficult to examine the immense amount 
 of minute detail on this wonderful screen when the sun's 
 rays have grown level. 
 
 Between Guemene and Le Faouet there is the church of 
 Kernascleden, which is the sister of the church of St. Fiacre, 
 only yet more beautiful. The legend relates that it was 
 built at the same time, by Alain de Rohan, Viscount of 
 Porhoet, in 1453, and that as tools were scarce, angels used 
 to carry them to and fro between the workmen of the two 
 churches. Kernascleden is wonderfully perfect. It is so 
 completely secluded, that it escaped injury at the Revolu- 
 tion. It is well worth a visit, and can be reached either 
 from Pontivy, by way of Guemene-sur-Scorff, a long strag- 
 gling town with an interesting ruined castle, or from Le 
 Faouet — the distance between Pontivy and Kernascleden, 
 by way of Guemene, twenty-one miles ; between Le Faouet 
 and Kernascleden ten miles. 
 
 As we came out of St. Fiacre, we saw that the house 
 nearest it, which we had taken at first for a cottage, was a 
 farmhouse, with black pig-trodden straw in front and the 
 usual amount of untidy litter, to which by this time we had 
 grown accustomed. Perhaps the first thing that strikes the 
 traveller in Brittany as a distinctly new feature is the 
 
A BRETON FARMER. 
 
 247 
 
 almost total absence of barns, and the constant out-of- 
 door threshing that one sees every day in August in the 
 finest and most available weather for out-door agriculture. 
 We saw them threshing here as we went into church, two 
 lads and two women laughing and striking their flails with 
 hearty good-will and precision, though they stood so close, 
 that it was surprising they did not strike each other's faces. 
 On one side of the house the ground was covered with 
 golden litter, and the fowls were, as usual, busy, clucking 
 and scratching as they picked up the precious grains. 
 
 A severe looking Breton in the white costume of Morbi- 
 han, a buff leather belt round his waist, and a very broad- 
 brimmed black hat, came to the house door and looked at 
 us. We felt a great wish to see the interior of his house, 
 and we asked if we could have some milk. 
 
 "Yes, yes," he said, in very bad French; "come in." 
 And then over his shoulder he told a woman to ask what 
 we wanted. 
 
 We went in and tried to explain ; but she could only 
 speak Breton, and her Breton was the most unintelligible we 
 had met with. The master evidently considered it beneath 
 his dignity to interpret, and he walked away to the other end 
 of the long low room. He came back as soon as the bare- 
 footed servant went to get the milk, and then we saw that, 
 although his waistcoat had two massive rows of silver buttons 
 (four dozen in number), and his coat was richly trimmed 
 with velvet, he wore wooden sabots on his bare brown feet, 
 with straw stuffed in at the sides. He was very much 
 pleased when we admired his furniture, and it was certainly 
 very handsome. There were two carved wardrobes with 
 curious metal-work on them, and several box-beds with 
 
248 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 carved oak chests below fixed into different parts of the 
 wall. Evidently the whole family slept in this one room ; 
 and probably there was no other, for the sweet breath of 
 cows came through a little arched doorway at one side. 
 
 These wooden box-beds, with their carved panels and 
 neatly fastened bright-coloured curtains, make the inside 
 of a Breton dwelling very picturesque, though even here, 
 with this evidently costly furniture, the floor was of clay, 
 trodden and uneven by the constant passage of cows, 
 horses, and pigs, which all seemed to have free right of 
 way, and fowls were clucking everywhere. We noticed 
 wooden racks for spoons, like those in Yorkshire cottages. 
 
 As we went up to the huge open fireplace at the farther 
 end of the long room, we saw a most beautiful and striking 
 picture. Besides the usual small front window, there was 
 in this house a larger open window looking west. This 
 window was open, and through it the full light of the 
 setting sun fell on the tall figure of an old woman lying out- 
 side a sort of tent-bed, and turned her faded green gown to 
 an exquisite golden bronze. 
 
 " It is my mother," the farmer said. " She lies there 
 always, for she is too feeble to move ; but she is eighty, and 
 she does not suffer." The old woman had a sweet old 
 r ace, with very blue eyes, and she smiled at us as we went 
 up to the bed. Nestling close against her head was a 
 pretty little white kitten, which every now and then patted 
 her playfully to remind her of its presence. 
 
 " Ah ! " the farmer said, "it is her playfellow ; my mother 
 could not live without Mousseline." 
 
 We went back and dined at Le Faouet, and then started 
 in the dusk for Quimperle. Our driver had forgotten to 
 
A DRIVE IN THE DARK. 
 
 249 
 
 bring lamps, and seemed unable to borrow any. However, 
 the landlord of the Lion d'Or, at Le Faouet, assured us 
 that we should reach Quimperle' before dark, and that the 
 horse certainly knew his way ; but our silent driver, though 
 it grew dark very soon, was utterly deaf to our request to 
 drive faster. He made no answer, but went on at the most 
 exasperating jog-trot, taking long naps ; more than once he 
 nearly rolled into the road. Finally coming to a very tree- 
 shadowed bit of road he waked up, grew frightened, looked 
 cautiously into the bushes on each side the way, and urged 
 his horse on faster, muttering something about " thieves." 
 
 At last we came to a cottage, the window glowing like a 
 live coal for some distance before we approached it. Here 
 the driver put the reins in my hand, rolled off his seat, and 
 knocked loudly at the cottage door. The people had 
 seemingly gone to sleep, for he was a long time before he 
 returned with a bit of tallow candle. He lit this, and then 
 putting it roughly into my hand, told me to hold it under 
 the hood of the carriage lest it should blow out, without 
 even saying " if you please." 
 
 It was not a pleasant holding, as the grease dripped, and 
 the candle was blown out twice before we reached Quim- 
 perle ; but if all the townsfolk had not been gone to bed 
 our passage through the streets would have had a comic 
 effect even in the darkness, for the wretched little candle 
 gave a starved light that must have made it look some- 
 thing like a flying glow-worm. 
 
finistIre. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII, 
 
 Pont Aven. Tregunc. 
 Rustefan. Concarneau. 
 
 r J^HE most delightful excursion to be made from Quim 
 perle is to Pont Aven and its neighbourhood. The 
 drive of rather more than ten miles is very pleasant, and the 
 descent into the valley of the Aven, in which the charming 
 little town lies, most picturesque. On all sides except that 
 towards the sea the hills rise steeply. 
 
 The beautiful river winds along the valley at the foot of 
 a succession of steep hills to the sea, six miles beyond Pont 
 Aven. The water dashes over enormous blocks of stone ; 
 the quaint granite houses of the village nestle beside 
 it under the wooded hills. The old saying was, " Pont 
 Aven, ville de renom : quinze moulins, quatorze maisons." 
 Numberless mills peep out among the rocks beside the 
 river shaded by poplar-trees. Here and there these mills 
 are connected by little bridges stretching from rock to rock. 
 
 The effect of the bright water foaming over the grey 
 stones ; the curious primitive dwellings, of which almost all 
 the windows are different, and the very original dress of 
 the women, give an indescribable charm to this seques- 
 tered little place, which seems to be almost as unso- 
 
PONT A VEN. 
 
 phisticated as when Cambry visited it in 1794; when there 
 was no doctor to be found in Pont Aven, when the inha- 
 bitants were only beginning to grow potatoes, and the 
 millers fed their pigs on salmon-fry taken from the Aven. 
 
 The River, Pont Aven. 
 
 Xow-a-days there is a very large exportation of potatoes to 
 England, and the sending them off is a remarkable sight. 
 
 The women look as if they had walked out of the illumi- 
 nations to some old chronicle ; and doubtless they wore 
 in the time of Froissart almost the same high-crowned caps 
 flat on the forehead, with long wings pinned together behind 
 
252 
 
 FINISTERE. 
 
 the head so as to form a large triangle, and the enormous 
 finely-gauffered, square-cornered collars reaching to the 
 shoulders, and half way down the back, with white chemi- 
 settes, called guimpes, in front. The women of Pont Aven 
 are said to be some of the best dancers in Brittany. 
 
 The breakfast at the Hotel des Voyageurs was very 
 pleasant, and the hotel itself, with its hospitable, genial 
 landlady, Mademoiselle Julia Guillou, deserves a special 
 mention ; indeed, it is impossible to overpraise the kind- 
 ness shown by Mademoiselle Julia to her guests. She is 
 held in the highest estimation in the district. Her hotel is 
 frequented by artists of all nations, who seem almost to 
 monopolise it. 
 
 After breakfast we went to the farm of Kergoa to see a 
 threshing machine worked by horses ; hitherto we had only 
 seen the flail-beating process. This horse-machine is even 
 more picturesque. A Breton boy in a blouse and broad- 
 leaved hat stood in the centre, whip in hand, and regulated 
 the pace of six horses, which moved round and round in 
 pairs. Within the circle made by the horses a pretty 
 barefooted girl pushed the turning handle, while a man 
 and several women were busy feeding the machine as : 
 went round ; overhead were spreading trees, and close by 
 was a huge golden wheat-stack. Near this farm are two 
 enormous boulders, one of them evidently Druidical ; but 
 the finest of these relics in this neighbourhood is a menhir 
 on the road to Nevez, about a kilometre from Pont Aven. 
 
 Early next morning we went to a very curious little 
 chapel on the top of a hill, called Tre Malo. Every 
 window in this chapel is of different design ; the arches 
 and pillars inside are very curious ; scarcely two are alike, 
 
RUSTEFAN, 
 
 253 
 
 and the pillars all lean different ways. There is some 
 beautiful old glass in one window. Near the chapel we 
 found some rare wild flowers. After breakfast we started 
 in search of the ruins of Rustefan. 
 
 We soon came to Nizon, a curious deserted little village 
 about two miles or so from Pont Aven, with a remarkable 
 and very old church ; but the Calvary in the churchyard 
 
 Rustefan 
 
 was the most curious we had yet seen, for bone-houses and 
 Calvaries are more frequent in the north of Brittany than 
 in the south. We saw two dolmens at Nizon, also an old 
 ruined tower. From the village we could see the ruins of 
 Rustefan about half a mile off. The walk to them through 
 a chestnut wood was delightful. This wood is like a park 
 of the olden time. 
 
 The chateau is a charming, mournful little ruin, only 
 
254 
 
 FINISTERE. 
 
 half its former size, the Gothic doorway very graceful, and 
 the whole air of the place is quite in harmony with the 
 touching ballad of poor love-lorn Genevieve, whose spirit is 
 still said to haunt the quaint dormers of the ruined chateau. 
 
 It is said that the Lord of Le Faou lived at Rustefan, and 
 that the lady, his wife, saw that her youngest daughter, 
 Genevieve, and her godson, the young peasant Jannik 
 Flecher, loved one another. She therefore persuaded her 
 husband to pay for Jannik's priestly education, and the 
 result is told in the ballad. 
 
 GENEVIEVE OF RUSTEFAN. 
 i. 
 
 While little Jannik kept his sheep he had no thought of being a 
 priest. 
 
 " I will be neither priest nor monk. My mind runs on young girls." 
 One day his mother said, " You waste your time, my son Jan. 
 Leave those sheep and come home ; you must go to school at 
 Quimper. 
 
 You must learn to be a priest, and you must say good-bye to the 
 young girls." 
 
 II. 
 
 The fairest girls of the country side were the daughters of the Lord 
 of Faou. 
 
 The fairest girls to be seen on the Place were the daughters of the 
 Lord of Faou. 
 
 They shone beside their companions as the moon shines beside stars. 
 Each one rode a white palfrey when she came to the Pardon of 
 Pont Aven ; 
 
 When they came to the Pardon ot Pont Aven the stones clattered 
 as they rode. 
 
 Each dressed in a robe of green silk, with gold chains round her 
 neck. 
 
 The fairest is the youngest, and they say she loves Jannik of Kerblez. 
 " I have been beloved by four clerks, and all four have become 
 priests. 
 
 Jannik ar Flecher is the last; it breaks my heart to lose him." 
 
GENEVIEVE OF R USTEFAN. 
 
 in. 
 
 As Jannik went to be ordained, Genevieve sat on the threshold. 
 
 Genevieve was on the threshold embroidering ; she embroidered lace 
 with silver thread (a fitting veil for a chalice). 
 
 " Jannik ar Flecher, listen ! Do not go to be ordained. 
 
 Do not take orders, for the sake of all that has been." 
 
 " I cannot go home — I should be called an apostate." 
 
 " You have then forgotten all that has come, and gone between us 
 two. 
 
 You have lost the ring which I gave you while we danced ? '* 
 
 " I have not lost your gold ring ; GOD has taken it from me." 
 
 " Jannik ar Flecher, return, and I will give you all my fortune. 
 
 Jannik, my love, come back, and I will follow you ; 
 
 I will put on sabots, and I will go with you to your work. 
 
 If you will not hear my prayer, bring me extreme unction." 
 
 " Alas ! I cannot follow you. I am chained by GOD ; 
 
 For the hand of GOD holds me. I must go to be ordained." 
 
 rv. 
 
 And as he came back from Quimper he passed again by the manor- 
 house. 
 
 "Good luck to you, Lord of Rustefan ; good luck to you, great 
 and little ! 
 
 Prosperity and joy to you, little and great ! Alas ! I possess 
 neither. 
 
 I am come to invite you to assist at my first mass." 
 "Yes ; we will go to your mass, and I will be the first to make an 
 offering thereat. 
 
 I will offer twenty crowns, and my lady, your godmother, will 
 offer ten ; 
 
 And your godmother will offer ten, to do you honour, sir priest." 
 v. 
 
 As I reached Penn-al-Lenn, on my way to mass, 
 I saw a crowd of frightened people run. 
 
 " Do tell me, then, my good old woman, is the Mass ended ? " 
 " The Mass has begun, but he could not finish it ; 
 He could not finish it : he had to weep over Genevieve. 
 Truly, he has wetted three great books with his tears. 
 
FINISTEKE. 
 
 The young girl rushed in, and flung herself at the feet of the priest : 
 4 In the name of GOD, Jann, stop ! You are the cause — the cause 
 01 my death.' " 
 
 vr. 
 
 Messir Jean Flecher is now rector, rector of the village of Nizon ; 
 And I, who composed this ballad, I have often seen him weeping — 
 Often I have seen him weep on the grave of Genevieve. 
 
 Monsieur de Villemarque says that formerly the peasants 
 used to dance late in the evening on the grass in front of 
 the chateau, but one night the dancers were terrified by 
 the apparition, at one of the loopholes of the donjon, of an 
 old priest with a bald head, who gazed at them with flaming 
 eyes ; and ever since the place has been shunned. 
 
 It is said, that whoever will watch within the ruins till 
 midnight will see in the great hall a bier covered with a 
 pall, with four large wax torches, one at each corner, and 
 also that at full moon a young lady, dressed in green 
 satin embroidered with gold, walks, sometimes crying, 
 sometimes singing, on the walls. Some of our party tried 
 the experiment, but did not see Genevieve. 
 
 The walk to the sea from Pont Aven is very beautiful. 
 At Rostras, about three miles and a half from the town, you 
 are ferried over to the Chateau de Poulguen, an extremely 
 interesting old ruin. There is a beautiful mantelpiece in 
 the only inhabited room. 
 
 Beyond Poulguen is the little bay of St. Nicholas, and 
 here there is a chapel where the " pin-sticking " rite is still 
 practised by the peasants on an image of the saint. If the 
 pins remain in for any length of time, the happy pin-sticker 
 is certain to marry before the end of the year. This little 
 bay is excellent for bathing. 
 
CONCARNEA U. 
 
 257 
 
 Another ten minutes brings you to the lighthouse of Port 
 Manech and its magnificent and dangerous coast. 
 
 Concarneau is about eight miles west of Pont Aven. 
 Half way between the two places is the rocking-stone of 
 Tregunc, the second largest rocking-stone in Brittany. It 
 lies a few yards from the road on the right, and can only 
 be moved from one particular point. Some people say that 
 skill and practice are required to move it at all; others 
 assert that it is easily moved. It is a most enormous block 
 of stone, about ten feet long and about seven in depth and 
 height, placed pivot-wise on another stone imbedded in the 
 ground. Not far from this rocking-stone, which is said to 
 have been used by suspicious husbands to test the fidelity 
 of their wives, is a sort of circular dolmen ; but this part of 
 the country teems with dolmens, menhirs, and immense 
 shapeless masses of rock. There is a gigantic species of 
 dolmen about a mile from the road, near the village of 
 Ker-oter. 
 
 Concarneau is best seen from the sea. It is a most curious 
 old walled town, completely fortified, with loopholes all 
 round the ramparts. In these walls are still to be seen the 
 cannon-balls fired during its siege by Du Guesclin when 
 Concarneau was held by an English garrison for John de 
 Montfort. 
 
 The sea, which surrounds the walls, is studded with 
 fishing-boats, as it is the great centre of the sardine fishery. 
 Owing to this the smell of the town is intolerable. About 
 1,200 boats are, during the season, continually taking these 
 fish, which are caught in thousands. There are many vast 
 establishments for salting and curing the fish, and also for 
 boiling them in oil. The sardine is so delicate a fish that 
 
 s 
 
258 
 
 PONT A VEN. 
 
 the great science of taking seems to be in the expertness 
 with which the sardines are discharged from the net without 
 any handling. It is said that the quality of the fish is now 
 much injured by the adulteration of the bait employed in 
 taking them, the best bait being very high priced. It con- 
 sists of the roe of fish brought from Newfoundland. Women 
 seem to be chiefly employed in the salting and boiling 
 houses. 
 
 Concarneau proper, or the Ville Close, is built on an 
 island and enclosed within its walls, and at high tide 
 these are surrounded by the sea. This walled town can be 
 entered from the ferry at the end of the Pont Aven road by 
 the eastern gate, or from the much larger suburb on the 
 west, the Faubourg Ste. Croix, by the drawbridge leading 
 to the Porte Ste. Croix. In this suburb, quite close to 
 the sea, there is a remarkable aquarium, the tanks of which 
 continually admit fresh sea water. These are filled with 
 thousands of enormous crayfish, lobsters, and many edible 
 fish, besides many specimens of rarities. The director, 
 Monsieur Guillou, said that he could, if he liked, export, at 
 a day's notice, from one to three thousand shellfish to 
 various parts of France and other countries. As we looked 
 down into the tanks, they seemed to glow with the red orange 
 of the huge crayfish ; every now and then a blue lobster- 
 claw appeared \ and the green tints of other fish were 
 wonderfully beautiful, quite beyond the power of words to 
 describe. Monsieur Guillou goes about from tank to tank 
 calling his fish by dabbling in the water, and they come 
 at once in answer to his call. 
 
 At the end of the fifteenth century Concarneau was little 
 better than a haunt of brigands. When Duke John IV, 
 
CHATEAU OF HEN AN. 
 
 259 
 
 went to England he embarked at Concarneau. After this 
 Du Guesclin took the town by assault, and put the 
 garrison to the sword, except the captain, whose life he 
 spared. 
 
 Washing-Place on the River. 
 
 A charming row of about three miles on the river from 
 Pont Aven took us to the Chateau of He'nan. It is very 
 picturesque, built on a rock almost circled by the river, 
 
2bO 
 
 PONT A VEN. 
 
 and surrounded by trees. The donjon is a lofty hexagonal 
 tower with a very remarkable pierced parapet and a graceful 
 tourelle, but the present owner will not allow strangers to. 
 visit the chateau. 
 
 Some of the washing-places on the river are very pic- 
 turesque. That shown in the engraving stands at the end 
 of a garden. 
 
 The pardon of Pont Aven is one of the best in Lower 
 Brittany; the wrestling and dancing there have quite a 
 reputation of their own. One of our companions stayed 
 behind to be present at this Pardon, and I give his 
 account : — 
 
 " We saw the place gradually fill with booths, &c, and 
 we were told that on Sunday after high mass various 
 shows and entertainments would begin. Accordingly the 
 doors of the first booth were then thrown open, and a man 
 came out on to the platform. He held his arms open, and, 
 after telling us he was extremely modest, and that he could 
 not speak for himself, he said, — 
 
 " ' You see, I am the strongest man in the whole world, 
 and my Christian name is Hercule. Come in, gentlemen, 
 come in and judge for yourselves.' 
 
 " We went into the booth, and there saw Monsieur Hercule 
 in all his glory, holding up weights and balancing them, 
 first with one hand then with the other, and doing other 
 herculean exploits. His confederate in white tights ener- 
 getically performed on the drum as a pleasant interlude 
 between Hercule's feats, till the doctor of Pont Aven 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " ' If that drum goes on, I must quit the entertainment ! ' 
 " Upon this, the drummer grew sad, and, having nothing 
 
THE PARDON. 
 
 261 
 
 to do, sat down pensively, only rousing to clap Hercule 
 vigorously at the end of each performance. 
 
 " Next we went to see the wrestling. The people form a 
 great ring. The judges, consisting of the maire and the 
 chief of the townspeople, stand in the midst, and make a 
 point of hiding the performance as much as possible from 
 the lookers on. The prizes, which are chiefly flannel waist- 
 coats, hats, and scarfs, are hung on a pole in the middle of 
 the ring, and the intending combatants walk round flourish- 
 ing them in the faces of the bystanders. 
 
 " The wrestling is wholly unlike our Cumberland wrestling. 
 The idea is to get as firm a grip as possible on the tough 
 canvas shirt, and so to raise the opponent from the ground. 
 Both shoulders must touch the ground before a fall can be 
 counted by the adversary . The action of these wrestlers is 
 extremely fine, but the accompaniments to the scene are 
 grotesque. Whenever there seemed to be a lull or a want 
 of some fresh excitement, an extremely dirty and drunken 
 Breton roared out in our ears, 4 Makke him ! ' which we 
 learned signifies, ' No throw : ' but as he said it whenever 
 he had a chance, it became a little monotonous. Still it 
 is well worth while to be at Pont Aven about the 17th of 
 September to see this wrestling. 
 
 " The dancing is less interesting. They go on dancing all 
 day in an exhausting rather than in a festive manner. We 
 learned the dance and danced it, and it is more like a 
 funeral procession than anything we ever experienced. 
 Several lines of about ten men and women are formed, and 
 they run and jog about to the weird discordant music of the 
 Mniou, a sort of dissipated bagpipes. One feature of the 
 dance seems to be that one must never smile or appear in 
 
262 
 
 PONT A VEN. 
 
 any way to enjoy oneself. The best dancers, we discovered, 
 wore a pensive and rather gloomy expression while they 
 danced. The women looked as if they were dying, but, 
 to judge from the sedulous way in which they pursued it, 
 they must find this performance in some way satisfactory. 
 
 "Besides the wrestling and the dancing, there zxzconcours 
 or races of all descriptions ; the most amusing is the duck 
 hunt in the river, a favourite Breton amusement at these 
 pardons when there is a river ; the most exciting are the 
 horse-races. Wild savage-looking men, their long hair 
 flying in the wind, gallop frantically on bare-backed horses, 
 and often frightful accidents occur. One poor fellow was 
 brought in dying while we stood looking on, his horse 
 having flung him violently." 
 
 There is a pretty little baby pardon in June at a place 
 called St. Leger, on the river Belon, to the east of Pont 
 Aven. The scenery here is very lovely, and in the depths 
 of the wood is a little fountain with an image of St. Leger. 
 Here a grand ceremony of washing babies takes place, and 
 some strange rites are enacted. We saw about four hundred 
 babies and children brought to the fountain. 
 
 The famous custom of the Feux de St. Jean is kept up at 
 Pont Aven and its neighbourhood. This custom exists in 
 many parts of Lower Brittany, and also in Leon ; but there 
 seem to be special traditions here and there attached to it. 
 All who can afford it help in making large bonfires, and 
 even the very poor beg a few pence to enable them to con- 
 tribute something to the piles of faggots. In the evening 
 these are lighted. The cure of the parish leads the proces- 
 sion, and solemnly sets light to the first pile ; and, as soon 
 as all are blazing, the ronde is danced round the smoking 
 
THE FEUX BE ST. JEAN. 
 
 263 
 
 blazing heaps to the tune of innumerable reed pipes. The 
 dancers are chiefly the girls of the district, for she who visits 
 nine bonfires on the eve of St. John is sure of a husband 
 within the year. The older people sit round ; here and 
 there seats are left for those departed ; and the girls, while 
 they dance, fling letters into the flame, which they firmly 
 believe will carry their messages to the beloved dead. The 
 
 Girl gathering Onion Heads. 
 
 scene is one of the most striking that can be witnessed in 
 this strange country. 
 
 In the onion plots about Port Aven the tall pale purple 
 and grey balls of blossom and seed grow about seven feet 
 high, so that the peasant girl who gathers the onion heads 
 looks dwarfed as she walks between the rows. 
 
 We drove at a furious pace from Pont Aven to Rospor- 
 den. This looks a quaint town, with an old fourteenth 
 
264 
 
 PONT AVEN. 
 
 century church, which seems to be built in the midst of a 
 piece of water through which the river Aven passes on its 
 way to Pont Aven. We heard that the women of Bannalec, 
 the next station to Rosporden, are noted for their beauty. 
 Between Concarneau and Rosporden is the chateau of 
 Coetcanton ; the garden front of this chateau was built in 
 1500, by Louis le Saulx, Lord of Prat-en-Ras. The viaduct 
 of the railway crosses the pond of Rospordea. 
 
FINIST^RE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIH. 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 HHHE railway ran beside a river till we reached the Odet, 
 on which Quimper is built. The view of the twin 
 spires of the cathedral, appearing above the walls as one 
 approaches from the railway station, is very imposing. We 
 drove at once to the Hotel de l'Epee, built beside the river 
 Odet, which joins the Steir. at Quimper; hence its name, 
 the Breton word kemper signifying confluent. The view 
 from our windows was delightful, and most refreshing to 
 weary travellers. The tree-bordered river was just beneath 
 us, with picturesque townspeople and peasants from neigh- 
 bouring villages chatting in groups under the avenues j 
 while on the opposite side rose a lofty wooded hill, with 
 paths showing among the trees. This was the front view, 
 and from a room at the back of the house we had a grand 
 sight of the spires of the cathedral rising over a group of 
 trees. 
 
 At the table d'hote we seemed suddenly carried back 
 to the Middle Ages by the costume of the attendants — five 
 women in the picturesque dress of Pont Aven. Most of 
 
266 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 the women were fair and colourless, and this style of face 
 went admirably with their sombre quaintly-cut black dresses 
 and snowy winged caps, with large white plaited collars, 
 sleeves, and bibbed aprons. Several of them wore gilt 
 crosses and large earrings. The first sight of these living 
 pictures interfered with the attention due to our excellent 
 dinner. 
 
 Going out along the quay, we soon came to shops gay 
 with richly embroidered Breton garments : jackets worn in 
 this part of the country, both for men and women, all 
 worked by peasant hands ; thick buff leather belts with 
 large buckles ; white collars, ruffs, and caps ; large gold 
 crosses and hearts, hanging from broad black velvet ribbon 
 fringed with gold and covered with spangles of varied shapes 
 and brilliant colours, so brilliant, that they reminded us of 
 the falling stars from sky-rockets. 
 
 Quimper, anciently called Corisopitum, is, as a charming 
 writer says, " a pleasant river-side city of fables and gables 
 but at first as we walked about the town we were a little 
 disappointed. The streets are clean and often well paved, 
 but they looked more modern than we had expected ; when, 
 however, we turned into the quarter farthest from the quays, 
 we passed through several streets full of old quaint houses 
 that quite fulfilled our expectations, the cathedral spires 
 making a fine feature from several unexpected openings. 
 We came upon one specially picturesque view of tumble- 
 down houses on the river at the end of a street leading 
 from the cathedral. This must have delighted many an 
 artist ; it is charming both in composition and in low- 
 toned colour. 
 
 On the Odet, at the end of the town, is the church of 
 
LEGEND OF ST. CO REN TIN, 
 
 267 
 
 Locmaria, part of which is very old, and said to have been 
 built by Alain Caignart in the eleventh century, to please 
 Odierne, his daughter, who devoted herself to a religious 
 life in the convent of Locmaria. 
 
 We found our way up a very steep hill to the top of 
 Mount Frugy, a public walk sheltered by avenues of trees, 
 which looks down on the town and over the surrounding 
 country. The view from it is very pretty, and the air seems 
 most healthy. Indeed, for residence, Quimper is quite the 
 most desirable town in Brittany ; it is not only very plea- 
 sant and interesting, but is within easy reach of all that is 
 best worth seeing in Lower Brittany, of which it has been 
 the capital city ever since the submerging of the famous Is 
 in the days of King Gradlon or Grallon, though, according 
 to Albert le grand, Quimper, or Kemper-Odetz, had been 
 originally the capital of Cornouaille, until King Gradlon, 
 hunting one day, about the year 495, with all his court, in 
 the forest of Plomodiern, not far from Chateaulin, lost his 
 way, and towards evening stumbled upon the abode of 
 the holy hermit Corentin, who dwelt in the forest. 
 
 The King and all his followers being very hungry, asked 
 the saint if he could give them something to eat. 
 
 " That I can," said St. Corentin ; " if you will wait a few 
 minutes I will seek for some food." 
 
 Now there was near the dwelling of the saint a fountain 
 tenanted by a single fish, from which the holy man took 
 his daily meal, cutting off a little bit, which was immediately 
 restored. He now went to the fountain and called the fish, 
 which came quickly to his hand. St. Corentin cut a slice 
 from its back and gave it to the King's maitre d'hotel, 
 bidding him cook that for King Gradlon and his courtiers. 
 
268 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 At this the maitre d'hotel began to laugh and jeer, 
 saying that a hundred times as much would not suffice to 
 feed the King's train ; but finding that there was nothing 
 else, he took the bit of fish, which, strange to relate, so 
 multiplied itself that the King and his courtiers were fully 
 satisfied. 
 
 Gradlon, astonished at this great miracle, asked to see 
 the fish which had been thus mutilated, and going to the 
 fountain, behold, it swam merrily in the water thereof ; but 
 some indiscreet bystander cutting a bit off it to see if the 
 miracle would be repeated, the fish remained wounded until 
 St. Corentin came, and having solemnly blessed it, the wound 
 healed. He then bade it disappear, fearing some further 
 indiscretion ; the fish instantly obeyed, and King Gradlon, 
 overcome by these marvels, prostrated himself at the feet 
 of the hermit, which example was immediately followed by 
 the courtiers. 
 
 He then gave St. Corentin lordship over the whole forest, 
 also a country house which he possessed in the forest of 
 Plomodiern. St. Corentin converted this house into a 
 monastery, where he educated young nobles and gentle- 
 men, among them St. Guenole, or Wingaloc, and other 
 saints ; and when, years after, the people and lords besought 
 the King that Cornouaille should be erected into a diocese, 
 Gradlon consented, and chose St. Corentin as bishop ; 
 and, in order that he might have full jurisdiction, trans- 
 ferred his own court and the seat of government to the 
 famous city of Is, which once stood between the Baie des 
 Trepasses and Douarnenez. St. Corentin was so greatly 
 beloved, that when he died the name of the city was 
 changed from Kemper-Odetz to Kemper-Corentin. 
 
KING GRADLON. 
 
 269 
 
 The other and much more tragical legend tells that Quim- 
 per only became capital of Cornouaille when the city of Is 
 perished in the waters. St. Corentin and King Gradlon 
 were both Britons ; Gradlon being brother-in-law of Conan 
 Meriadec, whom he had accompanied to Brittany, and 
 who had created him Count of Cornouaille. At the death 
 of Conan's son, Solomon I., Gradlon was chosen King of 
 Brittany, or more probably of Cornouaille. Besides St. 
 Corentin, King Gradlon had two other counsellors — St. 
 Ronan, who dwelt in the forest of Carnoet, near Quim- 
 perle, and who is also the subject of miraculous legends; 
 and later on St. Guenole, or Wingaloc, the pupil of St. 
 Corentin, and the first abbot of Landevennec. From 
 Quimper westward and northward the country seems rilled 
 with traces and memories of this marvellous King Gradlon, 
 his saintly counsellors, and his wicked daughter the beau- 
 tiful Dahut. 
 
 There is little historical mention of Quimper till the time 
 of Duchess Constance. Her third husband, Guy de 
 Thouars, proposed in 1207 to build a castle at Quimper, 
 but the Bishop Guillaume opposed this design as preju- 
 dicial to the episcopal authority, which ever since the time 
 of St. Corentin had governed the city. The city, however, 
 was enclosed with walls in the thirteenth century, the keys 
 of which were held by the chapter of the Cathedral ; but 
 during the War of the Succession the commanders of the 
 town asserted their superior authority and were actually 
 the governors of Quimper. In 1344 Charles de Blois took 
 the city by assault, and there was a terrible massacre of 
 the inhabitants. Quimper . also suffered during the wars 
 of the League; but to its everlasting honour repulsed the 
 
270 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 attacks of the brigand Fontenelle, chiefly by the valour 
 of Jean Jegado, Lord of Kerolain. At the head of forty or 
 fifty young townsmen he charged some of Fontenelle's 
 men who had advanced into the town, and put them 
 utterly to flight. During these wars of the League wolves 
 had so multiplied in the country, that they actually entered 
 the town and even attacked men and women. 
 
 We went early next morning to the Cathedral. The Place 
 in which it stands was fast filling with market people and 
 
 Quimper. General View. 
 
 their wares. The Cathedral is a fine building, but it is more 
 interesting and impressive as a whole, and for the way in 
 which it groups with the old houses, than when examined 
 in detail. It was founded in 1239 by the Bishop Rainaud ; 
 and the choir was finished about 1 410 by Bishop Gatien de 
 Monceaux. Bertrand de Rosmadec seems, however, to 
 have built more than all his predecessors during the twenty 
 years of his episcopate : he was buried in the chapel 
 dedicated to him, though his tombstone is now used as 
 the threshold of one of the entrances to the choir. The 
 
THE CATHEDRAL. 
 
 271 
 
 chief part of this Cathedral is fifteenth century work of a 
 poor kind. The spires, which are graceful and effective, 
 are of quite recent date, and were built by the tax of a sou 
 yearly, paid for five years by every inhabitant. This tax 
 was called " the sou of St. Corentin ; " it produced a sum 
 of 154,427 francs. Above the western doorway are various 
 heraldic mottoes and emblems : that of Duke John V., 
 " Malo au riche due," in the centre ; on the left, " En 
 1'ame," of the house of Plceuc, and that of Quetennec, 
 "En Dieu m'attends;" on the right, that of Nevet, 
 " Perac ?" (pourquoi ?). Above the gable is an equestrian 
 statue of King Gradlon, with crown and sceptre. This statue 
 was destroyed at the Revolution, but has been restored ; 
 formerly there was a quaint ceremony connected with it. 
 
 On St. Cecilia's day a chorister, with a napkin under his 
 arm, and in his hands a flagon of wine and a gold cup 
 offered by the chapter of the Cathedral, mounted on the 
 horse behind King Gradlon. He placed the napkin under 
 the King's chin, poured wine into the cup, presented it to 
 the Prince, and then draining it himself, he flung the golden 
 hanap into the crowd, who struggled to catch it as it fell. 
 But now that the custom has ceased, it is said that the cup 
 was only a wineglass. 
 
 "Why," asks Monsieur de Villemarque, "as the statue 
 has been replaced, has not the quaint old ceremony been 
 restored also?" 
 
 Formerly there was this motto under the statue : — 
 
 " Comme un pape donna l'empereur Constantin 
 Sa terre, aussi livra ceste a Saint Corentin 
 Grallon, Roy chrestien des Bretons Armoriques 
 Qui l'an quatre cent cinq, selon les vrais chroniques, 
 
272 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 Rendit son ame a Dieu cent et neuf ans ancois 
 Que Clovis premier Roy chrestien des Fran9ois. 
 
 ****** 
 C'y estait son palais et triomphant demeure 
 A Landt-Tevennec gist du dit Grallon le corps, 
 Dieu par sa saincte grace en soit misericorde." 
 
 In old times, every new Bishop of Quimper, after having 
 sworn to respect the privileges of the town, was borne to 
 the Cathedral by the Viscount of Le Faou and by the 
 Lords of Neve't, of Ploeuc, and of Guengat. 
 
 Within this church there is a very remarkable modern 
 high altar in gilt bronze which is worth examination. At 
 this end of the Cathedral is the curious old statue of the 
 Men heureux Jean Discalceat, a barefooted friar of Quimper 
 in the fourteenth century, famous for his sanctity, one proof 
 of which seems to have been that he would never kill an 
 insect of any kind ! 
 
 In the sacristry is an ancient crucifix, of which this miracle 
 is recorded. A townsman of Quimper going on pilgrimage 
 to Jerusalem, entrusted a neighbour with a large sum of 
 money, begging him to keep it safely till his return. The 
 merchant went on his journey. When after several months' 
 absence he came back and asked for his money, his friend 
 denied, with many words and oaths, having possession 
 of the property. The merchant cited him to appear before 
 the magistrate, who, having heard the case, bade the friend 
 affirm his denial before the altar. Arrived at the Cathedral, 
 the faithless friend handed a hollow stick — in which he had 
 placed the money — to the merchant, and then swore on the 
 crucifix that he had restored it. As he spoke, the feet of 
 the Christ loosened from the cross, three drops of blood 
 fell on the altar, and the stick breaking of its own accord. 
 
COSTUMES. 
 
 273 
 
 the money fell on the floor of the church, and the faithless 
 friend's treachery was disclosed. 
 
 There is a representation of this miracle in a window 
 in one of the chapels on the left of the nave. The singular 
 double bend in the apse of this Cathedral has a very 
 unpleasant effect. 
 
 When we came out into the Place, we found it closely 
 thronged with groups of buyers and sellers, the most motley 
 and picturesque we had hitherto seen. There were many 
 women from Pont FAbbe, with close-fitting skull-caps of 
 ribbon, charming in colour, embroidered in gold and silver ; 
 the hair being brought down in a kind of unstuffed chignon 
 over the crown, while from the forehead rises a small square 
 white cap with peaked corners. The regular Quimper cap 
 is much simpler than any of the others, quite square at 
 the top of the high crown, and made of some thick white 
 stuff, except on fete days, when it is of lace or muslin. 
 
 The prevailing features of the market in the way of 
 costume were these opaque white high-crowned caps, a 
 peculiar sort of white ruff with three large plaits at the 
 back of the neck, which we had already seen at Quimperle, 
 and the pleasant blue-green and green-blue of the gowns 
 and bodices, many faded to exquisite tints by the power of 
 the sun. One woman wore a black under-body and sleeves 
 reaching to the elbow, trimmed with three rows of yellow 
 embroidery; below the elbow were white sleeves fastened 
 round the wrist j the neck and square front of the body 
 were also trimmed with yellow embroidery ; over this was a 
 greenish blue justin or waistcoat, which met in two quaintly- 
 cut points in front ; this was bound with broad black velvet ; 
 ruffled up round her neck and throat was a thick white 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 neckerchief ; she had a brown cloth skirt and a grey-blue 
 apron with large pockets coming up to the waist. The 
 dress of many of the men from neighbouring towns and 
 villages was also very quaint. 
 
 One side of the Place was devoted to crockeryware and 
 sabots. The market was quite as bustling and noisy as 
 that of Quimperle, but not so dirty. Long-haired men in 
 enormous hats, white bragoubras, and black or brown gaiters, 
 were on all sides arguing and gesticulating over the price 
 of their sieves, red and brown pots and pans or pitchers — 
 pitchers of the coarsest ware, and yet of such exquisite 
 form that we had been longing ever since we first saw them 
 at Vannes to bring some to England. A charming sight is 
 one of the barefooted picturesque peasant girls, walking 
 along with a pitcher balanced on her head. Outside the 
 towns, the women seem often to dispense with sabots ; and 
 in Quimper, Pont Aven, and its neighbourhood, they have 
 small well-made feet. 
 
 We went through the noisy crowd to the farthest corner 
 of the Place, the only point from which a good near view 
 can be got of the Cathedral ; on the southern side it is 
 built upon by the bishop's palace. A more picturesque sight 
 it would be hard to find than these quaintly-garbed market 
 people and their motley wares, grouped round the old grey 
 towers, the two spires rising far above the surrounding tall 
 houses and trees. 
 
 In the evening we went along the banks of the river; just 
 below the falaise on the left the view of the Cathedral was 
 very fine. A slight vapour hung over the church, and added 
 an element of mystery and also of height to the lovely 
 spires. 
 
EVENING VIEW. 
 
 275 
 
 From here we climbed up to the terraced walk nearly at 
 the top of the hill, and were fully rewarded for the fatigue 
 of the climb. Below us was the whole of Quimper, some 
 
 A Street in Quimper. 
 
 of it so near that we witnessed little scenes taking place on 
 the quay below, and we could trace the course of the river 
 flowing on to the sea. 
 
27 6 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 Later, when the moon had risen, we walked along 
 the quay beside the basin towards the sea. Turning 
 round after awhile we looked back at the town. The 
 effect of the tree-shaded promenade, a long dark mass, and 
 the Cathedral rising above, was most imposing. About 
 here are detached houses in gardens, occupied by residents 
 in Quimper. Some way farther on the scene was still more 
 lovely. The moon had risen higher, the town lay in the 
 distance, the spires of the Cathedral were mirrored in the 
 river ; on one side, in the foreground, was a forest of masts, 
 and on the other the old suburban church of Locmaria 
 rising above houses also reflected in the water, while 
 beyond these were the lofty trees of the promenade, 
 which extends for some distance out of Quimper. 
 
 Next morning was the Fete de l'Assomption, and 
 also the fete of the city of St. Corentin. When we 
 reached the Cathedral it was crammed. The centre of 
 the nave was filled with people in ordinary dress, but 
 in the aisles nearly every one wore the costume either of 
 one or other of the neighbouring small towns and villages 
 or of Quimper itself. The men were ranged in a long 
 narrow line beside the pillars of the nave, the women filling 
 up the rest of the side aisles and chapels. 
 
 The variety of caps was most bewildering: the large 
 wings of Pont Aven and Bannalec, the little square muslin 
 tops and skull-caps of delicious colour from Pont l'Abbe, 
 the square sugar-bag caps of Quimper, and the pretty little 
 close-fitting silk and satin caps of the baby-children divided 
 melon-wise, with bands of black or blue velvet with gold- 
 flowered embroidery between. The wearers of these little 
 gems of colour were kept quiet by their mothers by the 
 
277 
 
 occasional administration of an apple or a cake. Some of 
 the women came to church with little white blankets under 
 the arm to provide against rain. The women of Pont 
 l'Abbe wore brilliant skirts. There were some of dark 
 blue trimmed with velvet, with light blue under-skirts bor- 
 dered by a broad band of yellow striped with red. These 
 dresses had green aprons trimmed with violet, tied by 
 broad red and yellow strings. 
 
 Such costumes as these, of fine soft cloth, are very expen- 
 sive; but the pardons do not occur frequently in the same 
 neighbourhood, and the dress is covered up and laid by in 
 the huge armoire, which is a necessary part of the furnish- 
 ing of a Breton dwelling, and often these fete-clothes 
 descend from one generation to another in very good 
 condition. The men of Pont l'Abbe were as remarkably 
 clothed as the women — in short black or dark blue jackets, 
 with waistcoats coming at least a foot below the jackets 
 all round, both jacket and waistcoat trimmed with yellow 
 lace and black fringe. 
 
 Going towards the church of Locmaria we met a pro- 
 cession with banners and gaily-dressed young girls carrying 
 images of the Blessed Virgin and the saints, an old 
 woman in a prodigious cap bringing up the rear. 
 
 In the evening the avenues on the opposite side of the 
 river were lighted with coloured lamps hanging from the 
 trees ; these were reflected in the water, and, with the groups 
 of gaily-dressed people in constant movement, made a vivid 
 scene. But the fete was over early, and by eleven o'clock 
 the streets were empty and the avenues seemingly deserted, 
 though lights were still shining among the trees as we 
 looked from our windows on the quay. 
 
FINISTfeRE. 
 
 THE WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 Pont l'Abbe— Penmarc'h. 
 E had proposed to go to Penmarc'h, thence along the 
 
 coast to Audierne, and so on to Pointe du Raz ; 
 but we were advised to make two journeys instead of one, 
 although by doing so we must give up the journey between 
 Pont l'Abbe and Pont Croix, and we regretted this as there 
 are two curious churches on the road, the Chapelle S. Viaud 
 and the Chapelle Notre Dame de Tronoan. 
 
 For those who like boating excursions, the pleasantest way 
 is to go from Quimper down the Odet, and then up the 
 river on which the town is built to Pont l'Abbe. The Odet 
 widens rapidly after passing Locmaria, and soon broadens 
 into a sort of lake. On the right is the ruined castle of 
 Kerdour, and after passing this the river narrows again. 
 About ten miles below Quimper the Odet flows into the 
 estuary of Benodet, and the boat makes a circuit before it 
 enters the mouth of the Pont l'Abbe river between Loctudy 
 and the island of Tudy. The church of Loctudy is very 
 
CHURCH OF LOCTUDY. 
 
 279 
 
 old and interesting, built by the Knights Templars in the 
 twelfth century; but there are some remains of a much 
 older building, well worth seeing. There is a curious 
 chapel in the graveyard. Loctudy takes its name from 
 St. Tudy, who in the fifth century lived on the island, and 
 founded a monastery there. There is a ferry from Loctudy 
 to the island. 
 
 At Lesconil, about two miles from Loctudy, there is a 
 very large group of Druidic stones. About four miles 
 above Loctudy is Pont l'Abbe. But it is a quicker way 
 to go by diligence to Pont l'Abbe, and then take a 
 vehicle to Penmarc'h. The best way of all is to take a 
 carriage at Quimper, stopping on the road and then 
 returning from Penmarc'h to sleep at Pont l'Abbe'. 
 
 The first part of the road out of Quimper was very 
 pleasant beside the river Odet ; but we soon left this, and 
 after a few miles the cultivated smiling country changed 
 into barren moorland, the cottages disappeared, and the 
 only signs of cultivation were banks planted with young 
 pine-trees. 
 
 Pont l'Abbe lay below, and seemed to be a quiet 
 deserted place, with only one tower remaining of the castle, 
 which in 1590 sustained a siege against the party of the 
 League. The church, however, is both old (fourteenth 
 century) and interesting, although it has been much muti- 
 lated, especially the fine east window. It was founded in 
 1383 by Herve, Baron of Pont l'Abbe, and Perronelle de 
 Rochefort, his wife, when they built the Carmelite convent 
 of Pont l'Abbe. The west porch is very handsome ; the 
 cloister, which bears the arms of Bertrand de Rosmadec, 
 Bishop of Cornouaille, is delightful; the arches are very- 
 
2S0 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 graceful, far better than anything in the Cathedral of Quim- 
 per, on which this prelate spent so much time and money. 
 
 Across the bridge is another church, that of Lanbour. 
 Louis XIV. ordered the spire of this church to be demo- 
 lished because the people of Lanbour refused to pay the 
 stamp-tax levied in 1693 ! 
 
 Cloister : Pont l'Abbe. 
 
 The quaint little four-cornered cap worn by the women 
 of Pont l'Abbe is called a bigouden. We had already seen 
 the costume at Quimper, but it looks still more original in 
 this old world quiet little town, where the men seem wholly 
 occupied in the fisheries. The land is said to be so fertile 
 that it produces with little cultivation. Both corn and 
 
PENMARC'H. 
 
 281 
 
 butter are abundant and of the best quality, and the fruit 
 and vegetables are larger and finer flavoured than those of 
 Quimper. There is a quiet quaintness about the little town 
 which makes one think it might be a pleasant resting-place 
 for a few days. This is said to be one of the most super- 
 stitious districts in Lower Brittany. 
 
 It is necessary to breakfast or lunch at Pont l'Abbe 
 before going to Penmarc'h. The road soon becomes very 
 barren and dreary. On the left we pass the castle of 
 Kerunz, which, it is said, once communicated by a subter- 
 raneous passage with the castle of Pont FAbbe. After this 
 comes a dreary waste, sprinkled, after we pass Plomeur, with 
 huge masses of granite, among which are three dolmens, 
 and near Penmarc'h, at Kerscaven, two menhirs, one of 
 which is fan-shaped at the top. 
 
 Penmarc'h itself looks like a place of tombs. On every 
 side are ruins, foundations of houses ; those still standing to- 
 wards the east constitute the present Penmarc'h, or horse's 
 head, as the name signifies. Another group of houses near 
 the sea, but at some distance from the first, is called Kerity ; 
 but both of these groups, some other squalid villages, and 
 all the rest of the ruins, once formed part or occupy the 
 site of a large city, Treoultre Penmarc'h, which was of 
 much commercial importance till the discovery of New- 
 foundland and the establishment of a cod-fishery there. 
 The cod-fishery had been the great source of the revenues of 
 Penmarc'h, and the decline of the trade seriously injured its 
 prosperity; but even in 1556 it was still a considerable 
 town, with 10,000 inhabitants. Then a sudden invasion of 
 the sea destroyed a part of the town, choked up the harbour, 
 and destroyed the cod-fishery; and before the inhabitants 
 
282 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 could repair these disasters, Fontenelle, towards the end of 
 the War of the League, came over from Douarnenez, and 
 attacked and pillaged the town until he left it a mere wreck. 
 
 During the War of the League the inhabitants had 
 stowed away their immense riches in the church and in 
 the fort of Kerity, and had fortified both these places, 
 fearing the outrages of Fontenelle. Till then most of the 
 houses had been separately fortified, as there were no 
 walls or defence to the town beyond the boundary of 
 terrible rocks in the bay of Penmarc'h. Fontenelle heard 
 of these treasures, and came in friendly guise with only a 
 few companions to reconnoitre. While he pretended friend- 
 ship, and ate and drank with the inhabitants, his people 
 observed the positions of the church and the fort. Very 
 soon he returned with a large number of companions. At 
 first the peasants retired to their forts, but while they came 
 out to listen to the propositions of Fontenelle, his people 
 took the church, massacred its defenders, and then granted 
 their lives to the garrison of the fort on condition of its 
 surrender. The booty was immense. Fontenelle filled 
 three hundred ships and boats belonging to the people of 
 Penmarc'h with it, and returned in triumph to Douarnenez. 
 It is said that 5,000 men suffered cruel and violent deaths, 
 and that all the women and girls of Penmarc'h were out- 
 raged by the brigand and his followers. He left a garrison 
 in the fort of Kerity, and held it for two years, and then 
 Sourdiac, governor of Brest for Henry IV., reconquered it. 
 
 After this ruinous attack, Penmarc'h seems to have 
 dwindled away till it has become the skeleton of a great 
 city. It is now an expanse of flat rock, covered in some 
 places with sand ; in others with salt marshes ; and amid 
 
THE TOR CHE. 
 
 283 
 
 the ruins and the waste are a few squalid villages, one of 
 which, as has been said, is still called Penmarc'h. It is a 
 very desolate region. 
 
 There are still six churches. St. Nonna is the largest ; 
 but the ruined church oi Kerity, Ste. Thumette, and the 
 chapel of St. Guenole are the most interesting , both at this 
 church and St. Nonna ships are carved on the exterior of 
 the building. Ste. Thumette was one of the companions 
 of St. Ursula, and this church is said to have belonged to 
 the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem. But the 
 ruined city of Penmarc'h has not the terrible interest pos- 
 sessed by the Torche, or Horse-Head Rock, in the estuary 
 of the Torche, on which so many lives have been sacrificed 
 to the fury of the sea. The air is filled with thunder as the 
 waves fling themselves against the rocks, jagged and terrible, 
 but at no great height above the sea. 
 
 Cambry waited to see this coast till the moment of a 
 violent storm. He says, " Nothing that I have seen in the 
 course of long voyages ever gave me an idea of what the 
 ocean is, striking on the rocks of Penmarc'h. These black 
 separated rocks seem to reach as far as eye can see ; thick 
 clouds of mist roll rapidly across the sky, which appears to 
 mingle with the ocean. You see only a gloomy fog and 
 enormous flakes of foam. Suddenly these flakes rise — they 
 leap into the air with a deafening roar — earth seems to 
 tremble. You turn mechanically to escape ; a giddiness, a 
 terror, an inexplicable horror, overwhelm you ; the leaping 
 waves threaten to swallow all before them ; you are only 
 reassured when they fall on the shore and die away at your 
 feet." 
 
 But the cross on the Torche of Penmarc'h is a warning 
 
284 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 against the treachery of this tremendous ocean, even when 
 there is no storm to excite its fury. This rock is separated 
 from land by a passage called Le Saut du Moine, because 
 St. Viaud sprang from the rock on to firm land when he 
 landed from Ireland. It is said to be the entrance of the 
 sea into this passage which causes the noise heard some- 
 times even a few miles from Quimper. The cross was erected 
 to commemorate a sad event which took place here a few 
 years ago. A lady and her children were sitting on the 
 rock, quite unconscious of the rapid advance of the tide. 
 Suddenly the husband, who had remained on land, called 
 to them to return, but it was too late. A huge wave broke 
 over the rock, and swept away his wife and children before 
 the unhappy man's eyes. 
 
 The range of rocks reaches from the channel in which 
 the Torche stands to the point of Penmarc'h. It is impos- 
 sible to imagine anything more forlorn and desolate than 
 the whole aspect of Penmarc'h. It seems as if a city had 
 tried to exist here and had given up in sheer despair, for it 
 does not appear that the ruined Penmarc'h dates beyond the 
 fourteenth century. The savage thunder of the storm 
 against the Torche must have been enough to deafen the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 It is about a twenty-miles drive from Pont l'Abbe to 
 Pont Croix ; but we were advised to go to Audierne from 
 Quimper, by way of Landudec and Plozevet, returning to 
 Quimper by Pont Croix; however, as we wished to end 
 our journey at Douarnenez and we heard that the Plozevet 
 road was a bad one, we took our places in the Audierne 
 diligence, which leaves Quimper, or rather which is said to 
 leave Quimper, at half-past two o'clock. 
 
FINISTfeRE. 
 
 THE WEST COAST OF BRITTAXYV 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Audierne — Pointe du Raz — Pont Croix. 
 
 AITING on the Cathedral Place, we found a very 
 small vehicle, into which came two tall Sisters, 
 dressed in enormous white flannel gowns, a girl, and a 
 stout, very talkative French gentleman, who told us he 
 expected to get quite a new sensation from the contem- 
 plation of the ocean at Audierne. 
 
 The road mounted considerably on leaving Quimper. 
 Between the city and Ploneis is the Chateau of Prat-en- Ras, 
 rebuilt at the end of the eighteenth century, but which was 
 an ancient appanage of the descendants of the Wild Boar of 
 Ardennes. The lord of this chateau levied a tribute of one 
 egg each Easter on every household on his domain. At 
 Guengat, about two miles off the road, is a curious and 
 ancient church. There was also a strong castle of Guengat, 
 of which only a few ruins remain. The name of the lords 
 of Guengat occurs frequently in Breton history. 
 
 About thirteen miles from Quimper the road divides into 
 three ; those on the right lead, one to Douarnenez, and the 
 
286 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 other to Ploare. We had for some time seen the graceful 
 spire of this church high above the road on the right. On 
 the left is the road to Audierne beneath a steep ridge of 
 hills. Just here is a sort of estuary or river, called Poul 
 David, or, as it was once called, Poul Dahut. Tradition 
 says that this is the spot where King Gradlon's daughter, the 
 wicked Princess Dahut, was swallowed up by the waves, 
 which at once retreated towards the sea. The river is so 
 wide, that looking on towards Douarnenez we saw the 
 masts of large vessels lying at anchor. 
 
 We walked on along the road on the left towards 
 Audierne, while the diligence went on to Douarnenez with 
 the passengers. As we looked back the beautiful spire of 
 Ploare was very prominent; it is visible for miles. We 
 passed the village of Poul David, and the diligence over- 
 took us just as we came to a wild stretch of country, 
 chiefly landes, sometimes bare, sometimes covered with 
 furze and heather, with every now and then a single fir-tree. 
 
 About six miles from this we passed through Confort, 
 and then through Pont Croix. If we had not determined 
 to drive back from Audierne to Douarnenez we should 
 much have regretted being in the diligence, for both these 
 churches looked interesting, especially that of Pont Croix. 
 
 A little while before we reached Audierne, through a 
 fringe of tall pine-trees on the right, which borders the 
 rocky road, we got a most exquisite view of the blue river. 
 This was certainly the loveliest bit of scenery we saw in 
 Brittany, first on the right, then on the left of the road. 
 Clouds of light moving vapour obscured the tops of the 
 hills, which are here sometimes wooded, sometimes of 
 rich dark brown rock; and as the road followed the curves 
 
BAY OF A UDIERNE, 
 
 287 
 
 of the river the scene seemed to change every moment, the 
 light ever-moving vapours giving a most poetic aspect to the 
 view. 
 
 The river widened as we drew nearer to Audierne, but 
 the hills, first on one side and then on the other, ad- 
 vance so boldly, that it was not till we reached Audierne, 
 at nearly seven o'clock, that we saw the sea glimmering 
 beyond. As the town is built beside the river, it is necessary 
 to go to the end of the harbour to get a full view of the 
 broad dangerous bay, extending from Penmarc'h on the 
 south to the Pointe du Raz on the north. On a rock near 
 the harbour two crows are said to be often seen — the 
 embodied spirits of King Gradlon and his daughter Dahut. 
 The modern pier and sea-wall have doubtless taken from 
 the wildness of the scene ; but still this savage bay is one 
 of the most weird spots in Brittany — so utterly lonely and 
 deserted, so full of terrible memories and legendary tales. 
 
 After dinner we went down to the pier. It is built on a 
 mass of stone or rock, once called the Cammer, and said to 
 be the southern end of those foundations of the city of Is 
 which reach beyond the Pointe du E.az. Farther south is 
 the bank of pebbles at Plovan, famous some years ago as 
 the scene of shipwrecks ; for this terrible bay is strown with 
 hidden rocks, which cause destruction to any ship that 
 ventures too near its frightful coast. 
 
 Cambry tells us that so late as the beginning of the 
 century frightful scenes of wrecking took place at Plovan. 
 The inhabitants of this village, having beaten back the 
 soldiers sent to protect a wrecked vessel, flew on it, plun- 
 dered it of everything, and then, having drunk all the 
 liquor they could find, broke open and swallowed the 
 
288 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 contents of a medicine chest, which gave death to some of 
 them, and to others frightful convulsions. 
 
 In earlier days than this, murder was frequently com- 
 mitted by these wreckers, who seem to have plied their 
 trade all round this western coast, frequently tempting dis- 
 tant ships to destruction by means of lanterns fastened to 
 the horns of cows tethered on the rocks. Now the people 
 seem fairly civilised. 
 
 The sea-view is very grand and wild, with every now and 
 then a glimpse of one of the many lights beyond the long 
 sea-wall on the north, while the sea rolls up in a subdued 
 roar against the rocks; but as we turned from the fresh 
 keen air brought by the moaning waves, the smell of 
 Audierne was most unsavoury. 
 
 A hill on which the church is built rises at the back of 
 the little town, so that there is no escape from the exhala- 
 tions of the mud at the mouth of the river. Near the 
 inn we met our communicative fellow-traveller. He was 
 in ecstasies, and talked grandiloquently of the magnificence 
 of the ocean and the sensations it inspired in him. He 
 then went on to tell us he had brought a new suit of blue 
 cloth to wear next day, and asked us gravely if we did not 
 think that blue would harmonise with the colour of the 
 Atlantic. We complained of the smell near the inn, but he 
 said he did not perceive it, and that he should spend a 
 fortnight at Audierne. 
 
 Next morning was very bright and beautiful. As it was 
 a festival the town was in holiday costume. The steep 
 way to the church was full of old men and women toiling 
 slowly upwards, and at eight o'clock the building was full of 
 people, and gay with flowers and banners and picturesque 
 
NOTRE DAME DE BON VOYAGE. 289 
 
 dresses and caps. After service we walked down to 
 the jetty. The bay looked beautiful in the fresh morning 
 light, the sea the most intense blue under the cloudless sky. 
 Audierne was once a town of some importance. It had a 
 large cod-fishery, and was the chief port for exportation to 
 Spain of dried fish, &c. The houses are built of granite, 
 and many of them are large and comfortable looking, 
 scarcely in keeping with the look of the townspeople. 
 We saw old dates on more than one of these houses. 
 
 Directly after an excellent breakfast at the little Hotel des 
 Voyageurs, we started for Pointe du Raz in a vehicle which 
 we had bespoken the day before at Quimper. It is nearly a 
 two-hours' drive, through a barren and most desolate country. 
 Very soon we saw the sea on the right as well as on the left, 
 and every now and then little villages clustering round tall 
 slender campanile-shaped church towers, for in this part of 
 Brittany the spires rest on a series of open square galleries 
 placed one above another. On the left was St. Tugean. 
 There are curious ceremonies observed at the Pardon of 
 this village. 
 
 Farther on our driver pointed out on the left the chapel 
 of Notre Dame de Bon Voyage, where he said a Pardon 
 was held from the 20th to the 25th of August. It looked 
 so desolate and forlorn on the bare stony waste backed 
 by the great glittering sea, that we wondered how it could 
 attract a large gathering at such a distance from any 
 large town; but our driver assured us that the Pardon 
 of Notre Dame de Bon Voyage was in great repute among 
 the sailors and fishermen of this storm-beaten coast. 
 
 The wind blew with such fresh violence that we should 
 have realised, even if we had not seen, that the ground on 
 
 u 
 
2 9 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 which we travelled was rapidly narrowing into a mere 
 tongue of land, with the sea on each side. On the right we 
 saw Plogoff, with its church dedicated to St. Ke, or Colledoc, 
 the saintly guide of Queen Guenevere in her repentance 
 after the passing of King Arthur. There is a chapel on the 
 left dedicated also to St. Colledoc. On the right is another 
 little village, and then we begin to see the blue Baie des 
 Trepasses. 
 
 The country grows more and more desolate. Every 
 now and then we come to a group of wretched-looking 
 hovels, surrounded on all sides with stone fences. These 
 fences seem to divide the barren tract into squares, not so 
 much for protection against straying cattle (for there rarely 
 seems any crop within the enclosure) as for a barrier against 
 the fury of the wind and even of the sea, for the road has 
 dwindled here into a very narrow strip of land. We cross a 
 bridge, which our driver says no Breton living near the 
 Raz would pass over at night. We ask why, and he says 
 with a very sceptical smile, " Because of the departed souls 
 in the Baie des Trepasse's." 
 
 But now on the left is the broad Bay of Audierne; 
 in front the lie Tevennec, with its lighthouse ; and on the 
 right is the exquisite blue of the Baie des Trepasses, beyond 
 it the little church of Lescoff. Heaps of brown and tawny 
 orange seaweed are drying in the sun — the goetnon, from 
 which, our driver said, " the chemists extract an acid, 
 which the physicians sell very dear." Growing among the 
 heaps is an abundance of large blue -leaved sulphur- 
 blossomed poppies. The gathering of this sea-weed, " La 
 peche de goemon," is a fine sight to witness in the autumn. 
 When the sea is wild with September storms, men standing 
 
POINT DU RAZ. 
 
 2gi 
 
 in a row along the shore fling into the boisterous foaming 
 waves long lassoes, to the end of each of which is fixed 
 an iron trident, and by help of these the harvest of sea- 
 weed is dragged beyond the reach of the waves. These 
 splendid brown and orange masses form a feature of the 
 Breton sea-coast as they lie through the summer drying in 
 the sun. The seaweed makes winter fuel and forage for 
 cattle, besides its medicinal properties. 
 
 The carriage road ended on a sort of green plateau, 
 on which the lighthouse stands. We were tdd that it 
 would be possible to lodge at the lighthouse ; and certainly 
 the Pointe du Raz, the Land's End of France, is worth 
 the careful study of a painter. 
 
 We left our carriage here, our driver having put us in 
 charge of a guide ; and it is much safer to have one. It is 
 not an easy or a very safe journey to the Pointe alone. 
 As we went down the ground grew more and more rugged, 
 till we found ourselves on the side of the precipitous savage- 
 looking rock itself. 
 
 It is a magnificent scene — the jagged precipice of fan- 
 tastic and many-shaped rocks, and the foaming water roar- 
 ing as it dashes into the caverns below. The colour of 
 the rock is marvellous — a rich and varied brown, frosted 
 with hoary lichens — while in every chink where it can nestle 
 are silvery tufts of sea-pink, and in rich masses here and 
 there large bright green fronds of Aspleniutn marinum. 
 The scene was full of exquisite colour, but rather wild and 
 savage than grand, as the rocks are not much more than 230 
 feet above the sea • still it must be full of terrible grandeur in 
 a storm. Our guide told us that indeed " it was very awful 
 to be here in rough weather; we could not be here," he 
 
2 9 2 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 said, " the wind would tear us away." Even now, when the 
 sea was perfectly calm elsewhere, it raged and roared as it 
 forced a way between the lofty channelled and many-shaped 
 rocks, and flung showers of snowy foam up high against the 
 brown walls, at the foot of which were pools of the most 
 intense emerald. The rocks seem as if they had been 
 twisted and torn into the strangest forms, and the water 
 rushes among them with a noise and fury that become 
 
 awful as one looks down between their black sides to the 
 Trou de l'Enfer, a bubbling seething cauldron, which seems 
 a fit haunt for demons. 
 
 We began to mount after this, and looked down on it 
 again from the height above. I was not allowed to go much 
 beyond the Trou de l'Enfer, for as we advanced near the 
 Pointe itself the wind grew more and more violent and the 
 footing more slippery. So I stayed among the lichen- 
 
THE RAZ. 
 
 293 
 
 covered rocks while my companions went round the extreme 
 end. 
 
 The scene was as savagely wild as could be dreamed 
 of — rock and rocky islets everywhere ; in front a few miles 
 away is the He de Sein, the Sena of the ancients, the abode 
 and death scene of the Druidess Uheldeda and her sister 
 priestesses. This was the birth-place of Merlin, and here 
 he is said to have carried King Arthur to heal his wounds. 
 Just now the island was veiled in mist ; but there seemed 
 to be between it and the Raz a continuous chain of rocks, 
 some above some beneath the water. There was not a boat 
 to be seen. Every now and then a black cormorant, looking 
 a mere speck in the vastness, swam across the void with a 
 hoarse jarring cry. 
 
 No wonder the Breton fisherman utters the prayer, 
 " Save me, O Lord, in the passage of the Raz, for my boat 
 is little and the sea is great." 
 
 There are fearful legends on this coast of ships lured in 
 former times into the Bee, or Passage of the Raz, as the 
 strait between the Pointe and the lie de Sein is called, 
 by false lights ; for the wrecking on this coast seems to 
 have been as terrible as in our own Cornwall. The quiet 
 fishermen of the lie de Sein must have had murderous 
 forefathers. A vicomte de Leon said of the Pointe du Raz 
 that he had in his territory the most precious stone in the 
 universe, for it brought him in every year a thousand sous : 
 he spoke of the droit de bris on the continual shipwrecks. 
 Shipwrecks still take place here constantly, spite of the 
 numerous lights along the coast. 
 
 No wonder the Baie des Trepasses has such a mournful, 
 desolate aspect, for, besides the shipwrecked bodies which 
 
294 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 have been washed ashore by the blue waters, it is here 
 that departed spirits await the boat which is to bear them 
 to the lie de Sein. The lost souls of the lovers of Dahut 
 also wander here, and in the night the fisherman hears them 
 crying and wailing piteously. Between this bay of the 
 departed and the Bay of Douarnenez have been found 
 beneath the water huge stones and other records of the 
 foundations of a mighty city, the city of Is, which was so 
 unrivalled in its day for luxury and magnificence, that 
 Paris, or Par-Is, is said to take its name from its supposed 
 equality with this ancient city, drowned by the mad folly 
 of a wanton woman. 
 
 The city of Is, or Ker-Is, appears to have been given up 
 to vice and most inordinate luxury. It was built on level 
 ground beside the sea, and protected from its fury by a dyke 
 with a pair of water-gates, of which King Gradlon kept the 
 key. More than once St. Guenole, the holy successor of St. 
 Corentin, had solemnly warned the King against the luxury 
 and riot of Is, and especially against the profligate life of 
 Gradlon's only daughter, the Princess Ahes or Dahut. But 
 King Gradlon loved his child so dotingly, that, although he 
 deplored her yices, he had no power to restrain her. She 
 dwelt in a high tower, and as soon as she was tired of her 
 lovers they were flung into a well at its foot. At length 
 one night a favoured lover asked her for the key of the 
 sluice-gates ; and to please him Dahut stole softly into her 
 father's chamber and took the silver key from the neck 
 of the sleeping king. It is supposed that the lover opened 
 the sluice-gate by mistake, or that Dahut opened them in 
 mere idleness of folly. 
 
 Suddenly, in the dead of the night, Gradlon heard a voice 
 
DROWNING OF IS. 
 
 295 
 
 bidding him arise and flee, for trie waters were overspreading 
 the city. He listened and heard the rush of the flood, and 
 he mounted his horse and prepared to escape ; but he heard 
 also the voice of his beloved daughter calling on him to 
 save her, and he paused to take her up behind him. Away 
 they fled, the angry roar of the waters in rapid pursuit. 
 Already the flood was gaining on them, the horse was 
 knee-deep in the angry waves, when the cry sounded in 
 Gradlon's ears, " Cast away the demon from behind thee, 
 Gradlon ! " 
 
 Dahut's hold relaxed, and she sank in the roaring water. 
 As she sank the w r aves retreated, and since that time the 
 tide has never come farther inland than the estuary in the 
 village of Poul David, or Poul Dahut, where she disap- 
 peared. It is said that Dahut still haunts the scene of her 
 crimes, and that at night the trip trip of King Gradlon's 
 horse-hoofs is still heard beneath the hillside. 
 
 The following is a translation of the ballad given by 
 Villemarque : — 
 
 THE DROWNING OF KER-IS. 
 
 L 
 
 Hast heard, hast heard, what the man of God has said to King 
 Gradlon at Is ? — 
 
 "Give no place to love; give no place to folly. After pleasure 
 comes grief! 
 
 He who eats the flesh of fish shall be eaten by fish ; and he who 
 swallows shall be swallowed up. 
 
 He who drinks and mingles wines shall drink water like a fish ; wko 
 knows not this shall learn it." 
 
 n. 
 
 King Gradlon spoke : — 
 
 " Good companions, I must go to rest" 
 
296 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 " You shall sleep to-morrow morning ; stay with us to-night. Never- 
 theless, let it be as you will." 
 
 At this the lover whispered softly, ever so softly, these words in the 
 ear of the King's daughter : 
 
 " Sweet Dahut, the key." 
 
 " The key shall be stolen, the well shall be opened ; all shall be 
 done as you desire." 
 
 in. 
 
 Now whosoever had looked on the sleeping King would have been 
 full of admiration, 
 
 Of admiration, gazing at him in his purple robes, his silver-white 
 hair flowing over his shoulders, and his gold chain round his neck. 
 
 Had one been watching, he would have seen the fair young girl 
 enter the chamber softly on her bare white feet. 
 
 She approached the King her father, she knelt down, and she carried 
 off chain and silver key. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The King sleeps on ; he sleeps. But a cry rises from without, " The 
 water is let loose — the town is drowned. 
 
 Lord King, awake ! To horse, and away ! The furious sea has broken 
 bounds." 
 
 Cursed be the fair young girl who opened after the fea st the sluice 
 gate of the city of Is, that barrier of the sea ! 
 
 v. 
 
 < Woodman, woodman ! tell me, has the wild horse of Gradlon 
 passed through the valley ? " 
 
 " I have not seen the horse of Gradlon pass this way, but in the 
 darkness I heard trip trep, trip trep, trip trep, fly as fast as fire." 
 
 "Fisherman, hast seen the daughter of ocean combing her golden 
 hair in the sunshine beside the waves ? " 
 
 " I have seen the white daughter of ocean ; I have even heard her 
 sing ; her songs were sad as the moan of the waves." 
 
 Looking round us beside the lighthouse, it is difficult to 
 realise that any cultivation has ever existed. The curse of 
 the Cities of the Plain seemed to be burned into the stone- 
 strown, rock-bound coast. Even the very children who 
 
VIEW FROM THE POINTE. 
 
 297 
 
 stray out from the cottages to beg for sous are stunted 
 and squalid, quite unlike dwellers in the fresh invigorating 
 air that one breathes on the Raz. 
 
 From the Pointe our guide showed first the Pointe de 
 Van, which makes the farthest extremity of the Baie des 
 Trepasses ; next the Cap de la Chevre ; then the Pointe 
 Toulinguet, which he said was the last cape before the 
 opening to the goulet of Brest. We asked for the Pointe 
 St. Mathieu, but he said that was not to be seen. 
 
 "The view," says Cambry, "from the Pointe du Raz is 
 sublime, especially at sunset. The Isle of Sein, the line of 
 rocks which defends it, and which is finally lost in the 
 horizon more than seven leagues away, the lofty Pointe de la 
 Chevre, of a dazzling whiteness, the coast of Brest near Le 
 Conquet, Ushant, the Bay of Audierne, the Point of 
 Penmarc'h, and the immense ocean ruffled by the evening 
 breeze, form a stupendous whole, which unites itself with 
 heaven, with the universe, with eternity. 
 
 " It is in this corner of the earth, celebrated by the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Gallic priestesses of the Isle of Sein — by 
 the residence of the old Druids — by the ideas of destruction, 
 of death, of the shades of which we still find traces — it is 
 here, I say, that the imagination of the ancients placed the 
 mouths of hell, the gulfs of Tenaro, which have been 
 erroneously transported to Italy, a country which the igno- 
 rance of the Greeks has confounded twenty times with the 
 West of Europe. 
 
 " This is the real home of the sombre sagas of the most 
 ancient writers. It is not in Iceland, nor in Thule, nor in 
 England — unknown even to the Gauls — -nor in Ireland, that 
 the theatre of these wonderful legends must be sought." 
 
2Q8 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 Cambry also says that it is here that the fable should 
 be placed respecting the passage of departed souls to Thule. 
 " For sailors of our coasts, especially Pierre le Breton of 
 L'Orient, attest that from time out of mind the Isle of 
 Ushant went by the name of Thule, and is so called still in 
 legends and songs." 
 
 Doubtless the Isle of Sein was once a prolongation of the 
 rocks of the Pointe du Raz. It was the Sena of the 
 Romans, and the Enez Sigun of the Bretons. It is only a 
 rock ; there is no tree, not a trace of the sacred groves of 
 Uheldeda. It is scarcely two miles long and not half 
 so wide. It has about six hundred inhabitants, gentle 
 hospitable fishermen, very unlike the wreckers of old 
 times. 
 
 We went reluctantly back to the lighthouse, and found 
 that it was necessary to drive back some little distance 
 before we could reach the shore of the Baie des Trepasses, 
 — a desert of yellow sand washed by the blue water ; 
 beside it is a dismal lake or swamp, filled with flags and bul- 
 rushes, called " l'etang de Laoual." This is an awful place, 
 even in bright summer-time ; it is~ here that the shapes 
 assemble to wait for the boatmen who pilot them to the 
 Isle of Sein. It is possible to walk onto the Pointe de Van, 
 which must command a view of the Bay of Douarnenez; 
 and our guide said that at Troquer, a little farther on, 
 were to be seen large stones, supposed to have belonged to 
 a great city, and the peasants call it Moguern Guer-a-Is — 
 the wall of the city of Is. There is also there the end of 
 the Roman road which can be traced to Carhaix. There 
 was a chapel beside Laoual, where it is said a phantom 
 priest is always waiting to say a mass. This old legend 
 
JEANNE. 
 
 299 
 
 shows the pomp that hangs about the memory of the 
 place — 
 
 " Sept monteaux d'ecarlate, et soixante. 
 Sans nommer les autres, 
 Venaient de la ville d'ls 
 A la messe a Laoual." 
 
 Our driver had found out that we liked stories, and as 
 we drove back to Audierne, sitting sideways on the driving- 
 seat, he kept on pointing out little fishing villages on the 
 right of the road, telling us of wonderful rescues from 
 shipwreck effected by the dwellers on this jagged and 
 terrible coast. He told us that all the children learned to 
 sw'm as naturally as ordinary children learn to walk, and 
 he said that in one village there was living a woman named 
 Jeanne, a mother of ten children, and that she had already 
 received two medals. She had saved eleven lives, alone and 
 unaided, by swimming out boldly with a rope to two ships 
 which at different times had struck on the rock. 
 
 " She is a tall fine woman," he said ; " she does not know 
 fear, and she swims like a fish. But then all our girls and 
 boys do that ; we throw them in the water when they are 
 two years old." 
 
 We asked what Jeanne's husband was like. He half 
 shut his eyes and smiled. " Ah, that is different. He is 
 little, and he is a tailor by trade." 
 
 " He does not swim out to save lives then ?' 
 
 " No, he would be afraid ; every one is not like Jeanne." 
 
 Poor tailor ! But it was pleasant to hear that Jeanne's 
 was a happy household, and that her sons were tall strong 
 young men, good swimmers like their mother. 
 
 We drove back rapidly to Pont Croix, as we heard there 
 
30O 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY, 
 
 was a Pardon there. Our driver said that his little daughter 
 of four years old was to be in the procession. Just as we 
 drew near Pont Croix we heard the church bells ringing, 
 and in another moment we saw the procession coming up 
 the road. A long avenue leads from the road to the fine 
 old church, and we stood at the corner of this while the 
 procession passed on. 
 
 First came a number of little girls dressed in white, with 
 most elaborately worked caps. Next a body of wild-looking 
 men with long hair; then came a band of young girls 
 dressed in white muslin, with coloured ribbon sashes and 
 the charming lace caps of Pont Croix, which have long fluted 
 crowns something like those of Belle-Isle. Groups of four 
 of these maidens bore gaily-dressed images of the Virgin, of 
 St. Anne, and other saints, and each maiden held by the 
 hand a little fairy of a child, also dressed in white, with 
 flowing hair crowned by a wreath of white flowers. Our 
 driver pointed out a beautiful little dark-eyed creature, with 
 long brown hair, and said she was his child. This part of 
 the procession looked like a lovely group of spring flowers. 
 
 Next came a crowd of priests and choristers singing 
 lustily, and after them a large number of earnest-faced, wild- 
 looking men, bearing banners and crosses. All the men 
 wore richly embroidered jackets and gaiters, and enormous 
 blue and sometimes brown plaited bragoubras, made of 
 fine cloth. 
 
 After a great number of them had passed, the women 
 followed, mingled with more men. These women looked 
 like a flower-garden. Some of the dresses were very rich and 
 full of colour ; many of them trimmed with gold embroidery, 
 with gold and silver and scarlet and blue ribbons bound 
 
CHURCH OF PONT CROIX. 
 
 301 
 
 round the head and showing through the fine lace caps of 
 most varied shapes. Many, too, of the younger ones wore 
 lace ruffs and collars, gorgeous gold and silver gauze rib- 
 bons as sashes, and showy spangled velvet with gold hearts 
 and crosses on their necks. There must have been more 
 than a thousand persons walking in procession, all in 
 solemn silence, except where they joined in the monotonous 
 chant intoned by the priests. 
 
 There were few bystanders, but they looked very reverent. 
 We took another way to the church — one of the finest of 
 its date in Brittany — and when we reached the great western 
 doorway the sight was most impressive and picturesque. 
 Both aisles and the nave were crammed with kneeling men, 
 women, and children, except a narrow lane in the centre. 
 We slipped round and got in at a side door, and saw the 
 procession pass up to the high altar — a blaze of lights and 
 decoration. 
 
 As the procession came streaming up the church, the 
 contrast between the flower-like beauty of the girls and 
 children in their floating white dresses, and the dark earnest 
 faces of the men, doub-'ed in sternness by the intense 
 expression that pervaded them, was perhaps the most 
 striking sight we had met with, and the grandeur of the 
 church increased the effect of the whole scene. 
 
 We could not examine the building as carefully as we 
 wished owing to the almost suffocating crowd that thronged 
 it, but the interior looked very interesting, though dis- 
 figured by whitewash. The nave is old, eleventh or 
 twelfth century \ and there seems to be some beautiful 
 stained glass at the east end. The choir arches of the 
 chancel are Pointed, but the pillars are Romanesque, and 
 
302 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 some of the other arches are Moorish in shape. The spire 
 is very lofty and beautiful, about 220 feet high, and the 
 great south portal is most remarkable. There are five 
 carved roses in the gable of this. 
 
 In the fourteenth century, Alice, Lady of Pont Croix, 
 married John of Rosmadec, chamberlain of Duke John IV. 
 Their grandchild was John of Rosmadec, half-brother of 
 Bishop Bertrand Rosmadec ; and it is thought that this 
 John built the spire, the arches of the choir, the windows 
 of the apse, transepts, and side chapels of the Collegiale, as 
 it was called, of Pont Croix ; the monastic buildings con- 
 nected with it have been destroyed, and it is now the parish 
 church of the little town of Pont Croix, Notre Dame de 
 Roscuden. Under the altar of the Lady Chapel is a 
 wonderfully carved Last Supper. 
 
 In 1597, when Fontenelle attacked this town, the church 
 became the citadel, and finally the inhabitants, with their 
 captain, Ville Rouet, were driven to take refuge in the 
 tower. For some time Fontenelle found it impossible to 
 dislodge them ; for as the assailants could only mount the 
 stairs leading to the platform one by one, they were cut 
 down as they appeared. Fontenelle then tried to stifle them 
 by burning green broom on the staircase. At last he pro- 
 mised their lives to the besieged, and they surrendered. 
 He then hanged all the men, and, reserving the captain 
 till the last, he caused his wife to be outraged before his 
 eyes, and then hung him also. 
 
 The heat was so intense, and we had been for so many 
 hours in the sun, that we went into the inn to rest. It was 
 thronged with visitors to the Pardon, and their vehicles 
 seemed to be in all directions. There were plenty of 
 
CONFORT. 
 
 303 
 
 announcements in the town of Pont Croix of " Ici on 
 loge a pied et a cheval f but this seemed to be the chief 
 inn, and, from the general look of it, we congratulated 
 ourselves that we had not arranged to stay there. 
 
 Our driver came after some delay and announced to us 
 that he wished to spend the rest of the day at home, and 
 had therefore engaged a fresh horse and carriage and 
 another driver to take us on to Douarnenez, and home in 
 the evening, if we wished, to Quimper. We did not benefit 
 in any way by the exchange. The fresh horse would not 
 go, and our new coachman knew nothing, and had an 
 inveterate habit of gossipping on the road ; and as this was 
 the anniversary of several other Pardons in the neighbour- 
 hood, we continually met carts full of peasants in rich and 
 beautiful dresses, often with pretty girls, and our driver, 
 who was evidently a favourite, was for ever jumping down 
 to have a chat with some of his friends, leaving our horse 
 to crawl along at a snail's pace. We began to fear it would 
 grow dusk before we got to Douarnenez. At last my com- 
 panion whipped up the horse during one of these absences, 
 and we went on at a quick pace, leaving our chattering 
 driver to overtake us as he best could ; and when he finally 
 reached us, puffing and panting and very red in the face, 
 he seemed effectually cured of his love of gossip. 
 
 We stopped a few moments at Confort to examine the 
 handsome modern Calvary and the pretty little church. 
 Inside this, fastened to the roof, is a curious old sacring 
 wheel with a peal of bells. We much wished to hear 
 these, but could not find the sacristan ; the whole village 
 was seemingly deserted ; every one had gone to the Pardon 
 at Pont Croix. 
 
304 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 The road between Confort and Poul David looked even 
 more charming than we had thought it the first time, and 
 as we turned off to Douarnenez and followed the course 
 of the river the tall spire of Ploare seemed to follow us 
 as it had done on our way to Audierne, while glimpses ot 
 the bay before us were exquisite. 
 
FINISTERE. 
 
 THE WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Douarnenez. 
 
 Locronan. 
 
 Crozon. 
 
 Chateaulin. 
 Rumengol. 
 Daoulas. 
 
 E had been told so much that was unfavourable about 
 
 Douarnenez that our first impressions were full of 
 delightful surprise. A longer acquaintance with the little 
 town teaches one that it is very ill kept and is full of 
 unsavoury smells. But whoever sees the Bay of Douarnenez 
 for the first time, either at early morning or at sunset, will 
 never forget its exquisite loveliness. It may be that its 
 beauty is enhanced when one comes to it fresh from the 
 savage dreariness of Penmarc'h and the tormented sea and 
 bare fantastic rocks of the Raz ; but the lovely blue island- 
 gemmed bay, reaching from the Pointe de la Chevre to 
 the Pointe de Van, now bordered by dark jagged rocks, 
 now curving into numerous tiny bays, where valleys that lie 
 sunk between stretches of moorland end in nooks of silver 
 sand, sometimes almost fringed by trees and clinging plants 
 that clothe the very cliffs, is a picture that can never be 
 forgotten. 
 
 x 
 
306 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 To the seeker after loveliness in nature Douarnenez offers 
 a constant and varied charm. It is far more beautiful than 
 Sidmouth, and has besides the two great charms of variety 
 and picturesqueness. 
 
 In a charming paper in the Corn/till Magazifie the writer 
 says : " Round all the eastern and northern shores of the 
 bay the view is bounded by long ranges of noble outline ; 
 first the hill of St. Ronan, where that saint had his her- 
 mitage, in the midst of what was then the great forest of 
 Nevet ; and following the chain of moors called the Black 
 Mountains, with the Menehom for its crowning point. And 
 so the whole shore of the bay is a succession of the wildest 
 cliffs and the most perfect sands, the range of each extend- 
 ing generally for a mile or two at a time." 
 
 We drove first to the hospitable little inn, where we found 
 a very pleasant gathering of travellers from many nations. 
 Then we strolled through the little town, which has formal, 
 uninteresting houses, and took a path on the right. This led 
 across a field glowing a golden green in the level sunlight, 
 and screened on one side by lofty trees to the edge of the 
 cote overlooking the bay itself. Along the edge of this cote 
 was a low hedge broken through in many places, and over 
 it clematis and brambles flung long arms down towards 
 the silver-looking sand below. The spreading trees near 
 us were almost black against the glowing sky, for the intense 
 blue of the whole bay was gilding into orange and softening 
 into the tenderest green. Warm light glowed on the rock 
 islets of the bay till they changed to purple. A few boys 
 were bathing in one of the lovely little coves far in the 
 distance. Three fishing-boats with brown and tawny-red 
 sails glided over the calm sea, so full of peaceful beauty. 
 
FONTENELLE. 
 
 307 
 
 Tristan, the largest of the islands, grew darker every moment. 
 It is so near the town that at low water it can almost be 
 reached dry-footed. 
 
 There is a lighthouse on the lie Tristan, and from the 
 top of this the view is magnificent. Far away at the ex- 
 treme ends of the bay are, on one side the bare white cliffs 
 of the Chevre, and on the other the dark rugged rocks 
 near the Baie des Trepasses. Between these lie Douar- 
 nenez, backed by trees and meadows, Ploare and other 
 villages, and rising up above, in dark grandeur, is the ridge 
 of the Menehom. The colours on this hill were inde- 
 scribably full of change as the sun sank and gradually dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 The lie Tristan is said to take its name from Sir Tristram 
 Lyonesse of the Round Table ; and in a little village close 
 by, to the east of Douarnenez, called Plomarc'h, the 
 foundations of King Marc'h's palace are said to exist. 
 A local tradition fixes on this King of Cornouaille, the 
 husband of Iseulte, a fable resembling that of King Midas. 
 Marc'h is Breton for horse, and the king's barber is said to 
 have told the secret of the King's ears to the sands of the 
 bay. Some time after three reeds sprang from the sand, and 
 being cut and used for pipes they repeated always, " March, 
 the King of Plomarc'h, has horse's ears." 
 
 But the lie Tristan has much local interest as having been 
 the fastness of the brigand chief Guy Eder, who called himself 
 Baron de Fontenelle. He was the youngest son of Robert 
 Eder, Lord of Beaumanoir, and was born in 1572. He ran 
 away from the college he had been placed in at Paris in 1589 
 to join a band of ruffians, who, under pretext of fighting for 
 the League, plundered and murdered indiscriminately. 
 
308 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 Spite of his youth, Guy was soon chosen chief of these 
 bandits, and with them he repaired to Douarnenez. Jacques 
 Guengat had taken possession of the town in the name of 
 the King, but Guy Eder retook it for the League in 1595, 
 and demolished its houses to fortify what had once been a 
 priory in the lie Tristan. For five years Fontenelle held 
 possession of this fortress, even against repeated assaults 
 from the garrison of Brest, from hence he harried and 
 plundered all the surrounding country, and it was to the 
 Isle Tristan that he brought the plunder of the ruined town 
 of Penmarc'h. He seems to have lived here with his band 
 of ruffianly soldiers, and to have pounced like a bird of 
 prey unexpectedly on the neighbouring towns and villages, 
 bringing ruin wherever he came. He escaped punishment 
 at the general amnesty proclaimed by Henry IV. on his 
 accession, but was afterwards arrested and tried for his 
 brutality towards the wife of the governor of Pont Croix. 
 He was condemned to be broken alive on the wheel in 1602. 
 
 This Bay of Douarnenez seems to yield every imaginable 
 fish, and the size of the town has greatly increased by the 
 incoming of country-folk to share the profits of its fishery. 
 During the sardine season — that is, between June and 
 December — it is supposed that upwards of four millions of 
 these little fish are taken daily. The fishing and salting of 
 sardines seems to constitute the sole trade of the inhabitants. 
 If the bathing were more accessible Douarnenez would 
 soon become a favourite seaside resort ; but fortunately the 
 bathing-place is nearly two miles away from the town, and 
 there is no means of access except on foot, so that, for a 
 time at least, the quiet loveliness of this Eden will be left 
 undisturbed. 
 
STE. ANNE LA PAL UE. 
 
 309 
 
 There are two churches, neither of them remarkable ; 
 but Ploare is close by, and its church is well worth a visit. 
 The spire is very elegant, older than much of the rest, and 
 the western doorway, like those of St. Nonna and St. Gue- 
 nole at Penmarc'h, has carvings of ships and also of fish ; 
 the mesgoul, a huge cormorant, is represented pouncing 
 on sardines below. Near Poullan, about four miles from 
 Douarnenez, is the manor-house of Kervenargan, the hos- 
 pitable home which Cambry designates by the name K., 
 and which, in 1793, sheltered Barbaroux, Petion, and several 
 others of the proscribed Girondins, when to shelter them 
 was to risk the loss of life and property. 
 
 Except in the sardine season it is possible to visit Crozon 
 by boat from Douarnenez, and one enjoys on this journey a 
 delightful view of the coast. But the carriage drive by way 
 of Plonevez or Locronan is also very delightful, though it is 
 a long one of about twenty-five miles. We pdss Ploare and 
 Le Riz. In the villages of Le Riz and of Plomarc'h are 
 the Roman foundation stones said to be relics of the palace 
 of King Marc'h, or Mark, the nephew of Arthur, and the hus- 
 band of Iseulte. Near this is a rock called Garrec, on which 
 is said to be the mark of a horse-shoe — that of the horse of 
 King Gradlon when he escaped from the drowning of Is. 
 
 The road climbs up steeply to reach Plonevez-Porzay, 
 and we make a detour here of about two miles towards the 
 sea, to the celebrated chapel of Ste. Anne la Palue, the 
 scene of the greatest of all the Pardons of Brittany. There 
 are various times through the year when pilgrimage is made 
 specially to this chapel, but on the last Sunday of August 
 and its preceding Saturday is the great spectacle of the year. 
 Monsieur Salaun, the intelligent bookseller of Quimper, 
 
3 io WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 gave us a most vivid account of the procession. He told 
 us it would be worth while to come back from any distance 
 to witness it, and he advised us to stay at Chateaulin, and to 
 make our way over from that town to the festival, as 
 Douarnenez was always overcrowded. The chapel is not 
 remarkable, but the granite statue of St. Anne is said to 
 date from the middle of the sixteenth century. 
 
 Looking at the vast and lonely downs on all sides of the 
 chapel, and picturing them covered with the brilliant groups 
 described by M. Salaun, backed by the lovely Bay of Douar- 
 nenez, it is easy to conjure up a splendid scene. So great 
 is the concourse of strangers, that more than a hundred tents 
 are often erected for the reception of the pilgrims who 
 cannot find lodging. On the Saturday evening there is a 
 procession of penitents, some only clad in their shirts, 
 some barefooted, to the chapel, where they receive absolu- 
 tion. Through the night many of them may be seen 
 praying around the chapel. 
 
 But it is on the Sunday after high mass that the grand 
 procession takes place. From far over the downs the ten 
 thousand pilgrims, in every possible variety of holiday cos- 
 tume — for a priest we met at the table d'hote at Douarnenez 
 assured us the pilgrims arrive from every part of France — 
 come bareheaded and singing hymns in honour of the saint. 
 Among them the image of the Blessed Virgin is borne by a 
 band of young girls dressed in white. Close behind this 
 comes the statue of St. Anne, borne by matrons in scarlet 
 dresses bordered and fringed with gold. Next come the 
 relics of the saint borne by two deacons in cloth of gold, 
 and after these a large body of richly habited priests ; for 
 the Pardon of St. Anne la Palue attracts priests as well as 
 
CROZON. 
 
 mere pilgrims, from far as well as from all the neighbouring 
 towns. It must be a sight unique of its kind, for such a 
 ceremony in such a scene is a poem in itself. 
 
 Next we come to Ploeven, and after this the road 
 runs along the cliffs. Near St. Nic it is a barren waste with 
 many Druidic stones. The road here ascends considerably. 
 Near Telgruc there is a dolmen. About eight miles farther 
 on is Crozon. There is in the church here a curious re- 
 presentation of the martyrdom of St. Maurice and of the 
 Theban legion. Some of the bones of these martyrs are 
 said to be contained in a large reliquary. 
 
 There is so much to be seen at Crozon that one wants 
 some days there to explore the coast. First there are the 
 curious grottoes of the cliffs, near the Anse de Morgat ; 
 and a very remarkable road through the rocks, called Beg- 
 ar-Gadoc, said to have been created in miraculous answer 
 to some shipwrecked fisherman who implored the help of 
 St. Marine. There is also a tunnel pierced through the 
 cliff, of. which we did not hear the legend. It is called 
 " la Cheminee du Diable." The Grotte de l'Autel must b@ 
 visited at high tide in a boat ; the entrance is very low, but 
 inside the roof becomes lofty, and the grotto is very spacious. 
 In the centre is a flat rock, which the boatmen call the altar. 
 
 Beyond Morgat are some stone avenues called " the 
 Lines of Kercolleoch." There is also a tumulus in this 
 region called Tombeau d'Artus. 
 
 Following the coast we come to the lofty Pointe de la 
 Chevre. Here is a grotto called Gues Charivari, the haunt 
 of innumerable sea-birds, which fill the lonely spot with wild 
 harsh cries when some unusual sound breaks the mournful 
 loneliness of the place. There is a remarkable echo here. 
 
312 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 The rocks near the Anse de Dinant are most fantastic and 
 rugged. One of them, pierced with two arches, is called 
 Chateau de Dinant. From here to the Pointe de Toulin- 
 guet, just beyond Camaret, the coast has an indescribably 
 wild charm. It is said to be a place of terrible shipwrecks, 
 and indeed the sea breaks against it with overwhelming 
 fury, especially over a line of rocks dotted out into the sea, 
 called the Tas de Pois. Toulinguet has been fortified, and 
 so has Camaret ; but one would think the angry sea and 
 the cruel jagged line of rocks were sufficient defence. The 
 view from the point is marvellous, and commands Ouessant 
 and the surrounding islands, as well as the Pointe St. 
 Matthieu and the terrible rocks to the south which we 
 have seen so often. All the men on this coast seem to 
 be fishers, and while the sardine season lasts they are 
 always at work. It is possible to stay at Camaret as well 
 as at Crozon. 
 
 We were very sorry to leave Douarnenez and its charming 
 surroundings. It is a place where one could spend many 
 months without exhausting the variety of its scenery or 
 tiring of its beauties : for much that is most interesting in 
 Finistere is within easy reach of the lovely little town. In 
 spring-time, before the sardine fishery and its unpleasant 
 accompaniments begin, Douarnenez must be one of the 
 most enjoyable spots on earth. 
 
 It takes rather longer to go to Chateaulin by Locronan 
 than by Plonevez, but it is a much more varied route, and 
 is after all not more than seventeen miles. 
 
 The first part of the road takes us by Pioare to Kerlas, 
 where there is a rather curious church. After this the country 
 becomes hilly, and there is a very steep hill close to Locronan. 
 
LOCRONAN. 
 
 313 
 
 The church here is a very remarkable building, nearly all of 
 the fifteenth century ; it has three naves. The spire was 
 destroyed by lightning in 1808, and has not been restored. 
 On the south side is the Chapelle du Peniti, built in the 
 sixteenth century by the Duchess of Ferrara, Renee of 
 France, the daughter of Louis XII. and the Duchess Anne. 
 In this chapel is the tomb of St. Ronan, the third counsellor 
 of King Gradlon and a famous saint. His tomb is the 
 shrine of a yearly pilgrimage, but every seventh year there is 
 a wonderful gathering called " la Grande Tromenie." This 
 Pardon lasts a whole week, from the second to the third 
 Sunday in July, and it is said there are sometimes as many 
 as 40,000 pilgrims. The tradition is, that when the saint 
 died the three bishops of Vannes, Cornouaille, and Leon 
 disputed the possession of his remains, and at last agreed 
 to place them in a cart drawn by two wild bulls, and to 
 leave the decision to them. The bulls started from the 
 hermitage on the confines of the diocese of Vannes, where 
 the saint died, and found their way to Locronan. Here, 
 having made the circuit of the hill, they stopped at the spot 
 where the tomb of St. Ronan now stands. The pilgrimage 
 is supposed to follow in the miraculous passage of the 
 bulls, and a sermon is preached from the top of the hill by 
 one of the officiating priests. 
 
 It would take a long residence in Brittany to witness all 
 the curious traditionary ceremonies woven into the life of 
 its people. 
 
 About half-way between Douarnenez and Chateaulin is 
 the chapel of the Kergoat. This is another place of pil- 
 grimage — a large uninteresting building, except that there 
 is some good painted seventeenth century glass in some of 
 
3 H WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 the windows. In the churchyard is a rather picturesque 
 Calvary backed by trees. Soon after this we passed another 
 Calvary near the church of Cast, and very soon after, on the 
 right, the ancient chapel and fountain of St. Pol. 
 
 The view of Chateaulin is lovely. It stands beside the 
 river backed by rising ground. Some of this is well wooded, 
 and some of it is broken by masses of rock piled one 
 on another. Green meadows fringed by poplar-trees lie 
 near the river, and give a most picture-like effect to the old 
 grey town with its ruined fragment of castle raised above 
 the rest on one of the hills. Perhaps its aspect is the chief 
 attraction of Chateaulin. It is a quiet quaint little place, 
 very dirty and unsavoury, on the direct railway line between 
 Quimper and Landerneau or Brest ; but it is a convenient 
 resting place for a day or two, as there are a few places 
 near it worth visiting. 
 
 The ancient chapel of the castle, dedicated to Notre 
 Dame, is older than the date on its portal. There is a 
 curious little bone-house beside it. There was once a 
 famous salmon fishery at Chateaulin. This was destroyed 
 by the making of the canal, but the slate works beside 
 the canal are the chief source of commerce, and give em- 
 ployment to many of the inhabitants. 
 
 It is possible to go to Carhaix from Chateaulin, passing 
 on the way the famous Calvary of Pleyben ; but we had 
 determined to visit Carhaix. from Morlaix, and we there- 
 fore missed Pleyben. We were much disappointed to 
 find that the steamboat service between Chateaulin and 
 Brest by Port Launay had ceased. It must have been a 
 most interesting journey down the Chateaulin river into the 
 picturesque roadstead of Brest, where the lovely Elorn river 
 
RUMEN GOL. 
 
 3*5 
 
 also joins the sea. However, the railway makes some 
 amends, and we went on from Chateaulin to the next 
 station, Hanvec le Faou. About four miles from this is 
 Le Faou, a picturesque little town built beside a sort of 
 estuary of the roadstead of Brest. The church is quaint, 
 but there is a much older chapel near the bridge. The 
 ruined castle at the entrance of the Quimper road was 
 founded by Morvan, the first Lord of Faou, in the eleventh 
 century. 
 
 We wanted to see the church of Rumengol, Notre Dame 
 de toute remede ; in Breton Rented oil, corrupted into 
 Rumengoll. We found that it was only about a mile and 
 a half from Le Faou, and it is certainly worth a visit. It is 
 a graceful little church of the sixteenth century, with 
 this inscription on the tower : " L'an mil cinq cents trente 
 vi., le xiiii jour de may fust fundee ceste. Guenole, 
 gouv. H. Inisan, fabrique fit lors." The interior is sadly 
 gaudy. The fountain is very old, and is said to have 
 miraculous powers of healing. The great interest attached 
 to it is, that the pilgrimage to Notre Dame de Rumengol, 
 one* of the most celebrated in Brittany, occurs four times 
 in the year — on Lady Day, Trinity Sunday, 15th of August 
 (the Feast of the Assumption), and the 8th of September 
 (Feast of Nativity of B.V.M.). As the water of the fountain 
 is said to cure all diseases, afflicted beggars flock here in great 
 numbers ; they drink the water of the fountain, and bathe 
 their faces, their sightless eyes, and injured, diseased limbs 
 in the healing water. During the day a large and gorgeous 
 procession issues from the church, bearing banners, statues 
 of saints, and their relics. These are placed low enough 
 for the surrounding crowd to touch them as they pass, and 
 
316 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 the bearers occasionally cudgel those who are slow in per 
 forming this duty. Little children accompany the proces- 
 sion, ringing innumerable little bells. 
 
 Souvestre says that the most remarkable part of this 
 pilgrimage is at night, when the church is dark and silent 
 and the musicians have departed. Then the beggars who 
 have not found any lodging cluster together round fires of 
 dried furze on the open ground beyond the churchyard — 
 motley groups of all ages, both male and female, the darting 
 firelight bringing into strong relief their hard faces and 
 picturesque rags. They crouch round the fires till these are 
 blown out by the wind, and then lie down to sleep in the 
 darkness. 
 
 I own that I read all Souvestre's descriptions with as 
 much doubt as pleasure, never feeling sure whether they 
 apply to present-day life or to the Brittany of the past; 
 for although probably no European country so near a great 
 centre of civilisation has stood so still, yet the presence 
 of the railway necessitates the presence of a fresh element ; 
 already the costumes are much modified, and many old 
 usages are becoming obsolete, as for instance the bridal 
 garments of the Bourg de Batz and the disuse of the Breton 
 language in the government schools. There is also a 
 tendency to embroider facts with Souvestre and some 
 other Breton writers, which makes one hesitate to adopt 
 their statements about anything one has not personally 
 verified. 
 
 But there is so large an element of poetry in the 
 aspect of Western Brittany, and also in the hearts of its 
 people, that it often becomes difficult not to be carried away 
 into the borderland that lies beyond stern fact — a borderland 
 
LANDE VENNEC. 
 
 3*7 
 
 which, if one spoke Breton fluently, one might find to be 
 after all no creation of the fancy. Something mystic and 
 utterly unlike the commonplace of their outward existence 
 seems to gleam out of the long black eyes of these dark 
 silent dwellers on the wild west coast. 
 
 Landevennec can also be reached from Chateaulin, and 
 we regretted missing this the oldest abbey in Brittany. 
 Its ruins are at the mouth of the Chateaulin river. Fragan, 
 and Guen his wife, about whom there is a remarkable legend, 
 fugitives from Britain, settled in Cornouaille, and gave birth 
 to Guenole, who founded this abbey and was its first abbot, 
 but the actual ruins date from the eleventh century only, 
 and were built by the Abbot Breluict. There is a statue 
 in Kersanton stone of St. Corentin, and one also of Jean, 
 last regular Abbot of Landevennec, who died in 15 21. In 
 the crypt is the tomb of King Gradlon himself. This part 
 of the country is so full of legends relating to this wonderful 
 monarch, that one gets to regard him as a myth, and it is 
 almost surprising to find that he was an ordinary mortal, 
 actually buried in a Christian church. The position of Lan- 
 devennec is very picturesque. Near it is a tall rock which, 
 looked at sideways, seems to be a cowled monk with a 
 long beard. This rock is called " le Moine," and is sup- 
 posed to be a wicked monk of the abbey, petrified for 
 his sins and doomed to remain a rock till the day of 
 judgment. 
 
 On the lie Tibidy, in the Faou river, there is a most 
 curious reredos, representing the Annunciation, on the site 
 of the first abode of St. Guenole. Not far off is the village 
 of Kersanton, which has given its name to the stone used 
 in building the churches in this part of Brittany. The 
 
318 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY. 
 
 original Kersanton quarry is exhausted, but near Logonna, 
 and indeed along the whole roadstead of Brest between 
 the rivers of Faou and of Landerneau, are quarries of 
 this stone, dark grey and comparatively soft when first dug, 
 and thus well suited to the elaborate decoration used in the 
 Breton churches, but hardening with exposure and gradually 
 assuming the greenish tinge one sees at Le Folgoet and 
 elsewhere. There are also many quarries of yellow por- 
 phyry among the Kersanton stone. 
 
 The next station beyond Hanvec le Faou is Daoulas. 
 Here, about a mile from the station, is the remarkable 
 church of the old monastery and its ruined cloister. The 
 choir of the church has perished, but the cloister is a most 
 interesting relic of the twelfth century, perhaps the finest 
 work of this epoch to be found in Brittany. The monastery 
 was founded in the sixth century by the Lord of Faou, 
 in expiation of a double murder committed by him in 
 the assassination of two priests engaged in celebrating 
 mass. 
 
 " There was in the country of Cornwall, in the year 510, 
 a generous powerful lord named Arastagan, a great friend of 
 God's servants, who had for nephew a Lord of Faou, just as 
 much their enemy as his uncle was their friend. This Lord 
 of Faou, being informed that all the superiors of monasteries 
 in Cornouaille had assembled near him to confer about their 
 affairs, and that among others were to be found the abbots 
 Tader, Jaoua, and the monk of Landt-tevennec, Judalus, 
 he went to the monastery where this assembly was held, 
 and, having forced the doors, he killed at the altar Tader, 
 who was celebrating mass. His followers murdered all the 
 monks they could find, and he himself cut off the head of 
 
DAOULAS. 
 
 319 
 
 Judalus with one stroke of his sword. Jaoua escaped un- 
 hurt, and took refuge with St. Pol, Bishop of Leon, who was 
 his uncle, and with whom he repaired to Faou, where they 
 both, by their saintly exhortations, converted this lord, and 
 delivered him from the evil spirit which had possessed him 
 ever since the murder of the two abbots." 
 
 In atonement for his crime they made him found a mo- 
 nastery on the place where the murders had been committed, 
 and in eternal memory of this action called it Monster 
 Daoulaz, the monastery of two murders. Besides its monas- 
 tery, Daoulas was once a place of much importance. 
 The tradition of its decadence is something like that of 
 Escoublac. 
 
 Once upon a time a poor woman, who already had a 
 numerous family, gave birth to seven children at once. The 
 inhabitants of Daoulas were terrified at this prodigy, and, 
 fearing it might be repeated, they hunted the mother and 
 her infants out of the town. The woman took the road 
 to Brest, but before she departed she uttered this prophecy : 
 " Brest shall increase, Daoulas shall decrease ; for every 
 house that is built there three shall fall." And from 
 that day Brest has flourished and Daoulas has dwindled 
 away. 
 
 The whole coast of the roadstead of Brest is constantly 
 vandyked by estuaries running up into the land, and between 
 Chateaulin and Landerneau this is far more fertile than it is 
 near Camaret and Crozon. 
 
 We pass Landerneau on our railroad journey from Cha- 
 teaulin to Brest. It is a pretty bit of railway, with charming 
 peeps every now and then into the famous roadstead. We 
 cross the anse or bay of Kerhuon on a long viaduct. This 
 
g20 
 
 WEST COAST OF BRITTANY, 
 
 bay is the depot where timber used in the great marine 
 constructions of Brest lies seasoning. 
 
 The first arrival at Brest is pleasant. We found our- 
 selves beside the harbour, close to the Cours d'Ajot, a fine 
 avenue, commanding a view over part of the roadstead, and 
 close by the strongly fortified castle of Brest 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Armel, 133 
 Arradon, 132 
 Arz, He de, 132 
 Arzon, 115 
 
 AlTDIERNE, 287 
 AURAY, l62 
 
 Battle of, 154 
 Old Houses, 163 
 
 B 
 
 Baden, 132 
 B ann alec, 264 
 Baud, 186 
 
 Belle-Ile-en-Mer, 116 
 Blain, Chateau de, 65 
 
 La Tour du Connetable, 66 
 Bgedic, Isle of, 132 
 Bourg de Batz, Le, 59 
 
 Church, 59 
 
 Costumes, 55 
 
 Ruins of Notre Dame duMurier, 
 59 
 
 Salt-works, 62 
 "Wedding Costumes, 59 
 Brest, 320 
 
 Bretesche, Chateau de la, 64 
 
 Forest of, 64 
 Buron, Chateau de, '45 
 
 Camaret, 312 
 
 C AMORS, I95 
 
 Carnac, 165 
 Boceno, 170 
 Pardon of Carnac, 169 
 
 Carnoet, Forest of, 232 
 Castennec, Hill of, 184 
 Champ des Martyrs, 159 
 Champtoce, 23 
 Champtoceaux, 23 
 Chartreuse, La, 161 
 
 Battle of Quiberon, 159 
 Chassay, Chateau of, 45 
 Chateaulin, 314 
 Concarneau, 257 
 Coneort, 303 
 Corconno, Dolmen of, 174 
 Croisic, Le, 56 
 
 Grand Autel, 57 
 
 Mont Esprit, 57 
 
 Trou du Kourican, 57 
 Croisy, Le, Chapel of, 115 
 Crozon, 311 
 
 D 
 
 Daoulas, 318 
 
 DONGES, 45 
 DOUARNENEZ, 305 
 
 E 
 
 Elyen, Churchyard of, 10 1 
 Chateau de Largouet, 97 
 Gallo-Roman Villa, 101 
 Guide, 98 
 Tour d'Elven, 98 
 
 Ekdeven, 175 
 
 escoublac, 47 
 
 Chateau de Lesnerac, 48 
 Legend of Escoublac, 47 
 
 F 
 
 Faou, Le, 315 
 Faouet, Le, 238 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 G 
 
 Gacherie, Chateau de la, 45 
 Garo, 148 
 
 Chapel of Notre Dame de Beth- 
 lehem, 148 
 Gavr' Inis, He et Grotto, 143 
 Goulaine, Chateau de, 45 
 Grande Briere, La, 45 
 Grottes de Grionec, Dolmen 
 of, 174 
 
 Guehenno, Calvary of, 128 
 
 GUEMENE-SUR-SCORFF, 246 
 
 Guengat, 285 
 
 GUERANDE, La, 49 
 
 Chapelle de Notre Dame de la 
 
 Blanche, 50 
 Church, 50 
 Gates, 50 
 
 Porte S. Michel, 49 
 Ramparts, 50 
 Walls, 51 
 
 H 
 
 Hennebont, 217 
 
 Abbaye de la Joie, 225 
 
 Church, 217 
 
 Jeanne-la-Flamme, 220 
 
 Vieille Ville, 219 
 Hermitage of St. Gildas and 
 
 St. Bieuzy, 184 
 Hozdic, Isle of, 1 13 
 Houath, Isle of, 107 
 
 I 
 
 Is, 294 
 
 Ballad of, 295 
 
 J 
 
 Joie, Abbaye de la, 225 
 Josselin, 123 
 
 Castle, 125 
 
 Churches of, 126, 127 
 
 Legend of Notre Dame du 
 Roncier, 124 
 
 St. Gobrien, 127 
 
 K 
 
 Kerdroguen, Notre Dame de, 
 128 
 
 Kerezo, 153 
 Kergoat, Chapel of, 313 
 Kerfily, 102 
 Kerity, 281 
 
 Kerlescant, Lines of, 165 
 Kermado, 129 
 Kermario, Lines of, 166 
 Kernascleden, 246 
 Kerroh, Dolmen of, 172 
 Klud-er-ier, Dolmen of, 174 
 
 L 
 
 Landevennec, 317 
 Lanvaux, Lande of, 67 
 
 Legend of, 68 
 Laoual, 298 
 locmariaker, i37 
 
 Be-er-Groah, Dolmen of, 139 
 
 Dol-ar-Marc'hadouan, Dolmen 
 of, 140 
 
 Mane-Lud, 141 
 
 Mane-er-H'roeck, 138 
 
 Men-er-H'roeck, 139 
 
 Pierres Plates, Les, 141 
 Locmine, 194 
 
 Chapel of St. Colomban, 194 
 
 LOCRONAN, 313 
 LOCTUDY, 279 
 LORIENT, 225 
 
 Lothea, Church of, 232 
 M 
 
 m alans ac, 67 
 Malestroit, 117 
 Mane-er-Groah, Dolmen, 1 75 
 Mane-Remor, Dolmen, 174 
 Menec, Lines of, 166 
 Menehom, 307 
 Meriadec, 149 
 Mi-voie, Obelisk of, 119 
 Battle of the Thirty, 121 
 Moines, He aux, 134 
 
 MONTAGNES NoiRES, 1 85 
 
 Mont St. Michel, 167 
 Morbthan, The, 130 
 
 Er Gazeg, 135 
 
 Er Meud, 136 
 
 Les Tisserands, 136 
 
 Pen Boc'h, 133 
 
 Pointe de Roguedas, 132 
 
INDEX. 
 
 323 
 
 N 
 
 Nantes, 25 
 
 Archaeological Museum, 41 
 Bourse, 39 
 Bridges, 38 
 Castle, 31 
 Cathedral, 28 
 
 Cemetery of La Bouteillerie, 
 40 
 
 Chateau des Irlandais, 39 
 Church of St. Anne, 43 
 Church of St. Clement, 40 
 Church of St. Croix, 38 
 Church of St. Jacques, 38 
 Church of St. Xicholas, 26 
 Church of Notre Dame de la 
 
 Sallette, 40 
 Cours Cambronne, 42 
 Cours St. Andre, 29 
 Cours St. Anne, 43 
 Cours St. Pierre, 29 
 Costume, 28 
 Escalier St. Anne, 43 
 Flower Markets, 25, 39 
 Fountain, 25 
 Fruit Market, 30 
 Halle aux Grains, 39 
 History of, 33 
 Hopital St. Jacques, 38 
 Hotel Dieu, 38 
 Hotel de Ville, 41 
 Jardin des Plantes, 40 
 Library, 39 
 Lycee, 41 
 Magnolias, 40 
 
 Museum and Picture Gallery, 
 41 
 
 Old Houses, 27, 41, 42 
 
 Palais du Bouflay, 38 
 
 Palais de Justice, 41 
 
 Passage Pommeraye, 43 
 
 Place du Bouffay, 37 
 
 Place Bretagne, 41 
 
 Place de Change, 26 
 
 Place de Grashn, 25 
 
 Place Louis Seize, 29 
 
 Place du Port Communeau, 41 
 
 Place Royale, 25 
 
 Place St. Pierre, 27 
 
 Prefecture, 41 
 
 Quai Brancas, 39 
 
 Quai Flessels, 39 
 
 Quai de la Fosse, 39 
 
 Rue Briord, 26 
 
 Rue Crebillon, 25 
 
 Rue de la Fosse, 43 
 
 Rue Grande, 26 
 
 Rue Haute-du-Chateau, 33 
 
 Rue Jean- Jacques Rousseau, 39 
 
 Rue de la Juiverie, 38 
 
 Rue Lafayette, 42 
 
 Rue Mercceur, 41 
 
 Rue d'Orleans, 26 
 
 Rue Royale, 41 
 
 Rue Voltaire, 39 
 
 St. Jean, 41 
 
 St. Laurent, 27 
 
 St. Leonard, 41 
 
 Salorges, Les, 43 
 
 Tobacco Manufactory, 43 
 
 Environs — 
 Chateau de Buron, 45 
 Chateau de Chassay, 45 
 Chateau de la Gacherie, 45 
 Chateau de Goulaine, 45 
 Chateau de la Seilleraye, 44 
 Clisson, 44 
 Nizox, 253 
 
 NOYAL-PONTIYY, 197 
 
 , P 
 
 Penmarc'h, 281 
 Pexthieyre, Fort of, 176 
 Petit Mont, Le, 115 
 Pierre Percee, 63 
 
 PlERRES DU VlEUX MOULIN, 
 
 174 
 
 Plaudren, 128 
 Plessis-Kaer, Chateau of, 176 
 Ploare, 309 
 Ploeraiel, 118 
 
 PLCEiEEL, I73 
 
 Plomarc'h, 309 
 
 Ploxeyez-Porzay, 309 
 
 Plouharnel, 172 
 
 Ployan, 287 
 
 Plumelec, 128 
 
 Pltjyigxer, 195 
 
 Pont Ayex, 250 
 
 Chateau of Henan, 259 
 Chateau of Poulguen, 256 
 Feux de St. Jean, 262 
 
324 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Pardon of Pont-Aven, 260 
 Pardon of St. Leger, 262 
 
 Pont l'Abbe, 279 
 
 Pont Croix, 300 
 
 pontchateau, 65 
 
 Le Fuseau de la Madelaine, 65 
 
 PONTIVY, I95 
 
 Castle, 195 
 Pornic, 46 
 Port Navalo, 116 
 Pouliguen, Le, 62 
 
 Chateau de Careil, 63 
 Poul-Dahut, 286 
 Prat-en-Ras, Chateau de, 285 
 
 Q 
 
 QUELVEN, I97 
 QUIBERON, I76 
 QUIMPER, 265 
 
 Cathedral, 270 
 
 Church of Locmaria, 267 
 
 Fete, 276 
 
 Legend of Crucifix, 272 
 Legend of St. Corentin, 267 
 Market, 273 
 Mount Frugy, 267 
 
 Quimperle, 226 
 Carnoet, Forest of, 232 
 Chapel of Rosgrand, 232 
 Church of St. Michel, 228 
 Church of Ste. Croix, 227 
 La Roche du Diable, 230 
 Pig Market, 230 
 St. Maurice, Abbey of, 233 
 Toulfouen, Pardon of, 232 
 
 Quinipily, Venus of, 188 
 
 R 
 
 Raz, Pointe du, 291 
 Redon, 66 
 
 Abbey, 66 
 
 Church, 66 
 
 Old Houses, 66 
 Roc Saint Andre, 118 
 Roche Bernard, La, 64 
 
 Suspension Bridge, 64 
 Roche Guyon, Grottoes of, 172 
 Rochefort-en-Terre, 67 
 
 Church, 67 
 
 Old Houses, 67 
 
 Ruined Castle, 67 
 
 Rohan, 127 
 
 Chapel of Notre Dame de 
 Bonne Encontre, 127 
 Rosgrand, Chapel of, 232 
 Rosporden, 263 
 
 RUMENGOL, 315 
 
 Rustefan, Chateau of, 253 
 Legend of Genevieve, 254 
 
 S 
 
 Saille, 52 
 
 Sailleraye, Chateau of la, 44 
 Saint Adrien, Chapel of, 194 
 Saint Anne d'Auray, 149 
 
 Legend of, 151 
 
 Scala Sancta, 150 
 Saint Anne la Palue, 309 
 St. Ave, 92, 129 
 St. Barbe, Chapel of, 240 
 
 Legend of, 240 
 
 Lines of, 174 
 St. Fiacre, Church of, 244 
 
 Rood Screen, 244 
 St. Gildas de Rhuys, 105 
 
 Abbey Church, 105 
 
 Abelard, 109 
 
 Legend of St. Gildas, 107 
 
 Sisterhood, 11 1 
 St. Gildas-des-Bois, 65 
 
 Benedictine Abbey, 65 
 St. Jean Brevelai, 127 
 St. Leger, Pardon of> 262 
 St. Maurice, Abbey of, 233 
 St. Nazaire, 45 
 
 Bathing-place, 63 
 
 Dolmen, 64 
 
 Harbour, 63 
 St. Nicodeme, Church of, 201 
 
 Fair of, 198 
 St. Nicolas-des-Eaux, 177 
 
 Carving in Church, 181 
 St. Pierre, Menhirs of, 176 
 St. Tugean, 289 
 Sarzeau, 104 
 
 House of Le Sage, 104 
 Savenay, 64 
 Scaer, 234 
 
 Marriage Customs, 234 
 Sein, He de, 298 
 Sene, 93 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Serent, 118 
 Sucinio, Castle of, 112 
 
 T 
 
 Toulinguet, Pointe de, 312 
 Tregunc, 257 
 Predion, 102 
 Trepasses, Baie des, 298 
 Tudy, Isle of, 278 
 Tumiac, Butte de, 115 
 
 V 
 
 Vannes, 73 
 
 Archaeological Museum, 82 
 Arche de Noe, 77 
 Battle of the Five, 77 
 Bridge, 84 
 Cathedral, 75 
 
 Catherine de Francheville, 90 
 Chapelle du Presidial, 77 
 Chateau de l'Hermine, 78 
 Chateau de la Motte, 90 
 CKsson, Imprisonment of, 79 
 College of St. Francois Xavier, 
 90 
 
 College of St. Yves, 90 
 Episcopal Palace, 90 
 Garenne, 84 
 
 Legend of St. Tryphena, 87 
 March e au Seigle, 85 
 Market, 85 
 
 Order of the Ermine, 91 
 Place Henri Quatre, 75 
 
 Place des Lices, 77 
 Place de la Mairie, 78 
 Place Napoleon le Grand, 
 Place Poissonnerie, 85 
 Porte Poterne, 83 
 Porte Prison, 85 
 Porte St. Vincent, 86 
 Rabine, 86 
 Rue Basse Cour, 78 
 Rue des Chanoines, 75 
 Rue des Halles, 77 
 Rue du Mene, 85 
 Rue Noe, 77 
 Rue des Orievres, 77 
 Rue St. Pierre, 77 
 Rue de la Prefecture, 75 
 St. Clair, 75 
 St. Comely, 75 
 St. Patern, 75 
 St. Vincent, 76, 77 
 Tour du Connetable, 78 
 Vannes et sa Femme, 77 
 Walls, 74, 85 
 Environs — 
 Bohalgo, 92 
 Camp of Villeneuve, 92 
 Erroch, 134 
 Grotto of Jean II., 92 
 Hesqueno, 92 
 Isle of Conleau, 92 
 Limur, 93 
 Lodo, 147 
 St. Ave, 92, 129 
 Sene, 93 
 
 THE END OF SOUTH BRITTANY. 
 
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