CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
Cornell University Library 
 DC 611.B848B62 
 
 Breton folk: 
 
 3 1924 028 156 440 
 
■"'^y. 
 
 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028156440 
 
-/•^ 
 
Breton Folk 
 
 AN ARTISTIC TOUR IN BRITTANY 
 
 HENRY BLACKBURN. 
 
 WITH ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 R. CALDECOTT. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON, 
 
 CROWN BUILDINGS, i88 FLEET STREET. 
 
 miw 
 
 1880. 
 
 Y 
 
DC 
 Be4B 
 
 A-^^isgr 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The following notes were made during three summer 
 tours in Brittany, in two of which the Author was accom- 
 panied by the Artist. 
 
 Breton Folk is not a description of the antiquities of 
 Brittany, nor even a book of folk-lore. It is a series of 
 sketches of a " black-and-white country " under its summer 
 aspect ; of a sombre land shrouded with white clouds, 
 peopled with peasants in dark costumes, wide white collars 
 and caps, black and white cattle and magpies. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 The illustrations, one hundred and seventy in number, 
 have been drawn by the Artist from sketches made on the 
 spot, and, apart from their artistic qualities, have the curious 
 merit of truth. They have been engraved with the utmost 
 care by Mr. J. D. Cooper. 
 
;^ 
 
 
 '^(2i^- 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PACK 
 
 I. — The Western Wing i 
 
 II.— St. Malo — St. Servan — DiNARD — DiNAN ... 6 
 
 III.— LAMBALLE — St. BRIEUC — GUINGAMP 27 
 
 IV. — Lanleff — Paimpol — Lannion — Perros-Guirec 45 
 
 v.— Carhaix — Huelgoet 58 
 
 VI. — Morlaix — St. Pol— Lesneven — Le Folgoet ... 69 
 
 VII. — Brest — Plougastel — Chateauneuf du Faou ... 83 
 
 VIII.— QuiMPER— Pont l'Abb£— Audierne — Douarnenez 100 
 
 IX.— Concarneau — Pont-Aven — QuiMPERLfi 123 
 
 X.— Hennebont 143 
 
 XI. — Le Faouet — Gourin — Gu£m£n£ 152 
 
 XII.— Ste. Anne d'Auray — Carnac — Locmariaker ... 171 
 
 XIII. — Vannes 190 
 
 Map of Brittany, and Postscript for Travellers, at end. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Cavaliers and Roundhead 
 
 Vignette ... 
 
 A Breton Gate 
 
 Sketching 
 
 Carrying Corn 
 
 Vignette ... 
 
 Old Chateau 
 
 Sheep sheltering from the Wind 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Frontispiece 
 Title-page 
 
 vu 
 xii 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Hill and Dale 
 On the Road 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 Caps of C8tes-du-Nord 
 
 Map of the Mouth of the Ranee 
 Peasants of C6tes-du-Nord 
 
 Fruit Stall at Dinan 
 
 A Loaded Hay Cart 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 n 
 
 15 
 16 
 
viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 On the Sands near St. Brieuc 
 
 Three Children 
 
 PAGl 
 
 On the Place, Dinan 17 
 
 Outside the Walls 18 
 
 Old House near Dinan 20 
 
 Old Woman of Dinan 2i 
 
 Porte de Brest 22 
 
 A Little Beggar 23 
 
 " The Hour of Repose " 24 
 
 Farmhouse of C6tes-du-Nord 25 
 
 Farmer meditating on his Stock 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Caps of C6tes-du-Nord ... ... 27 
 
 The Buckwheat Harvest 30 
 
 A Road Scraper ... 31 
 
 Sketch of Chiteau 32 
 
 33 
 
 Winnowing near St. Brieuc 34 
 
 Mathurine 35 
 
 Corner Turret at Guingamp 38 
 
 Going to Market ... 39 
 
 The Market-place, Guingamp 40 
 
 Waiting-maid at H8tel de rOuest 41 
 
 The Ossuaiy at Guingamp 42 
 
 By the River 44 
 
 - CHAPTER IV. 
 Cap of C6tes-du-Nord 45 
 
 50 
 
 Riding to Market 53 
 
 Returning Home 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Cap of the Monts d'Arrie ... eg 
 
 Peasant in Sabots 60 
 
 Girl tending Sheep ... ..._ ... ... ... ... ... gj 
 
 Old House at Carhaix g2 
 
 On the Road to Market face (,2 
 
 A Cart Party g. 
 
 Trotting out a Horse ■ . g. 
 
 Cattle Fair at Carhaix ... ... y^ce 64 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 IX 
 
 A Gentleman Farmer 
 
 A Family Party ... 
 
 Waiting for Dinner, Huelgoet 
 Shepherd of the Monts d'Arree 
 
 6S 
 66 
 
 67 
 68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Cap of Morlaix 
 
 Washing in the River 
 
 Women of Morlaix 
 
 Potato-getting near St. Pol de Leon 
 Three Men of St. Pol de Leon 
 Children in Cabbage Garden . . . 
 Gurgoyle at.Roscoff 
 
 An Owner of the Soil 
 
 ' ' The Fool of the Wood " 
 
 In the Church of Le Folgoet ... 
 
 On Horsebaclc 
 
 Horse Fair at Le Folgoet 
 
 face 
 
 face 
 face 
 
 69 
 70 
 
 72 
 
 7S 
 76 
 
 77 
 78 
 79 
 80 
 80 
 82 
 82 
 
 CHAPTER Vn 
 
 Cap of Finistire 
 
 Map of the Bay of Brest 
 
 " Every Dog has his Day " 
 
 Wayside Cro.ss 
 
 Going to the Pardon at Chiteauneuf du Faou 
 
 Calvaiy at Pleyben 
 
 Street Musicians 
 
 Races at Chateauneuf du Faou 
 
 Two Spectators 
 
 Stewards of the Fete 
 
 Dancing the Gavotte 
 
 Pleased Spectator 
 
 Threshing Corn 
 
 face 
 
 face 
 
 ... { 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Caps of Finistfere 
 
 A Promenade ^ 
 
 On the Place, Quimper 
 Towers of Quimper Cadtedral 
 Waitress at H6tel de I'Epee .. 
 
 At a Well 
 
 Professional Beggar 
 
 83 
 
 84 
 
 87 
 
 89 
 
 90 
 
 91 . 
 
 92 
 
 94 
 
 95 
 
 96 
 
 96 
 
 97 
 98 
 
 99 
 
 100 
 loi 
 102 
 103 
 104 
 105 
 106 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 A Domestic Scene ... ... io7 
 
 Two Heads ; sketched at Audierne ••• io8 
 
 Prizergiving at Quimper ■■■ io9 
 
 Two Heads ; sketched at Audierne no 
 
 A Domestic Interior ~ in 
 
 River below Pont I'Abbe 112 
 
 Landscape in Finistere ••■ 114 
 
 {116 
 117 
 117 
 
 Cutting the Corn 118 
 
 Harvesting in Finistire face 118 
 
 Waiting for the Sardine Boats at Douarnenez 120 ^ 
 
 Waitress at Douarnenez 121 
 
 Beggar on the Road ^ ... 122 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Woman and Child, Finistere ... 123 
 
 Concameau : Coming from Church ... .? ... 124 
 
 On the Place at Concameau face 124 
 
 The Last Touches ■ 125 
 
 On the Quay at Concameau ••■ 126 
 
 A Boating Party ... 127 
 
 Old Man and Child 128 
 
 Pont-Aven : Washing at a Stream ... ... 129 
 
 Pont-Aven ... " ... 131 
 
 Returning from Labour, Pont-Aven .^ 133 
 
 Models ... 13s 
 
 At Quimperle Station 136 
 
 Old Woman at Quimperle Station 137 
 
 Gathering Sticks 138 
 
 On the Place at Quimperle ... ... 139 
 
 A Big Load 140 
 
 Augustine ... 141 
 
 Evening ; Near Quimperle ... ... ... ... ... ... face 142 
 
 Drawing Water ... ... 142 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Little Cap of Morbihan 143 
 
 In the Ville Close, Hennebont 144 
 
 The High Street of the Ville Neuve 145 
 
 Poverty and Riches 146 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xi 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Reapers returning ... face 147 
 
 Opposite the Old Inn 147 
 
 At the Well ... "... . " 148 
 
 Carrying Water 149 
 
 Washing Parties 149 
 
 Old Doorway in the Ville Close ... ... ... ... ... ... 150 
 
 A Conversation 151 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Cap of Morbihan ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 152.* 
 
 Reaping near Hennebont 153 
 
 Street in Le Faouet , 155 
 
 A Breton Proprietaire ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 156 
 
 Le Faouet face 156 
 
 Bed-time 157 
 
 The Man on Two Sticks ... 158 
 
 Stairs leading to the Chapel of Ste. Barbe 160 
 
 Gourin ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... . 161 
 
 " Montez, s'il vous plait, Monsieur ! " ;. ...♦ ... 162 
 
 Bullock Cart on the Road 163 
 
 Waitress at the Inn 164 > 
 
 High Street of Guemene ... ... ... ... ... ...•■» ... 165 
 
 A Meeting 166 
 
 En Promenade ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 167 
 
 Sunday Morning at Guemene ... ^ ... 168 
 
 A Conversation ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 169 
 
 The Bottle 170 
 
 Betrothal Party face 170 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 At the H8tel Pavilion d'en Haut 171 
 
 The Tower on the Belvedere at Auray 172 
 
 Evening on,the Belvedere 173 
 
 At the Pardon of Ste. Anne d' Auray 174 
 
 175 
 
 ,, !. •■• face 176 
 
 .. " ' 177 
 
 ,. !> iSo 
 
 MapofCamac 182 
 
 Sketch on the Fields of Carnac 183 
 
 In the Kitchen of the HStel des Voyageurs at Carnac 185 
 
 On the Road 186 
 
 In the Wind 187 
 
 The Great Menhir • i88 
 
 Scavengers ... 189 
 
Xll 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Caps of Morbihan 
 Vannes from the River ... 
 
 An Old Inn 
 
 In a Cafe ... ... i ... 
 
 Three Hot Men of Vannes 
 Side-spring Boots I ... 
 Some Inhabitants I ... 
 A Chase \ ... 
 
 face 
 
 190 
 190 
 192 
 
 193 
 194 
 
 19s 
 198 
 zoo 
 
BRETON FOLK: 
 
 AN ARTISTIC TOUR IN BRITTANY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Western Wing. 
 
 TN an old-fashioned country-house there is often to be found a room 
 built out from the rest of the structure, forming, as it were, the 
 extreme western wing. It has windows looking to the west, its door 
 of communication with the great house, and, in summer-time, a southern 
 exterior wall laden with fruit and fragrant with clematis, honeysuckle, 
 or jasmine. The interior differs from the rest of the mansion both in 
 
 B 
 
2 THE WESTERN WING. 
 
 its furnishing and in the habits of its occupants. It is a room in which 
 there is an absence of bright colours, where everything is quiet in tone 
 and more or less harmonious in aspect ; where solid woodwork takes 
 the place of gilding, where furniture is made simply and solidly for ■ 
 use and ease, where decoration is t/te work of the hand — holding a 
 needle, a chisel, or a hammer. The prevailing colours in this quaint 
 old room, which give a sense of repose on coming from more highly 
 decorated saloons, are blue, grey, and green — the blue of old china, the 
 grey of a landscape by Millet or Corot, the green that we may see 
 sometimes in the works of Paul Veronese. 
 
 This " western wing " is haunted, and full of mysteries and legends ; 
 its furniture is antique, and has seldom been dusted or put in order. 
 Nearly every object is a curiosity in some way, and was designed in a 
 past age ; on the high wooden shelves over the open fireplace there are 
 objects in wrought metal work, antique-shaped pots and jars. About 
 the room are fragments of Druidical monuments, menhirs and dolmens 
 of almost fabulous antiquity, ancient stone crosses, calvaries, and carvings, 
 piled together in disorderly fashion, with odd-shaped pipes, snuffboxes, 
 fishing-rods, guns, and the like ; on the walls are small, elaborate, 
 paintings of mediaeval saints in roughly carved gilt frames, and a few 
 low-toned landscapes by painters of France ; on shelves and in niches 
 are large brown volumes with antique clasps, and perhaps a model in 
 clay of an old woman in a high cap, a priest, or a child in sabots. 
 
 The room is a snuggery, well furnished with pipes and tobacco, and 
 hitherto evidently not much visited by ladies ; but the door is open wide 
 to the rest of the mansion, through which the strains of Meyerbeer's 
 opera of Dinorah may sometimes be heard. The lady visitor is welcome 
 to this out-of-the-way corner, but she must not be surprised to find her- 
 self greeted on entering in a language which, with all her knowledge of 
 French, she can scarcely understand ; to be asked, perhaps, to take a 
 pinch of snuff, and to conform in other homely ways to the habits of the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 Such a quiet, unobtrusive corner — pleasant with its open windows 
 to the summer air, but much blown and rained upon by winter storms-^ 
 
THE WESTERN WING. 3 
 
 is Brittany, the "western wing" of France, holding much the same 
 position geographically and socially to the rest of the country, as the 
 room we have pictured in the great house, to the rest of the mansion. 
 
 The Brittany described in these pages is comprised principally of the 
 three departments of C6TES-DU-N0RD, FlNlSTiiRE, and MORBIHAN, 
 the inhabitants of these districts standing apart, as it were, from the rest 
 of France, preserving their own customs and traditions, speaking their 
 own language, singing their own songs, and dancing their own dances in 
 the streets in 1879. In these three departments is comprehended nearly 
 all that is most characteristic of the Bretons, and the district forms 
 itself naturally into a convenient summer tour of three or four weeks. 
 
 Brittany is essentially the land of the painter. It would be strange 
 indeed if a country sprinkled with white caps, and set thickly in summer 
 with the brightest blossoms of the fields, should not attract artists in 
 search of picturesque costume and scenes of pastoral life. Rougher 
 and wilder than Normandy, more thinly populated, and less visited 
 by the tourists, Brittany offers better opportunities for outdoor 
 study, and more suggestive scenes for the painter. Nowhere in 
 France are there finer peasantry ; nowhere do we see more dignity 
 of aspect in field labour, more nobility of feature amongst men and 
 women ; nowhere more picturesque ruins ; nowhere such primitive 
 habitations and, it must be added, such dirt. Brittany is still behind- 
 hand in civilisation, the land is only half cultivated and divided into 
 small holdings, and the fields are strewn with Druidical stones. From 
 the dark recesses of the Montagnes Noires the streams come down 
 between deep ravines as wild and bare of cultivation as the moors of 
 Scotland, but the hillsides are clothed thickly in summer with ferns, 
 broom, and heather. Follow one of these streams in its windings 
 towards the sea, where the troubled waters rest in the shade of over- 
 hanging trees, by pastures and cultivated lands, and we may see the 
 Breton peasants at their " gathering- in," reaping and carrying their small 
 harvest of corn and rye, oats and buckwheat ; the women with white 
 caps and wide collars, short dark skirts, and heavy wooden sabots, the 
 men in white woollen jackets, breeks {bragoits bras), and black gaiters, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE ROUTE. 
 
 broad-brimmed hats and long hair streaming in the wind — leading oxen 
 yoked to heavy carts painted blue. Here we are reminded at once of 
 the French painters of pastoral life, of Jules Breton, Millet, Troyon, and 
 Rosa Bonheur ; and as we see the dark brown harvest fields, with the 
 white clouds lying low on the horizon, and the strong, erect figures and 
 grand faces of the peasants lighted by the evening sun, we understand 
 why Brittany is a chosen land for the painter oi paysages. Low in tone 
 as the landscape is, sombre as are the costumes of the people, cloudy 
 and fitful in light and shade as is all this wind-blown land, there is yet a 
 clearness in the atmosphere which brings out the features of the country 
 with great distinctness, and impresses them upon the mind. 
 
 To the antiquary who knows the country, and is perchance on the 
 track of a newly discovered menhir, long buried in the sands ; to the 
 poet who would seek out and see that mystic island of Avilion, 
 
 "Where falls not liail, or rain, or any snow, 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly " ; 
 
 to the historian who would add yet other links in the chain of facts in 
 the strange eventful history of Brittany ; to the resident Englishman and 
 sportsman, who knows the corners of the trout streams and the best 
 covers for game, scanty though they be, the tour suggested in these 
 pages will have little interest ; but to the English traveller who 
 would see what is most characteristic and beautiful in Brittany in a short 
 time, we should say — 
 
 Enter by the port of St. Malo from Southampton (or by Dol, if 
 coming from France), and take the following route, diverging from it 
 into the country districts as time and opportunity will permit. From 
 St. Malo to Dinan by water ; from Dinan to Lamballe by diligence (or 
 railway), thence to St. Brieuc, Guingamp, Lannion, Morlaix, Brest, 
 Quimper, Quimperle, Hennebont, Auray, Vannes, and Rennes. 
 
 Thus, then, having set the modern tourist on his way, and provided 
 
 or the exigencies of rapid holiday-making, let us recommend him to 
 
 diverge from the beaten track as much as possible, striking out in every 
 
 direction from the main line of route, both inland and to the coast, 
 
ON THE ROAD. 
 
 S 
 
 travelling by road as much as possible, and seeing the people, as they 
 are only to be seen, " off the line." 
 
 In Breton Folk the reader will be troubled little with the history 
 of Brittany, with the wars of the Plantagenets, or with the merits 
 'of various styles of architecture, but some general impression of the 
 country may be gathered from its pages, and especially of the people 
 as they are to be seen to-day. 
 
 
 ^^^<lJ- — " 
 
ST. MALO. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 St. Malo— St. Servan — Dinard — Dinan. 
 
 (~\^ a bright summer's morning in 
 July the ballon captif, which we 
 may use in imagination in these pages — 
 our French friends having taught us its 
 use in peace as well as in war — floats 
 over the blue water-gate of Brittany like 
 a golden ball. The sun is high, and the 
 tide is flowing fast i-ound the dark rock 
 islands that lie at our feet, pouring into 
 the harbour of St. Malo, floating the 
 vessels and fishing-boats innumerable that line the quays, inside the 
 narrow neck of land called Le Sillon, which connects the city with 
 the mainland, and driving gay parties of bathers up the sands of the 
 beautiful Baie d'Ecluse at Dinard. 
 
 On the map on the opposite page, we see the relative positions 
 of St. Halo, St. Servan, and Dinard, also the mouth of the river Ranee, 
 which flows southward, wide and strong, into innumerable bays, until 
 it winds under the walls and towers of Dinan. Looking down upon 
 the city, now alive with the life which the rising tide gives to every 
 sea-port, seeing the strength of its position seaward, and the protection 
 from without to the little forests of masts, whose leaves are the bright 
 trade banners of many nations, it is easy to understand how centuries 
 ago St. Malo and St. Servan were chosen as military strongholds,* and 
 
 * St. Servan is built on the site of Alelh, one of the six capitals of ancient Armorica ; 
 there was a mona.stery here in the sixth century. 
 
ST. MALO. 
 
 how in these later times St. Malo has a maritime importance apparently 
 out of proportion to its trade, and to its population of not more than 
 14,000 inhabitants. 
 
 From a bird's-eye point of view we may obtain a clearer idea of 
 St. Malo and its neighbourhood than many who have actually visited 
 these places, and can judge for ourselves of its probable attractions for 
 a summer visit. It seems unusually bright and pleasant this morning, 
 for the light west wind has cleared the air, and carried the odours 
 of St. Malo landward. There is to be a regatta in the afternoon, 
 the principal course being across, 
 and across, the mouth of the Ranee, 
 between St. Malo and Dinard, and 
 already little white sails m.ay be 
 seen spread in various directions, 
 darting in and out between the rock 
 islands outside the bay. On one of 
 these islands. Grand Be, marked with 
 a cross on the map, is the tomb of 
 the illustrious Chateaubriand, a plain 
 granite slab, surmounted by a cross, and railed in with a very ordinary- 
 looking iron railing. This gravestone, which stands upon an eminence, 
 and is conspicuous rather than solitary, is described by a French writer 
 as a romantic resting-place for the departed diplomatist, characteristic 
 and sublime — " ni arbres, ni fleurs, ni inscription — le roc, la mer et 
 I'immensite " ; but as a matter of fact it is anything but .solitary in 
 summer-time, and it is more visited by tourists than sea-gulls. The 
 waves are beating round it now, but at low water there will be a 
 line of pedestrians crossing the sands ; some to bathe and some to 
 place immortelles on the tomb. 
 
 The sands of Le Sillon are covered with bathers and holiday crowds 
 in dazzling costumes, the rising tide driving them up closer to the rocks 
 every minute. Everywhere there is life and movement ; the narrow, 
 winding streets of St. Malo pour out their contents on the seashore ; 
 little steamers pass to and from Dinard continually, fishing and pilot 
 
8 ST. MALO. 
 
 boats come and go, and yachts are fluttering their white sails far out 
 at sea. Everything looks gay, for the sun is bright, and it is the day 
 of the regatta. 
 
 Looking landward, the eye ranges over a district of flat, marshy land, 
 that once was sea, and we may discern in the direction of Dol an island 
 rock in the midst of a marshy plain, at least three miles from the sea. 
 On the summit of this rock is a chapel to Notre Dame de I'Esperance, 
 and near it, standing alone on the plain, is a column of grey granite 
 nearly thirty feet high, one of the "menhirs" or " Druid stones " that 
 we shall see often in Brittany. Eastward there is the beautiful bay of 
 Cancale, famous for its oyster-fisheries ; the village built on the heights 
 is glistening in the sunlight, and the blue bay stretches away east and 
 north as far as Granville. Cancale is also crowded this morning, for 
 it is the fashion to come from St. Malo on fete days, to eat oysters, and 
 to pay for them. A summer correspondent, who followed the fashion, 
 writes : " The people of Cancale are amongst the most able and 
 industrious fishermen in Brittany, and the oysters from the pares of 
 Cancale are famous even in the Parisian restaurants ; but in the cabarets 
 of Cancale the charges resemble those of Paris." We mention this by 
 the way because travellers who have taken up their quarters at the 
 principal hotels at St. Malo, finding the charges higher than they 
 expected, might, without a caution, take wing to Cancale. They may 
 be attracted thither, for the day at least, to see the fishing operations, 
 to study costume, to explore the coast by boat, or to visit the island 
 monastery of St. Michel. The water is smooth in the shallow bay 
 of Cancale, and the view extending over miles of blue sea to the 
 green hills beyond Avranches makes a charming picture. 
 
 The aspect of St. Malo from the sea is that of a crowd of grey houses 
 with high-pitched roofs, surrounded with stone walls and sixteenth- 
 century towers, and with one church spire conspicuous in the centre. At 
 high-water the waves beat up against the granite rocks and battlements 
 and St. Malo seems an island ; at low water it stands high on a 
 pediment of granite, surrounded by little island rocks and wide plains of 
 sand ; the spring tides rising nearly forty feet above low-water mark 
 
ST. MALO. 9 
 
 But the chief interest of St. Malo is undoubtedly outside of it. In the 
 narrow, tortuous streets, shut in by high walls, we experience something 
 of the sensation of dwellers in modern Gothic villas ; we have insufficient 
 iight and air, we are Cramped for space, but we know at the same time 
 that, outwardly, we are extremely picturesque. " Rien de triste et de 
 provinciale comme la ville de Saint-Malo, ou tout le monde est couche 
 a 9 h. du soir ; rues noires et tortueuses ; pas de soleil, ni de mouve- 
 ment ; enfin une ville morte." Such is the popular French view of it in 
 • the height of the season, when prices at the hotels are nearly as high 
 as in Paris. 
 
 The fortifications and towers of St. Malo are interesting as examples 
 of military architecture of the sixteenth century ; the castle with its four 
 round towers was erected, it is said, by Queen-Duchess Anne to assert 
 her power over the bishops of St. Malo, who had held it from the time 
 when it was an island monastery. From the ramparts and quays we can 
 best see many of the old houses and residences of the wealthy traders of 
 the last century, now dilapidated or turned into barracks or public 
 offices ; and we may also note here and there, in narrow streets, remnants 
 of carved timber beams and wooden pillars which formed the frontage of 
 some of the oldest houses. We can walk upon the ramparts all round 
 the town, from which there are extensive -views over sea and land ; and 
 we can hihale, on the western side, the fresh breezes of the sea, and, 
 on the other, the odours rising from innumerable unwashed streets 
 and alleys. The church, the spire of which was completed by order of 
 Napoleon III., has little architectural interest. The structure dates 
 from the twelfth century, but its present aspect is modern and tawdry, 
 with a huge high-altar, candlesticks, gilt furniture, relics, and artificial 
 flowers. The most noteworthy objects are some carved woodwork in 
 the chancel, and a stained-glass window. 
 
 The principal streets of St. Malo are modernised, and the shops 
 are full of wares from Paris arid Rennes. The appearance and manners 
 of the people are French rather than Breton, and — although the strange 
 patterns of the white caps worn by the peasants and fisherwomen, 
 and the curiously uncouth intonation of voices which already 
 
lo ST. MALO. 
 
 greets our ears, remind us that we are very far from the capital of 
 France — there is. little here of distinctive Breton costume. 
 
 St. Malo from its position is an important maritime station. It is 
 busy, and busier every year, with shipbuilding, for it has a large fishing 
 population and an export trade with all parts of the world. Brittany is 
 a food-producing land, and St. Malo is its principal northern port ; but 
 its manufactures are comparatively unimportant, and its retail trade 
 is largely dependent on the influx of visitors. 
 
 In the suburb of St. Servan, where a few English people live 
 quietly, there is less appearance of commercial activity than in" St. 
 Malo. It is in fact a faubourg, comparatively unprotected by walls, 
 and undisturbed by much traffic. Its population of 12,000 have their 
 principal business in St. Malo, and there is a constant stream of 
 pedestrians passing to and fro, crossing on a movable bridge worked 
 by steam, the supports of which are on rails under water. The 
 principal street of St. Servan is wider than Wardour Street in London, 
 but it resembles it somewhat in dinginess, and in the fact that its 
 shops are full of tempting baits for the bric-A-brac hunter ; old wood 
 carvings, pots, and stones, which should be purchased with caution. 
 
 The Bretons, both in St. Malo and St. Servan, are a little demoralised 
 in summer, and wish to be " fine." To-aay being a fete day, they are eft 
 grande toilette, and the wonderful white caps worn by some of the women 
 are trimmed with real old lace. In the shops and on the promenades the 
 majority of women are dressed as in Paris, and they wear kid gloves 
 "like their betters"; the country people and the fishing and poorer class 
 of Malouins, only, wearing any distinctive costume. The fishermen of 
 Cancale make money and save it, and send their children to school by 
 train to Rennes, and the fisherman's daughter comes back in a costume 
 that makes her neighbours envious. Every year more white caps are 
 thrown aside, for Mathilde will not be outdone by Louise; and so the 
 change goes on, and each year the markets of St. Malo and St. 
 Servan have less individuality of costume. 
 
 Nevertheless, groups such as are sketched are to be seen to-day 
 in St. Malo, St. Servan, and Dinard : the women in white caps, dark 
 
ST. MALO. 
 
 II 
 
 stuff gowns, and neatly made shoes ; the men in blue serge aijd sabots 
 The women's caps vary in pattern according to their district. They 
 generally wear a close-fitting under cap, with a small high-crimped 
 crown, and a wide lappet pinned on the top of the head. In St. Malo 
 
 we may see Normandy as well as Brittany caps, and it is not until we 
 get farther into the interior that the costume of the district is strongly 
 marked.* 
 
 * The caps peculiar to different parts of Brittany are indicated at the head of each chapter. 
 
12 DINARD. 
 
 DlNARD — once a little fishing-village, now a fashionable watering- 
 place — the position of which we see on the map on page 7, is a 
 delightful residence in summer, and nearly as dear as Trouville, in 
 Normandy ; but the air is bracing and exceptionally good, the walks 
 in the neighbourhood shady and delightful, and the bathing in the 
 sheltered Bale d'Ecluse as good as any in France. In Dinard there are 
 about 800 houses and villas in pleasant gardens, most of which are let 
 for a short summer season of three months. There is a well managed 
 " Etablissement des Bains" and casino, and several good hotels. Dinard 
 is the starting-point to reach Dinan by road ; also for the little fishing- 
 villages of St. Briac and St. Jacut, on the coast, westward. At St. Briac 
 the visitor who does not care to be fashionable will find an inn, good 
 bathing, and summer quarters of a rougher kind than at Dinard ; and 
 at St. Jacut there is a convent standing almost out at sea, where the 
 nuns take boarders in summer for a very small sum. At Dinard you 
 play at croquet on the sands ; at St. Briac you scramble over granite 
 rocks, and fish in the pools under their shadows ; at St. Jacut you 
 wander over the sands with a shrimp-net, and in the evening help 
 the nuns to draw water from the convent well. 
 
 But we have come to Brittany to sketch and to note what is most 
 characteristic and picturesque. So far, on the threshold as it were, what 
 have we seen .' Coming from England, and sailing southward into its 
 blue bay on a summer morning, there was an impression of brightness 
 and colour unusual on our own shores. In St. Malo itself three pictures 
 remain upon the memory. The first is the sunset between the islands 
 and across the sands, near the bathing-place of Le Sillon ; the second 
 the moonlight view of its cathedral tower at the end of a narrow 
 street, filling it and towering above it with a grandeur of effect almost 
 equal to that of St. Stephen's, at Vienna ; the third picture is in the small 
 courtyard of the H6tel de France. This house, or part of it, belonged 
 to the family of the Vicomte de Chateaubriand, and it was here, in a 
 room facing the sea, that the celebrated author and diplomatist was 
 born. In the hotel the family arms (the peacock's plume) are 
 emblazoned, and just outside its gates, in the little dusty square called 
 
THE RANGE. 13 
 
 " La Place de Chateaubriand," a new bronze statue, bright and shining, 
 has lately been erected to his memory. Travellers imprisoned between 
 the narrow streets and dingy walls of St. Male, fortified and barricaded 
 against the fresh breezes of the sea, may perchance seek the cool 
 courtyard of the H6tel de France as a place of refuge during the heat 
 of the day, and, if not quite tired of hearing of Chateaubriand, may 
 dwell in imagination upon the historic associations of this house. In 
 a corner of the courtyard, now used as a cafe, there is an old stone 
 staircase leading to the first ^tage, such as we may see in the court- 
 yard of many a French chateau, and upon it there lingers this afternoon 
 an English girl in the costume most affected by society in 1878. She 
 wears a rich, dark, close-fitting dress in simple folds, spreading where 
 it trails upon the rough granite steps with the stealthy grandeur of a 
 peacock's tail upon a ruined wall. As she turns her head and leans 
 over between the pillars of the covered balcony, her " Rubens hat " and 
 fair hair are framed in antique carved stone. The effect is accidental, 
 but the harmonious combination of costume and architecture brings 
 out suddenly the beauties of each, and gives us a glimpse, not to be 
 forgotten, of the graces of a past age. 
 
 The Range. 
 
 The tide is now flowing fast up the Ranee, filling its numerous bays 
 and inlets, floating odd-shaped little boats and rafts that are moored off 
 the villages on its banks, running up here and there inland between 
 rocks and trees and forming miniature lakes, which will disappear as 
 the tide goes down. The little steamer for Dinan starts from the Quai 
 Napoleon, and goes up on the flood in about three hours, having just 
 time to reach Dinan and return to St. Malo before the water has 
 subsided. The foredeck is crowded with market-women and small 
 merchandise, and on the afterdeck, which is but a few yards square, 
 there are some French and English tourists under a canvas awning, 
 which is useful alike for shelter from sun, rain, or cinders. Steering 
 south-east by south, we steam gently up the Ranee, getting a fine 
 
14 THE RANGE. 
 
 view of St. Servan in passing (a view which we ^hould have missed 
 altogether by the land route to Dinan) ; a river that, near its mouth, 
 seems to have no boundaries or banks, that flows in and out amongst 
 cultivated fields, then suddenly through narrow defiles of rocks and 
 under the shadow of forest trees that might be Switzerland. Once 
 or twice we sail, as it were, in an inland lake, or, as the French call 
 it, " une petite Mediterranee " ; we can neither see where we entered 
 nor any outlet on our route. There are fishing and market boats, 
 lying in quiet corners, and one or two pleasure yachts with flags flying, 
 moored in the prettiest spots near modern summer chalets, the 
 slate roofs of which appear above the trees. We pass one consider- 
 able village, St. Suliac, on the east bank, behind which is the ancient 
 fort of Chateauneuf ; and, on the west, the grey walls of more than 
 one old chiteau are visible. The water is blue and tidal until we 
 arrive at a lock .a few miles from Dinan, when the little steamer 
 ploughs through a narrow canal-like stream, and sends the water 
 flowing over the banks, washing the stems of the poplar trees. 
 
 We are entering Brittany now, and are far out of hearing of the 
 waves that beat upon St. Malo, and of the band of the casino on its 
 sands. On either side the valleys are rich with verdure and with 
 orchards of fruit. There are farmhouses and villas dotted about, and 
 peasants at work in the fields. We pass close to the banks during 
 the last mile, and are shut in by rocks and trees ; but all at once the 
 view enlarges, and there rises before us a scene so grand and, at the 
 same time, so familiar that we feel delighted and rewarded at having 
 approached Dinan by water. The prevailing tone of landscape during 
 the last few miles has been sombre, and the valleys in shadow with 
 their dark granite rocks and gloom of firs have contrasted picturesquely 
 with the sunshine on distant fields. As we reach Dinan in the 
 afternoon, the valley of the Ranee is in shadow, whilst above and 
 before us, crowning a hill, are the old roofs, towers, and spires of 
 Dinan shining in the sun. The sides of the valley here are almost 
 precipitous, and across it, high above our heads, is a plain modern 
 viaduct, reaching to the suburb of Lanvallay. Dinan is on the west 
 
DIN AN. 
 
 IS 
 
 or left bank of the Ranee ; and near the bridge where we land the 
 steep streets of the old town reach to the water's edge. Above our 
 heads are feudal towers, and parts of old walls, and the grey roofs 
 of houses between the trees, and away southward the valley of the 
 
 Fruit Stall at Dinan. 
 
 Ranee winding out of sight. We said it was a familiar picture, for 
 the approach to Dinan by water and the view from the hills on the 
 •opposite bank of the Ranee, seen under summer suns, have been 
 perpetuated in brightness by many an English artist. It is well to 
 see Dinan thus, en coidetir de rose, and to remember it in its most 
 bright and attractive aspect, for on a nearer and longer acquaintance 
 
1 6 DIN AN. 
 
 our impressions may change. Dinan — situated on the summit and 
 slopes of wooded hills, their dark granite sides appearing here and 
 there through the trees, its mediaeval towers' and terraces, and its old 
 grey houses with pointed roofs, and its handsome white modern 
 houses — forms a good background to the market-women, with their 
 stalls of fruit and vegetables, peasants in blue blouses, and the 
 usual summer crowd of tourists, including Parisians in suits of white, 
 with broad straw hats and blue umbrellas, thronging on the quay 
 waiting for our little steamer. There are several hundred English 
 residents in Dinan, and the voices in the streets have a familiar 
 sound, neither French nor Breton. But the population, including 
 English, scarcely exceeds 1 0,000 even in summer ; and the inhabitants, 
 who are not given up to trading with visitors, are principally occupied 
 in agriculture, or working in their dark dwellings at hand looms. 
 
 As we climb up a steep, dirty street, leading from the quay, called 
 the Rue de Jersual, and under a Gothic gateway — past old houses, with 
 high-pitched roofs and leaning timbers, rising one above another in 
 irregular steps — we hear the sound of the loom in the darkness on 
 either side, and the inhabitants come out to stare as usual ; shining 
 red faces, under white caps, lean out from little latticed windows and 
 from doorways, and in the gutters many a little pair of sabots stuffed 
 
 with hay is rattling on the stones. It 
 is a ladder of cobblestones and dirt, cool 
 and slippery, sheltered by projecting eaves 
 from the afternoon sun ; the principal 
 approach from the river a century ago, 
 up which a stream of pilgrims files into 
 the upper town. They pause to take 
 breath at the top, and then disperse on 
 the Place, where, in front of dusty rows 
 of trees, the omnibuses and carts, which 
 /«,c '-,- «- - -- ' have come round by the broad, circuitous 
 
 road, are setting down travellers. The 
 entrance to the inn is blocked by a loaded hay cart, stuck fast in the 
 archway of the house, as in the sketch. We have ascended at least 
 
DIN AN. 
 
 17 
 
 300 feet to the Place, and take up our quarters in one of the hotels 
 m the wide open square, looking as dusty and uncared for as usual 
 in French provincial towns, and commanding, as usual also, no view 
 of the country round. 
 
 In a few minutes the bustle caused by the arrival of travellers 
 has ceased, and the principal square of Dinan resumes its ordinary 
 aspect on a summer's day. Nurses, in white caps, sit knitting under 
 the shadows of stunted trees, while the children play in the dust ; 
 cavalry officers of all grades play at cards and drink absinthe at little 
 
 tables half hidden by trees planted in boxes at the hotel doors ; ladies 
 and children, a priest, a workman in blue blouse dragging a load of 
 stones, a woman coming from market, and an Englishman or two, on 
 pleasure intent, with draggled beard and grey knickerbockers, as is the 
 fashion of the time. Above the trees, the houses across the square 
 rise in irregular lines, their steep roofs, old and sun-stained, are full 
 of variety and colour ; behind them tree tops wave, and great masses 
 of white clouds drive northward to the sea. 
 
 Dinan is full of interest both for the artist and the antiquary. The 
 cathedral of St. Sauveur, with its fine carved doorway and Romanesque 
 
 c 
 
iS 
 
 DIN AN. 
 
 architecture, the old clock-tower m the Riie de I'Horloge, the 
 mediseval gateways, and the old houses in the narrow streets, form 
 a succession of pictures worthy of study. It is well to examine 
 the castle, once occupied by the Queen-Duchess Anne and now a 
 prison, and to ascend the tower, from which there is a magnificent 
 view. In the museum at the Mairie there are several interesting 
 monuments and ecclesiastical relics. And yet perhaps the chief 
 
 interest of Dinan is in the variety and beauty of its environs ; on 
 every side will be found charming wooded walks and valleys, from 
 which we can see its position, set high on green hills, the sky-line a 
 fringe of trees and towers. The walks on the ramparts, with their 
 lines of poplars and the views across the deep fosse below will 
 give an idea of the militaiy architecture of the middle ages, and 
 especially of the natural strength and importance of Dinan as a 
 fortified city when besieged by the Duke of Lancaster in 1359 and 
 defended by the brave Du Guesclin. In St. Malo, Chateaubriand was 
 
DIN AN. 19 
 
 the hero ; in Dinan it is Du Guesclin, constable of France in the 
 fourteenth century. In the cathedral of St. Sauveur they have 
 burned candles before the jewelled casket containing his heart, for 
 centuries, and on the Place there is a poor statue of him in plaster ; 
 but the more lasting monuments are the records of his deeds and the 
 songs of the people, which we shall hear often on our travels. 
 
 Whichever way we turn in Dinan, we find some new view and 
 point of interest, and the inhabitants are so accustomed to the in- 
 cursion of strangers, and reap so many benefits by their coming, that 
 we are allowed to sketch almost undisturbed. There is an old woman 
 with deformed hands and feet, who sits knitting on the Place, whose 
 familiar figure will be recalled by the sketch on page 21. 
 
 The ramparts are comparatively deserted by day, and form a pro- 
 menade by moonlight worth coming far to see. If ever there was a 
 spot on earth prepared for lovers, it is surely the broad walk on 
 the southern ramparts of Dinan, where the moon shines upon the 
 path between tall waving poplars and silvers, the distant trees, where 
 there is scarcely a sound to break the stillness, where there is room 
 for every Romeo out of hearing of his neighbour, and where the 
 sounds of the city are hushed behind granite walls. It is naturally 
 romantic and beautiful, and, with the associations which cling around its 
 towers, has a charm which is almost unique ; but we must tell the truth. 
 There are clusters of white roses clinging to the old masonry above, 
 which have scattered their full-blown leaves at our feet, and below, in 
 the deep dell which formed the ancient fosse, there is- honeysuckle in 
 the straggling garden ; but the odours that rise on the evening air are 
 not of roses nor of honeysuckle, nor from the broad champaign around. 
 There surely was never a beautiful spot so defiled. As a picture, the 
 general aspect of Dinan will remain in memory — a picture not to be 
 effaced by the erection of large new barracks, or by the railway now 
 constructing in the valley — stately Dinan with its ancient groves and 
 terraces, its hanging gardens, and sylvan views. 
 
 We must not linger in such a well-known part of Brittany, or we 
 would take the reader in imagination to one or two of the old 
 
 C 2 
 
30 
 
 LA GARA YE. 
 
 houses in the neighbourhood, like the one sketched below ; also, 
 a little way up the river, to the picturesque ruins of the abbey of 
 Lehon. This last is a spot especially to be visited, and where, if 
 we are wise and have time, we should take apartments for a week 
 in summer. Another favourite walk is on the opposite side of Dinan, 
 leaving the town by the ramparts towards the north. Here in the 
 midst of a tangle of briars and bushes, hemmed in on every side, 
 run over with ivy and every variety of creeper, shut off entirely from 
 some points of view by an orchard laden to the ground with fruit and 
 
 by a garden of flowers, is the one tower left of the famous chateau of 
 La Garaye. The grey octagonal turret, with its crumbling Renais- 
 sance ornament, stands high above the surrounding trees, and catches 
 the evening sunlight long after the avenue of beeches by which it is 
 approached is in gloom. The place is as solemn and quiet, at the end of 
 a long avenue, as any poet could desire ; but as we approach the gates 
 of the chateau of "the lady with the liberal hand," whom Mrs. Norton 
 has immortalised in her poem, there are the usual signs of demoralisation. 
 There are pigs about, and tourists ; and the show is charged for in the 
 usual way. We pay our money and take away some souvenir of the 
 place. Americans who have read (and recited often in their own homes) 
 
LA GARAYE. 
 
 21 
 
 "The Lady of La Garaye" sometimes make Dihan the extreme 
 western point of their tour in Europe, and have trodden the ground 
 into a deep track to the chateau with their pilgrim feet ; but the position 
 is inconvenient for tourists who have much to see, and so, it is under- 
 stood, they are going to buy the turret and take it home. The idea is 
 not as absurd as it may sound ; it is a very pretty ruin as it stands, but 
 
 it will fall soon if not cared for, and the low wall on either side of the 
 turret will disappear behind the fruitful orchard. The old hospital is 
 now used as a farmshed, but wants repairing to be habitable ; and the 
 ancient cider-press, with its massive wooden beams, lies rotting in the 
 sun. The farm children are gathering blackberries from the bushes 
 which grow between the hearthstones of the old banquet-hall, poultry 
 swarm in my lady's boudoir, and there is a hum of bees and insects 
 about the ruin. 
 
22 
 
 DIN AN. 
 
 We have said nothing of the English colony and church at Dinan, 
 of the convent of the Ursulines and their good works, or of the 
 people to be seen on market-days, because Dinan is well known to 
 travellers, and there is very little to distinguish it from other French 
 towns. To see the people, and sketch the Bretons in their most 
 picturesque aspects, we must go farther afield. 
 
 As we leave Dinan by diligence with much cracking of whips 
 and jingling of bells, through the wide square tenanted as usual by 
 white-capped nurses and idlers ; rolling in the high banquette down 
 past the old gateways, out into the country road towards the west, we 
 see the last of Dinan and its towers. Whether in its autumn beauty 
 with rich surrounding woods, or with its winter curtain folded softly, with 
 tassels and fringes of frost, Dinan leaves a brilliant impression upon 
 the mind. We forget the modern incursion of tourists, and the 
 
 demoralisation amongst the 
 poorer inhabitants caused by 
 the scattering of sous, we 
 forgive its dingy, neglected 
 streets, its ill-kept boulevards 
 and squares, and its slow, 
 unenterprising ways ; we re- 
 member only its grandeur and 
 picturesqueness. 
 
 As we pass out by the 
 
 Porte de Brest, we meet a 
 
 Breton proprietaire and his 
 
 wife in a cart, whom we must 
 
 not take for peasants because of the black stuff gown and white 
 
 cap of the bright-faced woman, and the broad-brimmed hat and 
 
 blouse of the man. 
 
 We drive through a straggling suburb of houses, where the peasants 
 stare at us from their dark dwellings; we stop at wayside inns— 
 unnecessarily, it would seem — and are surrounded by beggars of all 
 ages and sizes. Here is one who comes suddenly to earth at the sound 
 
DINAN TO LAMBALLE. 
 
 23 
 
 of wheels, and peers from the darkness of her home underground with 
 the brightness and vivacity of a weasel ; her black eyes glisten 
 with astonishment and with the instinct 
 of animal nature scenting food ; she trans- 
 forms herself in an instant from the buoyant 
 youth and almost cherub-like beauty in the 
 sketch . to a cringing, whining mendicant. 
 "Quelque chose, quelque chose pour I'amour 
 de Dieu," in good, clear French, nearly all 
 the words that her parents would have her 
 learn, in the intervals of playing and road- 
 scraping — the latter her only serious business 
 in life. But the schoolmaster is abroad in 
 Brittany ; the edict has gone forth that eveiy 
 child of France shall henceforth learn the 
 French tongue ; and this little creature will 
 be caught and tamed, and civilised into ways 
 that her parents never knew. 
 
 One more picture on the road, an incident 
 common enough, but characteristic and worth 
 
 recording. It is a sultry afternoon, with a deep blue sky and a 
 burning sun. So fierce is the heat that it has silenced for a time 
 the barking of dogs and the arguments of some of our passengers. 
 Just outside a village the' straight road, unsheltered even by poplars, 
 is fringed with low brushwood and long grasses withering under a 
 curtain of dust. There is nothing stirring but a little yellowhammer 
 and a magpie on the road, a cantonniere in wide straw hat, chipping 
 at a heap of stones, and the lumbering diligence in which we travel ; 
 no shelter but in a wood hard by. 
 
 Presently we come to a halt in a narrow part of the road, for 
 M. Achille Dufaure's cart -of charcoal stops the way. It is a suggestive 
 picture, which we may call " The Hour of . Repose." In the fore- 
 ground, in the burning road, is a tall white charger, encumbered, 
 now in his old age, with a great wooden collar and clumsy harness. 
 
24 
 
 DIN AN rO LAMBALLE. 
 
 chained to a dark blue cart with dirt-encrusted wheels, half smothered 
 on this summer's day with a blue woolsack over his shoulders, foaming 
 at the mouth, and streaming with the wounds of flies and other 
 injuries, but pricking his ears as of old at the sound of approaching 
 wheels. In the background, but a few yards off, is a cool wood of 
 beech and elm, dark in its shadows, green in its depth with ivy and 
 fern, and fringed against the sky with tops of waving poplars. This 
 broad mass of green, which comes between the brightness of sky 
 and the burning road, with its foreground of dry grasses, is relieved 
 
 on one spot by a cool ripple of blue— it is Achille lying on his 
 face asleep, his blouse just lifted by a breeze ; he will repose for two 
 or three hours, whilst his horse stands in the sun, and the hot 
 shadows lengthen from his heels. No amount of shouting on the 
 part of our driver will waken the sleeper ; blessings and curses, 
 cracking of whips and blowing of horns, are all tried in vain, and 
 the monotony of our journey is relieved by the diligence being 
 dragged, as it might have been at first, over the field at the roadside, 
 and we resume our way. 
 
 As we travel westward, the aspect of the land becomes suddenly 
 changed ; it is clouded over and rained upon, and is a sombre 
 
DINAN TO LAMBALLE. 25 
 
 contrast to the former brightness. After the glare of the sun 
 the senses are grateful for quiet tones; but the sight is strange, 
 almost mournful. The district is only a few miles from busy towns 
 and sea-ports, and on the main line of railway from Paris to Brest, 
 but it is out of the world, and seems, under its cloudy aspect, farther 
 than ever removed from civilisation; we pass substantial-looking 
 farmhouses, but the dwellings of the peasants are generally hovels^ 
 
 with tumble-down mud walls and immovable windows ; in their 
 gardens are dungheaps and stagnant pools of water. We see women 
 at work in the fields, girls tending cattle, and the men, generally, 
 looking on. 
 
 The distance from Dinan to Lamballe by road is twenty-five miles, 
 a slow and sleepy journey of about five hours by the direct route ; a 
 journey seldom taken by travellers since the completion of the railway 
 westward. Everything we pass on the road looks comparatively untidy, 
 rough, and poor, with the poverty of ignorance and neglect rather than 
 
26 
 
 DIN AN TO LAMBALLE. 
 
 of means, for the soil, as we approach Lamballe, is rich, and yields 
 well. The country is really fruitful, but an acre of land is often 
 divided into twenty different lots, in each of which there are separate 
 crops of hemp, buckwheat, or potatoes, or they are filled with gorse 
 for winter fodder for cattle. The hedges are made of mud-banks, 
 gorse, and ferns, and the gates between them are formed of felled 
 trees, the stem forming the upper bar, the roots being left as a 
 counterpoise to lift the gate on its rough, wooden latch. 
 
 The rain ceases as we approach Lamballe; the air is fresh with 
 the wind coming from the bay of St. Brieuc, and as the sky clears, 
 we obtain, at intervals on the undulating road, views over finely wooded 
 valleys, with high hedgerows, banked up and planted with elms and 
 oaks. The chestnut trees, wet with the rain, are rich in colour, and 
 the fields of buckwheat lighten the landscape again. Another turn 
 in the road, and we are in evening light, there is open pasture land, 
 and the cattle are winding home ; at another, a farmer is meditating 
 on his stock in the corner of a field. Thus we pass from one picture 
 to another, quaint and idyllic, the last reminding us more of Troyon 
 than of Rosa Bonheur. 
 
 "''■'^■'A.i... 
 
 (,M', 
 
LAMBALLE. 
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Lamballe — St. Brieuc — Guingamp, 
 
 TT is half past five o'clock on a 
 summer's morning at Lamballe, 
 and the deep-toned bell of Notre 
 Dame resounds through the valley of 
 the Gouessan. The sun is up, and 
 gleams upon the roof tops, and upon 
 the heads of the old women who are 
 sitting thus early in the market-place, 
 surrounded with flowers, taking their 
 morning meal of potage. It is market 
 morning, and the open .square in the 
 centre of the town is filling fast with arrivals from the country. Every- 
 thing is fresh from the late rains, and the air is laden with _the scent of 
 flowers, butter, and milk. On every side carts are unloading, and 
 itinerant vendors are fitting up stalls for the sale of provisions and 
 goods. There are rows of stalls for the sale of cloth stuffs, shoes, 
 and wooden sabots, for pots and pans, and for innumerable trinkets 
 of small value to tempt the peasantry. The shops are opening one by 
 one, displaying less fashionable, if more useful, wares than we haye 
 seen at St. Malo and Dinan ; agricultural implements, and all articles 
 for the use and temptation of the country people who come from far 
 to make purchases, bargaining in a rather uncouth tongue, but with a 
 certain dignity and determination of manner which, we shall find 
 peculiar to the Bretons. Both buyers and sellers speak in a language 
 apparently half French and half Welsh, and the majority dress in plain, 
 
28 LAMBALLE. 
 
 dark, home-spun stuffs, the men with their blouses, the women with 
 their caps, all put on clean for the day. This market-place at Lamballe 
 is a sight, if only to see the fowls and the flowers. It is full of the 
 killed and wounded, bright plumage and delicate leaves ; beauty led 
 captive by vigorous hands, hustled out of the market-place by rosy, 
 unsentimental housekeepers ; carried heads downwards, both fowls and 
 flowers ! 
 
 The noise and chattering of a market morning have begun in 
 earnest, but the great bell of Notre Dame resounds above all ; two 
 other churches soon join in the concert, and the clatter of sabots over 
 the rough cobblestones up to the church doors adds to the clamour. 
 It is time to follow the people up the streets, almost too steep for 
 wheels, which lead to the great church of Notre Dame, built on the 
 site of the ancient castle of the counts of Penthi^vre. 
 
 Travellers, especially summer tourists coming from Dinan or Rennes, 
 on their way westward by railway, seeing the beautiful position of 
 this town, with its church above the valley, pause sometimes to 
 consider " whether Lamballe is worth stopping at for a night." As 
 we are writing for all, we may tell them, as we pause to take 
 breath on the ladder of stones which leads to Notre Dame, that 
 the Gothic pile which crowns the hill before them, whose granite 
 walls almost overhang a precipice, and from the rocks of which its 
 pillars and arches seem to spring, is not only full of historic interest, 
 but has a grandeur of effect in the interior which we shall seldom find 
 equalled in Brittany. The original structure was a castle chapel, built 
 early in the sixteenth century, but the present building does not present 
 many special architectural features of interest, excepting the remains of 
 an ancient rood-loft and some stained glass. The building has under- 
 gone several periods of restoration down to the present time, when work- 
 men are busy i-epairing its outer walls. But the interior, on Sundays 
 and fate days, is a picture to be remembered, and is especially full of 
 human interest. The nave is less obstructed with modern ornaments 
 than usual, and there is a quietness about the services which we do not 
 find in larger towns. There are the usual wooden cabinets set against 
 
ST. BRIEUC. 29 
 
 the side wall with green curtains in place of doors ; in the centre compart- 
 ment there is a dark object concealed, and on one side the skirt of a 
 woman's dress peeps from under the curtain ; it is only Marie in a new 
 gown telling some of her sins. There are several women kneeling on 
 chairs, dressed in dark green or brown shawls, stuff dresses, and neat 
 strong shoes ; all heads turn one way as we enter, the old women, 
 especially, scanning us from head to foot and mentally taking our 
 measure as they pray. Here, on this summer morning, crowded with 
 men, women, and children on their knees, their figures just distinguish- 
 able in the subdued light, the proportions of the lancet arches supported 
 by clustering pillars, and the stained-glass windows, have a fine effect. 
 
 Before leaving Lamballe, a sketch should be made, from the valley, of 
 the church of Notre Dame, with its surrounding houses, walls and rocks 
 in evening light. The drawing, if accurate, will be considered exaggerated, 
 on account of the extraordinarily picturesque and commanding site. The 
 views from the terraces and old ramparts of Lamballe form an almost 
 complete panorama of the country round. It is a view of rich cultivated 
 land, covered with crops of cereals, and cattle grazing in the valleys. 
 Over all this land the great bell of Lamballe makes itself heard in 
 company with the whistle of the locomotive which hurries travellers 
 on to St. Brieuc, a distance of twelve miles westwai'd. 
 
 Li St. Brieuc we find ourselves in a busy city of 15,000 inhabitants, 
 apparently too much occupied with trade and agriculture to think about 
 beautifying their houses and streets. There are many narrow, irregular 
 streets, in which the old houses have been replaced by others generally 
 modern and mean ; " une vraie viUe de rentiers qui aurait besoin d'etre 
 ' hausmannisee.' " There is a large square Place for the military, and a 
 market-place near the cathedral, where the old women congregate. St. 
 Brieuc, as will be seen on the map, is the principal town in the depart- 
 ment ; it carries on a large export trade in the produce of the country, 
 especially in butter and vegetables, for the English and European 
 markets. Cattle are exported largely from L6gue, the actual port, 
 about two miles off, in the centre of the bay of Brieuc, hidden from 
 the town by intervening hills. 
 
30 
 
 ST. BRIEUC. 
 
 In the country round and on the hills overlooking the sea, there, 
 are men and women at work in the fields, girls carrying milk 
 on their heads from the neighbouring farms, and others busy in 
 the farmyards. The buckwheat harvest has commenced, and the fields 
 are being robbed of their rich colour ; but the scene is bright with 
 
 fresh green and yellow mustard, and rich here and there with clover. 
 The sombre figures are the peasantry with their dark costumes. 
 Here we feel inclined, for the first time, to stay and sketch, wander- 
 ing along the coast to the fishing villages on the western shore 
 of the wide-spreading bay of St. Brieuc, visiting the farms and 
 homesteads, and making studies of the interiors of dwellings. The 
 
ST. BRIEUC. 
 
 31 
 
 rough, wasteful method of husbandry, the old farmhouses with their 
 one living-room with massive furniture and mud floors, and the 
 simple manners of -the peasants, remind us irresistibly of Ireland, whilst 
 the names of people and places and the intonation of voices are 
 altogether Welsh. 
 
 Everyone is at work 
 near St. Brieuc in the 
 summer monthSj every 
 man, woman, and child, 
 in the fields, on the 
 roads, or on the shore ; 
 a bright, quick-witted 
 population, accustomed 
 to the inroads of 
 strangers. The inhabit- 
 ants are superintended 
 in their occupations by 
 some officers of the 
 line, whose regiments 
 are quartered near the 
 town. The soldiers are 
 sprinkled over the 
 streets, and dot the hill- 
 sides with colour. The 
 I'attle of drums and the 
 smoke of innumerable 
 bad cigars make a last- 
 ing impression in this 
 city. 
 
 St. Brieuc, or St. Brioc, is the site of a very ancient bishopric, 
 whose chapter was loyal and powerful to the last. Its history is told 
 best in the strength of its cathedral walls, and especially in the 
 ruins of the tower of Cesson, a castle once commanding the entrance 
 to the bay and the approach to St. Brieuc from the sea. There is 
 
32 ST. BRIEUC. 
 
 little that is remarkable in the churches, and, unless it be some old 
 overhanging houses near the cathedral, little to sketch in the town^ 
 that we shall not find of a better type elsewhere. The business of 
 nearly everyone at St. Bfieuc is to prepare ox hides, tallow, hemp, and 
 flax, to sell stores for the ships that fit out here for the Newfoundland 
 cod-fisheries, and generally to provide the agricultural population with 
 the necessaries of civilisation. The town is as noisy as any French 
 market-town where soldiers are quartered. In the evening come the 
 carts from the country, and the clatter of sabots over the stones ; at 
 
 sundown the regimental drums, at midnight the evacuation of the 
 caf6s, and the songs of warriors going to their rest ; at dawn a market 
 generally begins under our windows. When do these people find rest } 
 The answer comes laconically from the femme de chambre at our inn. 
 " There is the winter for rest " ; and there is the French saying, 
 applicable enough in this land of noises, that we have "I'eternite pour 
 nous reposer." 
 
 In the neighbourhood of St. Brieuc is a picturesque chateau, part 
 of which is shown in the sketch ; on the sky-line fringing the roof are 
 metal figures of horses, men, and dogs, typical of the chase. 
 
ST. BRIEUC. 
 
 33 
 
 There are modern innovations of high white houses, factories, steam 
 ploughs, plate-glass windows, and smooth pavements to walk on, and the 
 majority of people one meets in St. Brieuc. are dressed in modern fashion, 
 but" there are odd corners, and very odd old men and w'omen in the 
 by-streets. There is an old woman who sits in the market-place 
 sun'ounded by earthenware pots, rather disconsolately, for trade is 
 bad ; but who, facing the last rays of the setting sun, unconsciously 
 makes a picture which for colour is a delight to the eye ; a com- 
 fortable old woman in dark blue dress, with dazzling white cap, 
 
 bronzed hands and wrinkled face, all aglow under its snowy awning • 
 a background of brown and blue earthenware piled in straw, a distance 
 of dark shadows, and half defined leaning eaves. 
 
 St. Brieuc is much visited in the summer for sea bathing. The large 
 buildings near the sea, surrounded by high walls and gardens, are con- 
 vents or seminaries, where several hundred children are boarded and 
 educated for about ;^20 a year. In the summer the children give place 
 to adult pensionnah-es, who come from all parts of France for the bathing 
 season, and the convents are turned into lodging-houses, reaping a 
 good harvest in spite of the apparently moderate terms of five or six 
 francs a day. These pensionnaires spread over the cliffs and sands like 
 summer flies, to be discerned sometimes in the distance as in the sketch. 
 
 D . ■ 
 
h 
 
CHATELAUDREN. 
 
 35 
 
 It is at a village on the cliff near Fort Rosalier that we first see 
 men and women winnowing, their arms extended in the breeze, a bright 
 and characteristic scene recorded exactly in the sketch ; a picture soon 
 to vanish before patent winnowing-machines and other improve- 
 ments. Mathurine, one of the party— who 
 has pinned a clean white band of linen 
 over her flowing hair and under-cap, and 
 put on a dark brown embroidered shawl 
 — takes the opportunity, during the mid- 
 day meal of potage, to stand for her 
 portrait. 
 
 About midway between St. Brieuc 
 and Guingamp, on the north side of the 
 railway, is the quiet little town of Chatel- 
 audren. It is washed and watered by 
 the Leff, the "river of tears," which, 
 coming from the mountains that we see 
 to the south, winds its way through 
 rich valleys, seaward. In its course, and 
 in its time, the Leff has done much 
 havoc in this peaceful valley, inundating 
 and destroying Chatelaudren in 1773, 
 and still occasionally overflowing its 
 banks. To-day it is to the angler a 
 capital trout stream, if he will follow 
 its course southward to the mountains ; 
 to the artistic eye it is a sparkling river 
 of light, set in a landscape of green and 
 grey. In the town of Chatelaudren, with 
 its one wide and rather dreary-looking 
 
 street, there is not much to detain the visitor, but it is a good 
 starting-point from which to explore the country and the Montagnes 
 Noires. The land is thickly cultivated, and well grown with crops 
 almost cfcwn to the ssa ; and on every side in this autumn time 
 
 D 2 
 
36 GUI NG A MP. 
 
 there are signs of industry. From the fields we hear voices of women 
 at work ; in the farmyards there is the dull thud of the flail and 
 the burr of the winnowing-machine. Across the sloping fields from 
 the sea come sounds of singing and laughter, disconnected and weird 
 sometimes, from being caught up by the wind, then dropped and 
 taken up again. 
 
 Eight miles from Chitelaudren, in a green valley watered by the 
 river Trieux, is the quiet old town of GuiNGAMP. Its past history, 
 like that of nearly every town in Brittany, has been so eventful that 
 its present normal state may well be calm ; but once a year its 
 inhabitants neither work nor repose. In the month of September 
 they hold their annual F^te de St. Loup, and pilgrims come from 
 all parts of Brittany by excursion trains to the famous "Pardon" of 
 Guingamp. 
 
 These religious festivals which are held once a year in nearly 
 every town in Brittany, and are generally combined with dancing, 
 fireworks, and other festivities, are the occasion of a great gathering 
 of the people from remote parts of the country ; excursion trains 
 bring tourists and pilgrims from all parts of France, and during 
 the week of the fete it is difficult to find a resting-place in 
 Guingamp. The three principal Pardons are generally held at Ste. 
 Anne d'Auray in Morbihan, in July ; at Ste. Anne de la Palue in 
 Finistere, in August, and at Guingamp, in September. The Pardon 
 at Guingamp is held on Sunday and Monday, when processions are 
 formed to the shrine of a saint a mile and a half outside the town, 
 indulgences are granted, relics and crosses are distributed, trinkets are 
 blessed, and sermons preached by the bishop of the diocese to the 
 people assembled in the open air. After the sei-vices there is a fete 
 in the town, of which the programme on the next page will give the 
 best idea. 
 
 The religious aspect of these Pardons, and the gathering of the 
 pilgrims, is sketched in Chapter XII. ; we will therefore speak of 
 Guingamp as it is seen every day. Whether it be from the interest 
 
GUINGAMP. 37 
 
 Programme of the Fete at Guingamp at the Time of the " Pardon. 
 
 VILLE DE GUINGAMP 
 
 I^ETE DE STIjOTJDP 
 
 PF(Oqi^AJVIJVIE 
 
 DIMANCHE ET LUNDI MATIN, DE ONZE HEURES A MIDI 
 
 Musique Militaire sur la Place du Centre 
 
 A 1 EUX HEURES AIRES MIDI, CHAQI;E JOUR 
 
 D&PART DU CORTEGE, MUSIQUE EN T^TE, POUR 
 SAINT-LOUP 
 
 A SIX HEURES DU SOIR 
 
 EETOUK, EN VILLE, DES DANSEURS ET DE LA MUSIQUE 
 
 LES DEUX SOIRS, A HUIT HEURES, SUR LA PLACE DU CENTRE 
 
 BAIa A GEAND OHCHES^RE 
 
 BRILLANTE ILLUMINATION 
 
 A I.A FIN DU BAL 
 
 EMBRASEMENT DE TOUTE LA PLACE 
 
 Aitx Feux de Betigale de diverses couleurs {Effets de Jour, Hffets d'Incendie) 
 
 AUX PYRAMIDES DE LANTERNES ET FEUX DE BENGALE 
 lUummatiozis et Decors, par M. Keivella, de Bennes 
 
38 
 
 GUINGAMP. 
 
 attaching to the great annual f^te, or from reports of the miraculous 
 cures that have been effected by the patron saint, Guingamp has always 
 attracted travellers, and has been written of in terms of rapture which 
 may astonish a visitor when he sees it for the first time. It is a town of 
 not more than 8000 inhabitants, with one principal street, which winds 
 
 irregularly down like a stream, spread- 
 ing and overflowing its banks at one 
 point, in triangular fashion, in what is 
 called the market-place, then narrowing 
 again, and working its way through a 
 suburb of small houses into the great 
 high-road to Morlaix. It has two monu- 
 ments—the church of Notre Dame, and 
 a bronze fountain in the market-place. 
 The timbered houses are old, and many 
 of their gables lean ; the cobblestones 
 in the streets are rough, and the public 
 square of dust, with withering trees, built 
 on the old ramparts, looks as dreary as 
 any we shall see on our travels. But 
 it is surrounded by green landscape, and 
 the view from the walks on the ramparts, 
 seen through the tops of poplars, is of 
 a green valley with trees and grey roof- 
 tops, between which winds th-e river Trieux, slowly turning water- 
 wheels. 
 
 The church was built between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries, 
 and represents several styles of architecture — Romanesque, Gothic, and 
 Renaissance. It was originally founded as a castle chapel, and part of 
 the structure is as early as the thirteenth century. It has three towers, 
 the centre one having a spire. The interior is impressive, on account 
 of the simplicity of arrangement for services and the comparatively 
 uninterrupted view of the nave and aisles ; an effect more like that 
 on entering a cathedral in Spain than in France. 
 
GUINGAMP. 
 
 39 
 
 Brittany is a land of lasting monuments ; and of its buildings it has 
 been well said, "ce que la Normandie modelait dans le tuf, la Basse- 
 Bretagne le ciselait en granit " ; but remembering the magnificent 
 churches we have seen in Normandy, we need not detain the reader 
 long in Notre Dame de Guingamp. If we were asked by tourists 
 if the church of Notre Dame at Guingamp was worth going 
 very far to see, we should answer. 
 No. It is only as a picture that it 
 attracts us much. We shall see finer 
 buildings in other parts of Brittany, 
 but nowhere a more characteristic as- 
 sembly. The most curious feature is 
 a chapel forming the north porch, which 
 is open and close to the street, lighted 
 at night for services, and separated only 
 from the road by a grille. This portail, 
 as it is called, forms the chapel of Notre 
 Dame de Halgoet, and is the sacred 
 shrine to which all come at the fete of 
 Guingamp. It is ornamented by rich 
 stone cai-ving and grotesque gurgoyles. 
 The people of Guingamp love the chapel 
 of Notre Dame de Halgoet ; it is a 
 retreat for them by day and by 
 night, a place of meeting for old 
 and young, with a pei'petual beggars' 
 mart at the door. This north porch 
 with its open grille is a house of call 
 for rich and poor of both sexes, and 
 
 placed as it is in the centre of the town, abutting upon the principal 
 street, it forms part of their everyday life to go in and out as they 
 pass by. It is one of the many welcome retreats in France ; 
 in a land of perpetual noises and glare, of shrill, uncouth voices and 
 latchless doors, it is the church that gives us peace and shade. 
 
40 
 
 GUINGAMP. 
 
 In the centre of Guingamp is its market-place, and in the centre of 
 the market-place is a fountain, consisting of a circular granite basin with 
 a wrought-iron railing. There is a second basin oF bronze, supported by 
 
 .*-^^ 
 
 \ - \ 
 
 four sea-horses with conventional wings, and a third by four naiads ; 
 the central figure is the Virgin, her feet resting on a crescent. This 
 fountain was constructed by an Italian artist, and its waters played for 
 the first time on the night of the annual Pardon, in 1745. The history 
 of Guingamp is not complete without recounting the story of the 
 
GUINGAMP. 
 
 41 
 
 construction of this fountain ; but regarded from a picturesque point 
 of view, tile smootli green bronze with its Renaissance ornamentation 
 harmonises neither with the surrounding houses, with their high-pitched 
 roofs and pointed turrets, nor with the towers of Notre Dame. We 
 are more interested with the living groups which furnish the wide 
 market-place in the morning sun. 
 
 A few yards from the cathedral, on the 
 opposite side of the street, is, the old H6tel 
 de I'Ouest, where travellers are entertained in 
 rather rough but bountiful fashion. 
 
 " Take a little trout or salmon, caught this 
 morning in the Trieux, a little beef, a little 
 mutton, a little veal, some tongue, some ome- 
 lettes, some pheasant, some fish salad, some 
 sweets, some coffee, and then — stir gently," 
 is the prescription for travellers who stay at 
 the H6tel de I'Ouest. As this is an average 
 hotel, it may be worth while to state that the 
 bill presented (by the young lady in the sketch) 
 to three English travellers, who spent a night 
 and part of a day there, was 12 fr. 80 c. 
 
 Excepting at the time of fetes, Guingamp 
 is almost as quiet and primitive in its ways as in the days of the 
 Black Prince. Our notes of days spent in this city in different years 
 are the most uneventful in our records. On one summer's morning 
 we hear an unusual sound from the great bell of Notre Dame, and 
 find a procession of priests and choristers winding up the principal 
 street, followed by hundreds of the inhabitants. What is the occasion .' 
 " The mother of the Maire is dead ; she was a bountiful lady, beloved 
 by all, and we are to bury her this morning." And so the inhabitants 
 turn out en masse, and march with slow steps, for about half a mile, 
 to the cemetery. It is a dark, silent stream of people, filling the 
 street, and carrying everything slowly before it ; the only sounds 
 being the chanting of the choir, and the repetition of prayers. We 
 
GUINGAMP. 
 
 follow to the cemetery, which is crowded with graves, each headed 
 by little iron or wooden crosses, hung with immortelles. The pi'o- 
 cession divides and disperses down the narrow paths, a few only 
 of the friends of the deceased standing near the grave. 
 
 At one corner of the cemetery is a shabby little wooden building, 
 like a gardener's tool-house, which seems to excite much interest. A 
 girl, with shining bronzed face, in a snow-white cap, holding a little 
 child by the hand, is coming out of the door ; we venture to ask the 
 
 reason of her visit. "Just to 
 see my father for a minute," is 
 the ready answer. 
 
 In a little wooden box, about 
 the size of a small dog kennel, 
 is her father's skull or chef, as it 
 is called ; he is tumbling over 
 with his friends in other boxes 
 exactly as in the sketch, which, 
 rough as it is, has the grim 
 merit of accuracy. The sight is 
 a common one in Brittany, but 
 it is startling and takes us by 
 surprise at first, to see at least 
 fifty of these shabby boxes, 
 some on shelves in rows, but 
 generally piled up in disorder 
 The lady who is being buried so solemnly this morning 
 will some day be unearthed, and her chef, in a box duly labelled and 
 decollated with immortelles, will take its place in the ossuary of 
 Guingamp. 
 
 From the high ground near the cemetery, and especially from a 
 hill a little farther from the town in a north-easterly direction, we 
 obtain a good view of Guingamp and of the country round. There 
 is a mound, covered with smooth grass, clumps of gorse, and tall fir 
 trees, through which the wind moans on the calmest day; a spot 
 
 and neglect. 
 
GUINGAMP. 43 
 
 much favoured on summer evenings by the youth of Guingamp. 
 Looking round over the thickly wooded but rather sombre landscape, 
 and on the old grey roofs of the town, one is a little at a loss to 
 account for the rapturous desci'iptions which nearly all travellers give 
 of Guingamp. On a fine summei-'s morning the landscape is seen to 
 perfection ; but to tell the truth about it, the scene is not very striking 
 either for beauty or for colour. Guingamp has been described as "a 
 diamond set in emeralds," and we read of its landscape " riant," and 
 so on. " Guingamp m'a pris le coeur," says another traveller ; but their 
 interest is in the past, they people it with memories, and with the 
 events of past years. 
 
 Our business is with the present aspect of Brittany, and we are 
 bound to record that Guingamp, excepting at the time of the Pardon, is 
 a very ordinary place indeed. The artist and the angler may linger 
 in its valleys, and make it headquarters for many an excursion. If 
 we might suggest one walk to them, we should say — 
 
 Go out of the town in a south-easterly direction, following the 
 course of the river Trieux on its right bank for half an hour, and you 
 will come to a suburban village, with a rough wooden cross (like the 
 one sketched on page 89) raised aloft in the centre of the street, and 
 the bright and trim new stone spire of a chapel conspicuous amongst 
 its irregular roof-tops. 
 
 Turn round to the right hand, just by the cross, and enter a large 
 farmyard ; the women are busy winnowing, not with hands upraised 
 in the wind, as we have seen them at St. Brieuc, but twirling by hand 
 a new patent blue-painted rotatory winnowing-machine with a burring 
 sound, in a cloud of choking, dust. They are storing their harvest 
 in a large barn, the remains of an ancient Gothic church, the abbey 
 of Ste. Croix, with its choir window piled up with straw. Immediately 
 in front are the farm buildings, part of a round tower and a corner 
 turret standing, and much of the old woodwork and massive interior 
 fittings is still preserved. The garden reaches to the river, where 
 , ancient and historic trout disregard the angler of to-day. The farm 
 and its surroundings are as picturesque as any painter could desire. 
 
44 
 
 GUINGAMP. 
 
 The inhabitants of this suburb have a real grievance ; they had 
 lived for generations in familiar sight and sound of the cathedral of 
 Guingamp ; they saw its spire and towers at evening, standing out 
 sharp and clear against the western sky, and were in feeling living 
 almost in the town itself, when suddenly the engineers of the " Chemin 
 de Fer de I'Ouest" threw up a mountain of earth in their midst, and 
 shut out the town and the sunset light from them, and from their 
 children, for evermore. 
 
LANLEFF. 
 
 45 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Lanleff — Paimpol — Lannion — Perros-Guirec. 
 
 T^ 
 
 ""WELVE miles north-east of Guingamp 
 is Lanleff— "the land of tears," cele- 
 brated for one of the most curious archi- 
 tectural monuments in Brittany, the circular 
 temple of Lanleff. Leaving Guingamp, wc 
 pass through a solitary wooded cduntiy, the 
 undulating road sooh rising high above the 
 ' valley of the Trieux. The air is fresh and 
 invigorating, and the views from the summits 
 of the hills extend over a wide range of 
 land. At Gommenech we enter the valley of the Leff that we 
 passed at Chatelaudren. There is no prettier river, or one that 
 should more truly delight an artist's eye, than the Leff in its long, 
 winding journey from the mountains to the sea. 
 
 Sheltered by woods, shut in here and there by granite walls, with 
 ruins crowning the heights, between green banks and through sloping 
 fields, it is one of those picturesque rivers which are peculiar to 
 Brittany of which we seldom hear mention, but which many an English 
 angler knows well. The view of Gommenech is to be i-emembered as 
 we cross the valley on our way to the temple of Lanleff; the temple 
 is in ruins, and partially unroofed, but enough remains of the original 
 nave supported by pillars, and its outer circle of aisles, to give us a 
 perfect idea of the structure, which resembles closely and has, doubt- 
 less, the same origin as the round churches in England built by the 
 Crusaders on their return from the Holy Land. The diameter of the 
 
46 P AIM POL. 
 
 church to the walls of the outer aisles is not more than 20 feet ; in 
 the inner circle, or nave, the twelve arches are round and Romanesque 
 in style, with rude carvings on the capitals. A chancel was afterwards 
 built into the original structure, so that the unroofed walls of the temple 
 formed, as it were, a vestibule to the parish church, and in this circular 
 open porch, under the shadow of a yew-ti'ee, the congregations used 
 to kneel. But the people now assemble in the new parish church on 
 the hillside, and the temple is kept for show. The "holy well with 
 its blood-stained stone " is pointed out to visitors ; the pieces of oolite, 
 that encircle the well, show shining red spots when wetted, to mark 
 the place where, according to tradition, "an avaricious priest received 
 money from a father who sold his child to the Evil One." 
 
 We listen to the story gravely, and certainly no sign of doubt, or 
 of levity, passes over the grave face of the Breton woman who tells 
 it ; we are in a land of historic monuments and traditions of the 
 past, and the people who live at Lanleff are too wise even to smile 
 at the interest travellers take in these things. The story has been 
 handed down from father to son, from mother to daughter, and is 
 now passed on to tourists who can master a little of the Breton 
 tongue. 
 
 Continuing our journey northward, we soon arrive at the summit 
 of a hill overlooking the bay of Paimpol and the thickly wooded 
 country round ; we have passed good country-houses on the route, 
 with flower-gardens skirted by hanging woods ; and as we approach 
 Paimpol, there are houses scattered in sheltered bays, with fishing 
 and pleasure boats aground ; an old church surrounded closely by 
 houses, a little Place, a custorh- house, a quay, boatmen, and fisher- 
 women ; but — where is the water .' It has retreated for more than 
 a mile, and the long bay or estuary and the port of Paimpol are 
 a desolate waste of mud. Paimpol is a small but busy fishing 
 village, much frequented in summer by the French for bathing. 
 It is not fashionable, but the inns are comfortable, and the 
 country is full of atti-actions for the summer visitor. The houses on 
 the Place and in the narrow streets are old and weather-worn ; some 
 
P AIM POL. 47 
 
 are dark and mysterious-looking, and have that peculiar smuggling 
 aspect with which we soon become familiar on this coast. 
 
 In a corner of the quiet churchyard of Paimpol there reposes at 
 full length, in stone, " L'Abbe Jean Vincent Moy," many years cure 
 of this place and honorary canon of St. Brieuc ; and round about 
 him, placed thickly in rows, the former inhabitants of Paimpol rest 
 under black wooden crosses. The curi is carved in dark green stone, 
 from which time has taken the sharpness of the chiselling ; but the 
 expression is life-like, representing him in the popular act of blessing. 
 There is a cup of holy water at his feet, supplied by an old woman 
 who kneels before the tomb on the damp ground-. It is her pious 
 office to guard the tomb of her pastor, and brush off the leaves which 
 fall thickly from the grove of elms overhead. They move slowly 
 and die leisurely at Paimpol ; this old woman's time is not yet, for 
 she "has only eighty years." In four newly made graves there repose 
 Eugenie, Marie, Mathilde, and Hortense, and their respective ages are 
 eighty-two, eighty-four, eighty-eight, and eighty-nine ! 
 
 At Paimpol in summer every one seems to take life easily, the 
 French visitors driving about, bathing, boating, and living perpetually 
 in the fresh, pure air ; the native inhabitants getting up boat-races, 
 and dancing the " gavotte " at night, in streets lighted by paper lanterns 
 in old -Breton fashion, as we see sketched at Chateauneuf du Faou. 
 There is unusual brightness on this sombre, storm7washed shore ; there 
 is the dazzle of a crimson pennant, and the flashing of a snow-white 
 sail ; there are green banks, in contrast to water of the deepest blue, 
 for in. these little inlets of the sea the summer sun clothes 
 everything with brightness in a moment. Perhaps we have seen 
 Paimpol en couleur de rose, for there has been blue sky overhead 
 nearly every day for a fortnight, and the sun is so hot at midday 
 that the market-women put up their red umbrellas, and the men 
 descend into cool cellars for shelter and refreshment. 
 
 There is a favourite walk, of about a mile, to a promontory on 
 the south side of the port, by a pathway skirting fields of corn and 
 buckwheat, which brings us to high ground and a shady plantation 
 
48 BEAU PORT. 
 
 of firs, where we lose sight of Paimpol itself, but obtain the best idea 
 of the surrounding scenery. We choose this walk a little before 
 sunset on a day when there is a high tide. At our feet, on the left 
 hand, is a steep bank with tree-tops below, their dark foliage con- 
 trasting with the blue of the water and the orange stems of weather- 
 worn firs. Looking far away northward and eastward across the 
 water, dotted with white sails coming in with the tide, the island 
 rocks light up brilliantly in the setting sun. The air is so clear 
 seaward that we can distinguish little houses on the island which 
 guards the port, and on more distant rocks far out to sea, all glittering 
 in the sun. Turning southward, to the real bay of Paimpol, which we 
 cannot see from the town, the opposite banks are in shadow, and the 
 foliage which reaches to the water's edge takes a rich purple tinge. 
 The outlines are soft and indistinct, excepting on a tongue of land 
 in the middle of the bay, where in the midst of a garden of fruit-tree.s, 
 and surrounded by ivy-grown walls, we can just trace the Gothic lines 
 of the abbey of Beauport. 
 
 It is a shaded walk of about a mile and a half from Paimpol 
 to Beauport. The road and the by-paths are shut in by high 
 banks, so that we come upon it rather suddenly, looking down upon 
 the ruins, through the bare windows of which we can see the 
 sea. The Gothic chapel is a complete ruin, but part of the abbey 
 building is in good preservation, and inhabited. One room is turned 
 into a school-house, and a great roofless hall, once the refectory, 
 is used as a threshing-floor. The romantic aspect of the ruins of 
 Beauport, with its surrounding scenery, has been described in every 
 book on Brittany, and the view of it by moonlight over the bay 
 of Paimpol is as famous as that of " fair Melrose." To this ancient 
 abbey come pilgrims of the nineteenth century to study and wonder 
 at the art of life shown by the monks of the thirteenth. If ever 
 there was a spot where nature and art seem combined for man's 
 special enjoyment, it fnust have been at Beauport. Here the fruitful 
 land meets the bountiful sea, and there is no arid line of demarcation ; 
 the corn waves at the water's edge, and the flowei's bloom and shed 
 
BEAUFORT. 49 
 
 their leaves into the water. The soil is rich, and the air is soft, and 
 in this autumn time the harvest seems everywhere ready to man's 
 hand — a harvest of fruit and grain on land, a harvest of fish and rich 
 seaweed spread at every tide upon the shore. 
 
 The abbey of Beauport is considered by M. Merrimee to be " the 
 most perfect example of the monastic architecture of the thirteenth 
 century" — in fact, the most important and beautiful ruin in Brittany. 
 
 "It lies 
 Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns 
 And bowery hollows, crown'd with sjmmer sea." 
 
 As we wander round the gardens and through the avenues of trees 
 that line the raised walks on the breakwater, or under the shadow of 
 high brick walls, laden with old fruit-trees, it is easy to realise in our 
 minds the lives of its former occupants. The picturesqueness of Beau- 
 port, especially the view, from the eastern side, of the chapter-house 
 and other dwellings, should attract artists. This afternoon there is 
 one large white umbrella planted firmly in the gravel of its deserted 
 walks, and one canvas spread with a green landscape in which old, 
 grey, muUioned windows, and the stems of weather-beaten trees, form 
 prominent features. 
 
 From Paimpol to Lannion is twenty miles by the road, crossing 
 the river Trieux by a lofty suspension bridge at Lezardrieux, and 
 halting at the ancient cathedral town of Treguier by the way. 
 
 TRfiGUlER, as will be seen on the map, is well situated for exploring 
 the coast and for visiting a variety of places of interest in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and it is a town in which the artist and the antiquary 
 would desire to stay. The cathedral with its graceful spire, " percee au 
 jour," and its old market-place, with the streets leading from it, form 
 pictures more characteristic and interesting than anything we have 
 seen in Dinan or Guingamp. Treguier, which was one of the four 
 original bishoprics of Brittany, abounds in historical associations. 
 Everywhere we hear of "St. Ives," or "St. Yves" (the lawyers' 
 patron saint), who lived here in the thirteenth century, and who is 
 
 E 
 
so 
 
 TREGUIER. 
 
 buried in the cathedral by the side of Duke John V. From Treguier to 
 the sea there is a wide estuary, capable of floating, at high tide, vessels 
 of large tonnage ; and it was here that the fanaous expedition against 
 England by " Constable Clisson " in the fourteenth century was to 
 have embarked. The shipbuilding which is carried on at Treguier and 
 the views on the banks of the estuary are not the least picturesque 
 points to notice. The cathedral is in a variety of styles ; it has a 
 
 north porch of Norman work, and a 
 square tower, " the tower of Hastings," 
 of the eleventh or twelfth century, 
 and some beautiful cloisters of the 
 fifteenth. It might be worth while 
 to stay at Treguier if only to examine 
 and sketch the interior of an old 
 Breton farmhouse in the neighbour- 
 hood, containing the bed of " St. 
 Ives," and other relics of the patron 
 saint ; here too we are within easy 
 reach of the remains of the castle 
 of " La Roche Derrien," with its fine 
 views northward over the sea. 
 
 It is near Treguier that we make 
 the discovery of a watering-place, 
 Perros-Guirec, where we can live in 
 the height of the summer season for 
 five francs a day, and where it is 
 difficult to spend more. The bay 
 of Perros-Guirec is just sufficiently off the ti'ack of tourists to make 
 it delightful in summer. There are two small inns on the shore, one 
 at either .extremity ; but the actual village of Perros-Guirec is situated 
 amongst the trees which crown the northern promontory of the bay ; 
 there are a few summer-houses and gardens, an old church, and near 
 it a convent, where in July and August strangers may board for a 
 small sum. 
 
PERROS-GUIREC. 51 
 
 It seems hard to break up the peace of this retreat by printing a 
 description of it, but here, we are bound to record, is a spot where 
 we can spend our summer days with the greatest delight. We can 
 live as we like, dress as we like, bathe in the water at our feet, sit 
 and sketch in the shade of woods, through the branches of which 
 we see the shining sea. The air, so fresh and bracing, sweet with 
 the breath of pines, is more grateful in the hot summer months than- 
 at Dinard or Trouville, and the sights and sounds are certainly more 
 healthful and restful. 
 
 It is evening as we return from a walk by the sea north of 
 Perros-Guirec ; before us is a wide and beautiful bay, extending for 
 nearly half a mile in a noble curve of shore ; it is shut off from 
 the land by sloping hills, and bounded at either extremity by rocks. 
 The tide is nearly out, and the sand is as pure, smooth, and untrodden, 
 as on Robinson Crusoe's island. There are no projecting rocks or 
 stones on this wide plain, nothing to be seen on its surface but our 
 long dark shadows and two little crabs, behind their time, making 
 hard for the retreating water. We cross the bay leisurely, treading 
 lightly on the carpet of sand, and watching the sunset light on the 
 rocks and on the little islands which make this coast such a terror to 
 navigators. They are smiling this evening in that roseate hue which 
 storm -washed red granite rocks put forth on gala days, and their 
 purple reflections in the water are as deep and glowing as from the 
 steep walls of the Lago di Garda under an October sun. 
 
 The two crabs soon disappear in the water, but as we cross the 
 bay, two other little spots appear at some distance on the sand. The 
 sight is so unusual here that the thought of Crusoe on his island 
 occurs again, and we approach cautiously. The objects are larger 
 and farther off than at first appeared, in fact nearly a quarter of a 
 mile ; they consist of two neat little bundles of clothing, one of which 
 appears to be a silk dress surmounted by a white straw hat ! There 
 is nothing near them but sand, no sign of human creature; but, 
 presently looking seaward, the mystery is explained by two heads 
 appearing suddenly on the surface of the sea, one with long hair 
 
52 
 
 L ANN I ON. 
 
 floating from it. We beat a retreat and learn afterwards that an 
 evening walk in " ce pays ici " is often supplemented by an evening 
 bath. Thus Monsieur and Madame, strolling together on the sands, 
 make a diversion without ceremony or "machines," and without the 
 slightest " mauvaise honte." 
 
 A little to the north of Perros-Guirec is the village of Ploumanach, 
 almost built out into the sea. It is a place to be visited above all 
 others on this coast for its wildness, and to see the hardy fishing 
 population, living amongst a loose mass of rocks,' nearly surrounded 
 by water. Looking northward, on a clear day, we may see a group 
 of islands that form, as it were, outworks of granite protecting the land 
 from the waves that break upon this shore. One of these islands, the 
 abode of innumerable wild-fowl, is said, with doubtful authority, to be 
 the Island of Avalon, or Avilion, where King Arthur was buried. 
 
 All round these rocky promontories the inhabitants live more on 
 the sea than on the land ; they look to the sea for their harvest, and 
 glean on the shore rather than in the fields. The children of this 
 seafaring community, when tired of the earth, take to the water 
 naturally, and it is not an uncommon thing to see the mother of a 
 family rush from her cottage, lift up her skirts deftly, and jump into 
 the sea to the rescue. 
 
 The principal town in this neighbourhood is Lannion ; it is a 
 natural commercial centre for the surrounding districts, collecting and 
 dispersing the produce of the sea and of the shore, and busy also in 
 providing and fitting out vessels for the mackerel-fisheries. It is a 
 busy town, with a fixed population of about 7000, but apparently with 
 accommodation, and occupation in the busy seasons of spring and 
 autumn, for a much larger number. Lannion dates from the twelfth 
 century. It is picturesquely situated on the steep slope of hills above 
 the river Guier. The market-place in the centre of the town, from 
 which steep streets descend to the river, is remarkable for its curious 
 old houses, but nearly all traces of local costume have vanished. So, 
 too, has vanished the antique tapestry representing the story of 
 Coriolanus, and " a staircase up which a regiment of grenadiers 
 
L AMNION. 
 
 S3 
 
 could march in double columns," which used to be shown at the 
 H6tel de I'Europe. In their stead we find plate-glass shop fronts, 
 good pavements, and little children seated on dirty doorsteps dressed 
 a la parisienne. On market-days the country people come in wearing 
 their old costumes, and a few well-to-do farmers and their wives, who 
 
 \, ^\ 
 
 put up at the best inns, are dressed in the old homely fashion of the 
 Bretons of the C6tes-du-Nord. 
 
 Lannion, at the time of writing, may be said to be one of the 
 outposts of French tourist civilisation in the C6tes-du-Nord. Hither 
 come in summer-time a few Parisians, and families from the interior, 
 for the bathing ; driving to and from Perros-Guirec and other places 
 
54 LAN N I ON. 
 
 on the coast daily, but seldom actually staying on the seashore. In 
 their train come the latest fashions, both in manners and in dress, 
 and it is here we may notice, especially on Sundays and f^tes, the 
 strange contrasts in costume between the Bretons and "the French," 
 as the natives persist in calling their visitors. 
 
 It is on their way down to the Jardin Anglais one Sunday 
 morning that a gay Parisian and his wife walk through tTie market- 
 place and down one of the old steep streets ; behind them come nurse 
 and b^b^, all " en grande toilette de I'ete.'" The lady wears a white 
 dress, which trails over the cobblestones ; the gentleman is in brown 
 hoUand, with white shoes, white tie, and a new straw hat shaped like 
 a Prussian helmet and decorated with a crimson band; the baby is 
 decorated in as much of the fashion of the day as its size will 
 permit ; the nurse, the neatest of the party, wears a spotless white 
 cap and dark short dress. An old dame, seated at her doorstep, 
 taking a bountiful pinch of snuff, emits a harsh sound, more like 
 " Jah ! " or "Yah ! " than the customary approving " Jolie 1 " which comes 
 ^o trippingly on every French tongue. The Breton woman, in her 
 old-fashioned gown, black stockings, and neat stout shoes, who owns 
 the house she lives in, and perhaps half a dozen others, regards the 
 fashionable visitors with anything but pleasure, and resists the advance 
 of fashion into Laflnion as an evil almost equal to an inroad of 
 Prussians. 
 
 In Lanhion the most interesting buildings will be found in the 
 neighbourhood of the Grande Place, where some curious slated " hoods," 
 and projecting roofs, break up the perpendicular lines of the modern 
 buildings ; enough remaining even now to account for the frequent 
 descriptions of its picturesqueness. The church of St. Jean, with its , 
 high terrace overlooking the valley, is interesting principally from its 
 commanding position above the town. From its terraces and between 
 the stems of its dusty trees there is a pretty sight on Sunday morning 
 when the people crowd to the neighbouring church of Brelevenez. 
 
 Looking northwards across a deep ravine — through which a once 
 clear, rapid stream rushes full of soap into the river Guier — we see 
 
LANNION. - 55 
 
 that in course of time it has worn its way through rocks, washed the 
 slight covering; of earth from the roots of trees that grow on its 
 steep sides, that it has been utilised to turn water-wheels, dashing in 
 and out of holes in wooden houses built over its banks. It has 
 "washed" for Lannion for hundreds of years, and every summer's 
 evening down by the bridge, the women, old and young, may be seen 
 on their krfees at work on wet boards. On the opposite side of the 
 ravine the houses rise one above the other in a series of steps to the 
 church of Brelevenez with its fine spire cresting the hill ; and it is 
 up and down these steps that on Sundays and f^te days the people 
 crowd in a dark procession all day. The ascent is steep indeed, and 
 the young have to help the old to make the pilgrimage. 
 
 If we follow the crowd across the ravine and up this narrow way, 
 we find that it has been selected by suffering and poverty-stricken 
 humanity as a public mart. The path is so narrow and steep that 
 there is no escape from .the beggars that line the way. In the church- 
 yard at the top it is a pretty sight to see the country people meeting 
 and chatting together under the trees, standing in groups waiting for 
 the service. They are evidently accustomed to the beggars ; but it 
 seems hard upon Marie and Mathilde, coming on a summer's morning 
 throi:^h the fields to church, to have to run the gauntlet of so much 
 misery and disease, to have hideous deformities thrust upon their 
 sight, and curses hurled at them if they do not give. A stranger is 
 of course fair game — he is Dives, and Lazarus is waiting for him at 
 the gate; but all are importuned alike, and every hideous artifice is 
 used to extract alms under the protection of the church. The women 
 and children push their way bravely, slipping over the stone stiles 
 modestly one by one, their neat short skirts being suited to the work. 
 The air is fresh and sweet, blowing through the churchyard ; but 
 inside the church the crowd is great, and the heat almost insufferable. 
 The beggars do not go in, at least not many of them, but they lie 
 in wait and line the descent of this ladder of life, sunning themselves 
 in corners until the pilgrims pass down. 
 
 Before leaving Lannion, a word should be said about the inn 
 
S6 TONQUkDEC. 
 
 accommodation, because it is exceptionally good. They may be small 
 matters to record in print, but it will be useful to travellers to 
 know that in Lannion they will find at the principal inn the com- 
 forts of civilisation, including an excellent cup of tea. After a few 
 days' stay at the Hotel de 1' Europe the illusion will be dispelled 
 that in travelling in Brittany, away from railways, it is necessary to 
 "I'ough it," as the saying is. In all the principal towns on our 
 route the hotels will be found as good as in Normandy and 
 other parts of western France ; and throughout Brittany we get 
 abundance of good meat, bread, butter, milk, and wine. At the 
 H6tel de I'Europe at Lannion, English families come to stay, it being 
 quieter and less crowded than Dinan, as well as a convenient centre for 
 visiting some of the most interesting spots in Brittany ; interesting to 
 English people especially for their historical and romantic associations. 
 
 Everyone makes a short stay at Lannion, in order to visit the 
 thirteenth-century castle of Tonqu6dec, in a lovely valley about 
 eight miles south of the town. It is easy to reach it by taking 
 one of the diligences on the road to Guingamp to a point about 
 five miles from Lannion, or by taking a carriage direct. At the 
 time of writing, this castle is one of the best preserved specimens 
 of military architecture in all France, and it is to our mind one 
 of the beauty spots in Brittany. Time has covered its towers and 
 walls with thick and luxuriant foliage, graceful in line, and altogether 
 picturesque from its untrimmed aspect ; in autumn time it is as rich 
 in colour as a pheasant's wing, and the lines of the landscape which 
 suri'ound it are as varied as the waves of the sea. 
 
 The castle of Tonquddec was one of the ancient strongholds 
 of Brittany ; the present structure is in great part the restoration of 
 Henry IV., and the ruin the work of Cardinal Richelieu ; time and 
 ivy having done the rest. It is rare to find, as at Tonquedec, so 
 " complete a ruin," if we may use the word, showing the plan 
 and structure of its different courts, its fortifications, and surrounding 
 dwellings, as used in the thirteenth century. We must not dwell 
 upon architectural details, but we may mention the views that are 
 
TONQUEDEC. .57 
 
 to be obtained from its windows and towers, the adjoining park and 
 avenues of old trees, and the lake with its ancient carp asleep under 
 the banks, who — according to the women in charge of the castle—" have 
 lived so long that their tails are worn out " ! 
 
 At Lannion and Tonquedec we are on the border-land which 
 divides the departments of the C6tes-du-Nord and Finist^re. The 
 little river Douron, which takes its source in the Monts d'Arree, and 
 falls into a bay between Plestin and Lanmeur, marks the boundary 
 of the departments and also of the ancient bishoprics of Treguier 
 and St. Pol de Leon. There is a natural division between the 
 two departments in the general aspect of the country and 
 demeanour of the people. From the hanging gardens of Beauport 
 and the sleepy orchards and cornfields which surround Lannion 
 and Tonquedec we shall shortly pass to a wilder and sterner part 
 of the coast, dominated by the cathedral spires of St. Pol and Le 
 Folgoet. 
 
58 
 
 CARHAIX. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CaRHAIX — HUELGOET. 
 
 T^HUS far we have spoken of the northern 
 coast, where the busy inhabitants of the 
 C6tes-du-Nord come most in contact with French 
 traders, and travellers of different nations. Let 
 us now turn towards the mountains, where the 
 country is less fertile, the people are more iso- 
 lated, and there is more character and local 
 costume to be seen. 
 If we leave the Western Railway at Guingamp or Belle-Isle-en-Terre, 
 we may follow the course of the streams which take their rise in the 
 Monts d'Arrde, and, passing through Callac, reach Carhaix the same 
 evening. We cross the purple mountains where the solitary shepherd 
 in goat's-skin coat (sketched on page 68) tends his flocks on poor 
 pastures, and where the, almost equally solitary, Englishman is busy 
 with a fly-rod. At Callac, where comfortable quarters are to be 
 obtained, many Englishmen stay for the fishing and shooting seasons ; 
 the streams are well stocked with fish, and there is little difficulty in 
 getting permission for fishing. 
 
 The game laws are very strict in France, as is well known ; 
 the opening and closing of the shooting season varies every year, 
 the prefect deciding the day in September when shooting may 
 begin. The chasse courant, which includes hunting the wolf and the 
 wild-boar, commences about a month later. The seasons close at 
 the end of January, and whenever snow is on the ground. 
 Altogether there is more attraction for the angler than for the 
 
CARHAIX. 59 
 
 sportsman in Brittany, and there is no better centre for the angler 
 than Callac. 
 
 The aspect of the people and their dwellings in this neighbour- 
 hood is more simple and primitive than we have yet seen ; and 
 the features of the peasants are more strongly marked with the 
 privations of generations. It is the same dull round of life, 
 labour, and hardship, with a few gleams of sunshine in summer; 
 and a Pardon and a blessing from the priest at the annual f^te. 
 There is the same story everywhere. " We move slowly ; we do as 
 our fathers did, and live contentedly as they lived." 
 
 How did they live sixty years ago .' An Englishman who spent 
 some time in Brittany in 1818 says of the peasants: — "They 
 are rude, uncivilised, simple, and dirty in their habits; they live 
 . literally like pigs, lying upon the ground and eating chestnuts 
 boiled in milk as their principal food. Their houses are generally 
 built of mud, without order or convenience, and it is a common 
 thing in Brittany for men, women, children, and animals to sleep 
 together in the same apartment, upon no resting-place but the 
 earth covered with straw."* This was written sixty years ago, but 
 the mud houses are before us, and the description holds good 
 to-day. Forty years later a writer in an English newspaper is sent 
 to report upon the state of the agricultural labourer in Brittany ; 
 what does he find ? " The Breton peasant," he says, t " is still 
 isolated from the towns by his language. He has kept himself 
 apart, and mistrusts the outer world. His fare is black bread, 
 made of buckwheat, or rye, oats or barley, boiled with milk. If 
 he have a change in his diet, it is in the shape of potatoes. His 
 life is an unbroken monotony. He never changes his manners, his 
 habits, or his dress. He is a stranger in the large towns, where 
 even his language is not understood, save by a few people who 
 deal with him. He is as patient and quiet as a beast of burden ; 
 his daily hard labour seems to subdue even his affections, it leaves 
 
 * Sto\\\3.xA's Briltany, 1820. t Blancliard Jerrold's Letters to the jMs^-ww^ /"w/, 1853-60. 
 
6o CARHAIX. 
 
 him no time for grief, no hours for the indulgence of remorse, no 
 moment for despair." 
 
 Twenty years later, what do we find ? Excepting in a few districts, 
 such as that near Lannion, where there is a considerable advance in 
 agriculture, and where the peasant's position is better, we find the same 
 figure wearing the same coat, standing just where he did ; his life the 
 same weary round of labour by day, and rest in 
 an old mud hovel at sundown. The problem of 
 a life of labour and monotony is yet unsolved ; he 
 is just where he was in 1850, and where his father 
 was in 1820. The great Chemin de Fer de 
 rOuest, that was to do so much for the owners 
 of the land and the tillers of the fruitful soil of 
 Brittany, which has been driven through the heart 
 of the country, with its enormous viaducts and 
 its trains of cattle trucks ; which has thrown up 
 embankments of earth that shut him off from 
 the rest of the world, appear to have done little good. A train 
 rushes past his patch of land several times a day, and perhaps his 
 priest is in it, on his way to Paris or Rennes ; it no longer startles 
 his children or his pigs, for it has passed now for years ; but " traffic," 
 or what is generally understood by the term, scarcely exists, and 
 passengers, excepting in summer, are few and far between. 
 
 A step higher than the peasant, and we find the farm people, 
 all working on in the old grooves, and, excepting in the matter 
 of sending their children by train to be educated (which to a 
 certain extent is compulsory), and in the gradual use of modern 
 agricultural implements, showing little signs of change. Nearly all 
 the farms are worked on a small scale, and with the least employ- 
 ment of capital. " Thrift, thrift ! " is the watchword with them all ; 
 early and late they labour, man, woman, and child, and year by year 
 gain a little on the past ; a piece more land, a few hundred francs 
 put by ; but they live on in the same humble, penurious way, with 
 little care or trouble about the outer world, and knowing little of its 
 
CARHAIX. 
 
 6i 
 
 movements. Their very charities are an investment by the teaching 
 of their own church : a sou is given to a beggar without grudging, for 
 shall it not be repaid ? Thus on the one side we may contemplate 
 a life of work and thrift, which is admirable, and a conservatism 
 which keeps the soil in the hands of the labourer ; but on the other, 
 the view is of a race behindhand in civilisation, wanting in know- 
 ledge and in sympathy with the rest of mankind. 
 
 We descend the hills from Callac, following the course of the river 
 Aven to Carhaix, the ancient capital of a province and the centi-e of 
 a large agricultural district, owing its present importance to its cattle 
 fairs. At ordinary times life is peaceful enough at Carhaix ; in the 
 principal square is the H6tel de la Tour d'Auvergne, where visitors 
 can live as comfortably as in any country town in France, and where 
 the days resemble one another very closely. Every afternoon the 
 people sit and sun themselves in the principal square, as in the 
 
62 
 
 CARHAIX. 
 
 sketch below, and pigs lie down undisturbed in the middle of the 
 street ; every evening the inhabitants walk under the trees on the 
 dingy Place, •^\\h. its avenues of limes, where there is a fine view 
 over the country, and where is Marochetti's bronze statue of La Tour 
 d'Auvergne, " le premier grenadier de France." 
 
 Between two and three o'clock in the afternoon there is the only 
 communication with the outer world, when, with much cracking of 
 whips and rattling over stones, a crazy vehicle called " the courier," 
 with its lame and battered horse, covered with dust and foam, comes 
 
 lumbering in. It brings a packet of newspapers, chiefly local ; for 
 Carhaix cares little for the doings of the world beyond that of which 
 it is the centre. But we must now speak of the fair. 
 
 Six roads converge upon Carhaix, and upon th£se roads, and 
 across the open land, on a summer's morning, comes a stream of horses, 
 cattle, pigs, and p'eople. It is the day of the cattle fair, a* day for 
 meeting and marketing for all the country round ; a day of rejoicing, 
 bargaining, and of cruelty to animals scarcely to be paralleled elsewhere ; 
 the day and the place to see the Breton farmers and cattle-dealers, 
 to study the costumes and the ways of the peasants froin some of* 
 the mosf primitive districts of Brittany. 
 
o 
 
 2! 
 1-3 
 W 
 
 O 
 > 
 
 a 
 
 •-3 
 
 o 
 
 g 
 
 > 
 
CAR HA IX. 
 
 63 
 
 It is only four o'clock in the morning, but the sounds of shouting (in 
 strong Breton tones, which seem to Englishmen a perpetual echo from 
 the Welsh hills), the lowing of cattle, the shrieking of pigs, and the 
 heavy thud of sabots resound upon the roads. On the rising ground 
 just outside Carhaix, on the western road, we can see them through 
 an avenue of trees coming across the country in narrow defile, like 
 the commissariat train of an army on the march ; the men leading 
 cattle, the women on horseback and on foot, laden with provisions ; 
 and others in holiday attire, arriving in country carts. 
 
 The sun shines full on the wrinkled faces of the men, and on the 
 white caps of the women, and lights up the group with unwonted 
 brilliancy ; even the sober costumes of the people with their blue and 
 brown stuffs, and the black, and white and fawn-coloured, cattle which 
 they lead, would, if recorded faithfully by a painter, stand out in 
 high accents of colour against the low-toned land ; a rustic picture 
 so fitful and vanishing that only the rapid artist, who has presented 
 Brittany to us in these pages (as it has never been pictured before), 
 could depict. It is the sunny side of Brittany in all its quaintness. 
 
64 
 
 CARHAIX. 
 
 the pastoral aspect of life which those who dwell in cities seldom see. 
 There is nothing to mar the beauty of the morning, for the noise 
 of the market is as yet a distant sound, mingled with the bells of 
 Carhaix for early mass ; there is nothing to suggest a change but 
 the gathering of the clouds towards the weSt, and the stout umbrellas 
 and cloaks carried by the women. 
 
 Let us follow them, later in the day, to a large square where the 
 fair is held, and where there are wonderful sights and sounds ; under 
 
 the trees a crowd of men and women, in the dust and heat, horses 
 cattle, and pigs, in perpetual movement, with much drinking and 
 shouting at the. booths which line one side of the enclosure. There 
 are a great many horses for sale, which do not find buyers, although 
 the government agents . are here froni the neighbouring haras at 
 Callac, and horse-dealers have come from all parts. The cattle 
 market is overstocked, and the little black and white cattle, a cross 
 between Alderneys and Bretons, go for very sm-all sums to reluctant 
 purchasers. The pig market is more active, as every Breton peasant 
 
n 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 H 
 
 PI 
 
 •n 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 n 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
CARHAIX. 
 
 65 
 
 likes to possess a pig, and the noises proceeding from this part of 
 the square are deafening. The gentleman farmer in blue blouse to 
 keep off the dust is the portrait of a prominent figure moving amongst 
 the crowd. 
 
 The meetings of the country people, and the groups sitting under 
 the trees to rest, are as suggestive pictures as we have seen, and the 
 costumes are full of variety and interest ; the whole forms a scene 
 
 of which the full-page sketch gives an accurate idea. These markets 
 are held several times a yeai", and for a few hours disturb the quiet 
 of the sleepy town of Carhaix. 
 
 We could well stay at Carhaix, for the scenery is varied and 
 interesting, and there is much to observe in the farmhouses in the 
 neighbourhood ; old furniture, old carved bedsteads, cabinets, and 
 clocks ; old brasswork, old lace and embroideries. 
 
 Pictures come to us at every turn, pictures of domestic happiness 
 and content, only to be seen in byways far removed from cities and 
 
66 
 
 CARHAIX. 
 
 their troubles ; family groups, in which our presence seems sometimes 
 an intrusion. Brittany, like Spain, is a country that should be travelled 
 through cautiously ; the inhabitants live out of doors in summer-time, 
 and perform various domestic operations in the roads, regardless of traffic. 
 
 Turn a corner suddenly and you may come upon a scene of family 
 discord, or affection, where you are of necessity </(? trop ; take a walk in 
 the evening in the outskirts of a town, and the mute aspect of the 
 people, one and all, is that the road belongs to them, that the dirt 
 and the dunghills of the poorest are heirlooms which no invading 
 sanitary inspectory shall reform. 
 
CARHAIX. 
 
 67 
 
 i^^^m^^-^ 
 
 In the farmhouses in the neighbourhood we shall often find but 
 one living and sleeping rpom— kitchen, sitting-room, bedroom, all in 
 one ; the bedstead of carved , oa;k, the cupboards and chests with 
 brass handles and bosses, the copper cooking utensils bright and 
 shining, the floor at the same time being of bare earth. There 
 is often a dungheap outside, 
 and a shed for cows opening 
 into the living I'oom, which 
 is common alike to pigs, fowls, 
 and children. We see the 
 women coming out of their 
 dark, unhealthy dwellings on 
 f^te-days, looking bright and 
 clean, with old lace in their 
 caps, embroidered shawls, and 
 the neatest of shoes. We 
 see them thrashing corn and 
 scattering the grain waste- 
 fully on the ground, and 
 farming on a small scale 
 in primitive fashion. But 
 the Bretons who live thus 
 are nearly all prosperous and 
 thrifty in their own way ; 
 they own most of the land 
 
 they farm, paying rent, for a portion perhaps, at the rate of twenty or 
 twenty-five francs an acre, but adding to the extent of their ownership 
 year by year. Nearly everyone we meet at Carhaix is engaged in 
 agriculture, and the majority are well-to-do. The land yields well, 
 and there is the Canal de Brest passing through the town to take the 
 produce to the coast. 
 
 Turning northwards towards Morlaix, we pass through somewhat 
 dreary scenery, until we come to a gorge near Huelgoet, which, 
 with its rocks and rushing streams, will remind us of Switzerland ; 
 
 F 2 
 
 ■V c 
 
 Waiting for Dinner, Ht:ELGOET. 
 
68 
 
 HUBLGOET. 
 
 here are some ancient lead and silver mines, which were a source of 
 considerable wealth in the fifteenth century. 
 
 There is a silent and deserted air about the streets of Huelgoet, 
 seldom disturbed by the sound of wheels ; at the inn where we rest 
 our dinner is cooked in the salle a manger at the open fireplace, 
 and from the manner of the people it is evident strangers are rare, 
 even in summer. We are asked by the taciturn landlord to take 
 up our abode here " for the sake of the fishing," and a book is shown 
 containing the names of visitors who have staid at the inn. 
 
 The road between Huelgoet and Morlaix, passing over a spur 
 of the Monts d'Arree, is again wild and desolate ; we see flocks 
 scattered over barren pastures, and men and women at woi'k on 
 open ground far away from habitations. It is a suggestive part of 
 Brittany for the landscape painter, a dark lonely land of rugged 
 outline, full of poetry and mysteiy. 
 
MORLAIX. 
 
 69. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MoRLATx — St. Pol — Lesneven — Le Folgoet. 
 
 T7ROM the quiet of Carhaix and the solemn 
 landscape which surrounds Huelgoet to 
 the bustle of Morlaix, only sixteen miles to 
 the north, seems a rapid transition. If we 
 arrive at Morlaix by railway, we cross a lofty 
 viaduct over a deep ravine, and, far below, 
 see clusters of grey roofs, white houses, rocks 
 and trees, church towers, and factory chimneys. 
 Descending to the town, ,we find ourselves in 
 the centre of more commercial activity than 
 we have seen since leaving St. Malo. Mor- 
 laix is a prosperous town, containing about 
 15,000 inhabitants, busily engaged in trade. 
 It is built at the confluence of two streams, 
 the Jarlot and the Queffleut, which meet in the centre of the city, 
 and (arched over for some distance in their course) wind down the 
 valley to the sea, six miles away. On either side of this canal- 
 like stream are quays, and rows of houses, old and new, strangely 
 -intermixed. 
 
 The commercial traveller, the shipper of native products, and 
 the importer of foreign goods is ever busy at Morlaix. But its 
 aspect is still essentially old ; its outward characteristics are primitive : 
 weather-worn gables with carved beams, steep streets and rough 
 pavements with open gutters, and, in the centre of the city, a dingy 
 river, with washerwomen on its banks The sketch gives an exact 
 
7Q 
 
 MORLAIX: 
 
 idea of the scene as enacted every day in the principal street ; 
 but the old architecture of Morlaix is best indicated on page 72. A 
 few demolitions take place every year, but, visiting Morlaix for the 
 
 third time in 1878, we find the most interesting buildings standing 
 and leaning against each other as of old. Tradition is strong in 
 this city, and many new shops preserve over their doors their old 
 
MORLAIX. ' 71 
 
 signs, the ancient insignia of the trades of the merchants of Morlaix. 
 Some are grotesque figures carved in wood, painted and gilt ; there is 
 one little figure, for instance, at the corner of the Rue Notre Dame, 
 " Au S.ommeur Breton," in cocked hat and curled wig, which cariies 
 us back in imagination several centuries. 
 
 In the " Rue des Nobles," where the high-pitched roofs and 
 overhanging eaves nearly meet across the street, we may see the 
 actual dwellings of the nobles of Brittany in the fifteenth century, 
 whilst above on the steep hillsides, and all around, are the modern, 
 meaner, and more healthy dwellings of the traders of the nineteenth. 
 
 The approach to Morlaix by water in the old days, when at 
 the last turn of the river the pointed gables and towers came into 
 view, -must have been very picturesque. Its aspect in 1505, when the 
 nobles received the Queen-Duchess Anne on her pilgrimage through 
 Brittany, and later — when Mary Queen of Scots landed here on her 
 way to Paris to espouse the Dauphin in 1548 — we may picture to 
 ourselves, with some regret, as we walk down the new wide Rue 
 de Brest, and see above us the great i-ailway viaduct. It is a strange 
 medley of grey roofs, trees, rocks, towers, factory chimneys, quays 
 lined with stores, precipitous streets, tottering dwellings, and defaced 
 churches (one turned -into a granary), arched over by the modern 
 railway viaduct, from the view of which there is no escape, but which, 
 from its very height and solidity, has a certain grandeur of effect. But 
 the old is quite overwhelmed by the new, and even the steep hillsides 
 seem dwarfed by the giant proportions of the viaduct. There is not 
 only more movement, but there is more colour in Morlaix, than we 
 are accustomed to in Brittany ;, down on the quay, for instance, 
 there are red sashes, and clothing of bright Oriental hues, drying 
 in the wind ; and there is a certain Eastern air about the open shops 
 in the old quarters which tells of distant commerce. But the present 
 prosperity of Morlaix is in its tobacco manufactories, in its trade in 
 butter, grain, fruit, &c., and in its position as the natural place of 
 export for the products of a fruitful part of Brittany. 
 
 It is well to stay at Morlaix to make sketches of some of the 
 
72 
 
 MORLAIX. 
 
 lofty interiors with their carved staircases, some of which are quite 
 unique ; and it is well to see it on Sundays, for nowhere shall we 
 see pleasanter faces or a happier and brighter-looking population. 
 On market mornings the country people crowd the Place, and, in 
 
 the morning and in the evening, five 
 or six hundred factory hands,, men 
 and women, pass up and down the 
 
 Rue de Brest. It is a familiar 
 sight, but the neat caps and dark 
 homely attire of the women 
 are again delightful to see. The 
 brightness, style, and vivacity, of 
 the women of Morlaix leave a 
 distinct impression on the mind. 
 
 In the neighbourhood, in the direction of Brest, are two of 
 the most famous calvaries and churches of the Renaissance, St. 
 Thegonnec and Guimiliau. It is half an hour's journey by train 
 to the little deserted station of St. Thegonnec, on the railway 
 to Brest, and a mile to the north is the village. There is 
 no one at the station but the station-master, and no communi- 
 cation with the village of St. Thegonnec excepting by a covered 
 cart, which meets the morning train. The fine church, which stands 
 
ST. THEGONNEC. n 
 
 in the midst of a straggling village of dilapidated houses, pigsties, and 
 dirt, is rich in sculpture and gilding in the style of the Renaissance ; 
 on the high-altar, on the pulpit, and in the side chapels are elaborate 
 carvings, much overdone with gilding and restoration, but grand in 
 general effect. In the churchyard all is grey, sad-looking, and 
 dilapidated; the ancient calvary, erected in 1610 in dark Kersanton 
 stone, is injured and time-stained; the quaint figures, elaborately 
 carved, representing passages in the history of Christ (dressed in 
 ruffs and gowns of the sixteenth century), are roughly propped up and 
 stuck together, for the benefit of pilgrims who come to the shrine. 
 
 The calvary of St. Thegonnec, like most others in Brittany, 
 depicts scenes in the life and Passion of Christ. In the centre is a 
 group of three crosses, representing the scene of the Crucifixion, with 
 figures of the centurion and soldiers, angels, and the Virgin and St. 
 John, and on either side are the two thieves. Below, round the base 
 of the structure, are figures in Breton costume, representing the 
 judgment of Pilate, Christ bearing the cross, the Entombment, and 
 the Resurrection. Some of the figures are remarkable for animation, 
 and, in spite of the state of the monument, appeal more powerfully 
 to the imagination than a group of coloured life-size figures repre- 
 senting the Entombment which is shewn to visitors in the crypt.* 
 
 The church and calvary of Guimiliau is in a quiet village a few 
 miles to the south-west, a short drive from St. Thegonnec, crossing 
 the railway. The church dates from the Renaissance, and is rich in 
 carving and decoration; the interior is loaded with ornament, the 
 eastern end being a mass of crude colours and florid decoration. 
 In the south porch is some elaborate carving, and in the organ loft 
 are some bas-reliefs on the oak panels. There is a baptistry of 
 carved oak, consisting of a canopy with allegorical figures, supported 
 on eight spiral pillars, around which are twisted' vine leaves, fruit, 
 flowers, and birds. The pulpit, dated 1677, is also a remarkable 
 work of art. But in the churchyard, time-stained and ci-umbling to 
 
 * For a sketch of one of the calvaries, see page 91. 
 
74 • GUIMILIAU. 
 
 decay as usual, is the great object of our visit, a solid stone structure 
 raised upon arches, upon which is a crowd of little carved figures in 
 the costume of the sixteenth century, representing the various scenes 
 of the Passion. There are saints in the niches at the corners, and 
 high above is a crucifix, with the figures of Mary and St. John on 
 either side. This monument dates from 1580, but many of the 
 figures have been restored at a later date. 
 
 Altogether the calvaries of St. Thegonnec and Guimiliau, whether 
 regarded from a picturesque or antiquarian point of view, are the 
 most interesting monuments we have yet seen ; interesting in their 
 very loneliness, the object of so much thought and labour in the middle 
 ages, left thus neglected and in. ruin. The calvaries of Brittany seem 
 little cared for, excepting as curiosities ; but once a year, at Easter 
 time, there are religious ceremonies connected with them, when special 
 services are performed, and the various scenes depicted on the 
 monuments are explained to the people. Then is the time to visit 
 St. Thegonnec and Guimiliau, when the people are seen gathei-ed round 
 the sculptured crosses, in the same costumes and in the same attitude 
 of faith as their forefathers. 
 
 From the time we left St. Thegonnec station until our return in 
 the evening, after visiting these two calvaries, we have seen few 
 people in the fields or on the roads. The busy city of Morlaix 
 absorbs all available hands, and leaves the country towns almost 
 deserted. When the railway was advanced at an enormous cost 
 through a difficult country to the port of Brest, it was thought, 
 naturally enough, that it would open up traffic en route ; but here at 
 St. Thegonnec no one comes. " I live," says the station-master, " in a 
 vast solitude, the monotony of which is only broken by the passing 
 of five or six trains a day ; scarcely any one comes near me ; a 
 stray tourist or two in the summer, and an occasional visit from a 
 wolf in winter, one of which has killed my favourite dog." This 
 station-master, whose daughter was being educated at Morlaix, kept 
 a brood of turkeys for distraction ; but it was " a lonely life," as he 
 said, a solitude the more keenly felt because he was connected by a 
 
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ST. POL DE LEON. 75 
 
 telegraph wire with the headquarters of the administration of the 
 Chemin de Fer de I'Ouest. " It was solitude without peace, for at any 
 moment, day or night, the bell might ring." It is difficult to realise 
 that this is on the main line of railway between Paris and Brest ! 
 
 There is no stranger or more suggestive contrast for the traveller 
 in Brittany than to leave Morlaix on a summer's morning and 
 drive twelve miles in a north-westerly direction to St. Pol de Leon. 
 It takes only three hours, but in that short journey we pass, as it 
 were, from life to death, from the commercial activity of to-day to 
 a stillness which belongs to the past. The passage is from wharves 
 and warehouses, from crowded factories and the shrieking of steam, 
 to open country, hill and dale, to the sea. In Morlaix the monuments 
 are to commerce, in St. Pol de Leon to the church ; in Morlaix there 
 is activity and a certain amount of civilisation, in St. Pol de Leon, by 
 contrast, there is stillness, poverty, and degradation. Our last view 
 of Morlaix is of a stupendous railway viaduct, of comfortable villas 
 and trim gardens ; our first view of St. Pol de Leon across the open 
 land is of three noble church spires standing Out sharply against 
 the sky. Ancient stone crosses and images of saints in glass cases 
 are passed as usual on the roadside, before we approach Leon, "the 
 Holy City," which five centuries ago, when Morlaix was unknown, 
 was an important bishopric and the centre of great ecclesiastical 
 wealth. To-day its aspect is poor and dreary, even in sunshine ; grey 
 and cold in colour, and generally dirty. 
 
 But the cathedral with its spires and the tower of the church of 
 Notre Dame de Creizker (nearly 400 feet high) are the absorbing 
 points of interest, the reason of our journey to St. Pol. 
 
 The inhabitants,- numbering about 7000, are principally agricultural, 
 or are employed at the port ; fishermen and knitting women, reserved 
 and dignified in manner, living rough homely lives, disdaining many 
 of the modern ways of Morlaix, but having a keen eye to commerce, 
 which they carry on actively with far-away places, including Norway 
 and Greenland. 
 
 As we saunter up the rough, ill-paved streets of the cathedral 
 
76 
 
 ST. POL DE LEON. 
 
 square, the men come out of the cafds and debits de tabac, and 
 give us a rough but not unkindly greeting, as in the sketch. The 
 principal occupation of our three friends is to cultivate potatoes, 
 
 cabbages, onions, asparagus, and other vegetables for foreign markets ; 
 for this part of Brittany forms one vast market-garden, whence the 
 cities of Western Europe are supplied. The inhabitants who live in the 
 cathedral square have grown up in perpetual wonderment (expressed 
 in their faces) at the summer procession of pilgrims to St. Pol_ de 
 
ST. POL DE LEON. 
 
 77 
 
 L6oh ; pilgrims in strange costumes, who dispense sous to their children, 
 inquire for the keys of the tower of the Creizker, and then mount 
 several hundred feet above them in the wind. 
 
 The cathedral, dedicated to St. Pol is a fine example of early- 
 Gothic architecture, noble in proportions, rich in carving and sombre 
 in colour, the dark green Kersanton stone giving a fine effect to the 
 interior, in which some white-robed nuns are generally to be seen 
 
 on their knees. The nave is thirteenth-century work, there is some 
 florid carving on the south porch, and a fine rose window ; above are 
 two towers, with lofty lancet windows, and spires which remind us of 
 churches in Normandy. 
 
 But the spire of Notre Dame de Creizker— literally, "Our Lady 
 of the Middle Town " — which is higher than the cathedral towers, is 
 the most interesting object in St. Pol; the central point round which 
 the lives of the Leonnais radiate, a landmark seen far and wide by 
 land and sea. This spire, built in the fourteenth century, in the reign 
 
78 
 
 ST. POL DE LEON. 
 
 of John IV., Duke of Brittany, is supposed to be the work of an 
 English architect. The tower is of granite, richly ornamented with 
 a projecting cornice, and its spire is pierced through to the sky. 
 The beauty and magnificence of the churches of St. Pol de L^on are 
 out of all proportion to the present importance — or unimportance — of 
 the place. The inhabitants have little sympathy with the art of the 
 sixteenth century, or with the Druidical remains they find in their 
 fields, but they welcome travellers gladly in the nineteenth. 
 
 It is a wide plain round about St. Pol, from which the Gothic 
 spires seem to reach to heaven, and where a human figure, standing 
 in a field, points upwards with strange emphasis against the sky ; 
 a district peopled by classic-looking market gardeners, whose children 
 walk in groves of cabbages five feet high, and play at hide and seek 
 in their shadows. 
 
 Three miles north of St. Pol is the little seaport of Roscoff, 
 
 historically interesting as the landing- 
 place of the child princess Mary Queen 
 of Scots, who passed through Roscoff 
 on her way to Nantes in 1548. There 
 are the ruins of a chapel founded by 
 her, still standing on the seashore ; in 
 the church, with its open belfry tower, 
 are some curious alabaster reliefs ; and in 
 the neighbourhood, in a convent garden, 
 is a gigantic fig-tree, said to be two 
 centuries old. Roscoff is now used as 
 a bathing-place, and there is a constant 
 passing to and fro in summer between 
 this port and a little island three miles 
 farther north, the lie de Batz,- where 
 a hardy population of fishermen and 
 women ply their dangerous trade, with hardly any communication 
 with the shore in winter. It is almost worth while to cross to the lie 
 de Batz to see the " Druidesses," as the women of the island 
 
 GuECoyLE AT Roscoff. 
 
RO SCOFF. 
 
 79 
 
 are called, assembling on Sundays in their island church ; and it 
 
 might be worth while for a painter to make a longer stay in this 
 
 .neighbourhood, to make studies (if only for colour) of some of the 
 
 curious figui-es to be seen in such out-of-the-way corners as Roscoff. 
 
 Here is one of an old man with long hair and semi-nautical 
 
 aspect, who sits in the evening on a stone seat in front of the 
 
 cottage which he owns, facing the sea ; a poor man to outward 
 
 appearance, but an owner of 
 
 the soil ; his face is screwed ^ J 
 
 and weather-worn, his clothes Q> 
 
 are patched in various shades 
 
 of brown ; his blouse is of a 
 
 dark and greasy tinge ; his 
 
 working life has been spent 
 
 in the fields or down at the 
 
 port, but his final cause is 
 
 undoubtedly to smoke; he 
 
 has coloured by degrees, like 
 
 a good old pipe, and his 
 
 sabots have caught the true 
 
 meerschaum tinge ; he has 
 
 smouldered at RoscofF for 
 
 many years, and seems ready 
 
 for burning, stacked against 
 
 the wall like the fagots collected for winter fires. There is no difficulty 
 
 in making a sketch, for this rich-toned " owner of the soil " of Finistere 
 
 has. a perfect contempt for strangers, and is as immovable as the 
 
 gurgoyle sketched on the preceding page. 
 
 Let us now turn westward in the direction of Lesneven and Le 
 Folgoet, to see one of the finest churches in Finistere. There are 
 two roads to Lesneven, of which we would recommend the traveller 
 to take the one to the north, near the sea. The country is for the most 
 part dreary in aspect, but there are some curious wayside crosses on 
 the. route. There are a few fields of buckwheat, corn, and rye, 
 banked up by high hedges, and skirted by pollard trees. It is 
 
8o 
 
 LE FOLGOET. 
 
 one of those drives which should be taken leisurely by the antiquary 
 or the archaeologist ; a route where there is little to remind us of 
 the present, and much to bring before us the habits of the past. 
 Every monument we pass on the road, every hovel at the roadside, 
 and nearly every peasant in the fields, is of the pattern of a past age. 
 As we skirt these quiet shores of northern Finist^re, we may listen 
 for a moment to a story just five hundred years old, a story that 
 every Breton peasant that we pass on the road knows by heart : how 
 
 a poor idiot named Salaun, who lived in the neighbourhood of Les- 
 neven for forty years, and begged for his bread in the name of the 
 Virgin, uttering only the words, "Ave Maria," was found dead by a 
 fountain and buried on the spot ; how a white lily grew u-pon his 
 grave, with the words, " Ave Maria," inscribed upon the leaves ; and 
 how John of Blois, then fighting for the dukedom of Brittany, hearing 
 of the " miracle," vowed that, if successful in battle, he would erect a 
 church to Notre Dame de Folgoet, i.e. "Fool of the Wood." 
 
 The church was completed by his son, John V., about 1420.. It 
 was built like most of the churches and monuments of Finist^re, of 
 the dark Kersanton stone found near St. Pol de L6on, and at the 
 
IN THE CHURCH OF LE FOLGOET. 
 
LE FOLGOET. 8i 
 
 village of Kersanton, near Brest. The church consists of a lofty 
 nave and aisles under one roof, with a long projecting transept on 
 the south side. The great beauty of the church is in its cai-ving, 
 that on the south porch being perhaps the finest. The great west 
 door, now. falling into ruin, is elaborately ornamented with wreaths of 
 the vine and other devices, and above it is a bas-relief representing 
 the Nativity and the Adoration of the Shepherds. In the beautiful 
 south porch, which is supposed to have been added by the Queen- 
 Duchess Anne, are the arms of Brittany and figures of the twelve 
 apostles in niches, and round its roof are traces of a richly carved 
 parapet. In the interior there are five altars, with carved figures of 
 angels, birds, and flowers ; and on the rood-loft, between the choir 
 and nave, supported upon elaborately carved pillars, is some open 
 tracery cut in stone, in good presei-vation. There is a fine rose 
 window, as at St. Pol de Leon. 
 
 The spring, or Fool's Well, is under the high-altar, and the water 
 flows into a basin outside the church. It is here that the sick and 
 needy come and kneel before a statue of Our Lady set in a Gothic 
 niche, and bathe their limbs in the water of the miraculous well ; a 
 retired spot, where, at all hours of the day, peasants are to be found 
 on their knees in prayer. 
 
 We have given but slight descriptions of the churches of St. Pol 
 de Leon and Le Folgoet, but enough to indicate that here at least 
 the traveller will be rewarded for going out of the beaten track, and 
 that in Brittany, owing to the wonderful durability of the Kersanton 
 stone, we can still see the handwork and judge of the skill of the 
 sculptors of the fourteenth century. 
 
 The church of Le Folgoet stands, as guide-books tell us, on "a 
 silent spot, unvisited save on certain festivals, and removed a mile 
 and a half from any town." We find it the centre of a tumult 
 impossible to describe. There is a large horse-fair being held, which 
 has collected a crowd almost equal to that at Carhaix ; but here 
 there is more variety in the costume of the men, the red Phrygian 
 caps and sashes lighting up the crowd with unusual colour. It is a 
 
 G 
 
82 
 
 LE FOLGOET. 
 
 scene strangely in contrast with the quiet of the cathedral, where 
 under its cool arcades men are kneeling, whip in hand ; they have 
 come to pray for a special blessing from St. Coi^nely, the patron saint 
 of cattle. 
 
 The men, in light canvas trousers and blue jerseys, standing on 
 the left in the picture of the fair, are horse dealers and agents for 
 the government, who attend every cattle fair and market throughout 
 the country. The men on the right, watching a horse being trotted 
 out, are thoroughly characteristic figures, portraits of well-to-do Breton 
 farmers and dealers. 
 
 The boy on the horse is a good example of the Breton gamin, 
 or hanger-on at fairs, who trots out the horses with untiring energy, 
 and with a freedom and grace of limb delightful to behold. 
 
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BREST. 
 
 ^i 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Brest — Plougastel — ChAteauneuf du Faou. 
 
 A T Landerneau we are once more on the 
 high-road to Brest. We have left for a 
 time the dreary wind-blown promontories of 
 the coast, and find shelter in a pleasant valley, 
 surrounded by trees and gardens, and watered 
 by a river which opens out westward into the 
 bay of Brest. 
 
 The railway from Landerneau to Brest is 
 carried for the most part at a high level, and 
 from the windows on the left hand we obtain 
 beautiful views of the scenery of the bay. 
 Below we can see the stores of timber for naval use, and are other- 
 wise reminded of our approach to a sea-port by the company which 
 collect at the small stations en route. In the crowded carriage are 
 old weather-beaten fishermen and countrywomen with market 
 baskets, and, i\\ one corner, two boys with fair fresh faces, set in 
 wide straw hats, bearing upon them the inscriptions of Viclcan and 
 Vengeance. 
 
 Brest is a naval station of such importance that even travellers in 
 search of the picturesque should not pass it by without a short visit ; 
 the arsenal, docks, and harbour are on a scale of completeness 
 second only to Cherbourg ; moreover, Bre.'^t is the most convenient 
 point from which to visit other parts of the coast of Finistere, especially 
 the fishing village of Le Conquet, the abbey of St. Mathieu on the 
 extreme western point of Brittany, and the island of Ouessant. Brest 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 PLOUGASTEL. 
 
 is situated on an elevated position on the north side of one of the 
 finest natural harbours in the world, commanding good views from its 
 ramparts and promenades. The population is about 70,000, exclusive 
 of soldiers and sailors ; a busy cosmopolitan .maritime city, in which 
 there is little of the Breton character to be studied. 
 
 In order to realise the beauty of the inland bay of Brest, we must 
 look down again from our imaginary ballon captif, and see its blue 
 waters, green banks and woods coming down to the water's edge ; the 
 
 country dotted with white villas 
 and little wooden chalets belong- 
 ing to the wealthy traders of Brest, 
 and here and there the sombi-e 
 avenues of a chateau with grey, 
 high-pitched roofs and pointed 
 turrets peeping through the trees. 
 Across this inland sea, ti'aversed 
 by little steamers and dotted with 
 white sails — raised high upon the 
 heath-clad hills which form the western spur of the Monts d'Arree — 
 is the little town of Plougastel. 
 
 It is too late to cross the bay on the occasion of our visit to 
 Plougastel, and so we take the last train to Kerhuon station, where 
 there is a ferry. A vessel has just been paid off at Brest, and .in the 
 railway carriage are several sailors on their way home. One of them 
 gets out with us at Kerhuon, and we go down together to the river. 
 By some mischance the ferry-boat is missing, and all is. darkness at 
 the little boathouse. The young sailor, ready at expedients, puts down 
 his pack, collects some furze, and lights a fire as a signal. We sit and 
 wait and shout a:t intervals, burning the fuel until just about midnight, 
 when we hear the plash of oars, and a dark object glides past ; it is 
 a fishing-boat with one mast, with three men in the stern, and two 
 women rowing. After a little parleying they agree to take us across 
 for thirty centimes each, and the women turn the boat i^ound, running 
 it heavily against the stones of the causeway. We get in quickly 
 
PLOUGASTEL. 85 
 
 and stand in the bows, whilst we silently cross the Landerneau 
 river. It is a strange, mysterious boat-load ; not a word is uttered, 
 there is no sound but the heavy plodding and working of the 
 oars, and the night is so dark we cannot see the faces of the men 
 or the nature of the packages that weigh down the stern. The 
 moon, rising through the clouds, just illumines the darkness as we 
 near the shore ; it shines on the smooth, wet mast, on the water- 
 proof hat of the marine standing up in the boat, and reveals close 
 to us the strong, stout arms of a girl, bared to the shoulder, her 
 head concealed in a dark, tight-fitting headdress, with lappets like 
 an Egyptian sphynx ; the head is raised for a moment, and eyes are 
 turned upon us as we leave, but no word is uttered, scarcely a 
 " Bon soir ! " as the boat drifts away into the night. 
 
 The moon shines as we ascend the hill — winding up a path between 
 great rocks and under the shadow of stunted trees, to Plougastel — 
 revealing a poor-looking town of plain stone houses, silent and 
 deserted at this midnight hour. At a corner of two streets our 
 companion points out the inn and takes leave, having to go to his 
 home at the further end of the town. We knock for admittance, 
 but without avail ; heads are put out of various windows, but the 
 answer is that every house is crowded, for " to-morrow is the f^te " ; 
 and, truth to tell, curses are heaped upon the strangers for disturbing 
 the dogs, who begin to howl as they trot by on their midnight errands. 
 There is nothing to be done until daybreak, ajnd so the night is spent 
 in the open air. " • 
 
 We have come to Plougastel to see the people, and also its famous 
 calvary, which stands in the middle of a desolate churchyard strewn 
 with newly cut stone. As the day begins to dawn, we make our way 
 to the church, and to the spot where we can just discern the calvary, 
 with its carved figures standing darkly against the sky. There is a 
 flutter at our approach, for birds have been nestling behind the 
 headless horsemen, and sheltering in the nooks and corners of the 
 ancient pile. We leave them to silence a little longer, and stroll out 
 to the highest ground to see the sun rise. Soon there is a streak of 
 
86 , PLOUGASTEL. 
 
 light from the east, which gives shape and outline to the church 
 tower and the grey roofs of Plougastel, and, as we reach the high 
 ground outside the town, the landscape southward is lighting in the 
 morning sun ; we see cultivated valleys and pai'klike views, with 
 pleasant green slopes leading down to the sea. But beautiful as is 
 the foreground, with its undulating green, interspersed with granite 
 boulders, with dew upon gossamer webs and little clouds of vapour 
 stealing between clumps of grass, the view across the bay, where the 
 distant headlands (indicated on the map overleaf) take a pearly 
 tinge, is the best sight of all. A little northward and westward are 
 the masts, chimneys, and church spires, and the smoke and steam, 
 of Brest, for the morning is breaking over a busy scene at the arsenal 
 and dockyards ; but here, as the sun shines out, the sound in the 
 long grass are of grasshoppers, birds, and bees. 
 
 It is the morning of the fete ; the thrush clears his throat, and 
 so do the peasants in their own way, as they come slowly up. the 
 hill. Let us leave the view and go into the streets of Plougastel, 
 which are already alive with people, some of whom might be the 
 descendants of Eastern races, wearing Egyptian or Phrygian head- 
 dresses, caps from Albania, embroideries from Greece, and sashes from 
 Arabia. Here, then, for the first time in our travels, we find colour 
 predominating in the costumes of the people. Some of the women 
 wear close-fitting dark green caps embroidered with gold thread, their 
 dark skirts also bordered with embroideries or stripes of colour ; some 
 wear white stockings and neat-fitting, red or black, slippers or shoes. 
 But the prevailing headdress of the women is the white cambric coiffe 
 with large side lappets and wide collars which we see elsewhere in 
 Finistere ; the men have broad-brimmed hats with embroidered 
 strings or ribbons. Some of the men who come from the south 
 wear striped trousers with a .red sash, and spare blue jacket with 
 numerous silver buttons, as in the sketch opposite. Some are dressed 
 entirely in blue cloth or serge, with sashes and red caps, but others 
 have broad white trousers and belts, their jackets and blouses 
 embroidered on the shoulders and sleeves. There is colour everywhere, 
 
PLOUGASTEL. 
 
 87 
 
 subdued by the dark blue of blouses and the sober brown and green 
 stuff gowns of the older women. 
 
 It is said that the people of Plougastel, preserving their old costumes 
 and traditions, still live much apart from their neighbours; a life half 
 seafaring, half agricultural, whose origin is traced to some early immi- 
 
 gration of Eastern races. By ten o'clock hundreds of people have come 
 in from the neighbouring villages, and as they all crowd together at 
 the church door and in the square round the calvaiy, we see the 
 strangest medley of costumes in all Brittany. They collect round the 
 calvary, some praying, some quarrelling or bargaining for small wares ; 
 a general place of rendezvous on fdte-days, especially on the 24th of 
 June (the Feast of St. Jean, called the " Pardon of Birds "), when 
 
88 CHA TEA ULIN. 
 
 a large number of birds are offered for sale. This is a good day to 
 see the costumes of the peasants, to hear their songs, and to see the 
 dances in the streets of Plougastel. 
 
 The calvary was erected about the year 1602, and some of the 
 figures are as sharp and clear as if carved yesterday ; some are headless, 
 and otherwise injured or destroyed. Around the three elevated 
 crosses are a series of bas-reliefs, full-length figures cut in Kersanton 
 stone, depicting various incidents in New Testament history — the Entry 
 into Jerusalem, Christ teaching among the Doctors, the Offerings of 
 the Magi, the Baptism of St. John, the Entombment, &c. On the 
 south side is a representation of the Bearing of the Cross, on the 
 north is the Judgment of Pilate, and so on. Some of the figures 
 are veiy expressive, some have a certain quaintness and humour, and 
 here and there we detect the same anachronisms in costume as at 
 St. Thegonnec, where the Breton costume is introduced. 
 
 Altogether we must regard the calvary of Plougastel as a curiosity 
 rather than as a great work of art ; a grotesque group which, in its 
 dark rugged outline set against the sky, will be remembered by 
 travellers as something peculiar to Brittany, something which, in this 
 land of strange mediaeval monuments and relics, is yet perhaps the 
 strangest sight of all.* 
 
 Returning to Daoulas, we join the high-road between Landerneau 
 and Quimper, and pass southwards along the inland shores of the 
 bay of Brest to Chateaulin. As travellers speed through this district 
 by railway, they get glimpses, on the left hand, of the forest of 
 Guimerch, and on the right, through the tree-tops, ^i inlets of the 
 bay, and of the ancient little town of Le Faou, lying as it were 
 at their feet. 
 
 On the railway we pass over an estuary at a great elevation, 
 and on a greater part of the route to Chdteaulin are on the spurs 
 of the Monts d'Arr^e. Travellers from Brest to Quimper should not 
 be deterred from stopping at Chateaulin by the one line devoted to 
 
 * See sketch of a calvary on page 91. 
 
CHA TEA ULIN. 
 
 89 
 
 it in guide-books, viz. " a dirty little town in parklike scenery, with no 
 good inns." 
 
 The shores of the bay of Brest and the bay of Douarnenez 
 are districts to be lingered in when the sun shines, for the days 
 are really few when we may see the country to advantage. The 
 luxuriance of foliage on the hills, the height of the grasses, the 
 
 deep green in the valleys, and the enormous umbrellas carried 
 by the peasants, should remind us that fine days are few. 
 
 Ch^teaulin is crowded once a year to visit the Pardon of Ste. 
 Anne la • Palue, a ceremony that generally takes place on the last 
 Sunday in August. The modern chapel of Ste. Anne stands alone 
 upon high ground, overlooking the bay of Douarnenez, near Plonevez- 
 Porsay, a small village about eight miles west . of Chateaulin. 
 
90 STE. ANNE LA PALUE. 
 
 Crowds of people come from Brest by boat, and every road and 
 pathway leading to the chapel is lined with people on the morning 
 of the Pardon. The ceremonies are nearly the same as at Guingamp 
 and at Ste. Anne d'Auray, but the camping-out of the people on 
 the hillside above the sea (sometimes 10,000 in number), the pro- 
 cessions of pilgrims, bare-footed, to the Holy Well of Ste. Anne, and 
 other customs, are more curious than any to be seen elsewhere. 
 
 It is at the Pardon of Ste. Anne la Palue that, the ceremonies of 
 the church are rendered most picturesque from the surroundings, and 
 where a greater variety of the ancient costumes of Cornouaille are to 
 be seen. The trinkets, rosaries, and ribbons which are blessed and 
 sold to the peasants are a modern importation from Angers or 
 Lyons, but the embroidery round the dress of a beggar woman 
 may be rare in colour and design. Nowhere else, excepting at Plou- 
 gastel, shall we see such embroidered caps and bodices ; nowhere, not 
 even at Auray, such bronzed and wrinkled human creatures. 
 
 The procession of the priests and people takes place on Satur- 
 day, about three in the afternoon, when the banner of Ste. Anne la 
 Palue is carried across the hills by girls dressed in crimson, gold- 
 embroidered robes, with scarves of silver thread and headdresses of lace 
 and tissue of gold. 
 
 These are pictures in sunshine which are rai'e at Pardon times, 
 and of summer nights when camping under tents is no hardship ; but 
 what must the scene be at Ste. Anne la Palue in storm and rain, when 
 thousands of pilgrims, old and young, have no shelter, when all colour 
 and brightness has vanished, and the wind sweeps over the hills \ 
 
 Let us now turn inland a few miles, following the course of the 
 Canal de Brest, to Ch&teauneuf du Faou, a small town where Mr. 
 Caldecott made sketches at a Pardon which was held in the rain. 
 This visit, made in 1874, will be best described in the artist's own 
 words : — 
 
 "The courier for Chiteauneuf du Faou left Ch^teaulin at 3 A.M. 
 So we hire a phaeton, and proceed up the hilly road towardsPleyben. 
 On the left is a beautiful vale with a pretty village by the side of 
 
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PLEYBEN. 
 
 91 
 
 the river which runs towards Brest. The scenery is like the borders 
 of Wales, and the weather like that of Scotland ; but the clean, elderly 
 girls coming down the road are like themselves only. 
 
 " We reach Pleyben in about two hours, a small deserted-looking 
 town with a wide Place, at one end of which is a curious calvary 
 (date 1670) undergoing i-epair, and an old church, partly Gothic, 
 partly Renaissance. The painted window over the altar is apparently 
 
 old, but part is replaced by plain glass. The ceiling is blue with gold 
 stars, and there are large painted effigies of the apostles in the porch. 
 "In about two hours after leaving Pleyben, the phaeton rattles 
 into the little town of Chateauneuf du Faou, knocking about the 
 umbrellas of the people crowding the streets on the occasion of a 
 Pardon. The H6tel du Midi, where we put up, is at the farther end 
 of the town, and is conducted in a simple manner. Ladies would not 
 like its arrangements. Several inhabitants, and a visitor or two, dine 
 
92 
 
 CHA TEA UNE UF DU FA U. 
 
 at the table d'h6te, but all are unable to carve a .duck except the 
 English visitor, who is accordingly put down as a cook. There is music 
 
 in the streets, and the town is full of people, some of whom dance 
 a kind of quadrille, called the ' gavotte,' in the market-hall ; others 
 attend a large booth to see acrobatic and other performances. 
 
CHA TEA UNEUF DU FAOU. 
 
 95 
 
 " The next day is still wet, and there are many people again in the 
 streets, some from far away. The races come off on the high-road. I go 
 to see the finish of one ; four horses, 
 strong and about fourteen hands 
 high, gallop up a hilly length of a 
 high-road ; a pink, a red, a yellow, 
 and a green and white jacket, dash 
 by with a flourish of gaily tied up 
 tails. I join the admiring crowd 
 which encircles the winner, and we 
 all go in procession to the H-6tel de 
 Ville. I notice as the rider dis- 
 mounts and enters the building to 
 receive the prize (twenty francs) that 
 he uses no saddle, wears his usual 
 trousers, and has his coloured cap 
 and jacket made of calico. 
 
 " In the large timber-built market- 
 hall is a vast crowd of extensively 
 linened, many-buttoned men — some 
 with rosettes, the stewards of the 
 fete— joined hand in hand in one 
 long serpentine line with clean, red- 
 faced, large-capped, big-collared girls. 
 They jig along the earthen floor in 
 shoes, clogs, and sabots to the music 
 of a flageolet and a bag-pipe, varied 
 
 by an occasional few bars of the voice. This is called the 'gavotte/ 
 as the waitress of the hdtel, who is dancing, informs me. A farmer 
 in blouse, with a collar (sketched overleaf), beats time with his sabots. 
 One soldier, two town bonnets, and a few gendarmes relieve the costume 
 of the peasants, which is, however, full of variety." 
 
 The Breton ronde or round dance, of which the gavotte is a good 
 example, is one of the most characteristic scenes to be witnessed in 
 
96 
 
 CHA TEA UNE UF DU FAOU. 
 
 Brittany. At nearly every f^te and gathering — in the streets, in the 
 fields, or in the town-hall — we see the peasants dancing the gavotte, 
 the musicians being generally two, one with the ancient Armorican 
 bag-pipe (biniou), the dther with a flageolet. Frequently, as in the 
 sketch, one of the musicians puts down his instrument to sing. . 
 
 The dancers keep good time, going through a variety of figures, 
 but always returning to the ronde, dancing together, hand in hand, 
 with great precision and animation, and a certain kind of grace. The 
 gravity of manner and the downward look of the women in certain 
 figures, as they advance and retire with hands down, give a peculiar 
 quaintness to the gavotte, which, apparently rollicking and unrestrained, 
 
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CHA TEA UNE UF DU FAOU. 
 
 97 
 
 is, in fact, orderly and regular in every movement. The circular 
 motion of the dancers, now revolving , in several circles, now in one 
 grande ronde, is traced by M. Emile Souvestre, and other writers, to 
 Druidic origin and the movements of the stars. 
 
 But as the dancers come swinging 
 down the centre of the hall, hand in 
 hand, now meeting, now parting ; as fresh 
 couples join and others fall into the rear ; 
 as we hear the measured tread and the 
 voices which never seem to tire, we should 
 be content to describe the "gavotte" as 
 a good old country dance of singular 
 . animation and picturesqueness ; a scene 
 of jollity and at the same time of good 
 order, of which the sketch gives an ad- 
 mirable idea. 
 
 There is one figure dressed in the latest 
 fashion of Quimper, who is looked upon 
 with doubtful admiration by the other 
 dancers, but who will serve to remind us 
 that distinctive costume, even in these out- 
 of-the-way places, is a flickering flame, and 
 that in a few years such scenes as the 
 above will have lost their character. 
 
 We give a few bars of a favourite air, played with great spirit, 
 which seemed to give the performers intense enjoyment, for they 
 returned to it again and again. 
 
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98 
 
 CHA TEA UNE UF DU FAOU. 
 
 At dusk oil lamps are lighted, a crowd fills the hall, and, when far 
 away down the wet streets of Chateauneuf du Faou, we can see the 
 steam rising between the rafters and hear the clatter of the dancers. 
 
 Four years later, on the 8th of August 1878, we arrive on a quiet, 
 sultry evening at the same little inn at Chateauneuf. There is no 
 one in the house but two little children and some fowls, and the streets 
 are silent and almost deserted ; but at a little distance from the inn 
 we hear the heavy thud of flails, and going up a little green pathway 
 across the road, where a grey cloud of dust rises between the trees, 
 
 we come upon a scene of energy and determination which defies 
 description. It is the last evening for threshing out a little patch of 
 corn, and the whole strength of the establishment has been enlisted 
 in the service, including the waiter, chef de cuisine, stable-boy, a farm 
 labourer, and one or two professional " batteurs " ; four on one side, five 
 on the other, swinging and letting fall their heavy flails in turn, close 
 to each others' heads, with a precision and desperate energy wonderful 
 to behold. Mr. Caldecott's sketches, taken at the moment, in a cloud 
 of dust, bring the scene before us most vividly ; the garqon of the inn, 
 the second in the row, all energy and excitement, putting his face 
 
CHA TEA UNE UF DU FAOU. 
 
 99 
 
 into his work so to speak, urging on the rest by shouts and gestures, 
 but still keeping steady time with his flail ; opposite to him, last but 
 one, is " Madame," her face tied tightly over with a veil, as a protection 
 from the dust ; and, last in the line, the chef de cuisine, working as 
 hard as the rest. 
 
 In the second sketch the leaders have changed position, the pace 
 is quickened, and, from where we stand, the flails seem to fly dangerously 
 close to the heads of the women. But no one flinches, and the strokes 
 come down together as if from two operators instead of nine. 
 
 The grain is beaten out wastefully on the ground, and gathered into 
 sacks by two old women, who put the straw afterwards into the pil- 
 lows of the Hdtel du Midi. 
 
 "c^5%-^^^,. 
 
 H 2 
 
lOO 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 QuiMPER — Pont L'ABBfi — Audierne — Douarnenez. 
 
 TN the fruitful valley of the Odet 
 and the Steir, where two rivers 
 join in their southern course to the 
 sea, there rise the beautiful spires of 
 Quimper, the present capital of Finistere ; 
 a town containing about 13,000 inhabit- 
 ants, now the centre of the commerce 
 and industry of southern Finistere, and, 
 it may be added, the most pleasant 
 resting - place on our travels. If we 
 approach Quimper for the first time 
 by road over the hills, we shall form 
 the best idea of the beauty of its situ- 
 " ~ ation and of the picturesqueness of its 
 
 buildings. The first impression of the traveller who arrives by train, 
 and is hurried in an omnibus along the straight quays lined with 
 trees, to the H6tel de I'Ep^e, on the right bank of the river Odet, is 
 one of slight disappointment at the modern aspect of the town ; but 
 let him glance for one moment from above out of one of the back 
 windows of the inn (opened for him by the bright-faced maiden 
 sketched on page 104), and the view of old roofs and cathedral 
 towers will reassure his mind that neither in architecture nor in costume 
 is this city likely to be wanting in interest. Quimper, the ancient capital 
 of Cornouaille, with its warlike and roma,ntic history of the middle ages, 
 the centre of historic associations in the times of the War of the Sue- 
 
QUIMPER. 10 1 
 
 cession, preserves many landmarks and monuments that will interest the 
 traveller and the antiquarian. The fine Gothic cathedral has a richly 
 sculptured porch with foliated carving of the fourteenth century, such 
 as we saw at Le Folgoet. Above and between the two towers is an 
 equestrian statue of the somewhat mythical King Gradlon, who held 
 
 a court at Kemper in the fifth century, whose prowess is recorded 
 in the early chronicles of Brittany, and in the romances of the Round 
 Table. The episode of his hunting in the neighbouring forests, being 
 miraculously fed by one Corentin, a hermit, and finally converted to 
 Christianity, is recorded continually in song and story ; and from 
 this incident (related by Souvestre and sung by Brizeux) dates the 
 foundation of the ancient bishopric of St. Corentin. The statue, like 
 
I02 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 nearly every monument in Brittany, was partly desti'oyed during the 
 Revolution in 1793. 
 
 In spite of railways, telegraphs, and newspapers, and the bustle of 
 commerce that fills the streets and market of Quimper, some of the 
 inhabitants of the neighbouring valleys find time, on St. Cecilia's Day, 
 to perform a pilgrimage to the cathedral and to sing songs in honour 
 of St. Corentin. Thus we see how lovingly conservative Brittany 
 clings to its monuments and legends, and how its people still dwell 
 in the past. The story of King Gradlon may be a myth, but, like 
 all legends and traditions, it has its origin in fact ; and we who are 
 not historians may be fascinated with the thought that the battered 
 
 horseman, the object of so much 
 interest to pilgrims in the past and 
 to tourists in the present, is a link 
 in a chain of facts, pointing back- 
 wards to a far-off time when, a little 
 westward of the site of the present 
 city of Quimper, on a promontory 
 near Pont Croix, stood the ancient 
 Celtic city of Is, remains of which 
 are to be found to this day upon the 
 shore. 
 
 The cathedral of Quimper was 
 founded in the thirteenth century, 
 but was principally built in the four- 
 teenth and fifteenth. It has no 
 very remarkable architectural features, but there is a grandeur in the 
 lofty aspect of the interior, lighted by some fine stained glass, which 
 leaves an impression of beauty on the mind. It is the centre and 
 rallying-point for all the country round, the home of Catholicism, the 
 " one church " to the inhabitants of Finist^re. No picture of the 
 wide Place by the river, where the great gatherings take place on fete- 
 days, and where so many curious costumes are to be seen together, 
 is complete without the two modern spires of the cathedral rearing 
 
QUI M PER. 
 
 103 
 
 high above the town. The procession of people passing up the wide 
 street on a Sunday morning leading to its doors^a dense mass of 
 figures, fringed with white caps, Hke foam on a heaving sea, 
 the figures framed by projecting gables nearly meeting overhead — 
 forms another picture which has also for its background the two 
 noble spires.* The old houses in the market-place in the cathedral 
 square, and the old inn, the H6tel du Lion d'Or (this last well 
 worthy of a sketch), are overshadowed by the pile. The people that 
 come in by the old-fashioned diligences and the country carts and 
 waggons go straight to the cathedral on arrival in the square. 
 
 The interior of the cathedral, which is the largest in Brittany, 
 is very striking ; there is a handsome chapel dedicated to Ste. Anne, 
 the patron saint of Brittany, to St. Roch, and other saints. There 
 is high-mass at half past ten, and a sermon by an ancient ecclesiastic 
 preached from the handsome carved pulpit in the nave. It is an 
 eloquent discourse, apparently, for along the aisles and between the 
 pillars familiar-sounding phrases are poured fluent and fast. But 
 the dense crowd of men and women with upturned faces on the 
 pavement near the door can hear little of what is passing ; the words 
 take an upward curve of sound, and are heard more distinctly 
 by the spiders and the flies. The loss may not have been great 
 
 * We believe it was to M. Viollet Le Due, whose architectural taste and eneigy are so 
 well known in France, that the completion of these towers is principally due. 
 
104 
 
 QUI M PER. 
 
 if we take the testimony of a writer* in 1877, who says: — "I attended 
 mass one morning at Quimper, and the following is the substance 
 of a sermon preached to a large and attentive congregation mostly 
 of working men and women : ' There are three duties,' said the 
 preacher, ' imposed by the church on the faithful : first, to confess 
 at least once a year ; secondly, to confess in one's own parish ; thirdly, 
 to confess within the fifteen days of Easter.' The omission of the first 
 of these is regarded by the church as a sin of such gravity that 
 
 it is condemned to be punished by 
 the withholding of Christian burial. 
 Not one word, throughout a long 
 discourse to simple, devout, careworn 
 peasant folk, of moral teaching, re- 
 ligious counsel, or brotherly love 1 " 
 
 In some of the chapels there are 
 services during the day, and there is 
 a continual movement of white caps 
 in and out of the confessionals ; and, 
 occasionally during the day, some 
 poor weather-worn man is doing 
 penance, going round and round the 
 cathedral on his knees, making a 
 curious slouching sound on the pave- 
 ment (as grotesque a figure as 
 sketched on page 106). He is dressed in rags, and carries his sabots 
 under his arm during his long journey ; thus, several times round the 
 pavement, dragging his weary limbs and— according to the enormity 
 of his sins— paying his sous as he goes. 
 
 The character of the people of this part of Cornouaille seems less 
 reserved, and there is a gay, genial aspect about them which is 
 refreshing when coming from the north. The bright face and figure 
 of the girl whose portrait Mr. Caldecott has caught exactly is one 
 
 * A Yc-ay in Western France, by M. Bethain-Edwai'ds. 
 
QUIMPER. 
 
 105 
 
 of a flutter of five, who wait at table at the H6tel de I'Epee in the 
 costume of the country, which, by the way, is worn here for the 
 especial benefit of travellers. It is probable that every one of these 
 bright-faced women would discard it to-morrow if they had the 
 
 chance (as their mistress and her children have done) ; but there is still 
 plenty of local costume to be seen in Quimper. We have only to 
 go out into the gardens, to visit the farms, by-roads, and lanes, and we 
 shall come upon some of the most picturesque scenes in our travels. 
 
 In the corner of a field just outside the town, where a lively 
 discussion is going forward between a farm labourer and three girls 
 
- io6 
 
 QUIMPER. 
 
 at a well, there is a picture which for colour alone is worth remem- 
 bering. It is one of those everyday scenes in which costume and 
 the surrounding landscape harmonise delightfully. We give few 
 sketches of architecture because photographs of the best examples 
 may always be obtained, preferring rather to give the life of the 
 
 people. There are more figure subjects in the streets of Quimper 
 than there is time to note. Thus, for instance, as we pass through 
 a poor, dirty suburb at the lower end of the town, a woman comes 
 to the door of a dark dwelling, and gives alms to a professional 
 beggar, so grotesque and terrible in aspect that he hardly seems 
 human ; but the woman standing at the stone doorway wears a 
 
QUIMPER. 
 
 107 
 
 costume that might have been copied from an Elizabethan missal. 
 She gives, as every one gives, to the poor in Brittany, but her 
 husband's small wages at the pottery works hard by leave little 
 margin for charity, and he will want all his spare money at this 
 time of year for the fetes. The f6tes are an occasion for universal 
 feasting and rejoicing, in which the drinking propensities of the 
 holiday makers are only too apparent in the streets, leading in the 
 
 evening, sometimes, to domestic interviews like the one sketched 
 above. 
 
 At the time of the F^te of the Assumption there is a crowd at 
 Quimper from all parts of Finist^re, and there is an amount of 
 festivity which must be bewildering to the quiet inhabitants ; it is 
 then that we may see sometimes in the streets the splendid type 
 of Breton woman sketched at the head of this chapter, and, by 
 contrast, some others much more grotesque. 
 
io8 QUIMPER. 
 
 But perhaps the most interesting group of all, and the most 
 complete and characteristic of Mr. Caldecott's sketches, is the one which 
 forms the frontispiece to this volume — a scene in a cabaret, or wine- 
 shop, where the farmers who have come in to market, whose carts 
 we may see on the cathedral square, meet and discuss the topics ot 
 the day, amongst which, after the state of trade and the crops, 
 the term of Marshal McMahon's government and the results of 
 
 the annual levy . of " les conscrits " are 
 uppermost. Soon after harvest-time, gene- 
 rally early in September, the annual levy 
 of reserves for the army takes place, 
 and Quimper, being the centre of a 
 populous district, is the rallying-point for 
 lower Finistere. 
 
 It is the nearest approach to an open 
 political discussion that we may witness 
 on our travels, and a good opportunity 
 to see the conservative Breton farmer, the 
 " owner of the soil," one who troubles himself little about " politics " 
 in the true sense of the word, and is scarcely a match in argument 
 for the more advanced republican trader and manufacturer of Quimper, 
 but who, from hereditary instinct, if from no other motive, is generally 
 an upholder of legitimist doctrines and a royalist at heart. 
 
 Seated on the carved oak bench on the left is a young Breton 
 clodhopper or farm help, whose ill-luck it has been to be drawn this 
 year ; who leaves his farm with regret — a home where he worked 
 from sunrise to sunset for two francs a week, living on coarse food 
 and lodging in the dark with the pigs. As he sits and listens with 
 perplexed attention to the principal speaker, and others gather round 
 in the common room to hear the oracle, we have a picture which 
 tells its story with singular eloquence, and presents to us the common 
 everyday life of the people of lower Brittany with a truthfulness 
 and vivacity seldom, if ever, exceeded. The only bright colour in 
 the picture is in the red sashes . of the men and in one or two small 
 ornaments worn by the women. 
 
QUIMPER. 
 
 109 
 
 Other scenes should be recorded if only to show, by way of 
 contrast, that Quimper is very like other parts of France. At one 
 of the lyc^es the annual prize-giving is going forward, and there is 
 a fashionable gathering, in which military uniforms are prominent. It 
 is an opportunity for seeing some of the dite of Quimper both on the 
 
 platform and in the crowded hall, and a great chance for a sketch. 
 The boys come up one by one, and stand on a raised platform to be 
 decorated with a paper wreath, to receive a book and a salutation on 
 both cheeks. It is interesting to note that, before joining his applaud- 
 ing friends in the hall, the boy takes off his wreath and throws it 
 away. There is scarcely a Breton costume in the hall. 
 
no 
 
 PONT L'ABBE. 
 
 In Quimper we are in a pleasant valley, surrounded by gardens, 
 orchards, and fields, and sheltered fi'om the wind by clustering woods. 
 
 The sun shines so warmly here 
 
 that it is difficult to realise that 
 
 a few miles to the west and 
 
 south there are stretches of 
 
 broad moorland leading to the 
 
 ■' boldest coast on the west of 
 
 France. It is true that the 
 
 i^fir y ' '^^ people that come in from Pont 
 
 ' I'Abb^ Audierne, and Douar- 
 
 , nenez bear the impress of a 
 
 seafaring life, and are different in style and costume to any that we 
 
 have yet seen. 
 
 It is woith while for every one who stays in Quimper to see 
 something of the coast, and to make a tour of at least two or three 
 days to Pont I'Abb^, Penmarc'h, Pont Ci-oix, the Pointe du Raz, and 
 Douarnenez. In this short journey the traveller will see some of the 
 finest coast scenery in Brittany, and people differing in character 
 and costume from other parts of Finist^re ; a hardy fishing population, 
 tempted to dangers and hardships by the riches to be found in 
 the sea. 
 
 If the scenery which we have passed through on our way to 
 Quimper resembled Wales, the district west of Quimper will remind 
 us of Cornwall. We are, in fact, on the extreme edge of Brittany, 
 col-responding to the Cornwall of England, Cornouaille, the Cornii 
 Galli<z of "the ancients, a dangerous, storm-blown coast, wild, desolate, 
 and picturesque. We may go down the river from Quimper to Pont 
 I'Abb^ or a shorter route by road a distance of twelve miles, the 
 first part over hills and through cultivated lands, in the latter part 
 over wide moorland, covered with gorse and edged with pines. This 
 is a beautiful drive, but, to judge of the quiet, almost mediaeval 
 stillness of Pont I'Abb^, it should be approached by water on a 
 summer's evening, when, after a long and sometimes rather boisterous 
 
PONT L'ABBE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 passage ffom the mouth of the river Odet, the little fishing-boat is 
 rowed up the Pont I'Abbe river under the tower of its ancient castle. 
 On the left, before entering the river, the little port of Loctudy is 
 passed, where there is an ancient Romanesque church, well preserved, 
 said to have been built by the Knights Templars in the twelfth century. 
 Pont I'Abbe with its dull, straight streets and deserted-looking 
 houses, has no striking architectural features ; but the costumes of 
 
 the people are altogether unique in Brittany, and the interiors of their 
 dwellings are as quaint and curious as any painter would desire. The 
 women wear close-fitting caps of red or green, embroidered with gold 
 thread, the hair being turned up at the back and fastened at the top ; 
 they wear skirts of blue or green with a border of yellow, and the 
 men, short blue jackets and sashes. 
 
 In Pont I'Abbe we may see, what is so rare in these days, an old 
 street in which the costume of the people harrnonises with the date 
 
112 
 
 PONT L'ABBE. 
 
 of the buildings, and in which the quiet of a past century seems never 
 to have been disturbed. Walk down a narrow grass-growil street to 
 the open square above the river, at the end of which is the western 
 porch of the fine church of Pont I'Abbd, and the only two figures 
 visible in the afternoon are a girl carrying a basket coming from the 
 Carmelite convent, and a priest in black robes crossing the square. 
 The church and convent were founded in 1383, and there is little here 
 to mark the passage of years. The church has been completed and 
 beautified since those early times, and afterwards wrecked by the 
 
 Revolution ; but the aspect of the square and of the cloisters of the 
 convent are little altered. The interior of the church is remarkable 
 for the grace and lightness of its pillars, and for the richness of its 
 stained glass ; the rose windows are said to rival in beauty those 
 of Rouen. Notwithstanding that the church has but one aisle, that 
 the ceiling is now painted blue, and that the carvings in stone and 
 wood are sadly mutilated, it is an architectural monument of great 
 interest. 
 
 Six miles south-west of Pont I'Abb^, across a dreary, marshy 
 plain, is the poor fishing town of Penmarc'h, built upon the dark 
 
PEN MARCH. 113 
 
 rocks that form a barrier against the sea, on one of the wildest 
 promontories of Cornouaille ; a city whose riches in the fifteenth 
 century wei'e so great that, according to historians, " she could equip her 
 three thousand men-at-arms, and shelter behind her jetties a fleet of 
 eight hundred craft." The original prosperity of Penmarc'h arose from 
 the cod-fisheries, which were the source of immense wealth before the 
 discovery of Newfoundland. The history of its invasion by the English 
 in 1404, and the disasters in the sixteenth century, wheii the town 
 was partly destroyed by an inroad of the sea, and afterwards sacked 
 by Guy Eder Fontenelle at the time of the Wars of the League, is 
 one of the most romantic and terrible in the history of Brittany. It 
 is a place to see if only to mark the traces of this wonderful city, once 
 containing 10,000 inhabitants. A few ruined towers and the foundations 
 of streets mark the site of the ancient city, which is now inhabited 
 by a scattered fishing population numbering in all about 2000, the men 
 braving the elements in their little fishing-boats, the women and children 
 collecting seaweed and tilling the poor soil. There is a mass of rocks 
 separated from the land, called the Torche de Penmarc'h, which all 
 visitors are taken to see, and where the waves break upon the shore 
 with the sound of thunder. 
 
 We have said little of the ruins of the church of St. Guenole and 
 of the parish church of Ste. Nonna at Penmarc'h, with its stained 
 glass and quaint stone carving, or of other relics of the ancient city, 
 because in nearly every town in Cornouaille there is some object of 
 interest to examine. Antiquarian travellers should stay at the H6tel 
 des Voyageurs at Pont I'Abbe, where they will be very comfortably 
 housed, and can explore this district, interesting not only for the 
 historic associations connected with Penmarc'h, but for Druidical 
 remains which the winds of the Atlantic are laying bare every year 
 on this coast. It is a dreary, wind-swept promontory, from which the 
 quiet superstitious inhabitants are only too glad to retreat. No 
 wonder they flock into Quimper, and sun themselves on the Place 
 during the summer days ! 
 
 On the road between Pont I'Abbe and Audierne we obtain fine 
 
 I 
 
1 14 
 
 A UDIERNE. 
 
 views of the open landscape, with solitary figures here and there 
 working in the fields, and occasional glimpses of the sea. It is a 
 windy drive ; the colour is sombre, and the clouds which come up in 
 heavy masses from the sea cast deep shadows over the land. 
 
 If we try to recall the impression of the scene, it is principally 
 of clouds, as in landscapes by Ruysdael or Gericault. The land for 
 miles is without sign of habitation, the highest point of interest is a 
 bank of furze, a stunted tree, or a heap of broken stones, chipped 
 
 perhaps from a fallen menhir; a solitude that seems more hopeless 
 and remote from the tumultuous aspect of the heavens. 
 
 But as we approach the town of Pont Croix, and, turning westward, 
 descend the hills to cross the estuary of Audierne, the view over the 
 bay is more luxuriant. Below us, through the stems of pine trees 
 that line the steep i-oad, cut in granite rocks — as we descend to the 
 right bank of the river Goayen where it widens into an estuaiy — is 
 the little fishing village of Audierne, consisting of two or three straight 
 streets of granite houses, one or two large whai^ves and warehouses, a 
 lighthouse, and nearly a mile of protecting 3ea-wall. The evening is 
 now fine and calm, and the tide is coming in without a ripple, bringing 
 
AUDI ERNE. MS 
 
 a few fishing-boats up to the quay, and attracting the inhabitants 
 on to the Place in front of the principal inn, the H6tel du Commerce, 
 where the portly P^re Batifoulier receives us, and provides us with 
 excellent accommodation. It is a sheltered, sunny spot, surrounded 
 by cultivated hills, where people come from Quimper to bathe in 
 summer ; but if we walk upon the downs behind the town, we shall 
 get glimpses of a coast almost as exposed and dangerous to mariners 
 as at Penmarc'h, where the sardine fishermen are spreading their nets 
 on the grass. 
 
 Audierne is within six miles of the famous Pointe du Raz, the 
 Land's End of Brittany, beyond which, stretching out into the Atlantic, 
 is the lie de .Sein, inhabited by a poor population of fishermen 
 and seaweed gatherers. A glance at the map will show the position 
 of the island, and the "Bee du Raz," the dangerous channel which 
 divides it from the shore, through, which the fishermen of Audierne 
 and Douarnenez, with many prayers and crossings of the breast, 
 pass and re-pass in their frail boats. 
 
 It is a dreary road from Audierne to the Pointe du Raz, passing 
 the villages of Plogoff and Lescoff. At this point the rocks are 
 higher above the sea than at Penmarc'h, and the scene is altogether 
 more extensive and magnificent. We are on an elevation of eighty 
 or ninety feet, and almost surrounded by the sea. To the south and 
 east is the wide bay of Audierne, to the west the lie de Sein, the 
 ancient home of Druidesses, and the horizon line of the Atlantic ; 
 to the north and east the bay of Douarnenez, across which is the 
 jutting headland of La Ch^vre. 
 
 A cloud of sea-birds rises from the rocks below, and floats away 
 like a puff of steam, there is an orange tint in the seaweed piled 
 upon the shore, and a pui'ple tinge upon the distant hills across the 
 bay of Douarnenez ; but the green upon the scanty grass in the 
 foreground is cold in colour, and almost the only flowers are yellow 
 sea-poppies and the little white bells of the convolvulus. On every side 
 are piles of rocks stretching out seaward as barriers against the waves 
 of the Atlantic; a dangerous, desolate shore, on which many a vessel 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 
 
 A UDIERNE. 
 
 has been wrecked. To the north is the Druids' " Baie des Trepasses," 
 where, according to ancient legends, the spirits of the departed wait 
 on the shore to be taken in boats to the lie de Sein, It is a Celtic 
 legend, recounted in every history of Brittany. 
 
 The exposed position of the Pointe du Raz, the strange, fantastic 
 grandeur of the rocks, and the wildness of the waves that beat upon 
 the shore ui almost all weathers, are alone worth a visit. The 
 numerous artists who stay at Quimper, Douarnenez, and Pont-Aven, 
 in the summer months would do well to pitch their tents for a time 
 near the Pointe du Raz, if only to watch from this elevation the 
 
A UDIERNE. 
 
 117 
 
 changing aspects of sea and sky, to see the sea, calm and blue in 
 the distance, but dashing spray in sunshine over walls of rock, and 
 
 seaweed gatherers on a summer evening getting in their harvest, as 
 deep in colour as the corn. 
 
 Leaving Audierne, and turning eastward towards Douarnenez, 
 following the course of the river Goayen, we come in about an 
 
ii8 
 
 DOUARNENEZ. 
 
 hour to Pont Croix, an ancient town of 2500 inhabitants. The 
 church is a fine Romanesque building of the fifteenth century, 
 with a curious porch and some good carving in the interior. It is 
 a quiet, rather deserted-looking town, on an eminence above the 
 river, reminding one in its position and its air of faded importance 
 of the ecclesiastical city of Coutances, in Normandy. 
 
 It is a fine drive over undulating hills to Douarnenez, with views 
 of landscape more fertile than any we have seen since leaying Quimper ; 
 landscape with open moorland, interspersed with fields of corn, where 
 
 . ^^^^^^..^^^''£'^^^^-3^^. 
 
 %imf0m 
 
 harvesting is being actively carried on, as in the sketch. Here we get a 
 glimpse of one of the old farmhouses of Finist^re, and (on a very small 
 scale) of the farmer himself approaching in the distance to superintend 
 operations. 
 
 A few miles farther, and the landscape is again bare and unculti- 
 vated, we see peasants in the fields at rare intervals ; flocks of black 
 and brown sheep feeding on the open land. There is a charm of 
 wildness and a peculiar beauty about the scenery here that we who 
 write for artists should insist upon with all the power of the pen. It 
 is the fashion to stay at Douarnenez and at Pont-Aven, but we have 
 few records of the best scenery in Cornouaille. 
 
> 
 
 
 H 
 W 
 
DOUARNENEZ. 119 
 
 Douamenez, the headquarters of the sardhie-fishenes, has a 
 population of about 9000, almost entirely given up to this industry ; 
 the men in their boats, and the women and girls in the factories. 
 It is a busy, dirty, and not very attractive town, with one principal 
 street leading down to the port; but walk out of it in any direction, 
 so as to escape the odours of the sardine factories, and the views 
 from the high ground are most rewarding. 
 
 Thei'e is no prettier sight, for instance, than to watch the arrival of 
 a fleet of several hundred fishing-boats rounding the last promontory, 
 racing in whilst they are eagerly watched from the shore. At the 
 point where the sketch was taken, the little fleet divides, to come to 
 anchor at different inlets of the bay. Of the scene down at the 
 port, where the boats unload ; of the massing of a forest of masts 
 against the evening sky, with rocks and houses high above as a 
 background, we can only hint in these pages. 
 
 At Douarnenez, in summer, the inhabitants are accustomed to 
 an inroad of visitors who come for the bathing season, and there is 
 a little colony of artists who live comfortably at the principal inns 
 (en pension for five or six francs a day), but it is not as quiet as 
 Pont-Aven, of which we shall speak in the next chapter, for the streets 
 are closely built and badly paved, and the busy inhabitants wear 
 sabots which are rattled down to the shore at all hours of the day 
 and night, according to the tide. Moreover, the inhabitants of the 
 town are scarcely typical Bretons ; they are a little demoralised by 
 success in trade, a little inclined to smuggling, and decidedly fond of 
 drinking. The men, living hard lives, facing the most fearful storms of 
 the Atlantic in their exposed little boats, out sometimes for days without 
 a take, are apt to be uproarious when on shore. The hardy, bright- 
 featured women of Cornouaille, whose faces are becoming so familiar 
 to us ' in these pages, have a rather sad and reckless look at 
 Douarnenez ; their homes are not too tidy as a rule ; the little 
 children play in streets which steam with refuse from the sardine 
 factories, where their elder sisters are working in gangs, with bare 
 feet and skirts tucked up to their knees, sifting, and sorting, and 
 
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DOUARNENEZ. 
 
 121 
 
 cooking sardines, and singing snatches of Breton songs the while. 
 The lower streets, steep and narrow, are blocked with fish-carts, and 
 the port is crowded with boats with nets drying in festoons. But 
 the view of Douarnenez seen at a little distance out at sea, with its 
 high rocks and overhanging trees almost reaching to the water's edge, 
 and above, the spire of the old church of Ploare standing sharp against 
 the sky, will remain best in the 
 memory. There is no end to 
 the beauties of the bay of Dou- 
 arnenez, if we explore the neigh- 
 bourhood, starting ofif early for 
 the day and not returning until 
 sundown. 
 
 In the evening there is a great 
 Bohemian gathering at the H6tel 
 du Commerce ; its artistic visitors 
 overflow into the street, and make 
 themselves heard as well as seen. 
 There is a clatter of tongues and 
 a cloud of smoke issuing from 
 the little cafe presided over by 
 the neat figure in the sketch. 
 Those who have been to the 
 H6tel du Commerce at Douar- 
 nenez will recognise the portrait 
 at once ; those who have not 
 must picture to themselves a girl 
 
 with dark hair and brown complexion, a headdress and bodice in 
 which scarlet and gold are intermingled, a dark skirt with a border 
 of yellow or orange, and a spotless white apron and sleeves. In soft 
 shoes she flits silently through the rooms and supplies our clamorous 
 wants in turn ;. neither remonstrance nor flattery will move her, or 
 cause her to raise her eyes. 
 
 The children of Douarnenez have learned to beg, and along the 
 
122 
 
 DOUARNENEZ. 
 
 broad road which leads to Quimper, beggars are stationed at intervals 
 to waylay the charitable. Driving home in the little covered carriage 
 shown in the sketch, a dark object appears before us on the way. 
 Near it, at the side of the road, is a little shed roughly made with 
 poles and brambles, and, protruding from it, two sabots filled with 
 straw, two sticks, and a pair of bragoiis bras. The rest of the structure 
 consists of dried ferns, and a poor deaf human creature propped up 
 to receive the alms of the charitable, a grim figure watching and 
 waiting in the sun and wind. 
 
CONCARNEA U. 
 
 113 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONCARNEAU — PONT-AVEN — QUIMPERLfi. 
 
 T7OURTEEN miles south-east of Quimper 
 is Concarneau, another important fish- 
 ing station of Cornouaiile. It is well to go 
 thither by I'oad, in oi'der to see the view 
 of Quimper and the valley below, when 
 a few miles out of the town ; a view which 
 few travellers see in these days. The old 
 town of Concarneau, with its fortifications 
 and towers, called "Ville Close," which in its 
 position somewhat resembles St. Malo, is 
 approached by a drawbridge from the main- 
 land, and at high tide is surrounded by 
 water ; it consists of one long irregular street with old houses shut in 
 by dark walls, through the loopholes of which we see the sea. The 
 nominal population of Concarneau is 5000, but in the Faubourg Ste. 
 Croix, where the fleet of fishing-boats come and go at every tide, the 
 population is upwards of 10,000. There is a fine modern aquarium, and 
 there are several interesting monuments in the immediate neighbour- 
 hood, but there is nothing very remarkable in the situation of the 
 town itself, and it is certainly not a place for visitors to stay , in ; 
 the work of life at Concarneau is to catch and cure little fishes, and 
 the odours of the dead and the dying, the cured and the fried, pervade 
 the air. The hedges are made of the cuttings of sardine boxes. 
 
 We happen to see Concarneau at its best on a fine summer's 
 morning, when the wide quay of the Faubourg Ste. Croix, where 
 
124 
 
 CONCARNEAU. 
 
 the sketch is taken, is alive with people, the majority on their way 
 to church across the drawbridge in the Ville Close. The little fleet 
 of fishing-boats is moored in a cluster at the quay ; the nets are 
 drying in the sun en masse, and the cork floats hang from the masts 
 
 in graceful festoons. Everyone is in holiday attire, and seems bent 
 upon going somewhere — to church, for a drive in the country, or for 
 an excursion out to sea. The fishermen and workmen have for the 
 most part disappeared into the wine-shops, whence their hilarity over- 
 
CONCARNEAU. 
 
 I2S 
 
 flows into the streets. The girls employed in the sardine factories 
 have put on their best dresses and neatest shoes, and go in companies 
 of six or eight together to the church. Their smooth white caps and 
 lappets glisten in the clear air which blows lightly from the south- 
 east, and the odours of sardines are for the time forgotten. It is the 
 time and the spot from which to take away an impression of Con- 
 carneau, for its ordinary every-day aspect is not romantic. The 
 
 procession of people coming from church down the old-fashioned 
 street, shut in by^ walls and towers, makes a good picture. The 
 majority wear their proper costume, as sketched on opposite page ; 
 a few only have fallen into temptation, and carry bonnets, trains, 
 and high heels across the Place. 
 
 There is a wide, open space in front of the H6tel des Voyageurs, 
 on the quay Ste. Ci'oix — where, at a window overlooking the quay, 
 the femme de chambre is putting the last touches to her toilet — but 
 behind if are narrow, dirty streets, crowded cafes and estaminets, where 
 
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CONCARNEAU. 
 
 127 
 
 the husbands of these white-capped wprpen have disappeared for the 
 day. The majority of the well-to-do inhabitants are en promenade 
 under the trees, and nearly everyone is bent upon pleasure of some 
 sort. Here is a party just starting for a boating excursion across the 
 bay, singing a Breton air to the time of the rowers, which we can 
 hear on the quay. The sketch gives the exact picture : the heavy 
 
 fishing-boat built for rough weather and stormy seas ; the rowers 
 standing four abreast, the heavy oars plashing in the sunlight, the 
 boat down at the stern with its holiday load ; whilst the gamin of 
 Concarneau sits on the edge of the quay, over the principal drain of 
 the town, with a string to catch little fishes. 
 
 The sketch on the quay when the tide is out, with people 
 waiting for the ferry-boat, gives the aspect looking seaward, on a 
 quiet evening, as we drive away towards PONT-AVEN. 
 
128 
 
 PONT-A VEN. 
 
 To reach Pont-Aven, we ascend and descend some gently sloping 
 hills, in an easterly direction, for about eight miles. On the left hand 
 of the road, near the village of Tregunc, we pass one of the largest 
 rocking stones in Brittany, a block of granite 12 feet long by 9 feet, 
 
 poised upon a second slab half buried in 
 the ground. Little children lie in wait for 
 travellers, and move this stone, which is 
 known far and wide as " La pierre aux 
 maris trompes," a stone by which hus- 
 bands are said to test the fidelity of 
 their wives. All -the heath-covered land 
 on the way to Pont-Aven is strewn with 
 granite boulders ; there is a celebrated 
 dolmen, or " table stone," in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and, near at hand, at Rustephan, 
 are the picturesque remains of a fifteenth- 
 century castle, which may be reached 
 through a wood by leaving the road at 
 the village of Nizon, two miles from Pont- 
 Aven. 
 
 At a point where the river Aven — 
 breaking through its narrow channel, dash- 
 ing under bridges and turning numerous 
 water-wheels — spreads out into a broad 
 estuary, is the little port of Pont-Aven, built four miles from the 
 sea. The majority of the houses are of granite, and sheltered 
 under wooded hills ; the water rushes past flour-mills and under bridges 
 with perpetual noise, and a breeze stirs the poplar trees that line its 
 banks on the calmest day. The widest part of the village is the 
 Place, sketched (looking northwards) from the stone bridge which gives 
 Pont-Aven its name. A small community of farmers, millers, fisher- 
 men and peasant-women, is its native population, supplemented in 
 summer by a considerable foreign element. 
 
 Pont-Aven is a favourite spot for artists, and a terra incognita to 
 
 ^%-, 
 
K 
 
I30 PONT-AVEN. 
 
 the majority of travellers in Brittany. Here the art student, who 
 has spent the winter in the Quartier Latin in Paris, comes when the 
 leaves are green, and settles down for the summer to study undis- 
 turbed. How far he succeeds depends upon himself; his surroundings 
 are delightful, and everything he needs is to be obtained in an easy 
 way that will sound romantic and impossible in 1879. Pont-Aven 
 being set in a valley between two thickly wooded hills, opening out 
 southwards to the sea, the climate is temperate and favourable to 
 out-door work. In the centre of the village is a little triangular 
 Place, and at the broad end, facing the sun, is the principal inn, the 
 H6tel des Voyageurs, which, at the time of writing, has an excellent 
 hostess, who takes pensionnaires for about five francs a day, " tout 
 compris," and where the living is as good and plentiful as can be 
 desired. This popular hostelry is principally supported by American 
 artists, some of whom have lived here all through' the year; but 
 many English and French painters have stayed at Pont-Aven, and 
 have left contributions in the shape of oil paintings on the panels of 
 the salle A maiiger. 
 
 We have mentioned the H6tel des Voyageurs ; but there are 
 other inns; thei'e is the H6tel du Lion d'Or, also on the Place, 
 frequented principally by French artists and travellers ; and down by 
 the bridge, a quaint little auberge (with a signboard painted by one 
 of the inmates), the Pension Gloanec. This is the true Bohemian 
 home at Pont-Aven, where living is even more moderate than at 
 the inns. Here the panels of the rooms are also decorated with 
 works of art, and here, in the evening, and in the morning, seated 
 round a table in the road, dressed in the easy bourgeois fashion ot 
 the country, may be seen artists whose names we need not print, 
 but many of whose works are known over the world. The resources 
 of these establishments are elastic, accommodation being afforded, if 
 necessary, for fifty or sixty pensionnaires, by providing beds a few 
 yards off in the village. The cost of living, board and lodging, at 
 the Pension Gloanec, including two good meals a day with cider, is 
 sixty francs a month ! When we add that the bedrooms are clean 
 
o 
 
 55 
 
 K 2 
 
132 PONT-AVEN. 
 
 and bright, especially those provided in the neighbouring cottages, we 
 have said enough about creature comforts, which are popularly sup- 
 posed to be unknown in Brittany. The materials for work and 
 opportunities for study are similar to those in Wales, with fewer 
 distractions than at Bettwys-y-Coed. 
 
 At Pont-Aven the presiding genius at the H6tel des Voyageurs 
 is one Mademoiselle Julia Guillou. At this little inn, as at the H6tel 
 du Commerce at Douarnenez, the traveller need not be surprised to 
 find that the conversation at table is of the Paris Salon, to find 
 bedrooms and lofts turned into studios, and a pervading smell of oil 
 paint. It is said of Pont-Aven that it is "the only spot in Europe 
 where Americans are content to live all the year round "; but perhaps 
 the kind face and almost motherly care of her pensionnaires by the 
 portly young hostess, Mademoiselle Julia Guillou, has something to 
 do with their content. 
 
 The views in the neighbourhood of Pont-Aven are beautiful, and 
 the cool avenues of beeches and chestnut trees, a distinctive feature 
 of the country, extend for miles. From one of these avenues, on the 
 high ground leading to an ancient chapel, there is a view over the 
 village where we can trace the windings of the river far away towards 
 the sea, and where the white sails of the fishing-boats seem to 
 pass between the trees. The sides of the valleys are grey with 
 rocks, and the fields slope steeply down to the slate roofs of the 
 cottages built by the streams, where women, young and old, beautiful 
 and the reverse, may be seen washing amongst the stones. 
 
 Pont-Aven has one advantage over other places in Brittany; its 
 inhabitants in their picturesque costume (which remains unaltered) 
 have learned that to sit as a model is a pleasant and lucrative 
 profession, and they do this for a small fee without hesitation or 
 " mauvaise honte." This is a point of great importance to the artist, 
 and one which some may be glad to learn through these pages. 
 The peasants, both men and women, are glad to sit for a franc for 
 the greater part of a day ; it is only at harvest time, when field 
 laboui'ers are scarce, that the demand may be greater than the supply. 
 
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PONT-A VEN. 
 
 135 
 
 and recruits have to be found in tlie neighbouring fishing villages. 
 Once or twice a week in the summer, a beauty comes over from 
 Concarneau in a cart, her face radiant in the sunshine, the white 
 lappets of her cap flying in the wind. Add to these opportunities 
 
 for the study of peasant life and costume the variety of scenery, 
 and the brightness and warmth of colour infused into eveiything 
 under a more southern sun than England, and it will be seen that 
 there are advantages here not to be overlooked by the painter. 
 
 The picturesque town of QuiMPERLfi on the rivers Elle and Isole, 
 from which so many English travellers have been scared, in years gone 
 
136 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 by, by Murray's laconic admonition, " No good inn," is a most pleasant 
 and comfortable resting-place. It is approached on a high level 
 when coming by railway from Quimper, the road from the station 
 winding round the hills down to the Place, where there is the com- 
 fortable H6tel des Voyageurs. On arriving at Quimperle, the aspect 
 of the people is more cosmopolitan, for we are approaching the 
 borders of the province of Morbihan, and are on the highway between 
 Nantes and Brest. 
 
 a.-f ^^^/ryytet-^ -%7^ 
 
 The people at the .station are not numerous, and they are nearly 
 all third-class travellers. The quiet, almost taciturn company consists 
 of a tourist, a sergent de ville, a commercial man of Quimperle, the 
 same old woman that we meet everywhere on our travels, in the com- 
 fortable dark hood and cape of the country, and a peasant-woman 
 taking home her sack of meal, sketched on the opposite page. 
 
 Quimperle contains about 6500 inhabitants, principally occupied 
 in agriculture. It is surrounded by hills covered with oixhards 
 and gardens shut in by high walls ; an old and sleepy place, 
 full of memories of the past, and with, apparently, little ambition 
 for the future. There is an ancient abbey church, built in the 
 
QUIMPERLE. 
 
 137 
 
 eleventh century, on the plan of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem ; in 
 the crypt is the tomb of St. Gurloes, one of the early abbots 
 of Quimperle. The large grey-roofed building on the Place adjoining 
 this church, now used as the Mairle, was formerly a convent of 
 
 Benedictine nuns ; and other buildings, such as the old inn, the 
 Lion d'Or, were originally used by the abbots of St. Croix. 
 
 But Quimperle, in spite of its railway, is a town where grass grows 
 between the paving-stones of its streets ; a place which owes much 
 of its attraction to its picturesque site and its ancient buildings, to its 
 market-days, its weddings and fetes. In the lower town there are 
 
138 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 some old narrow streets, with most picturesque wooden gables, and 
 there is one dilapidated square, called " the Place of Revolution," 
 where there would seem little left to destroy. 
 
 A painter might well make Quimperle a centre of operations, for 
 its precincts are little known ; the gardens shine with laden fruit- 
 trees, and the hills are rich in colour until late in autumn ; and in 
 the evening there is no better place for rest than under the trees 
 on the Place Nationale. Here the people pass to and fro, as in 
 
 the sketch on the opposite page ; there are more women than 
 men to be seen^ for the latter are resting from their labours, in the 
 cafes. Beyond, and high above this group, are the houses of the old 
 town, surmounted by the two square Gothic towers, with spires covered 
 with lichen, of the church of St. Michel. Under the trees near the 
 river are women selling sardines and fruit. The position of the bridge 
 over the Elle is indicated by the man leaning over the stone parapet. 
 The man with the cait has just come in with wood for winter fires. 
 
 The great attraction to Quimperl6 is in the country round ; in 
 the beauty of the woods and the windings of the streams. In this 
 
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I40 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 neighbourhood the artist and the angler may settle down together 
 and spend the summer months delightfully. 
 
 We said that Quimperle, a town with a railway station, on the 
 great highway between Nantes and Brest, owes most of its life and 
 picturesque attraction to women, weddings, fetes, and flowers. Let us 
 picture a prominent personage at the old H6tel du Lion d'Or. She 
 had a beautiful name, Augustine, pronounced with enviable accuracy 
 
 
 
 A Big Load. 
 
 by all the household. She hovered about us like a fairy, attend- 
 ing to our wants in the most delicate way ; to outward seeming a 
 mi)iistering angel with pure white wings, but, in truth, a drudge, a 
 methodical housewife, massive, and hard to the touch. She did the 
 work of three Parisian garqons, and walked upstairs unaided with port- 
 manteaus which it would require two men to lift, anywhere out of 
 Brittany. She slept in a box in the kitchen, and dressed " somehow " 
 in five minutes. She ate what was left, contentedly, at the end of 
 the day, and rose at sunrise to do the laborious work of the house ; 
 
QUIMPERLE. 
 
 141 
 
 helping also at harvest-time in the fields. She had the sweetest of 
 smiles (when she liked), an unconquerable habit of taking snuff, and 
 a murderous way of killing fowls in the early morning which we 
 shall not easily forget. 
 
 How it comes to pass that this girl of nineteen occupies such an 
 important position in the household is one of those things which are 
 peculiar to Brittany. The strong indi- 
 viduality, industry, and force of cha- 
 racter of the women make themselves 
 felt wherever we go. Whilst the men 
 slumber and smoke, the women are 
 building little fortunes or propping up 
 old ones. All through the land, in the 
 houses, in the factories, and in the fields, 
 the strong, firm hand and arm of a 
 woman does the iHoi^k. 
 
 The pedestrian or sportsman, in his 
 wanderings through Brittany, will, if he 
 knows the country, seek, at the end 
 of a long day, the country aiiberge 
 where a " household fairy " presides. 
 The land is full of legends and tales 
 of gnomes and witches, but the reality 
 is a white-capped figure, that welcomes 
 the traveller at the inn door, the modern 
 representative of " mine host." Her brightness and attraction, and at 
 the same time her whole armour and coat of mail, are her stiffly 
 starched cap, epaulets, and apron of spotless white. She presides 
 at the fetes and weddings which are celebrated at the inns, and joins 
 in the frolics at the end of the day, dancing with the rest up and 
 down the street, arid submitting with modest but hearty goodwill to 
 some rather demonstrative tokens of esteem. " How is it that these 
 widespread collars are never crumpled .' " some one asks. " Oh, we 
 just turn them round and throw them over the shoulder for a minute ! " 
 is the quick answer. 
 
 Augustine. 
 
142 
 
 QUIMPERLE. 
 
 Let us refer to our notebook to see how one of these weddings is 
 managed in Quimperle in 1878. It is just after harvest, and the time 
 for rest and festivity in many a village round. Coats and gowns that 
 have been laid by for months are brought out, and many an antique- 
 shaped garment sees the light for the first time for a year. Two or 
 three weddings are arranged for the same day, and at eai-ly morning 
 all meet at Quimperl^. The girls come on foot, dressed in their local 
 costumes, excepting a little innovation of finery here and there; the 
 " boys," for they are little, more in age, have modernised themselves, 
 and wear a clumsy imitation of the conventional suit of black, being 
 especially proud of Parisian hats. But excepting in the matter of 
 costume, they do as their forefathers did ; they spend the day in the 
 streets of Quimperle, parading arm-in-arm with their brides, stopping 
 to take, and to give, refreshment at every inn-door and at the homes 
 of all their friends. We meet them early in the morning' crossing the 
 principal square ; they have registered their marriages, and have taken, 
 the sacrament in the church of St. Michel, in the . upper town, and 
 for the rest of the long summer day and half into the night they dance 
 the "De Rober " up and down the streets, hand in hand together, to the 
 music of the bagpipe and the flageolet. 
 
< 
 
 w 
 
 h- 1 
 
 O 
 
 W 
 > 
 fa 
 
 lO 
 
 I— i 
 
IJ ORIENT. 
 
 143 
 
 charm. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Hennebont. 
 
 T7ROM Quimperle to Hennebont by road or 
 railway, we pass Pont Scorff, where is the 
 boundary line which divides the departments of 
 Finist^re and Morbihan. We enter now the dis- 
 trict of Bas-Bretagne, the Arcadia of Brittany, of 
 which so much has been written and sung by 
 French writers, and of which only those who 
 have lingered in its by-ways have d'scovei'ed the 
 It is the part of Brittany most interesting from its historic 
 associations, the land most strewn with dolmens and menhirs, and 
 mysterious Druidical remains. 
 
 Holiday travellers from Quimper to Vannes pass by the large 
 and busy town of L'Orient because it is described, truly, as " an 
 uninteresting modern town with straight streets and quays," and many 
 also pass by HENNEBONT. There is no historic interest in L'Orient, 
 whose 40,000 inhabitants are busy in shipping and trade — the trade, 
 amongst other things, of importing foreign spirits and tobacco, and 
 of planting in every village in Brittany the cheap manufactured cottons 
 and fineiies which stamp out individuality in costume, the last strong- 
 hold of self-respect amongst the peasants, both men and women. In 
 every remote village, on church walls and on medieval towers, is posted 
 in glowing colours the announcement of a Grand Magasin des Modes 
 at L'Orient, and every afternoon there comes by train to Hennebont 
 the Petit Journal to complete the work of civilisation ; a little journal, 
 distributed by hand to all who possess a sou, giving in its daily sheet 
 
144 
 
 HENNEBONT. 
 
 little beyond Parisian gossip, but containing sometimes some strange 
 paragraphs like the following, which would seem of doubtful interest 
 to Bretons : — 
 
 " — On adoucit les mains et on les habitue a des mouvements aristocratiques." 
 
 " — On communique aux jeunes ladies le nom et la profession de leur futur mari." 
 
 ' ' — On enseigne I'elegance et la grUce en douze heures, succfes garanti." 
 
 " — On loue et on echange de petits enfants." 
 
 " — On coupe les oreilles et la queue aux chiens d'aprfe la derniire mode." 
 
 Hennebont is only five miles from L'Orient, and of course some 
 of the inhabitants wear the modern dress, but it is still very primitive- 
 looking, being seldom visited by strangers. Sloping southward towards 
 the river, where ships are loading and unloading at the little port, is the 
 chief street, shown in the sketch opposite. Hennebont is an old historic 
 
HENNEBONT. 
 
 I4S 
 
 town, containing about 5000 inhabitants, and is the natural outlet 
 for the produce of the surrounding country. At the upper end the 
 street widens into a grass-grown /"/aif^, where is the church of Notre 
 Dame de Paradis, with its square tower and lofty recessed portal, the 
 
 work, it is believed, of an English architect in the sixteenth century, a 
 stiaicture not in any way very remarkable. The town is divided 
 into the comparatively modern Ville Neuve, sketched above, the 
 Ville Close, and the Vieille Ville on the right bank of the Blavet. 
 memorable for its sieges in the War of Succession in Brittany, and 
 for the exploits of the Countess of Montfort in defending the city 
 
146 
 
 HENNEBONT. 
 
 in the fourteenth century, of which Froissart gives a spirited account in 
 his Chronicles. 
 
 In the high-street of the town, the . Ville Neuve, are the two 
 principal inns, we can hardly call them hotels, outside one of which 
 a traveller reposes after the midday meal ; and a little below are the 
 
 older hostelries, where there have been numerous arrivals during the 
 day. Opposite, on a low wall, is a shelter of trees, a favourite 
 lounge, whither come in the afternoon the old and the young to talk, 
 to quarrel, and to flirt. 
 
 Sit down on the wall and watch the passers by. First a cart, 
 drawn by diminutive bullocks, heavily laden with field produce, comes 
 

HENNEBONT. 
 
 147 
 
 lumbering down, the driver in broad-brimmed hat and heavy sabots ; 
 next, a clatter of hoofs and a troop of high-bred horses, led or ridden 
 by riders in scarlet coats and white trousers, pass down to the river ; 
 they come from the haras in the neighbourhood, one of the government 
 breeding establishments; this gives a dash of colour and a style to 
 Hennebont quite foreign to its ordinary aspect. Next, with heavy, 
 measured tread, comes a procession, half solemn, half grotesque, of 
 reapers and professional batteurs changing their quarters. Next 
 
 comes out and .stands at the door of the H6tel de France the inn- 
 keeper, dressed, unlike most of his neighbours, in a frock-coat and 
 hat ; a slim man in dandy Parisian attire, almost the only black figure 
 to be seen in Hennebont. 
 
 Women pass busily up and down, carrying heavy loads, some with 
 the white lappets of their caps thrown backward, treading heavily like 
 beasts of burden. Excepting for a short time in the heat of the day, 
 when the men rest and the women knit, there are few unemployed 
 hands in Hennebont. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 HENNEBONT. 
 
 The evening brings more activity, the farmers and their wives pack 
 up and depart in their country carts, shutters open in the dark grey- 
 stone houses on the Place near the church ; the inaire and the avocat 
 take a walk, or a drive with their families ; and women and children 
 emerge on various errands. It is then that out of side streets, and 
 
 doorways in walls "unlocked with heavy keys, issue, one by one, the 
 fairest inhabitants of Morbihan, some especially erect, bearing earthen 
 vessels on their heads, wending their way up the town to a road beyond 
 the church, where, under the cool shade of trees, and partly shut in by 
 walls, is the fountain which supplies Hennebont with water. It is a 
 rendezvous for old and young, men, women, and cattle, a place to see 
 and to sketch, charming in its sheltered aspect after a midday sun ; 
 
HENNEBONT. 
 
 149 
 
 women coming and going with their pitchers ; men helping or bringing 
 cattle to water, and numerous washing parties on their knees. 
 
 f^^^Slt^Mmrtara 
 
 Every way we turn there is a picture of some sort to be sketched ; 
 if we follow the narrow, winding streets of the Ville Close, sheltered 
 
ISO 
 
 HENNEBONT. 
 
 by trees and overshadowed by walls, we come suddenly upon an old 
 time-stained doorway like that below ; and, amongst the people that 
 crowd the poorer quarter, are many quaint and interesting groups. 
 
 Here we may notice again the harmonious combinations of 
 costume and buildings, and how the women, tall and straight, clad 
 jn draperies of soft material, seem to give dignity to the most 
 squalid surroundings. 
 
HENNEBONT. 
 
 151 
 
 They are a pleasant, homely people at Hennebont ; a town worth 
 visiting before simplicity, individuality, and local costtime have passed 
 away. 
 
 But the air is close in this valley, and we are too near the main 
 line of railway ; let us turn northward to see something more of the 
 interior of the province of Morbihan. 
 
IS2 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LE FaOUET — GOURIN — Gui:M£N]t. 
 
 TT is a pleasant change, even from the 
 quiet of Hennebont, to wind slowly up 
 the hills covered thickly with ferns and 
 woods, to disturb the magpies on the roads, 
 and the yellow-hammer and the lizards on 
 the rough stone walls ; to see . the silent 
 peasants knee-deep in the fields, the little 
 black and white cattle tethered to pasture, 
 the black and brown sheep grazing in the 
 open land, and the pigs at the cottage doors. 
 It is a considerable ascent from the town through an undulating land- 
 scape of woods and streams and ferns ; the valleys green in their depths, 
 the trees turning gold and brown where they fringe the hills. 
 
 As we approach Le Faouet, the scene changes gradually to a 
 sterner aspect, the trees are less luxuriant, and the soil is less fruitful. 
 Here and there we pass on the road a busy harvest scene, the people 
 turning round at the sound of approaching wheels to watch the 
 travellers pass. It is the farmer himself that gazes at us, half 
 amused ; the time for hai-vest is short on these rainy hills, and so 
 master and man, and every available help, work early and late to- 
 get in the crops. The sun that shines so brilliantly to-day, and lights 
 up the harvest field with a golden glow, will disappear in a few 
 hours, and the fields may be a wreck from the wind and rain. Every 
 now and then a deep shadow is thrown over the land from the 
 clouds that drift eastward from the sea, but they are high in the 
 
•z 
 
 z 
 w 
 
 Ed 
 
 o 
 
 -J 
 
LE FAOUET. 
 
 iSS 
 
 heavens to-day, and the sky is of an almost Eastern blue. Before us 
 northwards the horizon is of a colder hue, and as we ascend the last 
 long hill to Le Faouet, the cupola on the church tower and the grey 
 roofs of the houses with their backgrounds of firs have by contrast 
 a sombre tinge. 
 
 On the road from Quimperl6 to Le Faouet a stream is crossed 
 that divides the two provinces of Finist^re and Morbihan ; ' it is a 
 stream well stocked with trout ; in fact, in most of these rivers there 
 
 PiTi 
 
 Rill flis.'lli |liii|Ju 
 
 C 
 
 is excellent fishing, and there are no better headquarters for sport 
 than Le Faouet. The town, which is well situated and has fine views 
 of the country, contains not moi'e than 3000 inhabitants, nearly all 
 but the oldest and the poorest being engaged in agriculture. It is a 
 great centre on certain days, when the people collect under the 
 eaves of the market-place shown in the full-page sketch. 
 
 But excepting the visits of a few sportsmen and tourists in 
 summer, Le Faouet is scarcely ever visited by the outer world. 
 The houses are built of stone, old and covered with lichen ; the 
 
IS6 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 covered market-place has heavy wooden eaves, and is protected 
 by ancient elms ; the inhabitants are dressed for the most part in 
 rough and primitive fashion, the men in white cloth jackets, loose 
 
 breeches, and sabots, and 
 the women in dark com- 
 fortable cloth hoods, as in 
 the sketch at the head of 
 this chapter. 
 
 It is a quiet, self-con- 
 . tained, dignified population 
 at Le Faouet, approached 
 at intervals by the com- 
 mercial traveller, and a few 
 cattle- and horse-dealers, 
 but holding otherwise little 
 communication with towns. 
 Here, in this neighbour- 
 hood, we may contemplate 
 the typical Breton, who, 
 braced physically to with- 
 stand the shocks of the 
 tempest, resists with an 
 almost irresistible vis iner- 
 tia the advance of French 
 civilisation ; whom neither 
 the progress of steam nor 
 compulsory education has 
 much disturbed. He has, 
 for trading purposes, acquired some knowledge of French, but he keeps 
 this knowledge to himself, and nevep displays it unnecessarily ; he has 
 thus an advantage over strangers, who may imagine he cannot under- 
 stand a word. 
 
 To come into a quiet village like Le Faouet with no purpose but 
 observation requires a certain amount of courage, and, if it were not 
 
w 
 
 > 
 o 
 
 G 
 
 w 
 
 
.LE FAOUET. 
 
 IS7 
 
 that a little more than a mile north of Le Faouet there is the famous 
 chapel of Ste. Barbe, and southward about two miles, in an old 
 church, there is an elaborately carved rood-screen, we might hesitate to 
 take up our quarters here. Unless a man has business in Le Faouet 
 unless he is an antiquary, a fisherman, or a painter, he would leave 
 it the day he entered. It is not, however, uncommon for the land- 
 lord of the Hdtel du Lion d'Or to have pensionnaires who stay for 
 the summer. 
 
 In spite of the grandeur of its situation, the solidity of its 
 'buildings, and the evident industry of the inhabitants, there is a 
 dreary, ruinous look about the Place of Le Faouet even on a 
 summer's day. What must it be in winter winds .' On the brightest 
 and driest day of the year many of the houses are dark and 
 unhealthy-looking, built close together, with narrow lanes of mud 
 and filth between them. What must they be when the rains begin ? 
 
 We have seen in Le Faouet some of the finest types of Bretons, 
 both men and women. Let us record one figure which will never be 
 
IS8 
 
 LE FAOUET. 
 
 effaced from memory. Passing down a street leading from the 
 principal square, we meet coming up the hill bareheaded, in the full 
 blaze of the sun, in the dust and heat, the strange, wild-looking 
 figure in the sketch ; his clothes are patched, his hair is white, his 
 face red ; with crutches, and one leg, he drags (with the help of a 
 dog and one or two charitable children) his house with him about 
 
 the town. It is a strange conveyance made of sticks and dried 
 ferns, but it is home. Travellers see strange sights, but surely no 
 sight more grotesque was ever seen than " the man on two sticks " 
 of Le Faouet, whose portrait is given to the life. 
 
 Before leaving Le Faouet, a visit should be made to the fifteenth- 
 century church of St. Fiacre, to see the fine rood-screen elaborately 
 carved with figures representing scenes in the life of Christ, panels 
 
STE. BARBE. 1,59 
 
 of elaborate and grotesque workmanship. The work on this screen 
 was partly executed in 1480 and in 1627, and the whole was restored, 
 painted, and gilt in 1866. There is also some fine stained glass, 
 dating from 1552. 
 
 To the chapel of Ste. Barbe is a shaded walk of about a mile 
 and a half — first through narrow lanes and broad avenues, then up a 
 steep ascent where the path is sometimes cut in steps in the rock. It 
 brings us in half an hour to a high plateau fringed with furze and 
 wind-blown pines. The view from the eminence is magnificent : the 
 eye wanders eastward and southward, over a broad valley with a 
 mountain stream, the EUe winding first through beds of rocks, 
 then into pastures, and disappearing in cultivated fields. As we 
 walk to the edge of this mountain-side, where there is only a small 
 hut visible, the panorama increases in extent over the country, and 
 the variety of colour, from the grey of scattered boulders and blue 
 of pines, to the deep green of the meadows and woods, forms a 
 scene of such natural beauty that we almost forget the object of 
 our mission. 
 
 The chapel of Ste. Barbe, approached down a flight of steps, is 
 actually close to our feet ; it is built of granite under the hillside, 
 sheltered from the winds by enormous rocks and trees, and with 9. 
 steep declivity below ; a solid granite structure fitted into the hillside, 
 so to speak, the space not permitting the nave of the chapel to be 
 in the usual position. In the interior — ^which is shown by an old man 
 in tatters who kneels at the altar whilst we walk round — is a galleiy 
 with carved panels, supported by seraphim holding shields, and gro- 
 tesque animals on the mouldings ; there is also some old stained glass. 
 
 There is a tradition attaching to this chapel, that a knight, hunting 
 in the neighbourhood in the fifteenth century, was overtaken by a 
 .storm in the valley below, and, being preserved from falling rocks 
 by the prayers of Ste. Barbe, erected this chapel to her memory. 
 From that day there has been an annual pilgrimage to Ste. Barbe, 
 when some of the devotees creep round the precipitous exterior walls 
 as an act of penance. Before leaving, we pass up the rough stone 
 
i6o 
 
 GOURIN. 
 
 steps in the sketch to even higher ground, where there is a small 
 chapel dedicated to St. Michel. It is fortunate to have seen the 
 view from Ste. Barbe on a clear day, for the clouds, which gather 
 in the distance, as white as snow, through the tree tops, come up in 
 a few hours and shroud the land. 
 
 Ten miles in a north-westerly direction, in some of the finest 
 scenery of the Montagnes Noires, is GoURiN, a small town in the 
 centre of a district of old iron mines, stone and slate quarries. Mr. 
 Caldecott, who visited this district in a previous year, in bad weather, 
 speaks of the "wide, dirty, uninteresting-looking street of Gourin, at 
 the top of which is the H6tel du Cheval Blanc," but he has 
 made a sketch of the women washing at a stream just outside the 
 
GOURIN. 
 
 i6i 
 
 town, which only wants colour to be" one of the most picturesque of 
 our series. ' 
 
 Excepting for fishing, shooting, or perchance to record the forms 
 and colours of the mountains in a sketch, few visitors will find their 
 
 way to Gourin, even in summer ; but the following notes by the artist 
 miy be interesting to travellers : — 
 
 " The dining-room of the inn at Gourin opens on to the public Place, 
 and is frequented by commercial travellers and two or three residents ; 
 one of the latter, being a chasseur, is followed through the glass door 
 by a pack of hounds, the large sporting spaniels' of the country, and at 
 each guest's elbow a dog stations himself to receive gratuities." 
 
 M 
 
1 62 
 
 GOURIN. 
 
 "After resting for the night in a comfortable room, separate from 
 the main premises, I hire a vehicle to take me to Le Faouet, as the 
 morning is wet; a long-bodied cart, drawn by a white horse, with the 
 wheels set forward and a shifting seat, on which is a large pillow. 
 We drive through a hilly, wooded country in a high wind." 
 
 The storm is so severe at Le Faouet that "slates are blown 
 
 "MONTEZ, s'lL VOUS PLAIT, MONSIEUR!" 
 
 from the roofs of the houses, men grasp their hats, women tack 
 hither and thither across the square, and geese take advantage of 
 the breeze and try to fly." On the way to Ste. Barbe, "a tall 
 tree crashes across the path, which is strewn with unripe acorns, 
 chestnuts, apples, fir cones, leaves, and twigs." 
 
 The hurricane that was experienced here swept over the whole of 
 Brittany with great violence, and, according to the Journal de Rennes, 
 "laid low at least a thousand trees." 
 
GUEMENE. 
 
 163 
 
 Up and down again on a good road, a drive of seventeen miles 
 from Le Faouet takes us to Gu£m£n£, meeting a few reapers, and 
 a cart drawn by bullocks in charge of men who have succumbed 
 to thirst and heat. 
 
 We halt halfway at the poor village of Kernascleden, where there 
 is hardly an inhabitant to be seen, but where, abutting on the high- 
 road, is a beautiful Gothic church, rich in carving and grand in pro- 
 portion, a striking contrast to the hovels which immediately surround 
 
 &:>}> 
 
 it. It is a good example of fifteenth-century work, built at the same 
 time as the church of St. Fiacre, and by the same founder. There 
 is a legend, here too curious not to repeat, that angels aided in 
 the building of these two beautiful churches, carrying the tools, which 
 were scarce in those days, backwards and forwards from one church 
 to the other, to aid the workmen. 
 
 At Guemene, a little town on the river Scorff, we are still in the 
 interior of the country. It is in some ways more civilised than 
 Le Faouet, but as far removed from railways, and with as little 
 communication with the outer world. 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 
 
 GU&MENE. 
 
 Let US first give' our experiences of the principal inn, which is on 
 the left, looking up the street in the sketch, where travellers are 
 driven under an archway into a wide stable-yard, and enter the house 
 by the kitchen. The beds are clean and comfortable enough, the fare 
 is homely but plentiful, and there is nothing to scare away the most 
 fastidious. At the midday meal we have trout, caught a little way 
 down the river Scorifif, one or two dishes of meat, an omelette if 
 desired, and, as usual, very good bread, butter, and cider. The 
 
 dinner, or evening meal, is i-ather moi^e elaborate, especially if a 
 fresh traveller has come in. The view, across the table at breakfast 
 time, of the presiding genius of the inn, the bottle of cider, the large 
 wineglass, and the half cut loaf, are all depicted exactly. The 
 vacant chair is soon to be occupied by a commercial traveller, who 
 has been busy all the morning in the town, doing more havoc in the 
 one day that he devotes to Gu^m^n^ than we like to think of. He 
 represents a cheap clothier's house at L'Orient, and has tempted many 
 of the quiet inhabitants to change their simple stuffs and white caps 
 for the more fashionable dresses and hats of the town. It should be 
 
GUMMENE. 
 
 165 
 
 jreir.embfergd, however, that it is to this 'very commis voyag'eury whom 
 we travellers are apt 1;0 treat with scant courtesy and whose ;pro> 
 ceedings we often fegard with a.nything but pleasure, that we';owe 
 the comforts of these inns, and the possibility of travel in remote 
 places. The commercial traveller, comirig from Vannes or L'Oden 
 
 is the pioneer in such towns as Guemene ; he teaches the Breton 
 innkeeper the mysteries of civilised life, and the art of living 
 differently from the lower animals. It is a heavy penalty to pay, 
 from the artistic point of view, that he should bring his patterns and 
 his sham jewellery, and leave so much of it behind in Gu6m6ne. 
 But our little waiting-maid is not yet converted to the policy of 
 adopting modern ways. Her spotless white cap and sleeves, neat 
 
i66 
 
 GUEMENE. 
 
 dress, and rows of pendent coins, are of a pattern as old and character- 
 istic as the gables of the houses of Gu^m^n6. 
 
 So bright and charming is our little maid this morning that it is 
 difficult to believe that she came out of a carved wooden bedstead 
 let into the wall of the kitchen (a bed of two stories, holding four !), 
 that she does most of the work of the hotel, and helps in the stable. 
 It is enough for us to record that travellers are well cared for ; that 
 
 Englishmen come here for the fishing, and sometimes stay for weeks, 
 living at the rate of four or five francs a day, including everything. 
 
 The streets of Gu^mend are full of people on Sunday morning-^men 
 in short jackets, wide trousers, and black, broad-brimmed hats, old 
 women in the comfortable coiffe sketched above, girls with white caps and 
 stomachers, short dresses, and neat shoes, all coming into the church and 
 afterwards meeting in the street. These are principally country people ; 
 but the inhabitant of Guem^ne, the small propri^taire or employd, who 
 lives in the town, often wears a semi-nautical attire, as sketched overleaf. 
 
GUEMENE. 
 
 167 
 
 Five old women sit together in the road, their chairs drawn 
 together for company, and to make an inclosure for two or three 
 little tottering inhabitants of Gu^m^n6, who at the age of three are 
 dressed in the costume of their ancestors. Here the harmony of 
 costume and architecture, both in form and colour, strikes the eye at 
 once, and we want nothing to complete the picture. There is 
 nothing, it seems, to add, nothing to leave out ; let us stay for a month 
 
 (we are inclined to say) and sketch in the high-street of Guemene 
 such figures as are standing talking together at an old-fashioned 
 doorway, opposite to our inn. But the scene soon changes, and out 
 of one of the old houses, dark in the interior, with a floor below the 
 level of the street, comes a lady with a nurse and child ; she has a 
 light dress with a train, a hat with scarlet feathers, and a parasol. 
 She is going for a promenade, and, as she passes down the street, is 
 greeted by the old women thus : " See they carry their tails in their 
 hands, these fine demoiselles ! " 
 
1^8 
 
 GUEMENL 
 
 The Caf^ dii Nord is a favourite house of call, and'thitheir'ithe 
 men resort to play at cards or billiards, whilst, the women bring out 
 their chairs and sit under the eaves, knitting, gossiping, arid watching! 
 the passers-by. , ' " 
 
 There is no traffic in the streets, and no fear of being disturbed. 
 A newspaper may arrive in the evening to inform the inhabitants of 
 the last market prices, or that a workman has fallen out of a window 
 
guemjen£: 
 
 169 
 
 in Paris. A very few items of local intelligence sufiSce for Guemene, 
 which is too much occupied with its own interests to care for what 
 
I70 GUEMENE. 
 
 the rest of the world calls news. The sun and moon rise and set 
 for Gu^m^ne alone ; it is the " boss " of their wheel of life. 
 
 We have seen only the high-street of Gu^mene, but the town 
 should be viewed from above, with its grey roofs, its church tower, 
 and the ruins of a castle eight hundred years old, in the midst 
 of beautiful hills, bright with gorse, and grey with granite boulders ; 
 and a view reaching far away over a wooded valley with the river 
 Scorff winding towards the sea. 
 
 On one evening there is a great gathering at the old cafe with 
 high-pitched roof, at the division of the two streets at the top of the 
 sketch on page 165. The daughter of the popular hostess has been 
 betrothed at the presbytery, and in a month she is to be married. 
 She has her dot, or portion, of a few hundred francs, and her 
 husband that is to be, his little farm ; they have met to celebrate 
 the occasion, and their immediate friends make merry until far into 
 the night. They all sit together round a rough table in the little 
 room, the lamps lighting the girls' faces, the men in blouses or 
 white jackets, with bright buttons ; a background of timbered ceiling, 
 smoke, laughter, songs, and jollity, continued long after the lights 
 go out in the street and the moon rises over the valley. All will go 
 well with them if the bottle which first drew them together does not 
 scatter their happiness too soon. 
 
 /i-C 
 
STE. ANNE D'AURAY. 
 
 171 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ste. Anne d'Auray — Carnac — Locmariaker. 
 
 r\^ the 24th of July we take up our 
 quarters at the comfortable HStel 
 Pavilion d'en Haut, at Auray. To-morrow 
 is the great day of the Pardon of Ste. Anne, 
 the occasion of the annual pilgrimage to 
 the miraculous well, whither from far and 
 near, on foot and on horseback, in carts 
 and other strange road conveyances, and 
 by excursion trains, come pilgrims to the 
 shrine of Ste. Anne. Like the great 
 annual gatherings at Guingamp and at 
 Ste. Anne la Palue, of which we have 
 spoken, the Pardon of Ste. Anne attracts 
 a strange medley of people, and thus it 
 is that the ordinarily quiet little town of Auray, situated four miles 
 from the shrine, is crowded to overflowing. 
 
 The town of Auray, which contains about 50CX) inhabitants, is finely 
 situated above the river which bears its name. It was formerly a 
 port of commercial importance, but its trade has drifted to Vannes 
 and L'Orient, and it is best known to travellers as a starting-point 
 for visiting the fields of Carnac and Locmariaker ; also as a pleasant 
 and. healthy place of residence, where fishing and shooting can be 
 obtained. There are no objects of great antiquity to be seen at 
 Auray itself, its historic castle has disappeared, but there is much 
 to interest the traveller in the old streets with timbered houses, 
 leading down to the river. 
 
172 
 
 STE. ANN.E D'A URA V. 
 
 On a wide Place a few yards off, called the Belv6d6re, is a column 
 to ascend to see the view, looking northward and eastward, in the 
 direction of Vannes, over a wide stretch of cultivated land, pastures, 
 and woods, dotted with white houses and church spires, one of which 
 is Ste. Anne d'Auray. Immediately beneath is a rocky, precipitous 
 path down to the river, with small vessels loading and unloading, and 
 
 ^^-^^^"102^^;^ 
 
 the grey roofs of toy-like houses and warehouses on the quay. A 
 sudden cloud of smoke, which curls through the gorse and bushes 
 which conceal the greater part of the river from view, comes from 
 a little steamer which has arrived from Belle-lie with the evening 
 tide, and has brought another crowd of pilgrims for Ste. Anne. All 
 is quiet and beautiful from this vantage-ground ; the air is soft, and 
 slowly waves the tree-tops in the avenue which skirts the Belv6d6re 
 on its southern side; there is nothing to indicate the tumult of to- 
 morrow. 
 
STE. ANNE D 'A URA V. 
 
 173 
 
 The morning of the 25th of July is bright, and the giltstatue of 
 Ste. Anne gUtters above the trees. If at this moment we could look 
 down from the spire of its church, upon the country round, we should 
 see on -every road, and across the open land, little dark specks which 
 are ^ pilgrims all tending one way — to the shrine. They have been 
 coming all through the night, camping in the fields and sleeping at 
 the roadside. The broad Roman road from Vannes is covered with 
 carts and carriages, and more people are arriving by the river. 
 
 Evening on the Belvedere, Auray. 
 
 The crowd that has assembled in the open square near the church 
 of Ste. Anne at six in the morning numbers several thousands, 
 and increases every hour. They are pilgrims of every grade, 
 from the marquis and his family, who have driven from Vannes 
 the evening before, and stay comfortably at the large hotel, to the 
 solitary herdsman in goatskin coat and wooden shoes stuffed with 
 .straw, who has walked for two days and nights from his home in 
 the Montagues Noires. But they have come on the same errand, and 
 will stand side by side before an altar in one of the side chapels, and 
 
174 
 
 STE. ANNE D'AURAY. 
 
 burn their candles together. They both believe, or are taught to 
 believe, in a legend that some time in the seventeenth century a saint 
 appeared to one Nicolazic, who rented a farm near this spot, and 
 commanded him to dig in a field for her image, and to erect a chapel 
 to her memory. They both have heard of the miraculous cures at 
 the well of Ste. Anne, and believe that no household can prosper, no 
 ships are safe at sea, no cattle or crops can thrive, unless once a year, 
 
 at least, they come to burn' 
 candles to Ste. Anne ; and 
 they both have wife, mother, 
 or sister christened Anne, 
 the name in fact of nearly 
 every child we see to-day. 
 
 The miraculous well of 
 Ste. Anne is in a large in- 
 closure at the western end 
 of which is the Scala Santa, 
 a small, raised chapel, open 
 to the air and covered by 
 a cupola ; a modern wooden 
 erection about twenty feet 
 from the ground, approached 
 on either side by a covered 
 flight of steps. It is from 
 this platform that the open- 
 ing ceremony of the Pardon 
 takes place in the afternoon 
 of the 2Sth of July, when after a procession round the town with a brass 
 band and banners, the bishop of Vannes, or other dignitary, addresses 
 the people in the open square. The procession is a long one, gay 
 with the green-and-gold-embroidered vestments of the priests, and 
 bright with the white robes of the acolytes with their crimson sashes ; 
 a quickly moving procession of bareheaded men singing the litany of 
 Ste. Anne, with banners (representing different departments and com- 
 
STE. ANNE D'AURAY. 
 
 17s 
 
 mimes) waving above them, and silver crosses and relics carried high 
 in the air. The crowd presses forward to see, and forms a narrow 
 lane to let them pass to the Scala Santa, where the head of the 
 procession comes to a standstill, and as many of the priests and 
 attendants as can crowd on to the steps stand as a sort of bodyguard, 
 whilst the bishop addresses the multitude assembled in the square 
 beneath. 
 
 Then the outsiders of the crowd get up and watch the pro- 
 
 
 ceedings (including a cook in white cap and apron, who sits upon 
 the hotel wall), some eagerly from curiosity apparently, some with 
 devotion, and some, it must be confessed, with an easy, jaunty air 
 more appropiiate to a show in a country fair. There are several 
 hundreds on the grass before us in the bright sun, in the glare of 
 which the sketch was taken, sitting together in parties, kneeling in 
 prayer, or standing close together intent upon the scene. 
 
 What those upturned faces were, and what the good bishop saw 
 beneath him in the crowd, as he rolled forth a discourse full of 
 
176 STE. ANNE D'AURAY. 
 
 earnestness and eloquence, the pencil has recorded in the sketch. 
 It gives, as 110 words could describe, the mingled expression of" 
 feeling on the faces of the pilgrims, and tells more eloquently than 
 any argument that the influence of the Church is on the wane in 
 Brittany. The words spoken are the old story : first the history of 
 " the miracle of Ste. Anne," then an exhortation as to the importance 
 of confession and of works of charity and masses for the dead. The 
 costume of the people that listen is nearly;the same as in 1623, 
 when Ste. Anne appeared in a wheat-field to a peasant ; and yet — 
 and in spite of all accounts of the earnest devotion of the people — 
 if we look at the aspect of the crowd, we seem to understand the 
 matter better than we ever did before. 
 
 They stand bareheaded in the sunshine, old and young, rich and 
 poor; on the left, the pretty bourgeois' daughter, from Auray, in plain 
 cloth dress, with velvet body, dark green shawl, and neatest of 
 shoes ; behind her, in the background, a contingent from more remote 
 districts, farmers and small traders, the majority being comfortable 
 people who have come by train. The spare old woman with eccentric 
 expression and worn hands, holding purchases, or plunder, in her 
 apron, is not a pauper, but a hanger-on at a large household, who 
 has saved money. Next, nearer to us, is a peasant farmer, with 
 long grey hair, in white jacket and breeches and leathern girdle, 
 who has come on foot from his home in the interior. He has 
 walked all through the night to be pi'esent at the Pardon, as he has 
 done every year, going through the round of services and exercises, 
 contributing several francs in money to the church, buying a few 
 charms and trinkets, and then plodding home. Behind him, with 
 stick and umbrella under arm, holding beads in her hand, with fat 
 red face, a white hood and apron, is a comfortable farmer's wife from 
 Baud ; on her right an old woman in dark green coiffe, framing a screwed- 
 ujp face, a study of colour in bronze and green. Behind them is a 
 tall, bareheaded man with his daughter, two of the best types of 
 Bretons in the crowd. On the right in the sketch is a pretty figure 
 with a cross on her breast, with shining face, in the white cap and 
 
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STE. ANNE D'AURA Y. 
 
 177 
 
 wide collar so common in Finist^re; and, next, three peasants, old 
 and wrinkled, bronzed with sun and grime, the common type at 
 Pardons. Thus — leaving out some of the more hideous aspects of 
 deformity and disease— this sketch gives an exact picture of the crowd, 
 and a true idea of the strange mixture of curiosity, amusement, and 
 religious awe with which the celebration of Ste. Anne is received in 
 the present day. 
 
 Let us add a few notes 
 of the scene on Sunday, the 
 second day of the Pardon, 
 when the crowd is greatest, 
 and when there must be col- 
 lected at least 10,000 people ; 
 when, besides the peasants 
 and country people, visitors 
 from Paris and other parts 
 of France have filled to over- 
 flowing the large modern 
 hotel, the courtyard of which 
 is full of carriages and con- 
 veyances of all kinds. In the 
 streets and round the open 
 square there are booths for 
 the sale of trinkets and toys, 
 rosaries, tapers, statuettes, and 
 medals of Ste. Anne, besides 
 the more common objects for 
 
 sale at a country fair. In the roadway women cook fish and cakes 
 (^gaieties) at charcoal fires ; there are itinerant vendors of gigantic 
 wax candles, there are peep-shows and other amusements, skittles 
 and games like quoits, played with leaden counters of the size of a five- 
 franc piece. There is every kind of amusement in honour of Ste. Anne, 
 and the family meetings and gatherings, that take place round the cafes 
 and in the open fields, suggest a picnic more than a pilgrimage. 
 
 N 
 
 tr^ <%- 
 
178 STE. ANNE D'A URA Y. 
 
 But it is in the street leading to the church door, and in the 
 adjoining cloisters of a convent, that the more serious aspects of the 
 Pardon are to be witnessed, some of which it would be impossible to 
 record in a sketch. 
 
 From four o'clock in the morning masses have been said, and 
 in and out of the church there has been a continual stream of 
 people, all in holiday attire, and nearly all wearing strings of beads, 
 crosses, or silver ornaments bearing the image of Ste. Anne. They ' 
 form in groups on the grass in the centre of the cloistered square, 
 close together, some kneeling, some standing erect, with eyes strained 
 upwards at a cracked and weather-worn statue of the Christ ; they tell 
 their beads, and drop sous into a box at the foot of the cross, the 
 poorest contributing something. 
 
 They pass round the cloisters in a continual stream, missing 
 nothing set down for them, but stopping and kneeling at each 
 " station " with expressions of devotion and awe at some grotesque 
 paintings on the walls representing the Passion. They stop and 
 pray, some on one knee only with beads in hand, some kneeling 
 low on the pavement, sitting on the heels of their sabots for rest. 
 They have come a long and weary march, they are at the end of 
 their pilgrimage, and so it happens that sitting and praying they 
 fall asleep. A heavy thwack from a neighbour's umbrella falls upon 
 the shoulders of the sleepers, and again they go the round. 
 
 By midday the crowd has increased so that movement in the 
 road is difficult. Coming slowly up the narrow street — blocked by 
 carriages, by vendors of " objets .de devotion," and by' the crowd 
 that passes up and down — is an, apparently very poor, old man with 
 long dark hair, a white sheepskin jacket and bragous bras, a leather 
 girdle and sabots, holding in his hand a hollow candle three feet 
 high ; it has cost him six sous, and he will place it presently at 
 the altar in the church with the rest. Following him is a farmer 
 and his wife, well-to-do people, who have come by train, and com- 
 bine a little marketing with their religious obsei-vances. Following 
 them are two young married people with their child, all dressed in 
 
STE. ANNE D'A URA Y. 179 
 
 the latest costumes of Paris, the father manfully taking off his light- 
 kid gloves, and carrying his candle to the church with the rest. 
 
 The scene in the church, where services have been held at intervals 
 all day, and the people crowd to burn candles at the side altars, is 
 of people handing up babies, beads, and trinkets to be blessed ; of the 
 flaring of candles, of the movements of tired priests, and the perpetual 
 murmur of prayers. 
 
 We have spoken often of the simple, practical, and graceful dress 
 of the women ; but here at Auray we must confess that many of the 
 country people in full holiday attire ■ are . anything but graceful in 
 appearance. At a side altar of the chapel there is a young face, 
 very fair, with large devotional eyes, deepened in colour and intensity 
 by her white cap ; but below it is, a stiff, shapeless bodice as hard 
 as wood, and a bundle of lower garments piled one upon the other, 
 till the figure is a rather ungainly sight ; her large capable hands 
 hold her book, her rosary, and a stout umbrella ; she is encumbered 
 with clothing, but she differs from her modernised sisters in one 
 thing : her dress is not on her mind when she says her prayers. She 
 is on her knees nearly all day at Auray ; but, working or praying, 
 half her young life has been spent in this position. In spite of the 
 grotesque element, which is everywhere at Pardons, the sight is often 
 a sad one ; sad, especially, to see so many young faces clouded by 
 superstitious awe. The saying would seem to apply to Brittany, that 
 " national piety springs from a fountain of tears." 
 
 We have purposely said little of the repulsive side of the spectacle ; 
 of the terrible-looking men and women who have come out of their 
 hiding-places to kneel at the shrine and to beg from strangers.; who 
 wander about like savages, and are propitiated with beads. Figures 
 strange, weird, and grotesque, the like of which we shall see nowhere 
 else in the world, pass round the cloisters of St. Anne d'Auray for two 
 days in the year. 
 
 There is one half witted man from the sea-coast, evidently soon 
 "going home" ; as he drags himself along, the shadows seem to deepen, 
 and the light from human eyes to burn more fiercely in their tenement. 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o CARNAC. 
 
 Fed with seaweed, thatched with straw, exposed to the wildest winds 
 of the Atlantic, his home little better than a hole in the rocks, what 
 wonder that he comes across the hills once a year to the Pardon of 
 
 Ste. Anne for a blessing ; that he prays for 
 a land beyond the sea, visioned in his mind 
 by innumerable candles, and paid for in 
 advance through weary years in his Passage 
 to the Cross ! 
 
 Many of the pilgrims go through other 
 
 ■^(^ religious observances before leaving Auray, 
 
 including washing in the well, going step by 
 
 step up the Scala Santa on their hands and knees ; and all — the poorest 
 
 and most pitiable-j— leave something in the coffers of Ste. Anne. 
 
 And so the long day passes, and at last the tide recedes. What if 
 a strong north wind and the running river Auray could bear them 
 away seaward to be seen no more ? What if all the wretchedness, 
 dirt, and disease, collected, as if by a miracle, at Ste. Anne for two 
 days, could, by another miracle as great, be swept away for ever ! 
 
 Carnac. 
 
 Turning southward and westward from Auray, a drive of eight 
 or nine miles across a dreary-looking district, with patches of pasture 
 interspersed with gorse and ferns, and here and there a peasant leading 
 a cow, driving a cart, or digging in the poor soil — on reaching a rising 
 ground, we see before us a wide stretch of open land, grey and 
 monotonous in colour, and beyond, in the far distance, the horizon 
 line of sea. Leaving the carriage-road, about a mile before reaching 
 the village of Carnac, and turning off to the left, we come rather 
 suddenly, as it seems, upon a stubble field strewn with large grey 
 rocks or stones, some of them six or eight feet high, standing on end, 
 upright, or leaning against each other, but the majority lying pile^mele 
 on the ground, some half buried in the earth, or hidden by gorse or 
 long grass. They are for the most part smooth and time-worn blocks 
 
CARNAC. J Si 
 
 of, apparently unhewn, granite, of all shapes and sizes, some covered 
 with moss and lichen. 
 
 Is this, then, the famous field of Carnac, with its "avenues of 
 menhirs," the object of so many pilgrimages, the origin of so many 
 theories, the birthplace of so many legends ? The first impression, we 
 need hardly say, is disappointing, and fills the traveller with that 
 feeling of blank dismay which comes upon him on the first sight of 
 the " Court of Lions " at the Alhambra in Spain. But in a little while, 
 looking westward, and tracing a certain order and method in the 
 position of "the Stories," he begins to realise that by no ordinary 
 forces of nature, but by some unknown hands in past ages, these 
 pillars must have been raised. But how raised, and by whom 
 brought and strewn on this desolate shore ? That they were monu- 
 ments of the dead, or that they mark the spot where burials took 
 place, forming a consecrated ground for the ancient inhabitants of 
 Armorica, is the commonly received opinion. We are told also that 
 these irregular rows of unhewn stone are relics of serpent worship, 
 that they repi-esent serpents' teeth and the waving lines of its body ; 
 also that they mark the places of sacrifice of the Druids ; bones and 
 ancient remains of human beings having been found to support this 
 theory. 
 
 The "menhir," or "long stone of the sun," will suggest the 
 form of monument used in all ages in religious worship, and the 
 " dolmen," or table stone (which we see in the neighbourhood of 
 Locmariaker), consisting of a chamber formed by placing one large 
 flat stone horizontally on two or more upright blocks, points to the 
 theory of a place of sacrifice in Druidical times, or at any rate to 
 a place of burial.* All else seems vague and mysterious, leading men 
 of succeeding ages to surround the scene with legends and traditions. 
 It has been said that "the ancient temples of aboriginal races 
 are generally to be found where nature wears her saddest and most 
 funereal aspect," and certainly Carnac is no exception to the rule. 
 
 * The forms of the menhir and the dolmen are indicated on the title-page. 
 
i83 
 
 CARNAC. 
 
 It is a summer's day, and the light south wifid that comes over 
 the sea, and gently sways the trees inland, here blows up the sand 
 into our faces, and moans between the stones. It is such a wild and 
 dreary place — where, excepting for a farm and an oasis of a few trees, 
 there is no welcome colour presented to the eye — that the mind leans 
 naturally to the mysterious side, and clings rather to legend and 
 tradition than to historic facts ; thus we may see in this confused 
 array an army of pagan warriors turned into stone, and cling, like 
 the present inhabitants of Carnac, to the story of the patron saint .of 
 their herds and flocks (St. Comely), who, pursued to the sea by a host 
 of armed men, and finding no means of escape, cursed his pursuers and 
 turned them into stone. 
 
 If, by the aid of the map below, we look down upon the fields of 
 
 Carnac, we shall discern a certain 
 order and method in tKe arrange- 
 ment of the stones, and carry 
 away a more definite impression. 
 Thus we see the menhirs (or peul- 
 vens, " pillars of stone," as they 
 would be more accurately de- 
 scribed) arranged in three avenues 
 extending from east to west, com- 
 mencing irregularly at Kerlescant, 
 continuing in a second group called Kermario, and ending abruptly 
 near Carnac. These avenues form the principal groups, but there are 
 two others, one at Erdeven and one at Ste. Barbe, in a north-westerly 
 direction, besides separate menhirs or peulvens, scattered about for 
 miles, half buried in the soil or standing in the long grass. It 
 is estimated by old chroniclers that on these fields there once were 
 12,000 or 15,000 Celtic monuments; at the present time there are 
 not 1000 to be found upon the fields of Carnac, so many having 
 been destroyed or taken away for building or other purposes. 
 
 The most prominent object on the field of Carnac is a mound of 
 stones, once a burial-place, on which there is a chapel and a calvary 
 
 Scale, li mile. 
 
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1 84 CARNAC. 
 
 dedicated to St. Michel. Every traveller ascends this mound to 
 obtain a view, on the one side, of the plains of Carnac, and, on the 
 other, of the peninsula of Quiberon and of the distant islands of Belle- 
 Ile, Houath, and Hoedic. From the mound we can also see the 
 spot where the ruins of Roman houses and baths have been found. 
 On the right, as we look seaward, is the little village of Carnac close 
 at hand, with its grey spire and cluster of houses, and here and there 
 in the distance are trees, farms, and patches of cultivation. But all 
 looks dreary and wind-blown, even in summer-time and the inhabitants 
 that stop in their work in the fields to stare, or pursue the tourist 
 through the day, have a wild and weary look that is infinitely sad. 
 
 In the church of Carnac are some curious relics, and frescoes 
 descriptive of events in the life of St. Comply, and in a house 
 opposite is a collection of ancient ornaments, weapons, bone 
 implements, and the like, which have been unearthed from time to 
 time, and are now exhibited for a small fee. Visitors to Carnac 
 should make enquiry for the site of recent excavations made by 
 Mr. Miln, a Scotch gentleman who has devoted some years to 
 archaeological labours in the neighbourhood. 
 
 Descending to the village of Carnac, the traveller finds a comfortable 
 resting-place at the H6tel des Voyageurs, and a pleasant contrast to 
 the prevailing sadness of the outer world. In this old-fashioned inn 
 a sumptuous breakfast is prepared in summer for visitors ; and here 
 assemble, at midday, the more prosperous part of the community, 
 including priests of antiquarian taste, small farmers, traders in fish, 
 travelling merchants, carriage drivers, and others. The kitchen should 
 be seen by all visitors, with its old fireplace and furniture, ancient 
 clock, and comfortable beds ; the pleasant faces and homely welcome 
 of the people giving colour and character to the picture. For a few 
 weeks in summer-time, and at the time of the Pardon of Ste. Anne 
 d'Auray, this little inn is a centre of attraction ; it is close to the 
 church, where, round its walls in grave procession, peasants still bring 
 their cattle to be cured — kneeling and praying, in the road, for 
 miraculous aid. 
 
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1 86 
 
 PLOUHARNEL. 
 
 Turning to the north-west, about two miles on the road to Erdeven, 
 is Plouharnel, a village somewhat poor in its surroundings, but giving 
 comfortable accommodation to travellers who come to see the dolmen 
 of Corcorro, one of the largest in Brittany. It consists of three 
 chambers, or "allees couvertes," which were opened in 1830 and found 
 
 to contain fragments of earthen vessels, 
 and an urn containing ashes, gold neck- 
 laces, &c. The enormous slabs which 
 rest upon and project beyond the up- 
 right stones, measured originally, it is 
 supposed, about forty-five feet ; the 
 dolmen now measures twenty-four feet 
 by twelve ; it was formerly under- 
 ground, but now stands in the open 
 moorland. 
 
 The landlord of the inn at Plouhar- 
 nel formed a collection of relics in 1849, 
 including celts of jade and bronze, 
 taken from this and other dolmens in 
 the neighbourhood. It should be noted 
 that these relics belong to a much later 
 period than others found near Locma- 
 riaker, some of which are to be seen at 
 the Museum of Antiquities at Vannes. 
 
 The second principal excursion from Auray is to Locmariaker 
 and the island of Gavr Innis. Locmariaker, or " the place of the Virgin 
 Maiy," is situated nine miles in a southerly direction from Auray, 
 and the island of Gdvr Innis (Goat Island) is one of a cluster of little 
 islands two miles east of Locmariaker. At the exti-emity of the 
 peninsula are two large mounds or tumuli, where various implements 
 and relics have been found, pointing to the time of the Roman 
 occupation of Gaul ; and side by side with these, remains of dolmens 
 and menhirs of a much earlier date. 
 
LOCMARIAKER. 
 
 187 
 
 The Montagne de la F6e, a tumulus of stones about ' thirty feet 
 high, was excavated in 1863, and in the vaulted chamber or grotto 
 were found necklaces, beads, and other ornaments which may be seeii in 
 the niuseum at Vannes. There is a guide who shows the interior to 
 visitors, and points to the hatchet-shaped inscriptions on the stones. 
 In the Man6 Lud, the second great tumulus opened in 1863, was 
 found a large chamber, supposed to have been a sepulchre, containing 
 the skeletons of horses' heads, as well as other bones. 
 
 After visiting the tumuli, we cross the fields a little way from 
 
 Locmariaker, following upon the track of three priests, to see the 
 great fallen menhir, called " Men-er-Grodeh," or " Stone of the Fairies." 
 It is as wild and wind-blown here as at Carnac ; in every direction, 
 excepting due north, is the sea, and beyond the sea is a strong 
 south-west wind. The sun that shines upon the islands, and light 
 up the colours of the lichen on the rocks out at sea, scarce illumines 
 the foreground ; there is no relief upon the low land but mounds 
 of earth covered with long grass and furze, and here and there, half 
 buried in the ground, grey rocks, strewn about as if by some con- 
 vulsion of nature. There is no trace of man's handling, as far as we 
 can see; nothing to suggest a monument, and nothing, by contrast. 
 
1 88 LOCMARIAKER. 
 
 to give an idea of size. But all at once, as we descend a little behind 
 some clumps of heather, there loom up before us against the sea and 
 sky the dark rounded sides of two enormous stones, half buried in 
 the ground, but raised once as history and tradition tell us, in the 
 form of an obelisk seventy feet high and sixteen feet in diameter! 
 All is silent but the wind coming through distant pines, scattering the 
 gorse blossoqi on the ground, and bending the long grass. There are 
 rooks floating in the air, and presently there is a flapping of black 
 garments as three pilgrims appear upon the more distant portion of 
 the menhir, clambering down its side. It is an undignified contrast, 
 but valuable to us for the impression of size and grandeur it gives to 
 the fallen monument. 
 
 -^3zr=rTjr' ' ^h'^-W^ rr^ 
 
 
 Two miles off, on the inland sea of Morbihan — approached 
 easily by boats at certain times of the tide, but often with great 
 difficulty owing to the currents — is the small island called Givr Innis. 
 This island is about three quarters of a mile in length, and is green 
 and cultivated, but so difficult is the approach that it is only in 
 summer-time that there is much communication with the mainland. 
 On a summer's day a few adventurous tourists come scrambling up 
 the wet rocks from boats, to visit the tumulus or mound of stones 
 which has been excavated of late years, and in which there have 
 been found various Celtic remains and inscriptions. It is, outwardly, 
 a mound or heap of stones about 300 feet in circumference, and not 
 more than 30 feet high. 
 
LOCMARIAKER. 
 
 189 
 
 Of the origin, or use, of these tumuli, of which the one on 
 Gavr Innis is the most remarkable in Brittany, neither antiquaries 
 of the past nor the present owner, M. Closmedcnc, who lives on the 
 island in summer, can give a satisfactory account. Like the island of 
 Avalon, it sleeps in an atmosphere of romance and mystery ; the most 
 searching of modern antiquaries speaking of the " circular and serpent- 
 like waving lines " cut on the stones of Gavr Innis as " unaccountable," 
 and of the inscriptions as of " unknown meaning." 
 
 Here we may pause, wondering no longer at the superstitions 
 of the peasants, or the romances and legends of the people of 
 Morbihan. 
 
1 90 
 
 VANNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Vannes. 
 
 A FEW miles from Auray and 
 Carnac is the ancient city of 
 Vannes, the chief town of the de- 
 partment of Morbihan and the capital 
 of Basse-Bretagne. This city, from 
 its position, is the natural point of 
 departure for travellers entering Brit- 
 tany from the east, as it is also the 
 natural place of rest when coming 
 from the west. 
 
 There is not much to attract the traveller at first sight, but the 
 result of several visits is to leave an impression of great interest 
 on the mind. One of the oldest, perhaps the oldest, of the cities 
 of ancient Arrriorica, its very name and its position carry us back 
 to early history, when the fleets of the Veneti commanded these 
 seas, and were finally conquered by Ca;sar in the sea of Morbihan, 
 their leaders put to death, and their people sold for slaves. 
 
 The part of Vannes of most interest to travellers is the old city 
 with its narrow streets and overhanging houses, and the remains 
 of its walls and gates. In the narrowest part, near the Place Henri- 
 Quatre, there rises between the eaves of the houses the square 
 tower and spire of the cathedral of St. Peter, a structure dating 
 from the eleventh century, altered and almost rebuilt in the 
 fifteenth. The interior of the cathedral is gloomy, and the streets which 
 surround it are dark and old. There are some cloisters and a finely 
 sculptured porch of dark stone. The principal chapel in the interior is 
 
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VANNES.. 191 
 
 dedicated to the Spanish Dominican monk St. Vincent Ferrier, who 
 evangelised the province in the time of Duke John V., and died at 
 Vannes in 1419. The reHcs of this saint are once a year cari'ied in 
 procession round the town. 
 
 There is one side chapel with an altar, on which are three glass 
 cases, in one of which are relics, and, apparently, some wax models 
 of bones and imitation jewels.; above these, between the folds of a 
 curtain half drawn aside, is a painting of Ste. Marie de Bon Secours, 
 to whom the chapel is dedicated. The light through a narrow stained- 
 glass window falls upon the figure of an old woman, holding beads in 
 her worn hands, who kneels upon the scagliola steps before the altar. 
 There is nothing uncommon in the sight ; but there is a romantic story 
 that this old woman and the beautiful Madonna are one and the same ; 
 that she had sat in her youth as a model for the Holy Virgin, and 
 that she kneels every day before the portrait of her old self. 
 
 We have spoken of the cathedral and of its patron saint, because 
 Vannes is an ecclesiastical city of importance, the see of an ancient 
 bishopric, and a radiating point for the church in Morbihan ; but, as 
 a matter of fact, we see and hear very little of the church at Vannes ; 
 and it seems by contrast with the country — where every wayside 
 has its cross or holy fountain, every district its little chapel or altar 
 with saints and i-elics amongst the trees, every group of peasant-women 
 a pastor — that the country people have more than their share of 
 homilies and exhortations. 
 
 Coming from the interior, we miss the attitude of religious awe 
 amongst the women, which seems to be put off at the city gates ; and 
 we miss, also, the individuality of costume which vanishes fast in towns. 
 If we were to picture the people as we see them on Sunday in 
 Vannes, they would be very ordinary indeed, with just a sprinkling of 
 white caps, and a few touches of embroidery on a shawl or a. blouse, 
 to remind us that we are in Morbihan ; and m. their general attitude 
 they would seem as much at a loss for occupation as in other centres 
 of civilisation where galleries and museums are closed on Sundays. 
 
 There is a mu.seum of Celtic antiquities at Vannes, containing a 
 
192 VANNES. 
 
 collection of ornaments, flints, &c., found in the cromlechs at Carnac 
 and the neighbourhood, which is well worth visiting; and there are 
 various shows and amusements for the people on the Place and in 
 the public gardeiis ; but the fact remains that the majority of the 
 working inhabitants sidle off on Sunday morning as we see them in 
 
 the sketch, gravitating one by one towards every house outside of 
 which hangs a bunch of dried mistletoe or broom. 
 
 There are many picturesque old houses such as the above ; there 
 is a walk by the river under the old walls and towers, and another 
 in the upper town with a view far away towards Nantes and the sea ; 
 and there is almost southern warmth and colour under its sunriy 
 walls, where we are sheltered from the winds of the Morbihan. 
 
VANNES. 
 
 193 
 
 The people that we see are for the most part pleasant and 
 prosperous-looking, busy in commerce or in agriculture. There is, 
 it is true, more than one regiment of the line quartered here, and 
 the cafes, bright with plate-glass and gilding, are full of warriors of 
 various sizes ; in the morning and in the evening the air vibrates 
 with regimental drums, but there is little else to remind us that the 
 inhabitants are the direct descendants of a warlike nation, and that 
 
 barons and knights once defended the battlements and towers of Vannes. 
 The morning is spent at billiards in most of the cafes, and in some, 
 especially frequented by the townspeople, there are such groups as 
 the above. 
 
 Outside the cafe, seated on a bench, is a French commercial 
 traveller, dressed like a common dandy from L' Orient, with blue frock- 
 coat, white trousers, very narrow at the bottom, hair cut close to 
 the head, and a portentous moustache ; and he does with it what 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 VANNES. 
 
 every human creature seems to do with an artificially contrived tuft 
 of hair on his upper lip, he twitches it round and round and pulls at 
 it without ceasing ; he has done this every day for many years, and 
 the action, apparently, relieves his mind. The sight is familiar in 
 civilised communities, but this figure contrasts so strongly with the 
 clean-faced, dignified Bretons that it seems time to pack up our sketch- 
 books and depart. 
 
 Three Hot Men of Vannes. 
 
 Are the fashions changing in Brittany ? or is it only the usual 
 tourists' cry, the complaint of those who resent all change in costume 
 and dwellings in order that villages should remain "picturesque," who 
 look upon their brother living in a hovel as they do upon an 
 old door-ktiocker or a china plate ? Let us think of the influences 
 at work in out-of-the-way places, where the travelling marchand des 
 bottes, who has followed us through nearly every village in Brittany 
 
VANNES. 
 
 195 
 
 with his caravan of side-spring boots, plies his terrible trade ; and let 
 us remember the expression on the faces of the dancers in the 
 booth at Chiteauneuf du Faou, at the arrival from Quimper of the 
 " fine lady," who stands up with her relations to dance the gavotte in 
 the latest fashion of the towns. 
 
 Before leaving Vannes, we should go down at night to the old 
 Place Henri-Quatre, where the roofs of the houses meet overhead, 
 where, in moonlight, the gables cast wonderful shadows across the 
 .square, and above our heads rise the towers of the cathedral with a 
 grandeur of effect not to be seen at any other time, or from any other 
 point of view. It is then that the cathedral precincts look most 
 mysterious in their darkness ; narrow, irregular streets with open 
 gutters, lighted only by a glimmer from latticed windows, and where. 
 
196 VANNES. 
 
 from old doorways, figures are dimly seen to pass in and out. It is a 
 poor quarter, where a Dutch painter would find work for a lifetime. 
 
 We said that there was no light in the streets, but, passing round 
 the cathedral, there is a strong light from a lantern held close to 
 the ground ; it is the chiffonnier of Vannes (who, like his Parisian con- 
 frere, has learned the art of pecking and discrimination from the 
 fowls) wandering through the night with his basket and iron wand. 
 
 One more note made in Vannes in stormy autumn-time. We go 
 down. to the port, sheltered from the wind by a high wall, through 
 which narrow passages have been made to reach the sea. It is 
 nearly dusk, and the rough-hewn edges of the stone wall stand out 
 sharply against the sky. As we pass one of these, facing the west, 
 the narrow opening to the shore is illumined by a blood-red sunset 
 light, so bright by contrast that three figures coming towards us 
 from the seashore step, as it were, out of a furnace. They have 
 men's voices, but as they approach and pass us hurriedly, Ave see 
 that their heads are bare, and that their robes touch the ground. 
 Upon their shoulders they carry a " dear brother " to his rest — the 
 drift of last night's storm-tide. Next morning a rough stone cottage- 
 door just outside the town is hung round with black — the drapery 
 giving an appearance of height, and almost grandeur of dimensions, to 
 the little interior — and resting upon the step is the projecting end of 
 a wooden coffin painted white. There are candles burning on either 
 side ; a metal crucifix is placed on the doorstep, and on a little table 
 on the ground in the road is a vase of flowers. The neighbours pass 
 up and down crossing themselves, and muttering Latin words of prayer 
 for the dead, and the little children stand and stare. Two days after 
 there is a bright procession, headed by a priest and acolytes in white 
 robes, with hymns and incense, followed by a little crowd bareheaded, 
 all struggling against the wind, to a plot of ground on a promontory 
 near the seashore, where the poor Breton is taken to his rest. 
 
 Thsre is a crowd of his forefathers here before him, with black 
 wooden crosses where their heads should be ; they are planted out in 
 rows, and labelled with wooden sticks to mark their species, and the 
 
VANNES. 197 
 
 garden is walled in with stones and great rock boulders to keep out 
 the wind. But it is a dreary place ; the wind finds it out from behind 
 the stones, blows down the wooden crosses, and strews the ground with 
 seaweed and dead leaves ; nothing resists the havoc of the wind over 
 the graves, but some bright yellow immortelles and some metal 
 images of the Christ. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Vannes there are numerous interesting 
 excursions to be made, especially southward to the peninsula of 
 Rhuys, on the south side of the sea of Morbihan, to Sarzeau (where 
 Lesage, the author of Gil Bias, was born), and to the abbey of St. 
 Gildas, also to the ruins of the fortress of Sucinio,, built in 1250 
 by Duke Jean de Roux. A few miles to the north-west is the 
 military town of Pontivy, now called Napoleonville, to be reached 
 easily by railway from Vannes ; and near it the village of St. 
 Nicod^me {see map), where on the first Saturday in August one of 
 the largest gatherings of the people takes place. The Pardon of 
 St. Nicodeme is as interesting as any described in this book, but 
 the customs and ceremonies are too similar to others to be described 
 without wearying the reader with repetition. 
 
 A little farther south, and we should enter the department of the 
 Loire- In ferieure ; we are in fact but a few miles from the city of 
 Nantes, so well described by Miss Betham-Edwards, in A Year in 
 Western France. In this neighbourhood are the sunny vineyards of 
 St. Nazaire, the salt districts of Croisic where the costumes of the 
 inhabitants are again most curious, and the little sea-coast villages 
 pictured by Mr. Wedmore in his Pastorals of France ; but there is 
 enough in the Loire-Inferieure for a separate book, peopled by Breton 
 folk of an altogether different type. 
 
 We have said- little of the ancient chateaux of Brittany, many of 
 which are in good presei-vation, and are inhabited by direct descendants 
 of the barons of the fifteenth century ; but we would suggest to 
 the traveller, before leaving Vannes, to visit the picturesque castle of 
 Elven, where Henry of Richmond, afterwards king of England, was 
 confined for fifteen years ; and, if possible, to go by road to Josselin, 
 
198 
 
 CO.NCLUSIQN.- 
 
 where there is one of the finest chateaux of the Renaissance. The 
 numerous sketches, of Breton folk, in this book have prevented us 
 from dwelling more at length on the architectural features of the 
 country, which have been described in many books of travel. 
 
 What clings to our recollections of Brittany ? Some things that 
 
 are not beautiful, and which by no stretch of fancy can be described 
 en couleur de rose. The public exhibition of disease and human 
 deformities permitted by the church are sights to which English eyes 
 are unaccustomed, and of which the young and untravelled part of 
 our community have happily little knowledge. But no wise deter- 
 mination to see only the " bright side " of things, no infusion of otto 
 
CONCL US ION. 199 
 
 of roses amongst these leaves, can take away the stain that clings 
 to many things in Brittany. 
 
 It would seem a consideration of some consequence to the 
 numerous English residents abroad, though we seldom hear it touched 
 upon, that their children must of necessity be brought in contact with 
 so much that is ' cruel and repulsive. Some may think it salutary and 
 right to see these things ; at any rate it is part of the bargain with 
 those who live abroad, and the habits of the people can scarcely be 
 interfered with ; but it is a source of wonder to visitors to the principal 
 towns that the residents cannot persuade the authorities to keep more 
 decently their streets and public ways. 
 
 We will not dwell upon the cruelty to animals, upon the sights 
 to be witnessed in every market-town, such as tortured calves and half 
 suffocated pigs, because cruelty is everywhere, and we as strangers 
 are helpless in a land where it is not considered a sin to inflict 
 suffering upon animals. It is true that any very flagrant acts can be 
 dealt with by law, but the law is seldom enforced. 
 
 What does it matter about les animaux \ asks the kindest-hearted, 
 most motherly of Breton women, whose children drag live birds through 
 the dust as playthings, and whose husband, if he be of a scientific turn, 
 may perchance keep a grasshopper with a pin through his head, living, 
 for days in a glass case! 
 
 But our lasting impressions of Brittany are of a people and of 
 a country, interesting for their isolation from the rest of Europe: 
 of a people who are, as has been well said, "dwelling in an heroic 
 past that possibly never existed, consoling the failures of their destiny 
 by beautiful fancies, and throwing a grace over their hard, unhopeful 
 lives with romantic dreams and traditions " ; of a people who invest 
 every road and fountain with a holy name — for wherever two roads 
 meet, there is a cross or a sign, and wherever three streams meet, 
 they are called La Trinite ; — of a land that stands alone in Western 
 Europe, its rocks unmoved by the shocks of tempest from without, 
 and its manners unpolished by advancing civilisation from within ; 
 of a land where men look to the sea as well as to the earth for their 
 
200 
 
 CONCL US ION. 
 
 harvest, where the plough comes down to the water's edge and the 
 nets of the fishermen are dried upon fig-trees, where laden orchards 
 drop their fruit over weather-worn walls on to the sands, and fish, 
 leaping from the sea, alight sometimes in a field of corn ; of a land 
 brightened for a few weeks in summer with the flower of buckwheat, 
 and coloured with the coral of its stems, where the wind sweeps over 
 waves of grass and grain, and scatters the harvest over the sea. 
 
 
POSTSCRIPT FOR TRA VELLERS. ' 
 
 The expenses of a journey to and from Brittany and 
 England are limited to a return ticket {£2 12s.) from 
 London to St. Malo, vid Southampton, which lasts two 
 months. All other travelling expetises on the routes indi- 
 cated on the map need not exceed five pounds, by taking 
 tiie public conveyances. Carriages at the usual postitig 
 rates. Small and inferior one-horse carriages can be 
 hired nearly everywhere. 
 
 The average cost of living at the hotels {which are 
 
 tolerable in all the towns) is lO fr. (8j.) a day; or 
 
 by the week, 6 fr. and 7 fr. Pedestrians spend very 
 little anywhere. 
 
 The principal rivers for fishing are the Blavet, the 
 Trieux, and the Avert. Anglers should stay at St. Nicolas 
 du Pdem in Cotes-du-Nord, and at Rosporden in Finistkre. 
 ( See map.) 
 
 The most convenient guide-book is the Guide Diamant, 
 by Ad. Joanne, published by Hachette. There is a good 
 road map of Brittany published by Aug. Logerot, 55 Quai 
 des Angus tins, Paris. 
 
Books by the same Author. 
 
 'ARTISTS AND ARABS! 
 
 'NORMANDY PICTURESQUE! 
 
 ' 77?^ VELLING IN SPAIN: 
 
 ' THE PYRENEES! 
 
 'THE HARZ MOUNTAINS! 
 
 ' THE PASSION play: 
 
 (JSew Edition in preparatioiu) 
 
 Published by Sampson Low & Co., 
 
 Croivn Buildings, Fleet Street, London, 
 
With Numerous Illustrations, crown 8vo, cloth, los. 6.1. 
 
 THE PASSION PLAY 
 
 AT 
 
 OBERAMMERGAU. 
 
 
 "And whilst she sang, our hearts were strangely touched^ and our eyes wandered 
 away from those singular peasant-angels and their peasant audience, up to the 
 deep cloudless sky ; we heard the rustle of the trees, and caught glimpses of 
 the mountains, and all seemed a strange poetical dream."— Anna Mary Howitt. 
 
 NEJV EDITION, 
 
 THE PROGRAMME FOR 1880. 
 
 LONDON : SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, & RiVlNGTON. 
 
Opinions of the Press on 'Art in the Mountains.' 
 
 " Mr. Henry Blackburn gives us an account of the ' Passion Play,' that is acted 
 once in every ten years at Oberammergau. He writes in excellent taste, and is 
 interesting from the first page to the last. In fact, we must confess that, when 
 once we had taken up his work, we did not lay it down until we had finished it. 
 He has acquired the real art of brief writing, for he can say all that he himself 
 wishes to say, and can leave unsaid all that the reader does not care to 
 know!'' — Saturday I^e■vie■w. 
 
 " In this volume we have an account of a tour of a comparatively tmknowtt 
 part of Germany, endued with all the local colour and picturesque description of 
 which the author is a master, while the chronicle of the ' Play ' is a specimen 
 of what may be called ' theatrical criticism' which might well be read by those 
 who study ordinary stage performances!' — llorning Post, 
 
 '^ Mr. Henry Blackburn tells the story of the strange 'Passion Play' at 
 Oberammergau in his own pleasant way. The book is to be praised as a book 
 of the best class and a valuable elucidation of an interesting topic!' — lixamiiier. 
 
 " Of the many previous accounts of the ' Play,' none, we are disposed to think, 
 recalls that edifying and impressive spectacle with the same clearness and vividness 
 as Mr. Blackburn's volume j few writers, indeed, are so well capable of making 
 text and illustrations work hartnoniously together." — Guardian. 
 
 " We especially wish to do justice to the literary and pictorial merit of this 
 work, because our opinion of the ' Play ' does not coincide with Mr. Blackburn's!' — 
 Kecord. 
 
 " Mr. Blackburn's volume is the work of a true artist, devoted to his art and 
 following it from pure lope; he tells the story with remarkable grace, and throws 
 a novel and thorough light upon the ' Passion Play! " — Press. 
 
 " Mr. Blackburn's charming volume tells the story of the ' Play ' so well, and 
 his illustrations bring the actors so vividly before our eyes, that it cannot fail to 
 please. The descriptions are remarkably graceful and artistic!'— Observer. 
 
 " This volume is as welcome as if the ' Passionsspiel ' were a new interest 
 — a vivid reality hitherto unknown. The scenes are described with inimitable 
 grace." — Lloyd's HeTrspaper. 
 
 " Those who would like to possess a memorial of the strange ' Play ' of the 
 Bavarian peasants cannot do better than make themselves possessors of this 
 3(7(?^'."— Standard. 
 
 " There is a tendre about this book like the delicacy of beautiful china, and a 
 feeling of religion, without the slightest suspicion of obtrusion." — Pub. Circular. 
 
 . " Mr. Blackburn regards the divine comedy as a poet and an artist, and aids 
 his narrative with charming illustrations." — Globe. 
 
 "A charming gift-book."— "PsM Mall Gazette.