Chapter 5

9. Menhir, near Dol.On our way back to Dol, we walked to a cornfield, in the midst of it stands a menhir2(they are so termed from the Bretonmœn, stone, andhir, long), called the "Pierre du champ dolant," a shaft of gray granite, about thirty feet high, and said to measure fifteen more underground. On the top is a cross. The first preachers of Christianity, unable to uproot the veneration for the menhirs, surmounted them with the cross, preserving the worship but changing the symbol. In the same manner, they did not attempt to destroy the veneration for sacred groves and fountains, but transferred to new saints the miracles of times past.We drove through a pretty country to see the Château of Combourg, where Chateaubriand passed his early days. It is a fine square castle of the fifteenth century, with massive towers at each corner, surrounded by trees, and standing proudly over the village below. The drawbridge has been replaced by a modern "perron" or flight of stone steps, which leads to the entrance hall. The salle d'honneur looks over a lake. We were taken into his little melancholy room which Chateaubriand so well describes.[pg 037]10. Château of Combourg."La fenêtre de mon donjon s'ouvrait sur le cour intérieure; le jour, j'avais en perspective les créneaux de la courtine opposeé, où végétaient des scolopendres et croissait un prunier sauvage. Quelques martinets, qui, durant l'été, s'enfonçaient en criant dans les trous des murs, étaient mes seuls compagnons. La nuit je n'apercevais qu'un petit morceau du ciel et quelques étoiles. Lorsque la lune brillait et qu'elle s'abaissait à l'occident, j'en étais averti par ses rayons, qui venaient à mon lit au travers des carreaux losangés de la fenêtre. Des chouettes voletant d'un tour à l'autre, passant et repassant entre la lune et moi, dessinaient sur mes rideaux l'ombre mobile de leurs ailes."The bed on which Chateaubriand died has been brought from Paris and placed in the room.11. Peasant Girl of Cancale.The next morning we left Dol for Cancale, of such world-wide celebrity for its oysters. We left the railway at La Gouesnière, five miles and a half from Cancale, to which we proceeded by the mail[pg 038]cart. It requires to travel in Brittany to form any notion of the detestable vehicles, whether public or "voitures à volonté," in which travellers in this country are condemned to ride. Uncleaned, unpainted, creaking, jolting machines—as fully tenanted with every kind of insect annoyance, as if one were travelling in a hen-house. The horses are good, hardy, enduring little animals, which go their thirty to[pg 039]fifty miles a day without any distress either to themselves or the traveller. The Breton drivers are gentle and kind, making more use of their voices than of their whips in urging on their horses. The town of Cancale is situated on the heights, a precipitous descent leading to the village below, called La Houle, which lines the edge of the shore, and is occupied mostly by fishermen. This is the port, and here are the pier and the lighthouse, and also a comfortable inn to which the people of St. Malo resort in large parties, an omnibus running thence daily. The panoramic view of the bay of Cancale is beautiful and most extensive, one vast crescent of sand some ten square leagues in extent, stretching from the picturesque rocks of Cancale to Granville, its most northern point, and including Mont Dol, Mont St. Michel, and Avranches. The western side is lined with huts and windmills, but the water is so shallow that no boat can land. Having walked round the little hurdled-in oyster parks, numbering, we were told, about 600, and made ourselves very wet and dirty, though we borrowed sabots to enable us to wade through the mud, we returned to the inn, and next day reached St. Malo.12. Tomb of Chateaubriand, and View of St. Malo.St. Malo stands on a small granite island at the mouth of the Rance, connected, by a causeway called "Le Sillon," with the mainland. The space it occupies is so small, that castle, churches, streets,[pg 040]and towers are all crowded together, and the whole is nearly surrounded by a sea wall, which makes the town appear as if rising straight out of the ocean. Towards the sea, the bay is encircled with groups of craggy islets, many surmounted by forts, bristling up as the tide recedes, in every direction. Conspicuous among these island rocks is that called the[pg 041]Grand Bé, chosen by Chateaubriand for his last resting-place, as he wished to be buried near the place of his birth. Singularly enough the name of the island "Bé" signifies a tomb. On his request being granted, Chateaubriand wrote to the Mayor of St. Malo."Enfin, Monsieur, j'aurai un tombeau, et je vous le devrai, ainsi qu'à mes bienveillants compatriotes. Vous savez, Monsieur, que je ne veux que quelques pieds de sable, une pierre de rivage sans ornement et sans inscription, une simple croix de fer, et une petite grille pour empêcher les animaux de me deterrer. La croix dira que l'homme réposant à ses pieds était un Chrétien; cela suffit à ma mémoire."At low water, the island is accessible on foot. The tomb consists of a plain stone without inscription, surmounted by a granite cross, and is surrounded by an iron railing. It is placed on the edge of a rock, and is the resort of crowds of pilgrims."La vaste mer murmure autour de son cercueil."The Hôtel de France is the house where Chateaubriand's family lived, and the room he occupied is filled with various memorials of him. The Chateaubriand arms hang upon the wall. They were given by St. Louis to an ancestor who was wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Massoura. The King changed the peacock's plumes, previously borne by the family, to fleurs de lys on a field gules, with the[pg 042]proud motto "Mon sang teint les bannières de France." The tides here rise to between forty and fifty feet above low-water mark, so that the harbour is dry at low water, and is crossed on foot to go to St. Servan, the suburb on the opposite side.We walked round the ramparts and were shown the little gate down which were sent every night the watch dogs of St. Malo, "chiens Anglais qui s'appelent dogues." Shut up during the day, they were let out at ten at night, and recalled in the morning to the sound of a copper trumpet, by their keeper, styled the "chiennetier." Enactments were made for their maintenance, called the "droit de chiennage." When let loose at night, a warning bell was rung to apprise the inhabitants, as they tore the legs of every one they met. Hence it used to be said "Il a été à St. Malo, les chiens lui ont rongé les mollets." In 1770, a naval officer trying to force a passage was attacked by a troop of these dogs prowling between St. Malo and St. Servan; his sword was useless as defence, and, exhausted, in despair he threw himself into the sea, but here he was followed by the dogs and torn to pieces. A few days after they were all destroyed by the municipality, and the custom of keeping them has been since discontinued. In an old map of St. Malo, or "Saint Malo de l'isle," as it was then styled, preserved in the Imperial Library at Paris, is laid down,[pg 043]near the "Sillon" a little sentry-box marked, "Corps-de-garde de nuit pour les chiens," and again, near the "Tour de la grande Porte," is the "Pont aux chiens." The date of the map is 1662. The arms of St. Malo till the seventeenth century were, on a field argent, a mastiff gules.The castle dates principally from the Queen-Duchess Anne, and one of its massive towers, the "Qui qu'en grogne" is a memorial of her dauntless spirit. Twice crowned Queen of France, she was the only one of her line worthy of the ducal crown. The Bishop of St. Malo was temporal lord of the town, and maintained he held it direct from the Pope, as a fief of the Church, because it was built upon land where a convent formerly stood; and consequently the Duke of Brittany had no authority over it, either spiritual or temporal. Duke John V. began to build a castle, but the Bishop opposed himself to its construction, and the contest lasted on until the time of the Queen-Duchess Anne, who, in defiance of the Bishop, and to shew that she was and always would be sovereign of St. Malo, finished the fortress and caused the lofty inscription to be placed in raised letters upon the great tower: "Qui qu'en grogne, ainsi sera, c'est mon plaisir;"—so runs the legend, but unfortunately a similar story is told of Louis II., Duke of Bourbon.On the opposite side of the mouth of the Rance[pg 044]is Dinard, lately become a favourite watering-place; it has good sands, and houses and villas are rapidly rising up in every direction, and covering its granite hills.The prettiest route to Dinan is by the little steamer which ascends the Rance, a lovely voyage, occupying about two hours. The banks one mixture of rocks, valleys, and verdure; the river now expanding into the width of a lake, now narrowing between its forest-clothed sides. After passing through a lock, and, winding our way through a narrow pass of rocky crags, we reached the bridge of Dinan; above us, the gigantic granite viaduct stretched across the valley, the town, with its feudal walls and castle, perched on its rocky heights over the river.In the Grande Place is a miserable statue of Du Guesclin, who looks more like a wandering minstrel than the hero of Brittany and Constable of France. His life forms quite an historic romance. His future greatness was foretold by a prophetess; his wife, the Lady Tiphaine, was herself a fairy; his battles resemble those of the giants of old. Du Guesclin was born at Broons, and was the eldest of ten children and of great trouble to his parents. One day his mother dreamt she was in possession of a casket, containing portraits of herself and her lord, and on one side were set nine precious stones of[pg 045]lustrous beauty encircling one rough unpolished pebble. In her dream she carried the casket to a lapidary, and asked him to take out the rough stone as unworthy of such goodly company; but he advised her to allow it to remain, and subsequently it shone forth more brilliantly than the precious gems with which it was surrounded. The after superiority of Bertrand over the other nine children explained the dream.It was in this "Place," where his statue now stands, the celebrated duel took place between Du Guesclin and an English knight, called by the Breton chroniclers Thomas of Cantorbéry. Dinan was at that time closely besieged by the Duke of Lancaster (1359), with the young Count de Montfort, and defended by Du Guesclin. A truce of forty days had been agreed upon, before the expiration of which Oliver, brother of Du Guesclin, rode out unarmed beyond the city walls, and was made prisoner by Thomas of Cantorbéry, who demanded a ransom of 1000 florins. On this news reaching Du Guesclin, he immediately repaired to the English camp, where he found the Duke of Lancaster playing chess with Sir John Chandos. They received him most cordially, and agreed that the dispute should be settled by a combat within the walls, the Duke of Lancaster consenting to preside. Victory declared in favour of Du Guesclin,[pg 046]who would have cut off the head of his adversary, had not the Duke of Lancaster interceded for his life. Cantorbéry was dragged upon a hurdle out of the lists, and condemned to pay 1000 florins to Oliver; his horse and armour were given to Bertrand, and the felon knight expelled the English army.We drove to see the Castle of Montafilant, one of the apanages of the Rohan family, which passed with many others to the unfortunate Gilles de Bretagne, by his marriage with the heiress Françoise de Dinan. The castle is approached by a steep winding path, leading to the plateau upon which it stands. Before the use of firearms, its position rendered it impregnable. Of its seven towers, two only remain.The story of Gilles de Bretagne forms the subject of a romance by the Vicomte Walsh. Though his conduct was not free from blame, his long captivity and tragic end have rendered this unfortunate prince an object of pity to posterity. Third son of Duke John V., he was reared with Henry VI. of England, and personally attached to the English; but he never was in league with England against his own country, and his uncle the Constable Richemont regarded him as the honour and hope of his house. His wife Françoise was the most beautiful and accomplished woman of her time, the "perle de noblesse,[pg 047]de gentilesse, et de savoir;" and moreover possessed of the rich inheritance of her uncle Bertrand de Dinan, of the Montafilant branch. She had been betrothed from her infancy to the Sire de Gavre, son of Guy, Comte de Laval; but her father died when she was only eight years old, and Gilles de Bretagne carried her off by force. Dissatisfied with his paternal inheritance, the lordship of Champtocé, he retired to Guildo, one of the châteaux of Françoise's dower, where he passed his time in company with his English archers. His withdrawal from court was represented to Duke Francis as the beginning of a revolt, by Arthur de Montauban, his bitterest enemy and a great favourite of the Duke. Gilles neglected his young wife, and she is reported, in an unguarded moment, to have said to Montauban, she would marry him "if her husband were to die." Duke Francis was determined to get rid of his brother, and Charles VII. was persuaded to assist him in his vile design. The King arrested Gilles on the charge of high treason, as being in correspondence with the English; and, in proof of the charge, his enemies produced forged letters from the King of England compromising the loyalty of Gilles. Charles gave him over to his brother for punishment. In vain were Gilles's supplications to the Duke, or the entreaties of the Constable, who went to Dinan and knelt to Francis to beg for the[pg 048]pardon of his brother. Equally fruitless his being acquitted at Rédon, from there being no proof of his guilt. The unfortunate Gilles was dragged from prison to prison, and consigned to keepers destitute of every feeling of humanity. Montauban, an Italian by descent (his mother was a Visconti), sent for poison from Lombardy, and administered in his soup a strong dose, which the good constitution of Gilles enabled him to resist. Starvation was then tried, and the wretched Gilles would stand at his prison window, calling on the passers by to give him bread: "Du pain, du pain pour l'amour de Dieu," but no one ventured to relieve him. At last, a poor woman dared to give him food, and placed a loaf on the edge of his grated window, continuing for six months to share with him in secret her scanty meal of black bread. Seeing that he could hold out no longer and that his death was determined upon, Gilles begged the woman would fetch him a minister of religion, that he might confess before he died. By stealth she brought him a Cordelier monk, who confessed him across the bars of his prison, and Gilles adjured him to seek his brother and acquaint him with his pitiable condition. The monk started on his errand, but in the mean time the gaolers of Gilles determined on putting an end to his life. They twisted a cloth round his neck, and smothered him between two[pg 049]mattresses while he slept. The monks of Bosquen carried his body to their abbey for interment, and the wooden effigy that was placed over his grave is still preserved in the Museum at St. Brieuc. The monk who had received Gilles's confession went in quest of Duke Francis, who, on hearing of his brother's death when at Avranches, had left for Saint Michel. The monk met him on the Grève, and cited him in the name of his brother "de la part du Messire Gilles" to appear within fifty days at the tribunal of Heaven to answer for his murder. The menace was realised. Duke Francis died within the appointed time, struck with remorse, and terrified at the summons of the Cordelier. The monk was never seen again. On the death of Gilles, the Duke of Brittany himself wished to marry Françoise, but she would not listen to his proposals; and at last was obliged, in order to recover her liberty, to marry the aged Comte de Laval, father of her betrothed, with whom she lived peacefully thirty years, and had three sons. Duke Francis II. appointed her to the charge of rearing his daughter Anne.Arthur Montauban turned monk to avoid the vengeance of Duke Peter, brother of Gilles, and eventually became Archbishop of Bordeaux. The Pope gave him the Abbey of Rédon, but popular indignation prevented him from accepting the appointment.[pg 050]On our return from Montafilant we stopped to visit the Lunatic Asylum (Asile des aliénés), called Les Bas Foins, kept by the brothers of Saint-Jean-de-Dieu. There are six hundred inmates under the charge of about sixty brethren. The buildings, with the chapel, are very handsome and most complete in all the arrangements. Within the enclosure is a large piece of land. The lunatics are employed in agricultural, garden, and house occupations; they look very contented and happy. Visitors are not allowed to speak to them. We omitted seeing the Croix du Saint Esprit, a curiously sculptured Gothic granite cross of the fourteenth century, not far from the asylum.The castle of Dinan is now a prison. It was occupied by the Queen-Duchess Anne, when on her way to a pilgrimage to Notre Dame-du-Folgoët, in fulfilment of a vow made during the illness of Louis XII. In the chapel is shewn a sculptured seat, still called the arm-chair of the Duchess Anne. Within these walls were crammed, in the last century, about 2000 English prisoners of war, many of whom fell victims to a contagious fever. From the platform of the keep we had a magnificent view of the surrounding country, extending to Mont Dol and the sea.The church of St. Sauveur has a richly sculptured Romanesque portal. It contains the heart of[pg 051]Du Guesclin, transferred from the church of the Dominicans, where he desired it to be interred by the side of his wife Tiphaine. His body was buried at St. Denis, in a tomb King Charles V. caused to be made in his lifetime, and he left orders that on his death his Constable should repose at his feet. On the dark-coloured monumental stone now incrusted on the wall, are roughly sculptured his arms (an eagle displayed charged with a cotice3), with a commemorative inscription in gold letters:—“Cy: gist: le cueur: deMissire: bertram: du gueaquīen: son vivāt: conētiable defrance: qui: trepassa: le: xiii^ejour: de: jullet: l'an: mil iii^eIIII^xx dont: son: corps: reposavecques: ceulx: des: Roysa sainct: denis en France.”Above hangs a painting representing the Governor of Châteauneuf Randon, laying the keys of the town upon the dead body of the Constable.4[pg 052]13. Effigy of Jean de Beaumanoir.Many of the streets of Dinan preserve the character of the Middle Ages, the houses upon columns forming a kind of porch or covered way; and most curious of all is the dirty, steep, narrow, winding street, called the Rue de Jerzual, a ravine extending from the top of the town, in one pitch, to the river's edge. The Museum at the Mairie has an interesting collection of tumulary slabs—recumbent figures[pg 053]taken from different churches and abbeys, mostly from the Beaumanoir chapel of the Abbey of Lehon. There is one of Jean de Beaumanoir, son of the hero of the "Combat des Trente," treacherously slain by his steward. He is represented in full armour, but with his head bare, to indicate the manner of his death. The effigy of his wife is also in complete armour, but on the belt that encircles her waist, like those worn by the knights, is sculptured a wreath of roses. She was a Du Guesclin by birth, and her feet repose upon an eagle, the bearing of her house. The statue of Roland, Vicomte de Dinan, one of the nine great Barons of Brittany in the twelfth century, is of gigantic proportions; the warrior is clad from head to foot in chain mail, but he holds one of his gauntlets in his hand. In the Museum is also a clock given to the city of Dinan by the Duchess Anne, inscribed with the name of its maker and the date of its construction: "1498, à Nantes par M. Hainzer de cette ville." The ancient bronze standard measures (étalons) of Dinan are decorated with the arms of the City, and Gothic inscriptions in relief, "Cart (quart) à gros blé pour Dinan"—"Cart à fourmant (froment) pour Dinan"—and "Bouesceau à scel (boisseau à sel) pour Dinan." Portraits of Du Guesclin and other Breton worthies are in one of the rooms (Salle de l'Odéon). That of the Constable answers to the[pg 054]description given of his appearance. He was low in stature, with large Breton head, broad shoulders, long arms, and large hands. His eyes were green, and his complexion swarthy: "la peau noire comme un sanglier."14. Château of La Bellière.The drives round Dinan are endless in variety,5and all beautiful. We took a carriage to see the Château of la Bellière, about five miles and a half from Dinan, formerly the residence of Du Guesclin's[pg 055]wife, the celebrated Lady Tiphaine; her name answers probably to our English Tiffany:—“William de Coningsby—Came out of BrittanyWith his wife TiffanyAnd her maid ManifasAnd his doggs Hardigras.”15. Chimney. Châteauof La Bellière.The Lady Tiphaine was heiress and daughter of the Vicomte de Bellière; so deeply versed was she in astrology, she was called Tiphaine la Fée. During her husband's absence in Spain, she resided at Mont Saint Michel, having chosen this insulated spot for the facilities it afforded her of studying the stars. She gave Du Guesclin a calendar on vellum, containing verses at the beginning of each month, pointing out the lucky and unlucky days; how many she marked down as such, we know not. Tycho Brahe had thirty-two fatal days in his calendar. Had Du Guesclin consulted this precious volume, which is now preserved in the Library at Avranches, he would never have risked his fortune by fighting the battle of Auray on the Feast of St. Michel, one of the fatal days against which she specially warns him in her book. We wished to have seen the room where she died, and where many memorials of her are preserved; but the proprietor was at his déjeuner, and would not grant us admittance, so we were forced to be content with seeing the exterior[pg 056]of the house, a château of the end of the fourteenth century. It stands on the edge of a large sheet of water, in the midst of trees on the roadside between Dinan and St. Malo. Its principal characteristics are its tall octagonal chimney-shafts, composed of granite, brick, and slate. They are surmounted by pieces of slate placed edgeways and forming a kind of capital or coronet to the granite shaft. Some of the chimneys have two circles of these coronets, and others are enriched with little rows of arches, of which the sombre slate background throws out the delicate ornamentation. Recrossing the magnificent viaduct, we proceeded to visit the Benedictine Priory of Lehon, called in the country "Chapelle des Beaumanoirs" from the mortuary chapel of that family attached to the abbey:—“Beaumanoir! à ce nom de glorieux prodigesDes siècles écoulés réveillent les prestiges:La pierre des tombeaux a paru se mouvoirEt des trente Bretons les clameurs belliqueusesSemblent répondre, sous ces voûtes fameuses,A ce grand nom de Beaumanoir.”—Aubry.The west front, with its round-arched portal surmounted by a large Gothic window, is very pretty. The chapel of the Beaumanoirs was ravaged at[pg 057]the Revolution, the lead of the coffins sold, and the bones scattered. The statues have since been removed to the Museum at Dinan, and the crypt beneath, where they were buried, is inaccessible. At the Revolution, when the monks were expelled, the priory was sold and used for a spinning factory; and the weight of the machines crushed the floors, so as to shut up the entrance to the vaults. In the parish church adjacent, is to be noticed an ancient baptismal font, of cylindrical form, sculptured within and without. We returned home by the Château du Chêne-Ferron, approached by an avenue of firs, and had a lovely drive along the banks of the Rance.Our last excursion in Dinan was to the Château of La Garaye, rendered famous by the virtues and boundless charity of its last proprietors, Count Claude Toussaint Marot de la Garaye and his wife, whose interesting story is told in the charming poem of Mrs. Norton:—“Listen to the tale I tell,Grave the story is—not sad,And the peasant plodding byGreets the place with kindly eye,For the inmates that it had.”The Lady of La Garaye.Count Claude de la Garaye and his wife were young, beautiful, and endowed with friends, riches, and all[pg 058]that could make life bright and happy. They entertained with hospitality, and enjoyed the pleasures and amusements of the world; when one day the Countess was thrown from her horse, the expectations of an heir vanished, and she was left a cripple for life. Both were inconsolable for their disappointment. One day a monk came to visit them, and tried to comfort them, seeking by his converse to turn their thoughts from earthly affections to heavenly consolation—"Ah! my father," said the lady, "how happy are you, to love nothing on earth!""You are mistaken," answered the monk; "I love all those who are in sorrow or suffering, and I submit myself to the will of the Almighty, and bend myself with resignation to every blow He strikes."He proceeded to show them there was still great happiness in store for them, in ministering to the comforts of others. Following his counsel, they went to Paris; for three years the Count studied medicine and surgery, and his wife became a skilful oculist. On their return to La Garaye, they gave up all the amusements of society, and devoted themselves to relieving the sufferings of their fellow creatures. Their house was converted into an hospital for the sick and the wounded, under the ministering care of the Count and his benevolent wife:—[pg 059]“Her home is made their home; her wealth their dole;Her busy courtyard hears no more the rollOf gilded vehicles, or pawing steeds,But feeble steps of those whose bitter needsAre their sole passport. Through that gateway passAll varying forms of sickness and distress,And many a poor worn face that hath not smiledFor years,—and many a feeble crippled child,—Blesses the tall, white portal where they stand,And the dear Lady of the liberal hand.”The Lady of La Garaye.Nor was their philanthropy confined to their own province. In 1720, they offered themselves to M. de Belzunce—"Marseilles' good bishop"—to assist him during the visitation of the Plague. The fame of their virtues reached even the French Court, and Louis XV. sent Count de la Garaye the order of St. Lazarus with a donation of 50,000 livres and a contract on the post of 25,000 more.They both died at an advanced age, within two years of each other, and were buried among their poor at Taden, but their marble mausoleum in the church was destroyed in the French Revolution. Count de la Garaye6left a large sum to be distributed among the prisoners, principally English, at Rennes and Dinan, who were suffering pent up in these crowded gaols. The Comte had attended the English prisoners at Dinan during a contagious[pg 060]fever, called the "peste blanche," and, in acknowledgment of his humanity, Queen Caroline sent him two dogs with silver collars round their necks, and an English nobleman made him a present of six more.16. Château of La Garaye.The ruined château is approached by an ivy-covered gateway, through an avenue of beeches:—“Le lierre flottant comme un manteau de deuil,Couvre à demi la porte et rampe sur le seuil.”Lamartine,Harmonies Poëtiques.or, as Mrs. Norton renders it:—“And like a mourner's mantle, with sad grace,Waves the dark ivy—hiding half the doorAnd threshold, where the weary traveller's footShall never find a courteous welcome more.”[pg 061]It is fast falling to pieces. The principal part remaining is an octagonal turret of three stories, with elegant Renaissance decoration round the windows. One more quotation from Mrs. Norton, and we quit these hallowed ruins:—“We know the healthy stir of human lifeMust be for ever gone!The walls where hung the warrior's shining casqueAre green with moss and mould;The blindworm coils where Queens have slept, nor asksFor shelter from the cold.The swallow,—he is master all the day,And the great owl is ruler through the night;The little bat wheels on his circling way,With restless flittering flight;And that small bat, and the creeping things,At will they come and go,And the soft white owl with velvet wings,And a shout of human woe!The brambles let no footsteps passBy that rent in the broken stair,When the pale tufts of the windle-strae grassHang like locks of dry dead hair;But there the keen sound ever sweeps and moans,“Working a passage through the mouldering stones.”The Lady of La Garaye.From Dinan, instead of taking the customary road to the railway station of Caulnes, we hired a carriage, in order to visit the fortress castle of La Hunaudaye, midway between Dinan and Lamballe. The road lay by Jugon, a town prettily situated in the cleft of two hills. On one once[pg 062]stood an important castle, which gave rise to the saying:—“Qui a Bretagne sans Jugon,A chape sans chaperon.”Jugon is on the edge of two ponds. One of them, the largest in Brittany, hangs suspended over the town, as if threatening it with inundation. They told us it was swarming with fish of every description, and with pike of fabulous dimensions. Turning off the road to the right, we entered the forest of La Hunaudaye, and walked in a pouring rain to the château, situated a short distance from the road. It is of vast extent, has five round towers with ramparts of cut stone, and is surrounded by walls with machicolated parapets. It is a splendid ruin, but the incessant rain prevented us from spending much time in its examination. It was built in the thirteenth century by Olivier de la Tournemine, and was one of the strongest fortresses in Brittany. Situated in the midst of a vast forest, its lord and his retainers were the terror of the surrounding country. No traveller passed untaxed; all were compelled to pay toll. In 1504, the Bishop of St. Brieuc complains to the Parliament at Rennes that, regardless of the safeguard of the Duke, the foresters of the Lord of La Hunaudaye had carried off his horses, trunks, and baggage, and, a year later, they had the audacity to stop the Queen-Duchess[pg 063]Anne on her way to a pilgrimage to the Folgoët. The Queen was conducted to the presence of the Lord of La Hunaudaye, who maintained to her that he had only exercised his right of exacting a ransom from all who passed through the forest without his permission, but that he waived his privilege in favour of his Sovereign. Be that as it may, he received her Majesty most royally, as the old chaplain, Oliver de la Roche recounts, and gave a splendid banquet, which he fully describes. The table, he says, was four times covered with thirty-six dishes of viands, and lastly, was brought in, "en grande vénération," by eight squires, a whole calf, standing on its legs, well seasoned, with an orange in its mouth; and, when it appeared, the trumpets sounded so loud that it seemed as if the walls shook. On seeing the "dainty dish" that was "set before the Queen," all wished to have a share; and the chaplain relates, with great satisfaction, how he was served himself twice by the Lord of La Hunaudaye.The dark deeds of the lords of La Hunaudaye have given rise to many a legend. The following is a translation of one of the most popular:—

9. Menhir, near Dol.

On our way back to Dol, we walked to a cornfield, in the midst of it stands a menhir2(they are so termed from the Bretonmœn, stone, andhir, long), called the "Pierre du champ dolant," a shaft of gray granite, about thirty feet high, and said to measure fifteen more underground. On the top is a cross. The first preachers of Christianity, unable to uproot the veneration for the menhirs, surmounted them with the cross, preserving the worship but changing the symbol. In the same manner, they did not attempt to destroy the veneration for sacred groves and fountains, but transferred to new saints the miracles of times past.

We drove through a pretty country to see the Château of Combourg, where Chateaubriand passed his early days. It is a fine square castle of the fifteenth century, with massive towers at each corner, surrounded by trees, and standing proudly over the village below. The drawbridge has been replaced by a modern "perron" or flight of stone steps, which leads to the entrance hall. The salle d'honneur looks over a lake. We were taken into his little melancholy room which Chateaubriand so well describes.

10. Château of Combourg.

"La fenêtre de mon donjon s'ouvrait sur le cour intérieure; le jour, j'avais en perspective les créneaux de la courtine opposeé, où végétaient des scolopendres et croissait un prunier sauvage. Quelques martinets, qui, durant l'été, s'enfonçaient en criant dans les trous des murs, étaient mes seuls compagnons. La nuit je n'apercevais qu'un petit morceau du ciel et quelques étoiles. Lorsque la lune brillait et qu'elle s'abaissait à l'occident, j'en étais averti par ses rayons, qui venaient à mon lit au travers des carreaux losangés de la fenêtre. Des chouettes voletant d'un tour à l'autre, passant et repassant entre la lune et moi, dessinaient sur mes rideaux l'ombre mobile de leurs ailes."

The bed on which Chateaubriand died has been brought from Paris and placed in the room.

11. Peasant Girl of Cancale.

The next morning we left Dol for Cancale, of such world-wide celebrity for its oysters. We left the railway at La Gouesnière, five miles and a half from Cancale, to which we proceeded by the mail[pg 038]cart. It requires to travel in Brittany to form any notion of the detestable vehicles, whether public or "voitures à volonté," in which travellers in this country are condemned to ride. Uncleaned, unpainted, creaking, jolting machines—as fully tenanted with every kind of insect annoyance, as if one were travelling in a hen-house. The horses are good, hardy, enduring little animals, which go their thirty to[pg 039]fifty miles a day without any distress either to themselves or the traveller. The Breton drivers are gentle and kind, making more use of their voices than of their whips in urging on their horses. The town of Cancale is situated on the heights, a precipitous descent leading to the village below, called La Houle, which lines the edge of the shore, and is occupied mostly by fishermen. This is the port, and here are the pier and the lighthouse, and also a comfortable inn to which the people of St. Malo resort in large parties, an omnibus running thence daily. The panoramic view of the bay of Cancale is beautiful and most extensive, one vast crescent of sand some ten square leagues in extent, stretching from the picturesque rocks of Cancale to Granville, its most northern point, and including Mont Dol, Mont St. Michel, and Avranches. The western side is lined with huts and windmills, but the water is so shallow that no boat can land. Having walked round the little hurdled-in oyster parks, numbering, we were told, about 600, and made ourselves very wet and dirty, though we borrowed sabots to enable us to wade through the mud, we returned to the inn, and next day reached St. Malo.

12. Tomb of Chateaubriand, and View of St. Malo.

St. Malo stands on a small granite island at the mouth of the Rance, connected, by a causeway called "Le Sillon," with the mainland. The space it occupies is so small, that castle, churches, streets,[pg 040]and towers are all crowded together, and the whole is nearly surrounded by a sea wall, which makes the town appear as if rising straight out of the ocean. Towards the sea, the bay is encircled with groups of craggy islets, many surmounted by forts, bristling up as the tide recedes, in every direction. Conspicuous among these island rocks is that called the[pg 041]Grand Bé, chosen by Chateaubriand for his last resting-place, as he wished to be buried near the place of his birth. Singularly enough the name of the island "Bé" signifies a tomb. On his request being granted, Chateaubriand wrote to the Mayor of St. Malo.

"Enfin, Monsieur, j'aurai un tombeau, et je vous le devrai, ainsi qu'à mes bienveillants compatriotes. Vous savez, Monsieur, que je ne veux que quelques pieds de sable, une pierre de rivage sans ornement et sans inscription, une simple croix de fer, et une petite grille pour empêcher les animaux de me deterrer. La croix dira que l'homme réposant à ses pieds était un Chrétien; cela suffit à ma mémoire."

At low water, the island is accessible on foot. The tomb consists of a plain stone without inscription, surmounted by a granite cross, and is surrounded by an iron railing. It is placed on the edge of a rock, and is the resort of crowds of pilgrims.

"La vaste mer murmure autour de son cercueil."

The Hôtel de France is the house where Chateaubriand's family lived, and the room he occupied is filled with various memorials of him. The Chateaubriand arms hang upon the wall. They were given by St. Louis to an ancestor who was wounded and taken prisoner at the battle of Massoura. The King changed the peacock's plumes, previously borne by the family, to fleurs de lys on a field gules, with the[pg 042]proud motto "Mon sang teint les bannières de France." The tides here rise to between forty and fifty feet above low-water mark, so that the harbour is dry at low water, and is crossed on foot to go to St. Servan, the suburb on the opposite side.

We walked round the ramparts and were shown the little gate down which were sent every night the watch dogs of St. Malo, "chiens Anglais qui s'appelent dogues." Shut up during the day, they were let out at ten at night, and recalled in the morning to the sound of a copper trumpet, by their keeper, styled the "chiennetier." Enactments were made for their maintenance, called the "droit de chiennage." When let loose at night, a warning bell was rung to apprise the inhabitants, as they tore the legs of every one they met. Hence it used to be said "Il a été à St. Malo, les chiens lui ont rongé les mollets." In 1770, a naval officer trying to force a passage was attacked by a troop of these dogs prowling between St. Malo and St. Servan; his sword was useless as defence, and, exhausted, in despair he threw himself into the sea, but here he was followed by the dogs and torn to pieces. A few days after they were all destroyed by the municipality, and the custom of keeping them has been since discontinued. In an old map of St. Malo, or "Saint Malo de l'isle," as it was then styled, preserved in the Imperial Library at Paris, is laid down,[pg 043]near the "Sillon" a little sentry-box marked, "Corps-de-garde de nuit pour les chiens," and again, near the "Tour de la grande Porte," is the "Pont aux chiens." The date of the map is 1662. The arms of St. Malo till the seventeenth century were, on a field argent, a mastiff gules.

The castle dates principally from the Queen-Duchess Anne, and one of its massive towers, the "Qui qu'en grogne" is a memorial of her dauntless spirit. Twice crowned Queen of France, she was the only one of her line worthy of the ducal crown. The Bishop of St. Malo was temporal lord of the town, and maintained he held it direct from the Pope, as a fief of the Church, because it was built upon land where a convent formerly stood; and consequently the Duke of Brittany had no authority over it, either spiritual or temporal. Duke John V. began to build a castle, but the Bishop opposed himself to its construction, and the contest lasted on until the time of the Queen-Duchess Anne, who, in defiance of the Bishop, and to shew that she was and always would be sovereign of St. Malo, finished the fortress and caused the lofty inscription to be placed in raised letters upon the great tower: "Qui qu'en grogne, ainsi sera, c'est mon plaisir;"—so runs the legend, but unfortunately a similar story is told of Louis II., Duke of Bourbon.

On the opposite side of the mouth of the Rance[pg 044]is Dinard, lately become a favourite watering-place; it has good sands, and houses and villas are rapidly rising up in every direction, and covering its granite hills.

The prettiest route to Dinan is by the little steamer which ascends the Rance, a lovely voyage, occupying about two hours. The banks one mixture of rocks, valleys, and verdure; the river now expanding into the width of a lake, now narrowing between its forest-clothed sides. After passing through a lock, and, winding our way through a narrow pass of rocky crags, we reached the bridge of Dinan; above us, the gigantic granite viaduct stretched across the valley, the town, with its feudal walls and castle, perched on its rocky heights over the river.

In the Grande Place is a miserable statue of Du Guesclin, who looks more like a wandering minstrel than the hero of Brittany and Constable of France. His life forms quite an historic romance. His future greatness was foretold by a prophetess; his wife, the Lady Tiphaine, was herself a fairy; his battles resemble those of the giants of old. Du Guesclin was born at Broons, and was the eldest of ten children and of great trouble to his parents. One day his mother dreamt she was in possession of a casket, containing portraits of herself and her lord, and on one side were set nine precious stones of[pg 045]lustrous beauty encircling one rough unpolished pebble. In her dream she carried the casket to a lapidary, and asked him to take out the rough stone as unworthy of such goodly company; but he advised her to allow it to remain, and subsequently it shone forth more brilliantly than the precious gems with which it was surrounded. The after superiority of Bertrand over the other nine children explained the dream.

It was in this "Place," where his statue now stands, the celebrated duel took place between Du Guesclin and an English knight, called by the Breton chroniclers Thomas of Cantorbéry. Dinan was at that time closely besieged by the Duke of Lancaster (1359), with the young Count de Montfort, and defended by Du Guesclin. A truce of forty days had been agreed upon, before the expiration of which Oliver, brother of Du Guesclin, rode out unarmed beyond the city walls, and was made prisoner by Thomas of Cantorbéry, who demanded a ransom of 1000 florins. On this news reaching Du Guesclin, he immediately repaired to the English camp, where he found the Duke of Lancaster playing chess with Sir John Chandos. They received him most cordially, and agreed that the dispute should be settled by a combat within the walls, the Duke of Lancaster consenting to preside. Victory declared in favour of Du Guesclin,[pg 046]who would have cut off the head of his adversary, had not the Duke of Lancaster interceded for his life. Cantorbéry was dragged upon a hurdle out of the lists, and condemned to pay 1000 florins to Oliver; his horse and armour were given to Bertrand, and the felon knight expelled the English army.

We drove to see the Castle of Montafilant, one of the apanages of the Rohan family, which passed with many others to the unfortunate Gilles de Bretagne, by his marriage with the heiress Françoise de Dinan. The castle is approached by a steep winding path, leading to the plateau upon which it stands. Before the use of firearms, its position rendered it impregnable. Of its seven towers, two only remain.

The story of Gilles de Bretagne forms the subject of a romance by the Vicomte Walsh. Though his conduct was not free from blame, his long captivity and tragic end have rendered this unfortunate prince an object of pity to posterity. Third son of Duke John V., he was reared with Henry VI. of England, and personally attached to the English; but he never was in league with England against his own country, and his uncle the Constable Richemont regarded him as the honour and hope of his house. His wife Françoise was the most beautiful and accomplished woman of her time, the "perle de noblesse,[pg 047]de gentilesse, et de savoir;" and moreover possessed of the rich inheritance of her uncle Bertrand de Dinan, of the Montafilant branch. She had been betrothed from her infancy to the Sire de Gavre, son of Guy, Comte de Laval; but her father died when she was only eight years old, and Gilles de Bretagne carried her off by force. Dissatisfied with his paternal inheritance, the lordship of Champtocé, he retired to Guildo, one of the châteaux of Françoise's dower, where he passed his time in company with his English archers. His withdrawal from court was represented to Duke Francis as the beginning of a revolt, by Arthur de Montauban, his bitterest enemy and a great favourite of the Duke. Gilles neglected his young wife, and she is reported, in an unguarded moment, to have said to Montauban, she would marry him "if her husband were to die." Duke Francis was determined to get rid of his brother, and Charles VII. was persuaded to assist him in his vile design. The King arrested Gilles on the charge of high treason, as being in correspondence with the English; and, in proof of the charge, his enemies produced forged letters from the King of England compromising the loyalty of Gilles. Charles gave him over to his brother for punishment. In vain were Gilles's supplications to the Duke, or the entreaties of the Constable, who went to Dinan and knelt to Francis to beg for the[pg 048]pardon of his brother. Equally fruitless his being acquitted at Rédon, from there being no proof of his guilt. The unfortunate Gilles was dragged from prison to prison, and consigned to keepers destitute of every feeling of humanity. Montauban, an Italian by descent (his mother was a Visconti), sent for poison from Lombardy, and administered in his soup a strong dose, which the good constitution of Gilles enabled him to resist. Starvation was then tried, and the wretched Gilles would stand at his prison window, calling on the passers by to give him bread: "Du pain, du pain pour l'amour de Dieu," but no one ventured to relieve him. At last, a poor woman dared to give him food, and placed a loaf on the edge of his grated window, continuing for six months to share with him in secret her scanty meal of black bread. Seeing that he could hold out no longer and that his death was determined upon, Gilles begged the woman would fetch him a minister of religion, that he might confess before he died. By stealth she brought him a Cordelier monk, who confessed him across the bars of his prison, and Gilles adjured him to seek his brother and acquaint him with his pitiable condition. The monk started on his errand, but in the mean time the gaolers of Gilles determined on putting an end to his life. They twisted a cloth round his neck, and smothered him between two[pg 049]mattresses while he slept. The monks of Bosquen carried his body to their abbey for interment, and the wooden effigy that was placed over his grave is still preserved in the Museum at St. Brieuc. The monk who had received Gilles's confession went in quest of Duke Francis, who, on hearing of his brother's death when at Avranches, had left for Saint Michel. The monk met him on the Grève, and cited him in the name of his brother "de la part du Messire Gilles" to appear within fifty days at the tribunal of Heaven to answer for his murder. The menace was realised. Duke Francis died within the appointed time, struck with remorse, and terrified at the summons of the Cordelier. The monk was never seen again. On the death of Gilles, the Duke of Brittany himself wished to marry Françoise, but she would not listen to his proposals; and at last was obliged, in order to recover her liberty, to marry the aged Comte de Laval, father of her betrothed, with whom she lived peacefully thirty years, and had three sons. Duke Francis II. appointed her to the charge of rearing his daughter Anne.

Arthur Montauban turned monk to avoid the vengeance of Duke Peter, brother of Gilles, and eventually became Archbishop of Bordeaux. The Pope gave him the Abbey of Rédon, but popular indignation prevented him from accepting the appointment.

On our return from Montafilant we stopped to visit the Lunatic Asylum (Asile des aliénés), called Les Bas Foins, kept by the brothers of Saint-Jean-de-Dieu. There are six hundred inmates under the charge of about sixty brethren. The buildings, with the chapel, are very handsome and most complete in all the arrangements. Within the enclosure is a large piece of land. The lunatics are employed in agricultural, garden, and house occupations; they look very contented and happy. Visitors are not allowed to speak to them. We omitted seeing the Croix du Saint Esprit, a curiously sculptured Gothic granite cross of the fourteenth century, not far from the asylum.

The castle of Dinan is now a prison. It was occupied by the Queen-Duchess Anne, when on her way to a pilgrimage to Notre Dame-du-Folgoët, in fulfilment of a vow made during the illness of Louis XII. In the chapel is shewn a sculptured seat, still called the arm-chair of the Duchess Anne. Within these walls were crammed, in the last century, about 2000 English prisoners of war, many of whom fell victims to a contagious fever. From the platform of the keep we had a magnificent view of the surrounding country, extending to Mont Dol and the sea.

The church of St. Sauveur has a richly sculptured Romanesque portal. It contains the heart of[pg 051]Du Guesclin, transferred from the church of the Dominicans, where he desired it to be interred by the side of his wife Tiphaine. His body was buried at St. Denis, in a tomb King Charles V. caused to be made in his lifetime, and he left orders that on his death his Constable should repose at his feet. On the dark-coloured monumental stone now incrusted on the wall, are roughly sculptured his arms (an eagle displayed charged with a cotice3), with a commemorative inscription in gold letters:—

“Cy: gist: le cueur: deMissire: bertram: du gueaquīen: son vivāt: conētiable defrance: qui: trepassa: le: xiii^ejour: de: jullet: l'an: mil iii^eIIII^xx dont: son: corps: reposavecques: ceulx: des: Roysa sainct: denis en France.”

“Cy: gist: le cueur: de

Missire: bertram: du gueaquī

en: son vivāt: conētiable de

france: qui: trepassa: le: xiii^e

jour: de: jullet: l'an: mil iii^e

IIII^xx dont: son: corps: repos

avecques: ceulx: des: Roys

a sainct: denis en France.”

Above hangs a painting representing the Governor of Châteauneuf Randon, laying the keys of the town upon the dead body of the Constable.4

13. Effigy of Jean de Beaumanoir.

Many of the streets of Dinan preserve the character of the Middle Ages, the houses upon columns forming a kind of porch or covered way; and most curious of all is the dirty, steep, narrow, winding street, called the Rue de Jerzual, a ravine extending from the top of the town, in one pitch, to the river's edge. The Museum at the Mairie has an interesting collection of tumulary slabs—recumbent figures[pg 053]taken from different churches and abbeys, mostly from the Beaumanoir chapel of the Abbey of Lehon. There is one of Jean de Beaumanoir, son of the hero of the "Combat des Trente," treacherously slain by his steward. He is represented in full armour, but with his head bare, to indicate the manner of his death. The effigy of his wife is also in complete armour, but on the belt that encircles her waist, like those worn by the knights, is sculptured a wreath of roses. She was a Du Guesclin by birth, and her feet repose upon an eagle, the bearing of her house. The statue of Roland, Vicomte de Dinan, one of the nine great Barons of Brittany in the twelfth century, is of gigantic proportions; the warrior is clad from head to foot in chain mail, but he holds one of his gauntlets in his hand. In the Museum is also a clock given to the city of Dinan by the Duchess Anne, inscribed with the name of its maker and the date of its construction: "1498, à Nantes par M. Hainzer de cette ville." The ancient bronze standard measures (étalons) of Dinan are decorated with the arms of the City, and Gothic inscriptions in relief, "Cart (quart) à gros blé pour Dinan"—"Cart à fourmant (froment) pour Dinan"—and "Bouesceau à scel (boisseau à sel) pour Dinan." Portraits of Du Guesclin and other Breton worthies are in one of the rooms (Salle de l'Odéon). That of the Constable answers to the[pg 054]description given of his appearance. He was low in stature, with large Breton head, broad shoulders, long arms, and large hands. His eyes were green, and his complexion swarthy: "la peau noire comme un sanglier."

14. Château of La Bellière.

The drives round Dinan are endless in variety,5and all beautiful. We took a carriage to see the Château of la Bellière, about five miles and a half from Dinan, formerly the residence of Du Guesclin's[pg 055]wife, the celebrated Lady Tiphaine; her name answers probably to our English Tiffany:—

“William de Coningsby—Came out of BrittanyWith his wife TiffanyAnd her maid ManifasAnd his doggs Hardigras.”

“William de Coningsby—

Came out of Brittany

With his wife Tiffany

And her maid Manifas

And his doggs Hardigras.”

15. Chimney. Châteauof La Bellière.

The Lady Tiphaine was heiress and daughter of the Vicomte de Bellière; so deeply versed was she in astrology, she was called Tiphaine la Fée. During her husband's absence in Spain, she resided at Mont Saint Michel, having chosen this insulated spot for the facilities it afforded her of studying the stars. She gave Du Guesclin a calendar on vellum, containing verses at the beginning of each month, pointing out the lucky and unlucky days; how many she marked down as such, we know not. Tycho Brahe had thirty-two fatal days in his calendar. Had Du Guesclin consulted this precious volume, which is now preserved in the Library at Avranches, he would never have risked his fortune by fighting the battle of Auray on the Feast of St. Michel, one of the fatal days against which she specially warns him in her book. We wished to have seen the room where she died, and where many memorials of her are preserved; but the proprietor was at his déjeuner, and would not grant us admittance, so we were forced to be content with seeing the exterior[pg 056]of the house, a château of the end of the fourteenth century. It stands on the edge of a large sheet of water, in the midst of trees on the roadside between Dinan and St. Malo. Its principal characteristics are its tall octagonal chimney-shafts, composed of granite, brick, and slate. They are surmounted by pieces of slate placed edgeways and forming a kind of capital or coronet to the granite shaft. Some of the chimneys have two circles of these coronets, and others are enriched with little rows of arches, of which the sombre slate background throws out the delicate ornamentation. Recrossing the magnificent viaduct, we proceeded to visit the Benedictine Priory of Lehon, called in the country "Chapelle des Beaumanoirs" from the mortuary chapel of that family attached to the abbey:—

“Beaumanoir! à ce nom de glorieux prodigesDes siècles écoulés réveillent les prestiges:La pierre des tombeaux a paru se mouvoirEt des trente Bretons les clameurs belliqueusesSemblent répondre, sous ces voûtes fameuses,A ce grand nom de Beaumanoir.”—Aubry.

“Beaumanoir! à ce nom de glorieux prodiges

Des siècles écoulés réveillent les prestiges:

La pierre des tombeaux a paru se mouvoir

Et des trente Bretons les clameurs belliqueuses

Semblent répondre, sous ces voûtes fameuses,

A ce grand nom de Beaumanoir.”—Aubry.

The west front, with its round-arched portal surmounted by a large Gothic window, is very pretty. The chapel of the Beaumanoirs was ravaged at[pg 057]the Revolution, the lead of the coffins sold, and the bones scattered. The statues have since been removed to the Museum at Dinan, and the crypt beneath, where they were buried, is inaccessible. At the Revolution, when the monks were expelled, the priory was sold and used for a spinning factory; and the weight of the machines crushed the floors, so as to shut up the entrance to the vaults. In the parish church adjacent, is to be noticed an ancient baptismal font, of cylindrical form, sculptured within and without. We returned home by the Château du Chêne-Ferron, approached by an avenue of firs, and had a lovely drive along the banks of the Rance.

Our last excursion in Dinan was to the Château of La Garaye, rendered famous by the virtues and boundless charity of its last proprietors, Count Claude Toussaint Marot de la Garaye and his wife, whose interesting story is told in the charming poem of Mrs. Norton:—

“Listen to the tale I tell,Grave the story is—not sad,And the peasant plodding byGreets the place with kindly eye,For the inmates that it had.”The Lady of La Garaye.

“Listen to the tale I tell,

Grave the story is—not sad,

And the peasant plodding by

Greets the place with kindly eye,

For the inmates that it had.”

The Lady of La Garaye.

Count Claude de la Garaye and his wife were young, beautiful, and endowed with friends, riches, and all[pg 058]that could make life bright and happy. They entertained with hospitality, and enjoyed the pleasures and amusements of the world; when one day the Countess was thrown from her horse, the expectations of an heir vanished, and she was left a cripple for life. Both were inconsolable for their disappointment. One day a monk came to visit them, and tried to comfort them, seeking by his converse to turn their thoughts from earthly affections to heavenly consolation—

"Ah! my father," said the lady, "how happy are you, to love nothing on earth!"

"You are mistaken," answered the monk; "I love all those who are in sorrow or suffering, and I submit myself to the will of the Almighty, and bend myself with resignation to every blow He strikes."

He proceeded to show them there was still great happiness in store for them, in ministering to the comforts of others. Following his counsel, they went to Paris; for three years the Count studied medicine and surgery, and his wife became a skilful oculist. On their return to La Garaye, they gave up all the amusements of society, and devoted themselves to relieving the sufferings of their fellow creatures. Their house was converted into an hospital for the sick and the wounded, under the ministering care of the Count and his benevolent wife:—

“Her home is made their home; her wealth their dole;Her busy courtyard hears no more the rollOf gilded vehicles, or pawing steeds,But feeble steps of those whose bitter needsAre their sole passport. Through that gateway passAll varying forms of sickness and distress,And many a poor worn face that hath not smiledFor years,—and many a feeble crippled child,—Blesses the tall, white portal where they stand,And the dear Lady of the liberal hand.”The Lady of La Garaye.

“Her home is made their home; her wealth their dole;

Her busy courtyard hears no more the roll

Of gilded vehicles, or pawing steeds,

But feeble steps of those whose bitter needs

Are their sole passport. Through that gateway pass

All varying forms of sickness and distress,

And many a poor worn face that hath not smiled

For years,—and many a feeble crippled child,—

Blesses the tall, white portal where they stand,

And the dear Lady of the liberal hand.”

The Lady of La Garaye.

Nor was their philanthropy confined to their own province. In 1720, they offered themselves to M. de Belzunce—"Marseilles' good bishop"—to assist him during the visitation of the Plague. The fame of their virtues reached even the French Court, and Louis XV. sent Count de la Garaye the order of St. Lazarus with a donation of 50,000 livres and a contract on the post of 25,000 more.

They both died at an advanced age, within two years of each other, and were buried among their poor at Taden, but their marble mausoleum in the church was destroyed in the French Revolution. Count de la Garaye6left a large sum to be distributed among the prisoners, principally English, at Rennes and Dinan, who were suffering pent up in these crowded gaols. The Comte had attended the English prisoners at Dinan during a contagious[pg 060]fever, called the "peste blanche," and, in acknowledgment of his humanity, Queen Caroline sent him two dogs with silver collars round their necks, and an English nobleman made him a present of six more.

16. Château of La Garaye.

The ruined château is approached by an ivy-covered gateway, through an avenue of beeches:—

“Le lierre flottant comme un manteau de deuil,Couvre à demi la porte et rampe sur le seuil.”Lamartine,Harmonies Poëtiques.

“Le lierre flottant comme un manteau de deuil,

Couvre à demi la porte et rampe sur le seuil.”

Lamartine,Harmonies Poëtiques.

or, as Mrs. Norton renders it:—

“And like a mourner's mantle, with sad grace,Waves the dark ivy—hiding half the doorAnd threshold, where the weary traveller's footShall never find a courteous welcome more.”

“And like a mourner's mantle, with sad grace,

Waves the dark ivy—hiding half the door

And threshold, where the weary traveller's foot

Shall never find a courteous welcome more.”

It is fast falling to pieces. The principal part remaining is an octagonal turret of three stories, with elegant Renaissance decoration round the windows. One more quotation from Mrs. Norton, and we quit these hallowed ruins:—

“We know the healthy stir of human lifeMust be for ever gone!The walls where hung the warrior's shining casqueAre green with moss and mould;The blindworm coils where Queens have slept, nor asksFor shelter from the cold.The swallow,—he is master all the day,And the great owl is ruler through the night;The little bat wheels on his circling way,With restless flittering flight;And that small bat, and the creeping things,At will they come and go,And the soft white owl with velvet wings,And a shout of human woe!The brambles let no footsteps passBy that rent in the broken stair,When the pale tufts of the windle-strae grassHang like locks of dry dead hair;But there the keen sound ever sweeps and moans,“Working a passage through the mouldering stones.”The Lady of La Garaye.

“We know the healthy stir of human life

Must be for ever gone!

The walls where hung the warrior's shining casque

Are green with moss and mould;

The blindworm coils where Queens have slept, nor asks

For shelter from the cold.

The swallow,—he is master all the day,

And the great owl is ruler through the night;

The little bat wheels on his circling way,

With restless flittering flight;

And that small bat, and the creeping things,

At will they come and go,

And the soft white owl with velvet wings,

And a shout of human woe!

The brambles let no footsteps pass

By that rent in the broken stair,

When the pale tufts of the windle-strae grass

Hang like locks of dry dead hair;

But there the keen sound ever sweeps and moans,

“Working a passage through the mouldering stones.”

The Lady of La Garaye.

From Dinan, instead of taking the customary road to the railway station of Caulnes, we hired a carriage, in order to visit the fortress castle of La Hunaudaye, midway between Dinan and Lamballe. The road lay by Jugon, a town prettily situated in the cleft of two hills. On one once[pg 062]stood an important castle, which gave rise to the saying:—

“Qui a Bretagne sans Jugon,A chape sans chaperon.”

“Qui a Bretagne sans Jugon,

A chape sans chaperon.”

Jugon is on the edge of two ponds. One of them, the largest in Brittany, hangs suspended over the town, as if threatening it with inundation. They told us it was swarming with fish of every description, and with pike of fabulous dimensions. Turning off the road to the right, we entered the forest of La Hunaudaye, and walked in a pouring rain to the château, situated a short distance from the road. It is of vast extent, has five round towers with ramparts of cut stone, and is surrounded by walls with machicolated parapets. It is a splendid ruin, but the incessant rain prevented us from spending much time in its examination. It was built in the thirteenth century by Olivier de la Tournemine, and was one of the strongest fortresses in Brittany. Situated in the midst of a vast forest, its lord and his retainers were the terror of the surrounding country. No traveller passed untaxed; all were compelled to pay toll. In 1504, the Bishop of St. Brieuc complains to the Parliament at Rennes that, regardless of the safeguard of the Duke, the foresters of the Lord of La Hunaudaye had carried off his horses, trunks, and baggage, and, a year later, they had the audacity to stop the Queen-Duchess[pg 063]Anne on her way to a pilgrimage to the Folgoët. The Queen was conducted to the presence of the Lord of La Hunaudaye, who maintained to her that he had only exercised his right of exacting a ransom from all who passed through the forest without his permission, but that he waived his privilege in favour of his Sovereign. Be that as it may, he received her Majesty most royally, as the old chaplain, Oliver de la Roche recounts, and gave a splendid banquet, which he fully describes. The table, he says, was four times covered with thirty-six dishes of viands, and lastly, was brought in, "en grande vénération," by eight squires, a whole calf, standing on its legs, well seasoned, with an orange in its mouth; and, when it appeared, the trumpets sounded so loud that it seemed as if the walls shook. On seeing the "dainty dish" that was "set before the Queen," all wished to have a share; and the chaplain relates, with great satisfaction, how he was served himself twice by the Lord of La Hunaudaye.

The dark deeds of the lords of La Hunaudaye have given rise to many a legend. The following is a translation of one of the most popular:—

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