Chapter 4
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 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 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."
The drives round Dinan are endless in variety,(5) and 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 wife, the celebrated Lady Tiphaine; her name answers probably to our English Tiffany:—
“William de Coningsby— Came out of Brittany With his wife Tiffany And her maid Manifas And his doggs Hardigras.”
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 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 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 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 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 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 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 Garaye(6) left 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 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.
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 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 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 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 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:—
LEGEND OF LA HUNAUDAYE. _(Translation.)_
“When the rock eagle wakes, And the towers of Hunaudaye Gleam like three phantom forms In the morning’s sunlight ray; When night her darksome wing Folds round this desert waste, Shun all this cursed ground— Traveller flee thou in haste.
“There once—Great Heaven shield Us all! and no ill arise— There once—Hush! leave me not; Hear you, from the ground, low sighs?— There once—wrapped in the gloom Of a dark and rainy night, A man of haughty mien Knocked at the door of might.
“’Open!’ cried he,—it turns On groaning hinge. The rain Pours, but the frightened guards Mark neither spot nor stain On his purple cloak—nor his plumes Droop wet, yet the torrents fall Wildly and fast to night, Beating the castle wall.
“The baron, stern and sad, Was in his tower alone, Pacing, with mailed heel, Upon the echoing stone: Cried he—’What stranger seeks, This hour, my castle drear? Ho! Oliver, Ho! Ralph, See who intrudeth here.’
“’Heaven shield thee, baron brave! A strange knight in the hall Craves audience.’ ’Lead him here: Stay thou and Ralph in call, At need.’ Silent and slow The purple-mantled knight, Advancing, paused—his looks Gleaming unearthly bright.
“’Who art thou coming thus, Loud clamouring at my gate, Thou truly puissant knight, With not one squire for state? Knowst thou at word of mine—’ The stranger knight smiled stern, Replied in awful voice, ’Would’st thou my name? now learn: Here is my train—behold!’ He cried. There hideous stood One spectre, then two more— A sight to chill the blood— Unveiled their features pale, All three in cere-cloth dressed, Opening all wide to point Where blood flowed from the breast.
“’Baron, these are my guard,’ Said the unknown—’Here, lo! Thy father’s aged form, By poignard stroke laid low; Here thy wife, cruelly slain In the year thy brother fell; They stand, pale, bleeding, stiff,— Their murderer, can’st thou tell?’
“The phantoms three enlaced The trembling baron round; He vainly shrieked,—the walls With demon laughs resound; The echoing thunders rolled Along the valley deep; Lightnings, when pale dawn broke, Blasted the castle keep.
“It stands a blackened pile; The ruined gate is there. But the sky lowers dark, Oh! traveller flee, beware; At this hour the shades of night Brood o’er the solemn gloom. Traveller, haste, oh! haste; Leave this abode of doom.”
It was in the forest of La Hunaudaye that the Chouans of the Côtes du Nord were secretly exercised and drilled by their chief, La Rouërie, under the name of Gosselin, who died of horror on hearing of the execution of thirteen of his confederates betrayed by the physician Chaftal. Gosselin was succeeded by the "Cid" of the Chouan chiefs, Boishardy, called the "Sorcier," who, after his interview with General Humbert, was betrayed and shot by the "Bleus." For twelve years was Brittany cut off from France by this Chouan war, an insurrection even more formidable than that of La Vendée. The peninsular position of Brittany, its vast extent of coasts, its forests, its mountains, its people, speaking a strange language, entirely under the subjection of the priests, rendered it peculiarly adapted to carry on a war against the republicans; a war, the whole object of which was to upset all order, by preventing the citizens from accepting office under the republic, by punishing those who acquired national property, by stopping couriers and all public conveyances, destroying bridges, breaking up roads, assassinating public officers, and executing horrible punishments on those who sent provisions into the towns.
The castle of La Hunaudaye was destroyed by order of the Commune of Lamballe, in 1793, that it might not serve as a retreat for the Chouans.
We arrived very wet at Lamballe, a town most picturesquely situated on the declivity of a granite cliff, surmounted by a handsome church, rising from the very edge of the rocks. It formed part of the territory of the Duke of Penthièvre, whose heiress, Jeanne la Boiteuse, married Charles of Blois, the competitor with John de Montfort(7) for the dukedom of Brittany. More tenacious of her rights than her husband, Jeanne would never listen to any compromise. After the treaty of Bretigny, the kings of England and France proposed a division of the duchy between the two rivals; but, intimidated by his wife, Charles dared not consent; and again, before the battle of Auray, when a division was agreed upon, subject to the acceptance of the Countess, Jeanne exclaimed, "My husband makes too cheap a bargain of what is not his own." And she wrote to Charles, "Do what you please. I am a woman, and cannot do more; but I had rather lose my life, or two if I had them, before I would consent to so reproachable an act, to the shame of my family" (_des miens_). Later she said to him, "Preserve me your heart, but preserve me also my duchy, and, happen what may, act so that the sovereignty remains to me entire." Her pride and obstinacy cost her husband his life. The name of Lamballe is associated with the memory of the unfortunate Princesse de Savoie de Carignan, the sad victim of revolutionary fury. On the death of her husband, the Prince de Lamballe, the vast estates of the Penthièvre family passed to his sister, the wife of Philippe Egalité, and from her descended to Louis Philippe, King of the French.
Next day we made an excursion to the famed Temple of Lanleff, in Breton, the "land of tears," situated in a retired valley about six miles from the sea. According to the tradition of the country, it was built by "Les moines rouges," as they style the Templar Knights. The road was incessantly up and down hill, as we afterwards found they are throughout Brittany; a "pays accidenté" it may be truly called. The chapel of Lanleff is composed of two concentric circular enclosures separated by twelve round arches, with cushion-shaped capitals, having heads, human and animal, rudely sculptured upon them at the four angles. Its whole diameter is about twenty-two feet. It was probably built by some Templar Knight in the beginning of the twelfth century on his return from the Holy Land. The number of arches may allude to that of the twelve Apostles.
The parish church was built into the east side of the temple, the only part which has preserved its roof, and which served as a vestibule to the more modern building. A gigantic yew formerly grew in the central enclosure, and overshadowed it with its spreading branches; but the parish church has been taken down and rebuilt in another part of the village, and the yew-tree has disappeared.
Close to the temple is a spring enclosed by flagstones. When moistened, they appear covered with blood-stained spots. According to the tradition, in olden times an unnatural father sold his child to the Evil One. The gold received for the bargain was counted out upon the side of the spring, and the accursed money left its print upon the stones. A bare-legged peasant who stood by with her pitcher, threw some water over the stones, and immediately there appeared round red spots of different sizes—indelible marks of the diabolical bargain. We went into a cottage close by, and had some boiled eggs and cider. The inmates were at their meal—a bowl of milk, into which they broke their buckwheat "galette." We were much struck with the jealous pertinacity of the Breton, to show he considers himself as of a different people and country to the rest of France, a feeling which more than three hundred years has not dissipated. Our driver would talk of Bretons and French as of distinct nations, and the Normans in this part of Brittany are the special objects of hatred, originating, perhaps, in the former subjection of Brittany to Normandy. When Charles the Simple ceded to the fierce Northmen the province now known by their name, their sovereignty extended over Brittany, and the dukes of Normandy did homage for both provinces to the King of France. The Bretons struggled hard against the supremacy of the Barbarians, but eventually had to acknowledge the Duke of Normandy as their sovereign lord.
St. Brieuc, principal town of the department of the Côtes-du-Nord, has been described as an old town with a new face. Though one of the oldest in Brittany, it has little of antiquity to detain the traveller. The Palais de Justice is a handsome building, in the midst of a pretty garden, commanding a view of the Tour de Cesson, lower down the river (the Gouët), a large circular tower built by Duke John IV., and blown up by Henry IV., at the desire of the Briochins, as the inhabitants of St. Brieuc style themselves. The mine split it in two, and the part that remains serves as a landmark for the pilots between St. Brieuc and its port, about two miles distant, called Légué. Notre Dame d’Espérance is a pretty church, rebuilt about ten years since, with a calvary in front, and a series of painted windows representing the principal saints of Brittany, and the most celebrated pilgrimages of the Virgin in that province. At St. Brieuc, 1689, James II. of England reviewed his little army, and was received with royal honours by the bishop of the place.
We proceeded by the railway to Guingamp, next to St. Brieuc, the principal town of the department, capital of the duchy of Penthièvre. It is situated in the richly wooded and cultivated valley of the Trieux, a favourite fishing river of considerable size, and affording trout, salmon, and dace, from Guingamp to Paimpol, where it falls into the sea, a distance of twenty miles. It runs through the centre of the town, and is here a considerable stream.
Attached to the Cathedral is the venerated sanctuary of Notre Dame-du-Bon-Secours, one of the most celebrated places of pilgrimage in Brittany. The pardon takes place the Saturday before the first Sunday in July, and owes its origin to the brotherhood called the "Frérie blanche," an association of which Duke Peter accepted the title of lay-abbot. The motto embroidered on their banner was (in Breton) "A triple cord is not easily broken." The triple cord being emblematic of the three estates—clergy, nobles, and laity—in whose unity consisted the strength of Brittany. The Frérie blanche no longer exists, the triple cable is broken, the pilgrimage alone remains.