The Wanderer in Western France. Illustrated by the Hon. E. York

Front matter

THE WANDERER IN WESTERN FRANCE. Luh'* to ttie Queen THE RUINS OF LA DURBELLIE. London, Hurst & Blickett The Hon Eliot Yorto MP dol1 1)aj &. San Lvihog^u. theQueeD THE WANDERER IN WESTERN FRANCE. BY GEORGE T. LOWTH, ESQ. AUTHOR OF " THE WANDERER IN ARABIA," &c, &c. ILLUSTRATED BY THE HON. ELIOT YORK, M.P. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 1863. The righi of Translation is reserved. LONDON : HENRY C. BERRY AND CO., PRINTERS, GLOUCESTER STREET, regent's park. CONTENTS.

Chapter I

Philosophy of Travel — The Right Way to Brittany — Old France — Primitive Hotel — Breton Ideas of Completeness — Malouin Grandeur — Bathing a la Mode — Religious Bathing — Fast Bathing — Use of Fruit in the Study of Geography — St. Malo Amusement — Ancient Glories of the Malouins — and Celebrities ... 1 CHAPTER, II. The Ancient Ways and Customs of the Road — Is a Child a Child? — Macadam in France — England in France — The Tobacco Plant — The Galette — Disorderly Villages — New Machinery introduced into Agriculture — No Barns — Fine Race of Pointers — Breton Sporting . . . ........ 1G CHAPTER in. Rennes, Old and New — Mary Roberts — Powers of Waiting — Old City of Rennes Burnt — Public Gardens — Manufactories — General Improvements and Commercial Activity — Railways through Brittany — Ancient Rennes — Ancient Times — The Lice — I)u Guesclin and the Duke of Lancaster — Du Guesclin and the Chevalier Bremborough — Old Roman Gate — The Cathedral — The Palace . 29

CHAPTER IV.

Fellow -Travellers — On the Read to Nantes — An Abbe — On Hunting — On Breton Habits — An Officer of Dragoons — In the Confessional — The Tower of Fougeray — The Abbe on Rome — On Protestantism — On the Pope .......... 51

CHAPTER V.

Nantes — Its Quay on the Loire — Its Associations — Carrier and his Cruelties — The Duchess de Berri's Closet — The Chateau — Cardinal de Retz — His Escape by Stratagem 63

CHAPTER VI.

La Vendee — A different People and Country from Brittany — A Vine Country — A Pleasant Priest— Sleepy Priests — Clisson — Like an Italian Town — The Garonne — The Temple of Vesta — The Bain de Diane — Grotto of Ileloise — Alfred de Musset and Veron — Le Pallet and Abelard — And Ileloise — A False Romance— Priests and Peasantry — Chateau of Clisson— Scenes of Justice — The Court of Honour ..... . . . . _ VI CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VII.

Torfou— The Battle — Vendeans and Republicans— Chateau of Mortagne— Heroism of the Vendeans — The War for the Hearth and the Altar — General Devastation of the Country by the Republicans — New Chateau — The Lake and the Washerwomen — The Manufacturer of Rosaries— Increased Expense of Living — The Wine of the Country . • 91

CHAPTER VIII.

Flourishing Town of Chollet — Search after the Chateau of La Rochejacquelein — Hounds and Sportsmen— Battle of Chollet — Discontent of Society — St. Aubyn, and the Chateau of La Durbelliere — A beautiful Ruin — The Lake andthe Orangery — The large Court and Stabling — General La Rochejacquelein — Monsieur Henri — Church of St. Aubyn — Monument of the La Rochejacquelein Family — A Funeral 103

CHAPTER IX.

Chatillon — A Fair — The Aged Sacristan at the Church — Westermann, and his Defeat by the Vendeans — The Battle ofthe Windmill — The Sacristan and his Reminiscences . . . . . 1 20

CHAPTER X.

The Tower of Bressuire — View of the Clisson of Lescure — and the Bocage — The Vendean Peasantry — Costume — Women's Caps — Walk to Clisson — The Young Ladies — No Remains of the Old Chateau — The Modern House — The Account of the Agent — Reflections — The Family Party at Clisson — Where the War began — Madame de Lescure 128

CHAPTER XI.

The Real Bocage — Its Characters — The Land Question — Farming — Subdivision of Property — Its Effects — Social and Political — The Interior of the Bocage — Fellow -Travellers — i rotestants in the Country — The Gendarme and the Courier — The Courier's Sleep — Thoughts about awaking Him — The Forest of Chantemerle .... 145

CHAPTER XII.

La Chataigneraie in the Bocage — The Vineyards — On the Hill of Chiffoir — And Miraculous Fountain — The Forest of Vouvant — The Plain of Niort — Breed of Mules — Fontenay . . . 1 (J2 CHAFTER XIII. Niort — The Poitou Farmers— Poitou Protestants — An Ex-colporteur of the Bible — Eleonore Desmir— A Poitou Lady — Her Connection With Queen Victoria ........ CONTENTS. VII

CHAPTER XIV.

The Road to La Rochelle— Vineyards— The Tower of St. Sauveur and the Sacristan— Siege of La Rochelle— Richelieu's Digue— Guiton, the Man of Bronze— The English Fleet— The Fight— The Bains de Marie Therese— The Bathers— The Morning Lounge— Protestantism — Mixed Marriages— Essays and Reviews— Faults of Louis Philippe — His Merits — Glory not Contentment . . . 178

CHAPTER XV.

Coach Travelling — A Blot on the French People— A Night Journey- Napoleon Vendee — A dull formal Town — A Wine Merchant on his Trade with Englishmen — Timidity of Despotism — Its Results — The " Pacificateur de la Vendee " ■ 198

CHAPTER XVI.

A French Gentleman on an Excursion — Les Herbiers — Buried Treasures — Sportsmen and the Lawyer — The Sporting Saddler — And Hunting Noblemen 208

CHAPTER XVII.

The Drive to Tiffauges — Graffart's Folly — Philosophy of Buildings — The Hotel des Quatre Filles — The Chateau of Gilles de Retz — His Story — His Cruelties — His Riches — His Death — He was not Bluebeard — The Stream of Blood — Crinolines among Ruins — The Hostess of the Hotel — Clemence at Breakfast — Her Sorrows — The Garden of the Abbe— His Chapel— His Sister 216

CHAPTER XVIIL

Clemence in distress as Hostess — Her Cousin and his Visit to her — His Plans for her — His Protege — The Marquise de Bretache — Her Convent Life 243

CHAPTER XIX.

From Nantes up the River Erdre — To the Trappist Convent at La Melleray — Ihe Pleasant Monk — The Cloister — The Library — The Bright Refectory — The Jovial Kitchen — The Dormitory — The Chapel— The Cemetery— Health of the Monks— Their Food— Their Farm— Leave Taking — Uses of the Convent . . . 251

CHAPTER XX.

St. Florent — The Passage of the Vendean Army — Madame de Lescure — The Sailor Priest— The Church of St. Florent— The Tomb of Bonchamps CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXI.

Savenay — The Young Carpenter — The Village of Prinquiaux — The Carpenter's Wife — Francois Desmars — Recollections of Madame de la Rochejacquelein— Her mode of Life— At the Windmill — In the Farm House— Les Bleus, and their Habits — The Boy Desmars — Peasant Women 279

CHAPTER XXII.

Auray — Scene of the Battle between Charles de Blois and Jean de Montfort — Charles de Blois killed — Sir John Chandos — Froissart's Account of the Battle — Lok Mariaker — Druid Remains — Burial Customs of the Bretons — Breton People— Their Language — A Grotto, or Ancient Tomb, at Karnac — Druid Stones or Temple — The Fishing Boats of Auray — The Government Overseer of them — Past and Present Prices of Living ...... 295

CHAPTER XXIII.

Sainte Anne — Place of Breton Pilgrimage — Silver Ornaments — The Chapel of the Saint — Early Devotees — Pictures of her Miracles — Peasants and their Offerings of Candles — Wealth of the Church — The College — The Champs des Martyrs — Melancholy Associations — The Place of Sacrifice of the Prisoners of Quiberon . .317

CHAPTER XXIV.

The Town of Lorient — Shipping — Fort Louis — Breton Costume — A Breton Team — Castle of Hennebont — Famous in the Wars of the Dukes of Brittany — Exploits of Jeanne de Montfort at Hennebont — The Present Relics of the Chateau 325

CHAPTER XXV.

A Drive through the Breton Country to Pontivy — A Hunt in the Forest — Many Wolves in it — Story of the " Combat of the Thirty," in the Ancient Times, between Bretons and English — Documents lately Discovered— Supposed English Suppression of the Story — French Opinion of it — The Fight — How it was Fought, and How it was Y'on 333

CHAPTER XXVI.

The True Breton Country — Character of its People — Their Virtues and their Vices — The Breton Association — Its Rise, its Success, and . its Suppression by the Government — Return to England . . THE WANDERER IN WESTERN FRANCE.

CHAPTER I.

Philosophy of Travel— The right way to Brittany — Old France — Primitive Hotel — Breton ideas of Completeness — Malouin Grandeur — BathiDg il la mode — Religious Bathing — Fast Bathing — Use of Fruit in the Study of Geography — St. Malo Amusement — Ancient glories of the Malouins — and Celebrities. If you are proposing to yourself an excursion into a country which is, in the main, new to you, — a country in which men and manners, the people and their habits, are in a degree, if not entirely, novel and unaccustomed, — the better way, in justice to yourself and to the country, is to go to it, if you can, by sea. If you enter it by land, the probability is that you approach your novelties by degrees, after a broken fashion. This is a wrong to your object, — and to your nature, which enjoys surprises.

By the latter proceeding, the effect of the change from the one thing to the other — the pleasant suddenness — is missed, and much of the pith is taken out of the enjoyment. By the former, you give yourself the B ST. MALO, refreshing and inspiriting sensation of a sudden pas sage from a picture of one kind of subject to a picture of another kind of subject. The sense of contrast is gratified. The mental palate is excited. The plunge from the top bank at Upper Hope into deep water, is far more grateful and invigorating to the nervous system than crawling in through water knee-deep at Cuckoo Weir. So if you think of a trip into primitive Brittany, do not go round by Paris, and then all the way down by the Orleans railway to the Loire. All this is a bad preparation for Brittany. The railway spoils you for the old-fashioned diligence.

The whole thing is a jumble — half of it old France, half of it new France. No; embark at Southampton or Weymouth. Slip through Jersey as quickly as you can, and get over to St. Malo. That little voyage puts all thoughts of railways out of your head, and you land at St. Malo uncorrupted by travelling luxu ries, — particularly if you are fortunate enough to have a smart breeze on your way to the French coast, and so are glad to keep yourself recumbent on the top of a pile of boxes and bags and various impedi menta on the foredeck, wishing all the while heartily, under the influence of warnings for a sight of the rocky highlands of Brittany. It was on a bright sunny afternoon of September last that the little steamer, with a stiff breeze astern, dashed in through the narrow channel between the craggy islands at the entrance of the bay of St. Malo.

At once we were in smooth water. Islets of bare OLD FRENCH TOWN. 3 rocks formed an irregular half circle round this pretty little bay, seaward, and on the opposite side to our entrance rose up, on its insular pile of crags, the small picturesque town of St. Malo. There was something very pleasant in finding one self in a real old French town, thoroughly unspoiled by perpetual rubbing with foreigners, English, Ger mans, Italians, et hoc genus omne. Nobody pretended to talk barbarous English to unoffending passengers landing on the quay. It was plain honest French from everybody, from douaniers to carriage drivers, and nothing else. There was a fine old town wall running all along the far side of the broad quay, and trees were growing at its foot, an avenue of limes, — and in their shade were sitting numerous women in their white Brittany caps and various picturesque costume, with baskets of peaches, and grapes, and pears, and other fruits.

How sunny, and warm, and novel, and inviting it all was. All along the top of this wall, some thirty feet high, people were looking over the parapet, watching the arrival of the Jersey steamer — the little event of the day. Beyond the wall was a range of lofty, imposing buildings, regular in form, bright in colour — basking in the clear Sep tember sun. They had sharp steep roofs, and white window frames set in delicate grey-coloured stone, and they towered high above the heavy old outer wall of the quay in its whole length towards the port. The whole style of thing was eminently French — buildings, people, language. Soldiers of course were everywhere, the little dark fellows with their neat b A BRETON MAID. white gaiters. It would not be France and a French town without these smart small figures.

Inside the wall, the whole view and aspect of the street — the figures and their occupations — so reminded me of what a French town was forty years ago, that it gave me quite a thrill of pleasure. It was like the sudden and unexpected sight of an old friend. In the north of France, so many changes have taken place in the small towns, so many novelties have been introduced by the railways, and by the constant con tact with foreigners, that much of the national and distinct air of the streets and the people is lost. In deed, what is Paris now ? It is no longer a French city. It is no more a French town, as it was forty years ago, than a railway carriage is a stage coach. It is a more liveable city, it is less picturesque. It has more conveniences, it has lost all its French characteristics. It is a cosmopolitan place of foreign inventions.

But in Brittany this is not so. It was amusing enough when I was shown into my room at the hotel — one much praised on board the steamer from Jersey. It was a small back room, utterly bare of everything save a bed, a chest of drawers, a bare diminutive table with a white antique pie-dish in forlorn solitude on it, and two chairs. It was amus ing to watch the air of perfect satisfaction with which the neat little Breton maid ushered me in, as if she had the thought in her mind — "Now if you do not think this a little paradise you must be made of very bad materials." When I asked for a towel and some HOTEL AT ST. MALO. 5 water, she clasped her hands and laughed out merrily — " Monsieur could have everything in the world he wanted ; there was nothing he could ask for he could not have in that house ; there was his bed and drawers" — spreading her hands out towards each object in turn — " and chairs, and a table — what would he have ? — everything — everything."

It was deliciously simple and primitive in its utter innocence of the awful complications of a bedroom. How fortunate it was that I had come over the sea and had gone through trouble on my way. How fortunate that I had thus shut out at a blow all the wants and memories of an English home, and had not spoiled my mind and my thoughts on the road into primitive Brittany by going through the corrupted north and by bastard Paris. I am afraid, however, that I did congratulate myself, weakly, on the fact of its being summer weather. What has any one to do with comforts and luxuries on an excursion in summer into an uncorrupted country ? There were coaches to Rennes ; but on inquiry at the office there was not a place to be had for the next day. So I was obliged, whether I wrould or no, to stay a day at St. Malo, — a circumstance much to the satisfaction of the little Breton maid of the inn, who assured me, on hearing of my disappointment, with much expressive pantomime, " that there was no place in all Brittany where I should be so well off as at St. Malo, and that there was no house in St. Malo where I could have so many luxuries, and be so taken care of as in that identical one."

THE MAL0UINS. St. Malo is a small town, built on a piece of rock perpendicular to the sea, but sloping from the sea to the port, This is, properly speaking, an island ; but an artificial causeway connects it with the main land. A sea wall, broad and with a walk on it, runs all round the place, except at one point by the inner port, where the old castle stands, threatening the narrow neck of land — the approach from the main land. The castle is a handsome, heavy structure, built in 1689, after plans furnished by Vauban, as were the other defences of the place. The wall running by the quay, and the lofty buildings within it, were built in 1708. They are thus characterised by an inhabitant of St. Malo who writes, as a true Malouin should write, with a noble fervour, of the glories of his native town.

" In 1708, the Malouins commenced at their own expense the first and magnificent enlargement of their town, extending from the castle to the Grande Porte, an enlargement of which the ramparts rival those of Toulon, and within which many of the houses would rank as handsome residences even at Paris." The worthy Malouin may be pardoned this boast about the houses, which are really good, — but that about the ramparts rivalling those of Toulon, — there is a charming simplicity about this. You may while away a sunny September morning in a much less pleasant and amusing way than upon the walk on the sea wall of St. Malo. I went out on it after breakfast, and while strolling along it, lettino* my spy-glass drop now on one object in the bay, and FAST YOUNG LADIES. 7 then on another — now on the little town of Dinart across the water, and then on a rocky islet out at sea with large buildings on it, my eye fell upon some bathing machines on the far side of the sands.

It was low water. About the machines were many figures ; and many more, in parties of two and three, men and women, were coming and going from one of the town gates across the level sands to the water side. Soon I could perceive that these were the fashionables of St. Malo going out to bathe. But I also soon perceived, by the aid of my glass, that the ladies and the gentlemen all bathed together. This was a little surprise to a stranger. It is true they all wore a dress — a kind of Garibaldi loose jacket, or a short cloak, with wide trousers, all of a blue colour, the arms bare to the elbow, and the legs bare, nearly to the knees in some cases. The sea was quiet and glassy in the still and sunny air, and the young ladies ventured out as far as they could safely. I could see groups of these fair creatures, all holding hands, and leaping and dipping their pretty figures ; of course they were pretty, and of a certainty they were young by their movements in the water.

There were some forms which, from time to time, came leaping and skipping through the shallow water over the sands to gain the bathing machines, and some of these wore their trousers very short indeed. I set these down as the fast young ladies of St. Malo, who would not be thought so slow as to wear common, long, heavy, decent, muffish trousers. As these young things went skipping through the shallows, some bearded A PRIEST BATHING. and whiskered man would descend from his machine, with his legs and arms rather more fast, and meet them and pass them by, or half stop and exchange a few words as he went on his way into the deeper water. Certainly nothing could look more sociable and happy than this Malouin custom of bathing. While I was thinking of this innocent happiness, I saw a priest come out of the town gate in the wall near me, and hurry down with eager step over the sands towards the bathers.

He was tall, and dark, and rather on the right side of forty — a dangerous age. As he went along he checked himself to ex change a word with various knots of his friends, ladies and gentlemen, for there was a perpetual com ing and going of the fashionables from the town over the sands. But I observed that the priest was in a hurry. He did not like to be delayed in his course. His salutations were made in haste, and he scarcely stopped in his onward walk to make them. What could the priest be going to do among the bathers ? Was he going to bathe too ? Surely he would not habit his sacred person in a blue fast costume and go out for a swim. I was curious to see. Arriving at the machines he addressed a lady in black for a few seconds, who was standing by the water's edge and watching the female bathers, and then he entered one of the boxes on wheels.

In a few minutes he emerged, not in blue flannel, — no, this would not have been clerical — but in a long black gown, and with his broad-brimmed hat still upon his head. By the way, the ladies wore little caps on their heads, and A YOUNG LADY. 9 the gentlemen wore nothing; but the priest wore his hat en regie. It is true that the gentlemen rather avoided that part where the ladies were, and went some thirty or forty yards from their circles of dancers, some of the men swimming honestly out to sea. But the priest did not avoid the ladies, and bathe with the gentlemen. On the contrary, he made straight for that particular part where these were dis porting themselves with much animation, as ladies always do in the water. Here I very soon saw the holy man single out one young creature, apparently about fourteen or fifteen years of age, and begin a kind of dance with her, — that is, he stood up and held her two hands in his, while she jumped, and dipped, and shook her little head after each such immersion.

Then there was a short pause, and apparently a little talk, and then came another leaping and splashing. It was a charming thing to witness, this paternal and loving care. The other ladies went on with their bathing in the vicinity of the sacred man, but he evidently had gone out there for one purpose, and that was to bathe this young creature he held by the hands. He never left her for any one else ; he never let go her hands; and he came away when she came away. This accounted — at least it did so to me — for the haste of the good man over the sands. I could not help inquiring of myself, — would that tall, middle aged man have gone down so eagerly to the sea if the lamb of his flock, which he sought, had been of the masculine gender ? Would he have cut short all the little salutations of the ladies he met on his wray STRANGE CUSTOM. across the sands — some young, some old — and have shown that his mind was preoccupied with something else, if it had been a little male lamb he was going to teach how to dance in the waters?

Well, it was nothing to me. If St. Malo considered that the priest is never in the wrong place, and that this was as good a place as any other for the holy man to make the daughters of the Malouins quite happy and improve them in sacred knowledge, what had a stranger to do with the matter? Of course I was content, if they were ; though it did cross me once, with a sharp sensation of doubt, that the excluded man of forty — that dangerous age of that perilous character, respectability — was venturing on a slippery ground on those sands, and into deep waters among those confiding young bathers. However, the scene had its charm for a stranger, the sunny morning, and the bathers, and the shining and rippling sea. By degrees they all came away home into the town. In the afternoon I was again upon the sea-wall.

This time I had carried out a map, and a book or two, of the country I was preparing to go through. These I spread in an embrasure on one of the bas tions, and, as there was a light air coming up from the bay, through the embrasure, I kept down the corners of the map with a peach or two, and a pear, and a bunch of grapes. As 1 was coming up on the wall, by the great gate of the port, there were baskets and baskets of the pleasant fruits offering themselves to be eaten, and black-eyed Breton women sitting by them. Can a stranger do better than put some of BRETON FRUIT. 11 these into his pockets, and make use of them to keep his map steady, in an embrasure, against the puffs of the summer air from the sea, till he eats them — his aids to knowledge — one by one ? I do not think any peaches were ever more delicious than were those on that sunny afternoon at St. Malo.

Thus I sat, making out my intended journey in this quiet place, looking out over the sparkling bay, from time to time, with my glass. Now and then people passed along the walk on the sea wall, the usual walk, evidently, of many of the good folks of St. Malo, and often a priest or two came by. I find it always difficult to avoid saluting these men in Continental countries, if I meet them in any quiet spot. In the bustle of the crowded street it is different ; one cannot think about them. But in the country, on the high road, nobody present but yourself and that man in his eloquent costume, or in a secluded place in a town, or on a bastion on the sea wall of St. Malo, you cannot help lifting your hat as the dark man of deep secrets of many human lives approaches. Then he is always courteous.

It almost seems like an act of disrespect to the profession not to salute him. After all, he is a being holding in his hand more power for good or for evil in the world than any one in any other position in life. While looking out over the bay, I observed that many persons, in little knots, were issuing from an other gate of the town on to the sands, and were making for a small rocky islet. Here, in a cove, two boats were moored. As one of these filled with the FASHIONABLES. people who had arrived, the sail was hoisted, and slowly it moved away from the rocks, lazily, in the sun, with the lightest possible air, over the glittering sea, towards Dinart, on the other side of the bay, about two miles off. It was a large and heavy boat, and would hold, apparently, thirty people. It was laden to the brim.

Presently the rest of the party reached the cove, and these, getting into the second boat, rather a smaller one, unfurled their big sail and followed the other. These were again the fashionables of St. Malo, the bathers of the morning, going to spend a pleasant afternoon at Dinart, where there are public gardens, with music and coffee — a happy com bination, not to be found on the little rocky hill of the town of St. Malo. The Malouins are proud of their town and of their history. But it is curious and amusing, in reading their account of their own doings in all times and ages from the Crusades to the present days, — an account, however, from the pen of a Roman Catholic and a Churchman — to observe that all their honour and all their glory appear to be summed up in this — " On such an occasion we beat the English."

We poor Anglo-Saxons seem to have been the bites noirs of these our pugnacious neighbours ; and, somehow, by their story, we always came off badly in our little affairs with their heroic sea-dogs. However, when M. Maret, a Roman Catholic Abbe, dipped his pen in his inkstand, and took for his theme an affair between his townspeople and us Protestant Anglicans, it was to be expected that we should receive rather hard FIGHTING THE ENGLISH. measure. Much abused and soundly scolded Old England — scolded from all sides — she bears it all pretty patiently, from all quarters and on all subjects, and she treats it all with a high and generous feeling of a kindly magnanimity. What a comfort it is to have a standard by which to rule your life — some regulator by which you move and have your being ! The Malouins seem to have dressed themselves by this standard — a squabble with the English.