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diff --git a/42954-8.txt b/42954-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b51ba09..0000000 --- a/42954-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4854 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Brittany, by Mortimer Menpes and Dorothy -Menpes, Illustrated by Mortimer Menpes - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Brittany - - -Author: Mortimer Menpes and Dorothy Menpes - - - -Release Date: June 15, 2013 [eBook #42954] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRITTANY*** - - -E-text prepared by Greg Bergquist, Melissa McDaniel, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from paage images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(http://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 42954-h.htm or 42954-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42954/42954-h/42954-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/42954/42954-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - http://archive.org/details/brittany00menp - - -Transcriber's note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). - - - - - -BRITTANY - - - * * * * * - - OTHER VOLUMES - IN THIS SERIES BY - MORTIMER MENPES - - - EACH =20s.= NET - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR - - JAPAN - WORLD PICTURES - VENICE - INDIA - CHINA - - PRICE =5s.= NET - - - PUBLISHED BY - ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK - SOHO SQUARE, LONDON, W. - - * * * * * - - [Illustration: MARIE JEANNE] - - -BRITTANY - -by - -MORTIMER MENPES - -Text by DOROTHY MENPES - - - - - - - -Published by Adam & Charles Black -Soho Square -London · W · MCMXII. - -Published July, 1905 -Reprinted 1912 - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. DOUARNÉNEZ 3 - II. ROCHEFORT-EN-TERRE 15 - III. VITRÉ 29 - IV. VANNES 51 - V. QUIMPER 77 - VI. ST. BRIEUC 89 - VII. PAIMPOL 99 - VIII. GUINGAMP 107 - IX. HUELGOAT 115 - X. CONCARNEAU 123 - XI. MORLAIX 129 - XII. PONT-AVEN 137 - XIII. QUIMPERLÉ 165 - XIV. AURAY 175 - XV. BELLE ISLE 183 - XVI. ST. ANNE D'AURAY 197 - XVII. ST. MALO 203 - XVIII. MONT ST. MICHEL 211 - XIX. CHÂTEAU DES ROCHERS 225 - XX. CARNAC 235 - XXI. A ROMANTIC LAND 241 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - 1. Marie Jeanne _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - 2. Homeward Bound 4 - - 3. Grandmère 6 - - 4. Meditation 10 - - 5. Minding the Babies 12 - - 6. A Cottage in Rochefort-en-Terre 14 - - 7. At Rochefort-en-Terre 18 - - 8. Mid-day Rest 20 - - 9. A Cottage Home 24 - - 10. Mediæval Houses, Vitré 28 - - 11. Preparing the Mid-day Meal 32 - - 12. In Church 34 - - 13. Père Louis 36 - - 14. Idle Hours 40 - - 15. La Vieille Mère Perot 44 - - 16. A Vieillard 48 - - 17. Place Henri Quatre, Vannes 52 - - 18. Gossips 56 - - 19. A Cattle Market 60 - - 20. Bread Stalls 64 - - 21. In a Breton Kitchen 68 - - 22. A Rainy Day at the Fair 72 - - 23. In the Porch of the Cathedral, Quimper 76 - - 24. The Vegetable Market, Quimper 80 - - 25. Outside the Cathedral, Quimper 84 - - 26. By the Side of a Farm 88 - - 27. On the Road to Bannalec 92 - - 28. Débit de Boissons 94 - - 29. Church of St. Mody 96 - - 30. Reflections 100 - - 31. A Sabot-Stall 104 - - 32. La Vieillesse 108 - - 33. A Beggar 112 - - 34. A Wayside Shrine, Huelgoat 116 - - 35. Fishing Boats, Concarneau 120 - - 36. At the Fountain, Concarneau 122 - - 37. Concarneau Harbour 124 - - 38. The Sardine Fleet, Concarneau 126 - - 39. Watching for the Fishing-fleet, Concarneau 128 - - 40. Mediæval House at Morlaix 132 - - 41. Outside the Smithy, Pont-Aven 136 - - 42. In an Auberge, Pont-Aven 140 - - 43. A Sand-Cart on the Quay, Pont-Aven 144 - - 44. Playing on the 'Place,' Pont-Aven 148 - - 45. On the Quay at Pont-Aven 152 - - 46. On the Steps of the Mill House, Pont-Aven 154 - - 47. The Bridge, Pont-Aven 158 - - 48. The Village Forge, Pont-Aven 160 - - 49. The Village Cobbler 164 - - 50. The Blind Piper 168 - - 51. At the Foire 174 - - 52. Mid-day 176 - - 53. A Little Mother 180 - - 54. Curiosity 184 - - 55. A Solitary Meal 188 - - 56. In the Bois d'Amour 192 - - 57. A Breton Farmer 198 - - 58. In the Eye of the Sun 204 - - 59. Sunday 206 - - 60. The Cradle 210 - - 61. Soupe Maigre 212 - - 62. Déjeuner 216 - - 63. A Farmhouse Kitchen 218 - - 64. Marie 222 - - 65. A Farm Labourer 224 - - 66. A Little Water-Carrier 226 - - 67. Weary 230 - - 68. The Master of the House 232 - - 69. In the Ingle Nook 234 - - 70. A Blind Beggar 236 - - 71. La Petite Marie 240 - - 72. The Little Housewife 242 - - 73. An Old Woman 246 - - 74. A Pig-Market 248 - - 75. Household Duties 252 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -DOUARNÉNEZ - - -The gray and somewhat uninteresting village of Douarnénez undergoes a -change when the fishing-boats come home. Even with your eyes shut, you -would soon know of the advent of the fishermen by the downward clatter -of myriads of sabots through the badly-paved steep streets, gathering -in volume and rapidity with each succeeding minute. The village has -been thoroughly wakened up. Douarnénez is the headquarters of the -sardine fishery, and the home-coming of the sardine boats is a matter -of no little importance. The 9,000 inhabitants of the place are all -given up to this industry. Prosperity, or adversity, depends upon the -faithfulness, or the fickleness, of the little silver fish in visiting -their shores. Not long ago the sardines forsook Douarnénez, and great -was the desolation and despair which settled upon the people. -However, the season this year is good, and the people are prosperous. - -As one descends the tortuous street leading to the sea, when the tide -is in, everything and everyone you encounter seem to be in one way or -another connected with sardines. The white-faced houses are festooned -and hung with fine filmy fishing-nets of a pale cornflower hue, edged -with rows of deep russet-brown corks. Occasionally they are stretched -from house to house across the street, and one passes beneath -triumphal arches of really glorious gray-blue fishing-nets. This same -little street, which barely an hour ago was practically empty and -deserted, now swarms with big bronzed fishermen coming up straight -from the sea, laden with their dripping cargo of round brown baskets -half filled with glistening fish. They live differently from the -sleepy villagers--these strapping giants of the sea, with their -deep-toned faces, their hair made tawny by exposure, their blue eyes, -which somehow or other seem so very blue against the dark red-brown of -their complexion, their reckless, rollicking, yet graceful, sailor's -gait. A sailor always reminds me of a cat amongst a roomful of -crockery: he looks as if he will knock over something or trip -over something every moment as he swings along in his careless -fashion; yet he never does. - - [Illustration: HOMEWARD BOUND] - -What a contrast they are, these stalwart fishers of the deep, to the -somewhat pallid, dapper-looking, half-French hotel and shop keepers, -who are the only men to be seen in the village during the -daytime--these fishermen, with their russet-brown clothing faded by -the salt air into indescribably rich wallflower tones of gold and -orange and red! What pranks Mistress Sea plays with the simple -homespun garments of these men, staining and bleaching them into -glorious and unheard-of combinations of colour, such as would give a -clever London or Parisian dressmaker inspiration for a dozen gowns, -which, if properly adapted, would take the whole of the fashionable -world by storm! You see blue woollen jerseys faded into greens and -yellows, red _bérets_ wondrously shaded in tones of vermilion and -salmon. From almost every window tarpaulin and yellow oilskin trousers -hang drying; every woman in the place is busily employed. - -Many a fascinating glimpse one catches at the doorways when passing, -subjects worthy of Peter de Hooch--a young girl in the white-winged -cap and red crossway shawl of Douarnénez cutting up squares of cork -against the rich dark background of her home, in which glistening -brass, polished oak, blue-and-white china, and a redly burning fire -can be faintly discerned. A soft buzzing noise, as of many people -singing, occasionally broken by a shrill treble, and a group of -loafing men, peering in at a doorway, attract your attention. You gaze -inquisitively within. It is a large shed or barn filled with hundreds -of young girls and women, with bare feet and skirts tucked up to their -knees, salting and sifting and drying and cooking sardines, singing -together the while as with one voice some Breton folk-song in a minor -key, as they busy themselves about their work. - -It is impossible to describe one's feelings when, after descending the -steep cobbled street, one first catches sight of the sea at -Douarnénez. One can only stand stock-still for a moment and draw in a -deep breath of astonishment and fulfilment of hopes. - -Before you lies a broad expanse of gray-blue. I can liken it to -nothing but the hue of faded cornflowers. Whether it is the time of -day or not I cannot tell, but sea and sky alike are flooded with this -same strange cornflower hue; the hills in the distance are of a deeper -cornflower; and clustered about the quay are many fishing-barques, -showing purply-black against the blue delicacy of the background. - - [Illustration: GRANDMÈRE] - -Over the gray-blue sea are scudding myriads of brown, double-winged -boats, all making for the little harbour--some in twos, some in -threes, others in flocks, like so many swallows. Close to the dark -cornflower hills is a patch of brilliant verdant green--so -yellow-green that it almost sets your teeth on edge. - -Set down in mere words, this description can convey no impression of -the Bay of Douarnénez as I saw it that balmy autumn afternoon. My pen -is clogged; it refuses to interpret my thoughts. It was a scene that I -shall never forget. As the fishing-boats neared the shore the -gorgeously flaming brown-and-gold and vermilion sails were hauled -down, and in their places appeared the filmy gray-blue nets hung with -rows of brown corks. The rapidity with which these brown-sailed -workaday boats changed to gossamer, cornflower-decked, fairy-like -crafts was extraordinary. It was as if a flight of moths had by the -stroke of a fairy's wand been suddenly transformed to blue-winged -butterflies. In and about their boats the sailors are working, busy -with their day's haul, picturesque figures standing against the -luminous blue in their sea-toned garments. - -On the quay the women are standing in groups, talking and knitting, -and keeping a sharp look-out for their own particular 'men.' Trim, -neat little figures these women, with their short dark-blue or red -skirts, their gaily-coloured shawls drawn down to a peak at the back, -their light-yellow sabots and their tightly-fitting lace caps, made to -show the brilliant black hair beneath and the pretty rounded shape of -their heads. Many a time when the cornflower-blue sea has turned to -sullen black, and the balmy air is alive with flying foam and roaring -winds, such women must wait in vain on the quay at Douarnénez for -their men-folk. - -The sailor's life is a hard one in Brittany, exposed as he is in his -small boat to the fearful storms of the Atlantic. But danger and -trouble are far distant on this balmy autumn afternoon: the haul has -been an exceptional one, the little fishing-craft are filled high with -silver fish, fishermen fill the streets with laden baskets, and the -soft murmur of many women's voices singing at their work is wafted -through the open doorways of the sorting and counting-houses. Every -moment the boats on the horizon become more and more numerous, the -men being anxious to land their cargo before nightfall; the sea, in -fact, is dark with little brown craft racing in as if for a wager. At -one point the fleet splits up, and the greater portion enter an inlet -other than that at which we are standing. - -Anxious to watch their incoming, we hurry round the cliffs, past quiet -bays. The black rocks against the blue sea, allspice-coloured sand, -and overhanging autumn-tinted trees almost reaching to the water's -edge, would afford many a fascinating subject for the painter of -seascapes. In descending a hill, the haven towards which the -fishing-boats are scudding is before us--a large bay with a -breakwater. On the near side of it are massed rows upon rows of -fishing-boats, now arrayed in their gossamer robes of blue. Everyone -is busy. You are reminded of a scene in a play--a comic opera at the -Gaiety. Boats are entering by the dozen every moment, and arranging -themselves in rows in the little harbour, like a pack of orderly -school-children, shuffling and fidgeting for a moment in their places -before dropping anchor and remaining stationary. Others are scudding -rapidly over the smooth blue sea, ruffling it up in white foam at -their bows. Scores of men in rich brown wallflower-hued clothes and -dark-blue _bérets_ are as busy as bees among the sails and cordage; -others are walking rapidly to and fro, with round brown baskets, full -of silver fish, slung over the arms. But before even the sardines are -unloaded the nets are taken down, bundles of blue net and brown corks, -and promptly carried off home to be dried. This is the sailors' first -consideration, for on the frail blue nets depends prosperity or -poverty. Such nets are most expensive: only one set can be bought in a -man's lifetime, and even then they must be paid for in instalments. - -Above the quay, leaning over the stone parapet, are scores of girls, -come from their homes just as they were, some with their work and some -with their _goûté_ (bread and chocolate or an apple). They have come -to watch the entrance of the fishing fleet: comely, fresh-complexioned -women, in shawls and aprons of every colour--some blue, some maroon, -some checked--all with spotless white caps. The wives are -distinguished from the maids by the material of which their caps are -made: the wives' are of book-muslin and the maids' of fillet lace. -Some have brought their knitting, and work away busily, their hair -stuck full of bright steel knitting-needles. I was standing in what -seemed to be a "boulevard des jeunes filles." They were mostly -quite young girls; and handsome creatures they were too, all leaning -over the parapet and smiling down upon the men as they toiled up the -slope with their baskets full, and ran down again at a jog-trot with -the empties. The stalwart young men of the village were too much -preoccupied to find time for tender or friendly glances: it was only -later, when the bustle had subsided somewhat, and the coming and going -was not so active, that they condescended to pay any attention to the -fair. - - [Illustration: MEDITATION] - -The matrons were mostly engaged in haggling for cheap fish. The men, -tired after their day's work, generally gave way without much ado. It -was amusing to watch the triumph in which the old ladies carried off -their fish, washed and cleaned them in the sea, threaded them on -cords, and, slinging them on their shoulders, set off for home. - -It seemed as if the busy scene would never end. Always fresh boats -were arriving, and still the horizon was black with fishing craft. -Reluctantly we left the scene--a forest of masts against the evening -sky, a jumble of blues and browns, rich wallflower shades and palest -cornflower, brown corks, and the white caps of the women. - -Next morning the romantic and picturesque aspect of the town had -disappeared. Gone were the fishermen, and gone their dainty craft. The -only men remaining were loafers and good-for-nothings, besides the -tradesmen and inn-keepers. Two by two the children were tramping -through the steep gray streets on their way to school--small -dirty-faced cherubs, under tangled mops of fair hair (one sees the -loveliest red-gold and yellow-gold hair in Douarnénez), busily -munching their breakfasts of bread and apples, many of them just able -to toddle. 'Donne la main a ta soeur, George,' I heard a shrill -voice exclaim from a doorway to two little creatures in blue-checked -pinafores wending their weary way schoolwards. Who would have known -that one of them was a boy? They seemed exactly alike. Handsome young -girls in neat short skirts, pink worsted stockings, and yellow sabots, -were busy sweeping out the gutters. Little children's dresses and -pinafores had taken the place of nets and seamen's oilskins, now -hanging from the windows to be dried. The quay was silent and -desolate; the harbour empty of boats, save for a few battered hulks. -All the colour and romance had gone out to sea with the fishermen. -Only the smell of the sardines had been left behind. - - - - - [Illustration: MINDING THE BABIES] - - [Illustration: A COTTAGE IN ROCHEFORT-EN-TERRE] - -CHAPTER II - -ROCHEFORT-EN-TERRE - - -During our month's tour in Brittany we had not met one English or -American traveller; but at Rochefort-en-Terre there was said to be a -colony of artists. On arriving at the little railway-station, we found -that the only conveyance available was a diligence which would not -start until the next train, an hour thence, had come in. There was -nothing for it, therefore, but to sit in the stuffy little diligence -or to pace up and down the broad country road in the moonlight. There -is something strangely weird and eerie about arriving at a place, the -very name of which is unfamiliar, by moonlight. - -After a long hour's wait, the diligence, with its full complement of -passengers, a party of young girls returned from a day's shopping in a -neighbouring town, started. It was a long, cold drive, and the air -seemed to be growing clearer and sharper as we ascended. At length -Rochefort-en-Terre was reached, and, after paying the modest sum of -fifty centimes for the two of us, we were set down at the door of the -hotel. We were greeted with great kindness and hospitality by two -maiden ladies in the costume of the country, joint proprietors of the -hotel, who made us exceedingly comfortable. To our surprise, we -discovered that the colony of painters had been reduced to one lady -artist; but it was evident, from the pictures on the panels of the -_salle-à-manger_, that many artists had stayed in the hotel during the -summer. - -Rochefort by morning light was quite a surprise. The hotel, with a few -surrounding houses, was evidently situated on a high hill; the rest of -the village lay below, wreathed, for the time being, in a white mist. -It was a balmy autumn morning; the sunlight was clear and radiant; and -I was filled with impatience to be out and at work. The market-place -was just outside our hotel, and the streets were alive with people. A -strange smell pervaded the place--something between cider apples and -burning wood--and whenever I think of Rochefort that smell comes back -to me, bringing with it vivid memories of the quaint little town as I -saw it that day. - -There is nothing modern about Rochefort. The very air is suggestive -of antiquity. Few villages in Brittany have retained their old -simplicity of character; but Rochefort is one of them. Untouched and -unspoilt by the march of modernity, she has stood still while most of -her neighbours have been whirled into the vortex of civilization. -Rochefort, like the Sleeping Beauty's palace, has lain as it was and -unrepaired for years. Moss has sprung up between the cobble-stones of -her streets; ferns and lichen grow on the broken-down walls; Nature -and men's handiwork have been allowed their own sweet way--and a very -sweet way they have in Rochefort. To enter the village one must -descend a flight of stone steps between two high walls, green and dark -with ivy and small green ferns growing in the niches. Very old walls -they are, with here and there ancient carved doorways breaking the -straight monotony. On one side is a garden, and over the time-worn -stone-work tomato-coloured asters nod and wistaria throws her thick -festoons of green, for the flowering season is past. Everything is -dark and damp and moss-grown, and very silent. An old woman, with a -terra-cotta pitcher full of water poised on her head, is toiling up -the steps, the shortest way to the town, which, save for the singing -of the birds in the old château garden, the bleating of lambs on the -hillside, and the chopping of a wood-cutter, is absolutely silent. One -descends into a valley shut in by rugged blue-gray mountains, for all -the world like a little Alpine village, or, rather, a Breton village -in an Alpine setting. The mountains in parts are rocky and rugged, -purple in aspect, and in parts overgrown with gray-green pines. There -are stretches of wooded land, of golden-brown and russet trees, and -great slopes of grass, the greenest I have ever seen. It is quite a -little Swiss pastoral picture, such as one finds in children's -story-books. On the mountain-side a woman, taking advantage of the -sun, is busy drying her day's washing, and a little girl is driving -some fat black-and-white cows into a field; while a sparkling river -runs tumbling in white foam over boulders and fallen trees at the -base. But Rochefort is a typically Breton village. Nowhere in -Switzerland does one see such ancient walls, such gnarled old -apple-trees, laden and bowed down to the earth with their weight of -golden red fruit. Nowhere in Switzerland, I am sure, do you see such -fine relics of architecture. Nearly every house in the village has -something noble or beautiful in its construction. Renovation has not -laid her desecrating hands on Rochefort. Here you see a house -that was once a lordly dwelling; for there are remains of some fine -sculpture round about the windows, remnants of magnificent mouldings -over the door, a griffin's head jutting from the gray walls. There you -see a double flight of rounded stone steps, with a balustrade leading -up to a massive oak door. On the ancient steps chickens perch now, and -over the doorway hang a bunch of withered mistletoe and the words -'Debit de Boisson.' - - [Illustration: AT ROCHEFORT-EN-TERRE] - -The village is full of surprises. Everywhere you may go in that little -place you will see all about you pictures such as would drive most -artists wild with joy. Everything in Rochefort seems to be more or -less overgrown. Even in this late October you will see flowers and -vines and all kinds of greenery growing rampant everywhere. You will -see a white house almost covered with red rambling roses and yellowing -vines, oleanders and cactus plants standing in tubs on either side of -the door. There is not a wall over which masses of greenery do not -pour, and not a window that does not hold its pot of red and pink -geraniums. Two cats are licking their paws in two different windows. -The sun has come out from the mists which enveloped it, and shines in -all its glory, hot and strong on your back, as it would in August. It -is market day, and everyone is light-hearted and happy. The men -whistle gaily on their way; the women's tongues wag briskly over their -purchases; even the birds, forgetful of the coming winter, are -bursting their throats with song. In the château garden the birds sing -loudest of all, and the flowers bloom their best. It is a beautiful -old place, the château of Rochefort. Very little of the ruin is left -standing; but the grounds occupy an immense area, and are enclosed by -great high walls. Where the old kitchen once stood an American has -built a house out of the old bricks, using many of the ornamentations -and stone gargoyles found about the place. It is an ingeniously -designed building; yet one cannot but feel that a modern house is -somewhat incongruous amid such historic surroundings. The old avenue -leading to the front door still exists; also there are some -apple-trees and ancient farm-buildings. The château has been built in -the most beautiful situation possible, high above the town, on a kind -of tableland, from which one can look down to the valley and the -encircling hills. - - [Illustration: MID-DAY REST] - -Set up in a prominent position in the village, where two roads -meet, is a gaudy crucifix, very large and newly painted. It is a -realistic presentation of our Saviour on the cross, with the blood -flowing redly from His side, the piercing of every thorn plainly -demonstrated, and the drawn lines of agony in His face and limbs very -much accentuated. Every market woman as she passes shifts her basket -to the other arm, that she may make the sign of the cross and murmur -her prayers; every man, woman, child, stops before the cross to make -obeisance, some kneeling down in the dust for a few moments before -passing on their way. - -Who is to say that the image of that patient, suffering Saviour is not -an influence for good in the village? Who is to say that the -adoration, no matter how fleeting, does not soften, does not help, -does not control, those humble peasant folk who bow before Him? -Religion has an immense hold over the peasants of Brittany. It is the -one thing of which they stand in dread. These images, you say, are -dolls; but they are very realistic dolls. They teach the people their -Bible history in a thorough, splendid way. They stand ever before them -as something tangible to cling to, to believe in. And the images in -the churches--do you mean to say that they have no influence for good -on the people? St. Stanislaus, the monk, for example, with cowl and -shaven head--what an influence such a statue must have on the hearts -of children! There is in his face a world of tender fatherly feeling -for the little child in the white robe and golden girdle who is -resting his head so wearily on the saint's shoulder, clasping a branch -of faded lilies in his hand. Children look at this statue, and they -picture St. Stanislaus in their minds always thus: they know what the -saint looked like, what he did. He is not only a misty, dim, uncertain -figure in the history of the Bible, but a tangible, living, vibrating -reality, taking active part in their daily lives. For older children, -boys especially, there is St. Antoine to admire and imitate--St. -Antoine the hermit, with his staff and his book, the man with the -strong, good face. Françoise d'Amboise, a pure, sweet saint in the -habit of a nun, her arms full of lilies, appeals to the hearts and -imaginations of all young girls. I believe in the efficacy of these -figures and pictures. The peasants' brains are not of a sufficiently -fine calibre to believe in a vague Christ, a vague Virgin, vague -saints interpreted to them by the priests. If it were not for the -images, men and women would not come to church, as they do at all -hours of the day, bringing their market baskets and their tools with -them. They would not come in this way, spontaneously, joyfully, two or -three times a day, to an empty church with only an altar. Church-going -would then become a bare duty, forced and unreal, to be gradually -dropped and discontinued. These people are able to see the sufferings -of our Saviour on the cross, and everything that He had to undergo for -us; also, there is something infinitely comforting in the Divine -Figure, surrounded by myriads of candles and white flowers, with hands -outstretched, bidding all who are weary and heavy-laden to come unto -Him. The peasants contribute their few sous' worth of candles, and -light them, and feel somehow or other that they have indeed rid -themselves of sins and troubles. - -The country round Rochefort is truly beautiful. The village lies in a -hollow; but it is delightful to take one of the mountain-paths, and go -up the rocky way into the pines and gorse and heather. As one sits on -the hillside, looking down upon the village, it is absolutely still -save for the cawing of some birds. You are out of the world up here. -The quaint little gray hamlet lies far below. Between it and you is -the fertile valley, with green fields and groves of bushy trees. The -country is quite cultivated for Brittany, where cabbage-fields and -pasture-lands are rare. The mountains encircling the valley are of -gray slate; growing here and there amongst the slate are yellow gorse -and purple heather. - -It is a gray, dull day; not a breath stirs the air, which is heavy and -ominous. Evening is drawing on as one walks down the mountain-path -towards home, and a haze is settling on the village; the sun has been -feebly trying to shine all day through the thick clouds that cover it. -The green pines, with their purple stems, are very beautiful against -the deeper purple of the mountains; pretty, too, the homesteads on the -hills, with their fields of cabbages and little plantations of -flowers. There is a sweet smell of gorse and pine-needles and decaying -bracken, and always one hears the caw of rooks. - -In such a country as this, on such a day, amid such sights and sounds, -you feel glad to be alive. You swing down the mountain-side quickly, -and the beauty of it all enters into your soul, filling you with a -nameless longing and yearning for you know not what, as Nature in her -grandest moods always does. What rich colouring there is round about -everywhere on this autumn afternoon! The mountain-path leads, let -us say, through a pine-wood. The leaves are far above your head; you -seem to be walking in a forest of stems--long, slim, silver stems, -purple in the shadows. On the ground is a carpet of salmon and brown -leaves, with here and there a bracken-leaf which is absolutely the -colour of pure gold. - - [Illustration: A COTTAGE HOME] - -There is no sound in the forest but your own footsteps and the rustle -of the dry leaves as your dress brushes them. You emerge from the -pine-forest on to a bare piece of mountain land, grayish purple, with -patches of black. Then you dive into a chestnut-grove, where the -leaves are green and brown and gold, and the earth is a rich brown. -And so down the path into the village wrapped in a blue haze. The -women in their cottages are bending busily over copper pots and pans -on great open fireplaces of blazing logs. Little coloured bowls have -been laid out on long polished tables for the evening meal, and the -bright pewter plates have been brought down from the dresser. Lulu has -been sent out to bring home bread for supper. 'Va, ma petite Lulu,' -says her mother, 'dépêche toi.' And the small fat bundle in the check -pinafore toddles hastily down the stone steps on chubby legs. - -On the stone settles outside almost every house in the village -families are sitting--the mothers and withered old grandmothers -knitting or peeling potatoes, and the children munching apples and -hunches of bread-and-butter. An old woman is washing her fresh green -lettuce at the pump. As we mount the hill leading to the hotel and -look back, night is fast descending on the village. The mountains have -taken on a deeper purple; blue smoke rises from every cottage; the -gray sky is changing to a faint citron yellow; the few slim pine-trees -on the hills stand out against it jet-black, like sentinels. - - - - - [Illustration: MEDIÆVAL HOUSES, VITRÉ] - -CHAPTER III - -VITRÉ - - -For the etcher, the painter, the archæologist, and the sculptor, Vitré -is an ideal town. To the archæologist it is an ever-open page from the -Middle Ages, an almost complete relic of that period, taking one back -with a strange force and realism three hundred years and more. Time -has dealt tenderly with Vitré. The slanting, irregular houses, leaning -one against the other, as if for mutual support, stand as by a -miracle. - -Wandering through Vitré, one seems to be visiting a wonderful and -perfect museum, such as must needs please even the exacting, the -blasé, and the indifferent. You are met at every turn by the works of -the ancients in all their naïve purity and simplicity, many of the -houses having been built in the first half of the seventeenth century. - -One can have no conception of the energy of these early builders, -fighting heroically against difficulties such as we of the present -day do not experience. They overcame problems of balance and expressed -their own imaginations. Common masons with stone and brick and wood -accomplished marvellous and audacious examples of architecture. They -sought symmetry as well as the beautifying of their homes, covering -them with ornamentations and sculpture in wood and stone. Without -architects, without plans or designs, these men simply followed their -own initiative, and the result has been absolute marvels of carpentry -and stone-work, such as have withstood the onslaught of time and held -their own. - -When you first arrive at Vitré, at the crowded, bustling station, -surrounded by the most modern of houses and hotels, and faced by the -newest of fountains, disappointment is acute. If you were to leave -Vitré next morning, never having penetrated into the town, you would -carry away a very feeble and uninteresting impression; but, having -entered the town, and discovered those grand old streets--the -Baudrarie, the Poterie, and the Nôtre Dame, among many others--poet, -painter, sculptor, man of business or of letters, whoever you may be, -you cannot fail to be astonished, overwhelmed, and delighted. A quiet -old-world air pervades the streets; no clatter and rattle of horses' -hoofs disturbs their serenity; no busy people, hurrying to and fro, -fill the pathways. Handcarts are the only vehicles, and the -inhabitants take life quietly. Often for the space of a whole minute -you will find yourself quite alone in a street, save for a hen and -chickens that are picking up scraps from the gutter. - -In these little old blackened streets, ever so narrow, into which the -sun rarely penetrates except to touch the upper stories with golden -rays, there are houses of every conceivable shape--there are houses of -three stories, each story projecting over the other; houses so old -that paint and plaster will stay on them no longer; houses with -pointed roofs; houses with square roofs thrust forward into the -street, spotted by yellow moss; houses the façades of which are -covered with scaly gray tiles, glistening in the sun like a knight's -armour. These are placed in various patterns according to the taste -and fantasy of the architect: sometimes they are cut round, sometimes -square, and sometimes they are placed like the scales of a fish. There -are houses, whose upper stories, advancing into the middle of the -street, are kept up by granite pillars, forming an arcade underneath, -and looking like hunchbacked men; there are the houses of the humble -artisans and the houses of the proud noblemen; houses plain and simple -in architecture; houses smothered with carvings in wood and stone of -angels and saints and two-headed monsters--houses of every shape and -kind imaginable. In a certain zigzag, tortuous street the buildings -are one mass of angles and sloping lines, one house leaning against -another,--noble ruins of the ages. The plaster is falling from the -walls; the slates are slipping from the roofs; and the wood is -becoming worm-eaten. - -It is four o'clock on a warm autumn afternoon; the sun is shining on -one side of this narrow street, burnishing gray roofs to silver, -resting lovingly on the little balconies, with their pendent washing -and red pots of geranium. The men are returning from their work and -the children from their schools; the workaday hours are ended, and the -houses teem with life. A woman is standing in a square sculptured -doorway trying to teach her little white-faced fluffy-haired baby to -say 'Ma! ma!' This he positively refuses to do; but he gurgles and -chuckles at intervals, at which his mother shakes him and calls him -'petit gamin.' - - [Illustration: PREPARING THE MID-DAY MEAL] - -All Bretons love the sun; they are like little children in their -simple joy of it. A workman passing says to a girl leaning out of a -low latticed window: - -'C'est bon le soleil?' - -'Mais oui: c'est pour cela que j'y suis,' she answers. - -One house has an outside staircase of chocolate-coloured wood, -spirally built, with carved balustrades. On one of the landings an old -woman is sitting. She has brought out a chair and placed it in the -sunniest corner. She is very old, and wears the snowiest of white caps -on her gray hair; her wrinkled pink hands, with their red worsted -cuffs, are working busily at her knitting; and every now and then she -glances curiously through the banisters into the street below, like a -little bright bird. - -There are white houses striped with brown crossbars, each with its -little shallow balcony. Above, the white plaster has nearly all fallen -away, revealing the beautiful old original primrose-yellow. - -Curiosity shops are abundant everywhere, dim and rich in colour with -the reds and deep tones of old polished wood, the blue of china, and -the glistening yellow of brass. Ancient houses there are, with -scarcely any windows: the few that one does see are heavily furnished -with massive iron-nailed shutters or grated with rusty red iron; the -doorways are of heaviest oak, crowned with coats of arms sculptured in -stone. Large families of dirty children now live in these lordly -domains. - -One longs in Vitré, above all other places, to paint, or, rather, to -etch. Vitré is made for the etcher; endless and wondrous are the -subjects for his needle. Here, in a markedly time-worn street, are a -dozen or more pictures awaiting him--a doorway aged and blackened -alternately by the action of the sun and by that of the rain, and -carved in figures and symbols sculptured in stone, through which one -catches glimpses of a courtyard wherein two men are shoeing a horse; -then, again, there is an obscure shop, so calm and tranquil that one -asks one's self if business can ever be carried on there. As you peer -into the darkness, packets of candles, rope, and sugar are faintly -discernible, also dried fish and bladders of lard suspended from the -ceiling; in a far corner is an old woman in a white cap--all this in -deepest shadow. Above, the clear yellow autumn sunlight shines in a -perfect blaze upon the primrose-coloured walls, crossed with -beams of blackest wood, making the slates on the pointed roofs -scintillate, and touching the windows here and there with a golden -light. - - [Illustration: IN CHURCH] - -Side by side with this wonderful old house, the glories of which it is -impossible to describe in mere words, a new one has been built--not in -a modern style, but striving to imitate the fine old structures in -this very ancient street. The contrast, did it not grate on one's -senses, would be laughable. Stucco is pressed into the service to -represent the original old stone, and varnished deal takes the place -of oak beams with their purple bloom gathered through the ages. The -blocks of stone round the doors and windows have been laboriously -hewn, now large, now small, and placed artistically and carelessly -zigzag, pointed with new black cement. This terrible house is -interesting if only to illustrate what age can do to beautify and -modernity to destroy. - -Madonnas, crucifixes, pictures of saints in glass cases, and -statuettes of the Virgin, meet you at every turn in Vitré, for the -inhabitants are proverbially a religious people. A superstitious yet -guilty conscience would have a trying time in Vitré. In entering a -shop, St. Joseph peers down upon you from a niche above the portal; at -every street corner, in every market, and in all kinds of quaint and -unexpected places, saints and angels look out at you. - -The beautiful old cathedral, Nôtre Dame de Vitré, is one of the purest -remaining productions of the decadent Gothic art in Brittany, and one -of the finest. Several times the grand old edifice has been enlarged -and altered, and the changes in art can be traced through different -additions as in the pages of a book. It is a comparatively low -building, the roof of which is covered by a forest of points or -spires, and at the apex of each point is a stone cross. In fact, the -characteristics of this building are its points: the windows are -shaped in carved points, and so are the ornamentations on the -projecting buttresses. The western door, very finely carved and led up -to by a flight of rounded steps, is of the Renaissance period. In -colouring, the cathedral is gray, blackened here and there, but not -much stained by damp or lichen, except the tower, which seems to be of -an earlier date. The stained-glass windows, seen from the outside, are -of a dim, rich colouring; and on one of the outside walls has been -built an exterior stone pulpit, ornamented with graceful points, -approached from the church by a slit in the wall. It was -constructed to combat the Calvinistic party, so powerful in Vitré at -one time. One can easily imagine the seething crowd in the square -below--the sea of pale, passionate, upturned faces. It must have -presented much the same picture then as it does now, this cathedral -square in Vitré--save for the people;--for there are still standing, -facing the pulpit, and not a hundred paces from it, a row of ancient -houses that existed in those very riotous times. Every line of those -once stately domains slants at a different angle now, albeit they were -originally built in a solid style--square-fronted and with pointed -roofs, the upper stories projecting over the pavement, with arcades -beneath. Some are painted white, with gray woodwork; others yellow, -with brown wood supports. Outside one of the houses, once a butcher's -shop, hangs a boar's head, facing the stone pulpit. What scenes that -old animal must have witnessed in his time, gazing so passively with -those glassy brown eyes! If only it could speak! - - [Illustration: PÈRE LOUIS] - -Convent-bred girls in a long line are filing into church through the -western door--meek-faced little people in black pinafores and shiny -black hats. All wear their hair in pigtails, and above their boots an -inch or so of coloured woollen stockings is visible. Each carries a -large Prayer-Book under her arm. A reverend Mother, in snowy white cap -and flowing black veil, heads the procession, and another brings up -the rear. - -The main door facing the square is flung wide open; and the contrast -between the brilliant sunlit square, with its noisy laughing children -returning from school, dogs barking, and handcarts rattling over the -cobble stones, and this dim, sombre interior, bathed in richest gloom, -is almost overwhelming. - -A stained-glass window at the opposite end of the church, with the -light at the back of it, forms the only patch of positive colour, with -its brilliant reds and purples and blues. All else is dim and rich and -gloomy, save here and there where the glint of brass, the gold of the -picture-frames, the white of the altar-cloth, or the ruby of an -ever-burning light, can be faintly discerned in the obscurity. The -deep, full notes of the organ reach you as you stand at the cathedral -steps, and you detect the faint odour of incense. The figure of a -woman kneeling with clasped hands and bent head is dimly discernible -in the heavy gloom. One glance into such an interior, after coming -from the glare and glamour of the outside world, cannot but bring -peace and rest and a soothing influence to even the most unquiet soul. - -The château of Vitré is an even older building than the cathedral. It -has lived bravely through the ages, suffering little from the march of -time: a noble edifice, huge and massive, with its high towers, its -châtelet, and its slate roofs. Just out of the dark, narrow, cramped -old streets, you are astonished to emerge suddenly on a large open -space, and to be confronted by this massive château, well preserved -and looking almost new. As a matter of fact, its foundation dates back -as far as the eleventh century, although four hundred years ago it was -almost entirely reconstructed. Parts of the château are crumbling to -decay; but the principal mass, consisting of the towers and châtelet, -is marvellously preserved. It still keeps a brave front, though the -walls and many of the castle keeps and fortresses are tottering to -ruin. Many a shock and many a siege has the old château withstood; but -now its fighting days are over. The frogs sing no longer in the moat -through the beautiful summer nights; the sentinel's box is empty; and -in the courtyards, instead of clanking swords and spurred heels, the -peaceful step of the tourist alone resounds. The château has rendered -a long and loyal service, and to-day as a reward enjoys a glorious -repose. To visit the castle, you pass over a draw-bridge giving -entrance to the châtelet, and no sooner have you set foot on it than -the concierge emerges from a little room in the tower dedicated to the -service of the lodge-holder. - -She is a very up-to-date chatelaine, trim and neat, holding a great -bunch of keys in her hand. She takes you into a huge grass-grown -courtyard in the interior, whence you look up at the twin towers, -capped with pointed gray turrets, and see them in all their immensity. -The height and strength and thickness of the walls are almost -terrifying. She shows you a huge nail-studded door, behind which is a -stone spiral staircase leading to an underground passage eight miles -long. This door conjures up to the imaginative mind all kinds of -romantic and adventurous stories. We are taken into the Salle des -Guardes, an octagonal stone room on an immense scale, with bay -windows, the panes of which are of stained glass, and a gigantic -chimneypiece. One can well imagine the revels that must have gone on -round that solid oak table among the waiting guards. - -The chatelaine leads us up a steep spiral staircase built of solid -granite, from which many rooms branch, all built in very much the -same style--octagonal and lofty, with low doorways. One must stoop to -enter. On the stairway, at intervals of every five or six steps, there -are windows with deep embrasures, in which one can stand and gain a -commanding view of the whole country. These, it is needless to say, -were used in the olden days for military purposes. - - [Illustration: IDLE HOURS] - -As the chatelaine moves on, ever above us, with her clanking keys, one -can take one's self back to the Middle Ages, and imagine the warrior's -castle as it was then, when the chatelaine, young, sweet, and pretty, -wending her way about the dark and gloomy castle, was the only humane -and gentle spirit there. Easier still is it to lose yourself in the -dim romantic past when you are shown into a room which, though no fire -burns on the hearth, is still quite warm, redolent of tapestry and -antiquity. This room is now used as a kind of museum. It is filled -with fine examples of old china, sufficient to drive a collector -crazy, enamels, old armour, rubies, ornaments, sculpture, medals, -firearms, and instruments of torture. - -Sitting in a deep window-seat, surrounded by the riches of ancient -days, with the old-world folk peering out from the tapestried walls, -one can easily close one's eyes and lose one's self for a moment in -the gray past, mystic and beautiful. It is delightful to summon to -your mind the poetical and pathetic figure of (let us say) a knight -imprisoned in the tower on account of his prominent and all-devouring -love for some unapproachable fair one; or of that other who, pinning a -knot of ribbon on his coat,--his lady's colour--set out to fight and -conquer. But, alas! no chronicle has been left of the deeds of the -castle prisoners. Any romantic stories that one may conjure to one's -mind in the atmosphere of the château can be but the airiest fabrics -of a dream. - -At the top of the spiral staircase is a rounded gallery, with -loopholes open to the day, through which one can gain a magnificent, -though somewhat dizzy, view over town and country. It was from this -that the archers shot their arrows upon the enemy; and very deadly -their aim must have been, for nothing could be more commanding as -regards position than the château of Vitré. Also, in the floor of the -gallery, round the outer edge, are large holes, down which the -besieged threw great blocks of stone, boiling tar, and projectiles of -all kinds, which must have fallen with tremendous violence on the -assailants. - -Wherever one goes in Vitré one sees the fine old château, forming a -magnificent background to every picture, with its grand ivy-mantled -towers and its huge battlemented walls, belittling everything round -it. Unlike most French châteaus, more or less showy and toy-like in -design, the castle of Vitré is built on solid rock, and lifted high -above the town in a noble, irresistible style, with walls of immense -thickness, and lofty beyond compare. All that is grandest and most -beautiful in Nature seems to group itself round about the fine old -castle, as if Nature herself felt compelled to pay tribute of her best -to what was noblest in the works of man. In the daytime grand and -sweeping white clouds on a sky of eggshell blue group themselves about -the great gray building. At twilight, when the hoary old castle -appears a colossal purple mass, every tower and every turret strongly -outlined against the sunset sky, Nature comes forward with her -brilliant palette and paints in a background of glorious prismatic -hues: great rolling orange and pink clouds on a sky of blue--combination -sufficient to send a colourist wild with joy. - -Every inch of the castle walls has been utilized in one way or another -to economize material. Houses have been built hanging on to and -clustering about the walls, sometimes perched on the top of them, like -limpets on a rock. Often one sees a fine battlemented wall, fifty or -sixty feet in height, made of great rough stone, brown and golden and -purple with age--a wall which, one knows, must have withstood many a -siege--with modern iron balconies jutting out from it, balconies of -atrocious pattern, painted green or gray, with gaudy Venetian blinds. -It is absolute desecration to see leaning from these balconies, -against such a background, untidy, fat, dirty women, with black, lank -hair, and peasants knitting worsted socks, where once fair damsels of -ancient times waved their adieux to departing knights. Then, again, -how terrible it is to see glaring advertisements of _Le Petit -Journal_, Benedictine Liqueur, Singer's Sewing Machines, and Byrrh, -plastered over a fine old sculptured doorway! - - [Illustration: LA VIEILLE MÈRE PEROT] - -There are in certain parts of the town remains of the ancient moat. -Sometimes it is a mere brook, black as night, flowing with difficulty -among thick herbage which has grown up round it; sometimes a -prosperous, though always dirty, stream. You come across it in -unexpected places here and there. In one part, just under the walls -of the castle, where the water is very dirty indeed, wash-houses -have been erected; there the women kneel on flat stones by the banks. -The houses clustering round about the moat are damp and evil-smelling; -their slates, green with mould, are continually slipping off the -roofs; and the buildings themselves slant at such an angle that their -entry into the water seems imminent. - -At the base of the castle walls the streets mount steeply. This is a -very poor quarter indeed. The houses are old, blackened, decayed, -much-patched and renovated. Yet the place is extremely picturesque; in -fact, I know no part of Vitré that is not. - -At any moment, in any street, you can stop and frame within your hands -a picture which will be almost sure to compose well--which in -colouring and drawing will be the delight of painters and etchers. In -these particular streets of which I speak antiquity reigns supreme. -Here no traffic ever comes; only slatternly women, with their wretched -dogs and cats of all breeds, fill the streets. Many of the houses are -half built out of solid slate, and the steps leading to them are hewn -from the rock. - -One sees no relics of bygone glory here. This must ever have been a -poor quarter; for the windows are built low to the ground, and there -are homely stone settles outside each door. Pigs and chickens walk in -and out of the houses with as much familiarity as the men and women. -On every shutter strings of drying fish are hung; and every window in -every house, no matter how poor, has its rows of pink and red -geraniums and its pots of hanging fern. Birds also are abundant; in -fact, from the first I dubbed this street 'the street of the birds,' -for I never before saw so many caged birds gathered together--canaries, -bullfinches, jackdaws, and birds of bright plumage. By the sound one -might fancy one's self for the moment in an African jungle rather than -in a Breton village. - -The streets of Vitré are remarkable for their flowers. Wherever you -may look you will see pots of flowers and trailing greenery, relieving -with their bright fresh colouring the time-worn houses of blackened -woodwork and sombre stone. Not only do moss and creepers abound, but -also there are gardens everywhere, over the walls of which trail vines -and clematis, and on every window-ledge are pots of geranium and -convolvulus. - -It is impossible in mere words to convey any real impression of the -fine old town of Vitré: only the etcher and the painter can adequately -depict it. The grand old town will soon be of the past. Every day, -every hour, its walls are decaying, crumbling; and before long Vitré -will be no more than a memory. - - - - - [Illustration: A VIEILLARD] - -CHAPTER IV - -VANNES - - -A dear old-world, typically Breton town is Vannes. We arrived at -night, and gazed expectantly from our window on the moonlit square. We -plied with questions the man who carried up our boxes. His only answer -was that we should see everything on the morrow. - -That was market-day, and the town was unusually busy. Steering for -what we thought the oldest part of Vannes, we took a turning which led -past ancient and crazy-looking houses. Very old houses indeed they -were, with projecting upper stories, beams, and scaly roofs slanting -at all angles. At Morlaix some of the streets are ancient; but I have -never seen such eccentric broken lines as at Vannes. At one corner the -houses leant forward across the street, and literally rested one on -the top of the other. These were only the upper stories; below were -up-to-date jewellers and _pâtisseries_, with newly-painted signs in -black and gold. In the middle of these houses, cramped and crowded -and hustled by them, stood the cathedral. Inside it was a dim, lofty -edifice, with faintly burning lamps. Hither the market-women come with -their baskets, stuffed to the full with fresh green salad and apples, -laying them down on the floor that they may kneel on praying-chairs, -cross their arms, and raise their eyes to the high-altar, pouring out -trouble or joy to God. It was delightful to see rough men with their -clean market-day blue linen blouses kneeling on the stone floor, hats -in hand and heads bowed, repeating their morning prayers. - -The people were heavily laden on this bright autumn morning, either -with baskets or with sacks or dead fowls, all clattering through the -cobbled streets on their way to market. Following the crowd, we -emerged on a triangular-shaped market-place, wherein a most -dramatic-looking _mairie_ or town-hall figured prominently, a large -building with two flights of steps leading up to it, culminating in a -nail-studded door, with the arms of Morbihan inscribed above it. - - [Illustration: PLACE HENRI QUATRE, VANNES] - -One can well imagine such a market-place, let us say, in the days of -the Revolution: how some orator would stand on these steps, with -his back to that door, haranguing the crowd, holding them all -enthralled by the force of rhetoric. Now nothing so histrionic -happens. There is merely a buzzing throng of white-capped women, -haggling and bargaining as though their lives depended on it, with -eyes and hearts and minds for nothing but their business. Here and -there we saw knots of blue-bloused men, with whips hung over their -shoulders and straws in their mouths, more or less loafing and -watching their womenfolk. The square was filled with little wooden -stalls, where meat was sold--stringy-looking meat, and slabs of -purple-hued beef. How these peasant women bargained! I saw one old -lady arguing for quite a quarter of an hour over a piece of beef not -longer than your finger. Chestnuts were for sale in large quantities, -and housewives were buying their stocks for the winter. The men of the -family had been pressed into the service to carry up sack after sack -of fine brown glossy nuts, which were especially plentiful. No one -seemed over-anxious to sell; no one cried his wares: it was the -purchasers who appeared to do most of the talking and haggling. - -There were more Frenchwomen here than I have seen in any other town; -but they were not fine ladies by any means. They did not detract from -the picturesqueness of the scene. They went round with their great -baskets, getting them filled with apples or chestnuts, or other -things. Most of the saleswomen were wrinkled old bodies; but one -woman, selling chestnuts and baskets of pears, was pretty and quite -young, with a mauve apron and a black cross-over shawl, and a mouth -like iron. I watched her with amusement. I had never seen so young and -comely a person so stern and businesslike. Not a single centime would -she budge from her stated price. She was pestered by women of all -kinds--old and young, peasants and modern French ladies, all attracted -by the beauty of her pears and the glossiness of her chestnuts. Hers -were the finest wares in the market, and she was fully conscious of -it, pricing her pears and chestnuts a sou more a sieveful than anyone -else. The customers haggled with her, upbraided her, tried every -feminine tactic. They sneered at her chestnuts and railed at her -pears; they scoffed one with the other. Eventually they gave up a -centime themselves; but the hard mouth did not relax, and the pretty -head in the snow-white coif was shaken vigorously. At this, with -snorts of disgust, her customers turned up their noses and left. Ere -long a smartly-dressed woman came along, and all unsuspectingly -bought a sieveful of chestnuts, emptying them into her basket. When -she came to pay for them, she discovered they were a sou more than she -had expected, and emptied them promptly back into the market-woman's -sack. I began to be afraid that my pretty peasant would have to -dismount from her high horse or go home penniless; but this was not -the case. Several women gathered round and began to talk among -themselves, nudging one another and pointing. At last one capitulated, -hoisted the white flag, and bought a few pears. Instantly all the -other women laid down their bags and baskets and began to buy her -pears and chestnuts. Very soon this stall became the most popular in -the market-place, and the young woman and her assistant were kept busy -the whole day. The hard-mouthed girl had conquered! - -'Sept sous la demi-douzaine! Sept sous la demi-douzaine!' cried a -shrill-voiced vendor. It was a man from Paris with a great boxful of -shiny tablespoons, wrapped in blue tissue-paper in bundles of six, which -he was offering for the ridiculous sum of seven sous--that is, threepence -halfpenny. Naturally, with such bargains to offer, he was selling -rapidly. Directly he cried his 'Sept sous la demi-douzaine--six pour -sept sous!' he was literally surrounded. Men and women came up one -after the other; men's hands flew to their pockets under their blouses, -and women's to their capacious leather purses. It was amusing to watch -these people--they were so guileless, so childlike, so much pleased -with their bargains. Still, it would break my heart if these spoons -doubled up and cracked or proved worthless, for seven sous is a great -deal of money to the Breton peasants. I never saw merchandise -disappear so quickly. 'Solide, solide, solide!' cried the merchant, -until you would think he must grow hoarse. 'This is the chance of a -lifetime,' he declared: 'a beautiful half-dozen like this. C'est tout -ce qu'il y a de plus joli et solide. Voyez la beauté et la qualité de -cette merchandise. C'est une occasion que vous ne verrez pas tous les -jours.' - -The people became more and more excited; the man was much pressed, and -selling the spoons like wildfire. Then, there were umbrellas over -which the women lost their heads--glossy umbrellas with fanciful -handles and flowers and birds round the edge. First the merchant took -up an umbrella and twisted it round, then the spoons, and clattered -them invitingly, until people grew rash and bought both umbrellas and -spoons. - - [Illustration: GOSSIPS] - -There is nothing more amusing than to spend a morning thus, wandering -through the market-place, watching the peasants transact their little -business, which, though apparently trivial, is serious to them. I -never knew any people quite so thrifty as these Bretons. You see them -selling and buying, not only old clothes, but also bits of old -clothes--a sleeve from a soldier's coat, a leg from a pair of -trousers; and even then the stuff will be patched. In this -market-place you see stalls of odds and ends, such as even the poorest -of the poor in England would not hesitate to throw on the rubbish -heap--old iron, leaking bottles, legs of chairs and tables. - -A wonderful sight is the market on a morning such as this. The sun -shines full on myriads of white-capped women thronging through the -streets, and on lines of brown-faced vegetable vendors sitting close -to the ground among their broad open baskets of carrots and apples and -cabbages. There are stalls of all kinds--butchers' stalls, forming -notes of colour with their vivid red meat; haberdashery stalls, -offering everything from a toothbrush or a boot-lace to the most -excruciatingly brilliant woollen socks; stalls where clothes are -sold--such as children's checked pinafores and babies' caps fit for -dolls. Most brilliant of all are the material booths, where every kind -of material is sold--from calico to velvet. They congregate especially -in a certain corner of the market-square, and even the houses round -about are draped with lengths of material stretching from the windows -down to the ground--glorious sweeps of checks and stripes and flowered -patterns, and pink and blue flannelette. It is amusing to watch a -Breton woman buying a length of cloth. She will pull it, and drag it, -and smell it, and almost eat it; she will ask her husband's advice, -and the advice of her husband's relations, and the advice of her own -relations. - -In this market I was much amused to watch two men selling. I perceived -what a great deal more there is in the individuality of the man who -sells and in the manner of his selling than in the actual quality of -the merchandise. One man, a dull, foolish fellow, with bales and bales -of material, never had occasion to unwrap one: he never sold a thing. -Another man, a born salesman, with the same wares to offer, talked -volubly in a high-pitched voice. He called the people to him; he -called them by name--whether it was the right one or not did not -matter: it was sufficient to arrest their attention. 'Dépêchons nous. -Here, Lucien; here, Jeanne; here, Babette; here, my pigeon. Dépêchons -nous, dépêchons nous!' he cried. 'Que est ce qu'il y a? personne en -veux plus? Mais c'est épatant. Je suis honteux de vous en dire le -prix. Flannel! the very thing for your head, madam,--nothing softer, -nothing finer. How many yards?--one, two, three? There we are!' and, -with a flash of the scissors and a toss of the stuff, the flannel is -cut off, wrapped up and under the woman's arm, before the gaping -salesman opposite has time to close his mouth. - -The stall was arranged in a kind of semicircle, and very soon this -extraordinary person had gathered a crowd of people, all eager to buy; -and the way in which he appeared to attend to everyone at once was -simply marvellous. - -'What for you, madam?' he would ask, turning to a young Breton woman. -'Pink flannel? Here you are--a superb article, the very thing for -nightgowns.' Then to a man: 'Trousering, my lord? Certainly. Touchez -moi ça. Isn't that marvellous? Isn't that quality if you like? Ah! but -I am ashamed to tell you the price. You will be indeed beautiful in -this to-morrow.' - -As business became slack for the moment, he would take up some cheap -print and slap it on his knee, crying: - -'One sou--one sou the yard! Figure yourself dancing with an apron like -that at one sou the yard!' - -And so the man would continue throughout the day, shouting, screaming, -always inventing new jokes, selling his wares very quickly, and always -gathering more and more people round him. Once he looked across at his -unfortunate rival, who was listening to his nonsense with a sneering -expression. - -'Yes: you may sneer, my friend; but I am selling, and you are not,' he -retorted. - -Endless--absolutely endless--are the peeps of human nature one gains -on a market-day such as this in an old-world Breton town. I spent the -time wandering among the people, and not once did I weary. At every -turn I saw something to marvel at, something to admire. We had chanced -on a particularly interesting day, when the whole town was turned into -a great market. Wherever we went there was a market of some sort--a -pig market, or a horse market, or an old-clothes market; almost every -street was lined with booths and barrows. - - [Illustration: A CATTLE-MARKET] - -Outside almost every drinking-house, or Café Breton, lay a fat -pig sleeping contentedly on the pavement, and tied to a string in the -wall, built there for that purpose. He would be waiting while his -master drank--for often men come in to Vannes from miles away, and -walk back with their purchases. I saw an old woman who had just bought -a pig trying to take it home. She had the most terrible time with that -animal. First he raced along the road with her at great speed, almost -pulling her arms out of the sockets, and making the old lady run as -doubtless she had never run before; then he walked at a sedate pace, -persistently between her feet, so that either she must ride him -straddle-legs or not get on at all; lastly, the pig wound himself and -the string round and round her until neither could move a step. A -drunken man reeled along, and, seeing the hopeless muddle of the old -lady and the pig, stopped in front of them and tried to be of some -assistance. He took off his hat and scratched his head; then he poked -the pig with his cane, and moved round the woman and pig, giving -advice; finally, he flew into a violent rage because he could not -solve the mystery, and the old lady waved him aside with an impatient -gesture. The air was filled with grunts and groans and blood-curdling -squeaks. - -Everyone seemed to possess a pig: either he or she had just bought one -or had one for sale. You saw bunches of the great fat pink animals -tied to railings while the old women gossiped; you saw pigs, attached -to carts, comfortably sleeping in the mud; you saw them being led -along the streets like dogs by neatly-dressed dames, holding them by -their tails, and giving them a twist every time they were rebellious. - -Vannes is the most beautiful old town imaginable. Everywhere one goes -one sees fine old archways of gray stone, ancient and lofty--relics of -a bygone age--with the arms of Brittany below and a saint with arms -extended in blessing above. When once you reach the outskirts of the -town you realize that at one time Vannes must have been enclosed by -walls: there are gateways remaining still, and little bits of -broken-down brickwork, old and blackened, and half-overgrown with moss -and grasses. There is a moat running all round--it is inky black and -dank now--on the banks of which a series of sloping slate sheds and -washhouses have been built, where the women wash their clothes, -kneeling on the square flat stones. How anything could emerge clean -and white from such pitch-black water is a marvel. Seen from outside -the gates, this town is very beautiful--the black water of the moat, -the huddled figures of the women, with their white caps and snowy -piles of linen, and beyond that green grass and apple-trees and -flowers, and at the back the old grayish-pink walls, with carved -buttresses. - -There is hardly a town in the whole of Brittany so ancient as Vannes. -These walls speak for themselves. They speak of the time when Vannes -was the capital of the rude Venetes who made great Cæsar hesitate, and -retarded him in his conquest of the Gauls. They speak of the -twenty-one emigrants, escaped from the Battle of Quiberon, who were -shot on the promenade of the Garenne, under the great trees where the -children play to-day. What marvellous walls these are! With what care -they have been built--so stout, so thick, so colossal! It must have -taken men of great strength to build such walls as these--men who -resented all newcomers with a bitter hatred, and built as if for their -very lives, determined to erect something which should be impregnable. -Still they stand, gray and battered, with here and there remains of -their former grandeur in carved parapets, projecting turrets, and -massive sculptured doorways. At one time the town must have been well -within the walls; but now it has encroached. The white and pink and -yellow-faced tall houses perch on the top of, lean against and cluster -round, the old gray walls. - -It seems strange to live in a town where the custom of _couvre-feu_ is -still observed by the inhabitants--in a town where no sooner does the -clock strike nine than all lights are out, all shutters closed, and -all shops shut. This is the custom in Vannes. It is characteristic of -the people. The Vanntais take a pride in being faithful to old usages. -They are a sturdy, grave, pensive race, hiding indomitable energy and -hearts of fire under the calmest demeanour. The women are fine -creatures. I shall never forget seeing an old woman chopping wood. All -day long she worked steadily in the open place, wielding an immensely -heavy hatchet, and chopping great branches of trees into bundles of -sticks. There she stood in her red-and-black checked petticoat, her -dress tucked up, swinging her hatchet, and holding the branches with -her feet. She seemed an Amazon. - - [Illustration: BREAD STALLS] - -In Vannes, as in any part of Brittany, one always knows when there is -anything of importance happening, by the clatter of the sabots on the -cobble stones. On the afternoon when we were there the noise was -deafening. We heard it through the closed windows while we were at -luncheon--big sabots, little sabots, men's nail-studded sabots, -women's light ones, little children's persistent clump, clump, clump, -all moving in the same direction. It was the Foire des Oignons, -observed the waiter. I had imagined that there had been a _foire_ of -everything conceivable that day; but onions scarcely entered into my -calculations. I should not have thought them worthy of a _foire_ all -to themselves. The waiter spoiled my meal completely. I could no -longer be interested in the very attractive menu. Onions were my one -and only thought. I lived and had my being but for onions. Mother and -I sacrificed ourselves immediately on the altar of onions. We rushed -from the room, much to the astonishment of several rotund French -officers, who were eating, as usual, more than was good for them. - -Everybody was concerned with onions. We drew up in the rear of a large -onion-seeking crowd. It was interesting to watch the back views of -these peasants as they mounted the hill. There were all kinds of -backs--fat backs, thin backs, glossy black backs, and faded green -ones; backs of men with floating ribbons and velveteen coats; plump -backs of girls with neat pointed shawls--some mauve, some purple, -some pink, some saffron. - -At the top of the hill was the market-square--a busy scene. The square -was packed, and everyone was talking volubly in the roughest Breton -dialect. Now and then a country cart painted blue, the horse hung -round the neck with shaggy black fur and harnessed with the rough -wooden gear so general in Brittany, would push through the crowd of -busily-talking men and women. Everything conceivable was for sale. At -certain stalls there were sweets of all colours, yet all tasting the -same and made of the worst sugar. I saw the same man still selling his -spoons and umbrellas; but he was fat and comfortable now. He had had -his _déjeuner_, and was not nearly so excited and amusing. Fried -sardines were sold with long rolls of bread; also sausages. They cook -the sardines on iron grills, and a mixed smell of sausages, sardines, -and chestnuts filled the air. Everyone was a little excited and a -little drunk. Long tables had been brought out into the place where -the men sat in their blue blouses and black velvet hats,--their whips -over their shoulders, drinking cider and wine out of cups,--discussing -cows and horses. - -There was a cattle market there that day. This was soon manifest, for -men in charge of cows and pigs pushed their way among the crowd. On -feeling a weight at your back now and then, you discovered a cow or a -pig leaning against you for support. A great many more animals were -assembled on a large square--pigs and cows and calves and horses. One -could stay for days and watch a cattle market: it is intensely -interesting. The way the people bargain is very strange. I saw a man -and a woman buying a cow from a young Breton. The man opened its -eyelids wide with his finger and thumb; he gazed in the gentle brown -eyes; he stroked her soft gray neck; he felt her ribs, and poked his -fingers in her side; he lifted one foot after the other; he punched -and probed her for quite a quarter of an hour; and the cow stood there -patiently. The woman looked on with a hard, knowing expression, -applauding at every poke, and talking volubly the while. She drew into -the discussion a friend passing by, and asked her opinion constantly, -yet never took it. All the while the owner stood stroking his cow's -back, without uttering a word. - -He was a handsome young man, as Bretons often are--tall and slim, with -a face like an antique bronze, dark and classic;--he wore a short -black coat trimmed with shabby velvet, tightly-fitting trousers, and -a black hat with velvet streamers. The stateliness of the youth struck -me: he held himself like an emperor. These Bretons look like kings, -with their fine brown classic features; they hold themselves so -haughtily, they remind one of figure-heads on old Roman coins. They -seem men born to command; yet they command nothing, and live like pigs -with the cows and hogs. The Breton peasant is full of dirt and -dignity, living on coarse food, and rarely changing his clothes; yet -nowhere will you meet with such fine bearing, charm of manner, and -nobility of feature as among the peasants of Brittany. - -On entering the poorest cottage, you are received with old-world -courtesy by the man of the house, who comes forward to meet you in his -working garments, with dirt thick upon his hands, but with dignity and -stateliness, begging that you will honour his humble dwelling with -your presence. He sets the best he has in the house before you. It may -be only black bread and cider; but he bids you partake of it with a -regal wave of his hand which transforms the humble fare. - - [Illustration: IN A BRETON KITCHEN] - -These peasants remind me very much of Sir Henry Irving. Some of the -finest types are curiously like him in feature: they have the -same magnificent profile and well-shaped head. It is quite startling -to come across Sir Henry in black gaiters, broad-brimmed hat, and long -hair streaming in the wind, ploughing in the dark-brown fields, or -chasing a pig, or, dressed in gorgeous holiday attire, perspiring -manfully through a village gavotte. Surely none but a Breton could -chase a pig without losing self-respect, or count the teeth in a cow's -mouth and look dignified at the same time. No one else could dance up -and down in the broiling sunshine for an hour and preserve a composed -demeanour. The Breton peasant is a person quite apart from the rest of -the world. One feels, whether at a pig market or a wayside shrine, -that these people are dreamers living in a romantic past. Unchanged -and unpolished by the outside world, they cling to their own -traditions; every stone in their beloved country is invested by them -with poetic and heroic associations. Brittany looks as if it must have -always been as it is now, even in the days of the Phoenicians; and -it seems impossible to imagine the country inhabited by any but -medieval people. - -There were many fine figures of men in this cattle market, all busy at -the game of buying and selling. A Frenchman and his wife were -strolling round the square, intent on buying a pony. The man evidently -knew nothing about horses--very few Frenchmen do;--and it was -ridiculous to watch the way in which he felt the animal's legs and -stroked its mane, with a wise expression, while his wife looked on -admiringly. Bretons take a long time over their bargains: sometimes -they will spend a whole day arguing over two sous, and then end by not -buying the pig or the cow, whatever it is, at all. The horses looked -tired and bored with the endless bargains, as they leant their heads -against one another. Now and then one was taken out and trotted up and -down the square; then two men clasped hands once, and went off to a -café to drink. If they clasp hands a third time the bargain will be -closed. - -Market-day in Vannes is an excuse for frivolity. We came upon a great -crowd round two men under a red umbrella, telling fortunes. One man's -eyes were blindfolded. He was the medium. The people were listening to -his words with guileless attention and seriousness. Then a man and a -woman, both drunk, were singing songs about the Japanese and Russian -War, dragging in 'France' and 'la gloire,' and selling the words, -forcing young Frenchmen and soldiers to buy sheets of nonsense for -which they had no use. There were stalls of imitation flowers--roses -and poppies and chrysanthemums of most impossible colours--gazed at -with covetous eyes by the more well-to-do housewives. - -Hats were sold in great numbers at the Foire des Oignons. It seemed to -be fashionable to buy a black felt hat on that day. The fair is held -only once a year, and farmers and their families flock to it from -miles round. It is the custom, when a good bargain is made, to buy new -hats for the entire family. Probably there will be no opportunity of -seeing a shop again during the rest of the year. The trade in hats is -very lively. Women from Auray, in three-cornered shawls and wide -white-winged caps, sit all day long sewing broad bands of velvet -ribbon on black beaver hats, stretching it round the crown and leaving -it to fall in two long streamers at the back. They sew quickly, for -they have more work than they can possibly accomplish during the day. -It is amusing to watch the customers. I sat on the stone balustrade -which runs round the open square of the Hôtel de Ville, whither all -the townswomen come as to a circus, bringing their families, and -eating their meals in the open air, that they may watch the strangers -coming and going about their business, either on foot or in carts. It -was as good as a play. A young man, accompanied by another man, an old -lady, and three young girls, had come shyly up to the stall. It was -obvious that he was coming quite against his will and at the -instigation of his companions. He hummed and hawed, fidgeted, blushed, -and looked as wretched and awkward as a young man could. One hat after -another was tried on his head; but none of them would fit. He was the -object of all eyes. The townswomen hooted at him, and his own friends -laughed. He could stand it no longer. He dashed down his money, picked -up the hat nearest to him, and went off in a rage. I often thought of -that young man afterwards--of his chagrin during the rest of the year, -when every Sunday and high day and holiday he would have to wear that -ill-fitting hat as a penalty for his bad temper. These great strapping -Breton men are very childish, and dislike above all things to be made -to appear foolish. Towards evening, when three-quarters drunk, they -are easily gulled and cheated by the gentle-faced needle-women. -Without their own womenfolk they are completely at sea, and are -made to buy whatever is offered. They look so foolish, pawing one -another and trying on hats at rakish angles. It is ridiculous to see -an intoxicated man trying to look at his own reflection in a -hand-glass. He follows it round and round, looking very serious; holds -it now up and now down; and eventually buys something he does not -want, paying for it out of a great purse which he solemnly draws from -under his blouse. - - [Illustration: A RAINY DAY AT THE FAIR] - -I saw a man and a child come to buy a hat. The boy was the very image -of his father--black hat, blue blouse, tight trousers and all--only -that the hat was very shabby and brown and old, and had evidently seen -many a ducking in the river and held many a load of nuts and cherries. -His father was in the act of buying him a new one. The little pale lad -smiled and looked faintly interested as hat after hat was tried on his -head; but he was not overjoyed, for he knew quite well that, once home -and in his mother's careful hands, that hat would be seen only on rare -occasions. - -Another boy who came with his father to buy a hat quite won my heart. -He was a straight-limbed, fair-haired, thoroughly English-looking boy. -A black felt hat was not for him--only a red tam-o'-shanter;--and he -stood beaming with pride as cap after cap was slapped on his head and -as quickly whisked off again. - -Women came to purchase bonnets for their babies; but, alas! instead of -buying the tight-lace caps threaded with pink and blue ribbons -characteristic of the country, they bought hard, round, blue-and-white -sailor affairs, with mangy-looking ostrich feathers in them--atrocities -enough to make the most beautiful child appear hideous. - -The sun was fading fast. Horses and cows and pigs, drunken men and -empty cider barrels, women with heavy baskets and dragging tired -children, their pockets full of hot chestnuts--all were starting on -their long walk home. When the moon rose, the square was empty. - - - - - [Illustration: IN THE PORCH OF THE CATHEDRAL, QUIMPER] - -CHAPTER V - -QUIMPER - - - 'C'était à la campagne - Près d'un certain canton de la basse Bretagne - Appelé Quimper Corentin. - On sait assez que le Destin - Adresse là les gens quand il veut qu'on enrage. - Dieu nous préserve du voyage.' - -So says La Fontaine. The capital of Cornouailles is a strange mixture -of the old world and the new. There the ancient spirit and the modern -meet. The Odet runs through the town. On one side is a mass of rock 70 -metres high, covered by a forest so dark and dense and silent that in -it one might fancy one's self miles away from any town. As one wanders -among the chestnuts, pines, poplars, and other trees, a sadness falls, -as if from the quiet foliage in the dim obscurity. On the other side -of the narrow river is a multitude of roofs, encircled by high walls -and dominated by the two lofty spires of the cathedral. Gray and full -of shadows is the quiet little town, with its jumble of slanting roofs -and its broken lines. - -Quimper seems to have changed but little within the last six years. We -arrived as the sun was setting. A warm light gilded the most ordinary -objects, transforming them into things of beauty. We flashed by in the -hotel omnibus, past a river resembling a canal, the Odet. The river -was spanned by innumerable iron-railed bridges. The sky was of a fresh -eggshell blue, with clouds of vivid orange vermilion paling in the -distance to rose-pink, and shedding pink and golden reflections on the -clear gray water, while a red-sailed fishing-boat floated gently at -anchor. A wonderful golden light bathed the town. You felt that you -could not take it all in at once, this glorious colouring--that you -must rush from place to place before the light faded, and see the -whole of the fine old town under these exceptional circumstances, -which would most probably never occur again. You wanted to see the -water, with its golden reflections, and the warm light shining on the -lichen-covered walls, on the gardens sloping down to the river, on the -wrought-iron gateways and low walls over which ivy and convolvulus -creep, on the red-rusted bridges. You wanted to see the cathedral--a -purple-gray mass, with the sun gilding one-half of the tower to a -brilliant vermilion, and leaving the other half grayer and a deeper -purple than ever. You wanted to see the whole place at once, for very -soon the light fades into the gray and purple of night. - -My first thought on waking next morning in the 'city of fables and -gables,' as Quimper is called, was to see my old convent--the dear old -convent where as a child I spent such a happy year. Only twelve more -months, and the nuns will be ousted from their home--those dear women -whom, as the hotel proprietress said with tears in her eyes, 'fassent -que du bien.' How bitterly that cruel Act rankles, and ever will -rankle, in the hearts of the Breton people! - -'On dit que la France est un pays libre,' said my hostess; 'c'est une -drôle de liberté!' - -The inhabitants of Quimper were more bitter, more rebellious, than -those of any other town, for they greeted the officers with stones and -gibes. And no wonder. The nuns had ever been good and generous and -helpful to the people of Quimper. I remember well in the old days what -a large amount of food and clothing went forth into the town from -those hospitable doors, for the Retraite du Sacré Coeur was a rich -Order. - -It was with a beating heart and eager anticipation that I knocked at -the convent door that morning, feeling like a little child come home -after the holidays. I heard the sound of bolts slipped back, and two -bright eyes peeped through the grille before the door was opened by a -Sister in the white habit of the Order. I knew her face in an instant, -yet could not place it. Directly she spoke I remembered it was the -Sister who changed our shoes and stockings whenever we returned from a -walk. - -I asked for the Mother Superior. She had gone to England. I asked for -one of the English nuns. She also had gone. Names that had faded out -of my mind returned in the atmosphere of the convent. Yes: three of -the nuns I had named were still at the convent. What was my name? the -Sister asked. Who was I? - -I gave my name, and instantly her face lit up. - -'Why, it is Mademoiselle Dorothé!' she exclaimed, raising her hands -above her head in astonishment. 'Entréz, mademoiselle et madame, -entréz!' - - [Illustration: THE VEGETABLE MARKET, QUIMPER] - -Through all these years, among all the girls who must have passed -through the convent, she remembered me and bade me welcome. In the -quiet convent so little happens that every incident is remembered and -magnified and thought over. - -We were taken upstairs and shown into a bare room with straight-backed -chairs--a room which in my childish imagination had been a charmed and -magic place, for it was here that I came always to see my mother on -visiting days. We had not long to wait before, with a rustle and -clinking of her cross and rosary, Mère B. appeared, a sweet woman in -the black dress and pointed white coif that I knew so well. She had -always been beautiful in my eyes, and she was so still, with the -loveliness of a pure and saintly life shining through her large brown -eyes. Her cheeks were as soft and pink as ever, and her hands, which I -used to watch in admiration by the hour, were stretched out with joy -to greet me. - -'O la petite Dorothé!' she cried,'quel bonheur de vous revoir! Est-ce -vraiment la petite Dorothé?' - -As I sat watching her while she talked to my mother, all the old -thoughts and feelings came back to me with a rush. I was in some awe -of her: I could not treat her as if she were an ordinary person. All -the old respectful tricks and turns of speech came back to me, though -I imagined I had forgotten them. My mother was telling Mère B. of how -busy I had been since I had left the convent--of the books I had -written and all about them;--but I felt as small and insignificant as -the child of ten, and could only answer in monosyllables--'Oui, ma -mère,' or 'Non, ma mère.' - -At our request, we were shown over the convent. Many memories it -brought back--some pleasant, some painful; for a child's life never -runs on one smooth level--it is ever a series of ups and downs. We -were taken into the refectory. There was my place at the corner of the -table, where at the first meal I sat and cried because, when asked if -I would like a _tartine_ instead of pudding, I was given a piece of -bread-and-butter. Naturally, I had thought that _tartine_ meant a -tart. And there was the very same Sister laying the table, the Sister -who used to look sharply at my plate to see that I ate all my fat and -pieces of gristle. She remembered me perfectly. Many were the tussles, -poor woman, she had had with me. - -Mère B. showed us the chapel, where we used to assemble at half-past -six every morning, cold and half-asleep, to say our prayers before -going into the big church. Many were the beautiful addresses the -Mother Superior had read to us; many were the vows I had made to be -really very good; many were the resolves I had formed to be gentle and -forbearing during the day--vows and resolves only to be broken soon. - -We wandered through the garden between the beds of thyme and mint and -late roses, and Mère B. spoke with tears in her eyes of the time when -they would have to leave their happy convent home and migrate to some -more hospitable land. 'It is not for ourselves that we grieve,' she -said: 'it is for our poor country--for the people who will be left -without religion. Personally, we are as happy in one country as in -another.' - -I picked a sprig of sweet-smelling thyme as I passed, and laid it -tenderly between the pages of my pocket-book. If the garden were to be -desecrated and used by strangers, I must have something to remember it -by. - -What memories the dear old convent garden brought back to me! There -was the gravelled square where we children skipped and played and sang -Breton _chansons_ all in a ring. There was the avenue of scanty -poplars--not so scanty now--down which I often paced in rebellious -mood, gazing at the walls rising high above me, longing to gain the -farther side and be in the world. Outside the convent gates was always -called 'the world.' There was the little rocky shrine of the Virgin--a -sweet-faced woman in a robe of blue and gold, nursing a Baby with an -aureole about His head. Many a time I had thrown myself on the bench -in front of that shrine in a fit of temper, and had been slowly calmed -and soothed by that gentle presence, coming away a better child, with -what my mother always called 'the little black monkey' gone from my -back. - -Very soon the convent atmosphere wraps itself about you and lulls you -to rest. You feel its influence directly you enter the building. You -are seized by a vague longing to stay here, just where you are, and -leave the world, with its ceaseless strivings and turmoils and unrest, -behind you. Yet how soon the worldly element in you would come to the -fore, teasing you, tormenting you back into the toils once more! It -was with a feeling of sorrow and a sensation that something was being -wrenched from me that I bade good-bye to sweet Mère B. at the garden -gate, with many embraces and parting injunctions not to forget the -convent and my old friends. - - [Illustration: OUTSIDE THE CATHEDRAL, QUIMPERLE] - -Wherever one goes in Quimper one sees the stately cathedral, that -wondrous building which, with its two excellent pyramids and gigantic -portal, is said to be the most beautiful in all Brittany. It would -take one days and days to realize its beauty. The doorway itself is as -rich in detail as a volume of history. There are lines of sculptured -angels joining hands over the porch, Breton coats of arms, and the -device of Jean X.--'Malo au riche duc.' There are two windows above -the doorway, crowned by a gallery, with an equestrian statue of the -King of Grallon. According to tradition the cathedral must have been -built on the site of the royal palace. - -There are many legends about the church of St. Corentin. One is that -of a man who, going on a pilgrimage, left his money with a neighbour -for safety. On returning, the neighbour declared that he had never had -the money, and proposed to swear to the same before the crucifix of -St. Corentin. They met there, and the man swore. Instantly three drops -of blood fell from the crucifix to the altar, which, the legend runs, -are preserved to this day. - -It is also said that there is in the fountain of Quimper a miraculous -fish, which, in spite of the fact that St. Corentin cuts off half of -it every day for his dinner, remains whole. - -A quaint ceremony is held at the cathedral on the Feast of St. Cecile. -At two o'clock the clergyman, accompanied by musicians and choir-boys, -mounts a platform between the great towers, and a joyous hymn is sung -there, on the nearest point to the sky in all Quimper. It is a strange -sight. Scores of beggars gather round the porch of the cathedral--the -halt, the lame, the blind, and the diseased--all with outstretched -hats and cups. - - - - - [Illustration: BY THE SIDE OF A FARM] - -CHAPTER VI - -ST. BRIEUC - - -St. Brieuc, although it has lost character somewhat during the last -half-century, is still typically Breton. Its streets are narrow and -cobbled, and many of its houses date from the Middle Ages. It was -market-day when we arrived, and crowds of women, almost all of whom -wore different caps--some of lace with wide wings, others goffered -with long strings--were hurrying, baskets over their arms, in the -direction of the market-place. Suddenly, while walking in these -narrow, tortuous streets of St. Brieuc, I saw stretched before me, or -rather below, many feet below, a green and fertile valley. It -resembled a picturesque scene magically picked out of Switzerland and -placed in a Breton setting. Through the valley ran a small glistening -stream, a mere ribbon of water, threading its way among rocks and -boulders and vivid stretches of green grass. On either side were steep -hills covered with verdure, gardens, and plots of vegetables. On the -heights a railway was being cut into the solid rock--a gigantic -engineering work, rather spoiling the aspect of this wooded valley -full of flowers and perfumes and the sun. - -We were told that there was nothing further to be seen in St. Brieuc, -but that we must go to Binic, which is described in a certain -guide-book as 'a very picturesque little fishing village.' This -sounded inviting, and, although we had not much time to spare, we set -off in a diligence with about eighteen windows, each of which rattled -as we sped along at a terrific pace over the cobbles of St. Brieuc. On -we went, faster and faster, rattling--out into the country, past the -valley again, the beautiful valley, and many other valleys like it. -Craggy purple mountains half-covered with green flew by us; and here -and there was an orchard with gnarled and spreading apple-trees -weighted with heavy burdens of red and golden fruit--the very soil was -carpeted with red and gold. What a fertile country it is! Here, where -a river flows between two mountains, how vividly green the grass! -Peasant women by its banks are washing linen on the flat stones, and -hanging it, all white and blue and daintily fresh, on yellow gorse -bushes and dark blackberry thorns. - -I have never seen blackberries such as those on the road to Binic. -Tall and thick grew the bushes, absolutely black with berries, so -large that they resembled bunches of grapes. Not a single Breton in -all the length and breadth of Brittany will pick this ripe and -delicious fruit--not a schoolboy, not a starving beggar on the -wayside--for does not the bush bear the accursed thorns which pierced -the Saviour's forehead? It is only when English and American children -invade Brittany that the blackberries are harvested. - -A diligence causes excitement in a small Breton town. It carries the -mails between the villages. Whenever the inhabitants hear the horn, -out they rush from their homes with letters and parcels to be given -into the hands of the courier. The courier's duties, by the way, are -many. Not only are the mails given into his safe keeping: he is -entrusted with commissions, errands, and messages of all kinds. A -housewife will ask him to buy her a bar of soap; a girl will entrust -him with the matching of a ribbon; a hotel-keeper will order through -him a cask of beer; and so on. The courier is busy throughout the day -executing his various commissions, now in one shop, now in another; -and on the return journey his cart, hung all over with bulky packages -and small,--here a chair, there a broom, here a tin of biscuits--resembles -a Christmas-tree. The courier's memory must needs be good and his hand -steady, for it is the custom to give him at each house as much as he -likes to drink. His passengers are kept for hours shivering in the -cold, becoming late for their appointments and missing their trains; -but the courier cares not. He drinks wherever he stops, and at each -fresh start becomes more brilliant in his driving. - -At one of the villages, during the tedious wait while the driver was -imbibing, I was much interested in watching a man, a little child, and -a dog. The man was a loafer, but neatly and even smartly dressed, -wearing a white peaked yachting cap. The child was small and sickly, -with long brown hair curling round a deathly-white and rather dirty -face, weak blue eyes with red rims, and an ominously scarlet mouth. -Long blue-stockinged legs came from beneath a black pinafore, so thin -and small that it seemed impossible that they could bear the weight of -those heavy black wooden sabots. I thought that the child was a girl -until the pinafore was raised, revealing tiny blue knickers and a -woollen jersey. The boy seemed devoted to his father, and would -hold his hand unnoticed for a long while, gazing into the unresponsive -eyes. Now and then he would jump up feverishly and excitedly, pulling -his father's coat to attract attention, and prattling all the while. -The man took not the slightest notice of the child. He was glancing -sharply about him. By-and-by he bent down towards his son, and I heard -him whisper, 'Allez à ses messieurs la.' Without a word the boy -trotted off towards the men, his hands in his pockets, and began -talking to them, the father watching attentively. He returned, but was -immediately sent off again with a frown and a push. Then he came back -with several sous, clasped in his fist, which he held up proudly to -his father. Over and over again he was sent off, and every time he -came back with a few sous. Had the child appealed to me I could not -have resisted him. There was something about the pathetic pale face -that tugged at the heart-strings. One felt that the boy was not long -for this world. His father was absolutely callous. He did not reward -the lad by word or smile, although the child pulled at his coat and -clamoured for attention. At last the boy gave up in despair, and, -sitting down on the pavement, drew the old black poodle towards him, -hiding his face in the tangled wool, while the animal's eyes, brown -and sad, seemed to say that he at least understood. - - [Illustration: ON THE ROAD TO BANNALEC] - -At length we arrived in Binic, cold, windy, composed of a few -slate-gray, solid houses, a stone pier, and some large sailing -vessels, with nothing picturesque about them. The courier's cart set -us down, and went rattling on its way. We were in a bleak, -unsympathetic place. I felt an impulse to run after the diligence and -beg the driver to take us away. This was 'the picturesque little -fishing village'! We dived into the most respectable-looking _débit de -boissons_ we could find, and asked for tea. An old lady sitting before -the fire dropped her knitting, and her spectacles flew off. The sudden -appearance of strangers in Binic, combined with the request for tea, -of all beverages, seemed trying to her nervous system. It was quite -five minutes before she was in a fit condition to ask us what we -really required. With much trepidation, she made our tea, holding it -almost at arm's length, as if it were poisonous. The tea itself she -had discovered on the top of a shelf in a fancy box covered with -dust and cobwebs; she had measured it out very carefully. When -poured into our cups the fluid was of a pale canary colour, and was -flavourless. We lengthened out the meal until the carrier's cart -arrived, with a full complement of passengers. It had begun to rain -and hail, and the driver cheerfully assured us his was the last -diligence that day. The proprietress of the _débit_ had begun to rub -her hands with glee at the thought of having us as customers; but I -was determined that, even if I had to sit on the top of the cart, we -should not stay in the terrible place an hour longer. To the surprise -of the courier, and the disgust of the passengers, whose view we -completely blocked, we climbed to the driver's seat and sat there. The -driver, a good natured man, with consideration for his purse, shrugged -his shoulders at the proprietress, and we started on our way. I have -never heard such language as that which issued from the back of the -cart. Many and terrible were the epithets hurled at the heads of 'ses -affreuses Anglaises.' - - - - - [Illustration: DÉBIT DE BOISSONS] - - [Illustration: CHURCH OF ST. MODY] - -CHAPTER VII - -PAIMPOL - - -Wherever one travels one cannot but be impressed by the friendliness -and sympathy of the people. On the day we were starting for Paimpol we -found, on arriving at the station, that we had an hour to wait for our -train. We happened to be feeling rather depressed that day, and at -this intimation I was on the verge of tears. The porter who took our -tickets cheered us up to the best of his ability. He flung open the -door of the _salle d'attente_ as if it had been a lordly -reception-room, flourished round with his duster over mantelpiece and -table and straight-backed chairs, and motioned us to be seated. - -'Voilà tout ce qu'il y a de plus joli et confortable,' he said, with a -smile. Perceiving that we were not impressed, he drew aside the -curtains and pointed with a dirty forefinger. 'Voilà un joli petit -jardin,' he exclaimed triumphantly. There, he added, we might sit if -we chose. Also, he said there was a buffet close at hand. As this did -not produce enthusiasm, he observed that there was a mirror in the -room, that he himself would call us in time to catch our train, and -that we were altogether to consider ourselves _chez nous_. Then he -bowed himself out of the room. - -The scenery along the railway from Guingamp to Paimpol was beautiful. -I hung my head out of the window the whole way, so anxious was I not -to miss a single minute of that glorious colouring. There were hills -of craggy rocks, blue and purple, with pines of brilliant fresh green -growing thickly up their sides. On the summit, standing dark against -the sky, were older pines of a deeper green. Between the clumps of -pines grew masses of mustard-yellow gorse and purple heather, in parts -faded to a rich pinky-brown. Now and then there were clefts in the -hills, or valleys, where the colouring was richer and deeper still, -and bracken grew in abundance, pinky-brown and russet. - -Paimpol itself is a fishing village, much frequented by artists, -attracted by the fishing-boats with their vermilion sails, who never -tire of depicting the gray stone quay, with its jumble of masts and -riggings. In the _salle à manger_ of the little hotel where we had -luncheon the walls were literally panelled with pictures of -fishing-boats moored to the quay. Every man sitting at that long -table was an artist. This was a pleasant change from the commercial -travellers who hitherto had fallen to our lot at meal-times. There was -no Englishman among the artists. - - [Illustration: REFLECTIONS] - -The English at this time of the year in Brittany are few, though they -swarm in every town and village during summer. These were -Frenchmen--impressionists of the new school. It was well to know this. -Otherwise one might have taken them for wild men of the woods. Such -ruffianly-looking people I had never seen before. Some of them wore -corduroy suits, shabby and paint-besmeared, with slovenly top-boots -and large felt hats set at the back of their heads. Others affected -dandyism, and parted their hair at the back, combing it towards their -ears, in the latest Latin Quarter fashion. Their neckties were of the -flaming tones of sunset, very large and spreading; their trousers -excessively baggy. The entrance of my mother and myself caused some -confusion among them, for women are very rare in Paimpol at this -season. Hats flew off and neckties were straightened, while each one -did his best to attend to our wants. Frenchmen are nothing if not -polite. The young man sitting next to me suffered from shyness, and -blushed every time he spoke. On one occasion, airing his English, he -said, 'Vill you pass ze vutter?' I passed him the butter; but he had -meant water. The poor youth rivalled the peony as he descended to -French and explained his mistake. - -The people of Paimpol are supposed to be much addicted to smuggling. -My mother and I once imagined that we had detected a flagrant act. One -afternoon, walking on a narrow path above the sea, we saw three boys -crouching behind a rock. They were talking very earnestly, and -pointing, apparently making signals, to a little red-sailed boat. The -boat changed her course, and steered straight for a small cove beneath -our feet. We held our breath, expecting to witness the hiding of the -loot. Suddenly, just as the little craft drew to within a yard or so -of the shore, we saw from behind a rock a red and white cockade -appear. There stood a gendarme! Instantly the boat went on her way -once more, and the boys fell to whispering again behind the rock. -After a while, to our great disgust, the gendarme walked at leisure -down the path and chatted in a friendly way with the conspirators. He -had been out for an afternoon stroll. Nothing really dramatic or -interesting in the smuggling line seems to happen outside books. - -The Paimpolais are a vigorous people. Fathers and sons dedicate their -lives to the sea. With all their roughness, the people are strictly -religious. The bay of Paimpol is under the protection of the Virgin, -and St. Anne is patron saint. All prayers for those at sea are -directed to these two saints, whose statues stand prominently in the -village. At the end of every winter, before starting their dangerous -life anew, the fishermen are blessed before the statues. The patron -saint of the mariners gazes down with lifeless eyes on generation -after generation of men--on those whose luck will be good and lives -happy; on those who are destined never to return. At the opening of -the fishing season there is a ceremonial procession, attended by the -fathers, mothers, sisters, and _fiancées_ of the fisher folk. Each man -as he embarks is blessed by the priest and given a few last words of -advice. Then the boats move away, a big flotilla of red-sailed fishing -craft, the men singing in loud vibrating voices, as they busy -themselves about their boats, the canticles of Mary, star of the sea. - - - - - [Illustration: A SABOT STALL] - -CHAPTER VIII - -GUINGAMP - - -On the way to Guingamp we travelled second-class. In the first-class -carriages one sits in solitary state, with never a chance of studying -the people of the country. Half-way on our journey the train stopped, -and I was amused by the excitement and perturbation of the passengers. -They flew to the windows, and heaped imprecations on the guard, the -engine-driver, and the railway company. As the train remained -stationary for several minutes, their remarks became facetious. They -inquired if _un peu de charbon_ would be useful. Should they provide -the porter with a blade of straw wherewith to light the engines? They -even offered their services in pushing the train. One fat, red-faced -commercial traveller, who, by way of being witty, declared that he was -something of an engineer himself, descended the steep steps of the -carriage in order to assist the officials. The French are born -comedians--there is no doubt about it. They manage to make themselves -extremely ridiculous. This man's behaviour was like that of a clown in -the circus. In attempting to unlock a carriage he got in the way of -everyone. The wait was long and tedious. - -'Il faut coucher sur la montagne ce soir, mademoiselle,' said an old -Breton who was puffing contentedly at a clay pipe in the corner of the -carriage. He was very fat, and smothered up to his chin in a loose -blue blouse; but he had a classic head. It was like that of some Roman -Emperor carved in bronze. His eyes were of cerulean blue. His was the -head of a man born to command. There was something almost imperial in -the pose and set of it. Nevertheless, this peasant lived, no doubt, in -the depth of the country, probably in some hovel of a cottage, with a -slovenly yellow-faced wife (women in the wilds of Brittany grow old -and plain very early), dirty children, and a few pigs and cows. He had -been attending a market, and he spoke with great importance of his -purchases there. He descended at a minute station on the line, and I -watched him as he started on his fifteen-mile drive in a ramshackle -wooden cart. - - [Illustration: LA VIEILLESSE] - -We were cold and sleepy when we arrived at Guingamp, so much so that -we forgot to be nervous as we crossed the line with our many bags -and bandboxes. When you arrive at a station in Brittany, you are met -by a bevy of men in gold-lace caps, who instantly set up a noisy -chatter. You assume that they must be advertising various hotels; but -it is quite impossible to distinguish. Travellers, especially the -English, are rarities at this season. As a rule I carefully chose the -omnibus which was cleanest, and the driver who was most respectful, in -spite of many persuasions to the contrary; but on this occasion I was -so limp and tired that I allowed my traps to be snatched from my hands -and followed our guide meekly. It might have been the dirtiest hovel -of an inn towards which we were going rapidly over the cobbled stones -of the town--it was all one to me. - -By great good luck we happened to chance on the Hôtel de France, where -we were greeted by the _maîtresse d'hôtel_, a kindly woman, and -without further delay, although it sounds somewhat _gourmande_ to say -so, sat down to one of the best dinners it has ever been my lot to -eat. The kitchen was exactly opposite the _salle à manger_, the door -of which was open for all to see within. There we could observe the -chef, rotund and rosy-cheeked, in spotless white cap and apron, busy -among multitudinous pots and pans which shone like gold. His -assistants, boys in butcher-blue cotton, flew hither and thither at -his command, busily chopping this and whipping up that. The various -dishes I do not remember distinctly; I only know that each one (I once -heard an epicure speak thus) was a 'poem.' Of all that glorious menu, -only the _escalopes de veau_ stands out clearly, laurel-wreathed, in -my memory. At the table there were the usual commercial travellers. -Also there were several glum, hard-featured Englishwomen and one man. - -How is it that one dislikes one's own countrymen abroad so much? It is -unpatriotic to say so, but I really think that the Continental -travelling portion of Britishers must be a race apart, a different -species; for a more unpleasant, impolite, plain, and badly-dressed set -of people it has never been my lot to meet elsewhere. The word -'English' at this rate will soon become an epithet. All the women -resemble the worst type of schoolmistress, and all the men retired -tradesmen. - -Guingamp, by the light of day, is a pretty town, with nothing -particularly imposing or attractive, although at one time it was an -important city of the Duchy of Penthièvre. Its only remnant of ancient -glory consists in the church of Nôtre Dame de Bon Secours, a bizarre -and irregular monument, dating from the fifteenth century. In the cool -of the evening the environs of Guingamp are very beautiful. It is -delightful to lean over some bridge spanning the dark river. Only the -sound of washerwomen beating their linen, and the splash of clothes -rinsed in the water, disturb the quiet. - -The scenery is soft and silvery in tone, like the landscape of a -Corot. Slim, bare silver birches overhang the blackened water, and on -either side of the river grow long grasses, waving backwards and -forwards in the wind, now purple, now gray. Down a broad yellow road -troops of black and red cows are being driven, and horses with their -blue wooden harness are drawing a cart laden with trunks of trees, led -by a man in a blue blouse, with many an encouraging deep-voiced 'Hoop -loo!' Everyone is bringing home cows, or wood, or cider apples. The -sky is broad and gray, with faint purple clouds. Three dear little -girls, pictures every one of them, are walking along the road, taking -up the whole breadth of it, and carrying carefully between them two -large round baskets full to overflowing with red and green apples. -Each little maid wears on her baby head a tight white lace cap -through which the glossy black hair shines, a bunchy broad cloth -skirt, a scarlet cross-over shawl, and heavy sabots. They are -miniatures of their mothers. They look like old women cut short, as -they come toddling leisurely along the road, a large heavy basket -suspended between them, singing a pretty Breton ballad in shrill -trebles: - - 'J'ai mangé des cerises avec mon petit cousin, - J'ai mangé des cerises, des cerises du voisin.' - -I caught the words as they passed, and remembered the melody. I had as -a child known the ballad in my old convent. When they were past they -tried to look back at the _demoiselle Anglaise_, and, unheeding, -tripped over a large heap of stones in the roadway. Down tumbled -children, baskets, and all. What a busy quarter of an hour we all -spent, on our knees in the dust, rubbing up and replacing the apples, -lest mother should guess they had been dropped! Finally, we journeyed -on into Guingamp in company. - - - - - [Illustration: A BEGGAR] - -CHAPTER IX - -HUELGOAT - - -To reach Huelgoat one must take the hotel omnibus from the -railway-station, and wind up and up for about an hour. Then you reach -the village. The scenery is mountainous, and quite grand for Brittany. -The aspect of this country is extraordinarily varied. On the way to -Huelgoat one passes little ribbon-like rivers with bridges and -miniature waterfalls, and hills covered by bracken and heather. The -air is bracing. - -At the top of one of the hills the carriage was stopped, and a chubby -boy in a red beré and sabots presented himself at the door, with the -request that we should descend and see the 'goffre.' Not knowing what -the 'goffre' might be, we followed our imperious guide down a -precipitous path, all mud and slippery rocks, with scarcely sufficient -foothold. At length we found ourselves in a dark wood, with mysterious -sounds of rushing water all about us. When our eyes became accustomed -to the darkness we discovered that this proceeded from a body of -water which rushed, dark-brown and angry-looking, down the rocks, and -fell foaming, amber-coloured, into a great black hole. Plucking at our -skirts, the child drew us to the edge, whispering mysteriously, as he -pointed downwards, 'C'est la maison du diable.' A few planks had been -lightly placed across the yawning abyss, and over the rude bridge the -peasants passed cheerfully on their way to work or from -it--woodcutters with great boughs of trees on their shoulders, and -millers with sacks of flour. One shuddered to think what might happen -if a sack or a bough were to fall and a man were to lose his balance. -Even the child admitted that the place was _un peu dangereux_, and led -us rapidly up the muddy path to the road. There we found to our -astonishment that the carriage had gone on to the hotel. As my mother -is not a good walker and dislikes insecure places and climbing of any -kind, we felt rather hopeless; but the child assured us that the -distance was not great. He seemed rather disgusted at our feebleness -and hesitation. Without another word, he crossed the road and dived -into a forest, leaving us to follow as best we might. Soon we were in -one of the most beautiful woods imaginable, among long, slim -pines, of which you could see only the silver stems, unless you gazed -upwards, when the vivid green of the leaves against the sky was almost -too crude in its brilliancy. The path was covered with yellow -pine-needles, which, in parts where the sun lit upon them through the -trees, shone as pure gold. On either side grew bracken, salmon, and -red, and tawny-yellow; here and there were spots of still more vivid -colour, formed by toadstools which had been changed by the sun to -brightest vermilion and orange. I have never seen anything more -beautiful than this combination--the forest of slim purple stems, the -bracken, the golden path, and, looking up, the vivid green of the -trees and the blue of the sky. The child led us on through the wood, -never deigning to address a word to us, his hands in his pockets, and -his beré pulled over his eyes. Sometimes the path descended steeply; -sometimes it was a hard pull uphill, and we were forced to stop for -breath. Always the merciless child went on, until my mother almost -sobbed and declared that this was not the right way to the hotel. Now -and then we emerged into a more open space, where there were huge -rocks and boulders half-covered with moss and ivy, some as much as -twenty feet high, like playthings of giants thrown hither and thither -carelessly one on the top of the other. Over some of these, slippery -and worn almost smooth, we had to cross for miles until we reached the -hotel, tired. - - [Illustration: A WAYSIDE SHRINE, HUELGOAT] - -Luncheon was a strange meal. No one spoke: there was silence all the -time. About thirty people were seated at a long table, all lodgers in -the hotel; but they were mute. Two young persons of the bourgeois -class, out for their yearly holiday, came in rather late, and stopped -on the threshold dumbfounded at sight of the silent crowd, for French -people habitually make a great deal of noise and clatter at their -meals. They sat opposite to us, and spent an embarrassed time. - -When you visit Huelgoat you are told that the great and only thing to -do is to take an excursion to St. Herbot. This all the up-to-date -guide-books will tell you with _empressement_. But my advice to you -is--'Don't!' Following the instructions of Messrs. Cook, we took a -carriage to St. Herbot. It was a very long and uninteresting drive -through sombre scenery, and when we arrived there was only a very -mediocre small church to be seen. The peasants begged us to visit the -grand cascade; our driver almost went down on his bended knees to -implore us to view the cascade. We would have no cascades. Cascades -such as one sees in Brittany, small and insignificant affairs, bored -us; we had visited them by the score. The driver was terribly -disappointed; tears stood in his eyes. He had expected time for a -drink. The peasants had anticipated liberal tips for showing us the -view. They all swore in the Breton tongue. Our charioteer drove us -home, at break-neck speed, over the most uneven and worst places he -could discover on the road. - - - - - [Illustration: FISHING-BOATS, CONCARNEAU] - - [Illustration: AT THE FOUNTAIN, CONCARNEAU] - -CHAPTER X - -CONCARNEAU - - -This little town, with its high gray walls, is very important. In -olden days its possession was disputed by many a valiant captain. The -fortress called the 'Ville Close' has been sacrificed since then to -military usage. The walls of granite, which are very thick, are -pierced by three gates, doubled by bastions and flanked by -machicolated towers. At each high tide the sea surrounds the fortress. -Tradition tells us that on one occasion at the Fête Dieu the floods -retired to make way for a religious procession of children and clergy, -with golden banners and crosses, in order that they might make the -complete tour of the ramparts. This fortress, a little city in itself, -is joined to Concarneau by a bridge, and it is on the farther side -that industry and animation are to be found. There is a fair-sized -port, where hundreds of sardine-boats are moored, their red and gray -nets hanging on their masts. - -The activity of the port is due to the sardines, and its prosperity is -dependent on the abundance of the fish. Towards the month of June the -sardines arrive in great shoals on the coast of Brittany. For some -time no one knew whence they came or whither they went. An approximate -idea of their journeyings has now been gained. Their route, it seems, -is invariable. During March and April the sardines appear on the -coasts of the Adriatic and the Mediterranean; they pass through the -Straits of Gibraltar, skirting Spain and Portugal; they reach France -in May. In June they are to be found on the coast of Morbihan and -Concarneau, in August in the Bay of Douarnénez, in September by the -Isle de Batz, and later in England or in Scotland. - - [Illustration: CONCARNEAU HARBOUR] - -It is to be hoped that the fish will always abound about the coast of -Concarneau. The women population is engaged in industries connected -with sardines. The making and mending of the nets and the preparation -and packing of the fish are in themselves a labour employing many -women. When the sardines have been unloaded from the ships, they are -brought to the large warehouses on the quay and submitted to the -various processes of cleaning and drying. Rows of women sit at -long deal tables cutting off the heads of the fish, and singing at -their work. The fish are then cleaned of the salt which the fishermen -threw on them, and dried in the open air on iron grills. During this -time other workmen are employed in boiling oil in iron basins. The -sardines, once dried, are plunged into the oil for about two minutes, -sufficient to cook them, and are afterwards dried in the sun. They are -then placed in small tin boxes, half-filled with oil, which are taken -to be soldered. The solderers, armed with irons at white heat, -hermetically close the boxes, which are then ready to be delivered to -the trade. This simple process is quite modern; it was instituted at -the end of the last century. The nets, which cost the fishermen thirty -francs, take thirty days to make. The machine-made nets are less -expensive; but it is said that they are not sufficiently elastic, and -the meshes enlarged by the weight of fish do not readily close up -again. - -Each sardine-boat is manned by four or five men armed with an -assortment of nets. The bait consists of the intestines of a certain -kind of fish. The fishermen plunge their arms up to the elbow in the -loathsome mixture, seizing handfuls to throw into the water. If the -sardines take to the bait, one soon sees the water on either side of -the vessel white and gray with the scales of the fish. Then the men -begin to draw in the nets. Two of them seize the ends and pull -horizontally through the water; the others unfasten the heads of the -fish caught in the meshes. The sardines are tumbled into the bottom of -the boat, and sprinkled with salt. - -The sardines, delicate creatures, die in the air in a few seconds. In -dying they make a noise very like the cry of a mouse. - -After the first haul the fishermen have some idea of the dimensions of -the fish, and adjust the mesh of their nets,--for the sardines vary in -size from one day to another according to the shoals on which the -fishermen chance. - - - - - [Illustration: THE SARDINE FLEET, CONCARNEAU] - - [Illustration: WATCHING FOR THE FISHING FLEET, CONCARNEAU] - -CHAPTER XI - -MORLAIX - - -'S'ils tu te mordent, mords les,' is the proud device of the town of -Morlaix, and the glorious pages of her chronicles justify the motto. -Morlaix has from all time been dear to the hearts of the Dukes of -Brittany for her faithfulness, which neither reverse nor failure has -ever altered. Even during the Wars of the Succession, after the most -terrible calamities, she still maintained a stout heart and a bold -front. She espoused the cause of Charles of Blois, which cost her the -lives of fifty of her finest men, whom the Duc de Monfort hanged under -false pretences. - -Morlaix is a quaint little town--all gables, pointed roofs, and -projecting windows. There are streets so narrow that in perspective -the roofs appear to meet overhead. They are of wonderful colours. You -will see white houses with chocolate woodwork, and yellow houses, -stained by time, with projecting windows. In some cases there are -small shops on the ground-floor. The town seems to be built in -terraces, to which one mounts by steps with iron railings. You are for -ever climbing, either up or down, in Morlaix; and the only footgear -that seems to be at all appropriate to its roughly cobbled streets is -the thick wooden nail-studded sabot of the Breton. - -Most of the houses on the outskirts have gardens on the tops of the -roofs; it is odd, when looking up a street, to see scarlet geraniums -nodding over the gray stonework, and, sometimes, vines meeting in a -green tracery above your head. - -There are in Morlaix whole streets in which every house has a pointed -roof, where all the slates are gray and scaly, and each story projects -over another, the last one projecting farthest, with, on the -ground-floor, either a clothier's shop or a _quincaillerie_ bright -with gleaming pots and pans and blue enamelled buckets. This lowest -story has always large wooden painted shutters flung back. - -The houses are unlike those of any other town I have seen in Brittany. -There are always about five solid square rafters under each story, and -each rafter is carved at the end into some grotesque little image or -flower. There is much painted woodwork about the windows, and -criss-cross beams sometimes run down the whole length of the house. -There are still many strange old blackened edifices, sculptured from -top to bottom, which have remained intact during four centuries with a -sombre obstinacy. At the angles you often see grotesque figures of -biniou-players, arabesques, and leaves, varied in the most bizarre -manner, and so delicately and beautifully executed that they would -form material for six 'Musées de Cluny.' These vast high houses are -very dirty, crumbling like old cheeses, and almost as multitudinously -alive. Each story is separated by massive beams, carved in a profusion -of ornaments; each window has small leaded panes. The rest of the -façade is carved with lozenge-shaped slates. - -Morlaix, of course, has her Maison de la Reine Anne, of which she is -proud. It is a characteristic house, with straight powerful lines. The -door, greenish-black, is of fluted wood. The whole building is covered -with an infinity of detail--ludicrous faces, statuettes, and carved -figures of saints. Inside it has almost no decoration. The white walls -rise to the top of the house plain and unadorned, save for a very -elaborate staircase of rich chestnut-coloured wood very beautifully -carved, with bridges, branching off from right to left, leading to the -various apartments. At the top is a sculptured figure--either of the -patron saint of the house or of some saint especially beloved in -Brittany. - -The town is a mixture of antiquity and modernity. Though her houses -and streets are old, Morlaix possesses the most modern of viaducts, -284 metres long, giving an extraordinary aspect to the place. When you -arrive at night you see the town glistening with myriads of lights, so -far below that it seems incredible. You do not realize that the -railway is built upon a viaduct: it seems as if you were suspended in -mid-air. - -When we arrived at Morlaix, a man with a carriage and four horses -offered to drive us to Huelgoat for a very modest sum; but I vowed -that all the king's horses and all the king's men would not tear me -away that day. There was much to be seen. One never wearies of -wandering through the streets of this fine old town, gazing up at the -houses, and losing one's way among the ancient and dark by-ways. -Morlaix is in a remarkable state of preservation. The houses generally -do not suggest ruin or decay. The town seems to have everlasting -youth. This is principally owing to the great love of the people for -art and the picturesque, which has led them to renovate and rebuild -constantly. For this reason, some of the structures are of great -archæological value. - - [Illustration: MEDIÆVAL HOUSE AT MORLAIX] - -The religious edifices are few. Indeed, I saw only the little church -of St. Milaine, its belfry dwarfed by the prodigious height of the -viaduct. It is a gem of architecture. The stonework is carved to -resemble lace, and both inside and out the building is in the pure -Gothic style. - -Storms are very sudden in Morlaix. Sometimes on a sunny day, when all -the world is out of doors, the wind will rise, knocking down the -tailors' dummies and scattering the tam-o'-shanters hanging outside -the clothiers'. Then comes rain in torrents. How the peasants scuttle! -What a clatter of wooden-shod feet over the cobbles as they run for -shelter! Umbrellas appear like mushrooms on a midsummer-night. Once I -saw some old women in the open square with baskets of lace and -crotchet-work and bundles of clothes stretched out for sale. When the -rain began they fell into a great fright, and strove to cover their -wares with old sacks, baskets, umbrellas--anything that was ready to -hand. I felt inclined to run out of the hotel and help. As suddenly as -the storm had risen, the sun came out, clear and radiant. I never knew -the air to be so invigorating and bright anywhere in Brittany as it is -in Morlaix. - - - - - [Illustration: OUTSIDE THE SMITHY, PONT-AVEN] - -CHAPTER XII - -PONT-AVEN - - -Pont-Aven is associated with agreeable memories. This village in the -South of Finistère draws men and women from all over Europe, summer -after summer. Many of them stay there throughout the winter, content -to be shut off from the world, allowing the sweet and gentle lassitude -of the place to lull their cares and troubles. Is it climatic--this -soothing influence--or is it the outcome of a spell woven over -beautiful Pont-Aven by some good-natured fairy long ago? I have often -wondered. Certain it is that intelligent men, many of them painters, -have been content to spend years in Pont-Aven. Some time ago Mother -and Father, touring in Brittany, came to this delightful spot, and -determined to spend three weeks there. They stayed three years. - -All my life I have heard stories of this wonderful place, and of their -first visit. It was when my father had only just begun his career as a -painter. The experience, he says, was a great education. There he -found himself in an amazing nest of French and American painters, all -the newer lights of the French school. He was free to work at whatever -he liked, yet with unlimited chances of widening, by daily argument, -his knowledge of technical problems. For the three years that he -remained on this battlefield of creeds conflicts of opinion raged -constantly. Everyone was frantically devoted to one or another of the -dominating principles of the moderns. There was a bevy of schools -there. - -One, called the Stripists, painted in stripes, with vivid colour as -nearly prismatic as possible, all the scenery around. Then, there were -the Dottists, who painted in a series of dots. There were also the -Spottists--a sect of the Dottists, whose differentiation was too -subtle to be understood. Men there were who had a theory that you must -ruin your digestion before you could paint a masterpiece. No -physically healthy person, they declared, could hope to do fine work. -They used to try to bring about indigestion. - -One man, celebrated for his painting of pure saints with blue dresses, -over which Paris would go crazy, never attempted to paint a saint -until he had drunk three glasses of absinthe and bathed his face in -ether. Another decided that he was going to have, in Paris, an -exhibition of merry-go-rounds which should startle France. He had a -theory that the only way to get at the soul of a thing was to paint -when drunk. He maintained that the merry-go-rounds whirled faster -then. One day my father went to his studio. He was dazed. He did not -know whether he was standing on his head or his heels. It was -impossible to see 'Black Bess' or any of the pet horses he knew so -well. The pictures were one giddy whirl. - -Then, there was the Bitumen school, a group of artists who never -painted anything but white sunlit houses with bitumen shadows. A year -or two afterwards a terrible thing invariably happened. Without any -warning whatsoever, the pictures would suddenly slide from off their -canvases to the floor. The bitumen had melted. - -The Primitives afforded joy. Their distinctive mark was a -walking-stick, carved by a New Zealand Maori, which they carried about -with them. It gave them inspiration. So powerful was the influence of -these sticks that even the head of a Breton peasant assumed the rugged -aspect of the primitive carvings in their paintings. The most -enthusiastic disciple of the sect was a youth who was continually -receiving marvellous inspirations. Once, after having shut himself up -for three days, he appeared looking haggard and ravenous. Without a -word, he sat down heavily near a table, called for absinthe, and, -groaning, dropped his head in his hands, and murmured, 'Ah, me! Ah, -me!' All beholders were in a fever to know what the mystery was. After -some minutes of dead silence the young man rose majestically from his -chair, stretched forth one arm, and, with a far-away look in his eyes, -said, 'Friends, last night, when you were all asleep, a beautiful -creature came to me in spirit form, and taught me the secret of -drawing; and I drew this.' Then he brought out a picture. It was far -above his usual style, and the more credulous envied his good fortune. -Some weeks afterwards, however, it was discovered by a painter with -detective instincts that the marvellous vision was in reality a -_chambre au clair_--that is to say, a prism through which objects are -reflected on paper, enabling one to trace them with great facility. - - [Illustration: IN AN AUBERGE, PONT-AVEN] - -Such are the extraordinary people among whom Mother and Father found -themselves on their first visit to Pont-Aven--geniuses some of them, -mere daubers others, all of them strange and rough and weird. -More like wild beasts they looked than human beings, Mother told me; -for very few women came to Pont-Aven in the early days, and those were -Bohemians. The artists allowed their hair and beards to grow long. Day -after day they wore the same old paint-stained suits of corduroys, -battered wide-brimmed hats, loose flannel shirts, and coarse wooden -sabots stuffed with straw. - -Mother, who was very young at the time, has often told me that she -will never forget their arrival at the little Hôtel Gleanec. They were -shown into a _salle à manger_, where rough men sat on either side of a -long table, serving themselves out of a common dish, and dipping great -slices of bread into their plates. - -Mother was received with great courtesy by them. She found it very -amusing to watch the gradual change in their appearance day by -day--the donning of linen collars and cuffs and the general smartening -up. Many of the men who were then struggling with the alphabet of art -have reached the highest rungs of the ladder of fame, and their names -have become almost household words; others have sunk into oblivion, -and are still amateurs. - -The chief hotel in the village was the Hôtel des Voyageurs, to which -Mother and Father soon migrated. It was kept by a wonderful woman, -called Julia. Originally a peasant girl, she had by untiring energy -become the proprietress of the great establishment. Her fame as -hostess and manager was bruited all over France. Everyone seemed to -know of Julia, and year after year artists and their families came -back regularly to stay with her. She is a woman with a strong -individuality. She gathered a large custom among artists, who flocked -to the Hôtel des Voyageurs as much because of the charm of Mdlle. -Julia, and the comfort of her house, as for the beauty of the scenery. - -There was a delightful intimacy among the guests, most of whom were -very intelligent. Mdlle. Julia took a sincere interest in the career -of each. All went to her with their troubles and their joys, certain -of sympathy and encouragement. Many are the young struggling painters -she has helped substantially, often allowing them to live on in the -hotel for next to nothing. Many are the unpaid bills of long standing -on the books of this generous woman. I fear that she has never made -the hotel pay very well, for the elaborate menu and good accommodation -are out of all proportion to her charges. A strong woman is Mdlle. -Julia. She has been known to lift a full-grown man and carry him out -of doors, landing him ignominiously in the mud. - -There was one man, a retired military officer, whom no one else could -manage. He had come to stay in Pont-Aven because he could live there -for a few francs a day and drink the rest. He suffered from -hallucinations, and took great pleasure in chasing timid artists over -the countryside, challenging them to duels, and insulting them in -every way possible. He was the terror of the village. He had a house -on the quay, and early one morning when the snow was thick upon the -ground, just because a small vessel came into the river and began -blowing a trumpet, or making a noise of some kind, he sprang out of -bed in a towering rage, rushed in his nightshirt into the street, and -began sharpening his sword on a rock, shouting to the ship's captain -to come out and be killed if he dared. The captain did not dare. The -only person of whom this extraordinary person stood in awe was Mdlle. -Julia. Her he would obey without a murmur. No one knew why. Perhaps -there had been some contest between them. At any rate, they understood -each other. - -The friends of Mdlle. Julia ranged from the Mayor of the town to -Batiste, the butcher, who sat outside his door all day and watched her -every movement. - -'If I want to remember where I have been, and what I did at a certain -hour, I have only to ask Batiste,' she was wont to say. - -All the artists worshipped the ground she trod upon; and well they -might, for they would never have a better friend than she. Her _salle -à manger_ and _grand salon_ were panelled with pictures, some of which -are very valuable to-day. Tender-hearted she was, and strong-minded, -with no respect for persons. Mother told me that once when my brother -and sister, babies of three and four years old, were posing for Father -on the beach with only their linen sunbonnets on, their limbs were -somewhat sunburnt and blistered. When they returned to the hotel, -Mdlle. Julia applied sweet oil and cold cream to the tender skin, and -rated my parents soundly between her tears of compassion for the -little ones. It was of no use explaining that it was in the cause of -art. She bade them in unmeasured terms to send art to the Devil, and -scolded them as if they were children. I doubt not she would have -reprimanded the King of England with as little compunction. - - [Illustration: A SAND-CART ON THE QUAY, PONT-AVEN] - -Mdlle. Julia made the reputation of Pont-Aven by her own overpowering -individuality. If she went to Paris or elsewhither for a few days, -everyone in the village felt her absence. Things were not the same. -Pont-Aven seemed momentarily to have lost its charm. The meals were -badly cooked and worse served; the _bonnes_ were neglectful. All -missed the ringing laugh and cheery presence of Julia. How soon one -knew when she had returned! What a flutter there was among the -_bonnes_! What a commotion! How everyone flew hither and thither at -her command! She seemed to fill the hotel with her presence. - -I went to Pont-Aven when I was ten years old, and I remember well how -Mdlle. Julia came to meet us, driving twenty miles through the deep -snow. What happy days those were in the dear little village! We lived -as wild things, and enjoyed life to the full. M. Grenier, the -schoolmaster, acted as tutor to us. He was lenient. We spent our time -mainly in rambling over the countryside, making chocolate in Mdlle. -Julia's wood, bird-nesting, and apple-stealing. M. Grenier taught us -to row, and we learnt all the various intricate currents and dangerous -sandbanks so thoroughly that after a time we could almost have -steered through that complicated river blindfold. We learnt how to -make boats out of wood, and how to carve our names in a professional -manner on trees. We became acquainted with a large selection of Breton -ballads and a good deal of rough botany. More advanced lessons have -faded from my mind. Of actual book-learning we accomplished very -little. Many a time M. Grenier pulled himself together, brought us new -copybooks, fine pens, his French grammar and readers, and settled us -down in the salon to work; but gradually the task would pall on both -master and scholars, and before the morning was half over we would be -out in the fields and woods again, 'just for a breath of fresh air.' - -Children have the power of making themselves at home in a foreign -country. Within a week my brother and I knew everyone in the village. -We became acquainted with all their family affairs and troubles. In -many households we were welcome at any time of the day. There was the -sabot-maker, whom we never tired of watching as he cleverly and -rapidly transformed a square block of wood into a rounded, shapely -sabot. He was always busy, and sometimes turned out a dozen pairs in -a day. To my great joy, he presented me with a beautiful little pair, -which I wore painfully, but with much pride. Although when you become -accustomed to them sabots are comfortable and sensible gear, at first -they are extremely awkward. Of course, you can kick them off before -you enter a house, and run about in the soft woollen _chausson_ with a -leather sole which is always worn underneath. Round the hotel doorway -there is always a collection of sabots awaiting their owners. In a -country such as Brittany, where it rains a good deal, and the roads -are often deep in mud, they are the only possible wear. The sabot is a -product of evolution. In that respect it is like the hansom cab which -is a thing of beauty simply because it has been thought out with -regard to its usefulness and comfort alone. - -Batiste, the butcher, was a great friend of ours. With morbid -fascination we witnessed his slaughter of pigs and cows. Then, soon we -knew where to get the best _crêpes_. These are pancakes of a kind, so -thin that you can see through them, made on a round piece of metal -over a blazing fire. Eaten hot, with plenty of butter and sugar, they -are equal to anything in our English cookery. There was one particular -old lady living down by the bridge who made _crêpes_. We saw her -mixing the ingredients, mostly flour and water, and spreading the -dough over the round piece of metal. It became hard in an instant, and -curled up brown and crisp, as thin as a lace handkerchief. Likewise, -we knew where to buy bowls of milk thick with cream for one sou. We -had to tramp over several fields and to scale several fences before we -found ourselves in the kitchen of a large farm, where the housewife -was busy pouring milk into large copper vessels. Seated at the -polished mahogany table, we drank from dainty blue bowls. - -I went back to Pont-Aven recently, and found it very little changed. -We travelled by diligence from Concarneau; but, as the conveyance left -only once a day, we had several hours to while away. The Concarneau -and Pont-Aven diligence is quaint and primitive, devoid of springs, -and fitted with extremely narrow and hard seats. We passed through -villages in which every house seemed to be either a _buvette_ or a -_débit de boisson_. At these our driver--a man in a blue blouse and a -black felt hat--had to deliver endless parcels, for which he dived -continually under the seat on which we were sitting. For discharging -each commission he received several glasses of cider and wine. He -stopped at every place to drink and talk with the host, quite -oblivious of his passengers. With every mile he became more -uproarious. - - [Illustration: PLAYING ON THE 'PLACE,' PONT-AVEN] - -Our only travelling companion was an old woman in the costume of the -country, with a yellow and wrinkled face. On her arm she carried a -large basket and a loaf of bread two yards long. Ruthlessly she trod -on our toes with her thick black sabots in getting in. Although I -helped her with her basket and her bread, she never volunteered a word -of thanks, but merely snatched them from my hands. Many Bretons are -scarcely of higher intelligence than the livestock of the farms. They -live in the depths of the country with their animals, sleeping in the -same room with them, rarely leaving their own few acres of ground. The -women work as hard as the men, digging in the fields and toiling in -the forests from early morning until night. - -At one of the villages where the diligence stopped, a blacksmith, a -young giant, handsome, dark, came out from the smithy with his dog, -which he was sending to some gentleman with hunting proclivities in -Pont-Aven. The animal--what is called a _chien de la chasse_--was -attached by a long chain to the step, and the diligence started off. -The blacksmith stood in the door of his smithy, and watched the dog -disappear with wistful eyes. The Bretons have a soft spot in their -hearts for animals. The dog itself was the picture of misery. His -moans and howls wrung one's heart. I never saw an animal more wily. He -tried every conceivable method of slipping his collar. He pulled at -the chain, and wriggled from one side to another. Once he contrived to -work his ear under the collar, and my fingers itched to help him. Had -the truant escaped, I could not have informed the driver. Strange that -one's sympathies are always with the weakest! In novels, an escaping -convict, no matter how terrible his guilt, always has my sympathy, and -I am hostile to the pursuing warder. - -As we drew near to Pont-Aven the scenery became more and more -beautiful. On either side of the road stretched miles and miles of -brilliant mustard-yellow gorse, mingled with patches of dried reddish -bracken, and bordered by rows of blue-green pines. Here and there one -saw great rocks half-covered with the velvet-green of mosses thrown -hither and thither in happy disorder. Sometimes ivy takes root in the -crevices of the rocks where a little earth has gathered, and creeps -closely round about them, as if anxious to convey life and warmth to -the cold stone. The sun, like a red ball, was setting behind the -hills, leaving the sky flecked with clouds of the palest mauves and -pinks, resembling the fine piece of marbling one sometimes sees inside -the covers of modern well-bound books. Now and then we passed a little -ruined chapel--consecrated, no doubt, to some very ancient saint (it -was impossible to make out the name), a saint whose cult was evidently -lost, for the little shrine was tumbling to ruins. We saw by the -wayside little niches sheltering sacred fountains, the waters of which -cure certain diseases; and passed peasants on the roadside, sometimes -on horseback, sometimes walking--large, well-proportioned, -fine-featured men of proud bearing. In Brittany the poorest peasant is -a free and independent man. He salutes you out of politeness and good -nature; but he does not cringe as if recognising himself to be lower -in the social scale. The Breton, howsoever poor, is no less dignified -under his blue blouse than his ancestors were under their steel -armour. - -A long straight road leads from Concarneau to Pont-Aven, and at the -end of it lies the pretty village among hills of woods and of rocks -bathed in a light mist. One could almost imagine that it was a Swiss -village in miniature. By the time we arrived it was night. We could -only discern clean white houses on either side, and water rushing -under a bridge over which we passed. The Hôtel des Voyageurs looked -much the same as ever, except that over the way a large building had -been added to the _annexe_. To our great disappointment, we discovered -that Mdlle. Julia had gone to Paris; but we recognised several of the -_bonnes_ and a hoary veteran called Joseph, who had been in Julia's -service for over twenty years. - -Gladly I rushed out next morning. There is nothing more delightful -than to visit a place where one has been happy for years as a child, -especially such a place as Pont-Aven, which changes little. My first -thought was to see the Bois d'Amour. I found it quite unchanged. To be -sure, I had some difficulty in finding the old pathway which led to -the wood, so many strange houses and roadways had been built since we -were there; but at length we found it--that old steep path with the -high walls on either side, on which the blackberries grew in -profusion. There are two paths in the forest--one, low down, which -leads by the stream, and the other above, carpeted with silver -leaves. A wonderful wood it is--a joyous harmony in green and gold. -Giant chestnuts fill the air with their perfumed leaves, forming an -inextricable lattice-work overhead, one branch entwining with the -other, the golden rays of the sun filtering through. The ground is -carpeted with silver and salmon leaves left from last autumn; the -pines shed thousands of brown cones, and streams of resin flow down -their trunks. It is well-named the Bois d'Amour. Below runs a little -stream. Now it foams and bounds, beating itself against a series of -obstacles; now it flows calmly, as if taking breath, clear, silver, -and limpid, past little green islands covered with flowers, and into -bays dark with the black mud beneath. Low-growing trees and bushes -flourish on the banks, some throwing themselves across the stream as -barricades, over which the laughing water bounds and leaps -unheedingly, scattering diamonds and topaz in the sunlight. Everything -in the Bois d'Amour seems to join in the joyous song of Nature. The -little stream sings; the trees murmur and rustle in the wind; and the -big black mill-wheel, glistening with crystal drops, makes music with -the water. - - [Illustration: ON THE QUAY AT PONT-AVEN] - -By the riverside, women are washing their clothes on square slabs of -stone, which stretch across the water. It was on these stepping-stones, -I remember, that my brother and I lost our shoes and stockings. At one -place the stream is hidden from sight by thick bushes, and you find -yourself in a narrow green lane, a green alley, walled on either side -and roofed overhead by masses of trees and bushes, through which the -sun filters occasionally in golden patches. Whenever I walk down that -lane, I think of the song that my bonne Marie taught me there one day; -it comes back as freshly now as if it had been but yesterday. The -refrain begins, 'Et mon coeur vol, vol et vol, et vol, vers les -cieux.' - -One meets the river constantly during this walk, and every mile or so -you come across a little black mill. The mills in Pont-Aven are -endless, and this saying is an old one: 'Pont-Aven ville de renom, -quatorze moulins, quinze maisons.' - -Picturesque little mills they are. The jet-black wheels form a -delightful contrast to the vivid green round about; and small bridges -of stones, loosely put together and moss-grown here and there, cross -the river at intervals. - - [Illustration: ON THE STEPS OF THE MILL HOUSE, PONT-AVEN] - -I love this rough, wild country. How variable it is! You may sit -in a wood with the stream at your feet, and all about you will be -great hills half-covered with gorse and bracken, and here and there -huge blocks of granite, which seem ready to fall any moment. - -The Bois d'Amour is a happy hunting-ground of artists. This particular -view of the mill at which I gazed so long has been a stock-subject -with painters for many years. You never pass without seeing at least -one or two men with canvases spread and easels erected, vainly trying -to reproduce the beautiful scene. Artists are plentiful in this -country. Wherever you may wander within a radius of fifteen miles, you -cannot stop at some attractive prospect without hearing an impatient -cough behind you, and, turning, find yourself obstructing the view of -a person in corduroys and flannel shirt, with a large felt hat, -working, pipe aglow, at an enormous canvas. The artists, who are -mostly English, are thought very little of by the people about. I once -heard a commercial traveller talking of Pont-Aven. - -'Pshaw!' he said, 'they are all English and Americans there. -Everything is done for the English. At the Hôtel des Voyageurs even -the cuisine is English. It is unbearable! At the table the men wear -clothes of inconceivable colour and cut. They talk without gestures, -very quickly and loudly, and they eat enormously. The young _mecs_ are -flat-faced, with long chins, white eye-lashes, and fair hair. Many are -taciturn, morose, and dreamy. Occasionally they make jokes, but -without energy. They mostly eat without interruption.' - -This is the French view, and it is natural. Pont-Aven does not have -the right atmosphere for the Frenchman: the Bretons and the English -are supreme. - -Nothing is more delightful than to spend a summer there. You find -yourself in a colony of intelligent men, many of them very clever, as -well as pretty young English and American girls, and University -students on 'cramming' tours. Picnics and river-parties are organized -by the inimitable Mdlle. Julia every day during the summer, and in the -evening there is always dancing in the big salon. The hotel is full to -overflowing from garret to cellar. Within the last few years Mdlle. -Julia has opened another hotel at Porte Manec, by the sea, to which -the visitors may transfer themselves whenever they choose, going -either by river or by Mdlle. Julia's own omnibus. It is built on the -same lines as Mme. Bernhardt's house at Belle Isle, and is situated on -a breezy promontory. - -The river lies between Pont-Aven and Porte Manec, which is at the -mouth of the sea. How beautiful this river is--the dear old -browny-gray, moleskin-coloured river, edged with great rocks on which -the seaweed clings! On the banks are stretches of gray-green grass -bordered by holly-bushes. The scenery changes constantly. Sometimes it -is rugged and rocky, now sloping up, now down, now covered with green -gorse or a sprinkling of bushes, now with a wilderness of trees. Here -and there you will see a cleft in the mountain-side, a little leafy -dell which one might fancy the abode of fairies. Silver streams -trickle musically over the bare brown rocks, and large red toadstools -grow in profusion, the silver cobwebs sparkling with dew in the gorse. - -It is delightful in the marvellous autumn weather to take the narrow -river-path winding in and out of the very twisty Aven, and wander -onwards to your heart's content, with the steep hillside at the back -of you and the river running at your feet. You feel as if you could -walk on for ever over this mountainous ground, where the heather -grows in great purple bunches among huge granite rocks, which, they -say, were placed there by the Druids. Down below flows the river--a -mere silver ribbon now, in wastes of pinky-purple mud, for it is ebb -tide; and now and then you see the battered hulk of a boat lying on -its side in the mud. On the hill are lines of fir-trees standing black -and straight against the horizon. - -Night falls in a bluish haze on the hills and on the river, confusing -the outline of things. At the foot of the mountains it is almost dark. -Through the open windows and doors of the cottages as one passes one -can see groups round the tables under the yellow light of candles. One -smells the good soup which is cooking; the noise of spoons and plates -mingles with the voices of the people. Pewter and brass gleam from the -walls. It is a picture worthy of Rembrandt. The end of the room is -hidden in smoky shadow, now and then lit up by a flame escaping from -the fireplace, showing an old woman knitting in the ingle-nook, and an -old white-haired peasant drinking cider out of a blue mug. It is -strange to think of these people living in their humble homes year -after year--a happy little people who have no history. - - [Illustration: THE BRIDGE, PONT-AVEN] - -Not far from Pont-Aven is the ruined château of Rustephan. One -approaches it through a wood of silver birches, under great old trees; -cherry-trees and apple-trees remain in what must once have been a -flourishing orchard. The castle itself has fallen to decay. The wall -which joined the two towers has broken down, and the steps of the -grand spiral staircase, up which we used to climb, have crumbled; only -the main column, built of granite sparkling with silver particles, -which will not fall for many a day, stands stout and sturdy. One of -the stately old doorways remains; but it is only that which leads to -the castle keep--the main entrance must have fallen with the walls -centuries ago. Bits of the old dining-hall are still to be seen--a -huge fireplace, arch-shaped, and a little shrine-like stone erection -in the wall, worn smooth in parts; one can imagine that it was once a -sink for washing dishes in. - -It is a drowsy morning; the sun shines hotly on the back of the neck; -and as one sits on a mound of earth in the middle of what was once the -dining-hall, one cannot resist dreaming of the romantic history of -Geneviève de Rustephan, the beautiful lady who lived here long ago. Up -in one of the great rounded towers spotted with orange lichen and -encircled with ivy is a room which must have been her bedchamber. An -ancient chimney-stack rears itself tall and stately, and where once -gray smoke curled and wreathed, proceeding from the well-regulated -kitchen, long feathery grasses grow. All round the castle, in what -must have been the pleasure-gardens, the smooth lawns and the -bowling-green, my lady's rose-garden, etc., are now mounds of earth, -covered with straggling grass, bracken, and blackberry-bushes, and -loose typical Breton stone walls enclosing fields. Horrible to relate, -in the lordly dining-hall, where once the dainty Geneviève sat, is a -fat pig, nozzling in the earth. - -Naturally, Rustephan is haunted. If anyone were brave enough to -penetrate the large hall towards midnight (so the peasants say), a -terrible spectacle would be met--a bier covered with a white cloth -carried by priests bearing lighted tapers. On clear moonlight nights, -say the ancients, on the crumbling old terrace, a beautiful girl is to -be seen, pale-faced, and dressed in green satin flowered with gold, -singing sad songs, sobbing and crying. On one occasion the peasants -were dancing on the green turf in front of the towers, and in the -middle of the most animated part of the feast there appeared behind -the crossbars of a window an old priest with shaven head and eyes -as brilliant as diamonds. Terrified, the men and the girls fled, and -never again danced in these haunted regions. - - [Illustration: THE VILLAGE FORGE, PONT-AVEN] - -One feels miserable on leaving Pont-Aven. It seems as if you had been -in a quiet and beautiful backwater for a time, and were suddenly going -out into the glare and the noise and the flaunting airs of a -fashionable regatta. I can describe the sensation in no other way. -There is something in the air of Pont-Aven that makes it like no other -place in the world. - - - - - [Illustration: THE VILLAGE COBBLER] - -CHAPTER XIII - -QUIMPERLÉ - - -Quimperlé is known as the Arcadia of Basse Bretagne, and certainly the -name is well deserved. I have never seen a town so full of trees and -trailing plants and gardens. Every wall is green with moss and gay -with masses of convolvulus and nasturtium. Flowers grow rampant in -Quimperlé, and overrun their boundaries. Every window-sill has its row -of pink ivy-leafed geraniums, climbing down and over the gray stone -wall beneath; every wall has its wreaths of trailing flowers. - -There are flights of steps everywhere--favourite caprices of the -primitive architects--divided in the middle by iron railings. Up these -steps all the housewives must go to reach the market. On either side -the houses crowd, one above the other, with their steep garden walls, -sometimes intercepted by iron gateways, and sometimes covered by -blood-red leaves and yellowing vines. Some are houses of the Middle -Ages, and some of the Renaissance period, with sculptured porches and -panes of bottle-glass; a few have terraces at the end of the gardens, -over which clematis climbs. Here and there the sun lights up a corner -of a façade, or shines on the emerald leaves, making them scintillate. -Down the steps a girl in white-winged cap and snowy apron, with pink -ribbon at her neck, carrying a large black two-handled basket, is -coming on her way from market. - -Having scaled this long flight of steps, you find yourself face to -face with the old Gothic church of St. Michael, a grayish-pink -building with one great square tower and four turrets. The porch is -sculptured in a rich profusion of graceful details. Here and there -yellow moss grows, and there are clusters of fern in the niches. -Inside, the church was suffused with a purple light shed by the sun -through the stained-glass windows; the ceiling was of infinite blue. -Everything was transformed by the strange purple light. The beautiful -carving round the walls, the host of straight-backed praying-chairs, -and even the green curtain of the confessional boxes, were changed to -royal purple. Only the altar, with its snowy-white cloths and red and -gold ornaments, retained its colour. Jutting forth from the church of -St. Michael are arms or branches connecting it with the village, as -if it were some mother bird protecting the young ones beneath her -wings. Under these wings the houses of the village cluster. - -It is five o'clock in the afternoon, the sociable hour, when people -sit outside their cottage doors, knitting, gossiping, watching the -children play, and eating the evening meal. Most of the children, who -are many, are very nearly of the same age. Clusters of fair curly -heads are seen in the road. The youngest, the baby, is generally held -by some old woman, probably the grandmother, who has a shrivelled -yellow face--a very tender guardian. - -Over the doorways of the shops hang branches of withered mistletoe. -Through the long low windows, which have broad sills, you catch a -glimpse of rows and rows of bottles. These are wine-shops--no rarities -in a Breton village. Another shop evidently belonged to the church at -one time. It still possesses a rounded ecclesiastical doorway, built -of solid blocks of stone, and the walls, which were white originally, -are stained green with age. The windows, as high as your waist from -the ground, have broad stone sills, on which are arranged carrots and -onions, coloured sweets in bottles, and packets of tobacco. This shop -evidently supplies everything that a human being can desire. Above it -you read: 'Café on sert a boire et a manger.' - -While we were in Quimperlé there were two musicians making a round of -the town. One, with a swarthy face, was blind, and sang a weird song -in a minor key, beating a triangle. The other, who looked an Italian, -was raggedly dressed in an old fur coat and a faded felt hat. His -musical performance was a veritable gymnastic feat. In his hands he -held a large concertina, which he played most cleverly; at his back -was a drum with automatic sticks and clappers, which he worked with -his feet. It was the kind of music one hears at fairs. Wherever we -went we heard it, sometimes so near that we could catch the tune, -sometimes at a distance, when only the dull boom of the drum was -distinguishable. - -Whenever I think of Quimperlé this strange music and the spectacle of -those two picturesque figures come back to memory. The men are well -known in Brittany. They spend their lives travelling from place to -place, earning a hard livelihood. When I was at school in Quimper I -used to hear the same tune played by the same men outside the convent -walls. - - [Illustration: THE BLIND PIPER] - -Quimperlé is a sleepy place, changing very little with the years. In -spite of the up-to-date railway-station, moss still grows between the -pavings of the streets. The houses have still their picturesque wooden -gables; the gardens are laden with fruit-trees; the hills are rich in -colour. Flowers that love the damp grow luxuriantly. It is an arcadian -country. The place is hostile to work. In this tranquil town, almost -voluptuous in its richness of colour and balminess of atmosphere, you -lose yourself in laziness. There is not a discordant note, nothing to -shock the eye or grate on the senses. Far from the noise of Paris, the -stuffy air of the boulevards, the never-ending rattle of the fiacres, -and the rasping cries of the camelot, you forget the seething world -outside. - -In the Rue du Château, the aristocratic quarter, are many spacious -domains with doorways surmounted by coats of arms and coronets. Most -of them have closed shutters, their masters having disappeared, -alienated for ever by the Revolution; but a few great families have -returned to their homes. One sees many women about the church, grave -and sad and prayerful, who still wear black, clinging to God, the -saints, and the priests, as to the only living souvenirs of better -times. - -In no other place in Finistère was the Revolution so sudden and so -terrible as in this little town, and nowhere were the nobility so many -and powerful. This old Rue du Château must have rung with furious -cries on the day when the federators returned from the fête of the -Champs de Mars after the abolition of all titles and the people took -the law into their own hands. The Bretons are slow to anger; but when -roused they are extremely violent. They not only attacked the -living--the nobles in their seignorial hotels--but also they went to -the tombs and mutilated the dead with sabre cuts. - -In Quimperlé the painter finds pictures at every turn. For example, -there are clear sinuous streams crossed by many bridges, not unlike -by-canals in Venice. As you look up the river the bank is a jumble of -sloping roofs, protruding balconies, single-arched bridges, trees, and -clumps of greenery. The houses on either side, gray and turreted, -bathe their foundations in the stream. Some have steep garden walls, -velvety with green and yellow moss and lichen; others have terraces -and jutting stone balconies, almost smothered by trailing vines and -clematis, drooping over the gray water. The stream is very shallow, -showing clearly the brown and golden bed; and on low stone benches at -the edge girls in little close white caps and blue aprons are busily -washing with bare round arms. A pretty little maid with jet-black hair -is cleaning some pink stuff on a great slab of stone, against a -background of gray wall over which convolvulus and nasturtium are -trailing; a string of white linen is suspended above her head. This is -a delightful picture. It is a gray day, sunless; but the gray is -luminous, and the reflections in the water are clear. - - - - - [Illustration: AT THE FOIRE] - -CHAPTER XIV - -AURAY - - -When we arrived in Auray it was market-day, and chatter filled the -streets. There were avenues of women ranged along the pavement, their -round wicker baskets full of lettuce, cabbages, carrots, turnips, -chestnuts, pears, and what not--women in white flimsy caps, coloured -cross-over shawls, and sombre black dresses. Their aprons were of many -colours--reds, mauves, blues, maroons, and greens--and the wares also -were of various hues. All the women knit between the intervals of -selling, and even during the discussion of a bargain, for a purchase -in Brittany is no small matter in the opinion of housewives, and -engenders a great deal of conversation. All the feminine world of -Auray seemed to have sallied forth that morning. Processions of them -passed down the avenue of market women, most of them peasants in the -cap of Auray, with snuff-coloured, large-bibbed aprons, carrying bulky -black baskets with double handles. - -Now and then one saw a Frenchwoman walking through the avenue of -vegetables, just as good at bargaining, just as keen-eyed and -sharp-tongued, as her humbler sisters. Sometimes she was pretty, -walking with an easy swinging gait, her baby on one arm, her basket on -the other, in a short trim skirt and altogether neatly dressed. More -often she was dressed in unbecoming colours, her hair untidily -arranged, her skirt trailing in the mud--a striking contrast to the -well-to-do young Breton matron, with neatly braided black hair and -clean rosy face, her white-winged lawn cap floating in the breeze, her -red shawl neatly crossed over her lace-trimmed corsage. In her black -velvet-braided skirt and wooden sabots the Breton is a dainty little -figure, her only lapse into frivolity consisting of a gold chain at -her neck and gold earrings. - -Vegetables do not engender much conversation in a Breton market: they -are served out and paid for very calmly. It is over the skeins of -coloured wool, silks, and laces, that there is much bargaining. Round -these stalls you will see girls and old hags face to face, and almost -nose to nose, their arms crossed, speaking rapidly in shrill voices. - - [Illustration: MID-DAY] - -Just after walking past rows of very ordinary houses, suddenly you -will come across a really fine old mansion, dating from the -seventeenth century, white-faced, with ancient black beams, gables, -and diamond panes. Then, just as you think that you have exhausted the -resources of the town, and turn down a moss-grown alley homewards, you -find yourself face to face with another town, typically Breton, -white-faced and gray-roofed, clustering round a church and surrounded -by old moss-grown walls. This little town is situated far down in a -valley, into which you descend by a sloping green path. We sat on a -stone bench above, and watched the people as they passed before us. -There were bare-legged school-children in their black pinafores and -red berés, hurrying home to _déjeuner_, swinging their satchels; and -beggars, ragged and dirty, holding towards us tin cups and greasy -caps, with many groans and whines. One man held a baby on his arm, and -in the other hand a loaf of bread. The baby's face was dirty and -covered with sores; but its hair was golden and curly, and the sight -of that fair sweet head nodding over the father's shoulder as they -went down the hill made one's heart ache. It was terrible to think -that an innocent child could be so put out of touch with decent -humanity. - -To reach this little town one had to cross a sluggish river by a -pretty gray stone bridge. Some of the houses were quaint and -picturesque, mostly with two stories, one projecting over the other, -and low windows with broad sills, bricked down to the ground, on which -were arranged pots of fuchsias, pink and white geraniums, and -red-brown begonias. Nearly every house had its broad stone stoop, or -settle, on which the various families sat in the warm afternoon -drinking bowls of soup and eating _tartines de beurre_. - -It is a notably provincial little town, full of flowers and green -trees, and dark, narrow streets, across which hang audaciously strings -of drying linen. All the children of the community appeared to be out -and about--some skipping, others playing at peg-tops, and others -merely sucking their fingers and their pinafores in the way that -children have. One sweet child in a red pinafore, her hair plaited -into four little tails tied with red ribbon, clasped a slice of -bread-and-butter (butter side inwards, of course) to her chest, and -was carelessly peeling an apple with a long knife at the same time, in -such a way as to make my heart leap. - -A happy wedding-party were swinging gaily along the quay arm in arm, -singing some rollicking Breton chanson, and all rather affected by -their visits to the various _débits de boissons_. There were two men -and two women--the men fair and bearded, wearing peaked caps; the -women in their best lace coifs and smartest aprons. As they passed -everyone turned and pointed and laughed. It was probably a three days' -wedding. - -A mite of a girl walking gingerly along the street carried a bottle of -ink ever so carefully, biting her lips in her anxiety to hold it -steadily. Round her neck, on a sky-blue ribbon, hung a gorgeous silver -cross, testifying to good behaviour during the week. Alack! a tragedy -was in store. The steps leading to the doorway of her home were steep, -and the small person's legs were short and fat. She tripped and fell, -and the ink was spilled--a large, indelible, angry black spot on the -clean white step. Fearfully and pale-faced, the little maid looked -anxiously about her, and strove to put the ink back again by means of -a dry stick, staining fingers and pinafore the more. It was of no -avail. Her mother had seen her. Out she rushed, a pleasant-faced woman -in a white lace cap, now wearing a ferocious expression. - -'Monster that thou art!' she cried, lifting the tearful, -ink-bespattered child by the armpits, and throwing her roughly -indoors, whence piteous sounds of sobbing and wailing ensued. - -The child's heart was broken; the silver cross had lost its charm; and -the sun had left the heavens. The mother, busily bending over her -sewing-machine, looked up at us through the window, and smiled -understandingly. - - - - - [Illustration: A LITTLE MOTHER] - -CHAPTER XV - -BELLE ISLE - - -As a rule, a country becomes more interesting as one draws near to the -sea; the colouring is more beautiful and the people are more -picturesque. It is strange that the salt air should have such a -mellowing effect upon a town and its inhabitants; but there is no -doubt that it has. This seemed especially remarkable to us, coming -straight from Carnac, that flat, gray, treeless country where the -people are sad and stolid, and one's only interest is in the dolmens -and menhirs scattered over the landscape--strange blocks of stone -about which one knows little, but imagines much. - -When you come from a country such as this, you cannot but be struck by -the warmth and wealth of colouring which the sea imparts to everything -in its vicinity. Even the men and women grouped in knots on the pier -were more picturesque, with their sun-bleached, tawny, red-gold hair, -and their blue eyes, than the people of Carnac. The men were handsome -fellows--some in brown and orange clothing, toned and stained by the -sea; others in deep-blue much bepatched coats and yellow oilskin -trousers. Their complexions had a healthy reddish tinge--a warmth of -hue such as one rarely sees in Brittany. - -The colouring of the Bay of Quiberon on this particular afternoon was -a tender pale mother-of-pearl. The sky was for the most part a broad, -fair expanse of gray, with, just where the sun was setting, intervals -of eggshell blue and palest lemon-yellows breaking through the drab; -the sands were silvery; the low-lying ground was a dim gold; the water -was gray, with purple and lemon-yellow reflections. The whole scene -was broad and fair. The people on the pier and the boats on the water -formed notes of luscious colour. The fishing-boats at anchor were of a -brilliant green, with vermilion and orange sails and nets a gauzy -blue. Ahead, on the brown rocks, although it was the calmest and best -of weather, white waves were breaking and sending foam and spray high -into the air. There was everywhere a fresh smell of salt. - - [Illustration: CURIOSITY] - -We were anxious to go across to Belle Isle that night, and took -tickets for a small, evil-smelling boat, the cargo of which was mostly -soldiers. It was rather a rough crossing, and we lay in the -stuffy cabin longing to go on deck to see the sunset, which, by -glimpses through the portholes, we could tell to be painting sea and -sky in tones of flame. At last the spirit conquered the flesh, and, -worried with the constant opening and shutting of doors by the noisy -steward, we went on deck. A fine sight awaited us. From pearly grays -and tender tones we had emerged into the fiery glories of a sunset -sky. Behind us lay the dark gray-blue sea and the darker sky, flecked -by pale pink clouds. Before us, the sun was shooting forth broad -streaks of orange and vermilion on a ground of Venetian blue. Towards -the horizon the colouring paled to tender pinks and lemon-yellows. As -the little steamer ploughed on, Belle Isle rose into sight, a dark -purple streak with tracts of lemon-gold and rosy clouds. The nearer we -drew the lower sank the sun, until at last it set redly behind the -island, picking out every point and promontory and every pine standing -stiff against the sky. - -Each moment the island loomed larger and darker, orange light shining -out here and there in the mass. We were astonished by its size, for I -had always imagined Belle Isle as being a miniature place belonging -entirely to Mme. Bernhardt. The entrance to the bay was narrow, and -lay between two piers, with lights on either end; and it was a strange -sensation leaving the grays and blues and purples, the silvery -moonlight, and the tall-masted boats behind us, and emerging into this -warmth and wealth of colouring. A wonderful orange and red light shone -behind the dark mass of the island, turning the water of the bay to -molten gold and glorifying the red-sailed fishing-boats at anchor. As -we drew near the shore, piercing shrieks came from the funnel. There -appeared to be some difficulty about landing. Many directions were -shouted by the captain and repeated by a shrill-voiced boy before we -were allowed to step on shore over a precarious plank. Once landed, we -were met by a brown-faced, sturdy woman, who picked up our trunks and -shouldered them as if they were feather-weights for a distance of half -a mile or so. She led the way to the hotel. - -Next morning was dismal; but, as we had only twenty-four hours to -spend in Belle Isle, we hired a carriage to take us to the home of -Mme. Bernhardt, and faced the weather. The sky was gray; the country -flat and bare, though interesting in a melancholy fashion. The -scenery consisted of mounds of brown overturned earth laid in regular -rows in the fields, scrubby ground half-overgrown by gorse, clusters -of dark pines, and a dreary windmill here and there. Now and then, by -way of incident, we passed a group of white houses, surrounded by -sad-coloured haystacks, and a few darkly-clad figures hurrying over -the fields with umbrellas up, on their way to church. The Breton -peasants are so pious that, no matter how far away from a town or -village they may live, they attend Mass at least once on Sunday. A -small procession passed us on the road--young men in their best black -broadcloth suits, and girls in bright shawls and velvet-bound -petticoats. This was a christening procession--at least, we imagined -it to be so; for one of the girls carried a long white bundle under an -umbrella. Bretons are christened within twenty-four hours of birth. - -The home of Mme. Bernhardt is a square fortress-like building, shut up -during the autumn, with a beautifully-designed terrace garden. It is -situated on a breezy promontory, and the great actress is in sole -possession of a little bay wherein the sea flows smoothly and greenly -on the yellow sands, and the massive purple rocks loom threateningly -on either side with many a craggy peak. Her dogs, large Danish -boarhounds, rushed out, barking furiously, at our approach; her sheep -and some small ponies were grazing on the scanty grass. - -Our driver was taciturn. He seemed to be tuned into accord with the -desolate day, and would vouchsafe no more than a grudging 'Oui' or -'Non' to our many questions, refusing point-blank to tell us to what -places he intended driving us. At length he stopped the carriage on a -cliff almost at the edge of a precipice. Thoughts that he was perhaps -insane ran through my mind, and I stepped out hurriedly; but his -intention was only to show us some cavern below. Mother preferred to -remain above-ground; but, led by the driver, I went down some steps -cut in the solid rock, rather slippery and steep, with on one side a -sheer wall of rock, and the ocean on the other. The rock was dark -green and flaky, with here and there veins of glistening pink and -white mica. Lower and lower we descended, until it seemed as if we -were stepping straight into the sea, which foamed against the great -rocks, barring the entrance to the cavern. - - [Illustration: A SOLITARY MEAL] - -The cavern itself was like a colossal railway-arch towering hundreds -of feet overhead; and against this and the rocks at the entrance -the sea beat with much noise and splash, falling again with a groan in -a mass of spray. Inside the cavern the tumult was deafening; but never -have I seen anything more beautiful than those waves creaming and -foaming over the green rocks, the blood-red walls of the cave rising -sheer above, flecked with glistening mica. It was a contrast with the -tame, flat, sad scenery over which we had been driving all the -morning. This was Nature at her biggest and best, belittling -everything one had ever seen or was likely to see, making one feel -small and insignificant. - -By-and-by we drove to a village away down in a hollow, a typical -Breton fishing-village with yellow and white-faced _auberges_, and -rows of boats moored to the quay, their nets and sails hauled down on -this great day of the week, the Sabbath. As there was no hotel in the -place, we entered a clean-looking _auberge_ and asked for luncheon. -The kitchen led out of the little _salle à manger_, and, as the door -was left wide open, we could watch the preparation of our food. We -were to have a very good soup; we saw the master of the house bringing -in freshly-caught fish, which were grilled at the open fireplace, and -fresh sardines; and we heard our chicken frizzling on the spit. We -saw the coffee-beans being roasted, and we were given the most -exquisite pears and apples. Small matter that our room was shared by -noisy soldiers, and that Adolphus (as we had named our driver) entered -and drank before our very eyes more cognac than was good for him or -reasonable on our bill. - -Sunday afternoon in Belle Isle is a fashionable time. Between three -and four people go down to the quay, clattering over the cobble stones -in their best black sabots, to watch the steamers come in from -Quiberon. You see girls in fresh white caps and neat black dresses, -spruce soldiers, ladies _à la mode_ in extravagant headgear and loud -plaid or check dresses. On the quay they buy hot chestnuts. From our -hotel we could watch the people as they passed, and the shopkeepers -sitting and gossiping outside their doors. Opposite us was a souvenir -shop, on the steps of which sat the proprietor with his boy. Very -proud he was of the child--quite an ordinary spoiled child, much -dressed up. The father followed the boy with his eyes wherever he -went. He pretended to scold him for not getting out of the way when -people passed, to attract their attention to the child. He greeted -every remark with peals of laughter, and repeated the witticisms to -his friend the butcher next door, who did not seem to appreciate them. -Every now and then he would glance over to see if the butcher were -amused. French people, especially Bretons, are devoted to their -children. - -I was much amused in watching the little _bonne_ at the hotel who -carried our luggage the night before. She was quaint, compact, sturdy. -She would carry a huge valise on her shoulder, or sometimes one in -either hand. She ordered her husband about. She dressed her child in a -shining black hat, cleaned its face with her pocket-handkerchief, -straightened its pinafore, and sent it _en promenade_ with papa, while -she herself stumped off to carry more luggage. There was apparently no -end to her strength. On her way indoors she paused on the step and -cast a loving glance over her shoulder at the back view of her husband -in his neatly-patched blue blouse and the little child in the black -_sarrau_ walking sedately down the road. She seemed so proud of the -pair that we could not resist asking the woman if the child were hers, -just to see the glad smile which lit up her face as she answered, -'Oui, mesdames!' I have often noticed how lenient Breton women are to -their children. They will speak in a big voice and frown, and a child -imagines that Mother is in a towering rage; but you will see her turn -round the next moment and smile at the bystander. If children only -knew their power, how little influence parents would have over them! - -The French differ from the British in the matter of emotion. On the -steamer from Belle Isle to Quiberon there were some soldiers, about to -travel with us, who were being seen off by four or five others -standing on the quay. Slouching, unmilitary figures they looked, with -baggy red trousers tied up at the bottoms, faded blue coats, and -postmen-shaped hats, yellow, red, or blue pom-pom on top. One of the -men on shore was a special friend of a soldier who was leaving. I was -on tenter-hooks lest he should embrace him; he almost did so. He -squeezed his hand; he picked fluff off his clothes; he straightened -his hat. He repeatedly begged that his 'cher ami' would come over on -the following Sunday to Belle Isle. Tears were very near his eyes; he -was forced to bite his handkerchief to keep them back. When the boat -moved away, and they could join hands no longer, the soldiers blew -kisses over the water to one another. They opened their arms -wide, shouted affectionate messages, and called one another by -endearing terms. Altogether, they carried on as if they were neurotic -girls rather than soldiers who had their way to make and their country -to think of. - - [Illustration: IN THE BOIS D'AMOUR] - -There was one man superior to his fellows. He held the same rank, and -wore the same uniform; but he kept his buttons and his brass belt -bright; he wore silk socks, and carried a gold watch under his -military coat; his face was intelligent. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -ST. ANNE D'AURAY - - -Not far from the little town of Auray is the magnificent cathedral of -St. Anne D'Auray, to which so many thousands from all over Brittany -come annually to worship at the shrine of St. Anne. From all parts of -the country they arrive--some on foot, others on horseback, or in -strange country carts: marquises in their carriages; peasants plodding -many a weary mile in their wooden sabots. Even old men and women will -walk all through the day and night in order to be in time for the -pardon of St. Anne. - -The Breton people firmly believe that their household cannot prosper, -that their cattle and their crops cannot thrive, that their ships are -not safe at sea, unless they have been at least once a year to burn -candles at the shrine. The wealthy bourgeois's daughter, in her new -dress, smart apron, and Paris shoes, kneels side by side with a ragged -beggar; the peasant farmer, with long gray hair, white jacket, -breeches and leather belt, mingles his supplications with those of a -nobleman's son. All are equal here; all have come in the same humble, -repentant spirit; for the time being class distinctions are swept -away. Noble and peasant crave their special boons; each confesses his -sins of the past year; all stand bareheaded in the sunshine, humble -petitioners to St. Anne. - -At the time of the pardon, July 25, the ordinarily quiet town is -filled to overflowing. There is a magnificent procession, all green -and gold and crimson, headed by the Bishop of Vannes. A medley of -people come from all parts to pray in the cathedral, and to bathe in -the miraculous well, the water of which will cure any ailment. - -It is said that in the seventh century St. Anne appeared to one -Nicolazic, a farmer, and commanded him to dig in a field near by for -her image. This having been found, she bade him erect a chapel on the -spot to her memory. Several chapels were afterwards built, each in its -turn grander and more important, until at last the magnificent church -now standing was erected. On the open place in front is a circle of -small covered-in stalls, where chaplets, statuettes, tall wax -candles, rings, and sacred ornaments of all kinds, are sold. - - [Illustration: A BRETON FARMER] - -Directly you appear within that circle, long doleful cries are set up -from every vendor, announcing the various wares that he or she has for -sale. You are offered rosaries for sixpence, and for four sous extra -you can have them blessed. A statue of the Virgin can be procured for -fourpence; likewise the image of St. Anne. Wherever you may go in the -circle, you are pestered by these noisy traders. There is something -incongruous in such sacred things being hawked about the streets, and -their various merits shrieked at you as you pass. We went to a shop -near by, where we could look at the objects quietly and at leisure. - -The church, built of light-gray stone, is full of the richest -treasures you can imagine--gold, jewels, precious marbles, and -priceless pictures. One feels almost surfeited by so much -magnificence. Every square inch of the walls is covered with slabs of -costly marble, on which are inscribed, in letters of gold, thanks to -St. Anne for benefits bestowed and petitions for blessings. - -Although one cannot but be touched by the worship of St. Anne and the -simple belief of the people in her power to cure all, to accomplish -all, one is a little upset by these costly offerings. Nevertheless, it -is a marvellous faith, this Roman Catholic religion: the more you -travel in a country like Brittany, the more you realize it. There must -be a great power in a religion that draws people hundreds of miles on -foot, and enables them, after hours of weary tramping, to spend a day -praying on the hard stones before the statue of a saint. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -ST. MALO - - -When you are nearing the coast of France all you can see is a long -narrow line, without relief, apparently without design, without -character, just a sombre strip of horizon; but St. Malo is always -visible. A fine needle-point breaks the uninteresting line: it is the -belfry of St. Malo. To left and right of the town is a cluster of -islands, dark masses of rock over which the waves foam whitely. St. -Malo is magnificently fortified. It is literally crowned with military -defences. It is a mass of formidable fortresses, rigid angles, and -severe gray walls. It speaks of the seventeenth century, telling of a -time when deeds of prowess were familiar. The sea, which is flowing, -beats furiously against the walls of defence, protected by the trunks -of great trees planted in the sand. These gigantic battalions stop the -inrush of the water, and would make landing more arduous to an enemy. -They have a bizarre effect when seen from the distance. - -The town defied all the efforts of the English to capture her. On one -occasion they laid mines as far as the Porte of St. Malo; but the -Virgin, enshrined above the gate, and ever watching over the people, -disclosed the plot by unfolding her arms and pointing with one hand to -the ground beneath her. The Bretons dug where she pointed, and -discovered their imminent peril. Thus was the city saved. To-day the -shrine receives the highest honours, and is adorned with the finest -and sweetest flowers. - -For one reason at least St. Malo is unique. It is a town of some -thousand inhabitants; yet it is still surrounded by mediæval walls. Of -all the towns in Brittany, St. Malo is the only one which still -remains narrowly enclosed within walls. It is surrounded by the sea -except for a narrow neck of land joining the city to the mainland. -This is guarded at low tide by a large and fierce bulldog, the image -of which has been added to St. Malo's coat of arms. Enclosed within a -narrow circle of walls, and being unable to expand, the town is -peculiar. The houses are higher than usual, and the streets narrower. -There is no waste ground in St. Malo. Every available inch is built -upon. The sombre streets run uphill and downhill. There is no -town like St. Malo. Its quaint, tortuous streets, of corkscrew form, -culminate in the cathedral, which, as you draw near, does not seem to -be a cathedral at all, but a strong fort. So narrow are the streets, -and so closely are they gathered round the cathedral, that it is only -when you draw away to some distance that you can see the -beautifully-sculptured stone tower of many points. - - [Illustration: IN THE EYE OF THE SUN] - -Up and down the steep street the people clatter in their thick-soled -sabots. It is afternoon, and most of the townspeople have turned out -for a walk, to gaze in the shop windows with their little ones. The -people are rather French; and the children, instead of being clad in -the Breton costume, wear smart kilted skirts, white socks, and shiny -black sailor hats. Still, there is a subtle difference between these -people and the French. You notice this directly you arrive. There is -something solid, something pleasant and unartificial, about them. The -women of the middle classes are much better-looking, and they dress -better; the men are of stronger physique, with straight, clean-cut -features and a powerful look. - -Very attractive are these narrow hilly streets, with their throngs of -people and their gay little shops where the wares are always hung -outside--worsted shawls, scarlet and blue berés, Breton china -(decorated by stubby figures of men and women and heraldic devices), -chaplets, shrines to the Virgin Mary, many-coloured cards, religious -and otherwise. - - [Illustration: SUNDAY] - -There are a few houses which perpetuate the past. You are shown the -house of Queen Anne, the good Duchess Anne, a house with Gothic -windows, flanked by a tower, blackened and strangely buffeted by the -blows of time. Queen Anne was a marvellous woman, and has left her -mark. Her memory is kept green by the lasting good that she achieved. -From town to town she travelled during the whole of her reign, for she -felt that to rule well and wisely she must be ever in close touch with -her people. No woman was more beloved by the populace. Everywhere she -went she was fêted and adored. She ruled her province with a rod of -iron; yet she showed herself to be in many ways wonderfully feminine. -Nothing could have been finer than the act of uniting Brittany with -France by giving up her crown to France and remaining only the Duchess -Anne. In almost every town in Brittany there is a Queen Anne House, a -house which the good Queen either built herself or stayed in. -Everywhere she went she constructed something--a church, a -chapel, an oratory, a _calvaire_, a house, a tomb--by which she was to -be remembered. There is, for example, the famous tower which she -built, in spite of all malcontents, not so much in order to add to the -defences of St. Malo as to rebuke the people for their turbulence and -rebellion. Her words concerning it ring through the ages, and will -never be forgotten: - - 'Quic en groigneir - Ainsy ser - C'est mon playsir.' - -Ever since the tower has gone by the name of 'Quiquengroigne.' - -There are three names, three figures, of which St. Malo is proud; the -birthplaces are pointed out to the stranger fondly. One is that of the -Duchess Anne; another that of Duguay-Trouin; last, but not least, we -have Chateaubriand. Of the three, perhaps the picturesque figure of -Duguay-Trouin charms one most. From my earliest days I have loved -stories of the gallant sailor, whose adventures and mishaps are as -fascinating as those of Sinbad. I have always pictured him as a heroic -figure on the bridge of a vessel, wearing a powdered wig, a lace -scarf, and the dress of the period, winning victory after victory, -and shattering fleets. It is disappointing to realize that this hero -lived in the Rue Jean de Chatillon, in a three-storied, time-worn -house with projecting windows, lozenge-paned. Of Chateaubriand I know -little; but his birthplace is in St. Malo, for all who come to see. - -What a revelation it is, after winding up the narrow, steep streets of -St. Malo, suddenly to behold, framed in an archway of the old mediæval -walls, the sea! There is a greeny-blue haze so vast that it is -difficult to trace where the sea ends and the sky begins. The beach is -of a pale yellow-brown where the waves have left it, and pink as it -meets the water. At a little distance is an island of russet-brown -rocks, half-covered with seaweed; at the base is a circle of tawny -sand, and at the summit yellow-green grass is growing. - - - - - [Illustration: THE CRADLE] - -CHAPTER XVIII - -MONT ST. MICHEL - - -The road to Mont St. Michel is colourless and dreary. On either side -are flat gray marshes, with little patches of scrubby grass. Here and -there a few sheep are grazing. How the poor beasts can find anything -to eat at all on such barren land is a marvel. Gradually the scenery -becomes drearier, until at last you are driving on a narrow causeway, -with a river on one side and a wilderness of treacherous sand on the -other. - -Suddenly, on turning a corner, you come within view of Mont St. -Michel. No matter how well prepared you may be for the apparition, no -matter what descriptions you may have read or heard beforehand, when -you see that three-cornered mass of stone rising from out the vast -wilderness of sand, you cannot but be astonished and overwhelmed. You -are tempted to attribute this bizarre achievement to the hand of the -magician. It is uncanny. - -Just now it is low tide, and the Mount lies in the midst of an -immense moving plain, on which three rivers twist, like narrow threads -intersecting it--Le Conesnon, La Sée, and La Seline. Several dark -islands lie here and there uncovered, and groups of small boats are -left high and dry. It is fascinating to watch the sea coming up, -appearing like a circle on the horizon, and slipping gently over the -sands, the circle ever narrowing, until the islands are covered once -more, the boats float at anchor, and the waves precipitate themselves -with a loud booming sound, heard for miles round, against the double -walls that protect the sacred Mount. - -Many are the praises that have been sung of Mont St. Michel by poets -and artists, by historians and architects. She has been called 'A poem -in stone,' 'Le palais des angles,' 'An inspiration of the Divine,' 'La -cité des livres,' 'Le boulevard de la France,' 'The sacred mount,' -etc. Normandy and Brittany dispute her. She is in the possession of -either, as you will. - - [Illustration: SOUPE MAIGRE] - -Mont St. Michel is not unlike Gibraltar. As you come suddenly upon the -place, rising from out the misty grayish-yellow, low-lying marshes, it -appears to be a dark three-cornered mass, surrounded by stout brownish -battlemented walls, flanked by rounded turrets, against a -background of blue sky. At the base of the Mount lies the city, the -houses built steeply one above the other, some with brownish -lichen-covered roofs, others of modern slate. Above the city is the -monastery--brown walls, angry and formidable, rising steeply, with -many windows and huge buttresses. Beyond, on the topmost point, is the -grand basilica consecrated to the archangel, the greenish light of -whose windows you can see clearly. Above all rises a tall gray spire -culminating in a golden figure. - -There is only one entrance to Mont St. Michel--over a footbridge and -beneath a solid stone archway, from which the figure of the Virgin in -a niche looks down. You find yourself in a narrow, steep street, black -and dark with age, and crowded with shops and bazaars and cafés. The -town appears to be given up to the amusement and entertainment of -visitors; and, as St. Michael is the guardian saint of all strangers -and pilgrims, I suppose this is appropriate. Tourists fill the streets -and overflow the hotels and cafés; the town seems to live, thrive, and -have its being entirely for the tourists. Outside every house hangs a -sign advertising coffee or china or curios, as the case may be, and -so narrow is the street that the signs on either side meet. - -Your first thought on arriving is about getting something to eat. The -journey from St. Malo is long, and, although the sun is shining and -the sky is azure blue, the air is biting. Of course, everyone who -comes to the Mount has heard of Mme. Poulard. She is as distinctly an -institution as the very walls and fortresses. All know of her famous -coffee and delicious omelettes; all have heard of her charm. It is -quite an open question whether the people flock there in hundreds on a -Sunday morning for the sake of Mme. Poulard's luncheon or for the -attractions of Mont St. Michel itself. There she stands in the doorway -of her hotel, smiling, gracious, affable, handsome. No one has ever -seen Mme. Poulard ruffled or put out. However many unexpected visitors -may arrive, she greets them all with a smile and words of welcome. - -We were amid a very large stream of guests; yet she showed us into her -great roomy kitchen, and seated us before the huge fireplace, where a -brace of chickens, steaming on a spit, were being continually basted -with butter by stout, gray-haired M. Poulard. She found time to -inquire about our journey and our programme for the day, and directed -us to the various show-places of the Mount. - -There is only one street of any importance in Mont St. Michel, dark -and dim, very narrow, no wider than a yard and a half; a drain runs -down the middle. Here you find yourself in an absolute wilderness of -Poulard. You are puzzled by the variety and the relations of the -Poulards. Poulard greets you everywhere, written in large black -letters on a white ground. - -If you mount some steps and turn a corner suddenly, Poulard _frère_ -greets you; if you go for a harmless walk on the ramparts, the -renowned coffee of Poulard _veuve_ hits you in the face. Each one -strives to be the right and only Poulard. You struggle to detach -yourselves from these Poulards. You go through a fine mediæval -archway, past shops where valueless, foolish curios are for sale; you -scramble up picturesque steps, only to be told once more in glaring -letters that POULARD spells Poulard. - -A very picturesque street is the main thoroughfare of Mont St. Michel, -mounting higher and higher, with tall gray-stone and wooden houses on -either side, the roofs of which often meet overhead. Each window has -its pots of geraniums and its show of curios and useless baubles. -Fish-baskets hang on either side of the doors. Some of the houses have -terrace gardens, small bits of level places cut into the rock, where -roses grow and trailing clematis. Ivy mainly runs riot over every -stone and rock and available wall. The houses are built into the solid -rock one above another, and many of them retain their air of the -fourteenth or the fifteenth century. - -You pass a church of Jeanne d'Arc. A bronze statue of the saint stands -outside the door. One always goes upwards in Mont St. Michel, seeing -the dark purplish-pink mass of the grand old church above you, with -its many spires of sculptured stone. Stone steps lead to the ramparts. -Here you can lean over the balustrade and look down upon the waste of -sand surrounding Mont St. Michel. All is absolutely calm and -noiseless. Immediately below is the town, its clusters of new -gray-slate roofs mingling with those covered in yellow lichen and -green moss; also the church of the village, looking like a child's -plaything perched on the mountain-side. Beyond and all around lies a -sad, monotonous stretch of pearl-gray sand, with only a darkish, -narrow strip of land between it and the leaden sky--the coast of -Normandy. Sea-birds passing over the country give forth a doleful -wail. The only signs of humanity at all in the immensity of this great -plain are some little black specks--men and women searching for -shellfish, delving in the sand and trying to earn a livelihood in the -forbidding waste. - - [Illustration: DÉJEUNER] - -The melancholy of the place is terrible. I have seen people of the -gayest-hearted natures lean over that parapet and gaze ahead for -hours. This great gray plain has a strange attraction. It draws out -all that is sad and serious from the very depths of you, forcing you -to think deeply, moodily. Joyous thoughts are impossible. At first you -imagine that the scenery is colourless; but as you stand and watch for -some time, you discover that it is full of colour. There are pearly -greens and yellows and mauves, and a kind of phosphorescent slime left -by the tide, glistening with all the hues of the rainbow. - -Terribly dangerous are these shifting sands. In attempting to cross -them you need an experienced guide. The sea mounts very quickly, and -mists overtake you unexpectedly. Many assailants of the rock have been -swallowed in the treacherous sands. - -Being on this great height reminded me of a legend I had heard of the -sculptor Gautier, a man of genius, who was shut up in the Abbey of -Mont St. Michel and carved stones to keep himself from going mad--you -can see these in the abbey to this day. For some slight reason -François I. threw the unfortunate sculptor into the black cachot of -the Mount, and there he was left in solitude, to die by degrees. His -hair became quite white, and hung long over his shoulders; his cheeks -were haggard; he grew to look like a ghost. His youth could no longer -fight against the despair overhanging him; his miseries were too great -for him to bear; he became almost insane. One day, by a miracle, Mass -was held, not in the little dark chapel under the crypts, but in the -church on high, on the topmost pinnacle of the Mount. It was a Sunday, -a fête-day. The sun shone, not feebly, as I saw it that day, but -radiantly, the windows of the church glistening. It was blindingly -beautiful. The joy of life surrounded him; the sweetness and freshness -of the spring was in the air. The irony of men and things was too -great for his poor sorrow-laden brain. He cleared the parapet, and was -dashed to atoms below. Poor Gautier! It was his only chance of escape. -One realized that as one looked up at those immense prison walls, -black and frowning, sheer and unscaleable, every window grated and -barred. What chance would a prisoner have? If it were possible for him -to escape from the prison itself, there would be the town below to -pass through. Only one narrow causeway joins the island to the -mainland, and all round there is nothing but sea and sandy wastes. - - [Illustration: A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN] - -I was disturbed in my reverie by a loud nasal voice shouting, 'Par -ici, messieurs et dames, s'il vous plaît.' It was the guide, and -willy-nilly we must go and make the rounds of the abbey among a crowd -of other sightseers. An old blind woman on the abbey steps, evidently -knowing that we were English by our tread, moistened her lips and drew -in her breath in preparation for a begging whine as we approached. We -passed through a huge red door of a glorious colour, up a noble flight -of wide steps, with hundreds of feet of wall on either side, into a -lofty chapel, falling to decay, and being renovated in parts. It was -of a ghostly greenish stone, with fluted pillars of colossal height, -ending in stained-glass windows and a vaulted roof, about which -black-winged bats were flying. Room after room we passed through, the -guide making endless and monotonous explanations and observations in -a parrot-like voice, until we reached the cloister. This is the pearl -of Mont St. Michel, the wonder of wonders. It is a huge square court. -In the middle of the quadrangle it is open to the sky, and the sun -shines through in a golden blaze. All round are cool dim walks roofed -overhead by gray arches supported by small, graceful, rose-coloured -pillars in pairs. This is continued round the whole length of the -court. Let into the wall are long benches of stone, to which, in olden -days, the monks came to meditate and pray. The ancient atmosphere has -been well preserved; yet the building is so little touched by time, -owing to the careful renovations of a clever architect, that one -almost expects at any moment to see a brown-robed monk disturbed in -his meditations. - -From the quiet courtyard we are taken down into the very heart of the -coliseum--into the mysterious cells where the damp of the rock -penetrates the solid stone. How gloomy it was down in these crypts! -Even the names of them made one tremble--'Galerie de l'Aquilon,' -'Petit Exil,' and 'Grand Exil.' You think of Du Bourg, tightly -fettered hand and foot, being eaten alive by rats; of the Comte -Grilles, condemned to die of starvation, being fed by a peasant, who -bravely climbed to his window; of a hundred gruesome tales. There is -the chapel where the last offices of the dead were performed--a cell -in which the light struggled painfully through the narrow windows, -feebly combating with the dark night of the chamber; and there is the -narrow stairway, in the thickness of the wall, by which the bodies of -the prisoners were taken. - -We were shown the cachot and the oubliette where the living body of -the prisoner was attacked by rats. That, however, was a simple torture -compared with the strait-jacket and the iron cage. In the oubliette -the miserable men could clasp helpless hands, curse or pray, as the -case might be; but in the iron cage the death agony was prolonged. - -Even now, although the poor souls took wings long ago, the cachot and -the oubliette fill you with disgust. You feel stifled there. The -atmosphere is vitiated. Even though centuries have passed since those -terrible times, the walls seem to be still charged with iniquity, with -all the sighs exhaled, with all the smothered cries, with all the -tears, with all the curses of impatient sufferers, with all the -prayers of saints. - -It seems impossible to believe, down in the heart of this world of -stone, in the impenetrable darkness, that the architect that designed -this thick and cruel masonry constructed those airy belfries, those -balustrades of lace, those graceful arches, those towers and minarets. -It is as if he had wished to shut up the sorrow and the maniacal cries -of the men who had lost their reason in a fair exterior, attracting -the eyes of the world to that which was beautiful, and making it -forget the misery beneath. - - - - - [Illustration: MARIE] - - [Illustration: A FARM LABOURER] - -CHAPTER XIX - -CHÂTEAU DES ROCHERS - - -The name of Mme. Sévigné rings through the ages. Vitré is full of it. -Inhabitants will point out, close to the ruined ramparts, the winter -palace where the _spirituelle Marquise_ received the Breton nobility -and sometimes the Kings of Brittany. To the south they will show you -the Château des Rochers, the princely country residence maintained by -this famous woman. She was a Breton of the Bretons, building and -planting, often working in the fields with her farm hands. She loved -her Château des Rochers. It was a joy to leave the town and the -gaieties of Court for the freshness of the fields and the woods. She -especially liked to be there for the 'Triomphe du mois de Mai'--to -hear the nightingale and the cuckoo saluting spring with song. With -Lafontaine, she found inspiration in the fields; but, as she preserved -a solid fund of Gaelic humour, she laughed also, and the country did -not often make her melancholy. She felt the sadness of autumn in her -woods; but she never became morose. She never wearied of her garden. -She had always some new idea with regard to it--some new plan to lure -her from a letter begun or a book opened. Before reading the memoirs -of Mme. Sévigné it is almost impossible to realize this side of her -nature. Who would have imagined that this woman of the salons, fêted -in Paris, and known everywhere, would be always longing for her -country home? It is only when you visit the famous Château des Rochers -that you realize to the full that she was a lover of nature and -country habits. Wandering through the old-world garden, you find -individual touches which bring back the dainty Marquise vividly to -mind. There are the venerable trees, under which you may wander and -imagine yourself back in the time of Louis XIV. There are the deep and -shady avenues planted by Mme. Sévigné, and beautiful to this day. The -names come back to you as you walk--'La Solitaire,' 'L'Infini,' -'L'honneur de ma fille'--avenues in which madame sat to see the sun -setting behind the trees. Very quiet is this garden, with its broad -shady paths, its wide spaces of green, its huge cedars growing in the -grass, and its stiff flower-beds. There is Mme. Sévigné's sundial, on -which she inscribed with her own hand a Latin verse. There are -the stiff rows of poplars, like Noah's Ark trees, symmetrical, -interlacing one with the other, unnatural but dainty in design. There -is her rose garden, a rounded and terraced walk planted with roses. -There, too, are the sunny 'Place Madame,' the 'Place Coulanges,' and -'L'Écho,' where two people, standing on stones placed a certain -distance apart, can hear the echo plainly. This garden, with its stiff -little rows of trees, its sunny open squares surrounded by low walls, -and its stone vases overgrown with flowers, brings back the past so -vividly that one asks one's self whether indeed Mme. Sévigné is there -no longer, and glances involuntarily down the avenues and the by-ways, -half expecting to distinguish the rapid passage of a majestic skirt. -What a splendid life this woman of the seventeenth century led! She -knew well how to regulate mind and body. The routine of the day at Les -Rochers was never varied, and was designed so perfectly that there was -rarely a jar or a hitch. She rose at eight, and enjoyed the freshness -of the woods until the hour for matins struck. After that there were -the 'Good-mornings' to be said to everyone on her estate. She must -pick flowers for the table, and read and work. When her son was no -longer with her she read aloud to broaden the mind of his wife. At -five o'clock her time became her own; and on fine days, a lacquey -following, she wandered down the pleasant avenues, dreaming visions of -the future, of God and of His providence, sometimes reading a book of -devotions, sometimes a book of history. On days of storm, when the -trees dripped and the slates fell from the roof,--on days so wet and -gray and wild that you would not turn a dog out of doors--you would -suppose the Marquise to become morbid and miserable. Not at all. She -realized that she must kill time, and she did so by a hundred -ingenious devices. She deplored the weather which kept her indoors, -but fixed her thoughts on the morrow. Ladies and gentlemen often -invaded her; all the nobility came to present their compliments. They -assailed her from all sides. When she resisted them, and strove to -shut herself away from the world, the Duke would come and carry her -away in his carriage. - - [Illustration: A LITTLE WATER-CARRIER] - -She always longed to return to her solitude--to her dear Rochers, -where her good priest waited, at once her administrator, her man of -affairs, her architect, and her friend. Her pride of property was -great, and she was constantly beautifying and embellishing her country -home. Each year saw some new change. On one occasion six years passed -without her visiting Les Rochers. All her trees had become big and -beautiful; some of them were forty or fifty feet high. Her joy when -she beheld them gives one an insight into her youthfulness. - -How young she was in some things! She often asked herself whence came -this exuberance. She drew caricatures of the affectations of her -neighbours, and the anxious inquiries of her friends as to her -happiness during her voluntary exile amused her immensely. In a letter -written to her daughter she said: - -'I laugh sometimes at what they call "spending the winter in the -woods." Mme. de C---- said to me the other day, "Leave your damp -Rochers." I answered her, "Damp yourself--it is your country that is -damp; but we are on a height." It is as though I said, Your damp -Montmartre. These woods are at present penetrated by the sun whenever -it shines. On the Place Madame when the sun is at its height, and at -the end of the great avenue when the sun is setting, it is marvellous. -When it rains there is a good room with my people here, who do not -trouble me. I do what I want, and when there is no one here we are -still better off, for we read with a pleasure which we prefer above -everything.' - -The prospect of spending a winter at Les Rochers did not frighten her -in the least. She wrote to her daughter, saying, 'My purpose to spend -the winter at Les Rochers frightens you. Alas! my daughter, it is the -sweetest thing in the world.' - -Mme. Sévigné was always thinking of her daughter, and of Provence, -where she lived. Her heart went out to her daughter. Everything about -Les Rochers helped her to remember her beloved child. Even the country -itself seemed to bring back memories, for the nights of July were so -perfumed with orange-blossoms that one might imagine one's self to be -really in Provence. Mme. Sévigné wrote in a letter to one of her -friends: - -'I have established a home in the most beautiful place in the world, -where no one keeps me company, because they would die of cold. The -abbé goes backwards and forwards over his affairs. I am there thinking -of Provence, for that thought never leaves me.' - - [Illustration: WEARY] - -The château in which this wonderful woman lived, whence started so -many couriers to Provence, is an important building, gray, a little -heavy with towers, with high turrets of slate and great windows. -Resembling most houses built in the Louis XIV. style, it is rather sad -in design. At the side is a chapel surmounted by a cross, a rotund -hexagonal building constructed in 1671 by the Abbot of Coulanges. -Inside it is gorgeous with old rose and gold. One can imagine the -gentle Marquise kneeling here at her devotions. - -Visitors are shown the bedroom of Mme. Sévigné, now transformed into a -historical little sanctuary. The furniture consists of a large -four-post bed, with a covering of gold and blue, embroidered, it is -said, by the Countess of Grignan. Under a glass case have been -treasured all the accessories of her toilet--an arsenal of feminine -coquetry: brushes, powder-boxes, patch-boxes, autograph letters, -account-books, her own ink-stand, books written in the clear, -delicate, legible handwriting of the Marquise herself. - -The walls are hung with pictures of the family and intimate friends, -some of which are very remarkable. This room was called by Mme. -Sévigné the 'green room.' It still has a dainty atmosphere. Here Mme. -Sévigné passed a great part of her life. Under a large window is a -marble table where she is supposed to have written those letters which -one knows almost as well as the fables of Lafontaine. Mme. Sévigné -coloured the somewhat cold though pure language of the seventeenth -century, but not artificially. She animated it, conveyed warmth into -it, by putting into her writings much that was feminine, never -descending to the 'precious' or to be a blue-stocking. The books that -she loved, and her correspondence, did not take up so much of her time -that she had to overlook the details of her domain. Sometimes she had -a little fracas with her cook; often she would be called away to -listen to the complaints of Pilois, her gardener, a philosopher. She -knew how to feel strongly among people who could feel only their own -misfortunes and disgraces. She had a true and thoughtful soul. This -one can tell by her letters from Les Rochers, which come to us in all -their freshness, as if they had been written yesterday. - - - - - [Illustration: THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE] - - [Illustration: IN THE INGLENOOK] - -CHAPTER XX - -CARNAC - - -The country round Carnac is solemn and mysterious, full of strange -Druidical monuments, menhirs and dolmens of fabulous antiquity, -ancient stone crosses, _calvaires_, and carvings. Everything is grand, -solemn, and gigantic. One finds intimate traces of the Middle Ages. -The land is still half-cultivated and divided into small holdings; the -fields are strewn with ancient stones. - -The Lines of Carnac are impressive. You visit them in the first place -purely as a duty, as something which has to be seen; but you are amply -repaid. On a flat plain of heather or gorse they lie, small and gray -and ghost-like in the distance, but looming larger as you draw near. -You come across several in a farmyard; but on scaling a small -loosely-built stone wall you find yourself in the midst of them--lines -of colossal stones planted point-downwards, some as high as twenty -feet, and stretching away to the horizon, on a space of several -miles, like a gigantic army of phantoms. Originally the Lines of -Carnac were composed of six thousand stones; but to-day there remain -only several hundreds. They have been destroyed bit by bit, and used -by the peasants as fences along the fields and in the construction of -houses. - -We sat on a rock and gazed at these strange things, longing to know -their origin. What enigmas they were, wrapped in mournful silence, -solemn and still, sphinx-like! I endeavoured to become an amateur -Sherlock Holmes. I examined the stones all over. I noticed that at the -extremity of one line they were placed in a semicircle. This did not -seem to lead me on the road to discovery. Of what avail is it to -attempt to read the mystery of these silent Celtic giants? Historians -and archæologists have sought in vain to find a solution to the -problem. Some say that the stones planted in the fields are temples -dedicated to the cult of the serpent; others maintain that this is a -sort of cemetery, where the dead of Carnac and of Erderen were -interred after a terrible battle. They are variously taken to be -sacred monuments, symbols of divinity, funeral piles, trophies of -victory, testimonies to the passing of a race, the remains of a -Roman encampment. Innumerable are the surmises. - - [Illustration: A BLIND BEGGAR] - -The country people have their own versions of the origin of these -stones. The peasants round about Carnac firmly believe that these -menhirs are inhabited by a terrible race of little black men who, if -they can but catch you alone at midnight, will make you dance, leaping -round you in circles by the light of the moon with great shouts of -laughter and piercing cries, until you die of fatigue, making the -neighbouring villagers shiver in their beds. Some say that these -stones have been brought here by the Virgin Mary in her apron; others -that they are Roman soldiers, petrified as was the wife of Lot, and -changed into rocks by some good apostle; others, again, that they were -thrown from the moon by Beelzebub to kill some amiable fairy. - -A boy was sitting on a stone near us. He had followed us, and had sat -leaning his head on his hand and gazing backwards and forwards from us -to the stones. Out of curiosity to hear what his ideas might be, I -asked the child what he imagined the menhirs were. Without a moment's -hesitation he said, 'Soldats de St. Cornely!' - -Afterwards I discovered that St. Cornely is in this country one of -the most honoured saints. It is he that protects the beasts of the -field. His _pardon_ used to be much attended by peasants, who took -with them their flocks of sheep and cows. St. Cornely had occasion to -fly before a regiment of soldiers sent in pursuit by an idolatrous -king. In the moment of his fear--for even saints experience fear--he -went towards the sea, and soon saw that all retreat was cut off -thereby. The oxen fell on their knees, their eyes full of dread. The -situation was terrible. The saint appealed to Heaven, where lay his -only hope, and, stretching his arm towards the soldiers, changed them -suddenly into stone. Here, it is said, the soldiers of St. Cornely -have remained ever since, fixed and rigid. - - - - - [Illustration: LA PETITE MARIE] - -CHAPTER XXI - -A ROMANTIC LAND - - -Brittany is essentially a romantic country. It is full of mysteries -and legends and superstitions. Romance plays a great part in the life -of the meanest peasant. Every stock and stone and wayside shrine in -his beloved country is invested with poetical superstition and -romance. A nurse that we children once had, nineteen years of age, -possessed an enormous stock of legends, which she had been brought up -to look upon as absolute truth. Some of the songs which she sang to -the baby at bedtime in a low minor key were beautiful in -composition--'Marie ta fille,' 'Le Biniou,' amongst others. The -village schoolmaster, who was our tutor, during our long afternoon -rambles would often make the woods ring as he sang ballads in his -rich, full voice. The theme changed according to his humour. Now the -song was a canticle, relating the legend of some saint, or a pious -chronicle; at another time it was of love he sang, generally ending -sadly. Then, there was the historical song, recounting some sombre, or -touching, or stirring event, when the little man worked himself up to -a high pitch of excitement, carrying us children open-mouthed to gory -battlefields and the palaces of sumptuous Kings. One quite forgot the -insignificant schoolmaster in the rush and swing of the music. - -There are many Breton ballads. The lives of the people are reflected -truthfully in these compositions, which have as their themes human -weakness, or heartache, or happiness. The Breton bards are still a -large class. In almost every village there is someone who composes and -sings. Each one holds in his or her hand a small stick of white wood, -carved with notches and strange signs, which help towards remembering -the different verses. The Gauls called this stick, the use of which is -very ancient, the alphabet of the bards. - - [Illustration: THE LITTLE HOUSEWIFE] - -Mendicity is protected in Brittany. One meets beggars at all the -fairs, and often on the high-roads. They earn their living by songs -and ballads. They attend family fêtes, and, above all, marriage -ceremonies, composing songs in celebration. No Breton will refuse a -bard the best of his hospitality. Bards are honoured guests. 'Dieu -vous bénisse, gens de cette maison,' says one, announcing -himself. He is installed in the ingle-nook, the cosiest corner of a -Breton kitchen; and after having refreshed the inner man he rewards -his host with song after song, often giving him the last ballad of his -composition. When he takes his leave, a large bundle of food is slung -over his shoulder. Unless you live for years in the same village, as I -have done, sharing in the joys and sorrows of the people, you can gain -very little knowledge of the tales and songs and legends. The Breton -is reticent on the advent of the stranger: he fears ridicule. - -Then, again, a child can always wriggle itself into the hearts and -homes of people. Setting aside all racial prejudices and difficulties -of language, a child will instal itself in a household, and become -familiar with the little foibles of each inmate in a single day, -whereas a grown-up person may strive in vain for years. I, as a child, -had a Breton _bonne_, and used to spend most of my days at her home, a -farm some distance from the village, playing on the cottage floor with -her little brothers and sisters, helping to milk the cows, and poking -the fat pigs. This, I think, Mother could scarcely have been aware of; -for she had forbidden Marie to allow me to associate with dirty -children, and these were certainly not too clean. One day I was -playing at dolls with a village girl under the balcony of Mother's -room. Suddenly, on looking up, I found her gazing at me reproachfully. - -'O Mother,' I hastened to explain, pulling the child forward by the -pinafore, 'she are clean.' We children were familiar with everyone in -the village, even bosom friends with all, from stout Batiste, the -butcher, to Lucia the little seamstress, and Leontine her sister, who -lived by the bridge. If a child died we attended the funeral, all -dressed in white, holding lighted tapers in our hands, and feeling -important and impressive. If one was born, we graciously condescended -to be present at the baptismal service and receive the boxes of -dragées always presented to guests on such occasions. At all village -processions we figured prominently. - -When I returned to Brittany, at the age of ten, I found things very -little changed. My friends were a trifle older; but they remembered me -and welcomed me, receiving me into their midst as before. My sister -and I took part in all the _pardons_ of the surrounding villages. We -learnt the quaint Breton dances, and would pace up and down the dusty -roads in the full glare of the summer sun hour after hour, dressed in -the beautiful costume of the country--black broadcloth skirts, white -winged caps, and sabots. Often we would go with our _bonne_ and our -respective partners into some neighbouring _débits de boissons_ and -drink _syrops_ in true Breton fashion. At one _pardon_ we won the -_ruban d'honneur_--a broad bright-blue ribbon with silver tassels worn -across the shoulder, and presented to the best dancer. - -The Breton gavotte is a strange dance of religious origin. The dancers -hold hands in a long line, advancing and retiring rhythmically to -long-drawn-out music. Underneath an awning sit the two professional -biniou-players, blowing with all their might into their instruments -and beating time with their feet to the measure. The _sonneur de -biniou_ is blind, and quite wrapped up in his art; he lives, as it -were, in a world apart. The _joueur de biniou_, the principal figure, -reminding one of a Highland piper, presses his elbow on the large -leather air-bag, playing the air, with its many variations, clear and -sweet, on the reed pipe. - -Brittany is the land of _pardons_. During the summer these local -festivities are taking place daily in one village or another. The -_pardon_ is a thing apart; it resembles neither the Flemish -_kermesse_ nor the Parisian _foire_. Unlike the _foires_ of Paris, -created for the gay world, for the men and women who delight in -turning night into day, the _pardon_ has inspiration from high -sources: it is the fête of the soul. The people gather together from -far and near, not only to amuse themselves, but also to pray. They -pass long hours before the images of the saints; they make the tour of -the 'Chemin de la Croix,' kneeling on the granite floor. - -Still, it is a joyous festival. The air is filled with shouts and -laughter. For example, in Quimper, at the Feast of the Assumption, the -Place St. Corentin is crowded. People have come from the surrounding -towns, all dressed in the characteristic costume of their vicinities. -Pont-Aven, Pont L'Abbé, Concarmeau, Fouesnant, Quimperlé--all are -represented. You see the tight lace wide-winged cap of the Douarnénez -women, hats bound with coloured chenile of the men of Carhaix, white -flannel coats bordered with black velvet of the peasants of Guéméné, -the flowered waistcoats of Pleavé; the women of Quimper have -pyramidical coifs of transparent lace, showing the pink or blue ribbon -beneath, with two long floating ends. - - [Illustration: AN OLD WOMAN] - -The great square in front of the cathedral is a jumble of gold -and silver, embroidery, ribbons, muslin, and lace--a joyous feast of -colour in the sun. The crowd moves slowly, forming into groups by the -porch and round the stalls, with much gossip. The square and the -neighbouring streets are bordered by stalls trading in fabrics and -faiences, gingerbread, sweets, lotteries, cider, and fancy-work of all -kinds. Young men and girls stop in couples to buy mirrors or coloured -pins, surmounted with gold, that jingle, to fasten in their caps or in -their bodices. Others gather round the lotteries, and watch with -anxious eyes the wheel with the rod of metal that clicks all the way -round on its spokes, and stops at a certain number. 'C'est vingt-deux -qui gagne!' cries the proprietor. A pretty little peasant woman has -won. She hesitates, wavering between a ball of golden glass and a vase -painted with attractive flowers. The peasants laugh loudly. - -There are all kinds of attractions and festivities at the -_pardons_--hurdy-gurdies, swing-boats, voyages to the moon, on which -you get your full and terrible money's worth of bumps and alarms; for -not only are you jerked up hill and down dale in a car, but also, when -you reach the moon, you are whirled round and round at a tremendous -rate and return backwards. There are side-shows in which are -exhibited fat women, headless men, and bodiless girls, distorted thus -by mirrors, the deception of which even we children saw through -plainly. There are jugglers and snake-charmers. A cobra was fed on -rabbits. We children haunted that tent at feeding-times, and used to -watch with fascination the little dead bunnies disappearing, fur and -all, afterwards noticing with glee the strange bumps they formed in -the animal's smooth and shiny coils. How bloodthirsty children are at -heart! - -It is not always in large towns like Quimperlé that _pardons_ are -held. More often they are to be witnessed in the country, perhaps -miles away from any town, whence the people flock on foot. There you -see no grand cathedral, no magnificent basilicas and superb -architecture, but some simple little gray church with moss-grown walls -and trees growing thickly about it. The rustic charm of the _pardons_ -it is impossible to describe. Round you are immense woods and flowered -prairies; in the woods the birds are singing; a mystic vapour of -incense fills the air. Peasants gather round this modest house of -prayer, which possesses nothing to attract the casual passer-by. The -saints that they have come to venerate have no speciality: they -heal all troubles, assuage all griefs: they are infallible and -all-powerful. Inside the church it is very dim and dark. Not a single -candle is alight on the altar; only the lamp of the sanctuary shines -out with red gleam like an ever-seeing eye. In the gray darkness of -the choir the silent priests cross themselves. They look like ghosts -of the faithful. The bells ring out in noisy peals, filling the air -with vibrations. Over the fields the people hurry--girls in their -smartest clothes, accompanied by their gallants; children brought by -their mothers in their beautiful new suits to attend service and to -have their faces bathed in the fountain, which cures them of all -diseases, and makes them beautiful for ever; old men come to -contemplate the joy of the young people, to be peaceful, and to ask -forgiveness before leaving this world and the short life over which -their own particular saint has watched. The bells peal so loudly that -one is afraid they will crack under the efforts of the ringers. Still -the people swarm over the fields and into the church, until at last -the little edifice is full, and men and women and children are -compelled to kneel outside on the hard earth; but the doors are -opened, and those outside follow the service with great attention. - - [Illustration: A PIG-MARKET] - -One must be a Breton born and cradled in the country in order to -realize the important place that the _pardon_ of his parish occupies -in the peasant's mind. It is a religious festival of great -significance: it is the day above all others on which he confesses his -sins to God and receives absolution. Throughout his life his dearest -and sweetest thoughts cling round this house of prayer and pardon. - -Here it is generally that he betroths himself. He and the girl stroll -home together when the sun has set, walking side by side over the -fields, holding each other by the little finger, as is the Breton -custom. A sweet serenity envelops the countryside; darkness falls; the -stars appear. The man is shy; but the girl is at ease. When nearing -home, to announce their arrival at the farm, they begin to sing a song -that they have heard from the bards during the day. Other couples in -the distance, hearing them, take up the refrain; and soon from all -parts of the country swells up into the night air a kind of alternate -song, in which the high trebles and the deep basses mingle -harmoniously. As the darkness deepens the figures disappear and the -sounds die away in the distance. - -The Saturday before the first Sunday in July is a fête-day in most -towns. Pilgrims fill the towns, which are packed with stalls for the -fair. There are sellers of cider and cakes, amulets, and rosaries. A -statue of the Madonna surrounded by archangels against a background of -blue is situated at the church door to receive the homage of faithful -pilgrims. When night falls the door of the porch is flung open, and a -long procession of girls, like an army of phantoms, advances, each -penitent holding in her hand a lighted torch, slowly swinging her -rosary and repeating a Latin prayer. The statue of the Virgin is -solemnly carried out on the open square, where bonfires are lit and -young folk dance to the accompaniment of the biniou. - -In some places the dances are prolonged for three or four days. The -Bretons like songs and dances and representations; they like the heavy -pomp of pilgrimages; they believe in prayer, and never lose their -respect for the Cross. They are a fine people, especially the men who -live by the sea, sailors and fishermen--well-made, high-strung men, -their faces bronzed and stained like sculptures out of old chestnut, -with eyes of clear blue, full of the sadness of the sea. They have an -air of robustness and vitality; but under their fierce exterior they -hide a great sweetness of nature. They are kind hosts; they are frank, -brave, and chaste. They have, it is true, a weakness: on fair -days--market-days especially--they abuse the terrible and brutalizing -_vin du feu_. Then, the Bretons are not a very clean people. The -interiors of the cottages are dignified, with great beds made of dark -chestnut and long, narrow tables, stretching the whole length of the -rooms, polished and beeswaxed until you can see your face mirrored on -the surface; but pigs will repose on the stone floor, which waves up -and down with indentations and deep holes. The more well-to-do Bretons -have their clothes washed only once in six months. The soiled linen is -kept above in an attic protected from the rats by a rope with broken -bottles strung on it, on which the rats, as they come to gnaw the -clothes, commit involuntary suicide. - -The poorer families have better habits. They wash their few -possessions regularly and out of doors in large pools constructed for -the purpose, where hundreds of women congregate, kneeling on the -flagstones around the pond, beating their linen energetically on -boards, with a flat wooden tool, to economize soap. This I consider a -far cleaner method than that of our British cottagers, who wash -their clothes in their one living-room, inhaling impure steam. - - [Illustration: HOUSEHOLD DUTIES] - -In spite of the winds and the tempests which desolate it, the Bretons -love their country. They live in liberty; they are their own masters. -The past holds profound and tenacious root in the hearts of these men -of granite, and the attachment to old beliefs is strong. The people -still believe in miracles, in sorcery, and in the evil eye. The land, -rich with memories of many kinds,--with its menhirs, its old -cathedrals, its pilgrimages, its _pardons_--sleeps peacefully in this -century of innovations. In Brittany everything seems to have been -designed long ago. Wherever one goes one comes across a strange and -ancient Druidical monument, menhirs, and dolmens of fabulous -antiquity, an exquisite legend, a ruined château, ancient stone -crosses, _calvaires_, and carvings. It is a country full of signs and -meanings. The poetical superstitions and legends have been left intact -in their primitive simplicity. Nowhere do you see finer peasantry; -nowhere more dignity and nobility in the features of the men and women -who work in the fields; nowhere such quaint houses and costumes; -hardly anywhere more magnificent scenery. You have verdant islands, -ancient forests, villages nestling in the mountains, country as wild -and beautiful as the moors of Scotland, fields and pasture-lands as -highly cultivated as those of Lincolnshire. - -Brittany is especially inspiring to the painter. You find villages in -which the people still wear the national dress. Perhaps, however, the -time is not far distant when new customs will arise and the old -beliefs will be only a remembrance. Little by little the influence of -modern times begins to show itself upon the language, the costume, and -the poetic superstitions. The iron and undecorative hand of the -twentieth century is closing down upon the country. - - -BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note: - - Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have - been preserved. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRITTANY*** - - -******* This file should be named 42954-8.txt or 42954-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/4/2/9/5/42954 - - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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