“Qui a Bretagne sans Jugon,
A chape sans chaperon.”
Jugon is on the edge of two ponds. One of them, the largest in Brittany, hangs suspended over the town, as if threatening it with inundation. They told us it was swarming with fish of every description, and with pike of fabulous dimensions. Turning off the road to the right, we entered the forest of La Hunaudaye, and walked in a pouring rain to the château, situated a short distance from the road. It is of vast extent, has five round towers with ramparts of cut stone, and is surrounded by walls with machicolated parapets. It is a splendid ruin, but the incessant rain prevented us from spending much time in its examination. It was built in the thirteenth century by Olivier de la Tournemine, and was one of the strongest fortresses in Brittany. Situated in the midst of a vast forest, its lord and his retainers were the terror of the surrounding country. No traveller passed untaxed; all were compelled to pay toll. In 1504, the Bishop of St. Brieuc complains to the Parliament at Rennes that, regardless of the safeguard of the Duke, the foresters of the Lord of La Hunaudaye had carried off his horses, trunks, and baggage, and, a year later, they had the audacity to stop the Queen-Duchess [pg 063] Anne on her way to a pilgrimage to the Folgoët. The Queen was conducted to the presence of the Lord of La Hunaudaye, who maintained to her that he had only exercised his right of exacting a ransom from all who passed through the forest without his permission, but that he waived his privilege in favour of his Sovereign. Be that as it may, he received her Majesty most royally, as the old chaplain, Oliver de la Roche recounts, and gave a splendid banquet, which he fully describes. The table, he says, was four times covered with thirty-six dishes of viands, and lastly, was brought in, "en grande vénération," by eight squires, a whole calf, standing on its legs, well seasoned, with an orange in its mouth; and, when it appeared, the trumpets sounded so loud that it seemed as if the walls shook. On seeing the "dainty dish" that was "set before the Queen," all wished to have a share; and the chaplain relates, with great satisfaction, how he was served himself twice by the Lord of La Hunaudaye.
The dark deeds of the lords of La Hunaudaye have given rise to many a legend. The following is a translation of one of the most popular:—
Legend of La Hunaudaye.
(Translation.)
“When the rock eagle wakes,
And the towers of Hunaudaye
Gleam like three phantom forms
In the morning's sunlight ray;
[pg 064]
When night her darksome wing
Folds round this desert waste,
Shun all this cursed ground—
Traveller flee thou in haste.
“There once—Great Heaven shield
Us all! and no ill arise—
There once—Hush! leave me not;
Hear you, from the ground, low sighs?—
There once—wrapped in the gloom
Of a dark and rainy night,
A man of haughty mien
Knocked at the door of might.
“'Open!' cried he—it turns
On groaning hinge. The rain
Pours, but the frightened guards
Mark neither spot nor stain
On his purple cloak—nor his plumes
Droop wet, yet the torrents fall
Wildly and fast to night,
Beating the castle wall.
“The baron, stern and sad,
Was in his tower alone,
Pacing, with mailed heel,
Upon the echoing stone:
Cried he—'What stranger seeks,
This hour, my castle drear?
Ho! Oliver, Ho! Ralph,
See who intrudeth here.'
“'Heaven shield thee, baron brave!
A strange knight in the hall
Craves audience.' 'Lead him here:
Stay thou and Ralph in call,
At need.' Silent and slow
The purple-mantled knight,
Advancing, paused—his looks
Gleaming unearthly bright.
[pg 065]
“'Who art thou coming thus,
Loud clamouring at my gate,
Thou truly puissant knight,
With not one squire for state?
Knowst thou at word of mine—'
The stranger knight smiled stern,
Replied in awful voice,
'Would'st thou my name? now learn:
Here is my train—behold!'
He cried. There hideous stood
One spectre, then two more—
A sight to chill the blood—
Unveiled their features pale,
All three in cere-cloth dressed,
Opening all wide to point
Where blood flowed from the breast.
“'Baron, these are my guard,'
Said the unknown—'Here, lo!
Thy father's aged form,
By poignard stroke laid low;
Here thy wife, cruelly slain
In the year thy brother fell;
They stand, pale, bleeding, stiff—
Their murderer, can'st thou tell?'
“The phantoms three enlaced
The trembling baron round;
He vainly shrieked—the walls
With demon laughs resound;
The echoing thunders rolled
Along the valley deep;
Lightnings, when pale dawn broke,
Blasted the castle keep.
“It stands a blackened pile;
The ruined gate is there.
But the sky lowers dark,
Oh! traveller flee, beware;
[pg 066]
At this hour the shades of night
Brood o'er the solemn gloom.
Traveller, haste, oh! haste;
Leave this abode of doom.”
It was in the forest of La Hunaudaye that the Chouans of the Côtes du Nord were secretly exercised and drilled by their chief, La Rouërie, under the name of Gosselin, who died of horror on hearing of the execution of thirteen of his confederates betrayed by the physician Chaftal. Gosselin was succeeded by the "Cid" of the Chouan chiefs, Boishardy, called the "Sorcier," who, after his interview with General Humbert, was betrayed and shot by the "Bleus." For twelve years was Brittany cut off from France by this Chouan war, an insurrection even more formidable than that of La Vendée. The peninsular position of Brittany, its vast extent of coasts, its forests, its mountains, its people, speaking a strange language, entirely under the subjection of the priests, rendered it peculiarly