During the civil wars of the sixteenth centuries, Douarnenez was taken by Jacques de Guengat, but was retaken by Fontenelle in 1595 and its houses for the most part demolished, and used to build up the fortifications of the Ile Tristan.
Douarnenez signifies, literally, the land of the isle. The Ile Tristan once contained a priory dedicated to St. Tutarn, but now the chief sights are the lighthouse and a sardine factory. An ancient tradition recounts that the Ile Tristan received its name from the valiant Tristan of Léonais, one of the knights of the Round Table.
Except for the view from the gallery of the great lighthouse, the trip to the island is hardly worth the making. The view from this vantage-point is, however, remarkable; indeed, it is unique, the writer is inclined to think, in all the world. Suffice to say of it that it is unworldly, and yet gay with the workaday coming and going of the sardine fleets, as such a paradoxical description will permit one to imagine. All is peaceful, and yet there is a steady inflow of industry that is in no wise detrimental to its unspoiled tranquillity. Perhaps if an artist lived by the shores of the deep blue and purple waters of this bay for a matter of two score of years, he might do it justice; until then—never.
Concarneau as a port is more interesting than Douarnenez, but the bay of Concarneau, delightful as it is, has not a tithe of the variations that are played upon the gently flowing waters of the bay of Douarnenez by the setting sun.
The peninsula of Crozon shelters the bay of Douarnenez on the north. At one pronged extremity is Roscanvel, jutting out into the roads of Brest, and at the other is Cape de la Chèvre. Between the two is a wonderful country of rock-strewn coast-line and poppy-covered inland fields.
Woman of Chateaulin