We ascended by the flight of steps to the "Merveille," as the convent building is called, and well it deserves its name, from its elegance, its boldness, and its position, with a wall of above one hundred feet high, and of immense length, rising from the rock and supported by fifteen buttresses, and divided into three stories. In every point of view it is one of the most remarkable edifices of the thirteenth century. The salle des chevaliers, where the chapters of the knights were held, is a fine hall, with three rows of columns, and above it are the beautiful Gothic cloisters. The "préau" or court is surrounded by a double row of pointed arches, interlacing each other, and filled in with flowered spandrils and cornices, carved with the greatest delicacy and endless variety. The church which crowns the building is supported by a circle of enormous columns in the crypt beneath, called the Souterrain des Gros Piliers: it has been [pg 028] entirely restored, and the carvings are the work of the prisoners who were confined here. From one of the doors we went out to the platform or terrace called Beauregard, from the beauty of its prospect, or sometimes Sault Gautier, from a prisoner of that name, who three times threw himself off the platform to commit suicide. The view from hence is most extensive, the whole circuit of the bay extending to the west as far as Cancale. In 1203 St. Michel became a royal demesne, and the buildings were entirely reconstructed by the Abbot Jourdan, assisted by Philip Augustus; and the works were continued by his successors to 1260.
Beneath and adjacent to the Mount, is the little island of La Tombeleine or tombeau d'-Helène, so called from a young lady of that name, who unable to accompany her lover knight when he left for England with the Conqueror, as soon as the vessel which carried him away disappeared from her sight, laid down on the shore and died. Every year, on the anniversary of her death, the fishermen will tell you they see a dove seated upon the Tombeleine rock, and remain there till morning's dawn.
The guide pointed out to us the window of St. Michel, from which Barbès tried to escape by means of a cord made of his sheets cut into strips and tied together; but the line was too short, and he fell upon the rock and was taken up much hurt. The [pg 029] provisions for the fortress are brought in up an inclined plane, and raised by means of a tread-wheel, formerly worked by the prisoners. We were conducted to the spot where stood, with bars only three inches apart, the iron cage in which so many celebrities were immured. Dubourg, the Dutch journalist, who wrote against Louis XIV., died within its bars, devoured, it is said, by the rats. In 1777, the Comte d'Artois (afterwards Charles X.) desired it should be destroyed, but his wishes were disregarded. His cousin, the Duc de Chartres (afterwards Louis Philippe), with his brother and sister, and Madame de Genlis, subsequently visited the Mount. All exclaimed against the iron cage, and when they heard that the Comte d'Artois had ordered its destruction, they sent for hatchets, and the Duc de Chartres gave the first blow towards its demolition; but the fine old fortress is no longer desecrated as a prison. The Emperor has restored it to its original position, and it is now placed under the control of the Bishop of Coutances, and is used as an asylum for orphans under the care of a few Sisters.
Next morning we crossed the boundary between Normandy and Brittany, the river Couësnon, which has often changed its course, once, it is said, running beyond St. Michel—hence the popular saying—
“Le Couësnon par sa folie
A mis le Mont en Normandie.”
We had a beautiful drive to Dol or Dol-de-Bretagne, as it is styled, to distinguish it from the fortress of the same name in the Jura, upon the taking of which Madame de Sevigné writes in her letters with so much enthusiasm. We were now fairly in Brittany, which though geographically part of France still remains very distinct, owing to the Celtic origin of its inhabitants. Brittany consists of five departments; but it is in Lower Brittany alone, comprised in the departments of Finistère, Morbihan, and the Côtes-du-Nord, that the true Celtic race, its language, names, features, costumes, and superstitions are to be found.
This is the true Brittany, the Bretagne Bretonnante of Froissart, who calls the eastern part of the province, La Bretagne Douce, because the French language is spoken there. Dol was the great bulwark of Brittany against Normandy; the wall and moat surrounding the town, with some of the towers, still remain. Many of the houses are built, as the French term it, "en colombage" that is, with the upper story projecting some fifteen feet over the ground-floor, forming a gallery or porch supported by oak posts or columns with sculptured capitals of the thirteenth century. The inn we occupied had one of these porches: Madame Barbot, our landlady, and her maid, were both dressed in Breton costume, with lace-trimmed embroidered [pg 031] caps and aprons of fine muslin, clear-starched and ironed with a perfection which the most accomplished "blanchisseuse du fin" of Paris would find it difficult to surpass. The people here have the Breton physiognomy, sharp black eyes, short roundi faces and brown freckled complexions, a contrast to the blue eyes, long oval faces, and bright tints of their Norman neighbours.
7. Pilaster and Cornice from the
Tomb of Bishop James, Cathedral,
Dol.