The page did as he was bidden, but as for the plate of gold it was useless, for Fontenelle's head was thrown on the pavement to serve as a ball for the children of the gutter.

All Paris was surprised when one day a lady from a distant country arrived and made great stir in its narrow streets. Every one asked his neighbour who this dame might be. It was the heiress of Coadelan, dressed in a flowing robe of green. "Alas!" said the pitiful burgesses, "if she knew what we know she would be dressed in black."

Shortly she stood before the King. "Sire," said she, "give me back my husband, I beg of you."

"Alas! madam," replied the King, with feigned sorrow, "what you ask is impossible, for but three days ago he was broken on the wheel."

"Whoso goes to Coadelan to-day will turn away from it with grief, for the ashes are black upon the hearth and the nettles crowd around the doorway--and still," the ballad ends navely, "still the wicked world goes round and the poor folk weep with anguish, and say, 'Alas that she is dead, the mother of the poor.'"

_The Return from England_

There is a good deal of evidence to show that a considerable body of Bretons accompanied the invading army of William the Conqueror when he set forth with the idea of gaining the English crown. They were attached to his second battle corps, and many of them received land in England. A ballad which, says Villemarque, bears every sign of antiquity deals with the fortunes of a young Breton, Silvestik, who followed in the train of the Conqueror. The piece is put into the mouth of the mother of Silvestik, who mourns her son's absence, and its tone is a tender and touching one.

"One night as I lay on my bed," says the anxious mother, "I could not sleep. I heard the girls at Kerlaz singing the song of my son. O G.o.d, Silvestik, where are you now? Perhaps you are more than three hundred leagues from here, cast on the great sea, and the fishes feed upon your fair body. Perhaps you may be married now to some Saxon damsel.

You were to have been wed to a lovely daughter of this land, Mannak de Pouldergat, and you might have been among us surrounded by beautiful children, dwelling happily in your own home.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FINDING OF SILVESTIK]

"I have taken to my door a little white dove which sits in a small hollow of the stone. I have tied to his neck a letter with the ribbon of my wedding-dress and have sent it to my son. Arise, my little dove, arise on your two wings, fly far, very far across the great sea, and discover if my son is still alive and well."

Silvestik rested in the shade of an English wood, and as he did so a familiar note fell upon his ear.

"That sound resembles the voice of my mother's little white dove," he said. The sound grew louder; it seemed to say, "Good luck to you, Silvestik, good luck to you. I have here a letter for you."

Silvestik in high happiness read the letter, and resolved to return home to his sorrowing parent.

Two years pa.s.sed, three years pa.s.sed, and the dove did not return to delight the heart of the longing mother, who day by day walked the dismal seash.o.r.e waiting for the vessel that never came. One day of storm she was wandering on the beach as usual when she saw a vessel being driven with great force upon the iron coast. Even as she watched it it dashed upon the rocks. Soon there were cast upon the sh.o.r.e the forms of many dead, and when the gale abated and the heart-sick mother was able to search among them she found Silvestik!

Several competent judges are of opinion that this ballad is contemporary with the events which it relates. Many of the Breton lords who sailed with William the Conqueror did not return for several years after the expedition had accomplished its object, and some not at all. Nothing is known regarding the hero. The bird is frequently the messenger between lovers in ballad literature, but it is seldom that it is found carrying letters between a mother and her son--indeed, this is perhaps the only instance known.

_The Marriage-Girdle_

This ballad has reference to the Breton expedition which sailed for Wales in 1405 to a.s.sist the Welsh under Owen Glendower to free their princ.i.p.ality from the English yoke. The Bretons rendered material a.s.sistance to their Welsh brothers, and had the satisfaction on their return of knowing that they had accomplished that which no French king had ever been able to achieve--the invasion of English territory. The expedition was commanded by Jean de Rieux, Marshal of France, and numbered ten thousand men.

The ballad tells how a young man on the morning after his betrothal received orders to join the standard of de Rieux "to help the Bretons oversea." It was with bitterness in his heart, says the lover, that he entered the house of his betrothed with the object of bidding her farewell. He told her that duty called him, and that he must go to serve in England. At this her tears gushed forth, and she begged him not to go, reminding him how changeful was the wind and how perfidious the sea.

"Alas!" said she, "if you die what shall I do? In my impatience to have news of you my heart will break. I shall wander by the seash.o.r.e, from one cottage to another, asking the sailors if they have heard tell of you."

"Be comforted, Aloda," said her lover, "and do not weep on my account. I will send you a girdle from over the sea, a girdle of purple set with rubies."

They parted at daybreak, he to embark on the sea, she to weep, and as he sought his ship he could hear the magpies cackle: "If the sea is changeable women are even more so."

When the autumn had arrived the young girl said: "I have looked far over the sea from the heights of the mountains of Arez. I have seen upon the waters a ship in danger, and I feel that upon it was him whom I love. He held a sword in his hand, he was engaged in a terrible combat, he was wounded to death and his garments were covered with blood. I am certain that he is dead."

And before many weeks had pa.s.sed she was affianced to another.

Then good news arrived in the land. The war was finished and the cavalier returned to his home with a gay heart. No sooner had he refreshed himself than he went to seek his beloved. As he approached her dwelling he heard the sound of music, and observed that every window in the house was illuminated as if for a festival. He asked some revellers whom he met outside the cause of this merrymaking, and was told that a wedding was proceeding.

It is the custom in Brittany to invite beggars to a wedding, and when these were now admitted one of them asked hospitality for the night.

This was at once granted him, but he sat apart, sad and silent. The bride, observing this, approached him and asked him why he did not join in the feasting. He replied that he was weary with travel and that his heart was heavy with sorrow. Desirous that the marriage festivities should not flag, the bride asked him to join her in the dance, and he accepted the invitation, saying, however, that it was an honour he did not merit.

Now while they danced he came close to her and murmured in her ear:

"What have you done with the golden ring that you received from me at the door of this very house?"

The bride stared at him in wild dismay. "Oh, heaven," she cried, "behold, I have now two husbands! I who thought I was a widow!"

"You think wrongly, _ma belle_," hissed the beggar; "you will have no husband this side of the grave," and drawing a dagger from under his cloak he struck the lady to the heart.

In the abbey of Daoulas there is a statue of the Virgin decorated with a splendid girdle of purple sparkling with rubies, which came from across the sea. If you desire to know who gave it to her, ask of a repentant monk who lies prostrate on the gra.s.s before the figure of the Mother of G.o.d.

It is strange that the faithless damsel should have alleged that she saw her lover perish in a naval combat when in the very year to which the circ.u.mstances of the ballad refer (1405) a Breton fleet encountered and defeated an English flotilla several leagues from Brest. "The combat was terrible," says a historian of the Dukes of Burgundy, "and was animated by the ancient hate between the English and the Bretons." Perhaps it was in this sea-fight that the lady beheld her lover; and if, as she thought, he was slain, she scarcely deserves the odium which the balladeer has cast upon her memory.

_The Combat of Saint-Cast_

This ballad somewhat belies its name, for it has some relation to an extraordinary incident which was the means rather of preventing than precipitating a battle. In 1758 a British army was landed upon the sh.o.r.es of Brittany with the object of securing for British merchant ships safety in the navigation of the Channel and of creating a diversion in favour of the German forces, then our allies. A company of men from Lower Brittany, from the towns of Treguier and Saint-Pol-de-Leon, says Villemarque, were marching against a detachment of Scottish Highlanders. When at a distance of about a mile the Bretons could hear their enemies singing a national song. At once they halted stupefied, for the air was one well known to them, which they were accustomed to hear almost every day of their lives.

Electrified by the music, which spoke to their hearts, they arose in their enthusiasm and themselves sang the patriotic refrain. It was the Highlanders' turn to be silent. All this time the two companies were nearing one another, and when at a suitable distance their respective officers commanded them to fire; but the orders were given, says the tradition, "in the same language," and the soldiers on both sides stood stock-still. Their inaction, however, lasted but a moment, for emotion carried away all discipline, the arms fell from their hands, and the descendants of the ancient Celts renewed on the field of battle those ties of brotherhood which had once united their fathers.

However unlikely this incident may seem, it appears to be confirmed by tradition, if not by history. The air which the rival Celts sang is, says Villemarque,[49] common to both Brittany and "the Highlands of Scotland." With the music before me, it seems to bear a marked resemblance to The _Garb of Old Gaul_, composed by General Reid (1721-1807). Perhaps Reid, who was a Highlander, based his stirring march on an older Celtic theme common to both lands.

_The Song of the Pilot_

One of the most famous of Breton nautical traditions tells of the chivalry displayed by a Breton crew toward the men of a British warship. During the American War of Independence much enthusiasm was excited in France in connexion with the valiant struggle for liberty in which the American colonies were engaged. A number of Breton ships received letters of marque enabling them to fight on the American side against Great Britain, and these attempted to blockade British commerce. The _Surveillante_, a Breton vessel commanded by Couedic de Kergoaler, encountered the British ship _Quebec_, commanded by Captain Farmer. In the course of the action the _Surveillante_ was nearly sunk by the British cannonade and the _Quebec_ went on fire. But Breton and Briton, laying aside their swords, worked together with such goodwill that most of the British crew were rescued and the _Surveillante_ was saved, although the _Quebec_ was lost, and this notwithstanding that nearly every man of both crews had been wounded in the fighting.

I have here attempted a very free translation of the stirring ballad which relates this noteworthy incident, which cannot but be of interest at such a time as the present.

THE SONG OF THE PILOT

Yo ho, ye men of Sulniac!

We ship to-day at Vannes, We sail upon a glorious track To seek an Englishman.

Our saucy sloop the _Surveillante_ Must keep the seaways clear From Ushant in the north to Nantes: Aboard her, timoneer!

See, yonder is the British craft That seeks to break blockade; St George's banner floats abaft Her lowering carronade.

A flash! and lo, her thunder speaks, Her iron tempest flies Beneath her bows, and seaward breaks, And hissing sinks and dies.

Thunder replied to thunder; then The ships rasped side by side, The battle-hungry Breton men A boarding sally tried, But the stern steel of Britain flashed, And spite of Breton vaunt The lads of Morbihan were dashed Back on the _Surveillante_.

Then was a grim encounter seen Upon the seas that day.

Who yields when there is strife between Britain and Brittany?

Shall Lesser Britain rule the waves And check Britannia's pride?

Not while her frigate's oaken staves Still cleave unto her side!

But hold! hold! see, devouring fire Has seized the stout _Quebec_.

The seething sea runs high and higher, The _Surveillante's_ a wreck.

Their cannon-shot has breached our side, Our bolts have fired the foe.