The Day I Became a Breton Separatist
I made my research and found that a rare opportunity had presented itself for me to see Clarisse Lavanant perform. From her web site I found that she had a concert at the small village of St-Aubin-du-Cormier, which remarkably was accessible in both directions by bus from my base in Rennes on a Sunday. Little matter that I could find no reference to the venue, Mémorial Aux Bretons in Google Maps. It’s only a small village so I knew I could find it.
I had done a litte research and found that Clarisse’s performance was part of a commemoration of the Bataille de St-Aubin du Cormier, a battle between the French and the Bretons on 28th July, 1488 which ultimately led to the loss of Breton independence. We were invited to take a picnic lunch and make a day of it. And the weather forecast was good. What could go wrong? And so I set off.
The bus trip was a hoot. We got half way out of Rennes when our progress came to a dead halt. A significant car accident had blocked the road and our driver had to improvise a new way out of town and more importantly back onto the designated route causing a delay of about 20 minutes. Eventually we made it out of town and on to the highway.
But clearly we had a novice driver, or at least an inductee to the route. At one roundabout we made full use of the facility and circumnavigated it 415 degrees before she chose an exit pointing to Liffré, the next town on the way. Once we had reached Liffré the bus suddenly stopped amidships a roundabout and there ensued a conversation between driver and passengers on where to go to next. She had missed a turn and on these narrow roads compensating for a missed turn involved driving to the local swimming centre car park which provided enough room to turn the bus around, take a few passenger directions and resume the course towards Fougères.
But I made it to St-Aubin-du-Cormier, alighting alone to find my way to the event. Very quickly I found my way from the bus stop to the centre of town, and straight away found a great map of the town and the area. One small problem – there was no mention of Mémorial Aux Bretons anywhere. There was a chateau so I thought “perhaps it’s near there”. Good castle ruin but no memorial. Good large camping ground nearby but no memorial. Ghost town by the way. Everything was closed and almost no one was about.
After a frustrating hour of unsuccessful searching I was starting to feel rather foolish. This was a long way to come to see absolutely nothing. Fortunately I found some locals relaxing outside a local café (it was closed), and eventually at the 2nd attempt I found someone who knew about the memorial and most importantly, where it is.
The town map - sans reference to a memorial
“Vous avez une voiture?”
Me: “Non”
“Vous avez un velo?”
Me: “non, mais je peut marché aux pieds”
And so he consulted Google Maps and said I was to head for la Giraudais by going to the motorway and following the signs to Combourg. Estimated walking time: 62 minutes! So with wishes of "good luck" (yes, in English) I set off to the concert in my throng of one. And with only 80 minutes to go until the start of the concert.
By this time I had become an expert in French country roadway walking. It involves walking along the left hand verge of the road and being prepared to throw yourself in the ditch or the gorse at short notice should a car come too close. (to be fair drivers were very considerate often taking the other side of the road to ensure they gave me a wide berth). But it really helps if two cars going in opposite directions do not cross at the point where I am walking.
Mémorial Aux Bretons - situated discreetly in a small clearing by the side of the road
Eventually, after navigating several roundabouts, and faithfully following the signs to Combourg I came across a sign which pointed to the memorial and ultimately the memorial itself. But there was no one around! 40 minutes to go until the event and not a soul to be seen or heard. This was feeling more and more like a search for the holy grail.
I looked through the forest behind the memorial and I saw a flash of a white shirt so I set off after it, eventually meeting Loic, who was in the same quandary. Somehow together we navigated the paths, a field and a ditch until we found an assembly of around 30 people seated at some picnic tables, drinking beer and cider and having a very civil time of it.
At last, a throng.
How the forces lined up
Hanging at one end of the covered area was a map of the Bataille de St-Aubin-du-Cormier showing the positioning and numbers of the opposing forces. According to the mab web site historians speak of a “melée terrible” and then a “massacre considérable". The Breton losses were comparatively large. Duke Francis II's authority was weakened and Brittany was annexed by France 44 years later.
I relaxed and enjoyed my picnic lunch of bread, cheese and saucission washed down with a glass of sparkling cider I purchased from the stall. Shortly before 3.00pm there were a couple of announcements and it became clear we should make our way to the Mémorial which was a few hundred metres away. It had now been dressed with Breton flags and a large portrait of Glenmor, the nationalist Breton poet seen as the father of the modern Breton independence movement which emerged in the 1960s. There was a large sword planted into the ground in front of the memorial draped with a blue ribbon or scarf.
The crowd had grown to perhaps 150 by now and after one good speech and a couple of longer not so good speeches (you can never really tell, but I sensed some impatience among the gathering), there I was singing the Breton anthem, Bro Gozh ma Zadoù, in Breizh, led by Clarisse!
O! Breizh, ma bro, me 'gar ma bro.
Tra ma vo mor 'vel mur 'n he zro,
Ra vezo digabestr ma bro!
There were more speeches – clearly I was in the presence of a couple of very serious Breton nationalists who spoke with a passion that suggested that their whole lives have been/are devoted to the cause. The main demand at the moment seems to be for a proper monument to be constructed (and funded) by the French state. Although there was also mention of "crowdfunding" (the Académie Française appears not to have developed its own proper French word in this regard at this time)
And then the cops arrived!
But it was all very friendly. The only matter they were interested to resolve was that of a vehicle partially blocking the roadway nearby. And clearly, for all its passion, our group was not about to reverse the fortunes of the French State, or the result of 1488.
The speeches begin
Vive la revolution, but don't block the road!
Clarisse was eventually allowed to sing some more and so we were treated to a brief set sung "a capella". She invoked the legacy of Glenmor and finished with the wonderful “J’avais cinq enfants”. She has a beautiful voice and it was a particular pleasure to hear her sing in this intimate environment among her people.
Clarisse had come prepared so I was able to purchase a copy of her latest CD (with Dan Ar Braz), Harmonie which she kindly autographed for me. Un bon souvenir!
The trip home was a lot simpler than the trip out. Loic had a car and offered me a lift back to Rennes. He even knew the way. Relying solely upon my French, our conversation was somewhat limited but I established that he is an electrician, and a former competitive water polo player. When he played for Fougères they were champions of France!
So a near disaster of a day turned out just perfectly in the end.
