Perennial problem

I'm writing about Morlaix for a new guide to Finistère, and the creation of the text soon brings up the perennial problem of guidebooks. It's important to write about the famous viaduct, a work of art as much as functional architecture. When and why it was built are essentials. How it transformed journey times between Brest and Paris must certainly be mentioned to give the economic context of such a major construction. Then of course it's necessary to describe the RAF bombing raid on January 29 1943 that killed 67 civilians. Surely people will want to know that of those victims, 39 were children between the ages of 4 and 7, studying the catechism with their teacher in a school at the western end of the viaduct, not least because a little chapel 'of the angels' built in its place to mark their collective burial on the spot can be visited today. And that's really as far as I can go.
There's no room to write about the painful religious manoeuvrings that presented the tragedy as God's will, a new 'Slaughter of the Innocents', the children as chosen martyrs for the redemption of others (a stance which not surprisingly roused some of their parents to anger). And how barely a word was spared for the other 20 who died. Or the political repercussions and attempts to stir anti-English feeling: La Bretagne's headline on February 1 read 'Raid terroriste de l'aviation anglo-américaine sur Morlaix. Or to analyze the extraordinary decision of the allies to make such a day-time raid where large loss of civilian life was highly likely instead of targeting other viaducts carrying the same railway across other valleys in the middle of unpopulated countryside. Or the fact that only one arch of the viaduct was hit, and that the Germans had the trains running normally again only eight days later...

Morlaix guided tour

I was in Morlaix again yesterday giving a guided visit to a small group of British people who (mostly) live in the area. The focus was on the river, a confluence of the Jarlot and the Queffleuth, which flows out 24 kilometres beyond the town into the Channel at Carantec, past the Chateau du Taureau, a fortified island.

The original impetus for establishing the latter in 1544 was an up-river raid by the English in 1522 which led to the sacking of Morlaix and severe economic hardship before the medieval port could recover its prosperity. This was based primarily on the cloth trade with England and Spain, although paper, leather and butter were other exports. Morlaix was also an important stop on the wine route from southern to northern Europe.
A more unusual economic strength was the tobacco industry, established on the Quai de Léon in 1736, having started out at the Manoir de Penanru on the opposite bank about fifty years earlier. Success demanded larger premises as the huge structure which remains today indicates. The factory only closed in 2004, although by then only 38 workers out of the thousand-odd employed in the heyday remained. Apart from the cigar production for which 'La Manufacture' was well-known, the business was also socially progressive, providing a creche, literacy classes and sick-pay.
We also had a look at the memorial of Tristan Corbière (and his father Edouard), and I read a short extract of the La Pastorale de Conlie to give the flavour of this avant-garde poet who died at 30 with just one self-published volume - Les Amours Jaune - to his name. His posthumous fame came from the acclaim of Verlaine: 'son vers vit, rit, pleure très peu, se moque bien et blague encore mieux.' The scandal of Conlie, during the Franco-Prussian war in 1870, where Breton conscripts were kept in camp in appalling conditions apparently because French generals feared 'an army of Chouans' (the counter-Revolutionary movement that had seen strong support in the Vendée and parts of Brittany) is a powerfully sour memory in Franco-Breton relations. The Bretons were finally sent ill-equipped into battle as canon-fodder: the French baying "Good dogs" as Corbière puts it.

The final stage of our tour was to the grounds of the Chateau de Kernanroux, where we got some much-needed shade from the strong sun, and did a little tour of the dovecote, cascade, lake and ruined medieval chapel with its fine carving. This is a concessionary route, with no access to the chateau itself apart from a brief glimpse of the rear façade if you continue along the GR footpath to the village of Ploujean. The sunken heart of the park around the lake feels like a secret place, and it well provided the 'special' element I always like to add to a guided visit.

More Morlaix

In Morlaix yesterday for various things and dropped into Skol Vreizh, publishers of books in Breton, for a look at the very moving exhibition of poetry by Naig Rozmor, who used her creativity as a defence against dementia. 'There have been times of sunshine in my life because I learned how to chase away the rain.'
Skol Vreizh have their offices in the former tobacco factory, affectionately known as 'La Manu,' which was built in 1736 after the growing tobacco industry - a royal monopoly - outgrew its earliest manifestation in the nearby Manoir de Penanru. La Manufacture des tabacs was an important employer in the town with up to 1000 local workers, who benefited from enlightened provisions such as a creche, sick pay and pensions, as well as literacy classes. The site continued to function until 2004 and remains a striking example of industrial architecture, although sporting a sadly neglected air today despite housing many offices and artisanal workshops. Does Morlaix recognise and understand the growing trend towards industrial heritage tourism? It would have been a great location for a Morlaix museum, something scandously lacking a proper venue for many years. What other town with such a history fails to present a coherent image of itself to visitors?