It’s beautiful. Very beautiful, actually. “The most beautiful in France“? I don’t know. There’s no such thing as an ugly village in France. They’re all neat, flowery, clean, and you can see the care that went into every corner of every sidewalk. But today we’re talking about Rochefort-en-Terre, so let’s give it its due. Here’s a short video to whet your appetite (if you don’t speak French, don’t worry, you’ll get all the important information later in the article):
Where is it?
And how do you get there (from our château, naturally):
We made it.
A quick taste before we start:
Important: there are two payment machines in the parking lot at the entrance. Usually one doesn’t work, the one closer to the entrance. There’s another one farther in. There are clean public restrooms near the entrance.
In my opinion, the real point here is just to wander the streets and admire the houses. But that doesn’t make much of an article, and Zvi wanted an article. So here are the main sites:
- 1. The parking lot. 2. The tourist office. 3. The château garden. 4. The château ruins. 5. Naia Museum. 5.5. (since I forgot) the church. 6. The Laundress’s House. 7. The Pelican House.
The history of Rochefort
Now for some history. The château around which the village grew was probably founded around 1100 AD, and was then called Roche-Forte (“fortified rock”). I could tell you a bit about the Stone Age and Bronze Age finds discovered here, but Zvi doesn’t share my love for the works of people who didn’t speak French, so let’s skip that.
About two hundred years later, Duke Jean II of Brittany (1239-1305) left us a written record of the political division of Brittany. From it we know that Rochefort-en-Terre was part of the Vannes district, and was at first attached to the seigneury of Elven, but soon became an independent seigneury.
The place’s strategic importance lay in its control of the main road from the port of La Roche-Bernard, at the mouth of the Vilaine river on the ocean, inland to the towns of Malestroit and Ploërmel. This turned what had been a small village into a fairly sizable town. For about 300 years, until the 15th century, the lords of the Rochefort family ruled the place.
The most famous of the lords of Rochefort was Thébaud III de Rochefort, who fought, together with his brother Guy, alongside Charles de Blois (1319-1364) at the Battle of Auray.
The Battle of Auray, fought (unsurprisingly) near the town of Auray in 1364, was one of the decisive battles of the Hundred Years’ War (which lasted 116 years, from 1337 to 1453). That war broke out and dragged on over the conflict between England and France, driven by the English kings’ claims to rights, lands and even the French crown. It ended with England forced to give up its claims, losing its hold on France except for the area around Calais.
The lords of Rochefort fought on the side of the king of France, against the English, who backed Jean de Montfort (John IV, Duke of Brittany, 1339-1399). The Battle of Auray is remembered in French history as one of its three great defeats in the Hundred Years’ War, alongside the battles of Crécy and Poitiers. It was also the first defeat suffered by the commander Bertrand du Guesclin (1320-1380), and you can read about him in Zvi’s article Bertrand du Guesclin: the French war hero who was actually Breton.
It’s hard to overstate the importance of these defeats, even though France ultimately won the war despite them. These defeats marked the end of the age of chivalry, and to a large extent also the end of the feudal period, which had rested on the mounted knight in heavy armor. You might compare it to the declining importance of the modern tank on today’s battlefield, with the rise of cheap, agile anti-tank missiles.
I’d love to go deeper into my military commentary, but its connection to Rochefort-en-Terre is getting thinner by the sentence. Anyway, I managed to sneak some in.
With Thébaud’s death at the Battle of Auray, the dynasty that had ruled Rochefort came to an end, since his brother Guy had no children to inherit the title.
The town then passed to the Rieux-Rochefort family, under whom it thrived even more. One of its famous sons was Jean II, who fought alongside the commanders du Guesclin and Olivier de Clisson (1336-1407) (taking turns, presumably, since the two also fought each other). Another notable figure was Pierre de Rochefort, who reached the rank of marshal (roughly equivalent to a division commander today) in the French army by age 28, following in his father’s footsteps. He fought alongside Joan of Arc (c. 1412-1431) in the liberation of Orléans, but was later ambushed by English supporters and died in captivity.
One could go on endlessly about the history of the lords of Rochefort, but it’s time to note that while the nobles brought honor to the town, it was the local craftsmen, weavers, stonemasons, builders, carpenters and clockmakers, who brought the bread and wine. In the 16th century the houses on Rochefort’s main street were built, and this is a good opportunity to leave history behind and get out into the field.
The picture at the top of this article shows a restaurant located right at the start of the street.
Right next to it, on the left, you’ll see an old well:
A few dozen meters farther, on the left, there’s a delicatessen that sells a simply wonderful apple pastry:
In the square that’s home to the local tourist office (number 2 on the map), there are benches:
And that’s exactly the spot to open the bag holding that buttery pastry with the apple melting in your mouth:
Let’s continue along the main street to the fork where a path branches off up to the château garden:
The garden (number 3 on the map) is lovely for a slow walk along the avenue leading up to the château:
Not much remains of the château (number 4 on the map), really just the wall at the end of the avenue. The château was first destroyed in 1594, rebuilt, but was finally destroyed during the French Revolution, before the eyes of Marie-Paul, the last count of Rochefort.
To the right of the château ruins there’s a small, unusual museum: Naia Museum (number 5 on the map). It’s named after a local witch who, as far as I know, was still remembered by the village elders in the 20th century. The museum itself has a fantastic exhibit that’s hard to describe in words. Admission is 7 euros.
Let’s retrace our steps back to the main street, but this time, facing the direction we entered the village from, we’ll turn right down to the church (number 5.5 on the map). The church is called Notre-Dame de la Tronchaye.
According to legend, the church was built on the spot where the little shepherd girl from the (local) valley found a statue of the Virgin nursing Jesus, hidden inside a hollow tree trunk, apparently placed there in the 12th century during a Viking raid on the village. The dates don’t quite add up for me, since Viking raids in Europe stopped after William the Conqueror’s victory at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, but let’s not let small details get in the way of a good miracle.
A lovely stained-glass window commemorates the event:
From the sacred to the mundane: let’s move on from the church to point 6 on the map, the Laundress’s House.
Listen closely. Gossip builds character.
“Did you hear? They say some American painter, Alfred Klots, bought the château, and he’s going to rebuild it…”
“You don’t say!!! Those Americans…”
Good thing we were listening.
And indeed, in 1907 the painter Alfred Klots, truly American just as the gossips said, bought the château ruins and restored them.
Here’s what it looks like today:
By the way, aside from restoring the château, old Klots is also responsible for Rochefort’s beauty. In 1911 he launched a competition, with prizes, for whichever villager decorated their house with the most flowers, and the result is what we see today.
And now, friends, point 7 on the map. The Pelican House. Today it’s a bar and restaurant, nothing sets it apart from its counterparts in the village or anywhere else in France, except its name: the Pelican, and even in that, it’s not alone.
But that’s exactly the point. The name. I first came across it while writing about Malestroit and saw it displayed on the corner of a picturesque house facing the church:
So, listen up: the pelican, or more precisely the mother pelican, holds a special place in French villages. According to a legend rooted in old Celtic tradition, when a mother pelican can’t find food for her chicks, she pecks at her own breast, tears off pieces of flesh, and feeds her chicks with her blood and flesh.
When Christianity arose, its missionaries seized on this legend for obvious reasons: the idea of self-sacrifice in flesh and blood fits perfectly with Jesus, who redeems us through his wounds and blood (well, not us exactly, he mostly just brought us trouble).
Recently, though, some scientists have claimed that observations by experienced birdwatchers show that pelicans, male and female alike, do indeed strike their huge beaks against their chests, but not to tear off flesh, quite the opposite: to clean leftover fish from their beaks. But let’s not listen to such nonsense, because if that were true, who would name a bar and restaurant in Rochefort after this bird?
That’s all for today, Francophiles.
Bonjour and au revoir.
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