Research Deep Dive: Crossing the Elorn
One thing I love about doing research for my fantasy series, Kroashent, is coming across fascinating snippets of primary sources describing very specific historical events, often ignored by broad strokes history. A recent deep dive on a small region of France called "Plougastel" led to a series of 19th century descriptions of crossing the Elorn River. Located on a peninsula between the river and a larger body of water, the only "reliable" way to enter the region was across the river. (The following are translated from French):
"The very green shore of Elorn is full of bizarre rocks that affect the shape of ruins. The path rises in the middle of orchards and fields with fairly rich vegetation: it is here that the most fruits are harvested in the whole surrounding countryside, the cultivation of the strawberry above all is done on a large scale and nothing, it seems, is more curious, at the time of the season, than the long lines of [train] cars aligned along the road, waiting for their turn to pass. β
βAs the river is oriented to the west, in the direction of the gull [A passage leading to the Atlantic Ocean], when the sea is stormy to the west and southwest, the passage of the ferry is often impossible: the high easterly winds also produce a sufficiently violent surf to sometimes prevent docking and compromise the safety of the boats in the creek, which is 100 m long and 50 m wide. This creek serves as a shelter for the so-called Plougastel boats which exclusively provide a transport to the Harbor of Brest.β
La barque de Plougastel (Ferdinand Perrot, 1808-1841)
In 1890, a bridge over the Elorn collapsed during the Pardon (A Breton Cultural procession and a whole other topic) of St. John. A hundred people fell into the water and 7 drowned. The June 27th edition of La Presse blames the disaster on poor organization, and praises the heroes who saved the majority of the victims. There's also something about a shark, but the newspaper clipping I found is hard to read.
"Left Kerhuon station, we arrive the banks of the Elorn and go into a tub to cross it. Women returning from the market, strong, flourishing, laughing, grab gigantic oars and have fun rowing by singing a song, while the boatmen, happy with this momentary rest, laugh at the provocative poses they take pulling back with the effort. They wear coiffes with curved wings, floating ribbons, colored belts and some short hoods. The sailors are capped with a red wool cap, similar to that of the convicts, strapped with a wide belt of the same tinted and dressed in a white or blue jacket lined with bone buttons"
(The Coiffe, traditional headdress of Plougastel)
Now, this is very interesting to me for a few reasons, because it really captures a moment in time, but also because of an interesting detail of the "red cap", which has an incredibly complex role in French culture and history. Tangent incoming.
In 1675, Western Brittany erupted in rebellion over a Stamp Tax, in an uprising called the "Red Cap Revolt", due to the red caps worn by the rebels. This iconic aesthetic became a symbol of French revolutionary zeal, especially during the 1790 Revolution (The Big One), where it became a symbol of working class revolution and to mock the wigs of the nobility and fancy hats of the clergy. (Brittany at the time had a reputation of being full of impoverished, working class peasants and was a major hotbed of the Revolution and Reign of Terror). The red cap was adopted as a symbol of citizenship and revolution. It appeared in protests, political cartoons and in the mass executions by guillotine. Interestingly, in 1792, Convicts were forbidden from wearing the hat. A red cap was even placed atop the spire of Strasbourg Cathedral to prevent its destruction in 1794!
Following the restoration of the French Monarchy in 1815, but remained an indelible part of French culture, even appearing as the symbol of the 2024 Paris Olympics!
(Image is from a Bande-Dessinee, but I can't seem to find which one to source...)
So I find it very interesting that in 1892, Mssr. Clouard associates the cap with "forçats" (Forced labour convicts). Its a fascinating bit of history nestled into a tiny snapshot of a guy crossing a river to a remote peninsula. Back to the river.
"The ferryman is there, who is waiting for me. A figure of old fisherman, twist and cooked under the beret. β¦ By the modest sum of two sous, I embark, the old man lights his pipe and sails, and three minutes later, I am in front of the tiny port of Passage [de Saint-Jean], a real toy port with a miniature quay, terminal circled with iron, customs hut and, swinging on the waves, three or four fishermen's boats"
I love some of the term "port-joujou" (Toy Port). Mssr. Martel is from Marseille, so I feel he is allowed to have a somewhat judgy, but cute take on this little river landing with 5 boats in it.
In 1907, a steam ferry came to town, to the dismay of the locals. The ferry was expensive and inconveniently timed, and drove all the local ferrymen out of business. When it wasn't in operation, people had to drive all the way up to a different crossing upriver, as they had to do in the middle ages!!! Its a great example of the conflict between the industrial age and traditional local customs, as the "progress" of industrialization actually inconvenienced everyone!
in 1930, a bridge was built, but the ferries returned during WWII when the fleeing German army blew up the bridge.
I hope you enjoyed this little deep dive into history with me. I find it fascinating that so much history can come out of a little crossing over a small river in a remote part of the world. The crossing at Plougastel offers us a glimpse of a community grappling with national identity and the march of industry. But it also shows us something special. Laughing women playing and singing on a river, writers from far off cities and locals on their daily commute sharing a brief moment of connection, and the men and women who connected these tiny points on the map.
