The record-union., 1898-09-19

folded between tranquil promontories
wooded to the waters edge. Treguier
port traffics in fish and grain, and the
trading population centers round the
quay. But this stir Of life is hushed
as we mount the hill. Only few re-
tired sea Captains, a sprinkling Of the
local gentry, and the numerous clergy,
find on that peaceful summit an un-
disturbed asylum.
In the first quarter of the present
century a certain Roman, of the fish
clan Of the Remains of Goelo, having
made some money by his fishing smack,
bought and inhabited pleasant home
on the hill, near the cathedral and the
desecrated Episcopal Palace. The
house we speak of is a tall, narrow,
irregular building, no two windows of
a line, whose gable easements COM
mand a pleasant view of hills and
woods seen across an abrupt hillside
flight of steep pitched roofs.
Captain" Renan q. e., Captain Of
his fishing smack was a feckless, mus
ing man, an obstinate dreamer, con-
vinced Of his gift for practical affairs.
Yet man of character, Of silent ten
derness of sentiment, with strain or
melancholy even in his happiest afrec-
tions The name he bore was well
known in Treguier, for his father was
one of the most ardent among the
Republicans Of the place. In those
days, when Charles X was on the
throne, republican opinions were out OF
fashion; but Charles x. had no less
devoted subject than the elder Renan
He, too, was a sailor: it is the Bretons
who chiefly man the navy of France.
On the very morrow Of the coronation
this obstinate old skipper walked down
Treguier High street adorned by an I'M
mense tri-colored cockade.
Il should like to know who VIII
snatch these colors from mel" cried he
mo one, skipper! No one!" an
swered the townsfolk of Treguier, and
taking him by the elbow, they led him
home. For though party passion
ran high in Treguier-aye, even scafT
fold high--a general neighborliness
tempered prejudice: and men who, had
threatened each others heads shorr
while back, showed a willingness to
render each other any kindly service,
while fully aware that on the morrow
the old political quarrel might break
out afresh.
In one Of these hours Of truce the
son Of this stanch old sailor, Captain
Renan-a good Republican himself
had married the daughter Of respect
able Lannion trader. She had been
reared in the religion of the altar and
the throne Her mothers house had
been throughout the Terror the devot-
ed hiding place of non-juring priests.
tbo M
post-revolutionary adventure had left
Captain Remains bride of more mod
ern way of thinking. She was Phil
ippist-an Orleanist, as we should say
to-day-a little lively gypsy of woman,
black as a prune from Agen, and with
Gascon blood in her. She had ever
witty answer ready, and knew how to
defend her opinions and bring the
laugh on her side. Her sharp brilliance
formed the strongest possible contrasts
to the dreamy melancholy of her gen
tie husband.
The Celt is not only religious and po-
litical, he is also innately superstitious.
There We're wonder-working saints and
fairies, and wise women in plenty, on
all the moors round Treguier. When
Ernest Renan was born-a seven
months child-his anxious mother
feared he could not live. Old GUIDE, the
witch, took the babes little shirt and
dipped it in a country holy well. She
came back radiant: He will live after
ALL" she cried, "the two little arms
stretched out, and you should have seen
the whole garment swell and float; he
means to live!" The fairies loved the
child, declared old GUIDE, and had
touched him with their wand before
his birth.
Wise old dame, she saw from the
| first the strength and the charm OF
Ernest Renan; a sort of natural magic,
a sort of immaterial grace. There was
| the fairies kiss Renan almost GER
| tainly exaggerated his debt to a Celtic
ancestry. But this much at least he
owed them: this, and that obstinate
sweetness, that rare fidelity of his
which contrasted so strangely with the
liveliest impressionabilty Of the nerves
And some whilom bard, most surely
tbequeathed him the peculiar music OF
his style, clear as the bell about the
neck Of Tristan's hound, which rang
so sweet that whose heard it forgot his
cares and ALL his sorrow
+ Seven hundred years ago the Celtic
j poets invented a new way Of loving
1 They s discovered a sentiment more
| vague, more tender, than any the