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Bretons and Britons The Fight
for Identity
Barry Cunliffe
Oxford: University Press, 2021 Hardback. x+472 pp. ISBN 978-0198851622. £25
Reviewed by Hugh Clout University College London
Some sixty years ago
Barry Cunliffe, professor emeritus at Oxford University, was introduced to the
archaeology of Brittany during a lecture given at Cambridge. Now he draws on
the intervening decades of scientific endeavour to produce a splendid account
and interpretation of the Breton past. His two-fold objective is to craft a
narrative extending from prehistoric times to the beginning of the twentieth
century, and ‘to explore the fascinating subject of identity: how a people
living in a remote peninsula of Europe … created and fought to maintain a
distinctive culture’ [vii]. As its title suggests, his volume is also a
commemoration of centuries of contact between Brittany and western Britain,
indeed also with other parts of Atlantic Europe such as Galicia, Wales, and
Ireland. In its author’s words, this book is ‘a labour of love written to
celebrate the forces that have bound our two countries [Brittany and Britain],
and in profound appreciation of the ever-fascinating Breton countryside. Above
all, it is a tribute to the remarkable resilience of the Breton people’ [viii]. In a succinct
prologue, Professor Cunliffe explains how the land-bound French called ‘the
western extremity of the continent “Finistère”, the end of the earth. But to
the inhabitants their peninsula was the centre of the world: it was the rest of
Europe that was peripheral’ [1]. Remote peninsulas and islands exercise special
fascination since, ‘to distinguish themselves from outsiders, their communities
spend much effort in defining and protecting their cultural identity’ [1].
Bretons, of course, follow this rule and worked tirelessly ‘to safeguard their
culture and to intensify their differences with the land neighbours, the better
to distinguish themselves from the alien other’ [1]. In this quest, the sea proved
all-important providing ‘a barrier to unwanted outside interference while at
the same time allowing maritime networks to develop, offering connectivity. By
embracing overseas neighbours and becoming part of a broader community,
peninsula dwellers can further enhance their culture in contrast to their
continental neighbours’ [1]. Links between Armorica (Brittany) and the British
Isles began to be forged seven thousand years ago and enabled ‘many generations
of Bretons to look to their British [and Irish] neighbours as compatriots whose
values they shared, while the neighbouring French were considered to be a
threat’ [2]. In the past, Parisians placed Brittany ‘on the edge of the
familiar world’, comprising an array of ‘distant and peripheral, irrational places
where reality fades into fantasy’ [2], with mysterious enchanted forests and magic
fountains where strange rites were enacted. During the nineteenth century, the
remoteness of Brittany gave rise to ‘a wistful nostalgia’ embracing ‘primitive
people untouched by the corrupting grasp of civilization’ whose alleged simplicity
was to be envied [2]. Having established objectives and context, Cunliffe
provides an elegant résumé of the geography of Brittany (land, sea, networks of
communication, harbours) with ocean-facing ‘Armor’ contrasting with
once-forested ‘Argoat’, and eastern ‘Haute-Bretagne’ differing from western
‘Basse-Bretagne’. He argues that Armorica ‘always has been a huddle of different
pays each with distinctive characteristics and each, until recent times,
speaking its own dialect of the Breton language. ‘It is a patchwork born of
geography’ [31]. This account is accompanied by a suite of full-colour maps,
diagrams and photographs which form a particularly appealing feature of the
whole book. The greater part of Bretons
and Britons is devoted to the Breton past, from ‘clearing the land,
6000-2700 BC’ in chapter 2 to ‘rebellions and a revolution, 1532-1802’ in
chapter 9. In earlier chapters the approach is emphatically archaeological,
with Cunliffe quoting results from many of his own scientific enquiries as well
as those of Breton confrères. Later chapters are fashioned from a digest
of documentary and literary sources. The present review is not the place to
retell the complex story of Breton history, but mention will be made of
distinctive phases when contact occurred between Brittany and Britain. Thus,
during 4300-3900 BC, it is likely that ‘migrants from Armorica were moving
northwards to settle in the west of Wales and Scotland, in the north and west
of Ireland, and possibly in south-western Britain’ [77]. Between 2700 and 600
BC ‘hide boats and plank-built vessels would have been used both in coastal
trade and in cross-Channel sailing, greatly facilitating the connectivity
between western Armorica and Wessex’ thereby leading to ‘a remarkable
convergence of culture on both sides of the Channel’ [105]. From 600 to 50 BC,
tin was exported from Cornwall to France, serving as the driver for intensity
of contact and thereby creating ‘friends across the sea’ [139]. During the ‘Roman
interlude 50 BC-AD 400’, cross-Channel trade expanded, with amphorae once
containing wine being found in Poole harbour, and Armorica witnessed the appearance
of Roman towns, roads, and administrative systems, especially in its eastern
part. After 400 the grasp of imperial Rome was shattered by peasants’ revolts
in areas away from nodes of Roman power. In response to the westward movement
of Saxons across southern Britain, emigration from the British Isles ‘probably
began in the early decades of the fifth century and continued over the next two
centuries but of the history and process of the migration we know very little’ [205].
How it was organised, if at all, is unknown. What is clear is that Breton
dialects and placenames acquired many features present in the Cornish and Welsh
languages. Migration of holy men (‘saints’) from Britain led to the foundation
of churches and monasteries. In some cases, standing stones from earlier times
were taken over and rededicated by Christians, with crosses being added on top.
A clear distinction emerged between a ‘late Brittonic zone’ in the west of the
peninsula and a ‘Gallo-Roman zone’ in the east that was under the influence of
Franks and Saxons. Cunliffe declares that the 350 years after the collapse of
Roman rule ‘saw Armorica become Brittany [but this] was a complex and turbulent
transformation bereft of a clear, reliable narrative’ [232]. Viking raids on
the eastern march of Brittany led to an exodus of members of the Breton elite
to the court of the Wessex kings thereby suggesting that ‘close relations were
maintained between royal households on either side of the Channel’ [263].
However, it was the Norman conquest of 1066 that unleashed a flood of Bretons on
England since the invading force contained many warriors from the peninsula. By
the time of the Domesday Survey of 1086 ‘as much as a fifth of the land of
England was in Breton hands’ [263], especially in East Anglia, Yorkshire and
the south-west. During the later Middle
Ages, the kings of France and England ‘used Brittany as a pawn – a convenient
place to play out their power struggles’ [267]. Areas surrounding Rennes and
Nantes functioned as ‘a buffer between the Breton peninsula and Norman and
Angevin neighbours’ [270]. Breton independence started to unravel in the late
fifteenth century when Anne, Duchess of Brittany, married the king of France
Charles VIII and, following his death, Louis XII. Integration of Brittany and
France was formalised by treaty in 1532, with historic rights and privileges
enjoyed by Bretons being guaranteed. At this time, coastal stretches of the
peninsula flourished through maritime trade, fishing, and production of cereals,
flax, and hemp. Conspicuous wealth was devoted to the construction of new
churches adorned with remarkable parish closes, calvaries, and ossuaries. Breton
piety was displayed through a multiplication of pardons. Nonetheless,
many Bretons chose to migrate in search of a better life in south-west England
where they worked as labourers, servants, fishermen, tin miners, and craftsmen.
In November 1789 the province of Brittany and its historic parlement
ceased to exist. ‘Old allegiances were torn apart and ancient rights and privileges
were no longer recognised’ [349]. Traditional territorial units were replaced
by départements. The Revolution was greeted with ambivalence by some
Bretons and with downright hostility by others. The State takeover of the
Church was bitterly opposed. It was perhaps only then, argues Cunliffe, that
the Bretons became aware of the depths of their religious beliefs. ‘Their very
distinctive form of Catholicism … was an essential part of their identity’
[345]. Introduction of universal conscription came as a second blow and tipped
large areas into counterinsurgency. Even though such opposition faded away, ‘it
created a potent image of Brittany, as strongly Catholic and royalist in stark
opposition to the ideals of Revolutionary France. It was an image that was to
persist, reminding the Bretons of what made them a people’ [345]. At this point in the
narrative, Barry Cunliffe adopts a different approach and treats
nineteenth-century Brittany as ‘Ourselves as others see us’. He argues that
Parisians and other Frenchmen ‘saw a people very different from themselves. The
Bretons dressed differently, spoke their own incomprehensible language, and
were highly superstitious, their lives being dominated by a sense of
ever-present death … They were altogether more primitive, more sauvage’
[347]. This perception and the construction of railway lines and operation of regular
ferry services attracted visitors, including members of the British elite,
drawn by the delights of sea bathing, as well as writers and painters from
Paris, and archaeologists seeking to explore the Celtic past. Those who came in
search of inspiration 'crafted a vision of the land and its people that set in
high relief their distinctive characteristics. This inevitably fed back into
the consciousness of the people themselves, providing them with a vision with
which to aspire. Thus it was that the fascination of foreigners encouraged the
Bretons to become even more Breton' [378]. Myths and legends
about Bretons and Celts were exploited by scholars such as Paul-Yves Pezrou who
wanted ‘to give his people, the Bretons, a worthy ancestry rooted deep in the
past to help differentiate them from the French’ [389]. Welshman Edward Lhuyd
explored linguistic similarities in Brittany, Cornwall, Wales, and Ireland. In
this way, ‘the concept of the Celt became a symbol for the minorities of the
western extremities of Europe who were striving to maintain their way of life
and language against the inroads of French and English culture’ [389]. Legends
and folk tales provided ample fodder for Romantic poets and novelists to polish
the image of Bretonness. The Union Régionaliste Bretonne was founded in
1898 to preserve Breton cultural identity and obtain independence, with
emphasis on Catholicism and a Breton-speaking peasantry. A year later, the Ligue
des Bleus de Bretagne came into being to promote the ideals of the
Englightenment and the Revolution of 1789. At the turn of the century, the peninsula
was divided between Haute-Bretagne, ‘urban-based, French-speaking, and sharing
the ideals of Europe’, and Basse-Bretagne, ‘rural in its attitudes, and fighting
to maintain traditional values and culture’ [407]. It was as if ‘the geography
of the peninsula was once again asserting itself, reminding us that there have
always been two Brittanys’ [408]. And there the narrative comes to an abrupt
halt, apart from a brief epilogue that reveals the devastating effect of World
War I on Breton communities, with 22% of Breton conscripts dying in conflict (or
soon afterwards) compared with 11% of conscripts from Paris. Mention is also
made of regionalist and autonomist movements that, since 1920, ‘have come and
gone with surprising rapidity, differing in their aims and methods but sharing
the desire that Breton should thrive as a living language’ [415]. Barry
Cunliffe concludes:
Peninsular Armorica is a special place, remote from the continental mainland yet central to a network of
maritime connectivity binding the communities of Atlantic Europe … Geography
has allowed the inhabitants of the peninsula to use the surrounding sea, and
the forest and marshes guarding the neck of the promontory, to insulate
themselves from external influences if they so wished, or to accept them
selectively on their own terms [413]. Their ‘constant battle to retain their identity has made them resilient and determined, and it is this that has conditioned their attitude to life’ [416]. This.
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