Post by Toby Clyde-Smith

Roughly 300 metres west off Saint‑Malo's legendary ramparts sits Île du Grand Bé, a small island you can walk to at low tide. There's not much there. Just rocks, seagulls, and the tomb of François‑René Chateaubriand. He had specifically asked the mayor of Saint‑Malo for permission to be buried there. There is no epitaph, only a plaque movingly stating: "A great French writer wished to rest here, to hear nothing but the sea and the passing wind. Traveller, respect his final wish." Chateaubriand himself is a fascinating, complicated, yet little known figure. In his day in Europe he was a celebrity: a Romantic writer, statesman and military leader. Lord Byron would emulate his Romantic look whilst Victor Hugo could not live without him, "To be Chateaubriand or nothing." Angry husbands and fathers drove him from their homes on more than one occasion. Indeed, his obsessive pursuit of women of all backgrounds gained him international notoriety. Born in Saint‑Malo, his childhood was spent at his family's grim medieval château in Combourg; bought by his father, a shipowner and slave trader whose parenting was cold and sadistic. His father regularly locked him overnight in the château's haunted tower. In 1793, when he was wounded and nearly destitute, Jersey offered him refuge; he would later call it "the island of friends." It appears he might never have forgotten that kindness, as his tomb faces north towards Jersey. But Chateaubriand isn't the only connection between this island and ours. From the late 14th century hermits lived there and a chapel to Saint Ouen was erected on the island; the annual Sainte‑Ouine fair that grew from those gatherings remains part of Saint‑Malo’s traditions today. Saint Ouen (c. 609–684 AD), also known as Saint Audoin, was a Frankish bishop, royal chancellor, and historian. Serving as the Archbishop of Rouen, he is best remembered for consolidating Christianity across Normandy, his close friendship with Saint Eligius, and his diplomatic missions for the Merovingian kings. His real name was Dado. Dado’s legacy has deep ties to the Channel Islands. During the 9th-century Viking invasions, the monks of Rouen carried the Archbishop's relics to safe havens. When early lords (such as the de Carteret family) built early chapels on their land, they often secured a splinter of his bone from Normandy to consecrate the altar. Over time, these altars and the surrounding areas adopted his name, leading to the creation of the St Ouen’s parish. One small island off the coast of France. Two threads running directly back to Jersey. Jersey's connections are rarely where you expect them. You just have to look. If you’re curious about uncovering more hidden threads that tie Jersey to surprising moments, people or places in history, I write a monthly newsletter, sign up here: https://lnkd.in/ecSPrGtd