Myths And Legends: The Folklore Of France

France is very adept at presenting itself in daylight.

It provides us markets with apricots glowing like small suns, café chairs arranged with philosophical precision, vineyards combing the hillsides, cathedrals lifting stone prayers into the air, and villages so beautiful they appear to have been composed rather than built. It offers bread, bells, shutters, lavender, lace, cheese, river mist, iron balconies, and the comforting belief that civilisation may be improved by lunch.

But folklore has never been especially obedient to daylight.

Beneath that elegant France lies another country. It waits in ruined towers, forest paths, mountain passes, old wells, coastal fog, village gossip, cathedral stonework, and on roads where travellers once hurried before dusk. It is a France of serpent-women, fairy laundresses, death carts, phantom huntsmen, river dragons, cursed nobles, sea bells, healing springs, wolf-men, house goblins, white ladies, enchanted castles and saints who appear to have spent a surprising amount of their time dealing with monsters.