Saint Hervé
Abbé en Bretagne (+ 568)
A part saint Yves de
Tréguier, il n'est pas de saint aussi populaire que lui en Bretagne.
Il était né dans une
famille de bardes. Aveugle depuis son jeune âge, guidé par un loup, selon la
légende, il mena une vie de pèlerin.
Un jour cependant, il se
fixa à Plouvien, puis à Lan-Houarneau (Herwan ou Hervé en breton) où il se
consacra à Dieu pour en chanter les louanges dans le monastère qu'il y fonda.
[...]
"Saint Hervé est un
saint du Léon, il naquit à l'aube du VIe siècle à Lanrioul en Plouzévédé. Né
aveugle, il apprit sur les genoux de sa mère le chant des psaumes et des
hymnes, puis s'en fut à l'école de l'ermite Arzian. Jeune homme, il se consacra
à Dieu sous la houlette d'un moine de sa parenté, Urfold, à Lanrivoaré. C'est
là qu'un jour un loup tua l'âne avec lequel Guic'haran, le guide d'Hervé,
labourait; sur l'injonction d'Hervé, le loup prit la place de l'âne et acheva
le travail..." (diocèse de Quimper et Léon - Saint Hervé)
Un internaute nous écrit:
"Selon la légende,
Saint Hervé vivait avec ses loups à l'endroit qui s'appelle actuellement
l'ermitage Saint-Hervé à Tréouergat (29290). Il s'agit d'un petit bois où on
peut encore trouver les traces une ancienne chapelle, d'un abri (sans doute
celui de Saint Hervé), ainsi qu'une fontaine qui laisse toujours couler de
l'eau. Tout le monde ignore à quoi ressemblait cet endroit du temps de Saint
Hervé, mais les traces manifestes sont troublantes. Excepté son abri, la
chapelle a été rasée ainsi que quelques autres murs alentours; seules les
premières pierres décrivent le tracé des parois au sol. Joli petit endroit,
fascinant par son mystère."
En Bretagne, au VIe
siècle, saint Hervé, ermite. Ses yeux furent, dit-on, privés de la lumière
terrestre dès sa naissance, mais ouverts à celle du paradis, dont il chantait
les joies avec bonheur.
Martyrologe romain
SOURCE : http://nominis.cef.fr/contenus/saint/1336/Saint-Herve.html
17 juin
Saint Hervé
Hyvarnion, barde renommé
de l'île de Bretagne, est convié à la cour de Childebert[1], mais, pieux et chaste, la vie de cour ne
lui convient pas. Résolu à se consacrer totalement à Dieu, il retourne chez lui
en passant par l'Armorique. Là, il rêve d'un futur mariage. Décidé de se
consacrer à Dieu il ne sait que penser quand un ange vient lui dire : « Elle
s'appelle Rivanone ; tu la rencontreras demain et tu la prendras comme
épouse ; de votre union naîtra un grand serviteur de Dieu. » Il la
rencontre et l’épouse. Ni l'un ni l'autre ne voulant d’une vie commune, le
lendemain des noces Rivanone dit à Hyvarnion : « Si j'ai un fils je
demande au Dieu tout puissant qu'il ne voie jamais la fausse et trompeuse
lumière de ce monde », et avant de la quitter pour toujours, il lui
répond : « Oui ! Mais qu'il ait au moins la vision des
splendeurs célestes. » L'enfant naît aveugle. Quand Hervé atteint l'âge de
sept ans, alors qu’il connaît par cœur tous les psaumes et les sept hymnes de
l’Eglise les plus employées de son temps, Rivanone le confie à un saint moine.
Saint Hervé ne retrouve sa mère que des années plus tard et c'est pour
l'assister dans ses derniers instants. S'il est aveugle, comme le désirait
Rivanone, Hervé est aussi barde comme Hyvarnion qui avait demandé que son fils
ne cesse d'avoir la vision des splendeurs célestes. C'est ainsi qu'il compose
le magnifique cantique du Paradis.
Son éducation terminée,
Hervé part vivre en ermite mais il est vite rejoint par des disciples. Guidé
par son disciple Guiharan et escorté d’un loup qu’il avait apprivoisé[2], Hervé, chantant la beauté du Paradis,
conduit sa communauté qui, sillonnant la Bretagne, suit le soleil, pour finir
par s’installer à Plouider qui deviendra Lanhouarneau (l’ermitage d’Hervé).
Toute sa vie, il refuse
obstinément de recevoir le sacerdoce, acceptant seulement d’être ordonné
exorciste. Bien qu’il fût aveugle, Hervé avait été lui-même l'architecte de sa
petite église qu’il ne voulut jamais quitter. Il s’y trouvait enfermé, trois
jours avant sa mort, lorsque ses yeux s'ouvrirent tout à coup, et il se mit à
chanter un dernier cantique : « Je vois le Ciel ouvert, le Ciel ma
patrie. Je veux m'y envoler. Je vois mon père et ma mère dans la gloire et la
beauté ; je vois mes frères, les hommes de mon pays. Des chœurs d'Anges,
portés sur leurs ailes, volent autour de leurs têtes, comme autant d'abeilles
dans un champ de fleurs. » Le troisième jour après cette vision, il appela
sa nièce Christine qui se trouvait alors auprès de lui ; c'était une
orpheline élevée par sa mère : « Prépare-moi une pierre pour oreiller
et de la cendre pour couchette ; quand l'ange noir viendra me chercher,
qu'il me trouve couché sur la cendre. »
Christine, tout en lui
obéissant, lui dit : « Mon oncle, si vous m'aimez, demandez à Dieu
que je vous suive sans tarder, comrne la barque suit le courant. » Elle
fut exaucée : au moment où Hervé expirait, la petite Christine, se jetant
à ses pieds, y mourut aussi. Lorsqu'il meurt entouré de ses nombreux moines,
tous peuvent entendre les chœurs célestes entonner un hymne que leur saint père
chantait depuis toujours[3].
Inhumé à Lanhouarneau
(Finistère), son tombeau est vénéré par de grands concours de peuples. Ses
reliques, par crainte des Normands, sont recueillies dans la chapelle du
château de Brest (878) ; mise dans une châsse d’argent, elles sont données
par le duc Geoffroy[4] à l’évêque de Nantes (1002) ;
elles disparaissent de la cathédrale de Nantes pendant la révolution française.
[1] Childebert
I° (495-558) était un des fils de Clovis et de sainte Clotilde. A la mort
de Clovis (511), il eut Paris, les pays jusqu'à la Somme, les côtes de la
Manche jusqu'à la Bretagne, Nantes et Angers. Il portait le tire de roi de
Paris.
[2] La
légende rapporte que ce loup avait dévoré l’âne avec lequel Hervé labourait,
mais sur l’injonction du saint, le loup vint prendre la place de l’âne et
acheva le travail.
[3] On
date souvent sa mort en 568.
[4] Geoffroy
I° : fils du comte Conan I° de Rennes, il prit le premier le titre de duc
de Bretagne, lorsqu’il succéda à son père (992). Il força Judicaël-Béranger,
comte de Nantes, à reconnaître son titre de duc de Bretagne ; il secourut
son neveu Richazrd II, duc de Normandie, contre un vassal rebelle. Il mourut en
1008, au retour d’un pèlerinage à Rome, frappé d’une pierre que lui lança une
femme dont une poule avait été enlevée par un oiseau de proie du duc.
« Approchez, mes
petits enfants ; venez entendre une chanson nouvelle que j'ai composée
exprès pour vous ; mettez votre peine afin de la retenir entièrement.
Quand vous vous éveillez
dans votre lit, offrez votre cœur au bon Dieu, faites le signe de la Croix, et
dites avec foi, espérance et amour ;
Dites : Mon
Dieu, je vous donne mon cœur, mon corps et mon âme ; faites que je sois un
honnête homme, ou que je meure avant le temps.
Quand vous voyez voler un
corbeau, pensez que le démon est aussi noir, aussi méchant ; quand vous
voyez une petite colombe blanche voler, pensez que votre Ange est aussi doux et
aussi blanc. »
SOURCE : http://missel.free.fr/Sanctoral/06/17.php
SAINT HERVÉ
Date : 17/06
Epoque : VIème s.
Pays : Bretagne
On a dit que nul saint ne
fut et reste aussi populaire en Bretagne que saint Hervé, avec bien sûr
saint Yves. Natif du pays du Léon (Finistère) qu'il ne quitta guère, il est le
saint patron des bardes et des chanteurs ambulants. Son père était, dit-on, le barde
Hyvarnion et sa mère, la belle et pure Rivanone. Né à Lanrioul en Plouzévédé,
le jeune Hervé eut le malheur de perdre très tôt ses parents. Il partit se
faire moine et trouva son minihy (ce terme, qui vient de monachia, signifie
lieu de refuge ou asile) : un ermitage près de Lesneven, dans le Finistère. On
rapportait que Hervé était né aveugle. Devenu ermite, il attira près de lui une
foule de disciples illuminés par le rayonnement de ce voyant intérieur. Sa
communauté, d'abord itinérante, parvint à se fixer et Hervé dut accepter le
titre d'Abbé ; il refusa le sacerdoce par humilité.
Les traditions locales
populaires ont brodé avec ferveur le florilège de saint Hervé. On le représente
souvent en compagnie de son guide Guiharan et d'un loup qu'il aurait apprivoisé
pour remplacer son âne disparu. Il faut sans doute tempérer ce folklore. Reste
qu' il y a bien du saint François d'Assise en saint Hervé, auquel on attribua
le merveilleux "Cantique du Paradis". Sa mémoire demeure très
vivante dans tout l'ouest de la France, de Brest à Nantes. Ses reliques ont été
partagées entre les églises de Louvigné-du-Désert, de Saint-Sauveur de Rennes
et la cathédrale de Saint-Pol-de-Léon. Son tombeau est vénéré en l'église de
Lanhouarneau, dans le Finistère.
En étymologie celtique,
Hervé a le sens de haer "fort" et ber "ardent".
SOURCE : https://www.lejourduseigneur.com/saint/saint-herve
_(14559190538).jpg)
Cahier, Charles, 1807-1882, Caractéristiques des saints dans l'art populaire, 1867 (1860s), Paris : Librairie Poussielgue Frères
S. Hervé
17 juin
Saint Hervé est le fils
d’un barde venu de Grande-Bretagne. Aveugle, il choisit une vie d’ermite avec
quelques compagnons à Plouvien, dans l’actuel Finistère. Plein d’humilité, il
refuse le titre d’Abbé. Sa réputation de sainteté gagne toute la région. La
tradition le fait grand ami des animaux : les grenouilles l’écoutent, un
renard lui rapporte une poule vivante. Il vivait au VIe siècle.
On
lit au Martyrologe de France, revu et augmenté (dans Les Petits
Bollandistes, Mgr Paul Guérin, d’après le P. Giry, à la date du 17 juin,
T. VII, p. 104, Bloud et Barral, 7e éd., Paris - 1878) :
« Aux
diocèses de Quimper et Léon et de Rennes, saint Hervé, Hoüarné
ou Harvian, ermite, qui eut l’âme d’autant plus éclairée des lumières de
la grâce et de la connaissance des choses célestes, que son corps était privé
par la cécité de la vue du soleil et de tout ce qui est sur la terre.
« Le
lieu où notre Saint fut enterré, a depuis porté son nom et s’appelle encore
aujourd’hui Lan-Hoüarné : c’est une église paroissiale de l’ancien diocèse
de Léon, entre Landiviziau et Lesneven (Finistère).
« Le
précieux corps y resta jusqu’en 878, époque à laquelle, pour éviter la
fureur des Normands, il fut transféré à la chapelle du château de Brest, où il
resta jusqu’en 1002. Le duc Geoffroi Ier l’ayant alors fait
mettre dans une châsse d’argent, le donna en présent à l’évêque de Nantes, qui
en enrichit le trésor de son Église, où les précieuses reliques se sont
conservées jusqu’à la Révolution.
« Les
serments ordonnés par la justice se faisaient autrefois sur cette châsse.
L’église de Faouet, dans l’ancien diocèse de Tréguier, a saint Hervé pour
patron et possède une petite portion de ses reliques. Il y en a aussi dans
l’ancienne cathédrale de Léon. Vers 568. »
C’était
vers l’an 568 que mourait saint Hervé, Jean III étant pape,
Justin II Tibère empereur d’Orient et Chilpéric Ier roi
des Francs.
Carnoët. Vallée des Saints. Saint Hervé
Voilà donc l’histoire de
Saint Hervé comme j’aime la raconter, car à vrai dire quand on est à la
recherche de St Hervé on se rend compte qu’il y a plusieurs versions…
Après avoir passé plusieurs années à la cour de Childebert, Hyrvanion, barde
errant, originaire de la Bretagne insulaire arriva dans le Léonnais sous le
règne de Hoël II. Il cherchait un navire en partance pour la Grande Bretagne
La veille de s’embarquer, il eut un rêve prémonitoire, il vit un ange qui lui
fit savoir :
"Dieu veut que tu t’établisses dans ce pays. Tu rencontreras, à la margelle d’une fontaine, une jeune fille nommée Rivanone. Tu l’épouseras et le fils qui naîtra de cette union sera un grand saint."
Bien qu’inquiet de ce songe, Hyrvanion décida de rejoindre son pays. En se
dirigeant vers la mer, il rencontra en route au bord d’une fontaine une jeune
fille. Elle s’appelait Rivanone.
"Je suis la sœur de Rivoaré qui habite cette maison derrière les
arbres", dit-elle.
Hyrvanion lui raconta alors son rêve. Rivanone lui confessa qu’un ange lui était apparu à elle aussi et lui avait parlé dans les mêmes termes. Hyrvanion décida de ne pas continuer son voyage.
Avec l’accord de Rivoaré, (Rivanone était orpheline) Hyrvanion épousa Rivanone.
Ils donnèrent naissance à Hervé.
Dès le lendemain de leur noces, Rivanone dit : "Si j’ai un fils, je
souhaite qu’il ne voit jamais la fausse lumière trompeuse de ce monde !"
Hyrvanion répondit : "Oui mais qu’il ait au moins la vision des splendeurs Célestes !" puis il quitta Rivanone pour la vie d’ermite.
Issu de cette étrange union, Hervé naquit aveugle.
A l’école, Hervé émerveilla ses condisciples et ses maîtres. Malgré sa cécité il était un être de lumière qui parlait toujours avec bon sens et sagesse.
Il se fit remarqué par l’Évêque de Léon, qui voulut lui conférer la prêtrise. Hervé n’accepta que les ordres mineurs.
Sans doute ne voulait-il pas se laisser emprisonner dans une hiérarchie et
garder sa vie aventureuse.
Après l’avoir confié au sage Arzian sa mère se retira dans la solitude.
A la fin de ses études, Hervé vagabonda au travers du Trégor, accompagné de
Guiharan, (ou Guich’Haran) compagnon un peu simple qui lui resta fidèle jusqu’à
la fin de sa vie et qui lui servait de guide.
Mais il était également accompagné d’un chien au service de son handicap.
Un jour, l’âne dont Guiharan se servait pour faire les travaux des champs vint
à se faire attaquer par un loup.
Le chien le défendit et le loup le tua privant Hervé de son précieux
auxiliaire. Nulle part la légende ne raconte comment Hervé convoqua le loup et
l’obligea à remplacer son chien.
Pour cause : La connaissance des règles d’or de l’Art porte à croire que dans son entreprise Hervé avait besoin d’être en tête avec l’animal.
De temps à autre, Guiharan exhibait le loup aux passants pour en tirer quelques menus profits.
Hervé exerçait alors son incomparable talent de chanteur, ainsi que ses
facultés d’exorcistes et de guérisseur.
La popularité de l’aveugle devint grande. On tint plus compte de ce qu’il
disait que de la science des plus grands docteurs.
Son port d’attache était une terre située non loin de Lesneven. Il y fit
jaillir une source.
Un jour, il fut question de juger Comorre le Tyran qui en était à
l’assassinat de sa septième femme, Tryphine, elle avait périt avec l’enfant
qu’elle portait.
N’étant pas d’accord sur le lieu où devait se dérouler le procès, les Évêques décidèrent qu’Hervé trancherait le débat.
On dépêcha un cavalier pour le chercher. Il le trouva dormant dans un courtil de Pédernec, sur un lit de sauges en fleurs et la tête appuyée sur une ruche d’abeilles.
Les insectes butinaient en silence autour de lui pour ne pas le réveiller. Averti, après son réveil, le saint étendit le bras vers le Ménez-Bré et c’est sur la montagne que le conseil se réunit.
Hervé avait été prié de siéger à côté des Évêques.
Aveugle et, par surcroît, Celte, c’est-à-dire volontiers flâneur, il ne se
pressait point pour arriver au conseil. Depuis longtemps, tout le monde
l’attendait.
Escorté de son loup et précédé de Guiharan, Hervé arriva enfin, achevant de
manger des mûres contenues dans un pan de son manteau. Il ressemblait à un
loqueteux.
Un des prélats ne put s’empêcher de chuchoter à son voisin : "Quoi, c’est pour ce moine aveugle et en haillons qu’on nous a fait attendre si longtemps !"
Bien que cela ait été seulement chuchoté, Hervé l’entendit :
"Mon frère, pourquoi me reprochez-vous mon infirmité ? Ne savez-vous pas que Dieu nous a fait comme bon lui semble ?"
A ces mots, en poussant un cri d’épouvante, l’orgueilleux prélat s’affaissa.
Ses yeux pendaient hors de son visage. Hervé, touché de compassion le guérit en
lui appliquant des simples cataplasmes.
Cela se passait en juillet où la canicule avait tout desséché. Hervé, plantant
son bâton fit jaillir une source qui désaltéra l’assemblée.
Chaque jour, Hervé voyait les saints du Ciel, il pouvait les dénommer tous. Il
fit don de cette grâce à l’Évêque Houardon.
Il avait un pouvoir sur les démons. Il sauva Even, comte du Léon, d’un essai
diabolique d’empoisonnement. Il précipita dans la mer un démon de l’ivrognerie.
Averti de sa mort six jours avant, il fit venir Houardon pour son dernier
soutien. Sa cousine Christine, qui avait aidé sa mère dans son ermitage, mourut
au même instant que lui.
Tous deux entendirent les chœurs Célestes célébrant l’entrée au Ciel du moine
poète.
Saint Hervé est un des saints les plus honoré en basse Bretagne. C’est une
dévotion qui se fait plutôt le soir ou la nuit.
C’est devenu un proverbe : "voyager de nuit comme les pèlerins de Saint
Hervé".
Il est un des patrons des chanteurs, mais des animaux dont les chiens et les
chevaux qu’il guérissait.
Aujourd’hui encore il est considéré comme un saint vétérinaire.
Conclusion de ce récit extraordinaire : Respect à Saint Hervé qu’on peut
honorer. Il faut croire qu’il n’eut pas un seul loup mais plusieurs puisqu’on
retrouve également la précision suivante :
Saint Hervé vivait avec ses loups à l’endroit qui s’appelle actuellement
l’ermitage Saint Hervé à Tréouergat (29290).
SOURCES : http://villachicoubis.wordpress.com/2008/10/22/recits-contes-et-legendes-sur-lanimal/.
Cantique du Paradis
composé par Saint Hervé.
Jésus, qui vit aux cieux et règne près de Dieu, j’attends ton paradis car tu me l'as promis.
J'irai vers ta clarté, ô Christ ressuscité, je crois que ton regard ne peut me décevoir.
Plus d'ombre, plus de pleurs ni larmes, ni douleurs, Jésus, car près de toi tout n'est que paix, que joie !
Qu'à l'heure de ma mort ta voix me dise encore: Ami, dès aujourd'hui viens dans
mon Paradis.
Jésus, comme il est grand le plaisir de l’âme quand elle est dans la Grâce de
Dieu et dans Son Amour.
Je trouve court le temps et les souffrances misérables en pensant, jour et nuit, à la Gloire du Paradis.
Quand je regarde aux Cieux vers mon vrai pays, j’aimerais y voler comme une colombe blanche.
J’attends avec joie l’heure dernière, j’ai hâte de voir Jésus, mon vrai Époux.
Aussitôt que seront brisées mes chaînes, je m’élèverai dans l’air comme une
alouette.
Je passerai la lune pour monter à la gloire ; au-delà du soleil, des étoiles, je serai porté.
Quand je serai loin de la terre, vallée pleine de peines, alors je jetterai un regard à mon pays, la Bretagne.
Je lui dirai "Adieu, mon pays, adieu, monde douloureux, avec tes biens
trompeurs.
Adieu à jamais, pauvreté et angoisse, adieu péchés, afflictions et
maladies."
Après l’instant de la mort, avec joie, je chanterai : "ma chaîne est brisée, je suis libre à jamais."
Les portes du Paradis, ouvertes pour m’attendre ; les Saints et les Saintes, venus m’accueillir.
Je pourrai, pour de bon, voir Dieu le Père, avec Son Fils Éternel et l’Esprit-Saint.
Qu’il sera beau d’entendre Jésus disant : "Viens, mon bon serviteur,
rencontrer Dieu ton Père."
Là, il sera beau de Contempler la Vierge Bénie, avec douze étoiles formant Sa
Couronne.
Je verrai en plus, avec chacun, une harpe, Anges et Archanges, tous louant
Dieu.
Les heureux Apôtres, avec les disciples de Jésus, et tous les Martyrs, Honneur
des Chrétiens.
Image de la page 444 de la "Vie des Saints" en langue bretonne. Écrit par Yann-Vari Perrot et publié en 1912.
Saint Hervé est né d’une union non désirée entre le barde Hivarnion et Riwanon qui demanda à Dieu que « son enfant ne voit jamais la fausse et trompeuse lumière de ce monde ». Hervé naît aveugle à Lanrioul (Plouzévédé) en 520. À l’âge de 7 ans, sa mère le confie à Arzian et se retire dans la solitude.
Après des années d’études et songeant à la vie monastique, il voulut rencontrer sa mère et s’adressa à son oncle Urfol qui accepta de partir à sa recherche. Urfol confia la garde de son ermitage à Hervé et à Guic’haran qui lui servait de guide. L’âne dont se servait celui-ci pour les travaux des champs fut dévoré par un loup. Hervé convoqua alors le loup qui devait désormais effectuer tous les travaux de l’âne. Hervé retrouva sa mère et l’inhuma là où elle vécut. Libéré de toutes attaches, il souhaite trouver un emplacement pour les moines et les élèves qui déjà se groupent autour de lui. Il s’établit d’abord à Plouvien puis pour établir son minihy (territoire entourant le monastère dont il dépendait): le Lan-Houarné, il fait jaillir une source sur le bord de la route. Il en fit jaillir d’autres ; au Menez-Bré pour guérir un malade et à Lanrivoaré.
Comme exorciste, il avait reçu de Dieu puissance sur les démons. Il sauva Even, comte du Léon d’une tentative diabolique d’empoisonnement ; il précipita dans la mer un démon de l’ivrognerie déguisé en moine pour tenter de jeter le trouble dans le monastère.
Le père d’Hervé lui légua son merveilleux don de barde. Il chanta la joie d’un regard du haut de la félicité céleste sur son pays breton ; il chanta l’accueil au milieu des rosiers et des lis, les retrouvailles de ses aïeuls, de ses compatriotes au milieu des anges qui célèbrent « les louanges de Dieu, chacun une harpe à la main ». Il est à l’origine du Cantique du Paradis (Ar Baradoz).
Averti de sa mort six jours avant, il rendit son âme à Dieu le 17 juin 575.
Saint Hervé est le patron des bardes et des chanteurs. Il est invoqué pour les
maladies des yeux, pour la guérison des peurs et de la dépression nerveuse,
pour repousser les démons et pour faire fuir les loups.
Saint Hervé est fêté le
17 juin
SOURCE : http://www.eoc-coc.org/accueil/saint-du-mois/juin/saint-herve/
Statue
de saint Hervé aveugle et son loup apprivoisé, Sainte-Marie du Ménez-Hom
Also
known as
Erveo
Harvey
Herveus
Hervues
Herve
Houarniaule
Huva
Profile
Son of the bard Hyvarnion,
Herve was born blind.
His father died when
Herve was an infant,
his mother,
Rivanone, became an anchoress, and
the boy was
entrusted to the care of his uncles and a renowned holy man with whom he stayed
until his teenage years.
He lived for a while as a hermit and bard, then
joined a monastic school at Plouvien, France which
had been founded by his uncle. Abbot at Plouvien.
He migrated with
part of his community to found a new house in Lanhouarneau. Singer. Minstrel. Teacher. Miracle worker.
One of the most popular saints in Brittany,
he figures in the area’s folklore. Reported to have a special ministry of healing animals,
and to have a domesticated wolf as
a companion. Legend says that the wolf killed
and ate the ox that
Herve used to plow his fields; Herve then preached such
a moving sermon the wolf repented
his ways, moved to Herve’s hermitage,
and ploughed Herve’s fields in place of the ox.
Born
Guimiliau, Brittany, France or
unknown location in Wales (sources
vary)
c.556 to c.575 (sources
vary) of natural causes
interred at
Lanhouarneau, Brittany, France
Additional
Information
Book of
Saints, by the Monks of
Ramsgate
Book
of Saints and Friendly Beasts, by Abbie Farwell Brown
Saints
of the Day, by Katherine Rabenstein
books
Our Sunday Visitor’s Encyclopedia of Saints
other
sites in english
images
video
sitios
en español
Martirologio Romano, 2001 edición
sites
en français
Abbé
Christian-Philippe Chanut
fonti
in italiano
MLA
Citation
“Saint
Hervé“. CatholicSaints.Info. 31 December 2022. Web. 15 June 2023.
<http://catholicsaints.info/saint-herve/>
SOURCE : http://catholicsaints.info/saint-herve/
Saint Hervé et son loup (groupe statuaire, Musée du loup, Le Cloître-Saint-Thégonnec).
Saints
of the Day – Hervé of Brittany, Abbot
Article
(also known as Harvey,
Herveus, Huva)
6th century. Saint Hervé
is venerated throughout Brittany but we have few reliable particulars on him –
his life was not written until the late medieval period. All we really know is
that he was a hermit in Brittany, where he is still highly venerated and where
Hervé is one of the most popular names for boys.
The story goes that a
young British bard named Hyvarnion, a pupil of Saint Cadoc, lived at the court
of Childebert, king of the Franks. After four years, desiring to return to his
native land, he set off through Brittany, where one day, riding through a wood,
he heard a young girl singing. The sweetness of her voice made him curious and,
dismounting from his horse, he made his way through the trees to where in a
sunny glade he found a maiden gathering herbs. He asked her what they were for.
“This herb,” she replied, “drives away sadness, that one banishes blindness,
and I look for the herb of life that drives away death.” Hyvarnion, forgetting
his homeward journey, in that hour loved her, and later he married her.
After three years they
had a son who was born blind, and in their sorrow they called him Hervé, which
means bitterness. When he was two years old, his father died, and the mother,
Rivanon, and child were left poor and friendless. In her grief she sang to him
and he grew up to love poetry and music. When Hervé was seven, Rivanon gave him
into the care of a holy man named Arthian and she became a hermit. The child
wandered about the countryside singing and begging, led by a white dog which he
held on a string. To this day the Bretons sing a ballad of the blind child, led
by his dog, singing as he shivered in the wind and the rain, with no shoes on
his bare feet, his teeth chattering with the cold.
At age 14, with his
mother’s approval, he sought out an uncle who was a hermit and kept a monastic
school in the forest at Plouvien. His uncle welcomed him, and soon Hervé
excelled in knowledge beyond all his other pupils. On his uncle’s death, he
became abbot. Every morning the children gathered to be taught by their blind
master, and every evening they left “like a swarm of bees issuing from a hollow
oak.” He instructed them in music and poetry, and, above all, in the Christian
way of life.
“When you wake up in
bed,” he said, “offer your hearts to the good God, make the sign of the Cross
and say with faith and hope and love, ‘I give You my heart, my body and my
soul. Make me a good man.’ When you see a crow fly, think of the devil, black
and evil. When you see a dove fly, think of your angel, gentle and white. Think
of God, as the sun makes the wild roses bloom on the mountains. In the evening,
before going to bed, say your prayers that a white angel may come from heaven
and watch you till the dawn. This is the true way to live as Christians.
Practice my song, and you will lead holy lives.”
In addition to teaching,
Hervé worked the fields near the school. He was venerated for his holiness and
his miracles. The most extravagant of which relates that one day a wolf ate the
donkey with which he was plowing the fields. The young child who was Hervé’s
guide cried out in fear, but at Hervé’s prayers, the wolf put himself into the
donkey’s harness and finished the work to be done.
Later he decided to move
the community to León. There the bishop wanted to ordain him priest, but Hervé
humbly declined. Thus, although he was never a priest, Hervé is said to have
participated in the solemn anathematizing of the tyrannical ruler Conomor,
c.550. From León the holy group travelled west. Beside the road to Lesneven is
the fountain of Saint Hervé, which he is said to have caused to flow to satisfy
the thirst of his companions. Finally, they settled and Hervé built a monastery
at Lanhouarneau in Finistère, which earned a great reputation.
From his monastery, where
he lived for the rest of his life, Hervé would travel forth periodically to
preach or act as exorcist. He was no longer led by a white dog, but by his
little niece, Kristine, who lived near him in a cottage of thatch and wattle
built for her by the monks, and who, gay as a fairy, sang to him as she
gathered flowers for the altar. When he came to die, he said to her: “Tina, my
dear, make my bed ready, but make it not as is wont. Make it on the heard
earth, before the altar, at the feet of Jesus. Place a stone for my bolster,
and strew my bed with ashes.” Weeping, she carried out his wish, and said: “May
I follow in due course, as the boat follows the ship.”
As his monks watched at
his deathbed, they were said to have heard the music of the heavenly choirs
welcoming him to heaven. So died the blind Breton saint, who had taught in the
school in the forest, and who all his life, despite his blindness, had given
glory to God. Until the French Revolution, a chapel (now destroyed) near Cleder
in Finistère possessed a most unusual relics: the cradle in which Saint Hervé
had been rocked (Attwater, Benedictines, Delaney, Encyclopedia, Gill, White).
In art, Saint Herveus is
a blind abbot telling frogs to be quiet or being led by a wolf (Roeder) or his
child guide. He is invoked against eye problems (Delaney). Breton mothers
threatened their mischievous children with his wolf (White).
MLA
Citation
Katherine I
Rabenstein. Saints of the Day, 1998. CatholicSaints.Info.
23 June 2020. Web. 15 June 2023.
<https://catholicsaints.info/saints-of-the-day-herve-of-brittany-abbot/>
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/saints-of-the-day-herve-of-brittany-abbot/
Statue
de Saint-Hervé et son loup. Église Saint Hervé, LANHOUARNEAU,
The
Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts – The Blind Singer, Saint Hervé
I
Once upon a time when
Childebert was King of France, a thousand years ago, there lived a young man
named Hyvarnion who was very handsome and had the sweetest voice. Hyvarnion was
the King’s minstrel; he lived at the palace and it was his business to make
music for the King to keep him in a good temper. For he wrote the most
beautiful songs and sang them to the accompaniment of a golden harp which he
carried with him everywhere he went. And besides all this Hyvarnion was very
wise; so wise that when he was a boy at school he was called the Little Sage,
for Saint Cadoc had been his master and had taught him many things that even
the King, who was a heathen, did not know.
Now Hyvarnion had lived
four years with the King when one night he had a wonderful dream. He dreamed
that he saw a beautiful maiden picking flowers in a meadow, and that she smiled
at him and gave him a blossom, saying, “This is for my King.” And Hyvarnion
woke up longing to see the maiden more than anything else in the world.
For three nights he
dreamed the same dream, of the singing maiden and the meadow and the flowers;
and each time she seemed more beautiful than on the last. So on the fourth day
he woke up and said, “I must find that maiden. I must find her and hear her
call me her King.”
So, taking his golden
harp on his back, he went out from the palace and struck into the deep black
forest. By and by he came to an open place, like a meadow, where the grass grew
tall and thick, and where in the midst was a spring like a bit of mirror set in
a green frame. And Hyvarnion’s heart beat fast with joy when he saw on the
border of the spring the very maiden about whom he had dreamed, but much more
beautiful than any dream. She was bending over, picking something from the
grass, and she seemed like a wonderful pink-and-white flower set among the
other flowers of yellow and red and blue.
For a moment Hyvarnion
stood and gazed with open mouth and happy eyes. Then he took his harp and began
to sing a song which he had just that minute made. For because he was a
minstrel it was easier for him to sing than to talk. And in the song he called
her Queen Iris gathering flowers for her crown. Then the maiden raised her head
and she turned pinker and whiter, and looked even more like a fair flower than
before. For she too had had a dream, three times. And it was of golden-haired
Hyvarnion that she had dreamed, whom she now saw looking at her and singing so
sweetly with his silver voice.
But she also answered him
in a song, for she was a singer, too. “I am no Queen Iris,” she sang, “I am
only the little maiden Rivanone, though they call me Queen of this Fountain.
And I am not gathering flowers as you say, fair Sir, but I am seeking simple herbs
such as wise men use to cure pain and trouble.”
“What are the herbs you
seek, Rivanone?” asked Hyvarnion, coming nearer. She held up a sprig of green
in her white hand. “See, this is the vervain,” she answered in song; “this
brings happiness and heart’s ease. But I seek two others which I have not
found. The second opens the eyes of the blind. And the third, few may ever find
that precious herb, the third is the root of life, and at its touch death flees
away. Alas! Fair Sir, I cannot find those two, though some day I feel that I
shall need them both most sorely.” Rivanone sighed and two tears stood like
dewdrops in her flower eyes.
But Hyvarnion had now
come very close. “Still, you have found the first, which gives happiness,
little Queen,” he sang tenderly. “Have you not happiness to share with me,
Rivanone?” Then the maiden looked up in his eyes and smiled, and held out to
him a sprig of the green vervain.
“For my King,” she sang,
just as he had dreamed. And then he did just what she had dreamed he would do;
but that is a secret which I cannot tell. For no one knows all that a maiden
dreams.
And after this and that
they came back to the King’s palace hand in hand, singing a beautiful song
which together they had made about Happiness. So they were married at the
court, and the King did them great honor and made them King and Queen of music
and of song.
So, happily they lived
and happily they sang in their little Kingdom of Poesie, for did they not
possess the herb of joy which Rivanone had found and shared with Hyvarnion, her
King?
II
But it was a pity that
Rivanone had not also found those other plants for which she had been seeking,
the root which brings light to the blind, and the root which gives life to the
dying. Because Rivanone had foreseen only too well the need of them which would
come to her. For when, after a year or two, their little son was born, his blue
eyes were sightless and all the colored wonders of the world were secrets which
he could never know. So they named him Hervé, which means Bitterness, the first
bitterness which had come into their lives of joy. But it was not the last. Not
long after the little Hervé came, golden-haired Hyvarnion lay ill and dying.
And because on that spring morning, Rivanone had not found the herb of life, she
could not keep him from going away to find it for himself in that fair country
where it is the only plant that grows, with wonderful blossoms which no living
man has ever seen.
So Hyvarnion passed away
from his kingdom of music and song, which he left to be shared by dear Rivanone
and Hervé his little son. Thus Hervé became a Prince, heir to all the gifts of
that royal pair. And of these there were in particular four of the best: a
beautiful face, the sweetest voice that ever thrilled in Brittany, the golden
harp of Hyvarnion his father, and many a lovely song made by those two, which
Rivanone taught him. What a wonderful Kingdom that was to be his! What
beautiful gifts for a little boy to own!
But even in a kingdom of
this sort one has to bear sorrows and discomforts, just as folk do in other
kingdoms which are less fair. Hervé’s name meant bitterness, and there was much
bitterness in his little life before he learned what a Prince he really was.
For he was blind and could not play with the other children. Rivanone was a
poor widow and there was no one to earn bread for the two. Sometimes the carols
which they sang together were the only breakfast to begin the day. Sometimes
the songs Rivanone made beside his bed at night were the only food Hervé had
tasted since sunrise. Sometimes they were both so hungry that they could not
sing at all; and those were sad times indeed.
But when Hervé was seven
years old a great idea came to him. Rivanone lay ill and miserable, and there
was nothing to eat in the house. Hervé sat by her side holding her hand, and
wishing there was something he could do about it. Blind as he was he had never
been out of the house alone. But suddenly courage came to him and hope, through
his great idea.
“I will save you, dear
mother!” he cried, throwing his arms about her neck. “I will take father’s
golden harp and go out upon the highway and sing your beautiful songs. People
will give me pennies, and I shall buy you food.”
So, carrying the golden
harp on his back, in his ragged clothes and bare feet the little fellow went
out stumbling and feeling his way along the hard road. Now almost at the first
corner he met a white dog, who seemed to have no master. This creature came
sniffing and whining up to Hervé and licked his hand. And when the boy went on
the dog followed close at his side as if to guide and protect him. Hervé asked
every one he met whose dog it was; but they all said it was a strange dog come
from No-where, and belonged to No-one. It seemed almost as if the beast had
been sent especially for Hervé. So at last he said, “You shall be my dog,” and
at that the great white beast jumped up and barked for joy. Hervé fastened a
rope about the dog’s neck and kept one end in his hand. So now he had some one
to guide and guard him, for the dog was very careful and kind and took care
that Hervé never stumbled nor went astray into the ditch by the side of the
road.
It must have been a
hard-hearted man indeed who had no pennies to spare for the blind boy led by
the big white dog. With his bare feet blue with cold, his teeth chattering, and
his eyes turned wistfully up to the sky which he could not see, he was a sad little
figure to meet on the lonely Brittany roads. And he sang so sweetly, too! No
one had ever heard such a voice as that, nor such beautiful songs. Every one
who heard gave him money. So he was helping his mother, getting her food and
medicine and clothes to keep her warm. And this thought comforted him when he
was shivering with cold, his rags blown about by the wind and soaked in the
rain.
Day after day, week after
week, Hervé trudged along the flinty roads. Often he limped with cold, bleeding
feet which the faithful dog would try to lick warm again. Often he was very
tired, and sometimes he was sad, when people were not kind. But this seldom
happened. Once Hervé was passing through a strange village where all the folk
were heathen. And a band of naughty children began to dance about him and tease
him, pulling his hair and twitching his cloak. And they mocked his music,
singing, “Blind boy, blind boy! Where are you going, blind boy!” Then it is
said that a wonderful thing happened. Hervé was sorry because they were so
cruel and unkind, and he struck a strange chord of music on his harp and sang
in a low, clear voice,
“Dance on, bright eyes
who can see. Dance on, children who mock a poor blind boy. Dance on, and never
stop so long as the world wags.” And it is said that the wicked children are
still dancing, over the world and back, around and around, tired though they
must be. And they will be still more tired before all is done. For they must
whirl and pirouette until the end of the world; and that is a long time even
for children who love to dance.
At a different time
another unkind thing happened to Saint Hervé. But this time it was a beast who
hurt his feelings. And this was strange; for usually the beasts loved him and
tried to help him as the white dog had done. But after all this was only a
mistake; yet it was a sad mistake, for it cost Hervé the life of his faithful
guide. This is how it happened.
As Hervé and his dog were
passing along a lonely road, a black wolf sprang out upon them. He mistook the
dog for an ancient enemy of his, another wolf. For indeed Blanco looked like a
white wolf, a wolf such as Saint Bridget gave the King of Ireland. And without
stopping to find out who he really was, which would have saved all the trouble,
they had a terrible fight, and poor Blanco was killed by the huge black wolf.
Then Hervé was sad
indeed. He cried and sobbed and was so wretched that the wolf was sorry.
Besides, as soon as the fight was over the wolf had found out his mistake, and
saw that it was a strange dog whom he had killed, no wolf-enemy at all. He was
very much ashamed. He came up to Hervé and fawned at his feet, trying to tell
that he was sorry, and asking what he should do about it. So Hervé told him
that if he would be his dog now instead of Blanco he would try to forgive the
wolf; though he was, oh, so sorry to lose his faithful dog.
After that Hervé went on
his wanderings led by a big black wolf whom he held in a strong leather leash.
And the wolf became as dear to him as Blanco had been. He slept in the barn
with the oxen when he was at home, and never snapped nor bit at them as most
wolves would do. But he kept sharp watch over his little master, and saw that
no one hurt or cheated him. I should be sorry to think what would have happened
to any one who had dared to touch Hervé while the wolf was near. And he was
always near, with his sharp teeth and watchful eyes.
So they wandered and
wandered together, Hervé and the wolf, carrying music from town to town, the
songs of Hyvarnion and Rivanone. But Hervé had not yet learned to make songs of
his own.
III
Now after seven years of
wandering, Hervé had earned money enough to keep his mother in comfort. He
longed to go to school and be taught things, to grow wise like his father, who
had been called the Little Sage, and to learn how to make songs for himself.
For he felt that it was time for him to come into the kingdom of Hyvarnion and
Rivanone; and the songs shut in his heart were bursting to come out.
Gourvoyed, the brother of
Rivanone, was a holy hermit who lived alone in the forest, and he would teach
Hervé, his nephew, for love of him. For Gourvoyed was a wise man, skilled in
all things, but especially in the making of songs.
It was a blessed morning
when Hervé started for his school in the woods; he was going to his kingdom!
The sunlight framed his fair curls in a halo of light, as if giving him a
blessing. Birds sang all along the way as if telling him that with Gourvoyed he
would learn to make music even sweeter than theirs. The wolf led him eagerly,
bounding with joy; for he shared in all the hopes of Hervé’s life. And all the
creatures knew that he would become a great poet. And so indeed it was.
For Hervé soon learned
all that Gourvoyed could teach, and in his turn he became a master. Many pupils
came to the hut in the forest which the hermit gave up to him, and begged Hervé
to make them singer-poets like himself. But he could not do that. He could
teach them to sing and to play the harp; but no one could sing as well as he
sang, or play as well as he played. And no one can ever be taught to make
poetry unless he has it in his soul, as Hervé had. For that is a royal gift,
and it came to Hervé from Hyvarnion and Rivanone, the King and Queen of music
and of song. It was Hervé’s kingdom, and it was given him to take away the
bitterness from his name, to make it remembered as sweet, sweet, sweet.
And now on his wanderings
from town to town Hervé was received like a prince. He sat at great lords’
tables, and sang in ladies’ bowers. He had golden goblets as his gifts, and
shining gems to wear if he chose. But he was so generous that he gave them all
away. Never was there heard music so sweet as his; never were there songs so
beautiful as he sang to the rippling of his father’s golden harp. For Hervé was
even a greater minstrel than Hyvarnion or Rivanone had been.
In his wanderings all
about the country Hervé came to many strange places and met with many strange
adventures. Once he spent the night at the castle of a great lord who made
Hervé sit on his right hand at table and honored him above all his guests. When
the banquet was over, at the Count’s request a page brought to Hervé his golden
harp, and they all shouted for “A song! a song!” Every one pushed back his
stool to listen, and Hervé took the harp and ran his finger over the golden
strings with a sound like drops of rain upon the flowers.
Now outside the castle,
beyond the moat, was a pond. And in the pond lived a whole colony of great
green bullfrogs, whose voices were gruffer and grummer than the lowest twanging
note on Hervé’s harp. And as soon as Hervé began to sing these rude frogs began
to bellow and growl as if trying to drown his music. Perhaps they were jealous;
for Hervé’s voice was sweeter than a silver bell. But all they could sing was
“Ker-chog! Ker-r-kity-chog, Ker-chog!” which is neither very musical nor very
original, being the same tune which all the frog-people have sung from the
earliest days.
Now Hervé was displeased
by their disagreeable noise. He could not sing nor play, nor think of the words
which belonged with his music: only the “Ker-chog! Ker-r-kity-chog! Ker-chog!”
sounded in his ears. And it grew louder and louder every moment as one by one
all the frogs joined in the chorus.
Hervé waited for them to
stop. But when he found that they did not mean to do this, but were really
trying to drown his voice, he was very angry. He strode to the window holding
his harp in his hand. And leaning far out he struck another of his wonderful
chords of music, such as had charmed the mocking children once before, as you
remember.
“Sing your last song, O
Frogs,” he said. “Sing your last Ker-chog, for henceforth you will be silent. I
command you from this night never to open your mouths again. All save one, the
littlest of you all. And he shall sing forever, without cease, to remind you of
your rudeness to me.” And no sooner had he ceased speaking when there came a
great silence outside the window, broken only by one wee piping tadpole voice.
“Ker-chog! Ker-r-kity-chog! Ker-chog!” he chanted his sad little solo. And all
alone he had to sing and sing this same tune forever. I dare say one can hear
him yet in the greeny pond outside that old French castle.
IV
Now after many years of
wandering, of singing, of making beautiful songs, of teaching and wandering
again, Hervé’s dear mother Rivanone died. But he still had some one to love and
look for him and the wolf when he came home from his travels. For Rivanone had
adopted a dear little girl named Christine, beautiful as sunshine and sweet as
a flower. She called Hervé “Uncle” and loved him dearly, and the wolf was a
great friend of hers.
So at last he thought to
settle down and make music about him in his own home, letting people come there
to hear it, instead of carrying it to them by road and river. For he was
growing an old man, and it was not so easy to travel in his blindness as it
used to be. Besides, the black wolf was also growing gray, and needed rest after
these long years of faithful work.
Hervé resolved to build a
church, and to live there with Christine near him in a little house of her own.
He had grown to be an important personage in the world, and had many friends,
pupils, and followers who wanted to live near him. So forth they set to find a
place for their church, Hervé and his troop of black-robed monks. And before
them, like a little white dove among the ravens, ran Christine holding her
uncle’s hand in one of hers, and in the other grasping the leash at which
tugged the grizzled old wolf, who was guiding them. Over many a hill and dale
and bloomy meadow he had led Hervé before now, down many a lane and village
street, but never upon so important a journey as this. For this was to be the
old wolf’s last long tramp with his master. And the wolf was to choose the spot
where the church should stand. Where he stopped to rest, there would they lay
the first stone.
So he led them on and on.
And at last he lay down in a green spot by a river, just the place for a
beautiful church to grow up. And thenceforth Hervé the minstrel would wander no
more, but bide and rest and be happy with the wolf and Christine.
They built her an arbor
near the church, in a clump of willows on the border of a spring. It was cone-shaped
and covered with straw like a huge beehive. And Christine herself seemed like a
busy bee gathering honey as she buzzed in and out among the roses, humming
little tunes below her breath. For she was always among the flowers, as
Rivanone had been. Every Saturday morning she would rise early, and with her
little basket on her arm would go out to pick the blossoms with the dew still
on them. And every Saturday evening she came to the church with her arms full
of flowers till she looked like a bouquet of sweetness. And going into the
empty church she would busy herself with arranging the flowers for the next
morning’s service. For it was her duty to see that Uncle Hervé’s church was
kept clean and sweet and beautiful.
And while Christine stood
there putting the flowers into tall golden vases, singing softly the songs
which Rivanone had taught her, her Uncle Hervé would come creeping up the steps
of the church, his hand on the head of the wolf, who always led him to the
place where he heard her voice. Softly, very softly, as if he were doing
something naughty, Hervé would pull open the heavy door, just a crack, the
better to hear her sing. Then he would put his ear to the opening; while the
wolf would thrust his nose in below, and wag his tail eagerly. But Christine’s
keen ears always heard them, no matter how slyly the good blind man crept up to
that door. And it became part of the game that she should cry out suddenly,
“I see you, Uncle! I see
you!” And though he could not see her at all, he would start and pop back,
pulling the wolf with him as though he had done something wrong. Then without
making any noise they would tiptoe away to Hervé’s house, their hearts beating
with love for the dear little maiden who would soon come to bid them good-night
on her way home to her bower.
So they lived happily all
the rest of their days, these three among the flowers. And in spite of his name
Hervé’s life was not one of bitterness, but of joy. The kingdom which had come
to him from Hyvarnion and Rivanone was his all his life long; and though he no
longer wandered painfully from town to town, the songs which he made wandered
still from heart to heart. And long, long afterwards their echo made music
through the land of Brittany, as the fragrance of a flower lasts long after the
flower has passed on its way elsewhere.
Dear Saint Hervé!
– from The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts, by Abbie
Farwell Brown, illustra1900
SOURCE : https://catholicsaints.info/the-book-of-saints-and-friendly-beasts-the-blind-singer-saint-herve/
Gourin :
chapelle Saint-Hervé, buste de saint Hervé.
St. Hervé
St. Hervé was the son of
a traveling bard, a member of the court of one of the Frankish kings. Hervé was
born blind, in the early sixth century. Even though he lacked sight, Hervé
lived with great joy. He took after his father and began to sing as a bard and
troubadour. He lived near the French city of Plouvien as a hermit with his
disciple and companion, Guiharan.
Hervé became famous for
his power to cure animals—wild and tame—and he tamed a wolf that was prowling
the surrounding countryside. Hervé is often shown with his wolf, as legend has
it the beast accompanied him everywhere.
Once, Hervé's wolf
devoured the ox that Hervé kept as a draft animal. The pious Hervé began to
eloquently preach a sermon, begging the wolf to aid him in caring for the
crops. From that day forward, the wolf took over for the ox in pulling the plow
for Hervé. Hervé's community of disciples grew, and a peaceful community of
poet-hermits tended their land outside Plouvien until Hervé died in 556 AD.
St. Hervé, who, even
though blind, saw God's love in all creatures—pray for us!
SOURCE : https://faith.nd.edu/s/1210/faith/interior.aspx?sid=1210&gid=609&pgid=46238&cid=88651&ecid=88651
Kerlaz :
église paroissiale Saint-Germain, vitrail de Gabriel Léglise illustrant
"Saint Hervé bénissant les fidèles"
Sant' Erveo (Hervè) Abate
e eremita in Bretagna
Nato in Galles - m. 575
c.
Emblema: Lupo
Martirologio
Romano: In Bretagna, sant’Ervéo, eremita, che, come si racconta, pur privo
della vista fin dalla nascita, cantava tuttavia con letizia le meraviglie del
paradiso.
La storia di Sant’Hervé, così come ci è stata tramandata da una “Vita” del XIII secolo, lo vuole figlio di un menestrello inglese di nome Hyvarnion, espulso dal suo paese dai sassoni e rifugiatosi fortunosamente alla corte del re franco Childeberto. Fu subito assai apprezzato per la sua musica, ma non essendo provvisto di un adeguato galateo dovette abbandonare la vita di corte dopo due o tre anni e si trasferì dunque in Bretagna. Qui convolò a nozze con Rivanona, una ragazza orfana, dalla quale ebbe un bambino che nacque cieco ed a cui fu imposto il nome Hervé, che significa “amarezza”. Ogni qualvolta che il bambino piangeva, la mamma era solita cantargli delle canzoni e così egli crebbe nutrendo un grande amore per la musica e la poesia.
Quando il padre morì, Rivanona affidò il bambino ad un sant’uomo di nome Artian. In seguito Hervé si trasferì presso un suo zio, che aveva una piccola comunità monastica a Plouvien, ove si cimentò in ogni genere di lavoro nella fattoria. Una leggenda narra che un giorno stava lavorando nei campi quando sopragiunse un lupo che divorò l’asino che trainava l’aratro. Guirano, il giovane aiutante di Hervé, urlò per avvertirlo del pericolo, ma questi si mise a pregare ammansendo il lupo, che accettò di finire il lavoro di aratura.
Quando lo zio non poté più dirigere la scuola, la affidò alle sue cure, anche se dovette essere coadiuvato da un gruppo di monaci e professori. Dopo qualche tempo ebbe l’ispirazione di trasferire la scuola a Léon, dove il vescovo gli propose il conferimento dell’ordinazione presbiterale che però umilmente rifiutò. Con i suoi compagni proseguì poi ancora verso Occidente ed ai bordi della strada per Lesneven fece sgorgare una sorgente, che ancora oggi porta il suo nome, per i compagni assetati. Giunsero infine a Lanhouarneau ed Hervé provvide a fondare un monaster, ove rimase per il resto dei suoi giorni, circondato di venerazione per la sua fama di santità e la sua arte oratoria. Nei dintorni erano tutti soliti ricorrere a lui quale esorcista.
E’ considerato santo patrono di chi soffre di problemi agli occhi ed è
solitamente rappresentato in compagnia del lupo e di Guirano, sua giovane
guida. Rifulge tra i più popolari santi bretoni ed è figura centrale delle
ballate e del folclore indigeno. Il suo culto in origine aveva centro presso
Lanhouarneau, sino a quando nel 1002 le sue reliquie non vennero distribuite
fra vari luoghi, fattore che comportò di conseguenza l’estensione della sua
venerazione a tutta la regione. Il suo sepolcro, sito a Finisterre, scomparve
tra gli sconvolgimenti della Rivoluzione Francese. Sulle sue reliquie si
prestavano i giuramenti solenni fino al 1610, quando fu prescritto il
giuramento sul Vangelo. In Bretagna il nome Hervé è secondo solo ad Ivo quanto
a diffusione.
Autore: Fabio Arduino
Erveo (lat. Herveus; fr. Hervé), il cui nome ha permesso la confusione con
molti altri antichi santi bretoni, visse nel sec. VI, ma la sua leggenda,
scritta forse nel sec. XIII, non merita alcun credito. Non si può che approvare
il giudizio dato da Lobineau: "Il culto di s. Erveo è così pubblico e così
antico in Bretagna che non si può dubitare ragionevolmente che vi sia stato un
santo di questo nome, ma si potrebbe dubitare se si consultano i suoi atti
pieni di tante favole che hanno più l'aria di un romanzo fatto per divertire
che della storia di una persona che sia realmente vissuta". E' peraltro
attraverso la figura che traccia di lui questa leggenda che Erveo è rimasto un
santo popolarissimo in Bretagna: molte chiese e cappelle sono innalzate in suo
onore, il suo nome è frequentemente dato nel Battesimo ed è anche divenuto un
diffuso nome di famiglia.
La sua Vita, che si legge corne una bella leggenda, ce lo rappresenta come un s. Francesco di Assisi del sec. VI, che sovente fa miracoli alla maniera di Elia e di Eliseo. Suo padre, venuto dalla Gran Bretagna al seguito del re Childeberto, si ritirò in Bretagna per vivere in solitudine, quando un angelo gli apparve e gli ordinò di sposare una ragazza, Rivanona, che avrebbe incontrato l'indomani presso un pozzo. Da questa unione voluta da Dio, nacque Erveo (Hoarveus). Sin dalla nascita, secondo il voto di sua madre, i suoi occhi furono privati della luce terrestre, ma aperti allo splendore del paradiso. Ancor giovane, si ritirò in solitudine, e i miracoli fiorirono sui suoi passi; fu un camminatore infaticabile, guidato dal giovane Guirano, e accompagnato dal suo lupo. Questo, un giorno, aveva divorato l'asino col quale il santo lavorava, ma Erveo I'aveva addomesticato costringendolo a prendere il posto dell'asino. Tanto era grande la sua santità, che fu invitato, benché semplice esorcista, a un concilio di vescovi, che si sarebbe riunito in cima al Menez-Bré.
Intorno ad Erveo gravitano altri santi: sua madre, s. Rivanona, suo zio, s. Urfoedo, sua cugina, s. Cristina, che muore insieme con lui, e i ss. Maiano, Guesnoveo, Conogano e Mornrodo. Morì e fu sepolto a Lanhouarneau, dove aveva riuniti finalmente i suoi discepoli, pur senza che si possa parlare di un vero monastero. Le sue reliquie sarebbero state trasportate a Brest al tempo delle invasioni normanne, poi disperse nel sec. XI, parte a Nantes, parte a Rennes. I cantanti bretoni lo tengono per loro patrono, perché gli si attribuisce un Cantico del paradiso, conosciuto ancor oggi, e gli scultori amano rappresentarlo come un eremita cieco, appoggiato a un bastone, e accompagnato talvolta dal suo fedele Guirano, e sempre dal suo lupo. È festeggiato il 17 giugno e figura in questa data nei calendari di Quimper e di Saint Brieuc.
Autore: Jean Evenou
SOURCE : https://www.santiebeati.it/dettaglio/57790
Voir aussi : http://eglisesduconfluent.fr/Pages/Pe-Herve.php
