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diff --git a/34902-0.txt b/34902-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb7d4c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/34902-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12274 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Basque Legends, by Wentworth Webster + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Basque Legends + With an Essay on the Basque Language + +Author: Wentworth Webster + +Contributor: Julien Vinson + +Release Date: January 9, 2011 [eBook #34902] +[Most recently updated: December 15, 2022] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project +Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously +made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASQUE LEGENDS *** + + + + + Second Edition. + + BASQUE LEGENDS: + Collected, Chiefly in the Labourd, + + By + Rev. WENTWORTH WEBSTER, M.A., Oxon. + + + With an Essay + On + The Basque Language, + + By + M. Julien Vinson, + Of the Revue de Linguistique, Paris. + + + Together with + Appendix: Basque Poetry. + + + London: + + Griffith and Farran, + Successors to Newbery and Harris, + Corner of St. Paul's Churchyard; + And + Walbrook & Co., 52, Fleet Street, E. C. + + 1879. + + All Rights Reserved. + + + + + + + Printed by + W. O. Walbrook, + at the + Fleet Street Printing Works, + 52, Fleet Street, London. + + + + + + + To + M. Antoine D'Abbadie, + of Abbadia, + Member of the Institute of France, + this + Translation of Legends, + originally told in the language of his ancestors, + in grateful acknowledgment + of + kindly courtesy and of ever-ready assistance, + is + dedicated + by his obliged and obedient servant, + + + Wentworth Webster. + + + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + Page + + Introduction vii + + I.--Legends of the Tartaro 1 + The Tartaro 4 + M. d'Abbadie's Version 4 + Variations of above 5 + Errua, the Madman 6 + Variations of above 10 + The Three Brothers, the Cruel Master, and the Tartaro 11 + The Tartaro and Petit Perroquet 16 + + II.--The Heren-Suge.--The Seven-Headed Serpent 20 + The Grateful Tartaro and the Heren-Suge 22 + Variation of above 32 + The Seven-Headed Serpent 33 + The Serpent in the Wood 38 + + III.--Animal Tales 42 + Acheria, the Fox 43 + The Ass and the Wolf 45 + + IV.--Basa-Jaun, Basa-Andre, and Lamiñak 47 + Basa-Jauna 49 + The Servant at the Fairy's 53 + The Fairy in the House 55 + The Pretty but Idle Girl 56 + The Devil's Age 58 + The Fairy-Queen Godmother 59 + + V.--Witchcraft and Sorcery 64 + The Witches at the Sabbat 66 + The Witches and the Idiots 67 + The Witch and the New-Born Infant 69 + The Changeling 73 + + VI.--Contes des Fées 76 + + (A) Tales like the Keltic 77 + Malbrouk 77 + The Fisherman and his Sons 87 + Tabakiera, the Snuff-Box 94 + Mahistruba, the Master Mariner 100 + Dragon 106 + Ezkabi-Fidel 111 + Variation of above 120 + The Lady-Pigeon and her Comb 120 + Suggested Explanation of above 130 + Laur-Cantons 132 + The Young School-Boy 136 + The Son who Heard Voices 137 + The Mother and her Idiot Son; or, the Clever Thief 140 + Juan Dekos, the Blockhead (Tontua) 146 + Variation of the above--Juan de Kalais 151 + The Duped Priest 154 + + (B) Contes des Fées, derived directly from the + French 158 + Ass'-Skin 158 + Variations of above 165 + The Step-Mother and Step-Daughter 166 + Beauty and the Beast 167 + Variation of above 172 + The Cobbler and his Three Daughters (Blue-Beard) 173 + Variations of above 175 + The Singing Tree, the Bird which tells the Truth, + and the Water which makes Young 176 + Variation of above 181 + The White Blackbird 182 + The Sister and her Seven Brothers 187 + Variations, etc. 191 + + List of Publication of Foreign Legends in France 192 + + VII.--Religious Tales 194 + Fourteen 195 + Variation of above--Jesus Christ and the Old Soldier 199 + The Poor Soldier and the Rich Man 200 + The Widow and her Son 202 + The Story of the Hair-Cloth Shirt (La Cilice) 206 + The Saintly Orphan Girl 209 + The Slandered and Despised Girl 211 + + An Essay on the Basque Language 219 + + Appendix--Basque Poetry 235 + + + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +The study of the recent science of Comparative Mythology is one of the +most popular and attractive of minor scientific pursuits. It deals +with a subject-matter which has interested most of us at one period +of our lives, and turns the delight of our childhood into a charm and +recreation for maturer age. Nor is it without more useful lessons. In +it we see more clearly than perhaps elsewhere the reciprocal influence, +which none can wholly escape, of words and language upon thought, and +again of thought and fancy upon words and language; how mere words and +syllables may modify both conception and belief; how the metaphor, +which at first presented an object more clearly and vividly to the +mind than any more direct form of speech could do, soon confuses +and at last wholly distorts the original idea, and buries its +meaning under a new and foreign superstructure. We may mark here, +too, by numerous examples, how slowly the human mind rises to the +conception of any abstract truth, and how continually it falls back +upon the concrete fact which it is compelled to picture to itself in +order to state in words the simplest mental abstraction. The phrase, +"The dawn flies before the sun," passing into the myth of Daphne and +Apollo, is a lesson in psychology no less than in philology and in +comparative mythology. + +Now, both the interest and the value of these studies are enhanced in +proportion as they become complete. Our conclusions approach nearer +to certainty, and will gradually pass from theory to demonstration, +as we find the same legends and modes of thought and expression on +natural phenomena constantly reappearing among the most distant and +the most isolated peoples, in languages which in their complex forms +tell of the infancy of human speech, and also in those whose worn-down +frame speaks of the world's old age. + +Of the peoples now settled in Western Europe, the Basques are those +which are the most separate from other populations; distinct in +language, they represent, in a more or less mixed state, some older +stratum of European ethnology. Their language, too, as regards the +mass of the people, is still practically unwritten. [1] Here there is +a chance of finding legends in a purer and older form than among any +other European people; and in what they have borrowed from others, we +may have an almost unique crucial test of the time which it takes for +such traditions to pass orally from people of one language to another +and totally different one. None of these legends have been published +or even noticed till within the last two years, when M. d'Abbadie +read the legend of the Tartaro before the Société des Sciences et des +Arts de Bayonne, and M. Cerquand his "Légendes et Récits Populaires +du Pays Basque," before the sister society at Pau. [2] + +Of course we must expect to find such legends very much altered, +and in a state of almost inextricable confusion, and this not only +through forgetfulness, and through the lapse of time since their +origin, not only by the influence of a total change of religion, but +they are also mingled and inter-penetrated with totally new ideas; the +old and the new will be found side by side in striking and sometimes +grotesque contrast. As in Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands," +personages of mythical antiquity go to kirk, and indulge in other +decidedly post-Reformation practices, so in these Basque tales the +reader must not be startled by the introduction of maize and tobacco, +of cannon and gunpowder, of dances at the mairie, and the use of +the guillotine, in stories which, perhaps, originally told of the +movements of the stars, of the wars of the forces of the atmosphere, +of the bright beauty of the rising, or of the glowing glory of the +setting sun. [3] The body is the same in all ages, but the dress varies +with the changing fashions. To borrow an illustration from a slightly +older science, this is not a simple case of contorted and overlying +strata to be restored to their original order, but rather of strata +worn down, reconstructed, and deposited anew, and even modified in +their latest stage by the interference of human action. And thus our +problem becomes an exceedingly complex and difficult one, and our +readers must not be disappointed if our conclusions are not so clear +and positive as might be wished. The present is merely a tentative, +and not, in any sense, a final essay towards its solution. + +How are these legends told now, and how have they been preserved? They +are told by the Basque peasants, either when neighbours meet--after +the fashion made familiar to us by American novelists in the "Husking +Bee"--for the purpose of stripping the husks from the ears of maize, +an operation generally performed in one or two long sessions; or at the +prolonged wedding and other feasts, of which we have evidence in the +tales themselves, or else in the long nights round the wintry hearth +of their lonely dwellings. For it is one of the charms of the Basque +land that the houses are scattered all over the face of the country, +instead of being collected into crowded villages; and it is, perhaps, +to this fact chiefly that we owe the preservation of so much old-world +lore, and of primitive ideas, among this people. The reader must not +be surprised at the length of some of our specimens. The details of +the incidents of the longest are religiously preserved and, as told +at home, they are probably more lengthy (as anyone will understand +who has ever taken anything down from recitation) than as here +given. Many an unlettered Basque peasant could serve an irritable +stranger as Glendower did Hotspur, when he kept him "at least nine +hours in reckoning up the several devils' names that were his lackeys." + +In La Soule the "Pastorales," or Basque dramas, which last from six +to eight hours of uninterrupted action, are learnt in the same way +by word of mouth during the long evenings of winter. + +These legends are still most thoroughly believed in. They still +form part of the faith of these simple people--not at all, we need +hardly say, in the use of mythological or atmospheric allegory, +but as narratives of veritable fact. They believe them as they do +the histories of the Bible or the "Lives of the Saints." In fact, +the problem of reconciling religion and science presents itself to +their minds in this strange guise--how to reconcile these narratives +with those of the Bible and of the Church. The general solution is +that they happened before the time of which the Bible speaks, or +before Adam fell. They are "Lege zaharreko istorriguak"--"histories +of the ancient law"--by which is apparently meant the time before +Christianity. "This happened, sir, in the time when all animals and +all things could speak," was said again and again by our narrators at +the commencement of their story; not one doubted the literal truth of +what they told. Their naïve good faith occasionally severely tested +our own gravity. Appeal was often made to our supposed superior +knowledge to confirm the facts. The varying tone of the voice told +how truly the speakers sympathised with what they uttered. At times +sobs almost interrupted utterance, when the frequent apostrophe +came: "Think how this poor so-and-so must have suffered!" More often +bursts of laughter at traditional jokes, too poor to raise a smile on +less unsophisticated lips, broke the recital. Very determined, too, +is their adherence to what they believe to be the genuine text of +these old tales. "I don't understand it, but the history says so;" +"It is so;" "The story says so," was positively affirmed again and +again--e.g., in one of the Peau d'Ane or Cinderella stories, when the +lady has dazzled her admirer by her dress of silver (moonlight?), +then of gold (sunlight?), then of diamonds (dew-drops?), at last, +on the wedding-day, the bride and bridegroom dress each other. "I +don't know why," interrupted the story-teller, "but the story says +so." Could anything tell more quaintly of the marriage of the sun and +dawn? The sun decking the morning clouds with his light and beauty, +and they again robing him in their soft and tender colouring. + +But we must pass on to the tales themselves. None of these, we think, +will be found to be genuinely or exclusively Basque; the oldest we take +to be those most widely known, and which are most distorted. The heads +under which we have arranged them are: (1) Legends of the Tartaro, +or Cyclops; (2) of the Heren-Suge, the Seven-Headed Serpent; (3) +of purely Animal Tales, which are neither fables nor allegories; +(4) of Basa-Jauna, Basa-Andre, and of the Lamiñak, or Fairies; (5) +Tales of Witchcraft; (6) those which, for want of a better name, +we have entitled Contes des Fées, in which the fairy is an Eastern +magician--these we have divided into sections, (a) those which +resemble the Keltic and other tales, and (b) those which are probably +borrowed directly from the French; our last division (7), Religious +Tales and Legends, are probably from mediæval sources common to Latin +Christianity, but they are interesting as specimens of the tales which +probably delighted the highest born of our own ancestors in the middle +ages, and now linger only among the peasantry in out-of-the-way corners +of Europe. Some of these tales seem to us to be more gracefully told, +and have more of human interest in them, than any of the others. + +We fear scientific men will be disappointed in this +collection. Notwithstanding that we have been careful to collect from +those who know the Basque only, or who certainly knew only Basque +when they first learnt these tales, yet they are evidently much mixed +with French and Spanish. Our translations are literal to baldness; +the only liberty we have taken is in softening down the exceeding +directness and grossness of some portions. Not one tale is in the +least licentious--but the Basque language calls a spade a spade, +and not an implement of husbandry. [4] The Carlist war of the last +four years has prevented our getting any legends from the Spanish +Basque provinces, and has even to some extent hindered our work in +the French Pays Basque, by providing an almost exclusive object of +interest. In the more remote districts of the Pays Basque itself, +which we have not been able to revisit since we commenced this +collection, purer forms of some of these legends may be found, and +others of which we have no example; [5] but these which we give are +really representative. Though collected mainly in the neighbourhood +of St. Jean de Luz, we have tested them by enquiry of natives of all +the provinces, and find that they are equally well known in La Soule +and in Basse Navarre as in the Labourd. We never met with a Basque +peasant who could not tell us what are the Tartaro, the Heren-Suge, +Basa-Jaun, and the Lamiñak. + +As a curious coincidence, we may notice how closely some of the Basque +names of the stars parallel those given in Miss Frere's delightful +"Old Deccan Days." In the narrator's narrative, pp. 27, 28, we read, +"She (the grandmother) would show us the hen and chickens" (the +Pleiades)--the same in Basque, "Oiloa chituekin;" "The three thieves +climbing up to rob the Ranee's silver bedstead"--the three stars in +Orion's belt, in Basque, the three kings, or brothers, or robbers; the +milky way, "the great pathway of light on which He went up to heaven," +has also obtained in Basque a Christianized name--"Erromako zubia, +or Bidea," "the bridge or road to Rome." Again, "All the cobras in +my grandmother's stories were seven-headed," so the Heren-Suge in +the Basque country is always seven-headed. Little or nothing can be +gathered from the names of the actors, the heroes or heroines of +these tales. They are mostly anonymous, but the name, when given, +is almost always borrowed from the French. This is disappointing, +and much increases the difficulty of tracing the origin; but it is +analogous to the fact that scarcely a single purely Basque name is +to be found among the so-called kings and chieftains of the Basques +during the early middle ages. [6] Among the classic writers, too, +and among the soldiers and followers of our Anglo-Gascon princes, +hardly a name indubitably Basque is to be found. + +For all more special details and discussions we refer to the +Introductions to the separate sections. The few references given to +the parallel legends of other countries are not intended to be at +all complete, much less exhaustive. The Pays Basque is not a land of +libraries, and it is not easy to collect these legends on the spot, and +at the same time to get together the books necessary for a comparison +of them with those of other countries. The few we offer are only those +which have fallen in our way, and though worthless to the specialist, +may be of some little aid as suggestions to the ordinary reader. [7] +For the same purpose we annex a list of the first publication of the +chief collections of foreign legends in France. [8] It is curious to +remark that, while the masterpieces of French literature seem never +to have penetrated beyond the surface of society, these legends have +pierced to the very bottom of the social mass, and have become real +living household words, even to those many millions of Frenchmen who +do not understand one word of French. + +There remains the pleasant task of thanking some of the many friends +who have assisted us in this collection. I had hoped to have joined the +name of M. J. Vinson, the well-known Basque and Dravidian scholar, +to my own as joint-author of this simple work. I should hardly +have had the courage to have undertaken it had I not been assured +of his invaluable assistance in difficulties about the language of +the originals. Unavoidable circumstances have, however, prevented his +seeing the Basque of many of the later tales, and he therefore prefers +that the "Essay on the Basque Language" should alone bear his name. I +cannot but accede to his wishes; but, at the same time, I offer him +my most grateful thanks for the unfailing and unwearied help which he +so kindly afforded me for many months. The legends contributed by him +are noticed in their proper place. Our first acknowledgments are due +to M. d'Abbadie, of Abbadia, the well-known "Membre de l'Institut," +for his kind assistance and ready communication of the legends in +his possession, and which were the starting point of our work. Next, +and even more, to Madame M. Bellevue, of Dajieu-baita, through whose +kind intervention the majority of these tales were collected, and who +assisted in the translation of almost all. And then to the sisters +Estefanella and Gagna-haurra Hirigaray, who contributed more than +twenty tales; to Dr. Guilbeau and other friends at St. Jean de Luz +who have taken a friendly interest in our work, and to all those +whose names are appended to the tales they furnished. It would be +presumptuous to hope that our readers will find as much pleasure in +perusing these tales as we have had in collecting them. + + + + + + +I.--LEGENDS OF THE TARTARO. + + +Who, or what is the Tartaro? "Oh! you mean the man with one eye in +the middle of his forehead," is the prompt and universal answer. The +Tartaro is the Cyclops, the sun's round eye, k'uklwy. But the word +Tartaro has apparently nothing to do with this. M. Cerquand, in his +"Legendes et Récits Populaires du Pays Basque," derives the word from +Tartare, Tartar, in the same way as the French word Ogre is said to +be derived from Hongrois, Ugri. The only objection to this highly +probable derivation (made still more probable by a Souletin variation, +Moiriak) is the comparatively late date (the 13th century) of the +first appearance of the Tartars in Europe. [9] It is besides perfectly +true that in many tales the Tartaro replaces, and is identical with +the giant or ogre; but this does not appear to us to be the original +conception of this mythological monster, nor have we ever heard from +an unlettered Basque such a description of him. To them he is simply +a Cyclops--a huge man, with an eye in the centre of his forehead. + +It is an interesting question--Is there any connection between +the Basque Tartaro and the Cyclops of the Odyssey and of the +classics? First, we must remark that the Cyclops legend is not peculiar +either to the Greek and Latin writers, or even to the Aryan nations; +e.g., in his communication of the Tartaro legends to the Société des +Sciences de Bayonne, M. d'Abaddie relates how he heard the tale told +in June, 1843, in Eastern Africa, in Lat. N. 9.2, E. Lon. 34.48, by +a man who had never before quitted the country. It is then only the +special form of the legend, and not the primary idea, that the Greeks +may have borrowed from the Basques. But there is this to observe--that, +with both Greeks and Latins, the Cyclops myth is an occidental and +not an oriental one, and is more strictly localised than almost any +other. This may be accounted for by saying that the sun's great fiery +eye is rather that of the setting than of the rising sun; that the +red-hot stake is the ruddy mountain peak, or the tall fir-trunk, +seen against the western horizon, and illumined by his descending +rays. But in the stories of Theocritus and Ovid, where the sun-myth +is not so apparent, the home of the Cyclops is still Sicily. Our first +Tartaro legend reads very like a rough outline of Ovid's story of "Acis +and Galatea." Now, W. Von Humboldt in his "Prüfung der Untersuchung +über die Urbewohner Hispaniens vermittelst der Vaskischen Sprache" +(Berlin, 1821), in cap. xlv., p. 167, and, again, con. vii., p. 178, +arguing on quite different grounds, places Sicily as the most easterly +habitation of the Basques within historic times. [10] We leave it then +to classical scholars to consider whether the Italic races in Magna +Græcia and Sicily may not have come in contact with the Basques there, +and from them have adopted their special form of the Cyclops legend. + +As we said above, the Tartaro sometimes replaces the giant or the +ogre; at other times we find him as Basa-Jaun, or even as an animal, +substituted for Acheria, the fox. He is, in his proper form, a huge +one-eyed giant, occasionally a cannibal, but not without a rough +"bonhomie" when satiated with food and drink. Intellectually far below +the feebler race of mankind, he is invariably beaten in his contests +with them, notwithstanding his enormous strength; he loses all his +wagers, and is generally lured on to commit involuntary suicide. In +some aspects he reminds one of Milton's "Lubbar Fiend," and in his +constant defeats and being constantly outwitted, recals one of the +types of the Devil in mediæval story. At times he appears in gentler +guise, as when he aids the young prince to his rights, and supplies +Petit Yorge with the means of victory over the Heren-Suge. What the +talking ring is which appears in so many of these stories we confess +ourselves unable to interpret; it is found in the Keltic, but, as +far as we are aware, not in the classic legends. + +One peculiarity of the Basque, and especially of the Tartaro legends, +is that the hero of them is so often a madman, an idiot, or a +fool. If we can trust our memory, the case is the same in the Slavonic +representatives of Odysseus. [11] But the Basques seem to dwell upon +and to repeat the idea in a peculiar way; they ring the changes on +all states, from the wild madman, like the Scandinavian Berserker, +through the idiot and fool, to the mere blockhead and ninny. Errua, +Enuchenta, Ergela, Sosua, Tontua, are terms employed to designate +the heroes who have sometimes, to our modern apprehension, little of +the idiot or fool, except the name. Can it be that the power which +put out the sun's fiery eye was looked upon as a beneficent being +in a burning tropic land, while, as the legend travelled northward, +the act seemed more like that of madness, or of senseless stupidity? + +One type of these Tartaro tales will at once recal Grimm's "Valiant +Little Tailor," and some of the more modern versions of "Jack the +Giant-Killer." But though the incidents are identical, it is hardly +possible that they can be thus borrowed. Several of our narrators +were utterly ignorant of French, and learnt the tale as children +from old people, who died a few years since at upwards of 80. The +first translation of Grimm's Tales into French was published in the +year 1845. + + + + +THE TARTARO. + +Once upon a time there was the son of a king who for the punishment +of some fault became a monster. He could become a man again only by +marrying. One day he met a young girl who refused him, because she +was so frightened at him. And the Tartaro wanted to give her a ring, +which she would not accept. However, he sent it her by a young man. As +soon as the ring was upon her finger it began to say, "Thou there, +and I here." [12] It kept always crying out this, and the Tartaro +pursued her continually; and, as the young girl had such a horror +of him, she cut off her finger and the ring, and threw them into a +large pond, and there the Tartaro drowned himself. + + + Estefanella Hirigarray, + of Ahetze. + + + +M. D'ABBADIE'S VERSION. + +Our next story was communicated by M. d'Abbadie to the Société des +Sciences et des Arts de Bayonne. The narrator is M. l'Abbé Heguiagaray, +the Parish Priest of Esquiule in La Soule:-- + +In my infancy I often heard from my mother the story of the Tartaro. He +was a Colossus, with only one eye in the middle of his forehead. He +was a shepherd and a hunter, but a hunter of men. Every day he ate +a sheep; then, after a snooze, every one who had the misfortune to +fall into his hands. His dwelling was a huge barn, with thick walls, +a high roof, and a very strong door, which he alone knew how to +open. His mother, an old witch, lived in one corner of the garden, +in a hut constructed of turf. + +One day a powerful young man was caught in the snares of the Tartaro, +who carried him off to his house. This young man saw the Tartaro eat +a whole sheep, and he knew that he was accustomed to take a snooze, +and that after that his own turn would come. In his despair he said +to himself that he must do something. Directly the Tartaro began to +snore he put the spit into the fire, made it red-hot, and plunged it +into the giant's one eye. Immediately he leapt up, and began to run +after the man who had injured him; but it was impossible to find him. + +"You shall not escape. It is all very well to hide yourself," said he; +"but I alone know the secret how to open this door." + +The Tartaro opened the door half-way, and let the sheep out between +his legs. The young man takes the big bell off the ram, and puts it +round his neck, and throws over his body the skin of the sheep which +the giant had just eaten, and walks on all fours to the door. + +The Tartaro examines him by feeling him, perceives the trick, and +clutches hold of the skin; but the young man slips off the skin, +dives between his legs, and runs off. + +Immediately the mother of the Tartaro meets him, and says to him: + +"O, you lucky young fellow! You have escaped the cruel tyrant; take +this ring as a remembrance of your escape." + +He accepts, puts the ring on his finger, and immediately the ring +begins to cry out, "Heben nuk! Heben nuk!" ("Thou hast me here! Thou +hast me here!") + +The Tartaro pursues, and is on the point of catching him, when the +young man, maddened with fright, and not being able to pull off the +ring, takes out his knife, and cuts off his own finger, and throws +it away, and thus escapes the pursuit of the Tartaro. + + + +In other versions the young man goes into the forest with some pigs, +meets the Tartaro there, is carried by him home, blinds him with the +red-hot spit, and escapes by letting himself down through a garret +window. The Tartaro pursues, guided by his ring, which at last he +throws to the young man to put on, when it cries out as above, and +the young man cuts off his finger, and throws it down a precipice or +into a bog, where the ring still cries out, and the Tartaro following, +is dashed to pieces and drowned. + + + + +ERRUA, THE MADMAN. + +Like many others in the world, there was a man and woman who had a +son. He was very wicked, and did nothing but mischief, and was of a +thoroughly depraved disposition. The parents decided that they must +send him away, and the lad was quite willing to set off. + +He set out then, and goes far, far, far away. He comes to a city, +and asks if they want a servant. They wanted one in a (certain) +house. He goes there. They settle their terms at so much a month, +and that the one who is not satisfied should strip the skin off the +other's back. [13] + +The master sends his servant to the forest to get the most crooked +pieces of wood that he can find. Near the forest there was a +vineyard. What does the servant do but cut it all up, and carries it +to the house. The master asks him where the wood is. He shows him +the vine-wood cut up. The master said nothing to him, but he was +not pleased. + +Next day the master says to him, "Take the cows to such a field, +and don't break any hole in the fence." + +What does the lad do? He cuts all the cows into little pieces, and +throws them bit by bit into the field. The master was still more +angry; but he could not say anything, for fear of having his skin +stripped off. So what does he do? He buys a herd of pigs, and sends +his servant to the mountain with the herd. + +The master knew quite well that there was a Tartaro in this mountain, +but he sends him there all the same. + +Our madman goes walking on, on, on. He arrives at a little hut. The +Tartaro's house was quite close to his. The pigs of the Tartaro and +those of the madman used to go out together. The Tartaro said one +day to him-- + +"Will you make a wager as to who will throw a stone farthest?" + +He accepted the wager. That evening our madman was very sad. While +he was at his prayers, an old woman appeared to him, and asks him-- + +"What is the matter with you? Why are you so sad?" + +He tells her the wager that he has made with the Tartaro. The old +woman says to him-- + +"If it is only that, it is nothing." + +And so she gives him a bird, and says to him-- + +"Instead of a stone, throw this bird." + +The madman was very glad at this. The next day he does as the old +woman told him. The Tartaro's stone went enormously far, but at last +it fell; but the madman's bird never came down at all. + +The Tartaro was astonished that he had lost his wager, and they make +another--which of the two should throw a bar of iron the farthest. The +madman accepted again. He was in his little house sadly in prayer. The +old woman appears again. She asks him-- + +"What's the matter with you?" + +"I have made a wager again, which of the two will throw the bar of +iron the farthest, and I am very sorry." + +"If it is only that, it is nothing. When you take hold of the bar of +iron, say, 'Rise up, bar of iron, here and Salamanca.'" (Altchaala +palenka, hemen eta Salamanka.) [14] + +Next day the Tartaro takes his terrible bar of iron, and throws +it fearfully far. The young man could hardly lift up one end, and +he says-- + +"Rise up, bar of iron, here and Salamanca." + +When the Tartaro heard that (he cried out)-- + +"I give up the wager--you have won," and he takes the bar of iron away +from him. "My father and my mother live at Salamanca; don't throw, +I beg of you, I implore you--you will crush them." + +Our madman goes away very happy. + +The Tartaro says to him again: + +"I will pull up the biggest oak in the forest, and you pull up +another." + +He says, "Yes." And the later it grew in the day, the sadder he +became. He was at his prayers. The old woman comes to him again, +and says to him-- + +"What's the matter with you?" + +He tells her the wager he has made with the Tartaro, and how he will +pull up an oak. The old woman gives him three balls of thread, and +tells him to begin and tie them to all the oaks in the forest. [15] + +Next day the Tartaro pulls up his oak, an enormously, enormously big +one; and the madman begins to tie, and to tie, and to tie. + +The Tartaro asks him: + +"What are you doing that for?" + +"You (pulled up) one, but I all these." + +The Tartaro replies, + +"No! No! No! What shall I do to fatten my pigs with without acorns? You +have won; you have won the wager." + +The Tartaro did not know what to think about it, and saw that he had +found one cleverer than himself, and so he asks him if he will come +and spend the night at his house. + +The madman says, "Yes." + +He goes to bed then with the Tartaro. But he knew that there was a +dead man under the bed. When the Tartaro was asleep what does the +madman do? He places the dead man by the Tartaro's side, and gets +under the bed himself. In the middle of the night the Tartaro gets +up, and takes his terrible bar of iron and showers blows upon blows, +ping pan, ping pan, as long and as hard as he could give them. + +The Tartaro gets up as usual, and goes to see his pigs, and the madman +also comes out from under the bed; and he goes to see the pigs too. The +Tartaro is quite astounded to see him coming, and does not know what +to think of it. He says to himself that he has to do with a cleverer +than he; but he asks him if he has slept well. + +He answers, "Yes, very well; only I felt a few flea-bites." + +Their pigs had got mixed, and as they were fat, he had to separate +them in order to go away with his. The Tartaro asked the madman what +mark his pigs had. + +The madman says to him, "Mine have some of them one mark, some of +them two marks." + +They set to work to look at them, and they all had these same marks. + +Our madman goes off then with all the hogs. He goes walking on, on, +on, with all his pigs. He comes to a town where it was just market +day, and sells them all except two, keeping, however, all the tails, +which he put in his pockets. As you may think, he was always in +fear of the Tartaro. He sees him coming down from the mountain. He +kills one of his hogs, and puts the entrails in his own bosom under +his waistcoat. There was a group of men near the road. As he passed +them he took out his knife, and stabs it into his chest, and takes +out the pig's bowels, and our madman begins to run very much faster +than before, with his pig in front of him. + +When the Tartaro comes up to these men, he asks if they have seen +such a man. + +"Yes, yes, he was running fast, and in order to go faster just here +he stabbed himself, and threw away his bowels, and still he went on +all the faster." + +The Tartaro, too, in order to go faster, thrusts his knife into his +body, and falls stark dead. [16] + +The madman goes to his master's. Near the house there was a marsh +quite full of mud. He puts his live pig into it, and all the tails +too. He enters the house, and says to the master that he is there +with his pigs. The master is astounded to see him. + +He asks him, "Where are the pigs, then?" + +He says to him, "They have gone into the mud, they were so tired." + +Both go out, and begin to get the real pig out, and between the two +they pull it out very well. They try to do the same thing with the +others; but they kept pulling out nothing but tails. + +The madman says, "You see how fat they are; that is why the tails +come out alone." + +He sends the servant to fetch the spade and the hoe. Instead of +bringing them he begins to beat the mistress, whack! whack! and he +cries to the master, "One or both?" + +The master says to him, "Both, both." + +And then he beats the servant maid almost to pieces. He goes then +to the master, taking with him the spade and the hoe, and he sets to +beating him with the spade and the hoe, until he can no longer defend +himself, and then he thrashes the skin off his back, and takes his +pig and goes off home to his father and mother; and as he lived well +he died well too. + + +Pierre Bertrand learnt it from his Grandmother, who died a few years +since, aged 82. + + + + +VARIATIONS OF ERRUA. + +We have several variations of this tale, some like the above, very +similar to Grimm's "Valiant Little Tailor," others like Campbell's +"Highland Tales." In one tale there are two brothers, an idiot and a +fool (Enuchenta eta Ergela). The idiot goes out to service first, and +gets sent back for his stupidity. Then the fool goes, and outwits both +his master and the Tartaro, whose eye he burns out with a red-hot spit, +as in the first instance. In another the servant frightens the Tartaro +at the outset by cracking two walnuts, and saying that they were bones +of Christians he was cracking. Another wager is as to which shall carry +most water from a fountain. The Tartaro fills two hogsheads to carry, +but the lad says to him, "Only that; I will take the whole fountain;" +and he begins to stir the water about with a stick. But the Tartaro +cries out, "No! No! No! I give up. Where shall I go and drink if you +carry away all my water?" Another variation is as follows:-- + + + + +THE THREE BROTHERS, THE CRUEL MASTER, AND THE TARTARO. + +Like many others in the world, there lived a mother with her three +sons. They were not rich, but lived by their work. The eldest son +said one day to his mother-- + +"It would be better for us if I should go out to service." + +The mother did not like it, but at last she let him go. He goes off, +far, far, far away, and comes to a house, and asks if they want a +servant. They say "Yes," and they make their agreement. + +The master was to give a very high salary--100,000 francs--but the +servant was to do everything that the master ordered him, and, if he +did not do it, the master was to tear the skin off his back at the +end of the year, and to dismiss him without pay. [17] + +The servant said to him, + +"All right; I am strong, and I will work." + +On the morrow the master gives him a great deal of work, but he does it +easily. The last months of the year the master presses him much more, +and one day he sends him into a field to sow fourteen bushels of wheat +in the day. The lad goes sadly, taking with him a pair of oxen. He +returns to the house very late in the evening. The master says to him, + +"Have you done your work?" + +He says, "No." + +"Do you remember the agreement we made? I must tear the skin off your +back: that is your salary." + +He tears the skin off, as he had said, and sends him away home without +anything. His mother was in great grief at seeing him come home so +thin and weak, and without any money. + +He tells what has happened, and the second brother wishes to start off +at once, saying that he is strong, and that he will do more work. The +mother did not like it, but she was obliged to let him go. + +He goes to the same house as his brother, and makes the same terms +with the master. When he had almost finished his year, his master +sends him too to sow fourteen bushels of wheat. He starts very early +in the morning, with two pair of oxen; but the night came before he +had sown it all. The master was very glad at the sight of that. He +strips his skin off his back also, and sends him away without any +money. Think of the vexation of this mother in seeing both her sons +return in this fashion. + +The third wishes to start off at once. He assures his mother that +he will bring back both the money and the skin of his back. He goes +to this same gentleman. He tells this one, too, that he will give +him a high salary, on condition that he will do all that he shall +tell him to do, otherwise he shall have the skin torn off his back, +and be sent away without anything, at the end of the year. + +He had made him work hard and well for ten months, and then wished +to try him. He sent him to the field, and told him to sow fourteen +bushels of wheat before night. He answers, "Yes." + +He takes two pairs of oxen, and goes off to the field. He ploughs a +furrow all round the field, and throws his fourteen bushels of wheat +into it. He then makes another furrow, to cover it up, and at night +time he goes home to the house. The master is astonished. He asks +him if he has sown it. + +"Yes, it is all under ground; you may be sure of it." + +The master was not pleased; he had his fears. + +The next day he sends him with sixteen head of cattle to such a field, +and says to him, + +"You must take all these cattle into the field without unlocking the +gate or making a gap." + +Our lad takes a hatchet, a hoe, and a fork. Off he goes, and when he +gets to the field he kills them all, one by one. He cuts them up with +the hatchet, and throws them with the fork into the field. + +He comes home at nightfall, and says to his master that all the cattle +are in the field as he had told him. The master was not pleased, +but he said nothing. + +The next day he told him to go to such a forest and to bring a load +of wood from there, but all the sticks quite, quite straight. Our lad +goes off and cuts down in the chestnut copse all the young chestnut +trees which his master had planted, and which were very fine ones; +and he comes home. When the master saw that, he was not pleased, +and said to him, + +"To-morrow you shall go again with the oxen; and you must bring a +load of wood quite crooked, all quite crooked; if you bring only one +straight, so much the worse for you." + +The lad goes off, and pulls up a fine vineyard. After he had loaded +his cart, he comes home. When the master saw that, he could not say +anything; but he did not know what to think of it. + +He sends him into a forest. There was a Tartaro there; and all the +persons, and all the animals who went there, he ate them all. The +master gives him ten pigs, and also food for ten days, telling him +that the hogs would fatten themselves well there, because there were +plenty of acorns, and that he must return at the end of ten days. + +Our lad begins, and he goes on, and on, and on. He meets an old woman, +who says to him: + +"Where are you going to, lad?" + +"To such a forest, to fatten these pigs." + +The woman says to him: + +"If you are not a fool, you will not go there. That horrible Tartaro +will eat you." + +This woman was carrying a basket of walnuts on her head, and he said +to her: + +"If you will give me two of these walnuts I will beat the Tartaro." + +She willingly gives them to him, and he goes on, and on, and on. He +meets another old woman, who was winding thread. She says to him: + +"Where are you going, lad?" + +"To such a forest." + +"Don't go there. There is a horrible Tartaro there, who will be sure +to eat you, and your pigs as well." + +"I must go there all the same, and I will conquer him, if you will +give me two of your balls of thread." + +She gives him them, willingly; and he goes on farther, and finds a +blacksmith, and he, too, asks him where he is going? And he answers, +"To such a forest, to fatten my pigs." + +"You may just as well go back again. There is a terrible Tartaro there, +who will be sure to eat you." + +"If you will give me a spit, I will beat him." + +"I will give it you, willingly," and he gives it him with goodwill. + +Our lad goes on, and comes to this forest. He cuts off the tails of +all his pigs, and hides them in a safe place. The Tartaro appears, +and says to him: + +"How did you come here? I am going to eat you." + +The lad says to him: + +"Eat a pig if you like, but don't touch me." + +He takes his two nuts, and rubs them one against the other. + +"I have two balls here, and if one of them touches you, you are dead." + +The Tartaro is frightened, and goes away in silence. After having +eaten a pig, he comes back again, and says to him: + +"We must make a wager--which of the two will make the greatest heap +of wood?" + +The Tartaro begins to cut and to cut. Our lad leaves him alone, and +when he has made a terrible big heap, he begins to go round all the +trees with his balls of thread, and says to him. + +"You, that; but I, all this;" and he goes on tying and tying. The +Tartaro gives in, saying "that he is more clever than he." As he +had stopped his ten days, he makes in the night a great fire, and +makes his spit red-hot in it; and while the Tartaro was sleeping, +he plunges this spit into his only eye. After having taken his pigs' +tails, he goes away from the forest without any pigs, because the +Tartaro had eaten one every day. Near his master's house there was +"a well of the fairy." [18] Our lad sticks in there the tails of all +his hogs, excepting one, as well as he could. He then goes running +to his master, telling him that all the pigs were coming home very +gaily, and that they had got so hot in coming so fast that they +had all gone under the mud. "I wished to drag one out by pulling, +but only the tail came away; here it is." + +He goes off then with the master to this marsh; but the master did +not dare go in there to pull them out. He goes off sadly with his +servant home, not knowing what to think about it. There he counts +him out his 100,000 francs, and he went home proudly to his mother +and his brothers. There they lived happily, and their master was left +with 100,000 francs less. That served him right for having so much. + + + + +THE TARTARO AND PETIT PERROQUET. + +Like many others in the world, there was a mother and her son. They +were very wretched. One day the son said to his mother that he must go +away, to see if he could do anything. He goes far, far, far away. He +traverses many countries, and still goes on and on. He arrives in +a great city, and asks if they know of a place for a servant. They +tell him that there is one in the king's house. There they tell him +that he is to be gardener. But he tells them that he does not know +how to use a hoe at all, but that, all the same, he would learn it +with the others. He was very nice-looking. He soon learnt it, and +was liked by everybody. + +This king had a daughter, and she often noticed Petit Perroquet, +because he was polite to everybody. In this city there was a prince, +and he was paying court to this young princess, and he was seized +with dislike and jealousy of Petit Perroquet. One day this prince +[19] went to find the king. He said to him, + +"You do not know what Petit Perroquet says?--that he could bring the +Tartaro's horse here." + +The king sends for Petit Perroquet, and says to him, + +"It seems that you have said that you could bring the Tartaro's +horse here?" + +"I certainly did not say it." + +"Yes, yes," said the king, "you said it." + +"If you will give me all that I ask for, I will try." + +He asks for a great deal of money, and sets off. He travels on, and on, +and on, and he had to pass a wide river. He speaks to the ferryman, +and pays the passage money, and tells him that perhaps he will have +a heavy load on his return, but that he will be well paid. + +He lands on the other side; but he had yet a long way to go in the +forest, because the Tartaro lived in a corner of the mountain. At last +he arrives, and knocks at the door. An old, old woman comes to him, +and says to him, + +"Be off from here as quickly as possible; my son smells the smell of +a Christian a league off." + +"To eat me here, or to eat me elsewhere, it is all the same to me." + +But he goes outside, and hides himself under a great heap of cut +ferns. He had scarcely been there a moment, when he hears a deep +breathing and a grinding of teeth, which sounded like thunder. He +stops where he is, trembling. The Tartaro goes to his house, and asks +his mother if there is not some Christian or other hidden here. + +"No, no," says she. "But eat away, your dinner is all ready." + +"No, no! I must eat this Christian first." + +He goes hunting, looking, looking into every corner. He goes to the +heap of ferns, and pulls off some to put them on one side; but our +Petit Perroquet was quite, quite at the bottom. The Tartaro was just +on the point of finding him, but he grew tired, and went indoors, and +began to eat and to drink enormously. Our Petit Perroquet creeps out of +his ferns, and goes off to the stable. The horse had a big bell round +his neck, but he fills it with ferns (this bell was as large as the +big bell in the church of St. Jean de Luz). He mounts on the horse's +back, and very soon he arrives at the ferry, and the ferryman comes +to meet him. Together they get the horse into the ferry-boat as well +as they could, and they cross over. He gave him a handsome reward. As +soon as he was on the other side, the Tartaro appeared, crying out to +him to give him his horse back again, and that he would give him all +he could wish for. He replies, "No," and goes off full gallop. When +he came near the king's palace he took the fern out of the bell, +and everybody comes running out of doors or to the windows. All the +world was astonished to see Petit Perroquet return. + +The king was in ecstasy. He did not know what to say, but he liked +him even more than he did formerly, and the princess did also. The +other prince was not at all pleased, and he begins to think of some +other plot. He goes off to find the king, and he says to him, + +"Do you not know that Petit Perroquet says that he could bring the +Tartaro's diamond?" + +The king sends for Petit Perroquet, and says to him, + +"It seems that you say you can get the Tartaro's diamond?" + +"I certainly did not say any such thing." + +"Yes, yes--you said it." + +"No, no! I did not say it; but I will try, if you give me all I shall +ask for." + +And he asks for a great deal of money. + +He goes off, and reaches the ferry, and pays the ferryman well, and +goes far, far, far away into the forest, till he gets to the house +of the Tartaro. The old woman tells him to be off from there; and he +goes and hides himself again in the ferns. And he stops there until +the Tartaro comes to the house, just as he did the first time. He +turns over nearly all the ferns, and leaves him scarcely covered. He +stops quietly there all the time that the Tartaro was having his huge +supper, and when he thinks he has finished, and is taking his nap, +he creeps out very, very gently. The Tartaro always put his diamond +under his pillow, and he takes it away without waking him, and escapes, +running off as fast as if to break his feet. The ferryman is there, +and he crosses him over, and he pays him well. The Tartaro appears +on the other side again, and calls out to him telling him to give +him back his diamond, and that he would give him all that he could +wish for. He answers, "No, no!" and runs on to the king's house. + +When he arrived there, the king did not know what to do. One feasted +him, and another feasted him, and all the world was busied about him, +and everyone loved him more and more, and the princess as well as +the rest. The wicked prince did not know what to think of it. He was +eaten up with jealousy, and he thought of something else, and said +to the king: + +"Petit Perroquet says that he can bring the Tartaro himself." + +The king sends for Petit Perroquet, and says to him: + +"It appears that you have said that you will bring the Tartaro +himself here." + +"No, no, no, I did not say anything at all like that; but if you will +give me all I ask for, I will try. You must have a carriage made of +iron, half-a-yard thick, and three horses to draw it, and lots of +money. When all that is ready, I will set out." + +He asks, also, for a barrel of honey, another of feathers, and two +horns, and starts off. + +When he comes to the ferry, it was no easy thing to get this carriage +into the boat. When he has got to the other side, he first puts +himself into the barrel of honey, and then into the barrel of feathers, +and ties the horns on to his head, and then mounts as postilion. He +then comes to the Tartaro's house, and just then he happened to be at +home. Petit Perroquet knocks at the door. The Tartaro himself comes +to open, and asks: + +"Who are you? You!" + +"I!!--I am the oldest of all the devils in hell." + +He opens the carriage door for him, and says: + +"Get in there." + +The Tartaro gets in, and Petit Perroquet, very glad, starts off, and +arrives at the ferry. He crosses, as he best can, with his carriage +and horses. He pays the ferryman generously, and comes to the king's +palace. They were all terrified when they saw that he had the Tartaro +there. They tried to shoot him with cannon, but he caught the bullets, +and sent them back as if they had been balls to play with. They could +not kill him in that way, so they finished him with other arms. + +As Petit Perroquet had well gained her, they gave him the princess in +marriage. He sent for his mother to the court, and as they lived well, +so they died happily. + + + Pierre Bertrand. + + + + + + +II--THE HEREN-SUGE.--THE SEVEN-HEADED SERPENT. + + +It would only be spoiling good work by bad to attempt to re-write the +exhaustive essay which appears, under the heading of "St. George," in +Baring Gould's "Curious Myths of the Middle Ages." He there traces the +atmospheric myth in which the Dragon is the storm-cloud, the Maiden the +earth, and the Hero the sun, through all the forms of the great Aryan +legend, in Indian, Egyptian, Phoenician, Italic, Keltic, Teutonic, +and Scandinavian mythology. He shows that it was merely by a mistaken +metaphor [20] that St. George came to assume the place, and wear the +glories of the solar hero; and that England only followed in the wake +of other countries, in making him her national Saint and Patron. + +We will, therefore, now only glance at some of the Basque and Pyrenean +forms of this wide-spread myth. M. Cerquand boldly places one form of +the story, which is attached to the house of Belzunce, among historical +legends. But the history of Belzunce and the Dragon stands in the same +relation to the original myth as does that of Guy, Earl of Warwick, +Moor of Moor Hall, and of scores of other heroes. In a Basque version, +collected by ourselves, the concluding words show that in this form +it is simply an Eponymous legend, to account for the name, "and that +is whence comes the name of Belzunce." The oldest Pyrenean version +with which we are acquainted is that of the "Serpent d'Isabit." We +give the outlines of it from memory, as we heard, and read it, at +Bagnères de Bigorre. + +The serpent lay with his head resting on the summit of the Pic du +Midi de Bigorre, his neck stretched down towards Barèges, while his +body filled the whole valley of Luz, St. Sauveur, and Gédres, and +his tail was coiled in the hollow below the cirque of Gavarnie. He +fed but once in three months, or the whole country would have been +desolate. With a strong inspiration of his breath, he drew into his +capacious maw, across the valleys, whole flocks of sheep and goats, +herds of oxen, men, women, children, the population of whole villages +at once. He was now asleep, and inert, after such a repast. The whole +male population of several valleys assembled to consult on what +should be done. After long and fruitless debate an old man arose +and spoke:--"We have nearly three months yet before he will wake; +let us cut down all the forests on the opposite hills; then let us +bring all our forges and all the iron we possess, and with the wood +thus cut down let us melt it all into one red-hot fiery mass; then we +will hide ourselves behind the rocks, and make all the noise we can +to try and awaken the monster." So said, so done. The serpent awoke +in a rage at having his slumbers broken, he saw something bright on +the opposite side of the valley, and drew in a long breath, and the +fiery mass, with a roar like a thunderbolt, flew across the valley, +right down the monster's throat. Then, what convulsions ensued; +rocks were uptorn or split open, the mountains were shattered, the +glaciers beaten into dust as the serpent twisted and lashed about in +his agony. To quench his agony of thirst he descended to the valley, +and drank up all the streams from Gavarnie to Pierrefitte. Then, +in his last convulsion, he threw himself back upon the mountain side +and expired; his head rested in a deep hollow; as the fire within him +slowly cooled, the water he had swallowed poured out of his mouth, +and formed the present Lac d'Isabit. In M. Cerquand's legend of the +Dragon d'Alçay, the red-hot iron is replaced by "a cow's skin full +of gunpowder." In all the Basque legends of this class the hero dies. + +But these legends differ widely from the following tales; there is +in them no princess to be rescued, no charcoal-burner, no marriage, +or any other wonders. Were it not for their still closer resemblance +to the Gaelic tales, we should suspect the following legends to +be simply translations of some French legend of St. George. As we +remarked before, like the Deccan cobras, the Heren-Suge is always +seven-headed. It is strange, too, to notice that the princess always +behaves in the same chivalrous way. "One is enough to die." The union, +too, of Tartaro and Heren-Suge in the same tale is curious. + + + + +THE GRATEFUL TARTARO AND THE HEREN-SUGE. + +Like many of us who are, have been, and shall be in the world, there +was a king, and his wife, and three sons. The king went out hunting +one day, and caught a Tartaro. He brings him home, and shuts him up +in prison in a stable, and proclaims, by sound of trumpet, that all +his court should meet the next day at his house, that he would give +them a grand dinner, and afterwards would show them an animal such +as they had never seen before. + +The next day the two sons of the king were playing at ball against +(the wall of) the stable where the Tartaro was confined, and the ball +went into the stable. One of the boys goes and asks the Tartaro-- + +"Throw me back my ball, I beg you." + +He says to him, "Yes, if you will deliver me." + +He replies, "Yes, yes," and he threw him the ball. + +A moment after, the ball goes again to the Tartaro. He asks for it +again; and the Tartaro says: + +"If you will deliver me, I will give it you." + +The boy says, "Yes, yes," takes his ball, and goes off. + +The ball goes there for the third time, but the Tartaro will not give +it before he is let out. The boy says that he has not the key. The +Tartaro says to him: + +"Go to your mother, and tell her to look in your right ear, because +something hurts you there. Your mother will have the key in her left +pocket, and take it out." + +The boy goes, and does as the Tartaro had told him. He takes the key +from his mother, and delivers the Tartaro. When he was letting him go, +he said to him: + +"What shall I do with the key now? I am undone." + +The Tartaro says to him: + +"Go again to your mother, and tell her that your left ear hurts you, +and ask her to look, and you will slip the key into her pocket." + +The Tartaro tells him, too, that he will soon have need of him, +and that he will only have to call him, and he will be his servant +for ever. + +He puts the key back; and everyone came to the dinner. When they +had eaten well, the king said to them that they must go and see this +curious thing. He takes them all with him. When they are come to the +stable, he finds it empty. Judge of the anger of this king, and of +his shame. He said: + +"I should like to eat the heart, half cooked, and without salt, +of him who has let my beast go." + +Some time afterwards the two brothers quarreled in presence of their +mother, and one said to the other: + +"I will tell our father about the affair of the Tartaro." + +When the mother heard that, she was afraid for her son, and said +to him: + +"Take as much money as you wish." + +And she gave him the Fleur-de-lis. [21] "By this you will be known +everywhere as the son of a king." + +Petit Yorge [22] goes off, then, far, far, far away. He spends +and squanders all his money, and does not know what to do more. He +remembers the Tartaro, and calls him directly. He comes, and Petit +Yorge tells him all his misfortunes; that he has not a penny left, and +that he does not know what will become of him. The Tartaro says to him: + +"When you have gone a short way from here you will come to a city. A +king lives there. You will go to his house, and they will take you as +gardener. You will pull up everything that there is in the garden, and +the next day everything will come up more beautiful than before. Also, +three beautiful flowers will spring up, and you will carry them to +the three daughters of the king, and you will give the most beautiful +to the youngest daughter." [23] + +He goes off, then, as he had told him, and he asks them if they want a +gardener. They say, "Yes, indeed, very much." He goes to the garden, +and pulls up the fine cabbages, and the beautiful leeks as well. The +youngest of the king's daughters sees him, and she tells it to her +father, and her father says to her: + +"Let him alone, we will see what he will do afterwards." And, indeed, +the next day he sees cabbages and leeks such as he had never seen +before. Petit Yorge takes a flower to each of the young ladies. The +eldest said: + +"I have a flower that the gardener has brought me, which has not its +equal in the world." + +And the second says that she has one, too, and that no one has ever +seen one so beautiful. And the youngest said that hers was still more +beautiful than theirs, and the others confess it, too. The youngest of +the young ladies found the gardener very much to her taste. Every day +she used to bring him his dinner. After a certain time she said to him, + +"You must marry me." + +The lad says to her, + +"That is impossible. The king would not like such a marriage." + +The young girl says, too, + +"Well, indeed, it is hardly worth while. In eight days I shall be +eaten by the serpent." + +For eight days she brought him his dinner again. In the evening she +tells him that it is for the last time that she brought it. The young +man tells her, "No," that she will bring it again; that somebody will +help her. + +The next day Petit Yorge goes off at eight o'clock to call the +Tartaro. He tells him what has happened. The Tartaro gives him a fine +horse, a handsome dress, and a sword, and tells him to go to such a +spot, and to open the carriage door with his sword, and that he will +cut off two of the serpent's heads. Petit Yorge goes off to the said +spot. He finds the young lady in the carriage. He bids her open the +door. The young lady says that she cannot open it--that there are +seven doors, and that he had better go away; that it is enough for +one person to be eaten. + +Petit Yorge opens the doors with his sword, and sat down by the young +lady's side. He tells her that he has hurt his ear, and asks her to +look at it; [24] and at the same time he cuts off seven pieces of +the seven robes which she wore, without the young lady seeing him. At +the same instant comes the serpent, and says to him, + +"Instead of one, I shall have three to eat." + +Petit Yorge leaps on his horse, and says to him, + +"You will not touch one; you shall not have one of us." + +And they begin to fight. With his sword he cuts off one head, and the +horse with his feet another; [25] and the serpent asks quarter till the +next day. Petit Yorge leaves the young lady there. The young lady is +full of joy; she wishes to take the young man home with her. He will +not go by any means (he says); that he cannot; that he has made a vow +to go to Rome; but he tells her that "to-morrow my brother will come, +and he will be able to do something, too." The young lady goes home, +and Petit Yorge to his garden. At noon she comes to him with the +dinner, and Petit Yorge says to her, + +"You see that it has really happened as I told you--he has not +eaten you." + +"No, but to-morrow he will eat me. How can it be otherwise?" + +"No, no! To-morrow you will bring me my dinner again. Some help will +come to you." + +The next day Petit Yorge goes off at eight o'clock to the Tartaro, +who gives him a new horse, a different dress, and a fine sword. At +ten o'clock he arrives where the young lady is. He bids her open the +door. But she says to him that she cannot in any way open fourteen +doors; she is there, and that she cannot open them, and he should go +away; that it is enough for one to be eaten; that she is grieved to see +him there. As soon as he has touched them with his sword, the fourteen +doors fly open. He sits down by the side of the young lady, and tells +her to look behind his ear, for it hurts him. At the same time he +cuts off fourteen bits of the fourteen dresses she was wearing. As +soon as he had done that, the serpent comes, saying joyfully, + +"I shall eat not one, but three." + +Petit Yorge says to him, "Not even one of us." + +He leaps on his horse, and begins to fight with the serpent. The +serpent makes some terrible bounds. After having fought a long time, +at last Petit Yorge is the conqueror. He cuts off one head, and the +horse another with his foot. The serpent begs quarter till the next +day. Petit Yorge grants it, and the serpent goes away. + +The young lady wishes to take the young man home, to show him to +her father; but he will not go by any means. He tells her that he +must go to Rome, and set off that very day; that he has made a vow, +but that to-morrow he will send his cousin, who is very bold, and is +afraid of nothing. + +The young lady goes to her father's, Petit Yorge to his garden. Her +father is delighted, and cannot comprehend it at all. The young lady +goes again with the dinner. The gardener says to her, + +"You see you have come again to-day, as I told you. To-morrow you +will come again, just the same." + +"I should be very glad of it." + +On the morrow Petit Yorge went off at eight o'clock to the Tartaro. He +said to him that the serpent had still three heads to be cut off, +and that he had still need of all his help. The Tartaro said to him, + +"Keep quiet, keep quiet; you will conquer him." + +He gives him a new dress, finer than the others, a more spirited horse, +a terrible dog, [26] a sword, and a bottle of good scented water. [27] +He said to him, + +"The serpent will say to you, 'Ah! if I had a spark between my head and +my tail, how I would burn you and your lady, and your horse and your +dog.' And you, you will say to him then, 'I, if I had the good-scented +water to smell, I would cut off a head from thee, the horse another, +and the dog another.' You will give this bottle to the young lady, +who will place it in her bosom, and, at the very moment you shall +say that, she must throw some in your face, and on the horse and on +the dog as well." + +He goes off then without fear, because the Tartaro had given him this +assurance. He comes then to the carriage. The young lady says to him, + +"Where are you going? The serpent will be here directly. It is enough +if he eats me." + +He says to her, "Open the door." + +She tells him that it is impossible; that there are twenty-one +doors. This young man touches them with his sword, and they open of +themselves. This young man says to her, giving her the bottle, + +"When the serpent shall say, 'If I had a spark between my head and +my tail, I would burn you,' I shall say to him, 'If I had a drop +of the good-scented water under my nose;' you will take the bottle, +and throw some over me in a moment." + +He then makes her look into his ear, and, while she is looking, he +cuts off twenty-one pieces from her twenty-one dresses that she was +wearing. At the same moment comes the serpent, saying, with joy, + +"Instead of one, I shall have four to eat." + +The young man said to him, + +"And you shall not touch one of us, at any rate." + +He leaps on his spirited horse, and they fight more fiercely than +ever. The horse leaped as high as a house, and the serpent, in a rage, +says to him, + +"If I had a spark of fire between my tail and my head, I would burn +you and your lady, and this horse and this terrible dog." + +The young man says, + +"I, if I had the good-scented water under my nose, I would cut off +one of your heads, and the horse another, and the dog another." + +As he said that, the young lady jumps up, opens the bottle, and very +cleverly throws the water just where it was wanted. The young man cuts +off a head with his sword, his horse another, and the dog another; +and thus they make an end of the serpent. This young man takes the +seven tongues with him, and throws away the heads. Judge of the joy +of this young lady. She wanted to go straight to her father with her +preserver (she says), that her father must thank him too; that he +owes his daughter to him. But the young man says to her that it is +altogether impossible for him; that he must go and meet his cousin +at Rome; that they have made a vow, and that, on their return, all +three will come to her father's house. + +The young lady is vexed, but she goes off without losing time to tell +her father what has happened. The father is very glad that the serpent +was utterly destroyed; and he proclaims in all the country that he +who has killed the serpent should come forward with the proofs of it. + +The young lady goes again with the dinner to the gardener. He says +to her, + +"I told you true, then, that you would not be eaten? Something has, +then, killed the serpent?" + +She relates to him what had taken place. + +But, lo! some days afterwards there appeared a black charcoal-burner, +who said that he had killed the serpent, and was come to claim +the reward. When the young lady saw the charcoal-burner, she said +immediately, that most certainly it was not he; that it was a fine +gentleman, on horseback, and not a pest of a man like him. The +charcoal-burner shows the heads of the serpent; and the king says +that, in truth, this must be the man. The king had only one word to +say, she must marry him. The young lady says, she will not at all; +and the father began to compel her, (saying) that no other man came +forward. But, as the daughter would not consent, to make a delay, +the king proclaims in all the country, that he who killed the serpent +would be capable of doing something else, too, and that, on such a +day, all the young men should assemble, that he would hang a diamond +ring from a bell, and that whosoever riding under it should pierce +the ring with his sword, should certainly have his daughter. [28] + +From all sides arrive the young men. Our Petit Yorge goes off to the +Tartaro, and tells him what has happened, and that he has again need +of him. The Tartaro gives him a handsome horse, a superb dress, and +a splendid sword. Equipped thus, Petit Yorge goes with the others. He +gets ready. The young lady recognizes him immediately, and says so to +her father. He has the good luck to carry off the ring on his sword; +but he does not stop at all, but goes off galloping as hard as his +horse can go. The king and his daughter were in a balcony, looking +on at all these gentlemen. They saw that he still went on. The young +lady says to her father: + +"Papa, call him!" + +The father says to her, in an angry tone, + +"He is going off, because apparently he has no desire to have you." And +he hurls his lance at him. It strikes him on the leg. He still rides +on. You can well imagine what chagrin for the young lady. + +The next day she goes with the gardener's dinner. She sees him with +his leg bandaged. She asks him what it is. + +The young lady begins to suspect something, and goes to tell to her +father how the gardener had his leg tied up, and that he must go and +ask him what is the matter. That he had told her that it was nothing. + +The king did not want to go, (and said) that she must get it out of +the gardener; but to please his daughter, he says he will go there. He +goes then, and asks him, "What is the matter?" He tells him that +a blackthorn has run into him. The king gets angry, and says "that +there is not a blackthorn in all his garden, and that he is telling +him a lie." + +The daughter says to him, + +"Tell him to show it us." + +He shows it to them, and they are astonished to see that the lance +is still there. The king did not know what to think of it all. This +gardener has deceived him, and he must give him his daughter. But Petit +Yorge, uncovering his bosom, shows the "fleur-de-lis" there. The king +did not know what to say; but the daughter said to him, + +"This is my preserver, and I will marry no one else than him." + +Petit Yorge asks the king to send for five dressmakers, the best in +the town, and five butchers. The king sends for them. + +Petit Yorge asks the dressmakers if they have ever made any new dresses +which had a piece out; and on the dressmakers saying "No," he counts +out the pieces and gives them to the dressmakers, asking if it was +like that that they had given the dresses to the princess. They say, +"Certainly not." + +He goes, then, to the butchers, and asks them, if they have ever +killed animals without tongues? They say, "No!" He tells them, then, +to look in the heads of the serpent. They see that the tongues are +not there, and then he takes out the tongues he has. + +The king, having seen all that, has nothing more to say. He gives +him his daughter. Petit Yorge says to him, that he must invite his +father to the wedding, but on the part of the young lady's father; +and that they must serve him up at dinner a sheep's heart, half cooked, +and without salt. They make a great feast, and place this heart before +this father. They make him carve it himself, and he is very indignant +at that. The son then says to him: + +"I expected that;" and he adds, "Ah! my poor father, have you +forgotten how you said that you wished to eat the heart, half cooked, +and without salt, of him who let the Tartaro go? That is not my heart, +but a sheep's heart. I have done this to recall to your memory what +you said, and to make you recognize me." + +They embrace each other, and tell each other all their news, and what +services the Tartaro had done him. The father returned happy to his +house, and Petit Yorge lived very happily with his young lady at the +king's house; and they wanted nothing, because they had always the +Tartaro at their service. + + + Laurentine. + + +In a variation of the above tale, from the narration of Mariño +Amyot, of St. Jean Pied de Port, the young prince, as a herdsman, +kills with a hammer successively three Tartaros who play at cards +with him; he then finds in their house all their riches and horses, +barrels full of gold and silver, etc., and also three "olano," +which is described as an animal who serves the Tartaro, like a dog, +but much larger and more terrible, but also more intelligent and able +to do any message. He kills the serpent with the aid of the "olanos," +and the princess helps by striking the serpent's tail with a sword, +[29] instead of sprinkling the "sweet-scented water." The "olano" then +steals dishes off the king's table for the prince. The charcoal-burner +comes; but at last the prince shows the tongues and pieces of dress, +and all ends happily, except for the charcoal-burner, who is placed +on the top of seven barrels of powder, and fire is applied beneath, +and then nobody sees him any more. + +The commencement of the next is so different that we give it at length. + + + + +THE SEVEN-HEADED SERPENT. + +Like many others in the world, there was a mother with her three +sons. The eldest said to her that he wished to go from country to +country, until he should find a situation as servant, and that she +should give him a cake. + +He sets out. While he is going through a forest he meets an old +woman, who asks him for a morsel of his cake. [30] He says to her, +"No!" that he would prefer to throw it into the muddy clay. And the +lad asks her if she knows of a servant's place. She says, "No." He +goes on from forest to forest, until the night overtakes him. There +comes to him a bear. He says to him, + +"Ant of the earth! who has given you permission to come here?" + +"Who should give it me? I have taken it myself." + +And the bear devours him. + +The second son asks his mother to give him a cake, for he wishes to +go as a servant, like his brother. She gives him one, and he goes +away like his brother. He meets an old woman, who says to him, + +"Give me a little of your cake." + +"I prefer to throw it into this muddy clay rather than to give you +any of it." + +He asks her if she knows of a servant's place. She replies, "No." And +on he goes, on, on, on, deeper into the forest. He meets a huge +bear. He says to him, + +"Ant of the earth! Who has given you permission to come here?" + +"Who should give it me? I have taken it myself." + +And the bear devours him. + +The third son asks his mother to give him a cake, for he wishes to +go off, like his brothers. He sets off, and walks on, and on, and +on. And he finds an old woman. She asks him, + +"Where are you going?" + +"I want a situation as servant." + +"Give me a little bit of your cake." + +"Here! Take the whole as well, if you like." + +"No, no! A little bit is enough for me." + +And he asks her if she knows of a servant's place. She says to him, + +"Yes; you will find it far beyond the forest. But you will meet an +enemy here; but I will give you a stick, with the touch of which you +may kill him." [31] + +He goes on, and on, and on. There comes to him a bear, and says to him, + +"Ant of the ground! Who has given you permission to come here?" + +"Who has given it me? I have taken it myself." + +The lad gives him a little blow with his stick, and the bear gives +a howl-- + +"Oy, oy, oy!--spare my life! Oy, oy, oy!--spare my life!" + +But he said to him, + +"Tell me, then, how many you are in the place where you live?" + +"Seven." + +He gives him another blow, and he falls stark dead. + +He goes on, on, on, until he finds a palace. He goes in, and asks, + +"Do you want a servant?" + +They say to him, + +"Yes, yes; our shepherd has gone away, and we want one." + +They send him to bed; and the next day they give him a fine flock of +sheep, and tell him not to go on the mountain, because it is full of +large and savage animals, and to pay great attention, because the sheep +always want to go there. The next day he goes off with his sheep, and +all of them run away to this mountain, because the herbage was very +good there. Our shepherd had, fortunately, not forgotten his stick, +for at that moment there appeared before him a terrible bear. + +"Who has given you permission to come here?" + +"I have taken it myself." + +"I must eat you." + +He approaches, but our shepherd gives him a little blow with his stick, +and he begins to cry out, + +"Oy, oy, oy!--spare my life!" + +"Tell me, then, how many you are where you live?" + +"We were seven yesterday, but to-day we are only six, with me." + +He gives him another blow, and he falls stark dead. And the shepherd +hides him as well as he can in a hedge, and then he returns home +with his sheep, well filled. That evening the sheep gave him a great +deal of milk, and he made fine cheeses with it. [32] The master and +mistress were delighted to have such a servant. The next day he goes +off again. As soon as he opened the stable-door the sheep start off +running to the good pasture and fine herbage, and the same things +(happen again). At the end of a moment there appears a bear, who asks +him why he comes there into those parts. Our shepherd, with his stick, +gives him a little blow on the neck, and the bear begins to cry, + +"Ay, ay, ay!--spare my life!" + +He asks him, + +"How many are you there where you live?" + +"We were seven, but at present we are five with me." + +And he gives him a little blow, and he falls stiff and dead. And in +five days he kills all the bears in the same way; and when he saw +the last one come, he was frightened to see a beast so immense and +so fearful, and which came dragging himself along, he was so old. He +says to him, + +"Why have you come into these parts?" + +And at the same time the shepherd gives him a little blow. He begins +to cry out to him to spare his life, and that he would give him great +riches and beautiful apartments, and that they should live together. He +spares his life, and sends the flock back to the house. They go through +hedges and hedges, and "through the fairies' holes," [33] and arrive +at last at a fine palace. There they find the table set out with every +kind of food and drink. There were also servants to attend on them, +and there were also horses all ready saddled, and with harness of +gold and silver. There was nothing but riches there. After having +passed some days there like that, our shepherd said to himself that +it would be better to be master and owner of all that fortune. So he +gives a blow to the bear, and kills him stark dead. + +After having dressed himself splendidly, he gets on horseback, +and goes from country to country, and comes to a city, and hears +the bells sounding, dilin-don, dilin-don, and all the people are in +excitement. He asks, "What is the matter?" They tell him how that there +is in the mountain a serpent with seven heads, and that one person must +be given to him every day. This serpent has seven heads. They draw +lots to know who must be given to the serpent. The lot had fallen +on the king's daughter, and every one was in grief and distress, +and all were going, with the king at their head, to accompany her +to the mountain. They left her at the foot of the mountain, and she +went on mounting alone to the top. This young man goes after her, +and says to her, + +"I will accompany you." + +The king's daughter says to him, + +"Turn back, I beg you. I do not wish you to risk your life because +of me." + +He says to her, + +"Have no fear for me. I have a charm of might." + +At the same time they hear an extraordinary noise and hissing, +and he sees the serpent coming like the lightning. As our man has +his stick with him, he gives him a little blow on one of his heads, +and one by one the seven heads fall off, and our princess is saved. + +In order to go to the mountain, she was dressed in her most beautiful +robes. She had seven of them on. He took a little piece from each of +the seven robes, and he likewise takes the tongue from each of the +heads, and puts them in these little pieces of silk. He then takes the +king's daughter on his horse, and descends the mountain. The daughter +goes home to her father, and our gentleman to the bear's house. The +news that the seven-headed serpent is killed spreads quickly. The +king had promised his daughter, and the half of his kingdom, to the +man who should have killed him. The serpent was killed, as we have +said. Three charcoal-burners, passing by on the mountain, see the +serpent, and take the seven heads, and go to the king, asking to +have a reward. But, as they were three, they were in a difficulty; +and they were sent away until the council was assembled, and to see +if any other person would come. As nobody appeared, they were going +to draw lots who should be the husband of the king's daughter. There +was great excitement that day, and there was also a great stir when +this young man arrived in the city. He asks what it is. They tell +him what it is. He was splendidly dressed, and had a magnificent +horse. He asks to see the king, and, as he was handsomely dressed, +he is received immediately. He asks if the seven heads of the serpent +had seven tongues in them; and they cannot find them. Then he shows +the seven tongues. He sends, too, for the princess' seven robes, +and he shows the seven pieces that are wanting, as well as the seven +tongues. When they see that, all exclaim-- + +"This is the true saviour of the king's daughter!" + +And they are married. + +The three charcoal-burners, after having been dressed in a coat of +sulphur, were burnt alive in the midst of the market-place. + +Our gentleman and lady lived very happily, sometimes at her father's +house and at other times at their own bear's-house; and, as they had +lived well, they died happily. Then I was there, and now I am here. + + + +Our next tale will show the serpent in a new character, and might +have been included under the variations of "Beauty and the Beast." + + + + +THE SERPENT IN THE WOOD. + +Like many others in the world, there was a widower who had three +daughters. One day the eldest said to her father, that she must go +and see the country. She walked on for two hours, and saw some men +cutting furze, and others mowing hay. + +She returned to the house, astonished at having seen such wonderful +things. She told her father what wonderful things she had seen, +and her father replied: + +"Men cutting furze! Men mowing hay!!" + +The second daughter asks, too, to go like her sister, and she returned +after having seen the same things. And the third daughter said that +she ought to go, too. + +"Child, what will you see?" + +"I, like my sisters, something or other." + +She set off on the same road as the others; and she, like the others, +saw men cutting furze, and men mowing hay. She went on further, +and she saw some washerwomen; and she went still a little further on +till she had walked for three hours, and she saw some wood-cutters +cutting firewood. She asked them if she should see anything more if +she went a little further. They told her that she would see some more +wood-cutters cutting firewood. + +She went very much farther into the wood, and she was caught, and kept +prisoner by a serpent. She remained there crying, and not able to eat +anything; and she remained like that eight days, very sad; then she +began to grow resigned, and she remained there three years. At the end +of three years she began to wish to return home. The serpent told her +to come back again at the end of two days; that his time was nearly +finished, and that he was a king's son condemned for four years [34] +(to be a serpent). He gave her a distaff and spindle, of silver-gilt, +and a silk handkerchief. He said to her: + +"If you do not find me here on your return, you will have to wear +out seven pairs of shoes, six of leather and one pair of iron ones +(before you will be able to find me)." + +When she came home, her father would not let her go back to the house +where she had passed such a long time with a son of a king, condemned +to be a serpent. She said that his time was almost finished, and that +in gratitude she ought to return; that he had said that he would marry +her. The father had her put in prison, confined in a room very high +up. The fourth day she escaped, and went to the place, but she did not +find the king's son. She had already shoes on her feet. She had almost +worn them out. After that she bought another pair. She kept journeying +on and on, and asking if it were far, and they told her that it was +very far. She bought still another pair of shoes, and these, too, +got worn out on the road. She bought a fifth pair, and after them +the sixth also. She then asked if she were near yet, and they told +her that she was still very far. Then she bought the seventh pair of +shoes, of iron. And when she had gone a short way in these shoes, +she asked if it were far from there to the son of the king. The +seventh pair of shoes were almost worn out when she came to a city, +and heard sounds of music. She inquired what was happening in the city. + +"Such a king's son is being married to-day." + +She went to the house, and knocked at the door. A servant came. + +"What do you want?" + +She asked if there were any work to spin, and she would spin it. + +And the servant went to tell it to the mistress. The lady ordered +the servant to bring her in. She brought her in. And when she was +in the kitchen, she showed the silk handkerchief which the king's +son had given her; and she began to blow her nose with that. The +lady was quite astonished to see the girl blow her nose with such a +beautiful handkerchief, as if it were nothing, [35] when her son had +one just like it for his marriage-day. So she told her son, when he +came back from the church, that she had a spinster who came from a +great distance, and said to him: + +"She has a silk handkerchief just like yours!" + +And the king's son said to his mother: + +"I, too, must see this spinster that you have there." And he began +to go there. + +And his mother said to him, + +"But why must you see her?" + +"I wish to see her." + +He went to the kitchen, and in his presence she used her silk +handkerchief. + +He said to her, + +"Show me that." + +She said to him, + +"It is too dirty to put into your hands, sir." + +The gentleman says to her, + +"I wish to see it, and show it to me." + +(Then) he recognised the young girl. She showed him (too) the distaff +and spindle. + +At table, when everybody was engaged telling stories, this king said: + +"I also have a story to tell." + +Everybody was silent, and turned to look at him, and he said: + +"Formerly, I had a key to a chest of drawers, and I lost it, and had +a new one made. (After that, I found the old one.)" + +And he turned to his wife: + +"Should I use the old one or the new one?" + +And she replied: + +"If the first was a good one, why should you make use of the new one?" + +Then he gave her this answer: + +"Formerly, I had a wife, and now I have taken you. I leave you, +and take the former one. Do you go off, then, to your own house." + + + Gagna-haurra Hirigaray. + (Learnt at Guethary.) + + +For the version of the Heren-Suge tales which most closely approaches +the Gaelic, see below, "Keltic Legends," "The Fisherman and his Sons," +p. 87. + + + + + + +III.--ANIMAL TALES. + + +We give two stories as specimens of animal tales, which are neither +allegories, nor fables, and still less satires. The reader must +remember the phrase, "This happened when animals and all things could +talk." So thoroughly is this believed, that the first tale of this +class recited to us completely puzzled us. The animals are in them +placed so fully on a footing with human beings--not in the least as +our "poor relations," but rather as sharper-witted, and quite as +happy and well off as ourselves--that it is difficult at times to +determine whether it is the beast or the man who is the speaker. + +Of the latter part of our first story we have heard many variations. In +one given by M. Cerquand, p. 29, note, [36] the fox is represented by +Basa-Jauna; in a version from Baigorry, by the Tartaro; but in three +others, from separate localities, he is a fox. The first two truths are +the same in all the versions. In that here given, the fun is heightened +by the fox talking and lisping throughout like a little child. All +these versions we take to be merely fragments of a much longer story. + +In M. Cerquand's "The Chandelier of St. Sauveur," p. 22, the hero's +name is Acherihargaix--"the fox difficult to be caught;" and we +suspect that he, too, was originally merely an animal. + + + + +ACHERIA, THE FOX. + +One day a fox was hungry. He did not know what to think. He saw a +shepherd pass every day with his flock, and he said to himself that +he ought to steal his milk and his cheese, and to have a good feast; +but he needed some one to help him in order to effect anything. So +he goes off to find a wolf, and he says to him, + +"Wolf, wolf! we ought to have a feast with such a shepherd's milk +and cheese. You, you shall go to where the flocks are feeding, and +from a distance you must howl, 'Uhur, uhur, uhur.' The man, after +having milked his sheep, drives them into the field, with his dog, +very early in the morning, and he stops at home to do his work, and +then he makes his cheese; and, when you have begun to howl 'Uhur, +uhur,' and the dog to bark, the shepherd will leave everything else, +and will go off full speed. During this time I will steal the milk, +and we will share it when you come to me." + +The wolf agreed to have a feast, and set out. He did just what the +fox had told him. The dog began to bark when the wolf approached. And +when the man heard that he went off, leaving everything, and our fox +goes and steals the vessel in which the curdled milk was. What does +he do then, before the arrival of the wolf? He gently, gently takes +off the cream, thinly, thinly, and he eats all the contents of the +jug. After he has eaten all, he fills it up with dirt, and puts back +the cream on the top, and he awaits the wolf at the place where he +had told him. The fox says to him, since it is he who is to make the +division, that as the top is much better than the underneath part, +the one who should choose that should have only that, and the other +all the rest. "Choose now which you would like." + +The wolf says to him, + +"I will not have the top; I prefer what is at the bottom." + +The fox then takes the top, and gives the poor wolf the vessel full +of dirt. [37] When he saw that, the wolf got angry; but the fox said +to him, + +"It is not my fault. Apparently the shepherd makes it like that." + +And the fox goes off well filled. + +Another day he was again very hungry, and did not know what to +contrive. Every day he saw a boy pass by on the road with his father's +dinner. He says to a blackbird, + +"Blackbird, you don't know what we ought to do? We ought to have a +good dinner. A boy will pass by here directly. You will go in front +of him, and when the boy goes to catch you, you will go on a little +farther, limping, and when you shall have done that a little while +the boy will get impatient, and he will put down his basket in order +to catch you quicker. I will take the basket, and will go to such a +spot, and we will share it, and will make a good dinner." + +The blackbird says to him, "Yes." + +When the boy passes, the blackbird goes in front of the boy, limping, +limping. When the boy stoops (to catch him), the blackbird escapes a +little further on. At last the boy, getting impatient, puts his basket +on the ground, in order to go quicker after the blackbird. The fox, +who kept watching to get hold of the basket, goes off with it, not to +the place agreed upon, but to his hole, and there he stuffs himself, +eating the blackbird's share as well as his own. + +Then he says to himself, + +"I shall do no good stopping here. The wolf is my enemy, and the +blackbird, too. Something will happen to me if I stay here. I must +go off to the other side of the water." + +He goes and stands at the water's edge. A boatman happened to pass, +and he said to him: + +"Ho! man, ho! Will you, then, cross me over this water? I will tell +you three truths." + +The man said to him, "Yes." + +The fox jumps (into the boat), and he begins to say: + +"People say that maize bread is as good as wheaten bread. That is a +falsehood. Wheaten bread is better. That is one truth." + +When he was in the middle of the river, he said: + +"People say, too, 'What a fine night; it is just as clear as the +day!' That's a lie. The day is always clearer. That is the second +truth." + +And he told him the third as they were getting near the bank. + +"Oh! man, man, you have a bad pair of trousers on, and they will get +much worse, if you do not pass over people who pay you more than I." + +"That's very true," said the man; and the fox leapt ashore. + + + +Then I was by the side of the river, and I learnt these three truths, +and I have never forgotten them since. + + + + +THE ASS AND THE WOLF. + +Astoa Eta Otsoa. + +Like many others in the world, there was an ass. He was going along +a ravine, laden with Malaga wine. (You know that asses are very much +afraid of wolves, because the wolves are very fond of the flesh of +asses.) While he was journeying along in that fashion, he sees a wolf +coming at some distance; he could not hide himself anywhere. The wolf +comes up, and the ass says to him: + +"Good morning, good morning, Mr. Wolf; in case you should be thirsty, +I have some excellent Malaga to drink." + +"I am not thirsty; no!--but astoundingly hungry; yes! My dinner to-day +shall be your head and ears." + +"Mr. Wolf, if you were good enough to let me go and hear one mass----?" + +He says to him, "Well! yes." + +Our ass goes off then. When he gets into the church he shuts the door +inside with his foot, and stops quietly there. + +When the wolf began to get impatient at waiting, he said: + +"Ay, ay, what a long mass! one would say it was Palm Sunday." + +The ass said to him: + +"Dirty old wolf, have patience. I am staying here with the angels, +and I have my life (safe) for to-night." + +"Ay, ay, you bad ass, you are too, too, filthy, you know. If ever +you meet with me again, mass you shall not hear." + +The ass said to him: + +"There are no dogs round the fold of Alagaia; if you go there you +would get lots of sheep." + +The wolf gives it up, and sets off for the flock where the ass had +told him to go. When the ass saw that he had gone away he came out +of the church, and went home, and took good care not to come near +the wolf's place any more. + + + + + + +IV.--BASA-JAUN, BASA-ANDRE, AND LAMIÑAK. + + +It is somewhat difficult to get a clear view of what Basa-Jaun and +Basa-Andre, the wild man and the wild woman, really are in Basque +mythology. In the first tale here given Basa-Jaun appears as a kind +of vampire, and his wife, the Basa-Andre, as a sorceress, but we +know of no other such representation of the former. Basa-Jaun is +usually described by Basque writers as a kind of satyr, or faun, a +wood-sprite; and Basques; in speaking of him to us, have frequently +used the French term, "Homme de Bouc," "He-goat-man," to describe +him. In some tales he appears rather as a species of brownie, and +has received the familiar sobriquet of Ancho, [38] from the Spanish +Sancho. In this character he haunts the shepherds' huts in the +mountains, warms himself at their fires, tastes their clotted milk +and cheese, converses with them, and is treated with a familiarity +which, however, is never quite free from a hidden terror. His wife, +the Basa-Andre, appears sometimes as a sorceress, sometimes as a kind +of land-mermaid, as a beautiful lady sitting in a cave and "combing +her locks with a comb of gold," in remote mountain parts. [39] + +The Lamiñak are true fairies, and do not differ more from the +general run of Keltic fairies than the Scotch, Irish, Welsh, +and Cornish fairies do from each other. In fact, the legends +are often identical. The Lamiñak were described to us by one who +evidently believed in, and dreaded them, as little people who lived +underground. Another informant stated that they were little people who +came down the chimney. They long to get possession of human beings, +and change and carry off infants unbaptized, but they do not seem +to injure them otherwise. They bring good luck to the houses which +they frequent; they are fond of cleanliness, but always speak and +give their orders in words exactly the opposite of their meaning. In +common with Basa-Jaun and Basa-Andre they hate church bells, [40] +and though not actively hostile to Christianity, are driven away as +it advances. They were formerly great builders of bridges, and even +of churches, [41] but were usually defrauded of their wage, which +was to have been power over some human soul at the completion of +the contract. Fairies' wells and fountains are common in the Landes +and neighbouring Gascon provinces, but we know of none in the Pays +Basque. [42] We failed distinctly to make out what are the "fairies' +holes (Lamiña-ziloak)," spoken of in the Heren-Suge tale (p. 36); +as far as we could gather from the narrator they are simply bare +places in hedges, when covered by the web of the gossamer spider. +We know of no dances by moonlight on fairy rings of green herbage; +but if the reader will carefully eliminate from his memory the rare +fancies of Shakespeare and Ben Jonson about Puck, Oberon, and Titania, +he will find little otherwise to differentiate between the Basque +Lamiñak and the fairies of Sir Walter Scott, of Campbell, and of +Croker's "Irish Legends." One peculiarity certainly is that all the +Basque Lamiñak are sometimes said to be all called "Guïllen," [43] +which appears to be the same as the French Guillaume, and our William. + +It must be a sign of a failing belief and interest that witches and +fairies are so often confounded. In these few stories it is evident +that the witch is often a fairy, and the fairy a witch. + + + + +BASA-JAUNA, THE WILD MAN. + +Once upon a time there lived in one house the landlady and the +farmer's wife. [44] The farmer's wife had three sons; one day they +said to their mother to give each of them a ball and a penny roll, +that they wished to go from country to country. The mother was sorry +to part with her three much-loved sons; but all three started off. + +When they were in the midst of a forest they saw that night was +coming on, and the eldest brother said that he would climb up the +first tree. He finds a tall tree, and climbs up to the top, to the +very tip-top, and the second says to him: + +"Do you see nothing?" + +He says, "No, no; there's nothing to be seen, nothing; not a +feather! nothing!" + +"Come down then; you are an old donkey." + +And the second climbs, and he sees nothing. The third says to him: + +"You are no good at all, you others. I will climb up." + +And he climbs to the top, to the very tip-top. The others say to him: + +"And do you not see anything?" + +He says to them: + +"Yes; I see a long column of smoke, but very, very thin, and far, +very far away. Let us go towards that." + +And the three brothers set out together. At eight o'clock in the +evening they come to a grand castle, and they knock at the door, +and the Basa-Andre (wild woman) comes to answer. She asks: + +"Who is there?" + +And they reply, "It is we who are here." + +"What do you want, young children? Where are you going to at this +time of night?" + +"We ask and beg of you to give us shelter for to-night; we will be +satisfied with a corner of the floor, poor wretches as we are." + +"I have my husband, the Basa-Jaun, and if he catches you he will eat +you; that's certain." + +"And if he catches us outside he will eat us all the same." + +Then she let these three brothers come in, and she hides the three in +three different corners. Afterwards, at nine o'clock, the Basa-Jaun +comes. He made a great noise and blustering, and then the Basa-Andre +goes out, and says to him: + +"There is nobody here." + +"Yes, you have somebody; bring them out, or else I will eat you +myself." + +And she goes and brings out the eldest brother, trembling with +fright. The Basa-Jaun says to him, + +"Will you be my servant?" + +He says to him, "Yes." + +And Basa-Jaun begins again to sniff about. + +"You have still somebody else here?" + +And she brings out the second, and he says to him: + +"Will you be servant to me?" + +And he said, "Yes." + +Again, he smelled the smell of some one, and at the third time she +brings out the third, and he says to him: + +"All three of you shall sup with me to-night, and afterwards we shall +go to bed. But to-morrow we will all go hunting." + +And they go hunting the next day until eight o'clock in the evening. + +Now, they had at home a little sister. She was little then, but in +time she grew up. One day the landlady and the farmer's wife had +put out the new maize in the garden to dry; and when no one saw her, +the little girl took some from her mistress' heap, and put it to her +own. When the mistress saw that, she began to cry out, saying to her, + +"Bold hussey that you are, there is no one like you! You will come +to a bad end like your brothers." + +And the young girl began to cry, and goes to find her mother, and +says to her, + +"Mother, had I any brothers?" [45] + +She says to her, "Yes, my child." + +"What were they?" + +"Child, they went away a long time ago," she said to her. + +This little girl says, + +"I, too, must be off to-day. Give me a distaff to spin with, and a +penny cake." + +She sets off, and comes to the house of the Basa-Jaun, and she knocks +at the door, and she lets her in. While his wife was telling her that +it is the house of the Basa-Jaun, the elder brother comes in; but they +did not recognise one another at all. And afterwards Basa-Jaun comes, +and says, as he enters the house: + +"You have something here for me," says he. + +"No," says she. + +"Show it." + +And immediately she shows her. Basa-Jaun says to her: + +"Will you engage yourself as my servant?" + +She says to him, "Yes, sir." + +Some days afterwards the brothers recognised their sister, and they +embraced each other very much. And this young girl who was so well +before began to grow thin. And one day one of her brothers asked her: + +"What is the matter with you that you are getting thin like this?" + +And she answered: + +"The master every evening asks me to put my little finger through the +door, and he sucks the finger through the door, and I become every +day more sad and more languid." [46] + +One day, when the Basa-Andre was not at home, these brothers and the +sister plotted together to kill Basa-Jaun, if they could catch him +in a ravine in a certain place. And they kill him. + +One day the wife asks, + +"Where is Basa-Jaun?" + +And Basa-Andre takes out three large teeth, and brings them to the +house, and tells this young girl herself, when she heats the water for +her brothers' feet in the evening, to put one tooth in the water of +each. [47] And as soon as the third had finished washing the three +brothers became oxen; and this young girl used to drive all three +into the fields. And this young girl lived there on the birds they +(the oxen) found, and nothing else. + +One day, as she was passing over a bridge, [48] she sees Basa-Andre +under, and says to her: + +"If you do not make these three oxen men as they were before, I will +put you into a red-hot oven." + +She answers her: + +"No! go to such a dell, and take thence three hazel sticks, [49] +and strike each of them three blows on the back." + +And she did what she told her, and they were changed into men the +same as they were before; and all the brothers and the sister lived +happily together in Basa-Jaun's castle, and as they lived well they +made a good end also. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + + + +THE SERVANT AT THE FAIRY'S. + +Once upon a time there was a woman who had three daughters. One day +the youngest said to her that she must go out to service. And going +from town to town, she met at last a fairy who asked her: + +"Where are you going to, my child?" + +And she answered, "Do you know a place for a servant?" + +"Yes; if you will come to my house I will take you." + +She said, "Yes." + +She gave her her morning's work to do, and said to her: + +"We are fairies. I must go from home, but your work is in the kitchen; +smash the pitcher, break all the plates, pound the children, give +them breakfast (by themselves), dirty their faces, and rumple their +hair." [50] + +While she was at breakfast with the children, a little dog comes to +her and says: + +"Tchau, tchau, tchow; I too, I want something." + +"Be off from here, silly little dog; I will give you a kick." + +But the dog did not go away; and at last she gave him something to +eat--a little, not much. + +"And now," says he, "I will tell you what the mistress has told +you to do. She told you to sweep the kitchen, to fill the pitcher, +and to wash all the plates, and that if it is all well done she will +give you the choice of a sack of charcoal or of a bag of gold; of a +beautiful star on your forehead, or of a donkey's tail hanging from +it. You must answer, 'A sack of charcoal and a donkey's tail.'" + +The mistress comes. The new servant had done all the work, and she +was very well satisfied with her. So she said to her: + +"Choose which you would like, a sack of charcoal or a bag of gold?" + +"A sack of charcoal is the same to me." + +"A star for your forehead, or a donkey's tail?" + +"A donkey's tail would be the same to me." + +Then she gives her a bag of gold, and a beautiful star on her +forehead. [51] Then the servant goes home. She was so pretty with +this star, and this bag of gold on her shoulders, the whole family +was astonished at her. The eldest daughter says to her mother: + +"Mother, I will go and be a servant too." + +And she says to her, "No, my child, you shall not do so." + +But as she would not leave her in peace (she assented), and she +goes off like her sister. She comes into the city of the fairies, +and meets the same fairy as her sister did. She says to her: + +"Where are you going, my girl?" + +"To be a servant." + +"Come to us." + +And she takes her as servant. She tells her like the first one: + +"You will dig up the kitchen, break the plates, smash the pitcher, give +the children their breakfasts by themselves, and dirty their faces." + +There was some of the breakfast left over, and the little dog comes +in, and he went: + +"Tchow! tchow! tchow! I too, I should like something." + +And he follows her everywhere, and she gives him nothing; and at last +she drove him off with kicks. The mistress comes home, and she finds +the kitchen all dug up, the pitcher and all the plates broken. And +she asks the servant: + +"What do you ask for wages? A bag of gold or a sack of charcoal? a +star on your forehead, or a donkey's tail there?" + +She chose the bag of gold and a star on her forehead; but she gave +her a sack of charcoal, and a donkey's tail for her forehead. She goes +away crying, and tells her mother that she comes back very sorry. And +the second daughter also asks permission to go. + +"No! no!" (says the mother), and she stops at home. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + + + +THE FAIRY IN THE HOUSE. + +There was once upon a time a gentleman and lady. And the lady was +spinning one evening. There came to her a fairy, and they could not +get rid of her; and they gave her every evening some ham to eat, +and at last they got very tired of their fairy. + +One day the lady said to her husband: + +"I cannot bear this fairy; I wish I could drive her away." + +And the husband plots to dress himself up in his wife's clothes just as +if it was she, and he does so. The wife goes to bed, and the husband +remains in the kitchen alone, and the fairy comes as usual. And the +husband was spinning. The fairy says to him: + +"Good-day, madam." + +"The same to you too; sit down." + +"Before you made chirin, chirin, but now you make firgilun, +fargalun." [52] + +The man replies, "Yes, now I am tired." + +As his wife used to give her ham to eat, the man offers her some also. + +"Will you take your supper now?" + +"Yes, if you please," replies the fairy. + +He puts the frying-pan on the fire with a bit of ham. While that was +cooking, and when it was red, red-hot, he throws it right into the +fairy's face. The poor fairy begins to cry out, and then come thirty +of her friends. + +"Who has done any harm to you?" + +"I, to myself; I have hurt myself." [53] + +"If you have done it yourself, cure it yourself." + +And all the fairies go off, and since then there came no more fairies +to that house. This gentleman and lady were formerly so well off, +but since the fairy comes no longer the house little by little goes +to ruin, and their life was spent in wretchedness. If they had lived +well they would have died well too. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + + + +THE PRETTY BUT IDLE GIRL. [54] + +Once upon a time there was a mother who had a very beautiful +daughter. The mother was always bustling about, but the daughter +would not do anything. So she gave her such a good beating that she +sat down on a flat stone to cry. One day the young owner of the castle +went by. He asks: + +"What makes such a pretty girl cry like that?" + +The woman answers him: + +"As she is too pretty she will not work." + +The young man asks if she knows how to sew. + +She answers, "Yes; if she liked she could make seven shirts a day." + +This young gentleman is much smitten with her. He goes home, and +brings a piece of linen, and says to her: + +"Here are seven shirts, and if you finish them by such a time we will +marry together." + +She sat thinking without doing anything, and with tears in her +eyes. Then comes to her an old woman, who was a witch, and says to her: + +"What is it makes you so sad?" + +She answers, "Such a gentleman has brought me seven shirts to sew, +but I cannot do them. I am sitting here thinking." + +This old woman says to her: + +"You know how to sew?" + +"I know how to thread the needle; (that is all)." + +This woman says to her: + +"I will make your shirts for you when you want them, if you remember +my name in a year and a day." And she adds, "If you do not remember +I shall do with you whatever I like. Marie Kirikitoun--nobody can +remember my name." + +And she agreed. She makes her the seven shirts for the appointed +time. When the young man came the shirts were made, and he takes the +young girl with joy and they are both married. + +But this young girl grew continually sadder and sadder; though her +husband made great feasts for her she never laughed. One day they had +a frightfully grand festival. There came to the door an old woman, +and she asks the servant: + +"What is the reason that you have such grand feastings?" + +She answers, "Our lady never laughs at all, and her husband has these +grand feasts to make her gay." + +The old woman replied: + +"If she saw what I have heard this day she would laugh most certainly." + +The servant said to her, "Stay here; I will tell her so at once." + +They call the old woman in, and she told them that she had seen an +old woman leaping and bounding from one ditch to another, and saying +all the time: + +"Houpa, houpa, Marie Kirikitoun; nobody will remember my name." + +When this young lady heard that, she was merry at once, and writes down +this name at once. She recompensed highly the old woman, and she was +very happy; and when the other old woman came she knew her name. [55] + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + + + +THE DEVIL'S AGE. + +There was a gentleman and lady who were very poor. This man used to +sit sadly at a cross-roads. There came to him a gentleman, who asked: +"Why are you so sad?" + +"Because I have not wherewith to live." + +He said to him, "I will give you as much money as you like, if at +such a time you tell the age of the devil." + +Our man goes off happy. He leads a merry life with his wife, for they +wanted for nothing. They lived at a great rate. But time went on, +and the time was approaching. This man recollected that he had not +busied himself at all about the devil's age. He became pensive. His +wife asked him what was the matter with him then? why is he not +happy? that they wanted for nothing; why is he so sad? He tells +her how it is that he got rich, and what compact he had made with a +gentleman. His wife said to him: + +"If you have nothing but that, it is nothing at all. Get into a +barrel of honey, and when you come out of it get into another barrel +of feathers, and dressed like that go to the cross-roads and wait for +the devil there. You will put yourself on all fours, and walk backwards +and forwards, and go between his legs, and walk all round him." + +The man does as his wife had told him. The devil comes, and draws back +(when he sees him); and our man goes up quite close to the devil. The +devil being frightened said to him: + +"I am so many years old, and I have never seen any animal like that, +and such a frightful one." [56] + +Our man had heard enough. He went off home at full speed, and told +his wife that they would want for nothing, that he had done as she +had told him, just as if she had been a witch, and that he was no +longer afraid of the devil. They lived rich and happily, and if they +lived well, they died well too. + + + Franchun Beltzarri. + + + + +THE FAIRY-QUEEN GODMOTHER. [57] + +There were, like many others in the world, a man and a woman +over-burthened with children, and very poor. The woman no more knew +what to do. She said that she would go and beg. She goes off, far, +far, far away, and she arrives at the city of the fairies. After she +had told them how many children she had, all give her a great many +alms--she was laden with them. + +The queen of the fairies gives her besides twenty pounds in gold, +and says to her: + +"If you will give me your child when you are confined--you shall +bring it up in your law--I will give you a great deal of money, +if you will do that." + +She told her that the godmother was already decided upon, but that she +would speak about it to her husband. The queen told her to go home, +and to return with the answer in a week. + +She gets home as she best can, very much fatigued by her burthen. Her +husband was astonished that she could have carried so much. She tells +him what had happened with the queen of the fairies. He says to her: + +"Certainly, we will make her godmother." + +And she returns at the end of a week to tell the queen that she accepts +her. She tells her not to send and tell her when she is confined, +that she will know it herself, and that she will come all right. At +the end of a week she is confined of a daughter. The queen arrives, +as she had said, with a mule laden with gold. When they came back +from the christening, the godmother and the child fly away; and the +parents console themselves with their other children, thinking that +she will be happier in the house of the queen of the fairies. + +The queen takes her to a corner of a mountain. It is there where her +house was. She had already another god-daughter; this was a little +dog, whose name was Rose, [58] and she named this last god-daughter +Pretty-Rose. She gave her, too, a glint of diamonds in the middle of +her forehead. [59] She was very pretty. She grew up in the corner of +the mountain, amusing herself with this dog. She said to her one day: + +"Has the queen no other houses? I am tired of being always here." + +The dog said to her: "Yes, she has a very fine one by the side of +the king's highway, and I will speak to my godmamma about it." + +And the dog then told her how Pretty-Rose was bored, and (asked +her) if she would not change her house. She said to her, "Yes," +and off they go. While they were there one day Pretty-Rose was on +the balcony, and a king's son passes, and he was astonished at the +beauty of Pretty-Rose; and the king begged and prayed her to look at +him again, and (asked her) if she would not go with him. She told him, +"No, that she must tell it to her godmamma." Then the dog said, aside: + +"No, without me she shall not go anywhere." + +This king says to her: "But I will take you, too, willingly; but how +shall I get you?" + +Rose says to him: "As I give every evening to my godmother always +a glass of good liqueur to make her sleep well, as if by mistake, +instead of half a glass, I will give her the glass full, and as she +will not be able to rise any more to shut the door as usual, I, I will +go and take the key to shut it. I will pretend to, and will give her +back the key, leaving the door open, and you will open it when you +come. She will not hear anything; she will be in a deep sleep." + +The king's son said that he would come at midnight, in his flying +chariot. + +When night came, Rose gave her godmother the good drink in a glass, +brim, brim-full. The godmother said: + +"What! what! child!" + +"You will sleep all the better, godmamma." + +"You are right," and she drinks it all. + +But she could not any more get up to shut the door, she had become +so sleepy. + +Rose said to her: "Godmamma! I will shut the door to-day; stop where +you are." + +She gave her the key, and Rose turns and turns it back again and again +in the keyhole as if she had locked it; and leaving it unlocked she +gave the key to her godmother, and she puts it in her pocket. She +goes to bed; but Rose and Pretty-Rose did not go to bed at all. At +midnight the son of the king arrives with his flying chariot. Rose +and Pretty-Rose get into it, and go to this young man's house. The +next day Rose says to Pretty-Rose: + +"You are not so pretty as you were yesterday;" and looking at her +closely, "I find you very ugly to-day." + +Pretty-Rose said to her: "My godmamma must have taken away my diamond +glint." + +And she said to Rose, "You must go to my godmamma, and ask her to +give me back the glint that I had before." + +Rose did not want to go there--she was afraid; but Pretty-Rose prayed +her so much, that she took off the silver dress and set out. [60] +When she came to the mountain, she began to call out: + +"Godmamma! godmamma! Give Pretty-Rose her beautiful glint as before. I +shall be angry with you for always (if you do not), and you will see +what will happen to you." + +The godmother said to her: + +"Come here, come in, I will give you breakfast." + +She said, "I am afraid you will beat me." + +"No! no! come quickly, then." + +"You will give Pretty-Rose her glint?" + +"Yes, yes, she has it already." + +She then goes in. The queen washes her feet and wipes them, and puts +her upon the velvet cushion, and gives her some chocolate; and says to +her, that she knows where Pretty-Rose is, and that she will be married, +and to tell her from her not to trouble herself about her toilet, +nor about anything that is necessary for the wedding and feast, +that she would come on the morning of the day. + +Rose goes off then. While she is going through the city where +Pretty-Rose is, she hears two ladies, who were saying to two gentlemen, +"What kind of wife is it that our brother is going to take? Not like +us, because he keeps her shut up so close. Let us go and see her." + +The little dog said to them, "Not a bit like you, you horrible +blubber-lips, as you are. You shall see her--yes." + +When the young kings heard that, they were ready to run their swords +through the poor little dog. When she gets to Pretty-Rose's house +she hides herself, and tells her all that has happened. Pretty-Rose +gives her some good liqueur to drink, and she comes to herself. The +king makes a proclamation that whoever shall (merely) spit where the +little dog shall have placed her feet shall be killed, and to mind +and pay attention to it. + +When the marriage day had arrived, came the queen. She brought for +the wedding-day a robe of diamonds; for the next day, of gold; and for +the third day, of silver. Judge how beautiful she was with her glint +of diamonds, and her dress of diamonds, too. They could not look at +her. Her godmother told her to have her sisters-in-law there, and not +to be afraid of them; that they could not come near her in beauty. When +she went out (of her room) on the wedding-day, her sisters-in-law could +not look at her, she dazzled them so much. They said to each other: + +"The little dog was right when she said she was beautiful, this lady." + +And for three days Pretty-Rose walked about, [61] and every one was +astounded at her beauty. When the feast was over, the godmother +went home. Rose would not leave Pretty-Rose. The godmother told +Pretty-Rose that she was born of poor parents, and that she had +once helped them, but that what she had given them must be already +exhausted. Pretty-Rose gave them enough for all to live grandly. She +herself had four children, two boys and two girls; and if they had +lived well, they had died well. + + + Laurentine + Learnt it from her mother. + + + + + + +V.--WITCHCRAFT AND SORCERY. + + +Our legends of witchcraft and sorcery are very poor, and in some of +these, as said above, the witch is evidently a fairy. The reason of +this is not that the belief in witchcraft is extinct among the Basques, +but because it is so rife. Of stories of witchcraft (as matters of +fact), and some of them very sad ones, we have heard plenty; but +of legends, very few. In fact, witchcraft among the Basques has not +yet arrived at the legendary stage. The difference is felt at once +in taking down their recitations. In the legends they are reciting a +text learnt by heart. It is "the story says so." "It is so," whether +they understand it or not. But they tell their stories of witchcraft +in their own words, just as they would narrate any other facts which +they supposed had happened to themselves or to their neighbours. One +woman told us, as a fact within her own knowledge, and persisted in it, +a tale which appears both in M. Cerquand's pages and in Fr. Michel's +"Pays Basque." [62] It was only after cross-examination that we could +discover that it had not really happened to her own daughter, but +that she had only seen the cottage and the chapel which are the scene +of the alleged occurrence. We have, too, been informed on undoubted +authority that, only a year or two back, a country priest was sorely +puzzled by one of his parishioners, in his full senses, seriously +and with contrition confessing to him that he frequented the "Sabbat." + +But what is strange and unexpected is, that with this prevalence of +belief in witchcraft and sorcery, and which can be traced back to our +earliest notices of the Basques, there is nothing to differentiate +their belief on this subject from the current European belief +of three centuries back. All the Basque words for witchcraft and +sorcery are evidently borrowed. The only purely Basque term is Asti, +which seems to be rather a diviner than a sorcerer. The term for the +"Sabbat" is "Akhelarre"--"goat pasture"--and seems to be taken from the +apparition of the devil there in form of a goat, which is not uncommon +elsewhere. Pierre de Lancre, by the terrors of his hideous inquisition +in 1609, produced a moral epidemic, and burnt numerous victims at +St. Jean de Luz; but there is not a single Basque term in all his +pages. Contrary to general opinion, both the Spanish Inquisition and +the French ecclesiastical tribunals were more merciful and rational, +and showed far less bigotry and barbarity than the two doctrinaire +lawyers and judges of Bordeaux. The last person burnt for witchcraft +at St. Jean de Luz was a Portuguese lady, who was accused of having +secreted the Host for purposes of magic, in 1619. While her case was +being investigated before the Bishop of Bayonne, in the crypt of the +church, a mob of terrified fishermen, on the eve of starting for +Newfoundland, burst in, tore her out of the church, and burnt her +off-hand, in the midst of the "Place." "They dared not," they said, +"sail while such a crime was unpunished." The Bishop's procés-verbal +of the occurrence is still extant in the archives of the Mairie. + +The magic wand in all our tales is now said to be made from the +hazel. In De Lancre's time it was from the "Souhandourra"--"the cornus +sanguinea"--or dog-wood. This was then the witches' tree. + + + + +THE WITCHES AT THE SABBAT. [63] + +Once upon a time, like many others in the world, there was a young +lad. He was one day in a lime-kiln, and the witches came at night. They +used to dance there, and one pretended to be the mistress of a house, +who was very ill; and one day, as she was going out of the church, +she let the holy wafer fall on the ground, and a toad had picked +it up; and this toad is still near the door, under a stone, with +the bread in his mouth. [64] And again, this same witch said that, +until they took away this bread out of the toad's mouth, this lady +will not be cured. This young lad had heard it all. When they had +danced their rounds, the witches go away home, and our lad comes +out of the lime-kiln, and goes to the house of this lady who is ill, +and says to her, + +"I know what must be done to cure you," and he told her all that he +had heard from the witch. + +The sick lady did what they told her, and the same day she was cured, +and the young man was well paid. + +And that very evening there came to him a hunch-backed girl, and said +to him, + +"I have heard that you know where the witches hold their Sabbat." + +He says, "Yes." + +"To-morrow I think I should like to hear what the witches say." + +And he points out to her the hole of the lime-kiln. And at midnight +all the witches came, some from one quarter, some from another--some +laughing, and others cutting capers. The witches said one to another, + +"We must look in the lime-kiln, to see what may be there." + +They go to look, and they find the hunchback girl, and they send +her off-- + +"Go, go--through hedges and hedges, through thorns and thorns, +through furze-bushes and furze-bushes, scratches and pricks." + +And in no way could our poor hunchback find her way home. All torn +to pieces and exhausted, at last, in the morning, she arrived at +her house. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + +The second part of this story is evidently a blundered version, +transferred from fairies to witches, of Croker's "Legend of +Knochgrafton" ("Fairy Legends of South of Ireland," p. 10); and +M. Cerquand, Part II., p. 17, has a Basque version, "Les Deux Bossus," +almost identical with this Irish legend. The tale, as given in Croker, +is found in the Bearnais Gascon, in Spanish, Italian, and German. It +is evident, we think, that the Basque land is not its home, but that +it has travelled there. We have also another Basque variation of +the first part, in which two lads hear the witches at the Sabbat say +that a king's daughter can only be cured by eating an ox's heart. The +opening of this story is so different, that we here give it:-- + + + + +THE WITCHES AND THE IDIOTS. + +Once upon a time there were two brothers, the one an idiot, and the +other a fool. They had an old mother, old, old, very old. One morning +early the elder arranges to go with his sheep to the mountain, and +he leaves the fool at home with his old, old, mother, and said to him: + +"I will give my mother some chocolate now, and you will give her a +hot bath (afterwards), quite, quite, hot." + +He goes to the mountain with his sheep. The second son put the water +on to boil, and said to his mother: + +"My mother, the water is hot, what bath would you like?" [65] + +She says to him: + +"A bath with wood-ashes." + +And he carries it to the bed while it is boiling; and as she did not +get up, he said to her: + +"Would you like a little broth?" And she said "Yes." + +"My mother, get up quickly!" and she did not get up. + +He takes her, and puts her himself into this boiling water, so that +he boiled his poor mother. And he said to her, + +"My mother, get up again; the water is not cold." + +She did not answer. The night comes, and the other brother returns +from the mountains, and says to him: + +"How is our mother?" + +"All right." + +"Have you given her the bath?" + +"Yes; but she is still there, and she is asleep in her bath." + +"Go and see if she is still asleep." + +He goes, and says, "No, no; she is laughing--she keeps on laughing." + +The other brother goes there, and perceives that their mother is +quite dead. He did not know what to do. They both go into the garden, +and there they make a great hole and bury her. + +They then burn the house, go into the woods, see the witches, cure the +king's daughter, whom one of them marries, and they live happily. [66] + + + +It is possible that this first part may be a narrative of fact. We knew +at Asté, near Bagnères de Bigorre, a brother, an idiot "crétin," who +deliberately began to chop up his sister (also an idiot and "crétin"), +who offered no resistance. He had chopped off several of her fingers, +when they were accidently interrupted. In spite of the blood and pain, +she was only laughing at it. + +We have another tale of this kind, which may be also founded on fact, +so sad is often the condition of the crétins in the mountains. It is +of a mother and her imbecile son; he nearly kills himself by chopping +off the branch of the tree on which he was sitting. Then he believes +himself dead, and commits various other follies. His mother thinks a +wife might be able to take care of him, and tells him to cast sheeps' +eyes at the young girls coming out of church after mass. He takes +this literally, cuts out the eyes of all their flock, and so kills +their sheep, the only thing they had, and throws these at the girls, +who are disgusted, and quarrel with him. He goes home, and mother +and son end their lives together in wretchedness. + + + + +THE WITCH AND THE NEW-BORN INFANT. + +Like many others in the world, there was a man and woman, labourers, +who lived by their toil. They were at ease. They had a mule, and the +man lived by his mule carrying wine. Sometimes he was a week away from +home. He always went to the same inn, where there was a woman and her +daughter. One day the labourer sets off with his loaded mule, and his +wife was very near her confinement. She was expecting it hourly; but, +as he had orders upon orders, he was obliged to set off. He goes then, +and comes to this inn. It was a market-day, and they had not kept a +bedroom for him as usual, because there were so many people there, +and he is put into a dark room without windows near the kitchen. He +had not yet gone to sleep, when he hears the woman say to her daughter, + +"You are not aware that the wife of the man who is there is +confined? Go and see if he is asleep." + +When the man heard that, he began to snore; and when the young girl +heard through a slit in the door that he was snoring, she said to +her mother, + +"Yes, yes, he is asleep." + +The mother said to her then (you may guess whether he was listening)-- + +"I must go and charm this newly-born infant." + +She takes up a stone under the hearth, and takes from under it a +saucepan, in which there was an ointment. She takes a brush, and well +rubs herself over her whole body, saying, [67] + +"Under all the clouds and over all the hedges, half an hour on the +road, another half-hour there, and another to return." + +As soon as she had said that, off she went. When the man saw that +she was gone, he comes out of his room. He had seen what she did. He +anoints himself like her, and says, + +"Over the clouds, and under the hedges"--(he made a blunder there +[68])--"a quarter of an hour to go there, half an hour to stop, +and a quarter of an hour for the return." + +He arrives at his house, but torn to pieces by the thorns, and +his clothes in strips, but that was all the same to him; he places +himself behind the door of his wife's bedroom with a big stick. There +comes a great white cat, "Miau, miau!" [69] When the man heard that, +he goes out of the place where he was hiding, and with his stick he +almost killed this cat, and set out directly afterwards for the inn, +but not easily, under all the hedges. In spite of that, he arrives at +the woman's house. He goes to bed quickly. The next day, when he gets +up, he sees only the daughter. He asks her where her mother is. "She +is ill, and you must pay me." + +"No! I prefer to see your mother." + +He goes to the mother, and finds her very ill. From this day he goes +no more to that inn. When he gets home, he tells his wife what had +happened, and how he had saved the child. But all was not ended +there. They had misfortune upon misfortune. All their cows died, +and all their other animals too. They were sinking into the deepest +misery. [70] They did not know what would become of them. This man +was brooding sadly in thought, when he met an old woman, who asked him +what was the matter with him. He told her all his troubles, how many +misfortunes they had had--all his cows lost. He had bought others, +and they too had died directly. He is charmed by witches. + +"If you are like that you have only to put a consecrated taper under +the peck measure in the stable, and you will catch her." + +He does as the old woman told him, and hides himself in the manger. At +midnight she comes under the form of a cat, and gets astride the +ox, saying: + +"The others before were fine, but this is very much finer." + +When our man heard that he comes out from where he was hiding, and +with his stick he leaves her quite dead; although when he had done +that our man was without any resources; (he had) neither bread, +nor maize, nor cows, nor pigs, and his wife and children were starving. + +He goes off to see if he can do anything. There meets him a gentleman, +who says to him: + +"What is the matter, man, that you are so sad?" + +"It is this misery that I am in that torments me so." + +"If you have only that, we will arrange all that if you like. I will +give you as much money as you wish, if at the end of the year you +can guess, and if you tell me with what the devil makes his chalice; +and if you do not guess it then your soul shall be for us." + +When our man has got his money, he goes off home without thinking at +all of the future. He lived happily for some time with his wife and +child; but as the time approached he grew sad, and said nothing to his +wife. One day he had gone a long way, wishing and trying to find out +his secret, and the night overtakes him. He stops at a cross-roads, and +hides himself. (You know that the witches come to the cross-roads [71] +to meet together.) They come then, "hushta" from one side, "fushta" +from the other, dancing. When they had well amused themselves like +that, they begin to tell each other the news. One says: + +"You do not know, then, such a man has sold his head to the devil; +certainly he will not guess with what the devil makes his chalice. I +do not know myself; tell it me." + +"With the parings of the finger-nails which Christians cut on the +Sunday." + +Our man with difficulty, with great difficulty, kept from showing +himself, through his joy and delight. As soon as the day appeared +all the witches went off to their homes, and our man too went off to +his. He was no more sad. He waited till the day arrived, and went to +the cross-roads. This gentleman was already there, come with a lot +of devils, thinking that he would be for hell. He asks him: + +"You know what the devil makes his chalice of?" + +"I do not know, but I will try. With the parings of the finger-nails +which Christians cut on Sundays?" + +As soon as he heard that, the devil goes off with all the others +in fire and flame to the bottom of hell. Our man went off home, and +lived a long time with his wife and daughter. If they had lived well, +they would have died well too. + + + + +THE CHANGELING. + +Like many others in the world, there was a gentleman and lady. They +were very well off, but they could not keep any of their children. They +had had ever so many, and all died. The lady was again in a hopeful +condition. At the beginning of the night she was confined of a +fine boy. + +Two young men heard this news, and they said to each other: + +"We ought to have a feast; we must steal a sheep out of this +house. They will not pay attention to us with all their bustle and +their joy." + +One of the lads then goes after eleven o'clock towards the house. He +meets an old woman, who said to him: + +"Where are you off to, lad? There is nothing like the truth." + +"I was going, then, to such a house; the lady has been confined, +and I wish to take advantage of it to steal a sheep. They will not +pay any attention to-day. And you, where are you going?" + +"I too am going to the house. I am a witch, and it is I who have +killed all their children." + +"And how do you do that?" + +"Easily. When the infant sneezes nobody says, 'Domine stekan,' [72] +and then I become mistress of the child." + +The witch enters, doubtless as she liked, much more easily than our +lad; but nevertheless he got in himself too. He was busy choosing +his sheep, when he hears the infant sneeze. He says very, very loudly: + +"Domine stekan; even if I should not get my sheep." + +They go to see who is there, and what he was saying. The lad relates +what the old woman had told him. As you may imagine they thanked him +well, and told him to choose the finest sheep. The father and mother +were delighted that they would save this child; but, poor wretches, +they had not seen everything. A devil had come, who took their child +and carried it to the roadside, and left it there. A coachman passing +by sees this child, and takes it with him. He was married, but had +no children. They had a great desire to have one. They were very +well off also. His wife was delighted to see this fine child; they +gave it a good nurse, and the child grew fast and became wonderfully +handsome. The devil had placed himself in the child's cradle. This +mother gave him suck, and, contrary to the other, he did not grow at +all. The parents were vexed at having such a child; they did not know +what to think of it. Their true child was more than extraordinarily +clever. The coachman and his wife were dazed with joy, and they loved +him as (if he were) their own child. When he was twelve years old, +he said to his father and mother that he wished to become a monk. The +coachman and his wife were very sorry, and they asked him to become +only a priest. But after having seen his great desire they allow him +to do as he wished. + +He went away then, and at the age of eighteen years he was able to +say mass. When he was there, one day two men were passing in front +of the garden of his real father, and they began to quarrel. They got +so enraged that one killed the other, and threw him into his father's +garden. This father was tried and condemned to death for having killed +this man. + +While this young monk was saying mass, there comes to him a white +pigeon and tells him what was taking place in his father's house, +and that the pigeon will assume the form of the monk, "and you shall +go off in my shape." The monk willingly does what he tells him, and +arrives when they are leading his father to execution. He was being +followed by the judges and by a crowd of people. He asks what he has +done. They tell him that he has killed a man. He asks if they would +do him a favour before they put him to death--if they would accompany +him to the grave of the man whom he has killed. They tell him, "Yes." + +They all go off then. The monk has the grave opened, restores him to +life, and asks him, pointing to his father: + +"Is this the man who has killed you?" + +The dead man says to him, "No!" + +After having said that he dies again. The monk did not wish to know +who had killed him; he knew all he wanted with that. The father wished +to take the monk home with him to dinner, but he would not go that +day. He said to him: + +"I will come on such a day." + +As you may fancy they made a splendid dinner; nothing was wanting +there. They invited all their friends and acquaintances to rejoice with +them. When the monk arrives, the lady, before sitting down to table, +wished to show him her child, how she had suckled him with her own +milk eighteen years, and that he did not grow at all, but was always +just as he was when he was born. The monk betook himself to prayer, +and he saw that which they believed to be a child fly away under the +shape of a devil in fire and flame, and he carried off with him part +of the house. He told his mother not to vex herself because she had had +the devil there, and that she would be happier without such a child. + +All the world was astonished at the power of this monk; but the mother +was still grieved. The monk, to console her, told her his history; +how he was her true child; how the devil had taken him and carried him +to the roadside; how he had been found and brought up by a coachman; +and that it was he himself who had been made priest, and her son. All +were astounded at his words. After they had well dined, the monk went +back into his convent, and the father and mother lived honourably, +as they did before; and as they lived well, they died well too. + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + + + + + +VI.--CONTES DES FÉES. + + +Under this head, we include all those legends which do not readily fall +under our other denominations. Fée and fairy are not synonymous. All +such tales as those of the "Arabian Nights" might come within the +designation of Contes des Fées, but they could hardly be included under +Fairy Tales, though the former may be said to embrace the latter. We +have divided our legends of this kind into two sections:--(A) +Those which have a greater or less similarity to Keltic legends, as +recorded in Campbell's "Tales of the West Highlands," and elsewhere; +(B) Those which we believe to be derived directly from the French. + +We have chosen the designation Keltic, because the burning question +concerning the Basques at present is their relation to the Keltic +race. Anything that can throw light upon this will have a certain +interest for a small portion of the scientific world. That these +legends do in some degree resemble the Keltic ones will, we think, +be denied by no one. Whether they have a closer affinity with them +than with the general run of Indo-European mythology may be an open +question. Or, again, whether the Basques have borrowed from the Kelts, +or the Kelts from the Basques, we leave undetermined. One legend here +given, that of "Juan Dekos," has clearly been borrowed from the Gaelic, +and that since the Keltic occupation of the Hebrides. [73] The very +term Keltiberi, as used by the classical writers, shows some contact +of the Kelts with the Basques in ancient times, whether we take Basque +and Iberi to be co-extensive and convertible terms or not. What the +rôle of the "White Mare" is in these tales we do not understand. Can +it be connected with the figure of a horse which appears so frequently +on the so-called Keltiberian coins, or is it a mere variation of the +Sanscrit "Harits, or horses of the sun?" Campbell, Vol. I., p. 63, +says these "were always feminine, as the horses in Gaelic stories are." + +It may be, perhaps, as well to mention that we did not see Campbell's +"Tales of the West Highlands" till after these legends had been +written down. + + + + + +(A.)--TALES LIKE THE KELTIC. + + +MALBROUK. [74] + +Like many others in the world, there was a man and a woman who were +over-burdened with children, and were very poor. The man used to +go to the forest every day to get wood for his family. His wife was +on the point of being confined. One day he was in the forest, and a +gentleman comes to him, and says: + +"What are you doing, friend?" + +"I am looking for wood to support my family." + +"You are very poor, then?" + +"Yes, yes." + +"If you will make me godfather to your next child according to your +law, I will give you a great deal of money." + +He says to him, "Yes, I will do so." + +He gives him, then, a great deal of money, and he goes home. His wife +is confined shortly afterwards, and they were waiting, not knowing +what to do to tell it to the godfather, since they did not know where +he lived. He himself appeared from somewhere. They go to the church, +and he gives him the name Malbrouk. While they were returning to the +house, the godfather disappears with the child like smoke. The father +and mother were distressed about it, though they had plenty of money; +but in time their grief faded away. + +The old Malbrouk went to his house. His wife was a witch, and they had +three daughters. The little Malbrouk grew fast, and at seven years' +old he was as tall as a tall man. His godfather said to him: + +"Malbrouk, would you like to go to your own home?" + +He said to him, "Am I not here in my own home?" + +He told him, "No," and that he might go there for three days. + +"Go to such a mountain, and the first house that you will see there +will be yours." + +He goes, then, to the mountain, and sees the house, and goes to it. He +finds his two brothers at the door cutting wood. He tells them that +he is their brother; but they will not believe him. They take him +indoors, and he tells his father and mother that he is Malbrouk. They +are astonished to see such a big man for seven years' old. They pass +these three days in great delight; and he said to his brothers: + +"There is plenty of room at my godfather's for you too, and you must +come with me." + +They go off, then, all three together. When they arrive, the witch +was not at all contented. She said to her husband: + +"I don't know. These three men will do us some mischief, and we must +kill them." + +Malbrouk did not wish to; but as the witch gave him no rest, he told +her that at the end of three days he would kill them. What does the +little Malbrouk do? At night their daughters used to put crowns +on their heads, and the little Malbrouk and his brothers cotton +night-caps. The little Malbrouk says to them: + +"We must make an exchange; it is now our turn to have the crowns." + +The girls were just as well pleased, and they gave them to them. One +night (old) Malbrouk goes there, and after having felt their +heads, when he perceived that they had the night-caps, he kills +the three. After the little Malbrouk saw that he woke his brothers, +took his godfather's seven-leagued boots, and goes off, far, far, +far away. The witch said to (the old Malbrouk): + +"You have taken good care whom you have killed? I am not at all +satisfied that you have not done some donkey-trick." + +The witch goes, and sees her three daughters dead. She was terribly +angry, [75] and there was no help for it. + +Malbrouk and his brothers come to a place where a king lives, and +he remarks that everything is sad. He asks what it is? They tell him +that the king has lost his three daughters, and that nobody can find +them. Malbrouk says to them: + +"I will find them." + +They tell that quickly to the king, and bring them before him, +and Malbrouk tells him, too, that he will find them. All three set +out. When they have gone a little way they find an old woman, who +says to them: + +"Where are you going to in that fashion?" + +"To look for the king's three daughters." + +This old woman says to them: + +"Go to the king, and ask him for three hundred fathoms of new rope, +a bucket, and a bell." + +They go, and the king gives to them immediately what they ask for. They +go, then, to the woman, and she says to them, pointing to a well, +that they are in that well. [76] The eldest put himself into the +bucket, and says to them: + +"When I am afraid, I will ring the bell." + +When he has gone only a little way he is frightened, and rings. They +pull him up. The second goes; and when he has gone a little farther +down he is frightened, and rings. Malbrouk then gets in, and he says +to them: + +"When I shall give a pull at the bucket from below, then you will +pull it up." + +He goes down, then, and at last he sees that there is a beautiful +house underground, and he sees there a beautiful young lady, who is +sitting with a serpent asleep in her lap. When she sees Malbrouk, +she says to him: + +"Be off, I pray you, from here; he has only three-quarters of an hour +to sleep, and if he wakes, it is all over with you and me." + +He says to her, "No matter; lay the head of the serpent on the ground, +gently, gently, without waking him." + +She lays it there, and he carries off this young lady in the bucket, +after having pulled the cord. He goes into another chamber, and he +sees another young lady, still more beautiful, with the head of a +lion asleep on her lap. She also says to him: + +"Be off quickly from here. He has only half-an-hour to sleep, and if +he wakes, it is all up with you and me." + +Malbrouk says to her, "Place gently, gently, without waking him, +the head of the lion on the ground." + +She does so. Malbrouk takes her, gets into the bucket with her, and +his brothers pull them both up. They write at once to the king to +come and fetch them, that they have found two of his daughters. As +you may suppose, the king sends a carriage directly to fetch them, +and he makes great rejoicings. The king tells him to choose whichever +of the two he likes for his wife. Malbrouk says to him: + +"When I shall have found your third daughter she shall be my wife, +and my two brothers may take these two young ladies for their wives." + +They do as Malbrouk said, and he sets out to see his sweetheart. He +goes on, and on, and on. All the fowls of the air know Malbrouk. As +he was going along he finds a wolf, a dog, a hawk, and an ant, and +in their language they cry out: + +"Oyhu! [77] Malbrouk, Malbrouk!" and saying to him, "Where are you +going, Malbrouk? these three days we have been here before this sheep, +and cannot agree how to divide it; but you, you shall divide it." + +Malbrouk goes to them, then, trembling lest they should make a division +of him, too. He cuts off the head, and gives it to the ant. + +"You will have enough to eat, and for your whole household." + +He gives the entrails to the hawk, and for the dog and the wolf he +cuts the carcase in half. He left them all well satisfied; and Malbrouk +goes on his way in silence, in silence. When he had gone a little way, +the ant says: + +"We have not given Malbrouk any reward." + +The wolf calls to him to come back. Malbrouk comes trembling, +thinking that it was his turn, and that they are going to eat him, +without doubt. The ant says to him: + +"We have not given you anything, after that you have made such a +good division for us; but whenever you wish to become an ant, you +have only to say, 'Jesus, ant!' and you will become an ant." + +The hawk says to him: "When you wish to make yourself a hawk, you +will say, 'Jesus, hawk!' and you will be a hawk." + +The wolf says to him: "When you shall wish to become a wolf, you +shall say, 'Jesus, wolf!' and you shall be a wolf." + +And the dog, he said to him the same thing, too. [78] He goes off, +then, well pleased, further into the forest. A woodpecker says to him: + +"Malbrouk, where are you going?" + +"To fetch such a daughter of a king." + +"You will not find her easily. Since they have delivered her sisters, +he has carried her to the farther side of the Red Sea, [79] in an +island, and keeps her there in prison, in a beautiful house, with +the doors and windows so closely shut that only the ants can get into +that house." + +Malbrouk goes off happy at hearing this news, and that he would find +the princess. He goes on, and on, and on, and he arrives opposite to +this island, and remembering what the hawk had said to him, he said, +"Jesus, hawk!" and immediately he becomes a hawk. [80] He flies away, +and goes on until he comes to the island of which the woodpecker had +told him; he sees that he can only get in there like an ant, and he +says, "Jesus, ant!" and he gets through the little lattice-work. He +is dazed at the sight of the beauty of this young lady. He says, +"Jesus, man!" and he becomes a man again. When the young lady sees him, +she says to him: + +"Be off quickly from here. It is all over with your life. He is about +to come, this horrible body without a soul, [81] before a quarter of +an hour, and you will be done away with." + +"I will become an ant again, and I will place myself in your bosom; +but do not scratch yourself too hard, else you will crush me." + +As soon as he has said that the monster comes. He gives her partridges +and pigeons for her dinner, but he himself eats serpents and horrible +vermin. He tells her that he has a slight headache, and to take the +hammer and rap him on the head. She could not lift it, it was so big; +but she knocks him as well as she is able. The monster goes off. The +ant comes out from where he was, and prepares to eat the partridges +and pigeons with the young lady. Malbrouk said to her: + +"You must ask him, as if you were in great trouble about it, what +would have to be done to kill him? and you will tell him how unhappy +you would be if he should be killed--that you would die of hunger in +prison in this island." + +The young lady says, "Yes," she will do so. + +The monster comes again, and says to her: + +"Ay! ay! ay! my head. Take the hammer, and hit me hard." + +The young lady does it until she is tired, and then she says: + +"How unfortunate I shall be if you die." + +He answers, "I shall not die. He who will know that will know a +great secret." + +"Most certainly I would not wish you to die. I should die of hunger +in this island without you, and I should get no benefit by it. You +ought to tell me what would kill you." + +He says to her, "No! Before this, too, a woman has deceived a man, +and I will not tell you." + +"You can tell it to me--yes, to me. To whom shall I tell it? I see +nobody. Nobody is able to come here." + +At last, at last, he tells her then: + +"You must kill a terrible wolf which is in the forest, and inside him +is a fox, in the fox is a pigeon; this pigeon has an egg in his head, +and whoever should strike me on the forehead with this egg would kill +me. [82] But who will know all that? Nobody." + +The princess said to him, "Nobody, happily. I, too, I should die." + +The monster goes out as before, and the ant too, as you may think, +happy in knowing the secret. On the very next day he sets out for the +forest. He sees a frightful wolf. He says, directly, "Jesus, wolf!" and +he immediately becomes a wolf. He then goes to this wolf, and they +begin to fight, and he gets him down and chokes him. He leaves him +there, and goes off to the young lady in the island, and says to her: + +"We have got the wolf; I have killed him, and left him in the forest." + +The monster comes directly afterwards, saying: + +"Ay! ay! ay! my head! Strike my head quickly." + +She hits his head till she is tired. He says to the princess: + +"They have killed the wolf; I do not know if anything is going to +happen to me. I am much afraid of it." + +"You have nothing to be afraid of. To whom could I have told +anything? Nobody can get in here." + +When he has gone, the ant goes to the forest. He opens the wolf, and +out of him comes a fox, who escapes at full speed. Malbrouk says, +"Jesus, dog!" and he becomes a dog. He, too, sets off running, and +catches the fox. They begin to fight, and he kills him, too. He opens +him, and there comes out of him a pigeon. Malbrouk says, at once, +"Jesus, hawk!" and he becomes a hawk. He flies off to catch the pigeon, +seizes him in his terrible talons, and takes out of his head this +precious egg, and goes proudly with it into the chamber of the young +lady. He tells how he has very happily accomplished his business, +and says to her: + +"At present, it is your turn; act alone." + +And again he makes himself an ant. Our monster comes, crying, that it +is all up with him, that they have taken the egg out of the pigeon, +and that he does not know what must become of him. He tells her to +strike him on the head with the hammer. + +The young lady says to him: + +"What have you to fear? Who shall have got this egg? And how should +he strike your forehead?" + +He shows her how, saying, "Like that." + +As the young lady had the egg in her hand, she strikes the monster +as he had told her, and he falls stark dead. In an instant the ant +comes out joyously (from his hiding-place), and he says to her: + +"We must set out instantly for your father's house." + +They open a window, and the young man makes himself a hawk, and he +says to the young lady: + +"Cling firmly to my neck." + +And he flies off, and they arrive at the other side of the island. He +writes immediately to the king his lord, to send and fetch them as +quickly as possible. The king sent; and judge what joy and what feasts +there were in that court. The king wished them to marry directly, +but Malbrouk would not do so. (He said) that he ought to bring his +dowry. The king said to him: + +"You have gained enough already." + +He will not hear of that, but goes off far, far, far away, to the +house of his godfather. + +They had there a cow with golden horns, and these horns bore fruits of +diamonds. A boy used to guard her in the field. Malbrouk said to him: +[83] + +"What! do you not hear that the master is calling you? Go, quickly, +then, and learn what he wants of you." + +The boy, (believing it), goes off. The master calls to him from +the window: + +"Where are you going to, leaving the cow? Go quickly; I see that +Malbrouk is about there." + +The boy sets off running back, but he cannot find the cow. Malbrouk +had got off proudly with his cow, and he gives it to his future wife, +who was very much pleased with it. The king wished him, then, to marry, +(saying) that he was quite rich enough. Malbrouk would not yet. He +must make a present to the king. He goes again to his godfather's +house. He wished to steal from him a moon, which lighted for seven +leagues round. Old Malbrouk used to drink a barrel of water every +night. Young Malbrouk goes and empties this barrel. When night came, +Malbrouk goes to drink at his barrel, and finds it empty. He goes to +find his wife, and says to her: + +"I have not got a drop of water; go directly, and fetch me some. I +cannot bear this thirst." + +His wife said to him, "It is night, light your moon." He lights it, +and puts it by the chimney, on the roof. When everyone has gone to +the fountain, young Malbrouk goes and takes this moon, and carries +it to the king. And he, astonished, said to him: + +"Now you have done grandly; now be married." + +But he would not; (he said) that he ought to bring something more. His +godfather had a violin, which it was enough only to touch for it to +play, no matter what beautiful music, and it would be heard seven +leagues off. He goes into his godfather's house to take the violin, +and as soon as he has touched it, it begins to play music. Old Malbrouk +rushes off, and catches his godson in the act. He seizes him, and puts +him into an iron cage. He and his wife are right well pleased. They +say to him: + +"This evening we are going to roast you, and eat you." + +Old Malbrouk goes to the forest to fetch wood, and his wife was busy +cutting some small--she was taking a great deal of trouble about +it. Malbrouk says to her: + +"Let me get out of here; I will cut that wood for you. You can kill +me all the same this evening." + +She lets him out. After having cut up some, he takes one of the +largest pieces and strikes the wife of Malbrouk, and kills her. He +makes a great fire, and puts her in the caldron to boil. He takes +the violin, and leaves the house. When old Malbrouk hears the violin, +he says to himself: + +"My wife, not being able to hold out any longer, has, doubtless, +killed Malbrouk, and to show me her joy she has taken the violin." + +And he does not trouble himself any more about it. When he approaches +the house he stands, well pleased, looking at the caldron on the +fire, but, on coming nearer, he sees some long hairs. He pulls out a +little more, and perceives that it is his wife, who is there already, +half-boiled. Think what a rage he was in. The young Malbrouk went to +the king's house, and married his well-beloved princess. They made +great rejoicings. As the king was somewhat aged, he gives his crown to +Malbrouk, saying that he had well gained it. They all lived happily, +and he made his two brothers kings also. + + + Laurentine, + About 35 years old; learnt it from her mother. + + + + +THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SONS. + +Like many others in the world, there was a fisherman who lived with his +wife. One day he was fishing and caught a fine fish (at that time all +the animals and everything used to speak), and the fish said to him: +[84] + +"Spare my life! Spare my life! I will give you all that you shall +desire." + +And this poor man spared its life, and went home without having caught +anything else. When he came home his wife asks him: + +"Where are your fish?" + +He tells her how that he had caught a fish, and that it had begged +him to spare its life, and that he had left it in the water. His wife +says to him: + +"Have you lost your head then? After having caught a fish to put it +back again into the water!" + +And she called him all sorts of names, even "big donkey." + +The next day he goes fishing again, and (what a chance!) the same fish +came again. It asks him again to spare its life. But the man answers: + +"No! My wife loaded me with abuse last evening." + +The fish said to him that he would give him as much money as he wished +if he would but spare him. And our fisherman lets him go again. He +remains there again all day, but nothing comes to his hook. Again +he goes off home without anything at all. His wife is furious at +seeing that he has nothing. He gives her some money, but she was not +satisfied, and told her husband that he ought to have brought the fish. + +He goes fishing again for the third time, and again the same fish +returns, and says to him, "Let me go into the water." + +But our man will not let him go again; his wife had scolded him so +much last night. He must carry him home. + +"Well, then, since you will carry me home, I will tell you how you +must divide me. You must give my tail to the dog, my head to the +mare, and my trunk to your wife. At the end of a certain time your +wife will bear three sons, and they will all be exactly like each +other, exactly alike. The mare will have three colts, but all three +alike, and the bitch three puppies, all exactly alike too. And if +any misfortune should happen to any of the three children, the well +which is behind the house will begin to boil." + +The woman did as the fish had said, and she gave birth to three +wonderfully fine boys, who were all exactly, exactly alike, and +the mare had three colts exactly alike, and the bitch three puppies +exactly alike too. + +When these children grew big, one of them said to his parents that +he wished to go from country to country to see the world. His parents +did not wish it. But he had such a desire that at last they gave him +leave. He takes a horse and a dog, extraordinarily large and handsome, +a sword also, [85] and off he starts. He goes on, and on, very, +very far. He comes to a city and goes to an inn. They were lamenting +loudly there, and everybody was sad. [86] He asks, "What is it?" They +tell him how that a serpent with seven heads lived in the mountain, +and that every day they drew lots to know who should go to him, +because he must eat one person every day; and that to-day the lot +has fallen on the king's daughter, and that everyone was in mourning, +and that the next day this princess must go very early to the mountain. + +Our young man takes his horse, his dog, and his sword, and starts off +before the princess. He keeps himself hidden until the princess was +alone at the top. Then our lad comes out, and the princess says to him: + +"Where do you come from here? Go down quickly, else you will be eaten +as well as I. It is quite enough for one (to die)." + +And she entreats him to go down, but our lad will not. He wishes to try +if he can do anything. At the same moment they hear a shrill hissing, +and with that the serpent comes. The lad says to the dog: + +"Do your duty." + +And the dog leaps upon the serpent and holds him. He takes his sword +and cuts off his seven heads as best he can. When he has done that +he takes the seven tongues out of the seven heads and puts them in +his pocket. This princess had on seven robes, each more beautiful +than the others, and he cuts seven pieces out of them severally. The +princess does not know what to do to thank him. She wishes to take +the lad home with her, but he will not go. And he returns to the inn. + +The king proclaims that the man who has killed the serpent has gained +the half of his kingdom, and his daughter; that he should make himself +known. Our lad does not show himself at all, but a charcoal-burner [87] +passing by on the mountain found the seven heads. He presents himself +before the king as if he had killed the serpent. But the princess does +not recognise him, and says that it is not he who has saved her. But +as no one else came the marriage was about to be celebrated, when the +princess pointed out to her father from a distance her rescuer. The +king would not believe her. But they send and fetch him, and tell +the charcoal-burner to show the seven heads of the serpent, and he +shows them with great boldness. Our young man tells him to open their +mouths. He does so, and the mouths had no tongues. Then he who had +killed the serpent shows the seven tongues, and the seven pieces of +the princess' robes, and they were all convinced that he had killed +the serpent; and they burned the charcoal-burner alive in the middle +of the market-place. + +Our young man marries the princess, and they had many and great +rejoicings because he had delivered all the world from the terrible +serpent. In the evening, when they retired to their chamber, the +wife knelt down to say her prayers, and the husband went and looked +out of the window, and he saw by the moonlight a magnificent castle, +[88] which he had never seen before. + +He asks his wife: + +"What is that?" + +His wife says to him: + +"Nobody goes to that castle, for they who go there never return." [89] + +The husband said to her that he must go there. His wife did not +wish it, but he had such a desire to do so that he takes his horse, +his dog, and his sword, and goes off. He looks round and round (the +castle), but he cannot find the door. At last he finds a little door +half hidden, very small. He knocks. An old woman comes to him, and +asks him what he wants. + +He says, "I have seen this castle so beautiful outside, that I am +anxious to see the inside." + +She shows him in. He sees a table splendidly laid out. There was +nothing that there was not on the table. This woman invites him +to take something. He says that he does not want anything, but she +insists so much that he ends by taking something. As soon as he has +eaten the first mouthful he becomes a terrible monster, and by no +means could he get out of that house. + +The water begins to boil at home, as the fish had said. All those +in the house are grieved because some misfortune has happened to the +son. One of the brothers at home said that he would immediately set +out to the help of his brother. Those at home are very sorry, but they +let him go. He takes a horse and a dog. The father and mother give him +all the money that they can give him, and he starts off. He goes on, +and on, and on, and, as was fated, [90] he comes to the same inn as +his brother. There they recognise him. They inform the king that the +gentleman is at the house, because he had had a search made for him +through all the neighbourhood. They come and fetch him out of his +corner, and he lets them do as they wish. A great supper was made, +and he goes off with the princess. As before, the princess knelt down +to pray. The young man goes to look out of the window, and sees this +palace. He asks her what this beautiful castle is. She says to him: + +"You do not know what takes place there! They who go there never +return." + +He says that he will start off directly. His wife asks him if he will +return to that castle as before. "Do not go, I pray you." + +But nothing could have stopped him, and off he goes with his horse +and his dog. Like the other brother, he goes wandering round and round +the house without finding the door. At last he sees a very little door +half hidden. He knocks at it, and the old woman comes and says to him: + +"What do you want?" + +"I have seen the outside of this castle, and I wish to see the inside." + +She tells him to come in. He leaves his horse and his dog outside, +and he sees a table splendidly set out; one could not mention anything +that was wanting, there was something of everything. She tells him to +eat something. He did not wish to, but at last he takes something, +(so little, that it was) almost nothing. At the first mouthful he +becomes a terrible monster, and cannot in any way get out. + +The water at home begins to boil, and they know that some misfortune +has happened to him. + +The third brother said that he must set out as quickly as possible. The +parents did not wish it, but he said to them: + +"Perhaps I shall save them; let me go." + +They give him as much money as they can. He takes a horse and a dog, +and off he starts. He goes on, and on, and on. He also goes to the +same inn as his other brothers. He is recognised immediately, and +the king is informed that this young gentleman is there. He sends +to fetch him immediately, and makes great feastings and rejoicings, +thinking that it is always the same as their first young gentleman. In +the evening he is conducted to the princess. The princess kneels down +to say her evening prayers, and her husband, wishing to see a little +more of the festival, placed himself at the window. He also sees the +beautiful castle. He asks his wife: + +"What is this beautiful house?" + +She says to him, "What! You! Do not you know what it is? No one returns +from there. You know yourself what happens there, since you have been +there yourself." + +He said to her, "I must go and see it again." + +The princess would not let him go; but he broke away from her. He +takes his horse and his dog, and starts off. He looks, and looks +all round, and cannot find the door. An old woman appears to him, +and says to him-- + +"What do you think will become of you here? They who go in there do +not come out." + +"But that is why I wish to go in, to know what passes within." + +Then the old woman gives him a pigeon, cooked and prepared for eating, +and said to him, + +"Inside there is an old woman. She will try and force you to eat; +but, if you are wise, you will not eat. You will show her the pigeon +that you have in your pocket which remains after your repast, and you +must make her eat some of the pigeon, and you will have full power +over her." + +When he has found the door, he knocks. This old woman comes, and asks +him what he wants. He says that he only wishes to see this house. She +lets him in. He takes his dog, also, with him. He sees this splendid +table. She wishes absolutely to make him eat; but he says that it +is altogether impossible--that he has in his pocket a pigeon which +he has not been able to eat, and that she must eat some of that. The +old woman says she will not. He compels her, and tells her she must; +and at last she eats it. He then asks her what she has done with his +brothers. She says that she knows nothing about them; that she does +not know what he means. He forces her to tell him, and says to her, + +"I will make my dog strangle you if you do not tell me." + +He frightens her so, that she shows him some terrible monsters. He +tells her to restore them as they were before, otherwise some +misfortune shall happen to her, and to mind what she is about. At +last she set to work to change them as they were before, and their +horses and dogs as well. + +They all go to the king's palace, where everyone is immensely +astonished to see three gentlemen arrive exactly alike in all +respects. They ask the princess which is her husband. But the poor +young lady is greatly embarrassed. She could not distinguish them, +because they were exactly alike. At last he who had killed the serpent +said that he was her husband. They make great rejoicings, and give a +great deal of money to the two brothers, and to their parents, and they +went off. They burnt the old woman in the midst of the market-place, +and this handsome castle was given to the newly-married pair, and they +lived happily at court; and, as they lived well, so they died happily. + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + +All the latter part of this tale is much more detailed than in +the Gaelic, and it is singular to read this note from Campbell's +collector:--"The Gaelic is given as nearly as possible in the words +used by Mackenzie; but he thinks his story rather shortened." Of +the identity of the two stories there can be no doubt, although each +supplies what is wanting to the other. + + + + +TABAKIERA, THE SNUFF-BOX. [91] + +Like many others in the world, there was a lad who wished to travel, +and off he went. He finds a snuff-box, and opens it. And the snuff-box +said to him-- + +"Que quieres?" ("What do you wish for?") + +He is frightened, and puts it at once into his pocket. Luckily he +did not throw it away. He goes on, and on, and on, and at last he +said to himself, + +"(I wonder) if it would say to me again, 'Que quieres?' I should well +know what to answer." + +He takes it out again, and opens it, and it says to him again, + +"Que quieres?" + +The lad says to it, "My hat full of gold." + +And it is filled! + +He is astounded, and he said to himself that he would never want +anything any more. He goes on, and on, and on; and, after he had passed +some forests, he arrives at a fine castle. The king lived there. He +goes round, and round, and round it, looking at it with an impudent +air. The king says to him-- + +"What are you looking for?" + +"To see your castle." + +"You would wish, too, to have one like it?" + +The lad does not answer. When the evening came, our lad takes out +his snuff-box, and it said to him, + +"Que quieres?" + +"Build here, on this very spot, a castle, with laths of gold and +silver, and diamond tiles, and with all its furniture of gold and +silver." [92] + +As soon as he has said it, he sees in front of the king's castle +a castle like what he had asked for. When the king gets up in the +morning, he was astonished at this dazzling castle. His eyes were +blinded by the (reflection of the) rays of the sun which fell upon +it. The king went and said to him-- + +"You must be a man of great power, [93] and you must come to our +house, where we will live together. I have a daughter, too, and you +shall marry her." + +They do as the king had said, and they lived all together in the +dazzling house. He was married to the king's daughter, and lived +happily. + +Now, the king's wife was very envious of the lad and of his wife. She +knew, by her daughter, how that they had a snuff-box, and that it did +all that they wished. She intrigued with one of the servants to try and +take it from them; but they take great care (to conceal) where they put +the snuff-box away every evening. Nevertheless, at last she sees where +it is put, and in the middle of the night, while they slept, she takes +it from them, and carries it to her old mistress. What a joy for her! + +She opens it, and the snuff-box says to her, "Que quieres?" + +"You must take myself and my husband, and my servants, and this +beautiful house, to the other side of the Red Sea, [94] and leave my +daughter and her husband here." + +When the young couple awoke in the morning, they found themselves +in the old castle, and their snuff-box was gone. They look for it +everywhere, but it is useless. + +The young man will not wait an instant longer at home. He must start +off at once to find his castle and his snuff-box. He takes a horse, +and as much gold as the horse can carry, and he goes on, and on, and +on, and on. He searches through all the towns in the neighbourhood +until he had finished all his money. He searched, but he did not +find it anywhere. But he went looking out still, feeding his horse +as best he could, and begging for himself. Some one told him that he +ought to go to the moon--that he makes a very long journey, and that +he might guide him. He goes far, far, far away, on, and on, and on, +and at last he arrives. He finds an old woman, who says to him-- + +"What do you come to do here? My son devours all creatures of all +sorts; and, if you will trust me, you will be off before his arrival." + +He tells her his misfortunes--how that he had a snuff-box of great +power, which has been stolen from him, and that he is now without +anything, far from his wife, and stripped of everything, "and perhaps +your son, in his journeys, has seen my palace, with its golden laths +and tiles of diamonds, and the other ornaments of gold and silver." + +At that moment the moon appeared, and said to his mother that he +smelt some one. His mother told him how that there was a wretched +man who had lost everything; that he was come to him (for help), and +that he would guide him. The moon told him to show himself. He comes, +and asks him if he has not seen a house with beams of gold and with +tiles of diamonds, and the rest of gold and silver; and he tells him +how it was taken away from him. + +He answers, "No;" that he has not seen it, but that the sun makes +longer journeys than he, and of greater extent, and that he would do +better to go to him. + +He goes off again, on, and on, and on, with his horse, whom he +nourished as he could, and begging for himself. At length he arrives +at the sun's house. He finds an old woman, who said to him, + +"Where do you come from? Be off from here! Do you not know that my +son eats all Christians?" + +He said to her, "No! I will not go away. I am so wretched that I do +not care if he does eat me." + +And he tells her how he has lost everything; that he had a house, +which had not its equal, with beams of gold and tiles of diamonds, +and all the ornaments of gold and precious stones; and that he had +been going about looking for it so long a time, and that there was +no man so wretched as he. This woman hides him. The sun comes out +and says to his mother-- + +"I smell the smell of a Christian, and I must eat him." + +The mother tells him that it was an unfortunate man who had lost his +all, that he had come to speak to him, and begs him to take pity on +him. He tells her to bring him out. Then the young man comes and +asks the sun if he has seen a palace which has its equal nowhere, +with its laths of gold and its tiles of diamonds, and the rest of +gold and silver. The sun says to him: + +"No, but the south wind searches everything that I cannot see. He +enters into every corner, he does, and if any one ought to know he +will know." + +Our poor man then sets off again, feeding his horse how he could and +begging for himself, and he comes at length to the house of the south +wind. [95] He finds an old woman carrying water, and who was filling +a great many barrels. She said to him: + +"What are you thinking of to come here? My son eats up everything +when he arrives hungry and furious. You must beware of him." + +He says to her, "It is all the same to me. Let him eat me; I am so +wretched that I fear nothing." + +And he tells her how he had a beautiful house which had not its +equal in all the world, and with it all sorts of riches, and that, +"Having abandoned my wife, I am seeking it, and I am come to consult +your son, being sent by the sun." + +She hides him under the staircase. The south wind arrives as if he +meant to tear the house up, and very thirsty. Before beginning to drink +he smells the smell of the race of Christians, and said to his mother: + +"Out with what you have hidden," and that he must begin by eating him. + +His mother said to him, "Eat and drink what is before you." + +And she tells him the misfortunes of this man, and how that the sun +has spared his life that he might come and consult him. + +Then he makes the man come out, and the man tells him how that he +is going about trying to find a house, and that if anybody ought to +know it is he, and that they had robbed him of his house, which had +laths of gold, tiles of diamonds, and all the rest of gold and silver, +and if he has not seen it anywhere? + +He tells him, "Yes, yes, and all to-day I have been passing over it, +and have not been able to take away one of its tiles." + +"Oh! if you will tell me where it is!" + +He says that it is on the other side of the Red Sea, very, very +far away. + +When our man heard that, the length of the road did not frighten +him--he had already travelled over so much. He sets out then, +and at last arrives at that city. He asks if anyone is in want of a +gardener. They tell him that the gardener of the castle has gone away, +and that perhaps they will take him. He goes off, and recognises his +house--judge with what joy and delight! He asks if they are in want +of a gardener. They tell him "Yes," and our lad is very pleased. He +passes some time tolerably happily--middling. He talks with a servant +about the riches of the masters and of the power which they had. He +flattered and cajoled this young girl very much to get from her the +history of the snuff-box, and he told her once that he very much wished +to see it. One evening she brought it to him to look at, and our lad, +very much pleased, pays great attention to where it was hidden in +the room of the mistress. At night, when everybody is asleep, he goes +and takes the snuff-box. You will understand with what joy he opens it. + +It says to him, "Que quieres?" + +And the lad says to it, "Que quieres, Que quieres, [96] carry me with +my castle to the same place as (we were in) formerly, and drown the +king and the queen and all the servants in this Red Sea." + +As soon as he had said it, he was carried to his wife, and they lived +happily, and the others all perished in the Red Sea. [97] + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + + + +MAHISTRUBA, THE MASTER MARINER. + +Like many others in the world, there was a master mariner. Having had +many losses and misfortunes in his life he no longer made any voyages, +but every day went down to the seaside for amusement, and every day +he met a large serpent, and every day he said to it: + +"God has given thy life to thee; live then." + +This master mariner lived upon what his wife and daughter earned by +sewing. One day the serpent said to him: + +"Go to such a shipbuilder's, and order a ship of so many tons +burden. Ask the price of it, and then double the price they tell +you." [98] + +He does as the serpent told him, and the next day he goes down to +the shore, and he tells the serpent that he has done as he had told +him. The serpent then bids him go and fetch twelve sailors, very strong +men, and to double whatever they shall ask. He goes and does what he +was told to do. He returns to the serpent and tells him that he has +twelve men. The serpent gives him all the money which he needed to +pay for the ship. The shipbuilder is astonished to find that he is +paid so large a sum of money in advance by this miserable man, but he +hastens to finish his work as quickly as possible. The serpent again +bids him have made in the hold of the ship a large empty space and a +huge chest, and tells him to bring this down himself. He brings it, +and the serpent gets into it. The ship was quickly ready, he embarks +the chest in the ship, and they set out. + +This captain used to go every day to the serpent, but the sailors did +not know what he went (into the hold) to do, nor what there was in +the chest. The ship had already gone some distance, and nobody knew +its destination. One day the serpent told the captain that there was +going to be a frightful storm, that the earth and sky would mingle +together, and that at midnight a large black bird would pass over +the ship, and that it must be killed, and (he tells him) to go and +see if there is any sportsman among his sailors. He goes and asks +the sailors if there is any sportsman among them. [99] + +One of them answers, "Yes; I can kill a swallow in its flight." + +"All the better, all the better; that will be of use to you." + +He goes down to tell the serpent that there is a sportsman who can +kill a swallow in its flight. And at the same moment the weather +becomes black as night, and earth and sky are mingled together, and +all are trembling with fright. The serpent gives the captain a good +drink for the sportsman, and they bind him to the mast. At midnight +a piercing cry was heard. It was the bird which was passing over, +and our sportsman has the good luck to kill him. At the very instant +the sea becomes calm. The captain goes to the serpent, and tells him +that the bird is killed. + +The serpent answers him, "I know it." + +When they had gone a little further without anything happening, +the serpent said one day: + +"Are we not near such a port?" + +The captain says to him, "It is in sight." + +"Very well, then, we are going there." + +He tells him to go again, and ask his sailors if there is a fast +runner among them. The captain goes and asks his sailors if there is +any fast runner among them. + +One of them says to him, "As for me, I can catch a hare running." + +"So much the better, so much the better; that will be of use to you." + +The captain goes to tell the serpent that there is one who can catch +a hare running. The serpent says to him: + +"You will land the runner at this port, and you will tell him that he +must go to the top of a little mountain; that there is a little house +there, and an old, old woman in it; and that there is there a steel, +a flint, and a tinder-box; and that he must bring these three things +on board one by one, making a separate journey each time." + +Our runner goes off, and comes to this house. He sees the old woman, +with red eyes, spinning at the threshold of her door. He asks her +for a drop of water, that he has walked a long way without finding +any water, and will she give him a little drop? The old woman says +to him, "No." He begs her again, telling her that he does not know +the roads in the country, nor where he is going to. This old woman +kept constantly looking at the chimney-piece, and she said to him: + +"I am going to give you some, then." + +While she went to the pitcher, our runner takes the steel off the +chimney-piece, and goes off at full speed, like the lightning; but +the old woman is after him. At the very instant that he is about +to leap into the ship the old woman catches him, and snatches off a +bit of his coat, and a piece of the skin of his back with it. [100] +The captain goes to the serpent, and says to him: + +"We have got the steel, but our man has got the skin of his back +torn off." + +He gives him a remedy, and a good drink, and tells him that the man +will be cured by to-morrow, but that he must go again next day. + +He says, "No, no; the devil may carry off this old woman, if he likes, +but I will not go there any more." + +But, as he was cured next day by giving him that good drink again, +he sets off. He dresses himself in a shirt without arms, and in an +old torn pair of trousers, and goes to the old woman's, saying that +his ship is wrecked on the shore, that he has been wandering about +for forty-eight hours, and he begs her to let him go to the fire to +light his pipe. + +She says, "No." + +"Do have pity--I am so wretched; it is only a little favour I ask +of you." + +"No, no, I was deceived yesterday." + +But the man answered, "All the world are not deceivers. Don't be +afraid." + +The old woman rises to go to the fire, and as she stoops to take it, +[101] the man seizes the flint and escapes, running as if he would +break his feet. But the old woman runs as fast as our runner; but +she only catches him as he is jumping into the ship; she tears off +the shirt, and the skin of his neck and back with it, and he falls +into the ship. + +The captain goes directly to the serpent: "We have got the flint." + +He says to him, "I know it." + +He gives him the medicine and the good drink, in order that the man +may be cured by the morrow, and that he may go again. But the man +says, "No," that he does not want to see that red-eyed old woman any +more. They tell him that they still want the tinder-box. The next day +they give him the good drink. That gives him courage, and the desire +to return again. + +He dresses himself up as if he had been shipwrecked, and goes off +half naked. He comes to the old woman's, and asks for a little bread, +as he has not eaten for a long time, (and begs her) to have pity on +him--that he does not know where to go to. + +The old woman says to him: "Be off, where you will; you shall get +nothing at my house, and nobody shall come in here. Every day I +have enemies." + +"But what have you to fear from a poor man who only wants a little +bread, and who will be off immediately afterwards?" + +At last the old woman rises to go to her cupboard, and our man takes +her little tinder-box. The old woman runs after him, wishing to catch +him, but our man is ahead. She overtakes him just as he is leaping into +the ship. The old woman takes hold of the skin of his neck, and tears +it all right down to the soles of his feet. Our runner falls down, and +they do not know whether he is alive or dead; and the old woman says: + +"I renounce him, and all those who are in this ship." + +The captain goes to the serpent, and says to him: + +"We have the tinder-box, but our runner is in great danger. I do not +know whether he will live; he has no skin left from his neck to the +soles of his feet." + +"Console yourselves, console yourselves, he will be cured by +to-morrow. Here is the medicine and the good drink. Now, you are +saved. Go on deck, and fire seven rounds of cannon." + +He mounts on deck and fires the seven rounds of cannon, and returns +to the serpent, and says to him: + +"We have fired the seven rounds." + +He says to him, "Fire twelve rounds more; but do not be afraid. The +police will come here; they will handcuff you. You will be put in +prison, and you will ask, as a favour, not to be executed before that +they have visited the ship, in order to prove that there is nothing +in it to merit such a chastisement." + +The captain goes on deck, and fires the twelve rounds of cannon. As +soon as he has fired them, the magistrates and the police arrive; +they handcuff the men, the sailors, and the captain, and they put them +in prison. The sailors were not pleased; but the captain said to them: + +"You will soon be delivered." + +The next day the captain asks to go and speak to the king. He is +brought before the king, and the king says: + +"You are condemned to be hanged." + +The captain says to him, "What! because we have fired some cannon-shots +you are going to hang us!!" + +"Yes, yes, because for seven years we have not heard the cannon in +this city. [102] I am in mourning--I and my people. I had an only son, +and I have lost him. I cannot forget him." + +The captain says to him: "I did not know either this news or this +order, and I beg you not to kill us before going and seeing if there +is anything in the ship which condemns us justly." + +The king goes with his courtiers, his soldiers, and his judges--in a +word, with everybody. When he has mounted on deck, what a surprise! The +king finds his dearly-loved son, who relates to him how he had been +enchanted by an old woman, and that he remained a serpent seven +years. [103] How the captain every day went to walk by the seaside, +and every day left him his life, saying to him, "The good God has +made you too;" and having seen the captain's good heart, "I thought +he would spare me, and it is to him that I owe my life." + +He goes to the court. The men are let out of prison, and they give the +captain a large sum of money for a dowry for his two daughters, and +the ship for himself. To the sailors they give as much as they like to +eat and drink for all the time they wish to stop there, and afterwards +enough to live upon for the rest of their lives. The king and his +son lived happily, and as they had lived well, they died happily also. + + + Gachina, + The Net-maker. + + + + +DRAGON. + +A king had a son who was called Dragon. He was as debauched as it +is possible to be. All the money that he had he had spent, and still +more; not having enough, he demanded his portion from his father. The +father gives it him immediately, and he goes off, taking with him a +companion who had been a soldier, and who was very like himself. [104] +Very quickly they spent all their money. While they were travelling +in a forest they see a beautiful castle. They enter and find there +a table ready set out, and a magnificent supper prepared. They sit +down to table and sup. Nobody appears as yet, and they go up-stairs +to see the house, and they find the beds all ready, and they go to +bed. They pass a very good night. The next morning Dragon gets up +and opens the shutters, and sees a dazzling garden. + +He goes down into the garden, still without seeing anybody; but in +passing under a fig tree, a voice says to him: + +"Ay! ay! ay! what pain you have put me to, and what suffering you +are causing me!" + +He turns on all sides and finds nothing. He says: + +"Who are you? You! I do not understand it. Appear!" + +The voice says to him, "I cannot to-day; but perhaps to-morrow you will +see me. But in order to do that you will have to suffer severely." + +He promises to suffer no matter what for her. The voice says to him: + +"To-morrow night they will make you suffer every kind of torture, +but you must not say anything; and if you do that, you will see +me to-morrow." + +They had spoken all this before the soldier friend, but he had heard +nothing of it. + +They go to the house and find the dinner quite ready. Dragon would +have wished that night had already come, to know what it was he was +to see. He goes off to bed then, and after eleven o'clock he feels +that something is coming, and his whole body is pricked all over. He +keeps quite silent, because he wished to see the voice. And when the +cock crew "Kukuruku!" he was released (from his torture). He lies +waiting for daybreak to go to the fig tree. Day did not appear as +soon as he would have wished it, and he goes running to the garden +and sees under the fig tree, coming out of the ground as high as her +shoulders, a young girl, and she says to him: + +"Last night you have suffered in silence, but the next night they +will make you suffer much more. I do not know if you can bear it +without speaking." + +He promises her that he will suffer still more in order to save her. + +As usual, they find the table ready for dinner and for supper. He +goes off to bed. There happens to him the same thing as in the +preceding night, but they do him still more harm. Happily he lies +still without speaking. The cock crows "Kukuruku!" and they leave +him quiet. As soon as daylight has come he goes off to the garden, +and he sees the young lady visible as far as the knees. Dragon is +delighted to save this beautiful girl, but she says sadly to him: + +"You have seen nothing up to this time. They will make you suffer +twice as much." + +He says that he has courage to endure anything, because he wishes to +get her out of that state. When night comes, he perceives that two +are coming instead of one. One of them was lame, and he says to him +(and you know lame people and cripples are the most cruel). [105] +He says then to the other: + +"What! You have not been able to make this wretched boy speak! I will +make him speak, I will." + +He cuts off his arms and then his legs, and our Dragon does not say +anything. They make him suffer a great deal, but happily the cock +crows "Kukuruku!" and he is delivered. He was much afraid what would +become of him without hands and without feet; but on touching himself +he feels with pleasure that all that is made right again. While he +is in bed he hears a great noise. He lies without saying anything, +being frightened, and not knowing what might happen to him, when all +of a sudden this young lady appears and says to him: + +"You have saved me; I am very well pleased with you. But this is not +enough; we must be off from here immediately." + +All the three go off together, and travel far, far, far away, +and they arrive in a city. The young lady did not think it proper +to lodge in the same hotel with them. Next morning the young lady +gets up very early, and goes in search of the landlord of the hotel, +and says to him: + +"A gentleman will come here to ask for me. You will tell him that +I have gone out, and if he wishes to see me he must come to the +fountain at the Four Cantons [106]--but fasting--and he is to wait +for me there." + +The next morning the young gentleman goes to the hotel, and they +tell him what the young lady has said. On that very day he goes to +the fountain, taking his comrade with him, and fasting; but as the +young lady had not yet arrived, forgetting himself, he put his hand +in his pocket, and finding there a small nut, he eats it. As soon +as he has eaten it he falls asleep. [107] The young lady arrives. She +sees that he is asleep. She says to his companion: + +"He has eaten something. Tell him that I will return, but tell, +tell him, I beg you, to eat nothing." + +She leaves him a beautiful handkerchief. Dragon wakes up as soon +as the young lady is gone. His comrade tells him that she had come, +and that she had told him not to eat anything. And he shows Dragon +the handkerchief. He was very vexed at having eaten, and would have +wished that it was already the next day. He starts then very, very +early, and waits for the young lady, and, as was fated to happen, +finding a walnut in his pocket, he eats it. He immediately falls +asleep. The young lady appears and finds him sleeping. She says +that she will return again the next day, but that he must not eat +anything. She leaves him another handkerchief. Dragon awakes as soon +as she has gone. Judge with what vexation. His friend tells him that +she said that she would return the next day, but that he must do his +best not to eat anything. He goes then the third day without eating +anything, but, as was to happen, despairing of seeing the young lady, +who was late, arrive, he takes an apple from an apple tree and eats +it. He falls asleep immediately. The young lady comes and finds him +asleep. She gives his comrade a ring to give to Dragon, telling him +that if Dragon wishes to see her he will find her in the City of the +Four Quarters. Dragon is very vexed, and he says to his friend: + +"The good God knows when I shall find this city, and it is better +for you to go in one direction (and I in another)." + +Thereupon they separate. Dragon goes off, far, far, far away. He comes +to a mountain; there he sees a man, who had before his door holy water, +and whoever made use of it was well received. He goes in, therefore, +and asks him if he knows where is the City of the Four Quarters. He +tells him-- + +"No; but there are the animals of the earth and of the air, and that +the latter might perhaps guide him there." + +He whistles to them. They come from all quarters, and he asks them +if they know where is the City of the Four Quarters? They tell him +"No." Then the man says to him-- + +"I have a brother on such a mountain, who has many more animals than +I have; he has them all under his power, that man has." + +Dragon goes off then, and arrives there; he asks of that man if he +knows where the City of the Four Quarters is? He tells him "No," +but that he has animals which will know it, if anyone ought to +know it. He whistles to them. He sees the animals, small and great, +coming from all quarters. Dragon was trembling with fright. He asks +them one by one if they know where the City of the Four Quarters +is. They tell him "No;" but the man sees that one animal is wanting, +and that is the eagle. He whistles, and he comes. He asks him, too, +if he knows where the City of the Four Quarters is. He says to him-- + +"I am just come from there." + +The man says to him, + +"You must, then, guide this young gentleman there." + +The eagle says to him, "Willingly, if he will give me a morsel of +flesh each time that I open my mouth." + +Dragon replies, "Yes, willingly." + +He then buys an ox. The eagle tells him to get upon his back. The +man climbs up there with his ox, and when he opens his mouth he gives +him a morsel of the ox, which kept gradually diminishing. + +They were obliged to cross over the sea, and there was no bridge to it +there. The ox was finished when they were in the middle of the sea, +and there was a great rock there. The eagle opens his mouth again, +and, as there was no more beef, what does he do? As he was afraid of +being left upon that rock, he cuts a morsel from the back of his own +thighs, and puts it in his mouth. [108] They arrive on the other side +of the sea. The eagle leaves him there, saying to him, + +"You are in the City of the Four Quarters. Do your own business +here. I am going off to my own home." + +This young gentleman asks what is the news in this city. They tell +him that the king's daughter is going to be married to-day. In this +city it was permitted only to the wedding party to enter the church, +but Dragon had bribed one of the keepers with money, (saying) that +he would stop quiet in a corner of the church. It was also the custom +in this city to publish the banns at the moment of marriage. When the +priest began to publish them, Dragon came out of his corner, and said-- + +"I make an objection." + +He goes to the young lady, who recognises him; and he shows her the +ring and the kerchiefs, and asks her in marriage. She says-- + +"This shall be my husband; he has well deserved it." + +He was still lame, as a piece of his flesh was still wanting. They were +married then. The other bridegroom went back home quite ashamed. The +others lived very happily, because both had suffered much. Then I +was there, now I am here. + + + Louise Lanusse, + St. Jean Pied de Port. + + + + +EZKABI-FIDEL. + +As there are many in the world, and as we are many of us, there was +a mother who had a son. They were very poor. The son wished to go +off somewhere, in order to better himself, (he said); that it was +not living to live like that. The mother was sorry; but what could +she do? In order that her son may be better off, she lets him go. He +goes then, travelling on, and on, and on. In a forest he meets with a +gentleman, who asks him where he is going. He tells him that, wishing +to better himself, he had gone away from home to do something. This +gentleman asks him if he is willing to be his servant. He replies, +"Yes." They go off then together, and come to a beautiful place. After +having entered, the gentleman gives him all the keys of the house, +saying that he has a journey he must make, and that he must see the +whole house--that he will find in it everything he wants to eat, +and to take care of the horses in the stable. The gentleman goes +away as soon as he had seen all the house and the stable. There were +a lot of horses there, and in the midst of them all a white mare, +[109] who said to him, + +"Ay! ay! Fidel, save me, I pray you, from here, and get me outside. You +will not be sorry for it." + +Fidel stops at the place whence this voice came. A moment after, +the white mare says to him, + +"Come near the white mare; it is she who is speaking to you." + +Fidel goes up to her, and says to her that he cannot let her go--that +the master has not given him any other work to do (than to take care +of the horses), and that he certainly will not do any such thing. The +mare said to him, + +"Go and fetch a saucepan, and when I shall have filled it with water, +you will wash your hands and your head." + +Fidel does as the mare told him, and is quite astonished at seeing +his hands shine, and he says to her that he does not wish to have +them like that, but that, as to his head, he could hide it. [110] +The mare told him to wash his hands in the water, and that they would +become again as they were before. + +The time goes on, and the time returns. A long time had passed, +and the master had never returned. And one day the mare said to him, + +"Fidel, do you know how long you have been here?" + +He says to her, "I don't know at all--six months, perhaps?" + +The mare says to him, "Six years have passed, and if the master arrives +when seven years shall have passed, you will be enchanted--you, too, +as we all are here--and the master is a devil." + +After that he heard that, Fidel is frightened, and he says to himself +that it would be better to do what the white mare had said--to get +on her back, and both to escape from there. They go off then, both +of them. When they had gone some little distance, the mare asks him +if he sees anything behind him. + +He says, "Yes," that he sees something terrible, but in the clouds; +but that it is something terrific. [111] The mare gives the earth a +kick with her foot, and says to it, + +"Earth, with thy power form a dense, terrible fog where he is." + +They go on again, and the mare says again-- + +"Look back again, if you see anything." + +Fidel says to her, "Yes, I see again this terrible thing; it is coming +after us quickly, and is going to catch us." + +The mare at the same time says again to the earth, in striking it +with her foot, + +"Let it hail stones, and hail there where he is as much as can +possibly fall." + +They go on. The mare says again, + +"Look back, if you see anything." + +He says to her again, "He is here, this terrible monster. It is all +up with us now--we cannot escape him; he is quite near, and he comes +with speed." + +The mare strikes the earth with her foot, and says to it-- + +"Form before him a river, and let him drown himself there for +evermore." + +He sees him drown himself there. The mare says to him, + +"Now you shall go to such a spot. The king lives there. You will ask +if they want a gardener, and they will tell you 'Yes.' You will stay +there without doing anything, and the work will do itself by itself, +without your doing anything. Every day three beautiful flowers will +come up in this garden. You will carry them to the three daughters of +the king, but you will always give the finest to the youngest." [112] + +It was the custom to carry the dinner to the gardener, but it was the +youngest of the daughters who carried it to him. From the first day +the gardener pleased the young lady, and she said to him one day that +he must marry her. The lad said to her that that cannot be, that she +ought not to think of marrying with a person of low birth and who has +nothing, and that she must not dream any such dreams. This young lady +falls ill. The father sends for the doctor, who says, after having +touched her pulse, that she is ill of love; and the doctor goes to +tell it to the king. The father goes to the young lady and tells her +what the physician has said to him--that she is not so very ill. The +daughter says to him: + +"In order to cure me you must send and fetch the gardener. Let him +give me some broth and I shall be cured." + +The father sends to fetch him directly, has him washed and properly +dressed, and makes him carry the broth. There was among the court an +old, old nurse; she was a witch, and as she knew what the physician +had said, she goes and hides herself in the young lady's bedroom +before the gardener came there, in order to know what the young lady +would say to him. The young lady said to him: + +"Yes, and you shall marry me; I will not marry anybody else but you, +whatever you may say." + +The lad said to her: "No, no, I will not hear that mentioned." + +The nurse had heard all that had passed, and she goes and tells it +immediately to the king. The young lady was cured, and goes to carry +the dinner to Fidel. Fidel had a habit of always giving the first +spoonful of the soup to the dog. He gives it him that day too, and +as soon as the dog has eaten it he falls stark dead. When the young +lady saw that she goes and tells it to her father. The father sends +for a big dog, and gives him some of the soup, and as soon as he has +eaten it he falls dead. Judge of the anger of that young lady. She +goes and takes this old witch and has her burnt. She goes to look +for Fidel in a little house which was at the bottom of the garden, +and she sees his head bare. [113] It was shining like the sun, and +she entirely lost her own head for it, and she said to him, that he +must marry her. As she left him no peace, her father said to her: + +"If you will marry him, do so; but I will not give you anything. You +must go and live in a corner of the mountain with your husband; +there is a house there, and there you must stop. You may come only +one day a week to see me." + +That was all the same to this young lady, (and they are married), +and go off there. As the king had given her no money, when Fidel's +hair grew she went from time to time to the goldsmiths, who said to +her that they had not money enough belonging to them to pay for the +gold that she brought them. And they lived there very happily. + +One day Fidel heard that the king was engaged in a great war, and he +told his wife to go to her father and tell him that he too wished to +go to this war. This young lady goes to tell her father her husband's +commission. Her father says to her: + +"What is the use of a young man like that who has never killed anything +but mole-crickets? Let him stop at home." + +His daughter says to him: "At least he is your son-in-law!" + +The father then says to her: "He may come on such a day." + +Fidel goes as they had told him. He asks the king for a horse and +a sword. The king gives him a horse blind and lame. Fidel was not +pleased with it. He begins his march, wishing to get on as quickly as +possible, but when he had gone a little distance, the horse sticks +in the mud, and cannot in any way get out of it. While he is there, +the white mare comes to him. She gives him a beautiful horse, and a +lance and a sword, and tells him that he will see his brothers-in-law +encamped round a city, but not to stop there with them, but to ride +straight to the city; that the gates will be shut, but as soon +as he shall have touched them with his lance they will be broken +to pieces, and that they will make peace with him. He does as she +told him, and starts off on his horse like the lightning, without +paying the slightest attention to his brothers-in-law. He goes up +to the city, and as soon as he has touched the gates with his sword +they are in pieces. He enters the city, and all the world comes out +and makes him a thousand fêtes. They declare that they wish for no +more war. They give him the key of the treasury and all the papers, +and he retires from there with all the honours. When he returns he +tells his brothers-in-law to retire--that the war is finished. They +go back again. He stops at the place where he had left his old horse +in the mud. He sends away his beautiful horse with all his things, +and Fidel stops there, not being able to drag his old horse out of +the mud. When his brothers-in-law pass, they mock at him (and ask +him) if it is there that he has passed all his time. He tells them, +"Yes." The others go on ahead, and at length he also arrives at the +king's house. He leaves his old horse there and goes off home. He +does not tell his wife what has happened, and they live in their hole. + +The king was getting old, and he had entirely lost his sight. Somebody +gave him to understand that there was a water which made people young +again, and another which restored sight. He told his sons-in-law +that they must go (and look for it)--that he could not live long +like that. And both of them start off. Their wives, at starting, +had given each a golden apple. [114] They go far away; but they find +nothing. Tired at last, they stop in a beautiful city. They take each +of them a wife, and they live according to their fancy. When Fidel saw +that his brothers-in-law did not arrive, he said to his wife that he +must go off; perhaps he might be able better to find the waters which +his father wanted. He goes off without saying anything to the king, +and travels on, and on, and on. + +He meets an old woman, who says to him, "Where are you going to?" He +tells her how he wants a water which gives sight to the blind and +makes the old young, [115] and that he would not go back home without +finding it. This old woman says to him: + +"You will see two animals fighting close to you, and you will gather +the herb which makes the dead to live; you will have it boiled, +and you will keep this water for yourself." + +This lad goes on a little farther, and he sees two lizards fighting so +fiercely that one kills the other. The one who was left alive takes +a blade of grass and touches the dead and rekindles his life. [116] +Fidel gathers this grass, and goes off to this old woman. The old +woman gives him two bottles, telling him that the one is for giving +sight to the blind, and the other for making old men young; that he +must not sell these waters for money, but must make an exchange of +them for two golden apples which his brothers-in-law have in this +very city, and that it is to them that he must give this water. + +Fidel goes into the city, and as soon as he has entered, he cries: + +"Who wishes to buy the water that gives sight to the blind, and the +water which makes old men young?" + +His two brothers-in-law appear, and say that they must have some of +this water, and ask what it costs. And he tells them that he does +not sell it, but only gives it in exchange for golden apples. These +gentlemen willingly make the exchange. But they wish to make trial +of it directly; they bring an old blind dog, and immediately he +grows young again. Judge how pleased they were with their water of +power. They set off to the king, and this water makes him become very +young and gives him sight. The king wishes to have great rejoicings, +and invites all his friends in the neighbourhood. Fidel arrives at +home, and says nothing to his wife. When he hears that the king is +going to have rejoicings, he sends his wife to ask the king if he would +not like them to go there too; that they would help, one in cutting the +wood, and the other in serving at table. She did not wish to go there +at all. She told her husband that she would a hundred times sooner +stop at home; but her husband sends her off by force, (saying) that +they ought to be there on that day. She goes, then, the poor woman, +against her wish. She asks her father if he does not want some one +to help on the feast day. The father says, "No!"--they have servants +enough. An old general who was sitting by his side said to him: + +"Why do you not let them come?" + +Then the king said, "Come then on such a day." + +Fidel and his wife go. While they are at breakfast the old general +asks Fidel if he also does not know something to relate? He replies +"Yes," that he knows some (stories), but more than one would not +be pleased with what he would tell. Then the king says, placing his +sword upon the table: + +"The point of my sword shall know news of the heart of him who +shall speak." + +Fidel begins then, how he went to the war with an old horse, blind +and lame, but that in spite of that he had carried off the keys of +the treasure and the papers. The king says to him that he has not +seen them yet--that he is still expecting them. Fidel takes out the +papers and gives them to the king. He gives also the keys of the +treasury. The king assures himself that they are the real ones. He +then narrates how he has sold in exchange for two golden apples that +precious water. At this instant his wife rises and says to him: + +"Where have you these golden apples--you?" + +As it is she who has spoken the first words, Fidel takes up the king's +sword and strikes his wife dead. [117] The king was grieved to see +that, but Fidel says to him: + +"Do not disturb yourself for that; as I have taken away her life I +will give it her again." + +He takes out his water which rekindles dead men, and rubs some on +her temple, and she suddenly returns to life. Everyone is astounded +at this great deed, and at all that he has already done. The king +tells him that he has already gained the crown, but that he must be +cured of this terrible scab [118] first. His wife rises, takes off +his kerchief which he had upon his head, and shows the shining head +of her husband, saying: + +"See, this is the scab of my husband!" + +The king says that the crown will shine much better on his head. He +goes to fetch it, and places it upon this precious head. He banishes +his sons-in-law with his two daughters to the same desert place where +Fidel formerly lived. And Fidel and his wife lived much richer than +the king was. His precious head gave him this power; and as they +lived well they died well too. + + + Laurentine. + + +We have another version almost identical with the above, except at +the commencement. Ezkabi really has the scab. On his journey, after +leaving his home, he pays the debts of a poor man whose corpse is being +beaten in front of the church, and buries him. There is nothing about +a white mare. An old woman is the good genius of the tale. He goes as +gardener, and the king's daughter falls in love with him, from catching +a sight of his golden hair from her window; for the rest the stories +are identical, except that this is a shorter form than the above. + + + + +THE LADY PIGEON AND HER COMB. [119] + +Like many others in the world, there was a mother and her son; they +were very poor. This son wished to leave his mother and go away, +(saying) that they were wretched as they were. He goes off then far, +far, far away. He finds a castle in a forest, and goes in and asks if +they want a servant, and it is a Tartaro who comes to him. He asks him: + +"Where are you going to like that, ant of the earth?" + +He says that, being very poor at home, he wished to work to better +himself. + +The Tartaro says to him, "As you have told the truth I spare your life, +ant of the earth, and in a few days you will go away from here. Three +young ladies will come to bathe in the water in my garden. They will +leave their pigeon-robes under a large stone, and you will take the +pigeon's skin which is in the middle. [120] The two young ladies will +come out of the water and will take their skins. She who stops in +the water will ask you for her skin, but you shall not give it her +before she shall promise to help you always." + +The next day our lad sees that the young ladies are in the water. He +goes and does as the Tartaro tells him; he takes the middle one of +the three skins, the two young ladies take their skins, and the third +asks him to give her hers. The lad will not give it her without her +promise. The young lady will not give her word. He then says to her +that he will not give it her at all. The young lady then says to him +that he may reckon upon her, that she gives him her word, and that +he shall go to-morrow to her father's house, that he will take him +as servant, and that he lives in such a place. The lad goes off then +the next day and finds this beautiful house in a forest. + +He asks if they want a servant? They tell him, "Yes," but that there +is a great deal of work to do there. The next morning (the father) +takes him into the forest and says to him: + +"You must pull up all these oaks with their roots, you must cut them +into lengths, and put the trunks on one side, the branches on another, +and the roots by themselves, each in their place. Afterwards you will +plough the ground, then you will harrow it, then sow the wheat; you +will then cut it, and you bring me at noon a little cake made out of +this wheat, otherwise you will be put to death." [121] + +The lad says to him, "I will try." + +He goes then to the forest and sits down pensive. It was already +eleven o'clock when the young lady appears to him. She says to him: + +"Why are you like that, so sad? Have not I promised that I would help +you? Shut your eyes, but all the worse for you if you shall open them." + +She throws a comb into the air, [122] and says: + +"Comb, with thy power tear up these oaks with their roots, cut them +into lengths, put the trunks together, and the branches, and the +roots too by themselves." + +As soon as it was said it was done. She throws another comb, and says +to it: + +"Comb, with thy power turn up this ground, harrow it, and sow the +wheat." + +As soon as it was said it was done. She throws another comb, and says: + +"Comb, with thy power make a cake of this wheat when you have cut it." + +Our lad was curious to know what was taking place, but the young lady +said to him: + +"Woe to you and to me if you open (your eyes). [123] Nothing will be +finished for us." + +He does not open them, and the cake is cooked. Twelve o'clock was +going to strike. She says to him: + +"Go with speed, you have no time to lose." + +The lad goes to the king and brings him the cake. The king is +astonished. He says (to himself), "That is a clever lad, that," and he +wishes to be assured of it by looking out of window; and, after having +seen that this huge forest had been torn up, he is astonished. He sends +away the lad, and goes and tells it to his wife. His wife says to him, +"Take care that he is not in league with your daughter." [124] + +The husband says to her, "What do you mean? They have never seen +each other." + +This husband was a devil. The young lady told our lad that her father +is going to send him to fetch a ring in a river far away. "He will +tell you to choose a sword from the midst of ever so many others, +but you will take an old sabre and leave the others." + +The next day his wife told him that he ought to send him to fetch a +ring which he had lost in the bed of a river. He sends him then, and +tells him that he must choose a sword; that he will have quantities +of evil fish to conquer. The lad says to him that he will not have +those fine swords, that he has enough with this old sabre, which was +used to scrape off the dirt. + +When he arrived at the bank of the river he sat there weeping, not +knowing what to do. The young lady comes to him, and says: + +"What! You are weeping! Did not I tell you that I would always +help you?" + +It was eleven o'clock. The young lady says to him: + +"You must cut me in pieces with this sabre, and throw all the pieces +into the water." + +The lad will not do it by any means. He says to her: + +"I prefer to die here on the spot than to make you suffer." + +The lady says to him, "It is nothing at all what I shall suffer, and +you must do it directly--the favourable moment is passing by like this, +like this." + +The lad, trembling all over, begins with his sabre. He throws all the +pieces into the river; but, lo! a part of the lady's little finger +sticks to a nail in his shoe. The young lady comes out of the water +and says to him: + +"You have not thrown everything into the water. My little finger is +wanting." [125] + +After having looked for it, he sees that he has it under his foot, +hooked on to a nail. The young lady gives him the ring. She tells +him to go without losing a moment; for he must give it to the king at +noon. He arrives happily (in time). The young lady, as she goes into +the house, bangs the door with all her might and begins to cry out: + +"Ay! ay! ay! I have crushed my little finger." + +And she makes believe that she has done it there. The king was +pleased. He tells him that on the morrow he must tame a horse and +three young fillies. [126] The lad says to him: + +"I will try." + +The master gives him a terrible club. The young lady says to him in +the evening: + +"The horse which my father has spoken to you about will be himself. You +will strike him with all your might with your terrible club on the +nose, and he will yield and be conquered. The first filly will be +my eldest sister. You will strike her on the chest with all your +force, and she also will yield and will be conquered. I shall come +the last. You will make a show of beating me too, and you will hit +the ground with your stick, and I too will yield, and I shall be +conquered." + +The next day the lad does as the young lady has told him. The horse +comes. He was very high-spirited, but our lad strikes him on the +nose, he yields, and is conquered. He does the same thing with the +fillies. He beats them with his terrible club, they yield, and are +conquered; and when the third comes he makes a show of hitting her, +and strikes the earth. She yields, and all go off. + +The next day he sees the master with his lips swollen, and with all his +face as black as soot. The young ladies had also pain in the chest. The +youngest also gets up very late indeed in order to do as the others. + +The master says to him that he sees he is a valuable servant, and +very clever, and that he will give him one of his daughters for wife, +but that he must choose her with his eyes shut. And the young lady +says to him: + +"You will choose the one that will give you her hand twice, and in +any way you will recognise me, because you will find that my little +finger is wanting. I will always put that in front." + +The next day the master said to him: + +"We are here now; you shall now choose the one you wish for, always +keeping your eyes shut." + +He shuts them then; and the eldest daughter approaches, and gives +him her hand. He says to the king: + +"It is very heavy, (this hand); too heavy for me. I will not have +this one." + +The second one approaches, she gives him her hand, and he immediately +recognises that the little finger is wanting. He says to the king: + +"This is the one I must have." + +They are married immediately. [127] They pass some days like that. His +wife says to him: + +"It is better for us to be off from here, and to flee, otherwise my +father will kill us." + +They set off, then, that evening at ten o'clock, and the young lady +spits before the door of her room, saying: + +"Spittle, with thy power, you shall speak in my place." [128] And +they go off a long way. At midnight, the father goes to the door of +the lad and his wife, and knocks at the door; they do not answer. He +knocks harder, and then the spittle says to him: + +"Just now nobody can come into this room." + +The father says, "It is I. I must come in." + +"It is impossible," says the spittle again. + +The father grows more and more angry; the spittle makes him stop an +hour like that at the door. At last, not being able to do anything +else, he smashes the door, and goes inside. What is his terrible rage +when he sees the room empty. He goes off to his wife, and says to her: + +"You were not mistaken; they were well acquainted, and they were really +in league with one another, and they have both escaped together; +but I will not leave them like that. I will go off after them, and +I shall find them sooner or later." + +He starts off. Our gentleman and lady had gone very far, but the +young lady was still afraid. She said to her husband: + +"He might overtake us even now. I--I cannot turn my head; but (look) +if you can see something." + +The husband says to her: "Yes, something terrible is coming after us; +I have never seen a monster like this." + +The young lady throws up a comb, and says: [129] + +"Comb, with thy power, let there be formed before my father hedges +and thorns, and before me a good road." + +It is done as she wished. They go a good way, and she says again: + +"Look, I beg you, if you see anything again." + +The husband looks back, and sees nothing; but in the clouds he sees +something terrible, and tells so to his wife. And his wife says, +taking her comb: + +"Comb, with thy power, let there be formed where he is a fog, and hail, +and a terrific storm." + +It happens as they wish. They go a little way farther, and his wife +says to him: + +"Look behind you, then, if you see anything." + +The husband says to her: "Now it is all over with us. We have him +here after us; he is on us. Use all your power." + +She throws again a comb immediately, and says: + +"Comb, with thy power, form between my father and me a terrible river, +and let him be drowned there for ever." + +As soon as she has said that, they see a mighty water, and there +their father and enemy drowns himself. [130] + +The young lady says, "Now we have no more fear of him, we shall live +in peace." + +They go a good distance, and arrive at a country into which the young +lady could not enter. She says to her husband: + +"I can go no farther. It is the land of the Christians there; I +cannot enter into it. You must go there the first. You must fetch +a priest. He must baptize me, and afterwards I will come with you; +but you must take great care that nobody kisses you. If so, you will +forget me altogether. Mind and pay great attention to it; and you, +too, do not you kiss anyone." + +He promises his wife that he will not. He goes, then, on, and on, and +on. He arrives in his own country, and as he is entering it an old aunt +recognises him, and comes behind him, and gives him two kisses. [131] +It is all over with him. He forgets his wife, as if he had never seen +her, and he stays there amusing himself, and taking his pleasure. + +The young lady, seeing that her husband never returned, that something +had happened to him, and that she could no longer count upon him, +she takes a little stick, and striking the earth, she says: + +"I will that here, in this very spot, is built a beautiful hotel, +with all that is necessary, servants, and all the rest." + +There was a beautiful garden, too, in front, and she had put over +the door: + +"Here they give to eat without payment." + +One day the young man goes out hunting with two comrades, and while +they were in the forest they said one to the other: + +"We never knew of this hotel here before. We must go there too. One +can eat without payment." + +They go off then. The young lady recognises her husband very well, but +he does not recognise her at all. She receives them very well. These +gentlemen are so pleased with her, that one of them asks her if she +will not let him pass the night with her. [132] The young lady says +to him, "Yes." The other asks also, "I, too, was wishing it." The +young lady says to him: + +"To-morrow then, you, if you wish it, certainly." + +And her husband says to her: "And I after to-morrow then." + +The young lady says to him, "Yes." One of the young men remains +then. He passes the evening in great delight, and when the hour comes +for going to bed, the young lady says to him: + +"When you were small you were a choir-boy, and they used to powder you; +this smell displeases me in bed. Before coming there you must comb +yourself. Here is a comb, and when you have got all the powder out, +you may come to bed." + +Our lad begins then to comb his hair, but never could he get all the +powder out, such quantities came out, and were still coming out of +his head; and he was still at it when the young lady rose. The lad +said to her: + +"What! you are getting up before I come." + +"And do you not see that it is day? I cannot stop there any +longer. People will come." + +Our young man goes off home without saying a word more. He meets his +comrade who was to pass the night with this young lady. He says to him: + +"You are satisfied? You amused yourself well?" + +"Yes, certainly, very well. If the time flies as fast with you as it +did with me you will amuse yourself well." + +He goes off then to this house. The young lady says to him, after he +had had a good supper: + +"Before going to bed you must wash your feet. The water will be here in +this big copper; when you have them quite clean you may come to bed." + +Accordingly he washes one, and when he has finished washing the other, +the first washed is still black and dirty. He washes it again, and +finds the foot that he has just well washed very dirty again. He kept +doing like that for such a long time. When the young lady gets up, +the gentleman says to her: + +"What! You are getting up already, without me coming?" + +"Why did you not then come before day? I cannot stay any longer in +bed. It is daylight, and the people will begin (to come)." + +Our young man withdraws as the other had done. Now it is the turn of +her husband. She serves him still better than the others; nothing +was wanting at his supper. When the hour for going to bed arrives, +they go to the young lady's room; when they are ready to get into bed, +the young lady says to him: + +"Put out the light." + +He puts it out, and it lights again directly. He puts it out again, +and it lights again as soon as it is put out. He passes all the night +like that in his shirt, never being able to put out that light. When +daylight is come, the young lady says to him: + +"You do not know me then? You do not remember how you left your wife +to go and fetch a priest?" + +As soon as she had said that he strikes his head, and says to her: + +"Only now I remember all that--up to this moment I was as if I had +never had a wife at all--how sorry I am; but indeed it is not my fault, +not at all. I never wished it like that, and it is my old aunt who +kissed me twice without my knowing it." + +"It is all the same now. You are here now. You have done penance +enough; your friends have done it too. One passed the whole night +getting powder out of his head, and the other in washing his feet, +and they have not slept with me any more than you have. At present +you must go into your country, and you must get a priest. He shall +baptize me, and then we will go into your country." + +The husband goes off and returns with the priest, and she is baptized, +and they set out for his country. When they have arrived there, +she touched the earth with her stick, and says to it: + +"Let there be a beautiful palace, with everything that is needed +inside it, and a beautiful garden before the house." + +As soon as it is said, it is done. They lived there very rich and +very happy with the old mother of the lad, and as they lived well +they died well too. + + + Laurentine Kopena. + + + + +SUGGESTED EXPLANATION OF THE ABOVE TALE (THE LADY-PIGEON AND HER COMB). + +This legend seems to us to be one of the best examples in our +collection of what may be called atmospherical, or climatological +myths. + +The story opens with man in misery, without the aid of cultivation and +agriculture. The old king we take to be a personification of winter; +his daughter of spring, warmth, and fertility--of what the French +call "la belle saison." The comb, with which she does her marvels, +is the power which draws out her golden hair, the sun's bright +rays. The young man, who, without her aid, can effect nothing, is +man in relation to the frozen ground, which needs her aid to quicken +it into fertility. It is the old Sun-god, the Cyclops, who tells him +where to find, and how to woo, his fairy bride. But spring and earth +are as yet both fast bound in winter's dominions. There he must go, +and learn what he must do, if they are to be married. The felling of +the forest, the sowing and ripening corn, and the cooked cake, teach +him that he can only succeed by her help; and yet he does not see how +she does it--man cannot see the corn grow, etc. The summer warmth and +fertilizing power, typified by the ring, still lies buried in the +frozen waters. The taming of the horses shows the need and help of +domestic animals in agriculture. These things are necessary to be known +ere spring can free herself from winter's dominion and marry her chosen +lover. Winter would still hold her fast; but even in his own home her +influence works secretly against him. He does not suspect that she +is in league with her lover. But at length they are joined together; +they flee, and the great struggle between winter and spring has fairly +set in. She is able to hide her flight a little while; but he discovers +it, and pursues and nearly overtakes her. But, by means of her comb, +scattering abroad her warm rays, she works wonders. He is stopped by +rough, wintry roads. Her path is through fair and pleasant ways; the +storms, and hail, and rain of early spring assist her, but it is the +mighty inundation of the swollen rivers which finally overwhelms him, +and sweeps him for ever away. + +But their union is not complete yet. She cannot enter the Christians' +land. The natural powers of earth and sky have need of agriculture +and civilization for their full expansion. And man, frightened at the +toil, is lured back again to the nomad hunter life. He forgets his +bride in the pleasures of the chase. He spends the winter thus, but +is drawn back by the attraction of his waiting bride in spring. She +has food in abundance; he is hungry. Other wooers come; she cheats +and deludes them, till her true husband appears, and submits to her +once more. Then is the full marriage of earth and husbandry, and man +wedded to the summer's warmth and glow. + +All parts of the tale are not equally clear, nor do we positively +affirm that we have interpreted it aright. But there can be no doubt +that we have here a nature allegory; and, told as it is by those who +have not the most remote suspicion of its meaning, many things in +it must needs be confused; the wonder is that the details are still +so clear and so little distorted as they are. And, if this be the +interpretation, or even if this kind of interpretation be allowed +in this case, then we must consider if it is not to be extended to +every case in which the several incidents occur, though they are +now mingled and confused with circumstances with which they had no +original connection. + + + + +LAUR-CANTONS. [133] + +There was a man who was very rich. He wished to get married, but the +young girls of this country would not marry him, because he had such +a bad reputation. One day he sent for a vine-dresser, who had three +daughters, and said to him, + +"I want to marry one of your three daughters; if I do not marry them, +so much the worse for you--I will have you killed." + +This vine-dresser goes away home in sadness. He tells his two eldest +daughters what Mr. Laur-Cantons had said to him. The daughters tell +him that they will not marry; it is useless to ask them. The father +stays indoors in his grief, and his youngest daughter comes home. He +tells her, too, what has happened, and this one says to her father, + +"Do not be so sad; as for me, I will marry him, and nothing shall +happen to you." + +The father and the daughter go off then. He marries this young +girl. And, as Mr. Laur-Cantons was very rich, he had quantities of +beautiful dresses made for her. He had gold by hogsheads full, and +this young girl was very happy with this gentleman. + +After some time the king summoned him to go to the army, and he was +obliged to go. He said to his wife, "Amuse yourself well," and he +leaves her plenty of money. + +His wife says, "No," she will remain at home till he comes back, +and will not see anybody until his return. Mr. Laur-Cantons set off +for the court. When he was there, a merchant attacks him on purpose +to vex him and put him in a passion, and tells him that he will get +into his wife's house, and he wagers all that he has in his shop, and +Mr. Laur-Cantons bets 100,000 francs that he will not get in. This +merchant then goes off to the lady's house. He knocks at the door, +and says that he comes with a letter from her husband, and begs her +to open the door. But they do not open it. They tell him to put the +letter in the hole; and, after having remained all night at the door +in vain, he goes off to the forest in a rage, kicking and stamping +about with his feet, because he had lost all that he possessed. An +old woman passes by there, and says to him, + +"What is the matter with you, that you are in such great trouble?" + +"Be off with you, quickly, or I will give you two good boxes on the +ear." This woman was a witch. This man was sorry a moment afterwards +for not having listened to this old woman, and he goes off after her: + +"Just now I treated you very badly, but I must now tell you my +trouble. I have lost all that I possess in a bet with Mr. Laur-Cantons +that I would get into his wife's house, but I have passed the whole +night there, and have not been able to get in." + +"If you have only that it is nothing, and I will arrange that." + +She goes with a basket of apples and knocks at the door, and says that +she is the lady's nurse, and asks them to open. They open for her. The +young lady shows her her dresses for the marriage day and for the +next day too, her gold chain, and all her pretty things. While she is +putting by her dresses the witch takes her gold chain, which had the +lady's name on it; and the lady did not observe it, and did not miss +anything when she shut up the others, because she had full confidence +in her, believing that she was really her nurse, since she said so. + +The witch goes off to find the merchant and gives him the gold +chain. The merchant gives her as a reward a complete set of new +clothes. The merchant goes off joyfully to find Mr. Laur-Cantons, and +shows him from a distance the gold chain. Imagine what was the rage +of the gentleman. He goes off home immediately. He knocks at the door, +saying that it is the master who is there; he enters, and says to his +wife, with harsh voice, to go upstairs and put on her wedding dress +and her gold ornaments. She comes down without putting it on at all, +and he says to her: + +"Where are your gold ornaments?" + +"Not being able to find them, I have put on those of the next day." + +When he has got on horseback he tells her to get up behind him. This +young lady, having suspected something, had taken a great deal of +money with her. When they had gone a short way he dismounts. He puts +his wife into a chest and throws her into the sea. On the sea-shore +there are always people looking about, and when the chest was seen +they caught hold of it as best they could. They begin to knock it, +wishing to open it. She says to them from inside: + +"Gently, gently, there is someone alive inside here." + +After they had opened it she gave them a handsome present, and goes +to an hotel, and dresses herself like a gentleman. She asks if there +is anyone seriously ill in the town. They say to her: + +"For the last seven years the king's daughter is so." + +She goes off to seek flowers and herbs in the fields, and she makes +acquaintance with the king's physicians; and one day she goes with +them to the king's house, and as they come out she says to one of them: + +"I, I could cure that young lady." + +The king hears that, and bids her to come as soon as possible. At +the first visit she gives her something to drink. As soon as she +has drunk she moves her head. She gives her to drink a second time, +and she sits up on the bed. The third time she gives her to drink she +leaps right out of bed. Think what rejoicings there were in the house +of the king! He did not know what to do to reward her, but she says to +him that she wishes nothing, only she would be made governor of this +city. She asks the names of the people at the court. They tell her a +great many names, and that of Mr. Laur-Cantons among others. When she +has got installed in her palace, she has Mr. Laur-Cantons brought up +before her between two policemen. She asks him what he has done with +his wife. He says to her that he knows nothing about her. + +She points to the gallows: + +"If you do not tell the truth, that shall be your reward." + +He tells her then how that a merchant had come to tempt him; how +he had made a bet, and that he had come back with her gold chain, +and then, having got into a passion, he had thrown her into the sea +in a chest. She sends to fetch this merchant. He, too, tells how, +in order not to lose all he had, and not being able to get into the +house, a woman had brought him the chain. The merchant did not tell +the truth at the first questioning--it was after having been threatened +that he confessed it. She sends for the witch between eight policemen, +and asks her how she had got the gold chain from the lady's house. She +tells the whole truth as it had happened. As the governor had had seven +barrels of powder placed one above the other, they put the witch on +the top, and set fire to the barrels from below. The witch goes up +in the air with the fire, and nobody sees her any more. They hang +the merchant as well. Mr. Laur-Cantons was on his knees before the +governor, begging pardon of him for his wicked actions. She pardons +him, and made him governor and she remained governess. She sent for +her father, and they lived very happily. + +If that is not true, may it happen (to me) like that. + + + Louise Amyot, + more than 70 years old. + + + + +THE YOUNG SCHOOLBOY. + +Once upon a time there was a gentleman and lady. They had a child. The +father was captain of a ship. The mother regularly sent her son to +school, and when the father came back from his voyages he asked his +child if he had learnt much at school. The mother answered, "No, +no! not much." + +The father went off for another voyage. He comes home the second +time. "My child, what have you learnt at school?" + +The child answers his father, "Nothing." + +"You have learnt nothing?" + +The captain goes to find the schoolmaster, and asks him if his child +does not learn anything. + +"I cannot drive anything into that child's head." + +The boy comes up, and the father, asks him again what he has learnt +at school. + +"This is all. (To understand) the song of the birds." + +"O, my son, the song of the birds! the song of the birds! Come, +come on board ship with me." + +And he carries him off. While they were on the voyage a bird comes +and settles on the end of the ship, singing, "Wirittitti, kirikiriki." + +"My son, come, come, instead of beginning by learning the art of a +captain you have learned the song of birds. Do you know what this +bird sings?" + +"Yes, my father. I know he sings that I am now under your orders, +but you shall also be under mine." + +What does this captain do? He takes a barrel, knocks out the head, +and puts his son into it. He closes up the barrel and throws it into +the sea, and a storm casts it ashore. + +A king was walking there just at that moment, and he finds this barrel +and sends for his men. They begin to try and break open the barrel, +and the boy cries out from inside: + +"Gently, gently, there is someone inside." + +They open the barrel, and the boy comes out from inside. The king +takes him home, and he marries the king's daughter. + +One day the father of this boy was caught in a great storm, and +the captain is thrown by the tempest on the sea-shore. He went to +the king, and saw his son. The son recognised the father, but the +father did not recognise the son at all, and he became his own son's +servant. One day he said to him: + +"Do you know who I am?" + +"No, sir." + +"I am such an one, your son. At such a time you threw me into the +sea in a barrel, and now the bird's song has come true." + +And after that the father and the son lived together very happily. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + + +The following seems to be a variation of the same:-- + + + + +THE SON WHO HEARD VOICES. + +Like many others in the world, there was a gentleman and lady. They +had several children. There was one whom they did not love so much +as they did the others, because he said that he heard a voice very +often. He said also that this voice had told him that a father and +a mother would be servants to their son, but without saying that it +was they. When the mother heard that she got very angry, taking it +for herself. They were very rich, and they had two men-servants. This +mother told these servants to go with her son and kill him, and bring +his heart back to the house. + +The next day she said to her son: + +"You must go for a walk to such a place with these servants, and you +may stop there till twelve o'clock." + +The lad goes off quietly with the servants, and when they had gone +a little distance, the two servants begin to talk loudly, and to +dispute, and get angry. He goes up to them, and sees what they are +quarrelling about. The one wished to kill him, and the other did +not. They fought, and the one who did not wish to kill him got the +better of the other. And they said that they would kill a big dog +which they had with them, and that they would carry his heart to +their mistress. Before the servants returned the mother had already +begun to be sorry. + +Our young man wandered from place to place, and wandering like that, +he said to himself that he must go to Rome. He meets with two men +who tell him that they are going to Rome too, and they will make the +journey together. They loved this young lad very much, because they +saw that there was something in him different from the rest. When +night came they all go to a house hidden in a thick forest. They ask +shelter for the night. They tell them to enter, and give them a good +supper. Our young lad hears the voice, and it says to him: + +"You are in a very unhappy place here. It would have been better if +you had not come here." + +The other men said to him, "What is that? What is that?" + +"Nothing at all. It would have been better to have gone elsewhere." + +When they had finished supper, they show them to bed, but our young +gentleman does not go to sleep. He hears in the middle of the night +a great noise made by the robbers, who were returning home laden with +silver. The woman said to them: + +"Go gently. We have three men here, and they say that one of them is +very rich." + +Our young man hears that. He wakes his comrades, and they jump out +of the window and escape. They walk on the whole day. When night +comes they see a beautiful house, and they ask to be lodged there +that night. They said to them: + +"Certainly, with pleasure, but you will not have much rest; we have +a daughter who for seven years shrieks out in pain night and day." + +These men say to the young man: "Will not you cure her--you?" + +He said to them: "I will try." + + + (The narrator had forgotten how this was done). + + +They were very rich. When he had cured the young girl, this poor +father said to him: + +"Sir, it is you who are now the master of this house. Give your orders, +and whatever you wish shall be done." + +Our young gentleman thanks him very much, and tells him that he is +going to Rome, but that he cannot say what he will do later after +that. This young lady had a beautiful ring on her finger. The father +cut this ring in two, and gave him one-half. They depart, and at length +they arrive close to Rome, and as they come near all the bells begin +to ring of themselves. Everyone comes out: + +"Where is he? What is this? It is the Holy Father [134] who must +be coming!" + +They take our young gentleman and make him the Holy Father. + +The mother of this man was growing sadder and sadder, she was slowly +languishing away, and they could no longer recognise her. She had +never told her husband what she had done, but she asked him to go to +Rome; and she ended by telling him what a terrible thing she had done, +and that she believes that she will get pardon there, if he would go +with her with the two servants who had also sinned. They arrive at +Rome. This poor mother had such great grief, and such a weight at her +heart that she wished to make her confession aloud in the middle of +the church at Rome. [135] Chance willed it that her son was in this +church. When he hears that he goes opening his arms to the arms of +his mother, saying to her: + +"I forgive you, I am your son." + +The joy and the happiness kill the father and mother on the spot. He +takes the two servants home with him, and gives to him who did not +wish to kill him the half of the young lady's ring, and he married +her, and lived happily in the midst of riches. He told the servant who +wished to kill him to go to the mountain and to be a charcoal-burner, +and he is still there making charcoal; and this charcoal which you +see here was brought from his house. + + + + +THE MOTHER AND HER (IDIOT) SON; OR, THE CLEVER THIEF. [136] + +Like many others in the world, there were a mother and her son; +they were poor, and the young man, when he grew up, wished to go from +home, to see if he could better his position. His mother lets him go +with great reluctance. He goes on, and on, and on through terrible +forests. He comes to a beautiful house, and asks if they want a +servant. They tell him "Yes," and to come in; and then they tell him +how they go at night to rob people, and sometimes to kill them; and +they ask if he would go too. He says "Yes," and in the middle of the +night he sees the chief of the robbers arrive, with all his company, +laden with gold and silver; and he remained a long time with them. + +One day the chief said to him, "At such an hour a rich gentleman on +horseback will pass by such a place, and you must go and rob him; +and, if he will not give it up willingly, you must kill him." + +Our lad had had enough of this trade; but he told the chief that he +would do it. He stays then, waiting for this gentleman, and at last +he sees him coming. He presents himself before him, and says, + +"Your purse or your life!" + +The gentleman gives him his purse and all the money that he had, +and he had a great deal. He said to him, "It is not enough yet. You +must give me your fine clothes too, and your horse." + +They exchange clothes, and the gentleman goes off, very glad, although +he had old clothes on, because he had spared him his life. Instead +of returning to the robbers' house, what does our lad do? He goes +off on horseback with his money to his mother's house. Everyone +was astonished at his arrival, and that he had made his fortune so +quickly. He goes to his mother, and judge of her joy! He tells her +how it is that he has become so rich, and that it all happened far, +far away. His mother told it to others, and at last this news comes +to the ears of the mayor, who sends his servant to this young man to +tell him to come to his house on the morrow without fault. + +He goes then, leaving his mother in tears. His mother told him to +tell the mayor how he had made his fortune so quickly. He tells him +what business he had pursued, but that it was very far away, and that +he had never killed anybody. The mayor said to him, + +"If you do not steal my finest horse from my stable this very night, +I will have you killed to-morrow." [137] + +This mayor was very rich, and he had a great many servants and a +great many horses. There were three of them finer and more valuable +than the others. Our lad goes home and consoles his mother. He +asks her to give him his old clothes which he wore formerly, and, +putting them over the others, he takes a big stick, and goes off to +the mayor's, crawling along like an old man. He knocks at the door, +and asks shelter for the night. A lad comes to him, and says-- + +"We shall not give you shelter in this house to-night. You may go +on farther." + +But he begs so much, and asks him to give him at least a corner of the +stable--that he does not know where to go to--that at last they let +him enter, and give him a little straw (to lie down on). Our lad hears +what they say to each other. Three lads were to stop till midnight on +the three finest horses, and at midnight three other servants were to +take their places. What does our lad do? They were asleep on their +horses. As soon as he hears midnight, he goes and gives one of them +a knock, and says to him, + +"It is midnight; go to bed." + +Half asleep, the lad goes off to bed; the others were still asleep on +their horses. He mounts on the horse--he had chosen the finest--and +opens the doors very gently, and goes off at a trot, without looking +behind him. He goes home, and his mother is very delighted to see +her son. + +The next day he goes to market to sell his horse. When the mayor +gets up he goes to the stable, and sees that his finest horse is +missing. The servants were sleeping on their horses, and the others +in bed. He gets into a rage, and does not know what to do. He sends +to the mother's to ask her where her son is. She replies that he +is gone to sell a horse. They tell her that the mayor summons him +immediately. The mother grows sad again, and tells her son what they +have said to her, and off he goes. + +The mayor says to him, "What a fellow you are! You won the game +yesterday, but if you do not steal from our oven to-night all the +bread that is in it, it shall be all over with you." + +The mayor assembles all the municipal council and all his friends, +thinking he would have some fun while guarding his oven. They had +dances, and music, and games, and brilliant lights, and all sorts of +amusements, and all this in front of the oven. What does our lad do? He +takes a little hammer, and goes behind the oven. He makes a hole, +and by that takes out all the loaves, and puts them in his basket, +and goes home. + +The next day the mayor was proud because they had not stolen his +loaves, and because they had so well guarded the door of the oven, +and he sends his servant to fetch a loaf for breakfast. When she +opens the door of the oven, she sees the sun through the other end +of the oven. Judge of their astonishment! The mayor was in a red-hot +passion. He sends to fetch the lad. They go and ask his mother where +her son is. She answers, "Selling bread." And they tell the mayor. He +sends to tell her to tell her son to come to him as soon as he comes +home. The poor mother is again in great distress. When her son arrives, +she tells him the message, and off he goes. + +The mayor says to him, "Yesterday, too, you have hit the mark; but +you have not finished yet. This very night you must steal the sheets +which we have under us in our bed, otherwise your life shall be put +an end to." [138] + +He goes home, and he makes an image of himself from his old clothes; +and, when night is come, he goes off dragging it to the mayor's. The +mayor had placed guards at all the windows and doors, with arms. Our +lad ties his image to a long stick, and, by drawing a cord, he hoists +it against the wall. When the guards see a man climbing up the wall +near a window, they fire, and all begin to cry out "Hurrah!" At this +noise the mayor leaps out of bed, thinking that they have killed him, +and that he must go and see him too. Our lad takes advantage of this +moment to enter the house, and he goes to the mayor's bed, and says-- + +"It is cold, it is cold;" and keeps pulling and pulling all the +bed-clothes to his side. When he has all, he says to the lady: + +"I must go and look again, to be quite sure, and to see if they have +buried him." + +The wife said to him, "Stop here then; you will come back dead +of cold." + +He goes off, and escapes very quickly, as well as he can, with +the sheets. The others are out-doing each other, one beating, the +other stabbing, the other pulling about (the image). At last they go +in-doors, quite out of breath. All are pleased, and proud that they +have their lad at last down there. + +The mayor goes to bed, and his wife says to him: + +"Now, at least, you will remain here without any more of this going +and coming down there, and making me all cold." + +"I have not been going and coming. I!" + +"Yes, yes; you were certainly here just now, you too." + +He gets into bed, and he keeps turning and moving about, not being +able to find the sheets. At last, getting impatient, he lights the +candle, and he sees that the sheets are not there. Judge of their +anger; they did not know what to do. The wife said to him: + +"You had better leave that man alone, or some misfortune will happen +to us." + +He will not listen to anything, and goes off. He sends to fetch him +as soon as daylight comes. They find his mother, and ask her where +her son is. She answers: + +"He has gone to sell some sheets." + +They say to her, "You will send him to the mayor's when he comes +home." And this poor woman is again in great trouble, for at last +(she thinks) they will make an end of her son. She sends him again +to the mayor's, who says to him: + +"This time you shall not escape me. If you do not steal all the money +of my brother the priest, you are done for." [139] + +The brother of the mayor was rector of this town. When evening came +our lad hides himself in the church, and dresses himself in the finest +of the church robes, (used only) for the highest festivals. He lights +all the candles and the lamps, and at midnight he begins to ring all +the bells at full swing--dilin, don; dilin, don, don; dilin, don. The +rector comes running with his servant to see what is happening in +the church, and they see on the high altar someone, who says to them: + +"Prostrate yourselves. I am the good God. I am come to fetch you. You +must die; but before dying you must bring here all the money, and +all the riches that you have in your houses." + +The priest goes and brings everything. He makes the priest go to the +top of the tower, and says to him: + +"You are now going into purgatory, but afterwards you will go to +heaven." + +He makes him get into a sack, takes hold of one end, and drags him +down the stairs, bumping, zimpi eta zampa, on all the steps. He cried, +"Ay! ay!" and he says to him: + +"This is nothing; soon you will be in heaven." + +And he carries him like that to his brother's chicken-house, and leaves +him there. The next morning the maid goes to feed the fowls. She sees +a sack, and touches it, and the sack moves. The girl goes off running +to tell her mistress what she has seen. Her mistress goes and touches +it, and the sack does the same thing. She is frozen with fright, +and goes to her husband, and says: + +"You see that I told you right to let that man alone. At present, +what will become of us? What can there be in that sack?" + +The gentleman immediately sends someone to fetch this lad. He was +just at that moment at home, and they tell him that the mayor orders +him to come directly. They tell him to open the sack. He touches it, +and the sack gives a leap; and he says that he will not open it, +not for ten thousand francs. + +"I will give you ten thousand francs." + +"No! not for twenty thousand." + +"I will give them you." + +"No, no, no! not even for forty thousand." + +"I will give you thirty thousand." + +"No, no, no, no! not even for forty thousand." + +"And for fifty thousand?" + +He agreed to open it, and he hands them their brother, the priest, +whom he had left without a sou. After having got his fifty thousand +francs, our lad went off well satisfied to his home, and lived +there rich with his mother; and the mayor lived with his brother, +the priest, poorer than he was before. And if they had lived well, +they would have died well too. + + + + +JUAN DEKOS, [140] THE BLOCKHEAD (TONTUA). + +Like many others in the world, there was a gentleman and lady who +had a son. When he was grown up his father found that (his intellect) +was not awakened, although he had finished his education. What does +he do? He buys a ship for him, and takes a captain and a crew, and +loads the ship with sand, and sends his son in it as master. [141] +They all set off, and go very, very far away, and they come to a +country where there was no sand. They sell theirs very dear, and our +Juan Dekos went to take a walk in that place. + +One day, passing before the door of the church, he sees that all +passers-by used to spit on something; he goes up and asks why they +do that. They say to him: + +"It is a dead man who is there, and if no one pays his debts, he will +remain there until he rots away." [142] + +What does Juan Dekos do? With all the money that he had he pays this +man's debts. The whole crew and the officers were in a red-hot rage, +because they had all their money there. He goes back again with his +ship, and they arrived in their own city. The father from a distance +had recognised his son's ship, and comes to meet him. The sailors +from a long way off shout out to him what he had done with the +money. The father was not pleased, but he sends the ship off again +loaded with iron. They go on, and at length arrive at a place where +he sells his iron for a great deal of money. When they were walking +about in this city, he sees Christians being sold by the savages in +the market-place. There were eight of them for sale; and he buys +all the eight, and employs all the money which he had made with +his iron in buying them. He sends seven of them to their own homes, +and keeps with him a young girl whose name was Marie Louise. She was +very beautiful. He returns home with his ship, and his crew, and Marie +Louise. The father comes to meet him, and the sailors tell him before +Juan Dekos what he had done with the money. His father was very angry, +and will not give anything more to his son; he may do what he likes. + +Juan Dekos had a portrait of Marie Louise made for the figure-head of +his ship; and the men agree to go to the country of Marie Louise. They +set out then. The second in command of the ship was lame, and he was +very jealous of Juan Dekos and of Marie Louise. He did not know what +to do. + +One day he sent for Juan Dekos on deck, saying that he wished to show +him a strange fish that was in the water. When he had got him quite +close to him, he throws him into the sea. Nobody was there when he did +that. When the meal-time comes they all asked where Juan Dekos was, +and nobody knew what was become of him. The lame man was delighted, +thinking that Marie Louise would be his. He pays her all sorts of +attention. + +Juan Dekos was taken by an angel and placed upon a rock, and he brought +him there every day what was necessary for his maintenance. The +ship at length arrived in the country of Marie Louise. As she was +the king's daughter everybody recognised her, and that easily, +from a distance by her portrait. The king was quickly told of it, +and goes to meet his daughter, and you may imagine what rejoicings +he made. He has all the men conducted to his house and treats them +all well. Marie Louise tells how she had been bought by Juan Dekos, +and how good he had been to her, and that she does not know what +had become of him. She said also that the second officer had taken +very great care of her. This second officer wished beyond all things +to marry her, and the father wished it too, to show his gratitude, +because it was he who had brought his daughter back to him, and because +he had not known Juan Dekos. They tormented Marie Louise so much that +she promised that, at the end of a year and a day, if Juan Dekos did +not make his appearance, she would marry him. + +A year and a day passed, and there was no news of Juan Dekos. They +were to be married then, and Juan Dekos was still upon his rock. The +sea-weed was growing upon his clothes, and he had a monstrous +beard. And the angel [143] said to him: + +"Marie Louise is married to-day. Would you like to be there?" + +He says, "Yes." + +"You must give me your word of honour that, at the end of a year, +you will give me half the child that Marie Louise will bear to you." + +He promises it, and he takes him and carries him to the door of Marie +Louise's house. This angel was the soul which he had saved of the man +who was lying at the gates of the church for his debts. He asks for +alms. Marie Louise's father was very charitable; they therefore give +him something. He asks again if they would not let him go in to warm +himself at the fire. They tell him "No," that he would be in the way +on that day. They go and ask the master, and the master bids them to +let him come in and to give him a good dinner. + +Marie Louise was already married when Juan Dekos arrived. He had +a handsome handkerchief which Marie Louise had given him, and when +she passed he showed it in such a way that she could not help seeing +it. She saw it clearly, and after looking closely at him she recognises +Juan Dekos. Marie Louise goes to find her father, and says to him: + +"Papa, you must do me a pleasure." + +"Yes, yes, if I can do so." + +"You see that poor man? I wish to have him to dine with us to-day." + +The father says, "That cannot be; he is filthy and disgusting." + +"I will wash him, and I will put him some of your new clothes on." + +The father then says, "Yes," and he makes them do as Marie Louise +wished. They place him at table, but Marie Louise alone recognised +him. After dinner they asked Juan Dekos to tell a story in his turn +like the rest. + +He says, "Yes, but if you wish to hear my story you must shut all +the doors and give me all the keys." + +They give them to him. + +He begins: "There was a father and a mother who had a son who was not +very bright, and they decide that they must send him to sea. They load +a ship with sand for him. He sells this sand very well, and pays the +heavy debts of a dead man whom they were keeping at the church doors +(without burial)." + +When the second officer saw and heard that, he perceived that his life +was in danger, and that it was all up with him, and he begs the king +for the key of the door, saying that he must go out; but he could +not give it him, so he was forced to remain, and not at all at his +ease. Juan Dekos begins again: + +"His father loaded the ship again with iron, and he sells it and +bought with this money seven Christians, and," pointing to the king's +daughter, "there is the eighth." + +The king knew this story already from his daughter. What do they do +then? When they see how wicked the second officer had been, they had +a cartload of faggots brought into the middle of the market-place, +they put a shirt of sulphur upon him, and burn him in the midst of +the place. + +Juan Dekos and Marie Louise marry and are very happy. They had a child, +and at the end of a year an angel comes to fetch the half of it. Juan +Dekos was very sorry, but as he had given his word he was going to +cut it in half. The angel seizes him by the arm, and says to him: + +"I see your obedience; I leave you your child." + +If they lived well, they died well too. + + + + +VARIATION OF THE ABOVE. + +JUAN DE KALAIS. [144] + +As there are many in the world, and as there will be, there was a +mother and her son. They had a small fortune. Nothing would please +the boy but that he should go and learn to be a sailor. The mother +allows him to do so, and when he was passed as captain she gives +him a ship with a valuable cargo. The lad starts off and comes to a +city. While he was there he sees a crowd of men on a dung-heap, who +were dragging an object, some on one side and others on the other. He +approaches and sees that they have a dead man there. He asks what +they are doing like that for, and why they do not bury him. They +tell him that he has left debts, and that they will not bury him, +even though he should fall to pieces. + +Juan de Kalais asks, "And if anyone should pay his debts, would you +bury him then?" They say, "Yes." + +Juan de Kalais has it cried throughout the city that whoever has to +receive anything of that man should show himself. As you may suppose, +many came forward, even those who had nothing to receive. Our Juan +de Kalais sold his cargo, and still, not having enough, he sold his +ship too. + +He returns home and tells his mother what he has done. His mother was +very angry, and said that he would never grow rich if he acted like +that. But, as he wished much to go again, his mother bought for him +a wretched little ship and loads it with oakum, and tar, and resin, +and he goes on his voyage. He meets with a large man-of-war, and the +captain tells him that he must buy of him a charming young lady. Juan +de Kalais tells him that he has no money, but the other captain (he +was an Englishman) tells him to give him his cargo at least. Juan de +Kalais says to him: + +"That is not worth much." + +But the English captain says to him that it is, that it just happens +to be most valuable to him, and they make the exchange. Our Juan de +Kalais goes to his mother's house, and his mother was more angry than +before, saying she had nothing now with which to load his ship. She had +nothing, and would give him nothing; that instead of getting rich they +had become poor, and that it would have been better if he had stopped +at home. After some days he married the young lady whom the captain +had given him, and as Juan de Kalais was in poverty and distress, not +having any cargo, his wife told him that he had no need of cargo--that +she will give him a flag and a handkerchief, and she gave him her ring +and told him to go to the roadstead of Portugal and to fire three +rounds of cannon; and, when people came, to tell them that he must +see the king. (She added) that she was called Marie Madeleine. Our +Juan de Kalais sets off and arrives in the roadstead of Portugal, and +fires his three rounds of cannon. Everybody is astonished at hearing +this noise. The king himself comes on board the ship and asks how they +dared to fire, and that everyone is a prisoner. [145] He answers that +he brings news of Marie Madeleine, and he shows him the flag with +her portrait and the handkerchief. The king did not know where he +was with joy, and he tells him that he must go directly and fetch her. + +The king had with him an old general [146] who had wished to marry +Marie Madeleine, but she would not; and he asks the king if he might +not go too with him--that he would do it quicker. The king told him +to go then if he wished, and they set out. + +When they were at sea the old general said to Juan de Kalais one day: + +"Look, Juan de Kalais, what a fine fish there is here!" + +He looks and does not see anything. The old general says to him again: + +"Stoop down your head, and look here." + +And at the same time he throws him into the sea. The old general goes +on his voyage, and takes the young lady and goes back to the king, +and makes him believe that Juan de Kalais was drowned, and he still +wished to marry Marie Madeleine; but she would by no means consent, +(saying) that she had been married to Juan de Kalais, and that she +was so deeply sorry for him that she would remain seven years without +going out of her room. As her father wished her to marry this general +she decided to do so then. + +Let us now go to the poor Juan de Kalais. He remained seven years +on a rock, eating sea-weed and drinking the sea-water. There came to +him a fox, [147] who said to him: + +"You do not know, Juan de Kalais, the daughter of the King of Portugal +is going to be married to-morrow. What would you give to go there?" + +"The half of what I have at present, and the half of what I shall +have later on." + +The fox takes him and carries him to the door of the house of the King +of Portugal, and leaves him there. Juan de Kalais asks if they want +a servant. They tell him that they will have work for him too--that +they will have a wedding in the house to-morrow. The lady's maid +recognised Juan de Kalais, and goes running to tell it to the queen, +who will not believe it--(she says) that he was drowned. The servant, +after having looked at him again, assures her that it is he; and +the princess, to put an end to the dispute, goes off to see him, +and quickly assures herself that it is he, seeing the ring that +she had given him. She throws herself into his arms, and makes him +come with her to the king. The king said to her that they would have +the wedding feast just the same. While they were at table the king +asked Juan de Kalais to tell them some story. Juan de Kalais says +"Yes," and takes out his sword, and puts it on the table, saying, +"Whoever speaks shall have news of my sword." He begins to tell how +he had saved a man by selling all that he had and paying his debts; +how afterwards he had made an exchange for a young lady--that in +order to save her he had given all his cargo; then how he had been +betrayed by one of his friends and thrown into the water, and that +he had lived on sea-weed and sea-water. + +When the king had heard that he ordered the old general to be arrested, +and has him burnt immediately in the midst of the market-place. + +The king gives Juan de Kalais all his riches, and they lived very +happily. At the end of a year they had a fine boy, and lo! the fox +comes and tells him that he has come to look for what he has promised +him, and he begins to make a division. If there were two gold chains +he put one aside, and of all that there was the same thing. When they +had finished the division the fox said to him that there was still +something--that he had told him it was to be the half of all he might +possess. He remembers then his child, and takes out his sword to cut +it in half, when the fox with his paw knocks the sword out of his hand, +saying that it is enough; that he sees what a sterling good man he is, +and that he wants nothing; that he (the fox) is the soul which he had +saved by paying his debts, and that he is now in Heaven, thanks to him, +and that he will keep his place and that of all his family ready there; +and having said that he flew away, taking the form of a pigeon. + + + Laurentine, + Learnt it from her mother. + + + + +THE DUPED PRIEST. [148] + +Like many others in the world, there was a man and his wife. The man's +name was Petarillo. He was fond of sporting. One day he caught two +leverets, and the parish priest came to see him. The husband said to +his wife--"If the priest comes again you will let one of the hares go, +as if to meet me, tying, at the same time, a letter round its neck, +and I will tie another letter to the other hare." + +The priest goes to the house one day, and asks where the husband +is. The woman says: + +"I will send one of the hares with a letter to fetch him. No matter +where he is, she will find him; he has trained them so well." + +And she lets one of the hares loose. They grew impatient at the long +delay, and had given it up, when at last the husband came. His wife +says to him, "I sent the hare." + +He answers, "I have it here." + +The astonished priest says to him, "You must sell me that hare, +I beg you; you have trained it so well." + +A second time he says, "You must sell it me." + +And the man said to him, "I will not give it you for less than five +hundred francs." + +"Oh! you will give it me for three hundred?" + +"No, no." + +At last he gives it him for four hundred. The priest tells his +housekeeper: + +"If any one comes, you will let the hare loose; she will find me, +no matter where I may be." + +A man comes to the parsonage to say that a sick person is asking for +the priest. She immediately lets the hare loose, being quite sure +that that would be enough. But the priest did not return. The man got +tired of waiting, and went off. The housekeeper told the priest that +she had let the hare loose, and that she had seen nothing more of it. + +In a rage, he goes to the huntsman's house. But Petarillo, seeing +him coming in a rage, gives a wine-skin to his wife, and says to her: + +"Put this under your jacket. When the priest is here, I will plunge +a knife into you in a rage, and you will fall as if you were dead; +and when I shall begin to play the flute, you will get up as if yon +were alive." + +The priest arrives in a great rage, (they all three dispute), and +the man stabs his wife. She falls on the ground, and the priest says +to him: + +"Do you know what you have done?" + +He replies, "It is nothing; I will soon put it to rights." + +And he takes his flute, and begins to play. She gets up all alive +again, and the priest says to him: + +"Do sell me that flute, I beg you." + +He answers that it is of great value, and that he will not sell it. + +"But you must sell it me. How much do you want for it? I will give +you all you ask." + +"Five hundred francs." And he gives it him. + +The priest's housekeeper used sometimes to laugh at him. So when he +came home he wanted to frighten her a little; and, as usual, she begins +to make fun of him; and he stabs her with the large carving-knife. His +sister says to him, + +"Do you know what you have done? You have killed your housekeeper!" + +"No, no! I can put that to rights." + +He begins to play on the flute, but it does no good at all. He rushes +off in a rage to the huntsman's house, and he ties the huntsman in a +sack, and hauls him off to throw him into the sea. As he passes near +the church, the bell begins to ring for Mass, and he leaves the man +there till he has said Mass. Meanwhile a shepherd passes. He asks +him what he is doing there. He says to him, "The priest is going to +throw me into the sea because I will not marry the king's daughter." + +The other said to him, "I will put myself in your place, and I will +deliver you. When you have tied me up, go away with my flock." + +When the priest returned, after having said Mass, he takes up the sack, +and the man says, + +"I will marry the king's daughter." + +"I will marry you presently." + +And he throws him into the sea. + +The good priest was returning home, when he sees the man with the +sheep, and says to him, + +"Where did you get that flock from?" + +"From the bottom of the sea. There are plenty there. Don't you see +that white head, how it lifts itself above the sea?" + +"Yes; and I, too, must have a flock like that." + +"Come close to the edge, then." + +And our huntsman pushes him into the sea. + + + Gagna-haurra Hirigaray. + + +We have other tales about priests, all in the same spirit as this. The +Basques are a deeply religious people, and are generally on the best +terms with the clergy; but they will not be dominated by them. Any +attempt at undue interference in their national games or customs is +sure to be resented; of this we have known several instances--some +rather amusing ones. G. H., the narrator of the above tale, did not +know a word of French. + +Some of Campbell's stories begin a little like these, e.g., Vol. I., +p. 95, Macdonald's tale--"There was a king and a knight, as there +was and will be, and as grows the fir tree, some of it crooked +and some of it straight, and he was King of Eirinn." The ending, +"If they had lived well, they would have died well too," recals a +Latin inscription still occasionally to be seen on Basque houses:-- + + + "Memento tua novissima, + Et non peccabis in æternum." + + +This is on two houses in Baigorry, and on one at Ascarrat, and probably +on many others. + + + + + +(B.)--CONTES DES FÉES, DERIVED DIRECTLY FROM THE FRENCH. + + +We do not suppose that the tales here given are the only ones in our +collection which are derived more or less directly from or through +the French. Several of those previously given under different heads we +believe to have been so. The question, however, still remains: Whence +did Madame d'Aulnoy, Perrault, and the other writers of the charming +"Contes des Fées," derive their materials? Place their talent as high +as we may, we still believe them to have been incapable of inventing +them. Combine, transpose, dress up, refine--all this they did in an +incomparable manner. Some portions they may have culled, directly or +indirectly, from Eastern stories; their own imagination may have filled +up many a blank, expanded many a hint, clothed many a half-dressed body +in the habit of their own times--as heraldic painters formed grotesque +monsters by selecting and putting together parts from many diverse +animals; but to create, even in fancy, was beyond their line, if it +is not altogether beyond the power of man. Therefore, when we hear +these tales related by peasants ignorant of French, we may still ask +how far they have learnt them at second or third hand from the printed +works, and how far they are reciting the crude materials out of which +those works were originally composed? This is a question which can +only be fully answered when all the legends in all the languages and +patois of France shall have been collected and compared. Meanwhile, +we beg our readers to accept these few tales as a small and not very +valuable stone contributed towards the erection of so vast an edifice. + + + + +ASS'-SKIN. [149] + +Like many others in the world, there was a king and a queen. One day +there came to them a young girl who wished for a situation. They asked +her her name, and she said "Faithful." [150] The king said to her, +"Are you like your name?" and she said "Yes." + +She stopped there seven years. Her master gave her all the keys, +even that of the treasure. One day, when the king and queen were out, +Faithful goes to the fountain, and she sees seven robbers coming +out of the house. Judge what a state this poor girl was in! She runs +straight to the treasury, and sees that more than half the treasure +is missing. She did not know what would become of her--she was all +of a tremble. When the king and queen came home she told them what +had happened, but they would not believe her, and they put her in +prison. She stays there a year. She kept saying that she was not in +fault, but they would not believe her. The king condemns her to death, +and sends her with four men to the forest to kill her, telling them +to bring him her heart. + +They go off, but these men thought it a pity to kill this young girl, +for she was very pretty, and she told them that she was innocent of +this robbery; and they say to her: + +"If you will not come any more into this land, we will spare your +life." + +She promises them that she will not be seen again in those parts. The +men see an ass, and they tell her that they will carry its heart to +the king. The young girl said to them: + +"Flay this ass, I pray you; and, in order that no one may know me, +I will never take this skin off me." + +The men (do so), and go off to the king, and the young girl goes to +look for some shelter. At nightfall she finds a beautiful house. She +asks if they want some one to keep the geese. They tell her, "Yes, +yes, yes." They put her along with the geese, and tell her that she +must go with them every day to such a field. She went out very early +in the morning and came back late. It was the king's house, and it +was the queen-mother and her son who lived there. + +After some time there appeared to her one day an old woman, who called +to her: + +"Faithful, you have done penance enough. The son of the king is going +to give some grand feasts, and you must go to them. This evening +you will ask madame permission, and you will tell her that you will +give her all the news of the ball if she will let you go for a little +while. And, see, here is a nut. All the dresses and things you want +will come out of that. You will break it as you go to the place of +the festival." [151] + +That evening she asked permission of her mistress to go and see the +festival which the king is going to give, for a short time only, +and that she will return directly and tell her all that she has seen +there. Her mistress said, "Yes." That evening she goes then. On her +way she breaks the nut, and there comes out of it a silver robe. She +puts it on, and goes there, and immediately she enters all the world +looks at her. The king is bewitched, he does not quit her for an +instant, and they always dance together. He pays no attention at +all to the other young ladies. They enjoy the refreshments very +much. Some friends of the king call him, and he has to go there; +and in this interval Faithful makes her escape to the house. + +She tells the queen how that a young girl had come to the ball, +how she had dazzled everybody, and especially the king, who paid +attention to her alone, but that she had escaped. + +When the son comes to the house, his mother says to him: + +"She escaped from you then, your young lady? She did not care for +you, doubtless." + +He says to his mother, "Who told you that?" + +"Ass'-skin; she wished to go and see it." + +The king goes to where Faithful was and gives her two blows with his +slipper, saying to her: + +"If you return there again I will kill you on the spot." + +The next day Ass'-skin goes with her geese, and there appears to her +again the old woman. She tells her that she ought to go to the ball +again this evening--that her mistress would give her permission. "Here +is a walnut; you have there all that is necessary to dress yourself +with. The king will ask you your name--Braf-le-mandoufle." [152] + +In the evening she asks permission of her mistress, but she is +astonished (at her asking), and says to her: + +"You do not know what the king has said--that if he catches you he +will kill you on the spot?" + +"I am not afraid. He will be sure not to catch me." + +"Go, then." + +She goes off, and on the way she breaks the walnut, and there comes +out of it a golden robe. She goes in. The king comes with a thousand +compliments, and asks her how she had escaped the evening before +without saying anything to him, and that he had been very much hurt +at it. + +They amuse themselves thoroughly. The king has eyes for her alone. He +asks her her name. She tells him, "Braf-le-mandoufle." They feast +themselves well, and some friends having called to him he goes to them, +and the young lady escapes. + +Ass'-skin goes to tell the queen that yesterday evening's young lady +had come, but still more beautiful--that she had escaped in the very +middle of the ball. She goes off to her geese. The king comes to his +house. His mother says to him: + +"She came then, the young lady you love? but she only loves you so-so, +since she has gone off in this fashion." + +"Who told you that?" + +"Ass'-skin." + +He goes off to her and gives her two kicks with his slipper, and says +to her: + +"Woe to you if you go there again; I will kill you on the very spot." + +She goes off to her geese, and the old woman comes to her again and +tells her to ask permission again for this evening--that she must go +to the dance. She gives her a peach, and tells her that she will have +there all that is necessary to dress herself with. She goes then to +ask her mistress if she will give her permission, like last night, +to go to the ball. She says to her: + +"Yes, yes, I will give you leave. But are you not afraid lest the king +should catch you? He has said that he will kill you if you go there." + +"I am not afraid, because I am sure that he will not catch +me. Yesterday he looked for me again, but he could not catch me." + +She goes off then. On the way she opens her peach, and finds there +a dress entirely of diamonds, and if she was beautiful before, +judge what she is now! She shone like the sun. The king was plunged +into joy when he saw her. He was in an ecstasy. He did not wish +to dance, but they sat down at their ease on beautiful arm-chairs, +and with their refreshments before them they passed such a long time +together. The king asked her to give him her promise of marriage. The +young lady gives him her word, and the king takes his diamond ring +off his finger and gives it to her. His friends call him away to +come quickly to see something very rare, and off he goes, leaving +his lady. She takes advantage of this opportunity to escape. [153] +She tells her mistress all that has passed--how that this young lady +had come with a dress of diamonds, that all the world was dazzled +by her beauty, that they could not even look at her she shone so +brightly, that the king did not know where he was for happiness, +that they had given each other their promise of marriage, and that +the king had given her his diamond ring, but that the best thing of +all was that to-day again she has escaped him. + +The king comes in at that very instant. His mother says to him: + +"She has not, she certainly has not, any wish for you. She has gone +off with your diamond ring. Where will you go and look for her? You do +not know where she lives. Where will you ask for a young lady who has +such a name as 'Braf-le-mandoufle!' She has given you her promise of +marriage too; but she does not wish to have you, since she has acted +like that." + +Our king did not even ask his mother who has told her that. He went +straight to bed thoroughly ill, and so Ass'-skin did not have her +two kicks that evening. + +The queen was in great trouble at seeing her son ill like that. She +was continually turning over in her head who this young lady might +be. She said to her son, "Is this young lady our Ass'-skin? How else +could she have known that you had given your promise to one another, +and that you had given her the ring too? She must have been very +close to you. Did you see her?" + +He says, "No," but remains buried in thought. + +His mother says, "She has a very pretty face under her ass'-skin." + +And she says that she must send for her, and that he must have a good +look at her too; that he shall have some broth brought up by her. + +She sends for Ass'-skin to the kitchen, has the broth made for her +son, and Ass'-skin puts in the middle of the bread the ring which +the king had given her. The lady had her well dressed, and she goes +to the king. The king, after having seen her, was still doubtful. He +drank his broth; but when he puts the bread into his mouth he finds +something (hard), and is very much astonished at seeing his ring. He +was ill no longer. He goes and runs to his mother to tell her his +joy that he has found his lady. He wishes to marry directly, and +all the kings of the neighbourhood are invited to the feast; and, +while they were dining, everyone had some fine news to relate. They +ask the bride, too, if she had not something to tell them. She says +"Yes," but that she cannot tell what she knows--that it would not +please all at the table. Her husband tells her to speak out boldly; +he draws his sword, and says, + +"Whosoever shall speak a word shall be run through with this sword." + +She then tells how a poor girl was servant at a king's house; how she +remained there seven years; that they liked her very much, and treated +her with confidence, even to giving her the keys of the treasure. One +day, when the king and his wife were out, robbers entered, and stole +almost all the treasure. The king would not believe that robbers had +come. He puts the young girl in prison for a whole year, and at the +end of that time he sends her to execution, telling the executioners +to bring her heart to the house. The executioners were better than +the king; they believed in her innocence, and, after having killed +an ass, they carried its heart to the king; "and for the proof, +it is I who was servant to this king." + +The bridegroom says to her, "Who can this king be? Is it my uncle?" + +The lady says, "I do not know if he is your uncle, but it is that +gentleman there." + +The bridegroom takes his sword and kills him on the spot, saying to +his wife, + +"You shall not be afraid of him any more." + +They lived very happily. Some time afterwards they had two children, +a boy and a girl. When the elder was seven years old he died, telling +his father and mother that he was going to Heaven to get a place there +ready for them. At the end of a week the other child dies too, and +she says to them that she, too, is going to Heaven, and that she will +keep their place ready; that they, too, would quickly go to them. And, +as she had said, at the end of a year, at exactly the very same time, +both the gentleman and lady died, and they both went to Heaven. + + + Laurentine. + + +We have four other variations of the above story, written down, with +others, that we heard, but did not copy out. One, which much resembles +the above, excepting in the commencement, opens with the proposal of a +king's son to marry one of the three daughters of another king. This +king asks his three daughters (like King Lear) how much they love +him. The eldest says, "As much as I do my little finger." That did +not please him. The second says, "As much as my middle finger." The +youngest says, "As much as the bread loves the salt." In a rage the +father sends her into the forest, with two servants, to be killed. They +spare her, and carry the horse's heart to the king, and the girl lives +in the forest "on the plants which the birds brought her, and on the +flowers which the bees brought her." The king's son finds her there +while hunting, takes her home, and marries her. At the wedding feast +she gives her father bread without salt, and then discovers herself, +and all is made right, and they live all happily, except the two +sisters, who remain old maids. + +Two others open like Campbell's "The King who Wished to Marry his +Daughter." A king loses his wife, who on her deathbed makes him +promise only to marry some one just like her. This is, of course, +her daughter. The daughter will not, and takes counsel of her +godmother. She bids her ask for a wedding dress made of the wings +of flies; but this impossibility is performed. Then the daughter +escapes--in the one tale in a ship, in the other on foot--and takes +a place as servant. The king has a ball; the old woman appears, and +gives her the nut with the dresses, etc. But in one of these tales, +on the wedding-day she was more handsomely dressed than ever before, +"and think! they had their dresses made for each other"--i.e., they +dress each other! "I don't understand how it is," said the narrator, +"but the story says so." + +Our fifth version is short, and, as it puts the step-mother in an +unusual light, we give it entire:-- + + + + +THE STEP-MOTHER AND THE STEP-DAUGHTER. + +A father and his daughter were living together. The daughter told her +father to marry again. The father said, "Why? you will be unhappy." "It +is all the same to me; I prefer to see you happy." And after some +time he marries again. This lady asked her husband to give her full +power over this young girl to do what she will with her. The husband +consents, and does not think any more about her; he did not even see +her again. This lady says to the young girl, "If you do all I tell +you, you will be the better for it." The king lived near their house, +and one day her step-mother gave her the keys of the king's house and +told her to go at such an hour of the night into the king's bed-room, +"and without waking him you will bring me back his sash." The daughter +did not like it at all, but in spite of that she goes off, and without +any person seeing her, she returns home with the king's girdle. The +next day the step-mother says to her step-daughter, "You must go again, +and you must bring the king's watch chain." While she was taking it, +the king moved in his bed, and the young girl is so frightened that +she runs off, and loses her shoe at the door of the king's room. At the +end of some days they hear that the king has made a proclamation that +he will go from house to house with a shoe, and that she whom it fits +perfectly shall be his wife. The king goes looking and looking, first +of all, in the houses of the rich; but he had said that he would go +into all the houses. He goes then to this gentleman's who had married +again, because it was close at hand. The persons of his suite asked +him why he went there, for they were only poor people. The king will +go all the same. He finds this lady, who says that they are poor, and +that she is ashamed to receive the king in her bed-room; but it was +there she had her step-daughter very nicely dressed, with only one +shoe on her feet. She was dazzling with beauty, and the king finds +her very much to his taste. They are married immediately; he takes +the father and step-mother to his house, and they all live happily, +and this step-daughter owed her good fortune to her step-mother. + + + Louise Lanusse. + + + +There are two curious versions of these tales in Bladé's "Contes +Populaires Recueillis en Agenais" (Paris, Baer, 1874), Nos. I. and +VIII. Those who wish to compare others may follow up the references +there given by Reinhold Köhler, on pp. 145 and 153; also those given +at pp. 44 and 47 of Brueyre's "Contes Populaires de la Grande Bretagne" +(Paris, Hachette, 1875). + + + + +BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. [154] + +As there are many in the world in its state now, there was a king who +had three daughters. He used continually to bring handsome presents +to his two elder daughters, but did not pay any attention at all to +his youngest daughter, and yet she was the prettiest and most amiable. + +The king kept going from fair to fair, and from feast to feast, +and from everywhere he used to bring something for the two eldest +daughters. One day, when he was going to a feast, he said to his +youngest daughter: + +"I never bring anything home for you; tell me then what you want and +you shall have it." + +She said to her father: "And I do not want anything." + +"Yes, yes, I am going to bring you something." + +"Very well then, bring me a flower." + +He goes off, and is busy buying and buying; for one a hat, for the +other a beautiful piece of stuff for a dress, and for the first again +a shawl; and he was returning home, when in passing before a beautiful +castle, he sees a garden quite full of flowers, and he says to himself: + +"What! I was going home without a flower for my daughter; here I +shall have plenty of them." + +He takes some then, and as soon as he has done so, a voice says to him: + +"Who gave you permission to take that flower? As you have three +daughters, if you do not bring me one of them before the year be +finished, you shall be burnt wherever you are--you, and your whole +kingdom." + +The king goes off home. He gives his elder daughters their presents, +and her nosegay to the youngest. She thanks her father. After a +certain time this king became sad. His eldest daughter said to him: + +"What is the matter with you?" + +He says to her: "If one of my daughters will not go to such a spot +before the end of the year, I shall be burned." + +His eldest daughter answers him, "Be burned if you like; as for me, +I shall not go. I have no wish at all to go there. Settle it with +the others." + +The second also asks him, "You seem very sad, papa; what is the matter +with you?" + +He told her how he is bound to send one of his daughters to such a +place before the end of the year, otherwise he should be burned. + +This one too says to him, "Manage your own business as you like, +but do not reckon upon me." + +The youngest, after some days, said to him, "What is the matter with +you, my father, that you are so sad? Has someone done you some hurt?" + +He said to her, "When I went to get your nosegay, a voice said to me, +'I must have one of your daughters before the year be completed,' +[155] and now I do not know what I must do. It told me that I shall +be burned." + +This daughter said to him, "My father, do not be troubled about it. I +will go." + +And she sets out immediately in a carriage. She arrives at the castle +and goes in, and she hears music and sounds of rejoicing everywhere, +and yet she did not see anyone. She finds her chocolate ready (in +the morning), and her dinner the same. She goes to bed, and still +she does not see anyone. The next morning a voice says to her: + +"Shut your eyes; I wish to place my head on your knees for a moment." + +"Come, come; I am not afraid." + +There appears then an enormous serpent. Without intending it, the +young lady could not help giving a little shudder. An instant after +the serpent went away; and the young lady lived very happily, without +lacking anything. One day the voice asked her if she did not wish to +go home. + +She answers, "I am very happy here. I have no longing for it." + +"Yes, if you like, you may go for three days." + +He gives her a ring, and says to her, "If that changes colour, I shall +be ill, and if it turns to blood, I shall be in great misery." [156] + +The young lady sets out for her father's house. Her father was very +glad (to see her). Her sisters said to her: + +"You must be happy there. You are prettier than you were before. With +whom do you live there?" + +She told them, "With a serpent." They would not believe her. The three +days flew by like a dream, and she forgot her serpent. The fourth +day she looked at her ring, and she saw that it was changed. She +rubs it with her finger, and it begins to bleed. Seeing that she +goes running to her father, and says to him that she is going. She +arrives at the castle, and finds everything sad. The music will not +play--everything was shut up. She called the serpent (his name was +Azor, and hers Fifine). She kept on calling and crying out to him, +but Azor appeared nowhere. After having searched the whole house, +after having taken off her shoes, she goes to the garden, and there +too she cries out. She finds a corner of the earth in the garden +quite frozen, and immediately she makes a great fire over this spot, +and there Azor comes out, and he says to her: [157] + +"You had forgotten me, then. If you had not made this fire, it would +have been all up with me." + +Fifine said to him, "Yes, I had forgotten you, but the ring made me +think of you." + +Azor said to her, "I knew what was going to happen; that is why I +gave you the ring." + +And coming into the house, she finds it as before, all full of +rejoicings--the music was playing on all sides. Some days after that +Azor said to her: + +"You must marry me." + +Fifine gives no answer. He asks her again like that three times, +and still she remained silent, silent. The whole house becomes sad +again. She has no more her meals ready. Again Azor asks her if she +will marry him. Still she does not answer, and she remains like that in +darkness several days without eating anything, and she said to herself, +"Whatever it shall cost me I must say, Yes." + +When the serpent asks her again, "Will you marry me?" she answers, +"Not with the serpent, but with the man." + +As soon as she had said that the music begins as before. Azor says to +her that she must go to her father's house and get all things ready +that are necessary, and they will marry the next day. The young lady +goes as he had told her. She says to her father that she is going to +be married to the serpent to-morrow, (and asks him) if he will prepare +everything for that. The father consents, but he is vexed. Her sisters, +too, ask her whom she is going to marry, and they are astounded at +hearing that it is with a serpent. Fifine goes back again, and Azor +says to her: + +"Which would you prefer, from the house to the church, serpent, +or from the church to the house, (serpent)?" + +Fifine says to him, "From the house to the church, serpent." + +Azor says to her, "I, too." + +A beautiful carriage comes to the door. The serpent gets in, and Fifine +places herself at his side, and when they arrive at the king's house +the serpent says to her: + +"Shut the doors and the curtains, that nobody may see." + +Fifine says to him, "But they will see you as you get down." + +"No matter; shut them all the same." + +She goes to her father. Her father comes with all his court to +fetch the serpent. He opens the door, and who is astonished? Why, +everybody. Instead of a serpent there is a charming young man; and +they all go to the church. When they come out there is a grand dinner +at the king's, but the bridegroom says to his wife: + +"To-day we must not make a feast at all. We have a great business to +do in the house; we will come another day for the feast." + +She told that to her father, and they go on to their house. When they +are come there her husband brings her in a large basket a serpent's +skin, and says to her: + +"You will make a great fire, and when you hear the first stroke of +midnight you will throw this serpent's skin into the fire. That must +be burnt up, and you must throw the ashes out of window before the +last stroke of twelve has ceased striking. If you do not do that I +shall be wretched for ever." + +The lady says to him, "Certainly; I will do everything that I can +to succeed." + +She begins before midnight to make the fire. As soon as she heard the +first stroke she throws the serpent's skin (on the fire), and takes +two spits and stirs the fire, and moves about the skin and burns it, +till ten strokes have gone. Then she takes a shovel, and throws the +ashes outside as the last twelfth stroke is ending. Then a terrible +voice says: + +"I curse your cleverness, and what you have just done." + +At the same time her husband comes in. He did not know where he was +for joy. He kisses her, and does not know how to tell his wife what +great good she has done him. + +"Now I do not fear anything. If you had not done as I told you, I +should have been enchanted for twenty-one years more. Now it is all +over, and we will go at our ease to-morrow to your father's house +for the wedding feast." + +They go the next day and enjoy themselves very much. They return to +their palace to take away the handsomest things, because they did +not wish to stop any more in that corner of the mountain. They load +all their valuable things in carts and waggons, and go to live with +the king. This young lady has four children, two boys and two girls, +and as her sisters were very jealous of her, their father sent them +out of the house. The king gave his crown to his son-in-law, who was +already a son of a king. As they had lived well, they died well too. + + + Laurentine. + + + +We have another version of this tale, which is a little more like its +prototype, the "Cupid and Psyche" of Apuleius. In this the monster +comes only at night. At first she is horribly frightened at it, but +little by little she becomes accustomed to it, and loves it. At last, +after having been left alone for some days, a magnificent young man +appears to her, a king's son, who had been bewitched into the monster +until some one should love him. Of course they marry and are happy. + + + Estefanella Hirigaray. + + +In a third version, which was not taken down, the father was a sailor +instead of a king. + + + + +THE COBBLER AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS (BLUE BEARD). + +Like many others in the world, there was a cobbler who had three +daughters. They were very poor. He only earned enough just to feed +his children. He did not know what would become of him. He went about +in his grief, walking, walking sadly on, and he meets a gentleman, +who asks him where he is going, melancholy like that. He answers him, + +"Even if I shall tell you, I shall get no relief." + +"Yes, yes; who knows? Tell it." + +"I have three daughters, and I have not work enough to maintain +them. I have famine in the house." + +"If it is only that, we will manage it. You will give me one of your +daughters, and I will give you so much money." + +The father was very grieved to make any such bargain; but at last he +comes down to that. He gives him his eldest daughter. This gentleman +takes her to his palace, and, after having passed some time there, +he said to her that he has a short journey to make--that he will +leave her all the keys, that she might see everything, but that +there is one key that she must not make use of--that it would bring +misfortune on her. He locks the door on the young lady. This young +girl goes into all the rooms, and finds them very beautiful, and she +was curious to see what there was in that which was forbidden. She +goes in, and sees heaps of dead bodies. Judge of her fright! With +her trembling she lets the key fall upon the ground. She trembles +for the coming of her husband. He arrives, and asks her if she has +entered the forbidden chamber. She tells him "Yes." He takes her and +puts her into an underground dungeon; hardly, hardly did he give her +enough to eat (to live on), and that was human flesh. + +This cobbler had finished his money, and he was again melancholy. The +gentleman meets him again, and says to him, + +"Your other daughter is not happy alone; you must give me another +daughter. When she is happy, I will send her back; and I will give +you so much money." + +The father did not like it; but he was so poor that, in order to have +a little money, he gives him his daughter. The gentleman takes her +home with him, like the other. After some days he said to her too, + +"I must take a short journey. I will give you all the keys of the +house, but do not touch such a key of such a room." + +He locks the house-door, and goes off, after having left her the +food she needed. This young girl goes into all the rooms, and, as she +was curious, she went to look into the forbidden chamber. She was so +terribly frightened at the sight of so many dead bodies in this room, +that she lets the key fall, and it gets stained. Our young girl was +trembling as to what should become of her when the master should come +back. He arrives, and the first thing he asks-- + +"Have you been in that room?" + +She told him "Yes." He takes her underground, like her other sister. + +This cobbler had finished his money, and he was in misery; when the +gentleman comes to him again, and says to him, + +"I will give you a great deal of money if you will let your daughter +come to my house for a few days; the three will be happier together, +and I will send you the two back again together." + +The father believes it, and gives him his third daughter. The gentleman +gives him the money, and he takes this young girl, like the others. At +the end of some days he leaves her, saying that he is going to make a +short journey. He gives her all the keys of the house, saying to her-- + +"You will go into all the rooms except this one," pointing out the key +to her. He locks the outside door, and goes off. This young girl goes +straight, straight to the forbidden chamber; she opens it, and think +of her horror at seeing so many dead people. She thought that he would +kill her too, and, as there were all kinds of arms in this chamber, +she takes a sabre with her, and hides it under her dress. She goes a +little further on, and sees her two sisters almost dying with hunger, +and a young man in the same condition. She takes care of them as well +as she can till the gentleman comes home. On his arrival, he asks her-- + +"Have you been in that room?" + +She says, "Yes;" and, in giving him back the keys, she lets them fall +on the ground, on purpose, and at the instant that this gentleman +stoops to pick them up, the young lady cuts off his head (with her +sword). Oh, how glad she was! Quickly she runs to deliver her sisters +and that young man, who was the son of a king. She sends for her +father, the cobbler, and leaves him there with his two daughters, +and the youngest daughter goes away with her young gentleman, after +being married to him. If they lived well, they died well too. + + + +In another version, by Estefanella Hirigaray, we have the more ordinary +tale of "Blue Beard"--that of a widower who has killed twenty wives, +and marries a twenty-first, who has two brothers. She drops the key +in the forbidden chamber, and is detected by the blood on it. She +manages to write to her brothers, and the dialogue by which she +endeavours to gain time is rather spirited. She is allowed to put on +her wedding-dress, etc., to die in. She goes to get ready, and she +hears the cries of her husband, "Are you ready?" "I am putting on +my dress." He bawls out again, "Are you ready?" "Give me a moment +more." "Are you ready?" "I am fastening my dress." "Are you ready +yet?" "I am putting on my stockings." And she kept constantly +looking out of window to see if her brothers were coming. "Are +you ready?" "Stop one moment; I am putting on my shoes." "Are you +ready?" "I am brushing my hair." "Are you ready?" "Let me put on my +wreath." And she sees her brothers coming on horseback in the forest, +but a very long way off. She hears again, "Are you ready?" "I am +coming in an instant." "You are coming? I'll come, if you do not come +down." "Don't come; I will come down myself, without you." He seizes +her on the stairs to kill her; but the brothers rush in just in time +to prevent her death, and they put him in prison. + +We heard, also, another version, which, unfortunately, we did not +take down. It had something about a horse in it, and was like "The +Widow and her Daughters," in Campbell, Vol. II., Tale xli., p. 265. + + + + +THE SINGING TREE, THE BIRD WHICH TELLS THE TRUTH, AND THE WATER THAT +MAKES YOUNG. + +Like many others in the world, there were three young girls. They +were spinning together, and as girls must always talk about something +while they are spinning, the eldest said: + +"You will not guess what I am thinking about?" + +"Tell it us, tell it us," (said the other two). + +"That I should like to be married to the king's valet." + +"And I with his son-in-law," said the second. + +And the third said: "And I with the king himself." + +Now, the king lived not far from these girls, and just at that moment +he was passing before the door of their house, and heard what they +said. The next day the king asked the eldest: + +"What were you saying yesterday at such a time?" + +And she was ashamed to tell him, but the king pressed her so much +that at last she told it: + +"I said that I wished to be married to your servant." + +He made the second come, and asked her the same question: "What were +you talking about yesterday?" + +She would not tell; but the king pressed her so much that she said: + +"I--I was saying that I wished to marry your son-in-law." + +He sends them back home, and sends for the third, and asks her what she +said the evening before. She never dared to tell it, because that would +have been too great an impudence, but at the last she told it him; and +the king told her that they must really be married together, because +she was so very pretty. This young girl goes running off home. She +told her sisters that she is to marry the king, and all three go +to live in the king's house. The two sisters were very jealous. The +princess became in the family-way; and the king was obliged to go to +another kingdom. His poor wife was confined of a fine girl. But her +sisters made the queen believe that she had given birth to a cat, +and they wrote this too to the king. The king wrote back to them: + +"If it be a cat, take all possible care of it." [158] + +When the king returned he did not mention the cat at all. She became +pregnant a second time, and the king was obliged to go to another +kingdom, and when the princess was confined her sisters made her +believe that she had given birth to a dog. Think what grief and pain +this poor queen suffered. Her sisters wrote to the king that his wife +had given birth to a dog, and that without doubt she had something to +do with animals. He wrote again: "If it be a dog, take all possible +care of it." But they said that they had already thrown it into the +water, as they had done with the cat. + +Fortunately a gardener was there, the same that had been there the +first time. He caught hold of the basket, and finds a beautiful child +inside. He is very glad, and carries the child to his wife, who puts +the infant out to nurse. + +The princess became pregnant the third time. The king had intended to +stop at home; but at the moment of the confinement he was obliged to +go away somewhere, and the sisters wrote to the king that she had been +confined of a bear. The king flew into a great rage, and ordered her to +be put into a dungeon underground. They gave her a little food through +a hole, so that she might not die of starvation; and nevertheless she +had given birth to a handsome boy. The same gardener found this basket +too, which they had thrown into the water. He carries it to his wife, +and she gave it to the same nurse. They were very happy with it, and +said that Heaven had sent them these three children, and they loved +their father and mother very much; but when they were very old they +both died. + +The two brothers and their sister got on very well together. They loved +each other very much. The boys used to go out hunting and shooting, +and they were so well off that they had something to give to the +poor. One day there came an old woman begging, and she said to them: + +"You cannot be happy." + +"Yes, yes, we certainly are," they answered. + +And the woman said to them: "No, no, you want three things before you +can be happy--the tree which sings, the bird which tells the truth, +and the water which makes young again." + +The young girl grows sad at that. Her brothers remarked it immediately, +and they asked her what was the matter with her. But she would not +tell them. At last they forced her to tell it to them. She told them +what this woman had told her. + +The elder of the brothers sets out immediately, taking with him a horse +and a little money. He gives an apple to his sister, saying to her: +[159] + +"If this apple changes I shall be in some trouble, and if it turns +rotten I shall be dead." + +And he starts off, and travels on, and on, and on. He finds a monk who +tells him to retrace his steps, that there are great dangers before +him; but he will go on notwithstanding. He meets again another monk, +who tells him that he will never return. He confesses himself and +prepares for death, such great dangers will he have to pass through. He +said to him: + +"You will hear terrible cries. It will seem to you as if they will +pull you by your clothes, but never turn your head round." [160] + +But our lad grew frightened and turned his head round, and was changed +into stone. + +After some days the apple begins to get bad, and they fall into great +sorrow because something must have happened to their brother, and +the second brother said that he must go off too; and off he goes with +a horse and a little money. Like the other brother he meets a monk, +who wishes to stop him; but he said to him that it was all the same to +him. He goes on till he meets another monk. This one also said to him: + +"Return on your steps. You will not be able to pass; you will hear +cries and see horrors and terrible things--you will never be able to +pass through." + +But he prepares himself to go forward. He warned him well not to +look round. He leaves his horse and sets out. When he has gone a +short distance he hears frightful cries, and (sees) terrible things; +and after having gone some distance further he looks on one side, +and is changed into stone. + +The apple which he had left with his sister first changes, then goes +quite rotten. You may judge of the sorrow and the grief of this poor +girl. She says to herself that she must dress herself like a man. She +locks the door (of their house), and sets out on horseback. The same +monk wishes to prevent her going on. But she has a still greater desire +to do so, and, notwithstanding all she hears, she will go on. She +arrives at the last monk, who was a great saint. He did not recognise +that it was a young girl. For a hundred years past he had been on the +same spot, until someone should get to the end of the mountain, and +he hoped that this young girl might pass. He gives her a bottle into +which she might put the water that makes young again, and says to her: + +"You will sprinkle one drop on each stone, and they will live." + +She sets off. The horrible cries did not frighten her. All kinds +of things were said to her. She goes on and on, constantly running, +and gets to the top of the mountain, and she is saved. + +At the same instant she hears a thrilling song from a tree, which +was warbling like a bird. A bird, too, flies on to her shoulder, and +tells her so many things that she is quite astounded. But she does not +lose her time--she takes out her bottle and fills it with water. She +pours a drop on each stone, and finds her brothers at last. Think, +think how they all three rejoiced together! They take their horses +(they too had been changed into stones) and go home with their tree, +and the bird, and the water. + +They lived very happily. The brothers went out hunting every day, +and sometimes they met the king. One day the king invited them to +dine with him, but they said that they must first ask permission +of their sister. When they came home they asked her, and the bird +answered immediately: + +"On condition that the king will come here to-morrow." + +They go with this answer to the king, and he says, "Yes." + +They dine very well with the king, but their sister was not at all +pleased; she did not know how to receive the king. The bird says +to her: + +"Lay the table with a fine cloth, and three dishes; put lentils into +one, parched peas into the other, and haricot beans into the other." + +Next day the king comes with his two brothers. The king is astonished +to hear this beautiful tree and this fine singing. He had never heard +anything so wonderful. He was surprised to see these three dishes, +and he said to them: + +"Is it not strange to receive a king like this?" + +And the bird, hopping out of its cage, begins, "It is not more strange +than to see this young woman pass for a cat. Is she a cat?" + +In the same way it points to the elder brother, "Is this a dog, +this young man? Is not this a thing more astonishing?" + +The king is confounded. And the same thing for the third time, +pointing to the second son, "Is this a bear, this one? Is this not +an astonishing thing?" + +The king, in his amazement, does not know what to answer to the bird; +but it continues: + +"Is it not a shame to leave one's wife, and make her live eighteen +years in a dungeon underground?" + +The king is terribly frightened, and off he goes with his sons and his +daughter, intending to free their mother; but they did not forget the +precious water, and they wash this princess in it, and she becomes +as young as at eighteen years old. Judge of the joy of the king, of +the queen, and of their children! The king fell into a great rage, +and condemns the queen's sisters to be burnt alive in the midst of +the market-place, with shirts of sulphur on them. + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + + + +We have also the more common version of this story--of an aged +king with three sons. He reads of this water, and the three sons +successively set out to fetch it. The two first fail, and stop, +drinking, &c., in a certain city. The youngest meets an old woman, +who tells him how to charm all the beasts in a forest he has to pass +through, and how to get the water, but he is not to take anything +else. But he steals the bird, and the magic horse as well, and when +he gets to the forest finds all the animals awake. The old woman +appears again, and gives him a magic stick, with the aid of which +he passes. He finds his brothers against the advice of the old lady, +and they throw him into a pit and take away the water, the horse, and +the bird; but the water has no effect in their hands. The old woman +appears, and sends a fox to help him out of the pit. He comes home, +the horse neighs, the bird sings, he gives the water to his father, +and from one hundred years old he becomes twenty. + + + E. Hirigaray. + + + + +THE WHITE BLACKBIRD. + +Like many others in the world, there was a king who had three +sons. This king was blind, and he had heard one day that there was a +king who had a white blackbird, which gave sight to the blind. When +his eldest son heard that, he said to his father that he would go +and fetch this white blackbird as quickly as possible. + +The father said to him, "I prefer to remain blind rather than to +separate myself from you, my child." + +The son says to him, "Have no fear for me; with a horse laden with +money I will find it and bring it to you." + +He goes off then, far, far, far away. When night came he stopped. One +evening he stopped at an inn where there were three very beautiful +young ladies. They said to him that they must have a game of cards +together. He refuses; but after many prayers and much pressing +they begin. He loses all his money, his horse, and also has a large +debt against his word of honour. In this country it was the custom +for persons who did not pay their debts to be put in prison, and if +they did not pay after a given time they were put to death, and then +afterwards they were left at the church doors until someone should +pay their debts. [161] They therefore put this king's son in prison. + +The second son, seeing that his brother did not return, said to his +father that he wished to go off, (and asked him) to give him a horse +and plenty of money, and that certainly he would not lose his time. He +sets off, and, as was fated to occur, he goes to the inn where his +brother had been ruined. After supper these young ladies say to him: + +"You must have a game of cards with us." + +He refuses, but these young ladies cajole him so well, and turn him +round their fingers, that he ends by consenting. They begin then, +and he also loses all his money, his horse, and makes a great many +debts besides. They put him in prison like his brother. + +After some time the king and his youngest son are in deep grief +because some misfortune must have happened to them, and the youngest +asks leave to set out. + +"I assure you that I will do something. Have no anxiety on my account." + +This poor father lets him go off, but not with a good will. He kept +saying to him that he would prefer to be always blind; but the son +would set off. His father gives him a beautiful horse, and as much +gold as his horse could carry, and his crown. He goes off far, far, +far away. They rested every night, and he happened, like his brothers, +to go to the same inn. After supper these young ladies say to him: + +"It is the custom for everyone to play at cards here." + +He says that it is not for him, and that he will not play. The young +ladies beg him ever so much, but they do not succeed with this one in +any fashion whatever. They cannot make him play. The next morning he +gets up early, takes his horse, and goes off. He sees that they are +leading two men to death. He asks what they have done, and recognises +his two brothers. They tell him that they have not paid their debts +within the appointed time, and that they must be put to death. But +he pays the debts of both, and goes on. Passing before the church he +sees that they are doing something. He asks what it is. They tell him +that it is a man who has left some debts, and that until someone pays +them he will be left there still. He pays the debts again. + +He goes on his journey, and arrives at last at the king's house +where the blackbird was. Our king's son asks if they have not a +white blackbird which restores sight. They tell him, "Yes." Our young +gentleman relates how that his father is blind, and that he has come +such a long way to fetch it to him. + +The king says to him, "I will give you this white blackbird, when you +shall have brought me from the house of such a king a young lady who +is there." + +Our young man goes off far, far, far away. When he is near the king's +house a fox [162] comes out and says to him, "Where are you going to?" + +He answers, "I want a young lady from the king's house." + +He gives his horse to the fox to take care of, and the fox says to him: + +"You will go to such a room; there will be the young lady whom you +need. You will not recognise her because she has old clothes on, but +there are beautiful dresses hanging up in the room. You will make +her put on one of those. As soon as she shall have it on, she will +begin to sing and will wake up everybody in the house." + +He goes inside as the fox had told him. He finds the young lady. He +makes her put on the beautiful dresses, and as soon as she has them +on she begins to sing and to carol. Everyone rushes into this young +lady's room. The king in a rage wished to put him in prison, but the +king's son shows his crown, and tells how such a king sent him to +fetch this young lady, and when once he has brought her he promises +him the white blackbird to open his father's eyes. + +The king then says to him, "You must go to the house of such a king, +and you must bring me from there a white horse, which is very, +very beautiful." + +Our young man sets out, and goes on, and on, and on. As he comes near +the house of the king, the fox appears to him and says to him: + +"The horse which you want is in such a place, but he has a bad saddle +on. You will put on him that which is hanging up, and which is handsome +and brilliant. As soon as he shall have it on he will begin to neigh, +so much as not to be able to stop. [163] All the king's people will +come to see what is happening, but with your crown you will always +get off scot free." + +He goes off as the fox had said to him. He finds the horse with the +bad saddle, and puts on him the fine one, and then the horse begins +to neigh and cannot stop himself. People arrive, and they wish to put +the young man in prison, but he shows them his crown, and relates +what king had sent him to fetch this horse in order to get a young +lady. They give him the horse, and he sets off. + +He comes to the house of the king where the young lady was. He shows +his horse with its beautiful saddle, and asks the king if he would not +like to see the young lady take a few turns on this beautiful horse +in the courtyard. The king says, "Yes." As the young lady was very +handsomely dressed when she mounted the horse, our young man gives +the horse a little touch with his stick, and they set off like the +lightning. The king's son follows them, and they go both together to +the king who had the white blackbird. They ask him for the blackbird, +and the bird goes of itself on to the knees of the young lady, who +was still on horseback. The king's son gives him a blow, and they +set off at full gallop; he also escapes in order to rejoin them. They +journey a long, long time, and approach their city. + +His brothers had heard the news how that their brother was coming +with the white blackbird. These two brothers had come back at last +to their father's house, and they had told their father a hundred +falsehoods; how that robbers had taken away their money, and many +things like that. The two brothers plotted together, and said that +they must hinder their brother from reaching the house, and that they +must rob him of the blackbird. + +They keep expecting him always. One day they saw him coming, and +they say that they must throw him into a cistern, [164] and they do +as they say. They take the blackbird and throw him and the lady into +the water, and leave the horse outside. The fox comes to them on the +brink of the cistern, and says to them: + +"I will leap in there; you will take hold of my tail one by one, +and I will save you." + +The two wicked brothers had taken the blackbird, but he escaped from +them as they entered the house, and went on to the white horse. Judge +of the joy of the youngest brother when he sees that nothing is wanting +to them! They go to the king. As soon as they enter the young lady +begins to carol and to sing, the bird too, and the horse to neigh. The +blackbird of its own accord goes on to the king's knees, and there by +its songs restored him to sight. The son relates to his father what +labours he underwent until he had found these three things, and he +told him how he had saved two men condemned to death by paying their +debts, and that they were his two brothers; that he had also paid +the debts of a dead man, and that his soul (the fox was his soul) +had saved him from the cistern into which his brothers had thrown him. + +Think of the joy of the father, and his sorrow at the same time, when +he saw how wisely this young son had always behaved, and how wicked +his two brothers had been. As he had well earned her, he was married +to the young lady whom he had brought away with him, and they lived +happily and joyfully. The father sent the two brothers into the desert +to do penance. If they had lived well, they would have died well. + + + + +THE SISTER AND HER SEVEN BROTHERS. + +There was a man and a woman very poor, and over-burdened with +children. They had seven boys. When they had grown up a little, they +said to their mother that it would be better that they should go on +their own way--that they would get on better like that. The mother +let them go with great regret. After their departure she gave birth +to a little girl, and when this little girl was grown up a little she +went one day to a neighbor's to amuse herself, and having played some +childish trick the neighbor said to her: + +"You will be a good one, you too, as your brothers have been." [165] + +The child goes home and says to her mother, "Mother, have I some +brothers?" [165] + +The mother says, "Yes." + +"Where are they?" + +"Oh, gone off somewhere." + +The daughter said to her, "I must go too, then. Give me a piece of +linen enough to make seven shirts." + +And she would go off at once. The mother was very sorry for it, +having already seven children away from home, and the only one she +had wished to go away. She let her go then. + +This young girl went off, far, far, far away. She asks in a town if +they know seven brothers who work together. They tell her "No." She +goes off to a mountain and asks there too, and they tell her in +what house they live. She goes to this house, and sees that all the +household work is to be done, and that there is nobody at home. She +makes the beds, and cleans the whole house, and puts it in order. She +prepares the dinner, and then hides herself in the dust-hole. Her +brothers come home, and are astonished to see all the household work +done and the dinner ready. They begin to look if there is anyone in +the house, but they never think of looking in the dust-hole, and they +go off again to their work. Before night this young girl does all the +rest of the work, and had the supper ready against the return of her +brothers, and hides herself again in the dust-hole. Her brothers are +astonished, and again search the house, but find nothing. + +They go to bed, and this young girl takes to sewing and sews a whole +shirt. She gives it to her eldest brother, and in the same way she +made a shirt every night, and took it to one of her brothers. They +could not understand how that all happened. They always said that +they would not go to sleep, but they fell asleep as soon as they +were in bed. When the turn of the youngest came to have the shirt, +he said to them, "Certainly I will not fall asleep." After he is in +bed the young girl goes and says to him, thinking that he is asleep: + +"Your turn has come now at last, my dearly loved brother." + +And she begins to put the shirt on him on the bed, when her brother +says to her: + +"You are then my sister, you?" + +And he kisses her. She tells him then how she had heard that she +had brothers, and how she had wished to go to them to help them. The +other brothers get up and rejoice, learning that it was their sister +who had done all the household work. + +The brothers forbad her ever to go to such a neighbour's, whatever +might happen. But one day, without thinking about it, when she was +behindhand with her work, she went running to the house to ask for some +fire, [166] in order to make the supper ready quicker. She was very +well received; the woman offered to give her everything she wanted, but +she said she was satisfied with a little fire. This woman was a witch, +and gives her a parcel of herbs, telling her to put them as they were +into the footbath--that they relieved the fatigue very much. [167] +Every evening the seven brothers washed their feet at the same time +in a large copper. She therefore put these herbs into the copper, +and as soon as they had dipped their feet in they became six cows, +and the seventh a Breton cow. [168] This poor girl was in such trouble +as cannot be told. The poor cows all used to kiss their sister, but +the young girl always loved much best the Breton one. Every day she +took them to the field, and stopped with them to guard them. + +One day when she was there the son of a king passes by, and is +quite astonished to see so beautiful a girl there. He speaks to her, +and tells her that he wishes to marry her. The young girl says to +him that she is very poor, and that that cannot be. The king says, +"Yes, yes, yes, that makes no difference." + +The young girl makes as conditions that, if she marries him, he must +never kill these cows, and especially this little Breton one. [169] +The king promises it her, and they are married. + +The princess takes these cows home with her; they were always well +treated. The princess became pregnant, and was confined while the king +was absent. The witch comes, and takes her out of her bed, and throws +her down a precipice that there was in the king's grounds, and the +witch puts herself into the princess' bed. When the king comes home, +he finds her very much changed, and tells her that he would not have +recognised her. The princess tells him that it was her sufferings +that had made her thus, and, in order to cure her more quickly, +he must have the Breton cow killed. + +The king says to her-- + +"What! Did you not make me promise that she should never be killed? How +is it you ask me that?" + +The witch considered that one her greatest enemy; and, as she left +him no peace, he sent a servant to fetch the cows. He finds them all +seven by the precipice; they were lowing, and he tried to drive them +to the house, but he could not do it in any way; and he hears a voice, +which says, + +"It is not for myself that I grieve so much, but for my child, and for +my husband, and for my dearly-loved cows. Who will take care of them?" + +The lad could not succeed (in driving them), and goes and tells to the +king what is taking place. The king himself goes to the precipice, +and hears this voice. He quickly throws a long cord down, and, when +he thinks that she has had time to take hold of it, he pulls it up, +and sees that they have got the princess there. Judge of the joy of +the king! She relates to her husband all that the witch had done +to her, both formerly and now. The king goes to the witch's bed, +and says to her, + +"I know your villanies now; and, if you do not immediately change +these cows, as they were before, into fine boys, I will put you into +a red-hot oven." + +The witch makes them fine men, and, notwithstanding that, the king had +her burnt in a red-hot oven, and threw her ashes into the air. The +king lived happily with his wife, and her seven brothers married +ladies of the court, and sent for their mother, and they all lived +happily together. + + + Louise Lanusse. + + + + +We have also, in Basque, a version of Madame d'Aulnoy's "Abenan." It +seems to be a mixture of various legends strung together by this +fanciful writer; but we do not think it worth either our own or our +readers' while to try to disentangle its separate parts. The pretty +little tale of "The Faded Roses" has been told us from two quite +different sources. This tale, though without doubt derived from the +French, we can trace up in Basque further than any other. It was +told us by a lady of between seventy and eighty, who heard it as a +child from an old nurse, whom she distinctly remembers to have told +her that she learnt it as a child from her mother. It must thus have +existed in Basque over a century. + +We have also two versions of Tom Thumb, who is called in the one +"Ukhailtcho," or "Baratchuri"--"a clove of garlic;" [170] in the other, +"Mundua-mila-pes," both containing the episode of his being swallowed +by an ox; in the last, he himself is swallowed, as they are washing +out the ox' entrails, by "a thief of a dog"--"Ohoñ chakhurra." It +is singular that the same episode is preserved in the Gaelic; +cf. Campbell, Vol. III., p. 114. + +We have in MS. a long Rabelesian legend, which opens like +Cenac-Moncaut's tale of "Le Coffret de la Princesse," in his +"Littérature Populaire de la Gascogne" (Paris, 1868). A king will +give one of his daughters to whoever can guess what the skin of a +certain animal is. It is the devil who guesses it, and who marries +the princess. She is saved by the "white mare," which appears in +so many of our tales. She then dresses as a man, but, nevertheless, +a prince falls in love with her; and then follow a lot of scenes, the +converse of the adventure of Achilles in Scyros. They marry; but, after +seven years, the devil-husband reappears. After strange adventures, +they are again succoured and united by the "white mare," who binds +the devil for ever, and then flies to heaven as a white pigeon, and +the rest live happily ever after. This legend is from "Laurentine, +Sister of Toutou," and may be mingled with Cascarrot legends. We have +given it as derived from the French, partly because the heroine's name +is Fifine, and because this, and "Petit Perroquet and the Tartaro," +are the only tales in our collection in which the term "prince" is +employed in the Basque instead of "the king's son." Cf. Campbell's +"Highland Tales," passim. + + + +We owe the following notes to the kindness of M. H. Vinson, Judge at +La Réole, Gironde. They may be of assistance to some of our readers +in the endeavour to trace out the length of time which is required +for the translations of exotic legends to become popular traditions +among a people who know the language of the translation only by +"social contact." + + +Premières Editions de la Première Traduction en Français des Mille +et une Nuits. + + Les Mille et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, trad. par + Galland. Paris, 12 vols. in 12mo. 1704-1717 + Les Mille et une Nuits, Contes Arabes, trad. par + Galland. Paris, 6 vols. in 12mo. 1774 + Les Mille et une Nuits, Revues et Corrigées par + M. Caussin de Percival. Paris, Lenormant, 9 vols. 8vo. 1806 + +Première Traduction de Bidpai et Loqman. + + Contes et Fables Indiennes de Bidpai et de Loqman, + trad. (posth.) par Ante Galland. Paris, 2 vols. in 12mo. 1724 + Contes et Fables Indiennes, Traduction d'après la + Version Turque d'Ali-Tchelebt-ben-Salet, par Galland, + terminée et publiée par D. Gardonne. Paris, 3 vols. 12mo. 1778 + Fables de Loqman, Édition Arabe, accomp. d'une Traduction + Franc: (par M. Mariel) au Caire, de l'imp. Nation, au VII. + 8vo. [171] 1799 + +Contes de Grimm. + + Contes de la Famille, par les Frères Grimm, traduit de + l'Allemand, par M. Martin et Pitre-Chevalier. Paris, + Renouard, 12mo. 1846 + Edition Originale, Kinder und Hausmärchen. Berlin, + 2 vols. 16mo. 1812-14 + +Les Plus Anciens Recueils de Contes en Français. + + Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles. Paris, Ant. Verard, + pet. in fol. Goth. 1486 + Le Parangon de Nouvelles Honnestes. Lyon, in 8vo. 1531 + Les Nouvelles Récreations de Bonaventure des Periers. + Lyon, in 4to. 1558 + L'Heptameron de Margaret de Valois. Paris, 8vo. 1559 + Baliverneries ou Contes Nouveaux d'Entrapel, publ. + par Noel Du Fail. Paris, 16mo. 1548 + Les Serées de Guillaume Bouchet. Poitiers, 4to. + Paris, 3 vols. 12mo. 1584, 1608 + Nouvelles Choisies, par Ch. Sorel. Paris, 2 vols. 8vo. 1645 + Contes des Fées, par Madame d'Aulnoy. 1630-1705 + Contes des Fées, par Ch. Perrault. 1697 + + + + + + +VII.--RELIGIOUS TALES. + + +We give these tales simply as specimens of a literature which in +mediæval times rivalled in popularity and interest all other kinds of +literature put together. That even yet it is not without attraction, +and that to minds which in some aspects seem most opposed to its +influence, the preface of the late Charles Kingsley to "The Hermits" +conclusively shows. Such tales have, too, a deeper interest to all +who study the manner in which at a certain stage of intellectual +cultivation the human mind seems alone able to take hold upon religious +truth; or, at least, the side on which it is then most susceptible +to its impressions. It is easy enough to laugh at these legends, +and to throw them aside in contempt, as alternately irreverent +or superstitious; but their very existence has an historical value +which no ecclesiastical historian should neglect. Their grossness and +rudeness to a great extent hide from us their real tenderness and true +religious feeling; but they were, doubtless, to those who first heard +them, and are still to those who now recite them, fully as instructive, +and have quite as beneficial, purifying, and ennobling influence on +them as the most polished and refined of the religious tales of the +present day have on the young of our own generation. + + + + +FOURTEEN. [172] + +Like many others in the world, there was a mother and her son. The +lad was as strong as fourteen men together, but he was also obliged +to eat as much as fourteen men. They were poor, and on that account +he often suffered from hunger. He said one day to his mother, that +it would be better for him to try and go somewhere else to see if he +could be any better off; that he could not bear it any longer like +this; that he was pained to see how much it cost her to feed him. + +The mother with regret allows him to depart. He goes off then far, +far, far away, and comes to a large house. He asks if they want a +servant there, and they answer that they will speak to the master. The +master himself comes and says to him, "I employ experienced labourers +generally, but I will take you nevertheless." + +The lad answers, "I must forewarn you, that I eat as much as fourteen +men, but I do work in proportion." + +He asks him, "What do you know how to do?" + +He says to him, "I know a little of everything." + +The next day the master takes him into a field, and says to him: + +"You must mow all this meadow." He says to him, "Yes." + +The master goes away. At eight o'clock the servant comes with +the breakfast. She had a basket full of provisions; there were six +loaves, half a ham, and six bottles of wine. Our lad was delighted. +The servant was astonished to see that all the meadow was mown, and +she goes and tells it to the master. He too was pleased to see that +he had such a valuable servant. He tells him to go and cut another +meadow. Before mid-day he had it all down. The servant comes with +the dinner, and was astonished to see how much work he had done. She +brought him seven loaves, seven bottles of wine, and ever so much ham, +but he cleared it all off. The master gives him again another field +of grass to cut. Before night he had done it easily. Our master was +delighted at it, and gave him plenty to eat. The servant too was +highly pleased. + +As long as he had work the master said nothing, but afterwards, +when he saw that all the harvest served only for the servant to eat, +he did not know how to get rid of him. He sends him to a forest in +which he knew that there were terrible beasts, and told him to bring +wood from there. As soon as he has arrived a bear attacks him. He +takes him by the nostrils and throws him on the ground, and twists +his neck. He keeps pulling up all the young trees, and again a wolf +attacks him; he takes him like the bear by the nostrils, throws him +down, and twists his neck. + +In the evening he arrives at the house, and the master is astonished +to see him return. He gave him a good supper; but he was not pleased, +because he had torn up all the young trees. At night the master turns +over in his head what he could do with his servant, and he determines +to send him into a still more terrible forest, in the hope that some +animal will devour him. Our lad goes off again. He tears up many large +trees, when a lion attacks him. He kills him in a moment. There comes +against him another terrible animal, and he finishes him off too. In +the evening, when he comes home, he said to himself: + +"Why does my master send me into the forest? Perhaps he is tired +of me." + +And he resolves to tell him that he will leave the house. When he +arrives his master receives him well, but cannot understand how it +is that he comes back. He gives him a good supper, and our lad says +to him: + +"It is better for me to go off somewhere. There is no more work for +me here." + +You may reckon how pleased the master was. He gives him his wages +at once, and he goes away. He goes off, far, far, far away; but soon +his money is exhausted, and he does not know what is to become of him. + +He sees two men standing on the bank of a river. He went up to them, +and the men ask him if he will cross them over to the other side of +the water. He answers, "Yes," and takes them both at once on his back; +and these men were our Lord and St. Peter. Our Lord says to him in +the middle of the stream: + +"I am heavy." + +"I will throw you into the water if you do not keep quiet, for I have +quite enough to do." + +When they had come to the other side, the Lord said to him, + +"What must I give you as a reward?" + +"Whatever you like; only give it quickly, for I am very hungry." + +He gives him a sack, and says to him, "Whatever you wish for will +come into this sack." + +And he goes off, far away. He comes to a town, and passing before a +baker's shop he smells an odour of very good hot loaves, and he says to +them, "Get into my sack," and his sack is quite full of them. He goes +off to a corner of a forest, and there he lives by his sack. He returns +again into the town, and passes before a pork-butcher's. There were +there black puddings, sausages, hams, and plenty of good things. He +says, "Come into my sack," and as soon as he has said it the sack +is full. He goes again to empty it as he had done with the loaves, +and he returns into the town. In front of an inn he says, "Come into +my sack." There were there bottles of good wine and of liqueurs, +and to all these good things he says, "Come into my sack," and his +sack was filled. + +He goes off to his corner of the forest, and there he had provision +for some days; and, when he had well stuffed himself, he went out for +a walk. One day he saw some young girls weeping, and he asks them, +"What is the matter with you?" They answer that their father is very +ill. He asks if he can see him. They tell him, "Yes." + +He goes there then, and the poor man tells him how he has given his +soul to the devil, and that he was expecting him that very day, and +he was trembling even then. Our Fourteen asks if he will let him be +on a corner of the bed, that he might see the devil. He tells him, +"Yes." He then hides himself with his sack. A moment after the devil +arrives, and our lad says to him: + +"Come into my sack." + +And as soon as he had said it, in goes the devil. Judge of the joy +of our man! Our lad goes off to some stone-breakers, and says to them: + +"Hit hard! the devil is in this sack." + +They went at it, blow upon blow, stroke upon stroke, and the devil +went: + +"Ay! ay! ay! let me out! let me go! ay! ay! ay!" + +The lad said, "You shall bring me, then, a paper, signed by all the +devils of hell, that you have no rights over this man." The devil +agrees, and he lets him go. In a moment he comes back with the paper, +and the lad makes him go into the sack again, and has him beaten by +the stone-breakers, while he carries the precious paper to the former +man; and think how happy they were in that house! + +Our man goes off, walking, walking, on, and on, and always on, and +he grew tired of this world. He said to himself, "I should like to +go to Heaven." He goes on, and on, and on, but he comes to hell; +but as soon as ever the devils saw that it was Fourteen they shut +all the gates. He goes off again, far, far, very far, and comes to +Heaven. There the gates are shut against him. What does Fourteen +do? He put his sack in through the keyhole, and says to himself: + +"Go into the sack." + +As soon as he has said it he finds himself inside, and he is there +still behind the door; and when you go to Heaven, look about well, +and you will see him there. + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + + + +We add another version of this popular tale, collected by M. Vinson +from M. Larralde de Lesaca, of St. Pée-sur-Nivelle:-- + + + + +JESUS CHRIST AND THE OLD SOLDIER. + +Once upon a time, when Jesus Christ was going with His disciples to +Jerusalem, He met an old man, and asked alms of him. The old man said +to Him: + +"I am an old soldier, and they sent me away from the army with only +two sous, because I was no longer good for anything. I have already +given away one sou on the road; I have only one left, and I give that +to you." + +Then our Lord says to him, "Which would you prefer, a sack of gold +or Paradise?" + +St. Peter gently nudges the old man in the ribs, "Say Paradise." + +"What! Paradise!" says the old soldier. "Afterwards we shall have +Paradise as well. I prefer a sack of gold." + +And our Lord gives him the sack of gold, and He said as He gave it +to him: + +"When this sack is empty it will be sufficient to say, 'Artchila +murtchila! go into my sack,' and everything you wish for will go into +the sack." + +Our man takes the sack and goes on his road. When he had gone a little +way he passed before the door of an inn, and sees a fine leg of mutton +on the table. He was hungry, and, opening his sack, he said: + +"Artchila murtchila! fine leg of mutton, come into my sack!" and in +an instant it was in it; and in the same way he had everything he +wished for. + +One day the devil came to tempt this old man, but, as soon as he +heard him, he opened his sack and said: + +"Artchila murtchila! go into my sack!" + +And the devil himself entered into the sack. He takes the sack with the +devil in it to a blacksmith, and for a long time and very vigorously +he pounded it with his sledgehammer. + +When the old soldier died he went to Paradise. When he arrived there +St. Peter appears, and says to him: + +"Why are you standing there? And what are you asking for?" + +"Paradise." + +"What! Paradise!! Did not you prefer to have a sack of gold when God +gave you the choice? Be off from here. Be off to hell. There are the +gates, there." + +Our old man, in deepest sadness, goes to the door of hell, and knocks; +but as soon as the door was opened the devil recognised his soldier, +and began to cry out: + +"Don't let him come in! Don't let him come in! He will cause us too +much trouble, and too many misfortunes. He is so very vicious!" + +And he will not receive him; so he returns again to Paradise, and God +commanded St. Peter to let this man enter who had been such a foe to +the devil. + + + + +THE POOR SOLDIER AND THE RICH MAN. + +Like many others in the world, there was a man and his wife. They had +an only son. The time for the conscription arrived. He went away with +much regret. At the end of the seven years he was returning home with +five sous in his pocket. As he was walking along a poor man came up to +him, and asked charity in the Name of God. He gave him a sou, telling +him that he had only five sous, but that he could not refuse at the +Name of God. A moment after another poor man presents himself, and asks +charity in the Name of God. He gives to him, telling him repeatedly: + +"I, who had only five sous to take home after seven years of service--I +have already given away one of them; but I cannot refuse you--I shall +have still enough left to get a breakfast with." + +And he goes on, but a moment after comes another poor man, and he +gives again. This poor man says to him: + +"You will go to such a house, and you must ask charity of M. Tahentozen +in the Name of God. He gives charity to no one; but he will ask you in +from curiosity, and to hear the news. When you have told him all that +you have seen, he will ask you where you have come from. You must say +that you come from Heaven, but that you have seen nothing there but +poor and maimed people, and that in hell there was nothing but rich +men; and that at the gate of hell there are two devils sitting in +arm-chairs, 'and I saw one arm-chair empty, and I went and asked whom +it was for; and there came two devils from the gate, limping as if they +were lame, and they said: "This is for M. Tahentozen. He never gives +anything in charity, and, if he does not change, his place is there."'" + +Our soldier goes as he has been told, and asks charity in the Name of +God. But the servant, as she always did, sent him away. The master, +having heard someone, asks the servant who is there. The servant +answers that it is a soldier who asks for charity. He tells her to +bring him up, in order to ask the news. Our soldier tells him all +that the poor man had told him to say. And there upon the rich man +begins to reflect, and he keeps the soldier at his house, and makes +him rich, and the rest (of his money) he divides among the poor. + + + Gachina, + the Net-maker. + + + + +THE WIDOW AND HER SON. [173] + +Once upon a time, and like many others in the world, there was a +widow who had a son. This son was so good to his mother that they +loved one another beyond all that can be told. One day this son said +to his mother that he must go to Rome. The mother was in the greatest +distress, but she let him go. (At parting) she gave him three apples, +and said to him: + +"If you make acquaintance (with anyone) on the road, and if you are +thirsty, give him one of these apples to divide; and he who will +give you back the largest part, he will be a good friend to you for +the journey." + +He set out then. When he has gone a little way he falls in with three +men. They made acquaintance, and they told him that they were going to +Rome. They went on, and on, and on, and as talking makes one thirsty, +the widow's son said to them: + +"I have in my pocket an apple which my mother gave me at starting; +we will eat it. Here, take and divide it." + +One of them divides it, and gives him the smallest part. When he +saw that he made some excuse and quitted his companions. He goes +travelling on, on, on, along the road, when he meets with three +monks. They tell him that they are going to Rome, and offer to make +their journey together. When they had gone a little way, they get +thirsty also. The widow's son says to them: + +"I have an apple which my mother gave me at starting. Here it is; +take and divide it." + +They, too, were no better comrades than the others. They give him only +a small piece. Fortunately he remembers the advice of his mother, +and he leaves them. He goes on a short way alone, and sees in the +distance something shining under an oak; as he approaches he sees +that it is a king. He tells him where he is going, and learns that he +too is going to Rome. The king engages him to rest himself along with +him, and he stays there a long time; and at length they get thirsty, +and the son of the widow gives him the last apple, telling him that it +is his mother who gave it him at starting. The king's son divides it, +and gives him the largest piece. The son of the widow is rejoiced that +he has found a good comrade, and they vow great friendship under the +oak. The son of the widow engages himself to bring the king's son to +Rome alive or dead, and the other binds himself to serve and aid him +as long as he has a drop of blood in his veins. Resuming their journey +they go on, and on, and on, and at length night surprises them, and +they do not know where to go to. They meet a young girl who was going +to the fountain. They ask her if shelter would be given them in the +house which they see there. + +She answers "Yes;" and then, lowering her voice, she adds, "Yes, +to your misfortune." + +It was only the widow's son who heard these last words. So they go +there, and enter, and are very well received. They had a good supper +given them, and a good bed on the third story. The widow's son puts +the prince on the outside of the bed, and he himself goes next the +wall. The former falls asleep immediately, because he was very tired; +but the widow's son was kept awake by his fear, and, just as twelve +o'clock struck, he hears someone coming up stairs, and sees the owner +come into the bed-room with a large knife in his hand. The mistress +held the light and the servant a basin. They come near and cut the +throat of the king's son, and carry him down stairs. While they are +doing this the widow's son gets out on the roof, and from there he +shouts and cries out for the justice. When he had made himself heard, +he told the people what had taken place. As they had never before heard +anything like this of the people in the house, they would not believe +him, and put him in prison. The next day he was condemned to death. + +Before dying he asks one favour. It is granted him. He then asks +for two blood-hounds to go and search the house with. They grant him +that, and he goes with the servants of the justice. After having gone +over the whole castle, without having found one drop of blood, they +go down to the cellar. The dogs kept smelling about, but the master +refused to open the door, saying there was nothing there but dirt and +rubbish. They told him that he must open it all the same, and there +they found the king's son with his crown. This was all they wanted. + +They set the widow's son at liberty; and he asks for the body of +the king's son, and puts it into a sack. He takes the sack on his +shoulders, and starts for Rome, where he arrives fatigued and worn out; +but he has kept his word. + +He goes to see the Holy Father, and told him all that had taken place, +and what had happened to his friend. + +Our Holy Father says to him, "To-morrow, at the moment of the +Elevation, you will place the head on the body." + +He does so, and at the very same moment the body of the king's son +is seized with a trembling, and he calls out-- + +"Where am I?" + +The widow's son answers, "At Rome. Do you not remember how your throat +was cut yesterday? And I myself have carried you, as I promised, +to Rome." + +The king's son went to pay his visit to our Holy Father, and (after +that) they set out (home). And when they had gone a long way, they +come to the oak where they had (first) made each other's acquaintance, +and it is there, too, that they must part. + +They renew their promises (to each other). The king's son takes +off his ring, and gives it to the other as a keep-sake to remember +him by. And the king's son, on counting his money, remarks that he +has just the same sum as he had when he was under the oak the last +time. And they quit each other, each to go to his own home. + +When the widow's son reaches home, the mother is delighted to see her +son again, and the son also (to see his mother). But the next day he +was covered with a frightful disease, which was very like leprosy, +and it had an infectious smell; but, fortunately, the mother did not +smell it. The poor mother did all that she could to cure her son, +but nothing relieved him. She heard that there was a monk in the +neighbourhood, a great saint, who cured diseases. She sends for him, +and the widow's son relates to him his journey to Rome, and all that +had taken place there, and he tells also the promises which they had +made to each other. + +Then the monk says to him, "If you wish to be cured, there is only +one remedy--you must wash yourself in the blood of this king." + +This news made the young man very sad, but his mother would start +the very next day; and they set out on their journey in an old +carriage. Everyone where they passed stopped their noses, and said, +"Pheu! pheu!" After some time they came to the king's house. The mother +asks leave to speak to the king, but a servant drives her far away, +because of the smell, telling her not to approach nearer. So she +could not say anything to the king. But one day the king goes out, +and sees the carriage, and he asks what it is. They tell him that +it is a sick man, who smells like putrid fish, and who wishes to see +the king. The king is angry because they had not told him of it before. + +Now this king was married, and already he had a son. He orders the +people in the carriage to come to him, and the widow's son told +him who he was, and showed him the ring which he had formerly given +him. Without paying the least attention to his malady, the king takes +him in his arms and embraces him. The widow's son tells him the grief +that he had felt at what the monk had told him. + +The king goes to find his wife, and tells her what has happened +about the sick man at the gate, and how this sick man had already +restored him to life, and that now it was his turn, and that he +could not be cured except by washing in his blood; and (he bids her) +choose between her child and himself. This poor mother sacrifices her +son. They kill him. The sick man washes himself immediately (in the +blood), and is cured at the same instant. The queen, in her grief, +goes into her child's bedroom, and there she finds her son full of +life again. Overflowing with joy, she takes up her son, and goes +out crying to everyone, and showing them her infant. Judge what a +delight for them all! The widowed mother and her son lived in the +king's palace so happily, and never left him more. + + + Catherine Elizondo. + + + + +THE STORY OF THE HAIR-CLOTH SHIRT (LA CILICE). + +Once upon a time, like many others in the world, there was a gentleman +and a lady. They had no children, but they longed for one above +everything. They made a vow to go to Rome. As soon as they had made +the vow, the woman became pregnant. + +The husband said to her, "We shall do well to go there at once." + +The wife said, "We have not time enough now; we can go afterwards +just as well." + +The lady was confined of a boy. The boy grows up and he sees that +his father is constantly sad, and he finds him often crying in all +the corners. The little boy was now seven years old, and the mother +had not yet decided to go to Rome. One day this young boy goes into +his father's bed-room, and finds him weeping again. He therefore said +to him: + +"What is the matter with you, father?" + +But he will not answer him, and the child takes a pistol, and says +to his father: + +"If you will not tell me what is the matter with you, I will shoot +first you and myself afterwards." + +The father then said that he would tell him, (and he told him) how +that his mother and he had made a vow to go to Rome if they had a +child, and that they had never been there. + +The child said to him, "It is for me that this vow was made, and it +is I who will go and fulfil it." + +He says "Good-bye," and sets out. + +He was seven years on the road, and begged his bread. At last he comes +to the Holy Father, and tells him what has brought him there. Our +Holy Father puts him in a room alone for an hour. + +When he comes out, he says to him, "Oh, you have made a mistake; +you have made me stay there two hours at least." + +Our Holy Father tells him "No!"--that he has been there only one +hour. And he puts him into another room for two hours. + +When he came out from there he said, "You have made me stop more than +two hours." + +He says to him, "No," and puts him in another room for three hours. + +When he came out of that he said, "You have only left me there three +minutes." + +And he said to him, "Yes, yes, yes; you have been there three hours." + +And our Holy Father told him that the first room was Hell; that the +second was Purgatory; and that the last was Heaven. [174] + +The child says to him, "Where am I? I in Paradise! And my father?" + +"In Paradise too." + +"And my mother?" + +"In hell." + +The boy was grieved, and said to him, "Can I not save my mother? I +would let my blood flow for her for seven years long." + +Our Holy Father tells him that he can, and he puts on him a hair-cloth +shirt with a padlock, and throws the key into the water. + +And our Holy Father says to him, "When you shall find this key, +your mother will be saved." + +He starts off, begging his way as before, and takes seven more years +before arriving in his own country. He goes from house to house asking +alms. His father meets him and asks him where he comes from. He says, +"From Rome." He asks him if he has not seen on the road a boy of his +own age. He says to him, "Yes, yes," and tells him that he has gone on +walking for seven years, shedding his blood to save his mother. And he +keeps on talking about his son. His mother comes out on the staircase +and tells her husband to send that poor man away--that he must be +off from there. But he pays no attention to her. He brings him in, +and tells her that he is going to dine with them. His wife is not +pleased. He sends the servant to market, telling her to buy the +finest fish that she can find. When the young girl comes back, she +goes to the poultry yard to clean the fish. The young man follows her, +and as she was cleaning the fish she found a key inside it. + +The young man said to her, "That key belongs to me." + +And she gives it to him. + +The lady could not endure this young man, and she gives him a push, +and he falls into the well. All on a sudden the water of the well +overflows, and the young man comes out all dripping. The husband had +not seen that his wife had pushed him into the well, and the young +man told him that he had fallen into it. This poor man wishes to give +him some clothes, but he will not accept them, saying that he will +dry himself at the fire. At table the lady is not at all polite to +him. The young man asks her if she would recognise her son. + +She says, "Yes, yes; he has a mark between his two breasts." + +And the young man opens his clothes, and shows the mark. At the same +time he gives the key to his mother that she may open his hair-cloth +shirt, and the mother sees nothing but blood and gore. He has suffered +for her. The three die. And the servant sees three white doves fly +away. I wish I could do like them in the same way. + + + Gachina, + the Net-maker. + + + + +THE SAINTLY ORPHAN GIRL. + +There was a young girl who lived far from the world, alone, in +sanctity. Every day a dove brought her her food. + +One day she saw a young girl whom two gens-d'armes were taking to +prison or to execution. The orphan said to herself: + +"If she had lived like me, they would not have taken her to +prison." And thereupon she had a thought of pride, and from that +day the dove no longer brought her anything to eat. She goes to seek +a priest, and tells him what has happened, and since when she does +not receive any more food. This priest tells her that she has been +punished on account of that thought, and that she must be present at +the birth of three children, and see what their gifts would be. The +first was the son of a king. She asks the queen permission to remain +in the bed-chamber, no matter in what corner; all would be the same to +her if she would only give her leave. She consents to it. When this +queen gives birth to a boy, the infant has round its neck a white +cord, and this orphan understood that he would be guillotined [175] +when he was eighteen years old. She sees the birth of another child; +a girl with a red cord round her neck, and she sees that she will turn +out badly, and that she would go to ruin. She sees a third; this was +a boy, and he had blue cord on, which meant that he would be very good. + +After having seen that this orphan goes back to the house of the +queen. There she lived happily, busying herself especially about this +child. As she caressed it she often used to say in a sad tone: + +"Poor child!" + +The mother remarked that, and one day she said: "One would say that +this child was very unfortunate. Do you always act thus when you +caress a child, as if it were very wretched, or as if something were +going to happen to it?" + +She said that to her more than once. And when the (fated) age was +drawing near, this orphan told the queen what must happen at the age of +eighteen. I leave you to judge of the distress of this queen. She told +it to her husband, and the father and mother told it to their son; and +he said that he must leave the house immediately. He goes then a long +way off to another town. And as he was a pretty good scholar, he got +a place in a house where there was a large shop. They sold everything +there; and as this lad was very good everybody loved him. They heard +him go out of the house every night, but they did not know where. The +master was curious (to learn this), and he made a hole above the shop, +for he went there too in the night. He sees him take a wax candle, and +put the price of this candle into the cash-box by the hole, counting +the money aloud. Taking the candle with him he falls on his knees, +and went a considerable distance to a chapel, walking still on his +knees. The master follows him during a whole week, and the boy did +always the same thing; and on the eighth day the master looks through +the key-hole of the chapel, and sees an angel descend and throw a +chain to our lad, and the angel lifted him up in the air. A moment +after he comes down again, and goes back to his master's house. + +The master tells him that he has seen all, and the boy says that his +penance is also finished, and that he must go home. The master does +not wish it. + +"You shall go afterwards, if you wish it; but first you must marry +my daughter." + +He tells him that he has a father and mother, and that he cannot do +it without telling them; but if they wish it, he will do so willingly. + +He starts home then at once. You may imagine what joy for the king +and the queen. They were constantly trembling lest they should hear +that their dearly loved son had been hanged. They did not know what +to do for joy. He told them how he had done penance, and that without +doubt the good God had pardoned him; and how his old master wished him +to marry his daughter. He does so, and all live happily and die well. + + + Louise Lanusse. + + + + +THE SLANDERED AND DESPISED YOUNG GIRL. + +Like many others of us in the world, there was a mother and her +daughter. They were very poor, and the daughter said that she wished +to go out to service, in order to do something for her mother. The +mother will not listen to it; what would become of her without her +daughter? She prefers to be poor with her to being rich alone. The +young girl stays at home. She used to go out as needlewoman; but +suddenly her mother falls ill, and quickly she dies. + +This poor young girl had the deepest sorrow, and she continued to +go out to work as before. One day, while she was at work in a house, +some acquaintance came and said to them-- + +"What! you have this young girl here to work! She is a bad girl; +she is not at all what she ought to be. You should not take her." + +In the evening they give her her day's wages, and say that they do +not want her any more. She goes to another house, and there the same +thing happens. Some people come and say in the same way-- + +"You have that young girl to work! She will come to a bad end, that +girl will. She is even a thief; do not have her again." + +In the evening they give her her day's wages, and say to her that they +do not want her any more. No one asked her to work any more, and she +remained at home. By charity and pity, some neighbours, without any +necessity, let her come to work for them, because they were pained +to see her distress. But there, too, someone comes and says, + +"I am astonished to see that young girl here. She is a worthless +girl. How is it that you have her here?" + +They answer, "Moved by charity, just to help her." + +"Do not have her any more; she is a thief, and as bad as can be." + +After having given her her day's wages, they send her off, and say +that they do not want her any more. [176] + +This poor young girl was in the greatest distress; if she wished to +eat, she must beg. She set to work begging then, and everyone disliked +her so much that, when they saw her, they used to spit at her. + +There came home from one of his voyages a ship's captain, and, while +he was amusing himself with his friends, this young girl asks for +charity. His friends tell him that she was a bad girl, and they spit +at her, and he does like the rest. Our captain goes off for another +voyage; but he was overtaken by a terrible tempest. The storm was +so violent, and the rain came down as if it would never leave off; +it made them all tremble. In the midst of his prayers the captain +made a vow that, if he escaped, he would marry the worst and most +despised girl that he could find. Immediately the weather became +fine. He makes a very successful voyage, and one which brought him +plenty of money; but, when he reached land, he forgot his vow, and +began to amuse himself as much as possible. + +This same young girl asks charity, and, after his friends have told +him that she was a bad girl, they spat at her, and he did so too. + +Again he goes to sea, and he is overtaken by a storm, much worse than +the former one. The wind was most violent, and the lightning terrible; +they saw nothing but that. All trembled, and were praying. The captain +again makes a vow of marrying, if he should get safe home, with the +most abandoned and the poorest girl he can find, and he regrets that +he has not kept his vow. He said to himself, + +"If I had kept it, perhaps I should not have had such weather as this; +but nothing now shall make me forget my promise." + +Immediately the weather becomes fine; he has immense good fortune, +and gains as much money as he wishes. + +When he comes home, he sees this young girl again. His friends spit +at her, but he says to them, + +"I will not spit at her--I wish to marry her." + +His friends burst out into roars of laughter, "Ha! ha! ha!" The +sailor goes home to his mother, and tells her that he is going to be +married. His mother answers him, + +"If you make a good and rich marriage, very well." + +The son said to her, "She is not at all rich. She is that girl there." + +The mother was not pleased. "Leave that bad girl alone." + +He said, "It is all the same to me; I will marry none but her." + +He asks his friends where she lives. They point to an old house. The +captain goes there in the evening and knocks at the door. The girl +says, "Who is there?" + +The man says, "Open the door for me. It is I." + +The young girl says, "I will not open the door--I am in bed." + +"Never mind, open it." + +"No! I will not do it." + +"I am going to break in the door." + +"Do what you will, but I will not open it." + +He breaks open the door, as he said, and goes in. He sees this young +girl on a little straw, covered only by her dress. The man wants to +go near her. The girl says: + +"You may kill me if you like, but you shall not come near me." + +They were like that a long time. The man says to her: + +"Give me your promise of marriage, then?" + +The young girl says, "What do you mean? I so poor and you so rich--how +can we marry?" + +The man says that they will do so. The young girl will not believe him, +and the gentleman says to her: + +"If you will give me your promise I will go away at once." And the +young girl says "Yes," in order to make him go away. Then he goes away. + +The next day he goes to a priest and tells him what has taken place, +and gives him forty thousand francs, and tells him to build a fine +house with it, and to furnish it, and if anything more is wanting +he will pay it at his next voyage. The young girl, too, goes to the +priest, for before this she had been helped and comforted by him. The +priest tells her how the captain had given him forty thousand francs +for her to build a fine house with, and for her to make use of for all +she wanted. The priest said that he would undertake building the house, +and she said that she would see to all that was wanting for herself. + +The captain goes off, and has as successful a voyage as could be +made--he had nothing but fair weather. He brought back plenty of +money, and they were married soon after his arrival. His mother and +his brothers and sister were at the wedding. After some time the +captain wished to go and make another voyage. He left his fine house +to take his wife to his mother's house, and he said to her: + +"My wife will be better with you than all alone. You will have her +always dressed as becomes her position, and keep a good table for her, +and take good care of her." + +The husband went to sea. He often wrote to his wife; but what do the +captain's mother and her daughter do after he is gone? They take away +from this lady all her pretty dresses, and make her put on old ones, +and wooden shoes too with straw inside, and send her off to keep the +geese with a bit of bread, telling her that she must bring home a +load of small wood (to light the fire with), and that she must keep +spinning while she is watching the geese. This poor young girl says +nothing. She goes off with her flock of geese. When night comes +she returns with four skeins of thread spun and a load of small +wood. Every day she does the same. They do not even tell her that +her husband has written to her. + +The captain has a fine voyage. He had some fears about his mother and +his sister, and he thought to himself that it would be best to come +home secretly, in silence, and see how they were treating his wife. He +comes then as a foreigner, in the dress of a captain. He says that +he comes from a distance, and that he wishes to pass a week in their +house. The mother and the daughter receive him very well. They tell +him to choose his own room, and he chooses his own wedding-chamber. At +nightfall the geese come home, cackling, cackling, and with them the +young girl. This gentleman tells them that it is his habit to have +some young girl with him when he travels like that, and asks them +if they can get him one. They tell him "Yes," that there would be +none more glad than this young girl, and that they will give her to +him. They go and tell it to the goose girl. + +She says that certainly she will not go. They say to her that he has +chests full of gold, and that they would willingly go, but that he has +chosen her; and they push her by force into the room. The gentleman +orders an excellent supper, and says that he has the habit of supping +well. The goose girl stands sadly before the table. She would not eat +anything; the gentleman presses her, and she kept saying that she was +not hungry--that she had eaten as much as she usually did. He asks her: + +"Where have you eaten? and what have you eaten?" + +"A piece of bread that I took with me in the morning." + +He tells her again to eat these good things. She says that she does +not want anything, and that the greatest pleasure he can give her is +to let her go off to her geese. The gentleman says to her: + +"You do not know then why you have come here? You are to sleep +with me." + +The young girl says: "You shall cut me in pieces on the spot before +I will go to your bed. I have a husband, and I wish to be faithful +to him." + +And she tells, on his asking her, how that she was very poor, and no +one loved her, and how a rich gentleman had wished to marry her--how +very good he had been to her even after the marriage, and how when +he went on a voyage he had left her at his mother's house, thinking +that she would be best there, and that since he was gone she had had +no news of her husband. The gentleman said to her: + +"Would you recognise your husband?" She says, "Yes." + +"Has he any marks?" + +The young girl says, "Yes; he has a mole between his two breasts with +three hairs on it." + +The gentleman opens his shirt and shows her his birthmark. + +This young girl was seized with such joy that she fainted away, and +fell down on the floor. As this gentleman knew the ways of the room +he burst open the closet, and took a bottle of liqueur to bring his +wife round again, and at last she came to herself, and passes a sweet +night with her husband. + +The next morning the geese come, cackle, cackle, before the door, and +the mistress of the house and her daughter come to the gentleman's +door, calling out, if they have not stopped there long enough, that +it is time to set off, and that it is a shame to be in bed at that +hour. The gentleman gets up and says to his mother: + +"What, mother, was this the way that you ought to have treated my +dearly-loved wife?" + +And he was in such a rage that, if his wife had not begged him to +forgive her, he would even have beaten her; but his wife prevented +him. He sent his mother and his sister out of the house, and he and +his wife lived for many years happy and pleased with each other; +and as they lived well they died well too. + + + The Sister of Laurentine. + + +This may be Toutou, but in the Basque country it is sometimes difficult +to get hold of a person's surname. "Who is Laurentine?" you ask. "She +is Toutou's sister," is the reply. "But who is Toutou?" "She is +Laurentine's sister." If you want to get anything more out you have +to cross-examine for half-an-hour. Some of our tales are not signed; +we believe these are to be divided between Catherine Elizondo and +Laurentine Kopena. Fresh names we think we always put down, but these +brought so many tales that we sometimes omitted it with them, and in +the rearrangement for printing we have lost our clue. + +We have some thirteen other tales of all kinds, besides variations, +which we have not given. They are mostly short, and not very different +in character from those given above, except in being more stupid in +two or three cases; and a few of them are to be found in M. Cerquand's +collection. + + + + + + +AN ESSAY ON THE BASQUE LANGUAGE, + +BY M. JULIEN VINSON. + + +The Basque Language is one which is particularly attractive to +specialists. Its place in the general series of idioms has at last +been well defined--it is an agglutinative and incorporating language, +with some tendency to polysynthetism. It consequently finds a place in +the second great morphological linguistic group, between the Finnic +and the North American family of languages. I shall now attempt a +very short sketch of its general features; but I must ask permission, +first, briefly to state some of the most essential principles of the +science of language. + +It is acknowledged that the science of language--that is to say, +the science of the characteristic phenomenon of the human species, +is a purely natural science. It has nothing in common with philology, +which is mainly a historical study. Whether it be called linguistique, +glottology, phonology, or even, by a too common abuse, comparative +philology, the science of language follows the same method as the other +natural sciences, and advances by observation and experience. The +direct subject-matter of this science is those vocal organisms +which express, by sensible sounds, thought and its divers modes of +existence. These organisms are the spontaneous and unconscious product +of organs which, as natural phenomena, fall under the general law of +perpetual variation, acted on by their surroundings, climate, &c.; but +as incapable of being modified by the external or internal exercise of +human volition as any other of the organized beings which surround us. + +But as the object of language is to express thought in all its +niceties, both the fact that gives rise to it, and the modifications +of it caused by time and space, so it is seen that different idioms +have adopted different methods of expressing, in the best and readiest +manner, the idea, the conception or intuition, with its variable +forms, in order to translate with precision its signification, and +its relations. From this point of view language has been divided into +three great groups: the first, that of isolating languages, wherein +the monosyllabic roots all retain their meaning, and wherein the +relations are only expressed conventionally, i.e., were not originally +expressed at all; the second, that of agglutinative languages, +in which the relations are expressed by roots once significative, +but now reduced to a secondary and subordinate office; lastly, +the third, that of inflectional languages, in which the change of +relations is expressed by a modification in the root itself, and +even in the radical vowel. It is clear that the idioms of the second +group were once isolating, and that inflectional idioms have passed +through both the former states. We conclude from this that language +is essentially progressive and variable in the sense of a constant +improvement in the expression of relations. And yet, in the study of +existing languages we find, on the contrary, that they are often in +this respect inferior to their ancestors. + +This contradiction, however, is only an apparent one. Thus, as +Schleicher has demonstrated, languages are born, grow up, become +stationary, decline and die; in a word, live after the same fashion +as do organized beings. There are in every language two principal +periods--that of formal development, during which the idiom passes +from the first (monosyllabic) stage to the second (agglutinative) +by reducing certain roots to a secondary and dependent office, then +from the second to the third (inflectional) by a new effort to express +simultaneously signification and relation; and that of formal decay, +during which the original meaning of the relative affixes is more and +more forgotten, they get worn out, change by degrees, and often end +by perishing altogether. Formal decay begins when a language becomes +historical, and it often gives rise to remarkable cases of regressive +metamorphosis. One remark which we must make on this subject is that +the known agglutinative languages have not spontaneously arrived at +historical life--that is to say, have not commenced their decay, +except under the influence of a foreign idiom either isolating or +inflectional. Nevertheless, during their decay, languages can adopt +fresh forms, but these are merely composed of words already in use; man +in the historical period has no longer bare roots at his service. [177] + +These linguistic elements are, moreover, subject to the terrible law +of the struggle for existence, and of vital competition. Many of them +have perished and have left no trace; others are preserved to us merely +in some scanty records. The Basque, pressed hard by Latin and its +derived languages, has lost ground, especially in Spain. Beyond its +actual limits, there are in Navarre many villages, the names of which +are Basque, but in which Spanish only is spoken; and all along the +frontiers of the actual region of the Basque in the Spanish provinces +this idiom is spoken only by a minority of the inhabitants. It is, +moreover, undergoing modification everywhere; the children often +replace the old expressive native terms by a vocabulary drawn from +the Romance tongues. In those places which are most in contact with +strangers, and in which the movement of modern life is most keenly +felt--at St. Sebastian and at St. Jean de Luz, for instance--the +language has become exceedingly debased and incorrect. Everything +presages the speedy extinction of the Escuara or Euscara, which is the +name given to the Basque by those who speak it. The word, apparently, +means merely "manner of speaking." All people have, in a greater +or less degree, the pretension which caused the Greeks to treat all +foreigners as barbarians--that is, as not properly-speaking men. + +Prince L. L. Bonaparte reckons the actual number of the Basques, +not including emigrants established in Mexico, at Monte Video, and at +Buenos Ayres, at 800,000, of whom 660,000 are in Spain, and 140,000 +in France. + +The phonetic laws of the Escuara are simple; the sounds most +frequently employed are the sibilants, nasals, and hard gutturals; +the soft consonants are often suppressed between two vowels. The +mixed sounds, between palatals and gutturals, characteristic of the +second large group of languages, are also frequently met with. One of +the predominant features is the complete absence of reduplication of +consonants, the aversion to groups of consonants, and the care taken +to complete the sound of final mute consonants by an epenthetic +vowel. It is probable that originally the words were composed of +a series of syllables formed regularly of a single consonant and a +vowel. We must mention, besides, the double form of the nominatives, +one of which is used only as the subject of an active verb; the other +serves equally for the subject of the intransitive, and the object of +the active verb. This is absolutely the same distinction remarked by +M. Fried. Müller in the Australian languages between the subjective +and the predicative nominative. + +Formal derivation is accomplished by means of suffixing the elements +of relations; pronominal signs are nevertheless not only suffixed, +but also prefixed to verbs. Except in this respect, nouns and verbs +are not treated in two distinct manners; they are both equally +susceptible of receiving suffixes which mark the relations of time +and space, and many of which have preserved in their integrity both +their proper signification and their primitive sonorous form. The +article is the remote demonstrative pronoun. The pronouns "we" and +"ye" are not the plurals of "I" and "thou," but have the appearance +of special individualities. There are no possessive derivative terms; +"my house," for example, is expressed by "the house of me," and has +no analogy with "I eat," or any other verbal expression. There are +no genders, although some suffixes are specially replaced by others +in the names of animate beings; and in the verb there are special +forms to indicate if a man or woman is being spoken to. There is no +dual. The sign of the plural is interposed between the article and +the suffixes. In the singular alone can there be an indefinite or +indeterminate declension without the article. + +The conjugation is exceedingly complicated. The Basque verb includes +in a single verbal expression the relations of space; of one person to +another--(1) subjective (the idea of neutrality, of action limited to +its author), (2) objective (the idea of action on a direct object), +and (3) attributive (the idea of an action done to bear on an object +viewed indirectly, the idea of indirect action); the relations of time; +the relations of state, corresponding to as many distinct moods; the +variations of action, expressed by different voices; the distinctions +of subject or object, marked by numerous personal forms; the conditions +of time and state which are expressed by conjunctions in modern +languages--to each of these relations is appropriated an affix, often +considerably abbreviated and condensed, but almost always recognisable. + +The primitive Basque verb--that is to say, in its full development--did +not differ from that of other languages of the globe. It comprised +only two moods, the indicative, and the conjunctive, which was derived +from the indicative by a suffix; and three tenses, the present, the +imperfect, and a kind of aorist indicating eventual possibility. There +was only one secondary voice, the causative, formed by a special +affix. To these forms it joined the signs of the direct and indirect +object, which is the essential characteristic of incorporating idioms. + +During its historic life, during its period of formal decay, the +verb has experienced in Basque modifications which are not found +to a similar extent elsewhere. The primitive conjugation, or, so to +say, the simple and direct one of verbal nouns, has little by little +fallen into disuse, and has been replaced by a singular combination +of verbal nouns, of adjectives, and of some auxiliary verbs. Thus +it is that the Escuara, in all its dialects, has developed eleven +moods and ninety-one tenses (each of which has three persons in +each number), variable according to the sex or rank of the person +addressed; it receives besides a certain number of terminations, +which perform the office of our conjunctions. Moreover, from the +totality of these auxiliaries two parallel series have been formed, +which, joined alternatively to nouns of action, produce the active +and middle voices, or rather the transitive and intransitive. The +auxiliaries of the periphrastic conjugation are almost the only verbs +that have been preserved belonging to the simple primitive system. + +With regard to syntax, the Basque resembles all agglutinative +languages. The sentence is always simple. The phrases are generally +short; relative pronouns are unknown. The complexity of the verb, which +unites many ideas in a single word, contributes to this simplicity +of the sentence, in which the subject and the attribute, with their +respective complements, tend to form but one expression. This object +is attained by the invariability of the adjectives, and especially +by composition. + +The adjective is placed after the noun it qualifies, whilst the +genitive, on the contrary, precedes the governing noun. + +Composition is of such common use in Basque, that it has caused +several juxta-posed words to be contracted and reduced, so as to +be partially confounded one with the other. This phenomenon is +familiar to languages of the New World; it is this which properly +constitutes polysynthetism, and which we must carefully distinguish +from incorporation. This last word should be reserved to designate +more particularly the phenomena of objective or attributive conjugation +common to idioms of the second form. + +The Basque vocabulary appears to be very poor. Although it is still +imperfectly known (for the old books, and the names of places, +as well as certain little studied dialectic variations, must have +retained some words generally forgotten), we are yet able to assert +that pure Basque terms do not express abstract ideas. Except in +words borrowed from the Gascon, French, Spanish, and Latin, we find +no trace of any advanced civilization, and we can discover but very +few expressions which imply collectivity or generalization--e.g., +there is no word which has the wide signification of our word "tree," +of our "animal." "God" is simply, by anthropomorphism, "the Master on +High." One and the same word translates our ideas of "will, desire, +fancy, thought." Borrowed words are more numerous, from the fact that +the influence of Aryan dialects has been felt through many ages; +it is probably owing to their contact with the Indo-European races +that the Basques, or those who used to speak the Basque, have any +historical existence. + +Thus, in order to study this singular idiom, it is necessary to +understand thoroughly the history of the intervention of Latin in +the Pyrenean region. No assistance is to be obtained from written +documents, for there is not (and there cannot have been) any primitive +Basque literature. The oldest book was published in 1545. [178] The +second is the Protestant version of the New Testament, printed at La +Rochelle by order of Jeanne d'Albret, in 1571. [179] + +Another difficulty arises from the extreme variability of the +language. There are, perhaps, not two villages where it is spoken +absolutely in the same manner. This is natural enough among an +unlettered people, and one which can only rise to the level of the +surrounding civilization by forgetting its ancient language. These +different varieties are easily grouped into secondary dialects. Prince +L. L. Bonaparte recognises twenty-five of them, but they are reduced +without difficulty to eight great dialects. A closer inspection +further reduces these eight divisions to three; that is to say, +the differences between the eight principal dialects are unequal, +and admit of partial resemblances. + +The eight dialects are: (1) The Labourdine, (2) The Souletine, +(3) The Eastern Lower-Navarrese, (4) The Western Lower-Navarrese, +(5) The Northern Upper-Navarrese, (6) The Southern Upper-Navarrese, +(7) The Guipuzcoan, (8) The Biscayan. The Souletine and the two +Lower-Navarrese dialects form the first group, which may be called the +Oriental division. The Biscayan alone forms the Western, and the four +others form the Central group. These names are taken from territorial +divisions. La Soule was formerly a province feudatory to Navarre, and +now embraces, within the French department of the Basses-Pyrénées, +the cantons of Mauléon and Tardets, as well as some parishes of the +canton of St. Palais, in the arrondissement of Mauléon. The Labourd, +a viscounty, vassal of the Duchy of Aquitaine, corresponded to +the cantons of Bayonne (excepting the city itself and three other +parishes), of St. Jean de Luz, of Ustaritz, of Espelette, and part +of Hasparren, in the arrondissement of Bayonne. The remaining part of +the two French arrondissements which we have just named composes Lower +Navarre, which is again subdivided into the districts of Cize, Mixe, +Arberoue, Ostabaret, and the valleys of Osses and Baigorry. This was +originally the sixth merindad of Navarre, a kingdom which extended +into Spain as far as the Ebro, from Garde and Cortés on the one side +to Vera and Viana on the other. Basque is still spoken along the +French frontier and in several valleys forming the upper part of the +territory. Guipuzcoa contains the cantons (partidos) of St. Sebastian, +Tolosa, Azpeitia, and Vergara. Biscay comprises all the territory +between Ondarroa and the river of Sommorostro, between La Carranza +and the Peña de Gorbea. + +The dialects do not correspond exactly to the territorial subdivisions +whose names they bear. Thus the Western Lower-Navarrese is spoken in a +part of the ancient Labourd; the Biscayan in Guipuzcoa. Lastly, on the +Spanish maps, there is another Basque province, Alava; but Basque is +scarcely spoken there, excepting in a narrow strip along the northern +frontier. The dialect of these Alavese districts is included in the +Biscayan. To resume, the Biscayan dialect is now spoken in Alava, +Biscay, and the western third part of Guipuzcoa, in Vergara, and in +Las Salinas; the Guipuzcoan in almost all the rest of Guipuzcoa; +the Northern Upper-Navarrese in some villages of Guipuzcoa on the +French frontier, in Fontarabie, Irun, and in the northern part of +Navarre; the Southern Upper-Navarrese in the rest of Basque Navarre; +the Labourdine in the south-western part of the arrondissement of +Bayonne; the Western Lower-Navarrese in the north-eastern part of the +same arrondissement; the Souletine is spoken in the two cantons of +Mauléon and Tardets, and at Esquiule in the arrondissement of Oloron; +the Eastern Lower-Navarrese extends into the arrondissement of Bayonne +as far as St. Pierre d'Irube, by Meharrin, Ayherre, Briscous, Urcuit. + +Of these arrondissements, of these provinces, none is entirely Basque +in a linguistic point of view, except Guipuzcoa. Navarre is only half +so, Alava only a tenth part. A little less than a fourth part has +to be subtracted from Biscay, and certain Gascon villages from the +arrondissements of Mauléon and Bayonne in France. Neither Bayonne, +nor Pampeluna, nor Bilbao are Basque. [180] And, moreover, skirting +the districts where the Basque is the native idiom of the majority of +the inhabitants, on many points there is an intermediate zone in which +Basque is known only by a minority of the population; nevertheless, +this zone must be included in the geographical area of the idiom, +since the persons who speak Basque in it know it as their native +language, and have never learnt it. This zone is most extensive in +Navarre, but exists also in Alava and in Biscay. In France there is +no analogous mixed zone; and, as M. P. Broca remarks ("Sur l'Origine +et la Repartition de la Langue Basque," Paris, 1875, p. 39), "the +demarcation is brusque, and may be indicated by a single line." The +Basques, moreover, in this respect, present some curious points for +study. "In the valley of Roncal the men speak Spanish together; with +the women they speak Basque, as do the women to each other. A similar +state of things is to be observed at Ochagavia in Salazar. But this +custom is not observed in the Roncalese villages of Uztarroz and +Isaba, where the men among themselves speak indifferently Basque or +Spanish." (Prince L. L. Bonaparte, "Etudes sur les Dialects d'Aezcoa," +&c., p. 3). + +The preceding description justifies the opinion advanced at the +beginning of this notice. The Basque is an agglutinative idiom, +and must be placed, in a morphological point of view, between the +Finnic family, which is simply incorporating, and the North American +incorporating and polysynthetic families. But we must not conclude +thence that the Escuara is a near relation either of the Finnic or +of the Magyar, of the Algonquin or of the Irokese. The relationship +of two or more languages cannot, in fact, be concluded merely from +a resemblance of their external physiognomy. To prove a community +of origin, it is indispensable that (if compared at the same +stage of development) their principal grammatical elements should +not only be analogous in their functions, but should also have a +certain phonetic resemblance, in order to render the hypothesis of +their original identity admissible. It is better to abstain from +asserting that such languages are derived from the same source, if +the significant roots--which, after all, constitute the proper basis, +the true originality of a language--should be found to be totally +different. At present, no language has been discovered which presents +any root-likeness to the Basque, analogous to that which exists +between the Sanscrit, Greek, and Gothic, or between Arabic and Hebrew. + +Nevertheless, there are in the world minds so devoted to the worship of +their own fixed ideas, so smitten with their own metaphysical dreams, +so full of faith in the necessity of the unity of language, that +they have acquired the habit of torturing the radical elements of a +language, and of making them flexible and variable to an inconceivable +degree. They pass their lives in seeking etymologies, such as those +which Schleicher calls "Etymologizerungen ins blanc hinein," and in +discovering phonetic miracles--worthy children of those students of +the last centuries who, in the general ignorance of the science of +language, traced up all languages to Hebrew. The adventurous spirits +to whom I allude have invented a theory of languages in which the +vocabulary is incessantly renewed, and have formed the great "Turanian" +family, in which everything which is neither Aryan, nor Semitic, +nor Chinese, must be perforce included. In this olla podrida, where +the Japanese elbows the Esquimaux, and the Australian shakes hands +with the Turkish, where the Tamul fraternizes with the Hungarian, +a place is carefully reserved for the Basque. Many amateurs, more +daring still, have wedded the Escuara, or at least those who speak it, +to the soi-disant Khamitic tribes of Egypt; others have united them +to the ancient Phoenicians; others have seen in them the descendants +of the Alans; others again, thanks to the Atlantides, make them a +colony of Americans. It is not long since it was seriously affirmed, +and in perfect good faith, that the Basques and the Kelts, the Welsh +or Bretons, understood each other, and could converse at length, +each using his native tongue. I refer these last to the poet Rulhière: + + + "La contrariété tient souvent au langage: + On peut s'entendre moins parlant un même son, + Que si l'un parlait Basque et l'autre Bas-Breton." + + +The more serious of these foes of negative conclusions, of these +refiners of quintessences, assert that the ancestors of the Basques +are incontestably the Iberians. In the first place I will remark that, +supposing this proved, the Basques, or, if you will, the Iberians, +would not be the less isolated; for how could the Iberian, any more +than the Basque, be allied to the Keltic or to the Carthaginian? But +this Iberian theory is not yet at all proved, and it will be easy +to show it to be so in a few words. It reposes first of all on the +following à priori--the Iberians have occupied all Spain and the south +of Gaul, but the Escuara lives still at the foot of the Pyrénées; +therefore the Escuara is a remnant of the language of the Iberians. The +error of the syllogism is patent; the conclusion does not follow, +and is wrongly deduced from the premises. As to the direct proofs, +they are reduced to essays of interpretation, either of inscriptions +called Iberian or Keltiberian, or of numismatic legends, or of proper, +and especially of topographical names. [181] The inscriptions and +legends are written in characters evidently of Phoenician origin, +but their interpretation is anything but certain. All the readings, +all the translations into Basque, proposed by MM. Boudard, Phillips, +and others, are disputed by the linguists who are now studying the +Basque. The names collected from ancient authors form a more solid +basis; but the explanations proposed by W. von Humboldt, and after +him by many etymologists without method, [182] are equally for the +most part inadmissible. The Iberian theory is not proved, though it +is perfectly possible. + +The Basques do not present, in an anthropological point of view, as far +as we know at present, any original and well-defined characteristic +other than their language. [183] Nothing in their manners or customs +is peculiar to them. It is in vain that some writers have tried to +discover the strange custom of the "couvade" among them, a custom still +observed, it is said, by the natives of South America and in the plains +of Tartary. It consists in the husband, when his wife is confined, +going to bed with the new-born infant, and there he "couve," "broods +over it," so to say. No modern or contemporaneous writer has found +this custom among the Basques; and as to historical testimony, it is +reduced to a passage of Strabo--which nothing proves to be applicable +to the ancestors of the present Basques--and to certain allusions in +writers of the last two centuries. These allusions always refer to +the Béarnais, the dialect whence the word "couvade" is borrowed. + +Prince L. L. Bonaparte has discovered that in the Basque dialect of +Roncal the moon is called "Goicoa;" Jaungoicoa is the word for "God" +in Basque, and would mean "the Lord Moon," or rather "our Lord the +Moon." He cites, with reference to this, "the worship of the moon by +the ancient Basques." The only evidence in favour of this worship is +a passage of Strabo (Lib. iii., iv. 16), where it is said that the +Keltiberians, and their neighbours to the north, honour a certain +anonymous God by dances before their doors at night during the full +moon. But it must be proved that the Keltiberians and their neighbours +to the north were Basques. + +Another passage of Strabo has furnished arguments to the "Iberists." He +says (Lib. iii., iv. 18) that among the Cantabrians the daughters +inherited, to the detriment of their brothers. M. Eugène Cordier +has endeavoured, after Laferrière ("Histoire du Droit Français"), +to establish that this arrangement is the origin of the right +of primogeniture without distinction of sex, and which is found +more or less in all the "coutumes" of the Western Pyrénées. He has +developed this theory in an interesting essay, "Sur l'Organisation +de la Famille chez les Basques" (Paris, 1869). But an able lawyer of +Bayonne, M. Jules Balasque, has shown in Vol. II. of his remarkable +"Etudes Historiques sur la Ville de Bayonne" (Bayonne, 1862-75) that +there is nothing peculiar to the Basques in this fact; and we can +only recognise in it, as in the opposite custom of "juveignerie" in +certain northern "coutumes," an application of a principle essentially +Keltic or Gallic for the preservation of the patrimony. + +In conclusion, I beg my readers to excuse the brevity of the preceding +notes; but, pressed for time, and overwhelmed with a multitude of +occupations, it has not been possible for me to do more. If I am +still subject to the reproach which Boileau addresses to those who, +in striving to be concise, become obscure, I have at least endeavoured +to conform to the precept of the Tamul poet, Tiruvalluva--"To call +him a man who lavishes useless words, is to call a man empty straw" +(I. Book, xx. chap., 6th stanza). + + + Bayonne, August 28, 1876. + + + + + + +BASQUE POETRY. + + +I.--PASTORALES. + +Perhaps there is no people among whom versification is so common, +and among whom really high-class poetry is so rare, as among the +Basques. The faculty of rhyming and of improvisation in verse is +constantly to be met with. Not unusually a traveller in one of the +country diligences, especially on a market-day, will be annoyed by +the persistent crooning of one of the company, like Horace of old, +more or less under the inspiration of Bacchus; and if he enquire what +the man is about, he will be told that he is reciting a narrative +in verse of all the events of the past day, mingled probably with +more or less sarcastic reflections on the present company, and with +especial emphasis on the stranger. At the yearly village fêtes, +when the great match of Jeu de Paume au Rebot has been lost or won, +prizes are sometimes given for improvisation on themes suggested +at the moment, and the rapidity of the leading improvisatori [184] +is something marvellous. Moreover, there are two species of native +Drama. One, the Pastorale, the more regular and important, is now +confined to the Vallée of La Saison and the Souletin district. The +other, the Charivari, or Mascarade, more unfettered and impromptu, +giving free rein to the invention of the actors, is occasionally, +but rarely, acted in all districts of the Pays Basque. + +The Pastorale, or Tragedy, is certainly a representative and survival +of the Mediæval Mystery, or Miracle Play; and in the remoter districts +is acted almost as seriously as is the Ammergau Passion Play. It is +an open-air performance, which unites in interminable length, and in +the same piece, tragedy and comedy, music, dancing, and opera. Though +undoubtedly the oldest form in which Basque poetry of any kind is +preserved, it can have no claim to be an indigenous product. The +subjects of the older Pastorales are drawn from three sources--from the +Bible; from the lives of the Saints, or Hagiology; from the Chansons +de Geste and Romances of Chivalry. None of the extant Pastorales, +even in their earliest form, would, we think, be anterior to the +thirteenth century. The anachronisms, the prejudices, the colouring, +the state of education evinced, are all those of the date when the +Chansons de Geste and the Legenda Aurea were the favourite literature +of high and low; the epoch at the close of which flourished the +brilliant petty courts of Gaston de Foix at Orthez, and of the Black +Prince at Bordeaux. The anachronisms make Charlemagne a contemporary +of the Crusaders; Mahomet is an idol, and in the shape of a wooden +puppet sits on a cross-bar over one of the stage-entrances, where +he is worshipped by all his followers as they pass in and out. The +make-up of the characters and the dresses are conventional. But though +we cannot assign any higher antiquity even to the original form of +any of the extant Pastorales--we say original form, because they +have been edited and re-edited generation after generation by almost +every prompter at each successive representation--yet several of the +accessories and part of the stage-business point to possibly older +traditions. The stage, at least in the more inaccessible villages, +where alone the Pastorales are now to be seen in anything like their +genuine form, may still be described as "modicis pulpita tignis." +It is generally constructed against a house in the "Place" of the +village, and is composed of boards resting on inverted barrels; one +or more sheets, suspended from cross-bars, hide the house walls, and +form the background; to this drapery bunches of flowers and flags are +affixed, and thus is formed the whole "scenery"; the rest is open +air and sky. Usually behind the sheet, though sometimes in front on +a chair, sits the prompter, or stage-director; at the corners and +sides of the stage are the stage-keepers, armed with muskets, which +are fired off at certain effective moments, and always at the end of +a fight. But there are four points in which a Pastorale recalls more +ancient traditions: (1) The sexes are never mingled; the Pastorale +being played either entirely by men, or entirely by women. [185] +(2) The speech is always a kind of recitative or chant, varying in +time according to the step of the actors. (3) There is a true chorus. +(4) The feet and metre of the verse correspond to the step and march +of the actors, and to the dancing of the chorus. + +Now, as to (1), the effect is not unpleasing; the boy-lady or the +boy-angel is often one of the most successful actors, and makes an +excellent substitute for the real lady. There is no coarseness in +his acting; on the contrary, there is a certain reserve of movement +caused by the unwonted dress, which looks like a pleasing modesty, +and makes the boy appear really lady-like. His get-up is generally +unexceptionable. + +We have once only had an opportunity of seeing a girl's Pastorale, +"Ste. Helène," at Garindein, in April of the present year, +1879. Unfortunately it was interrupted, almost as soon as commenced, +by violent rain. The costumes were very modest and pretty. The heroines +of the piece wore blue or scarlet-jackets, with long white skirts; +the lady-heroes had shorter skirts and white unmentionables. The +Pastorale of "Ste. Helène" has nothing to do with the mother of +Constantine the Great, or with the Invention of the Cross. It is an +olla podrida of old legends. The opening scene is taken from "The King +who wished to marry his own daughter" (see above, p. 165.) A King +Antoina wishes to marry his daughter Helène, and for that purpose +procures a dispensation from the Pope, who appears on the scene, +attended by an angel. Helène, however, still refuses, and escapes; she +embarks for England, but the captain of the vessel falls outrageously +in love with her (cf. "Juan Dekos," p. 148). A shipwreck saves her +from his persecutions; she lands alone in England, is seen by Henry, +King of England, who falls in love with her and forthwith marries +her, in spite of his mother's objections. He is forced to go to the +wars; Helène gives birth to twin boys, but the queen-mother changes +the letter, and sends word to the King that she is confined of two +puppies (cf. "The singing tree, the bird which tells the truth, and +the water that makes young," p. 177). Ste. Helène is condemned to +death; Clarice, her maid, offers to die in her stead, but both escape; +the boys, who were supposed to have been murdered, at last reappear, +and all ends happily as in the legends. The part of the "Satans" was +taken by three middle-aged men, in buff breeches and white stockings, +who danced very well. The preliminary procession on horseback, and +the opening scene on the stage, were exceedingly pretty. + +(2) The recitative is always accompanied by music; generally a violin +or two, a flute, the chirola, and the so-called Basque tambourine, +a species of six-stringed guitar, beaten by a short stick, or +plectrum. The tune is almost a monotone, but differs in time, being +faster or slower according to the action of the piece; with the +exception of those parts in which the chorus alone has possession +of the stage, when the Saut Basque or other lively dancing airs are +played. The strong, clear chant of the actor accompanying this music, +which is never overpowering in its loudness, is heard much better and +to a greater distance in the open air than any mere speaking would +be; and, moreover, it prevents rant, without altogether effacing +vivacity. For (3) there is a singular idea running through all +these Basque Pastorales, according to which sanctity and nobility +of character are associated with calmness of demeanour and tone, and +villany and devilry of all kinds with restlessness and excitement. The +angels and saints, the archbishops and bishops, move with folded +hands and softly gliding steps; the heroes walk majestically slow; +the common soldiers are somewhat more animated and careless in their +gestures; the Saracens, the enemies, the villains, rush wildly about; +but the chorus, or "Satans," are ever in restless, aimless, agitated +movement, except when engaged in actual dancing. It is on these last, +the chorus--of whom there should be three, or two at least--that +the great fatigue and burden of the acting weighs. None but the most +active and well-knit lads can play the part, and even them it tries +severely. This chorus is invariably called "Satans;" their dress is +always rigidly the same, and a pretty one it is--red beret or cap, red +open jacket, white trousers with red stripes, red sashes, spartingues +(hempen sandals) bound with red ribands; and they carry a little +wand ornamented with red ribands and terminating in a three-forked +hooked prong. [186] Blue is the colour consecrated to the good and +virtuous; red to the enemy and the vicious, to the English, Saracens, +and "Satans." The task of the "Satans" is not only to take part among +the actors, but the difficulty of their utterance is much heightened +by the compelled rapidity of their movements, while at intervals, when +the stage is empty of other actors, they occupy the front corners +of it, and dance the wild Saut Basque, singing at the same time some +reflections on, or anticipations of, the action of the piece played, +much like the chorus of a Greek tragedy; but, in addition to this, +there is generally a comic interlude, more or less impromptu, and +very slightly, if at all, connected with the main piece, wherein the +"Satans" take the principal rôle, together with the best comedian of +the other actors. This is done to relieve the tedium of the heavy +tragedy, and, oddly enough, is often spoken partly in Gascon or in +French, while only Basque is used in the Pastorale proper. (4) As will +be judged from the above remarks, there is, perhaps, no spectacle in +Europe from which the original relations of feet, line, pause, metre, +verse, strophe, antistrophe, and rhythm in music, dance, and poetry +can be better studied than at a Basque Pastorale. It will be seen +there at a glance how far these terms are from being mere metaphors. + +Now, when we add that many of the actors in these Pastorales +cannot--scarcely any could before the present generation--read or +write; that the Pastorales extend from three to seven thousand lines, +distributed in ballad verses of four lines each, the second and fourth +rhyming; and that the representations last from six to eight hours, +our readers may imagine the amount of serious preparation required +where every sentence has to be learned by heart from repetition of +a reader or reciter. Consequently, to get up a Pastorale, a whole +winter is not too long. The task is generally performed at home in +the actor's family, or in a house where two or three meet together +for the study, if neighbours. We have seen some pleasing instances of +the pride the whole family take in the success of the actor. Asking +once a pretty boy where he could have learnt to play his part of +lady in so very ladylike a manner, he answered, "From my father +and my mother in the winter." At another time we had as companion +in a long day's walk a man upwards of sixty, who had been a "Satan" +in his youth. He explained how very trying it is both to dance well +and to sing at the same time so as to be clearly heard. His father +had been a "Satan" before him, and had trained him for the occasion, +and had made him eat two raw eggs before commencing. He spoke of the +joy of the whole family when his performance was successful, though he +lost his voice for several days afterwards. To show what his former +agility must have been, he cleared every fence and obstacle in our +path gallantly, despite his sixty years. These Pastorales are seldom, +if ever, acted as a money speculation, but during the acting of them +one or two young men, accompanied by a pretty girl, make the round +of the spectators, offering a glass of wine, in quasi-payment for +which you are expected to place a coin in the plate which the maiden +carries. The amount collected is seldom much beyond what is required +for the necessary expenses; more often it is below, but if anything +remains it is spent on a grand feast to all the actors. The number +of Pastorales in existence is variously stated at from seventy to +two hundred. The former number we believe to be the nearer to the +fact. The names of those best known are as follows:-- + + +From the Bible and Hagiology. + +Abraham, avec Sara and Agar S. Claudieus et Ste. Marsimissa +Josué de Moïse Ste. Engrace +Nabuchodonosor Ste. Helène, or Elaine +S. Pierre Ste. Geneviève +S. Jacques Les Trois Martyrs +S. Jean Baptiste Ste. Agnes +S. Louis Ste. Catherine +S. Alexis Ste. Marguerite +S. Roch La Destruction de Jerusalem + + +Classical. + +Bacchus Alexandre + + +Chansons de Geste, etc. + +Clovis Les Douze Pairs de France +Mustafa, le Grand Turc Les Quatre Fils Aymon +Astiaga Geneviève de Brabant +Charlemagne Richard Sans Peur, Duc de Normandie [187] +Thibaut Jeanne d'Arc +Godefroi de Bouillon et la Jean Caillabit + Deliverance de Jerusalem La Princesse de Gamatie +Marie de Navarre Jean de Paris +Roland Jean de Calais [188] + + +Modern. + +Napoleon--(1) Le Consulat + (2) L'Empire + (3) Ste. Helène + + +We will now give a brief epitome of "Abraham" as a specimen, not of +the best, but of the only one which we have at hand in MS., [189] +for none of the Pastorales, we believe, have ever been printed in +extenso. The dramatis personæ are: + + + +The Eternal Father, who speaks chiefly in Latin quotations from the +Vulgate, and always from behind the scenes, i.e., the suspended sheets +mentioned above. + +Three Angels--Michael, Raphael, Gabriel--all of whom mingle quotations +from the Vulgate with their Basque. + +Abraham, Sara, Agar, Isaac, and Ismael. + +Lot, and Uxor (sic) Lot's wife. + +Tina and Mina, Lot's daughters. + +Salamiel and Nahason, shepherds of Abraham. + +Sylva and Milla, shepherds of Lot. + +Melchisedec. + +Escol, a companion of Abraham. + +All / Raphel (Amraphel) \ +these | Arioch | Kings of the Turks (Turcac). +names | Thadal | +are | Chodorlaomor / +from < Sennaab \ +the | Bara | +Vulgate. | Bersa > Good Kings. + | Semeber | + \ Bala / + +Pharaon, King of Egypt. + +Corion and Gober, Pharaon's courtiers. + +Astaroch \ +Telemar | Good Soldiers, defenders of the Holy Religion. +Cormaim | +Zuzite / + +Chavoq and Chorre, good giants, killed by the Turkish kings. + +Cocor, Patar; Maneton, and Catilie, inhabitants of Sodom. The last +two are ladies. Maneton is a diminutive from Marie--Manon, Manette, +Maneton; like Jeannette, Jeanneton, from Jeanne. + +"Satans"--Satan and Bulgifer--who swear most frightfully in French, +on the principle, perhaps, of omne ignotum pro magnifico, and because +swearing, while more terrible, is less mischievous when uttered in +a tongue "not understanded of the people." + + + +Abraham is the model of a Christian, and Abraham and Pharaon both +address their followers as "barons." Satan flatteringly addresses the +shepherds by the Spanish title "Caballeros" when he wants to lead them +into mischief. The actors are by no means so numerous as the "rôles"; +one takes several successive parts, often without change of dress, +a custom which heightens not a little the difficulty of following an +acted Pastorale. + +There is more dramatic unity in "Abraham," and the main plot is +more skilfully conducted than might be expected from its title. The +key-note of the action is given at once when Satan and Bulgifer +appear on horseback in the "Place" in front of the stage, and +announce their project of "tormenting Abraham," and of "weakening +the Christian Faith." The plot then follows pretty closely the Bible +narrative. Only it is Satan and Bulgifer who are the authors of all +Abraham's misfortunes and vexations; although the angels constantly +appear to save him when matters are at their worst. It is the +"Satans" who inflame Pharaon in Egypt with the report and sight +of Sara's beauty; it is they who stir up strife between Abraham's +and Lot's herdsmen; they are delighted with the wickedness of the +inhabitants of Sodom, which they direct to suit their own purposes; +they stir up war against Abraham and Lot in the persons of the +Turkish kings with Biblical names. These at first conquer Lot, and +one by one slay all his partisans, including the good giants Chavoq +and Chorre, whose corpses are carried off by Satan to be feasted +upon, with the licorish exclamation: "O what cutlets! what a fine +leg!!" Then they tempt Agar, and make her quarrel with Sara. In the +scene preceding the destruction of Sodom, although the angels are +present, the inhabitants round Lot's door are blinded, not by them, +but "by some magician." Lot's wife, Uxor, when to be changed into +a pillar of salt, ingeniously falls under the stage, and there the +transformation takes place unseen. When Isaac is born, he is forthwith +baptised. Agar and Ismael are driven into the desert, and are saved +by the angel Gabriel. The play then gradually works up to the climax, +the sacrifice of Isaac--the last and terrible temptation--in which the +"Satans" tempt the "two Christians," Abraham and Isaac, to unbelief +and disobedience, and are foiled as ever. After this, the action +languishes, Abraham dies, and the Pastorale comes to an end. All the +actors appear on the stage and chant the De Profundis, then the angels +sing, and all unite in a concluding chant. We give a few verses from +the scene of the sacrifice as a specimen of the whole:-- + + +SATAN AND BULGIFER; ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. + +Satan. + + Abraham, art thou ignorant? + What art thou thinking of? + Leave him in life; + Thou hast some wise hairs. + + I tell thee to return + To the house with the child; + And there you shall live + With very great joy. + + +Abraham. + + Ah! alas! wretched torment! + Always thus on this earth + Satan doth vex me + In all my doings. + + Nevertheless, I take courage; + Yes, even now + To slay Isaac + I am ready on the instant. + + He has given me the order, + The good God Himself, + That I sacrifice Isaac + On this mountain myself. + + +Bulgifer. + + He who gave you this order + Was not God. No! + Go off to your house, + And take your young son. + + +Abraham. + + My only son Isaac, + If I sacrifice him, + All of my race + I quickly destroy. + + The good God had told me + That he would marry; + But if he dies now, + How can that be? + + I trust, nevertheless, + On our Lord God; + I am willing to offer to Him, + To Him alone, my son. + + +At last Satan and Bulgifer go off, exclaiming:-- + + + O, you accursed one! + You always overcome us; + To confusion always + You do put us. + + But, if we no more tempt you, + We will tempt some one else; + And we will even take down + To hell some soul. + + In despair we depart + For ever from thee; + And we leave you now + In a very sad case. + + +After a few words between father and son, Isaac then offers himself, +and prays as follows:-- + + + People, I pray you, look + On this poor innocent child; + I am about to leave the world, + And have done harm to none. (Music.) + + O Lord! our Saviour! + Unjustly crucified! + Lord, I must also + Soon leave this world. (Music.) + + O King of Heaven! + Who art powerful + Above all other, + Wise and triumphant. (Music.) + + I ask pardon of Thee + For all my sins, + Wherewith I oft have offended + Thee from my birth. + + +He binds himself, and goes on:-- + + + All those, O Lord! + Blot from remembrance; + To Thy glory, I pray, + Receive me immediately. + + King of the Angels, + Prince of the Heaven, + May'st Thou grant me, + I pray Thee, Thy rest. + + I ask Thee pardon + From my whole heart; + Succour me, O Lord! + With Thy holy hand. + + I have not enough wit + To thank Thee therewith; + But if to Heaven I should go, + There will I praise Thee. + + O Lord! I pray Thee, have pity! + Thou shouldest grant it me; + For to leave this world + I am determined. + + Angel of the Lord, + Grant me strength, + Since Thou art + My Guide! + + Lord, I commend + To Thee my spirit; + It is Thou Who first + Hast created me. + + And O! great God! I pray, + If it be Thy will, + In the repose of the blessed + Place my soul. + + Father,--whenever You will,-- + Sacrifice me now;-- + To find my God + I would depart. + + +Abraham is in the act of sacrificing when the Angel Gabriel seizes +him from behind, and bids him not do it, &c., &c. Any foreigner who, +unless he has a most charming interpreter or interpretress, can sit +out a whole Pastorale would surely deserve the first prize in the +school of patience. + +The other kind of dramatic performance is much more irregular, and +may assume various forms according to the circumstances which give +occasion to it. It may be only a wild kind of carnival procession, +the Mascarade, where each gesticulates as the character he represents; +or a charivari in honour (?) of a dotard's marriage, wherein the +advantages of celibacy over married life are sarcastically set forth; +or it may take the form of a really witty impromptu comedy played +on a tiny stage in honour of the marriage or the good fortune of +the most popular persons of the village. One of the first kind is +excellently described in Chaho's "Biarritz, entre les Pyréneés et +l'Océan," vol. ii. pp. 84-121, to which we refer the reader. One +of the last kind was acted at Louhossoa about 1866, on the double +occasion of some marriages, and of the return of some young men from +South America. There were three actors; the piece was witty and well +played, and seemed to give the greatest satisfaction to the audience. + + + + +II. + +If we except the Pastorales, the whole of Basque poetry may be +described as lyrical; either secular, as songs, or religious, as hymns +and noëls. There is no epic in Basque, [190] and scarcely any narrative +ballads; even those chiefly are of uncertain date. A few sonnets +exist, but they are almost exclusively translations or imitations +of French, Spanish, or classical poems, and cannot be considered as +genuine productions of the Basque muse. Some of the religious poetry +may be described as didactic, but this again is mostly paraphrase +or translation. All that is really native is lyrical. But even in +song the Basques show no remarkable poetical merit. The extreme +facility with which the language lends itself to rhyming desinence +has a most injurious effect upon versification. There are not verses +only, but whole poems, in which each line terminates with the same +desinence. Instead of striving after that perfection of form which +the change of a single word or even letter would affect injuriously, +the Basques are too often satisfied with this mere rhyme. Their +compositions, too, if published at all, are usually printed only on +single sheets of paper, easily dispersed and soon lost. Hence the +preservation of Basque poetry is entrusted mainly to the memory, +and thus it happens that one scarcely meets with two copies of the +same song exactly alike. If the memory fails, the missing words and +rhymes are so easily supplied by others that it is not worth the effort +to recall the precise expression used. And so it comes to pass that, +while versification is very common among the Basques, high-class poetry +is extremely rare. They have no song writers to compare with Burns or +with Béranger. And if it be alleged that poets like these are rare, +even among people far more numerous and more cultivated, the Basques +still fall short, when measured by a much lower standard. They have no +poets to rival the Gascon, Jasmin, or to compare with the Provençal or +the Catalan singers at the other end of the Pyrenean chain. There is no +modern Basque song which can be placed by the side of "Le Demiselle" +and others of the Biarritz poet, Justin Larrebat; and among the +older poets neither Dechepare nor Oyhenart is equal to the Béarnais, +Despourrins. While the Jacobite songs of Scotland are among the finest +productions of her lyric muse, the Carlist songs, on the contrary, +though telling of an equally brave and romantic struggle, are one and +all below mediocrity. But, while fully admitting this, there is yet +much that is pleasing in Basque poetry. If it has no great merits, +it is still free from any very gross defects. It is always true and +manly, and completely free from affectation. It is seldom forced, +and the singer sings just because it pleases him to do so, not to +satisfy a craving vanity or to strain after the name and fame of +a poet. The moral tone is almost always good. If at times, as in +the drinking songs, and in some few of the amatory, the expression +is free and outspoken, vice is never glossed over or covered with a +false sentimentality. The Basque is never mawkish or equivocal--with +him right is right, and wrong is wrong, and Basque poetry leaves no +unpleasant after-taste behind. [191] + +The only peculiarity, in a poetical sense, is the extreme fondness +for, and frequent employment of, allegory. In the love songs the fair +one is constantly addressed under some allegorical disguise. It is +a star the lover admires, or it is the nightingale who bewails his +sad lot. The loved one is a flower, or a heifer, a dove or a quail, +a pomegranate or an apple, figures common to the poets of other +countries; but the Basques, even the rudest of them, never confuse +these metaphors, as more famous poets sometimes do--the allegory +is ever consistently maintained throughout. Even in prose they are +accustomed to this use of allegory, and catch up the slightest allusion +to it; but to others it often renders their poetry obscure, and very +difficult of successful translation. The stranger is in doubt whether +a given poem is really meant only for a description of the habits of +the nightingale, or whether the bird is a pseudonym for the poet or +the poet's mistress. Curiously enough, sometimes educated Basques +seem to have almost as much difficulty in seizing this allegory as +have foreigners. Thus, in a work now in course of publication, [192] +one of the most famous of these allegorical complaints is actually +taken for a poetical description of the nightingale itself. + +The historical songs, like all other historical remains among +the Basques, are few and doubtful. There are two songs, however, +for which are claimed a greater historical importance and a higher +antiquity than any others can pretend to. These are the so-called +"Leloaren Cantua" and the "Altabiskarco Cantua." Both these are +reputed by some writers to be almost contemporaneous with the events +which they relate. The first is said to be founded on the wars of the +Roman Emperor Augustus with the Cantabri; the second is an account of +the defeat of Charlemagne's rearguard at Roncesvalles, A.D. 778. The +former may be some three hundred years old, but the latter is certainly +a production of the nineteenth century, though none the less it is +the most spirited offspring of the Basque muse. We will give the text +and translation of each, and then justify our conclusions. + + + LELOAREN CANTUA. SONG OF LELO. + + 1. 1. + + lelo. yl lelo; Lelo, dead (is) Lelo; + lelo. yl lelo; Lelo, dead (is) Lelo; + leloa çarat [193] Lelo, Zara (?) [193] + il leloa. Killed Lelo. + + 2. 2. + + Romaco armac The arms of Rome + aleguin eta do all they can, and + Vizcayac daroa Biscay raises + Zanzoa. The song of war. + + 3. 3. + + Octabiano Octavianus, + munduco jauna Of the world lord, + le coby di [193] Lecobidi (?) [193] + Vizcayocoa. of Biscay. + + 4. 4. + + Ichasotati By sea + eta leorres and by land + y mini deusco he has placed us + molsoa. the siege. + + 5. 5. + + leor celayac The dry plains + bereac dira are theirs; + menditan tayac the high mountains, + leusoac. the caverns (are ours). + + 6. 6. + + lecu yronyan In favourable ground + gagozanyan when we are, + nocbera sendo each one firm + daugogoa. has heart (?) + + 7. 7. + + bildurric guichi Little fear + armabardinas (with) equal arms, + oramayasu (but) our kneading-trough + guexoa. (goes) ill. + + 8. 8. + + Soyacgogorrac Hard corselets + badyri tuys wear they; + narrubiloxa Bare body; + surboa. (more) agility (?) + + 9. 9. + + bost urteco For five years, + egun gabean by day, by night, + gueldi bagaric without ceasing, + pochoa. (lasts) the siege (?) + + 10. 10. + + gurecobata One of ours + ylbadaguyan when he is dead, + bost amarren five tens + galdoa. they lose (?) + + 11. 11. + + aecanista They many and + gue guichitaya we few (?) + asqugudugu at last we have made + lalboa. the peace. + + 12. 12. + + gueurelurrean In our land + ta aen errian and in his village + biroch ainbaten are tied in the same way + zamoa. the loads (of wood). + + 13. 13. + + Ecin gueyago (It is) impossible more. + + (The rest of this + verse is lost through + a rent in the paper.) + + 14. 14. + + tiber lecua Tiber the place + gueldico zabal remains broad (?) + Uchin tamayo Uchin Tamayo (?) + grandoya. very large. + + 15. + + (Torn.) + + 16. 16. + + andiaristac The great oaks + gueisto syndoas yield + beticonayas to the constant strokes + narraca. (of) the woodpecker. + + +The history of the above song is as follows: At the close of the +sixteenth century a notary of Zornoza, J. Iñiguez de Ibargüen, was +commissioned by the Junta of Biscay to search the principal libraries +of Spain for documents relating to the Basques. In the archives of +Simancas he discovered an ancient MS. on parchment, containing verses +in Basque, some almost, others wholly obliterated. Of these he copied +what he could, and inserted them in p. 71 of his "Cronica general de +España y sumaria de Vizcaya," a work which still exists in manuscript +in the town of Marquina. From this history of Ibargüen the song was +first reproduced by the celebrated Wilhelm von Humboldt, and published +by him in 1817 in a supplement to Vater's "Mithridates." The text +above given is taken from that of the "Cancionero Vasco," Series +2, iii., pp. 18, 20, and claims to be a new and literal copy from +the MS. "Cronica" of Ibargüen. From the date of its publication by +Humboldt, this piece has been the subject of much discussion. That +it is one of the oldest fragments of Basque poetry hardly admits +of doubt. But, when asked to believe that it is contemporary with +Augustus, we must hesitate. The question arises: Did Ibargüen copy +the almost defaced original exactly as it was, or did he suffer +his declared predilections unconsciously to influence his reading +of it? [194] Many of the words are still very obscure, and the +translation of them is almost guess work. The first verse has little +or no apparent connection with the rest of the poem, and has given +rise to the most fanciful interpretations. Lelo has been imagined by +some to be the name of a Basque hero; Zara, or Zarat, who kills him, +the name of another; and the two reproduce the story of Agamemnon and +Ægisthus. Others, with more probability, take Lelo, as is certainly +the case in other poems, for a mere refrain (the everlasting Lelo, +as a Basque proverb has it) used by the singer merely to give the +key to the tune or rhythm to which he modulates the rest. Chaho, with +his usual audacity, would translate it "glory," and render it thus:-- + + + Finished is the glory! dead is the glory, + Our glory! + Old age has killed the glory, + Our glory! + + +But it has been very plausibly suggested [195] that the verse bears a +suspicious likeness to a vague reminiscence of the Moslem cry "Lâ Êlah +Ulâ Allah!" &c.; and if so, this, in the north of Spain, would at one +bound place the poem some eight centuries at least after the time of +Augustus. The proper names have a too correct look. Octabiano, Roma, +and Tiber are far too much like the Latin; for if Greeks and Romans +complained, as do Strabo and Mela, of the difficulty of transcribing +Basque or Iberian names into their own language, the Basques might +possibly find a somewhat corresponding difficulty in transcribing +Greek and Latin names into Basque. Moreover, in a later verse appears +"Uchin," a sobriquet for "Augustino," as a baptismal name in use among +the Spanish Basques to this day. What the poem really refers to we +dare not assert. We present the "Leloaren Cantua" to our readers +simply as one of the oldest curiosities of Basque verse, without +pledging ourselves to any particular date or interpretation thereof. + +Fortunately, we shall be able to speak with much more decision of the +"Altabiskarco Cantua," of which the following is the latest text:-- + + + ALTABISKARCO CANTUA. + + 1. + + Oyhu bat aditua izan da + Escualdunen mendien artetic, + Eta etcheco jaunac, bere athearen aitcinean chutic + Ideki tu beharriac, eta erran du: "Nor da hor? Cer nahi dautet?" + Eta chacurra, bere nausiaren oinetan lo zagüena, + Altchatu da, eta karrasiz Altabiscarren inguruac bethe ditu. + + 2. + + Ibañetaren lepoan harabotz bat aghertcen da, + Urbiltcen da, arrokac ezker eta ezcuin jotcen dituelaric; + Hori da urrundic heldu den armada baten burrumba. + Mendien copetetaric guriec errespuesta eman diote; + Beren tuten soinua adiaraci dute, + Eta etcheco jaunac bere dardac zorrozten tu. + + 3. + + Heldu dira! heldu dira! cer lantzazco sasia! + Nola cer nahi colorezco banderac heien erdian aghertcen diren + Cer simistac atheratcen diren heien armetaric! + Cembat dira? Haurra condatzic onghi! + Bat, biga, hirur, laur, bortz, sei, zazpi, zortzi, bederatzi, + hamar, hameca, hamabi, + Hamahirur, hamalaur, hamabortz, hamasei, hamazazpi, hemezortzi, + hemeretzi, hogoi. + + 4. + + Hogoi eta milaca oraino! + Heien condatcea demboraren galtcea liteque. + Urbilditzagun gure beso zailac, errotic athera ditzagun arroca + horiec, + Botha ditzagun mendiaren patarra behera + Hein buruen gaineraino; + Leher ditzagun, herioz jo ditzagun. + + 5. + + Cer nahi zuten gure mendietaric Norteco guizon horiec? + Certaco jin dira gure bakearen nahastera? + Jaungoicoac mendiac eguin dituenean nahi izan du hec guizonec ez + pasatcea. + Bainan arrokac biribilcolica erortcen dira, tropac lehertcen + dituzte. + Odola churrutan badoa, haraghi puscac dardaran daude. + Oh! cembat hezur carrascatuac! cer odolezco itsasoa! + + 6. + + Escapa! escapa! indar eta zaldi dituzeneac! + Escapa hadi, Carlomano erreghe, hire luma beltzekin eta hire + capa gorriarekin; + Hire iloba maitea, Errolan zangarra, hantchet hila dago; + Bere zangartasuna beretaco ez tu izan. + Eta orai, Escualdunac, utz ditzagun arroca horiec, + Jauts ghiten fite, igor ditzagun gure dardac escapatcen direnen + contra. + + 7. + + Badoazi! badoazi! non da bada lantzazco sasi hura? + Non dira heien erdian agheri ciren cer nahi colorezco bandera hec? + Ez da gheiago simiztarik atheratcen heien arma odolez bethetaric. + Cembat dira? Haurra, condatzac onghi. + Hogoi, hemeretzi, hemezortzi, hamazazpi, hamasei, hamabortz, + hamalaur, hamairur, + Hamabi, hameca, hamar, bederatzi, zortzi, zazpi, sei, bortz, laur, + hirur biga, bat. + + 8. + + Bat! ez da bihiric aghertcen gheiago. Akhabo da! + Etcheco jauna, joaiten ahal zira zure chacurrarekin, + Zure emaztearen eta zure haurren besarcatcera, + Zure darden garbitcera eta alchatcera zure tutekin, + Eta ghero heien gainean etzatera eta lo gitera. + Gabaz, arranoac joainen dira haraghi pusca lehertu horien jatera, + Eta hezur horiec oro churituco dira eternitatean. + + + + SONG OF ALTABISCAR. + + 1. + + A cry is heard + From the Basque mountain's midst. + Etcheco Jauna, [196] at his door erect, + Listens, and cries, "What want they? Who goes there?" + At his lord's feet the dog that sleeping lay + Starts up, his bark fills Altabiscar [197] round. + + 2. + + Through Ibañeta's* pass the noise resounds, + Striking the rocks on right and left it comes; + 'Tis the dull murmur of a host from far, + From off the mountain heights our men reply, + Sounding aloud the signal of their horns; + Etcheco Jauna whets his arrows then. + + 3. + + They come! They come! See, what a wood of spears + What flags of myriad tints float in the midst! + What lightning-flashes glance from off their arms! + How many be they? Count them well, my child. + 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, + 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20. + + 4. + + Twenty, and thousands more! + 'Twere but lost time to count. + Our sinewy arms unite, tear up the rocks, + Swift from the mountain tops we hurl them down + Right on their heads, + And crush, and slay them all. + + 5. + + What would they in our hills, these Northern men? + Why come they here our quiet to disturb? + God made the hills intending none should pass. + Down fall the rolling rocks, the troops they crush! + Streams the red blood! Quivers the mangled flesh! + Oh! what a sea of blood! What shattered bones! + + 6. + + Fly, to whom strength remaineth and a horse! + Fly, Carloman, red cloak and raven plumes! + Lies thy stout nephew, Roland, stark in death; + For him his brilliant courage naught avails. + And, now, ye Basques, leaving awhile these rocks, + Down on the flying foe your arrows shower! + + 7. + + They run! They run! Where now that wood of spears? + Where the gay flags that flaunted in their midst? + Rays from their bloodstained arms no longer flash! + How many are they? Count them well, my child. + 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, + 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. + + 8. + + One! There is left not one. 'Tis o'er! + Etcheco Jauna home with thy dog retire. + Embrace thy wife and child, + Thine arrows clean, and stow them with thine horn; + And then, lie down and sleep thereon. + At night yon mangled flesh shall eagles [198] eat, + And to eternity those bones shall bleach. + + (This translation is due to the kindness of a friend.) + + +The history of this song is very curious, and shows the little value of +subjective criticism in any but the most competent hands. The MS. of +it is alleged to have been found on the 5th of August, 1794, in a +convent at Fuenterrabia, by La Tour d'Auvergne, the celebrated "premier +grenadier" of the French Army. It was printed about the year 1835, by +Monglave, and accepted as a genuine contemporary document by Fauriel, +Chaho, Cenac-Moncaut, and many other French writers; by Lafuente, +Amador de los Rios, and other Spanish authors; by Araquistain, +and by the Editors of the "Revista Euskara" and of the "Cancionero +Vasco" among the Basques. It is needless to say that all guide-books, +tourist sketches, et hoc genus omne, have adopted it. It was inserted +as genuine by Fr. Michel, in the Gentleman's Magazine, in 1858, and in +more recent years a translation appeared in another London magazine. In +the "Basques et Navarrais" of M. Louis Lande, lately published, it is +alluded to as genuine; and the Saturday Review of the 17th of August, +1878, quotes it as a corroboration of the "Chanson de Roland." [199] +There have been some, however, who have stoutly opposed these claims; +among them M. Barry, of Toulouse, M. Gaston Paris, and M. J. F. Blade, +which last writer, both in a separate pamphlet and in his "Études +sur l'Origine des Basques" (Paris, 1859), has shown from internal +grounds its want of authenticity. M. Alexandre Dihinx, a Basque, in +a series of articles in the Impartial, of Bayonne, for 1873, which +have since been reprinted by M. J. Vinson, in L'Avenir, of Bayonne, +May of the present year, conclusively proved both the incorrectness +and the modern character of its Basque. But all these authors seem +either to have been unaware of, or to have unaccountably overlooked, +the true history of the piece. When M. Fr. Michel published this, +and another song called "Abarcaren Cantua," in the Gentleman's +Magazine, in 1858, as specimens of ancient Basque poetry, a letter +from M. Antoine d'Abbadie, Membre de l'Institut, appeared forthwith in +the number for March, 1859, stating that the Abarca song had actually +been among the unsuccessful pieces submitted for the prize in the +poetical competition at Urrugne, of the previous August; and he adds:-- + + + "I am sorry that the Altabiscarraco cantua, mentioned in your + same number, is acknowledged as a gem of ancient popular poetry. + Truth compels me to deny that it is universally admitted as such, + for one of my Basque neighbours has often named the person who, + about twenty four years ago, composed it in French, and the other + person, who translated it into modern but indifferent Basque. [200] + The latter idiom, on purely philological ground, stands peerless + among the most ancient languages in Europe, and I have felt it my + duty to disclaim unfounded pretensions of which it has no + need.--I am, etc., + + + "Antoine d'Abbadie, + + "London, Jan. 31, 1859." + Correspond. de l'Institut de France. + + +In the next number M. Fr. Michel writes, "henceforth I will believe +that the songs called Abarcaren Cantua and Altabiscarraco Cantua are +forgeries"; this testimony is decisive. It has often been repeated by +M. d'Abbadie, with the additional assurance that he knows not only the +house, but the very room in which the song was first composed. That +the language is modern and indifferent Basque is very evident in the +text given by M. Fr. Michel in "Le Pays Basque, Paris, 1857." That +above, taken from the "Cancionero Vasco" of the present year, is +considerably corrected and improved. All attempts, and many efforts +have been made, to force these irregular lines into any known form +of Basque rhythm have hitherto signally failed. For the amusement of +some of our readers we give below a list of the more evident foreign +words in this and in the "Leloaren Cantua." The relative antiquity +will thus be seen at a glance:-- + + + L, Latin; S, Spanish; F, French; G, German words. + + + SONG OF LELO. + + Romako Roma L + Armac arma L + Octabiano Octavianus L + Munduco mundus L + Lecu (?) locus L + Tiber Tiber L + Grandoya / grandis L + \ grandioso S + + + SONG OF ALTABISCAR. + + Copetetaric (?) caput L + Armada armada S + Errespuesta respuesta S + Dardac dard F + Colorezco color S + Banderac bandera S + Simistac / quimista S + | chimiste F + \ both from Arabic + Tropac tropa S + Arroca roca S + Escapa escapar S + Carlomano Karlomann G + Errolan Roland F + Erreghe rex, rege L + Luma [201] (?) pluma S + Fite vite F + Capa capa S + Condatcea contar S + Milaca / mille L + \ mil S + Demboraren tempus tempora L + Norteco norte S + Pasatcea pasar S + Contra contra L + Lantzazco lanza S + Akhabo acabar S + Besarcatcera besar S + Eternitatean eternidad S + + +With reference to the above list we may observe that the Basque never +begins a word with r, but always prefixes a euphonic er, ar, ir; +hence er-respuesta, ar-roca, Er-rolan, er-rege, hir-risko, risque, +F. In later copies editors have altered "Romaco," in the "Song of +Lelo," into "Er-romaco," to give it more of a Basque look. Aren, +or aen, eco-aco-co are case terminations; tcea-cea marks the verbal +noun. Carlomann was never the name of Charlemagne, but of his +brother and his uncle. Er-rolan is evidently from the French Roland; +neither from the Hruotlandus of Einhardus, nor from the Spanish +Roldan. Defenders of the authenticity of the piece allege that these +words are only corruptions, introduced in the course of ages; but +our readers can judge for themselves how far they enter into the very +structure of the composition. + +The first book printed in Basque, the "Linguæ Vasconum Primitiæ, +per Dominum Bernardum Echepare" (Bordeaux, 1545), is a collection of +his poems, religious and amatory, the latter predominating. Echepare +was the parish priest of the pretty little village of St. Michel, on +the Béhérobie Nive, above St. Jean Pied de Port; and, if Nature alone +could inspire a poet, he ought at least to have rivalled those of our +own English Lakes. But, in truth, his verses are of scant poetical +merit, and of little interest save as a philological curiosity. [202] +They belong so distinctly to that irritating mediocrity which never +can be excused in a poet. After Echepare the next author is Arnauld +Oyhenart, of Mauléon, who published a collection of his youthful +Basque poems in Paris, 1657. These have, if anything, less poetical +value than Echepare's; but Oyhenart's collection of proverbs and his +"Notitia Utriusque Vasconiæ" will always make his name stand high +among Basque writers. Except hymns and noëls (Christmas carols), +of which many collections and editions have been published from 1630 +downwards, and some of which are noteworthy on account of higher than +mere poetical merit, the deep and evidently genuine spirit of piety +they evince, [203] little else is preserved much older than the present +century. One ballad indeed there is, "The Betrothed of Tardetz," which +may be somewhat older. No two versions of it are exactly alike, though +the outline of the story is always the same. The Lord of the Castle of +Tardetz wishes to give the elder of his two daughters in marriage to +the King of Hungary, or of Portugal, as some have it. But the lady's +heart has been already won by Sala, the son of the miller of Tardetz, +and she bitterly bewails being "sold like a heifer." The bells which +ring for her wedding will soon toll for her funeral. The romance in +its present form is evidently incomplete, but apparently ended with +the corpse of the bride being brought back to her father's castle. + +Most of the Basque songs, except the drinking ones, are set, more or +less, in a minor key. The majority of the love songs would have been +described by our forefathers as "complaints." One of the prettiest, +both in words and music, is the fragment entitled "The Hermitage of +St. Joseph":-- + + + 1. 1. + + Chorittua, nurat hua Little bird, where goest thou + Bi hegalez airian? On thy two wings in the air? + Españalat juaiteko To Spain to go, + Elhürra dük borthian: The snow is on the passes: + Juanen gütük alkharreki We will go together + Hura hurtü denian. When the snow is melted. + + 2. 2. + + San-Josefan ermita The Hermitage of Saint Joseph + Desertian gora da; Is high in the desert + Españalat juaitian. In going to Spain. + Han da ene phausada; There is my resting-place, + Guibelilat so' gin eta There have I looked behind, and + Hasperena ardüra! The sigh is frequent. + + 3. 3. + + Hasperena, habilua Sigh, go + Maitenaren borthala: To the door of my beloved. + Habil, eta erran izok Go, and tell her + Nik igorten haidala; It is I who send you: + Bihotzian sar hakio Enter into her heart, + Hura eni bezala. As she (is) in mine. [204] + + +The songs of the Agots, or Cagots, those Pariahs of the Pyrénées, +who dwelt apart shunned and despised by all, are, as might be +expected, uniformly sad. The misery of the labourer's lot, and even +of that of the contrabandista, is more frequently dwelt upon than the +compensations to the poverty of the one, or the transient gleams of +good fortune of the other. At least, such is the case in all those +which are really songs of the people. In these there are not many +delights of "life under the greenwood tree," as in Robin Hood, or our +factitious gipsies' songs. The forest is an object of dread to the +Basque poet, and it requires courage and all the powerful attraction +of a loved one to induce him to traverse by night its gloomy shades; +but then-- + + + Mortu, oihan illuna Deserts and forests dark + Deusere ez da neretzat. They are then nought to me. + + +The following is an illustration of the Cagots' or Agots' songs. This +piece, of which the author was the hero, was written about 1783, +when he was eighteen years old. Cf. Fr. Michel, "Les Races Maudites +de France et de l'Espagne," vol. ii. p. 150, and "Le Pays Basque," +p. 270; and, for the music, Sallaberry, "Chants Populaires du Pays +Basque," p. 172. [205] + + + 1. + + --Argi askorrian jinik ene arresekila, + Bethi beha entzün nahiz numbaitik zure botza; + Ardiak nun ützi tüzü? Zerentako errada + Nigarrez ikhusten deizüt zure begi ederra? + + 2. + + --Ene aitaren ichilik jin nüzü zure gana, + Bihotza erdiratürik, zihauri erraitera, + Khambiatü deitadala ardien alhagia, + Sekülakoz defendatü zureki minzatzia. + + 3. + + --Gor niza, ala entzün düt? erran deitadazia? + Sekülakoz jin zaiztala adio erraitera? + Etziradia orhitzen gük hitz eman dügüla + Lürrian bizi gireno alkharren maithtzia? + + 4. + + --Atzo nurbait izan düzü ene ait' ametara, + Gük alkhar maite dügüla haien abertitzera; + Hürüntaaztez alkhar ganik fite ditin lehia + Eta eztitian jünta kasta Agotarekila. + + 5. + + --Agotak badiadila badizüt entzütia; + Zük erraiten deitadazüt ni ere banizala: + Egündano ükhen banü demendren leiñhüria + Enündüzün ausartüren begila so' gitera. + + 6. + + --Jentetan den ederrena ümen düzü Agota: + Bilho holli, larrü churi eta begi ñabarra. + Nik ikhusi artzaiñetan zü zira ederrena: + Eder izateko aments Agot izan behar da? + + 7. + + --So' izü nuntik ezagützen dien zuiñ den Agota: + Lehen sua egiten zaio hari beharriala; + Bata handiago dizü, eta aldiz bestia + Biribil et' orotarik bilhoz üngüratia. + + 8. + + --Hori hala balimbada haietarik etzira, + Ezi zure beharriak alkhar üdüri dira. + Agot denak chipiago badü beharri bata, + Aitari erranen diot biak bardin tuzüla. + + 9. + + --Agot denak bürüa aphal, eta dizü begia + Lürrean bethi sarturik gaizki egüinak bezala. + Izan banintz ni aberatz zü zira din bezala, + Aitak etzeyzün erranen ni Agobat nizala. + + + + 1. + + Since daybreak arrived here with my flock, + Always listening, wishing to hear somewhere thy voice. + Where have you left the sheep? Whence is it + I see your beautiful eye full of tears? + + 2. + + Unknown to my father I have come towards you, + Heart-broken, to tell you yourself + That he has changed for me the sheep-pasture, + Forbidden me for ever speaking with you. + + 3. + + Am I deaf, or have I heard it? Did you say it? + That you are come to bid farewell for ever? + Do you not remember that we have given our word + To love each other as long as we live upon the earth? + + 4. + + Yesterday some one came to my father and mother + To warn them that we loved each other; + That they should hasten at once to separate us from each other, + And that they should not ally themselves with the Agots' caste. + + 5. + + That there are Agots I have heard tell; + You tell me, too, that I am of them! + If I had ever had only the shadow of them, + I had not had the boldness to lift my eyes to you. + + 6. + + Of all men, they say, the Agot is the handsomest; + Fair hair, white skin, and blue eye. + Of the shepherds I have seen you are the handsomest: + In order to be handsome, must one be an Agot? + + 7. + + It is by this one recognises who is an Agot-- + One gives the first glance at his ear; + He has one too large, and, as for the other, + It is round and covered all over with hair. [206] + + 8. + + If that is so, you are not of those folk; + For your ears resemble each other perfectly. + If he who is Agot has one of his ears smaller, + I will tell my father you have the two alike. + + 9. + + The Agot walks with his head low, and his eye + Is fixed on the earth like a criminal. + If I had been rich, like you, + Your father would not have said that I was Agot. + + +There are, too, verses of grim and bitter humour, which tell better +than the pen of the historian how wretched was formerly the lot +of the peasant, even in this favoured corner of France. Famine is +personified, and has a name given it, drawn in biting irony from +that of the highest Saint of the Church Calendar, Petiri Sanz +(S. Peter). He wanders round the country seeking where to settle +permanently; at one place he is driven off by (the sale of) rosin, +at another little maize, at another by cheese and cherries; but at +last he fixes his abode definitively at St. Pée (another form of +Peter), on the Nivelle, where they have nothing at all to sell, and +where he torments the inhabitants by forcing them to keep many a fast +beyond those of ecclesiastical obligation. The same strain of gloomy +humour appears in another form in a poem entitled "Mes Méditations," +[207] in which a young priest of Ciboure, slowly dying of consumption, +traces in detail all the physical and mental agonies of his approaching +dissolution. A much less grim example, however, is contained in the +following, which we quote mainly because of its brevity. It may remind +some of our readers of a longer but similar strain which used often +to be sung at harvest-homes in the Midland Counties:-- + + + DOTE GALDIA. [208] THE LOST DOWRY. + + 1. 1. + + Aitac eman daut dotia, My father has given me my dowry, + Neuria, neuria, neuria; Mine, mine, mine; + Urdeño bat bere cherriekin, A sow with pigs ten, + Oilo corroca bere chituekin, Her chicks with the hen, + Tipula corda hayekin. And of onions a rope to stow by. + + 2. 2. + + Oxuac jan daut urdia, But the wolf has devoured my sow, + Neuria, neuria, neuria; Mine, mine, mine; + Acheriac oilo coroca, My chickens are killed by the cats, + Garratoinac tipula corda; My onions are gnawn by the rats; + Adios ene dotia. Good-bye to my dowry now. + + +More literally:-- + + + 1. + + My father has given me the dowry, + Mine, mine, mine; + A sow with her little pigs, + A brood hen with her chickens, + A cord of onions with them. + + 2. + + The wolf has eaten my sow, + Mine, mine, mine; + The fox my brood hen, + The rats my cord of onions, + Good-bye, my dowry. + + +The lack of good poetry in Basque is certainly not due to want of +encouragement. Moreover, the wish to produce it is there, but the +power seems lacking. For over twenty years prizes have been annually +given, first at Urrugne, and then at Sare, by M. Antoine d'Abbadie, +of Abbadia. But among the multitude of competing poems few have been +of any real value, and both in merit and in the number presented they +seem to diminish annually. The best of them have been written by men +of the professional class, whose taste has been formed on French, +or Spanish, or classical, rather than on native models. The following +is considered by native critics to be among the best, though several +others are very little, if at all, inferior [209]:-- + + + ARTZAIN DOHATSUA. + + 1. + + Etchola bat da ene jauregia + Aldean, salhatzal, hariztegia; + Arthalde bat + Halakorik ez baita hambat, + Bazait niri behar besembat. + Ai! etzait itsusi! + Ni naiz etchola huntako nausi + + 2. + + Goiz-arratsak bethi deskantsu ditut, + Deuseren beldurrik nihondik ez dut; + Hemen nago, + Erregue baino fierrago. + Nik zer behar dut gehiago? + Ha! ez da itsusi! + Etchola huntan Piarrez nausi. + + 3. + + Goizetan jaikirik argialdera, + Igortzen ditut ardiak larrera; + Eta gero + Itzalpean jarririk nago, + Nor da ni baino urusago? + Ez! etzait itsusi! + Ni naiz arthalde huntako nausi. + + 4. + + Aitoren semeak gasteluetan, + Bihotzak ilhunik daude goguetan. + Alegera + (Bethi naiz; tristatucera) [210] + Nik ez dut dembora sobera. + Ai! etzait itsusi! + Etcholan nor da ni baizen nausi. + + 5. + + Jan onegiak barnea betherik, + Aberatsak nihoiz ez du goserik; + Eta bethi + Ene trempuaz da bekhaizti; + Diruz ez baitaite erosi. + Ha! ez da itsusi! + Etchola gasteluaren nausi. + + 6. + + Noizbait Jaunari nik dainu egunik, + Igortzen banindu aberasturik; + Zorigaitzez + Hesturik nindauke bihotzez, + Ene etchola hemen minez. + Jauna! ba ha niri! + Utz nezazu etcholako nausi. + + + + THE HAPPY SHEPHERD. + + 1. + + A cottage my castle is, + By the side of willows, wood, and oak copse; + A flock + Such as mine is of no great worth, + Yet it is all I need. + Ah! my lot is not so bad! + I am master of this little house. + + 2. + + Tranquil I live by night and day, + Of aught from no quarter afraid am I; + Here dwell + No king more proud. + What need I more? + Ha! it is not so bad! + Peter is master in this little house. + + 3. + + Almost at daybreak each morn I rise, + My sheep I drive to the pastures; + And then + 'Neath the shade reclined I pass the day. + Where is there one more happy than I? + No! my lot is not so bad! + I of my flock the master am. + + 4. + + The sons of the nobles in the castles, + Their hearts are black, their thoughts dull. + Joyful + (Always am I; to be sad) + I have not time enough for that. + Ah! my lot is not so bad! + In the cottage of which I the master am. + + 5. + + Eating too much, and ever full, + The rich they never feel hunger; + Yet always + My rude good health they envy; + With money they cannot purchase that. + Ha! it is not so bad! + The cottage the lord of the castle is. + + 6. + + Once on a time I grieved the Lord, + Sending me full of riches; + Of sorrow + Full then was I at heart, + My little house here suffering. + Lord! spare me! + Leave me the master of my little house. + + + +A pretty cradle song, "Lo! Lo! ene Maitea" ("Sleep! Sleep! my +Darling"), by M. Larralde, a physician of St. Jean de Luz, won the +prize at Urrugne in 1859. It is written to a tune composed by the +Vicomte de Belzunce; the words have been printed in the "Lettres +Labourdines," par H. L. Fabre (Bayonne, 1869). + + + 1. 1. + + Lo! Lo! nere maitea! Sleep! Sleep! my darling! + Lo! ni naiz zurekin! Sleep! I am with thee! + Lo! Lo! paregabea! Sleep! Sleep! without peer! + Nigarrik ez-eghin; Shed no tears; + Goizegui da! Munduko It is too soon! Of the world, + Gelditzen bazira, If thou seest long days, + Nigarretan urtzeco For tears thou wilt have + Baduzu dembora. Enough time. + + 2. 2. + + Lo! nik zaitut higitzen, Sleep! I am rocking thee, + Lo! Lo! nombait goza. Sleep! Sleep! and be still. + Es duzuya ezagutzen Dost thou not recognise + Amattoren boza? Of thy mother the voice? + Exai guzietaric From every foe + Zure begiratzen To guard thee + Bertze lanak utzirik. I quit all else. + Egonen naiz hemen. I am watching here. + + 3. 3. + + Lo! Lo! nere aingerua! Sleep! Sleep! my angel! + Bainan amexetan, But borne on the wings of a dream + Dabilkasu burua; Thy spirit far away flies; + Hirria ezpainetan; A smile plays on thy lips; + Norekin othe zare? Who are with thee? + Non othe zabiltza? Where dost thou wander? + Ez urrun ama-gabe Not far without your mother + Gan ene bihotza. Go my (dear) heart. + + 4. 4. + + Lo! Lo! zeruetarat Sleep! Sleep! toward the heavens + Airatu bazare, If thy spirit has flown, + Ez bihar zu lurrerat Do not to earth return + Ardiexi-gabe Without having obtained + Ungi zure altchatzeko To bring thee up well + Enetzat gracia; For me the favour; + Guciz eni hortako This duty is all + Zait ezti bizia! That is life to me! + + 5. 5. + + Lo! Lo! gauak oraindik, Sleep! Sleep! now it is night, + Nombait du eguna; The day is still distant; + Ez da nihon argirik There is no other light + Baizik izarrena. Than that of the stars. + Izarrez! mintzazean The stars! At the word + Zutaz naiz orhoitzen; I am thinking of thee; + Zein guti, zure aldean And (I say) than thee + Duten distiratzen! A star is less bright. + + 6. 6. + + Lo! Lo! dembora dela! Sleep! Sleep! while there is time! + Iduri zait albak I see that the dawn + Histen hari tuela Is making pale + Ekhi gabazkoak. The stars of the night. + Choriac arboletan The birds in the trees + Kantaz hasi dire; Their songs have begun; + Laster nere besoetan Soon on my bosom + Gochatuko zare. Thou wilt begin to play. + + 7. 7. + + Bainan atzarri zare But thou art waking + Uso bat iduri. Like a sweet dove. + Una nik zembat lore(ac) See what flowers + Zuretzat ekharri! I have gathered for thee + Ametsetan ait-amez Tell me, in thy dream + Othe zare orhoitu? Didst thou think of me? + Ai! hirri maite batez Ah! what a dear smile + Baietz erradazu! Doth answer me, Yes! + + +The following belongs to a more quaint and popular class of lullaby, +or cradle songs; as it is so simple we do not give the Basque:-- + + + LITTLE PETER. [211] + + 1. 5. + + Ah, my little Peter, Dear little Peter, + I am sleepy, and-- I have bleached it, and-- + Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed? + Go on spinning, and-- Weave it, and-- + Then, then, then, Then, then, then, + Go on spinning, and-- Weave it, and-- + Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes. + + 2. 6. + + Dear little Peter, Dear little Peter, + I have spun, and-- I have woven it, and-- + Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed? + Put the thread up in skeins, and-- Cut it, and-- + Then, then, then, Then, then, then, + Put the thread up in skeins, and-- Cut it, and-- + Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes. + + 3. 7. + + Dear little Peter, Dear little Peter, + I have put it in skeins, and-- I have cut it, and-- + Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed? + Wind off the thread, and-- Sew it, and-- + Then, then, then, Then, then, then, + Wind off the thread, and-- Sew it, and-- + Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes. + + 4. 8. + + Dear little Peter, Oh! my little Peter, + I have wound it off, and-- I have sewn it, and-- + Shall I go to bed? Shall I go to bed? + Bleach it, and-- It is daylight! and-- + Then, then, then, Then, then, then, + Bleach it, and-- It is daylight! and-- + Then, then, yes. Then, then, yes! + + +The best living Basque poets are--on the French side, Captain +Elisamboure, of Hendaye; and Iparraguirre, of San Sebastian, among the +Spanish Basques. Iparraguirre is now very old. He is the author of the +song "Guernicaco Arbola" ("The Tree of Guernica," in Biscay), an oak +under which the Lords of Biscay swore fidelity to the Fueros. This +has become almost the national song of the Basques. [212] A few +words on two other classes of songs, the drinking and the macaronic, +must conclude our remarks. The most spirited drinking song is the +following. [213] It must be remembered, in excuse, that the shepherds +live a very hard life on the mountains the greater part of the year, +and taste little wine there. + + +ARTZAIN ZAHARRAC. THE OLD SHEPHERDS. + +1. 1. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Artzain zaharrac tafarnan. The old shepherds (are) at the inn. + Hordi gira? Are we drunk? + Ez, ezgira. No, we are not. +Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass! + +2. 2. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Nork joiten derauku borthan? Who knocks at the door? + Behabada Perhaps + Otsoa da! It's the wolf! +Nihor ez gaiten athera! We won't go to the door, not one (of us)! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Basoak detzagun bira! Long live the glass! + +3. 3. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Uria hari karrikan. The rain begins in the street. + Gauden hemen, Let us stop the night here, + Arno hunen This good wine +Gostu onean edaten. To drink with pleasure. + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Gauden gostuan edaten! In the night to drink with pleasure! + +4. 4. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Babazuza tarrapatan! The hail comes rattling down! + Dugun edan Let us drink + Hamarretan. For the tenth time. +Aberats gira gau huntan. We are rich to-night. + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Aberats gira gau hutan. We are rich this night. + +5. 5. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Ez dut minik sabeletan! I am so jolly inside! + Nahi nuke I wish (I could live) + Ehun urthe, A hundred years, +Hola egon banindaite! If I might remain like this! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Hola egon banindaite! If I might remain like this! + +6. 6. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Arnorik ez da boteilan! There's no more wine in the bottle! + Ostalera, Landlord, + Ez ikhara, Don't be afraid, +Arnoko bethi sos bada! There's always money for wine! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Arnoko bethi sos bada! There's always money for wine! + +7. 7. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Zer othe dut beguietan? What's gone wrong with my eyes? + Non da bortha? Where's the door? + Airatu da. It has flown away. +Mahaya dantzan dabila! The table's beginning to dance! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Mahaya dantzan dabila! The table's beginning to dance! + +8. 8. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Zangoak amor bidean! My feet won't go straight on the road! + Hanketan min! I'm bad in my legs! + Gaizo, Martin, To-morrow, Martin, +Urkatsik ez dirok egin! You will not be able to walk at all! + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Urkatsik ez dirok egin! You will not be able to walk at all! + +9. 9. + +Tam, tam, tam, tam, Tam, tam, tam, tam, + Rapetanplan. Rapetanplan. +Eri-tchar naiz hilzekotan. I am very ill, I am like to die. + Sendo nintzan I should have been cured + Aski edan; Had I drunk enough; +Izan banu gau hunetan, If I had but this night, + Iohoho! Iohoho! Iohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! Hohoho! +Aski edan gau hunetan! Drunk enough this night! + + +It is not at all uncommon in a country where, within the space of some +twenty miles, the traveller may hear at least four languages--French, +Gascoun, Basque, and Spanish--to find two or more of these mixed in +the same poem, and sometimes with a little Latin as well. This occurs +frequently in the noëls, where the angel speaks in French or Latin, +and the shepherds reply in Gascoun or Basque; also sometimes in the +love songs, where the French or Spanish lover will try to soften the +heart of a Basque maiden by compliments in French or Spanish, while she +greatest tour de force of this kind we know, both as to language and +rhyme, is the song given in Fr. Michel's "Le Pays Basque," p. 429. We +quote the first verse only; but the song continues with twenty-eight +successive Basque rhymes in "in," and the last seven in "en." + + + Latin. Sed libera nos a malo. Deliver us from evil. + Sit nomen Domini. God's holy Name be + praised; + Spanish. Vamos á cantar un Let's sing a song, my + canto para diverti. friends, and a joyous + clamour raise; + Basque. Jan dugunaz gueroz For we of rare good + chahalki houneti meat have eaten to our + fill, + Basque. Eta edan ardoa And the good wine of + Juranzouneti. Jurançon + French. Chantons, chantons, have drunken at our + mes chers amis, je will. Then sing, + suis content pardi! friends, sing, i'faith, + I'm right well pleased! + Gascoun. Trinquam d'aquest Let's hear the + boun bi, glasses ring, + Basque. Eta dezagun canta And our new song, my + cantore berri. friends, let's all + together sing. + + +Almost every one of these Basque songs, like all true lyrics, +has been adapted to some tune, either older than the words, or +composed specially by the author. The music is often superior to +the words. In the Nineteenth Century for August, 1878, Grant-Duff +speaks of some of the Basque airs sung by the Béarnais tenor, +Pascal Lamazou, as "extraordinarily beautiful." [214] Lamazou died +at Pau in May, 1878. His répertoire consisted of fifty Pyrenean +songs, of which thirty-four are Béarnais, fourteen Basque, and two +are from the "Pyrénées Orientales." [215] One of the Basque airs +"Artzaina," has somehow got attached to the popular American hymn, +"I want to be an angel." Another, and larger collection, including +more correct renderings of some of Lamazou's fourteen, is that of +Sallaberry, "Chants Populaires du Pays Basque" (Bayonne, 1870). But, +long before this, a collection of Basque Songs, Zorzicos, and dance +music was published in San Sebastian, by J. D. Iztueta, in 1824 and +1826. Excellent reviews of these two works, with translations of +some of the words, appeared in the Foreign Review and Continental +Miscellany, vol. ii., pp. 338, 1828; and in vol. iv., p. 198. Some +specimens of music are to be found at the end of Michel's "Le Pays +Basque," in the "Cancionero Vasco"--now in course of publication, +and so often referred to--and in other local publications, besides +those in private hands. Basquophiles love to narrate that Rossini +passed a summer in the Basque village of Cambo, and believe that they +can recognise the influence of Basque airs in some of his subsequent +operas. However this may be, let no one judge of Basque music by the +noëls usually howled in the streets at Christmas and the New Year, +or by the doleful productions of the last Carlist War. It would +be equally fair to judge of English music by the serenades of the +waits at Christmas. We refer those who wish to investigate further +the subject of this chapter to the excellent work, "Le Pays Basque," +par M. Fr. Michel (Paris and London, 1857), for the French, to the +"Cancionero Vasco," by Don José Manterola, now in course of publication +at San Sebastian, for the Spanish, Basque; and to M. Sallaberry's +"Chants Populaires du Pays Basque" for the music. + + + + + + +NOTES + +[1] See on this head M. Vinson's Essay in Appendix. + +[2] The second part of M. Cerquand's "Légendes et Récits Populaires du +Pays Basque" (Pau, 1876), appeared while the present work was passing +through the press. It is chiefly occupied with legends of Basa-Jaun +and Lamiñak. + +[3] Not that we suppose all these tales to be atmospheric myths; +we adopt this only as the provisional hypothesis which appears at +present to cover the largest amount of facts. It seems certainly to +be a "vera causa" in some cases; but still it is only one of several +possible "veræ causæ," and is not to be applied to all. + +[4] Cf. Campbell's "Introduction," p. xxviii.:--"I have never heard a +story whose point was obscenity publickly told in a Highland cottage; +and I believe such are rare. If there was an occasional coarse word +spoken, it was not coarsely meant." + +[5] One class, of which we have given no example, is that of the +Star Legend given by M. Cerquand, "Légendes et Récits Populaires du +Pays Basque," p. 19, and reprinted, with variations, by M. Vinson, +"Revue de Linguistique," Tom. VIII., 241-5, January, 1876. + +[6] Cf. "Etudes Historiques sur la Ville de Bayonne, par MM. Balasque +et Dulaurens," Vol. I., p. 49. + +[7] We have purposely omitted references to Greek and Latin mythology, +as these are to be found "passim" in the pages of Max Müller and of +Cox. The preparation for the Press was made at a distance from our +own library, or more references to Spanish and patois sources would +have been given. + +[8] See page 192. + +[9] There seems to be a Basque root "Tar," which appears in the +words, "Tarro, Tarrotu, v., devenir un peu grand. Tarrapataka, adv., +marchant avec précipitation et en faisant du bruit."--Salaberry's +"Vocabulaire Bas-Navarrais," sub voce. Cf. Campbell's "Tales of the +Western Highlands," Vol. II., 94:--"He heard a great Tartar noise," +Tartar being printed as if it were a Gaelic word. + +[10] Cf. also Müller's "Fragmenta Historicorum Græcorum" (Didot, Paris, +1841), Vol. I., p. 246. "Ephori Fragmenta," 51, with the references +there given. + +[11] Cf. also the Gaelic, "The Story and the Lay of the Great Fool," +Campbell, Vol. III., pp. 146-154. + +[12] This talking giant's ring appears in Campbell's "Popular Tales +of the West Highlands," Vol. I., p. 111, in the tale called "Conall +cra Bhuidhe." He also refers (p. 153) to Grimm's tale of the "Robber +and his Sons," where the same ring appears:--"He puts on the gold +ring which the giant gave him, which forces him to cry out, 'Here I +am!' He bites off his own finger, and so escapes." + +[13] Cf. Campbell's "Mac-a-Rusgaich," Vol. II., 305:--"I am putting it +into the covenant that if either one of us takes the rue, that a thong +shall be taken out of his skin, from the back of his head to his heel." + +[14] Salamanca was the reputed home of witchcraft and devilry in +De Lancre's time (1610). He is constantly punning on the word. It +is because "Sel y manque," etc. See also the story of Gerbert, Pope +Sylvester II., in the 10th century. + +[15] This incident is found in Cenac-Moncaut's Gascon tale, "Le +Coffret de la Princesse." "Litterature Populaire de la Gascogne," +p. 193 (Dentu, Paris, 1868). + +[16] For this incident compare the death of the giant in one of the +versions of "Jack the Giant-Killer;" and especially "the Erse version +of Jack the Giant-Killer." Campbell, Vol. II., p. 327. + +[17] This agreement is found also in the Norse and in Brittany. See +"Contes Populaires de la Grande Bretagne," by Loys Brueyre, pp. 25, +26. This is an excellent work. The incident of Shylock, in the +"Merchant of Venice," will occur to every one. + +[18] Literally, "Marsh of the Basa-Andre." The "Puits des Fées" +are common in France, especially in the Landes and in the Gironde. + +[19] Only in this, and one other tale, is the word "prince" used +instead of "king's son." Compare the Gaelic of Campbell in this +respect. This tale is probably from the French, and the Tartaro is +only a giant. + +[20] One of the oddest instances of mistaken metaphors that we know of +occurs in "La Vie de St. Savin, par J. Abbadie, Curé de la Paroisse" +(Tarbes, 1861). We translate from the Latin, which is given in a +note:--"Intoxicated with divine love, he was keeping vigil according +to his custom, and when he could not find a light elsewhere, he gave +light to his eyes from the light that was in his breast. The small +piece of wax-taper thus lit passed the whole night till morning +without being extinguished."--Off. S. Savin. + +[21] This Fleur-de-lis was supposed by our narrator to be some mark +tattooed or impressed upon the breast of all kings' sons. + +[22] This, of course, is "Little George," and makes one suspect that +the whole tale is borrowed from the French; though it is just possible +that only the names, and some of the incidents, may be. + +[23] Cf. "Ezkabi Fidel," 112, below. + +[24] In Campbell's "Tale of the Sea-Maiden," instead of looking in +his ear, the king's daughter put one of her earrings in his ear, +the last two days, in order to wake him; and it is by these earrings +and her ring that she recognises him afterwards, instead of by the +pieces of dress and the serpent's tongues. + +[25] Campbell, Vol. I., lxxxvii., 8, has some most valuable remarks +on the Keltic Legends, showing the Kelts to be a horse-loving, and not +a seafaring race--a race of hunters and herdsmen, not of sailors. The +contrary is the case with these Basque tales. The reader will observe +that the ships do nothing extraordinary, while the horses behave as +no horse ever did. It is vice versâ in the Gaelic Tales, even when +the legends are identical in many particulars. + +[26] The three days' fight, and the dog, appear in Campbell's "Tale +of the Sea-Maiden," Vol. I., pp. 77-79. + +[27] The Basque word usually means "Eau de Cologne." + +[28] This is a much better game than the ordinary one of tilting at a +ring with a lance, and is a much more severe test of horsemanship. The +ring, an ordinary lady's ring, is suspended by a thread from +a cross-bar, at such a height that a man can just reach it by +standing in his stirrups. Whoever, starting from a given point, +can put a porcupine's quill, or a small reed, through the ring, and +thus carry it off at a hand-gallop, becomes possessor of the ring. We +have seen this game played at Monte Video, in South America; and even +the Gauchos considered it a test of good horsemanship. Formerly, it +seems, the ring was suspended from the tongue of a bell, which would +be set ringing when the ring was carried away. The sword, of course, +was the finest rapier. + +[29] One of those present here interrupted the reciter--"What did +she hit the serpent on the tail for?" "Why, to kill him, of course," +was the reply; "ask Mr. Webster if serpents are not killed by hitting +them on the tail?" + +[30] I have a dim recollection of having read something very similar +to this either in a Slavonic or a Dalmatian tale. + +[31] This incident is in the translation of a tale by Chambers, +called "Rouge Etin," in Brueyre's "Contes de la Grande Bretagne," +p. 64. See notes ad loc. + +[32] In the Pyrénées the ewes are usually milked, and either +"caillé"--a kind of clotted cream--or cheese is made of the milk. The +sheep for milking are often put in a stable, or fold, for the night. + +[33] For the "fairies' holes," see Introduction to the "Tales of the +Lamiñak," p. 48. + +[34] Cf. "Mahistruba," p. 100; and "Beauty and the Beast," p. 167. + +[35] Silk kerchiefs are generally used, especially by women, as +head-dresses, and not as pocket-handkerchiefs, all through the south +of France. + +[36] "Légendes et Récits Populaires du Pays Basque," par +M. Cerquand. Part I., Pau, 1875, and Part II., p.28, Pau, 1876. + +[37] Cf. Campbell's tale, "The Keg of Butter," Vol. III., 98, where +the fox cheats the wolf by giving him the bottoms of the oats and +the tops of the potatoes. See also the references there given. + +[38] Cf. Cerquand, Part I., p. 27, "Ancho et les Vaches," and +notes. Also Part II., 34, et seq. + +[39] Cf. Cerquand, Part I., pp. 33, 34, "La Dame au Peigne d'Or." + +[40] Cerquand, Part I., p. 30, "Basa-Jauna et le Salve Regina." + +[41] Cerquand, "L'Eglise d'Espés." "Le Pont de Licq," Part I., pp. 31, +32, and Part II., pp. 50-52. + +[42] But compare the well or marsh of the Basa-Andre in the Tartaro +tale, p. 15. + +[43] Cerquand, Part I., pp. 32, 33. + +[44] The owner of the farm and the "métayère," or tenant's wife. Under +the "métayer" system the landlord and tenant divide the produce of the +farm. This is the case almost universally in South-Western France, +as elsewhere in the South. The "métayer's" residence often adjoins +the landlord's house. + +[45] Cf. "The Sister and her Seven Brothers." + +[46] This is the only representation that we know of Basa-Jaun as +a vampire. + +[47] As the Basques commonly go barefooted, or use only hempen sandals, +the feet require to be washed every evening. This is generally done +before the kitchen fire, and in strict order of age and rank. Cf. also +"The Sister and her Seven Brothers." + +[48] The running water, we suspect, gives the girl power over the +witch. + +[49] "Hazel sticks." In the sixteenth century the dog-wood, "cornus +sanguinea," seems to have been the witches' wood. In the "Pastorales," +all the enchantments, etc., are done by the ribboned wands of the +Satans. This tale ends rather abruptly. The reciter grew very tired +at the last. + +[50] Basque Lamiñak always say exactly the contrary to what they mean. + +[51] Cf. Bladé's "Contes Agenais," "Les Deux Filles," and Köhler's +"Notes Comparatives" on the tale, p. 149. + +[52] That is, the wife span evenly with a clear steady sound of the +wheel, but the man did it unevenly. + +[53] Cf. Campbell's "The Brollachan," Vol. II., p. 189, with the +notes and variations. "Me myself," as here, seems the equivalent of +the Homeric "o>'utic." + +[54] M. Cerquand has the same tale, Part I., p. 41. + +[55] This is a very widely spread legend. Cf. Patrañas, "What Ana saw +in the Sunbeam;" "Duffy and the Devil," in Hunt's "Popular Romances of +the West of England," p. 239; also Kennedy's "Idle Girl and her Aunts," +which is very close to the Spanish story; and compare the references +subjoined to the translation of the Irish legend in Brueyre's "Contes +Populaires de la Grande Bretagne," p. 159. + +[56] Cf. "The Brewery of Egg-shells," in Croker's "Fairy Legends of +the South of Ireland," pp. 32-36. + +[57] This tale, or at least this version of it, with the names Rose +and Bellarose, must come from the French. + +[58] "A little dog" is mentioned in Campbell's "The Daughter of the +Skies," Vol. I., 202, and notes. + +[59] "Kopetaen erdian diamanteko bista batez"--"a view of diamonds +in the middle of the forehead." + +[60] Nothing has been said about this dress before. Something must +have dropped out of the story. + +[61] At a Pyrenean wedding the bride and bridegroom, with the wedding +party, spend nearly the whole day in promenading through the town or +village. The feast often lasts several days, and the poor bride is +an object of pity, she sometimes looks so deadly tired. + +[62] Cerquand, Part I., p. 29, notes to Conte 8; Fr. Michel, "Le Pays +Basque," p. 152 (Didot, Paris, 1857). + +[63] "Akhelarre," literally "goat pasture." This was the name in the +16th century. + +[64] This belief in a toad sitting at the church door to swallow the +Host is found in De Lancre. + +[65] That is, one with bran, or herbs, wood-ashes, &c., or plain water. + +[66] M. Cerquand gives this tale at length, Part II., pp. 10, 11. The +incidents are very slightly changed. + +[67] Compare this with the scene in Apuleius, "De Asino Aureo;" and, +for a somewhat similar "fairy ointment," see Hunt's "Popular Romances +of the West of England," pp. 110-113. + +[68] The blunder is confounding "dessus," over, and "dessous," +under. This shows that the tale is originally French, or, at least, +the witch's part of it; for this punning mistake could not be made in +Basque. The two words are not in the least similar in sound. "Gaiñetik" +and "azpetik" are the words here used. + +[69] Witches still appear in the shape of cats, but generally black +ones. About two years ago we were told of a man who, at midnight, +chopped off the ear of a black cat, who was thus bewitching his cattle, +and lo! in the morning it was a woman's ear, with an earring still +in it. He deposited it in the Mairie, and we might see it there; +but we did not go to look, as it was some distance off. + +[70] Literally, "red misery." In Basque the most intense wretchedness +of any kind is always called "red." + +[71] There are several superstitions connected with cross-roads +in the Pays Basque. When a person dies, the bedding or mattress is +sometimes burnt at the nearest cross-roads, and every passer-by says a +"Paternoster" for the benefit of the deceased. This custom is becoming +extinct, but is still observed in old families. + +[72] This is, of course, only a mispronunciation of "Dominus +tecum"--"The Lord be with you." Compare the opposite effect of "God +save us," in Croker's tale of "Master and Man," pp. 96, 97. + +[73] See notes to "Juan Dekos," p. 146. + +[74] I think this word occurs in some "Chanson de Gestes," and in the +Basque "Pastorales," as a Mahommedan devil. If not, it is probably our +own "Duke of Marlborough" thus transformed. Cf. the song, "Malbrouk +s'en va en guerre." + +[75] This is again, "red, angry." + +[76] Cf. Campbell, "The Tale of Connal," Vol. I., p. 142. + +[77] This looks uncommonly like "Ho, you!" but it is given by Salaberry +as a Basque cry, "Appel par un cri fort, par la voix élevée." "Play," +as an exclamation to begin at games of ball, has no meaning in Basque, +and is believed to come from the English. We have borrowed "Jingo," +"by Jingo," from "Jinkoa," "the deity." + +[78] In Campbell's first tale, "The Young King of Easaidh Ruadh, +the hero is assisted by a dog, a falcon, and an otter. Cf. the notes +in the translation of this tale in Brueyre's "Contes de la Grande +Bretagne;" cf. also, "The Sea-Maiden," pp. 73 and 94, for a still +closer resemblance. + +[79] Cf. "Tabakiera," p. 94, and "Old Deccan Days," pp. 83-91. It is +curious to hear of the Red Sea from narrators so far apart, on opposite +sides, as the Lingaets of the Deccan and the Basques, neither of whom, +probably, had the most distant idea of its geographical position; +certainly our Basque narrators had not. + +[80] In Campbell's "Sea-Maiden," the hero has only to think of the +animals, and they are at his side; but he is not transformed into them. + +[81] Campbell refers to "The Giant who had no Heart in his Body," +"Norse Tales," 1859. See his references, and those in the "Contes +Populaires de la Grande Bretagne," cited above. M. d'Abbadie has +also communicated to us the outlines of a wild Tartaro story, told +in Basque, in which the hero "fights with a body without a soul." + +[82] Cf. Campbell's "Tales," before quoted, and "Old Deccan Days" +("Punchkin"), pp. 14, 15, for the whole of this incident. + +[83] Malbrouk seems now to assume the character of "Hermes, the clever +thief." If we mistake not, this cow appears also in Indian mythology. + +[84] For the whole of this tale compare Campbell's "Sea-Maiden," +Vol. I., p. 71. The sea-maiden takes the place of the fish. Besides the +three sons, the three foals, and the three puppies, three trees grow +behind the house, and serve as a sign like the well boiling. Bladé's +"Les Deux Jumeaux," in his "Contes Agenais," is identical with this; +cf. also Köhler's notes, p. 148. + +[85] Much more is made of the sword in the Gaelic tales. In them it +is always a magic or a mystic weapon. + +[86] This episode of the fight with the seven-headed beast is +introduced in the same way in the Gaelic--"The Sea-Maiden," pp. 76, +77. Cf. also "Rouge Etin," in Brueyre. + +[87] In the Gaelic the charcoal-burner is a general. + +[88] This takes place not on the wedding night, but some time after in +the "Sea-Maiden," p. 82. The wife at prayers and the husband standing +by indifferent is but too true a picture, we fear. + +[89] The "Sea-Maiden," p. 82--"Go not, go not," said she, "there +never went man to this castle that returned." See below. + +[90] Basque, "as must needs be." + +[91] We were also told, in Basque, "The Powerful Lantern," which +was the story of Aladdin's lamp, with only one incident omitted. The +present is much more like the Gaelic, but there (Campbell, Vol. II., +297-9) it is a lady who gives the snuff-box, which says, "Eege gu +djeege," on being opened. Campbell's note is:--"The explanation of +these sounds was, that it was 'as if they were asking.' The sounds +mean nothing, that I know of, in any language." "Que quieres?" is +pure Spanish--"What dost thou want?" + +[92] Cf. MacCraw's variation in Campbell, note, Vol. II., p. 301, +for the rest of the story. + +[93] "Power" in these tales, in the Basque, seems always to mean +"magic power," some wonder-working gift or charm. + +[94] In Campbell's versions it is "the realm of the king under the +waves," or "the realm of the rats;" but a voyage has to be made to +that, and a rat takes the place of the servant in stealing the box +again for the hero. "The Deccan Tales" mention the Red Sea. + +[95] The south wind is the most dreaded local wind in the Pays +Basque. It is always hot, and sometimes very violent. After two or +three days it usually brings on a violent thunderstorm and rain. + +[96] The lad here calls his snuff-box affectionately "Que quieres," +as if that were its name. + +[97] The likeness and the variation of this tale from Campbell's Gaelic +one, "The Widow's Son," etc., Vol. II., pp. 293-303, prove that both +must be independent versions of some original like Aladdin's lamp, +but not mere copies of it. + +[98] This doubling of a price is to get a thing more quickly done--in +half the usual time. At least, that was the narrator's explanation. + +[99] These three clever men are found in Gascon (Bladé's "Armagnac +Tales," p. 10), in Spanish, in Campbell's "The King of Lochlin's +Three Daughters," Vol. I., p. 238, and in many others. Cf. Brueyre, +pp. 113-120, and notes. + +[100] Cf. The tale from the Servian, in Naaké's "Slavonic Fairy Tales," +p. 7. + +[101] i.e., the piece of "braise," or glowing ember from the wood fire, +which is always nearly on a level with the floor in a Basque house. + +[102] Through the whole of the South of Europe, in Greece, Italy, +Spain, Portugal, etc., the firing of guns, pistols, crackers, +is universal at all kinds of "fêtes," especially religious ones; +the half-deafened foreigner often longs for some such law as that +infringed by "Mahistruba;" but cf. "Juan de Kalais," p. 151. + +[103] Cf. supra, p. 38, "The Serpent in the Wood." + +[104] This tale is somewhat like Campbell's "Three Soldiers," with +the variations, Vol. I., p. 176. It is said to be very widely spread. + +[105] This is an interpolation by the narrator. + +[106] At Bayonne one part of the town is called "Les Cinq Cantons." + +[107] For like involuntary sleep, where the lady cannot awaken her +lover, cf. Campbell, "The Widow's Son," Vol. II., p. 296. + +[108] For the incident of the eagle, cf. Campbell, "The King of +Lochlin's Three Daughters," Vol. I., pp. 238-9:--"When they were at +the mouth of the hole, the stots were expended, and she was going to +turn back; but he took a steak out of his own thigh, and he gave this +to the eagle, and with one spring she was on the surface of the earth." + +[109] Cf. the horse in Naaké's "Slavonic Fairy Tales," "Ivan Kruchina" +(from the Russian), p. 117, and "the dun shaggy filly," in Campbell's +"The Young King of Easaidh Ruadh," Vol. I., p. 5, and elsewhere; +also the horse in the "Uso-Andre," and "The Unknown Animal," +below. Campbell, Vol. I., p. 63, remarks that the horses in Gaelic +stories are always feminine; but they are red as well as grey. + +[110] In this, and the following tale, Ezkabi's golden hair is +evidently like "Diarmaid's" beauty spot. "He used to keep his cap +always down on the beauty-spot; for any woman that might chance to +see it, she would be in love with him."--Campbell's "Diarmaid and +Grainne," Vol. III., p. 39, notes and variations. + +[111] Compare the following legend, and "Old Deccan Days" ("Truth's +Triumph"), pp. 62, 63. + +[112] Cf. above, "The Grateful Tartaro and the Heren-Suge," p. 22. + +[113] Cf. note, supra, p. 113, and Grainne seeing Diarmaid as he lifts +his cap or helmet. These beauty-spots seem to be the counterpart of +Aphrodite's cestus. + +[114] Cf. the two golden pears in the Spanish "Juanillo el Loco," +Patrañas, p. 38, given in exchange for the same water. + +[115] Cf. below, "The Singing Tree," etc., p. 176. + +[116] Cf. "Old Deccan Days," p. 139; and Cox, "Aryan Mythology," +Vol. I., p. 160, seq. + +[117] Cf. below, p. 156. + +[118] The word "Ezkabi" is "the scab;" he either really had it, +as in the next version, or was supposed to have it from keeping his +head covered, as in this. In both cases the hair is most beautiful, +precious, golden, and love-compelling. + +[119] Cf. with the whole of this tale, Campbell's second tale, +"The Battle of the Birds," and the variations, especially the one of +"Auburn Mary," Vol. I. pp. 52-58. + +[120] Cf. Baring Gould's chapter, "Swan-Maidens"--"Curious Myths of +the Middle Ages," p. 561, seq. + +[121] In the Gaelic the labours are more like those of Herakles--to +clean out a byre, to shoot birds, and to rob a magpie's nest. The +Basque incidents seem to fit better into a climatological myth. + +[122] In "Old Deccan Days" ("Truth's Triumph") it is the hair and +not the comb that does the wonders. In M. Cerquand's "Récits" the +comb is an attribute of the Basa-Andre. + +[123] In Campbell's "Battle of the Birds" the hero always sleeps +while the giant's daughter does his task for him. + +[124] Here the narrator interposed, "You see it is just as it happens; +the women are always the worst." But in Campbell it is the giant +himself who says, "My own daughter's tricks are trying me." + +[125] In Campbell the finger is lost in climbing the tree to get the +magpie's nest; but, as here, the bride is recognised by the loss of it. + +[126] In "Auburn Mary" the hero has to catch a young filly, "with an +old, black, rusty bridle."--Campbell, Vol. I., p. 55. + +[127] See below for a second marriage. In Campbell, p. 37, there is +a double marriage. + +[128] In Campbell, p. 55, "Auburn Mary," there is the same "talking +spittle." + +[129] Cf. "Truth's Triumph," in "Old Deccan Days;" and Campbell, +pp. 33, 34; and supra, "Ezkabi-Fidel," pp. 113, 114. + +[130] Campbell, pp. 34 and 56. + +[131] In Campbell, it is an old greyhound that kisses him, but with +the same result, pp. 34 and 56. + +[132] In one of Campbell's "Variations," pp. 51, 52, the ending is +something like this. In more than one, the hero marries another bride +in his period of oblivion. + +[133] Cf. Campbell's "The Chest," Vol. II., p. 1. The tales seem +almost identical. + +[134] The usual term for "the Pope;" the French, "Le Saint-Père." + +[135] This is a curious testimony to an ancient practice. In the +same way the Basques call "La Fête Dieu," "Corpus Christi Day;" +"Phestaberria," "The New Feast," though it was instituted in the +thirteenth century. + +[136] This is a very old and wide-spread story. The Gaelic versions +are given in Campbell, Vol. II., p. 239, seq. Cf. also Cox, "Aryan +Mythology," Vol. I., p. 111, seq. + +[137] In the Gaelic it is the bishop's horse. + +[138] This is in the Norse and Teutonic versions. + +[139] This, again, is more like the Gaelic. + +[140] This name was written thus phonetically from the Basque, and +it was not till I saw the Gaelic tale that it struck me that it is +simply "Jean d'Ecosse"--"John of Scotland," or "Scotch John." In the +analogous tale in Campbell, "The Barra Widow's Son," Vol. II., p. 111, +we read--"It was Iain Albanach" (literally, Jean d'Ecosse) "the boy was +called at first; he gave him the name of Iain Mac a Maighstir" (John, +master's son) "because he himself was master of the vessel." This +seems decisive that in some way the Basques have borrowed this tale +from the Kelts since their occupation of the Hebrides. The Spanish +versions, too, are termed "The Irish Princess" (Patrañas, p. 234). + +[141] See note on preceding page, and Campbell, Vol. II., p. 3. + +[142] Whether this refers to any real custom about dead men's debts, +we cannot say. It occurs in the Gaelic, in "Ezkabi," and in other +tales and versions, notably in the Spanish; see as above, and "The +White Blackbird," below, p. 182. + +[143] In other versions it is the soul of the man whose debts he +had paid, either in the shape of a hermit or a fox. In the Gaelic +it is left vague and undetermined. He is called "one," or "the +asker." (Campbell, Vol. II., pp. 119 and 121.) The same contract is +made in each case, and with the same result. + +[144] This is, of course, "Jean de Calais"--"John of Calais"--and +would seem to show that it was through some French, and not Spanish, +versions that the Basques learnt it. + +[145] This seems inserted from "Mahistruba," p. 105. + +[146] In the Gaelic it is a general, as here, and not a lame second +officer, as in "Juan Dekos," who wants to marry the lady, and who +sets the hero on a desert island.--Campbell, Vol. II., p. 118. + +[147] See note on page 149. + +[148] We had put this tale aside, with some others, as worthless, +until we found from Campbell how widely it is spread. The earliest +version seems to be the Italian of Straparola, 1567. The first +incident there, persuading that a pig is an ass, we have in another +Basque tale; the last two incidents are identical. They are found, +too, in the Gaelic, though in separate versions. For killing the +wife, see Campbell, Vol. II., p. 232; for the last, pp. 222 and +234. Cf. also "The Three Widows," with all the variations and notes, +Vol. II., pp. 218-238. Is this a case of transmission from one people +to another of the Italian of Straparola? or do all the versions +point back to some lost original? and is there, or can there be, +any allegorical meaning to such a tale? The answer to these questions +seems of great importance, and the present tale to be a good instance +to work upon. Petarillo seems an Italian name. + +[149] "Peau d'Ane." + +[150] "Fidèle." + +[151] The narrator was here asked "if the place of the dance was at the +king's palace." "No," she gravely replied, "it was at the mairie." In +other tales it is on the "place," i.e., the open square or market-place +which there is in most French towns and villages in the south. It is +generally in front either of the church or of the mairie. + +[152] This was explained as meaning "Beaten with the Slipper." This +version came from the Cascarrot, or half-gipsy quarter of St. Jean +de Luz, and may not be purely Basque. Except in one or two words the +language is correct enough--for St. Jean de Luz. + +[153] At an exclamation of surprise from one of the auditors, the +narrator piously said, "It is the Holy Virgin who permitted all that." + +[154] Cf. "The Serpent in the Wood," p. 38. + +[155] Literally, "be full." + +[156] Cf. the well behind the house in the "Fisherman and his Three +Sons," p. 87. + +[157] Cf. "Dragon," p. 108.] + +[158] Here the narrator evidently forgot to tell about the child's +being exposed, and the gardener finding it, as appears by the sequel. + +[159] Cf. the well that boils in "The Fisherman and his Three Sons," +and the ring in "Beauty and the Beast." + +[160] Can Bunyan have taken his description of the "Valley of the +Shadow of Death," in the "Pilgrim's Progress," partly from such tales +as this? + +[161] Cf. above in "Ezkabi" and "Juan Dekos." There is some similarity +between this tale and Campbell's "Mac Ian Direach," Vol. II., +p. 328. Compare also "The Greek Princess and the Young Gardener," +in Kennedy's "Fireside Stories of Ireland." We know only the French +translation of this last in Brueyre, p. 145. "Le Merle Blanc" is one +of the best known of French stories. + +[162] Cf. "Juan Dekos" for paying the debts, and the fox. In the +Gaelic the fox is called "An Gille Mairtean," "the fox." (Campbell, +Vol. II., p. 329, seq.) + +[163] Cf. the stealing of the bay filly in Campbell's "Mac Iain +Direach," Vol. II., p. 334. + +[164] Huge cisterns, partly underground, for holding rain water, +are common in the Pays Basque. They are, of course, near the houses +off which the water drains. + +[165] Cf. "Basa-Jauna," p. 49. + +[166] A piece of the braise, or burnt stick. This is constantly done +all through the South of France, where wood is burnt. If your fire +is out you run to get a stick from your neighbour's fire. + +[167] Cf. note to "Basa-Jauna," p. 49. + +[168] Cf. "Old Deccan Days" ("Truth's Triumph"), pp. 57-58. The little +girl is the rose tree there among the mango trees, her brothers. Cows +are very gentle in the Pays Basque, and are often petted, especially +the tiny black and white Breton ones. We have known a strong man weep +at the death of a favourite cow, and this one of ten others. + +[169] The Ranee makes the same conditions in "Truth's Triumph"--"You +will let me take these crows" (her brothers) "with me, will you +not? for I love them dearly, and I cannot go away unless they may +come too."--"Old Deccan Days," p. 59. + +[170] This was recited to M. Vinson, and has been published by him +in the "Revue de Linguistique," p. 241 (Janvier, 1876). We have since +heard of a longer form preserved at Renteria, in Guipuzcoa. + +[171] To these should perhaps be added the Latin of the Dolopathos and +"Gesta Romanorum" of the 12th or 13th century. + +[172] The first portion of this tale is told of the Tartaro as +"Twenty-Four." We suspect that it is an old Tartaro tale joined on to +a Christopheros legend, unless indeed this be the very peculiarity and +meaning of the Christopheros legend--the enlisting of the old gods +into the service of Christ, and including the most human of them in +His salvation. The last part of the tale is very widely spread. It is +given by F. Caballero in the Spanish, and by Cenac-Moncaut, "Le Sac +de la Ramée," p. 57--"Littérature Populaire de la Gascogne." There is +something like it in Campbell's "Tale of the Soldier," Vol. II., p.276. + +[173] This seems to be one of the many variations of the "Golden +Legend," the "Aurea Legenda" which Longfellow has so well versified. + +[174] The idea of this incident is not confined to Christianity; a +similar story is told of a Mahommedan saint, and a caliph or king. The +scene of the story is Cairo. + +[175] As is plain by the sequel, where the angel hangs him for a +moment, the original story must have had "hanged." This is a good +example of the way in which the dress of a story gets gradually +altered, as old customs are forgotten among a people. + +[176] This whole picture is, unhappily, more true to life than one +would think at first sight. The whole history of the Cagots, and +a good deal of that of witchcraft, shows how virulent this kind of +irrational dislikes is, and how difficult to deal with and to overcome +when once they have been introduced into a rural population. + +[177] I am not unaware that certain portions of the theory above stated +have been recently disputed, especially by Mr. Sayce ("Principles +of Comparative Philology," Trübner, London, 1874). But I am unable, +for the present at least, to accept all these criticisms, and I have +here no opportunity of discussing them fully, or to good purpose. + +[178] "Poésies Basques de Bernard Dechepare." A most careful reprint, +word for word, was published by Cazals, Bayonne, in 1874. + +[179] An exact reprint of the Gospel of St. Mark in this version, +with notes, &c., by M. J. Vinson, was also published at Bayonne +(Cazals), 1874. + +[180] For more minute and complete topographical details, see the +excellent linguistic maps of Prince L. L. Bonaparte, which are models +of the application of geography to the aid of philological study. The +peculiar dialect spoken in every village, and, in some instances, +in almost every house, may be there traced. + +[181] M. Van Eys has consecrated an excellent article to these +etymologies in the "Revue de Linguistique," Juillet, 1874, pp. 3-15. + +[182] It must, however, be acknowledged that M. Luchaire, in various +pamphlets relating to the ancient toponymy of Spain, has made certain +of these explanations more acceptable. + +[183] A form of skull, postero-dolichocephalous, with good facial +angle, ortho- or opistho-gnathous, but of comparatively small cerebral +content, is claimed by some as peculiar to the Basques.--W. W. + +[184] The names of some of the most famous improvisatori, +or Coblacaris, as they are called in Basque, have been preserved: +Fernando Amezquetarra, in the Spanish Provinces; and Pierre Topet +dit Etchehun, and Bernard Mardo of Barcus, in the French Pays Basque. + +[185] An exception is occasionally made in the case of the "Satans," +as the part is almost too fatiguing for girls. + +[186] This little wand plays an important part of its own. In many +of its uses it resembles the Caduceus of Mercury; a touch from it +renders invisible, puts to death, or restores to life at the will of +the Satanic possessor. It appears also as given to the hero in many +of the "Legends;" cf. pp. 34, 35, above. + +[187] An account of the acting of Richard Sans Peur, at Larrau, +in June 1864, is given in Macmillan's Magazine, January, 1865. + +[188] Cf. Legends above, p. 151. + +[189] This MS. was kindly lent by M. J. Vinson, to whom we have been +so often indebted. + +[190] Ercilla, the author of the "Araucana," was however of Basque +blood, and Basque names occur frequently among the poets and dramatists +of Spain, especially in recent years. + +[191] The claim put forth in the "Revista Euskara," p. 61, April, +1878, may be fully conceded:--"Si; éste es el carácter distintivo +de la poesía euskara; su exquisita moralidad. Jamás se encuentra +en ella nada que se parezca, ni á una apología del vicio, ni á una +excusa del crimen." + +[192] "Cancionero Vasco, acompañado de traducciones +castellanas, juicios criticos," etc., por José Manterola. San +Sebastian. 1877-8. Serie I., 2, p. 39. + +[193] The reader will remark that there is really no authority for +treating these words as proper names. This, however, is the universal +interpretation among Basques. + +[194] Ibargüen's words after quoting the song are: "Por este órden +referidas yba este cantar contando toda esta historia que habemos +dicho atrás en este capítulo de las guerras ceviles que en cinco +años Octaviano Cesar Augusto hizo en esta Provincia Cantábrica, y +aunque esta hereciat (historical song) tenga otros muy muchos versos +rodados tan solamente dellos he tomado los diez e seis primeros, +porque los demas estaban carcomidos, y los pongo aquí para el que +fuere bascongado, contentándome con solo ellos ebitando largueza +importuna de los demás, que el pergamino está muy roñoso e viejo," +cited in the "Cancionero Vasco," 2, iii., pp. 4, 5. + +[195] Cf. Alexandre Dihinx in the Impartial de Bayonne, in 1873. These +articles have been reprinted by M. J. Vinson in L'Avenir de Bayonne, +May, 1878. + +[196] "The master of the house," the usual respectful address to +a Basque proprietor of any rank. His wife is "Etcheco Anderea," +"The mistress of the house." + +[197] Altabiscar is the mountain on the East, Ibañeta that on the +West of the supposed scene of conflict. + +[198] Of course it ought to be "vultures." The Basque is distinctly +"eagles;" an error which no Basque shepherd could have made. + +[199] The use of rocks "is confirmed by the Basque ballad of +Altabiscar, in which, however, there is no allusion to the powerful +inducement of booty." + +[200] There are other examples of similar mystification in later Basque +literature. "Les Échos du Pas de Roland," par J. B. Dasconaguerre, +Bayonne, 1868, professes on the title to be "traduit du Basque"; +but the "Atheko-gaitzeko Oiharzunak" (the echoes of the bad door or +pass), Bayonan, 1870, is really a translation from the French. To the +Basques the name of Roland is unknown in connection with this beautiful +ravine. M. Fr. Michel's "Le Romancero du Pays Basque," Didot, Paris, +1859, is scarcely less an embroidery on themes of which the ground +only is Basque. + +[201] Cf. lorea, from the Latin flos flore. + +[202] An exact reprint of Echepare's "Poems," edited by M. Vinson, +was published by Cazals, Bayonne, 1874. + +[203] The most curious fact to notice in these hymns is, how very soon +after their death the Jesuit Fathers, Ignatius de Loyola and François +de Xavier, were celebrated and addressed as saints in Basque verse. + +[204] This song is prettily translated in Miss Costello's "Béarn +and the Pyrénées," London, 1844, where are also translations of some +other Basque songs, the originals of which I have failed to trace. + + + 1. + + Borne on thy wings amidst the air, + Sweet bird, where wilt thou go? + For if thou wouldst to Spain repair, + The ports are filled with snow. + Wait, and we will fly together, + When the Spring brings sunny weather. + + 2. + + St. Joseph's Hermitage is lone, + Amidst the desert bare, + And when we on our way are gone, + Awhile we'll rest us there; + As we pursue our mountain track, + Shall we not sigh as we look back? + + 3. + + Go to my love, oh! gentle sigh, + And near her chamber hover nigh; + Glide to her heart, make that thy shrine, + As she is fondly kept in mine. + Then thou may'st tell her it is I + Who sent thee to her, gentle sigh! + + +[205] For the most recent theory on the Cagots, see "Les Parias de +France et de l'Espagne," par M. de Rochas (Hachette, Paris, 1876). + +[206] More often the Cagots' ears were said to be either completely +round or with very long lobes, or with the lobes adhering. We have +found examples of all of these in the Basque country, but not confined +or peculiar to the Cagots. A case like that described in the verse +above we have never seen. + +[207] Michel, "Le Pays Basque," p. 352. + +[208] Michel, "Le Pays Basque," p. 414. + +[209] I owe the MS. of this song to the kindness of M. Achille +Fouquier, author, sportsman, and artist. + +[210] A line has dropped out of the MS. here. We supply the probable +meaning. The composer is one P. Mendibel, 1859. + +[211] Taken down by M. J. Vinson, February 21, 1874. Cf. "Proverbes du +Pays de Béarn," par V. Lespy (Montpellier, 1876), p. 84, for another +song on "Little Peter" in Gascoun. + +[212] Cf. Fr. Michel, "Le Pays Basque," p. 260. "Cancionero Vasco," +Series 2, iii., 82, etc. + +[213] From the MS. of M. A. Fouquier. This song took the prize at +Urrugne, 1858. + +[214] The latest traveller in the Basque countries corroborates +this. Major Campion writes, "I had no idea how fine were the old +Basque songs, or, more correctly speaking, chants; some of them +being perfectly charming."--"On Foot in Spain," by J. S. Campion, +p. 73. (Chapman and Hall, 1879.) + +[215] These are to be obtained chez Ribaut, Pau, and the other +booksellers at Biarritz and Pau. + + + + + + Fleet Street Printing Works, 52, Fleet Street, London, E.C. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASQUE LEGENDS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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