Breton Legends.Breton Legends.The Three Wayfarers.There dwelt in the diocese of Léon, in ancient times, two young noblemen, rich and comely as heart could desire. Their names were Tonyk and Mylio.Mylio, the elder, was almost sixteen, and Tonyk just fourteen years of age. They were both under the instruction of the ablest masters, by whose lessons they had so well profited that, but for their age, they might well have received holy orders, had such been their vocation.But in character the brothers were very unlike. Tonyk was pious, charitable to the poor, and always ready to forgive those who had offended him: he hoarded neither money in hishand nor resentment in his heart. Mylio, on the other hand, while he gave but his due to each, would drive a hard bargain too, and never failed to revenge an injury to the uttermost.It had pleased God to deprive them of their father whilst yet in their infancy, and they had been brought up by their widowed mother, a woman of singular virtue; but now that they were growing towards manhood, she deemed it time to send them to the care of an uncle, who lived at some distance, and from whom they might receive good counsels for their walk in life, besides the expectation of an ample heritage.So one day, after bestowing upon each a new cap, a pair of silver-buckled shoes, a violet mantle,1a well-filled purse, and a horse, she bade them set forth towards the house of their father’s brother.The two boys began their journey in the highest spirits, glad that they were travelling into a new country. Their horses made such good speed, that in the course of a few days they found themselves already in another kingdom, where the trees, and even the corn, were quite different to their own. There one morning, coming to a cross-road, they saw a poor woman seated near a wayside cross, her face buried in her apron.Tonyk drew up his horse to ask her what she ailed; and the beggar told him, sobbing, that she had just lost her son, her sole support, and that she was now cast upon the charity of Christian strangers.The youth was touched with compassion; but Mylio, who waited at a little distance, cried out mockingly,“You are not going to believe the first pitiful story told you by the roadside! It is just this woman’s trade to sit here and cheat travellers of their money.”“Hush, hush, my brother,” answered Tonyk, “in the name of God; you only make her weep the more. Do not you see that she is just the age and figure of our own dear mother, whom may God preserve.” Then stooping towards the beggar-woman, he handed her his purse, saying,“Here, my good woman, I can help you but a little; but I will pray that God Himself may be your consolation.”The beggar took the purse, and pressed it to her lips; then said to Tonyk,“Since my young lord has been so bountiful to a poor woman, let him not refuse to accept from her this walnut. It contains a wasp with a sting of diamond.”Tonyk took the walnut with thanks, and proceeded on his way with Mylio.Ere long they came upon the borders of a forest, and saw a little child, half naked, seeking somewhat in the hollows of the trees, whilst he sung a strange and melancholy air, more mournful than the music of a requiem. He often stopped to clap his little frozen hands, saying in his song, “I am cold,—oh, so cold!” and the boys could hear his teeth chatter in his head.Tonyk was ready to weep at this spectacle, and said to his brother,“Mylio, only see how this poor child suffers from the piercing wind.”“Then he must be a chilly subject,” returned Mylio; “the wind does not strike me as so piercing.”“That may well be, when you have on a plush doublet, a warm cloth coat, and over all your violet mantle, whilst he is wrapped round by little but the air of heaven.”“Well, and what then?” observed Mylio; “after all, he is but a peasant-boy.”“Alas,” said Tonyk, “when I think that you, my brother, might have been born to the same hard fate, it goes to my very heart; and I cannot bear to see him suffering. For Jesus’ sake let us relieve him.”So saying he reined in his horse, and calling to him the little boy, asked what he was about.“I am trying,” said the child, “if I can find any dragon-flies2asleep in the hollows of the trees.”“And what do you want with the dragon-flies?” asked Mylio.“When I have found a great many, I shall sell them in the town, and buy myself a garment as warm as sunshine.”“And how many have you found already?” asked the young nobleman.“One only,” said the child, holding up a little rushen cage enclosing the blue fly.“Well, well, I will take it,” interposed Tonyk, throwing to the boy his violet mantle. “Wrap yourself up in that nice warm cloak, my poor little fellow; and when you kneel down to your evening prayers, say every night a ‘Hail Mary’ for us, and another for our mother.”The two brothers went forward on their journey; and Tonyk, having parted with his mantle, suffered sorely for a time from the cutting north wind; but the forest came to an end, the air grew milder, the fog dispersed, and a vein of sunshine kindled in the clouds.They presently entered a green meadow, where a fountain sprung; and there beside it sat an agedman, his clothes in tatters, and on his back the wallet which marked him as a beggar.As soon as he perceived the young riders, he called to them in beseeching tones.Tonyk approached him.“What is it, father?” said he, lifting his hand to his hat in respectful consideration of the beggar’s age.“Alas, my dear young gentlemen,” replied the old man, “you see how white my hair is, and how wrinkled my cheeks. By reason of my age, I have grown very feeble, and my feet can carry me no further. Therefore I must certainly sit here and die, unless one of you is willing to sell me his horse.”“Sell thee one of our horses, beggar!” exclaimed Mylio, with contemptuous voice; “and wherewithal have you to pay for it?”“You see this hollow acorn,” answered the mendicant: “it contains a spider capable of spinning a web stronger than steel. Let me have one of your horses, and I will give you in exchange the acorn with the spider.”The elder of the two boys burst into a loud laugh.“Do you only hear that, Tonyk?” said he, turning to his brother. “By my baptism, there must be two calf’s feet in that fellow’s shoes.”3But the younger answered gently,“The poor can only offer what he has.”Then dismounting, he went up to the old man, and added,“I give you my horse, my honest friend, not in consideration of the price you offer for him, but in remembrance of Christ, who has declared the poor to be His chosen portion. Take and keep him as your own, and thank God, in whose name I bestow him.”The old man murmured a thousand benedictions, and mounting with Tonyk’s aid, went on his way, and was soon lost in the distance.But at this last alms-deed Mylio could no longer contain himself, and broke out into a storm of reproaches.“Fool!” cried he angrily to Tonyk, “are you not ashamed of the state to which you have reduced yourself by your folly? You thought no doubt that when you had stripped yourself of every thing, I would go shares with you in horse and cloak and purse. But no such thing. I hope this lesson at least will do you good, and that, by feeling the inconveniences of prodigality, you may learn to be more prudent for the future.”“It is indeed a good lesson, my brother,” replied Tonyk mildly; “and I willingly receive it. I never so much as thought of sharing your money, horse, or cloak; go, therefore, on yourway without troubling yourself about me, and may the Queen of angels guide you.”Mylio answered not a word, but trotted quickly off; whilst his young brother followed upon foot, keeping him in sight as long as he was able, without a thought of bitterness arising in his heart.And thus they went on towards the entrance of a narrow defile between two mountains, so lofty that their tops were hidden in the clouds. It was called the Accursed Strait; for a dreadful being dwelt among those heights, and there laid wait for travellers, like a huntsman watching for his game. He was a giant, blind, and without feet; but had so fine an ear for sound, that he could hear the worm working her dark way within the earth. His servants were two eagles, which he had tamed (for he was a great magician), and he sent them forth to catch his prey so soon as he could hear it coming. So the country people of the neighbourhood, when they had to thread the dreaded pass, were accustomed to carry their shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff going to market at Morlaix, and held their breath lest the giant should detect their passage. But Mylio, who knew nothing of all this, went on at full trot, until the giant was awakened by the sound of horse’s hoofs upon the stony way.“Ho, ho, my harriers, where are you?” cried he.The white and the red eagle hastened to him.“Go and fetch me for my supper what is passing by,” exclaimed the giant.Like balls from cannon-mouth they shot down the depths of the ravine, and seizing Mylio by his violet mantle, bore him upwards to the giant’s den.At that moment Tonyk came up to the entrance of the defile. He saw his brother in the act of being carried off by the two birds, and rushing towards him, uttered a loud cry; but the eagles almost instantly vanished with Mylio in the clouds that hung over the loftiest mountain. For a few seconds the boy stood rooted to the spot with horror, gazing on the sky and the straight rocks that rose above him like a wall; then sinking on his knees, with folded hands, he cried,“O God, the Almighty Maker of the world, save my brother Mylio!”“Trouble not God the Father for so small a matter,” cried three little voices close beside him.Tonyk turned in amazement.“Who speaks? where are you?” he exclaimed.“In the pocket of thy doublet,” replied the three voices.Tonyk searched his pocket, and drew forth thewalnut, the acorn, and the rushen cage, containing the three different insects.“Is it you who will save Mylio?” said he.“We, we, we,” they answered in their various tones.“And what can you do, you poor little nobodies?” continued Tonyk.“Let us out, and thou shalt see.”The boy did as they desired; and immediately the spider crept to a tree, from which she began a web as strong and as shining as steel. Then mounting on the dragon-fly, which raised her gradually in the air, she still wove on her silvery network; the several threads of which assumed the form of a ladder constantly stretching upwards.Tonyk mounted step by step on this miraculous ladder, until it brought him to the summit of the mountain. Then the wasp flew before him, and led him to the giant’s den.It was a grotto hollowed in the cliff, and lofty as a cathedral-nave. The blind and footless ogre, seated in the middle, swayed his vast body to and fro like a poplar rocked by winds, singing snatches of a strange song; while Mylio lay on the ground, his legs and arms tucked behind him, like a fowl trussed for the spit. The two eagles were at a little distance, by the fireplace, one ready to act as turnspit, whilst the other made up the fire.The noise which the giant made in singing, and the attention he paid to the preparations for his feast, prevented his hearing the approach of Tonyk and his three tiny attendants; but the red eagle perceived the youth, and, darting forward, would have seized him in its claws, had not the wasp at that very moment pierced its eyes with her diamond sting. The white eagle, hurrying to its fellow’s aid, shared the same fate. Then the wasp flew upon the ogre, who had roused himself on hearing the cries of his two servants, and set herself to sting him without mercy. The giant roared aloud, like a bull in August. But in vain he whirled around him his huge arms, like windmill-sails; having no eyes, he could not succeed in catching the creature, and for want of feet it was equally impossible for him to escape from it.At length he flung himself, face downwards, on the earth, to find some respite from its fiery dart; but the spider then came up, and spun over him a net that held him fast imprisoned. In vain he called upon the eagles for assistance: savage with pain, and no longer fearing now they saw him vanquished, their only impulse was to revenge upon him all the bitterness of their past long slavery. Fiercely flapping their wings, they flew upon their former master, and tore him in their fury, as he lay cowering beneath the webof steel. With every stroke of their beaks they carried off a strip of flesh; nor did they stay their vengeance until they had laid bare his bones. Then they crouched down upon the mangled carcass; and as the flesh of a magician, to say nothing of an ogre, is a meat impossible of digestion, they never rose again.Meanwhile Tonyk had unbound his brother; and, after embracing him with tears of joy, led him from the cavern to the edge of the precipice. The dragon-fly and the wasp soon appeared there, harnessed to the little cage of rushes, now transformed into a coach. They invited the two brothers to seat themselves within it, whilst the spider placed herself behind like a magnificent lackey, and the equipage rolled onwards with the swiftness of the wind. In this way Tonyk and Mylio travelled untired over meadows, woods, mountains, and villages (for in the air the roads are always in good order), until they came before their uncle’s castle.There the carriage came to ground, and rolled onwards towards the drawbridge, where the brothers saw both their horses in waiting for them. At the saddle-bow of Tonyk hung his purse and mantle; but the purse had grown much larger and heavier, and the mantle was now all powdered with diamonds.Astonished, the youth turned him towardsthe coach to ask what this might mean; but, behold, the coach had disappeared; and instead of the wasp, the spider, and the dragon-fly, there stood three angels all glorious with light. Awe-struck and bewildered, the brothers sank upon their knees.Then one of the angels, more beautiful and radiant than his fellows, drew near to Tonyk, and thus spoke:“Fear not, thou righteous one; for the woman, the child, and the old man, whom thou hast succoured were none others than our blessed Lady, her divine Son, and the holy saint Joseph. They sent us to guard thee on thy way from harm; and, now that our mission is accomplished, we return to Paradise. Only remember all that has befallen thee, and let it serve as an example for ever.”At these words the angels spread their wings, and soared away like three white doves, chanting theHosannaas it is sung in churches at the Holy Mass.1Limestra, mantle of some special material, which is highly valued by the Bretons.2Aiguilles ailées.The fly commonly calleddemoisellein French, in Brittany isnadoz-aër; literally, “needle of the air.”3A proverbial expression in Brittany to designate folly and impertinence.The Legend of Saint Galonnek.Saint Galonnek was a native of Ireland, as, indeed, were almost all the teachers in Brittany of those days, and called himself Galonnus, being evidently of Roman origin. But after he had left his native land, and the fame of his good deeds had spread far and wide, the Bretons, seeing that his heart was like one of those fresh springs of water that are ever bubbling beneath unfading verdure, changed his name to Galonnek, which signifies in their languagethe open-hearted.And, in truth, never had any child of God a soul more tenderly awakened to the sufferings of his fellow-men. No sorrow was beneath his sympathy; but it was like the sea-breeze, springing with each tide, never failing to refresh the traveller weary on his way, or to fill the sails of the humble fishing-boat, and bring it safe to land.His father and mother were people of substance, and though themselves buried in the darkness of paganism, spared not the tenderest solicitude in the education of their son. He was placed under the instruction of the most learned masters Ireland could afford, and above all, had the honour of being a pupil of St. Patrick, thenfound amongst them like a nightingale in the midst of wrens, or a beech-tree towering above the ferns on a common.Under his teaching the boy grew up, learning only to regard himself in the person of God and his neighbours; and with so fervent a love for souls did the holy apostle of Ireland inspire Galonnek, that at the age of eighteen he had no higher wish than to cross over to Brittany, and preach the kingdom of Heaven to sorrowful sinners.His father and mother, who had then long since been converted, desired to throw no hindrance in the way of his accomplishing this pious work; but embracing him with tears, they bade him God speed, assured that they should meet again once more before the throne of God.Galonnek took his passage in a boat manned by evil-disposed sailors, whose design was to plunder him; but when they discovered that the holy youth was possessed of nothing but an iron crucifix and a holly-staff, they turned him out upon the coast of Cornouaille, where they abandoned him, helpless and without provisions.Galonnek walked about a long time, not knowing where he was, but perfectly tranquil in his mind, certain that he was in his Master’s kingdom. The sea that roared behind him, the birds that warbled in the bushes, and the wind murmuringin the leaves, all spoke alike to him, each with its own peculiar voice, the name of that Master whose creatures and subjects they were.He came at length, towards evening, to a part of the country lying between Audierne and Plougastel-des-Montagnes, and there finding a village, he seated himself on the doorstep of the first house, awaiting an invitation to enter.But, far from that, the owner of the house bade him rise and go away. Galonnek then went to the door of the next house, and received the same inhospitable order; and so on from door to door throughout the village. And from the expression every where used to him,zevel, this village was afterwards called Plouzevel, literally,people who said, Get up.The saint was preparing to stretch his weary limbs by the roadside, when he perceived a cabin which he had not yet noticed, and drew near the door.It was the dwelling of a poor widow, possessed only of a few acres of barren land, which she had no longer strength to till. But if the fruits of her land were little worth, those of her heart were rich and plentiful. So tenderly generous was her charity, that if any one asked her for a draught of goat’s milk, she would give him cream; and if one begged for cream, she would have been ready to bestow the goat itself.She received Galonnek as if he had been her dearly-beloved son, long absent, and supposed dead. She ministered to him of the best she had, listening with devotion to his holy teaching; and having already charity, the very key of true religion, she was ready to embrace with all her heart the faith of Christ. So early as the very next morning she begged the grace of baptism; and Galonnek, seeing that the love of her neighbours had already made her a Christian in intention, consented to bestow it. But water was wanted at the moment of the ceremony; and St. Galonnek going out, took a spade, and digging for a few moments in the old woman’s little courtyard, there sprung out an abundant fountain; and he said,“By the aid of this water your barren land will become fertile meadows covered with rich grass, and you will be able to feed as many cows in your new pastures as you have now goats browsing on your heath.”This miracle began to open the eyes of the villagers; and they gave permission to Galonnek to take up his abode in a forest which stretched in those days from Plouzevel to the sea-shore. There the holy disciple of St. Patrick built himself a hut of turf and boughs.One day whilst praying in this oratory, he heard the hoofs of a runaway horse; and leaving his devotions to see what was the matter, hesaw a knight thrown from his horse amidst the thicket.Galonnek ran to his assistance; and having with much difficulty carried him to his hermitage, he began to bathe his wounds, to dress them with leaves for want of ointment, and to bind them up with strips torn from his own gown of serge.Now it chanced that this knight was the Count of Cornouaille himself; and he was found presently by the attendants, whom he had outstripped, peacefully sleeping on the saint’s bed of fern. But behold, when he awakened, that saint’s prayers had stood instead of remedies, and all his wounds were healed.And whilst all stood astonished at this miracle, St. Galonnek said gently,“Do not be so much surprised; for if by faith mountains may be moved, why should not charity heal death itself?”The count, filled with wonder and delight, declared that the whole forest should become the property of the man who had done so much for him; and not that only, but that he should have as much good meadow-land as could be enclosed within the strips he had torn from his gown to bind the wounds, each strip being reduced to single threads. Thus Galonnek became the owner of a whole parish; and a proverb arose,which is still current in those parts,That it is with the length of a benefit received one must measure the field of gratitude.Yet Galonnek was none the richer, notwithstanding the noble liberality of the count. All the income of his estate was given to the poor, whilst he still lived on in his leafy hermitage. But as many young men were attracted from the neighbourhood by his reputation for holiness and learning, he built many other cells beside his own; and thus from his school in that solitary glade the light of the Gospel went forth in time through all the length and breadth of the country.It was amidst the perfume of wild-flowers, beside the murmuring brook, that Galonnek taught his pupils. He would teach them to understand somewhat of the providence of God by making them observe the tender care with which the little birds prepare a downy nest for offspring yet unborn. He would point out to their attention how the earth yields moisture to the roots of trees, how the trees become a dwelling-place for thrushes and for finches, and how these again make musical the forest with their cheerful strains, to illustrate the advantage and necessity of mutual benevolence and brotherly love. And when need was to stimulate their efforts or their perseverance, he would lead them tobehold the ant, unwearied in her toil, or the constant woodpecker whose tiny bill achieves the scooping of an oak.But this teaching did not confine him in one place; and wherever he went his presence was as that of a star in the midst of darkness.Now in those days the inhabitants of Brittany still exercised the right ofwrecking, or in other words, reserved to themselves the privilege of plundering any unfortunate vessels thrown upon their coasts. They spoke of the sea as a cow given to their ancestors by God, and that brought forth every winter for their benefit; thus they looked on shipwrecks as a positive blessing.One night, during a heavy storm, as Galonnek was returning to his forest from the sick-bed of a poor man, he saw the dwellers on the coast leading a bull along the rocks. His head was bound down towards his fore-legs, and a beacon-light was fastened to his horns. The crippled gait of the animal gave an oscillating motion to the light, which might be well mistaken at a distance for the lantern of a ship pitching out at sea, and thus deceive bewildered vessels, uncertain in the tempest of their course, into the notion of yet being far from shore. Already one thus treacherously beguiled was on its way to ruin, and might be seen close upon the rocks, its fullwhite sails gleaming through the night; another moment and it would have been aground among the breakers.Galonnek rushed amidst the peasants, extinguished the false beacon, and reproached them for such treachery. But they would not listen to him, and prepared to rekindle the light. Then the saint cried,“By all your hopes in this world and the next, have done! for it is your own brethren and children that you are drawing to destruction.”And whilst they stood uncertain, God kindled up the sky with flashing lightning; and beholding the vessel as if it had been noonday, they saw that it was indeed a Breton ship.Terrified by the dangers to which they had exposed themselves, they all fell down at the saint’s feet; the women kissed the hem of his garment with floods of tears, as if his hands had rescued their sons from the depths of the sea, and all with one voice exclaimed,“But for him we should have become the murderers of our friends and neighbours.”“Alas, those whom you have already lured to death were equally your neighbours and your friends,” replied St. Galonnek; “for we are all descended from Adam, and have been ransomed by the blood of the same God.”The peasants,deeply moved, perceived their guilt, and promised to renounce this custom of their fathers.Much about the same time, the country of Pluguffant was ravaged by a dragon, which devoured whole flocks with their shepherds and dogs. In vain had the most courageous men banded themselves together to destroy it. The ferocious monster had put them all to flight; and now nobody dared to stir out of doors to lead his cattle to water, or go and work in the fields. As soon as Galonnek knew this sad state of things, he set out for the court of the Count of Cornouaille, and asked there which knight was the most valiant before God and man. Every voice declared him to be Messire Tanguy de Carfor, who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and killed more than a thousand Saracens with his own hand.Galonnek desired him to gird on his sword and armour, and to come and fight the dragon, which God had given him amission to destroy. Carfor instantly armed himself, and accompanied the saint to the monster’s den, from which he came out, howling frightfully at their approach.Carfor hesitated in spite of himself at so unwonted an appearance; but Galonnek said to him,“For your soul’s sake, messire, have confidencein God, and you shall kill this monster as easily as a gadfly.”Thus encouraged, the knight advanced to the attack, and with scarce an effort pierced the dragon three times through with his sword, whilst the saint called upon the three Persons of the Most Holy Trinity.Galonnek also freed the country from many other scourges, such as wolves, reptiles, and mosquitoes with fiery stings; and being now old enough to receive holy orders, he was ordained by St. Pol; and built a little chapel beside his oratory, where every day he celebrated Mass.Meanwhile the leafy cells around him multiplied so fast, that at last they were united in a monastery, called by GalonnekYoulmad, orthe house of good desires.He was engaged in drawing up a rule for this monastery, when he was interrupted by a disturbing rumour which arose in the neighbourhood.It was said that a woman clothed in red, and with a ghastly countenance, had taken passage in a fishing-boat from Crozon. She landed near Poullons; and when questioned as to her name on departing, she had replied that she was called the Lady of Pestilence. And, in fact, it came to pass, that within a very few days both men and animals were smitten with a contagious disease, which carried them off after a few hours’ illness.So great was the mortality, that wood sufficient for the coffins could not be found; and for want of grave-diggers, the corpses were laid to rest in furrows hollowed by the plough.Those who were well off gathered all their effects together in wagons, and harnessing all the horses they possessed, drove away at full speed to the mountains, which the pallid woman had not passed. But the poorer people, who had no means of conveyance, and were unwilling to leave their little all, awaited their doom at home, like sheep lying down to rest around the butcher’s door.In this extremity, however, they were not abandoned by Galonnek. He went from hut to hut, carrying aid or consolation. Linen for shrouds and wood for coffins might indeed be wanting; but he swathed the fever-spotted dead in leafy twigs, and bore them in his own arms to consecrated earth, laying them down tenderly as sleeping infants in their cradle-bed. Then planting a branch of yew, and another of blossoming broom, he entwined them in the form of a cross, and set them as an emblem on the grave; the yew symbolising the sorrow which underlies thewholecourse of life, and the blossoming broom the transitory joys which gleam across it. And it is said, that when at last the pestilence was stayed, these holy crosses covered a space of threedays’ journey. So many generous and pious acts had spread the fame of Galonnek both far and wide, and all Cornouaille was inflamed with devotion. Persons came from all parts to the convent ofGood Desiresto listen to his teaching, to ask his prayers, and to offer him gifts; but these the saint only accepted for the purposes of charity.“The priest,” he used to say, “is only as a canal, which serves to carry water from overflowing streams to arid barren plains.”Another of his sayings was, “God has given us two hands; one with which to receive His good treasures, and the other to administer the same to those who need.”And thus, although the neighbouring nobles had loaded him with presents, his monastery and church were radiant only with his good actions. He was accustomed to sleep upon an osier hurdle, and wore nothing better than a gown of faded serge. But all this external poverty threw out with stronger lustre the brightness of his hidden worth; and Galonnek was like one of those caskets made of earth or bark, in which are treasured rubies and carbuncles.The see of Cornouaille becoming vacant, Galonnek was summoned with one voice to fill it. He was anxious to refuse; but St. Pol himself came to find him out, and said to him that God’s stars have no right to conceal themselves in thegrass, but must take their places in the firmament. Then St. Galonnek resigned himself; but when the moment came for leaving the turfen oratory, where he had spent the best part of his life, his heart became so heavy that he burst into tears, and cried aloud, “Alas, how shall I become worthy of the new office which my brethren impose upon me?” Then, falling on his knees, he prayed most fervently until God put strength into his heart. When he arose, he took the humble chalice he had been accustomed to use, his sole possession, save the memory of his good deeds, and went on foot to the capital of Cornouaille, where he was consecrated Bishop.Here began for St. Galonnek a new life of courage and self-denial. He had to fight for the poor against the rich, for the weak against the mighty. When his friends and disciples beheld him engage, all unprotected, in these dangerous struggles, even the most courageous were at times dismayed; but Galonnek would say with a smile, “Fear not, my friends, their weapons cannot touch me. God Himself has forged for me a breastplate with the tears of the sorrowful, the miseries of the poor, and the despair of the oppressed. Behind this armour I can feel no hurt. Blows can only do us mischief by glancing across us at any of those who have taken up our cause; for from our very heart distils a balsam that canheal as they come all the wounds inflicted from without.”Moved by the sight of so much virtue, many powerful noblemen, who had hitherto persisted in idolatry, came to ask of Galonnek instruction and the grace of baptism; but he would only grant this favour in reward for some good work. If any one had sinned, and came to seek for absolution, Galonnek would give him for a penance some virtuous action to perform, some charitable service to his fellow-men. He taught them to regard God as the surety for recompenses merited but not received, to invest their lives in Paradise, to break every tie which holds the soul in bondage, that it may spring forward with unfettered flight in the love of God and man.About this time the Count of Cornouaille died, and was succeeded by his son Tugduval. He was a conceited, vain-glorious youth, who could not endure the least contradiction, and had not yet lived long enough to find that life is an instrument on which the first chords we strike are invariably false.So unjust had he shown himself in many instances to the townspeople and gentry, that they banded together and drove him from the city. But Tugduval asked assistance from the Count of Vannes, and soon returned with an army to which the rebels could offer no resistance.Multitudes were slain in battle, and the survivors taking refuge in the city, were besieged there by the count.He rode round the city-walls, like a hungry wolf parading a sheepfold, swearing never to forgive one of the rebels, or those who had given them shelter.So battering-rams were brought, and raised against the walls; and when once a passage was forced, he mounted his war-horse, and ordering every soldier to take a naked sword in one hand, and a lighted torch in the other, he rushed at their head into the affrighted city.But Galonnek had seen the terror of the conquered people, who only looked for fire and sword; and coming out of the cathedral, with all his priests in procession, bearing crosses and all their sacred relics, he came the first to meet Tugduval, his bald head uncovered, and his chalice in his hand.The young count, astonished, checked his horse; but Galonnek went straight up to his saddle-bow, there paused, and said in a gentle voice, “If any will devour the flock, he must begin by slaying the shepherd. I am here at your mercy, and am ready to purchase with my blood forgiveness for the rest.”At the sight of this holy old man, whom he had early been taught to reverence, and at thatvoice which had always sounded like a benediction, Tugduval felt his rage dissolve away; and letting fall his sword, he bent over his horse’s neck, and kissed devoutly the chalice carried by St. Galonnek. At that instant all the soldiers, as if touched by the same emotion, put out their torches, and turned their sword-points to the ground, crying as with one voice, “Quarter, quarter for all!”The young count waited not a repetition of this prayer; but dismounting hastily, he followed the Bishop to the cathedral, where the conquerors and the conquered joined in songs of thanksgiving to God.This was the last great act of St. Galonnek’s life. A very few months after, he felt his strength decay, and knew that his end was near. He did not, however, on that account relax in his good works. Returning one day from a visit to a poor widow bereaved of her last son, he suddenly found himself unable to proceed, and sat down to rest upon a stone by the wayside. There a pedlar from the mountains found him, some time after, sitting motionless; and thinking that he slept, the man approached him, when he saw that he was dead. Judging from the poverty of his apparel, the pedlar took him for a hermit of the neighbourhood, and out of Christian charity wrapped the body in his mantle for a funeral shroud. A shoemaker’s wife, who lived a few steps off, contributedan old chest to serve as a coffin, so that Bishop Galonnek came to his grave like a beggar.But the truth was soon discovered by the miracles which were wrought at his tomb; and the body being taken from the earth, was carried with great state to the city, and buried at the foot of the high altar in the cathedral. St. Pol was requested to write an epitaph upon him; but the apostle of Léon replied that none but an archangel could compose one; so they merely covered the grave with a plain granite slab, on which was carved the name of Galonnek.Ages have passed away, and yet this stone still remains, and thither the Breton mothers come to lay their new-born babes one instant on its consecrated bosom, whilst they repeat the usual form of prayer:“Saint Galonnek, bestow upon my child two hearts. Give him the heart of a lion, that he may be strong in well-doing; and give him the heart of a turtle-dove, that he may be full of brotherly love.”The feast of St. Galonnek is celebrated on the 1st of April, when the buds of the hedgerows are bursting into leaf, and “the time of the singing of birds is come.”The Korils of Plauden.There dwelt formerly in the land of White-Wheat, as well as in Cornouaille, a race of dwarfs, or Korigans, who, being divided into four nations or tribes, inhabited the woods, the commons, the valleys, and the farms. Those dwelling in the woods were calledKornikaneds, because they played on little horns, which hung suspended from their girdles; the inhabitants of the commons were calledKorils, from their spending all their nights in dancing by moonlight; the dwellers in the valleys werePoulpikans, from their homes lying so low; and theTeuzwere wild black men, living near the meadows and the wheat-fields; but as the other Korigans accused them of being too friendly with Christians, they were forced to take flight into Léon, where probably there may still be some of them remaining.At the time of which I speak, there were only then hereabouts the Kornikaneds, the Poulpikans, and the Korils; but they abounded in such numbers, that after dark few people cared to venture near their stony palaces.Above all, there lay in Plauden, near the little market-town of Loqueltas, a common known asMotenn-Dervenn, orplace of oaks, whereon there stood an extensive Koril village, that may be seen there to this very day. The mischievous dwarfs came out to dance there every night; and any one adventurous enough to cross the common at that time was sure to be entrapped into their mazy chain, and forced to wheel about with them till earliest cockcrow; so that the place was universally avoided after nightfall.One evening, however, Benead Guilcher, returning with his wife from a field, where he had been doing a day’s work in ploughing for a farmer of Cadougal, took his way across the haunted heath because it was so much the shortest road. It was still early, and he hoped that the Korigans might not have yet begun their dance; but when he came half-way over the Motenn-Dervenn, he perceived them scattered round about the blocks of stone, like birds on a field of corn. He would fain have turned him back; but the horns of the wood-dwarfs, and the call-cries of the valley-imps, already rose behind him. Benead felt his legs tremble, and said to his wife,“Saint Anne, we are done for! Here come the Kornikaneds and the Poulpikans to join the Korils for their midnight ball. They will make us dance with them till daybreak; and it is more than my poor heart can endure.”And, in fact, the troops of Korigans assemblingfrom all parts, came round about poor Guilcher and his wife like flies in August to a drop of honey, but started back on seeing in his hand the little fork Benead had been using to clear the ploughshare, and began to sing with one accord,“Let him be, let her be,The plough-fork has he!Let them go on their way,The fork carry they!”Guilcher instantly perceived that the instrument he held in his hand acted as a charm against the power of the Korigans; and he and his wife passed unmolested through the very midst of them.This was a hint to every body. From that day forward it became a universal custom to take out the little fork of an evening; and thus armed, any one might cross the heaths and valleys without fear of hindrance.But Benead was not satisfied with having rendered this service to the Bretons; he was an inquisitive as well as an intelligent man, and as merry a hunchback as any in the four Breton bishoprics. For I have omitted to tell you that Benead carried from his birth a hump betwixt his shoulders, with which he would thankfully have parted at cost-price. He was looked on also as an honest workman, who laboured conscientiouslyfor daily bread, and moreover well deserved the character of a good Christian.One evening, unable to resist the wish, he took his little fork, commended himself devoutly to St. Anne, and set off towards the Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils saw him from a distance, and ran to him, crying,“It is Benead Guilcher!”“Yes, it is I, my little men,” replied the jovial hunchback; “I have come to pay you a friendly visit.”“You are welcome,” replied the Korils. “Will you have a dance with us?”“Excuse me, my good folks,” replied Guilcher, “but your breath is too long for a poor invalid.”“We will stop whenever you like,” cried the Korils.“Will you promise that?” said Benead, who was not unwilling to try a round with them, as much for the novelty of the thing as that he might have it to talk about.“We will promise thee,” said the dwarfs.“By the Saviour’s cross?”“By the Saviour’s cross.”The hunchback, satisfied that such an oath secured him from all dangers, took his place in their chain; and the Korils began their round, singing their accustomed song:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday;Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.”1In a few minutes Guilcher stopped.“With all due deference to you, good gentlefolks,” said he to the dwarfs, “your song and dance seem to me very monotonous. You stop too early in the week; and without having much claim to be a skilful stringer of rhymes, I fancy I can lengthen the chorus.”“Let us see, let us see!” cried the dwarfs.Then the hunchback replied,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”A great tumult arose amongst the Korils.“Stard! stard!”2cried they, surrounding Guilcher; “you are a bold singer and a fine dancer. Repeat it once more.”The hunchback repeated,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,”whilst the Korils wheeled about in mad delight. At last they stopped, and pressing round about Guilcher, they cried with one voice,“What will you have? what do you want? riches or beauty? Speak a wish, and we will fulfil it for you.”“Are you in earnest?” asked the labourer.“May we be doomed to pick up grain by grain all the millet in the diocese, if we deceive thee,” they replied.“Well,” said Guilcher, “if you want to make me a present, and leave me to choose what it shall be, I have one thing only to desire from you, and that is, that you take away what I have got here set betwixt my shoulders, and make me as straight as the flagstaff of Loqueltas.”“Good, good!” replied the Korils. “Be easy, come here.” And seizing Guilcher, they threw him in the air, tossing him from one to another like a worsted ball, until he had made the round of the entire circle. Then he fell upon his feet, giddy, breathless, but—without his hump! Benead had grown younger, fatter, beautiful! Except his mother, no one could have recognised him.You may guess the surprise his appearance created on his return to Loqueltas. No one could believe it was Guilcher; his wife herself was doubtful about receiving him. Before she could recognise in him her old humpback, he was compelled to tell her exactly how many headdresses she had in her press, and what was thecolour of her stockings. At last, when every body knew for certain that it was he, they became wonderfully anxious to find out what had effected so strange a transformation; but Benead thought that if he told the truth, he should be looked on as an accomplice of the Korigans; and that every time an ox strayed, or a goat was lost, he should be applied to for its restoration. So he told all those who asked him questions, that it happened unknown to him whilst sleeping on the heath. Thenceforth went all the crooked folk who were silly enough to believe him, and spent their nights upon the open heath, hoping to rise like arrows in the morning; but many people suspected that there was a secret in the matter, which Guilcher was unwilling to disclose.Amongst these latter was a tailor with red hair and squinting eyes, called, from his stammering speech, Perr Balibouzik. He was not, as is usual with his craft, a rhymester, lively on his board as a robin on its twig, and one who scented pancakes from afar as dogs do game; Balibouzik never laughed, never sung, and fed upon such coarse black barley bread that one could count the straws in it. He was a miser, and, worse than that, a bad Christian; lending out his money at such heavy interest, that he ruined all the poor day-labourers of the country. Guilcher had long owed him five crowns, and had no means of payingthem. Perr went in quest of him, and demanded them once more.Theci-devanthunchback excused himself, promising to pay after fair-time; but Balibouzik declared that the only condition upon which he would agree to any further delay was that of being at once put in possession of the secret how to grow young and handsome. Thus driven to extremities, Guilcher related his visit to the Korils, what words he had added to their song, and how the choice had been given him between two wishes.Perr made him repeat every detail many times over, and then went away, warning his debtor that he would give him eight days longer to lay hands on the five crowns.But what he had heard awakened within him all the rage of avarice. He resolved that very night to visit the Motenn-Dervenn, to mix in the dance of Korigans, and to gain the choice between two wishes, as proposed to Guilcher,—namely, riches and beauty.So soon, therefore, as the moon arose, behold Balibouzik the Squinter on his way towards the common, carrying a little fork in his hand. The Korils saw him, ran to meet him, and demanded whether he would dance. Perr consented, after making the same conditions as Benead, and joined the dancing company of little black men, whowere all engaged in chanting the refrain which Guilcher had increased:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”“Wait!” cried the tailor, seized with sudden inspiration; “I also will add something to your song.”“Add, add!” replied the Korils.And all once more exclaimed,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”They stopped, and Balibouzik stammered out alone,“And the Sun—Sun—Sunday too.”The dwarfs uttered a prolonged murmur.“Well?” they cried all at once.“Sun—Sunday too,”repeated the tailor.“But go on, go on.”“Sun—Sunday.”“Well, well, well?”“Sun—Sunday too!”The Koril chain was broken up; they ran about as if furious at not being understood.The poor stammerer, terrified, stood speechless, with his mouth wide open. At length the waves of little black heads grew calmer; they surroundedBalibouzik, and a thousand voices cried at once,“Wish a wish! wish a wish!”Perr took heart.“A wi-wi-sh,” said he. “Guilcher cho-o-ose between riches and beauty.”“Yes, Guilcher chose beauty, and left riches.”“Well, for my part, I choose what Guilcher left.”“Well done!” cried the Korils. “Come here, tailor.”Perr drew near in transport. They took him up as they had done Benead; threw him from hand to hand all round their circle; and when he fell upon his feet, he had between his shoulders what Guilcher had left—that is to say, a hump.The tailor was no more Balibouzik simply, he was now Tortik-Balibouzik.The poor deformed creature came back to Loqueltas shamefaced as a dog who has had his tail cut off. As soon as what had happened to him was known, there was not a creature but longed to get sight of him. And every one beholding his back, grown round as that of a well-digger, uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Perr raged beneath his hump, and swore to himself that he would be revenged upon Guilcher; for that he alone was the cause of this misfortune, being afavourite of the Korigans, and having doubtless begged them thus to insult his creditor.So the eight days once expired, Tortik-Balibouzik said to Benead, that if he could not pay him his five crowns, he would go and send the officers of justice to sell all he had. Benead entreated in vain; the new hunchback would listen to nothing, and announced that the very next day he should send to the fair3all his furniture, his tools, and his pig.Guilcher’s wife uttered loud cries, reiterating that they were disgraced before the parish, that nothing now was left for them but to take up the wallet and white staff of mendicants, and go begging from door to door; that it was well worth Benead’s while to have become straight and noble in appearance only to take up the straw girdle;4and thousands of other unreasonable sayings, after the fashion of women when they are in tribulation,—and when they are not.To all these complaints Guilcher replied nothing, unless it were that submission to the will of God and His Blessed Mother was above all things necessary; but his heart was humbled tothe core. He reproached himself now with not preferring wealth to beauty, when he had the choice; and he would only too willingly have taken back his hump, well garnished with gold, or even silver, crowns. After seeking in vain for a way out of his trouble, he made up his mind to revisit Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils welcomed him with shouts of joy, as before, and made him join them in their dance. Benead had no heart for merriment; but he would not damp their mirth, and began to jump with all his might. The delighted dwarfs skipped about like dead leaves driven by the winter’s wind.As they ran they repeated the first line of their song, their companion took up the second; they went on to the third, and, that being the last, Guilcher was compelled to finish the tune without words, which in a short time grew tiresome to him.“If I might venture to give you my opinion, my little lords,” said he, “your song has the same effect upon me as the butcher’s dog, it goes upon three legs.”“Right, right!” cried all the voices.“I think,” said Benead, “it would be much the best way to add another foot.”“Add, add!” replied the dwarfs.And all sung out with one accord, and in a piercing utterance,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,And the Sunday too!”There was a short silence; the dwarfs waited to see what Guilcher would say.“All the week have you!”finished he gaily.Thousands of cries which made but one cry rose up from all corners of the common. The whole heath was instantly covered with jumping Korigans. They sprung out from tufts of grass, from bushes of broom, from rocky clefts,—one would have said it was a very hive of little black men; whilst all gambolling amongst the heather, they exclaimed,“Guilcherik, our saviour! heHas fulfill’d the Lord’s decree!”“By my soul! what does all this mean?” cried Benead in astonishment.“It means,” replied the Korigans, “that God had sentenced us to dwell here amongst men, and every night to dance upon the common, until some good Christian should finish our refrain. You first lengthened it, and we hoped that the tailor you sent would have completed it; but he stopped short on the very point of doing so, and for that we punished him. You fortunately have done what he could not; our time of trial now isover, and we shall go back to our kingdom, which spreads under ground, beneath the very sea and rivers,”“If this is so,” said Guilcher, “and you really are so far indebted to me, do not go away and leave a friend in trouble.”“What do you want?”“The means of paying Balibouzik to-day, and the baker for ever.”“Take our bags, take our bags!” exclaimed the Korigans.And they threw at Benead’s feet the little bags of rusty cloth which they wore strapped on their shoulders.He gathered up as many as he possibly could carry, and ran all joyous home.“Light the resin,” cried he to his wife, on entering, “and close the screen, that nobody may see us; for I bring home wealth enough to buy up three whole parishes, their judges, rectors, and all.”At the same time he spread out upon the table the multitude of little bags, and set himself to open them. But, alas, he had been reckoning the price of his butter before he had bought the cow.5The bags enclosed nothing more than sand, dead leaves, horsehair, and a pair of scissors.On seeing this he uttered such a dreadful cry that his wife, who had gone to shut the door, came back to ask him what could be the matter. Then Benead told her of his visit to the Motenn-Dervenn, and all that had occurred there.“St. Anne have pity on us!” cried the frightened woman; “the Korigans have been making sport of you.”“Alas, I see it but too well,” replied Guilcher.“And you have dared, unhappy man, to touch these bags, the property of the accursed.”“I thought I should find something better in them,” exclaimed Benead piteously.“Nothing good can come from good-for-nothings,” replied the old woman. “What you have got there will bring an evil spell upon our house. Heavens! if only I have a drop of holy water left.”She ran to her bed, and taking from the wall a little earthen holy water-stoup, she steeped in it a branch of box; but scarcely had the dew of God been sprinkled on the bags, when the horsehair changed at once to necklaces of pearls, the dead leaves into gold, and the sand to diamonds. The enchantment was destroyed, and the wealth that the Korigans would fain have hidden from a Christian eye was forced to reassume its proper form.Guilcher repaid Balibouzik his five crowns. He gave to every poor person in the parish a bushel of wheat, with six ells of cloth; and he paid the rector handsomely for fifty Masses; then he set out with his wife for Josselin, where they bought a mansion, and where they reared a family who now are gentlefolks.1The song of the Korigans runs thus:Di-lun,di-meurs,di-merc’her. The conclusion of this tale will explain the reason of their keeping only to these first three days.2Cry of encouragement amongst the Bretons. In the same sense they use also the wordhardi! but the Celtic origin of this last word seems rather doubtful.3Mettre en foire.Breton expression, signifying a sale at the house of a debtor.4Breton expression, derived from an old custom of parading all insolvents about the parish with a girdle of straw.5Equivalent to the French proverb, “One must not sell the bear-skin till the bear is killed.”
Breton Legends.Breton Legends.The Three Wayfarers.There dwelt in the diocese of Léon, in ancient times, two young noblemen, rich and comely as heart could desire. Their names were Tonyk and Mylio.Mylio, the elder, was almost sixteen, and Tonyk just fourteen years of age. They were both under the instruction of the ablest masters, by whose lessons they had so well profited that, but for their age, they might well have received holy orders, had such been their vocation.But in character the brothers were very unlike. Tonyk was pious, charitable to the poor, and always ready to forgive those who had offended him: he hoarded neither money in hishand nor resentment in his heart. Mylio, on the other hand, while he gave but his due to each, would drive a hard bargain too, and never failed to revenge an injury to the uttermost.It had pleased God to deprive them of their father whilst yet in their infancy, and they had been brought up by their widowed mother, a woman of singular virtue; but now that they were growing towards manhood, she deemed it time to send them to the care of an uncle, who lived at some distance, and from whom they might receive good counsels for their walk in life, besides the expectation of an ample heritage.So one day, after bestowing upon each a new cap, a pair of silver-buckled shoes, a violet mantle,1a well-filled purse, and a horse, she bade them set forth towards the house of their father’s brother.The two boys began their journey in the highest spirits, glad that they were travelling into a new country. Their horses made such good speed, that in the course of a few days they found themselves already in another kingdom, where the trees, and even the corn, were quite different to their own. There one morning, coming to a cross-road, they saw a poor woman seated near a wayside cross, her face buried in her apron.Tonyk drew up his horse to ask her what she ailed; and the beggar told him, sobbing, that she had just lost her son, her sole support, and that she was now cast upon the charity of Christian strangers.The youth was touched with compassion; but Mylio, who waited at a little distance, cried out mockingly,“You are not going to believe the first pitiful story told you by the roadside! It is just this woman’s trade to sit here and cheat travellers of their money.”“Hush, hush, my brother,” answered Tonyk, “in the name of God; you only make her weep the more. Do not you see that she is just the age and figure of our own dear mother, whom may God preserve.” Then stooping towards the beggar-woman, he handed her his purse, saying,“Here, my good woman, I can help you but a little; but I will pray that God Himself may be your consolation.”The beggar took the purse, and pressed it to her lips; then said to Tonyk,“Since my young lord has been so bountiful to a poor woman, let him not refuse to accept from her this walnut. It contains a wasp with a sting of diamond.”Tonyk took the walnut with thanks, and proceeded on his way with Mylio.Ere long they came upon the borders of a forest, and saw a little child, half naked, seeking somewhat in the hollows of the trees, whilst he sung a strange and melancholy air, more mournful than the music of a requiem. He often stopped to clap his little frozen hands, saying in his song, “I am cold,—oh, so cold!” and the boys could hear his teeth chatter in his head.Tonyk was ready to weep at this spectacle, and said to his brother,“Mylio, only see how this poor child suffers from the piercing wind.”“Then he must be a chilly subject,” returned Mylio; “the wind does not strike me as so piercing.”“That may well be, when you have on a plush doublet, a warm cloth coat, and over all your violet mantle, whilst he is wrapped round by little but the air of heaven.”“Well, and what then?” observed Mylio; “after all, he is but a peasant-boy.”“Alas,” said Tonyk, “when I think that you, my brother, might have been born to the same hard fate, it goes to my very heart; and I cannot bear to see him suffering. For Jesus’ sake let us relieve him.”So saying he reined in his horse, and calling to him the little boy, asked what he was about.“I am trying,” said the child, “if I can find any dragon-flies2asleep in the hollows of the trees.”“And what do you want with the dragon-flies?” asked Mylio.“When I have found a great many, I shall sell them in the town, and buy myself a garment as warm as sunshine.”“And how many have you found already?” asked the young nobleman.“One only,” said the child, holding up a little rushen cage enclosing the blue fly.“Well, well, I will take it,” interposed Tonyk, throwing to the boy his violet mantle. “Wrap yourself up in that nice warm cloak, my poor little fellow; and when you kneel down to your evening prayers, say every night a ‘Hail Mary’ for us, and another for our mother.”The two brothers went forward on their journey; and Tonyk, having parted with his mantle, suffered sorely for a time from the cutting north wind; but the forest came to an end, the air grew milder, the fog dispersed, and a vein of sunshine kindled in the clouds.They presently entered a green meadow, where a fountain sprung; and there beside it sat an agedman, his clothes in tatters, and on his back the wallet which marked him as a beggar.As soon as he perceived the young riders, he called to them in beseeching tones.Tonyk approached him.“What is it, father?” said he, lifting his hand to his hat in respectful consideration of the beggar’s age.“Alas, my dear young gentlemen,” replied the old man, “you see how white my hair is, and how wrinkled my cheeks. By reason of my age, I have grown very feeble, and my feet can carry me no further. Therefore I must certainly sit here and die, unless one of you is willing to sell me his horse.”“Sell thee one of our horses, beggar!” exclaimed Mylio, with contemptuous voice; “and wherewithal have you to pay for it?”“You see this hollow acorn,” answered the mendicant: “it contains a spider capable of spinning a web stronger than steel. Let me have one of your horses, and I will give you in exchange the acorn with the spider.”The elder of the two boys burst into a loud laugh.“Do you only hear that, Tonyk?” said he, turning to his brother. “By my baptism, there must be two calf’s feet in that fellow’s shoes.”3But the younger answered gently,“The poor can only offer what he has.”Then dismounting, he went up to the old man, and added,“I give you my horse, my honest friend, not in consideration of the price you offer for him, but in remembrance of Christ, who has declared the poor to be His chosen portion. Take and keep him as your own, and thank God, in whose name I bestow him.”The old man murmured a thousand benedictions, and mounting with Tonyk’s aid, went on his way, and was soon lost in the distance.But at this last alms-deed Mylio could no longer contain himself, and broke out into a storm of reproaches.“Fool!” cried he angrily to Tonyk, “are you not ashamed of the state to which you have reduced yourself by your folly? You thought no doubt that when you had stripped yourself of every thing, I would go shares with you in horse and cloak and purse. But no such thing. I hope this lesson at least will do you good, and that, by feeling the inconveniences of prodigality, you may learn to be more prudent for the future.”“It is indeed a good lesson, my brother,” replied Tonyk mildly; “and I willingly receive it. I never so much as thought of sharing your money, horse, or cloak; go, therefore, on yourway without troubling yourself about me, and may the Queen of angels guide you.”Mylio answered not a word, but trotted quickly off; whilst his young brother followed upon foot, keeping him in sight as long as he was able, without a thought of bitterness arising in his heart.And thus they went on towards the entrance of a narrow defile between two mountains, so lofty that their tops were hidden in the clouds. It was called the Accursed Strait; for a dreadful being dwelt among those heights, and there laid wait for travellers, like a huntsman watching for his game. He was a giant, blind, and without feet; but had so fine an ear for sound, that he could hear the worm working her dark way within the earth. His servants were two eagles, which he had tamed (for he was a great magician), and he sent them forth to catch his prey so soon as he could hear it coming. So the country people of the neighbourhood, when they had to thread the dreaded pass, were accustomed to carry their shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff going to market at Morlaix, and held their breath lest the giant should detect their passage. But Mylio, who knew nothing of all this, went on at full trot, until the giant was awakened by the sound of horse’s hoofs upon the stony way.“Ho, ho, my harriers, where are you?” cried he.The white and the red eagle hastened to him.“Go and fetch me for my supper what is passing by,” exclaimed the giant.Like balls from cannon-mouth they shot down the depths of the ravine, and seizing Mylio by his violet mantle, bore him upwards to the giant’s den.At that moment Tonyk came up to the entrance of the defile. He saw his brother in the act of being carried off by the two birds, and rushing towards him, uttered a loud cry; but the eagles almost instantly vanished with Mylio in the clouds that hung over the loftiest mountain. For a few seconds the boy stood rooted to the spot with horror, gazing on the sky and the straight rocks that rose above him like a wall; then sinking on his knees, with folded hands, he cried,“O God, the Almighty Maker of the world, save my brother Mylio!”“Trouble not God the Father for so small a matter,” cried three little voices close beside him.Tonyk turned in amazement.“Who speaks? where are you?” he exclaimed.“In the pocket of thy doublet,” replied the three voices.Tonyk searched his pocket, and drew forth thewalnut, the acorn, and the rushen cage, containing the three different insects.“Is it you who will save Mylio?” said he.“We, we, we,” they answered in their various tones.“And what can you do, you poor little nobodies?” continued Tonyk.“Let us out, and thou shalt see.”The boy did as they desired; and immediately the spider crept to a tree, from which she began a web as strong and as shining as steel. Then mounting on the dragon-fly, which raised her gradually in the air, she still wove on her silvery network; the several threads of which assumed the form of a ladder constantly stretching upwards.Tonyk mounted step by step on this miraculous ladder, until it brought him to the summit of the mountain. Then the wasp flew before him, and led him to the giant’s den.It was a grotto hollowed in the cliff, and lofty as a cathedral-nave. The blind and footless ogre, seated in the middle, swayed his vast body to and fro like a poplar rocked by winds, singing snatches of a strange song; while Mylio lay on the ground, his legs and arms tucked behind him, like a fowl trussed for the spit. The two eagles were at a little distance, by the fireplace, one ready to act as turnspit, whilst the other made up the fire.The noise which the giant made in singing, and the attention he paid to the preparations for his feast, prevented his hearing the approach of Tonyk and his three tiny attendants; but the red eagle perceived the youth, and, darting forward, would have seized him in its claws, had not the wasp at that very moment pierced its eyes with her diamond sting. The white eagle, hurrying to its fellow’s aid, shared the same fate. Then the wasp flew upon the ogre, who had roused himself on hearing the cries of his two servants, and set herself to sting him without mercy. The giant roared aloud, like a bull in August. But in vain he whirled around him his huge arms, like windmill-sails; having no eyes, he could not succeed in catching the creature, and for want of feet it was equally impossible for him to escape from it.At length he flung himself, face downwards, on the earth, to find some respite from its fiery dart; but the spider then came up, and spun over him a net that held him fast imprisoned. In vain he called upon the eagles for assistance: savage with pain, and no longer fearing now they saw him vanquished, their only impulse was to revenge upon him all the bitterness of their past long slavery. Fiercely flapping their wings, they flew upon their former master, and tore him in their fury, as he lay cowering beneath the webof steel. With every stroke of their beaks they carried off a strip of flesh; nor did they stay their vengeance until they had laid bare his bones. Then they crouched down upon the mangled carcass; and as the flesh of a magician, to say nothing of an ogre, is a meat impossible of digestion, they never rose again.Meanwhile Tonyk had unbound his brother; and, after embracing him with tears of joy, led him from the cavern to the edge of the precipice. The dragon-fly and the wasp soon appeared there, harnessed to the little cage of rushes, now transformed into a coach. They invited the two brothers to seat themselves within it, whilst the spider placed herself behind like a magnificent lackey, and the equipage rolled onwards with the swiftness of the wind. In this way Tonyk and Mylio travelled untired over meadows, woods, mountains, and villages (for in the air the roads are always in good order), until they came before their uncle’s castle.There the carriage came to ground, and rolled onwards towards the drawbridge, where the brothers saw both their horses in waiting for them. At the saddle-bow of Tonyk hung his purse and mantle; but the purse had grown much larger and heavier, and the mantle was now all powdered with diamonds.Astonished, the youth turned him towardsthe coach to ask what this might mean; but, behold, the coach had disappeared; and instead of the wasp, the spider, and the dragon-fly, there stood three angels all glorious with light. Awe-struck and bewildered, the brothers sank upon their knees.Then one of the angels, more beautiful and radiant than his fellows, drew near to Tonyk, and thus spoke:“Fear not, thou righteous one; for the woman, the child, and the old man, whom thou hast succoured were none others than our blessed Lady, her divine Son, and the holy saint Joseph. They sent us to guard thee on thy way from harm; and, now that our mission is accomplished, we return to Paradise. Only remember all that has befallen thee, and let it serve as an example for ever.”At these words the angels spread their wings, and soared away like three white doves, chanting theHosannaas it is sung in churches at the Holy Mass.1Limestra, mantle of some special material, which is highly valued by the Bretons.2Aiguilles ailées.The fly commonly calleddemoisellein French, in Brittany isnadoz-aër; literally, “needle of the air.”3A proverbial expression in Brittany to designate folly and impertinence.
Breton Legends.Breton Legends.The Three Wayfarers.
Breton Legends.
There dwelt in the diocese of Léon, in ancient times, two young noblemen, rich and comely as heart could desire. Their names were Tonyk and Mylio.Mylio, the elder, was almost sixteen, and Tonyk just fourteen years of age. They were both under the instruction of the ablest masters, by whose lessons they had so well profited that, but for their age, they might well have received holy orders, had such been their vocation.But in character the brothers were very unlike. Tonyk was pious, charitable to the poor, and always ready to forgive those who had offended him: he hoarded neither money in hishand nor resentment in his heart. Mylio, on the other hand, while he gave but his due to each, would drive a hard bargain too, and never failed to revenge an injury to the uttermost.It had pleased God to deprive them of their father whilst yet in their infancy, and they had been brought up by their widowed mother, a woman of singular virtue; but now that they were growing towards manhood, she deemed it time to send them to the care of an uncle, who lived at some distance, and from whom they might receive good counsels for their walk in life, besides the expectation of an ample heritage.So one day, after bestowing upon each a new cap, a pair of silver-buckled shoes, a violet mantle,1a well-filled purse, and a horse, she bade them set forth towards the house of their father’s brother.The two boys began their journey in the highest spirits, glad that they were travelling into a new country. Their horses made such good speed, that in the course of a few days they found themselves already in another kingdom, where the trees, and even the corn, were quite different to their own. There one morning, coming to a cross-road, they saw a poor woman seated near a wayside cross, her face buried in her apron.Tonyk drew up his horse to ask her what she ailed; and the beggar told him, sobbing, that she had just lost her son, her sole support, and that she was now cast upon the charity of Christian strangers.The youth was touched with compassion; but Mylio, who waited at a little distance, cried out mockingly,“You are not going to believe the first pitiful story told you by the roadside! It is just this woman’s trade to sit here and cheat travellers of their money.”“Hush, hush, my brother,” answered Tonyk, “in the name of God; you only make her weep the more. Do not you see that she is just the age and figure of our own dear mother, whom may God preserve.” Then stooping towards the beggar-woman, he handed her his purse, saying,“Here, my good woman, I can help you but a little; but I will pray that God Himself may be your consolation.”The beggar took the purse, and pressed it to her lips; then said to Tonyk,“Since my young lord has been so bountiful to a poor woman, let him not refuse to accept from her this walnut. It contains a wasp with a sting of diamond.”Tonyk took the walnut with thanks, and proceeded on his way with Mylio.Ere long they came upon the borders of a forest, and saw a little child, half naked, seeking somewhat in the hollows of the trees, whilst he sung a strange and melancholy air, more mournful than the music of a requiem. He often stopped to clap his little frozen hands, saying in his song, “I am cold,—oh, so cold!” and the boys could hear his teeth chatter in his head.Tonyk was ready to weep at this spectacle, and said to his brother,“Mylio, only see how this poor child suffers from the piercing wind.”“Then he must be a chilly subject,” returned Mylio; “the wind does not strike me as so piercing.”“That may well be, when you have on a plush doublet, a warm cloth coat, and over all your violet mantle, whilst he is wrapped round by little but the air of heaven.”“Well, and what then?” observed Mylio; “after all, he is but a peasant-boy.”“Alas,” said Tonyk, “when I think that you, my brother, might have been born to the same hard fate, it goes to my very heart; and I cannot bear to see him suffering. For Jesus’ sake let us relieve him.”So saying he reined in his horse, and calling to him the little boy, asked what he was about.“I am trying,” said the child, “if I can find any dragon-flies2asleep in the hollows of the trees.”“And what do you want with the dragon-flies?” asked Mylio.“When I have found a great many, I shall sell them in the town, and buy myself a garment as warm as sunshine.”“And how many have you found already?” asked the young nobleman.“One only,” said the child, holding up a little rushen cage enclosing the blue fly.“Well, well, I will take it,” interposed Tonyk, throwing to the boy his violet mantle. “Wrap yourself up in that nice warm cloak, my poor little fellow; and when you kneel down to your evening prayers, say every night a ‘Hail Mary’ for us, and another for our mother.”The two brothers went forward on their journey; and Tonyk, having parted with his mantle, suffered sorely for a time from the cutting north wind; but the forest came to an end, the air grew milder, the fog dispersed, and a vein of sunshine kindled in the clouds.They presently entered a green meadow, where a fountain sprung; and there beside it sat an agedman, his clothes in tatters, and on his back the wallet which marked him as a beggar.As soon as he perceived the young riders, he called to them in beseeching tones.Tonyk approached him.“What is it, father?” said he, lifting his hand to his hat in respectful consideration of the beggar’s age.“Alas, my dear young gentlemen,” replied the old man, “you see how white my hair is, and how wrinkled my cheeks. By reason of my age, I have grown very feeble, and my feet can carry me no further. Therefore I must certainly sit here and die, unless one of you is willing to sell me his horse.”“Sell thee one of our horses, beggar!” exclaimed Mylio, with contemptuous voice; “and wherewithal have you to pay for it?”“You see this hollow acorn,” answered the mendicant: “it contains a spider capable of spinning a web stronger than steel. Let me have one of your horses, and I will give you in exchange the acorn with the spider.”The elder of the two boys burst into a loud laugh.“Do you only hear that, Tonyk?” said he, turning to his brother. “By my baptism, there must be two calf’s feet in that fellow’s shoes.”3But the younger answered gently,“The poor can only offer what he has.”Then dismounting, he went up to the old man, and added,“I give you my horse, my honest friend, not in consideration of the price you offer for him, but in remembrance of Christ, who has declared the poor to be His chosen portion. Take and keep him as your own, and thank God, in whose name I bestow him.”The old man murmured a thousand benedictions, and mounting with Tonyk’s aid, went on his way, and was soon lost in the distance.But at this last alms-deed Mylio could no longer contain himself, and broke out into a storm of reproaches.“Fool!” cried he angrily to Tonyk, “are you not ashamed of the state to which you have reduced yourself by your folly? You thought no doubt that when you had stripped yourself of every thing, I would go shares with you in horse and cloak and purse. But no such thing. I hope this lesson at least will do you good, and that, by feeling the inconveniences of prodigality, you may learn to be more prudent for the future.”“It is indeed a good lesson, my brother,” replied Tonyk mildly; “and I willingly receive it. I never so much as thought of sharing your money, horse, or cloak; go, therefore, on yourway without troubling yourself about me, and may the Queen of angels guide you.”Mylio answered not a word, but trotted quickly off; whilst his young brother followed upon foot, keeping him in sight as long as he was able, without a thought of bitterness arising in his heart.And thus they went on towards the entrance of a narrow defile between two mountains, so lofty that their tops were hidden in the clouds. It was called the Accursed Strait; for a dreadful being dwelt among those heights, and there laid wait for travellers, like a huntsman watching for his game. He was a giant, blind, and without feet; but had so fine an ear for sound, that he could hear the worm working her dark way within the earth. His servants were two eagles, which he had tamed (for he was a great magician), and he sent them forth to catch his prey so soon as he could hear it coming. So the country people of the neighbourhood, when they had to thread the dreaded pass, were accustomed to carry their shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff going to market at Morlaix, and held their breath lest the giant should detect their passage. But Mylio, who knew nothing of all this, went on at full trot, until the giant was awakened by the sound of horse’s hoofs upon the stony way.“Ho, ho, my harriers, where are you?” cried he.The white and the red eagle hastened to him.“Go and fetch me for my supper what is passing by,” exclaimed the giant.Like balls from cannon-mouth they shot down the depths of the ravine, and seizing Mylio by his violet mantle, bore him upwards to the giant’s den.At that moment Tonyk came up to the entrance of the defile. He saw his brother in the act of being carried off by the two birds, and rushing towards him, uttered a loud cry; but the eagles almost instantly vanished with Mylio in the clouds that hung over the loftiest mountain. For a few seconds the boy stood rooted to the spot with horror, gazing on the sky and the straight rocks that rose above him like a wall; then sinking on his knees, with folded hands, he cried,“O God, the Almighty Maker of the world, save my brother Mylio!”“Trouble not God the Father for so small a matter,” cried three little voices close beside him.Tonyk turned in amazement.“Who speaks? where are you?” he exclaimed.“In the pocket of thy doublet,” replied the three voices.Tonyk searched his pocket, and drew forth thewalnut, the acorn, and the rushen cage, containing the three different insects.“Is it you who will save Mylio?” said he.“We, we, we,” they answered in their various tones.“And what can you do, you poor little nobodies?” continued Tonyk.“Let us out, and thou shalt see.”The boy did as they desired; and immediately the spider crept to a tree, from which she began a web as strong and as shining as steel. Then mounting on the dragon-fly, which raised her gradually in the air, she still wove on her silvery network; the several threads of which assumed the form of a ladder constantly stretching upwards.Tonyk mounted step by step on this miraculous ladder, until it brought him to the summit of the mountain. Then the wasp flew before him, and led him to the giant’s den.It was a grotto hollowed in the cliff, and lofty as a cathedral-nave. The blind and footless ogre, seated in the middle, swayed his vast body to and fro like a poplar rocked by winds, singing snatches of a strange song; while Mylio lay on the ground, his legs and arms tucked behind him, like a fowl trussed for the spit. The two eagles were at a little distance, by the fireplace, one ready to act as turnspit, whilst the other made up the fire.The noise which the giant made in singing, and the attention he paid to the preparations for his feast, prevented his hearing the approach of Tonyk and his three tiny attendants; but the red eagle perceived the youth, and, darting forward, would have seized him in its claws, had not the wasp at that very moment pierced its eyes with her diamond sting. The white eagle, hurrying to its fellow’s aid, shared the same fate. Then the wasp flew upon the ogre, who had roused himself on hearing the cries of his two servants, and set herself to sting him without mercy. The giant roared aloud, like a bull in August. But in vain he whirled around him his huge arms, like windmill-sails; having no eyes, he could not succeed in catching the creature, and for want of feet it was equally impossible for him to escape from it.At length he flung himself, face downwards, on the earth, to find some respite from its fiery dart; but the spider then came up, and spun over him a net that held him fast imprisoned. In vain he called upon the eagles for assistance: savage with pain, and no longer fearing now they saw him vanquished, their only impulse was to revenge upon him all the bitterness of their past long slavery. Fiercely flapping their wings, they flew upon their former master, and tore him in their fury, as he lay cowering beneath the webof steel. With every stroke of their beaks they carried off a strip of flesh; nor did they stay their vengeance until they had laid bare his bones. Then they crouched down upon the mangled carcass; and as the flesh of a magician, to say nothing of an ogre, is a meat impossible of digestion, they never rose again.Meanwhile Tonyk had unbound his brother; and, after embracing him with tears of joy, led him from the cavern to the edge of the precipice. The dragon-fly and the wasp soon appeared there, harnessed to the little cage of rushes, now transformed into a coach. They invited the two brothers to seat themselves within it, whilst the spider placed herself behind like a magnificent lackey, and the equipage rolled onwards with the swiftness of the wind. In this way Tonyk and Mylio travelled untired over meadows, woods, mountains, and villages (for in the air the roads are always in good order), until they came before their uncle’s castle.There the carriage came to ground, and rolled onwards towards the drawbridge, where the brothers saw both their horses in waiting for them. At the saddle-bow of Tonyk hung his purse and mantle; but the purse had grown much larger and heavier, and the mantle was now all powdered with diamonds.Astonished, the youth turned him towardsthe coach to ask what this might mean; but, behold, the coach had disappeared; and instead of the wasp, the spider, and the dragon-fly, there stood three angels all glorious with light. Awe-struck and bewildered, the brothers sank upon their knees.Then one of the angels, more beautiful and radiant than his fellows, drew near to Tonyk, and thus spoke:“Fear not, thou righteous one; for the woman, the child, and the old man, whom thou hast succoured were none others than our blessed Lady, her divine Son, and the holy saint Joseph. They sent us to guard thee on thy way from harm; and, now that our mission is accomplished, we return to Paradise. Only remember all that has befallen thee, and let it serve as an example for ever.”At these words the angels spread their wings, and soared away like three white doves, chanting theHosannaas it is sung in churches at the Holy Mass.
There dwelt in the diocese of Léon, in ancient times, two young noblemen, rich and comely as heart could desire. Their names were Tonyk and Mylio.
Mylio, the elder, was almost sixteen, and Tonyk just fourteen years of age. They were both under the instruction of the ablest masters, by whose lessons they had so well profited that, but for their age, they might well have received holy orders, had such been their vocation.
But in character the brothers were very unlike. Tonyk was pious, charitable to the poor, and always ready to forgive those who had offended him: he hoarded neither money in hishand nor resentment in his heart. Mylio, on the other hand, while he gave but his due to each, would drive a hard bargain too, and never failed to revenge an injury to the uttermost.
It had pleased God to deprive them of their father whilst yet in their infancy, and they had been brought up by their widowed mother, a woman of singular virtue; but now that they were growing towards manhood, she deemed it time to send them to the care of an uncle, who lived at some distance, and from whom they might receive good counsels for their walk in life, besides the expectation of an ample heritage.
So one day, after bestowing upon each a new cap, a pair of silver-buckled shoes, a violet mantle,1a well-filled purse, and a horse, she bade them set forth towards the house of their father’s brother.
The two boys began their journey in the highest spirits, glad that they were travelling into a new country. Their horses made such good speed, that in the course of a few days they found themselves already in another kingdom, where the trees, and even the corn, were quite different to their own. There one morning, coming to a cross-road, they saw a poor woman seated near a wayside cross, her face buried in her apron.
Tonyk drew up his horse to ask her what she ailed; and the beggar told him, sobbing, that she had just lost her son, her sole support, and that she was now cast upon the charity of Christian strangers.
The youth was touched with compassion; but Mylio, who waited at a little distance, cried out mockingly,
“You are not going to believe the first pitiful story told you by the roadside! It is just this woman’s trade to sit here and cheat travellers of their money.”
“Hush, hush, my brother,” answered Tonyk, “in the name of God; you only make her weep the more. Do not you see that she is just the age and figure of our own dear mother, whom may God preserve.” Then stooping towards the beggar-woman, he handed her his purse, saying,
“Here, my good woman, I can help you but a little; but I will pray that God Himself may be your consolation.”
The beggar took the purse, and pressed it to her lips; then said to Tonyk,
“Since my young lord has been so bountiful to a poor woman, let him not refuse to accept from her this walnut. It contains a wasp with a sting of diamond.”
Tonyk took the walnut with thanks, and proceeded on his way with Mylio.
Ere long they came upon the borders of a forest, and saw a little child, half naked, seeking somewhat in the hollows of the trees, whilst he sung a strange and melancholy air, more mournful than the music of a requiem. He often stopped to clap his little frozen hands, saying in his song, “I am cold,—oh, so cold!” and the boys could hear his teeth chatter in his head.
Tonyk was ready to weep at this spectacle, and said to his brother,
“Mylio, only see how this poor child suffers from the piercing wind.”
“Then he must be a chilly subject,” returned Mylio; “the wind does not strike me as so piercing.”
“That may well be, when you have on a plush doublet, a warm cloth coat, and over all your violet mantle, whilst he is wrapped round by little but the air of heaven.”
“Well, and what then?” observed Mylio; “after all, he is but a peasant-boy.”
“Alas,” said Tonyk, “when I think that you, my brother, might have been born to the same hard fate, it goes to my very heart; and I cannot bear to see him suffering. For Jesus’ sake let us relieve him.”
So saying he reined in his horse, and calling to him the little boy, asked what he was about.
“I am trying,” said the child, “if I can find any dragon-flies2asleep in the hollows of the trees.”
“And what do you want with the dragon-flies?” asked Mylio.
“When I have found a great many, I shall sell them in the town, and buy myself a garment as warm as sunshine.”
“And how many have you found already?” asked the young nobleman.
“One only,” said the child, holding up a little rushen cage enclosing the blue fly.
“Well, well, I will take it,” interposed Tonyk, throwing to the boy his violet mantle. “Wrap yourself up in that nice warm cloak, my poor little fellow; and when you kneel down to your evening prayers, say every night a ‘Hail Mary’ for us, and another for our mother.”
The two brothers went forward on their journey; and Tonyk, having parted with his mantle, suffered sorely for a time from the cutting north wind; but the forest came to an end, the air grew milder, the fog dispersed, and a vein of sunshine kindled in the clouds.
They presently entered a green meadow, where a fountain sprung; and there beside it sat an agedman, his clothes in tatters, and on his back the wallet which marked him as a beggar.
As soon as he perceived the young riders, he called to them in beseeching tones.
Tonyk approached him.
“What is it, father?” said he, lifting his hand to his hat in respectful consideration of the beggar’s age.
“Alas, my dear young gentlemen,” replied the old man, “you see how white my hair is, and how wrinkled my cheeks. By reason of my age, I have grown very feeble, and my feet can carry me no further. Therefore I must certainly sit here and die, unless one of you is willing to sell me his horse.”
“Sell thee one of our horses, beggar!” exclaimed Mylio, with contemptuous voice; “and wherewithal have you to pay for it?”
“You see this hollow acorn,” answered the mendicant: “it contains a spider capable of spinning a web stronger than steel. Let me have one of your horses, and I will give you in exchange the acorn with the spider.”
The elder of the two boys burst into a loud laugh.
“Do you only hear that, Tonyk?” said he, turning to his brother. “By my baptism, there must be two calf’s feet in that fellow’s shoes.”3
But the younger answered gently,
“The poor can only offer what he has.”
Then dismounting, he went up to the old man, and added,
“I give you my horse, my honest friend, not in consideration of the price you offer for him, but in remembrance of Christ, who has declared the poor to be His chosen portion. Take and keep him as your own, and thank God, in whose name I bestow him.”
The old man murmured a thousand benedictions, and mounting with Tonyk’s aid, went on his way, and was soon lost in the distance.
But at this last alms-deed Mylio could no longer contain himself, and broke out into a storm of reproaches.
“Fool!” cried he angrily to Tonyk, “are you not ashamed of the state to which you have reduced yourself by your folly? You thought no doubt that when you had stripped yourself of every thing, I would go shares with you in horse and cloak and purse. But no such thing. I hope this lesson at least will do you good, and that, by feeling the inconveniences of prodigality, you may learn to be more prudent for the future.”
“It is indeed a good lesson, my brother,” replied Tonyk mildly; “and I willingly receive it. I never so much as thought of sharing your money, horse, or cloak; go, therefore, on yourway without troubling yourself about me, and may the Queen of angels guide you.”
Mylio answered not a word, but trotted quickly off; whilst his young brother followed upon foot, keeping him in sight as long as he was able, without a thought of bitterness arising in his heart.
And thus they went on towards the entrance of a narrow defile between two mountains, so lofty that their tops were hidden in the clouds. It was called the Accursed Strait; for a dreadful being dwelt among those heights, and there laid wait for travellers, like a huntsman watching for his game. He was a giant, blind, and without feet; but had so fine an ear for sound, that he could hear the worm working her dark way within the earth. His servants were two eagles, which he had tamed (for he was a great magician), and he sent them forth to catch his prey so soon as he could hear it coming. So the country people of the neighbourhood, when they had to thread the dreaded pass, were accustomed to carry their shoes in their hands, like the girls of Roscoff going to market at Morlaix, and held their breath lest the giant should detect their passage. But Mylio, who knew nothing of all this, went on at full trot, until the giant was awakened by the sound of horse’s hoofs upon the stony way.
“Ho, ho, my harriers, where are you?” cried he.
The white and the red eagle hastened to him.
“Go and fetch me for my supper what is passing by,” exclaimed the giant.
Like balls from cannon-mouth they shot down the depths of the ravine, and seizing Mylio by his violet mantle, bore him upwards to the giant’s den.
At that moment Tonyk came up to the entrance of the defile. He saw his brother in the act of being carried off by the two birds, and rushing towards him, uttered a loud cry; but the eagles almost instantly vanished with Mylio in the clouds that hung over the loftiest mountain. For a few seconds the boy stood rooted to the spot with horror, gazing on the sky and the straight rocks that rose above him like a wall; then sinking on his knees, with folded hands, he cried,
“O God, the Almighty Maker of the world, save my brother Mylio!”
“Trouble not God the Father for so small a matter,” cried three little voices close beside him.
Tonyk turned in amazement.
“Who speaks? where are you?” he exclaimed.
“In the pocket of thy doublet,” replied the three voices.
Tonyk searched his pocket, and drew forth thewalnut, the acorn, and the rushen cage, containing the three different insects.
“Is it you who will save Mylio?” said he.
“We, we, we,” they answered in their various tones.
“And what can you do, you poor little nobodies?” continued Tonyk.
“Let us out, and thou shalt see.”
The boy did as they desired; and immediately the spider crept to a tree, from which she began a web as strong and as shining as steel. Then mounting on the dragon-fly, which raised her gradually in the air, she still wove on her silvery network; the several threads of which assumed the form of a ladder constantly stretching upwards.
Tonyk mounted step by step on this miraculous ladder, until it brought him to the summit of the mountain. Then the wasp flew before him, and led him to the giant’s den.
It was a grotto hollowed in the cliff, and lofty as a cathedral-nave. The blind and footless ogre, seated in the middle, swayed his vast body to and fro like a poplar rocked by winds, singing snatches of a strange song; while Mylio lay on the ground, his legs and arms tucked behind him, like a fowl trussed for the spit. The two eagles were at a little distance, by the fireplace, one ready to act as turnspit, whilst the other made up the fire.
The noise which the giant made in singing, and the attention he paid to the preparations for his feast, prevented his hearing the approach of Tonyk and his three tiny attendants; but the red eagle perceived the youth, and, darting forward, would have seized him in its claws, had not the wasp at that very moment pierced its eyes with her diamond sting. The white eagle, hurrying to its fellow’s aid, shared the same fate. Then the wasp flew upon the ogre, who had roused himself on hearing the cries of his two servants, and set herself to sting him without mercy. The giant roared aloud, like a bull in August. But in vain he whirled around him his huge arms, like windmill-sails; having no eyes, he could not succeed in catching the creature, and for want of feet it was equally impossible for him to escape from it.
At length he flung himself, face downwards, on the earth, to find some respite from its fiery dart; but the spider then came up, and spun over him a net that held him fast imprisoned. In vain he called upon the eagles for assistance: savage with pain, and no longer fearing now they saw him vanquished, their only impulse was to revenge upon him all the bitterness of their past long slavery. Fiercely flapping their wings, they flew upon their former master, and tore him in their fury, as he lay cowering beneath the webof steel. With every stroke of their beaks they carried off a strip of flesh; nor did they stay their vengeance until they had laid bare his bones. Then they crouched down upon the mangled carcass; and as the flesh of a magician, to say nothing of an ogre, is a meat impossible of digestion, they never rose again.
Meanwhile Tonyk had unbound his brother; and, after embracing him with tears of joy, led him from the cavern to the edge of the precipice. The dragon-fly and the wasp soon appeared there, harnessed to the little cage of rushes, now transformed into a coach. They invited the two brothers to seat themselves within it, whilst the spider placed herself behind like a magnificent lackey, and the equipage rolled onwards with the swiftness of the wind. In this way Tonyk and Mylio travelled untired over meadows, woods, mountains, and villages (for in the air the roads are always in good order), until they came before their uncle’s castle.
There the carriage came to ground, and rolled onwards towards the drawbridge, where the brothers saw both their horses in waiting for them. At the saddle-bow of Tonyk hung his purse and mantle; but the purse had grown much larger and heavier, and the mantle was now all powdered with diamonds.
Astonished, the youth turned him towardsthe coach to ask what this might mean; but, behold, the coach had disappeared; and instead of the wasp, the spider, and the dragon-fly, there stood three angels all glorious with light. Awe-struck and bewildered, the brothers sank upon their knees.
Then one of the angels, more beautiful and radiant than his fellows, drew near to Tonyk, and thus spoke:
“Fear not, thou righteous one; for the woman, the child, and the old man, whom thou hast succoured were none others than our blessed Lady, her divine Son, and the holy saint Joseph. They sent us to guard thee on thy way from harm; and, now that our mission is accomplished, we return to Paradise. Only remember all that has befallen thee, and let it serve as an example for ever.”
At these words the angels spread their wings, and soared away like three white doves, chanting theHosannaas it is sung in churches at the Holy Mass.
1Limestra, mantle of some special material, which is highly valued by the Bretons.2Aiguilles ailées.The fly commonly calleddemoisellein French, in Brittany isnadoz-aër; literally, “needle of the air.”3A proverbial expression in Brittany to designate folly and impertinence.
1Limestra, mantle of some special material, which is highly valued by the Bretons.
2Aiguilles ailées.The fly commonly calleddemoisellein French, in Brittany isnadoz-aër; literally, “needle of the air.”
3A proverbial expression in Brittany to designate folly and impertinence.
The Legend of Saint Galonnek.Saint Galonnek was a native of Ireland, as, indeed, were almost all the teachers in Brittany of those days, and called himself Galonnus, being evidently of Roman origin. But after he had left his native land, and the fame of his good deeds had spread far and wide, the Bretons, seeing that his heart was like one of those fresh springs of water that are ever bubbling beneath unfading verdure, changed his name to Galonnek, which signifies in their languagethe open-hearted.And, in truth, never had any child of God a soul more tenderly awakened to the sufferings of his fellow-men. No sorrow was beneath his sympathy; but it was like the sea-breeze, springing with each tide, never failing to refresh the traveller weary on his way, or to fill the sails of the humble fishing-boat, and bring it safe to land.His father and mother were people of substance, and though themselves buried in the darkness of paganism, spared not the tenderest solicitude in the education of their son. He was placed under the instruction of the most learned masters Ireland could afford, and above all, had the honour of being a pupil of St. Patrick, thenfound amongst them like a nightingale in the midst of wrens, or a beech-tree towering above the ferns on a common.Under his teaching the boy grew up, learning only to regard himself in the person of God and his neighbours; and with so fervent a love for souls did the holy apostle of Ireland inspire Galonnek, that at the age of eighteen he had no higher wish than to cross over to Brittany, and preach the kingdom of Heaven to sorrowful sinners.His father and mother, who had then long since been converted, desired to throw no hindrance in the way of his accomplishing this pious work; but embracing him with tears, they bade him God speed, assured that they should meet again once more before the throne of God.Galonnek took his passage in a boat manned by evil-disposed sailors, whose design was to plunder him; but when they discovered that the holy youth was possessed of nothing but an iron crucifix and a holly-staff, they turned him out upon the coast of Cornouaille, where they abandoned him, helpless and without provisions.Galonnek walked about a long time, not knowing where he was, but perfectly tranquil in his mind, certain that he was in his Master’s kingdom. The sea that roared behind him, the birds that warbled in the bushes, and the wind murmuringin the leaves, all spoke alike to him, each with its own peculiar voice, the name of that Master whose creatures and subjects they were.He came at length, towards evening, to a part of the country lying between Audierne and Plougastel-des-Montagnes, and there finding a village, he seated himself on the doorstep of the first house, awaiting an invitation to enter.But, far from that, the owner of the house bade him rise and go away. Galonnek then went to the door of the next house, and received the same inhospitable order; and so on from door to door throughout the village. And from the expression every where used to him,zevel, this village was afterwards called Plouzevel, literally,people who said, Get up.The saint was preparing to stretch his weary limbs by the roadside, when he perceived a cabin which he had not yet noticed, and drew near the door.It was the dwelling of a poor widow, possessed only of a few acres of barren land, which she had no longer strength to till. But if the fruits of her land were little worth, those of her heart were rich and plentiful. So tenderly generous was her charity, that if any one asked her for a draught of goat’s milk, she would give him cream; and if one begged for cream, she would have been ready to bestow the goat itself.She received Galonnek as if he had been her dearly-beloved son, long absent, and supposed dead. She ministered to him of the best she had, listening with devotion to his holy teaching; and having already charity, the very key of true religion, she was ready to embrace with all her heart the faith of Christ. So early as the very next morning she begged the grace of baptism; and Galonnek, seeing that the love of her neighbours had already made her a Christian in intention, consented to bestow it. But water was wanted at the moment of the ceremony; and St. Galonnek going out, took a spade, and digging for a few moments in the old woman’s little courtyard, there sprung out an abundant fountain; and he said,“By the aid of this water your barren land will become fertile meadows covered with rich grass, and you will be able to feed as many cows in your new pastures as you have now goats browsing on your heath.”This miracle began to open the eyes of the villagers; and they gave permission to Galonnek to take up his abode in a forest which stretched in those days from Plouzevel to the sea-shore. There the holy disciple of St. Patrick built himself a hut of turf and boughs.One day whilst praying in this oratory, he heard the hoofs of a runaway horse; and leaving his devotions to see what was the matter, hesaw a knight thrown from his horse amidst the thicket.Galonnek ran to his assistance; and having with much difficulty carried him to his hermitage, he began to bathe his wounds, to dress them with leaves for want of ointment, and to bind them up with strips torn from his own gown of serge.Now it chanced that this knight was the Count of Cornouaille himself; and he was found presently by the attendants, whom he had outstripped, peacefully sleeping on the saint’s bed of fern. But behold, when he awakened, that saint’s prayers had stood instead of remedies, and all his wounds were healed.And whilst all stood astonished at this miracle, St. Galonnek said gently,“Do not be so much surprised; for if by faith mountains may be moved, why should not charity heal death itself?”The count, filled with wonder and delight, declared that the whole forest should become the property of the man who had done so much for him; and not that only, but that he should have as much good meadow-land as could be enclosed within the strips he had torn from his gown to bind the wounds, each strip being reduced to single threads. Thus Galonnek became the owner of a whole parish; and a proverb arose,which is still current in those parts,That it is with the length of a benefit received one must measure the field of gratitude.Yet Galonnek was none the richer, notwithstanding the noble liberality of the count. All the income of his estate was given to the poor, whilst he still lived on in his leafy hermitage. But as many young men were attracted from the neighbourhood by his reputation for holiness and learning, he built many other cells beside his own; and thus from his school in that solitary glade the light of the Gospel went forth in time through all the length and breadth of the country.It was amidst the perfume of wild-flowers, beside the murmuring brook, that Galonnek taught his pupils. He would teach them to understand somewhat of the providence of God by making them observe the tender care with which the little birds prepare a downy nest for offspring yet unborn. He would point out to their attention how the earth yields moisture to the roots of trees, how the trees become a dwelling-place for thrushes and for finches, and how these again make musical the forest with their cheerful strains, to illustrate the advantage and necessity of mutual benevolence and brotherly love. And when need was to stimulate their efforts or their perseverance, he would lead them tobehold the ant, unwearied in her toil, or the constant woodpecker whose tiny bill achieves the scooping of an oak.But this teaching did not confine him in one place; and wherever he went his presence was as that of a star in the midst of darkness.Now in those days the inhabitants of Brittany still exercised the right ofwrecking, or in other words, reserved to themselves the privilege of plundering any unfortunate vessels thrown upon their coasts. They spoke of the sea as a cow given to their ancestors by God, and that brought forth every winter for their benefit; thus they looked on shipwrecks as a positive blessing.One night, during a heavy storm, as Galonnek was returning to his forest from the sick-bed of a poor man, he saw the dwellers on the coast leading a bull along the rocks. His head was bound down towards his fore-legs, and a beacon-light was fastened to his horns. The crippled gait of the animal gave an oscillating motion to the light, which might be well mistaken at a distance for the lantern of a ship pitching out at sea, and thus deceive bewildered vessels, uncertain in the tempest of their course, into the notion of yet being far from shore. Already one thus treacherously beguiled was on its way to ruin, and might be seen close upon the rocks, its fullwhite sails gleaming through the night; another moment and it would have been aground among the breakers.Galonnek rushed amidst the peasants, extinguished the false beacon, and reproached them for such treachery. But they would not listen to him, and prepared to rekindle the light. Then the saint cried,“By all your hopes in this world and the next, have done! for it is your own brethren and children that you are drawing to destruction.”And whilst they stood uncertain, God kindled up the sky with flashing lightning; and beholding the vessel as if it had been noonday, they saw that it was indeed a Breton ship.Terrified by the dangers to which they had exposed themselves, they all fell down at the saint’s feet; the women kissed the hem of his garment with floods of tears, as if his hands had rescued their sons from the depths of the sea, and all with one voice exclaimed,“But for him we should have become the murderers of our friends and neighbours.”“Alas, those whom you have already lured to death were equally your neighbours and your friends,” replied St. Galonnek; “for we are all descended from Adam, and have been ransomed by the blood of the same God.”The peasants,deeply moved, perceived their guilt, and promised to renounce this custom of their fathers.Much about the same time, the country of Pluguffant was ravaged by a dragon, which devoured whole flocks with their shepherds and dogs. In vain had the most courageous men banded themselves together to destroy it. The ferocious monster had put them all to flight; and now nobody dared to stir out of doors to lead his cattle to water, or go and work in the fields. As soon as Galonnek knew this sad state of things, he set out for the court of the Count of Cornouaille, and asked there which knight was the most valiant before God and man. Every voice declared him to be Messire Tanguy de Carfor, who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and killed more than a thousand Saracens with his own hand.Galonnek desired him to gird on his sword and armour, and to come and fight the dragon, which God had given him amission to destroy. Carfor instantly armed himself, and accompanied the saint to the monster’s den, from which he came out, howling frightfully at their approach.Carfor hesitated in spite of himself at so unwonted an appearance; but Galonnek said to him,“For your soul’s sake, messire, have confidencein God, and you shall kill this monster as easily as a gadfly.”Thus encouraged, the knight advanced to the attack, and with scarce an effort pierced the dragon three times through with his sword, whilst the saint called upon the three Persons of the Most Holy Trinity.Galonnek also freed the country from many other scourges, such as wolves, reptiles, and mosquitoes with fiery stings; and being now old enough to receive holy orders, he was ordained by St. Pol; and built a little chapel beside his oratory, where every day he celebrated Mass.Meanwhile the leafy cells around him multiplied so fast, that at last they were united in a monastery, called by GalonnekYoulmad, orthe house of good desires.He was engaged in drawing up a rule for this monastery, when he was interrupted by a disturbing rumour which arose in the neighbourhood.It was said that a woman clothed in red, and with a ghastly countenance, had taken passage in a fishing-boat from Crozon. She landed near Poullons; and when questioned as to her name on departing, she had replied that she was called the Lady of Pestilence. And, in fact, it came to pass, that within a very few days both men and animals were smitten with a contagious disease, which carried them off after a few hours’ illness.So great was the mortality, that wood sufficient for the coffins could not be found; and for want of grave-diggers, the corpses were laid to rest in furrows hollowed by the plough.Those who were well off gathered all their effects together in wagons, and harnessing all the horses they possessed, drove away at full speed to the mountains, which the pallid woman had not passed. But the poorer people, who had no means of conveyance, and were unwilling to leave their little all, awaited their doom at home, like sheep lying down to rest around the butcher’s door.In this extremity, however, they were not abandoned by Galonnek. He went from hut to hut, carrying aid or consolation. Linen for shrouds and wood for coffins might indeed be wanting; but he swathed the fever-spotted dead in leafy twigs, and bore them in his own arms to consecrated earth, laying them down tenderly as sleeping infants in their cradle-bed. Then planting a branch of yew, and another of blossoming broom, he entwined them in the form of a cross, and set them as an emblem on the grave; the yew symbolising the sorrow which underlies thewholecourse of life, and the blossoming broom the transitory joys which gleam across it. And it is said, that when at last the pestilence was stayed, these holy crosses covered a space of threedays’ journey. So many generous and pious acts had spread the fame of Galonnek both far and wide, and all Cornouaille was inflamed with devotion. Persons came from all parts to the convent ofGood Desiresto listen to his teaching, to ask his prayers, and to offer him gifts; but these the saint only accepted for the purposes of charity.“The priest,” he used to say, “is only as a canal, which serves to carry water from overflowing streams to arid barren plains.”Another of his sayings was, “God has given us two hands; one with which to receive His good treasures, and the other to administer the same to those who need.”And thus, although the neighbouring nobles had loaded him with presents, his monastery and church were radiant only with his good actions. He was accustomed to sleep upon an osier hurdle, and wore nothing better than a gown of faded serge. But all this external poverty threw out with stronger lustre the brightness of his hidden worth; and Galonnek was like one of those caskets made of earth or bark, in which are treasured rubies and carbuncles.The see of Cornouaille becoming vacant, Galonnek was summoned with one voice to fill it. He was anxious to refuse; but St. Pol himself came to find him out, and said to him that God’s stars have no right to conceal themselves in thegrass, but must take their places in the firmament. Then St. Galonnek resigned himself; but when the moment came for leaving the turfen oratory, where he had spent the best part of his life, his heart became so heavy that he burst into tears, and cried aloud, “Alas, how shall I become worthy of the new office which my brethren impose upon me?” Then, falling on his knees, he prayed most fervently until God put strength into his heart. When he arose, he took the humble chalice he had been accustomed to use, his sole possession, save the memory of his good deeds, and went on foot to the capital of Cornouaille, where he was consecrated Bishop.Here began for St. Galonnek a new life of courage and self-denial. He had to fight for the poor against the rich, for the weak against the mighty. When his friends and disciples beheld him engage, all unprotected, in these dangerous struggles, even the most courageous were at times dismayed; but Galonnek would say with a smile, “Fear not, my friends, their weapons cannot touch me. God Himself has forged for me a breastplate with the tears of the sorrowful, the miseries of the poor, and the despair of the oppressed. Behind this armour I can feel no hurt. Blows can only do us mischief by glancing across us at any of those who have taken up our cause; for from our very heart distils a balsam that canheal as they come all the wounds inflicted from without.”Moved by the sight of so much virtue, many powerful noblemen, who had hitherto persisted in idolatry, came to ask of Galonnek instruction and the grace of baptism; but he would only grant this favour in reward for some good work. If any one had sinned, and came to seek for absolution, Galonnek would give him for a penance some virtuous action to perform, some charitable service to his fellow-men. He taught them to regard God as the surety for recompenses merited but not received, to invest their lives in Paradise, to break every tie which holds the soul in bondage, that it may spring forward with unfettered flight in the love of God and man.About this time the Count of Cornouaille died, and was succeeded by his son Tugduval. He was a conceited, vain-glorious youth, who could not endure the least contradiction, and had not yet lived long enough to find that life is an instrument on which the first chords we strike are invariably false.So unjust had he shown himself in many instances to the townspeople and gentry, that they banded together and drove him from the city. But Tugduval asked assistance from the Count of Vannes, and soon returned with an army to which the rebels could offer no resistance.Multitudes were slain in battle, and the survivors taking refuge in the city, were besieged there by the count.He rode round the city-walls, like a hungry wolf parading a sheepfold, swearing never to forgive one of the rebels, or those who had given them shelter.So battering-rams were brought, and raised against the walls; and when once a passage was forced, he mounted his war-horse, and ordering every soldier to take a naked sword in one hand, and a lighted torch in the other, he rushed at their head into the affrighted city.But Galonnek had seen the terror of the conquered people, who only looked for fire and sword; and coming out of the cathedral, with all his priests in procession, bearing crosses and all their sacred relics, he came the first to meet Tugduval, his bald head uncovered, and his chalice in his hand.The young count, astonished, checked his horse; but Galonnek went straight up to his saddle-bow, there paused, and said in a gentle voice, “If any will devour the flock, he must begin by slaying the shepherd. I am here at your mercy, and am ready to purchase with my blood forgiveness for the rest.”At the sight of this holy old man, whom he had early been taught to reverence, and at thatvoice which had always sounded like a benediction, Tugduval felt his rage dissolve away; and letting fall his sword, he bent over his horse’s neck, and kissed devoutly the chalice carried by St. Galonnek. At that instant all the soldiers, as if touched by the same emotion, put out their torches, and turned their sword-points to the ground, crying as with one voice, “Quarter, quarter for all!”The young count waited not a repetition of this prayer; but dismounting hastily, he followed the Bishop to the cathedral, where the conquerors and the conquered joined in songs of thanksgiving to God.This was the last great act of St. Galonnek’s life. A very few months after, he felt his strength decay, and knew that his end was near. He did not, however, on that account relax in his good works. Returning one day from a visit to a poor widow bereaved of her last son, he suddenly found himself unable to proceed, and sat down to rest upon a stone by the wayside. There a pedlar from the mountains found him, some time after, sitting motionless; and thinking that he slept, the man approached him, when he saw that he was dead. Judging from the poverty of his apparel, the pedlar took him for a hermit of the neighbourhood, and out of Christian charity wrapped the body in his mantle for a funeral shroud. A shoemaker’s wife, who lived a few steps off, contributedan old chest to serve as a coffin, so that Bishop Galonnek came to his grave like a beggar.But the truth was soon discovered by the miracles which were wrought at his tomb; and the body being taken from the earth, was carried with great state to the city, and buried at the foot of the high altar in the cathedral. St. Pol was requested to write an epitaph upon him; but the apostle of Léon replied that none but an archangel could compose one; so they merely covered the grave with a plain granite slab, on which was carved the name of Galonnek.Ages have passed away, and yet this stone still remains, and thither the Breton mothers come to lay their new-born babes one instant on its consecrated bosom, whilst they repeat the usual form of prayer:“Saint Galonnek, bestow upon my child two hearts. Give him the heart of a lion, that he may be strong in well-doing; and give him the heart of a turtle-dove, that he may be full of brotherly love.”The feast of St. Galonnek is celebrated on the 1st of April, when the buds of the hedgerows are bursting into leaf, and “the time of the singing of birds is come.”
The Legend of Saint Galonnek.
Saint Galonnek was a native of Ireland, as, indeed, were almost all the teachers in Brittany of those days, and called himself Galonnus, being evidently of Roman origin. But after he had left his native land, and the fame of his good deeds had spread far and wide, the Bretons, seeing that his heart was like one of those fresh springs of water that are ever bubbling beneath unfading verdure, changed his name to Galonnek, which signifies in their languagethe open-hearted.And, in truth, never had any child of God a soul more tenderly awakened to the sufferings of his fellow-men. No sorrow was beneath his sympathy; but it was like the sea-breeze, springing with each tide, never failing to refresh the traveller weary on his way, or to fill the sails of the humble fishing-boat, and bring it safe to land.His father and mother were people of substance, and though themselves buried in the darkness of paganism, spared not the tenderest solicitude in the education of their son. He was placed under the instruction of the most learned masters Ireland could afford, and above all, had the honour of being a pupil of St. Patrick, thenfound amongst them like a nightingale in the midst of wrens, or a beech-tree towering above the ferns on a common.Under his teaching the boy grew up, learning only to regard himself in the person of God and his neighbours; and with so fervent a love for souls did the holy apostle of Ireland inspire Galonnek, that at the age of eighteen he had no higher wish than to cross over to Brittany, and preach the kingdom of Heaven to sorrowful sinners.His father and mother, who had then long since been converted, desired to throw no hindrance in the way of his accomplishing this pious work; but embracing him with tears, they bade him God speed, assured that they should meet again once more before the throne of God.Galonnek took his passage in a boat manned by evil-disposed sailors, whose design was to plunder him; but when they discovered that the holy youth was possessed of nothing but an iron crucifix and a holly-staff, they turned him out upon the coast of Cornouaille, where they abandoned him, helpless and without provisions.Galonnek walked about a long time, not knowing where he was, but perfectly tranquil in his mind, certain that he was in his Master’s kingdom. The sea that roared behind him, the birds that warbled in the bushes, and the wind murmuringin the leaves, all spoke alike to him, each with its own peculiar voice, the name of that Master whose creatures and subjects they were.He came at length, towards evening, to a part of the country lying between Audierne and Plougastel-des-Montagnes, and there finding a village, he seated himself on the doorstep of the first house, awaiting an invitation to enter.But, far from that, the owner of the house bade him rise and go away. Galonnek then went to the door of the next house, and received the same inhospitable order; and so on from door to door throughout the village. And from the expression every where used to him,zevel, this village was afterwards called Plouzevel, literally,people who said, Get up.The saint was preparing to stretch his weary limbs by the roadside, when he perceived a cabin which he had not yet noticed, and drew near the door.It was the dwelling of a poor widow, possessed only of a few acres of barren land, which she had no longer strength to till. But if the fruits of her land were little worth, those of her heart were rich and plentiful. So tenderly generous was her charity, that if any one asked her for a draught of goat’s milk, she would give him cream; and if one begged for cream, she would have been ready to bestow the goat itself.She received Galonnek as if he had been her dearly-beloved son, long absent, and supposed dead. She ministered to him of the best she had, listening with devotion to his holy teaching; and having already charity, the very key of true religion, she was ready to embrace with all her heart the faith of Christ. So early as the very next morning she begged the grace of baptism; and Galonnek, seeing that the love of her neighbours had already made her a Christian in intention, consented to bestow it. But water was wanted at the moment of the ceremony; and St. Galonnek going out, took a spade, and digging for a few moments in the old woman’s little courtyard, there sprung out an abundant fountain; and he said,“By the aid of this water your barren land will become fertile meadows covered with rich grass, and you will be able to feed as many cows in your new pastures as you have now goats browsing on your heath.”This miracle began to open the eyes of the villagers; and they gave permission to Galonnek to take up his abode in a forest which stretched in those days from Plouzevel to the sea-shore. There the holy disciple of St. Patrick built himself a hut of turf and boughs.One day whilst praying in this oratory, he heard the hoofs of a runaway horse; and leaving his devotions to see what was the matter, hesaw a knight thrown from his horse amidst the thicket.Galonnek ran to his assistance; and having with much difficulty carried him to his hermitage, he began to bathe his wounds, to dress them with leaves for want of ointment, and to bind them up with strips torn from his own gown of serge.Now it chanced that this knight was the Count of Cornouaille himself; and he was found presently by the attendants, whom he had outstripped, peacefully sleeping on the saint’s bed of fern. But behold, when he awakened, that saint’s prayers had stood instead of remedies, and all his wounds were healed.And whilst all stood astonished at this miracle, St. Galonnek said gently,“Do not be so much surprised; for if by faith mountains may be moved, why should not charity heal death itself?”The count, filled with wonder and delight, declared that the whole forest should become the property of the man who had done so much for him; and not that only, but that he should have as much good meadow-land as could be enclosed within the strips he had torn from his gown to bind the wounds, each strip being reduced to single threads. Thus Galonnek became the owner of a whole parish; and a proverb arose,which is still current in those parts,That it is with the length of a benefit received one must measure the field of gratitude.Yet Galonnek was none the richer, notwithstanding the noble liberality of the count. All the income of his estate was given to the poor, whilst he still lived on in his leafy hermitage. But as many young men were attracted from the neighbourhood by his reputation for holiness and learning, he built many other cells beside his own; and thus from his school in that solitary glade the light of the Gospel went forth in time through all the length and breadth of the country.It was amidst the perfume of wild-flowers, beside the murmuring brook, that Galonnek taught his pupils. He would teach them to understand somewhat of the providence of God by making them observe the tender care with which the little birds prepare a downy nest for offspring yet unborn. He would point out to their attention how the earth yields moisture to the roots of trees, how the trees become a dwelling-place for thrushes and for finches, and how these again make musical the forest with their cheerful strains, to illustrate the advantage and necessity of mutual benevolence and brotherly love. And when need was to stimulate their efforts or their perseverance, he would lead them tobehold the ant, unwearied in her toil, or the constant woodpecker whose tiny bill achieves the scooping of an oak.But this teaching did not confine him in one place; and wherever he went his presence was as that of a star in the midst of darkness.Now in those days the inhabitants of Brittany still exercised the right ofwrecking, or in other words, reserved to themselves the privilege of plundering any unfortunate vessels thrown upon their coasts. They spoke of the sea as a cow given to their ancestors by God, and that brought forth every winter for their benefit; thus they looked on shipwrecks as a positive blessing.One night, during a heavy storm, as Galonnek was returning to his forest from the sick-bed of a poor man, he saw the dwellers on the coast leading a bull along the rocks. His head was bound down towards his fore-legs, and a beacon-light was fastened to his horns. The crippled gait of the animal gave an oscillating motion to the light, which might be well mistaken at a distance for the lantern of a ship pitching out at sea, and thus deceive bewildered vessels, uncertain in the tempest of their course, into the notion of yet being far from shore. Already one thus treacherously beguiled was on its way to ruin, and might be seen close upon the rocks, its fullwhite sails gleaming through the night; another moment and it would have been aground among the breakers.Galonnek rushed amidst the peasants, extinguished the false beacon, and reproached them for such treachery. But they would not listen to him, and prepared to rekindle the light. Then the saint cried,“By all your hopes in this world and the next, have done! for it is your own brethren and children that you are drawing to destruction.”And whilst they stood uncertain, God kindled up the sky with flashing lightning; and beholding the vessel as if it had been noonday, they saw that it was indeed a Breton ship.Terrified by the dangers to which they had exposed themselves, they all fell down at the saint’s feet; the women kissed the hem of his garment with floods of tears, as if his hands had rescued their sons from the depths of the sea, and all with one voice exclaimed,“But for him we should have become the murderers of our friends and neighbours.”“Alas, those whom you have already lured to death were equally your neighbours and your friends,” replied St. Galonnek; “for we are all descended from Adam, and have been ransomed by the blood of the same God.”The peasants,deeply moved, perceived their guilt, and promised to renounce this custom of their fathers.Much about the same time, the country of Pluguffant was ravaged by a dragon, which devoured whole flocks with their shepherds and dogs. In vain had the most courageous men banded themselves together to destroy it. The ferocious monster had put them all to flight; and now nobody dared to stir out of doors to lead his cattle to water, or go and work in the fields. As soon as Galonnek knew this sad state of things, he set out for the court of the Count of Cornouaille, and asked there which knight was the most valiant before God and man. Every voice declared him to be Messire Tanguy de Carfor, who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and killed more than a thousand Saracens with his own hand.Galonnek desired him to gird on his sword and armour, and to come and fight the dragon, which God had given him amission to destroy. Carfor instantly armed himself, and accompanied the saint to the monster’s den, from which he came out, howling frightfully at their approach.Carfor hesitated in spite of himself at so unwonted an appearance; but Galonnek said to him,“For your soul’s sake, messire, have confidencein God, and you shall kill this monster as easily as a gadfly.”Thus encouraged, the knight advanced to the attack, and with scarce an effort pierced the dragon three times through with his sword, whilst the saint called upon the three Persons of the Most Holy Trinity.Galonnek also freed the country from many other scourges, such as wolves, reptiles, and mosquitoes with fiery stings; and being now old enough to receive holy orders, he was ordained by St. Pol; and built a little chapel beside his oratory, where every day he celebrated Mass.Meanwhile the leafy cells around him multiplied so fast, that at last they were united in a monastery, called by GalonnekYoulmad, orthe house of good desires.He was engaged in drawing up a rule for this monastery, when he was interrupted by a disturbing rumour which arose in the neighbourhood.It was said that a woman clothed in red, and with a ghastly countenance, had taken passage in a fishing-boat from Crozon. She landed near Poullons; and when questioned as to her name on departing, she had replied that she was called the Lady of Pestilence. And, in fact, it came to pass, that within a very few days both men and animals were smitten with a contagious disease, which carried them off after a few hours’ illness.So great was the mortality, that wood sufficient for the coffins could not be found; and for want of grave-diggers, the corpses were laid to rest in furrows hollowed by the plough.Those who were well off gathered all their effects together in wagons, and harnessing all the horses they possessed, drove away at full speed to the mountains, which the pallid woman had not passed. But the poorer people, who had no means of conveyance, and were unwilling to leave their little all, awaited their doom at home, like sheep lying down to rest around the butcher’s door.In this extremity, however, they were not abandoned by Galonnek. He went from hut to hut, carrying aid or consolation. Linen for shrouds and wood for coffins might indeed be wanting; but he swathed the fever-spotted dead in leafy twigs, and bore them in his own arms to consecrated earth, laying them down tenderly as sleeping infants in their cradle-bed. Then planting a branch of yew, and another of blossoming broom, he entwined them in the form of a cross, and set them as an emblem on the grave; the yew symbolising the sorrow which underlies thewholecourse of life, and the blossoming broom the transitory joys which gleam across it. And it is said, that when at last the pestilence was stayed, these holy crosses covered a space of threedays’ journey. So many generous and pious acts had spread the fame of Galonnek both far and wide, and all Cornouaille was inflamed with devotion. Persons came from all parts to the convent ofGood Desiresto listen to his teaching, to ask his prayers, and to offer him gifts; but these the saint only accepted for the purposes of charity.“The priest,” he used to say, “is only as a canal, which serves to carry water from overflowing streams to arid barren plains.”Another of his sayings was, “God has given us two hands; one with which to receive His good treasures, and the other to administer the same to those who need.”And thus, although the neighbouring nobles had loaded him with presents, his monastery and church were radiant only with his good actions. He was accustomed to sleep upon an osier hurdle, and wore nothing better than a gown of faded serge. But all this external poverty threw out with stronger lustre the brightness of his hidden worth; and Galonnek was like one of those caskets made of earth or bark, in which are treasured rubies and carbuncles.The see of Cornouaille becoming vacant, Galonnek was summoned with one voice to fill it. He was anxious to refuse; but St. Pol himself came to find him out, and said to him that God’s stars have no right to conceal themselves in thegrass, but must take their places in the firmament. Then St. Galonnek resigned himself; but when the moment came for leaving the turfen oratory, where he had spent the best part of his life, his heart became so heavy that he burst into tears, and cried aloud, “Alas, how shall I become worthy of the new office which my brethren impose upon me?” Then, falling on his knees, he prayed most fervently until God put strength into his heart. When he arose, he took the humble chalice he had been accustomed to use, his sole possession, save the memory of his good deeds, and went on foot to the capital of Cornouaille, where he was consecrated Bishop.Here began for St. Galonnek a new life of courage and self-denial. He had to fight for the poor against the rich, for the weak against the mighty. When his friends and disciples beheld him engage, all unprotected, in these dangerous struggles, even the most courageous were at times dismayed; but Galonnek would say with a smile, “Fear not, my friends, their weapons cannot touch me. God Himself has forged for me a breastplate with the tears of the sorrowful, the miseries of the poor, and the despair of the oppressed. Behind this armour I can feel no hurt. Blows can only do us mischief by glancing across us at any of those who have taken up our cause; for from our very heart distils a balsam that canheal as they come all the wounds inflicted from without.”Moved by the sight of so much virtue, many powerful noblemen, who had hitherto persisted in idolatry, came to ask of Galonnek instruction and the grace of baptism; but he would only grant this favour in reward for some good work. If any one had sinned, and came to seek for absolution, Galonnek would give him for a penance some virtuous action to perform, some charitable service to his fellow-men. He taught them to regard God as the surety for recompenses merited but not received, to invest their lives in Paradise, to break every tie which holds the soul in bondage, that it may spring forward with unfettered flight in the love of God and man.About this time the Count of Cornouaille died, and was succeeded by his son Tugduval. He was a conceited, vain-glorious youth, who could not endure the least contradiction, and had not yet lived long enough to find that life is an instrument on which the first chords we strike are invariably false.So unjust had he shown himself in many instances to the townspeople and gentry, that they banded together and drove him from the city. But Tugduval asked assistance from the Count of Vannes, and soon returned with an army to which the rebels could offer no resistance.Multitudes were slain in battle, and the survivors taking refuge in the city, were besieged there by the count.He rode round the city-walls, like a hungry wolf parading a sheepfold, swearing never to forgive one of the rebels, or those who had given them shelter.So battering-rams were brought, and raised against the walls; and when once a passage was forced, he mounted his war-horse, and ordering every soldier to take a naked sword in one hand, and a lighted torch in the other, he rushed at their head into the affrighted city.But Galonnek had seen the terror of the conquered people, who only looked for fire and sword; and coming out of the cathedral, with all his priests in procession, bearing crosses and all their sacred relics, he came the first to meet Tugduval, his bald head uncovered, and his chalice in his hand.The young count, astonished, checked his horse; but Galonnek went straight up to his saddle-bow, there paused, and said in a gentle voice, “If any will devour the flock, he must begin by slaying the shepherd. I am here at your mercy, and am ready to purchase with my blood forgiveness for the rest.”At the sight of this holy old man, whom he had early been taught to reverence, and at thatvoice which had always sounded like a benediction, Tugduval felt his rage dissolve away; and letting fall his sword, he bent over his horse’s neck, and kissed devoutly the chalice carried by St. Galonnek. At that instant all the soldiers, as if touched by the same emotion, put out their torches, and turned their sword-points to the ground, crying as with one voice, “Quarter, quarter for all!”The young count waited not a repetition of this prayer; but dismounting hastily, he followed the Bishop to the cathedral, where the conquerors and the conquered joined in songs of thanksgiving to God.This was the last great act of St. Galonnek’s life. A very few months after, he felt his strength decay, and knew that his end was near. He did not, however, on that account relax in his good works. Returning one day from a visit to a poor widow bereaved of her last son, he suddenly found himself unable to proceed, and sat down to rest upon a stone by the wayside. There a pedlar from the mountains found him, some time after, sitting motionless; and thinking that he slept, the man approached him, when he saw that he was dead. Judging from the poverty of his apparel, the pedlar took him for a hermit of the neighbourhood, and out of Christian charity wrapped the body in his mantle for a funeral shroud. A shoemaker’s wife, who lived a few steps off, contributedan old chest to serve as a coffin, so that Bishop Galonnek came to his grave like a beggar.But the truth was soon discovered by the miracles which were wrought at his tomb; and the body being taken from the earth, was carried with great state to the city, and buried at the foot of the high altar in the cathedral. St. Pol was requested to write an epitaph upon him; but the apostle of Léon replied that none but an archangel could compose one; so they merely covered the grave with a plain granite slab, on which was carved the name of Galonnek.Ages have passed away, and yet this stone still remains, and thither the Breton mothers come to lay their new-born babes one instant on its consecrated bosom, whilst they repeat the usual form of prayer:“Saint Galonnek, bestow upon my child two hearts. Give him the heart of a lion, that he may be strong in well-doing; and give him the heart of a turtle-dove, that he may be full of brotherly love.”The feast of St. Galonnek is celebrated on the 1st of April, when the buds of the hedgerows are bursting into leaf, and “the time of the singing of birds is come.”
Saint Galonnek was a native of Ireland, as, indeed, were almost all the teachers in Brittany of those days, and called himself Galonnus, being evidently of Roman origin. But after he had left his native land, and the fame of his good deeds had spread far and wide, the Bretons, seeing that his heart was like one of those fresh springs of water that are ever bubbling beneath unfading verdure, changed his name to Galonnek, which signifies in their languagethe open-hearted.
And, in truth, never had any child of God a soul more tenderly awakened to the sufferings of his fellow-men. No sorrow was beneath his sympathy; but it was like the sea-breeze, springing with each tide, never failing to refresh the traveller weary on his way, or to fill the sails of the humble fishing-boat, and bring it safe to land.
His father and mother were people of substance, and though themselves buried in the darkness of paganism, spared not the tenderest solicitude in the education of their son. He was placed under the instruction of the most learned masters Ireland could afford, and above all, had the honour of being a pupil of St. Patrick, thenfound amongst them like a nightingale in the midst of wrens, or a beech-tree towering above the ferns on a common.
Under his teaching the boy grew up, learning only to regard himself in the person of God and his neighbours; and with so fervent a love for souls did the holy apostle of Ireland inspire Galonnek, that at the age of eighteen he had no higher wish than to cross over to Brittany, and preach the kingdom of Heaven to sorrowful sinners.
His father and mother, who had then long since been converted, desired to throw no hindrance in the way of his accomplishing this pious work; but embracing him with tears, they bade him God speed, assured that they should meet again once more before the throne of God.
Galonnek took his passage in a boat manned by evil-disposed sailors, whose design was to plunder him; but when they discovered that the holy youth was possessed of nothing but an iron crucifix and a holly-staff, they turned him out upon the coast of Cornouaille, where they abandoned him, helpless and without provisions.
Galonnek walked about a long time, not knowing where he was, but perfectly tranquil in his mind, certain that he was in his Master’s kingdom. The sea that roared behind him, the birds that warbled in the bushes, and the wind murmuringin the leaves, all spoke alike to him, each with its own peculiar voice, the name of that Master whose creatures and subjects they were.
He came at length, towards evening, to a part of the country lying between Audierne and Plougastel-des-Montagnes, and there finding a village, he seated himself on the doorstep of the first house, awaiting an invitation to enter.
But, far from that, the owner of the house bade him rise and go away. Galonnek then went to the door of the next house, and received the same inhospitable order; and so on from door to door throughout the village. And from the expression every where used to him,zevel, this village was afterwards called Plouzevel, literally,people who said, Get up.
The saint was preparing to stretch his weary limbs by the roadside, when he perceived a cabin which he had not yet noticed, and drew near the door.
It was the dwelling of a poor widow, possessed only of a few acres of barren land, which she had no longer strength to till. But if the fruits of her land were little worth, those of her heart were rich and plentiful. So tenderly generous was her charity, that if any one asked her for a draught of goat’s milk, she would give him cream; and if one begged for cream, she would have been ready to bestow the goat itself.
She received Galonnek as if he had been her dearly-beloved son, long absent, and supposed dead. She ministered to him of the best she had, listening with devotion to his holy teaching; and having already charity, the very key of true religion, she was ready to embrace with all her heart the faith of Christ. So early as the very next morning she begged the grace of baptism; and Galonnek, seeing that the love of her neighbours had already made her a Christian in intention, consented to bestow it. But water was wanted at the moment of the ceremony; and St. Galonnek going out, took a spade, and digging for a few moments in the old woman’s little courtyard, there sprung out an abundant fountain; and he said,
“By the aid of this water your barren land will become fertile meadows covered with rich grass, and you will be able to feed as many cows in your new pastures as you have now goats browsing on your heath.”
This miracle began to open the eyes of the villagers; and they gave permission to Galonnek to take up his abode in a forest which stretched in those days from Plouzevel to the sea-shore. There the holy disciple of St. Patrick built himself a hut of turf and boughs.
One day whilst praying in this oratory, he heard the hoofs of a runaway horse; and leaving his devotions to see what was the matter, hesaw a knight thrown from his horse amidst the thicket.
Galonnek ran to his assistance; and having with much difficulty carried him to his hermitage, he began to bathe his wounds, to dress them with leaves for want of ointment, and to bind them up with strips torn from his own gown of serge.
Now it chanced that this knight was the Count of Cornouaille himself; and he was found presently by the attendants, whom he had outstripped, peacefully sleeping on the saint’s bed of fern. But behold, when he awakened, that saint’s prayers had stood instead of remedies, and all his wounds were healed.
And whilst all stood astonished at this miracle, St. Galonnek said gently,
“Do not be so much surprised; for if by faith mountains may be moved, why should not charity heal death itself?”
The count, filled with wonder and delight, declared that the whole forest should become the property of the man who had done so much for him; and not that only, but that he should have as much good meadow-land as could be enclosed within the strips he had torn from his gown to bind the wounds, each strip being reduced to single threads. Thus Galonnek became the owner of a whole parish; and a proverb arose,which is still current in those parts,That it is with the length of a benefit received one must measure the field of gratitude.
Yet Galonnek was none the richer, notwithstanding the noble liberality of the count. All the income of his estate was given to the poor, whilst he still lived on in his leafy hermitage. But as many young men were attracted from the neighbourhood by his reputation for holiness and learning, he built many other cells beside his own; and thus from his school in that solitary glade the light of the Gospel went forth in time through all the length and breadth of the country.
It was amidst the perfume of wild-flowers, beside the murmuring brook, that Galonnek taught his pupils. He would teach them to understand somewhat of the providence of God by making them observe the tender care with which the little birds prepare a downy nest for offspring yet unborn. He would point out to their attention how the earth yields moisture to the roots of trees, how the trees become a dwelling-place for thrushes and for finches, and how these again make musical the forest with their cheerful strains, to illustrate the advantage and necessity of mutual benevolence and brotherly love. And when need was to stimulate their efforts or their perseverance, he would lead them tobehold the ant, unwearied in her toil, or the constant woodpecker whose tiny bill achieves the scooping of an oak.
But this teaching did not confine him in one place; and wherever he went his presence was as that of a star in the midst of darkness.
Now in those days the inhabitants of Brittany still exercised the right ofwrecking, or in other words, reserved to themselves the privilege of plundering any unfortunate vessels thrown upon their coasts. They spoke of the sea as a cow given to their ancestors by God, and that brought forth every winter for their benefit; thus they looked on shipwrecks as a positive blessing.
One night, during a heavy storm, as Galonnek was returning to his forest from the sick-bed of a poor man, he saw the dwellers on the coast leading a bull along the rocks. His head was bound down towards his fore-legs, and a beacon-light was fastened to his horns. The crippled gait of the animal gave an oscillating motion to the light, which might be well mistaken at a distance for the lantern of a ship pitching out at sea, and thus deceive bewildered vessels, uncertain in the tempest of their course, into the notion of yet being far from shore. Already one thus treacherously beguiled was on its way to ruin, and might be seen close upon the rocks, its fullwhite sails gleaming through the night; another moment and it would have been aground among the breakers.
Galonnek rushed amidst the peasants, extinguished the false beacon, and reproached them for such treachery. But they would not listen to him, and prepared to rekindle the light. Then the saint cried,
“By all your hopes in this world and the next, have done! for it is your own brethren and children that you are drawing to destruction.”
And whilst they stood uncertain, God kindled up the sky with flashing lightning; and beholding the vessel as if it had been noonday, they saw that it was indeed a Breton ship.
Terrified by the dangers to which they had exposed themselves, they all fell down at the saint’s feet; the women kissed the hem of his garment with floods of tears, as if his hands had rescued their sons from the depths of the sea, and all with one voice exclaimed,
“But for him we should have become the murderers of our friends and neighbours.”
“Alas, those whom you have already lured to death were equally your neighbours and your friends,” replied St. Galonnek; “for we are all descended from Adam, and have been ransomed by the blood of the same God.”
The peasants,deeply moved, perceived their guilt, and promised to renounce this custom of their fathers.
Much about the same time, the country of Pluguffant was ravaged by a dragon, which devoured whole flocks with their shepherds and dogs. In vain had the most courageous men banded themselves together to destroy it. The ferocious monster had put them all to flight; and now nobody dared to stir out of doors to lead his cattle to water, or go and work in the fields. As soon as Galonnek knew this sad state of things, he set out for the court of the Count of Cornouaille, and asked there which knight was the most valiant before God and man. Every voice declared him to be Messire Tanguy de Carfor, who had made a pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre, and killed more than a thousand Saracens with his own hand.
Galonnek desired him to gird on his sword and armour, and to come and fight the dragon, which God had given him amission to destroy. Carfor instantly armed himself, and accompanied the saint to the monster’s den, from which he came out, howling frightfully at their approach.
Carfor hesitated in spite of himself at so unwonted an appearance; but Galonnek said to him,
“For your soul’s sake, messire, have confidencein God, and you shall kill this monster as easily as a gadfly.”
Thus encouraged, the knight advanced to the attack, and with scarce an effort pierced the dragon three times through with his sword, whilst the saint called upon the three Persons of the Most Holy Trinity.
Galonnek also freed the country from many other scourges, such as wolves, reptiles, and mosquitoes with fiery stings; and being now old enough to receive holy orders, he was ordained by St. Pol; and built a little chapel beside his oratory, where every day he celebrated Mass.
Meanwhile the leafy cells around him multiplied so fast, that at last they were united in a monastery, called by GalonnekYoulmad, orthe house of good desires.
He was engaged in drawing up a rule for this monastery, when he was interrupted by a disturbing rumour which arose in the neighbourhood.
It was said that a woman clothed in red, and with a ghastly countenance, had taken passage in a fishing-boat from Crozon. She landed near Poullons; and when questioned as to her name on departing, she had replied that she was called the Lady of Pestilence. And, in fact, it came to pass, that within a very few days both men and animals were smitten with a contagious disease, which carried them off after a few hours’ illness.So great was the mortality, that wood sufficient for the coffins could not be found; and for want of grave-diggers, the corpses were laid to rest in furrows hollowed by the plough.
Those who were well off gathered all their effects together in wagons, and harnessing all the horses they possessed, drove away at full speed to the mountains, which the pallid woman had not passed. But the poorer people, who had no means of conveyance, and were unwilling to leave their little all, awaited their doom at home, like sheep lying down to rest around the butcher’s door.
In this extremity, however, they were not abandoned by Galonnek. He went from hut to hut, carrying aid or consolation. Linen for shrouds and wood for coffins might indeed be wanting; but he swathed the fever-spotted dead in leafy twigs, and bore them in his own arms to consecrated earth, laying them down tenderly as sleeping infants in their cradle-bed. Then planting a branch of yew, and another of blossoming broom, he entwined them in the form of a cross, and set them as an emblem on the grave; the yew symbolising the sorrow which underlies thewholecourse of life, and the blossoming broom the transitory joys which gleam across it. And it is said, that when at last the pestilence was stayed, these holy crosses covered a space of threedays’ journey. So many generous and pious acts had spread the fame of Galonnek both far and wide, and all Cornouaille was inflamed with devotion. Persons came from all parts to the convent ofGood Desiresto listen to his teaching, to ask his prayers, and to offer him gifts; but these the saint only accepted for the purposes of charity.
“The priest,” he used to say, “is only as a canal, which serves to carry water from overflowing streams to arid barren plains.”
Another of his sayings was, “God has given us two hands; one with which to receive His good treasures, and the other to administer the same to those who need.”
And thus, although the neighbouring nobles had loaded him with presents, his monastery and church were radiant only with his good actions. He was accustomed to sleep upon an osier hurdle, and wore nothing better than a gown of faded serge. But all this external poverty threw out with stronger lustre the brightness of his hidden worth; and Galonnek was like one of those caskets made of earth or bark, in which are treasured rubies and carbuncles.
The see of Cornouaille becoming vacant, Galonnek was summoned with one voice to fill it. He was anxious to refuse; but St. Pol himself came to find him out, and said to him that God’s stars have no right to conceal themselves in thegrass, but must take their places in the firmament. Then St. Galonnek resigned himself; but when the moment came for leaving the turfen oratory, where he had spent the best part of his life, his heart became so heavy that he burst into tears, and cried aloud, “Alas, how shall I become worthy of the new office which my brethren impose upon me?” Then, falling on his knees, he prayed most fervently until God put strength into his heart. When he arose, he took the humble chalice he had been accustomed to use, his sole possession, save the memory of his good deeds, and went on foot to the capital of Cornouaille, where he was consecrated Bishop.
Here began for St. Galonnek a new life of courage and self-denial. He had to fight for the poor against the rich, for the weak against the mighty. When his friends and disciples beheld him engage, all unprotected, in these dangerous struggles, even the most courageous were at times dismayed; but Galonnek would say with a smile, “Fear not, my friends, their weapons cannot touch me. God Himself has forged for me a breastplate with the tears of the sorrowful, the miseries of the poor, and the despair of the oppressed. Behind this armour I can feel no hurt. Blows can only do us mischief by glancing across us at any of those who have taken up our cause; for from our very heart distils a balsam that canheal as they come all the wounds inflicted from without.”
Moved by the sight of so much virtue, many powerful noblemen, who had hitherto persisted in idolatry, came to ask of Galonnek instruction and the grace of baptism; but he would only grant this favour in reward for some good work. If any one had sinned, and came to seek for absolution, Galonnek would give him for a penance some virtuous action to perform, some charitable service to his fellow-men. He taught them to regard God as the surety for recompenses merited but not received, to invest their lives in Paradise, to break every tie which holds the soul in bondage, that it may spring forward with unfettered flight in the love of God and man.
About this time the Count of Cornouaille died, and was succeeded by his son Tugduval. He was a conceited, vain-glorious youth, who could not endure the least contradiction, and had not yet lived long enough to find that life is an instrument on which the first chords we strike are invariably false.
So unjust had he shown himself in many instances to the townspeople and gentry, that they banded together and drove him from the city. But Tugduval asked assistance from the Count of Vannes, and soon returned with an army to which the rebels could offer no resistance.Multitudes were slain in battle, and the survivors taking refuge in the city, were besieged there by the count.
He rode round the city-walls, like a hungry wolf parading a sheepfold, swearing never to forgive one of the rebels, or those who had given them shelter.
So battering-rams were brought, and raised against the walls; and when once a passage was forced, he mounted his war-horse, and ordering every soldier to take a naked sword in one hand, and a lighted torch in the other, he rushed at their head into the affrighted city.
But Galonnek had seen the terror of the conquered people, who only looked for fire and sword; and coming out of the cathedral, with all his priests in procession, bearing crosses and all their sacred relics, he came the first to meet Tugduval, his bald head uncovered, and his chalice in his hand.
The young count, astonished, checked his horse; but Galonnek went straight up to his saddle-bow, there paused, and said in a gentle voice, “If any will devour the flock, he must begin by slaying the shepherd. I am here at your mercy, and am ready to purchase with my blood forgiveness for the rest.”
At the sight of this holy old man, whom he had early been taught to reverence, and at thatvoice which had always sounded like a benediction, Tugduval felt his rage dissolve away; and letting fall his sword, he bent over his horse’s neck, and kissed devoutly the chalice carried by St. Galonnek. At that instant all the soldiers, as if touched by the same emotion, put out their torches, and turned their sword-points to the ground, crying as with one voice, “Quarter, quarter for all!”
The young count waited not a repetition of this prayer; but dismounting hastily, he followed the Bishop to the cathedral, where the conquerors and the conquered joined in songs of thanksgiving to God.
This was the last great act of St. Galonnek’s life. A very few months after, he felt his strength decay, and knew that his end was near. He did not, however, on that account relax in his good works. Returning one day from a visit to a poor widow bereaved of her last son, he suddenly found himself unable to proceed, and sat down to rest upon a stone by the wayside. There a pedlar from the mountains found him, some time after, sitting motionless; and thinking that he slept, the man approached him, when he saw that he was dead. Judging from the poverty of his apparel, the pedlar took him for a hermit of the neighbourhood, and out of Christian charity wrapped the body in his mantle for a funeral shroud. A shoemaker’s wife, who lived a few steps off, contributedan old chest to serve as a coffin, so that Bishop Galonnek came to his grave like a beggar.
But the truth was soon discovered by the miracles which were wrought at his tomb; and the body being taken from the earth, was carried with great state to the city, and buried at the foot of the high altar in the cathedral. St. Pol was requested to write an epitaph upon him; but the apostle of Léon replied that none but an archangel could compose one; so they merely covered the grave with a plain granite slab, on which was carved the name of Galonnek.
Ages have passed away, and yet this stone still remains, and thither the Breton mothers come to lay their new-born babes one instant on its consecrated bosom, whilst they repeat the usual form of prayer:
“Saint Galonnek, bestow upon my child two hearts. Give him the heart of a lion, that he may be strong in well-doing; and give him the heart of a turtle-dove, that he may be full of brotherly love.”
The feast of St. Galonnek is celebrated on the 1st of April, when the buds of the hedgerows are bursting into leaf, and “the time of the singing of birds is come.”
The Korils of Plauden.There dwelt formerly in the land of White-Wheat, as well as in Cornouaille, a race of dwarfs, or Korigans, who, being divided into four nations or tribes, inhabited the woods, the commons, the valleys, and the farms. Those dwelling in the woods were calledKornikaneds, because they played on little horns, which hung suspended from their girdles; the inhabitants of the commons were calledKorils, from their spending all their nights in dancing by moonlight; the dwellers in the valleys werePoulpikans, from their homes lying so low; and theTeuzwere wild black men, living near the meadows and the wheat-fields; but as the other Korigans accused them of being too friendly with Christians, they were forced to take flight into Léon, where probably there may still be some of them remaining.At the time of which I speak, there were only then hereabouts the Kornikaneds, the Poulpikans, and the Korils; but they abounded in such numbers, that after dark few people cared to venture near their stony palaces.Above all, there lay in Plauden, near the little market-town of Loqueltas, a common known asMotenn-Dervenn, orplace of oaks, whereon there stood an extensive Koril village, that may be seen there to this very day. The mischievous dwarfs came out to dance there every night; and any one adventurous enough to cross the common at that time was sure to be entrapped into their mazy chain, and forced to wheel about with them till earliest cockcrow; so that the place was universally avoided after nightfall.One evening, however, Benead Guilcher, returning with his wife from a field, where he had been doing a day’s work in ploughing for a farmer of Cadougal, took his way across the haunted heath because it was so much the shortest road. It was still early, and he hoped that the Korigans might not have yet begun their dance; but when he came half-way over the Motenn-Dervenn, he perceived them scattered round about the blocks of stone, like birds on a field of corn. He would fain have turned him back; but the horns of the wood-dwarfs, and the call-cries of the valley-imps, already rose behind him. Benead felt his legs tremble, and said to his wife,“Saint Anne, we are done for! Here come the Kornikaneds and the Poulpikans to join the Korils for their midnight ball. They will make us dance with them till daybreak; and it is more than my poor heart can endure.”And, in fact, the troops of Korigans assemblingfrom all parts, came round about poor Guilcher and his wife like flies in August to a drop of honey, but started back on seeing in his hand the little fork Benead had been using to clear the ploughshare, and began to sing with one accord,“Let him be, let her be,The plough-fork has he!Let them go on their way,The fork carry they!”Guilcher instantly perceived that the instrument he held in his hand acted as a charm against the power of the Korigans; and he and his wife passed unmolested through the very midst of them.This was a hint to every body. From that day forward it became a universal custom to take out the little fork of an evening; and thus armed, any one might cross the heaths and valleys without fear of hindrance.But Benead was not satisfied with having rendered this service to the Bretons; he was an inquisitive as well as an intelligent man, and as merry a hunchback as any in the four Breton bishoprics. For I have omitted to tell you that Benead carried from his birth a hump betwixt his shoulders, with which he would thankfully have parted at cost-price. He was looked on also as an honest workman, who laboured conscientiouslyfor daily bread, and moreover well deserved the character of a good Christian.One evening, unable to resist the wish, he took his little fork, commended himself devoutly to St. Anne, and set off towards the Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils saw him from a distance, and ran to him, crying,“It is Benead Guilcher!”“Yes, it is I, my little men,” replied the jovial hunchback; “I have come to pay you a friendly visit.”“You are welcome,” replied the Korils. “Will you have a dance with us?”“Excuse me, my good folks,” replied Guilcher, “but your breath is too long for a poor invalid.”“We will stop whenever you like,” cried the Korils.“Will you promise that?” said Benead, who was not unwilling to try a round with them, as much for the novelty of the thing as that he might have it to talk about.“We will promise thee,” said the dwarfs.“By the Saviour’s cross?”“By the Saviour’s cross.”The hunchback, satisfied that such an oath secured him from all dangers, took his place in their chain; and the Korils began their round, singing their accustomed song:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday;Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.”1In a few minutes Guilcher stopped.“With all due deference to you, good gentlefolks,” said he to the dwarfs, “your song and dance seem to me very monotonous. You stop too early in the week; and without having much claim to be a skilful stringer of rhymes, I fancy I can lengthen the chorus.”“Let us see, let us see!” cried the dwarfs.Then the hunchback replied,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”A great tumult arose amongst the Korils.“Stard! stard!”2cried they, surrounding Guilcher; “you are a bold singer and a fine dancer. Repeat it once more.”The hunchback repeated,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,”whilst the Korils wheeled about in mad delight. At last they stopped, and pressing round about Guilcher, they cried with one voice,“What will you have? what do you want? riches or beauty? Speak a wish, and we will fulfil it for you.”“Are you in earnest?” asked the labourer.“May we be doomed to pick up grain by grain all the millet in the diocese, if we deceive thee,” they replied.“Well,” said Guilcher, “if you want to make me a present, and leave me to choose what it shall be, I have one thing only to desire from you, and that is, that you take away what I have got here set betwixt my shoulders, and make me as straight as the flagstaff of Loqueltas.”“Good, good!” replied the Korils. “Be easy, come here.” And seizing Guilcher, they threw him in the air, tossing him from one to another like a worsted ball, until he had made the round of the entire circle. Then he fell upon his feet, giddy, breathless, but—without his hump! Benead had grown younger, fatter, beautiful! Except his mother, no one could have recognised him.You may guess the surprise his appearance created on his return to Loqueltas. No one could believe it was Guilcher; his wife herself was doubtful about receiving him. Before she could recognise in him her old humpback, he was compelled to tell her exactly how many headdresses she had in her press, and what was thecolour of her stockings. At last, when every body knew for certain that it was he, they became wonderfully anxious to find out what had effected so strange a transformation; but Benead thought that if he told the truth, he should be looked on as an accomplice of the Korigans; and that every time an ox strayed, or a goat was lost, he should be applied to for its restoration. So he told all those who asked him questions, that it happened unknown to him whilst sleeping on the heath. Thenceforth went all the crooked folk who were silly enough to believe him, and spent their nights upon the open heath, hoping to rise like arrows in the morning; but many people suspected that there was a secret in the matter, which Guilcher was unwilling to disclose.Amongst these latter was a tailor with red hair and squinting eyes, called, from his stammering speech, Perr Balibouzik. He was not, as is usual with his craft, a rhymester, lively on his board as a robin on its twig, and one who scented pancakes from afar as dogs do game; Balibouzik never laughed, never sung, and fed upon such coarse black barley bread that one could count the straws in it. He was a miser, and, worse than that, a bad Christian; lending out his money at such heavy interest, that he ruined all the poor day-labourers of the country. Guilcher had long owed him five crowns, and had no means of payingthem. Perr went in quest of him, and demanded them once more.Theci-devanthunchback excused himself, promising to pay after fair-time; but Balibouzik declared that the only condition upon which he would agree to any further delay was that of being at once put in possession of the secret how to grow young and handsome. Thus driven to extremities, Guilcher related his visit to the Korils, what words he had added to their song, and how the choice had been given him between two wishes.Perr made him repeat every detail many times over, and then went away, warning his debtor that he would give him eight days longer to lay hands on the five crowns.But what he had heard awakened within him all the rage of avarice. He resolved that very night to visit the Motenn-Dervenn, to mix in the dance of Korigans, and to gain the choice between two wishes, as proposed to Guilcher,—namely, riches and beauty.So soon, therefore, as the moon arose, behold Balibouzik the Squinter on his way towards the common, carrying a little fork in his hand. The Korils saw him, ran to meet him, and demanded whether he would dance. Perr consented, after making the same conditions as Benead, and joined the dancing company of little black men, whowere all engaged in chanting the refrain which Guilcher had increased:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”“Wait!” cried the tailor, seized with sudden inspiration; “I also will add something to your song.”“Add, add!” replied the Korils.And all once more exclaimed,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”They stopped, and Balibouzik stammered out alone,“And the Sun—Sun—Sunday too.”The dwarfs uttered a prolonged murmur.“Well?” they cried all at once.“Sun—Sunday too,”repeated the tailor.“But go on, go on.”“Sun—Sunday.”“Well, well, well?”“Sun—Sunday too!”The Koril chain was broken up; they ran about as if furious at not being understood.The poor stammerer, terrified, stood speechless, with his mouth wide open. At length the waves of little black heads grew calmer; they surroundedBalibouzik, and a thousand voices cried at once,“Wish a wish! wish a wish!”Perr took heart.“A wi-wi-sh,” said he. “Guilcher cho-o-ose between riches and beauty.”“Yes, Guilcher chose beauty, and left riches.”“Well, for my part, I choose what Guilcher left.”“Well done!” cried the Korils. “Come here, tailor.”Perr drew near in transport. They took him up as they had done Benead; threw him from hand to hand all round their circle; and when he fell upon his feet, he had between his shoulders what Guilcher had left—that is to say, a hump.The tailor was no more Balibouzik simply, he was now Tortik-Balibouzik.The poor deformed creature came back to Loqueltas shamefaced as a dog who has had his tail cut off. As soon as what had happened to him was known, there was not a creature but longed to get sight of him. And every one beholding his back, grown round as that of a well-digger, uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Perr raged beneath his hump, and swore to himself that he would be revenged upon Guilcher; for that he alone was the cause of this misfortune, being afavourite of the Korigans, and having doubtless begged them thus to insult his creditor.So the eight days once expired, Tortik-Balibouzik said to Benead, that if he could not pay him his five crowns, he would go and send the officers of justice to sell all he had. Benead entreated in vain; the new hunchback would listen to nothing, and announced that the very next day he should send to the fair3all his furniture, his tools, and his pig.Guilcher’s wife uttered loud cries, reiterating that they were disgraced before the parish, that nothing now was left for them but to take up the wallet and white staff of mendicants, and go begging from door to door; that it was well worth Benead’s while to have become straight and noble in appearance only to take up the straw girdle;4and thousands of other unreasonable sayings, after the fashion of women when they are in tribulation,—and when they are not.To all these complaints Guilcher replied nothing, unless it were that submission to the will of God and His Blessed Mother was above all things necessary; but his heart was humbled tothe core. He reproached himself now with not preferring wealth to beauty, when he had the choice; and he would only too willingly have taken back his hump, well garnished with gold, or even silver, crowns. After seeking in vain for a way out of his trouble, he made up his mind to revisit Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils welcomed him with shouts of joy, as before, and made him join them in their dance. Benead had no heart for merriment; but he would not damp their mirth, and began to jump with all his might. The delighted dwarfs skipped about like dead leaves driven by the winter’s wind.As they ran they repeated the first line of their song, their companion took up the second; they went on to the third, and, that being the last, Guilcher was compelled to finish the tune without words, which in a short time grew tiresome to him.“If I might venture to give you my opinion, my little lords,” said he, “your song has the same effect upon me as the butcher’s dog, it goes upon three legs.”“Right, right!” cried all the voices.“I think,” said Benead, “it would be much the best way to add another foot.”“Add, add!” replied the dwarfs.And all sung out with one accord, and in a piercing utterance,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,And the Sunday too!”There was a short silence; the dwarfs waited to see what Guilcher would say.“All the week have you!”finished he gaily.Thousands of cries which made but one cry rose up from all corners of the common. The whole heath was instantly covered with jumping Korigans. They sprung out from tufts of grass, from bushes of broom, from rocky clefts,—one would have said it was a very hive of little black men; whilst all gambolling amongst the heather, they exclaimed,“Guilcherik, our saviour! heHas fulfill’d the Lord’s decree!”“By my soul! what does all this mean?” cried Benead in astonishment.“It means,” replied the Korigans, “that God had sentenced us to dwell here amongst men, and every night to dance upon the common, until some good Christian should finish our refrain. You first lengthened it, and we hoped that the tailor you sent would have completed it; but he stopped short on the very point of doing so, and for that we punished him. You fortunately have done what he could not; our time of trial now isover, and we shall go back to our kingdom, which spreads under ground, beneath the very sea and rivers,”“If this is so,” said Guilcher, “and you really are so far indebted to me, do not go away and leave a friend in trouble.”“What do you want?”“The means of paying Balibouzik to-day, and the baker for ever.”“Take our bags, take our bags!” exclaimed the Korigans.And they threw at Benead’s feet the little bags of rusty cloth which they wore strapped on their shoulders.He gathered up as many as he possibly could carry, and ran all joyous home.“Light the resin,” cried he to his wife, on entering, “and close the screen, that nobody may see us; for I bring home wealth enough to buy up three whole parishes, their judges, rectors, and all.”At the same time he spread out upon the table the multitude of little bags, and set himself to open them. But, alas, he had been reckoning the price of his butter before he had bought the cow.5The bags enclosed nothing more than sand, dead leaves, horsehair, and a pair of scissors.On seeing this he uttered such a dreadful cry that his wife, who had gone to shut the door, came back to ask him what could be the matter. Then Benead told her of his visit to the Motenn-Dervenn, and all that had occurred there.“St. Anne have pity on us!” cried the frightened woman; “the Korigans have been making sport of you.”“Alas, I see it but too well,” replied Guilcher.“And you have dared, unhappy man, to touch these bags, the property of the accursed.”“I thought I should find something better in them,” exclaimed Benead piteously.“Nothing good can come from good-for-nothings,” replied the old woman. “What you have got there will bring an evil spell upon our house. Heavens! if only I have a drop of holy water left.”She ran to her bed, and taking from the wall a little earthen holy water-stoup, she steeped in it a branch of box; but scarcely had the dew of God been sprinkled on the bags, when the horsehair changed at once to necklaces of pearls, the dead leaves into gold, and the sand to diamonds. The enchantment was destroyed, and the wealth that the Korigans would fain have hidden from a Christian eye was forced to reassume its proper form.Guilcher repaid Balibouzik his five crowns. He gave to every poor person in the parish a bushel of wheat, with six ells of cloth; and he paid the rector handsomely for fifty Masses; then he set out with his wife for Josselin, where they bought a mansion, and where they reared a family who now are gentlefolks.1The song of the Korigans runs thus:Di-lun,di-meurs,di-merc’her. The conclusion of this tale will explain the reason of their keeping only to these first three days.2Cry of encouragement amongst the Bretons. In the same sense they use also the wordhardi! but the Celtic origin of this last word seems rather doubtful.3Mettre en foire.Breton expression, signifying a sale at the house of a debtor.4Breton expression, derived from an old custom of parading all insolvents about the parish with a girdle of straw.5Equivalent to the French proverb, “One must not sell the bear-skin till the bear is killed.”
The Korils of Plauden.
There dwelt formerly in the land of White-Wheat, as well as in Cornouaille, a race of dwarfs, or Korigans, who, being divided into four nations or tribes, inhabited the woods, the commons, the valleys, and the farms. Those dwelling in the woods were calledKornikaneds, because they played on little horns, which hung suspended from their girdles; the inhabitants of the commons were calledKorils, from their spending all their nights in dancing by moonlight; the dwellers in the valleys werePoulpikans, from their homes lying so low; and theTeuzwere wild black men, living near the meadows and the wheat-fields; but as the other Korigans accused them of being too friendly with Christians, they were forced to take flight into Léon, where probably there may still be some of them remaining.At the time of which I speak, there were only then hereabouts the Kornikaneds, the Poulpikans, and the Korils; but they abounded in such numbers, that after dark few people cared to venture near their stony palaces.Above all, there lay in Plauden, near the little market-town of Loqueltas, a common known asMotenn-Dervenn, orplace of oaks, whereon there stood an extensive Koril village, that may be seen there to this very day. The mischievous dwarfs came out to dance there every night; and any one adventurous enough to cross the common at that time was sure to be entrapped into their mazy chain, and forced to wheel about with them till earliest cockcrow; so that the place was universally avoided after nightfall.One evening, however, Benead Guilcher, returning with his wife from a field, where he had been doing a day’s work in ploughing for a farmer of Cadougal, took his way across the haunted heath because it was so much the shortest road. It was still early, and he hoped that the Korigans might not have yet begun their dance; but when he came half-way over the Motenn-Dervenn, he perceived them scattered round about the blocks of stone, like birds on a field of corn. He would fain have turned him back; but the horns of the wood-dwarfs, and the call-cries of the valley-imps, already rose behind him. Benead felt his legs tremble, and said to his wife,“Saint Anne, we are done for! Here come the Kornikaneds and the Poulpikans to join the Korils for their midnight ball. They will make us dance with them till daybreak; and it is more than my poor heart can endure.”And, in fact, the troops of Korigans assemblingfrom all parts, came round about poor Guilcher and his wife like flies in August to a drop of honey, but started back on seeing in his hand the little fork Benead had been using to clear the ploughshare, and began to sing with one accord,“Let him be, let her be,The plough-fork has he!Let them go on their way,The fork carry they!”Guilcher instantly perceived that the instrument he held in his hand acted as a charm against the power of the Korigans; and he and his wife passed unmolested through the very midst of them.This was a hint to every body. From that day forward it became a universal custom to take out the little fork of an evening; and thus armed, any one might cross the heaths and valleys without fear of hindrance.But Benead was not satisfied with having rendered this service to the Bretons; he was an inquisitive as well as an intelligent man, and as merry a hunchback as any in the four Breton bishoprics. For I have omitted to tell you that Benead carried from his birth a hump betwixt his shoulders, with which he would thankfully have parted at cost-price. He was looked on also as an honest workman, who laboured conscientiouslyfor daily bread, and moreover well deserved the character of a good Christian.One evening, unable to resist the wish, he took his little fork, commended himself devoutly to St. Anne, and set off towards the Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils saw him from a distance, and ran to him, crying,“It is Benead Guilcher!”“Yes, it is I, my little men,” replied the jovial hunchback; “I have come to pay you a friendly visit.”“You are welcome,” replied the Korils. “Will you have a dance with us?”“Excuse me, my good folks,” replied Guilcher, “but your breath is too long for a poor invalid.”“We will stop whenever you like,” cried the Korils.“Will you promise that?” said Benead, who was not unwilling to try a round with them, as much for the novelty of the thing as that he might have it to talk about.“We will promise thee,” said the dwarfs.“By the Saviour’s cross?”“By the Saviour’s cross.”The hunchback, satisfied that such an oath secured him from all dangers, took his place in their chain; and the Korils began their round, singing their accustomed song:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday;Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.”1In a few minutes Guilcher stopped.“With all due deference to you, good gentlefolks,” said he to the dwarfs, “your song and dance seem to me very monotonous. You stop too early in the week; and without having much claim to be a skilful stringer of rhymes, I fancy I can lengthen the chorus.”“Let us see, let us see!” cried the dwarfs.Then the hunchback replied,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”A great tumult arose amongst the Korils.“Stard! stard!”2cried they, surrounding Guilcher; “you are a bold singer and a fine dancer. Repeat it once more.”The hunchback repeated,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,”whilst the Korils wheeled about in mad delight. At last they stopped, and pressing round about Guilcher, they cried with one voice,“What will you have? what do you want? riches or beauty? Speak a wish, and we will fulfil it for you.”“Are you in earnest?” asked the labourer.“May we be doomed to pick up grain by grain all the millet in the diocese, if we deceive thee,” they replied.“Well,” said Guilcher, “if you want to make me a present, and leave me to choose what it shall be, I have one thing only to desire from you, and that is, that you take away what I have got here set betwixt my shoulders, and make me as straight as the flagstaff of Loqueltas.”“Good, good!” replied the Korils. “Be easy, come here.” And seizing Guilcher, they threw him in the air, tossing him from one to another like a worsted ball, until he had made the round of the entire circle. Then he fell upon his feet, giddy, breathless, but—without his hump! Benead had grown younger, fatter, beautiful! Except his mother, no one could have recognised him.You may guess the surprise his appearance created on his return to Loqueltas. No one could believe it was Guilcher; his wife herself was doubtful about receiving him. Before she could recognise in him her old humpback, he was compelled to tell her exactly how many headdresses she had in her press, and what was thecolour of her stockings. At last, when every body knew for certain that it was he, they became wonderfully anxious to find out what had effected so strange a transformation; but Benead thought that if he told the truth, he should be looked on as an accomplice of the Korigans; and that every time an ox strayed, or a goat was lost, he should be applied to for its restoration. So he told all those who asked him questions, that it happened unknown to him whilst sleeping on the heath. Thenceforth went all the crooked folk who were silly enough to believe him, and spent their nights upon the open heath, hoping to rise like arrows in the morning; but many people suspected that there was a secret in the matter, which Guilcher was unwilling to disclose.Amongst these latter was a tailor with red hair and squinting eyes, called, from his stammering speech, Perr Balibouzik. He was not, as is usual with his craft, a rhymester, lively on his board as a robin on its twig, and one who scented pancakes from afar as dogs do game; Balibouzik never laughed, never sung, and fed upon such coarse black barley bread that one could count the straws in it. He was a miser, and, worse than that, a bad Christian; lending out his money at such heavy interest, that he ruined all the poor day-labourers of the country. Guilcher had long owed him five crowns, and had no means of payingthem. Perr went in quest of him, and demanded them once more.Theci-devanthunchback excused himself, promising to pay after fair-time; but Balibouzik declared that the only condition upon which he would agree to any further delay was that of being at once put in possession of the secret how to grow young and handsome. Thus driven to extremities, Guilcher related his visit to the Korils, what words he had added to their song, and how the choice had been given him between two wishes.Perr made him repeat every detail many times over, and then went away, warning his debtor that he would give him eight days longer to lay hands on the five crowns.But what he had heard awakened within him all the rage of avarice. He resolved that very night to visit the Motenn-Dervenn, to mix in the dance of Korigans, and to gain the choice between two wishes, as proposed to Guilcher,—namely, riches and beauty.So soon, therefore, as the moon arose, behold Balibouzik the Squinter on his way towards the common, carrying a little fork in his hand. The Korils saw him, ran to meet him, and demanded whether he would dance. Perr consented, after making the same conditions as Benead, and joined the dancing company of little black men, whowere all engaged in chanting the refrain which Guilcher had increased:“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”“Wait!” cried the tailor, seized with sudden inspiration; “I also will add something to your song.”“Add, add!” replied the Korils.And all once more exclaimed,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”They stopped, and Balibouzik stammered out alone,“And the Sun—Sun—Sunday too.”The dwarfs uttered a prolonged murmur.“Well?” they cried all at once.“Sun—Sunday too,”repeated the tailor.“But go on, go on.”“Sun—Sunday.”“Well, well, well?”“Sun—Sunday too!”The Koril chain was broken up; they ran about as if furious at not being understood.The poor stammerer, terrified, stood speechless, with his mouth wide open. At length the waves of little black heads grew calmer; they surroundedBalibouzik, and a thousand voices cried at once,“Wish a wish! wish a wish!”Perr took heart.“A wi-wi-sh,” said he. “Guilcher cho-o-ose between riches and beauty.”“Yes, Guilcher chose beauty, and left riches.”“Well, for my part, I choose what Guilcher left.”“Well done!” cried the Korils. “Come here, tailor.”Perr drew near in transport. They took him up as they had done Benead; threw him from hand to hand all round their circle; and when he fell upon his feet, he had between his shoulders what Guilcher had left—that is to say, a hump.The tailor was no more Balibouzik simply, he was now Tortik-Balibouzik.The poor deformed creature came back to Loqueltas shamefaced as a dog who has had his tail cut off. As soon as what had happened to him was known, there was not a creature but longed to get sight of him. And every one beholding his back, grown round as that of a well-digger, uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Perr raged beneath his hump, and swore to himself that he would be revenged upon Guilcher; for that he alone was the cause of this misfortune, being afavourite of the Korigans, and having doubtless begged them thus to insult his creditor.So the eight days once expired, Tortik-Balibouzik said to Benead, that if he could not pay him his five crowns, he would go and send the officers of justice to sell all he had. Benead entreated in vain; the new hunchback would listen to nothing, and announced that the very next day he should send to the fair3all his furniture, his tools, and his pig.Guilcher’s wife uttered loud cries, reiterating that they were disgraced before the parish, that nothing now was left for them but to take up the wallet and white staff of mendicants, and go begging from door to door; that it was well worth Benead’s while to have become straight and noble in appearance only to take up the straw girdle;4and thousands of other unreasonable sayings, after the fashion of women when they are in tribulation,—and when they are not.To all these complaints Guilcher replied nothing, unless it were that submission to the will of God and His Blessed Mother was above all things necessary; but his heart was humbled tothe core. He reproached himself now with not preferring wealth to beauty, when he had the choice; and he would only too willingly have taken back his hump, well garnished with gold, or even silver, crowns. After seeking in vain for a way out of his trouble, he made up his mind to revisit Motenn-Dervenn.The Korils welcomed him with shouts of joy, as before, and made him join them in their dance. Benead had no heart for merriment; but he would not damp their mirth, and began to jump with all his might. The delighted dwarfs skipped about like dead leaves driven by the winter’s wind.As they ran they repeated the first line of their song, their companion took up the second; they went on to the third, and, that being the last, Guilcher was compelled to finish the tune without words, which in a short time grew tiresome to him.“If I might venture to give you my opinion, my little lords,” said he, “your song has the same effect upon me as the butcher’s dog, it goes upon three legs.”“Right, right!” cried all the voices.“I think,” said Benead, “it would be much the best way to add another foot.”“Add, add!” replied the dwarfs.And all sung out with one accord, and in a piercing utterance,“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,And the Sunday too!”There was a short silence; the dwarfs waited to see what Guilcher would say.“All the week have you!”finished he gaily.Thousands of cries which made but one cry rose up from all corners of the common. The whole heath was instantly covered with jumping Korigans. They sprung out from tufts of grass, from bushes of broom, from rocky clefts,—one would have said it was a very hive of little black men; whilst all gambolling amongst the heather, they exclaimed,“Guilcherik, our saviour! heHas fulfill’d the Lord’s decree!”“By my soul! what does all this mean?” cried Benead in astonishment.“It means,” replied the Korigans, “that God had sentenced us to dwell here amongst men, and every night to dance upon the common, until some good Christian should finish our refrain. You first lengthened it, and we hoped that the tailor you sent would have completed it; but he stopped short on the very point of doing so, and for that we punished him. You fortunately have done what he could not; our time of trial now isover, and we shall go back to our kingdom, which spreads under ground, beneath the very sea and rivers,”“If this is so,” said Guilcher, “and you really are so far indebted to me, do not go away and leave a friend in trouble.”“What do you want?”“The means of paying Balibouzik to-day, and the baker for ever.”“Take our bags, take our bags!” exclaimed the Korigans.And they threw at Benead’s feet the little bags of rusty cloth which they wore strapped on their shoulders.He gathered up as many as he possibly could carry, and ran all joyous home.“Light the resin,” cried he to his wife, on entering, “and close the screen, that nobody may see us; for I bring home wealth enough to buy up three whole parishes, their judges, rectors, and all.”At the same time he spread out upon the table the multitude of little bags, and set himself to open them. But, alas, he had been reckoning the price of his butter before he had bought the cow.5The bags enclosed nothing more than sand, dead leaves, horsehair, and a pair of scissors.On seeing this he uttered such a dreadful cry that his wife, who had gone to shut the door, came back to ask him what could be the matter. Then Benead told her of his visit to the Motenn-Dervenn, and all that had occurred there.“St. Anne have pity on us!” cried the frightened woman; “the Korigans have been making sport of you.”“Alas, I see it but too well,” replied Guilcher.“And you have dared, unhappy man, to touch these bags, the property of the accursed.”“I thought I should find something better in them,” exclaimed Benead piteously.“Nothing good can come from good-for-nothings,” replied the old woman. “What you have got there will bring an evil spell upon our house. Heavens! if only I have a drop of holy water left.”She ran to her bed, and taking from the wall a little earthen holy water-stoup, she steeped in it a branch of box; but scarcely had the dew of God been sprinkled on the bags, when the horsehair changed at once to necklaces of pearls, the dead leaves into gold, and the sand to diamonds. The enchantment was destroyed, and the wealth that the Korigans would fain have hidden from a Christian eye was forced to reassume its proper form.Guilcher repaid Balibouzik his five crowns. He gave to every poor person in the parish a bushel of wheat, with six ells of cloth; and he paid the rector handsomely for fifty Masses; then he set out with his wife for Josselin, where they bought a mansion, and where they reared a family who now are gentlefolks.
There dwelt formerly in the land of White-Wheat, as well as in Cornouaille, a race of dwarfs, or Korigans, who, being divided into four nations or tribes, inhabited the woods, the commons, the valleys, and the farms. Those dwelling in the woods were calledKornikaneds, because they played on little horns, which hung suspended from their girdles; the inhabitants of the commons were calledKorils, from their spending all their nights in dancing by moonlight; the dwellers in the valleys werePoulpikans, from their homes lying so low; and theTeuzwere wild black men, living near the meadows and the wheat-fields; but as the other Korigans accused them of being too friendly with Christians, they were forced to take flight into Léon, where probably there may still be some of them remaining.
At the time of which I speak, there were only then hereabouts the Kornikaneds, the Poulpikans, and the Korils; but they abounded in such numbers, that after dark few people cared to venture near their stony palaces.
Above all, there lay in Plauden, near the little market-town of Loqueltas, a common known asMotenn-Dervenn, orplace of oaks, whereon there stood an extensive Koril village, that may be seen there to this very day. The mischievous dwarfs came out to dance there every night; and any one adventurous enough to cross the common at that time was sure to be entrapped into their mazy chain, and forced to wheel about with them till earliest cockcrow; so that the place was universally avoided after nightfall.
One evening, however, Benead Guilcher, returning with his wife from a field, where he had been doing a day’s work in ploughing for a farmer of Cadougal, took his way across the haunted heath because it was so much the shortest road. It was still early, and he hoped that the Korigans might not have yet begun their dance; but when he came half-way over the Motenn-Dervenn, he perceived them scattered round about the blocks of stone, like birds on a field of corn. He would fain have turned him back; but the horns of the wood-dwarfs, and the call-cries of the valley-imps, already rose behind him. Benead felt his legs tremble, and said to his wife,
“Saint Anne, we are done for! Here come the Kornikaneds and the Poulpikans to join the Korils for their midnight ball. They will make us dance with them till daybreak; and it is more than my poor heart can endure.”
And, in fact, the troops of Korigans assemblingfrom all parts, came round about poor Guilcher and his wife like flies in August to a drop of honey, but started back on seeing in his hand the little fork Benead had been using to clear the ploughshare, and began to sing with one accord,
“Let him be, let her be,The plough-fork has he!Let them go on their way,The fork carry they!”
“Let him be, let her be,
The plough-fork has he!
Let them go on their way,
The fork carry they!”
Guilcher instantly perceived that the instrument he held in his hand acted as a charm against the power of the Korigans; and he and his wife passed unmolested through the very midst of them.
This was a hint to every body. From that day forward it became a universal custom to take out the little fork of an evening; and thus armed, any one might cross the heaths and valleys without fear of hindrance.
But Benead was not satisfied with having rendered this service to the Bretons; he was an inquisitive as well as an intelligent man, and as merry a hunchback as any in the four Breton bishoprics. For I have omitted to tell you that Benead carried from his birth a hump betwixt his shoulders, with which he would thankfully have parted at cost-price. He was looked on also as an honest workman, who laboured conscientiouslyfor daily bread, and moreover well deserved the character of a good Christian.
One evening, unable to resist the wish, he took his little fork, commended himself devoutly to St. Anne, and set off towards the Motenn-Dervenn.
The Korils saw him from a distance, and ran to him, crying,
“It is Benead Guilcher!”
“Yes, it is I, my little men,” replied the jovial hunchback; “I have come to pay you a friendly visit.”
“You are welcome,” replied the Korils. “Will you have a dance with us?”
“Excuse me, my good folks,” replied Guilcher, “but your breath is too long for a poor invalid.”
“We will stop whenever you like,” cried the Korils.
“Will you promise that?” said Benead, who was not unwilling to try a round with them, as much for the novelty of the thing as that he might have it to talk about.
“We will promise thee,” said the dwarfs.
“By the Saviour’s cross?”
“By the Saviour’s cross.”
The hunchback, satisfied that such an oath secured him from all dangers, took his place in their chain; and the Korils began their round, singing their accustomed song:
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday;Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.”1
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday;
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.”1
In a few minutes Guilcher stopped.
“With all due deference to you, good gentlefolks,” said he to the dwarfs, “your song and dance seem to me very monotonous. You stop too early in the week; and without having much claim to be a skilful stringer of rhymes, I fancy I can lengthen the chorus.”
“Let us see, let us see!” cried the dwarfs.
Then the hunchback replied,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
A great tumult arose amongst the Korils.
“Stard! stard!”2cried they, surrounding Guilcher; “you are a bold singer and a fine dancer. Repeat it once more.”
The hunchback repeated,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,”
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday,”
whilst the Korils wheeled about in mad delight. At last they stopped, and pressing round about Guilcher, they cried with one voice,
“What will you have? what do you want? riches or beauty? Speak a wish, and we will fulfil it for you.”
“Are you in earnest?” asked the labourer.
“May we be doomed to pick up grain by grain all the millet in the diocese, if we deceive thee,” they replied.
“Well,” said Guilcher, “if you want to make me a present, and leave me to choose what it shall be, I have one thing only to desire from you, and that is, that you take away what I have got here set betwixt my shoulders, and make me as straight as the flagstaff of Loqueltas.”
“Good, good!” replied the Korils. “Be easy, come here.” And seizing Guilcher, they threw him in the air, tossing him from one to another like a worsted ball, until he had made the round of the entire circle. Then he fell upon his feet, giddy, breathless, but—without his hump! Benead had grown younger, fatter, beautiful! Except his mother, no one could have recognised him.
You may guess the surprise his appearance created on his return to Loqueltas. No one could believe it was Guilcher; his wife herself was doubtful about receiving him. Before she could recognise in him her old humpback, he was compelled to tell her exactly how many headdresses she had in her press, and what was thecolour of her stockings. At last, when every body knew for certain that it was he, they became wonderfully anxious to find out what had effected so strange a transformation; but Benead thought that if he told the truth, he should be looked on as an accomplice of the Korigans; and that every time an ox strayed, or a goat was lost, he should be applied to for its restoration. So he told all those who asked him questions, that it happened unknown to him whilst sleeping on the heath. Thenceforth went all the crooked folk who were silly enough to believe him, and spent their nights upon the open heath, hoping to rise like arrows in the morning; but many people suspected that there was a secret in the matter, which Guilcher was unwilling to disclose.
Amongst these latter was a tailor with red hair and squinting eyes, called, from his stammering speech, Perr Balibouzik. He was not, as is usual with his craft, a rhymester, lively on his board as a robin on its twig, and one who scented pancakes from afar as dogs do game; Balibouzik never laughed, never sung, and fed upon such coarse black barley bread that one could count the straws in it. He was a miser, and, worse than that, a bad Christian; lending out his money at such heavy interest, that he ruined all the poor day-labourers of the country. Guilcher had long owed him five crowns, and had no means of payingthem. Perr went in quest of him, and demanded them once more.
Theci-devanthunchback excused himself, promising to pay after fair-time; but Balibouzik declared that the only condition upon which he would agree to any further delay was that of being at once put in possession of the secret how to grow young and handsome. Thus driven to extremities, Guilcher related his visit to the Korils, what words he had added to their song, and how the choice had been given him between two wishes.
Perr made him repeat every detail many times over, and then went away, warning his debtor that he would give him eight days longer to lay hands on the five crowns.
But what he had heard awakened within him all the rage of avarice. He resolved that very night to visit the Motenn-Dervenn, to mix in the dance of Korigans, and to gain the choice between two wishes, as proposed to Guilcher,—namely, riches and beauty.
So soon, therefore, as the moon arose, behold Balibouzik the Squinter on his way towards the common, carrying a little fork in his hand. The Korils saw him, ran to meet him, and demanded whether he would dance. Perr consented, after making the same conditions as Benead, and joined the dancing company of little black men, whowere all engaged in chanting the refrain which Guilcher had increased:
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
“Wait!” cried the tailor, seized with sudden inspiration; “I also will add something to your song.”
“Add, add!” replied the Korils.
And all once more exclaimed,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday.”
They stopped, and Balibouzik stammered out alone,
“And the Sun—Sun—Sunday too.”
“And the Sun—Sun—Sunday too.”
The dwarfs uttered a prolonged murmur.
“Well?” they cried all at once.
“Sun—Sunday too,”
“Sun—Sunday too,”
repeated the tailor.
“But go on, go on.”
“Sun—Sunday.”
“Sun—Sunday.”
“Well, well, well?”
“Sun—Sunday too!”
“Sun—Sunday too!”
The Koril chain was broken up; they ran about as if furious at not being understood.
The poor stammerer, terrified, stood speechless, with his mouth wide open. At length the waves of little black heads grew calmer; they surroundedBalibouzik, and a thousand voices cried at once,
“Wish a wish! wish a wish!”
Perr took heart.
“A wi-wi-sh,” said he. “Guilcher cho-o-ose between riches and beauty.”
“Yes, Guilcher chose beauty, and left riches.”
“Well, for my part, I choose what Guilcher left.”
“Well done!” cried the Korils. “Come here, tailor.”
Perr drew near in transport. They took him up as they had done Benead; threw him from hand to hand all round their circle; and when he fell upon his feet, he had between his shoulders what Guilcher had left—that is to say, a hump.
The tailor was no more Balibouzik simply, he was now Tortik-Balibouzik.
The poor deformed creature came back to Loqueltas shamefaced as a dog who has had his tail cut off. As soon as what had happened to him was known, there was not a creature but longed to get sight of him. And every one beholding his back, grown round as that of a well-digger, uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Perr raged beneath his hump, and swore to himself that he would be revenged upon Guilcher; for that he alone was the cause of this misfortune, being afavourite of the Korigans, and having doubtless begged them thus to insult his creditor.
So the eight days once expired, Tortik-Balibouzik said to Benead, that if he could not pay him his five crowns, he would go and send the officers of justice to sell all he had. Benead entreated in vain; the new hunchback would listen to nothing, and announced that the very next day he should send to the fair3all his furniture, his tools, and his pig.
Guilcher’s wife uttered loud cries, reiterating that they were disgraced before the parish, that nothing now was left for them but to take up the wallet and white staff of mendicants, and go begging from door to door; that it was well worth Benead’s while to have become straight and noble in appearance only to take up the straw girdle;4and thousands of other unreasonable sayings, after the fashion of women when they are in tribulation,—and when they are not.
To all these complaints Guilcher replied nothing, unless it were that submission to the will of God and His Blessed Mother was above all things necessary; but his heart was humbled tothe core. He reproached himself now with not preferring wealth to beauty, when he had the choice; and he would only too willingly have taken back his hump, well garnished with gold, or even silver, crowns. After seeking in vain for a way out of his trouble, he made up his mind to revisit Motenn-Dervenn.
The Korils welcomed him with shouts of joy, as before, and made him join them in their dance. Benead had no heart for merriment; but he would not damp their mirth, and began to jump with all his might. The delighted dwarfs skipped about like dead leaves driven by the winter’s wind.
As they ran they repeated the first line of their song, their companion took up the second; they went on to the third, and, that being the last, Guilcher was compelled to finish the tune without words, which in a short time grew tiresome to him.
“If I might venture to give you my opinion, my little lords,” said he, “your song has the same effect upon me as the butcher’s dog, it goes upon three legs.”
“Right, right!” cried all the voices.
“I think,” said Benead, “it would be much the best way to add another foot.”
“Add, add!” replied the dwarfs.
And all sung out with one accord, and in a piercing utterance,
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,Thursday, Friday, Saturday,And the Sunday too!”
“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Friday, Saturday,
And the Sunday too!”
There was a short silence; the dwarfs waited to see what Guilcher would say.
“All the week have you!”
“All the week have you!”
finished he gaily.
Thousands of cries which made but one cry rose up from all corners of the common. The whole heath was instantly covered with jumping Korigans. They sprung out from tufts of grass, from bushes of broom, from rocky clefts,—one would have said it was a very hive of little black men; whilst all gambolling amongst the heather, they exclaimed,
“Guilcherik, our saviour! heHas fulfill’d the Lord’s decree!”
“Guilcherik, our saviour! he
Has fulfill’d the Lord’s decree!”
“By my soul! what does all this mean?” cried Benead in astonishment.
“It means,” replied the Korigans, “that God had sentenced us to dwell here amongst men, and every night to dance upon the common, until some good Christian should finish our refrain. You first lengthened it, and we hoped that the tailor you sent would have completed it; but he stopped short on the very point of doing so, and for that we punished him. You fortunately have done what he could not; our time of trial now isover, and we shall go back to our kingdom, which spreads under ground, beneath the very sea and rivers,”
“If this is so,” said Guilcher, “and you really are so far indebted to me, do not go away and leave a friend in trouble.”
“What do you want?”
“The means of paying Balibouzik to-day, and the baker for ever.”
“Take our bags, take our bags!” exclaimed the Korigans.
And they threw at Benead’s feet the little bags of rusty cloth which they wore strapped on their shoulders.
He gathered up as many as he possibly could carry, and ran all joyous home.
“Light the resin,” cried he to his wife, on entering, “and close the screen, that nobody may see us; for I bring home wealth enough to buy up three whole parishes, their judges, rectors, and all.”
At the same time he spread out upon the table the multitude of little bags, and set himself to open them. But, alas, he had been reckoning the price of his butter before he had bought the cow.5The bags enclosed nothing more than sand, dead leaves, horsehair, and a pair of scissors.
On seeing this he uttered such a dreadful cry that his wife, who had gone to shut the door, came back to ask him what could be the matter. Then Benead told her of his visit to the Motenn-Dervenn, and all that had occurred there.
“St. Anne have pity on us!” cried the frightened woman; “the Korigans have been making sport of you.”
“Alas, I see it but too well,” replied Guilcher.
“And you have dared, unhappy man, to touch these bags, the property of the accursed.”
“I thought I should find something better in them,” exclaimed Benead piteously.
“Nothing good can come from good-for-nothings,” replied the old woman. “What you have got there will bring an evil spell upon our house. Heavens! if only I have a drop of holy water left.”
She ran to her bed, and taking from the wall a little earthen holy water-stoup, she steeped in it a branch of box; but scarcely had the dew of God been sprinkled on the bags, when the horsehair changed at once to necklaces of pearls, the dead leaves into gold, and the sand to diamonds. The enchantment was destroyed, and the wealth that the Korigans would fain have hidden from a Christian eye was forced to reassume its proper form.
Guilcher repaid Balibouzik his five crowns. He gave to every poor person in the parish a bushel of wheat, with six ells of cloth; and he paid the rector handsomely for fifty Masses; then he set out with his wife for Josselin, where they bought a mansion, and where they reared a family who now are gentlefolks.
1The song of the Korigans runs thus:Di-lun,di-meurs,di-merc’her. The conclusion of this tale will explain the reason of their keeping only to these first three days.2Cry of encouragement amongst the Bretons. In the same sense they use also the wordhardi! but the Celtic origin of this last word seems rather doubtful.3Mettre en foire.Breton expression, signifying a sale at the house of a debtor.4Breton expression, derived from an old custom of parading all insolvents about the parish with a girdle of straw.5Equivalent to the French proverb, “One must not sell the bear-skin till the bear is killed.”
1The song of the Korigans runs thus:Di-lun,di-meurs,di-merc’her. The conclusion of this tale will explain the reason of their keeping only to these first three days.
2Cry of encouragement amongst the Bretons. In the same sense they use also the wordhardi! but the Celtic origin of this last word seems rather doubtful.
3Mettre en foire.Breton expression, signifying a sale at the house of a debtor.
4Breton expression, derived from an old custom of parading all insolvents about the parish with a girdle of straw.
5Equivalent to the French proverb, “One must not sell the bear-skin till the bear is killed.”