Breton Legends Part 23

"I am called the Plague," replied the yellow woman.

The idiot made a spring as if he would have thrown himself from his horse into the water; but the Plague said to him,

"Rest easy, poor innocent, thou hast nothing to fear from me; on the contrary, I can be of service to thee."

"Is it possible that you will be so benevolent, Madam Plague?" said Peronnik, taking his hat off, this time for good; "by the by, I now remember that it is you who are to teach me how to rid myself of the magician Rogear."

"The magician must die," said the yellow lady.

"I should like nothing better," replied Peronnik; "but he is immortal."

"Listen, and try to understand," said the Plague. "The apple-tree guarded by the Korigan is a slip from the tree of good and evil, set in the earthly Paradise by G.o.d Himself. Its fruit, like that which was eaten by Adam and Eve, renders immortals susceptible of death. Try, then, to induce the magician to taste the apple, and from that moment he need only be touched by me to sink in death."

"I will try," said Peronnik; "but even if I succeed, how can I obtain the golden basin and the diamond lance, since they lie hidden in a gloomy cave, which cannot be opened by any key yet forged?"

"The laughing flower will open every door," replied the Plague, "and can illuminate the darkest night."

As she spoke these words they reached the further bank of the river, and the idiot went onwards to the castle.

Now there was before the entrance-hall a huge canopy, like that which is carried over his lordship the Bishop of Vannes at the processions of the Fete Dieu. Beneath this sat the giant, sheltered from the heat of the sun, his legs crossed, like a proprietor who has gathered in his harvest, and smoking a tobacco-pipe of virgin gold. On perceiving the colt, on which sat Peronnik and the lady clad in black satin, he lifted up his head, and cried in a voice which roared like thunder,

"Why this idiot is mounted on my three-months' colt!"

"The very same, O greatest of all magicians," replied Peronnik.

"And how did you get possession of him?" asked Rogear.

"I repeated what your brother Bryak taught me," replied the idiot. "On reaching the forest border I said,

'Colt, wild, unbroken, and with footstep free,-- Colt, I am here; come quick, I wait for thee.'

and the little horse came at once."

"Then you know my brother?" said the giant.

"As one knows his master," replied the youth.

"And what has he sent you here for?"

"To bring you a present of two curiosities he has just received from the country of the Moors,--this apple of delight, and the female slave whom you see there. If you eat the first, you will always have a heart as much at rest as that of a poor man who has found a purse of a hundred crowns in his wooden shoe; and if you take the second into your service, you will have nothing left you to desire in the world."

"Give me then the apple, and make the Moorish woman dismount,"

replied Rogear.

The idiot obeyed; but the instant the giant had set his teeth into the fruit, the yellow lady laid her hand upon him, and he fell to the ground like a bullock in the slaughter-house.

Then Peronnik entered the palace, holding the laughing flower in his hand. He traversed more than fifty halls, one after the other, and came at length before the cavern with the silver door. This opened of its own accord before the flower, which also gave the idiot sufficient light to find the golden basin and the diamond lance.

But scarcely had he seized them when the earth shook under his feet; a terrible clap of thunder was heard; the palace disappeared; and Peronnik found himself once more in the midst of the forest, holding his two talismans, with which he set forward instantly to the court of the King of Brittany.

He only delayed long enough at Vannes to buy the richest costume he could find there, and the finest horse that was for sale in the diocese of White-Wheat.

Now when he came to Nantes, this town was besieged by the Franks, who had so mercilessly ravaged the surrounding country, that there were scarcely more trees left than would serve a single goat for forage; and more than that, famine was in the city; and those soldiers died of hunger whose wounds had spared their lives. And on the very day of Peronnik's arrival, a trumpeter proclaimed aloud in every street that the King of Brittany would adopt that man as his heir who could deliver the city, and drive the enemy out of the country.

Hearing this promise, Peronnik said to the trumpeter,

"Proclaim no more, but lead me to the king; for I am able to do all he asks."

"Thou!" said the herald, seeing him so young and small; "go on thy way, fine goldfinch; [65] the king has now no time for taking little birds from cottage-roofs." [66]

By way of reply, Peronnik touched the soldier with his lance; and that very instant he fell dead, to the infinite terror of the crowd who looked on, and would have fled away; but the idiot cried,

"You have just seen what I can do against my enemies; know now what is in my power for my friends."

And having touched with his golden basin the dead man's lips, he rose up instantly, restored to life.

The king being informed of this wonder, gave Peronnik command of all the soldiers he had left; and as with his diamond lance the idiot killed thousands of the Franks, and with his golden basin restored to life the Bretons who were slain, a very few days sufficed him for putting an end to the enemy's army, and taking possession of all their camp contained.

He then proposed to conquer all the neighbouring countries, such as Anjou, Poitou, and Normandy, which cost him but very little trouble; and finally, when all were in obedience to the king, he declared his intention of setting out to deliver the Holy Land, and embarked from Nantes in a magnificent fleet, with the first n.o.bility of the land.

On reaching Palestine, he performed great deeds of valour, compelled many Saracens to be baptised, and married a fair maiden, by whom he had many sons and daughters, to each of whom he gave wealth and lands. Some even say that, thanks to the golden basin, he and his sons are living still, and reign in this land; but others maintain that Rogear's brother, the magician Bryak, has succeeded in regaining possession of the two talismans, and that those who wish for them have only--to seek them out.

NOTE ON THE TALE OF "PERONNIK THE IDIOT."

It seems almost impossible not to recognise in the story of Peronnik the Idiot traces of that tradition which has given birth to one of the epic romances of the Round Table. Disfigured and overlaid with modern details as is the Breton version, the primitive idea of the Quest of the Holy Graal may still be found there pure and entire.

Some explanation must be given of this. So early as the sixth century, the Gallic bards speak of a magic vase which bestows a knowledge of the future, and universal science, on its owner; in later times a popular fable tells of a golden vase possessed by Bran the Blessed, which healed all wounds, and even restored the dead to life. Other tales are told of a basin in which every desired delicacy instantly appeared. In time all these fictions become fused, and the several properties of these different vases are found united in one; the possession of which is of course naturally sought after by all great adventurers.

There is still extant a Gallic poem, composed in the beginning of the twelfth century, of which the whole burden is this quest. The hero, named Peredur, goes to war with giants, lions, serpents, sea-monsters, sorcerers, and finally becomes conqueror of the basin and the lance, which is here added to the primitive tradition.

Now there can be no doubt that this Gallic legend, which found its way throughout Europe, as is proved by the attempts at imitation which have been made in every language, must have been known in Brittany above all, united as it is to Gaul by a common origin and language. It must have become popular in the very form it wore when taught by the bards to the Armoricans.

But besides the successive alterations which are the speedy result of oral transmission, French imitations by degrees incorporated themselves with all the primitive versions. M. de la Villemarque has in fact observed, in his learned work on the Popular Tales of the Ancient Bretons, that when the Gallic legends were developed by the French poets, they appeared so beautified in their new costume, that the Gauls themselves abandoned the originals in favour of the imitations. Now that which is true of them is equally so of the Armoricans; and it seems to us beyond a doubt that the tradition of Peredur, which they had originally received, must have been seriously modified by the later poem of Christian of Troyes.

In order to elucidate our idea, we will give a hasty a.n.a.lysis of this poem, which is little known, being only extant in ma.n.u.script. [67]

Perceval, the last remaining son of a poor widow, whom the miseries of war had left dest.i.tute, is simple, ignorant, and boorish. His mother carefully conceals from his sight every thing that might turn his attention to the idea of war; but one day the lad meets King Arthur's knights, learns the secret so long hidden from him, and, his mind filled with nothing now but tournaments and battles, abandons his maternal roof and sets off for Arthur's court. On the way he sees a pavilion, which, taking in his simplicity for a church, he enters. There he eats two roebuck pasties, and drinks a large flagon of wine; after which he goes once more upon his way, and soon arrives at Cardeuil, ill-clad, ill-armed, and ill-mounted. He finds Arthur buried in profound meditation, a treacherous knight having just carried off his golden cup, defying any warrior to take it from him again. Perceval accepts the challenge, pursues the thief, kills him, recovers the cup, and seizes on the slain knight's armour. He is at length admitted into the order of chivalry.

But the recollection of his mother haunts him every where. What is he in quest of? He himself knows not; he wanders at random and without a purpose wherever his wild courser carries him. Thus one day he reaches a castle, and enters. A sick old man reposes there upon a bed; a servant appears with a lance from which flows one drop of blood, and then a damsel bearing a graal, or basin, of pure gold. Perceval longs to know the meaning of what he sees, but dares not ask. The following day, on leaving the castle, he is informed that the sick old man is called the fisher-king, and that he has been wounded in the thigh; Perceval is at the same time reproached for not having questioned him.

He continues onwards, meeting by chance Arthur, whom he follows to court; but the day after his arrival a lady clad in black appears to him, and warmly blames him for being the cause of the fisher-king's sufferings.

"His wound," said she, "has become incurable, because thou didst not question him."

The knight, wishing to repair his fault, seeks in vain to find once more the king's palace; he is repulsed as by an invisible hand, until the moment when he resolves to go and find a saintly hermit, to whom he makes his confession. The priest shows him that all his errors are owing to his ingrat.i.tude towards his mother, and that sin held his tongue in bondage when he ought to have inquired the meaning of the graal; he imposes a penance on him, gives him advice, reveals to him a mysterious prayer containing certain terrible words, which he forbids him from making known; and then Perceval, absolved from his sins, fasts, adores the Cross, hears Ma.s.s, receives Holy Communion, and returns to a new life.