Chapter XII: Conclusion (2)

'Viviane!' se récria la vieille pauvresse. 'Ah! bénie soit-elle, la bonne Dame! car elle est aussi bonne que belle.... Sans sa protection, mon homme, qui travaille dans les coupes, serait tombé, comme un loup, sous les fusils des gardes....' Et elle se mit à me conter comme quoi son mari, un tantinet braconnier comme tous les bûcherons de ces parages, s'étant porté, une nuit, à l'affût du chevreuil, dans les environs de la Butte-aux-Plaintes, avait été surpris en flagrant délit par une tournée de gardes. Il voulut fuir: les gardes tirèrent. Une balle l'atteignit à la cuisse: il tomba, et il s'apprêtait à se faire tuer sur place, plutôt que de se rendre, lorsque, entre ses agresseurs et lui, s'interposa subitement une espèce de brouillard très dense qui voila tout,--le sol, les arbres, les gardes et le blessé lui-même. Et il entendit une voix sortie du brouillard, une voix légère comme un bruit de feuilles, murmurer à son oreille: 'Sauve-toi, mon fils: l'esprit de Viviane veillera sur toi jusqu'à ce que tu aies rampé hors de la forêt.'

'Telles furent les propres paroles de la fée,' conclut la ramasseuse de bois mort.

Et, dévotement, elle se signa, car la religieuse Bretagne--vous le savez--vénère les fées à l'égal des saintes.

* * * * *

J'ignore s'il faut rattacher les lutins au monde des fées, mais, ce qui est sûr, c'est que cette charmante et malicieuse engeance a toujours pullulé dans notre pays. Je me suis laissé dire qu'autrefois chaque maison avait le sien. C'était quelque chose comme le petit dieu pénate. Tantôt visible, tantôt invisible, il présidait à tous les actes de la vie domestique. Mieux encore: il y participait, et de la façon la plus efficace. A l'intérieur du logis, il aidait les servantes, soufflait le feu dans l'âtre, surveillait la cuisson de la nourriture pour les hommes ou pour les bêtes, apaisait les cris de l'enfant couché dans le bas de l'armoire, empêchait les vers de se mettre dans les pièces de lard suspendues aux solives. Il avait pareillement dans son lot le gouvernement des étables et des écuries: grâce à lui, les vaches donnaient un lait abondant en beurre, et les chevaux avaient la croupe ronde, le poil luisant. Il était, en un mot, le bon génie de la famille, mais c'était à la condition que chacun eût pour lui les égards auxquels il avait droit. Si peu qu'on lui manquât, sa bonté se changeait en malice et il n'était point de mauvais tours dont il ne fût capable envers les gens qui l'avaient offensé, comme de renverser le contenu des marmites sur le foyer, d'embrouiller la laine autour des quenouilles, de rendre infumable le tabac des pipes, d'emmêler inextricablement les crins des chevaux, de dessécher le pis des vaches ou de faire peler le dos des brebis. Aussi s'efforçait-on de ne le point mécontenter. On respectait soigneusement toutes ses habitudes, toutes ses manies. C'est ainsi que, chez mes parents, notre vieille bonne Filie n'enlevait jamais le trépied du feu sans avoir la précaution de l'asperger d'eau pour le refroidir, avant de le ranger au coin de l'âtre. Si vous lui demandiez pourquoi ce rite, elle vous répondait:

'Pour que le lutin ne s'y brûle pas, si, tout à l'heure, il s'asseyait dessus.'

* * * * *

Il appartient encore, je suppose, à la catégorie des hommes-fées, ce _Bugul-Noz_, ce mystérieux 'Berger de la nuit' dont les Bretons des campagnes voient se dresser, au crépuscule, la haute et troublante silhouette, si, d'aventure, il leur arrive de rentrer tard du labour. On n'a jamais pu me renseigner exactement sur le genre de troupeau qu'il faisait paître, ni sur ce que présageait sa rencontre. Le plus souvent, on la redoute. Mais, comme l'observait avec raison une de mes conteuses, Lise Bellec, s'il est préférable d'éviter le _Bugul-Noz_, il ne s'ensuit pas, pour cela, que ce soit un méchant Esprit. D'après elle, il remplirait plutôt une fonction salutaire, en signifiant aux humains, par sa venue, que la nuit n'est pas faite pour s'attarder aux champs ou sur les chemins, mais pour s'enfermer derrière les portes closes et pour dormir. Ce berger des ombres serait donc, somme toute, une manière de bon pasteur. C'est pour assurer notre repos et notre sécurité, c'est pour nous soustraire aux excès du travail et aux embûches de la nuit qu'il nous force, brebis imprudentes, à regagner promptement le bercail.

Sans doute est-ce un rôle tutélaire à peu près semblable qui, dans la croyance populaire, est dévolu à un autre homme-fée, plus spécialement affecté au rivage de la mer, comme l'indique son nom de _Yann-An-Ôd_. Il n'y a pas, sur tout le littoral maritime de la Bretagne ou, comme on dit, dans tout l'_armor_, une seule région ou l'existence de ce 'Jean des Grèves' ne soit tenue pour un fait certain, dûment constaté, indéniable. On lui prête des formes variables et des aspects différents. C'est tantôt un géant, tantôt un nain. Il porte tantôt un 'suroit' de toile huilée, tantôt un large chapeau de feutre noir. Parfois, il s'appuie sur une rame et fait penser au personnage énigmatique, armé du même attribut, qu'Ulysse doit suivre, dans l'_Odyssée_. Mais, toujours, c'est un héros marin dont la mission est de parcourir les plages, en poussant par intervalles de longs cris stridents, propres à effrayer les pêcheurs qui se seraient laissé surprendre dehors par les ténèbres de la nuit. Il ne fait de mal qu'à ceux qui récalcitrent; encore ne les frappe-t-il que dans leur intérêt, pour les contraindre à se mettre à l'abri. Il est, avant tout, un 'avertisseur'. Ses cris ne rappellent pas seulement au logis les gens attardés sur les grèves; ils signalent aussi le dangereux voisinage de la côte aux marins qui sont en mer et, par là, suppléent à l'insuffisance du mugissement des sirènes ou de la lumière des phares.

Remarquons, à ce propos, qu'on relève un trait analogue dans la légende des vieux saints armoricains, pour la plupart émigrés d'Irlande. Un de leurs exercices coutumiers consistait à déambuler de nuit le long des côtes où ils avaient établi leurs oratoires, en agitant des clochettes de fer battu dont les tintements étaient destinés, comme les cris de _Yann-An-Ôd_, à prévenir les navigateurs que la terre était proche.

Je suis persuadé que le culte des saints, qui est la première et la plus fervente des dévotions bretonnes, conserve bien des traits d'une religion plus ancienne où la croyance aux fées jouait le principal rôle. Et il en va de même, j'en suis convaincu, pour ces mythes funéraires que j'ai recueillis sous le titre de _La Légende de la Mort_ chez les Bretons armoricains. A vrai dire, dans la conception bretonne, les morts ne sont pas morts; ils vivent d'une vie mystérieuse en marge de la vie réelle, mais leur monde reste, en définitive, tout mêlé au nôtre et, sitôt que la nuit tombe, sitôt que les vivants proprement dits s'abandonnent à la mort momentanée du sommeil, les soi-disant morts redeviennent les habitants de la terre qu'ils n'ont jamais quittée. Ils reprennent leur place à leur foyer d'autrefois, ils vaquent à leurs anciens travaux, ils s'intéressent au logis, aux champs, à la barque; ils se comportent, en un mot, comme ce peuple des hommes et des femmes-fées qui formait jadis une espèce d'humanité plus fine et plus délicate au milieu de la véritable humanité.

* * * * *

J'aurais encore, mon cher monsieur Wentz, bien d'autres types à évoquer, dans cet intermonde de la féerie bretonne qui, chez mes compatriotes, ne se confond ni avec ce monde-ci, ni avec l'autre, mais participe à la fois de tous les deux, par un singulier mélange de naturel et de surnaturel. Je n'ai voulu, en ces lignes rapides, que montrer la richesse de la matière à laquelle vous avez, avec tant de conscience et de ferveur, appliqué votre effort. Et maintenant, que les fées vous soient douces, mon cher ami! Elles ne seront que justes en favorisant de toute leur tendresse le jeune et brillant écrivain qui vient de restaurer leur culte en rénovant leur gloire.

RENNES,
ce 1{er} _novembre_ 1910.

My dear Mr. Wentz,

I recollect that, at the time of your examination on your thesis
before the Faculty of Letters of the University of Rennes, one of my
colleagues, my friend Professor Dottin, put to you this question:--

'You believe, you assert, in the existence of fairies? Have you seen
any?'

You answered, with equal coolness and candour:

'No. I have made every effort to do so, and I have never seen any.
But there are many things which you, sir, have not seen, and of
which, nevertheless, you would not think of denying the existence.
That is my attitude toward fairies.'

I am like you, my dear Mr. Wentz: I have never seen fairies. It is
true that I have a very dear lady friend whom we have christened by
that name [fairy], but, in spite of all her fair supernatural gifts,
she is only a humble mortal. On the other hand, I lived, when a mere
child, among people who had almost daily intercourse with real
fairies.

That was in a little township in Lower Brittany, inhabited by
peasants who were half sailors, and by sailors who were half
peasants. There was, not far from the village, an ancient
manor-house long abandoned by its owners, for what reason was not
known exactly. It continued to be called the 'Château' of Lanascol,
though it was hardly more than a ruin. It is true that the avenues
by which one approached it had retained their feudal aspect, with
their fourfold rows of ancient beeches whose huge masses of foliage
were reflected in splendid pools. The people of the neighbourhood
seldom ventured into these avenues in the evening. They were
supposed to be, from sunset onwards, the favourite walking-ground of
a 'lady' who went by the name of _Groac'h Lanascol_, the 'Fairy of
Lanascol'.

Many claimed to have met her, and described her in colours which
were, however, the most varied. Some represented her as an old woman
who walked all bent, her two hands leaning on a stump of a crutch
with which, in autumn, from time to time she stirred the dead
leaves. The dead leaves which she thus stirred became suddenly
shining like gold, and clinked against one another with the clear
sound of metal. According to others, it was a young princess,
marvellously adorned, after whom there hurried curious little black
silent men. She advanced with a majestic and queenly bearing.
Sometimes she stopped in front of a tree, and the tree at once bent
down as if to receive her commands. Or again, she would cast a look
on the water of a pool, and the pool trembled to its very depths, as
though stirred by an access of fear beneath the potency of her look.

The following strange story was told about her:--

The owners of Lanascol having desired to get rid of an estate which
they no longer occupied, the manor and lands attached to it were put
up to auction by a notary of Plouaret. On the day fixed for the
bidding a number of purchasers presented themselves. The price had
already reached a large sum, and the estate was on the point of
being knocked down, when, on a last appeal from the auctioneer, a
female voice, very gentle and at the same time very imperious, was
raised and said:

'A thousand francs more!'

A great commotion arose in the hall. Every one's eyes sought for the
person who had made this advance, and who could only be a woman. But
there was not a single woman among those present. The notary asked:

'Who spoke?'

Again the same voice made itself heard.

'The Fairy of Lanascol!' it replied.

A general break-up followed. From that time forward no purchaser has
ever appeared, and, as the current report ran, that was the reason
why Lanascol continued to be for sale.

I have designedly quoted to you the story of the Fairy of Lanascol,
my dear Mr. Wentz, because she was the first to make an impression
on me in my childhood. How many others have I come to know later on
in the course of narratives from those who lived with me on the
sandy beaches, in the fields or the woods! Brittany has always been
a kingdom of Faerie. One cannot there travel even a league without
brushing past the dwelling of some male or female fairy. Quite
lately, in the course of an autumn pilgrimage to the hallucinatory
forest of Paimpont (or Brocéliande), still haunted throughout by the
great memories of Celtic legend, I encountered beneath the thick
foliage of the Pas-du-Houx, a woman gathering faggots, with whom I
did not fail, as you may well imagine, to enter into conversation.
One of the first names I uttered was naturally that of Vivian.

'Vivian!' cried out the poor old woman. 'Ah! a blessing on her, the
good Lady! for she is as good as she is beautiful.... Without her
protection my good man, who works at woodcutting, would have fallen,
like a wolf, beneath the keepers' guns....' And she began to narrate
to me 'as how' her husband, something of a poacher like all the
woodcutters of these districts, had one night gone to watch for a
roebuck in the neighbourhood of the Butte-aux-Plaintes, and had been
caught red-handed by a party of keepers. He sought to fly: the
keepers fired. A bullet hit him in the thigh: he fell, and was
making ready to let himself be killed on the spot, rather than
surrender, when there suddenly interposed between him and his
assailants a kind of very thick mist which covered everything--the
ground, the trees, the keepers, and the wounded man himself. And he
heard a voice coming out of the mist, a voice gentle like the
rustling of leaves, and murmuring in his ear: 'Save thyself, my son:
the spirit of Vivian will watch over thee till thou hast crawled out
of the forest.'

'Such were the actual words of the fairy,' concluded the
faggot-gatherer. And she crossed herself devoutly, for pious
Brittany, as you know, reveres fairies as much as saints.

* * * * *

I do not know if _lutins_ (mischievous spirits) should be included
in the fairy world, but what is certain is that this charming and
roguish tribe has always abounded in our country. I have been told
that formerly every house had its own. It (the _lutin_) was
something like the little Roman household god. Now visible, now
invisible, it presided over all the acts of domestic life. Nay more;
it shared in them, and in the most effective manner. Inside the
house it helped the servants, blew up the fire on the hearth,
supervised the cooking of the food for men or beasts, quieted the
crying of the babe lying in the bottom of the cupboard, and
prevented worms from settling in the pieces of bacon hanging from
the beams. Similarly there fell within its sphere the management of
the byres and stables: thanks to it the cows gave milk abounding in
butter, and the horses had round croups and shining coats. It was,
in a word, the good genius of the house, but conditionally on every
one paying to it the respect to which it had the right. If
neglected, ever so little, its kindness changed into spite, and
there was no unkind trick of which it was not capable towards people
who had offended it, such as upsetting the contents of the pots on
the hearth, entangling wool round distaffs, making tobacco
unsmokeable, mixing a horse's mane in inextricable confusion, drying
up the udders of cows, or stripping the backs of sheep. Therefore
care was taken not to annoy it. Careful attention was paid to all
its habits and humours. Thus, in my parents' house, our old maid
Filie never lifted the trivet from the fire without taking the
precaution of sprinkling it with water to cool it, before putting it
away at the corner of the hearth. If you asked her the reason for
this ceremony, she would reply to you:

'To prevent the _lutin_ burning himself there, if, presently, he sat
on it.'

* * * * *

Further, I suppose there should be included in the class of male
fairies that _Bugul-Noz_, that mysterious Night Shepherd, whose tall
and alarming outline the rural Bretons see rising in the twilight,
if, by chance, they happen to return late from field-work. I have
never been able to obtain exact information about the kind of herd
which he fed, nor about what was foreboded by the meeting with him.
Most often such a meeting is dreaded. Yet, as one of my female
informants, Lise Bellec, reasonably pointed out, if it is preferable
to avoid the _Bugul-Noz_ it does not from that follow that he is a
harmful spirit. According to her, he would rather fulfil a
beneficial office, in warning human beings, by his coming, that
night is not made for lingering in the fields or on the roads, but
for shutting oneself in behind closed doors and going to sleep. This
shepherd of the shades would then be, take it altogether, a kind of
good shepherd. It is to ensure our rest and safety, to withdraw us
from excesses of toil and the snares of night, that he compels us,
thoughtless sheep, to return quickly to the fold.

No doubt it is an almost similar protecting office which, in popular
belief, has fallen to another male fairy, more particularly attached
to the seashore, as his name, _Yann-An-Ôd_, indicates. There is not,
along all the coast of Brittany or, as it is called, in all the
_Armor_, a single district where the existence of this 'John of the
Dunes' is not looked on as a real fact, fully proved and undeniable.
Changing forms and different aspects are attributed to him.
Sometimes he is a giant, sometimes a dwarf. Sometimes he wears a
seaman's hat of oiled cloth, sometimes a broad black felt hat. At
times he leans on an oar and recalls the enigmatic personage,
possessed of the same attribute, whom Ulysses has to follow, in the
_Odyssey_. But he is always a marine hero whose office it is to
traverse the shores, uttering at intervals long piercing cries,
calculated to frighten away fishermen who may have allowed
themselves to be surprised outside by the darkness of night. He only
hurts those who resist; and even then would only strike them in
their own interest, to force them to seek shelter. He is, before
all, one who warns. His cries not only call back home people out
late on the sands; they also inform sailors at sea of the dangerous
proximity of the shore, and, thereby, make up for the insufficiency
of the hooting of sirens or of the light of lighthouses.

We may remark, in this connexion, that a parallel feature is
observed in the legend of the old Armorican saints, who were mostly
emigrants from Ireland. One of their usual exercises consisted in
parading throughout the night the coasts where they had set up their
oratories, shaking little bells of wrought iron, the ringing of
which, like the cries of _Yann-An-Ôd_, was intended to warn voyagers
that land was near.

I am persuaded that the worship of saints, which is the first and
most fervent of Breton religious observances, preserves many of the
features of a more ancient religion in which a belief in fairies
held the chief place. The same, I feel sure, applies to those
death-myths which I have collected under the name of the Legend of
the Dead among the Armorican Bretons. In truth, in the Breton mind,
the dead are not dead; they live a mysterious life on the edge of
real life, but their world remains fully mingled with ours, and as
soon as night falls, as soon as the living, properly so called, give
themselves up to the temporary sleep of death, the so-called dead
again become the inhabitants of the earth which they have never
left. They resume their place at their former hearth, devote
themselves to their old work, take an interest in the home, the
fields, the boat; they behave, in a word, like the race of male and
female fairies which once formed a more refined and delicate species
of humanity in the midst of ordinary humanity.

* * * * *

I might, my dear Mr. Wentz, evoke many other types from this
intermediate world of Breton Faerie, which, in my countrymen's mind,
is not identical with this world nor with the other, but shares at
once in both, through a curious mixture of the natural and
supernatural. I have only intended in these hasty lines to show the
wealth of material to which you have with so much conscientiousness
and ardour devoted your efforts. And now may the fairies be
propitious to you, my dear friend! They will do nothing but justice
in favouring with all their goodwill the young and brilliant writer
who has but now revived their cult by renewing their glory.

RENNES,
_November_ 1, 1910.

BRETON FAIRIES OR _FÉES_

In Lower Brittany, which is the genuinely Celtic part of Armorica, instead of finding a widespread folk-belief in fairies of the kind existing in Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, we find a widespread folk-belief in the existence of the dead, and to a less extent in that of the _corrigan_ tribes. For our Psychological Theory this is very significant. It seems to indicate that among the Bretons--who are one of the most conservative Celtic peoples--the Fairy-Faith finds its chief expression in a belief that men live after death in an invisible world, just as in Ireland the dead and fairies live in Fairyland. This opinion was first suggested to me by Professor Anatole Le Braz, author of _La Légende de la Mort_, and by Professor Georges Dottin, both of the University of Rennes. But before evidence to sustain and to illustrate this opinion is offered, it will be well to consider the less important Breton _fées_ or beings like them, and then _corrigans_ and _nains_ (dwarfs).

_The 'Grac'hed Coz'._--F. M. Luzel, who collected so many of the popular stories in Brittany, found that what few _fées_ or fairies there are almost always appear in folk-lore as little old women, or as the Breton story-teller usually calls them, _Grac'hed coz_. I have selected and abridged the following legendary tale from his works to illustrate the nature of these Breton fairy-folk:--

In ancient times, as we read in _La Princesse Blondine_, a rich nobleman had three sons; the oldest was called Cado, the second, Méliau, and the youngest, Yvon. One day, as they were together in a forest with their bows and arrows, they met a little old woman whom they had never seen before, and she was carrying on her head a jar of water. 'Are you able, lads,' Cado asked his two brothers, 'to break with an arrow the jar of the little old woman without touching her?' 'We do not wish to try it,' they said, fearing to injure the good woman. 'All right, I'll do it then, watch me.' And Cado took his bow and let fly an arrow. The arrow went straight to its mark and split the jar without touching the little old woman; but the water wet her to the skin, and, in anger, she said to the skilful archer: 'You have failed, Cado, and I will be revenged on you for this. From now until you have found the Princess Blondine all the members of your body will tremble as leaves on a tree tremble when the north wind blows.' And instantly Cado was seized by a trembling malady in all his body. The three brothers returned home and told their father what had happened; and the father, turning to Cado, said: 'Alas, my unfortunate son, you have failed. It is now necessary for you to travel until you find the Princess Blondine, as the _fée_ said, for that little old woman was a _fée_, and no doctor in the world can cure the malady she has put upon you.'[76]

_'Fées' of Lower Brittany._--Throughout the Morbihan and Finistère, I found that stories about _fées_ are much less common than about _corrigans_, and in some localities extremely rare; but the ones I have been fortunate enough to collect are much the same in character as those gathered in the Côtes-du-Nord by Luzel, and elsewhere by other collectors. Those I here record were told to me at Carnac during the summer of 1909; the first one by M. Yvonne Daniel, a native of the Île de Croix (off the coast north-west of Carnac); and the others by M. Goulven Le Scour.[77]

'The little Île de Croix was especially famous for its old _fées_; and the following legend is still believed by its oldest inhabitants:--"An aged man who had suffered long from leprosy was certain to die within a short time, when a woman bent double with age entered his house. She asked from what malady he suffered, and on being informed began to say prayers. Then she breathed upon the sores of the leper, and almost suddenly disappeared: the _fée_ had cured him."'

'It is certain that about fifty years ago the people in Finistère still believed in _fées_. It was thought that the _fées_ were spirits who came to predict some unexpected event in the family. They came especially to console orphans who had very unkind step-mothers. In their youth, Tanguy du Chatel and his sister Eudes were protected by a _fée_ against the misfortune which pursued them; the history of Brittany says so. In Léon it is said that the _fées_ served to guide unfortunate people, consoling them with the promise of a happy and victorious future. In the Cornouailles, on the contrary, it is said that the _fées_ were very evilly disposed, that they were demons.

'My grandmother, Marie Le Bras, had related to me that one evening an old _fée_ arrived in my village, Kerouledic (Finistère), and asked for hospitality. It was about the year 1830. The _fée_ was received; and before going to bed she predicted that the little daughter whom the mother was dressing in night-clothes would be found dead in the cradle the next day. This prediction was only laughed at; but in the morning the little one was dead in her cradle, her eyes raised toward Heaven. The _fée_, who had slept in the stable, was gone.'

In these last three accounts, by M. Le Scour, we observe three quite different ideas concerning the Breton fairies or _fées_: in Finistère and in Léon the _fées_ are regarded as good protecting spirits, almost like ancestral spirits, which originally they may have been; in the Cornouailles they are evil spirits; while in the third account, about the old _fée_--and in the legend of the leper cured by a _fée_--the _fées_ are rationalized, as in Luzel's tale quoted above, into sorceresses or _Grac'hed Coz_.

_Children Changed by 'Fées'._--M. Goulven Le Scour, at my request, wrote down in French the following account of actual changelings in Finistère:--'I remember very well that there was a woman of the village of Kergoff, in Plouneventer, who was called ----,[78] the mother of a family. When she had her first child, a very strong and very pretty boy, she noticed one morning that he had been changed during the night; there was no longer the fine baby she had put to bed in the evening; there was, instead, an infant hideous to look at, greatly deformed, hunchbacked, and crooked, and of a black colour. The poor woman knew that a _fée_ had entered the house during the night and had changed her child.

'This changed infant still lives, and to-day he is about seventy years old. He has all the possible vices; and he has tried many times to kill his mother. He is a veritable demon; he often predicts the future, and has a habit of running abroad during the night. They call him the "Little _Corrigan_", and everybody flees from him. Being poor and infirm now, he has been obliged to beg, and people give him alms because they have great fear of him. His nick-name is Olier.

'This woman had a second, then a third child, both of whom were seen by everybody to have been born with no infirmity; and, in turn, each of these two was stolen by a _fée_ and replaced by a little hunchback. The second child was a most beautiful daughter. She was _taken_ during the night and replaced by a little girl babe, so deformed that it resembled a ball. If her brother Olier was bad, she was even worse; she was the terror of the village, and they called her Anniac. The third child met the same luck, but was not so bad as the first and second.

'The poor mother, greatly worried at seeing what had happened, related her troubles to another woman. This woman said to her, "If you have another child, place with it in the cradle a little sprig of box-wood which has been blessed (by a priest), and the _fée_ will no longer have the power of stealing your children." And when a fourth child was born to the unfortunate woman it was not stolen, for she placed in the cradle a sprig of box-wood which had been blessed on Palm Sunday (_Dimanche des Rameaux_).[79]

'The first three children I knew very well, and they were certainly hunchbacked: it is pretended in the country that the _fées_ who come at night to make changelings always leave in exchange hunchbacked infants. It is equally pretended that a mother who has had her child so changed need do nothing more than leave the little hunchback out of doors crying during entire hours, and that the _fée_ hearing it will come and put the true child in its place. Unfortunately, Yvonna ---- did not know what she should have done in order to have her own children again.'

_Transformation Power of 'Fées'._--At Kerallan, near Carnac, this is what Madame Louise Le Rouzic said about the transformation power of _fées_:--'It is said that the _fées_ of the region when insulted sometimes changed men into beasts or into stones.'[80]

_Other Breton Fairies._--Besides the various types of _fées_ already described, we find in Luzel's collected stories a few other types of fairy-like beings: in _Les Compagnons_ (The Companions),[81] the _fée_ is a magpie in a forest near Rennes--just as in other Celtic lands, fairies likewise often appear as birds (see our study, pp. 302 ff.); in _La Princesse de l'Étoile Brillante_ (The Princess of the Brilliant Star),[81] a princess under the form of a duck plays the part of a fairy (cf. how fairy women took the form of water-fowls in the tale entitled the _Sick Bed of Cuchulainn_ (see our study, p. 345); in _Pipi Menou et les Femmes Volantes_ (Pipi Menou and the Flying Women),[81] there are fairy women as swan-maidens; and then there are yet to be mentioned _Les Morgans de l'île d'Ouessant_ (The _Morgans_ of the Isle of Ushant), who live under the sea in rare palaces where mortals whom they love and marry are able to exist with them. In some legends of the _Morgans_, like one recorded by Luzel, the men and women of this water-fairy race, or the _Morgans_ and _Morganezed_, seem like anthropomorphosed survivals of ancient sea-divinities, such, for example, as the sea-god called _Shony_, to whom the people of Lewis, Western Hebrides, still pour libations that he may send in sea-weed, and the sea-god to whom anciently the people of Iona poured libations.[82]

_The 'Morgan'._--To M. J. Cuillandre (Glanmor), President of the _Fédération des Étudiants Bretons_, I am indebted for the following weird legend of the _Morgan_, as it is told among the Breton fisher-folk on the Île Molène, Finistère:--'Following a legend which I have collected on the Île Molène, the _Morgan_ is a fairy eternally young, a virgin seductress whose passion, never satisfied, drives her to despair. Her place of abode is beneath the sea; there she possesses marvellous palaces where gold and diamonds glimmer. Accompanied by other fairies, of whom she is in some respects the queen, she rises to the surface of the waters in the splendour of her unveiled beauty. By day she slumbers amid the coolness of grottoes, and woe to him who troubles her sleep. By night she lets herself be lulled by the waves in the neighbourhood of the rocks. The sea-foam crystallizes at her touch into precious stones, of whiteness as dazzling as that of her body. By moonlight she moans as she combs her fair hair with a comb of fine gold, and she sings in a harmonious voice a plaintive melody whose charm is irresistible. The sailor who listens to it feels himself drawn toward her, without power to break the charm which drags him onward to his destruction; the bark is broken upon the reefs: the man is in the sea, and the _Morgan_ utters a cry of joy. But the arms of the fairy clasp only a corpse; for at her touch men die, and it is this which causes the despair of the amorous and inviolate _Morgan_. She being pagan, it suffices to have been touched by her in order to suffer the saddest fate which can be reserved to a Christian. The unfortunate one whom she had clasped is condemned to wander for ever in the trough of the waters, his eyes wide open, the mark of baptism effaced from his forehead. Never will his poor remains know the sweetness of reposing in holy ground, never will he have a tomb where his kindred might come to pray and to weep.'

_Origin of the 'Morgan'._--The following legendary origin is attributed to the _Morgan_ by M. Goulven Le Scour, our Carnac witness:--'Following the old people and the Breton legends, the _Morgan_ (_Mari Morgan_ in Breton) was Dahut, the daughter of King Gradlon, who was ruler of the city of Is. Legend records that when Dahut had entered at night the bedchamber of her father and had cut from around his neck the cord which held the key of the sea-dike flood-gates, and had given this key to the Black Prince, under whose evil love she had fallen, and who, according to belief, was no other than the Devil, St. Guenolé soon afterwards began to cry aloud, "Great King, arise! The flood-gates are open, and the sea is no longer restrained!"[83] Suddenly the old King Gradlon arose, and, leaping on his horse, was fleeing from the city with St. Guenolé, when he encountered his own daughter amid the waves. She piteously begged aid of her father, and he took her up behind him on the horse; but St. Guenolé, seeing that the waters were gaining on them, said to the king, "Throw into the sea the demon you have behind you, and we shall be saved!" Thereupon Gradlon flung his daughter into the abyss, and he and St. Guenolé were saved. Since that time, the fishermen declare that they have seen, in times of rough sea and clear moonlight, Dahut, daughter of King Gradlon, sitting on the rocks combing her fair hair and singing, in the place where her father flung her. And to-day there is recognized under the Breton name _Marie Morgan_, the daughter who sings amid the sea.'

_Breton Fairyland Legends._--In a legend concerning Mona and the king of the _Morgans_, much like the Christabel story of English poets, we have a picture of a fairyland not under ground, but under sea; and this legend of Mona and her _Morgan_ lover is one of the most beautiful of all the fairy-tales of Brittany.[84] Another one of Luzel's legends, concerning a maiden who married a dead man, shows us Fairyland as a world of the dead. It is a very strange legend, and one directly bearing on the Psychological Theory; for this dead man, who is a dead priest, has a palace in a realm of enchantment, and to enter his country one must have a white fairy-wand with which to strike 'in the form of a cross' two blows upon the rock concealing the entrance.[84] M. Paul Sébillot records from Upper Brittany a tradition that beneath the sea-waves there one can see a subterranean world containing fields and villages and beautiful castles; and it is so pleasant a world that mortals going there find years no longer than days.[85]

_Fairies of Upper Brittany._[86]--Principally in Upper Brittany, M. Sébillot found rich folk-lore concerning _fées_, though some of his material is drawn from peasants and fishermen who are not so purely Celtic as those in Lower Brittany; and he very concisely summarizes the various names there given to the fairy-folk as follows:--'They are generally called _Fées_ (Fairies), sometimes _Fêtes_ (Fates), a name nearer than _fées_ to the Latin _Fata_; _Fête_ (fem.) and _Fête_ (mas.) are both used, and from _Fête_ is probably derived _Faito_ or _Faitaud_, which is the name borne by the fathers, the husbands, or the children of the _fées_ (Saint-Cast). Near Saint-Briac (Ille-et-Vilaine) they are sometimes called _Fions_; this term, which is applied to both sexes, seems also to designate the mischievous _lutins_ (sprites). Round the Mené, in the cantons of Collinée and of Moncontour, they are called _Margot la Fée_, or _ma Commère_ (my Godmother) _Margot_, or even the _Bonne Femme_ (Good Woman) _Margot_. On the coast they are often enough called by the name of _Bonnes Dames_ (Good Ladies), or of _nos Bonnes Mères les Fées_ (our Good Mothers the Fairies); usually they are spoken of with a certain respect.'[87] As the same authority suggests, probably the most characteristic _Fées_ in Upper Brittany are the _Fées des Houles_ (Fairies of the Billows); and traditions say that they lived in natural caverns or grottoes in the sea-cliffs. They form a distinct class of sea-fairies unknown elsewhere in France or Europe.[88] M. Sébillot regards them as sea-divinities greatly rationalized. Associated with them are the _fions_, a race of dwarfs having swords no bigger than pins.[88] A pretty legend about magic buckwheat cakes, which in different forms is widespread throughout all Brittany, is told of these little cave-dwelling fairies:--

Like the larger _fées_ the _fions_ kept cattle; and one day a black cow belonging to the _fions_ of Pont-aux-Hommes-Nées ate the buckwheat in the field of a woman of that neighbourhood. The woman went to the _fions_ to complain, and in reply to her a voice said: 'Hold your tongue; you will be paid for your buckwheat!' Thereupon the _fions_ gave the woman a cupful of buckwheat, and promised her that it would never diminish so long as none should be given away. That year buckwheat was very scarce, but no matter how many buckwheat cakes the woman and her family ate there was never diminution in the amount of the fairy buckwheat. At last, however, the unfortunate hour came. A rag-gatherer arrived and asked for food. Thoughtlessly the woman gave him one of her buckwheat cakes, and suddenly, as though by magic, all the rest of the buckwheat disappeared for ever.

Along the Rance the inhabitants tell about _fées_ who appear during storms. These storm-fairies are dressed in the colours of the rainbow, and pass along following a most beautiful _fée_ who is mounted in a boat made from a nautilus of the southern seas. And the boat is drawn by two sea-crabs. In no other place in Brittany are similar _fées_ said to exist.[89] In Upper Brittany, as in Lower Brittany, the _fées_ generally had their abodes in tumuli, in dolmens, in forests, in waste lands where there are great rocks, or about menhirs; and many other kinds of spirits lived in the sea and troubled sailors and fisher-folk. Like all fairy-folk of Celtic countries, those of Upper Brittany were given to stealing children. Thus at Dinard not long ago there was a woman more than thirty years old who was no bigger than a girl of ten, and it was said she was a fairy changeling.[90] In Lower Brittany the _taking_ of children was often attributed to dwarfs rather than to _fées_, though the method of making the changeling speak is the same as in Upper Brittany, namely, to place in such a manner before an open fire a number of eggshells filled with water that they appear to the changeling--who is placed where he can well observe all the proceedings--like so many small pots of cooking food; whereupon, being greatly astonished at the unusual sight, he forgets himself and speaks for the first time, thus betraying his demon nature.

The following midwife story, as told by J. M. Comault, of Gouray, in 1881, is quite a parallel to the one we have recorded (on p. 54) as coming from Grange, Ireland:--A midwife who delivered a _Margot la fée_ carelessly allowed some of the fairy ointment to get on one of her own eyes. The eye at once became clairvoyant, so that she beheld the _fées_ in their true nature. And, quite like a midwife in a similar story about the _fées des houles_, this midwife happened to see a _fée_ in the act of stealing, and spoke to her. Thereupon the _fée_ asked the midwife with which eye she beheld her, and when the midwife indicated which one it was, the _fée_ pulled it out.[91]

Generally, like their relatives in insular Celtdom, the fairies of Upper Brittany could assume various forms, and could even transform the human body; and they were given to playing tricks on mortals, and always to taking revenge on them if ill-treated. In most ways they were like other races of fairies, Celtic and non-Celtic, though very much anthropomorphosed in their nature by the peasant and mariner.

As a rule, the _fées_ of Upper Brittany are described in legend as young and very beautiful. Some, however, appear to be centuries old, with teeth as long as a human hand, and with backs covered with seaweeds, and mussels, or other marine growths, as an indication of their great age.[92] At Saint-Cast they are said to be dressed (like the _corrigans_ at Carnac, see p. 208) in _toile_, a kind of heavy linen cloth.[92]

On the sea-coast of Upper Brittany the popular opinion is that the _fées_ are a fallen race condemned to an earthly exile for a certain period. In the region of the Mené, canton of Collinée, the old folk say that, after the angels revolted, those left in paradise were divided into two parts: those who fought on the side of God and those who remained neutral. These last, already half-fallen, were sent to the earth for a time, and became the _fées_.[92]

The general belief in the interior of Brittany is that the _fées_ once existed, but that they disappeared as their country was changed by modern conditions. In the region of the Mené and of Ercé (Ille-et-Vilaine) it is said that for more than a century there have been no _fées_; and on the sea-coast, where it is still firmly believed that the _fées_ used to live in the billows or amid certain grottoes in the cliffs against which the billows broke, the opinion is that they disappeared at the beginning of the last century. The oldest Bretons say that their parents or grandparents often spoke about having seen _fées_, but very rarely do they say that they themselves have seen _fées_. M. Sébillot found only two who had. One was an old needle-woman of Saint-Cast, who had such fear of _fées_ that if she was on her way to do some sewing in the country, and it was night, she always took a long circuitous route to avoid passing near a field known as the _Couvent des Fées_. The other was Marie Chéhu, a woman eighty-eight years old.[93]

THE _CORRIGAN_ RACE[94]

It is the _corrigan_ race, however, which, more than _fées_ or fairies, forms a large part of the invisible inhabitants of Brittany; and this race of _corrigans_ and _nains_ (dwarfs) may be made to include many kinds of _lutins_, or as they are often called by the peasant, _follets_ or _esprits follets_ (playful elves). Though the peasants both in Upper and in Lower Brittany may have no strong faith in _fées_, most of them say that _corrigans_, or _nains_, and mischievous house-haunting spirits still exist. But in a few localities, as M. Sébillot discovered, there is an opinion that the _lutins_ departed with the _fées_, and with them will return in this century, because during each century with an odd number like 1900, the fairy tribes of all kinds are said to be visible or to reappear among men, and to become invisible or to disappear during each century with an even number like 1800. So this is the visible century.

_Corrigans_ and _follets_ only show themselves at night, or in the twilight. No one knows where they pass the day-time. Some _lutins_ or _follets_, after the manner of Scotch kelpies, live solitary lives in lakes or ponds (whereas _corrigans_ are socially united in groups or families), and amuse themselves by playing tricks on travellers passing by after dark. Souvestre records a story showing how the _lutins_ can assume any animal form, but that their natural form is that of a little man dressed in green; and that the _corrigans_ have declared war on them for being too friendly to men.[95] From what follows about _lutins_, by M. Goulven Le Scour, they show affinity with Pucks and such shape-shifting hobgoblins as are found in Wales:--'The _lutins_ were little dwarfs who generally appeared at cross-roads to attack belated travellers. And it is related in Breton legends that these _lutins_ sometimes transformed themselves into black horses or into goats; and whoever then had the misfortune to encounter them sometimes found his life in danger, and was always seized with great terror.' But generally, what the Breton peasant tells about _corrigans_ he is apt to tell at another time about _lutins_. And both tribes of beings, so far as they can be distinguished, are the same as the elfish peoples--pixies in Cornwall, Robin Good-fellows in England, goblins in Wales, or brownies in Scotland. Both _corrigans_ and _lutins_ are supposed to guard hidden treasure; some trouble horses at night; some, like their English cousins, may help in the house-work after all the family are asleep; some cause nightmare; some carry a torch like a Welsh death-candle; some trouble men and women like obsessing spirits; and nearly all of them are mischievous. In an article in the _Revue des Traditions Populaires_ (v. 101), M. Sébillot has classified more than fifty names given to _lutins_ and _corrigans_ in Lower Brittany, according to the form under which these spirits appear, their peculiar traits, dwelling-places, and the country they inhabit.

Like the fairies in Britain and Ireland, the _corrigans_ and the Cornish pixies find their favourite amusement in the circular dance. When the moon is clear and bright they gather for their frolic near menhirs, and dolmens, and tumuli, and at cross-roads, or even in the open country; and they never miss an opportunity of enticing a mortal passing by to join them. If he happens to be a good-natured man and enters their sport heartily, they treat him quite as a companion, and may even do him some good turn; but if he is not agreeable they will make him dance until he falls down exhausted, and should he commit some act thoroughly displeasing to them he will meet their certain revenge. According to a story reported from Lorient (Morbihan)[96] it is taboo for the _corrigans_ to make a complete enumeration of the days of the week:--

_The 'Corrigan' Taboo._--'At night, the _corrigans_ dance, singing, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday"; they are prohibited from completing the enumeration of the days of the week. A _corrigan_ having had the misfortune to permit himself to be tempted to add "Saturday", immediately became hunchbacked. His comrades, stupefied and distressed, attempted in vain to knock in his hump with blows of their fists.'

_'Corrigans' at Carnac._--How the tradition of the dancing _corrigans_ and their weekday song still lives, appears from the following accounts which I found at and near Carnac, the first account having been given during January 1909 by Madame Marie Ezanno, of Carnac, then sixty-six years old:--'The _corrigans_ are little dwarfs who formerly, by moonlight, used to dance in a circle on the prairies. They sang a song the couplet of which was not understood, but only the refrain, translated in Breton: "_Di Lun_ (Monday), _Di Merh_ (Tuesday), _Di Merhier_ (Wednesday)."

'They whistled in order to assemble. Where they danced mushrooms grew; and it was necessary to maintain silence so as not to interrupt them in their dance. They were often very brutal towards a man who fell under their power, and if they had a grudge against him they would make him submit to the greatest tortures. The peasants believed strongly in the _corrigans_, because they thus saw them and heard them. The _corrigans_ dressed in very coarse white linen cloth. They were mischievous spirits (_esprits follets_), who lived under dolmens.'

One morning, M. Lemort and myself called upon Madame Louise Le Rouzic in her neat home at Kerallan, a little group of thatched cottages about a mile from Carnac. As we entered, Madame Le Rouzic herself was sitting on a long wooden bench by the window knitting, and her daughter was watching the savoury-smelling dinner as it boiled in great iron pots hanging from chains over a brilliant fire on the hearth. Large gleaming brass basins were ranged on a shelf above the broad open chimney-place wherein the fire burned, and massive bedsteads carved after the Breton style stood on the stone floor. When many things had been talked about, our conversation turned to _corrigans_, and then the good woman of the house told us these tales:--

_'Corrigans' at Church._--'In former times a young girl having taken the keys of the church (presumably at Carnac) and having entered it, found the _corrigans_ about to dance; and the _corrigans_ were singing, "_Lundi, Mardi_" (Monday, Tuesday). On seeing the young girl, they stopped, surrounded her, and invited her to dance with them. She accepted, and, in singing, added to their song "_Mercredi_" (Wednesday). In amazement, the _corrigans_ cried joyfully, "She has added something to our song; what shall we give her as recompense?" And they gave her a bracelet. A friend of hers meeting her, asked where the fine bracelet came from; and the young girl told what had happened. The second girl hurried to the church, and found the _corrigans_ still dancing the _rond_. She joined their dance, and, in singing, added "_Jeudi_" (Thursday) to their song; but that broke the cadence; and the _corrigans_ in fury, instead of recompensing her wished to punish her. "What shall we do to her?" one of them cried. "Let the day be as night to her!" the others replied. And by day, wherever she went, she saw only the night.'

_The 'Corrigans'' Sabbath._--'Where my grandfather lived,' continued Madame Le Rouzic, 'there was a young girl who went to the sabbath of the _corrigans_; and when she returned and was asked where she had been, said, "I have travelled over water, wood, and hedges." And she related all she had seen and heard. Then one night, afterwards, the _corrigans_ came into the house, beat her, and dragged her from bed. Upon hearing the uproar, my grandfather arose and found the girl lying flat on the stone floor. "Never question me again," she said to him, "or they will kill me."'[97]

_'Corrigans' as Fairies._--Some Breton legends give _corrigans_ the chief characteristics of fairies in Celtic Britain and Ireland; and Villemarqué in his _Barzaz Breiz_ (pp. 25-30) makes the Breton word _corrigan_ synonymous with _fée_ or fairy, thus:--'_Le Seigneur Nann et la Fée (Aotrou Nann hag ar Corrigan)_.' In this legend the _corrigan_ seems clearly enough to be a water-fairy: 'The _Korrigan_ was seated at the edge of her fountain, and she was combing her long fair hair.' But unlike most water-fairies, the _Fée_ lives in a grotto, which, according to Villemarqué, is one of those ancient monuments called in Breton _dolmen_, or _ti ar corrigan_; in French, _Table de pierres_, or _Grotte aux Fées_--like the famous one near Rennes. The fountain where the _Fée_ was seated seems to be one of those sacred fountains, which, as Villemarqué says, are often found near a _Grotte aux Fées_, and called _Fontaine de la Fée_, or in Breton, _Feunteun ar corrigan_. In another of Villemarqué's legends, _L'Enfant Supposé_, after the egg-shell test has been used and the little _corrigan_-changeling is replaced by the real child, the latter as though all the while it had been in an unconscious trance-state--which has a curious bearing on our Psychological Theory--stretches forth its arms and awakening exclaims, 'Ah! mother, what a long time I have been asleep.'[98] And in _Les Nains_ we see the little _Duz_ or dwarfs inhabiting a cave and guarding treasures.[98]