The idea of the evil spirit, malicious and revengeful, is common to
all primitive peoples, and Brittany has its full share of demonology.
Wherever, in fact, a primitive and illiterate peasantry is found the
demon is its inevitable accompaniment. But we shall not find these
Breton devils so very different from the fiends of other lands.
_The Nain_
The nain is a figure fearsomely Celtic in its hideousness, resembling
the gargoyles which peer down upon the traveller from the carven
'top-hamper' of so many Breton churches. Black and menacing of
countenance, these demon-folk are armed with feline claws, and their
feet end in hoofs like those of a satyr. Their dark elf-locks, small,
gleaming eyes, red as carbuncles, and harsh, cracked voices are all
dilated upon with fear by those who have met them upon lonely heaths
or unfrequented roads. They haunt the ancient dolmens built by a
vanished race, and at night, by the pale starlight, they dance around
these ruined tombs to the music of a primitive refrain:
"Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday and Friday."
Saturday and Sunday they dare not mention as being days sacred from
fairy influence. We all remember that in the old tale of Tom Thumb the
elves among whom the hero fell sang such a refrain. But wherefore? It
would indeed be difficult to say. Deities, credited and discredited,
have often a connexion with the calendar, and we may have here some
calendric reference, or again the chant may be merely a nonsense
rhyme. Bad luck attached itself to the human who chanced to behold the
midnight revels of the nains, and if he entered the charmed circle and
danced along with them his death was certain to ensue before the year
was out. Wednesday was the nains' high-day, or rather night, and their
great _nuit festale_ was the first Wednesday in May. That they should
have possessed a fixed festival at such a period, full of religious
significance for most primitive peoples, would seem to show that they
must at one time have been held in considerable esteem.
But although the nains while away their time in such simple fashion as
dancing to the repetition of the names of the days of the week, they
have a less innocent side to their characters, for they are forgers of
false money, which they fabricate in the recesses of caverns. We all
recall stories of fairy gold and its perishable nature. A simple youth
sells something on market day to a fairy, and later on turning over in
his pocket the money he has received he finds that it has been
transformed into beans. The housewife receives gold from a fairy for
services rendered, and carefully places it in a drawer. A day when she
requires it arrives, but, alas! when she opens the cabinet to take it
out she finds nothing but a small heap of withered leaves. It is such
money that the nains manufacture in their subterranean mints--coin
which bears the fairy impress of glamourie for a space, but on later
examination proves to be merely dross.
The nains are also regarded as the originators of a cabalistic
alphabet, the letters of which are engraved on several of the
megalithic monuments of Morbihan, and especially those of Gavr'inis.
He who is able to decipher this magic script, says tradition, will be
able to tell where hidden treasure is to be found in any part of the
country. Lest any needy folk be of a mind to fare to Brittany to try
their luck in this respect it is only right to warn them that in all
probability they will find the treasure formula in ogham characters or
serpentine markings, and that as the first has long ago been
deciphered and the second is pure symbolism they will waste their time
and money in any event.
Sorcery hangs about the nain like a garment. Here he is a prophet and
a diviner as well as an enchanter, and as much of his magic power is
employed for ill, small wonder that the Breton peasant shudders and
frowns when the name of the fearsome tribe is spoken and gives the
dolmens they are supposed to haunt the widest of wide berths _au clair
de la lune_.
_Crions, Courils, and Gorics_
Brittany has a species of dwarfs or gnomes peculiar to itself which in
various parts of the country are known as crions, courils, or
gorics. It will at once be seen how greatly the last word resembles
Korrigan, and as all of them perhaps proceed from a root meaning
'spirit' the nominal resemblance is not surprising. Like the nains,
these smaller beings inhabit abandoned Druidical monuments or dwell
beneath the foundations of ancient castles. Carnac is sometimes
alluded to in Breton as 'Ty C'harriquet,' 'the House of the Gorics,'
the country-folk in this district holding the belief that its
megalithic monuments were reared by these manikins, whom they
describe as between two and three feet high, but exceedingly
strong, just as the Scottish peasantry speak of the Picts of
folk-lore--'wee fouk but unco' strang.' Every night the gorics
dance in circles round the stones of Carnac, and should a mortal
interrupt their frolic he is forced to join in the dance, until,
breathless and exhausted, he falls prone to the earth amid peals of
mocking laughter. Like the nains, the gorics are the guardians of
hidden treasure, for the tale goes that beneath one of the menhirs of
Carnac lies a golden hoard, and that all the other stones have been
set up the better to conceal it, and so mystify those who would
discover its resting-place. A calculation, the key to which is to
be found in the Tower of London, will alone indicate the spot where
the treasure lies. And here it may be of interest to state that
the ancient national fortalice of England occurs frequently in Breton
and in Celtic romance.[37] Some of the immigrant Britons into
Armorica probably came from the settlement which was later to grow
into London, and may have carried tales of its ancient British
fortress into their new home.
The courils are peculiar to the ruins of Tresmalouen. Like the gorics,
they are fond of dancing, and they are quite as malignantly inclined
toward the unhappy stranger who may stumble into their ring. The
castle of Morlaix, too, is haunted by gorics not more than a foot
high, who dwell beneath it in holes in the ground. They possess
treasures as great as those of the gnomes of Norway or Germany, and
these they will sometimes bestow on lucky mortals, who are permitted,
however, to take but one handful. If a person should attempt to seize
more the whole of the money vanishes, and the offender's ears are
soundly boxed by invisible hands.
The night-washers (_eur tunnerez noz_) are evil spirits who appear at
night on the banks of streams and call on the passers-by to assist
them to wash the linen of the dead. If they are refused, they seize
upon the person who denies them, drag him into the water, and break
his arms. These beings are obviously the same as the Bean Nighe, 'the
Washing Woman' of the Scottish Highlands, who is seen in lonely places
beside a pool or stream, washing the linen of those who will shortly
die. In Skye she is said to be short of stature. If any one catches
her she tells all that will befall him in after life. In Perthshire
she is represented as "small and round and dressed in pretty green."
_The Teurst_
In the district of Morlaix the peasants are terribly afraid of beings
they call teursts. These are large, black, and fearsome, like the
Highland ourisk, who haunted desert moors and glens. The _teursta
poulict_ appears in the likeness of some domestic animal. In the
district of Vannes is encountered a colossal spirit called Teus or
Bugelnoz, who appears clothed in white between midnight and two in the
morning. His office is to rescue victims from the devil, and should he
spread his mouth over them they are secure from the Father of Evil.
The Dusii of Gaul are mentioned by St Augustine, who regarded them as
_incubi_, and by Isidore of Seville, and in the name we may perhaps
discover the origin of our expression 'the deuce!'
_The Nicole_
The Nicole is a spirit of modern creation who torments the honest
fishermen of the Bay of Saint-Brieuc and Saint-Malo. Just as they are
about to draw in their nets this mischievous spirit leaps around them,
freeing the fish, or he will loosen a boat's anchor so that it will
drift on to a sand-bank. He may divide the cable which holds the
anchor to the vessel and cause endless trouble. This spirit received
its name from an officer who commanded a battalion of fishermen
conscripts, and who from his intense severity and general reputation
as a martinet obtained a bad reputation among the seafaring
population.
_The Mourioche_
The Mourioche is a malicious demon of bestial nature, able, it would
seem, to transform himself into any animal shape he chooses. In
general appearance he is like a year-old foal. He is especially
dangerous to children, and Breton babies are often chided when noisy
or mischievous with the words: "Be good, now, the Mourioche is
coming!" Of one who appears to have received a shock, also, it is
said: "He has seen the Mourioche." Unlucky is the person who gets in
his way; but doubly so the unfortunate who attempts to mount him in
the belief that he is an ordinary steed, for after a fiery gallop he
will be precipitated into an abyss and break his neck.
_The Ankou_
Perhaps there is no spirit of evil which is so much dreaded by the
Breton peasantry as the Ankou, who travels the duchy in a cart,
picking up souls. In the dead of night a creaking axle-tree can be
heard passing down the silent lanes. It halts at a door; the summons
has been given, a soul quits the doomed house, and the wagon of the
Ankou passes on. The Ankou herself--for the dread death-spirit of
Brittany is probably female--is usually represented as a skeleton. M.
Anatole le Braz has elaborated a study of the whole question in his
book on the legend of death in Brittany,[38] and it is probable that
the Ankou is a survival of the death-goddess of the prehistoric
dolmen-builders of Brittany. MacCulloch[39] considers the Ankou to be
a reminiscence of the Celtic god of death, who watches over all things
beyond the grave and carries off the dead to his kingdom, but greatly
influenced by medieval ideas of 'Death the skeleton.' In some Breton
churches a little model or statuette of the Ankou is to be seen, and
this is nothing more nor less than a cleverly fashioned skeleton. The
peasant origin of the belief can be found in the substitution of a
cart or wagon for the more ambitious coach and four of other lands.
_The Youdic_
Dark and gloomy are many of the Breton legends, of evil things, gloomy
as the depths of the forests in which doubtless many of them were
conceived. Most folk-tales are tinged with melancholy, and it is
rarely in Breton story that we discover a vein of the joyous.
[Illustration: THE DEMON-DOG]
Among the peaks of the Montagnes d'Arrée lies a vast and dismal peat
bog known as the Yeun, which has long been regarded by the Breton folk
as the portal to the infernal regions. This Stygian locality has
brought forth many legends. It is, indeed, a remarkable territory. In
summer it seems a vast moor carpeted by glowing purple heather, which
one can traverse up to a certain point, but woe betide him who would
advance farther, for, surrounded by what seems solid ground, lies a
treacherous quagmire declared by the people of the neighbourhood to be
unfathomable. This part of the bog, whose victims have been many, is
known as the Youdic. As one leans over it its waters may sometimes be
seen to simmer and boil, and the peasants of the country-side devoutly
believe that when this occurs infernal forces are working beneath,
madly revelling, and that it is only the near presence of St Michael,
whose mount is hard by, which restrains them from doing active harm to
those who may have to cross the Yeun.
Countless stories are afloat concerning this weird maelstrom of mud
and bubbling water. At one time it was the custom to hurl animals
suspected of being evil spirits into its black depths. Malevolent
fiends, it was thought, were wont to materialize in the form of great
black dogs, and unfortunate animals of this type, if they evinced such
peculiarities as were likely to place them under suspicion, were taken
forthwith to the Youdic by a member of the enlightened priesthood of
the district, and were cast into its seething depths with all the
ceremonies suitable to such an occasion.
A story typical of those told about the place is that of one Job Ann
Drez, who seems to have acted as sexton and assisted the parish priest
in his dealings with the supernatural. Along with the priest, Job
repaired one evening after sunset to the gloomy waters of the Youdic,
dragging behind him a large black dog of the species most likely to
excite distrust in the priestly mind. The priest showed considerable
anxiety lest the animal should break loose.
"If he should get away," he said nervously, "both of us are lost."
"I will wager he does not," replied Job, tying the cord by which the
brute was led securely to his wrist.
"Forward, then," said the priest, and he walked boldly in front, until
they came to the foot of the mountain on the summit of which lies the
Youdic.
The priest turned warningly to Job. "You must be circumspect in this
place," he said very gravely. "Whatever you may hear, be sure not to
turn your head. Your life in this world and your salvation in the next
depend absolutely on this. You understand me?"
"Yes, sir, I understand."
A vast desolation surrounded them. So dark was the night that it
seemed to envelop them like a velvet curtain. Beneath their feet they
heard the hissing and moaning of the bog, awaiting its prey like a
restless and voracious wild beast. Through the dense blackness they
could see the iridescent waters writhing and gleaming below.
"Surely," said Job half to himself, "this must be the gateway to
hell!"
At that word the dog uttered a frightful howl--such a howl as froze
Job's blood in his veins. It tugged and strained at the cord which
held it with the strength of a demon, striving to turn on Job and rend
him.
"Hold on!" cried the priest in mortal terror, keeping at a safe
distance, however. "Hold on, I entreat you, or else we are undone!"
Job held on to the demon-dog with all his strength. Indeed, it was
necessary to exert every thew and sinew if the animal were to be
prevented from tearing him to pieces. Its howls were sufficient to
strike terror to the stoutest heart. "Iou! Iou!" it yelled again and
again.
But Job held on desperately, although the cord cut his hands and blood
ran from the scarified palms. Inch by inch he dragged the brute toward
the Youdic. The creature in a last desperate effort turned and was
about to spring on him open-mouthed, when all at once the priest,
darting forward, threw his cloak over its head. It uttered a shriek
which sounded through the night like the cry of a lost soul.
"Quick!" cried the priest. "Lie flat on the earth and put your face on
the ground!"
Scarcely had the two men done so than a frightful tumult ensued. First
there was the sound of a body leaping into the morass, then such an
uproar as could only proceed from the mouth of the infernal regions.
Shrieks, cries, hissings, explosions followed in quick succession for
upward of half an hour; then gradually they died away and a horrible
stillness took their place. The two men rose trembling and unnerved,
and slowly took their way through the darkness, groping and stumbling
until they had left the awful vicinity of the Yeun behind them.
FOOTNOTES:
[37] See Nutt, _Celtic and Mediæval Romance_.
[38] _La Légende de la Mort._
[39] _Religion of the Ancient Celts_, p. 345