It would only be spoiling good work by bad to attempt to re-write the
exhaustive essay which appears, under the heading of "St. George," in
Baring Gould's "Curious Myths of the Middle Ages." He there traces the
atmospheric myth in which the Dragon is the storm-cloud, the Maiden the
earth, and the Hero the sun, through all the forms of the great Aryan
legend, in Indian, Egyptian, Phoenician, Italic, Keltic, Teutonic,
and Scandinavian mythology. He shows that it was merely by a mistaken
metaphor [20] that St. George came to assume the place, and wear the
glories of the solar hero; and that England only followed in the wake
of other countries, in making him her national Saint and Patron.
We will, therefore, now only glance at some of the Basque and Pyrenean
forms of this wide-spread myth. M. Cerquand boldly places one form of
the story, which is attached to the house of Belzunce, among historical
legends. But the history of Belzunce and the Dragon stands in the same
relation to the original myth as does that of Guy, Earl of Warwick,
Moor of Moor Hall, and of scores of other heroes. In a Basque version,
collected by ourselves, the concluding words show that in this form
it is simply an Eponymous legend, to account for the name, "and that
is whence comes the name of Belzunce." The oldest Pyrenean version
with which we are acquainted is that of the "Serpent d'Isabit." We
give the outlines of it from memory, as we heard, and read it, at
Bagnères de Bigorre.
The serpent lay with his head resting on the summit of the Pic du
Midi de Bigorre, his neck stretched down towards Barèges, while his
body filled the whole valley of Luz, St. Sauveur, and Gédres, and
his tail was coiled in the hollow below the cirque of Gavarnie. He
fed but once in three months, or the whole country would have been
desolate. With a strong inspiration of his breath, he drew into his
capacious maw, across the valleys, whole flocks of sheep and goats,
herds of oxen, men, women, children, the population of whole villages
at once. He was now asleep, and inert, after such a repast. The whole
male population of several valleys assembled to consult on what
should be done. After long and fruitless debate an old man arose
and spoke:--"We have nearly three months yet before he will wake;
let us cut down all the forests on the opposite hills; then let us
bring all our forges and all the iron we possess, and with the wood
thus cut down let us melt it all into one red-hot fiery mass; then we
will hide ourselves behind the rocks, and make all the noise we can
to try and awaken the monster." So said, so done. The serpent awoke
in a rage at having his slumbers broken, he saw something bright on
the opposite side of the valley, and drew in a long breath, and the
fiery mass, with a roar like a thunderbolt, flew across the valley,
right down the monster's throat. Then, what convulsions ensued;
rocks were uptorn or split open, the mountains were shattered, the
glaciers beaten into dust as the serpent twisted and lashed about in
his agony. To quench his agony of thirst he descended to the valley,
and drank up all the streams from Gavarnie to Pierrefitte. Then,
in his last convulsion, he threw himself back upon the mountain side
and expired; his head rested in a deep hollow; as the fire within him
slowly cooled, the water he had swallowed poured out of his mouth,
and formed the present Lac d'Isabit. In M. Cerquand's legend of the
Dragon d'Alçay, the red-hot iron is replaced by "a cow's skin full
of gunpowder." In all the Basque legends of this class the hero dies.
But these legends differ widely from the following tales; there is
in them no princess to be rescued, no charcoal-burner, no marriage,
or any other wonders. Were it not for their still closer resemblance
to the Gaelic tales, we should suspect the following legends to
be simply translations of some French legend of St. George. As we
remarked before, like the Deccan cobras, the Heren-Suge is always
seven-headed. It is strange, too, to notice that the princess always
behaves in the same chivalrous way. "One is enough to die." The union,
too, of Tartaro and Heren-Suge in the same tale is curious.