I. THE FIRST CLOTHES
One day St. Maël was sitting by the seashore on a warm stone that he
found. He thought it had been warmed by the sun and he gave thanks to
God for it, not knowing that the Devil had been resting on it. The
apostle was waiting for the monks of Yvern who had been commissioned to
bring a freight of skins and fabrics to clothe the inhabitants of the
island of Alca.
Soon he saw a monk called Magis coming ashore and carrying a chest upon
his back. This monk enjoyed a great reputation for holiness.
When he had drawn near to the old man he laid the chest on the ground
and wiping his forehead with the back of his sleeve, he said:
“Well, father, you wish then to clothe these penguins?”
“Nothing is more needful, my son,” said the old man. “Since they have
been incorporated into the family of Abraham these penguins share the
curse of Eve, and they know that they are naked, a thing of which they
were ignorant before. And it is high time to clothe them, for they are
losing the down that remained on them after their metamorphosis.”
“It is true,” said Magis as he cast his eyes over the coast where the
penguins were to be seen looking for shrimps, gathering mussels,
singing, or sleeping, “they are naked. But do you not think, father,
that it would be better to leave them naked? Why clothe them? When they
wear clothes and are under the moral law they will assume an immense
pride, a vile hypocrisy, and an excessive cruelty.”
“Is it possible, my son,” sighed the old man, “that you understand so
badly the effects of the moral law to which even the heathen submit?”
“The moral law,” answered Magis, “forces men who are beasts to live
otherwise than beasts, a thing that doubtless puts a constraint upon
them, but that also flatters and reassures them; and as they are proud,
cowardly, and covetous of pleasure, they willingly submit to restraints
that tickle their vanity and on which they found both their present
security and the hope of their future happiness. That is the principle
of all morality. . . . But let us not mislead ourselves. My companions
are unloading their cargo of stuffs and skins on the island. Think,
father, while there is still time! To clothe the penguins is a very
serious business. At present when a penguin desires a penguin he knows
precisely what he desires and his lust is limited by an exact knowledge
of its object. At this moment two or three couples of penguins are
making love on the beach. See with what simplicity! No one pays any
attention and the actors themselves do not seem to be greatly
preoccupied. But when the female penguins are clothed, the male penguin
will not form so exact a notion of what it is that attracts him to
them. His indeterminate desires will fly out into all sorts of dreams
and illusions; in short, father, he will know love and its mad
torments. And all the time the female penguins will cast down their
eyes and bite their lips, and take on airs as if they kept a treasure
under their clothes! . . . what a pity!
“The evil will be endurable as long as these people remain rude and
poor; but only wait for a thousand years and you will see, father, with
what powerful weapons you have endowed the daughters of Alca. If you
will allow me, I can give you some idea of it beforehand. I have some
old clothes in this chest. Let us take at hazard one of these female
penguins to whom the male penguins give such little thought, and let us
dress her as well as we can.
“Here is one coming towards us. She is neither more beautiful nor
uglier than the others; she is young. No one looks at her. She strolls
indolently along the shore, scratching her back and with her finger at
her nose as she walks. You cannot help seeing, father, that she has
narrow shoulders, clumsy breasts, a stout figure, and short legs. Her
reddish knees pucker at every step she takes, and there is, at each of
her joints, what looks like a little monkey’s head. Her broad and
sinewy feet cling to the rock with their four crooked toes, while the
great toes stick up like the heads of two cunning serpents. She begins
to walk, all her muscles are engaged in the task, and, when we see them
working, we think of her as a machine intended for walking rather than
as a machine intended for making love, although visibly she is both,
and contains within herself several other pieces of machinery, besides.
Well, venerable apostle, you will see what I am going to make of her.”
With these words the monk, Magis, reached the female penguin in three
bounds, lifted her up, carried her in his arms with her hair trailing
behind her, and threw her, overcome with fright, at the feet of the
holy Maël.
And whilst she wept and begged him to do her no harm, he took a pair of
sandals out of his chest and commanded her to put them on.
“Her feet,” observed the old man, “will appear smaller when squeezed in
by the woollen cords. The soles, being two fingers high, will give an
elegant length to her legs and the weight they bear will seem
magnified.”
As the penguin tied on her sandals she threw a curious look towards the
open coffer, and seeing that it was full of jewels and finery, she
smiled through her tears.
The monk twisted her hair on the back of her head and covered it with a
chaplet of flowers. He encircled her wrist with golden bracelets and
making her stand upright, he passed a large linen band beneath her
breasts, alleging that her bosom would thereby derive a new dignity and
that her sides would be compressed to the greater glory of her hips.
He fixed this band with pins, taking them one by one out of his mouth.
“You can tighten it still more,” said the penguin.
When he had, with much care and study, enclosed the soft parts of her
bust in this way, he covered her whole body with a rose-coloured tunic
which gently followed the lines of her figure.
“Does it hang well?” asked the penguin.
And bending forward with her head on one side and her chin on her
shoulder, she kept looking attentively at the appearance of her toilet.
Magis asked her if she did not think the dress a little long, but she
answered with assurance that it was not—she would hold it up.
Immediately, taking the back of her skirt in her left hand, she drew it
obliquely across her hips, taking care to disclose a glimpse of her
heels. Then she went away, walking with short steps and swinging her
hips.
She did not turn her head, but as she passed near a stream she glanced
out of the corner of her eye at her own reflection.
A male penguin, who met her by chance, stopped in surprise, and
retracing his steps began to follow her. As she went along the shore,
others coming back from fishing, went up to her, and after looking at
her, walked behind her. Those who were lying on the sand got up and
joined the rest.
Unceasingly, as she advanced, fresh penguins, descending from the paths
of the mountain, coming out of clefts of the rocks, and emerging from
the water, added to the size of her retinue.
And all of them, men of ripe age with vigorous shoulders and hairy
breasts, agile youths, old men shaking the multitudinous wrinkles of
their rosy, and white-haired skins, or dragging their legs thinner and
drier than the juniper staff that served them as a third leg, hurried
on, panting and emitting an acrid odour and hoarse gasps. Yet she went
on peacefully and seemed to see nothing.
“Father,” cried Magis, “notice how each one advances with his nose
pointed towards the centre of gravity of that young damsel now that the
centre is covered by a garment. The sphere inspires the meditations of
geometers by the number of its properties. When it proceeds from a
physical and living nature it acquires new qualities, and in order that
the interest of that figure might be fully revealed to the penguins it
was necessary that, ceasing to see it distinctly with their eyes, they
should be led to represent it to themselves in their minds. I myself
feel at this moment irresistibly attracted towards that penguin.
Whether it be because her skirt gives more importance to her hips, and
that in its simple magnificence it invests them with a synthetic and
general character and allows only the pure idea, the divine principle,
of them to be seen, whether this be the cause I cannot say, but I feel
that if I embraced her I would hold in my hands the heaven of human
pleasure. It is certain that modesty communicates an invincible
attraction to women. My uneasiness is so great that it would be vain
for me to try to conceal it.”
He spoke, and, gathering up his habit, he rushed among the crowd of
penguins, pushing, jostling, trampling, and crushing, until he reached
the daughter of Alca, whom he seized and suddenly carried in his arms
into a cave that had been hollowed out by the sea.
Then the penguins felt as if the sun had gone out. And the holy Maël
knew that the Devil had taken the features of the monk, Magis, in order
that he might give clothes to the daughter of Alca. He was troubled in
spirit, and his soul was sad. As with slow steps he went towards his
hermitage he saw the little penguins of six and seven years of age
tightening their waists with belts made of sea-weed and walking along
the shore to see if anybody would follow them.
II. THE FIRST CLOTHES
(_Continuation and End_)
The holy Maël felt a profound sadness that the first clothes put upon a
daughter of Alca should have betrayed the penguin modesty instead of
helping it. He persisted, none the less, in his design of giving
clothes to the inhabitants of the miraculous island. Assembling them on
the shore, he distributed to them the garments that the monks of Yvern
had brought. The male penguins received short tunics and breeches, the
female penguins long robes. But these robes were far from creating the
effect that the former one had produced. They were not so beautiful,
their shape was uncouth and without art, and no attention was paid to
them since every woman bad one. As they prepared the meals and worked
in the fields they soon had nothing but slovenly bodices and soiled
petticoats.
The male penguins loaded their unfortunate consorts with work until
they looked like beasts of burden. They knew nothing of the troubles of
the heart and the disorders of passion. Their habits were innocent.
Incest, though frequent, was a sign of rustic simplicity and if
drunkenness led a youth to commit some such crime he thought nothing
more about it the day afterwards.
III. SETTING BOUNDS TO THE FIELDS AND THE ORIGIN OF PROPERTY
The island did not preserve the rugged appearance that it had formerly,
when, in the midst of floating icebergs it sheltered a population of
birds within its rocky amphitheatre. Its snow-clad peak had sunk down
into a hill from the summit of which one could see the coasts of
Armorica eternally covered with mist, and the ocean strewn with sullen
reefs like monsters half raised out of its depths.
Its coasts were now very extensive and clearly defined and its shape
reminded one of a mulberry leaf. It was suddenly covered with coarse
grass, pleasing to the flocks, and with willows, ancient figtrees, and
mighty oaks. This fact is attested by the Venerable Bede and several
other authors worthy of credence.
To the north the shore formed a deep bay that in after years became one
of the most famous ports in the universe. To the east, along a rocky
coast beaten by a foaming sea, there stretched a deserted and fragrant
heath. It was the Beach of Shadows, and the inhabitants of the island
never ventured on it for fear of the serpents that lodged in the
hollows of the rocks and lest they might encounter the souls of the
dead who resembled livid flames. To the south, orchards and woods
bounded the languid Bay of Divers. On this fortunate shore old Maël
built a wooden church and a monastery. To the west, two streams, the
Clange and the Surelle, watered the fertile valleys of Dalles and
Dombes.
Now one autumn morning, as the blessed Maël was walking in the valley
of Clange in company with a monk of Yvern called Bulloch, he saw bands
of fierce-looking men loaded with stones passing along the roads. At
the same time he heard in all directions cries and complaints mounting
up from the valley towards the tranquil sky.
And he said to Bulloch:
“I notice with sadness, my son, that since they became men the
inhabitants of this island act with less wisdom than formerly. When
they were birds they only quarrelled during the season of their love
affairs. But now they dispute all the time; they pick quarrels with
each other in summer as well as in winter. How greatly have they fallen
from that peaceful majesty which made the assembly of the penguins look
like the Senate of a wise republic!
“Look towards Surelle, Bulloch, my son. In yonder pleasant valley a
dozen men penguins are busy knocking each other down with the spades
and picks that they might employ better in tilling the ground. The
women, still more cruel than the men, are tearing their opponents’
faces with their nails. Alas! Bulloch, my son, why are they murdering
each other in this way?”
“From a spirit of fellowship, father, and through forethought for the
future,” answered Bulloch. “For man is essentially provident and
sociable. Such is his character and it is impossible to imagine it
apart from a certain appropriation of things. Those penguins whom you
see are dividing the ground among themselves.”
“Could they not divide it with less violence?” asked the aged man. “As
they fight they exchange invectives and threats. I do not distinguish
their words, but they are angry ones, judging from the tone.”
“They are accusing one another of theft and encroachment,” answered
Bulloch. “That is the general sense of their speech.”
At that moment the holy Maël clasped his hands and sighed deeply.
“Do you see, my son,” he exclaimed, “that madman who with his teeth is
biting the nose of the adversary he has overthrown and that other one
who is pounding a woman’s head with a huge stone?”
“I see them,” said Bulloch. “They are creating law; they are founding
property; they are establishing the principles of civilization, the
basis of society, and the foundations of the State.”
“How is that?” asked old Maël.
“By setting bounds to their fields. That is the origin of all
government. Your penguins, O Master, are performing the most august of
functions. Throughout the ages their work will be consecrated by
lawyers, and magistrates will confirm it.”
Whilst the monk, Bulloch, was pronouncing these words a big penguin
with a fair skin and red hair went down into the valley carrying a
trunk of a tree upon his shoulder. He went up to a little penguin who
was watering his vegetables in the heat of the sun, and shouted to him:
“Your field is mine!”
And having delivered himself of this stout utterance he brought down
his club on the head of the little penguin, who fell dead upon the
field that his own hands had tilled.
At this sight the holy Maël shuddered through his whole body and poured
forth a flood of tears.
And in a voice stifled by horror and fear he addressed this prayer to
heaven:
“O Lord, my God, O thou who didst receive young Abel’s sacrifices, thou
who didst curse Cain, avenge, O Lord, this innocent penguin sacrificed
upon his own field and make the murderer feel the weight of thy arm. Is
there a more odious crime, is there a graver offence against thy
justice, O Lord, than this murder and this robbery?”
“Take care, father,” said Bulloch gently, “that what you call murder
and robbery may not really be war and conquest, those sacred
foundations of empires, those sources of all human virtues and all
human greatness. Reflect, above all, that in blaming the big penguin
you are attacking property in its origin and in its source. I shall
have no trouble in showing you how. To till the land is one thing, to
possess it is another, and these two things must not be confused; as
regards ownership the right of the first occupier is uncertain and
badly founded. The right of conquest, on the other hand, rests on more
solid foundations. It is the only right that receives respect since it
is the only one that makes itself respected. The sole and proud origin
of property is force. It is born and preserved by force. In that it is
august and yields only to a greater force. This is why it is correct to
say that he who possesses is noble. And that big red man, when he
knocked down a labourer to get possession of his field, founded at that
moment a very noble house upon this earth. I congratulate him upon it.”
Having thus spoken, Bulloch approached the big penguin, who was leaning
upon his club as he stood in the blood-stained furrow:
“Lord Greatauk, dreaded Prince,” said he, bowing to the ground, “I come
to pay you the homage due to the founder of legitimate power and
hereditary wealth. The skull of the vile Penguin you have overthrown
will, buried in your field, attest for ever the sacred rights of your
posterity over this soil that you have ennobled. Blessed be your sons
and your sons’ sons! They shall be Greatauks, Dukes of Skull, and they
shall rule over this island of Alca.”
Then raising his voice and turning towards the holy Maël:
“Bless Greatauk, father, for all power comes from God.”
Maël remained silent and motionless, with his eyes raised towards
heaven; he felt a painful uncertainty in judging the monk Bulloch’s
doctrine. It was, however, the doctrine destined to prevail in epochs
of advanced civilization. Bulloch can be considered as the creator of
civil law in Penguinia.
IV. THE FIRST ASSEMBLY OF THE ESTATES OF PENGUINIA
“Bulloch, my son,” said old Maël, “we ought to make a census of the
Penguins and inscribe each of their names in a book.”
“It is a most urgent matter,” answered Bulloch, “there can be no good
government without it.”
Forthwith, the apostle, with the help of twelve monks, proceeded to
make a census of the people.
And old Maël then said:
“Now that we keep a register of all the inhabitants, we ought, Bulloch,
my son, to levy a just tax so as to provide for public expenses and the
maintenance of the Abbey. Each ought to contribute according to his
means. For this reason, my son, call together the Elders of Alca, and
in agreement with them we shall establish the tax.”
The Elders, being called together, assembled to the number of thirty
under the great sycamore in the courtyard of the wooden monastery. They
were the first Estates of Penguinia. Three-fourths of them were
substantial peasants of Surelle and Clange. Greatauk, as the noblest of
the Penguins, sat upon the highest stone.
The venerable Maël took his place in the midst of his monks and uttered
these words:
“Children, the Lord when he pleases grants riches to men and he takes
them away from them. Now I have called you together to levy
contributions from the people so as to provide for public expenses and
the maintenance of the monks. I consider that these contributions ought
to be in proportion to the wealth of each. Therefore he who has a
hundred oxen will give ten; he who has ten will give one.”
When the holy man had spoken, Morio, a labourer at Anis-on-the-Clange,
one of the richest of the Penguins, rose up and said:
“O Father Maël, I think it right that each should contribute to the
public expenses and to the support of the Church. For my part I am
ready to give up all that I possess in the interest of my brother
Penguins, and if it were necessary I would even cheerfully part with my
shirt. All the elders of the people are ready, like me, to sacrifice
their goods, and no one can doubt their absolute devotion to their
country and their creed. We have, then, only to consider the public
interest and to do what it requires. Now, Father, what it requires,
what it demands, is not to ask much from those who possess much, for
then the rich would be less rich and the poor still poorer. The poor
live on the wealth of the rich and that is the reason why that wealth
is sacred. Do not touch it, to do so would be an uncalled for evil. You
will get no great profit by taking from the rich, for they are very few
in number; on the contrary you will strip yourself of all your
resources and plunge the country into misery. Whereas if you ask a
little from each inhabitant without regard to his wealth, you will
collect enough for the public necessities and you will have no need to
enquire into each citizen’s resources, a thing that would be regarded
by all as a most vexatious measure. By taxing all equally and easily
you will spare the poor, for you will leave them the wealth of the
rich. And how could you possibly proportion taxes to wealth? Yesterday
I had two hundred oxen, to-day I have sixty, to-morrow I shall have a
hundred. Clunic has three cows, but they are thin; Nicclu has only two,
but they are fat. Which is the richer, Clunic or Nicclu? The signs of
opulence are deceitful. What is certain is that everyone eats and
drinks. Tax people according to what they consume. That would be wisdom
and it would be justice.”
Thus spoke Morio amid the applause of the Elders.
“I ask that this speech be graven on bronze,” cried the monk, Bulloch.
“It is spoken for the future; in fifteen hundred years the best of the
Penguins will not speak otherwise.”
The Elders were still applauding when Greatauk, his hand on the pommel
of his sword, made this brief declaration:
“Being noble, I shall not contribute; for to contribute is ignoble. It
is for the rabble to pay.”
After this warning the Elders separated in silence.
As in Rome, a new census was taken every five years; and by this means
it was observed that the population increased rapidly. Although
children died in marvellous abundance and plagues and famines came with
perfect regularity to devastate entire villages, new Penguins, in
continually greater numbers, contributed by their private misery to the
public prosperity.
V. THE MARRIAGE OF KRAKEN AND ORBEROSIA
During these times there lived in the island of Alca a Penguin whose
arm was strong and whose mind was subtle. He was called Kraken, and had
his dwelling on the Beach of Shadows whither the inhabitants never
ventured for fear of serpents that lodged in the hollows of the rocks
and lest they might encounter the souls of Penguins that had died
without baptism. These, in appearance like livid flames, and uttering
doleful groans, wandered night and day along the deserted beach. For it
was generally believed, though without proof, that among the Penguins
that had been changed into men at the blessed Maël’s prayer, several
had not received baptism and returned after their death to lament amid
the tempests. Kraken dwelt on this savage coast in an inaccessible
cavern. The only way to it was through a natural tunnel a hundred feet
long, the entrance of which was concealed by a thick wood. One evening
as Kraken was walking through this deserted plain he happened to meet a
young and charming woman Penguin. She was the one that the monk Magis
had clothed with his own hands and thus was the first to have worn the
garments of chastity. In remembrance of the day when the astonished
crowd of Penguins had seen her moving gloriously in her robe tinted
like the dawn, this maiden had received the name of Orberosia.[1]
[1] “Orb, poetically, a globe when speaking of the heavenly bodies. By
extension any species of globular body.”—_Littré_
At the sight of Kraken she uttered a cry of alarm and darted forward to
escape from him. But the hero seized her by the garments that floated
behind her, and addressed her in these words:
“Damsel, tell me thy name, thy family and thy country.”
But Orberosia kept looking at Kraken with alarm.
“Is it you, I see, sir,” she asked him, trembling, “or is it not rather
your troubled spirit?”
She spoke in this way because the inhabitants of Alca, having no news
of Kraken since he went to live on the Beach of Shadows, believed that
he had died and descended among the demons of night.
“Cease to fear, daughter of Alca,” answered Kraken. “He who speaks to
thee is not a wandering spirit, but a man full of strength and might. I
shall soon possess great riches.”
And young Orberosia asked:
“How dost thou think of acquiring great riches, O Kraken, since thou
art a child of Penguins?”
“By my intelligence,” answered Kraken.
“I know,” said Orberosia, “that in the time that thou dwelt among us
thou wert renowned for thy skill in hunting and fishing. No one
equalled thee in taking fishes in a net or in piercing with thy arrows
the swift-flying birds.”
“It was but a vulgar and laborious industry, O maiden. I have found a
means of gaining much wealth for myself without fatigue. But tell me
who thou art?”
“I am called Orberosia,” answered the young girl.
“Why art thou so far away from thy dwelling and in the night?”
“Kraken, it was not without the will of Heaven.”
“What meanest thou, Orberosia?”
“That Heaven, O Kraken, placed me in thy path, for what reason I know
not.”
Kraken beheld her for a long time in silence.
Then he said with gentleness:
“Orberosia, come into my house; it is that of the bravest and most
ingenious of the sons of the Penguins. If thou art willing to follow
me, I will make thee my companion.”
Then casting down her eyes, she murmured:
“I will follow thee, master.”
It is thus that the fair Orberosia became the consort of the hero
Kraken. This marriage was not celebrated with songs and torches because
Kraken did not consent to show himself to the people of the Penguins;
but hidden in his cave he planned great designs.
VI. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
“We afterwards went to visit the cabinet of natural history. . . . The
care-taker showed us a sort of packet bound in straw that he told us
contained the skeleton of a dragon; a proof, added he, that the dragon
is not a fabulous animal.”—_Memoirs of Jacques Casanova_, Paris, 1843.
Vol. IV., pp. 404, 405
In the meantime the inhabitants of Alca practised the labours of peace.
Those of the northern coast went in boats to fish or to search for
shell-fish. The labourers of Dombes cultivated oats, rye, and wheat.
The rich Penguins of the valley of Dalles reared domestic animals,
while those of the Bay of Divers cultivated their orchards. Merchants
of Port-Alca carried on a trade in salt fish with Armorica and the gold
of the two Britains, which began to be introduced into the island,
facilitated exchange. The Penguin people were enjoying the fruit of
their labours in perfect tranquillity when suddenly a sinister rumour
ran from village to village. It was said everywhere that a frightful
dragon had ravaged two farms in the Bay of Divers.
A few days before, the maiden Orberosia had disappeared. Her absence
had at first caused no uneasiness because on several occasions she had
been carried off by violent men who were consumed with love. And
thoughtful people were not astonished at this, reflecting that the
maiden was the most beautiful of the Penguins. It was even remarked
that she sometimes went to meet her ravishers, for none of us can
escape his destiny. But this time, as she did not return, it was feared
that the dragon had devoured her. The more so as the inhabitants of the
valley of Dalles soon knew that the dragon was not a fable told by the
women around the fountains. For one night the monster devoured out of
the village of Anis six hens, a sheep, and a young orphan child called
little Elo. The next morning nothing was to be found either of the
animals or of the child.
Immediately the Elders of the village assembled in the public place and
seated themselves on the stone bench to take counsel concerning what it
was expedient to do in these terrible circumstances.
Having called all those Penguins who had seen the dragon during the
disastrous night, they asked them:
“Have you not noticed his form and his behaviour?”
And each answered in his turn:
“He has the claws of a lion, the wings of an eagle, and the tail of a
serpent.”
“His back bristles with thorny crests.”
“His whole body is covered with yellow scales.”
“His look fascinates and confounds. He vomits flames.”
“He poisons the air with his breath.”
“He has the head of a dragon, the claws of a lion, and the tail of a
fish.”
And a woman of Anis, who was regarded as intelligent and of sound
judgment and from whom the dragon had taken three hens, deposed as
follows:
“He is formed like a man. The proof is that I thought he was my
husband, and I said to him, ‘Come to bed, you old fool.’”
Others said:
“He is formed like a cloud.”
“He looks like a mountain.”
And a little child came and said:
“I saw the dragon taking off his head in the barn so that he might give
a kiss to my sister Minnie.”
And the Elders also asked the inhabitants:
“How big is the dragon?”
And it was answered:
“As big as an ox.”
“Like the big merchant ships of the Bretons.”
“He is the height of a man.”
“He is higher than the fig-tree under which you are sitting.”
“He is as large as a dog.”
Questioned finally on his colour, the inhabitants said:
“Red.”
“Green.”
“Blue.”
“Yellow.”
“His head is bright green, his wings are brilliant orange tinged with
pink, his limbs are silver grey, his hind-quarters and his tail are
striped with brown and pink bands, his belly bright yellow spotted with
black.”
“His colour? He has no colour.”
“He is the colour of a dragon.”
After hearing this evidence the Elders remained uncertain as to what
should be done. Some advised to watch for him, to surprise him and
overthrow him by a multitude of arrows. Others, thinking it vain to
oppose so powerful a monster by force, counselled that he should be
appeased by offerings.
“Pay him tribute,” said one of them who passed for a wise man. “We can
render him propitious to us by giving him agreeable presents, fruits,
wine, lambs, a young virgin.”
Others held for poisoning the fountains where he was accustomed to
drink or for smoking him out of his cavern.
But none of these counsels prevailed. The dispute was lengthy and the
Elders dispersed without coming to any resolution.
VII. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
During all the month dedicated by the Romans to their false god Mars or
Mavors, the dragon ravaged the farms of Dalles and Dombes. He carried
off fifty sheep, twelve pigs, and three young boys. Every family was in
mourning and the island was full of lamentations. In order to remove
the scourge, the Elders of the unfortunate villages watered by the
Clange and the Surelle resolved to assemble and together go and ask the
help of the blessed Maël.
On the fifth day of the month whose name among the Latins signifies
opening, because it opens the year, they went in procession to the
wooden monastery that had been built on the southern coast of the
island. When they were introduced into the cloister they filled it with
their sobs and groans. Moved by their lamentations, old Maël left the
room in which he devoted himself to the study of astronomy and the
meditation of the Scriptures, and went down to them, leaning on his
pastoral staff. At his approach, the Elders, prostrating themselves,
held out to him green branches of trees and some of them burnt aromatic
herbs.
And the holy man, seating himself beside the cloistral fountain under
an ancient fig-tree, uttered these words:
“O my sons, offspring of the Penguins, why do you weep and groan? Why
do you hold out those suppliant boughs towards me? Why do you raise
towards heaven the smoke of those herbs? What calamity do you expect
that I can avert from your heads? Why do you beseech me? I am ready to
give my life for you. Only tell your father what it is you hope from
him.”
To these questions the chief of the Elders answered:
“O Maël, father of the sons of Alca, I will speak for all. A horrible
dragon is laying waste our lands, depopulating our cattle-sheds, and
carrying off the flower of our youth. He has devoured the child Elo and
seven young boys; he has mangled the maiden Orberosia, the fairest of
the Penguins, with his teeth. There is not a village in which he does
not emit his poisoned breath and which he has not filled with
desolation. A prey to this terrible scourge, we come, O Maël, to pray
thee, as the wisest, to advise us concerning the safety of the
inhabitants of this island lest the ancient race of Penguins be
extinguished.”
“O chief of the Elders of Alca,” replied Maël, “thy words fill me with
profound grief, and I groan at the thought that this island is the prey
of a terrible dragon. But such an occurrence is not unique, for we find
in books several tales of very fierce dragons. The monsters are
oftenest found in caverns, by the brinks of waters, and, in preference,
among pagan peoples. Perhaps there are some among you who, although
they have received holy baptism and been incorporated into the family
of Abraham, have yet worshipped idols, like the ancient Romans, or hung
up images, votive tablets, fillets of wool, and garlands of flowers on
the branches of some sacred tree. Or perhaps some of the women Penguins
have danced round a magic stone and drunk water from the fountains
where the nymphs dwell. If it be so, believe, O Penguins, that the Lord
has sent this dragon to punish all for the crimes of some, and to lead
you, O children of the Penguins, to exterminate blasphemy,
superstition, and impiety from amongst you. For this reason I advise,
as a remedy against the great evil from which you suffer, that you
carefully search your dwellings for idolatry, and extirpate it from
them. I think it would be also efficacious to pray and do penance.”
Thus spoke the holy Maël. And the Elders of the Penguin people kissed
his feet and returned to their villages with renewed hope.
VIII. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
Following the counsel of the holy Maël the inhabitants of Alca
endeavoured to uproot the superstitions that had sprung up amongst
them. They took care to prevent the girls from dancing with
incantations round the fairy tree. Young mothers were sternly forbidden
to rub their children against the stones that stood upright in the
fields so as to make them strong. An old man of Dombes who foretold the
future by shaking grains of barley on a sieve, was thrown into a well.
However, each night the monster still raided the poultry-yards and the
cattle-sheds. The frightened peasants barricaded themselves in their
houses. A woman with child who saw the shadow of a dragon on the road
through a window in the moonlight, was so terrified that she was
brought to bed before her time.
In those days of trial, the holy Maël meditated unceasingly on the
nature of dragons and the means of combating them. After six months of
study and prayer he thought he had found what he sought. One evening as
he was walking by the sea with a young monk called Samuel, he expressed
his thought to him in these terms:
“I have studied at length the history and habits of dragons, not to
satisfy a vain curiosity, but to discover examples to follow in the
present circumstances. For such, Samuel, my son, is the use of history.
“It is an invariable fact that dragons are extremely vigilant. They
never sleep, and for this reason we often find them employed in
guarding treasures. A dragon guarded at Colchis the golden fleece that
Jason conquered from him. A dragon watched over the golden apples in
the garden of the Hesperides. He was killed by Hercules and transformed
into a star by Juno. This fact is related in some books, and if it be
true, it was done by magic, for the gods of the pagans are in reality
demons. A dragon prevented barbarous and ignorant men from drinking at
the fountain of Castalia. We must also remember the dragon of
Andromeda, which was slain by Perseus. But let us turn from these pagan
fables, in which error is always mixed with truth. We meet dragons in
the histories of the glorious archangel Michael, of St. George, St.
Philip, St. James the Great, St. Patrick, St. Martha, and St. Margaret.
And it is in such writings, since they are worthy of full credence,
that we ought to look for comfort and counsel.
“The story of the dragon of Silena affords us particularly precious
examples. You must know, my son, that on the banks of a vast pool close
to that town there dwelt a dragon who sometimes approached the walls
and poisoned with his breath all who dwelt in the suburbs. And that
they might not be devoured by the monster, the inhabitants of Silena
delivered up to him one of their number every morning. The victim was
chosen by lot, and after a hundred others, the lot fell upon the king’s
daughter.
“Now St. George, who was a military tribune, as he passed through the
town of Silena, learned that the king’s daughter had just been given to
the fierce beast. He immediately mounted his horse, and, armed with his
lance, rushed to encounter the dragon, whom he reached just as the
monster was about to devour the royal virgin. And when St. George had
overthrown the dragon, the king’s daughter fastened her girdle round
the beast’s neck and he followed her like a dog led on a leash.
“That is an example for us of the power of virgins over dragons. The
history of St. Martha furnishes us with a still more certain proof. Do
you know the story, Samuel, my son?”
“Yes, father,” answered Samuel.
And the blessed Maël went on:
“There was in a forest on the banks of the Rhone, between Arles and
Avignon, a dragon half quadruped and half fish, larger than an ox, with
sharp teeth like horns and huge wings at his shoulders. He sank the
boats and devoured their passengers. Now St. Martha, at the entreaty of
the people, approached this dragon, whom she found devouring a man. She
put her girdle round his neck and led him easily into the town.
“These two examples lead me to think that we should have recourse to
the power of some virgin so as to conquer the dragon who scatters
terror and death through the island of Alca.
“For this reason, Samuel my son, gird up thy loins and go, I pray thee,
with two of thy companions, into all the villages of this island, and
proclaim everywhere that a virgin alone shall be able to deliver the
island from the monster that devastates it.
“Thou shalt sing psalms and canticles and thou shalt say:
“‘O sons of the Penguins, if there be among you a pure virgin, let her
arise and go, armed with the sign of the cross, to combat the dragon!’”
Thus the old man spake, and Samuel promised to obey him. The next day
he girded up his loins and set out with two of his companions to
proclaim to the inhabitants of Alca that a virgin alone would be able
to deliver the Penguins from the rage of the dragon.
IX. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
Orberosia loved her husband, but she did not love him alone. At the
hour when Venus lightens in the pale sky, whilst Kraken scattered
terror through the villages, she used to visit in his moving hut, a
young shepherd of Dalles called Marcel, whose pleasing form was
invested with inexhaustible vigour. The fair Orberosia shared the
shepherd’s aromatic couch with delight, but far from making herself
known to him, she took the name of Bridget, and said that she was the
daughter of a gardener in the Bay of Divers. When regretfully she left
his arms she walked across the smoking fields towards the Coast of
Shadows, and if she happened to meet some belated peasant she
immediately spread out her garments like great wings and cried:
“Passer by, lower your eyes, that you may not have to say, ‘Alas! alas!
woe is me, for I have seen the angel of the Lord.’”
The villagers tremblingly knelt with their faces to the round. And
several of them used to say that angels, whom it would be death to see,
passed along the roads of the island in the night time.
Kraken did not know of the loves of Orberosia and Marcel, for he was a
hero, and heroes never discover the secrets of their wives. But though
he did not know of these loves, he reaped the benefit of them. Every
night he found his companion more good-humoured and more beautiful,
exhaling pleasure and perfuming the nuptial bed with a delicious odour
of fennel and vervain. She loved Kraken with a love that never became
importunate or anxious, because she did not rest its whole weight on
him alone.
This lucky infidelity of Orberosia was destined soon to save the hero
from a great peril and to assure his fortune and his glory for ever.
For it happened that she saw passing in the twilight a neatherd from
Belmont, who was goading on his oxen, and she fell more deeply in love
with him than she had ever been with the shepherd Marcel. He was
hunch-backed; his shoulders were higher than his ears; his body was
supported by legs of different lengths; his rolling eyes flashed, from
beneath his matted hair. From his throat issued a hoarse voice and
strident laughter; he smelt of the cow-shed. However, to her he was
beautiful. “A plant,” as Gnatho says, “has been loved by one, a stream
by another, a beast by a third.”
Now, one day, as she was sighing within the neatherd’s arms in a
village barn, suddenly the blasts of a trumpet, with sounds and
footsteps, fell upon her ears; she looked through the window and saw
the inhabitants collected in the marketplace round a young monk, who,
standing upon a rock, uttered these words in a distinct voice:
“Inhabitants of Belmont, Abbot Maël, our venerable father, informs you
through my mouth that neither by strength nor skill in arms shall you
prevail against the dragon; but the beast shall be overcome by a
virgin. If, then, there be among you a perfectly pure virgin, let her
arise and go towards the monster; and when she meets him let her tie
her girdle round his neck and she shall lead him as easily as if he
were a little dog.”
And the young monk, replacing his hood upon his head, departed to carry
the proclamation of the blessed Maël to other villages.
Orberosia sat in the amorous straw, resting her head in her hand and
supporting her elbow upon her knee, meditating on what she had just
heard.
Although, so far as Kraken was concerned, she feared the power of a
virgin much less than the strength of armed men, she did not feel
reassured by the proclamation of the blessed Maël. A vague but sure
instinct ruled her mind and warned her that Kraken could not henceforth
be a dragon with safety.
She said to the neatherd:
“My own heart, what do you think about the dragon?”
The rustic shook his head.
“It is certain that dragons laid waste the earth in ancient times and
some have been seen as large as mountains. But they come no longer, and
I believe that what has been taken for a dragon is not one at all, but
pirates or merchants who have carried off the fair Orberosia and the
best of the children of Alca in their ships. But if one of those
brigands attempts to rob me of my oxen, I will either by force or craft
find a way to prevent him from doing me any harm.”
This remark of the neatherd increased Orberosia’s apprehensions and
added to her solicitude for the husband whom she loved.
X. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
The days passed by and no maiden arose in the island to combat the
monster. And in the wooden monastery old Maël, seated on a bench in the
shade of an old fig-tree, accompanied by a pious monk called
Regimental, kept asking himself anxiously and sadly how it was that
there was not in Alca a single virgin fit to overthrow the monster.
He sighed and brother Regimental sighed too. At that moment old Maël
called young Samuel, who happened to pass through the garden, and said
to him:
“I have meditated anew, my son, on the means of destroying the dragon
who devours the flower of our youth, our flocks, and our harvests. In
this respect the story of the dragons of St. Riok and of St. Pol de
Leon seems to me particularly instructive. The dragon of St. Riok was
six fathoms long; his head was derived from the cock and the basilisk,
his body from the ox and the serpent; he ravaged the banks of the Elorn
in the time of King Bristocus. St. Riok, then aged two years, led him
by a leash to the sea, in which the monster drowned himself of his own
accord. St. Pol’s dragon was sixty feet long and not less terrible. The
blessed apostle of Leon bound him with his stole and allowed a young
noble of great purity of life to lead him. These examples prove that in
the eyes of God a chaste young man is as agreeable as a chaste girl.
Heaven makes no distinction between them. For this reason, my son, if
you believe what I say, we will both go to the Coast of Shadows; when
we reach the dragon’s cavern we will call the monster in a loud voice,
and when he comes forth I will tie my stole round his neck and you will
lead him to the sea, where he will not fail to drown himself.”
At the old man’s words Samuel cast down his head and did not answer.
“You seem to hesitate, my son,” said Maël.
Brother Regimental, contrary to his custom, spoke without being
addressed.
“There is at least cause for some hesitation,” said he. “St. Riok was
only two years old when he overcame the dragon. Who says that nine or
ten years later he could have done as much? Remember, father, that the
dragon who is devastating our island has devoured little Elo and four
or five other young boys. Brother Samuel is not go presumptuous as to
believe that at nineteen years of age he is more innocent than they
were at twelve and fourteen.
“Alas!” added the monk, with a groan, “who can boast of being chaste in
this world, where everything gives the example and model of love, where
all things in nature, animals, and plants, show us the caresses of love
and advise us to share them? Animals are eager to unite in their own
fashion, but the various marriages of quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and
reptiles are far from equalling in lust the nuptials of the trees. The
greatest extremes of lewdness that the pagans have imagined in their
fables are outstripped by the simple flowers of the field, and, if you
knew the irregularities of lilies and roses you would take those
chalices of impurity, those vases of scandal, away from your altars.”
“Do not speak in this way, Brother Regimental,” answered old Maël.
“Since they are subject to the law of nature, animals and plants are
always innocent. They have no souls to save, whilst man—”
“You are right,” replied Brother Regimental, “it is quite a different
thing. But do not send young Samuel to the dragon—the dragon might
devour him. For the last five years Samuel is not in a state to show
his innocence to monsters. In the year of the comet, the Devil in order
to seduce him, put in his path a milkmaid, who was lifting up her
petticoat to cross a ford. Samuel was tempted, but he overcame the
temptation. The Devil, who never tires, sent him the image of that
young girl in a dream. The shade did what the reality was unable to
accomplish, and Samuel yielded. When he awoke be moistened his couch
with his tears, but alas! repentance did not give him back his
innocence.”
As he listened to this story Samuel asked himself how his secret could
be known, for he was ignorant that the Devil had borrowed the
appearance of Brother Regimental, so as to trouble the hearts of the
monks of Alca.
And old Maël remained deep in thought and kept asking himself in grief:
“Who will deliver us from the dragon’s tooth? Who will preserve us from
his breath? Who will save us from his look?”
However, the inhabitants of Alca began to take courage. The labourers
of Dombes and the neatherds of Belmont swore that they themselves would
be of more avail than a girl against the ferocious beast, and they
exclaimed as they stroked the muscles on their arms, “Let the dragon
come!” Many men and women had seen him. They did not agree about his
form and his figure, but all now united in saying that he was not as
big as they had thought, and that his height was not much greater than
a man’s. The defence was organised; towards nightfall watches were
stationed at the entrances of the villages ready to give the alarm; and
during the night companies armed with pitchforks and scythes protected
the paddocks in which the animals were shut up. Indeed, once in the
village of Anis some plucky labourers surprised him as he was scaling
Morio’s wall, and, as they had flails, scythes, and pitchforks, they
fell upon him and pressed him hard. One of them, a very quick and
courageous man, thought to have run him through with his pitchfork; but
he slipped in a pool and so let him escape. The others would certainly
have caught him had they not waited to pick up the rabbits and fowls
that he dropped in his flight.
Those labourers declared to the Elders of the village that the
monster’s form and proportions appeared to them human enough except for
his head and his tail, which were, in truth, terrifying.
XI. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
On that day Kraken came back to his cavern sooner than usual. He took
from his head his sealskin helmet with its two bull’s horns and its
visor trimmed with terrible hooks. He threw on the table his gloves
that ended in horrible claws—they were the beaks of sea-birds. He
unhooked his belt from which hung a long green tail twisted into many
folds. Then he ordered his page, Elo, to help him off with his boots
and, as the child did not succeed in doing this very quickly, he gave
him a kick that sent him to the other end of the grotto.
Without looking at the fair Orberosia, who was spinning, he seated
himself in front of the fireplace, on which a sheep was roasting, and
he muttered:
“Ignoble Penguins. . . . There is no worse trade than a dragon’s.”
“What does my master say?” asked the fair Orberosia.
“They fear me no longer,” continued Kraken. “Formerly everyone fled at
my approach. I carried away hens and rabbits in my bag; I drove sheep
and pigs, cows, and oxen before me. To-day these clod-hoppers keep a
good guard; they sit up at night. Just now I was pursued in the village
of Anis by doughty labourers armed with flails and scythes and
pitchforks. I had to drop the hens and rabbits, put my tail under my
arm, and run as fast as I could. Now I ask you, is it seemly for a
dragon of Cappadocia to run away like a robber with his tail under his
arm? Further, incommoded as I was by crests, horns, hooks, claws, and
scales, I barely escaped a brute who ran half an inch of his pitchfork
into my left thigh.”
As he said this he carefully ran his hand over the insulted part, and,
after giving himself up for a few moments to bitter meditation:
“What idiots those Penguins are! I am tired of blowing flames in the
faces of such imbeciles. Orberosia, do you hear me?”
Having thus spoken the hero raised his terrible helmet in his hands and
gazed at it for a long time in gloomy silence. Then he pronounced these
rapid words:
“I have made this helmet with my own hands in the shape of a fish’s
head, covering it with the skin of a seal. To make it more terrible I
have put on it the horns of a bull and I have given it a boar’s jaws; I
have hung from it a horse’s tail dyed vermilion. When in the gloomy
twilight I threw it over my shoulders no inhabitant of this island had
courage to withstand its sight. Women and children, young men and old
men fled distracted at its approach, and I carried terror among the
whole race of Penguins. By what advice does that insolent people lose
its earlier fears and dare to-day to behold these horrible jaws and to
attack this terrible crest?”
And throwing his helmet on the rocky soil:
“Perish, deceitful helmet!” cried Kraken. “I swear by all the demons of
Armor that I will never bear you upon my head again.”
And having uttered this oath he stamped upon his helmet, his gloves,
his boots, and upon his tail with its twisted folds.
“Kraken,” said the fair Orberosia, “will you allow your servant to
employ artifice to save your reputation and your goods? Do not despise
a woman’s help. You need it, for all men are imbeciles.”
“Woman,” asked Kraken, “what are your plans?”
And the fair Orberosia informed her husband that the monks were going
through the villages teaching the inhabitants the best way of combating
the dragon; that, according to their instructions, the beast would be
overcome by a virgin, and that if a maid placed her girdle around the
dragon’s neck she could lead him as easily as if he were a little dog.
“How do you know that the monks teach this?” asked Kraken.
“My friend,” answered Orberosia, “do not interrupt a serious subject by
frivolous questions. . . . ‘If, then,’ added the monks, ‘there be in
Alca a pure virgin, let her arise!’ Now, Kraken, I have determined to
answer their call. I will go and find the holy Maël and I will say to
him: ‘I am the virgin destined by Heaven to overthrow the dragon.’”
At these words Kraken exclaimed: “How can you be that pure virgin? And
why do you want to overthrow me, Orberosia? Have you lost your reason?
Be sure that I will not allow myself to be conquered by you!”
“Can you not try and understand me before you get angry?” sighed the
fair Orberosia with deep though gentle contempt.
And she explained the cunning designs that she had formed.
As he listened, the hero remained pensive. And when she ceased
speaking:
“Orberosia, your cunning, is deep,” said he, “And if your plans are
carried out according to your intentions I shall derive great
advantages from them. But how can you be the virgin destined by
heaven?”
“Don’t bother about that,” she replied, “and come to bed.”
The next day in the grease-laden atmosphere of the cavern, Kraken
plaited a deformed skeleton out of osier rods and covered it with
bristling, scaly, and filthy skins. To one extremity of the skeleton
Orberosia sewed the fierce crest and the hideous mask that Kraken used
to wear in his plundering expeditions, and to the other end she
fastened the tail with twisted folds which the hero was wont to trail
behind him. And when the work was finished they showed little Elo and
the other five children who waited on them how to get inside this
machine, how to make it walk, how to blow horns and burn tow in it so
as to send forth smoke and flames through the dragon’s mouth.
XII. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation_)
Orberosia, having clothed herself in a robe made of coarse stuff and
girt herself with a thick cord, went to the monastery and asked to
speak to the blessed Maël. And because women were forbidden to enter
the enclosure of the monastery the old man advanced outside the gates,
holding his pastoral cross in his right hand and resting his left on
the shoulder of Brother Samuel, the youngest of his disciples.
He asked:
“Woman, who art thou?”
“I am the maiden Orberosia.”
At this reply Maël raised his trembling arms to heaven.
“Do you speak truth, woman? It is a certain fact that Orberosia was
devoured by the dragon. And yet I see Orberosia and hear her. Did you
not, O my daughter, while within the dragon’s bowels arm yourself with
the sign of the cross and come uninjured out of his throat? That is
what seems to me the most credible explanation.”
“You are not deceived, father,” answered Orberosia. “That is precisely
what happened to me. Immediately I came out of the creature’s bowels I
took refuge in a hermitage on the Coast of Shadows. I lived there in
solitude, giving myself up to prayer and meditation, and performing
unheard of austerities, until I learnt by a revelation from heaven that
a maid alone could overcome the dragon, and that I was that maid.”
“Show me a sign of your mission,” said the old man.
“I myself am the sign,” answered Orberosia.
“I am not ignorant of the power of those who have placed a seal upon
their flesh,” replied the apostle of the Penguins. “But are you indeed
such as you say?”
“You will see by the result,” answered Orberosia.
The monk Regimental drew near:
“That will,” said he, “be the best proof. King Solomon has said: ‘Three
things are hard to understand and a fourth is impossible: they are the
way of a serpent on the earth, the way of a bird in the air, the way of
a ship in the sea, and the way of a man with a maid!’ I regard such
matrons as nothing less than presumptuous who claim to compare
themselves in these matters with the wisest of kings. Father, if you
are led by me you will not consult them in regard to the pious
Orberosia. When they have given their opinion you will not be a bit
farther on than before. Virginity is not less difficult to prove than
to keep. Pliny tells us in his history that its signs are either
imaginary or very uncertain.[2] One who bears upon her the fourteen
signs of corruption may yet be pure in the eyes of the angels, and, on
the contrary, another who has been pronounced pure by the matrons who
inspected her may know that her good appearance is due to the artifices
of a cunning perversity. As for the purity of this holy girl here, I
would put my hand in the fire in witness of it.”
[2] We have vainly sought for this phrase in Pliny’s “Natural
History.”—_Editor_.
He spoke thus because he was the Devil. But old Maël did not know it.
He asked the pious Orberosia:
“My daughter, how, would you proceed to conquer so fierce an animal as
he who devoured you?”
The virgin answered:
“To-morrow at sunrise, O Maël, you will summon the people together on
the hill in front of the desolate moor that extends to the Coast of
Shadows, and you will take care that no man of the Penguins remains
less than five hundred paces from those rocks so that he may not be
poisoned by the monster’s breath. And the dragon will come out of the
rocks and I will put my girdle round his neck and lead him like an
obedient dog.”
“Ought you not to be accompanied by a courageous and pious man who will
kill the dragon?” asked Maël.
“It will be as thou sayest, venerable father. I shall deliver the
monster to Kraken, who will stay him with his flashing sword. For I
tell thee that the noble Kraken, who was believed to be dead, will
return among the Penguins and he shall slay the dragon. And from the
creature’s belly will come forth the little children whom he has
devoured.”
“What you declare to me, O virgin,” cried the apostle, “seems wonderful
and beyond human power.”
“It is,” answered the virgin Orberosia. “But learn, O Maël, that I have
had a revelation that as a reward for their deliverance, the Penguin
people will pay to the knight Kraken an annual tribute of three hundred
fowls, twelve sheep, two oxen, three pigs, one thousand eight hundred
bushels of corn, and vegetables according to their season; and that,
moreover, the children who will come out of the dragon’s belly will be
given and committed to the said Kraken to serve him and obey him in all
things. If the Penguin people fail to keep their engagements a new
dragon will come upon the island more terrible than the first. I have
spoken.”
XIII. THE DRAGON OF ALCA
(_Continuation and End_)
The people of the Penguins were assembled by Maël and they spent the
night on the Coast of Shadows within the bounds which the holy man had
prescribed in order that none among the Penguins should be poisoned by
the monster’s breath.
The veil of night still covered the earth when, preceded by a hoarse
bellowing, the dragon showed his indistinct and monstrous form upon the
rocky coast. He crawled like a serpent and his writhing body seemed
about fifteen feet long. At his appearance the crowd drew back in
terror. But soon all eyes were turned towards the Virgin Orberosia,
who, in the first light of the dawn, clothed in white, advanced over
the purple heather. With an intrepid though modest gait she walked
towards the beast, who, uttering awful bellowings, opened his flaming
throat. An immense cry of terror and pity arose from the midst of the
Penguins. But the virgin, unloosing her linen girdle, put it round the
dragon’s neck and led him on the leash like a faithful dog amid the
acclamations of the spectators.
She had walked over a long stretch of the heath when Kraken appeared
armed with a flashing sword. The people, who believed him dead, uttered
cries of joy and surprise. The hero rushed towards the beast, turned
him over on his back, and with his sword cut open his belly, from
whence came forth in their shirts, with curling hair and folded hands,
little Elo and the five other children whom the monster had devoured.
Immediately they threw themselves on their knees before the virgin
Orberosia, who took them in her arms and whispered into their ears:
“You will go through the villages saying: ‘We are the poor little
children who were devoured by the dragon, and we came out of his belly
in our shirts.’ The inhabitants will give you abundance of all that you
can desire. But if you say anything else you will get nothing but cuffs
and whippings. Go!”
Several Penguins, seeing the dragon disembowelled, rushed forward to
cut him to pieces, some from a feeling of rage and vengeance, others to
get the magic stone called dragonite, that is engendered in his head.
The mothers of the children who had come back to life ran to embrace
their little ones. But the holy Maël kept them back, saying that none
of them were holy enough to approach a dragon without dying.
And soon little Elo, and the five other children came towards the
people and said:
“We are the poor little children who were devoured by the dragon and we
came out of his belly in our shirts.”
And all who heard them kissed them and said:
“Blessed children, we will give you abundance of all that you can
desire.”
And the crowd of people dispersed, full of joy, singing hymns and
canticles.
To commemorate this day on which Providence delivered the people from a
cruel scourge, processions were established in which the effigy of a
chained dragon was led about.
Kraken levied the tribute and became the richest and most powerful of
the Penguins. As a sign of his victory and so as to inspire a salutary
terror, he wore a dragon’s crest upon his head and he had a habit of
saying to the people:
“Now that the monster is dead I am the dragon.”
For many years Orberosia bestowed her favours upon neatherds and
shepherds, whom she thought equal to the gods. But when she was no
longer beautiful she consecrated herself to the Lord.
At her death she became the object of public veneration, and was
admitted into the calendar of the saints and adopted as the patron
saint of Penguinia.
Kraken left a son, who, like his father, wore a dragon’s crest, and he
was for this reason surnamed Draco. He was the founder of the first
royal dynasty of the Penguins.