VII.—Religious Tales.

We give these tales simply as specimens of a literature which in mediæval times rivalled in popularity and interest all other kinds of literature put together. That even yet it is not without attraction, and that to minds which in some aspects seem most opposed to its influence, the preface of the late Charles Kingsley to “The Hermits” conclusively shows. Such tales have, too, a deeper interest to all who study the manner in which at a certain stage of intellectual cultivation the human mind seems alone able to take hold upon religious truth; or, at least, the side on which it is then most susceptible to its impressions. It is easy enough to laugh at these legends, and to throw them aside in contempt, as alternately irreverent or superstitious; but their very existence has an historical value which no ecclesiastical historian should neglect. Their grossness and rudeness to a great extent hide from us their real tenderness and true religious feeling; but they were, doubtless, to those who first heard them, and are still to those who now recite them, fully as instructive, and have quite as beneficial, purifying, and ennobling influence on them as the most polished and refined of the religious tales of the present day have on the young of our own generation.

Jesus Christ and the Old Soldier.

Once upon a time, when Jesus Christ was going with His disciples to Jerusalem, He met an old man, and asked alms of him. The old man said to Him:

“I am an old soldier, and they sent me away from the army with only two sous, because I was no longer good for anything. I have already given away one sou on the road; I have only one left, and I give that to you.”

Then our Lord says to him, “Which would you prefer, a sack of gold or Paradise?”

St. Peter gently nudges the old man in the ribs, “Say Paradise.”

“What! Paradise!” says the old soldier. “Afterwards we shall have Paradise as well. I prefer a sack of gold.”

And our Lord gives him the sack of gold, and He said as He gave it to him:

“When this sack is empty it will be sufficient to say, ‘Artchila murtchila! go into my sack,’ and everything you wish for will go into the sack.”

Our man takes the sack and goes on his road. When he had gone a little way he passed before the door of an inn, and sees a fine leg of mutton on the table. He was hungry, and, opening his sack, he said:

“Artchila murtchila! fine leg of mutton, come into my sack!” and in an instant it was in it; and in the same way he had everything he wished for.

One day the devil came to tempt this old man, but, as soon as he heard him, he opened his sack and said:

“Artchila murtchila! go into my sack!”

And the devil himself entered into the sack. He takes the sack with the devil in it to a blacksmith, and for a long time and very vigorously he pounded it with his sledgehammer.

When the old soldier died he went to Paradise. When he arrived there St. Peter appears, and says to him:

“Why are you standing there? And what are you asking for?”

“Paradise.”

“What! Paradise!! Did not you prefer to have a sack of gold when God gave you the choice? Be off from here. Be off to hell. There are the gates, there.”

Our old man, in deepest sadness, goes to the door of hell, and knocks; but as soon as the door was opened the devil recognised his soldier, and began to cry out:

“Don’t let him come in! Don’t let him come in! He will cause us too much trouble, and too many misfortunes. He is so very vicious!”

And he will not receive him; so he returns again to Paradise, and God commanded St. Peter to let this man enter who had been such a foe to the devil.

The Poor Soldier and the Rich Man.

Like many others in the world, there was a man and his wife. They had an only son. The time for the conscription arrived. He went away with much regret. At the end of the seven years he was returning home with five sous in his pocket. As he was walking along a poor man came up to him, and asked charity in the Name of God. He gave him a sou, telling him that he had only five sous, but that he could not refuse at the Name of God. A moment after another poor man presents himself, and asks charity in the Name of God. He gives to him, telling him repeatedly:

“I, who had only five sous to take home after seven years of service—I have already given away one of them; but I cannot refuse you—I shall have still enough left to get a breakfast with.”

And he goes on, but a moment after comes another poor man, and he gives again. This poor man says to him:

“You will go to such a house, and you must ask charity of M. Tahentozen in the Name of God. He gives charity to no one; but he will ask you in from curiosity, and to hear the news. When you have told him all that you have seen, he will ask you where you have come from. You must say that you come from Heaven, but that you have seen nothing there but poor and maimed people, and that in hell there was nothing but rich men; and that at the gate of hell there are two devils sitting in arm-chairs, ‘and I saw one arm-chair empty, and I went and asked whom it was for; and there came two devils from the gate, limping as if they were lame, and they said: “This is for M. Tahentozen. He never gives anything in charity, and, if he does not change, his place is there.”’”

Our soldier goes as he has been told, and asks charity in the Name of God. But the servant, as she always did, sent him away. The master, having heard someone, asks the servant who is there. The servant answers that it is a soldier who asks for charity. He tells her to bring him up, in order to ask the news. Our soldier tells him all that the poor man had told him to say. And there upon the rich man begins to reflect, and he keeps the soldier at his house, and makes him rich, and the rest (of his money) he divides among the poor.

Gachina, the Net-maker.

The Story of the Hair-Cloth Shirt (La Cilice).

Once upon a time, like many others in the world, there was a gentleman and a lady. They had no children, but they longed for one above everything. They made a vow to go to Rome. As soon as they had made the vow, the woman became pregnant.

The husband said to her, “We shall do well to go there at once.”

The wife said, “We have not time enough now; we can go afterwards just as well.”

The lady was confined of a boy. The boy grows up and he sees that his father is constantly sad, and he finds him often crying in all the corners. The little boy was now seven years old, and the mother had not yet decided to go to Rome. One day this young boy goes into his father’s bed-room, and finds him weeping again. He therefore said to him:

“What is the matter with you, father?”

But he will not answer him, and the child takes a pistol, and says to his father:

“If you will not tell me what is the matter with you, I will shoot first you and myself afterwards.”

The father then said that he would tell him, (and he told him) how that his mother and he had made a vow to go to Rome if they had a child, and that they had never been there.

The child said to him, “It is for me that this vow was made, and it is I who will go and fulfil it.”

He says “Good-bye,” and sets out.

He was seven years on the road, and begged his bread. At last he comes to the Holy Father, and tells him what has brought him there. Our Holy Father puts him in a room alone for an hour.

When he comes out, he says to him, “Oh, you have made a mistake; you have made me stay there two hours at least.”

Our Holy Father tells him “No!”—that he has been there only one hour. And he puts him into another room for two hours.

When he came out from there he said, “You have made me stop more than two hours.”

He says to him, “No,” and puts him in another room for three hours.

When he came out of that he said, “You have only left me there three minutes.”

And he said to him, “Yes, yes, yes; you have been there three hours.”

The child says to him, “Where am I? I in Paradise! And my father?”

“In Paradise too.”

“And my mother?”

“In hell.”

The boy was grieved, and said to him, “Can I not save my mother? I would let my blood flow for her for seven years long.”

Our Holy Father tells him that he can, and he puts on him a hair-cloth shirt with a padlock, and throws the key into the water.

And our Holy Father says to him, “When you shall find this key, your mother will be saved.”

He starts off, begging his way as before, and takes seven more years before arriving in his own country. He goes from house to house asking alms. His father meets him and asks him where he comes from. He says, “From Rome.” He asks him if he has not seen on the road a boy of his own age. He says to him, “Yes, yes,” and tells him that he has gone on walking for seven years, shedding his blood to save his mother. And he keeps on talking about his son. His mother comes out on the staircase and tells her husband to send that poor man away—that he must be off from there. But he pays no attention to her. He brings him in, and tells her that he is going to dine with them. His wife is not pleased. He sends the servant to market, telling her to buy the finest fish that she can find. When the young girl comes back, she goes to the poultry yard to clean the fish. The young man follows her, and as she was cleaning the fish she found a key inside it.

The young man said to her, “That key belongs to me.”

And she gives it to him.

The lady could not endure this young man, and she gives him a push, and he falls into the well. All on a sudden the water of the well overflows, and the young man comes out all dripping. The husband had not seen that his wife had pushed him into the well, and the young man told him that he had fallen into it. This poor man wishes to give him some clothes, but he will not accept them, saying that he will dry himself at the fire. At table the lady is not at all polite to him. The young man asks her if she would recognise her son.

She says, “Yes, yes; he has a mark between his two breasts.”

And the young man opens his clothes, and shows the mark. At the same time he gives the key to his mother that she may open his hair-cloth shirt, and the mother sees nothing but blood and gore. He has suffered for her. The three die. And the servant sees three white doves fly away. I wish I could do like them in the same way.

Gachina, the Net-maker.

The Saintly Orphan Girl.

There was a young girl who lived far from the world, alone, in sanctity. Every day a dove brought her her food.

One day she saw a young girl whom two gens-d’armes were taking to prison or to execution. The orphan said to herself:

After having seen that this orphan goes back to the house of the queen. There she lived happily, busying herself especially about this child. As she caressed it she often used to say in a sad tone:

“Poor child!”

The mother remarked that, and one day she said: “One would say that this child was very unfortunate. Do you always act thus when you caress a child, as if it were very wretched, or as if something were going to happen to it?”

She said that to her more than once. And when the (fated) age was drawing near, this orphan told the queen what must happen at the age of eighteen. I leave you to judge of the distress of this queen. She told it to her husband, and the father and mother told it to their son; and he said that he must leave the house immediately. He goes then a long way off to another town. And as he was a pretty good scholar, he got a place in a house where there was a large shop. They sold everything there; and as this lad was very good everybody loved him. They heard him go out of the house every night, but they did not know where. The master was curious (to learn this), and he made a hole above the shop, for he went there too in the night. He sees him take a wax candle, and put the price of this candle into the cash-box by the hole, counting the money aloud. Taking the candle with him he falls on his knees, and went a considerable distance to a chapel, walking still on his knees. The master follows him during a whole week, and the boy did always the same thing; and on the eighth day the master looks through the key-hole of the chapel, and sees an angel descend and throw a chain to our lad, and the angel lifted him up in the air. A moment after he comes down again, and goes back to his master’s house.

The master tells him that he has seen all, and the boy says that his penance is also finished, and that he must go home. The master does not wish it.

“You shall go afterwards, if you wish it; but first you must marry my daughter.”

He tells him that he has a father and mother, and that he cannot do it without telling them; but if they wish it, he will do so willingly.

He starts home then at once. You may imagine what joy for the king and the queen. They were constantly trembling lest they should hear that their dearly loved son had been hanged. They did not know what to do for joy. He told them how he had done penance, and that without doubt the good God had pardoned him; and how his old master wished him to marry his daughter. He does so, and all live happily and die well.

Louise Lanusse.

The Slandered and Despised Young Girl.

Like many others of us in the world, there was a mother and her daughter. They were very poor, and the daughter said that she wished to go out to service, in order to do something for her mother. The mother will not listen to it; what would become of her without her daughter? She prefers to be poor with her to being rich alone. The young girl stays at home. She used to go out as needlewoman; but suddenly her mother falls ill, and quickly she dies.

This poor young girl had the deepest sorrow, and she continued to go out to work as before. One day, while she was at work in a house, some acquaintance came and said to them—

“What! you have this young girl here to work! She is a bad girl; she is not at all what she ought to be. You should not take her.”

In the evening they give her her day’s wages, and say that they do not want her any more. She goes to another house, and there the same thing happens. Some people come and say in the same way—

“You have that young girl to work! She will come to a bad end, that girl will. She is even a thief; do not have her again.”

In the evening they give her her day’s wages, and say to her that they do not want her any more. No one asked her to work any more, and she remained at home. By charity and pity, some neighbours, without any necessity, let her come to work for them, because they were pained to see her distress. But there, too, someone comes and says,

“I am astonished to see that young girl here. She is a worthless girl. How is it that you have her here?”

They answer, “Moved by charity, just to help her.”

“Do not have her any more; she is a thief, and as bad as can be.”

This poor young girl was in the greatest distress; if she wished to eat, she must beg. She set to work begging then, and everyone disliked her so much that, when they saw her, they used to spit at her.

There came home from one of his voyages a ship’s captain, and, while he was amusing himself with his friends, this young girl asks for charity. His friends tell him that she was a bad girl, and they spit at her, and he does like the rest. Our captain goes off for another voyage; but he was overtaken by a terrible tempest. The storm was so violent, and the rain came down as if it would never leave off; it made them all tremble. In the midst of his prayers the captain made a vow that, if he escaped, he would marry the worst and most despised girl that he could find. Immediately the weather became fine. He makes a very successful voyage, and one which brought him plenty of money; but, when he reached land, he forgot his vow, and began to amuse himself as much as possible.

This same young girl asks charity, and, after his friends have told him that she was a bad girl, they spat at her, and he did so too.

Again he goes to sea, and he is overtaken by a storm, much worse than the former one. The wind was most violent, and the lightning terrible; they saw nothing but that. All trembled, and were praying. The captain again makes a vow of marrying, if he should get safe home, with the most abandoned and the poorest girl he can find, and he regrets that he has not kept his vow. He said to himself,

“If I had kept it, perhaps I should not have had such weather as this; but nothing now shall make me forget my promise.”

Immediately the weather becomes fine; he has immense good fortune, and gains as much money as he wishes.

When he comes home, he sees this young girl again. His friends spit at her, but he says to them,

“I will not spit at her—I wish to marry her.”

His friends burst out into roars of laughter, “Ha! ha! ha!” The sailor goes home to his mother, and tells her that he is going to be married. His mother answers him,

“If you make a good and rich marriage, very well.”

The son said to her, “She is not at all rich. She is that girl there.”

The mother was not pleased. “Leave that bad girl alone.”

He said, “It is all the same to me; I will marry none but her.”

He asks his friends where she lives. They point to an old house. The captain goes there in the evening and knocks at the door. The girl says, “Who is there?”

The man says, “Open the door for me. It is I.”

The young girl says, “I will not open the door—I am in bed.”

“Never mind, open it.”

“No! I will not do it.”

“I am going to break in the door.”

“Do what you will, but I will not open it.”

He breaks open the door, as he said, and goes in. He sees this young girl on a little straw, covered only by her dress. The man wants to go near her. The girl says:

“You may kill me if you like, but you shall not come near me.”

They were like that a long time. The man says to her:

“Give me your promise of marriage, then?”

The young girl says, “What do you mean? I so poor and you so rich—how can we marry?”

The man says that they will do so. The young girl will not believe him, and the gentleman says to her:

“If you will give me your promise I will go away at once.” And the young girl says “Yes,” in order to make him go away. Then he goes away.

The next day he goes to a priest and tells him what has taken place, and gives him forty thousand francs, and tells him to build a fine house with it, and to furnish it, and if anything more is wanting he will pay it at his next voyage. The young girl, too, goes to the priest, for before this she had been helped and comforted by him. The priest tells her how the captain had given him forty thousand francs for her to build a fine house with, and for her to make use of for all she wanted. The priest said that he would undertake building the house, and she said that she would see to all that was wanting for herself.

The captain goes off, and has as successful a voyage as could be made—he had nothing but fair weather. He brought back plenty of money, and they were married soon after his arrival. His mother and his brothers and sister were at the wedding. After some time the captain wished to go and make another voyage. He left his fine house to take his wife to his mother’s house, and he said to her:

“My wife will be better with you than all alone. You will have her always dressed as becomes her position, and keep a good table for her, and take good care of her.”

The husband went to sea. He often wrote to his wife; but what do the captain’s mother and her daughter do after he is gone? They take away from this lady all her pretty dresses, and make her put on old ones, and wooden shoes too with straw inside, and send her off to keep the geese with a bit of bread, telling her that she must bring home a load of small wood (to light the fire with), and that she must keep spinning while she is watching the geese. This poor young girl says nothing. She goes off with her flock of geese. When night comes she returns with four skeins of thread spun and a load of small wood. Every day she does the same. They do not even tell her that her husband has written to her.

The captain has a fine voyage. He had some fears about his mother and his sister, and he thought to himself that it would be best to come home secretly, in silence, and see how they were treating his wife. He comes then as a foreigner, in the dress of a captain. He says that he comes from a distance, and that he wishes to pass a week in their house. The mother and the daughter receive him very well. They tell him to choose his own room, and he chooses his own wedding-chamber. At nightfall the geese come home, cackling, cackling, and with them the young girl. This gentleman tells them that it is his habit to have some young girl with him when he travels like that, and asks them if they can get him one. They tell him “Yes,” that there would be none more glad than this young girl, and that they will give her to him. They go and tell it to the goose girl.

She says that certainly she will not go. They say to her that he has chests full of gold, and that they would willingly go, but that he has chosen her; and they push her by force into the room. The gentleman orders an excellent supper, and says that he has the habit of supping well. The goose girl stands sadly before the table. She would not eat anything; the gentleman presses her, and she kept saying that she was not hungry—that she had eaten as much as she usually did. He asks her:

“Where have you eaten? and what have you eaten?”

“A piece of bread that I took with me in the morning.”

He tells her again to eat these good things. She says that she does not want anything, and that the greatest pleasure he can give her is to let her go off to her geese. The gentleman says to her:

“You do not know then why you have come here? You are to sleep with me.”

The young girl says: “You shall cut me in pieces on the spot before I will go to your bed. I have a husband, and I wish to be faithful to him.”

And she tells, on his asking her, how that she was very poor, and no one loved her, and how a rich gentleman had wished to marry her—how very good he had been to her even after the marriage, and how when he went on a voyage he had left her at his mother’s house, thinking that she would be best there, and that since he was gone she had had no news of her husband. The gentleman said to her:

“Would you recognise your husband?” She says, “Yes.”

“Has he any marks?”

The young girl says, “Yes; he has a mole between his two breasts with three hairs on it.”

The gentleman opens his shirt and shows her his birthmark.

This young girl was seized with such joy that she fainted away, and fell down on the floor. As this gentleman knew the ways of the room he burst open the closet, and took a bottle of liqueur to bring his wife round again, and at last she came to herself, and passes a sweet night with her husband.

The next morning the geese come, cackle, cackle, before the door, and the mistress of the house and her daughter come to the gentleman’s door, calling out, if they have not stopped there long enough, that it is time to set off, and that it is a shame to be in bed at that hour. The gentleman gets up and says to his mother:

“What, mother, was this the way that you ought to have treated my dearly-loved wife?”

And he was in such a rage that, if his wife had not begged him to forgive her, he would even have beaten her; but his wife prevented him. He sent his mother and his sister out of the house, and he and his wife lived for many years happy and pleased with each other; and as they lived well they died well too.

The Sister of Laurentine.

This may be Toutou, but in the Basque country it is sometimes difficult to get hold of a person’s surname. “Who is Laurentine?” you ask. “She is Toutou’s sister,” is the reply. “But who is Toutou?” “She is Laurentine’s sister.” If you want to get anything more out you have to cross-examine for half-an-hour. Some of our tales are not signed; we believe these are to be divided between Catherine Elizondo and Laurentine Kopena. Fresh names we think we always put down, but these brought so many tales that we sometimes omitted it with them, and in the rearrangement for printing we have lost our clue.

We have some thirteen other tales of all kinds, besides variations, which we have not given. They are mostly short, and not very different in character from those given above, except in being more stupid in two or three cases; and a few of them are to be found in M. Cerquand’s collection.