The Groac'h Of The Isle Of Lok

: Breton Legends

Every one who knows the land of the Church (Lanillis), knows also that

it is one of the loveliest parishes in the diocese of Leon. To say

nothing of green crops and corn, its orchards are famed from all time

for apples sweeter than the honey of Sizun, and plum-trees of which

every blossom ripens into fruit. As for the marriageable maidens,

they are all models of discretion and housewifery; at least so say

their nearest
relations, who of course know them best.



In olden times, when miracles were as common in these parts as

christenings and burials now, there dwelt in Lanillis a young man

called Houarn Pogamm, and a damsel whose name was Bellah Postik.



They grew up together in love, as in age and stature; but every one

that they had to care for them being dead, one after the other, and

they left portionless, the two poor orphans were at last obliged to

go into service. They ought, indeed, to have been happy, for they

served the same master; but lovers are like the sea, that murmurs ever.



"If we had only enough to buy a little cow and a lean pig," said

Houarn, "I would take a bit of land of our master; and then the good

father should marry us, and we would go and live together."



"Yes," replied Bellah, with a deep sigh; "but the times are so

hard. The cows and pigs were dearer than ever at Ploudalmazeau the

last fair. Providence must surely have given up caring for the world."



"I am afraid we shall have to wait a long time," said the young man;

"for I never get the last glass of the bottle when I drink with the

rest of them."



"Very long," replied the maiden; "for I never can hear the cuckoo."



Day after day it was the same story; till at last Houarn was quite out

of patience. So one morning he came to Bellah, as she was winnowing

some corn in the threshing-floor, and told her how he had made up

his mind that he would set out on his travels to seek his fortune.



Sadly troubled was the poor girl at this resolve, and she said all

she could to dissuade him from it; but Houarn, who was a determined

young fellow, would not be withheld.



"The birds," said he, "fly hither and thither till they have found

a field of corn, and the bees till they meet with flowers that

may yield them honey; is it for man to be less reasonable than the

winged creatures? I also will go forth on my quest; what I want is

but the price of a little cow and a lean pig. If you love me, Bellah,

you will no longer oppose a project which is to hasten our marriage."



Bellah could not but acknowledge that there was reason in his words;

so with a sigh and a yearning heart she said,



"Go then, Houarn, with God's blessing, if it must be so; but first

let me share with you my family relics."



She led him to her cupboard, and took out a little bell, a knife,

and a staff.



"There," said she, "these are immemorial heirlooms of our family. This

is the bell of St. Koledok. Its sound can be heard at any distance,

however great, and will give immediate notice to the possessor's

friends should he be in any danger. The knife once belonged to

St. Corentin, and its touch dissolves all spells, were they of the

arch-fiend himself. Lastly, here is the staff of St. Vouga, which

will lead its possessor whithersoever he may desire to go. I will

give you the knife to defend you from enchantments, and the little

bell to let me know if you are in peril; the staff I will keep,

that I may be able to join you, should you need my presence."



Houarn accepted with thanks his Bellah's gifts, wept awhile with her,

as belongs to a parting, and set out towards the mountains.



But it was then just as it is now, and in all the villages through

which he passed, the traveller was beset by beggars, to whom any one

with whole garments was a man of rank and fortune.



"By my faith," thought he, "this part of the country seems fitter

for spending a fortune than for making one: I must go farther."



He went onwards therefore towards the west, till at last he arrived

at Pontaven, a pretty town, built upon a river bordered with poplars.



There, as he sat at the inn-door, he overheard two carriers, who,

as they loaded their mules, were talking together of the Groac'h of

the Isle of Lok.



Houarn inquired who or what that might be; and was told that it was the

name of a fairy who inhabited the lake in the largest of the Glenans,

and who was said to be as rich as all the kings of the earth

together. Many had been the treasure-seekers that had visited her

island, but not one of them had ever returned.



The thought came suddenly into Houarn's mind that he too would try

the adventure. The muleteers did all they could to dissuade him. They

were so loud in their remonstrances, that they collected quite a

crowd about him, crying out that it was downright unchristian to

let him run into destruction in that way; and the people would even

have kept him back by force. Houarn thanked them for the interest

they manifested in his welfare, and declared himself ready to give

up his design, if only they would make a collection amongst them

which would enable him to buy a little cow and a lean pig; but at

this proposition the muleteers and all the others drew back, simply

repeating that he was an obstinate fellow, and that it was of no use

talking to him. So Houarn repaired to the sea-shore, where he took

a boat, and was carried to the Isle of Lok.



He had no difficulty in finding the pond, which was in the centre

of the island, its banks fringed by sea-plants with rose-coloured

flowers. As he walked round, he saw lying at one end of it, shaded by

a tuft of broom, a sea-green canoe, which floated on the unruffled

waters. It was fashioned like a swan asleep, with its head under

its wing.



Houarn, who had never seen any thing like it before, drew nearer with

curiosity, and stepped into the boat that he might examine it the

better; but scarcely had he set foot within it when the swan seemed

to awake, its head started from amongst the feathers, its wide feet

spread themselves to the waters, and it swam rapidly from the bank.



The young man gave a cry of alarm, but the swan only made the more

swiftly for the middle of the lake; and just as Houarn had decided on

throwing himself from his strange bark, and swimming for the shore,

the bird plunged downward head foremost, drawing him under the water

along with it.



The unfortunate Leonard, who could not cry out without gulping down

the unsavoury water of the pool, was silent by necessity, and soon

arrived at the Groac'h's dwelling.



It was a palace of shells, far surpassing in beauty all that can be

imagined. It was entered by a flight of crystal steps, each stair of

which, as the foot pressed it, gave forth a concert of sweet sounds,

like the song of many birds. All around stretched gardens of immense

extent, with forests of marine plants, and plots of green seaweed,

spangled with diamonds in the place of flowers.



The Groac'h was reclining in the entrance-hall upon a couch of

gold. Her dress was of sea-green silk, exquisitely fine, and floating

round her like the waves that wrapped her grotto. Her black locks,

intertwined with coral, descended to her feet; and the white and red

of her brilliant complexion blended as in the polished lining of some

Indian shell.



Dazzled with a sight at once so fair and unexpected, Houarn stood

still; but with a winning smile the Groac'h rose, and came forward

to meet him. So easy and flowing were her movements, that she seemed

like a snowy billow heaving along the sea, as she advanced to greet

the young Leonard.



"You are welcome," said she, beckoning him with her hand to enter;

"there is always room here for all comers, especially for handsome

young men."



At this gracious reception Houarn somewhat recovered himself, and

entered the hall.



"Who are you? Whence come you? What seek you?" continued the Groac'h.



"My name is Houarn," replied the Leonard; "I come from Lanillis; and

I am in quest of the wherewithal to buy a little cow and a lean pig."



"Well, come in, Houarn," said the fairy; "and dismiss all anxiety

from your mind; you shall have every thing to make you happy."



While this was passing she had led him into a second hall, the walls

of which were covered with pearls; where she set before him eight

different kinds of wine, in eight goblets of chased silver. Houarn made

trial of each, and found all so much to his taste, that he repeated

his draught of each eight times; while ever as the cup left his lips,

the Groac'h seemed still fairer than before.



She meanwhile encouraged him to drink, telling him he need be in no

fear of robbing her, for that the lake in the Isle of Lok communicated

with the sea, and that all the treasures swallowed up by shipwrecks

were conveyed thither by a magic current.



"I do not wonder," cried Houarn, emboldened at once by the wine and

the manner of his hostess, "that the people on shore speak so badly

of you; in fact, it just comes to this, that you are rich, and they

are envious. For my part, I should be very well content with the half

of your fortune."



"It shall be yours if you will, Houarn," said the fairy.



"How can that be?" he asked.



"My husband, the Korandon, is dead," she answered, "so that I am now

a widow; if you like me well enough, I will become your wife."



Houarn quite lost his breath for very wonderment. For him to marry

that beautiful creature! to dwell in that splendid palace! and to

drink to his heart's content of the eight sorts of wine! True, he

was engaged to Bellah; but men easily forget such promises,--indeed,

for that they are just like women. So he gallantly assured the fairy

that one so lovely must be irresistible, and that it would be his

pride and joy to become her husband.



Thereupon the Groac'h exclaimed that she would forthwith make ready

the wedding-feast. She spread a table, which she covered with all

the delicacies that the Leonard had ever heard of, besides a great

many unknown to him even by name; and then proceeding to a little

fish-pond at the bottom of the garden, she began to call, and at

each call up swam a fish, which she successively caught in a steel

net. When the net was full, she carried it into the next room, and

threw all the fish into a golden frying-pan.



But it seemed to Houarn as though there was a whispering of little

voices amidst the hissing of the pan.



"What is that whispering in the frying-pan, Groac'h?" he asked.



"It is the crackling of the wood," said she, stirring the fire.



An instant after the little voices again began to murmur.



"What is that murmuring, Groac'h?" asked the bridegroom.



"It is the butter in the frying-pan," she answered, giving the fish

a toss.



But soon the little voices cried yet louder.



"What is that cry, Groac'h?" said Houarn.



"It is the cricket in the hearth," replied the fairy; and she began to

sing, so that the Leonard could no longer hear any thing but her voice.



But he could not help thinking on what he had noticed: and thought

brought fear, and fear, of course, repentance.



"Alas!" he cried, "can it then be possible that I have so soon

forgotten Bellah for this Groac'h, who is no doubt a child of

Satan? With her for my wife, I shall not even dare to say my prayers

at night, and shall be as sure to go to hell as an exciseman."



While he thus communed with himself, the fairy brought in the fried

fish, and pressed him to eat, while she went to fetch him twelve new

sorts of wine.



Houarn sighed, took out his knife, and prepared to begin; but scarcely

had the spell-destroying blade touched the golden dish, when all the

fish rose up in the form of little men, each one clad in the proper

costume of his rank and occupation. There was a lawyer with his bands,

a tailor in blue stockings, a miller all white with flour, and so on;

all crying out at once, as they swam in the melted butter,--



"Houarn, save us, if thou wouldst thyself be saved."



"Holy Virgin! what are these little men singing out from amongst the

melted butter?" cried the Leonard, in bewilderment.



"We are Christians like thyself," they answered. "We too came to seek

our fortunes in the Isle of Lok; we too consented to marry the Groac'h;

and the day after the wedding she did with us as she had done with

all our predecessors, of whom the fish-pond in the garden is full."



"What!" cried Houarn, "a creature so young and fair, and yet so

wicked?"



"And thou wilt soon be in the same condition, subject thyself to be

fried and eaten by some new-comer."



Houarn gave a jump, as though he felt himself already in the golden

frying-pan, and ran towards the door, thinking only how he might

escape before the Groac'h should return. But she was already there,

and had heard all; her net of steel was soon thrown over the Leonard,

who found himself instantly transformed into a frog, in which guise

the fairy carried him to the fish-pond, and threw him in, to keep

her former husbands company.



At this moment the little bell, which Houarn wore round his neck,

tinkled of its own accord; and Bellah heard it at Lanillis, where

she was busy skimming the last night's milk.



The sound struck upon her heart like a funeral knell; and she cried

aloud, "Houarn is in danger!" And without a moment's delay, without

asking counsel of any as to what she should do, she ran and put on

her Sunday clothes, her shoes and silver cross, and set out from the

farm with her magic staff. Arrived where four roads met, she set the

stick upright in the ground, murmuring in a low voice,--





"List, thou crab-tree staff of mine!

By good St. Vouga, hear me!

O'er earth and water, through air, 'tis thine

Whither I will to bear me!"





And lo, the stick became a bay nag, dressed, saddled, and bridled,

with a rosette behind each ear, and a blue feather in front.



Bellah mounted, and the horse set forward; first at a walking

pace, then he trotted, and at last galloped, and that so swiftly,

that ditches, trees, houses, and steeples passed before the young

girl's eyes like the arms of a spindle. But she complained not,

feeling that each step brought her nearer to her dear Houarn; nay,

she rather urged on her beast, saying,



"Less swift than the swallow is the horse, less swift the swallow

than the wind, the wind than the lightning; but thou, my good steed,

if thou lovest me, outstrip them all in speed: for a part of my heart

is suffering; the better half of my own life is in danger."



The horse understood her, and flew like a straw driven by the whirlwind

till he arrived in the country of Arhes, at the foot of the rock

called the Stag's Leap. But there he stood still, for never had horse

scaled that precipice. Bellah, perceiving the cause of his stopping,

renewed her prayer:





"Once again, thou courser mine,

By good St. Vouga, hear me!

O'er earth and water, through air, 'tis thine

Whither I will to bear me!"





She had hardly finished, when a pair of wings sprang from the sides

of her horse, which now became a great bird, and in this shape flew

away with her to the top of the rock.



Strange indeed was the sight that here met her eyes. Upon a nest

made of potter's clay and dry moss squatted a little korandon,

all swarthy and wrinkled, who, on beholding Bellah, began to cry aloud,



"Hurrah! here is the pretty maiden come to save me!"



"Save thee!" said Bellah. "Who art thou, then, my little man?"



"I am Jeannik, the husband of the Groac'h of the Isle of Lok. She it

was that sent me here."



"But what art thou doing in this nest?"



"I am sitting on six stone eggs, and I cannot be free till they

are hatched."



Bellah could not keep herself from laughing.



"Poor thing!" said she; "and how can I deliver thee?"



"By first saving Houarn, who is in the Groac'h's power."



"Ah, tell me how I may do that!" cried the orphan girl, "and not a

moment will I lose in setting about my part in the matter, though I

should have to make the circuit of the four dioceses upon my bare

knees."



"Well, then, there are two things to be done," said the korandon. "The

first, to present thyself before the Groac'h as a young man; and the

next, to take from her the steel net which she carries at her girdle,

and shut her up in it till the day of judgment."



"And where shall I get a suit of clothes to fit me, korandon?"



"Thou shalt see."



And with these words the little dwarf pulled out four hairs from

his foxy poll, and blew them to the winds, muttering something in an

under-tone, and lo, the four hairs became four tailors, of whom the

first held in his hand a cabbage, the second a pair of scissors, the

third a needle, and the last a smoothing goose. All the four seated

themselves cross-legged round the nest, and began to prepare a suit

of clothes for Bellah.



Out of one cabbage-leaf they made a beautiful coat, laced at every

seam; of another they made a waistcoat; but it took two leaves for

the trunk-breeches, such as are worn in the country of Leon; lastly,

the heart of the cabbage was shaped into a hat, and the stalk was

converted into shoes.



Thus equipped, Bellah would have passed any where for a handsome

young gentleman in green velvet lined with white satin.



She thanked the korandon, who added some further instructions;

and then her great bird flew away with her straight to the Isle of

Lok. There she commanded him to resume the form of a crab-stick; and

entering the swan-shaped boat, arrived safely at the Groac'h's palace.



The fairy was quite taken at first sight with the velvet-clad young

Leonard.



"Well," quoth she to herself, "you are the best-looking young fellow

that has ever come to see me; and I do think I shall love you for

three times three days."



And she began to make much of her guest, calling her her darling,

and heart of hearts. She treated her with a collation; and Bellah

found upon the table St. Corentin's knife, which had been left there

by Houarn. She took it up against the time of need, and followed the

Groac'h into the garden. There the fairy showed her the grass-plots

flowered with diamonds, the fountains of perfumed waters, and, above

all, the fish-pond, wherein swam fishes of a thousand colours.



With these last Bellah pretended to be especially taken, so that she

must needs sit down upon the edge of the pond, the better to enjoy

the sight of them.



The Groac'h took advantage of her delight to ask her if she would not

like to spend all her days in this lovely place. Bellah replied that

she should like it of all things.



"Well, then, so you may, and from this very hour, if you are only

ready at once to marry me," proceeded the fairy.



"Very well," replied Bellah; "but you must let me fetch up one of

these beautiful fishes with the steel net that hangs at your girdle."



The Groac'h, nothing suspecting, and taking this request for a mere

boyish freak, gave her the net, saying with a smile, "Let us see,

fair fisherman, what you will catch."



"Thee, fiend!" cried Bellah, throwing the net over the Groac'h's

head. "In the name of the Saviour of men, accursed sorceress, become

in body even as thou art in soul!"



The cry uttered by the Groac'h died away in a stifled murmur, for

the exorcism had already taken effect; the beautiful water fay was

now nothing more than the hideous queen of toadstools.



In an instant Bellah drew the net, and with all speed threw it into a

well, upon which she laid a stone sealed with the sign of the cross,

that it might remain closed till the tombs shall be opened at the

last day.



She then hastened back to the pond; but all the fish were already out

of it, coming forth to meet her, like a procession of many-coloured

monks, crying in their little hoarse voices, "Behold our lord and

master! who has delivered us from the net of steel and the golden

frying-pan."



"And who will also restore you to your shape of Christians," said

Bellah, drawing forth the knife of St. Corentin. But as she was

about to touch the first fish, she perceived close to her a frog,

with the magic bell hung about his neck, and sobbing bitterly as he

knelt before her. Bellah felt her bosom swell, and she exclaimed,

"Is it thou, is it thou, my Houarn, thou lord of my sorrow and my joy?"



"It is I," answered the youth.



At a touch with the potent blade he recovered his proper form, and

Bellah and he fell into each other's arms, the one eye weeping for

the past, the other glistening with the present joy.



She then did the like to all the fishes, who were restored each of

them to his pristine shape and condition.



The work of disenchantment was hardly at an end, when up came the

little korandon from the Stag's-Leap rock.



"Here I am, my pretty maiden," cried he to Bellah: "the spell which

held me where you saw me is broken, and I am come to thank you for

my deliverance."



He then conducted the lovers to the Groac'h's coffers, which were

filled with precious stones, of which he told them to take as many

as they pleased.



They both loaded their pockets, their girdles, and their hats; and

when they had as much as they could carry, they departed, with all

whom she had delivered from the enchantment.



The banns were soon published, and Houarn and Bellah were married. But

instead of a little cow and a lean pig, he bought all the land in the

parish, and put in as farmers the people he had brought with him from

the Isle of Lok.



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