Basque Legends; With an Essay on the Basque Language

He told her how he is bound to send one of his daughters to such a place before the end of the year, otherwise he should be burned.

This one too says to him, “Manage your own business as you like, but do not reckon upon me.”

The youngest, after some days, said to him, “What is the matter with you, my father, that you are so sad? Has someone done you some hurt?”

He said to her, “When I went to get your nosegay, a voice said to me, ‘I must have one of your daughters before the year be completed,’155 and now I do not know what I must do. It told me that I shall be burned.”

This daughter said to him, “My father, do not be troubled about it. I will go.”

And she sets out immediately in a carriage. She arrives at the castle and goes in, and she hears music and sounds of rejoicing everywhere, and yet she did not see anyone. She finds her chocolate ready (in the morning), and her dinner the same. She goes to bed, and still she does not see anyone. The next morning a voice says to her:

“Shut your eyes; I wish to place my head on your knees for a moment.”

“Come, come; I am not afraid.”

There appears then an enormous serpent. Without intending it, the young lady could not help giving a little shudder. An instant after the serpent went away; and the young lady lived very happily, without lacking anything. One day the voice asked her if she did not wish to go home.

She answers, “I am very happy here. I have no longing for it.”

“Yes, if you like, you may go for three days.”

He gives her a ring, and says to her, “If that changes colour, I shall be ill, and if it turns to blood, I shall be in great misery.”156

The young lady sets out for her father’s house. Her father was very glad (to see her). Her sisters said to her:

“You must be happy there. You are prettier than you were before. With whom do you live there?”

She told them, “With a serpent.” They would not believe her. The three days flew by like a dream, and she forgot her serpent. The fourth day she looked at her ring, and she saw that it was changed. She rubs it with her finger, and it begins to bleed. Seeing that she goes running to her father, and says to him that she is going. She arrives at the castle, and finds everything sad. The music will not play—everything was shut up. She called the serpent (his name was Azor, and hers Fifine). She kept on calling and crying out to him, but Azor appeared nowhere. After having searched the whole house, after having taken off her shoes, she goes to the garden, and there too she cries out. She finds a corner of the earth in the garden quite frozen, and immediately she makes a great fire over this spot, and there Azor comes out, and he says to her:157

“You had forgotten me, then. If you had not made this fire, it would have been all up with me.”

Fifine said to him, “Yes, I had forgotten you, but the ring made me think of you.”

Azor said to her, “I knew what was going to happen; that is why I gave you the ring.”

And coming into the house, she finds it as before, all full of rejoicings—the music was playing on all sides. Some days after that Azor said to her:

“You must marry me.”

Fifine gives no answer. He asks her again like that three times, and still she remained silent, silent. The whole house becomes sad again. She has no more her meals ready. Again Azor asks her if she will marry him. Still she does not answer, and she remains like that in darkness several days without eating anything, and she said to herself, “Whatever it shall cost me I must say, Yes.”

When the serpent asks her again, “Will you marry me?” she answers, “Not with the serpent, but with the man.”

As soon as she had said that the music begins as before. Azor says to her that she must go to her father’s house and get all things ready that are necessary, and they will marry the next day. The young lady goes as he had told her. She says to her father that she is going to be married to the serpent to-morrow, (and asks him) if he will prepare everything for that. The father consents, but he is vexed. Her sisters, too, ask her whom she is going to marry, and they are astounded at hearing that it is with a serpent. Fifine goes back again, and Azor says to her:

“Which would you prefer, from the house to the church, serpent, or from the church to the house, (serpent)?”

Fifine says to him, “From the house to the church, serpent.”

Azor says to her, “I, too.”

A beautiful carriage comes to the door. The serpent gets in, and Fifine places herself at his side, and when they arrive at the king’s house the serpent says to her:

“Shut the doors and the curtains, that nobody may see.”

Fifine says to him, “But they will see you as you get down.”

“No matter; shut them all the same.”

She goes to her father. Her father comes with all his court to fetch the serpent. He opens the door, and who is astonished? Why, everybody. Instead of a serpent there is a charming young man; and they all go to the church. When they come out there is a grand dinner at the king’s, but the bridegroom says to his wife:

“To-day we must not make a feast at all. We have a great business to do in the house; we will come another day for the feast.”

She told that to her father, and they go on to their house. When they are come there her husband brings her in a large basket a serpent’s skin, and says to her:

“You will make a great fire, and when you hear the first stroke of midnight you will throw this serpent’s skin into the fire. That must be burnt up, and you must throw the ashes out of window before the last stroke of twelve has ceased striking. If you do not do that I shall be wretched for ever.”

The lady says to him, “Certainly; I will do everything that I can to succeed.”

She begins before midnight to make the fire. As soon as she heard the first stroke she throws the serpent’s skin (on the fire), and takes two spits and stirs the fire, and moves about the skin and burns it, till ten strokes have gone. Then she takes a shovel, and throws the ashes outside as the last twelfth stroke is ending. Then a terrible voice says:

“I curse your cleverness, and what you have just done.”

At the same time her husband comes in. He did not know where he was for joy. He kisses her, and does not know how to tell his wife what great good she has done him.

“Now I do not fear anything. If you had not done as I told you, I should have been enchanted for twenty-one years more. Now it is all over, and we will go at our ease to-morrow to your father’s house for the wedding feast.”

They go the next day and enjoy themselves very much. They return to their palace to take away the handsomest things, because they did not wish to stop any more in that corner of the mountain. They load all their valuable things in carts and waggons, and go to live with the king. This young lady has four children, two boys and two girls, and as her sisters were very jealous of her, their father sent them out of the house. The king gave his crown to his son-in-law, who was already a son of a king. As they had lived well, they died well too.

Laurentine.

We have another version of this tale, which is a little more like its prototype, the “Cupid and Psyche” of Apuleius. In this the monster comes only at night. At first she is horribly frightened at it, but little by little she becomes accustomed to it, and loves it. At last, after having been left alone for some days, a magnificent young man appears to her, a king’s son, who had been bewitched into the monster until some one should love him. Of course they marry and are happy.

Estefanella Hirigaray.

In a third version, which was not taken down, the father was a sailor instead of a king.

The Cobbler and his Three Daughters (Blue Beard)

Like many others in the world, there was a cobbler who had three daughters. They were very poor. He only earned enough just to feed his children. He did not know what would become of him. He went about in his grief, walking, walking sadly on, and he meets a gentleman, who asks him where he is going, melancholy like that. He answers him,

“Even if I shall tell you, I shall get no relief.”

“Yes, yes; who knows? Tell it.”

“I have three daughters, and I have not work enough to maintain them. I have famine in the house.”

“If it is only that, we will manage it. You will give me one of your daughters, and I will give you so much money.”

The father was very grieved to make any such bargain; but at last he comes down to that. He gives him his eldest daughter. This gentleman takes her to his palace, and, after having passed some time there, he said to her that he has a short journey to make—that he will leave her all the keys, that she might see everything, but that there is one key that she must not make use of—that it would bring misfortune on her. He locks the door on the young lady. This young girl goes into all the rooms, and finds them very beautiful, and she was curious to see what there was in that which was forbidden. She goes in, and sees heaps of dead bodies. Judge of her fright! With her trembling she lets the key fall upon the ground. She trembles for the coming of her husband. He arrives, and asks her if she has entered the forbidden chamber. She tells him “Yes.” He takes her and puts her into an underground dungeon; hardly, hardly did he give her enough to eat (to live on), and that was human flesh.

This cobbler had finished his money, and he was again melancholy. The gentleman meets him again, and says to him,

“Your other daughter is not happy alone; you must give me another daughter. When she is happy, I will send her back; and I will give you so much money.”

The father did not like it; but he was so poor that, in order to have a little money, he gives him his daughter. The gentleman takes her home with him, like the other. After some days he said to her too,

“I must take a short journey. I will give you all the keys of the house, but do not touch such a key of such a room.”

He locks the house-door, and goes off, after having left her the food she needed. This young girl goes into all the rooms, and, as she was curious, she went to look into the forbidden chamber. She was so terribly frightened at the sight of so many dead bodies in this room, that she lets the key fall, and it gets stained. Our young girl was trembling as to what should become of her when the master should come back. He arrives, and the first thing he asks—

“Have you been in that room?”

She told him “Yes.” He takes her underground, like her other sister.

This cobbler had finished his money, and he was in misery; when the gentleman comes to him again, and says to him,

“I will give you a great deal of money if you will let your daughter come to my house for a few days; the three will be happier together, and I will send you the two back again together.”

The father believes it, and gives him his third daughter. The gentleman gives him the money, and he takes this young girl, like the others. At the end of some days he leaves her, saying that he is going to make a short journey. He gives her all the keys of the house, saying to her—

“You will go into all the rooms except this one,” pointing out the key to her. He locks the outside door, and goes off. This young girl goes straight, straight to the forbidden chamber; she opens it, and think of her horror at seeing so many dead people. She thought that he would kill her too, and, as there were all kinds of arms in this chamber, she takes a sabre with her, and hides it under her dress. She goes a little further on, and sees her two sisters almost dying with hunger, and a young man in the same condition. She takes care of them as well as she can till the gentleman comes home. On his arrival, he asks her—

“Have you been in that room?”

She says, “Yes;” and, in giving him back the keys, she lets them fall on the ground, on purpose, and at the instant that this gentleman stoops to pick them up, the young lady cuts off his head (with her sword). Oh, how glad she was! Quickly she runs to deliver her sisters and that young man, who was the son of a king. She sends for her father, the cobbler, and leaves him there with his two daughters, and the youngest daughter goes away with her young gentleman, after being married to him. If they lived well, they died well too.

In another version, by Estefanella Hirigaray, we have the more ordinary tale of “Blue Beard”—that of a widower who has killed twenty wives, and marries a twenty-first, who has two brothers. She drops the key in the forbidden chamber, and is detected by the blood on it. She manages to write to her brothers, and the dialogue by which she endeavours to gain time is rather spirited. She is allowed to put on her wedding-dress, etc., to die in. She goes to get ready, and she hears the cries of her husband, “Are you ready?” “I am putting on my dress.” He bawls out again, “Are you ready?” “Give me a moment more.” “Are you ready?” “I am fastening my dress.” “Are you ready yet?” “I am putting on my stockings.” And she kept constantly looking out of window to see if her brothers were coming. “Are you ready?” “Stop one moment; I am putting on my shoes.” “Are you ready?” “I am brushing my hair.” “Are you ready?” “Let me put on my wreath.” And she sees her brothers coming on horseback in the forest, but a very long way off. She hears again, “Are you ready?” “I am coming in an instant.” “You are coming? I’ll come, if you do not come down.” “Don’t come; I will come down myself, without you.” He seizes her on the stairs to kill her; but the brothers rush in just in time to prevent her death, and they put him in prison.

We heard, also, another version, which, unfortunately, we did not take down. It had something about a horse in it, and was like “The Widow and her Daughters,” in Campbell, Vol. II., Tale xli., p. 265.

The Singing Tree, the Bird which tells the Truth, and the Water that makes Young

Like many others in the world, there were three young girls. They were spinning together, and as girls must always talk about something while they are spinning, the eldest said:

“You will not guess what I am thinking about?”

“Tell it us, tell it us,” (said the other two).

“That I should like to be married to the king’s valet.”

“And I with his son-in-law,” said the second.

And the third said: “And I with the king himself.”

Now, the king lived not far from these girls, and just at that moment he was passing before the door of their house, and heard what they said. The next day the king asked the eldest:

“What were you saying yesterday at such a time?”

And she was ashamed to tell him, but the king pressed her so much that at last she told it:

“I said that I wished to be married to your servant.”

He made the second come, and asked her the same question: “What were you talking about yesterday?”

She would not tell; but the king pressed her so much that she said:

“I—I was saying that I wished to marry your son-in-law.”

He sends them back home, and sends for the third, and asks her what she said the evening before. She never dared to tell it, because that would have been too great an impudence, but at the last she told it him; and the king told her that they must really be married together, because she was so very pretty. This young girl goes running off home. She told her sisters that she is to marry the king, and all three go to live in the king’s house. The two sisters were very jealous. The princess became in the family-way; and the king was obliged to go to another kingdom. His poor wife was confined of a fine girl. But her sisters made the queen believe that she had given birth to a cat, and they wrote this too to the king. The king wrote back to them:

“If it be a cat, take all possible care of it.”158

When the king returned he did not mention the cat at all. She became pregnant a second time, and the king was obliged to go to another kingdom, and when the princess was confined her sisters made her believe that she had given birth to a dog. Think what grief and pain this poor queen suffered. Her sisters wrote to the king that his wife had given birth to a dog, and that without doubt she had something to do with animals. He wrote again: “If it be a dog, take all possible care of it.” But they said that they had already thrown it into the water, as they had done with the cat.

Fortunately a gardener was there, the same that had been there the first time. He caught hold of the basket, and finds a beautiful child inside. He is very glad, and carries the child to his wife, who puts the infant out to nurse.

The princess became pregnant the third time. The king had intended to stop at home; but at the moment of the confinement he was obliged to go away somewhere, and the sisters wrote to the king that she had been confined of a bear. The king flew into a great rage, and ordered her to be put into a dungeon underground. They gave her a little food through a hole, so that she might not die of starvation; and nevertheless she had given birth to a handsome boy. The same gardener found this basket too, which they had thrown into the water. He carries it to his wife, and she gave it to the same nurse. They were very happy with it, and said that Heaven had sent them these three children, and they loved their father and mother very much; but when they were very old they both died.

The two brothers and their sister got on very well together. They loved each other very much. The boys used to go out hunting and shooting, and they were so well off that they had something to give to the poor. One day there came an old woman begging, and she said to them:

“You cannot be happy.”

“Yes, yes, we certainly are,” they answered.

And the woman said to them: “No, no, you want three things before you can be happy—the tree which sings, the bird which tells the truth, and the water which makes young again.”

The young girl grows sad at that. Her brothers remarked it immediately, and they asked her what was the matter with her. But she would not tell them. At last they forced her to tell it to them. She told them what this woman had told her.

The elder of the brothers sets out immediately, taking with him a horse and a little money. He gives an apple to his sister, saying to her:159

“If this apple changes I shall be in some trouble, and if it turns rotten I shall be dead.”

And he starts off, and travels on, and on, and on. He finds a monk who tells him to retrace his steps, that there are great dangers before him; but he will go on notwithstanding. He meets again another monk, who tells him that he will never return. He confesses himself and prepares for death, such great dangers will he have to pass through. He said to him:

“You will hear terrible cries. It will seem to you as if they will pull you by your clothes, but never turn your head round.”160

But our lad grew frightened and turned his head round, and was changed into stone.

After some days the apple begins to get bad, and they fall into great sorrow because something must have happened to their brother, and the second brother said that he must go off too; and off he goes with a horse and a little money. Like the other brother he meets a monk, who wishes to stop him; but he said to him that it was all the same to him. He goes on till he meets another monk. This one also said to him:

“Return on your steps. You will not be able to pass; you will hear cries and see horrors and terrible things—you will never be able to pass through.”

But he prepares himself to go forward. He warned him well not to look round. He leaves his horse and sets out. When he has gone a short distance he hears frightful cries, and (sees) terrible things; and after having gone some distance further he looks on one side, and is changed into stone.

The apple which he had left with his sister first changes, then goes quite rotten. You may judge of the sorrow and the grief of this poor girl. She says to herself that she must dress herself like a man. She locks the door (of their house), and sets out on horseback. The same monk wishes to prevent her going on. But she has a still greater desire to do so, and, notwithstanding all she hears, she will go on. She arrives at the last monk, who was a great saint. He did not recognise that it was a young girl. For a hundred years past he had been on the same spot, until someone should get to the end of the mountain, and he hoped that this young girl might pass. He gives her a bottle into which she might put the water that makes young again, and says to her:

“You will sprinkle one drop on each stone, and they will live.”

She sets off. The horrible cries did not frighten her. All kinds of things were said to her. She goes on and on, constantly running, and gets to the top of the mountain, and she is saved.

At the same instant she hears a thrilling song from a tree, which was warbling like a bird. A bird, too, flies on to her shoulder, and tells her so many things that she is quite astounded. But she does not lose her time—she takes out her bottle and fills it with water. She pours a drop on each stone, and finds her brothers at last. Think, think how they all three rejoiced together! They take their horses (they too had been changed into stones) and go home with their tree, and the bird, and the water.

They lived very happily. The brothers went out hunting every day, and sometimes they met the king. One day the king invited them to dine with him, but they said that they must first ask permission of their sister. When they came home they asked her, and the bird answered immediately:

“On condition that the king will come here to-morrow.”

They go with this answer to the king, and he says, “Yes.”

They dine very well with the king, but their sister was not at all pleased; she did not know how to receive the king. The bird says to her:

“Lay the table with a fine cloth, and three dishes; put lentils into one, parched peas into the other, and haricot beans into the other.”

Next day the king comes with his two brothers. The king is astonished to hear this beautiful tree and this fine singing. He had never heard anything so wonderful. He was surprised to see these three dishes, and he said to them:

“Is it not strange to receive a king like this?”

And the bird, hopping out of its cage, begins, “It is not more strange than to see this young woman pass for a cat. Is she a cat?”

In the same way it points to the elder brother, “Is this a dog, this young man? Is not this a thing more astonishing?”

The king is confounded. And the same thing for the third time, pointing to the second son, “Is this a bear, this one? Is this not an astonishing thing?”

The king, in his amazement, does not know what to answer to the bird; but it continues:

“Is it not a shame to leave one’s wife, and make her live eighteen years in a dungeon underground?”

The king is terribly frightened, and off he goes with his sons and his daughter, intending to free their mother; but they did not forget the precious water, and they wash this princess in it, and she becomes as young as at eighteen years old. Judge of the joy of the king, of the queen, and of their children! The king fell into a great rage, and condemns the queen’s sisters to be burnt alive in the midst of the market-place, with shirts of sulphur on them.

Catherine Elizondo.

We have also the more common version of this story—of an aged king with three sons. He reads of this water, and the three sons successively set out to fetch it. The two first fail, and stop, drinking, &c., in a certain city. The youngest meets an old woman, who tells him how to charm all the beasts in a forest he has to pass through, and how to get the water, but he is not to take anything else. But he steals the bird, and the magic horse as well, and when he gets to the forest finds all the animals awake. The old woman appears again, and gives him a magic stick, with the aid of which he passes. He finds his brothers against the advice of the old lady, and they throw him into a pit and take away the water, the horse, and the bird; but the water has no effect in their hands. The old woman appears, and sends a fox to help him out of the pit. He comes home, the horse neighs, the bird sings, he gives the water to his father, and from one hundred years old he becomes twenty.

E. Hirigaray.

The White Blackbird

Like many others in the world, there was a king who had three sons. This king was blind, and he had heard one day that there was a king who had a white blackbird, which gave sight to the blind. When his eldest son heard that, he said to his father that he would go and fetch this white blackbird as quickly as possible.