Ergroah's Web

Another of Lilias Erskine's "Breton Stories", the Folk-Tales and Legends of Brittany which she translated in 1932. The gray wolf (canis lupos) of the story used to be common in France, but died out around 1937. Now, however, it is returning:

For millennia the wolf has been the object of our fear and loathing, wolves everywhere have suffered timeless persecution and sadly by 1927 the last of the wolves in France were eradicated. In modern times with a greater understanding of the environment and indeed the wolf, it has been allowed to return. During the last 20 or so years they have been slowly increasing in numbers in the mountainous regions of the Alps notably the Mercantour national park where they have crossed the border from Italy. This has caused an ongoing battle between environmentalists and French sheep farmers who blame the wolf for loss of livestock. The estimated size of the wolf population in Mercantour is around twenty or so with the main pack comprising of eight wolves. (1)

Once, however, the wolf was so common that in the 9th century, special officials called "Luparii" to control wolf populations. But after the Revolution, anyone could kill a wolf for monetary rewards, and with the advent of flintlock weaponry, the kill rate expanded significantly:

From 1818-1829, 14,000 wolves were killed each year. This high kill rate coincided with the increased distribution of flintlocks. At the dawn of the 19th century, there were up to 5000 wolves in France, a number which was reduced to half that amount by 1850. By 1890, the wolf population had been reduced to 1000 animals, and further fell to 500 in 1900 due to increased usage of strychnine. Wolves temporarily increased during the First World War, though by the time it ended, the population was estimated to be between 150-200 animals. The last confirmed French wolf kill occurred in 1937. (2)

The habits of wolves and their hunting in packs come into the Breton tale, where a wolf steals the stew; later in the story, a pack hunts together. Both these features of the narrative true to the actual behaviour of wolves:

Wolves eat ungulates, or large hoofed mammals, like elk, deer, moose and caribou. Wolves are also known to eat beaver, rabbits and other small prey. Wolves are also scavengers and often eat animals that have died due to other causes like starvation and disease

Wolves live, travel and hunt in packs of 4-7 animals on average. Packs include the mother and father wolves, called the alphas, their pups and several other subordinate or young animals. The alpha female and male are the pack leaders that track and hunt prey, choose den sites and establish the pack's territory.(3)

A wolf hunting or attacking a young girl, as we have in the tale of "Little Red Riding Hood", is seen as a predatory and dangerous animal. This is not the usual behaviour of wolves, as seen today. But we do not live as close to wolves as the rural peoples of the past, and there is clear evidence of predation taking place against human beings. The historian J.M. Smith notes how the evidence is overwhelming, and there is documentary evidence for up to nine or ten thousand deaths by wolf attack in France between 1500 and the early nineteenth century:

 "The practice in France was to send women and adolescent children into the fields with the flocks and the herds," he says. "So there were many frail and isolated people, usually armed with nothing more than a staff, available for hungry wolves."(4)

In fact, there are a considerable number of reports of wolves attacking human beings, as for instance, this one from 1888 in North America:

The news has just reached here that a father and son, living several miles northeast of this city, were destroyed by wolves yesterday. The two unfortunate men started to a haystack some ten rods from the house to shovel a path around the stack when they were surrounded by wolves and literally eaten alive. The horror-stricken mother was standing at the window with a babe in her arms, a spectator to the terrible death of her husband and son, but was unable to aid them. After they had devoured every flesh from the bones of the men, the denizens of the forest attacked the house, but retired to the hills in a short time. Investigation found nothing but the bones of the husband and son. The family name was Olson. Wolves are more numerous and dangerous now than ever before known in North Dakota.(5)

The winters of 1886-1888 in Dakota were very harsh, and it is likely that this was a contributory factor towards the behaviour of the wolves, as the diminution of their natural sources of food may have led them to attack and eat the men. Other occasions have been reported, but while well-documented, they are occasional, not a rule. One of the latest attempts by a wolf to attack a child was recorded - "Attempted Predation of a Child by a Gray Wolf, Canis lupus, near Icy Bay, Alaska" as recently as April 2000:

On 26 April 2000 a six-year-old boy was attacked and repeatedly bitten by a Gray Wolf (Canis lupus) in a logging camp near Icy Bay, Alaska. The animal's behavior during the attack clearly contained elements of predation. The wolf was killed shortly after the attack and found to be in normal physical condition; tests for rabies and canine distemper were negative. Low densities of ungulate prey and increased energetic demands associated with denning may have influenced the wolf's behavior, but we believe the wolf's habituation to people was a more significant factor contributing to the attack. Food-conditioning may have facilitated the habituation process, but there was no evidence the attack resulted from a food-conditioned approach response.(6)

They noted that:

The wolf's attempt to carry and drag the boy away from rescuers cannot be explained as an agonistic act and despite the possible agonism reflected in the wolf's initial approach, the final result clearly contained elements of predation.(6)

What seems most clear is that the Icy Bay wolf became habituated to the presence of people. Habituation was a factor common to predatory attacks by Coyotes on children in North America (Carbyn 1989) and presumably to wolf predation on children in India where wolves continually live among high densities of people and natural foods are often scarce(6)

Habituation can be a powerful engine for changing behaviour. Locally, from scavenging off rubbish and learning to tear open plastic bin bangs for food, seagulls have become much more used to people than even 30 years ago, and beach cafe's have fine wire's strung over outside tables to deter the birds, who will quite easily take food even out of someone's hand.

So we can see how the period in which folk tales arose about wolf predation came when most people lived outside cities, on the land, in small rural communities, where wolves could become habituated to the presence of people. Modern intensive farming, and the mass migration of people to cities, even in France, would have changed that pattern.

Modern environmentalists do insist that wolves are not the dangerous beasts of folklore, but an experiment with taming wolves and foxes from cubs, breeding successive generations for docility and tameness was a failure with wolves, but a success with foxes, despite the DNA of wolf and dog being extremely close. Wolves certainly are not generally dangerous, however, unless you live close enough in proximity for them to be habituated to your presence.

A dog is essentially a wolf, but if you try to bring up a wolf in your house, you'll run into serious problems, as experiments show. When they're tiny wolflets they're dead cute, but then suddenly they're, well, totally wolves, causing havoc in the living room, blowing the house down from the inside (8)

And now to the Breton tale of Ergroah and the Wolf:

Ergroah's Web

An old woman called Ergroah lived once upon a time in a tiny house in the middle of a forest. Every day at noon she made a fragrant stew of meat, herbs and vegetables, and if she knew that any of her neighbours were ill, she would put some in a bowl and carry it to them, after she had had some herself.

One day, on returning from one of these visits, she found that all the remains of the stew had gone.

" Aha ! That is the wicked old grey wolf," said she. " I will teach him to steal my good food."

So she went into the forest and gathered stinging-nettles and wove them into a large web. Then she made a new stew, and hid herself behind her cupboard. Presently the grey wolf crept up to the house and, seeing no one about, he came in and devoured the savoury stew with great relish. Just as he was finishing the last morsel Ergroah jumped out and threw the web of nettles all over him. The wolf cried out in great pain, for he was stung all over. He tried every way to free himself, but the web wound itself faster and faster round him. At last, after a great struggle, he managed to break loose and fled for his life, far out into the forest.

Old Ergroah laughed gleefully. " Now I am at least free of that old thief," said she. But she spoke too hastily, for the wolf was so stung and bruised that he determined to have his revenge and he lay in wait for her in the forest.

A few days later Ergroah was walking down a shady pathway, when she met the grey wolf. Instantly he sat up on his haunches and howled and howled ! On hearing his call, all his comrades assembled with great speed and ran to his aid. The poor old woman, pursued by nearly fifty wolves, ran through the forest as fast as she could. But she was not very young and not very fleet of foot, and she soon grew tired and knew that she could run no farther.

A tall fir tree grew close to where she had stopped, panting and gasping and very much afraid. This she climbed, with as much haste as possible, and sat down on the top branch. The wolves gathered round the foot of the tree and debated amongst themselves as to what they should do.

The grey wolf said he wished to be the first to attack Ergroah, so they settled to stand upon each other's shoulders till they reached the top of  the tree, and the grey wolf should have the last place. Accordingly they climbed one upon the other till it was the grey wolf's turn to climb.

Just then Ergroah, who had been looking round her, saw that a large holly bush grew quite close to the fir tree in which she sat. Leaning forward from her branch, she managed to reach a holly bough and hastily plucked some prickly leaves from it.

As the grey wolf reached the top of the fir tree Ergroah hit his face with the holly leaves. His eyes were so pricked that he could not see she had only three holly leaves ; he imagined that she had the whole of her nettle web up in the tree with her ! Remembering the terrible stings he had had before, he jumped off the tree in great fear and so startled the other wolves that they all fell down in a heap, hurting themselves very severely. The grey wolf fled away into the forest and the others, so enraged at his desertion, ran after him and devoured him and hung his skin upon a holly tree !

Since that day Ergroah has lived in peace and plenty. In fact her days have passed so evenly and uneventfully that she has forgotten how old she is and how many years ago it is that the grey wolf came to steal her stew!

Links
(1) http://www.lost-in-france.com/wildlife-in-france/311-wolves-in-france
(2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolf_hunting#cite_note-loup-11
(3) http://www.defenders.org/wildlife_and_habitat/wildlife/wolf,_gray.php
(4) http://endeavors.unc.edu/the_making_of_a_beast
(5) http://www.aws.vcn.com/wolf_attacks_on_humans.html
(6) http://www.canadianfieldnaturalist.ca/index.php/cfn/article/viewDownloadInterstitial/106/106
(7) BBC Horizon: The Secret Life of the Dog
(8) http://primetime.unrealitytv.co.uk/last-night%E2%80%99s-tv-%E2%80%93-horizon-the-secret-life-of-dogs/

The Artful Beggar

Another of Lilias Erskine's "Breton Stories", the Folk-Tales and Legends of Brittany which she translated in 1932.

This story mentions "The Red Monks". Who were the "Red Monks"? This was the Breton term for the Knights Templars, so called because of the red cross on their garments. In Bradshaw's hand-book to Brittany (1899), we read that:

half an hour from St. Cado there are seven dolmens in ruins scattered about their neighbourhood; also close to the 'shore' (by the road side) is a very remarkable monument on which is incised the cross of the Knights Templars; which is believed to have been one of their landmarks. There is a similarly marked stone on the opposite boundary of the Commune. They formerly had a convent here of red monks. It Is also a memorial of a battle fought in the ninth century between the Bretons and the Normans, the former being commanded by a Norman Princess named Prostlon.

James Miln also has a note of traditions in his archeology paper on "Notice of the discovery of two ancient towns in Brittany, one of the Gallo-roman, and the other probably of an earlier period." Here he notes that:

Tradition.-Traditions are the echoes of forgotten events, and one might expect that some tradition would have remained of the ancient town of the Boceno. The plague, however, which ravaged Europe in the sixth century, and which swept away whole communes in Brittany, must have blotted out many histories. The tradition generally current at Carnac about the Boceno is that the Templars (" the red monks ") had a convent there, that they were massacred, and that their houses were burned on the same night on account of their impiety. The Abbe Collet states that the Templars never had a convent in the Canton of Quiberon. The place bears an evil reputation to this day, and children are warned to return home early or beware of the ghosts of the Boceno.

This is perhaps why the peasants were fearful about buried treasure and what ghostly revenants might be protecting it in this story, in which the artful beggar takes advantage of their superstitious fears.....

The Artful Beggar

In the village of Cloncarnac there are many buried treasures, and the peasants are always expecting to find some new wonder. An Englishman who had been staying there had dug up many wonderful things, and so their interest and belief were not without foundation.

The convent of the Red Monks had been discovered deeply buried in the earth, and with the help of other diggers the Englishman had brought it once more into the light.

It was not surprising, therefore, that the peasants were full of innocent belief, when a beggar arrived at the village and said that he knew of more treasure.

" I must lodge with one of you," he said, " and every night we will go down to the marshes of Bossenno and hunt for treasure." He declared that they must go out with him nightly without speaking-the smallest noise would
frighten the treasure spirits away. The moment a sound was heard, the beggar said that the spell was broken and they must all return home.

One evening an owl perched himself on some stones near the treasure-seekers.

" Run for your lives cried the beggar. " We are discovered..."

He then said that they must not go out again for several evenings, so as to put the owl off their scent. And all the time he was being comfortably housed in one of the peasants' houses,  with free food and drink and a feather bed !

Seeing one day that the villagers were growing restive, he told them that the right evening was come at last.

" Arm yourselves with spades," said he, " and bring some sacks to carry the treasure away in."

That evening they all repaired to the ground where they had sought for treasure before, but as soon as they arrived and laid down their sacks, the owl flew out of a tree and settled on some stones near by.

" Alas ! " cried the beggar sorrowfully, " all hope is over. The owl has shown us that he is the guardian of this treasure, and we may no longer hunt for it."

With that he shouldered his spade and turned back towards the village. The villagers followed him sadly, without saying a word. But the artful beggar did not remain in the village for long ! Fearing the wrath of the peasants when they discovered his trick, he packed up a small bundle and left early the next morning, before the crow of the first cock to awake !

And, for all we know, he is still lodging with other trustful peasants and carrying out Treasure Hunts in their villages !

Piniec

Christmas is traditionally a time for ghost stories. Here from Brittany, translated in her "Breton Stories" (1932 and alas, long out of print) by Lillias Eskine is a ghost story with a comic twist, in which two different stories come together, the peasant and the ghost. Have you ever seen a grey ghost when out walking like the shadowy figure of Piniec?

Piniec: A Tale of Brittany

One evening a young peasant was working in his field by moonlight. He was a very thrifty young man and most eager to make his farm a great success. Having been unable to finish his work by daylight, he was continuing by the light of the moon. The wind whispered and murmured in the pine trees near by, owls hooted and the young man put his plants into the ground with as much speed as he could...

Suddenly from among the pine trees a figure appeared : a tall grey figure with long clinging draperies. The peasant felt his hair rising on end and his blood froze but he endeavoured to be brave and faced the grey figure, waiting for it to speak. As it did not move, the peasant tried to imagine that he had seen nothing and went on with his planting. But at that the figure moved and advanced towards him. Throwing down his tools, he turned and ran. A thousand hobgoblins might have been chasing him, so fast did he run, and never drew breath till he reached his own house. He looked then towards the woods ; the figure was still visible, but had turned round and was walking away amongst the pine trees.

His family were celebrating a fete that evening and long tables had been laid in the stables. Soup and chickens and honey cakes, with jugs of cider, were spread out and all the neighbours had assembled to make merry. . The young man ran into their midst crying out that he had seen the grey man of the woods. .

Everyone circled round him and he was asked to tell his story so many times over, that by the end of the evening he felt a real hero ! The next day the news had spread all over the village. Even the Cure and the Holy Sisters came to see him.

"Tell us the colour of his clothes," they asked.

" Grey ! " said he.

" Ah ! " they all exclaimed. " That is surely Piniec whom we have always heard of in those woods."

Two years later the young peasant went into the neighbouring town, and feeling thirsty, he went to an inn and ordered some cider. . A tall man approached him, and laying a hand on his shoulder said : "How long is it-my friend-since you saw Piniec ? "

" What ! the grey ghost ? " asked the peasant.

" It is two years now since I saw him."

" Well ! for a glass of wine, I will tell you some more about him," said the tall man.

" Gladly will I give you the wine," answered the peasant, and they sat down together at a small table.

" Two years ago," began the man, " I was in need of a Christmas tree for my children. But I could not afford to buy one. In the wood near your land there were many fir trees and I had settled to go by night and dig up one of these. Alas ! when I arrived with my spade, I found you working in your field. . What could I do to frighten you away ? Wrapping my grey cloak over my head, I advanced towards you, and to my great surprise you were immediately scared away ! I dug up my tree and returned home unmolested while you flew homewards and became the hero of the village ! "

Both men laughed heartily over the success of the joke but they both kept the secret very close, and for all I know the peasants still think that Piniec had been seen in their woods.

The Phantom Bride

"Oh, have you read 'The Phantom Bride'? It 's perfectly thrilling! There 's a regular rush for it at the library; but some prefer 'Breaking a Butterfly.' Which do you like best?" asked a pale girl of Polly, in one of the momentary lulls which occurred.  (An Old-Fashioned Girl, Lousia May Alcott)

Stories of phantom brides abound, both in Jersey and elsewhere. But this is a story about the  Kérions of Brittany. In "The Megalithic Monuments Of Carnac And Locmariaquer : Their Purpose And Age" by Z. Le Rouzic, he tells us of the dolmens at Carnac:

The traditions about the dolmens tell us that those piles of stones were the dwellings of the Kérions, a dwarf people who formerly inhabited the country. The Kérions were small but very strong, and a colloquial idiom is still often used, Strong as a Kérion.

Here is a spooky tale from the 1932 "Breton Tales" compiled by Lilias Eskine of a phantom bride:

In Auray there was a young man who did not like the Kerions, for he feared their power, and much to his sorrow he discovered that his future bride was visiting them in the evenings and taking part in their nocturnal gatherings

One evening he hid himself in his stable, where he could overlook the meadows, and when midnight came he saw the Circle dancing with his bride in their midst. As the last chimes of the church clock rang out, the Circle vanished and his bride fell among the daisies in a dead faint. Rushing to her side in great fear, he rubbed her temples with vinegar and held a cup of-water to her lips. But it was an hour before she recovered her senses, and she lay in his arms, murmuring : " You have hurt me very much : when you see me like this, you must leave me till I recover of my own accord. . . . I must never be touched when I have fallen into a trance from the Kerions' dance." . . .

She explained to him that she danced in the Circle every evening with some of her comrades and that he might come the next evening to see them. . . . " To-morrow night we shall be dancing in the meadows outside Auray," she said. ... " Come at midnight and you will see us. But on no account must you speak."

The next night the young man prepared to start out, but his courage failed him and he went to a friend and begged him to come too. . . .

So the pair of them went down to the water meadows, but as it was not quite twelve o'clock, they stood together and talked of the day's work and the threshing they had done. . . .

The frogs croaked and cicadas called; an owl booted in the spinney and a bat flew past, but not a sign was there of the Kerions or the future bride and her companions. . . .

When they returned to the village the young men found the bride at home. . . .

"Oh! foolish prattlers," laughed she. "We were dancing and singing so merrily, but you came to the meadows and talked, so we were obliged to disappear."

" We will come to-morrow night," said the young man, " and I promise that we will not speak a word."

" No ! no ! " said she. . . . " Do not come to-morrow, for we have a sad office to perform. . . . A young woman of Locmaria is to be placed in her shroud, and we could not allow you to see that ! " . . .

The next morning the young man met his bride in tears. . . . " Alas ! alas ! " she cried. . . . " The young woman whom we were to have put in her shroud has tricked us. At midnight, just as we were lifting her up, she came out of her trance . . . and now they say that one of us must die in her place." . . .

With that she faded from his sight. . . . But the young man -was so frightened that he ran from the spot, and the next year he was married to a girl who had never even heard of the Kerions!

The Kerions' Feast

I mentioned the Kerions in connection with a poem I had written some years ago, and Nick Palmer was unable to find the term anywhere. When he looked it up, all he could find was "Ringworm infection of the hair follicles of the scalp and beard that is usually results in a pustule-covered swelling that oozes fluid." But you wont find a trace of it in this poem!

Midnight Folk

Outside, the rain is softly falling down
Cobwebs glitter, a fine spun gown
With pearly drops. The harvest moon
Comes out but briefly, the clouds will soon
Roll back across the darkening sky
And batwings flap as fast they fly
To catch their prey - a tiny vole
A-scurrying swiftly down its hole.
And softly tread the woodland folk,
Creep out beneath the ancient oak,
Unseen, to work away the night,
Always there, but out of sight
They rustle fallen leaves in play,
As if the wind had come to stay
Only to dawn; for at first light,
They go, these little folk of night
And when the cock begins to crow,
They are asleep, so deep below.

Kerion is in fact a Breton name for "little people". In Megaliths, Myths and Men (2000) by Peter Lancaster Brown, he notes that:

In Brittany Folklore, the "little people", more familiar to Irish landscape, are often cited, for tradition relates that the 'dolmens' were the dwellings of the Kerions - a dwarf people who supposedly inhabited the country in former times. Even today in some parts of Brittany one may still here the expression 'As strong as a Kerion".

This is why, after my poem, I wrote "I love the idea which one finds in folklore of Kerions, Leprechauns, fey-folk, and strange little folk that might live in the ground, unseen, only coming through in legends that imperfectly glimpse what they might be like."

Nick commented that commented that "Google doesn't actually know very much about Breton Kerions, does it? Perhaps they've digitally cloaked themselves"

The term is obscure, admittedly, but I think that has more to do with the fact that Breton Folktales, unlike the Irish or Welsh folk tales - or even Greek, Roman and Norse legends - are not so widely known. One book which has a number of these tales is the 1932 "Breton Stories" by Lilias Erskine, and from that, for those who have not heard of Kerions before (including Nick Palmer), here is a story all about them.

The Kerions Feast

You know the Kerions surely ?

Little sturdy people, who wear white robes. . . . They live among the dolmens and the menhirs, making their homes behind these giant boulders. . . .

In the evening time they hold nocturnal gatherings, and many weird things are said to happen if the Kerions make merry in your house. . . .

One evening a farmer was sleeping peacefully in his high wooden bed, when he was awakened by laughter and singing. . . . Peeping through the curtains of the bed he saw his whole room lit up : little candles in tiny lanterns hung from every beam ; jugs of cider stood on the tables and dishes of every kind were spread out on the oak chest by the window. . . .

Cakes and meats and all his best wines were laid before the company. . . . And what a strange company it was, too ! Such tiny men in queer white robes. . . . And they danced and sang so gleefully, that the farmer lay still and watched their revel with much amusement. . . .

Near to the bed stood a small table, also laden with food; stretching out his hand the farmer seized a joint of beef and concealed it under the bedclothes.

" Time to go! " cried the leader suddenly. . . .

And all the Kerions assembled and replaced the food and wine that they had taken. . . .

" Away with the ox ! " cried the leader. . . .

Instantly all the joints of meat jumped off the plates and grew together, till a complete ox had
been formed. . . .

" Drive it back to the stable," said the leader. . . .

" Alas ! we cannot," cried the Kerions, " for one hip-joint is missing."

" We will make him one of putty," they said.

So they quickly fashioned a new joint from some putty and drove the ox back into the stable. . . . Clapping their hands and laughing merrily, they took down their lanterns and danced away into the night. . . .

The next day the farmer gave his wife the joint of beef and they made stews and soup from it for many days. . . .

A. few weeks later the farmer was driving his plough. The ox moved so slowly, that at last he cried out impatiently : " Oh ! you slow stupid thing. Your legs are so stiff they might be made of putty." As he spoke, down fell the hip-joint of putty and the poor ox could walk no more. . . . The poor animal was in such pain that the farmer was obliged to kill it.

" Alas ! stupid man that I was," sighed he.

" If only I had kept the real joint, I could have healed my ox." . . .

But he remembered too late that he and his family had eaten it in a stew the day before.