AQUELARRE.
~77ie one. wouZdpress belne-en ilsfleshless knees. Ih* skeleton
fttmmmm ofhuqepropohions.- foe ot?terrode a monslrvus owl'
LEGENDS
AND
POPULAR TALES
OF THE
BASQUE PEOPLE
MARIANA MONTEIRO

WITH
ILLUSTRATIONS IN PHOTOGRAVURE
BY
HAROLD COPPING
POPULAR EDITION
T. FISHER UNVVIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE
1890


CONTENTS.
PAGfc
INTRODUCTION ?I
I.
AQUELARRE ...... i .19
II.
ARGUIDUNA . . . . • . . • 52
III.
MA1TAGARRI 80
IV.
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN . . , , . ,125
V.
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN . . , . . JCJO
293512
vi
CONTENTS.
VI.
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES 8 . . . • 166
VII.
THE SONG OF LAMIA ... 185
VIII.
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS—BALLAD . • . 206
IX.
THE CHANT OF THE CRUCIFIED—BALLAD ♦ 215
X.
THE RAIDS—BALLAD 220
XI.
THE HOLY WAR—BALLAD . . . . . 226
XII.
THE PROPHECY OF LARA—BALLAD , 233
XIII.
HURCA-MENDI • * 247
GLOSSARY ...»
26l
ILLUSTRATIONS.
BY
HAROLD COPPING.
I.
AQUELARRE.
"The one would press between its fleshiess knees the skeleton of a mam-
moth of huge proportions; the other rode a monstrous owl."
[Frontispiece
II.
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
"His shadoiv nevertheless wanders about these solitary places armed
to the teeth.1"
[Facing P. 125
III.
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
"The vision approaclied nearer and nearer; and came and sat by the side
if the sleeping hunts7nan and gazed upon him for a long time in silence."
[Facing P. 206
IV.
HURCA-MENDI.
"And wrenching off the splendid crown which eiuirded its brow, he
precipitately ran out of the church"
I Facing P. 247
INTRODUCTION.
N placing before the reader this collec-
tion of Basque legends, fairy tales,
ballads, and popular stones having
their origin in the ancient traditions
which formed a portion of the sacred
inheritance bequeathed to the Basque
people by their forefathers, and handed down by word
of mouth from generation to generation; I have thought
that a few remarks would not be out of place concerning
the moral and historical importance which these legends
and tales possess, as being the reflection of the ideas
and faithful echo of the sentiments of past generations.
If at one time these legends were viewed with con-
tempt by superficial minds that could not perceive
behind the simplicity of their form the great lessons
which they inculcated, and the lofty sentiments they

2
INTRODUCTION.
enclosed, these very tales and legends are in our day
becoming the objects of the attention and study of deep
thinkers who, by the meagre light which these tales
alone afford them, are able to penetrate the shadows,
left by those ancient societies that have disappeared
from the face of the globe, carrying along with them
the secrets of their ideas, civilization, and life, because
these traditions constitute the archives of the people, the
treasures of their science and of their beliefs; they are
the records of the lives of their forefathers, the land-
marks of the grandeur of their past history.
The Basques, like all primitive races, separated from
the common paternal family, and holding similar beliefs,
and customs, must necessarily possess many analogous
points in common, independent of the effects due
to difference of climate, mode of living, religion, and
other physical and moral causes. Yet the Basques,
are singular in this, that, in the midst of the great,
revolutions which have agitated the whole of Europe,
causing radical changes, levelling to the ground or con-
verting into ruins great empires, powerful nationalities,
monuments; sweeping away languages, and even the
very races themselves—the Basques have known how
to pass unscathed through the many storms of devasta-
tion, preserving intact their nationality, institutions,,
laws, language, and customs.
Impelled by their singularly energetic activity, and by
INTRODUCTION.
the strength of their warlike spirit, they have fought on
land, they have triumphed by sea, they have explored
and conquered unknown regions; and, by the light of
their unassuming but practical intelligence, have suc-
ceeded in consolidating with admirable harmony the
elements of a wise rule which perhaps has no equal in
the world. But following that traditional spirit which is
the characteristic mark of the race, and trusting to that
spirit for the preservation of their institutions and
history, they have never sought to transmit in writing
to their descendants the narrative of their great deeds,
nor the keystone of their robust organization, nor, k
indeed, in one word, the secret of that immense
sovereignty to which they attained, and which is scarcely
comprehensible in our day if we take into account the
now limited conditions of their territory and wealth.
What interest and importance must be attached to
collecting, in view of all these circumstances, the thou-
sands of scattered fragments of a nation's traditions and
beliefs which, shining like vivid flashes of lightning amid
dark shadows, rend the dense veils which conceal the
mysterious secrets of the glorious history of the Basque
people?
There are some who would fain put down all popular
beliefs on the plea that they perpetuate superstition in
the heart of the people. That the masses are super-
stitious is unfortunately a truth which cannot be denied;
4
INTRODUCTION.
but, at the same time, it is true to say that the greatest
men and the most illustrious people of the world have
yielded to that weakness. Yet this fact does not prove
that it is only in traditional beliefs where the origin of
the evil is to be sought for. So long as we are unable
to define the limits which separate truth from error in
space and time, in the physical and moral worlds, man
will ever allow himself to be carried away by the irre-
sistible yearning for that which is unknown and incom-
prehensible, to seek in the mysterious regions of fancy
for abundant food to satisfy his curiosity, and some
explanation for that which he cannot understand.
By no other means is it comprehensible how superstition
has always subsisted in every race, whatever be the reli-
gious profession or degree of culture it may have reached,
or age in which it existed. The object may have changed,
the form may have varied, as it has always done under
the various influences exercised by religion, climate,
customs, and other causes; nevertheless superstition has
not ceased to pervade and dominate the spirit as power-
fully now as it has ever done.
It is true that in our days the belief in witches is gone
by, but, on the other hand, a world of spirits have risen
up, or rather been discovered, as many spiritualists assert,
who assume to live in perfect union with them.
We have among us mediums who have, so they tell us,
legions of the dead at their command, ever ready to
INTRODUCTION.
5
appear at their evocation to fill with wonder and dread
the most cultured city of Europe. And if all the world
laughs at divination and the magic arts,-there are few
who do not shudder when some somnambulist, with brow
bathed in perspiration and frame quivering in forced
sleep, assures them that he can perceive through his
closed eyelids the beginning of tubercule in the lungs
of a patient, or some latent disease in the heart.
Ancient beliefs as a rule sprang from faith or some
moral sentiment in such a manner that across their
gross fictions there shone some great truth or deep--
rooted virtue. Hence they always left behind some
moral teaching or called forth some wholesome emotion.
And in proof that the beliefs of our forefathers tended
to inspire the noblest instincts in man, we have but to
take any of the simplest of them. Who, for instance,
has not heard hundreds of times in the Basque Provinces,
in one form or another, the tales of the Arguidnna?
"The day has fled, and the poor cottager trudges
sadly up the mountain path which leads to her house.
She is weeping, her heart is torn asunder by grief, for she
has lost her only child, who was the sunshine of her life.
"The shades of twilight, the silence which surrounds
her, the sad mystery of night renew the wounds of her
heart! She thinks of her child, she weeps, looks up to
heaven and goes on her way!
"She proceeds, and reaches the graveyard where but
6
INTRODUCTION.
a few days since she had laid the loved remains, and the
poor mother on beholding the grave puts both her hands
to her beating heart, feeling as though it must needs
burst in twain under that wave of sorrow and bitterness
which the recollection of her loss has raised.
"Suddenly a weird light, mysterious, leaps over the
low wall of the cemetery and approaches to meet her,
flickering in fantastic movements amid the shades. On
beholding that light the mother falls on her knees, puts
out her hands towards the flame, and, forgetful of her
own pain, she asks in a faltering voice:
"' Child of my heart, are you happy?'
"And the light, as though wishful of replying to her,
becomes agitated and moves rapidly, and approaches
nearer and closer to her, and stands still above her head.
The woman, enraptured by an undefinable emotion, closes
her eyes. Who knows? Perchance her ears have
caught the sweet murmur of the words of her son—
perchance she has felt on her lips the loving kiss of that
idolized child of her heart!
"But the light begins to ascend and continues rising
towards heaven until it becomes lost amid the shadows.
The woman stands for a moment, her eyes fixed with
fond looks on the spot wThere the light has vanished.
She then directs to heaven a prayer, and starts on her
way home, weeping still; but the tears she sheds are tears
of resignation which comfort her. That night, sleep
INTRODUCTION.
7
does not desert her eyelids as on previous nights, nor is
she troubled by visions or phantoms. She sleeps calmly,
awakes with peace of soul. And this is due to her having
seen the spirit of her child; it is because she knows that
the child so beloved and wept for has not forgotten his
poor mother; it is that she feels that the soul of the child
of her affections has gone to be reunited with its kindred
spirits, the angels of heaven!"
What has all this been? If you question science it
will tell you that it is due to a very simple phenomenon.
Some gases emanating from the organic bodies of that
graveyard have become inflamed on coming into contact
with the air, and produced that flame which in its turn
has caused an hallucination in the overwrought spirit of
the poor mother.
The explanation is correct and exact, and science is
quite right. But how much more consoling is it for that
hapless mother, the hallucination which brought peace to
the soul, than the cold explanation which would leave
her in all the bitterness of sorrow!
Let us state another example. Above the heights of
Amboto appears a heavy dark cloud presaging a storm.
On its appearance the fishermen return precipitately to
port; the field labourers, the traveller, and the shepherds
all fly terrified back to their dwellings, and as they do
so murmur, amid words of prayer, the strange words,
The lady of Amboto! the lady of Amboto!
8
INTRODUCTION.
And who is this lady?
The wandering soul of a woman bereft of faith and
conscience, who, after sacrificing to her ambition the love
of a wife, that of a daughter, and even her hope of eternal
salvation, commits the last and greatest crime—that of
self-destruction—by casting herself down a precipice, and
her spirit, in just expiation of so much sin, finds itself
condemned to wail and wander for ever a victim to
remorse among the peaks of Amboto. Her apparition
is always followed by some great misfortune. The
traces of her footprints are always marked with tears and
blood, and, like to the birds of prey which are only aroused
by the smell of blood, she foretells also the hour of cala-
mity, and quits her haunts to revel in tears and wails.
On the other hand, a white lovely mist is seen to rise
and hover over the top of Morumendi, and this mist
becomes lost in space like a soft vapour. If on beholding
this mist some become alarmed, this is soon succeeded
by gleams of hope springing up in their hearts, and they
hail the beneficent lady who comes to announce to them
that, although the hours of trial are at hand, she will help
them to surmount them. Here comes the good lady!
Here comes the good lady! is heard from every lip bless-
ing the spirit of the chaste and heroic maiden who,
sacrificing for her aged father her own happiness and
affections and her very life, ended her lonely days in
prayer on the rugged peaks of Morumendi.
INTRODUCTION.
9
The soul of the proud, unnatural daughter comes
always accompanied by black clouds presaging disaster.
The apparition of the innocent maiden ever comes
amid vapourous mists, white like her spotless soul, and
announcing hope and peace.
The lady of Amboto symbolizes ingratitude, ambition,
and crime, and her spirit dwells in the midst of general
execration, and is received with curses.
The lady of Morumendi symbolizes abnegation, virtue,,
innocence, and lives amid the blessings of the grateful
hearts of all the people.
All this is fantastic and absurd, there is no doubt.
But to the Basque it has been during twenty generations
a moral lesson written with clouds upon the gigantic
peaks of Amboto and Morumendi.
And similarly in all the other traditions which have-
been preserved, there is always discovered in their origin
either a principle of morality, or the sacred cultus of the
paternal hearth, or the passionate love of their mountains.
That is to say, the three greatest and purest sentiments
of humanity—the love of God, the love of home, and the
love of the country—the three great virtues which the
Romans admired in the Basques some twenty centuries
ago. These virtues have distinguished the race through-
out that immense space of time, and these very virtues
will still shine in the coming generations, although unfor-
tunately without the vigorous energy of their forefathers.
lO
INTRODUCTION,
And perchance—can it be doubted?—these popular
legends have had no small share in preserving the
•character of the Basque race so distinctly, that at the
present day they stand alone and unique amid the ruin
and desolation which have befallen all other primitive
races, retaining its language, customs, beliefs, and the
same spirit which so eminently distinguished them in
the midst of all those opulent ancient empires, the re-
membrance of which is fast becoming obliterated from
the memory of the people.
Entone at the present day the song of Hanibal which
•our forefathers sang thirty centuries ago, or that of
Lekovide in the time of Augustus Octavius, or that of
Altabiscar during the epoch of Charlemagne, and the
humblest shepherd of the mountains will understand it
as though it had been composed for him. On the other
hand, what people or race understands the Sagas of the
SCALDOS, the poem of the Nibelung,the chants of Ossian,
and the hymns of the Armenians? Only a few learned
men who have made the languages which no longer
exist objects of study. And this is not due solely to the
fact that the language of those days is still preserved
•as that the spirit which distinguished the race has been
perpetuated, and the people at the present day judge
and feel and live in the same manner as they did in the
ancient days of their glory.
By what other means but by tradition do we know
INTRODUCTION.
ii
the names of the heroic chieftains of that race of warriors
which carried terror and dismay into the very centre of
proud Rome—the Lekovides, U chines, and Lartaunes?
What history has preserved the glorious names of
Hernio, Gurutzeta, Oro-vioc, Betzaide, and others too
numerous to mention?
By what explanation could we be able to comprehend
better than by the Canto of Alos the imposing solemnity
and the deep sentiment of the funeral ceremony of
Gau-illa?
Truly, then, can it be said, that the nation which more
•completely gathers together the largest collection of
traditions, ballads, and popular legends, must be the
•one possessing the most complete history.
For this reason throughout the German States has the
prosecution of this branch of study been followed with inte-
rest and assiduity, and in France also with national spirit
Hence, if this study is held to be one of such great
importance by the two great nations which are at the
head of the literary movements of the world, and that,
moreover, possesses beautiful and multiplied histories
written by the finest intellects with all the philosophical
conditions which modern criticism exact—what interest
must not a nation such as the Basque inspire, which has
no chronicles or archives, inscriptions or any other of
the indispensable elements required for forming such a
vast work as this?
12
INTRODUCTION.
There remains, therefore, to us but one path open—
the memory of the people.
Let us hasten to collect, each on his part, the materials
necessary for this important object, and the day may
dawn when some privileged genius shall bring to a
conclusion the imperfect work which I have commenced
of bringing forward before an enlightened English
public the vast array of not only Basque legends, but
the legends of many other provinces of Spain.
And let us hasten with all speed, for the gods are
departing. Through an irreparable misfortune, which is
not sufficiently deplored, this hapless nation or race is
suffering in its depths a deep and laboured transforma-
tion. The levelling breath of the age is wresting from
the heart of the Basques on a par with the superstitions
in which they lived, their lofty sentiments and patri-
archal customs; and the people, on apprehending by
the light of new ideas the simple paucity of their beliefs
experience a sad humiliation on perceiving their credulity
and ignorance. In our day it is sad to say, even the
most rustic husbandman appears ashamed to recount
those tales which at one time he listened to with
enthusiasm and with implicit faith; and on asking for
any narrative he will look askance, suspecting that the
interrogator may sneer at his simplicity.
Let it not be thought, however; that because we are
enthusiastic for all ancient lore we cease to acknowledge
INTRODUCTION.
13
the immense benefits humanity owes to illustration and
the progress of modern times; but in this especial point,
uniting ourselves for a moment to the ideas of the
Basque people, let me ask, with what ideas and sen-
timents could the space be filled up in their history
were we to tear down and scorn the beliefs and tradi-
tions, ideas and customs of that race which so largely
contributed to their well-being for more than twenty
centuries, imprinting on the character of the Basque
that seal of wonderful originality which has always
distinguished the race? That is to say, the admirable
harmony "which unites in them the most peaceful instincts
with an heroic valour in dangers; of spontaneous sub-
mission to authority with an indomitable spirit of liberty;
and lastly, a modest simplicity with an energetic aspira-
tion for all that is grand.
But apart from all this the sad truth must be told:
the Basque of the present day, especially the generation
that is rising up, does not feel the love and yearning for
home and hearth felt by their elders, and those traditions
and tales of their forefathers no longer satisfy his spirit.
It is urgent, therefore, to gather together these legends
from the generation which is fast passing away, else if
we wait much longer we know not whether even a trace
of their footprints will be in existence. Many traditions
have already disappeared, losing along with them part
of the precious treasures of our beloved country's history;
INTRODUCTION.
but as this cannot now be remedied, let us repair the loss
by collecting what remains, and preserve them with
religious veneration, since they are the relics of the great-
ness, the virtues, and faith of our forefathers.
It is a recognized fact that the people inhabiting
mountainous countries are all, more or less, given to
believe in the marvellous or the supernatural, because
nature presents herself in those lands under forms of
greater beauty and grandeur, and thus offers to the
imagination of the simple dwellers a more free scope for
the marvellous. Such are the rugged shores of the
Rhine strewn with the weird ruins of feudal" castles;
the mountains and lakes of Scotland; the broken rocks
of the Hebrides, as well as the vast wild tracts of land
of Emerald Erin, covered with an evergreen underwood.
In some may be found gnomes or ghosts; in others, white
ladies riding fantastic steeds; or Peri, or again Will-o'-
the-wisps—but in all are found innumerable multitudes-
of mysterious beings whose cries or dances, games and
aerial cavalcades, have been seen beneath the pale light
of the moon, or among the mists, or the froth of water-
fall, or torrent, or mountain stream, which, as it dashes
and splashes up, form supposed canopies for the spirits
inhabiting the waters, or hovering under the branches of
the huge ancient trees of the forest.
Should any enlightened traveller sit down at the hospi-
table hearth of one of the dwellers of these countries and
INTRODUCTION.
15
listen to the marvellous adventures narrated in perfect
faith by the patriarch of the family, and listened to with
the greatest respect and in deep silence by all his family
and retainers ; and should the said traveller interrupt the
narrative by any movement or sign of incredulity, he
would see the whole family rise up together and protest
against such an act, not because of its discourtesy, but
because it casts an injurious doubt, and such a doubt
would lessen the importance of that district or village,
should they not be able to boast of the existence of
some of these mysterious beings, undefined it is true,,
but supposed ever to exert some direct influence on all
the important events of their simple, monotonous life.
And, to convince the traveller of the truth of what is
advanced, some stalwart shepherd will assert that he
has been awakened on a certain night by the light kiss-
of a white Will-d-the~wisp which has dragged him out
of his straw bed and carried him to a neighbouring
wood, sore and tossed by the rapid whirls of some wild
dance. The old man will add that he remembers how
in his youth he saw the White Lady of the neighbouring
castle pass on horseback across the wood, with a falcon
fastened to her wrist, and accompanied by a retinue of
hunters with bugle-horns, and leading hunting dogs.
After these asseverations, follow the tales of the aged
mistress of the house, who will relate how she saw with
her own eyes a wilful imp spilling the salt, turning over
i6
INTRODUCTION.
the pots and kettles, and even carrying its audacity to
the point of fastening an old rag to the tail of the most
venerable cat of the house.
In view of, to them, such unimpeachable proofs the
visitor is bound to agree with them, that in truth ghosts
and peri> white ladies and Will-o'-the-wisps do exist, and
in this manner he will once more win the good opinion
of his hosts.
I am of opinion that it is better to allow these good
people to live in peace with their superstitions, which do
no harm to any one, leaving to time the work of unde-
ceiving them, than to put ourselves forward as reformers
among them by endeavouring to root up their simple
beliefs. Moreover, the people that from their simplicity
believe in all these things are found as a rule to be more
virtuous, peaceful, and honest, better disposed to observe
religious duties and precepts, and more obedient to the
laws of their respective governments, because these
simple beliefs prepare them in a certain manner to
accept other beliefs which are of greater importance and
interest.
And I go further than this: how would they pass the
Jong evenings of winter were they deprived of the mar-
vellous stories which they narrate in peace and good
fellowship, sitting around the fire, and that serve them
as food for their imagination and of repose and relaxa-
tion after their hard day's rough work in the fields?
INTRODUCTION.
17
Let us bear in mind that, at least during the time
they narrate these marvellous fables and stories, they
are happy and contented. Therefore let us not embitter
with our scepticism the pleasure these people enjoy.
The tract or range of land and mountains which
comprises the Basque Provinces contains mountains
similar to those of Scotland, hills as green as may be
found in Ireland, rivers with shores as rugged as are
those of Germany, with bleak coasts as huge and in-
hospitable as are the coasts of the Hebrides. This
country, topographically so similar to the above-men-
tioned nations, possesses a people dowered with an
imagination as vivid as theirs, inclined to create fantastic
beings known under the name of Lamice, inhabiting
their tempestuous coasts ; Bassa-jaon^ or jauna, dwelling
in their interminable woods; Maitagarrys amid the
luxuriant forests; and Sorgtiinas on the solitary plains
and in the fissures opened by the force of the mountain
torrents.
The legends and historical traditions of a people sui
generis, possessing a language at once magnificent,
original, and similar to none, a brilliant poetic ima-
gination, fired with a love which amounts almost to
idolatry for their mountains, a deeply-rooted religious
faith, simple patriarchal habits, extraordinary progress,
undoubted virtues, and an admirable administration
worthy of being imitated, must, I feel assured, prove of
iS
INTRODUCTION,
interest to the English public, which is ever ready to
recognize and acknowledge the grandeur and virtues of
foreign nations, and take an interest even in their fairy
tales and popular stories.
M. M.

AQUELARRE.1
I.
N the territory which stands between the
towns of Zuggaramurdi and Echalar, a
mountainous tract covered with woods,
crossed by rivulets, and divided by
narrow and very deep valleys, will be
found, isolated and darksome, the moun-
tain of Aquelarre, overgrown with brambles and thorns,
and surrounded by rocks and waterfalls.
Aquelarre. A word composed of larre, pasture land, and
Aquerra, buck goat; hence the word Aquelarre signifies the
pasture la?id of the goat. It is well known that this animal figures
in all the conventicles of witches as representing the Evil One.

20
AQUELARRE,
The position of the mountain and its conical form
invites the attention of geologists visiting these rugged
places; and in effect it is curious to notice that while
other mountains, branches of the Pyrenees, are joined
together by defiles which form undulations full of vari-
ous accidents, in some, of soft, ever-green brows, while
in other instances their heights are perfect plains, and
in some again peaked Aquelarre is roughly different
from the general form of these mountains, so that it
stands an exception in the midst of them.
It is said that "Ariel," the titular genius of the
Biscayans, one day stretched out his powerful arm
and wrenched from its base this singular mountain,
placing it at a distance from its companions, so that
they should not become contaminated by any contact
with this accursed mountain. In fact Aquelarre is an
accursed mountain. If you believe it not, remark the
colour of the brambles which cover its enormous sides.
It is not a green that pleases the sight, the colour in
which the noble oak clothes its branches. Neither is it
the silvery hue of the white poplar. Much less is it the
brilliant green of the handsome beech-tree. Nor does it
approach to the green which covers the cherry, the pear,,
a,nd the nut-trees, full of white, fragrant flowers, in whose
salyx shines the drop of dew, like a pure diamond.
The colour of the brushwood of Aquelarre, sombre,
lugubrious, darksome, resembles the gigantic peak of
AQUELARRE.
21
Lithuania, or of the cypress which grows in the fissures
of the stony hills of Arabia Petrea—a funereal sinister
hue which saddens the spirit and represses the expan-
sipn of soul of the poet, that in a rapture contemplates
the sumptuous gifts and graces of nature in the woods, or
the smiling and simple glory of the flower-strewn valleys.
Why this notable contrast? Why this dark phantom
in the midst of such beautifully bedecked nature? Be-
cause all things that are in contact with the genius of
evil carry with them the seal of reprobation, substituting
for their ancient beauty forms at once repugnant and
loathsome.
Aquelarre finds itself in this sad state. Its heights
are frequented by the prince of darkness, and in the
crevices of the mountains are repeated the echoes of
the irreligious songs which are entoned in his praise.
Many in terror and fear have heard these songs
resounding in the mountains, and breaking the majestic
silence of the night.
There are some who have seen columns of black smoke
rising, and have perceived a nauseous smell emanating
from the confines of this accursed mountain, and have
with reason conjectured, that the smoke was produced
by the holocausts offered to the genius of evil by his
wicked worshippers in some mysterious sacrifices.
Nevertheless, who were these spirits? From whence
do they come to celebrate their nocturnal revels?
22
AQUELARRE.
The simple dweller of the mountains shrugs his shoul-
ders on being asked these questions, and contents him-
self with replying laconically—" Eztaqiiit" ("I do not
know").
Suddenly a report was spread from mouth to mouth,
and which gained ground and soon became general, ta
the effect, that the discovery had been made of what
passed on the heights of the accursed mountain by a.
child.
Behold how tradition tells us this was effected.
Izar and Lanoa were two orphan children; the first
was seven years of age and the latter nine. These poor
children, true wandering bards, frequented the moun-
tains, earning a livelihood by singing ballads and
national airs in sweet infantile voices, in return for a
bed of straw and a cupful of meal. Throughout the
district these children were known and loved on account
of their sad state, as well as for their graceful forms,
and winning ways.
There was, however, a difference between the two.
Izar, the younger brother, was fair as jasper; his long
hair fell in curls, pale as the stems of the maize, down,
his shoulders and back; his eyes were of the purest
sky-blue, while from them shot glances at once sweet and
suppliant of irresistible force; his lips were red as the
flower of the wild pomegranate, around which hovered
a smile as gentle as the light puff of an expiring breeze,.
AQUELARRE.
23
and, on contracting them, two dimples appeared in his
rosy cheeks. Izar was the more patient of the brothers,
the meeker, and the more beautiful; his voice had a
purer tone, and for that reason was the favourite of the
inhabitants of the mountains.
Lanoa was as handsome as his brother, but Nature had
dowered him with a different style of beauty. His figure
was more lithe, and his limbs of stronger make ; the looks
he cast out of his black eyes were haughty—at times
even arrogant and full of daring. The way he curled
his upper lip revealed a passionate, proud character;
his hair was black with the bluish shade seen on the
feathers of the raven; his long eye-lashes somewhat
softened the fire of his eagle eye. Nevertheless, Lanoa
was a good lad, and loved his younger brother, notwith-
standing that at times he would treat him roughly.
It was on a sad, cloudy day in November that these
two were walking towards Aranaz, crossing with diffi-
culty the mountains enveloped in a fog, and covered
with snow.
Izar grew very tired climbing the heights, and the
poor child had not the courage to ask his- brother to -
help him up. Lanoa, on his part, was not disposed to
offer any help, however much in his heart he desired
Izar to ask assistance, which he could then give without
loss to his pride.
"Poor fellow, he is tired," he would say to himself;
24
AQUELARRE.
"but he does not wish to humble himself to ask me to
help him up. If he expects me to offer it ."
Musing in this way, he increased his speed, thus
lengthening the distance which separated him from
Izar. The latter endeavoured to reach him by taking
great strides to do so; but he could barely keep on his
delicate feet, until by a great effort he sought to keep
within hearing of his voice.
All at once a gust of wind brought down large masses
of wet, heavy snow into the defile through which walked
the brothers, and Lanoa was compelled to suspend the
rapid speed he had sustained, and thus enabled Izar in
a short time to come up to him.
"What shall we do ?" he timidly asked.
"Do what you please, lazy boy," Lanoa replied,
roughly; "for my part I shall continue my walk as
soon as the fog clears away a little."
"Very well, my brother/' replied Izar, gently; "but
meanwhile sit down at my feet and I will cover you with
my capusay,1 for you are in such a heat with your efforts."
"Women and lazy children like yourself require to be
sheltered from the wind; as for me, I am a man, and I
am not frightened with the cold."
Saying this, he uncovered his head, and exposed his
wavy hair to the freezing gusts of the north wind.
x Capusay. A sort of dalmatic of very thick cloth furnished with a hood.
AQUELARRE.
25
"What are you doing, my brother?" cried Izar, rising
from the broken rock upon which he had sat, and cover-
ing with his cap the head of Lanoa. "Oh, please let
me cover you from the cold,5' he continued. "I well
know that you are stronger than I am, and for that very
reason should you take care of yourself, so that you may
help me that am so weak."
"Be off!" cried Lanoa,pushing his brother away, who
slipped and fell to the ground. And with bare head he
resolutely commenced anew his march across the deep,
cold snow.
Izar did not reply a word, nor did he even utter a cry
of pain as his head was wounded by falling upon a
stone. He rose up to renew his good work of abnega-
tion and charity; and then he noticed with deep sorrow
that his brother had disappeared from view. He ran in
all directions, calling him with loud cries; but the fog
was so dense that he was unable to find him. Then,
half dead with fatigue, in despair, and shivering with
the cold, the poor child looked around him, and per-
ceived through the fog that at a short distance from him
stood an immense tree, and that its trunk was hollow.
Night was rapidly closing in, covering with its dark
mantle these solitary places. The fog grew mere heavy
and damp; and instead of dispersing, remained station-
ary, clinging to the branches of the trees, and descending
like the waters of a stream into the marshes and valleys
26
AQUELARRE.
From the hollow of the tree in which our young hero
had taken shelter could be seen an extensive tract of
land covered with a white mist; in places it remained
still like the waters of a lake; in others it rose and fell
like the sea waves that break on the rocky promontories.
In that veritable ocean of fog could be perceived here
and there black points like so many dark islands, which
no doubt were the peaked heights of that range of
mountains.
The silence was deep and solemn. The night was
fast increasing in darkness.
In the distance, and above the fog, could be seen a
yellow line of light presaging the rising of the moon,
which at that time of the year was of opaque brilliancy,
and more so seen in that atmosphere full of fog and mist.
Izar understood, from what he could descry, that he
was standing on the top of a mountain; so quitting his
shelter he reconnoitred the surroundings.
The protecting tree stood in the centre of a small
plain, surrounded on all sides by thick shrubs and
brushwood, so tangled and close that he could discover
no opening or path by which he could possibly descend
from its height down to the base.
How did that lost child find his way into such a spot?
He could not tell.
Feeling hungry and thirsty, and, moreover, finding
himself in a spot which was totally unknown to him, he
AQUELARRE.
began to cry from anguish and fear; but at length, con-
vinced that all this was unavailing, he returned to the
worm-eaten hollow of that tree, fully determined to pass
the night in its hospitable shelter. He fervently com-
mended his soul to God; he thought in sadness of his
mother, who had loved him so tenderly, and he prayed
to the All-powerful to deliver his elder brother of what-
ever danger he might find himself in. Having done this,,
he sat down, and wrapping himself as comfortably as he
could in his poor coat, he huddled up in his hiding-place,
and the sleep of innocence very soon closed his eyelids..
At the moment when he placed his soul and body
trustingly in the safe keeping of a God full of goodness,
the heavens were rent open and an angel beautiful as are
all the angels, descended in a rapid flight and alighted
on the branches of the tree. Then he extended his white
wings, and with loving solicitude watched the sleep of the
innocent child.
For a length of time did Izar sleep calmly and
sweetly under the loving care of the angel. At length
he was suddenly aroused by a singular and incessant
uproar which seemed to fill space. He cautiously peeped
out of the hollow trunk of the tree, and an incomprehen-
sible spectacle presented itself to his view. The moon
was shining on the plain, and, casting a pale reflection
over space, imparted a weird appearance and fantastic
form to all objects.
28
AQUELARRE.
From the point in the heavens occupied by the planet
of night, and extending along the vast line of the
horizon, the tints were becoming more and more sombre,
passing from light grey to the deepest black. Out of
the four cardinal points of the horizon rose up four
extremely long lines of fantastic shadows, from which
issued terrible unearthly cries, and these shadows with
astounding rapidity all travelled to meet in a concentric
point. This point was actually the very plain which we
have just described. To depict in words the strange
•cavalcade upon which these fantastic shadows were
mounted, would be a work superior to human ability.
The one would press between its fleshless knees the
skeleton of a mammoth of huge proportions; the other
rode a horrible monstrous owl; others, again, divided the
air riding on broomsticks; while some were perched on
the backs of serpents bearing enormous wings, long tails,
and with brilliant eyes.
All these shadows joined one another until the four
lines formed an immeasurable chain. And thus they
whirled until they gathered together at a distance of about
a hundred feet from the ground; then they greeted one
another with frenzied cries, ringing shrieks of laughter,
deafening shouts, and hideous yells. After this they
began a circular flight in a confused disorder, and little
by little they began to descend to the ground.
The astonishment and terror of Izar increased when
AQUELARRE.
29
he perceived that all these shadows were so many forms
of decrepit old women. Their faces, blackened and
wrinkled, were repulsive, while their hideous bodies
inspired disgust, their short matted hair and fleshless
limbs were truly fearful to see. The terror which all this
scene inspired in the heart of Izar, who was an unwilling
witness, increased to a terrible degree when he noticed
that all these women were preparing to execute some
unearthly dance, taking one another's hands, and forming
a large circle around the hollow tree in which he had
taken refuge. And, what was more strange still to him,,
was the fact that this immense crowd fitted perfectly in
the plain without requiring to widen its circuit or ta
diminish the size of their figures. As Izar had feared,
it was not long before the dance commenced. At first
this dance was of slow movements, and all kept time
stepping together, now on one foot, now on the other.
Little by little the leaps became more violent, the
turns more rapid, until at length this nameless dance
turned into a sort of whirlwind, increasing in speed, until
it caused dizziness to attempt to follow the move-
ments.
Jumps, cries, terrible contortions, turns—all were super-
natural, all horrible to the sight, all was a confused,,
incomprehensible jargon to the ear.
Poor Izar could no longer support that spectacle, and
he fell fainting to the ground. When he recovered
30
AQUELARRE.
consciousness the moon had disappeared. The night
was pitch dark, a sepulchral silence reigned throughout
the plain. He looked out again from his hiding-place,
judging that these fiendish women who had so alarmed
him must have disappeared ; but he perceived in terror
that they still occupied the same spot as before, but
in more strange attitudes, if possible. They were all
ranged in a circle, huddled up close together, around a
throne of ebony, upon which was seen calmly sitting an
enormous he-goat. From this throne gleamed a few
rays of yellow light, the only light which illumined the
scene. The old women were successively approach-
ing the throne, and as they did so they each respectfully
kissed the hairy cloven foot of the goat. Then, after
this long ceremony was concluded, the goat shook his
head, and one by one each of these creatures com-
menced to relate what she had done.
Izar, horrified at being compelled to listen to their
hideous narratives of premeditated deaths, mutilation of
babes, profanation of cemeteries, and other crimes, was
once more about to faint away with horror, when he
heard a sweet voice which seemed to come from among
the branches of the tree, and which pronounced his name.
Astonished at this, he arose, and raising his eyes to the
direction from whence came the voice, he saw among
the branches a young man of celestial beauty, who was
gazing upon Izar with tender, loving looks.
AQUELARRE.
3i
"Listen, and do not fear," the young man said, " for I
am here to guard and watch over you."
Then Izar bent his ear to listen to what was said by
the women, and he heard the following conversation.
"All my sisters," one of the witches was saying in a
hissing voice, "have obeyed your commands. There
was not a single one of them who did not send you, oh
sovereign master, some victims, but I challenge any of
them to do what I can."
"Speak, my daughter," murmured the goat: "I well
know that you are one of my most devoted worshippers."
"You know, my lord," continued the witch, "that the
grand reigning Duke of F and his lady are both
zealous Christians, faithful and true, and you are also
aware that they have a daughter lovely as the sun, whom
they idolize. What a joy to me to make this beautiful
creature die by inches; to wither that flower in all its
youth and freshness, and to sow despair in the hearts of
her parents, and so deliver them up to your powerful
temptations! Would it not be a masterly stroke to kill
them also after two or three months of cruel sufferings?
What would it cost you, my lord, to impel them to
destroy their own life?"
A horrible grimace, which no doubt was intended to
be a smile of satisfaction, overspread the countenance of
the goat, and his eyes darted gleams of fire impossible to
describe.
32
AQUELARRE.
"Should you do so/' replied the author of evil, "you
will become the best beloved of my daughters."
"Well, then, give me my reward, my lord. It is now
a week since the princess began to suffer, and no one is
able to discover the cause of her complaint, and still less
can they find the remedies to effect her cure."
"Are you not afraid that some one will discover it?"
"No, my lord, because the spell which binds her con-
sists in the existence of an enormous toad which lies
concealed under a broken statue, which has been aban-
doned and cast away in a corner of the garden of the
ducal residence. So long as this toad is not destroyed,
the sickness will follow its course and the princess will
die."
"This that you tell me pleases me greatly, Bazzioti,
and I desire to have frequent and exact accounts given
me of what happens. I give you my thanks for what
you do," continued the genius of evil, " and I summon
you to come next Saturday."
Saying this, the evil one shook his head; a terrible
thunder-clap was heard, and the throne disappeared
along with he who sat upon it. All things became
enveloped in a complete obscurity.
Soon after this Izar heard the noise of the witches
rising up and taking to flight on the winds, and by the
now dim light of the moon he descried the fantastic
line of shadows that in silence were departing towards
AQUELARRE.
33
the points of the horizon from whence they came,
and slowly disappeared among the mass of black
clouds.
Izar then looked up to the branches of the tree and
saw there the young man who had bidden him have no
fear. This angelic youth then said to him, "Fulfil your
mission as I have fulfilled mine!" Then, spreading his
wings, he rose to the sky, casting behind him sparks of
brilliant light, and leaving a celestial fragrance which
comforted the child's benumbed limbs and instilled
warmth and courage into his heart.
II.
A month had passed since Izar had been a witness to
this strange conventicle. Full of faith in the words of
the angel, he walked on to perform the charitable act
which was so much in harmony with his good heart.
Determined to overcome all the obstacles which might
beset his path, he continued his march night and day
towards Italy, for it was in one of its small States that
the Grand Duke of F reigned.
How was he able to traverse great nations without
means, and without even knowing the languages which
were spoken in them? Tradition does not tell us any-
thing concerning this particular. What is affirmed by
the inhabitants of the Basque Provinces is, that he
4
34
AQUELARRE.
reached his destination and to the gates of the palace of
the reigning grand duke.
It would certainly have been a difficult feat for our
young adventurer to succeed in approaching the person
of so high a personage, had not the duchess, who was
returning from a neighbouring church, whither she had
resorted to pray for the restoration of the health of her
daughter, at that moment entered into the palace, and,
noticing that a poor child was at the gates, supposed
it was to solicit alms that he had come ; so she beckoned
to him and gave him a silver coin, saying, " Take this
alms, poor child, and ask our dear Lord to grant that my
daughter may be restored to health. The prayers of
an innocent child are very*pleasing to God, and will
assuredly obtain the boon from Him which he refuses to
us."
"Is it your daughter that is sick?" sweetly asked
Izar.
"Yes, my own darling daughter."
"Very well, then," Izar rejoined, " I will cure her."
"You?" cried the duchess, in astonishment. "Poor
child! perhaps you do not know that the first physicians
of the land and the cleverest have despaired of effecting
a cure?"
"I certainly was not aware of this ; but all I know is
that I have come here expressly to cure the princess,
and cure her I will!"
AQUELARRE.
35
The duchess, mute with astonishment, looked fixedly at
Izar, who stood there surrounded by her servitors, yet
calm, erect, but with a modest bearing, and uncovered
head, his golden hair falling over his shoulders in curls.
The clear look in his eyes manifested truth and
candour; the smile that hovered around his lips was so
gentle and winning, that the noble lady, after consulting
for a few moments with the ladies of honour who accom-
panied her, and who all tacitly assented to the duchess
allowing the child to carry out the purport of his words,
took Izar by the hand and led him up the sumptuous
stairs of the palace.
While this singular scene was taking place at the
palace gates the duke sat by the bedside of his dying
•child.
The invalid was about eight years of age. Her large,
almond-shaped eyes had already lost the light and life
which was the delight of her parents, and were sinking
in their sockets. A dark circle could be seen around her
•eyelids, and the extreme pallor of her delicate face
clearly indicated the approaching end of that sweet
flower prematurely fading away. The parched lips had
lost their rosy colour. It was distressing to gaze upon
that painful scene.
Nothing could be more terrible than the sorrow of the
father as he witnessed the slow agony of his beloved
-daughter. A sorrow mute, it is true, but deep; a grief
36
AQUELARRE.
which, finding no vent in tears, was all the more fearful
in its results. Because a father, besides endeavouring to
stifle the grief which anguishes him, has at the same time
to alleviate another pain—the sorrow of the mother.
At this moment the door of the sick chamber is
opened, and the duchess was just entering, leading Izar
by the hand, and followed by her ladies and pages, who,
attracted by the novelty of the affair, had come to see
the end of all this singular episode.
Izar did not manifest the least astonishment while
treading the soft carpets of that regal house, or when
crossing the chambers covered with damasks and velvets,
gold and marbles.
On seeing him thus calmly following the duchess,,
without manifesting the least surprise or curiosity, and
without opening his rosy lips, except to smile whenever
she looked at him, none would have suspected for a
moment that this lovely golden-haired boy had passed
days and nights walking through woods covered with
briars, or that he had slept under no better shelter or
bed than the blackened thatch of rough cabins and huts
of the Basque mountains and upon the hard ground.
But this circumstance did not escape the observation of
the duchess, and this very fact lit up a ray of hope in her
heart.
Scarcely had the duchess entered the chamber than
she was met by the duke, who, going to meet her, said
AQUELARRE.
37
in a sad tone: "My lady, we must lose all hope now;
our beloved daughter will assuredly die!"
"Oh, my friend, be comforted/' she replied; "who
knows but she will yet be spared?"
"Alas! no, I have no hope whatever," said the duke;
ci she is dying, my lady, she is fast dying."
The duchess then turned towards Izar, who stood
behind her; and as she did so noticed that he was casting
a look full of smiles towards the duke.
"Whoever you are," the duchess exclaimed, as she
took Izar by the hand and drew him close to her, "is it
true that you will cure our daughter?"
"I have come to do so," quietly replied Izar.
"You perceive," said the duchess to her husband, "that
there is still some hope left."
"Who is this boy ?" asked the duke, greatly astonished.
"I do not know," replied the duchess ; " I met him on
my return from the church, and on asking him to pray
to God for our child, he replied that he had come to cure
her!"
"Can this be so ?" exclaimed the duke.
"It is," replied Izar.
"Who are you?" rejoined the duke. "Perchance are
you an angel sent by God to comfort us?"
"I am a poor orphan, my lord."
"Where do you come from?"
"I have come from distant lands."
38
AQUELARRE.
'To cure my daughter?" demanded the sorrow-
stricken father.
"Yes, that has been the only object of my journey,,
and I have walked the whole way, and day and night
for a month."
All the persons present at this singular interview gave
a cry of surprise. The duke passed his hand across his.
brow like a man who is mentally agitated; then, after a
few moments of thought, he took, his resolve, and led the
way towards where the sick child lay unconscious and
fast dying away, and made a sign for Izar to approach.
The extraordinary replies of the boy, coupled with his
self-possession, greatly excited the curiosity of all who
witnessed the scene, and the ladies and servitors were
gathered together in a group at the door of the bed*
chamber.
Izar approached the bed, and in silence gazed for
some time upon the unconscious form of the princess,,
who scarcely gave signs of life.
"Here is the invalid—can you cure her?" said the
duke to Izar.
Izar did not reply. He stood contemplating her. At
length he murmured, in a scarcely audible voice—
"So this is the flower that is to wither away!"
The general anxiety was great.
Suddenly all the bystanders uttered a cry of joy.
The princess was smiling sadly: certainly that smile was
AQUELARRE.
39
the first sign of life she had shown for days. The
duchess, in obedience to a sudden impulse, fell on her
knees before the boy, and, with a look on her face which
it is impossible to describe, cried, in a tone of voice that
made them all tremble—
"In the name of God, save our Sophia!"
"Rise up, poor sorrowing mother," replied Izar, in a
solemn voice; "I have come to save your daughter, and
save her I will!"
"Do you hear, my daughter?" said the duchess,
pressing to her lips the icy hand of the dying child.
"This lad has come to cure you."
The sick girl opened her eyes, from which the light
had almost departed, smiled faintly, and put out her
hand to the orphan boy.
The excitement of those present reached its climax.
The duke then placed both his hands on the curly head
of that orphan boy, and in a solemn voice said, "I swear
by my ducal crown that if you save my daughter you
shall be her brother!"
Izar thanked him by an inclination of the head and
swiftly left the chamber, requesting that none should
follow him. All present respectfully made way for him
to pass.
The boy descended the stairs and went into the
garden. He searched every nook and corner, and the
most retired spots under trees, until, after a diligent
40
AQUELARRE.
search, he discovered, hidden away, a broken statue,
covered with overgrown masses of tangled thorns and
briars. He cleared away, as well as he could, all these
weeds, and by a great effort was able to raise the broken
statue, when, to his great delight, he found the loathsome
toad, which, on being discovered, glared at Izar with
fierce, wild looks.
Izar jumped on the toad and crushed it dead. Then
he quickly returned to the sick-room, where all were
awaiting the return of the lad, anxious at his long
absence.
When they heard the door opened, and saw that Izar
had returned, every face beamed with joy. They awaited
the mysterious child, and there he stood before them,
calm and as self-possessed as ever. He approached the
bed of the sick girl, and said—
"Sophia, my sister, do you hear me?"
"Yes," replied the princess; "I no longer feel that
heavy weight here—here, on my chest."
"Oh, my God! may you be praised!" cried the
duchess, shedding a torrent of tears; "my Sophia is
saved!"
"Do you hear what your mother says, my sister?
Rise up, for now you are cured."
The princess rose up slowly and sat on her bed, then
looked around her as one awaking from a heavy sleep,
rubbed her eyes, and said, smiling, " Yes, I am well."
AQUELARRE.
4i
Then the duke clasped Izar in his arms and said—
"In the name of the all-powerful God of heaven, I
adopt as my own son this orphan, who has shed so
much happiness on our house. Do you consent to this,
duchess?"
The only reply of the grateful lady was to kneel before
the orphan lad, and to say—
"My son, bless your mother."
# 3& # # $
The fame of this marvellous event soon spread
throughout Italy, traversed the Alps, and became the
theme for the improvisatores of the provinces, who nar-
rated it in tender strophes. From thence it passed on
to the Basque bards, and these again so distributed the
legend and tale in the neighbourhood of the mountains,
that the dwellers and inhabitants of the surrounding
districts of Aquelarre, where this story had its first
beginning, within a few months were well acquainted
with all its details.
III.
We said in the first part of this narrative that Lanoa,
after pushing back his young brother, started off in spite
•of the dense fog. He very soon became aware that Izar
was not following him, and he stopped in his walk,
hoping that in a short time he should be able to rejoin
him. But after some considerable time had passed, and
42
AQUELARRE.
there were no signs of his brother returning, he began to-
feel uneasy, and commenced to call him, in hopes that
he should hear his voice. He called his name many
times, but all was in vain—there was no response. The
silence of the mountains remained unbroken by any
reply, and seeing that it was useless to call him, as the
fog prevented his voice from piercing space, he felt very
anxious, and returned to the spot where he had left him.
But the child was no longer there, and then a violent fit
of despair and remorse took possession of Lanoa.
He wept bitterly for his brother whom he had for-
saken: the excited imagination of the youth conjured
him dying of cold and hunger on those bleak mountains,,
imploring his help and accusing him of unfeeling, harsh
conduct.
Poor Lanoa became desperate: he ran all about the
place, calling Izar in frenzied cries; then he threw him-
self on the ground, tearing his hair. Yet all was in vain.
He spent the long night on that rock, a prey to fever
and remorse.
On the following day he searched throughout the
neighbouring mountains, but he could discover no vestige
or track of footsteps to indicate to him that a human
being had passed that way. Then a deep melancholy
settled on his spirit, and from that day no one ever
heard him sing his favourite ballads. He became a.
misanthrope and a savage; he fled from every one, and
AQUELARRE.
45
hapless he who would have the hardihood to ask him.
tidings of Izar!
Five months passed away in this wandering, solitary
manner, ever searching the woods and lonely places ;.
and the shepherds who knew him began to suspect that
he had committed the crime of Cain.
When these suspicions began to gain ground, the
ballad and tale about the life of Izar, and the beau-
tiful mysterious Sophia, were already sung in good
Basque verses. This ballad was an exact narrative of
all that had occurred from the separation of the brothers
to the adoption of the orphan boy by the grand reigning
duke.
It was not long before this song reached the ears of
Lanoa, to whom it afforded an immense joy, and
relieved his heart of its heavy weight of sorrow. He
would follow those who sang this ballad, and, when it
was ended, used to ask humbly that it be repeated.
His character suddenly altered: he became gentle and
tractable. Meantime the beauty of spring had succeeded
the bleakness of winter, the sweet perfumed breeze of
April to the violent snowstorms of December. The
mountains were clothed in freshness and verdure, and
the birds were saluting with joyful songs the return of
their season of love. "Aquelarre " alone remained sad
and bleak as ever in the midst of that joyous nature.
It was said that Aquelarre, jealous of the universal joy
44
AQUELARRE.
of nature, took delight in saddening the smiling scene
by showing a sinister face, dark, and bleak in opposition,
and as a striking contrast to the merry, laughing aspect
of its neighbouring mountain companions. No bird
sang on its trees; no playful roe ever climbed the
rugged sides of the accursed mountain. All was
solitude; all things were silent.
One day, at the twilight hour of evening, the shep-
herds of the valleys perceived in fear and astonishment
that on the solitary heights of Aquelarre wandered a
human form. Struck by the oblique rays of the setting
sun, this form acquired gigantic proportions. Side by
side with this figure was seen another of similar form
and size, which faithfully followed all its movements.
This was simply the effect of an optical illusion, a
phenomenon sufficiently common to those elevated
regions where objects acquire colossal dimensions that
become duplicated by the refraction of the solar rays
crossing subtle masses of vapours.
Nevertheless, the simple shepherds ignore all this, and
only see in that phenomena a warning for them to be on
their guard against some coming evil. Moreover, fearful
lest the night should surprise them in the immediate
neighbourhood of the accursed mountain, in which, so
they said, some sinister event of ill omen was being
prepared, they hastened to collect together all their
cattle, and shut themselves up in their huts and cabins.
AQUELARRE.
4>
The solitary figure that wandered on the top of
Aquelarre was Lanoa. From the moment that he
heard the ballad which narrated the history of his
brother, he was assailed by a yearning wish to see Izar,
but his pride resisted this desire, and deceived him in
respect to the passion which domineered over him, by
saying, "No, no; I cruelly abandoned him when he was
poor and weak. I should not, now that he is rich and
in position, go and seek him. When, like Izar, I shall
have performed some generous noble act, then will I go
to him, ask his pardon, and I know that he will pardon
me, he is so good. I shall go up to the accursed moun-
tain and listen for some secret spoken in the conventicle
and then I will set to work."
It were necessary for any one who fostered such a
thought as this, and moreover decided to carry it out,
be dowered with supernatural courage, and a strength
of character above all proof; and Lanoa the bold most
certainly possessed these qualities in a high degree.
Another motive existed besides the above to impel him
to attempt such an undertaking. It was vanity.
"What!" he used to say to himself, "shall I be less
than my brother? He so weak—I so strong? He so
gentle and meek—I so brave and hardy? No, no; I will
ascend the rugged mountain, and challenge all the
dangers which may beset me, until I attain to my end
at any cost!"
46
AQUELARRE.
The night was approaching, and Lanoa, following the
route described in the ballad, found the tree, and con-
cealed himself in its hollow trunk. It chanced that it
was Saturday, and therefore the night set aside for
•assembling a conventicle. And so it happened. To-
wards midnight Lanoa began to hear a strange in-
cessant noise that each moment approached nearer.
He began to tremble when he descried the long lines
of fantastic shadows which were directing their course
towards the spot where he lay concealed. A cold per-
spiration ran down his forehead when the shadows saluted
each other and formed the confused whirling dance that
had so greatly surprised Izar. The cries and fiendish
laughter of the witches increased his terror, and when
at length he saw them descend on to the plain, and was
•able to distinguish their repugnant forms, the poor lad
knew not what to do. The witches commenced their
unearthly dances, and Lanoa was bitterly repenting that
lie had lent a willing ear to the counsels of pride.
However, the evil was done, and now there was no
help for it but to bear the consequences of his dire
mistake, and he resolved to await as calmly as he could
the unravelling of this fearful drama.
He had not long to wait. A fearful detonation shook
the mountain to its base, and was quickly followed by
the appearance of an ebony throne, and seated upon this
throne was a figure, the most horrible that human eyes
AQUELARRE.
47
had ever beheld. The head of the prince of darkness
was of an enormous size; his eyes, which were glaring
and wide open, resembled the burning crater of a vol-
cano; immense ears fell down on his shoulders; while
out of the mouth, bereft of lips, issued volumes of dense
smoke, across which could be descried now and again
rows of long yellow pointed teeth. His hands and feet
were covered with sharp nails, curved and long. The
rest of his body corresponded to the hideousness of his
countenance.
He cast a ferocious glance at the numerous retinue
which tremblingly awaited the commands of their sove-
reign, and in a deep, cavernous voice cried out:
"Bazzoti! Bazzoti!"
One of the witches that were huddled together then
rose and placed herself opposite the throne of ebony.
"Ha! ha!" exclaimed the genius of evil. "What
became of all your fine promises, you deceitful one?"
"They could not be carried out," tremblingly replied
the witch.
"Listen," rejoined the one who sat on the throne •
"the princess was cured, and her parents, far from
thinking of destroying themselves through despair, each
day are happier, and idolize more and more their child
and my direst enemy!"
"Lord !" murmured the witch, half dead with fear.
"Silence !" replied the devil. "As I see that you are
48
AQUELARRE.
of no use to me in this world, go, and await me in the
next."
Saying this, he struck the ground with his foot, and
the witch disappeared down a deep pit which opened
at his feet.
The other witches lowered their heads to the very
ground, and remained silent.
"Now," he added, " I shall proceed to examine the
tree."
Lanoa trembled from head to foot on hearing those
words, and judged that he was lost. And indeed very
quickly did he feel that he was being grasped by a
number of these witches, who commenced to torture
him in every way, and with Satanic mirth carried him
bodily to the foot of the throne of the prince of dark-
ness.
"Ha! so here we have another inquisitive mortal, it
appears !" he cried, making a horrible grimace. "Ap-
proach, you profane one, approach!"
Lanoa in that terrible situation made a supreme effort,
and assumed an expression on his countenance of satiri-
cal jesting.
"It appears that you do not fear us?" continued
Lusbel, grinding, his teeth.
Lanoa as his only reply contemptuously shrugged his
shoulders.
It was a terrible wrestling that which was imminent
AQUELARRE.
49
between the lad, who had as his only weapon of defence
his character of iron, and Lusbel armed with all the
powers of hell.
"What were you doing in that tree?" he asked,
after looking fixedly at Lanoa for a considerable
time.
"I was deriding you," replied Lanoa, laughing.
"Profanation !" roared the witches.
"Silence! silence!" cried Satan; and the witches
were hushed. "So you were deriding me ?" he asked,
after a moment of silence.
"Yes, I was, by my faith!"
"Do you perchance think that any one has ever been
able to boast that he has derided me with impunity?"
rejoined Lusbel.
"Yes, I do, seeing that my brother has done so with
a good result," replied Lanoa.
"Oh! oh! so you are brother to the one who saved
the life of the Italian princess?"
Lanoa did not reply.
"Answer quickly, cursed one !" said the witch nearest
to him.
Lanoa turned quick as thought, grasped the witch by
the hair of her head, threw her down on the ground,
and placed his foot across her throat, then folded his
arms in a defiant manner, and looked fixedly at Satan.
The latter remained perfectly stupefied on witnessing.
5
AQUELARRE.
this rapid action, and to behold the imperturbable calm
of the lad.
"By my kingship, lad, but you interest me," he at
length said.
"Well, if I interest you, I on my part thoroughly
despise you !" replied Lanoa.
"You dare to despise me?"
"Yes, I do!"
"You say this because you are not aware who I am!"
The lad curled his lip in sign of supreme contempt.
"Approach, if you dare, and touch my hand," he
added, as he extended a hand armed with sharp nails.
Lanoa pushed aside with his foot the loathsome form
of the witch, and fearlessly took the hand of Satan.
"Does it burn you ?" he asked.
"I do not feel any heat," replied Lanoa, with the most
perfect indifference; but nevertheless the lad's hair had
stood on end when it felt the contact of that scorching
hand.
"It is passing strange !" murmured Lusbel.
"You can well perceive," rejoined Lanoa, " that I do
not fear you!"
"I own to that, certainly," he replied, releasing the
hand of the youth, "but nevertheless that is no proot
that you despise me."
"Do you wish for a proof?" arrogantly demanded
Lanoa.
AQUELARRE.
5i
"Let us have one, certainly."
"There you have one!" cried the youth, and he spat
at the face of Lusbel.
To describe the expression of fiendish rage which
appeared on the monstrous countenance of Satan is not
given to any pen to do. He uttered a roar, in com-
parison of which the violent eruption of a volcano would
be no more than a soft melody. He wrathfully rose
from his throne, grasped the boy in his clutches, and
cast him headlong, like to a catapult, down the precipice
which stands more than a league from that spot. The
body of Lanoa rebounded and fell down the fearful
descent a lifeless form, but his soul, purified in that
trial rose up to heaven.
* * * $ #
Since then the above-mentioned precipice is known
under the appellation of Infemu erreca, and the shep-
herds of the mountains affirm that at the hour of
midnight on all Saturdays, with the exception of Easter
Eve, there is heard rising up from that depth a tender
v/ailing, and a noise resounds similar to that which is
produced by the falling of a body.
ARGUIDUNA.1
I.
LONG the winding stony road that
leads from the valley of Urnieta to
the gate of Arricarte, walked Juan de
Azcue, followed by a retinue of robust
huntsmen, with bows slung to their
shoulders, and leashed mastiffs.
From the opposite side of the gate of Arricarte, and
following a more devious rough path than the already
mentioned road, came another similar retinue of hunts-
men and dogs headed by Roman de Alzate. This
veteran knight was bending his steps towards the same
spot as Juan de Azcue, an aged yet hale man.
The two old men seemed to have become youthful
x Fatuous fire, or Will-o'-the-Wisp.

ARGUIDUNA.
53
again, so firmly did they step, and so rapid was their
pace.
When both had reached to within a short distance of
Arricarte they stopped and bade the huntsmen advance.
Those belonging to the retinue of Azcue were the first
to arrive at the place of meeting.
"Are you of the house of Alzate ?" they asked.
"Yes, we are. And are you of the retinue of Azcue?"
the advancing troop demanded.
"Yes. Do you come in peace and good-will?"
"Yes, we do."
"In that case you are welcome."
They then unfurled small white flags, waved them in
the air, and at that signal both chiefs advanced to the
gateway.
"The peace of God be with you, Juan," said he of
Alzate, uncovering his white head.
"I desire the same to you, Roman," replied he of
Azcue, as he also removed his cap.
The retinues of the two chiefs saluted each other in
silence.
"The words of the venerable cura opened my heart
to reconciliation. I bless God that He has prolonged
my life, that so I may be able to offer you the half of
this wheaten loaf of my granary, and the half of the
milk which is contained in this cup — milk that has
been drawn this morning from the cows of my farm."
54
ARGUIDUNA.
Juan eat the half of the bread and drank the frothy
milk.
"Now here is my hand," he said, as he stretched out
his arm, " in proof of the love and friendship which I
feel for you. God grant that peace and good under-
standing may never become broken again between us!"
"Amen, with all my heart!" replied Roman, as he
grasped the hand of John.
The solemn treaty of peace was ratified by both.
At a signal from the old men their respective hunts-
men advanced, and warmly embraced each other with
evident signs of joy.
While this scene was taking place, three men who
were concealed in the crevices of the surrounding broken
rocks were biting their lips, tossing their arms about in
anger, and uttering fearful curses, in evident proof of
their wrath on beholding that peace was being established
between these two families, which had been so greatly
divided until that moment.
When the old men with their respective escorts once
more took the road to return to their houses, the three
concealed men held a long conference together, and then
wended their way to Pagollaga, following a most devious
path. This path or road was not then what it is now*
At that epoch, matted brushwood grew on the margins
of the Urumea, where with difficulty a passage could be
effected across the spontaneous vegetation that grew in
ARGUIDUNA.
55
such tangled masses. The creaking noise of the wind-
mill did not break the silence of the wilds, nor did the
puffs of the forge cast on the winds clouds of brilliant
sparks. No road led to the river; no bridge existed by
which to cross its waters. Nature in all her pristine
splendour flung her gifts and graces on the untrod
woods, on the broken rocks and hillsides, and along
the bubbling fountain streams. Up the river, in the
direction of the town of Arano, the Urumea formed
a rude angle. The reason of this was an isolated rock
or cliff which formed a kind of jpromontorv. and spread
its darksome stony branches into the centre of the
river.
On the heights of this—rocky promontory, that re-
sembled the ruined tower of some castle which had been
reduced to ashes during an invasion, could be seen
sitting a decrepit old hag known throughout the neigh-
bouring districts by the appellation of "the witch o{
Pagollaga." This sibyl was at the time engaged in
peeling roots, which no doubt were to be employed for
some decoction. On beholding the three men advancing
towards this cliff she stopped her work. A sharp whistle
was heard piercing the air. The three men who had so
greatly resented the reconciliation effected between the
two families then stopped in their walk, and the old
woman descended from the top of the rock to join them.
Nothing could be more alike than the three individuals
56
ARGUIDUNA.
who had interrupted the old woman in her task of pre-
paring the roots. The same black, fiery eves, the same-
yellow hue of countenance, mouths with coarse, red lips
that barely covered the white, sharp-pointed teeth. The
colour of their hair was similar; the number even of their
hairs, had it been possible to count them, would have
been found alike. Height, tone of voice, manner of
walking—all, in one word, was so exactly alike that they
had often been mistaken for each other.
On seeing the old woman, who was dressed in a green
wrapper covered with red_embroidery. the three men
advanced a few steps to meet her.
"I was already awaiting you," said the witch, in a low,
quavering voice. "Ha/e you come for the philter?"
"Yes, we have come for it. But besides what we
had ordered of you, we need a new product from your
evil arts."
"Do you perchance wish to poison the girl?" she
asked.
The men looked at one another in a strange way.
"Now give us the draught which is to enkindle in the
heart of the girl a love for one of us."
"The draught is already prepared. But an idea has
occurred to me on seeing that all you three love her
with the same frenzy—what will become of the two
rejected ones when she shall have chosen the one?"
said the old woman.
ARGUIDUNA.
S7
The same strange, fierce look of theirs once more
shot from the eyes of the men on hearing this question.
"That is our affair" the men replied, after they had
looked at each other for a considerable time.
"Let it be so," said the witch. "But if I mistake not,
I think you asked me for another beverage besides the
one I have already prepared for you?"
"Yes, it is so."
"What effect do you wish it to produce?"
"We wish to madden the person who shall drink it,"
the three replied together.
"Nothing easier. When I descried you coming along
I was employed in peeling some roots which, on being
prepared by me, will produce the desired effect."
"We shall pay you handsomely for it."
"Such is my hope. I can give you a quantity which,
if properly administered, will suffice to madden one-half
of the inhabitants of San Sebastian. Your idea is truly
a splendid one; and I already seem to see hundreds of
men, women, and children dancing about, wriggling like
snakes, and uttering cries like a pack of wolves. It will
indeed be a worthy scene; and I promise you that I
shall not fail to preside at the feast. I repeat it—it is an
excellent idea. For some good reason did your father
the devil cast you into this world!"
"Do you mean to say that we are children of the evil
one?"
53
ARGUIDUNA.
"Yes—because Satan himself told me so. He placed
you three among the rushes growing on the shores of the
Oria; you he called Envy, you Wrath, and you Pride.
'Some one will assuredly come and gather them/ thought
your father, 'and in truth will lose nothing by this find/
And he made you so like one another that perchance he
himself is unable to distinguish you."
"He of Alzate had the good fortune to find us. He
treated us as his own children, and gave us other names,"')
they replied.
"The night is approaching," said one, "and we have
far to go."
"Go, then!" replied the witch.
The three men passed on. The sibyl started also
behind the brothers, and the four individuals disappeared
in the dark, thick wood. Half an hour later, and each
of the three men could have been seen carrying in his left
hand a phial containing a liquor red as th^ cherry} and
his right hand concealed in the folds of his "capusay."'
They walked separated from each other by a consider-
able distance, but frequently looking at one another in a
distrustful manner.
The witch sat down on the top of the cliff, and when
she had lost sight of the three brothers in the distance
she burst out in a loud peal of mocking laughter.
"Oh, arch fiend !" she cried, leaping up wildly, "now
will be seen whether I cannot revenge myself upon
ARGUIDUNA.
you; your three sons will soon bear witness of my
triumph!"
II.
Gabriela had risen from her couch: smiling and
blushing, she sought the oaken seat which was placed at
the window. Seated on that ancient bench, she had
listened to the first declaration of love, and there also
had she avowed what she felt.
Gabriela was beautiful. Each day the first rays of the
aurora had been reflected in her lovely eyes. The first
gentle breezes of morning had joyfully hastened to play
among the chestnut tresses of the maid of Guipuzcoa.
The very flowers bent their supple stems as the maiden
passed, as though the lily, the daisy, and the purple iris
were saluting her the queen of the flowers.
The graceful damsel, after waiting seated for the
coming of her lover for a considerable time, at last bent
her head and leaned out of her window to listen with
attentive ear to the noises of the night.
It was a dark night. The Oria, which drags its turbid'
waters along the ancient banks of Lasarte, Zubieta, and
Usurbil, now and again utters a melancholy moan on
breaking its waves against the wooden piers of the
bridges. It is the wrath of the muddy river, but differs
from the anger of the ocean, which at first moans, then:
displays its fury by terrific roars, and startles and
•6o
ARGUIDUNA.
-convulses nature. The tops of the lofty oaks that cover
the valley of Urnieta are also moved, and produce a
noise similar to the rushing of the waters of the fai
distant torrents. Immense clouds of dry yellow leaves
had collected together from the depths of the leafy
woods, and, rising up, appeared in the night-time, to be
flocks of bats and nocturnal birds, formed noisy whirl-
winds, spread themselves about on the night winds, and
fell on the agitated waters of the Cantabrian Sea or on
the rivers.
Gabriela listened attentively to all these noises and
confused rumours, that are no more than the breathing
of sleepy nature. But amid all these noises the
"lecayo"1 of Antonio de Azcue, the best beloved of her
heart, does not reach her ear. One hour passed away,
and then another; the hermitage of Saint Barbara,
•erected on a height like a stork's nest, begins to lose its
vague outline, and becomes enveloped in a white mist,
in whose centre are held mysterious meetings by beings
still more mysterious. Gabriela suddenly shudders.
The colour faded from her cheeks, and her countenance
Lost that tender smile of loving expectation, and a
strange look of inquietude takes its place, caused by the
delay of her lover. The far distant sound of bells
begins to fill space. It is not the joyous ringing
announcing *a festival day; neither is it the thundering
1 Lecayo—a cry of joy which is used as a signal.
ARGUIDUNA.
peal which proclaims a fire. The slow movement and
measured compass of the tongues of bronze has some-
thing sad about it, Gabriela had forgotten that the first
hour of the second of November had heralded the day
when the Church commemorates the faithful departed.
Trembling, and visibly agitated, nay, in terror, does
she listen to the tolling of the bells, which now has dis-
tinctly reached her ears, and then, in a troubled, vague
manner, she was about to quit the window, when she
heard a sharp, piercing cry, which above the moaning of
the river, the rustling of the oak, the whirl of the dry
flying leaves, and the doleful tolling of the bells, caused
her to shudder. That cry announced the arrival of her
lover.
"On what a day and at what hour does he come to
speak to me of love!" she exclaimed. "My God>
protect the holy souls!"
Gabriela cast herself down on her knees to the ground.
Another hour passed away, and another; yet the youth
did not appear. And the river continued to moan, the
oaks to sway in the night winds, the dry leaves to fly in
a whirlwind, and the bells to toll.
III.
Have you ever seen in some Eastern city the sharp
pointed spire of a mosque rising up in space? Have
you seen on the tranquil waters of a bay the uplifted
•62
ARGUIDUNA.
mast of a battle-ship in full array? Have you seen in
the far distance, standing out in the blue horizon, the
towering branches of a proud oak of the forest rising
majestically above all the other trees?
Very well. The highest minaret of an Eastern
mosque, the handsomest mast of a full-rigged ship on
the waters, or the loveliest waving branches of the regal
oak, were not more beautiful and graceful than was
Antonio de Azcue. He had just finished to replenish
the mangers of the curral; his aged father had repeated
the prayers for the eternal repose of the soul of her who
had been his loving wife; the sisters of Antonio had
saluted him with a loving kiss. All things were calm
and quiet in the house of Azcue.
The youth wrapped himself up in his "capusay," he
.grasped the knotty staff, and, closing the house door,
he ran at full speed across the fields. The rough
broken ascents of Goiburu did not offer any difficulties
to his rapid speed; the darksome valley in which they
terminated did not stop his speedy walk. In this
manner was he crossing the open space upon which
stands the noble town of Urnieta; swiftly, agile, and
joyfully he had commenced to clamber over the stony
road which leads to the gate of Arricarte. On reaching
that height he could descry before him, across the dark-
some shades of night, the pale reflection of the murmuring
waves of the Oria; to the right, the ancient hermitage
ARGUIDUNA.
63
of Saint Barbara; to the left, the bleak bare ridge of
mountains which abruptly ends near the houses of
Andoaina. Then, removing his cap and wiping his
heated brow, he uttered the "lecayo," which was his
lover's signal to Gabriela.
He wras preparing to descend towards Lasarte, when
the sad tolling of the bells reached his ears. The youth
involuntarily shuddered. He remembered that his
mother had died on the second of November. The
agitation of Antonio on remembering that it was " All
Souls' Day" was, however, fleeting/ Gabriela was
waiting for him—Gabriela, whom he had not seen for
a long time by reason of the feud existing between the
two families, but which happily had now quite dis-
appeared, and good relationship was established among
them. Hence, stopping a few moments to say a short
prayer, he soon started, brimming over with love and joy.
The path he was crossing continued for a great
distance, far into the forest of ancient oaks and chestnut
trees, with their huge worm eaten trunks and spreading
branches. When he entered its confines, the night was
completely dark. It was necessary to grope along care-
fully. Suddenly a small light seemed to emerge from
the centre of the aged trees, a light of an unde-
finable colour, a bluish-white gleam. After this it sped ;\
and appeared before the astonished gaze of the youth,
who had stopped his walk on beholding this phenomena
64
ARGUIDUNA.
—a shifting light which flitted about, yet without moving
from the path; a light without colour or brilliancy; a
light bereft of that luminous circle which radiates from
other lights; a light which was not a fire gleam ; a fit
light for pervading a graveyard—one which could only
be either enkindled or put out by the breath of the dead.
When the "Arguiduna" appears, the graves are
opened, the corpses show their fleshless faces, and fling
to each other this nocturnal moth, like tennis players
throw with the racket the ball to one another. It is the
sport of the dead during the first hours of the second of
November.
On the spot where stood Antonio de Azcue, a great
battle had been fought in ancient times, The youth in
terror looked to the right and to the left, expecting
every moment to see the ground beneath him opened,,
and the victims of war that are buried there rise up and
show their white skulls, to come and join in this dismal
festival.
But the forest and all its surroundings continued dark
and silent, and the earth refused to reveal its dead.
Encouraged by that silence and calm, he took heart,
and continued to intern himself further into the wood.
The " Arguiduna," however, sped back, and in view of
its flitting movements, which appeared to increase
gradually, evidently implied that it wished to oppose
the progress of the young man.
ARGUIDUNA.
65
"Unhappy mother!" he cried, "you are doubtless
unaware that the feuds which existed between the two
families are at an end. Allow me to pass, dear mother;
Gabriela is waiting for me."
Nevertheless, "Arguiduna" obstinately remained on
the same spot.
Antonio, removing his cap, saluted the light, left the
beaten track, and continued to walk along the brushwood.
But the light also shifted, and placed itself in front
of the youth. This time there was no doubt.
"I love Gabriela," he said. "I obeyed you during
life, my mother ; it is but just that I should respect and
obey you also after death. Good-night, dear mother,
good-night!"
And Antonio retired by the same way as he had „
come. The light followed him, and only left his presence*
after he had crossed the narrow valley of Goiburu.
IV.
In the meantime an extraordinary scene was taking
place in the centre of the forest of chestnut trees. The
branches were swaying about, moved by a mysterious
power which was not due to the winds, since the wind
had gone down. And noises were heard, vague and un-
defined, as though the trees, dowered with life, were
murmuring some words; and perchance he who would
believe that they spoke would not be far wrong.
6
66
ARGUIDUNA.
The air which was breathed in that wood seemed to
be impregnated with poisonous vapours; the ground
exhaled a hoarse wailing; in the atmosphere something
was noticed which presaged some dire calamity. And
in truth, on the winds was heard like the flapping of
huge wings, as though the air, agitated by these wings,
had acquired the force of a sudden whirlwind, which
swept in a frightful manner the chestnut plantation;
the moaning of the Oria was rising and increasing in
fury; the tolling of the bells became more piercing and
dismal. Wailings were heard which did not belong to
this world of ours; the beating together of strange
bodies could be felt in space; it seemed as though the
sea in all its fury was rushing to inundate the wood,
^ wrenching up the aged chestnuts, beating down the
lime bushes, and crumbling up the granite steeps with
which God had surrounded it.
Then in space resounded a powerful ringing voice.
"Art thou there?" it asked.
"We are," replied the trees—so it appeared.
"Ye were vanquished once, ye cursed, cursed ones!"
"It will be the last time, my father; we have come to
avenge ourselves."
. "'Tis well; I deliver into your hands * Discord/ your
sister, that she may help you."
Once more the beating of wings was heard; the clouds
and mist which had enveloped the hermitage of Saint
ARGUIDUNA.
07
Barbara were rent open, and swiftly, as though impelled
by a supernatural power, they crossed the Oriamendi,
passed on, grating against the promontory of Igueldo,
slipped over the surface of the sea, swelling the billows,
and became lost in the far distance on the uttermost
limits of the dark horizon.
By degrees the wailing of the earth ceased, the
swaying of the trees, the sinister noises of the air all
disappeared, as though the atmosphere had become
purified. Then in the dark began the mysterious
•dialogue which follows:
"Do each of you occupy your places?"
"Yes," replied a voice close by.
"Yes," repeated another voice, like its echo.
"Where are you, Envy?"
"Here I am."
At that moment two lights gleamed among the
branches of a chestnut tree. They were the eyes of one
of the brothers. This light was soon extinguished.
"And you, Pride—where are you?"
"I am here."
Two more lights gleamed like the former from the
branches of a second tree, and these were the eyes of
the second brother, and they also became quickly ex-
tinguished.
"And you, Wrath, my favourite brother—where are
you?"
68
ARGU1DUNA,
"Here I am."
And, like to the two previous trees, two lights flashed
from out a third chestnut. These three trees formed a
perfect triangle; and, as before, the two lights were soon
put out.
"The place, my brothers, is a capital one."
"We sought a suitable position with all care."
"Will Antonio pass this way to-night?"
"So Gabriela believes."
"And our father also."
"Then it is an arranged affair?"
"Have we not already arranged it all?"
"Nevertheless, we have not decided upon the manner
of effecting it."
"I vow by my axe."
"I by my arrow."
"I by my dagger."
"At length we are agreed."
"But do not agree as to the means."
"It is strange, because we have always had similar
thoughts and ideas!"
"The same hatreds and the same loves!"
"We three hate peace."
"All of us hate Antonio Azcue."
"All three are in love with Gabriela."
"And Gabriela in return does not love any of
us."
ARGUIDUNA.
69
Three red flashes shot from the branches of the
ancient chestnut trees, and crossed in space.
"And the philter?"
"It is in the fountain."'
"After to-morrow she will drink it."
"At the dawn"
"That is to say, that towards night-"
"She will love one of us!"
"If in spite of all this she should persist in her dislike
of us all three—what then?"
"It will be worse for us."
"It will be worse for her!"
"Discord,'' who was listening to this dialogue, made a
horrible gesture, and flapped her black wings with joy
and satisfaction. Then she cautiously approached each
of her brothers, whispered some words in his ear, rose
up in the air, and said—
"Silence, my brothers! Your enemy will not be long
coming now."
All things lapsed into silence; and, excepting the
moaning of the waters of the Oria, and the measured
tolling of the far distant bells, no voice or sound came
to break the silence and calm of that dreadful night.
V.
The "Arguiduna" had fulfilled half its mission.
Scarcely had Antonio returned home than it traced a
7°
ARGU1DUNA.
blue line on the horizon, and then disappeared in the
forest of chestnuts and oaks. And the wood continued
immersed in darkness and silence.
"Arguiduna," fleeting, unquiet, like the capricious bee
which flits from flower to flower, drinking the nectar
enclosed in their corollas, formed moving circles around
the branches of the trees. It hovered for a moment
above the robust top of a chestnut, and the small reflec-
tion of Arguiduna illumined for a brief moment a human
face. A sharp cry rent the air at that moment; the
human face closed its eyes, a long arrow pierced from
side to side that head; then was heard the gnashing of
teeth, followed by a heavy fall, and lastly, a metallic,,
hoarse laugh.
And the little pale light, swift and unquiet like the
capricious bee that hovers from flower to flower, placed
itself between two gigantic trees. This time the small
reflection of "Arguiduna" illumined two human faces,,
which were very like each other.
Two sharp cries interrupted the silence of the night;
the two faces closed their gleaming eyes, long arrows
pierced those two heads; then was heard terrible gnash-
ing of teeth from both, two heavy falls, two fiendish
bursts of laughter, and finally in space resounded the
following words:
"Rest in peace, my brothers; it is the first time that
'Discord ' desires you this."
ARGUIDUNA.
7i
After this was heard the heavy flight of the fabulous
bird, which, crossing the Oriamendi, touched the pro-
montory of Igueldo, slid over the agitated waves of the
sea, and became lost in the dark distance of the infinite.
And the light, lively, brisk, and unquiet, like the capri-
cious bee that flies from flower to flower, proceeded to
poise itself on a leaf of the walnut tree which stood
over the spring of limpid waters.
VI.
On the hearth in the house of Azrue crackles the fire
fed by huge beech faggots. The comfortable warmth
which is diffused throughout that hall also sheds a
beneficent influence on the curral. This curral, or
cow-house, is separated from the kitchen by a boarding,
along which runs a manger, and above are long slits
or grating, through which are seen the cattle when
housed for the night. From the walls are suspended
bundles of arrows, polished bows, racks of arms, hatchets,
hoes, and implements and weapons of all descriptions.
In a word, all kinds of arms which symbolize warfare, and
implements of agriculture that are emblems of peace.
Juan de Azcue is reciting the Litanies; his daughters
reply in chorus without ceasing from their work, and
directing from time to time anxious though tender
glances toward their brother Antonio, who, sad and
pensive, replies mechanically to the family prayers.
72
ARGUIDUNA.
The cattle show their horned heads across the open
spaces of the kitchen partition, and glance around with
their large, soft eyes now on Antonio, now on his sisters,
as though they would wish to ask an explanation for the
sadness of the one and of the loving solicitude of the
latter. The mobile, elastic muzzle of the cows move, as
though they also were murmuring a response to the
litany of the patriarch of the family; the bells hanging
around their necks remain quiet and dumb. To this
calm scene is added a touch of sweet sadness by the
cooing of a dove which is heard at intervals. A simple yet
sympathetic challenge; a token of a pure, constant love
Nevertheless a form is wanting to complete that
family picture—the form of greatest interest. Among
that group of maidens is not seen the form of the
mother. In that group is wanting the being all abnega-
tion, all love, the greatest emanation of the love of
God; because nothing approaches so nearly to Divine
love as the love of the mother. The seat she usually
occupied is now vacant; that seat no one dares to fill;
it is a sacred thing, which will be religiously respected
from age to age.
Eight o'clock has struck; the patriarch has finished
his prayer; he blesses his family, and slowly retires to
his chamber. As soon as the old man left the room,
the young women rose up and surrounded the young
man, who was sadly caressing the cooing dove. One
ARGUIDUNA.
73
sister flung her arms around the neck of the beloved
brother; another leaned over the back of his chair and
touched his brow with her lips; a third stood before
him with folded arms silently watching him; whilst a
fourth put her hands under his chin and made him lift
up his face. A charming group, worthy of the brush of a
Michael Angelo!
"From what proceeds this sadness, dear brother?"
they lovingly asked. "Did not Gabriela receive you
iast night? Did she perchance tell you some bad
news? Is there any obstacle to mar your happiness?
Answer us, dear brother, answer us."
"Last night I saw our mother in the chestnut planta-
tion of Arricarte," replied the young man.
The group of women gave a sudden start, and the
girls, pale with terror, and eyes streaming with tears,
repeated in a low voice:
"Did you see our mother?"
"Yes, my sisters, and she opposed the way, that I
might not go to where love was calling me,"
"Is it possible ?" they cried in one voice.
"Yes; listen how this happened. You know that a
mother does not only love her children while she re-
mains in the world, but even from the next world she
still encircles them with her love, and watches over
them with tenderness and solicitude, so that no harm
should befall them."
74
ARGUIDUNA.
"It is true," replied the maidens, unconsciously ap-
proaching to their brother.
"You also know that of all mothers, ours was the best."
"That is very true," replied the girls.
"I was walking lightly and swiftly, full of joy, because
peace had been established between the family of Alzate
and ours, and been solemnly ratified. On reaching the
wood, the f Arguiduna' appeared before me. I saluted
her lovingly, judging that it was the spirit of our beloved
mother. The 'Arguiduna' never departed from the
path. I retired from the track of the beaten path," con-
tinued the youth, "and decided to walk along the brush-
wood. The ' Arguiduna' turned also and stood before
me!"
"Ah! some evil was threatening you, my brother,"
said the youngest sister.
"Perhaps so, Juana, perhaps so."
"This is quite certain. When the 'Arguiduna' places
itself before any one, it is to warn him of some danger
which lies before him, should he not turn back."
"I obeyed the order she gave me. I returned home,,
followed by the light, which only left me when I had
traversed the marsh of Goiburu."
"Do not doubt it, Antonio, our good mother has
saved you from some grave danger."
"Or else, she has wished to save me from some great
affliction, Beatrice," murmured the youth.
ARGUIDUNA.
IS
"Oh, good gracious !" they all cried in one voice, "do
you think"
"I know that I dearly love Gabriela, my sisters, and
also am aware that I am hapless!"
"My brother! do not depreciate one who will so soon
be our sister, Gabriela has sworn love to you; and
Gabriela, like a true Guipuzcoan, will never be wanting
to her vows."
"I shall know that to-night," replied Antonio, rising
up. "I shall go to Alzate, and will cross the chestnut
plantation; I shall see Gabriela, so good-night, my
sisters, good-night."
"May the Lord guide you on your way, and may our
good mother defend you, my brother!" reverently re-
plied the young damsels.
An hour later, Antonio de Azcue was uttering his
sharp "lecayo," which awakened the echoes of the
mountains.
VII.
Antonio began to descend quickly the mountain, and
entered the plantation. The last hours of the second
day of November had not yet struck. The chestnut
wood was enveloped in darkness — intensely dark.
A sepulchral silence reigned throughout space, in
strange contrast to what had occurred on the previous
night. No sound crossed its leafy luxuriance, the
76
ARGUIDUNA.
branches of the huge trees remained motionless; even
the moaning of the Oria had subsided, and its waters
seemed to have lost their power; the bronze tongues of
the bells hung silent within their concave hollows; not
even a breath of air stirred the dry leaves which covered
the ground.
Suddenly, as on the previous evening, he saw among
the moss-covered trunks of the trees the same pale
light of undefinable colour, bluish-white. But on this
occasion the light was behind him; he turned his face,
and noticed that the "Arguiduna " was following him at
about two yards' distance.
"Good-night, my mother, good-night," said Antonio,
saluting and uncovering his head. "This night we have
prayed longer for the eternal repose of your soul."
The gleam of light visibly twinkled, and for a brief
moment shed a more vivid reflection around.
"Pass on before me, mother; your son desires that
you should guide him after death across the dark path
of life, in the same way as you guided him when you
lived."
But the light twinkled more then ever, then ap-
proached the youth, yet kept behind him. Antonio
continued walking, followed by the "Arguiduna." He
had reached the densest part of the wood, when he
noticed that the pale light which had illumined his path
was gradually diminishing its intensity; he turned
ARGU1DUNA.
77
quickly round, fearing lest the light should disappear
altogether before he had time to bid it a loving farewell;
but a horrible scene presented itself to his view. Three
livid heads with rough matted hair and wild glassy
eyes occupied a small opening in the wood, and formed
a triangle. On the forehead of one was written in red
characters the word "Pride," on the next the~~worcT
"Wrath," and upon the third, "Envy." Sharp arrows
pierced through their foreheads, and a fearful ex-
pression of pain and rage contracted the muscles of those
three blood-stained heads. The flickering light had
poised itself in the centre of the triangle of heads
"Pride" then curled its vicious mouth and blew.
"Arguiduna " swiftly flew until it touched the red lips
of the head upon the brow of which was written the
word "Wrath." This one also blew at the light, and
the colourless flame flew away and stumbled against
"Envy." This game was very rapid. The light faded
by moments; its swift movements lessened visibly, the
volume of its bluish flame was fast weakening. .
The heads meanwhile, without losing the contraction
of features produced by acute pain, laughed in a mute
manner, nervously and inwardly, and formed a frightful
contrast to the visible suffering which could be remarked
on their drawn faces. And the light faded more and
more, its movements slower, its flame grew sensibly
smaller.
.78
ARGUIDUNA.
"Arguiduna" appeared to suffer acutely; "Argui-
duna" was asking assistance in its own mysterious
language; it was evidently wrestling with those in-
exorable heads, which were redoubling their puffs on
beholding and enjoying the sufferings of the little flame.
The light was now almost extinguished; the laughter of
those three heads became more frightfully significative.
"My mother! my dearest mother!" cried Antonio in
despairing accents, as he flew towards the open space.
The three heads suddenly turned round towards the
young man. Their glassy eyes were darting undefinable
flames of wrath. The light flickered once—took form,
and swift as thought leaped over the space occupied
by the three heads, and came to place itself at the feet
of Antonio, casting around a luminous resplendency.
A noise and rumble similar to that which nature will
utter at the moment of its complete destruction shook
the neighbouring mountains to their very foundations.
The Oria stopped its course; the bell-tower shook and
■and broke out in dismal tolling; the waves of the
Cantabrian Sea stayed its rapid threatening march.
Antonio looked towards the open space. The three
heads had disappeared. The " Arguiduna" was moving
.gracefully, and displayed its relief and joy by shedding
•around soft yet bright gleams.
* * # - * *
Since that memorable night, never was "Discord"
ARGUIDUNA.
79
seen again in the Guipuzcoan territory. From that
night also the three evil creatures, Pride, Wrath, and
Envy, are unknown on that noble soil.
On the following morning, Gabriela and Antonio left
the house of Alzate together, and bent their steps
towards the fountain spring over which towers the
walnut tree.
The two lovers, on approaching to drink of its waters,
noticed a strange thing. The pure water of the spring
was tinged with a red colour. The philter of the
^ witch of Jr'agollaga" was mixed in its streams. In
•course of time, whenever Antonio crossed the chestnut
plantation of Arricarte, the "Arguiduna," swift, joyful,
like the capricious bee that flits from flower to flower,
would always accompany him with watchful solicitude
and care , flickering brightly and casting around brilliant
resplendencies, and then the youthful heir of Azcue
would lovingly say to it:
"My dearest mother, Gabriela and I prayed last
night fervently for the eternal repose of your soul.
Gabriela and I love you tenderly, and we shall teach our
children to love you also most lovingly, even as we do."
MAITAGARRI.1
I.
ITURRIOZ.2
HE most profound silence reigned in one
of the houses of the suburbs of Oyarzun.
Pedro Iturrioz, the head of the family,
a robust mountaineer of advanced age,
had finished his supper; and his wife,
some years younger than he, was at
his side offering him a cup of warm wine, and awaited
that "her husband should address her. The chieftain
made a sign, and the wife placed in his hands a silver
cup with a gesture of tender love and deep respect.
1 Fairy, or Hade, which inhabits the lakes.
2 Iturrioz—Fonte fria—the cold fountain.

MAITAGARRI.
8f
She then laid on the table a basket filled with luscious
fruit, and sat down at the further end of the room at
her wheel, spinning the finest thread, which later on
would become converted into handkerchiefs, towels, and
perfumed linen, such as abounds in quantities in all
Basque homes. At another corner of the kitchen, two
girls of singular beauty, were conversing in a low tone
with a youth of about fifteen years of age who stood
with uncovered head.
A long settle, ornamented with large brass nails, could
be seen unoccupied beneath the wide chimney roof, to
the right of the hearth. The gleams from the crackling
fire on the hearth, and the bright rays of a flambeau of
hempen cord and rosin which hung from an iron ring,
lit up this family group. The chief divided a beautiful
apple and gave one half to his wife, then drank two-
thirds of the warm wine in the cup, and invited her to
finish the rest ; this she did without saying a word. The
mountaineer then uncovered his venerable head, and all
rose up on seeing this action. He made the sign of the
cross, murmured a prayer in which all present joined,
and then sat down on the settle by the fireside.
One of the girls removed the supper things, carefully
folded the white cloth, and then all the family sat down
around the fire. The mistress of the house was spinning,
the young girls were winding skeins of thread on wooden
reels, the youth sharpened a woodman's knife, mean-
7
82
MAITAGARRI.
while that Pedro Iturrioz, leaning his elbow on the arms
of the settle, appeared lost in thought. The eyes of all
were directed to the countenance of the old man, whose
eyes were gradually closing in sleep. The wife made
quietly a sign; the conversation of the girls ceased,
and the young man intoned in a low voice a simple
monotonous song, the cadences of which were marked by
the three women moving their hands. The melody
certainly acted with much power on the aged man, for
his head fell over his breast in deep sleep.
Through the half-open door poured in the beams
of the moon, which was illuminating the magnificent
landscape of luxuriant trees and gigantic mountains;
the ripple of the mountain stream was also heard,
imparting on that quiet scene a singular charm. For a
length of time did all things remain in this way, until
suddenly the old man awoke and said:
"Tell me, Antonio, what did you hear on the
mountain?"
The youth threw down the knife which he was
sharpening, rose up, and respectfully replied:
"I heard, father, that the battle proved a bloody one."
"Do you know who were the vanquished?"
"I was not told, father."
The old man remained silent. The eldest girl turned
deadly pale, and allowed the skein she was winding to
fall to the ground, and gazed on her brother as though
MAIIAGARRI.
*3
she wished to interrogate him with her looks. Antonio,
however, awaited his father's permission to speak.
"To-morrow, ere it is light, proceed to the frontier, and
•do not return until you learn what success the combat
has had," said the father.
"I will do so," replied the youth.
"Then approach nearer to me and listen, Antonio."
"What do you wish me to do?" Antonio asked,
bending down his ear to listen to the words his father
•desired to speak confidentially.
"Gil is with them," he said, in a deeply moved voice;
"he is your brother and my son; ask, explore the camp
and when you return tell me that you saw him alive, or,
else, if he is dead, that you buried him in a Christian
manner."
"I will comply with your orders, father."
"Should he be living, tell him from me that I forbid
him—do you understand? I forbid him to use his
weapons against those of Arpide so long as they are
before the enemy," continued the father.
"And to me, do you also forbid me this?"
"Yes, my son. Feuds and private resentments,
although they may lie deep, should be hushed and laid
aside when it is a question of saving the country. Cursed
may he be who shall do otherwise/'
The old man rose up, kissed the foreheads of the three
women, blessed Antonio, and slowly quitted the kitchen.
84
MAITAGARRL
Half an hour later he was sleeping the calm sleep of the
just man.
Scarcely had Pedro Iturrioz left the room than the
women surrounded Antonio.
"Your father has communicated to you secret com-
mands which are not given to me to know," said the
mother, with saintly resignation. "Obey him, my son,
implicitly; your father holds the place of God in this
world."
"This you have always taught me, my mother/' replied
the youth, kissing her.*
"So it is, Antonio, but after the father it appertains
to the mother to counsel her children. Sit down and
listen to me."
The three young people sat down, the mother
between her two daughters, one of which betrayed con-
siderable anguish, while the other was lovingly watching
her. Antonio knelt before Catalina and fixed his black
eyes upon her. The wife of Iturrioz was caressingly
playing with the curly locks of her son.
"Antonio," she said, " your brother is fighting on the
frontier. You well know his fiery character: if he still
lives, tell him to fulfil his duty like the brave; neverthe-
less, not to attempt or risk his life in senseless, heedless
undertakings."
"I will tell him so," replied the youthful Antonio.
"Tell him," continued Catalina, " that he is to forget
MATTAGARRL
85
our private questions, and only remember that he is a
Guipuzcoan, and that his enemies are those who are
enemies to the country."
"My brother, do not forget these prudent counsels,"
interrupted the maiden, who was evidently suffering grief.
"What do you know of these affairs, Inez?" demanded
Antonio, giving her a searching look.
"It is true," replied the girl, blushing, "that I under-
stand but little about these things, but I nevertheless
believe that sound reason dictates these counsels."
"My mother, what you have just advised me is the
same as my father bade me do."
"God be praised!" replied Catalina. "Now nothing
else remains to advise, but that you are not to linger on
the journey. Receive your mother's blessing, and may
God protect your brothers! My girls, let us retire."
They all rose up and left the kitchen. The household
remained only under the protection of the laws of the
country, and watched and guarded by a mastiff which
stretched itself before the fire.
II.
THE WITCH OF ZALDIN.
The hour of midnight was striking when the outer door
of the house was slowly opened, and an aged woman
entered the kitchen. The mastiff lifted up his head,
86
MAITAGARRL
uttered a growl, approached the new comer, and then
turned lazily to lie down again. The woman threw
some dry branches on the fire, and a brilliant flame lit
up the hospitable room. After this she imitated to
perfection the screech of an owl, and a light step was
very soon after heard descending the stairs from the
first floor. Dominica, the youngest of the daughters
of Pedro Iturrioz, had just entered, and stopped at some
distance, looking at the stranger with a look of fear and
respect depicted on her countenance.
"Approach, Dominica, and come and sit by my side/'
said the old woman.
The maiden obeyed, and sat on the wooden bench
occupied by her interlocutor; the mastiff then rose and
lay at the feet of Dominica, placing his intelligent head
between her knees. That group, lit up by the firelight*
and standing out in relief against the blackened walls,,
partook somewhat of the weird character of witchcraft.
The old woman with her brown wrinkled brow, round,
unquiet eyes, red tangled hair, and long pointed nose,,
formed a strange contrast to"the fresh cheeks, beautiful,,
expressive black eyes, lithe waist, and graceful smile
of Dominica. To complete the picture, we will add
that the old woman drew her face close to the fair
countenance of the maiden, the mastiff meanwhile
watching with his penetrative sight all the movements
of the witch.
MA1TAGARRL
87
"Did you send for me, Dominica?" asked the old
woman, in a low voice. "Well, here I am : wThat do you
want with me?"
"I wished to know," replied the girl, in an agitated
voice, "who were the vanquished in the battle fought on
the frontier?"
"Nothing else?" questioned the witch, meanwhile
attentively watching Dominica.
"Nothing more," replied the maiden, lowering her eyes.
"Very well. Open that window which looks in the
direction of the camp."
"It is open," she said, throwing it back.
"Look up to the sky."
"I am looking."
"What do you see towards the west?
"I see a grey cloud."
"What form has it taken?"
"It appears to me to be like the skeleton of a gigantic
horse."
"What more do you observe?"
"I see the cloud divided in two."
"Which side is the larger half?"
"The side of the head."
"The Navarrese and the French are vanquished!"
replied the witch.
Dominica gave a cry of joy, and, approaching the
witch, said, "Is this certain what you tell me?"
88
MAITAGARRL
"As certain as that I am standing here. Do you wish
to know more?"
"I would much like to know what has been the fate
of my brother," the girl replied.
"I will satisfy your curiosity. Come near that
caldron."
Dominica hastened to do as she was bidden.
"Put it on the fire, and go to the fields and bring me
the roots of the plant ' virtude!"
The girl left the house to seek the desired roots,
followed by the mastiff. Then the wily pythoness drew
from her pocket a leathern bag and took out of it a
bundle of rags. She began to unfold most carefully
this bundle until she discovered the hand of a child 1 in
perfect preservation, and around this little hand were
some curls of silky, golden hair. Out of a small earthen-
1 The left hand of a child. It was a general belief among the
mountain dwellers of the Basque provinces that the left hand of a
child, if severed during sleep, and wrapped round with curls of its
own hair, became a valuable amulet which would deliver them
of every kind of danger, and with it philters of different proper-
ties could also be made. There yet exists some among the rude
inhabitants of the mountains of Roncal who foster this supersti-
tious belief, although examples are unknown of this cruel mutila-
tion ever having been effected, unless by the artifice of gipsies,
agates^ or Jews, in very remote ages, as there still exists evidence
of severe provisions having been adopted against these barbarians.
It was also £ popular belief that the blood of children was useful
for invigorating the weak bodies of women.
MAITAGARRL
89
ware bottle she poured some drops of red liquor into
the caldron, which was already becoming hot over the
fire, and waited for the return of Dominica.
She had not long to wait. The maiden soon returned,
bearing a bundle of roots in her hand, and when she
went near the old woman she noticed that the mastiff
was pulling at her dress.
"Be quiet, Moor, be quiet," she said to the dog. "It
seems you like to amuse yourself out in the moonlight!"
She then turned to the woman and gave her the roots.
"Did you gather these roots under the shadow ?" the
old witch asked, as she took them from Dominica.
"Yes, under the shadow of a walnut tree."
"It is well ; sit down on the bench and watch with all
attention the caldron."
The witch threw the carefully peeled roots into the
cauldron, the contents of which were beginning to boil.
A few moments after there rose up a blue flame, which
cast a weird reflection on the furniture of the kitchen.
"What do you see ?" inquired the witch.
"I see my brother covered with blood and sleeping
calmly. I see many dead lying on the battle-field. Ah
me !" she cried, suddenly.
"What more do you see?"
"I see Juan de Arpide also sleeping at some distance.
There are many camp fires; I see sentinels."
"Look towards your brother; what is he doing?"
9o
MAITAGARRL
"Good heavens !" cried Dominica, turning pale.
"What is taking place ?" asked the witch.
"My brother rises up, unsheathes his sword, and
cautiously approaches Juan de Arpide."
"Your brother and Arpide must fight, and blood will
flow," said the witch, in a woeful tone of voice. "What
more do you see?"
"Nothing more," replied Dominica, trembling.
"Turn your face towards the wall," continued the
witch; "attentively observe the figures which will be
depicted on the wall."
Dominica obeyed, and, uttering a cry of anguish, she
covered her eyes with her hands.
"It is impossible for me to look," the girl said, greatly
agitated.
"Take your hands from your face and tell me what
you see ; I have no time to listen to your cries and sobs."
"I see Juan de Arpide, and a woman is holding him
up in her arms."
"Do you know that woman?"
"Her face is turned away from me."
"Look attentively towards Arpide; what is his
colour?"
"He is pale, very pale."
"Are you satisfied ?" asked the witch, with an evil
smile on her wrinkled face.
"My poor sister!" exclaimed Dominica, weeping.
MAITAGARRL
9*
"Your brother has shed the blood of the lover of
Inez. Do you wish to know further about these love
affairs?"
The mastiff howled and placed its two paws on the
shoulders of the maiden, and licked her face.
"Good gracious !" murmured Dominica.
"Make up your mind quickly; they are waiting for
me elsewhere these last two hours."
The girl hesitated, while the dog continued to lick its
young mistress's face, meanwhile eyeing savagely the
old woman.
"Bah! you are weak-spirited," then said the witch,,
putting her bag away and preparing to depart.
"Wait! stay a moment!" Dominica cried, as she
pulled at the dress of the old woman to detain her.
"I cannot remain longer in this house," replied the
old woman, looking askance at the mastifT.
"Very well, then I decide," said the girl.
The dog gave a piteous whine, and, leaving the girl,,
went to a corner and rolled itself up.
"Take this bag, now that you have made up your
mind to do as you are bid, and observe anew the blue
flame."
"I will do so," said Dominica, taking the bag, and
making a great effort to overcome her fear.
"Open the bag, and throw into the caldron one by
one all the objects it contains."
MAIJAGARRL
Dominica obeyed; but when she drew forth the
mutilated member, and saw it in her hand, enwrapped
with a curl of hair, she felt such a sensation of horror
that she threw it, the bag and all its contents, into the
fire which burned on the hearth.
A fearful detonation shook the house, and when the
girl wished to fly away she could not. Her knees bent
under her. and she fell to the ground, uttering a piercing
cry. She saw the " witch of Zaldin " cast herself forth
out of the window, transformed into a monstrous bat.
The fire slowly became extinguished, and the room
remained in total darkness.
III.
THE AVOWAL.
It was at break of day when Antonio, dressing
hurriedly, prepared to leave the house. At the door he
was met by Inez, seated on the doorstep, breathing
nervously the fresh morning breeze.
"Good morning, Inez," he said, kissing her on the
forehead. "Why have you risen so early?"
"I wished to see you before you left the house."
"Thank you, my Inez; in this I know your love for
me. Why is not Dominica with you?"
"She is asleep, I suppose. But listen, Antonio: I am
MAITAGARRL
93
alone because I wished to confer with you. You are
young, I know, but nevertheless the counsels of men of
your age are more prudent and just than those of women
at mine."
Antonio looked at his sister, and noticed by the light
of the dawn that she was very pale.
"Are you ill, my sister ?" he affectionately asked.
"Yes, Antonio, sick in body, and more so in the soul."
"Poor Inez ! what can I do for you? Speak, for you
well know that I love you tenderly."
Inez raised her eyes and fixed them in such a
searching manner on her brother, that he felt deeply
wounded.
"Do you perchance doubt my affection?" he asked.
"Such a doubt on your part would wound me much."
"Far from it, my brother," sweetly replied Inez: "I am
going to confide to you something which is unknown to
Gil or to our father."
"That will comfort me," replied Antonio, sitting close
to her.
"The hours are passing swiftly, my brother, and you
have far to go; listen to me, therefore, and be indulgent
to me."
"Speak, Inez, speak. I will listen attentively."
Inez took the hand of Antonio between hers, and
began her narrative in the following way:
"You are aware of the fearful enmity which exists
■94
MAIJAGARRL
between our family and that of Arpide: this enmity is
the principal cause of my unhappiness."
"Why so ?" asked Antonio, in a tone of fear.
"Because the case is this, my brother. I have met
Juan, and the first time I saw him I flew from his
presence."
"You did well, my sister. The injury his father did
to our father is unpardonable."
"Listen to me to the end. From that day he never
ceased to follow me. If I went to Oyarzun to church,
accompanied by my mother, I was certain to meet him
at the church door; he would kneel close to us during
Mass, and when we left the temple we used to find him
at the porch. When we returned home he always
followed us at a distance."
"Without addressing a word to you?"
"He never dared to do so. When I approached to my
window I could always see him, with bow slung on
shoulder, standing on the summit of the mountain, his
eyes fixed on our house."
"Perchance does that man harbour any evil designs
against us?"
"No !" quickly replied Inez. "The spring came, and
at day dawn, when I used to open the window of my
room, I always found each morning a crown of flowers
on the sill. At first I used to throw the flowers to the
ground, because I felt certain that he would be concealed
MAITAGARRL
95
somewhere in the wood, and watching what I did. But
on the following day I would meet Juan, either in the
woods or close to the fountain; and on his countenance
there was such a look of deep sadness that I could not
help pitying him."
Antonio withdrew his hand from that of his sister's
and remained pensive.
"Listen to me, brother, for pity's sake. His reserve
and respectful conduct arrested my attention in an
extraordinary manner; I thought of him more frequently
than I should, and in spite of every effort I made to
drive his image from my mind, I found it impossible to
•do so. . . . It was at the twilight hour; I was returning
from visiting the dead remains of our poor Cousin Lucia,
whom we all so dearly loved; it began to snow heavily,
and the road was impassable. On reaching the cross
which stands close to the spring, I saw a black form
standing in the middle of the road ; this form had eyes
which were flashing in the darkness like two flames, and
fixed on me ; I grew so alarmed that I remained rooted
to the spot; nor could I even cry out. The form gave
a terrific howl, and cast itself on me."
"Perhaps it was Juan ?" exclaimed the lad, leaping to
his feet. "Wretch!"
"No, my brother, it was not he. It was the dreadful
wolf, the terror of all the district"
"The one which was found dead close to the fountain?
96
MAITAGARRI.
Poor sister !" he said, taking once more the hand of his
sister.
"My death was certain," she continued, shuddering.
"When I beheld the animal close upon me, grinding
his teeth and howling, the excess of fear made me utter
a piercing scream, and just as I was about to fall a prey
to the clutches of the wolf, I saw a human form emerge
from the far end of the road, place itself between the
beast and myself, and receive the first encounter. The
two then wrestled in a desperate manner; and what
added to the horror of the moment was the fact that
neither the wolf howled, nor did the man who fought
with it utter a cry ; it was a dumb encounter, yet a fierce
one. What I endured at that moment is simply inde-
scribable. I believed in good faith that the man who
thus wrestled with the beast was Gil."
During the narrative of this encounter, Antonio
pressed convulsively the hands of Inez.
"The combat continued for nearly ten minutes," con-
tinued the maiden. "The wolf fell down dead, strangled
by the iron grip of my liberator. He then approached
me, and you may judge what my surprise must have
been when I recognized in him Juan de Arpide"
"Juan de Arpide!" cried Antonio, in deep astonish-
ment.
Yes, my brother, I owe him my. life. He besought
me to allow him to see me home, and to swear to him
MA1JAGARRL
97
never to tell any one what had taken place. I gave
the desired promise, and until to-day I have kept my oath."
"And have you seen him since?" asked, Antonio.
"Many times, my brother; because from that
moment I found it impossible to keep from loving him."
Saying this, she blushed and hid her face on the
breast of her brother. The youth felt greatly moved
on hearing this tender avowal.
"Do you know, Inez," Antonio asked, after a
moment's pause—"do you know whether he loves
you?"
"His lips have never told me his love; but his eyes
often do. Garlands of flowers adorn my window every
morning, and on the eve of his departure to fight against
the enemy of our country, instead of finding the usual
crown, I found only two flowers, an everlasting flower
and a pansy twined together."
"His behaviour has been a truly noble one," said
the youth, in a solemn tone. "Rise up, poor sister
Inez; lift up that brow pure as the first thought of a
babe; rise up, my sister; I, your brother, will protect
you against all others. Should our father yield to the
impulses of hatred and curse your love, and should our
eldest brother do the same, I who know what has
passed will never desist from protecting you, my sister.
When Gil and my father shall come to know what I do,
I have no doubt but they will bless you as the peace-
8
*8
MAITAGARRL
maker between the two families, which never ought to
have been severed; they will bless you, Inez, as I bless
you."
Inez threw herself into the arms of her brother, who
warmly embraced her and covered her face with kisses.
"I did well to confide in you, my brother!" she cried,
shedding tears of joy.
"Yes, my sister, you did well; I cannot forget that
you have loved me with singular affection, and although
I partake somewhat of the disposition of my father, and
respect his opinion, nevertheless my heart tells me that
in this respect his ideas are not the most desirable ones.
Retire now, dear Inez, and await my return. Who
knows what may take place?"
"Let us trust in God, my brother."
"So be it, let us trust all things to God."
"And that He may keep you in His holy keeping,
dear Antonio."
They once more embraced each other, and the young
man started to carry out the orders given to him by his
father.
IV.
THE DUEL.
Along the western skirt of the hills which form a
ridge from Leiza to the shores of the ocean, a horseman
MAITAGARRI.
99
arrayed in armour might be seen riding along mounted
on a fiery steed. From the dilapidated state of his
armour, his crushed war helmet, the rusty broken
cuirass, the want of feathers in the tuft worn on his
•casque, could be inferred that the brave knight was
returning from some tournament or fierce combat
He rode on alone, without page or shield-bearer,
stopping now and again to reconnoitre the .country
through which he passed, grasping the hilt of his
sword whenever the slightest noise reached his ears,
or unfastening the war hatchet which he carried
suspended from the pommel of his saddle whenever a
shepherd or traveller crossed his path. He left on his
right the town of Goizueta; he followed the path of
Urumea towards the immediate boundary of the strong-
hold of Articuza, a celebrated arsenal of those parts,
close to which is seen a sumptuous building, the admira-
tion of all who frequent those fastnesses. However, in
those days nothing of this existed, and the very narrow
valley wherein the palace and arsenal were constructed
was then the wildest place in all that district.
When the horseman reached the summit of one of
the mountains which surrounded that valley, the sun
was setting behind the sea, and could only be descried
from that spot by a golden line along the horizon far
away. The knight stood still for a moment to gaze
upon the scene, and then continued his journey, descend-
IOO
MAITAGARRL
ing into the dark valley. On reaching near one of the
broken rocks which intercepts the flow of the stream
that passes at the bottom of the valley, he stopped,,
dismounted, and threw himself on the grass, leaving his
horse to graze quietly, and prepared to enjoy a few
moments of repose. But when the horseman rose
to continue his march, the horse suddenly gave a loud
neigh, which was quickly replied to by another. The
knight leaped on his steed and prepared himself for the
defensive, expecting to be taken by surprise. He lis-
tened for some time, and it was not long before he heard
the noise of hoofs tramping, and the rattle of armour.
The darkness of night prevented him from distinguishing
objects even at a short distance, so that it was not until
the two horsemen found themselves face to face that
they were able to see one another.
"Who goes there ?" asked the first arrival.
"And who are you to ask me ?" replied the other.
"I am a knight," said the first.
"Guipuzcoan, or Navarrese?"
"Guipuzcoan," was the reply.
"God assist you. In that case we are friends."
Saying this, they approached nearer to one another,,
and asked, " Where are you going to?"
"Towards Oyarzun."
"Are you of that place?"
"Very near it."
MAITAGARRL
101
"In that case your name must be well known. What
may it be?"
"Juan de Arpide."
"And I am Gil de Iturrioz," replied the second.
A moment's silence followed this declaration. The
two confronted each other, the first-born of each of those
two families, whose feuds dated from long years.
"We meet at last on neutral ground," said Gil to his
antagonist; "here we have not our arms tied through
respect for the laws of the country, neither have we here
to forget our private feuds in order to combat against
the common enemy."
"You say well," replied Arpide, in a sad tone; "never-
theless I do not see the reason why we should measure
swords when there exists no reason for rancour between
us."
"Why not?" asked Gil; "does Juan de Arpide forget
that his father insulted mine, or does he think that an
injury done to the chieftain of the family does not bind
his descendants to vengeance? A graceful inheritance
it would certainly be!"
"Listen to me, Gil," replied Arpide. "I do not deny
that there have existed misunderstandings in both
families since the day when my father refused the hand
of his sister after he had promised it, nevertheless
previous to this unfortunate occurrence I have under-
stood that there existed a close friendship between the
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MAITAGARRL
families. Very well, must the remembrance of the good
feeling be altogether extinguished by the recollection
of an injury due, perhaps, to the unbridled fiery
character of our parents? Let us be just, Gil; the
peace which our elders severed, let us bind once more
together; let us end our feuds, Gil; let us be brothers;
there are over many enemies to fight with us on the
plains of our country without weakening ourselves by
intestine wrestling."
"By my faith, but you ought to fling down your
armour and substitute the soutane," said Gil, with an
ironical smile. "I can assure you that you resemble a
missionary preacher more than a knight who wears spurs."
"Gil! I do not deserve this provocation on your
part. You are well aware that it is not fear which in-
duces me to speak in this way, but the desire that a good
understanding and harmony should exist between us."
"On my part I do neither desire nor contemn it..
When I was born these hatreds existed between the
families of Arpide and of Iturrioz; with these feuds I
was brought up, and with them I shall die!"
"How wrong you do!" exclaimed Juan, in a de-
sponding tone.
"That is not your affair," haughtily replied Gil. "In
any case it does not devolve on you to counsel me,
neither do I humble myself to ask your advice."
"I have not attempted to become your counsellor.
MA1TAGARRL
103
You may foster your hatred as long as you wish, and
may God grant it may be for a short term; but let us
separate at least without using our weapons."
"You are very prudent and discreet, Arpide," said
Gil, laughing. "Perchance you are more than prudent
—you are a coward."
"Eight days have not yet elapsed since you yourself
saw to the contrary," replied Arpide, making a great
effort to restrain his anger.
"That is true; but, nevertheless, I believe that it is
not the same thing to fight against common soldiers and
French invaders as it is to fight against a son of Pedro
Iturrioz."
"That is not the reason why I feel a repugnance to
fight with you; you are well aware that I do not fear
you."
"What, then, can be your motive?"
"I fear the consequences which will result from this
duel. God guard you, Gil; I declare that I do not wish
to fight against you."
On concluding these words he set spurs to his horse
and turned away.
"You do not wish it?" cried Iturrioz, in wrathful
tones. "Then I will compel you to fight."
And, running up to him, he dealt a fierce blow with
his mailed gauntlet at the face of Juan de Arpide.
The latter stopped, looked at Gil, dismounted and
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MAITAGARRL
drew his sword. Gil Iturrioz did the same, and both
prepared for the combat.
The spot in which they were to combat could not
certainly be less fitted for fighting. The surface of the
ground was scarcely level for the space of two yards; on
three sides it was surrounded by dense tangled briars
and brushwood, on the fourth was a fearful chasm.
The night was dark, and some drops of rain were falling.
The first to assault was Gil de Iturrioz, whose sword
fell heavily on the shoulder of Juan de Arpide. The
duel began. The broken rocks and hollow places
echoed the clashing of the weapons; rays of lightning
flashed at intervals from the summit of the cliff, illu-
minating for brief moments the armour of the com-
batants, and by the aid of this uncertain light it could be
perceived that Gil retained the fiery gleams of his eyes,
and that he struck furiously, meanwhile that the coun-
tenance of Juan revealed an expression of intense
sorrow, and he only maintained an attitude of defence.
The combat continued; no other sound was heard in
those solitudes but the rough clanging of arms, no voice
broke the stillness—not a single word did they pronounce.
Any one who perchance had passed the vicinity would
have judged that he was witnessing some gigantic
wrestling between the spirits of darkness.
Suddenly a heavy fall was heard, and a voice which
said, " Rise up, Gil, and let this end the duel."
MAITAGARRL
105
"No, by my faith! Although you might have killed
me while I lay on the ground."
"Nevertheless I did not do so. Let us, therefore
finish at this point, and each go his way."
As an only reply to this was heard anew the clashing
of weapons, to indicate that the fight was being con-
tinued. This did not, however, last long. A terrible
blow was dealt, a cry of pain was heard, and then all
things lapsed into deep silence.
Amid the shadows of the trees was seen gliding away
a large form, and along the stony road was heard the
tread of a horse galloping at full speed.
V.
MAITAGARRL1
At nightfall on the following day, Juan de Arpide
found himself sitting in the most concealed part of the
valley of Articuza; near him, and at the foot of a broken
rock, his war-horse was quietly grazing ; he felt his limbs
1 Maitagarri. Among the Basque people this stands for the
"Peri," or the Genius of the Persians. According to the legend
-or popular tradition, this fairy, or hade, fell in love with a shepherd
called Luzaide, and she took him to the summit of Ahunemendi,
where she had her palace made of crystal. This legend evidently
forms the basis of the narrative which the author gives in this
chapter.
io6
MAITAGARRI.
so benumbed that he could not move. He began to-
recall all the events which had taken place on the
previous day, and then rose to his memory the encounter
he had had with Gil; his conversation with him, the
duel which had followed, and its ending. He looked up
towards the rock, at the base of which he was sitting,,
and noticed that it was on its heights that he had fought
on the previous night. He then comprehended the
cause of his benumbed state, and the deep holes of his
broken armour told the rest. He felt bruised all over
his neck was wounded, and he was almost inanimate
from want of food, since he had not taken any nourish-
ment for some thirty hours. All human help seemed to
him impossible in that solitary spot. A canopy of
verdure during summer covers this wild part. The trees,
with their enormous growth and extended branches,
entwined with each other, and scarcely permitted the
sunbeams to pierce through. The stream of pure water
which flows along the base of this narrow valley bathes
the trunks of the trees, and preserves a delightful fresh-
ness around. The vegetation there is strong, magnifi-
cent ; and nothing more poetic can be imagined than a
walk by moonlight across that calm solitude. This
rivulet in places forms little lakes calm and still; small
lagoons surrounded by reeds, briars, lilies, and wild
roses. When gazing on the tranquil waters of these
lakes in miniature, one would almost believe that he
MAITAGARRI.
107-
were gazing on a large mirror surrounded by flowers.
Perchance some kingfisher of emeraldine hues is heard
screeching, or skimming with its wings the surface of the
lake; some stag quenches its thirst from the currents
which feed the stream, or a nightingale perched on the
branches singing plaintively, or a dove whose sad cooing
invites to meditation, are the only creatures which give
life to the romantic landscape.
Juan de Arpide, seeing that the night was closing in,
and feeling that it would be impossible to bear the pangs,
of hunger until morning, called his horse, which was
grazing near him, and the faithful animal soon joyously
neighed in response to its master's call and came to him.
After several vain attempts to mount him, he at length,
succeeded, and proceeded on his march. Juan found
himself on the margin of one of the tiny lakes which we
have just described, at the base of the cliff, from the
summit of which he had rolled over on the previous
night. From the middle of this lake rose a diaphanous
vapour; long stems of climbing plants hung from the
broken edges of the overhanging rocks, until they dipped
their ends in the waters of the lake. These were
covered with leaves, and formed hanging curtains,
similar to the reed lattices which shade Chinese windows.
Long pointed reedmace grew on the margins, and the
branches of a weeping willow waved at the mercy of a.
gentle breeze, like the feathers on a war helmet. The
MAITAGARRL
horseman fancied he perceived, amid the shades of night
a sudden undulation on the waters ; he thought also that
the overhanging stems of the climbing plants were
separating; he saw the branches of the willow tree
moving in a strange manner, and at last he heard the
sounds of far distant melody, the mysterious echoes of
which seemed to enrapture his spirit. The crystalline
surface of the waters became divided, and, enveloped in
the mist which rose from the lake, he saw appearing
a number of maidens of incomparable beauty. Their
brows were encircled by roses, and their aerial bodies
were covered with robes of white gauze. Stars of pale
light adorned the centre of their diadems.
They rose up softly above the surface of the water,
and, taking one another's hands, the maidens began to
intone the strange peculiar music which had so en-
thralled the attention of the horseman. All their faces
were pale ; their eyes were half closed and veiled by long
eyelashes, their abundant hair hung down loosely over
their alabaster shoulders.
Soon after this singular apparition the maidens pro-
ceeded to the spot where the knight, completely ab-
stracted with this vision, was gazing on, and they
surrounded him on all sides. One held the bridle of his
horse, which seemed to be spell-bound, so quiet and
motionless had the animal become; another held the
stirrups so that the warrior might dismount; others
MAITAGARRL
109-
removed his mailed armour ; others, again, took his shield
and the heavy lance; and in this state, disarmed and
confused in mind on beholding himself served and waited
upon by a bevy of such lovely maidens, he allowed him-
self to be conducted beneath the hanging branches of
the willow tree. This tree, with its waving overhanging
branches, covered the entrance to a cave whose floor,
carpeted with fine yellow sand, was the entrance to the
magic mansion of the Maitagarri of the Pyrenees. All
whatsoever the most poetic imagination of the East
could invent of marvels was found collected together in
the vast saloon where the maidens conducted the knight.
The vaulted dome shone as though it were composed
of one immense polished diamond; high columns of
stalactites, which appeared like crystal serpents twisted
one with another amid garlands of flowers, sustained
that brilliant ceiling. Fringes of lilies joined together,
leaves of the wild vine mingled with flowers of the
rosemary red as the ruby, formed festoons which were
truly enchanting, and beneath a canopy formed by the
crystallized waters was seen a throne of moss, soft as the
skin of the ermine, yielding like the cushions upon which
recline the Oriental odalisques. Softly leaning on this
couch reposed the queen of this mansion of marvels; red
tiny slippers covered her feet, and a gauze embroidered
with gold veiled her face. When the warrior entered
this retreat, she arose and drew back her veil. Her jet-
•no
MAITAGARRL
black eyes were fixed on Juan de Arpide; around her
coral lips hovered a charming smile, and with her
exquisitely modelled hand she made a sign to the
knight to come and sit by her side. Arpide obeyed, and
the maidens who had conducted him disappeared.
"Juan de Arpide," she said, in a melodious voice, "you
have come in here at a forbidden hour; you have sur-
prised me in my sleep, and you interrupted my feasts;
you were worthy of punishment."
"Lady!" replied Arpide, astonished at beholding such
exquisite beauty, "I was unaware of your existence in
these places, and if, in effect, I have committed the crimes
you accuse me of, the blame is due to my evil star."
"For that reason do I forgive you," replied the charmer
"Had it not been for my intervention your death would
have been certain."
"How so? Do you perchance know"
"I know all. Concealed in the shadows, I witnessed
your combat of yesternight. I guessed your grounds of
complaint, and when you were engaged in the duel, had
you not found invisible arms in the air to ward off and
lessen the blows that were directed upon you, your body
would have been broken to pieces."
"And how am I to thank you, lady, for such a signal
favour?" cried Arpide, fascinated by the looks and
speech of Maitagarri.
"You owe me nothing. I saved your life, that is
MAITAGARRL
in
-certain; and therefore that life belongs to me for the
future."
"Lady!" cried the knight, looking in terror to his
interlocutor.
"Do not doubt it, Juan. I think also that you ought
to thank me for this new proof of my affection. I well
•deserve that for my love you should sacrifice that of
Inez de Iturrioz!"
Juan de Arpide bent down his head and made no reply.
Maitagarri broke the silence of the knight.
"Do you not answer me? Yet so must it be. A being
that, like you, penetrates into my domains never leaves
it again!" And the enchantress assumed, to. the as-
tonished eyes of the warrior, the same features, the same
looks, the same voice as Inez de Iturrioz.
Juan de Arpide thought he was dreaming. All the pains
he had suffered in his body had left him. He no longer
felt the pangs of hunger, he seemed to be drinking in
life from the eyes of Maitagarri.
"Listen to me," she continued, approaching him. "I
will make you the happiest of mortals. Do you desire
glory? Speak, and the crown of the conqueror will ever
■encircle your brow. Do you wish for wealth? Ask, and
you shall see palaces rising up to receive you, brilliant
shields to defend you, costly robes to adorn you,
maidens and pages to serve you. Do you yearn fcr
love? You will possess mine eternally—a love which is
not to be compared with any other."
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MAITAGARRL
"Oh, Inez, Inez!" cried the knight, half distracted.
The enchantress took his hand and imprinted a kiss
on his brow. But that hand was icy cold, and her kisses
had no warmth in them.
Juan experienced a feeling of terror mingled with
pleasure coursing through his veins. He felt the in-
fluence of the charmed atmosphere, that it was acting
upon him in a soothing manner; he felt drowsy, and a
mist rose before his eyes. A heavy slumber made his
eyelids droop, and he fell heavily on the bed of mossr
and sleep completely overpowered him.
Then Maitagarri summoned her maidens, and they
sprinkled perfumed waters on his mossy bed; they
cooled the atmosphere by waving huge fans of gauze ;.
and upon his lips they poured some drops of red liquor.
Suddenly the mysterious light which had so splendidly
illumined that chamber gradually began to lose its
radiance. The fairy queen gazed on the face of the
sleeping knight, and a look of deep sadness overspread
her countenance, as also over those of her maidens; their
aerial forms became more impalpable in proportion as
the light waned, and they quickly disappeared, converted
into mist, which likewise dispersed, leaving the cavern
in complete darkness. The clatter of armed knights
was echoed among the rocks, and the songs of the
linnets filled the woods. The sun was showing its rubi-
cund face on the heights of the mountain Aya.
MAITAGARRL
113
When Juan de Arpide awoke he found himself in the
same magic chamber, his head reposing at the feet of
Maitagarri, whose velvety eyes were fixed on him as
though wishful of receiving the first glance on awaking.
A table covered with abundant and delicate food stood
in the centre of the chamber.
VI.
THE PILGRIM.
Antonio wended his way to the encampment. Some
of the soldiers told him that Juan de Arpide had dis-
appeared, and that his brother Gil of Iturrioz, seeing
the Franco-Navarrese army routed, and not supposing
that i'c should ever become reorganized, had departed
towards home. The other troops were also retiring.
When the youth returned home he thought that some
news must have been received of the lover of his sister,
and he was determined to protect her love. Great was
his surprise when he only found Gil, who had brought the
news that Juan de Arpide had died in battle.
The news, given unexpectedly and without any pre-
paration, inflicted a mortal wound in the heart of Inez.
A profound sadness took possession of her, and a slow,
obstinate fever began to undermine her existence.
Whole days would she spend seated on the trunk of the
9
114
MAITAGARRI.
tree where she had seen her lover for the first time, and
at night she used to rise stealthily from her bed to creep
away and wander along the solitary fields and woods.
Her brow grew pale, the light of her eyes became
•dimmed, her well-formed figure wasted away to a
skeleton, and from a maiden of great beauty she became
like a living shadow which the slightest breath of air
would suffice to extinguish her life. The sage counsels
of her father, the tender caresses of her mother and
sister, afforded no balm to cure and comfort that sad
heart, wounded to death. To the wise words of her
.father she would listen patiently, and reply by a sad
smile; to the tender caresses of her mother by a flood
of tears.
In this way passed several months. It was late in the
-autumn. The leaves of the trees were flying about in
■clouds, impelled by the north-west winds, like birds of
passage when they emigrate to remote lands and climes.
The blue sky was covered by the first fogs of winter,
the days were visibly shortened, and the nights were
lengthening over the earth. The sickness of Inez was
following its course; her nightly walks had already
ceased.
. One night the whole family were gathered together
.around the hearth. The father, with his venerable head
uncovered, was blessing the frugal meal which was laid on
the rustic table, Gil of Iturrioz was sitting at one side
MAITAGARRL
of the room; Catalina was spinning flax, casting from
time to time sad looks at Inez, who, propped up with
pillows, her eyelids half closed, and her almost trans-
parent hands crossed, was murmuring some words, and
smiling to herself in such a melancholy manner, that her
smile drew tears from those around her. Dominica was
"weeping, hiding her face in her hands; Antonio was
•convulsively clutching between his hands his wood-knife
with which he was carving ingenious patterns upon a
walnut-wood stick which was to serve as a staff for his
•dying sister, A deep silence reigned in that apartment.
A storm was raging outside, when suddenly some one
was heard knocking at the door.
"Go and see who is there, Antonio," said the head of
the family.
"A poor stranger who has lost his way and asks for
shelter," replied a voice at the door.
"God protect the traveller!" replied Pedro Iturrioz.
Come in, whoever ye may be; the doors of the Basque
are always open to the traveller."
The stranger entered. The young men rose up, and
Antonio approached the stranger to assist him. Catalina
left her wheel and placed a plate on the table. The
head of the family made a sign for the stranger to sit
on the settle near the fire—a seat of honour reserved for
the oldest of the family, but which is always given up
to the guest or the stranger.
u6
MAITAGARRL
He who had come in was dressed in the garb of a
pilgrim. He appeared to be about fifty years of age;
his beard was thick but snow-white; his face was dark-
complexioned; his hair curly; a distraught look in his
eyes; his limbs were strong and well built, although
he appeared tired and weary. The coarse robe which
covered him was torn and draggled, a large felt hat
covered his head, and he supported himself with a long
staff.
At the invitation of the host the pilgrim took the seat
offered him, and partook of the supper with him.
When supper was over, Pedro Iturrioz asked the
stranger to say night prayers for them, which the
traveller did in a tremulous voice. Scarcely had the
pilgrim concluded the prayers than a deep-drawn sigh
was heard, which made them all turn round. Inez had
risen up appalled ; her eyes had lost their brilliancy, and
were opened wide in a ghastly way; her mouth, pale
and parched, articulated some sounds; while her out-
stretched hands and arms seemed as though they wished
to draw some distant object towards them. In this
posture did she remain for some minutes, to the great
astonishment of all who were there. Then she slowly
moved her head and fell back into her chair and into
her former position.
"Inez," said Dominica, in tender accents, "do you
wish for anything?
MA1TAGARRL
117
"Nothing, my sister; I want nothing. I had a happy
dream, but one which will never be realized."
The young woman once more returned to her usual
listless, silent manner.
"My poor daughter!" murmured Catalina, sobbing.
"Bid me adieu, my mother!" replied Inez, looking
sadly at her. "Life is fast ebbing away, and I will soon
go to join my darling!"
Catalina took her daughter's hands in hers, and began
to kiss them passionately.
"Is your daughter ill?" the pilgrim asked Pedro.
"The wrath of God has descended on this house/' he
replied. "Let us bless His holy name and submit to
His loving will!"
The holy resignation of the old man visibly affected
the pilgrim, for his eyes were streaming with tears.
"Can you tell me the cause of her illness?" asked
the pilgrim.
"They say she is dying of love!"
"Poor child!" murmured the pilgrim.
"You say well, poor child!" replied the old man.
"Before this unhappy event she was the pride of my old
age and the joy of my heart!"
"Perhaps she was forsaken by her lover?"
"No; her lover was one of our neighbours, a noble,
honourable man."
"And what became of him?" still asked the pilgrim.
n8
MAITAGARRI.
"He died," replied the old man, bending down his
head. "He died just as we were at the point of extin-
guishing the feuds which had divided the two families
for years, and when apprised of his noble conduct
towards my daughter I was ready to admit him into my
house. Alas! hatred is a cursed passion; and for having
harboured that passion too long in my breast God has
punished me. Blessed be the justice of God, that He
has thought meet to make us an example!"
"Can you tell me how he died?" insisted the pilgrim.
"He died the death I wish for my sons—on the field
of battle."
The pilgrim slowly turned his head and looked towards
Gil, who appeared taciturn and ill at ease, not daring to
look at his sister.
"Did you say he died on the battle-field?" he asked,,
after some moments.
"Yes, he did," replied Pedro.
"Fighting against his enemies?"
"Yes, fighting against the enemies of his country."
Once again the pilgrim looked towards Gil de Iturrioz.
Antonio had approached his father, and was listening
attentively to the dialogue between him and the stranger.
"Who told you so?" once more asked the pilgrim.
"My son, who saw him die!"
"Which of them? The youth who is listening to us>
or Gil, whom I see so abstracted?"
MAITAGARRL
119
"Gil!" replied the old man, astonished at the in-
discreet curiosity of the stranger, and more greatly
astonished still that he should know the name of his son.
"Gil Iturrioz in that case told you a lie!" said the
pilgrim, in a ringing voice.
"Gil Iturrioz never lies!" cried the first-born of the
family, leaping to his feet and threatening the stranger
with clenched fist.
"Strike, knight! strike me on the face—this face so
wrinkled; it will then be the second time that you do
it!" said the pilgrim, bowing himself down.
The arm of the young man dropped powerless by his
side in presence of that evangelical humility, and he
covered his face with his hands.
"Knight!" exclaimed the pilgrim, addressing Gil,
"I accuse you before your parents of the odious crime
of assassination."
The bystanders shuddered on hearing these words.
Inez drew herself up, and fixed all her attention on that
scene.
"Tis false, villain!" cried Gil, in a fury. "You may
thank your luck that you are under our roof; you may
thank your age that I do not pierce you through with
my sword!"
"Since when do my sons forget," cried Pedro Iturrioz,
with angry mien, " the duties which are imposed by the
laws of hospitality? Sit down, Gil, without another
120
MAITAGARRL
word ; you are accused of a crime. Senor," he added,
addressing the pilgrim, "you have pronounced a grave
accusation; can you prove it?"
"At this very moment, if you wish it," replied the
pilgrim.
"Commence at once then," said the old man, his
countenance assuming the dignity of a judge who dis-
tributes impartial justice without appeal.
"To you, Gil de Iturrioz, a Guipuzcoan knight, I
address myself. Whom did you meet in the valley of
Articuza about four months ago?" the pilgrim asked, in
a loud tone.
Gil shuddered, and looked in terror towards the
stranger.
"What was the conversation which took place between
you and Juan de Arpide? Did he not offer you terms
of peace?"
"Yes," replied the accused, in a low voice.
"Did he not promise you his sincere friendship?"
"Certainly."
"And instead of accepting it, did you not insult him?"
"That also is true," replied Gil, abashed.
"And to the insult did you not add the injury of
striking him in the face with your gauntlet?"
The young man did not reply.
"Answer, Gil de Iturrioz," continued the pilgrim.
"WThen you grasped the weapon was it not you the only
MA1TAGARRL
121
one to attack, and your antagonist did no more than
defend himself by parrying off the blows without in any
way wounding you?"
Gil likewise did not reply to this question. The father
was casting on his son looks of wrath; Antonio trembled
with indignation; and the women appeared struck
•dumb with astonishment.
"To you now, old man, I address myself," continued
the stranger. "Your son stumbled and fell to the
ground, and when Juan de Arpide, justly irritated, might
have killed him as he lay there, he nevertheless gave him
his hand to assist him to rise; he then newly proposed
terms of peace with him, and instead of accepting the
proposals, he landed a blow at him which inflicted a
■deep wound in his neck, and then he cast him headlong
from the summit of a rock down a deep chasm. How
will you call your son in future?"
"Gil!" cried the old man, pointing to the door with
an imperious gesture, "quit my house! I no longer
acknowledge you to be a son of mine!"
On hearing the curse uttered by Pedro Iturrioz on his
first-born, and deeply impressed by the revelation made
by the pilgrim, Inez uttered aery and fell back insensible.
Catalina and Dominica remained terror-stricken.
When Gil, in obedience to his father's orders, was
about to leave the paternal home, the pilgrim detained
him.
122
MAITAGARRL
"Look at your sister, who is nearly expiring; repent
of what you did, and perchance there may yet be a
remedy for so much evil done."
The stranger approached Inez, who was recovering
from her faint—thanks to the care and attention of her
mother—and, taking her hand, he said, turning towards
the assembled family, "Should Juan de Arpide be still
living, would you consent to his marriage with Inez?"
Antonio ran to the stranger, and quickly removed
his hat; the white beard fell—for it was only a false one
—and the noble countenance of the lover of Inez stood
revealed before them all A cry of surprise and joy rose
from the lips of the assembled group. Inez looked at
her lover; she passed her hands over her eyes, in silence
moved her lips in prayer for some time, and then,
throwing her arms around the neck of Juan de Arpide,.
poured a flood of tears of joy without saying a word.
That silence was truly sublime.
Gil turned pale with terror, because he judged that
this apparition was a supernatural one. Acknowledging
his evil conduct, he at length approached Juan, and in a
deeply moved voice said: "My brother, plead for me
before the just tribunal of my father."..
At the beginning of the following month the marriage
of Inez de Iturrioz with the first-born of the house of
Arpide was celebrated with signal rejoicing.
MAITAGARRL
EPILOGUE.
Two days after the marriage of Inez and Juan, deep-
drawn sighs could have been heard about midnight
issuing from the valley of Articuza.1 Favoured by the
moonlight could be seen, close to the rivulet, a decrepit
old woman, pitifully torn and wounded in body. At her
side were some shadows, or rather phantoms, that were
beating and belabouring her unpityingly, and this
punishment was presided over by the Maitagarri of the
Pyrenees. Her countenance was expressive of wrath;
from her eyes shot flames of fire; out of her mouth issued
cries in place of words. It wras no longer the beauty
which had so charmed Juan de Arpide; it was a beauty
of another description—that of the fallen angel when
perchance it ceases for a moment to endure the torments,
of the lower regions.
"Cursed woman!" she said, interrogating the old
woman; "of what use were your philters? Was it for
this that you asked me for a sleeping child's hand?
Woe to me! who placed more faith in the power of your
amulets than in my own charms!"
1 Articuza. Palace and stronghold close to the shores of that
name. They are situated in the centre of the mountains of
Goizueta, ten kilometres from this town, and surrounded by dense
woods and forests.
124
MAITAGARRI.
"Pardon!" cried the witch of Zaldin, for it was none
other, this poor, ill-used old woman.
"Pardon, indeed!" she replied, "when I would wish
to tear your body to pieces! Die, lying one, as you
have lived!" And the witch of Zaldin, unable to endure
any longer this cruel and merciless treatment, fell
down dead.
Maitagarri, with her phantom retinue, disappeared in
the marvellous cave, out of which she did not issue
again for a long time. When she once more appeared,
the stronghold of Articuza had been already erected, and
the noise of the colossal hammers, and the immense
sheets of flames and sparks which like a volcano issued
from the forge, impelled Maitagarri to forsake those
parts to inhabit others more solitary—the sierras of
Ahuhemendi.
The lifeless body of the witch turned black like coal,
and a gigantic eagle took it away on the winds in its
powerful clutches.


ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
I.
HEN I heard this legend for the first
time I was a youth. The circum-
stances which preceded and followed
its narrative deserve to be mentioned,
although they have no relation to the
legend itself, but they were of such a
nature that they will never be effaced from my mind,
and I think will impart a greater interest to the tale.
The winter of 1829 was one of the most severe
seasons known in this century. In Spain, snow fell all
over the country, and even in the southern provinces,
where a fall of snow, is quite a phenomenon, seen
perhaps once in a century, the ground was covered by

126
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN,
deep beds of snow, to the great amazement of their
happy dwellers. But naturally where the rigour of the
winter was felt more keenly.was in the Basque Provinces.
The roads from town to town and from valley to valley
were impassable, and many houses were buried beneath
the snow for days. The few travellers who were com-
pelled to traverse the mountains encountered fearful
dangers—of being lost in the drifts, or of falling into
chasms, or, in truth, of being attacked by packs of
famished wolves which, forsaking their usual haunts in
the woods, prowled around the habitations.
On this occasion I was in Goizueta, a town of the
mountains of Navarre, enjoying the delicious hams of
the country which supplied the table of my uncle, the
cure of that place, who was ah indefatigable huntsman.
The great snowstorm, which fell without intermission, did
not permit us to leave the bounds of the dwelling-houses,
and we eagerly awaited the weather to break up a little
to enable us to go to the neighbouring mountains to
hunt the deer and wild boars which abounded.
At the beginning of January the sky began to clear
up, and one evening, as we were consulting together on
the practicability of starting on the following morning, a
stalwart Basque presented himself as the bearer of a
letter from the prior of the monastery of Roncesvalles.
This letter was addressed to my uncle, and in it the
prior besought him in the name of their long friendship
ROLDAJSTS BUGLE-HORN.
127
to come arid pay a visit to the abbey, and bring a good
pack of hounds to hunt an enormous black bear which
had appeared in the neighbourhood, and which was
devouring every living creature it could find.
At daydawn on the following morning we started for
the abbey to the number of fourteen huntsmen and
twenty dogs, the pick of the bloodhounds and mastiffs of
the mountains of Navarre. At nightfall of the subse-
quent day we reached our destination, after traversing
the picturesque valley of Baztein, the bounds of Eugui,
and the plain called the Prado de Roldan, the water and
snow reaching in many parts nearly to our waists.
II.
On reaching the Abbey of Roncesvalles we were
received by the prior and his monks, excellent men
whose lives were passed in tranquil magnificence.
When I descried the lofty towers of that monastery,
and beheld the strong walls which surrounded it—on
seeing the houses of the inhabitants of that small town
grouped around the immense extent of the monastic
dwelling, it seemed to me that I was transported to
other ages; and to my imagination, carried back seven
•centuries, the whole rose up before me as the work of a
'Still more remote age—in one word, I found myself in
the Middle Ages.
128
ROLDAWS BUGLE-HORN.
And in truth this idea was reasonable enough when I
looked at our pack of hounds, on the robes in which we
were dressed, on the two monks who had come forth to
receive us, and on beholding the group of country
people who attentively examined us, and saluted
respectfully the venerable prior who was bestowing his
blessing upon them with a benevolent fatherly smile,
and whom the people loved as a true father. In truth,
their affection* for him was well merited, as they never
had recourse to him in their troubles or difficulties
without being relieved and comforted.
The massive doors of the monastery closed upon us,
and we traversed the immense cloisters, preceded by
servants bearing torches of pitched tow to light the way
to the roomy, comfortable cell of the prior, where we
could rest our wearied limbs and dry our soaked
garments.
All this was a new scene to me, and I derived an
immense pleasure in giving full play to my imagination,
and allowing full scope to the ideas which continually
presented themselves.
"That one is the noble lord of this fortress," I thought
to myself, as I looked at the prior, who was seated
close to the hearth upon which burned huge blocks of
wood; "further on are his principal men; we ourselves
are the retinue of the other feudal baron, coming to form
some alliance with his neighbour. I, the shield-bearer,
ROLDAJSPS BUGLE-HORN.
129
he who removes the hood from the favourite falcon, the
one who holds the bridle of the horse of the lady of the
castle, he who carries the shield and the standard of its
lord on the day of battle. This one—his ranger, he
who arranges the hunt, who sounds the Alkali when the
noble deer dashes out of its cover; this other"
My soliloquy was interrupted by the ringing of the
bell which announced that supper was ready. We all
rose up on hearing the welcome sound, and departed to
the private refectory of the prior. Another surprise
awaited me in harmony with the thoughts which had
been suggested to me by the scenes before me. A
table of colossal dimensions groaned beneath huge
haunches of venison and quarters of wild boar smoking
in great dishes of pewter, Further on were dozens of
trout in bright copper caseroles. Large flagons of
yellow sweet Peralta, of red Tudela wine and cider,
flanked this enormous supper. It was truly one of
those Homeric suppers the memory of which has
reached even down to our days. Yet, in spite of the
abundance of food, the haunches and quarters and
dozens of fish were fast disappearing, and the dishes
remained empty as though by enchantment; wines and
liqueurs also were consumed with incredible rapidity, and
I must confess that I was one of those who most contri-
buted to their prodigious disappearance.
During supper the whole conversation turned on the
10
ROLDAN'-S BUGLE-HORN.
object of our journey, and the prior informed us that the
bear we had come from such a distance to hunt was so
formidable an animal that no one dared to venture far
from the dwellings through fear of being devoured.
"We shall bring you that bear to-morrow," said my
uncle, who awaited the coming hunt with all the im-
patience of an enthusiastic huntsman.
"Be careful what you do, my friends," replied the
prior; "I am told that it is an enormous animal, very
agile and exceedingly ferocious."
"Believe me, you need have no fear; and I promise
you that his skin shall keep your feet warm this winter,"
rejoined my uncle.
"Would to God you did destroy him! for I assure
you that there will be many to thank you, since the poor
carriers and muleteers are quite cowed with the beast
who persists in following them."
"Towards wrhat part is the animal more frequently
seen?"
"On the road which leads to the gate of France."
"What! on the path of Roldan?"
"Yes; it is about that district that he has been seen."
"Tis well; now, gentlemen, let us retire to rest, as it
will be necessary to rise early to-morrow."
The prior recited the Benedicite, and the servants
appeared with lights, and each guest betook himself to
the room assigned to him. It was eleven o'clock, for
ROLOAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
the supper had lasted long. My cousin Francisco and
myself occupied a small apartment which had two long,
narrow windows, from which could be descried a portion
•of the neighbouring forest.
I could not resist gazing on the weird scene before
me: the moon was illumining with her cold white beams
the landscape covered with snow, and not the smallest
•cloud could be perceived on the horizon to obscure her
pure light. I opened a window and stood contemplating
the spectacle before me. If on reaching the monastery
I had formed to myself the illusion that I was visiting
one of the feudal castles of the Middle Ages, full of
pages, ladies, and knights, that illusion began to assume
a greater reality the moment I found myself at the
•Gothic window. In front of me lay a vast field
mantled by hard snow, which beneath the moonbeams
appeared like a spotless white carpet, the congealed
icicles glistening in the moonlight as though the ground
were studded with brilliants, topazes, and emeralds
Further on, half hidden by a slight mist, could be seen
the houses of the town of Burgete. To the right rose
up the lofty peaks of the Iru and other mountains which
form that severe cordillera, until they were lost in the
deep blue of the atmosphere. To the left the scene was
still more surprising. Immense aged oaks, pines of
many years' growth, stripped of leaves, could be seen
moving their snow-laden tops at the weak breath of the
132
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
icy breeze. Their black trunks stood out in relief
against the white background of the snowy plains, while
their gigantic branches appeared like the unearthly arms
of some colossal phantom.
In the midst of the sepulchral silence of night, broken
only by the distant noise of the running streams, my
ears perceived some unfamiliar sounds, which, though
weak and far distant at first, began to swell; and that
singular sound which had so struck me continued to
increase—was it an illusion? Perchance it was. My
heated imagination conjured up before me that heroic
combat of the armies of Charlemagne against the
dwellers of the mountains of Navarre. I heard the
clashing of lances, the neighing of the horses, the
pelting noise of stones as they struck the steel armour
of the horsemen, the whizzing of the arrows as they
flew across the air, the cries of the conquerors, the
sighs of the wounded, the groaning of the dying; the
cause of this unwonted noise was duly explained!
I was about to close the window and retire to rest
when I heard truly a clear ringing cry, penetrative—a
cry which was echoed by the adjoining rocks and
chasms, this cry being repeated and prolonged and
echoed over and over again.
"Francisco !" I cried, "tell me what this means?"
My cousin awoke up, and at that moment the weird
sound was repeated.
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
"Oh!" he replied, rising up and approaching the
window, "I know what it is. It is Roldan, who is
blowing his horn, asking for help."
"And who is this Roldan?" I asked.
"Do you not know? Well, he is one of the twelve
peers of France who died at the boundary," he replied,
going back to bed.
I could not help bursting out laughing, but Francisco
grew very wrathful at my incredulity, as he was a firm
believer in ghosts, phantoms, and apparitions.
"You unbelieving Jew!" he cried, in anger; "is that
all they teach you at the universities? Are there no
witches? Do you not believe that the spirits appear
of those who have died and were left unburied? Go to
"Aquelarre" on some Saturday night, and on the next
morning you will tell me what you have seen; go now,
this very moment, to take a walk in that wood which
lies before us, and I promise you that ere you have
walked fifty paces you will meet with Bassa Jauna^
"Come, cousin, do not take it so to heart/' I replied,
<l as I am in total ignorance of all that passes here."
Five minutes later I was in bed and fast asleep.
III.
When the first rays of the dawn were touching the
tops of the mountains which surrounded the monastery,
J 34
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
the pack of hounds were gathered in the wide court-
yard, their barking- awaking the huntsmen. The yelping*
of the impatient dogs, the blowing of the hunting horns,,
the voices of those who had risen early, produced such
a din, that I was forced to rise against my will and
descend to join them. My uncle the cura, with his
merry, happy face, breathing health through every pore,,
was awaiting us surrounded by huntsmen and followed
by the prior, who did not cease to enjoin us to be
careful, and to take every precaution against being:
suddenly assailed by the fierce beast we were going to
encounter.
We joined the group, and bade the prior farewell, his
parting words being, "Now, boys, keep together, and
above all aim right; may you have a good day's sport;
and now I shall go and celebrate mass.
Within a quarter of an hour after leaving the
monastery we had lost sight of its walls, and had
interned ourselves in the forest. We divided the party
into couples, the better to scour the forest. We formed a
wide semicircle as in guerilla warfare, and placed the
dogs between the distances. In this way we proceeded
to search high and low, leaving no defile unexplored, nor
rock or mountain unscoured—but all in vain. The bear
did not show an appearance, nor could we find the
smallest trace which could afford us any clue to its
haunts. In this bootless search we continued until three
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
135
o'clock in the day, when it was judged prudent to return
to the monastery before the night should overtake us,
wandering about those solitary places covered by snow
and frost.
I was exceedingly tired from ascending and descending
the rocks and mountain parts, as I was little accustomed
to this kind of exercise, and my hands were raw from
grasping the thorny bushes and briars when scaling the
rocks and climbing up the hillsides. I threw myself
down, resting against a rock ; Francisco sat down by my
side, and Tigre, our good dog, lay at our feet licking my
hands. The other huntsmen were preparing for their
return home.
"Come," I said, "let us drink a draught of wine, and
then tell me something about Roldan's bugle-horn."
"Ah !" my cousin replied, in a grave tone, "if you Had
passed whole weeks as I have, in the forests and woods,
with no other companion but a dog and a gun, you
would then know a great many things which you know
nothing of. Get up and follow me, since you still wish
me to tell you something concerning this French knight,
and I will tell you what I have heard, but it must be
related on the very spot where that brave fell and
died."
I rose up, and we both proceeded to the eminence
pointed out by Francisco. Nothing more grand could be
imagined than the view commanded from this eminence;
136
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
the virgin luxuriance of the Basque mountains, with their
trees of immense height, their huge broken chasms and
rocks contemporary with the creation, their tops covered
with the snows of centuries, and the torrents below of
turbid waters which have been flowing on from the
beginning of the world. The heights on which we stood
was a broken point, and on the opposite side to this
division there was a huge gap, and this opening is the
boundary or gate which divides it from France.
We reached the spot where Roldan died, and from
whence, it is said, he still blows his horn. It is related
that whenever the blast of his horn is heard the rocks
fall to pieces, the mountains catch fire, and homesteads
disappear by fierce storms.
"Tell me, pray tell me all about this."
"Well, then, listen."
"There was in France an emperor or king who went
on from conquest to conquest, working his way towards
the North. In his incursions he was accompanied by
some barons of his realm, who were exceedingly brave
and daring, among the number being Roldan, and he
was distinguished above them all, like the tops of a
beech tree rising above the other trees of the forests.
Wearied of always proceeding towards the North, where
he only found snow and ice, he returned to his own
kingdom, and, after making some preparations, he sallied
out to conquer the South. Do you see that mountain
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
137
yonder, so high that its top is nearly lost in the clouds?
From that mountain up to Elizondo nothing was seen but
soldiers; the ground shook beneath the weight of that
concourse of men covered with steel, at the head of which
went Roldan. No resistance could we offer them because
we were totally unprepared. They went on and reached
Pamplona and conquered it; they spread themselves
along the shores 3 nd they became the masters. Inebriated
with such signal success, they returned to France, leav-
ing their strongholds garrisoned. Nevertheless in that
retreat there awaited them the punishment to their
ambition. The whole army passed along that road
covered with snow, towards where you are looking. The
multitude of soldiers resembled a long serpent, whose
head, led by the emperor, was concealed in Oleron, and
the tail, at which stood Roldan, reached to the walls of
the holy monastery of Roncesvalles. All the cliffs and
chasms repeated the echoes a thousand times over, the
noise of the songs, and the clamping of the horses' hoofs.
Roldan had already reached to the summit of the pine
plantation, which from hence looks as small as the lime
tree ; he was conversing cheerfully with his soldiers, when
a horrible stampede was heard on the winds. They
looked up in terror and saw huge masses bounding down
the slopes in fearful leaps and awe-inspiring roar, and
falling like hail on the troops, crushing them to the
ground like so many reptiles."
133
ROLDAWS BUGLE-HORN.
"And what was that which was flying in space ?" I
asked, deeply interested with this picturesque narrative.
"Pieces of rock of the size of these we are sitting
upon," he replied. "A fearful cry was heard in that
defile. The troops mustered together, and with their
shields endeavoured to offer an opposition to that shower
of broken rocks, but the resistance was too weak to be
able to repulse projectiles of this description. Their
arms were broken, their bodies trampled, and men, guns,,
vehicles, and horses were crushed down, and, before
many minutes had elapsed, all that road was covered
over with dead bodies, broken corselets, and shields.
Roldan was the only one who had been untouched by
the missiles; he blew his horn asking for help, and the
fierce, terrible irrinzi^ or war-whoop, of the Basques was
the response he received.
"All those mountain tops and heights were crowned
with Basques, who were hurling down broken rocks,
flying arrows, and even throwing huge balls of hard
snow. They were commanded by Count Lobo. The
count witnessed all this terrible slaughter, seated on the
very spot which you are occupying. Roldan made
strenuous efforts to reunite his men, and, by scaling the
mountain sides, to cast the enemy from the heights.
Several times did he reach as far as that break which
lies two yards from your feet; but the trunk of a tree
which rolled down the cliff, and other projectiles, arrested
his venture.
ROLDAWS BUGLE-HORN.
139
"At length, wearied by so much wrestling, he formed
a rampart with the bodies of his soldiers, and in this
manner, behind this defence, he blew his horn and cursed
his cousin the emperor. The sounds from his trumpet
grew weaker and weaker, and as a last effort of his
death agony he took his sword by the blade and cast it
far from him. The sword struck this very spot, and was
buried up to the hilt. The horn was silenced.
"Roldan died pierced by arrows, and surrounded by
the dead bodies of his soldiers. His shadow, neverthe-
less, wanders about these solitary places; armed to the
teeth, he is seen on the heights flinging down enormous
rocks to obstruct the passage, the silent proof of his rout
At times, when some catastrophe threatens the land,
the sound of his horn is distinctly heard, announcing,
by those blasts the misfortune which is threatened.
And when the anticipated calamity takes place, there
are seen about these localities during the night long lines
of armed men dancing to the measure of the strange
music which their chieftain executes. Hapless indeed
is the Basque muleteer who happens to pass at that
moment"
"What happens then ?" I asked.
"He will die broken to pieces against the rocks."
"So that, should these ill-omened fellows appear at
this moment"
"We should be instantly killed," replied Francisco.
140
ROLDAWS BUGLE-HORN.
"Hum, hum! I am not afraid of the dead" I replied,
smiling. "I am more impressed by the presence of two
living men than by all the dead bodies of Roldan and
his soldiers."
"Afraid of the living?" he replied, with a con-
temptuous sneer. "When I have my gun loaded I fear
none who may stand before me!"
I was about to reply, and perhaps start a discussion,
when we heard close to us the same strange noise and
ringing cry which had reached us on the previous night.
"That is your Roldan, who no doubt is coming to tear
us to pieces," I said, laughing, little thinking what was
the actual cause of that cry.
But I was astonished to witness the terror and ashy
pallor of the countenance of my cousin, who with finger
on his lips was indicating to me to keep silence. Tigre
had pricked up his ears, and was uttering sinister growls.
Suddenly Francisco cried, "I have lost my bugle-
horn."
"What is the matter?"
"Why, look to the right; do you not hear?"
I could certainly hear the crackling sound of dry
branches as they broke under the heavy muffled tread
of some one slowly advancing, but I did not apprehend
what it was.
"Is it, perhaps, Roldan who is approaching?" I asked,
half convinced that this supposition might be a true one.
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
141
"Who knows? Silence ! quiet, Tigre !" he whispered,
menacing the dog which at once lay down at my feet.
The night was fast closing in, and the mists were
descending from the mountains over the valleys. All
at once throughout space resounded a ringing cry
far more piercing than any we had yet heard, and on
turning round in the direction from whence it proceeded,
we beheld in astonishment a formidable black bear
about thirty paces from us, and which stood still to look
at us. When I saw him I felt the blood freezing in my
veins, and almost mechanically I raised my gun to aim;
but Francisco cried out, as he grasped my gun, to lower
it. "Do not fire, else we are lost!"
The animal was slowly advancing, growling with
pleasure on seeing his coveted prey so near to him, and
which he felt sure of obtaining. The beast was a huge
one, and his paws, with their sharp curved claws, were
truly monstrous.
"Let us prepare for a hand-to-hand fight," said
Francisco, on perceiving that the animal was beginning
to agitate himself. "Were I alone," he added, drawing
out his long woodman's knife
"What would you do ?" I asked
"I would lodge a shot in his body, and then pierce
him through with this knife."
"Shoot him then, and if you do not succeed in killing
him I will fire also."
142
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
"It is impossible," he replied, " because, should I not
kill him, he would attack us, and although, were I alone, I
could easily defend myself, yet I could not do so with you."
"Let us run for it, then," I said.
"Run from him?" he replied, looking at me from head
to foot. "You are tired out, and before we should have
departed twenty paces you would feel his claws clutching
at your neck. No, let us do something else."
"Let us fight him to death," I rejoined.
The bear uttered a deep growl and dashed at us.
Quick as thought my cousin leaped to the front and
placed his body between me and the beast. The eyes
of Francisco were gleaming with a strange light, his
right hand grasped the long knife, and a feverish tremor
betrayed his extraordinary resolve. That wrestling
would have proved an unequal one, had not another
combatant appeared on the field, when the bear was at
a short distance from us. The dog Tigre, which had
been hitherto only yelping and watching, now leaped
on to the beast with the strength and agility of dogs of
his breed, and, catching him by the neck, turned him
over and both rolled to the ground. The rage of the
tear was something terrible: he growled savagely, and
set at the dog; but the latter, being agile and trained,
parried the attacks of the beast with surprising skill.
"We are saved !" cried Francisco.
"Let us fire at him !" I said, preparing my gun.
ROLDAJSPS BUGLE-HORN,
143
"Keep quiet, for heaven's sake!" he exclaimed.
"Don't you see that, should we not kill him, he would
turn his attacks from the dog and direct his fury towards
us? Let us reserve our shot for the end."
Meantime the bear was vainly trying to catch the dog,
but every time that he renewed the attack the dog
would fly at him, and dig its teeth into the bear, forcing
him to roar furiously.
My cousin then began to call at the top of his voice
to summon the other huntsmen, if he could make himself
heard by them, and they in their turn were already very
anxious because we had not rejoined them. At last,
after a quarter of an hour of anxious waiting, we heard
the blasting of the hunting horns, the yelping of dogs,
and the answering cries of our companions announcing
their arrival.
When the bear heard all that noise he began to retire
very slowly: we then fired two shots, and he disappeared
in the wood. The huntsmen hastened up to us, nearly
exhausted with fatigue, and fearful that some misfortune
had happened to us.
"Pepe! Pepe! where is Pepe?" cried my uncle, in
terror and out of breath.
"Here we are, uncle," I replied.
"Are you unhurt?"
"Yes, thank God; but had it not been for Francisco
the bear would have torn me to pieces."
144
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
"Mercy upon us !" exclaimed all the huntsmen in one
voice. "Have you seen the bear?"
^ "Yes, as surely as I see you!" I replied.
"Where is Francisco?" they asked.
At that moment we heard the report of a gun in the
wood, followed by a fierce growl We all ran towards
the spot whence came the noise, and we found Francisco
raising his gun to fire with the greatest coolness.
"I have wounded the beast," he said, as soon as he
saw us coming ; " if we follow the track the bear will be
ours."
"But, gentlemen," said one of the huntsmen, "it is
almost night."
"What does it matter?" replied Francisco, as he
shouldered his gun and started in pursuit.
We all followed him, and on the snow we could
plainly see the spots of blood from the wounded animal.
"He is certainly wounded," said my uncle ; "therefore
let us proceed cautiously. Pepe," he added, addressing
me, " come close to me, do not linger behind nor separate
yourself from our party."
"Come along with me !" cried Francisco, as he grasped
my hand in an affectionate manner; "before the bear
touches a thread of your coat he will have to tear me
to pieces."
Deeply touched at this proof of his friendship I
returned his grasp in silence The pack of dogs were
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
H5
leashed together, setting Tigre foremost, and we joined
ourselves together in a close column, and, preparing our
weapons, we followed for a considerable distance the
track of the animal. The night quite closed in, but we
wrere able to continue our search, thanks to the reflec-
tion cast up from the whiteness of the untrodden snow.
The footprints and occasional spots of blood from
the wounded animal served as a guide, but on reach-
ing a plain, encircled by high rocks like gradients in an
amphitheatre, the trace of footprints and the drops of
blood ceased. From this we inferred that the bear's den
must be in some opening of the rocks standing before
us, so we decided to encamp on the snow, taking all
necessary precautions to spend the night in security
and all possible comfort. With a quantity of dry
branches we kindled a fire, fastened the dogs in couples,
refreshed ourselves with food and wine, and settled to
sleep. Some of the keepers took their turn to watch,
and formed a sort of mounted guards. In spite of the
piercing cold, somewhat modified by the heat of the
fire, we soon fell fast asleep.
IV,
At daydawn we were up and commenced anew our
search. We found deeply impressed footprints of the
bear on the snow, and followed the track which led us
11
146
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
to the further end of this natural amphitheatre of rocks.
At the base of a high cliff we discovered an opening
curtained by overhanging branches and much tangled
growth, and none doubted that this opening led to the
den of our enemy. We carefully examined the sur-
roundings of this mountain, in order to discover whether
there existed any other opening to this cave, but to our
great satisfaction we found none. We then held a sort
of council of war, to discuss the best means possible to
dislodge the animal from his lair, and after some
animated discussion the proposal suggested by my
cousin was unanimously adopted. This was simply to
place the huntsmen on the heights which surrounded
the plain for safety, and the keepers with the dogs
leashed together to stand at the entrance of the plain.
Then to collect some branches, pile them up at the
mouth of the cave and set fire to them, and by this
means smoke out the beast from his lair. We ac-
cordingly perched ourselves all along the heights of
the rocks, and my cousin, armed with his long knife, and
followed by some of the men carrying wood, gently
approached the cavern, covered up the entrance with the
branches, and set fire to them. My curiosity was at its
highest point, and the eyes of all were fixed on the
bonfire, which was beginning to cast vivid flames and
dense columns of smoke. Francisco stood on my
right, and the dog Tigre on the left. Ten minutes
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
147
elapsed without anything taking place, and we were
beginning to think we had after all missed our mark,
when we perceived the ignited branches flying in the
air, and scattered about on all sides under the vigorous
kicks of the bear. He appeared on the scene uttering
fearful growls, and casting fiery glances around at us.
When the animal found himself enclosed within that
narrow circle, his fury knew no bounds. He made
towards the dogs, which were all let loose together, and
a terrible fight ensued. The bloodhounds covered the
bear with their tawny bodies; the beast lacerating
all those he could bite at with his long teeth, and in a
short time out of that rolling heap of bodies came forth
indescribable cries of pain, and blood flowed. Thirteen
dogs fell victims, either killed or wounded, in that fight,
and the rest withdrew at the call of their keepers. The
bear, now fairly exhausted, sat on his haunches, unable
to move, his jaws wide open, and his tongue hanging
out like a sheet of red-hot iron.
"Fire altogether!" cried my uncle, and five balls
entered the animal's body.
The bear gave a tremendous leap on finding hims^f
wounded; he reared on his hind legs, gazed upon the
scene around him, and with desperate bounds, horrible
growls, and grinding his teeth in a fearful manner,
covered with blood and froth, he dashed in the direction
where Francisco and I were standing to attack us. In
148
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN.
order to reach to where we stood, it* was necessary for
the animal to clamber a cliff of about sixteen feet high,
upon one of the crevices of which we had taken our
position. The other huntsmen did not dare to fire
through fear of wounding us; nor were they able to
render us any assistance, as it was too late to prevent
the attack or divert the beast. Meanwhile the bear
was with surprising agility clambering up, and we
almost felt the hot breath of his nostrils. The hunts-
men were terror-stricken: my poor uncle endeavoured
to encourage us with cheering words, while a cold per-
spiration overspread my face. I trembled from head to
foot, and I knew not what to do. I turned towards
my cousin, who gave me a grasp of the hand, and,
turning deadly pale, murmured, "The bugle-horn of
Roldan!" The critical moment had arrived. Flight
was now impossible. The bear advanced, and had
already raised his huge paws to pounce upon us.
Francisco leaped forward, made the sign of the cross,
raised his gun, took aim, and fired. I closed my eyes.
A cry of joy resounded in that enclosed plain on seeing
the beast roll over, down the broken cliff, and Tigre with
him. Francisco uttered an irrinzi of triumph, and,
swiftly following the animal, he leaped down and stuck
his long knife into the breast of the bear.
Three hours later, we entered the walls of the monas-
tery bringing the dead body of the black bear, the
ROLDAN'S BUGLE-HORN,
149
terror of the adjacent mountains. From his body was
extracted about twenty pounds of fat, and his handsome
skin covered for some years the prioral couch of
Roncesvalles.
* * • * * . *
For a considerable time after this event I used to
dream very frequently about Roldan's bugle-horn ; and
whenever I was troubled with these dreams I would
awaken as in a fright and start up nervously, believing
myself caught in the clutches of a black bear.

JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
I.
GREAT number of warriors with
quivers slung on their shoulders fill
the vestibule of the palace of Temora,.
the residence of the kings of Erin,
and the bards are singing to the
accompaniment of their golden harps
the deeds performed in war and in the chase by the
brave Morna, the sovereign of the Emerald Isles, sur-
rounded by the blue waves. The harps of the bards are
silenced; the warriors are ranged in two long files; the
gates of the palace are flung open, and the aged Morna
appears between his two sons, Lemor and Armin. The

JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
people flock to gaze on their king, and welcome him
* with acclamations of deep affection, because Morna is
the zvell beloved of all^ as his name signifies in the har-
monious language of the verdant isles. The hair and
beard of the king are white, but the snow of seventy
winters has been powerless to bend the limbs of the
athlete king, well developed by labour and a sober life.
The loving people have also a welcome for the princes
who accompany the ancient, for beautiful in body and
soul are Lemor and Armin. Lemor possesses a face
that is fair to behold as the snow which crowns the
heights of Carmora; his hair is golden as the rays of the
sun, and his eyes are blue like the flower of the flax.
They depart from Temora, followed by the warriors and
blessed by the women. The old men and the children
gaze after their retreating forms with loving eyes and
hearts until they become lost in the woods of Lena.
But they are not proceeding to war—no—for see, the
women do not weep on beholding their departure. The
wild boar, of rough skin and long tusks, is the enemy
against which they are going to wrestle in the forests of
Lena. See them as they become lost in the fastnesses
as soon as the dogs announce the presence of the giant
of the woods. The king goes one way, and Lemor and
Armin go another. The bugle of the keepers also
announce the appearance of the wild boar. And the
boar runs, runs, runs, destroying with his formidable
152
J A UN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
tusks every dog which dares to approach him, repelling all
the arrows directed against his hard rough skin. Lemor
has separated himself from his brother as he had done
previously from his father, and one hour had already
been spent by the tired-out huntsmen in scouring the
dense wood unable to vanquish the boar. The bugle
announces to Lemor that the animal is running to-
wards where he is, and the gallant huntsman prepares
his bow. The tangled brushwood is seen moving at a
short distance from him ; the enormous head of the boar
is descried, and the arrow of Lemor pierces the air. A
cry of pain is heard, and L6mor hastens to despatch the
animal; but the boar is not in the spot aimed at by the
arrow, and the cry of pain is repeated some distance
further. Lemor advances, and on separating the
tangled growth of briars and brushwood behind which
issued the wail, a cry of immense sorrow bursts from his
breast on seeing that his father, the king of the green
isles, the beloved of all, and of none more than of
Lemor, is lying on the ground in a dying condition, his
noble breast • pierced by the dart shot from the bow of
Lemor. Lemor beseeches help for his father, invoking
the protection of heaven in behalf of the dying old man
endeavours to return back his life—that Jife which is fast
ebbing away—and he weeps on seeing his impotence,
and his soul is filled with despair.
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
153
II.
They are returning to the palace of Temora, the
princes of the Emerald Isles, and the warriors who went
with them to the woods of Lena; but the bards who
went out to receive them, when they perceived them
returning in the far distance, do not strike their golden
harps, nor do they welcome the huntsmen with songs of
praise. Silent and sorrowful do the huntsmen and the
bards arrive, and on learning the cause of this silence
and grief the women and the old men and the chil-
dren fill the air with their laments and their wails of
sorrow. Morna, the beloved of all, returns, a lifeless
body, conducted by his warriors, laid on a litter of
funereal cypress, and Lemor and Armin appear to be
dying of grief. The ancients, the chieftains of the
tribes of Erin, assemble together on the following day
in Temora, and after a long conference they come and
stand before Lemor, the heir to the sovereignty of the
Emerald Isles.
"Prince," spoke the oldest of the chiefs, " although by
our laws a parricide is condemned to death, thou must
not die, because, if thine arrow did wound thy father, it
was not done willingly; but the crown must not be
placed on the brow of one who is stained with the blood
of his father and of his king, nor can he dwell amongst
us. The crown of Morna must rest on the stainless
154
JAUNZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
brow of Armin. To-morrow at daybreak a ship will
await thee in port provisioned and manned. Depart in
her for ever from our isles, and may heaven protect
thee wheresoever the wind and wave may take thee to!""
Lemor accedes to the decision of the chieftains of the
tribes, and delivers himself up to the mercy of the winds
and of the waves, with no better company than his own
sorrow, his hope in heaven which knew his innocence,,
and two loyal servitors who had willed to share his
misfortunes.
The ship, deficient of a skilful pilot, sailed on for
days and nights and even months upon the boundless
solitudes of the ocean, cast about like a toy at the
mercy of swelling waves and the fury of the winds.
Thirst at length begins to parch up Lemor and his
servitors, who have no more water to drink or to cool
their parched lips but the salt sea water. But just as
the last ray of hope of discovering land had been extin-
guished, and they had abandoned all idea of meeting
with the shore of any country whatever, they perceived
in the far distance, amid the sea mists, a coast backed by
green mountains, and they pushed on their ship towards
that blessed land. That land was the one inhabited by
the Cantabrians,1 the race of giants which, five centuries
1 Cantabrians. A people of Hispana Tarraconeza, between the
Pyrenees and the ocean, inhabiting Navarre, Biscay, Alava, and
Guipuzcoa.
J A UN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN, 15 5.
earlier, Rome, the mistress of the world, had been unable
to vanquish despite all her power.
The ship is closely approaching the shore. Beautiful
is the land before them; more beautiful even than the
isles of Erin is the continent which the prince and his
loyal servitors hail with joy. The exiles leap from the
ship on to the land and burst out in shouts of joy,
because beneath the shade of some immense leafy
chestnut trees they perceive a fountain of running water,
clear as the crystalline roofs of the grottoes of Drumanar.
The fresh water calms the heat which devours them.
Peace comes over the soul, and sleep visits their weary
eyelids. They cast themselves on a green slope covered
with flowers, and soon fall asleep.
III.
Where goes the ecJieco-jauna 1 of Bustuna as he aban-
dons the cultivation of his fields and descends to the
deserted shores of Mundaca, followed by those who
were assisting him at his work? Where goes the
eckeco-jaiina in such haste?
From the mountain heights he has seen a little ship
tossed by the waves and dashing itself against the
rocks, and, as his heart is compassionate and hospitable
he runs, flies to succour the wrecked ones whom he
1 Echcco-jamia. The master of the house, or proprietor.
i56
JAUNZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
supposes must be battling with death on the shore.
He stops as he descends to the plain, and those who
came with him also. Three strangers are sleeping close
to the fountain under the shade of the chestnut trees,
and the echeco-jauna remains there in order to watch
over and guard their sleep.
The sons of the green isles awake, and they ask of
the echeco-jamia what land that is which the winds and
the waves have brought them to in their ship. And on
learning that it is the land of the invincible Cantabrians,
they raise their lips to heaven and thank God for having
conducted them to the country of the first heroes of the y
universe. Under the roof of Bustuna they find an hos-
pitable asylum, those exiles from Erin; but very quickly
does it become known throughout the Euskarian moun-
tains that among them dwells a son of kings, and the
aged Lekobide, the chieftain of the Eskaldunac? and
descendant of the glorious leader of the same name who
humbled the pride of the Caesars, and whom the Basque
people sing praises in their songs, sends messengers to
the Prince of Erin to offer him a home in the valley of
Padura.
1 Eskaldunac. Some write it Escitaldunac (from escua, hand, aide,
right, dimac, those who have), a name which the Biscayans, or
Basque people, give to themselves. In their dialect they call
themselves Euskarians. This dialect, the wise Humboldt considered,
was the most remarkable language of all he was acquainted with.
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
157
L&nor contemplates with delight the supreme hap-
piness of the land on reaching the dwelling of the
Basque chieftain. An aureole of glory encircles the
venerable brow of Lekobide, and another of beauty
and chastity that of the youthful Luz, the daughter of
the chieftain of the Eskaldunac.
Months have passed since Lemor came to dwell in
the home of Lekobide, and for months has he been
striving to quit the valley of Padura, because as a good
knight and a good Christian he is ashamed to live in
idleness meanwhile that the sons of Agar are trampling
on the holy cross beyond the Ebro. For months has
he wished to offer his arm to Fernan Gonzalez, the
Count de Castile, but he is always held back by the
pleadings of Luz and Lekobide; and, more than all, is
he detained by a mysterious power which dwells in his
heart. Warlike exercises and the chase restrains his
steps. When departing from Padura he wends his steps
towards the lofty mountains that command the view of
the valley to pursue the wild boar and the deer, Luz
goes to the window with saddened looks to watch the
stranger from the valley, and the stranger turns back
seeking Luz at the window.
IV.
The Eskaldunac are free, free as the breeze and the
birds of their mountains. They have no lord to whom
15b JAUNZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN,
they owe vassalage, nor do they possess other laws than
those written in the consciences of their chiefs, who
judge the culprit and adjust contentions under the
shadow of the holy tree of Guernica. Beyond the
hierarchy of virtue and of intelligence and of age, there
is but one hierarchy in the land of the Eskaldunac.
The Eskaldunac elect a chief who is ever ready to
lead them to the combat whenever the stranger invades
their free land; and this glorious title they bestowed on
Lekobide more than half a century before in considera-
tion of his virtue, his intelligence, his valour, and his
glorious name.
One day, when the Euskaro patricians were assembled
together under the holy oak of Guernica, one of them
remarked that Lekobide was aged and impotent, and
therefore incapable to take the command of the armies
of the Eskaldunac on the day when the stranger should
invade the land. Then a patrician of a century old
spoke in the name of the assembly:
"Fifteen years have passed since Leyala, the most
valiant and loyal dog of our mountains, watched day
and night at the door of his master. "Leyala is old,"
said one day the echeco-jaunay and on that night a new
guardian was installed in the post in which Leyala had
grown old.
"The fox which had been scared away from afar by
Leyala fifteen years ago, and which he had scented
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
159
from a great distance, came that very night, unfelt by
the young dog, and ate up the fowls of the ecJieco-jauna.
And Leyala, who, sad and broken in heart, had left the
fern-bed in which he had slept for fifteen years at the
door of the homestead, in order that a stranger should
occupy his post, was found dead on the following
morning, although the echeco-jauna had prepared a bed
for him softer and more sheltered than the one in which
he had lain for fifteen years."
Thus spoke the patrician of a century old, and since
then no one ever remarked that Lekobide was aged.
Neither Lekobide himself remembered his age, because
the youthfulness of his spirit does not permit him to
think on the age of his strong arm.
But hark! a low rumour is heard, and an unusual
agitation unknown for years spreads across the valleys
and along the range of the Basque mountains, and
numerous scouts, their hearts full of indignation, hasten
to the door of Lekobide, calling out—
"Quidaria /1 a formidable army appears on the
cordillera of Orduna, and alas! for the Eskaldiinac,
should the irrinzi2- not be quickly heard on our
mountains!"
Lekobide rises up brimming over with wrath. "Blow
the five bugle-horns on the five Basque mountains; for
1 Quidaria. Chieftain.
3 Irrinzi. The shout or call of war.
i6o
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
none must reach the Tree Malato of those who would
dare in warfare to trample down our free dwellings!
—Give me my coat of mail, and the lance which seventy
years ago accompanied me to the combat!" And
Lekobide quickly puts on the coat of mail, and his body
bends beneath the weight of his armour. Lekobide
grasps the lance, but his arm is powerless to hold it.
Then does the glorious chieftain remember his age and
trembles; and, humbled and despairing, he falls down
at the threshold of the door.
Meanwhile the alarm flies along the Basque mountains
and valleys, and in answer to the call to war many
Basque warriors are coming down to the valley of
Padura, imploring their revered chieftain to lead them
to battle. A ray of hope suddenly illumines the
^venerable countenance of Lekobide which had been so
full of despair.
"Prince of Erin 1" cried the old man, addressing the
son of Morna, "take my coat of mail and my lance, and
fill my place of command at the head of the Euskaro
legions!"
"Senor!" replies Lemor, "I will fight against the
enemies of thy land in which I have received such
generous hospitality, but it will be in the soldier's ranks.
Seek a chieftain more worthy than I to lead thy
warriors to the combat."
All the Euscarian warriors who had descended from
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
i6r
the mountains to the valley of Padura joined their
pleadings to those of Lekobide, but the modest Prince
Xof Erin insists on marching to war only on condition of
fighting in the ranks with the humblest wrestler.
"As long as thou livest, thou wilt be the leader and
champion of the Eskaldunac, because I am powerless to
be so," said Lekobide, with universal assent; but Lemor
still continues to refuse to accept the glorious title
offered to him.
"Thou art the son of kings, and art worthy to
command^assals," exclaim the ancients of the twenty
valleys gathered together in the valley of Padura; "the
free land of the Euskaro confers upon thee the sove-
reignty if thou dost consent to take the command of
our armies."
The prince of the green isles refuses the sovereignty
of the Eskaldunac. And while all this contention takes
place, more scouts appear on the field to announce that
the army of the enemy has passed the Tree Malato, and
are descending the mountain slopes, like a raging sea,
carrying all that opposes its progress.
"Oh, Prince of Erin!" cries Lekobide, u if in my
veins flowed the blood of kings I would then tell thee—
Lead the Eskaldunac legions on to battle, cast out of
our free land the stranger, and on returning from the
combat thou wilt sit at my hearth, and I will bestow on
x thee the title of son!"
12
162
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
Lemor directed a glance full of love and hope
towards Luz; and, as though he had read on the
brow of the maiden the reply his soul yearned to hear,
he cried out, as he donned the coat of mail and grasped
the lance of Lekobide:
"Old man! may God permit me to be seated at thy
hearth and hear from thy lips the name of son!"
V.
Upon the five highest mountains of the free land is
heard the blast of the trumpets, and that warlike sound
is answered throughout the valleys and mountains by
the powerful irrinzu Every man with sufficient strength
to cast an arrow, wield the sword, the lance, or battle-
axe, speedily rises up, quits his house, and proceeds
towards the valley of Padura, whose plains and heights
can scarcely hold the thousands of Basques that are
collecting together in answer to the call of their Country.
This call or summons is not issued without good cause,
for the enemies are many, and they are already ap-
proaching the valley of Padura as though to challenge
the chieftain, who they are well aware dwells there.
The armies which invade the Basque mountains are
not composed of those brave legions of Castile and
Leon, who so often planted the cross of Christ over the
tents of the Mussulman ; nor are they led by the kings
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
163
of Leon or the Counts of Castile. These legions are
composed of low adventurers, who^efame the Christian
name from the banks of the Ebro to the shores of the
Tagus, and are commanded by Ordofto the Wickedy the
vile usurper of the crown of Sancho el Craso, and who,
•cast forth from his Leonese throne, wishes to drown his
■disappointment in the noble blood of the Eskaldunac,
and raise up on the Basque mountains a new throne
upon which to sit. /?
The Basque army, led by Jaim-Zuria, as the people
style the Prince of Erin, goes out to encounter the
stranger, who is already appearing on the mountain
heights that overlook the valley of Padura, and Sancho
de Esteguiz, the lord of the Duranguesado, leaves
his palace of Tarisa to lead the Duranguese, who are
longing to fight by the side of their brother tribes,
commanded by the prince. The combat is a fierce
one, and its frightful din thunders throughout the
hitherto peaceful mountains of the Euskaros. A dense
cloud of arrows obscures the sunlight,venormous boulders
of rocks wrenched by the herculean arms of the Eskal-
dunac are cast upon the armies of Ordono, dismem-
bering and crushing and terrifying them. The axe
and the lance, the swords of the Basque warriors are
fast cutting down the invading legions on the broken
rocks of Padura. But the desperation of Ordono
incites him to make a supreme effort to reanimate
164 JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
the courage of the adventurers, and the victory is still
undecided.
"Death to the leader of the Eskaldunac!" cries
Ordofio, "and then the victory will be ours!" And he
runs to encounter Jaun-Zuria, who at the same time
fights, and commands his army in the thickest of the -
fray.
The son of the kings of Erin goes out in his turn to
meet the ambitious chief of the invaders, and closes
with him in a fierce match. The lance of Lekobide,
wielded with Titanic force by the Prince of Erin, pierces
through the breast of Ordono, who expires uttering a
roar of desperation which resounds throughout the
mountains of Padura like that of a pounded lion. But
alas! a stone flung by the enemy wounds the noble
forehead of the lord of the Duranguesado, for whose
life the Prince of Erin would willingly have given his
own!
Disorder reigns now in the disbanded legions of the
stranger, and they flee in terror back from whence they
came, marking their footprints with blood and fire. The
Eskaldunac follow them to the cordillera of Orduna, and
there, wearied with so much slaughter, and beholding
their country once more happy and free, they return to
rest and to celebrate their glorious triumph beneath the
shades of the Tree Malato.
JAUN-ZURIA, PRINCE OF ERIN.
165
VI.
Nearly ten centuries have passed since the Eskaldunac,
led by the exile of Erin, sent a thrill of joy and triumph
among the people on the fields of Padura. Should you
desire to visit these fields, do not seek on the map for
the name of Padura, because they have changed this
name for that of Arrigorriaga, which in the rich and
venerable language of the Euskaro is equivalent to
reddened stones. The rocks which bristle on the tops of
the mountains of the ancient Padura presented for a long
time the colour of the blood which the hordes of Ordofio
the Wicked poured upon them, and for this reason was the
ancient name of Padura altered to that of Arrigorriaga.
^Proceed to the parochial church of the valley of
Arrigorriaga, and there, close to the font of holy water,
you will see a sepulchre. Ask the simple villager who
it is that reposes in that sepulchre, and he will tell you
that there lies a prince called Ordofio, who strove to
rob the Basque people of their liberties, and was killed
by Jaun-Zuria, the first Lord of Biscay. After this,
examine the dusty archives of the temple, and if you
understand the changeless and eternal language of the
Eskaldunac, you may read in some worm-eaten parch-
ments, yellowed by age, that in this temple were joined
together the daughter of Lekobide with the son of a
king of Erin.
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
A TRADITION.
I.
N the narrow deep valley along which
runs the turbulent stream of Cadagua1
to empty itself into the sea which ex-
tends its arms as though to receive it,
there is a high, noble bridge. The
bridge of Castrejana, for such is it called,,
was constructed by Mestre Pedro Ortiz de Lequetio, and
was commenced on the 9th of June, 1435, and concluded
on the 4th of May, 1436. We learn this important fact

1 See Cadagiia, in Glossary.
THE BRANCH OF V/HITE LILIES. 167
from some curious historical notes which were found
about the year 1730 among the papers of an Augustinian
monk of Bilbao; nevertheless the people maintain that
the said Mestre did no more than appropriate to himself
a work which had cost the evil one many labours, as it
was this dire enemy (that never beholds the countenance
of God) who was the. real constructor of the bridge of
Cast rej ana.
We shall relate this curious story just as it was told
to us by the dwellers of Irauregui and Zubileta, who affirm
that ever since Mestre Pedro Ortiz de Lequetio usurped
from the devil the glory of having constructed the
bridge of Castrejana, the evil one had been so furious
with the plagiarists that, whenever he can catch them in
a lonely spot, he subjects them to great barbarities.
About the year 1485 there existed on the right margin
of Cadagiia a humble dwelling-house, surrounded by a
splendid market-garden, and protected by a circle of fine
fruit-trees; while behind the house there was an apple
orchard, which stretched along the base of Pagazarri. In
the house of Castrejana, for such was the dwelling called,
there resided a poor widow, and her daughter Catharina,
who was about eighteen years of age. Catharina was
the pride and charm of the valley, and from Burcena
down to Alonsotegui there was no one but loved her for
her goodness and admired her for her beauty. Her
mother was advanced in years, and little able to attend
168 THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
to household duties; but the industrious daughter per-
fectly supplied the deficiency of hands in cultivating the
market-garden, the care of the orchard, and tending to
the herds. Moreover she conducted the sales, in the
markets of Bilbao, of the fruit, milk, and vegetables,
which formed the principal resources for the support of
the humble dwellers of Castrejana. Catharina was
always at work and always cheerful. She would go
singing to draw water from the fountain close to the
chestnut wood on the river side, and with a song on her
lips she would return. To the market of Bilbao she
proceeded, singing all the way, and also returned singing
until she passed the chestnut plantation of Altamira,
when she always hushed her song for a few moments.
Singing she worked in the garden, and gathered the
fruit from the trees, or led the cattle to drink on the
banks of Pagazarri.
On the other side of the river stood the house of
Iturrioz, whose lands extended to close upon the fountain
of the chestnut wood, from which no doubt it derived
the name of Fonte fria—the cold fountain. Whenever
Catharina went to the fountain to draw water, the lads
of Iturrioz, who worked on his estate, used to start a
lively chat with her, and Martino, the oldest of the lads,
hastened down to the valley to offer her the best fruit
of the trees on the estate.
Martino and Catharina had loved one another almost
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
169
from childhood, and their parents had arranged a
marriage between them which would be celebrated
when the sowing of the maize, which takes place in
May, should be ended, as Martino wished to help his
father and brothers before leaving them to reside on the
lands of Castrejana.
On a dark stormy night a man knocked at the door
of the widow's house, and Catharina, taking a candle,
opened the wicket window of the door and asked the
stranger what he wanted.
"I have come from Bilbao, and am going towards
Galdemes," replied the traveller, who by the candlelight
appeared to be a youth dressed in a black suit. "The
river is no doubt swollen, and the night is too stormy
to be able to cross in safety the high rocky mountains
through which I have to journey. Give me shelter for
this night, and by daybreak I shall proceed on my
journey safely."
Catharina consulted with her mother, and, with her
advice, she opened the door to admit the stranger. He
was a young man with a handsome face and a very
sweet voice, yet there was something in his voice and in
his countenance which destroyed all the charm ; and his
bright eyes, his constant smile, and his measured, low
170 THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
tones and melodious accentuation rather annoyed than
pleased. While the widow conversed with the traveller,
the daughter was busy preparing the supper.
When the stranger finished his supper, the old woman
said to him, "We have not yet said our night prayers,
and if you are willing we shall be happy if you join us."
The youth made a sign of displeasure, and replied
that he was very tired, and as he had to be up very early^
he would prefer to retire.
The widow lit a candle and led the way to a
chamber, where they hastily made up a bed for him,
and arranged the room as well as they could in their
humble way. The window of this chamber was open,
and through it came the perfume of the flowers in the
garden after the rain, and more particularly was the
scent perceived, above all the other flowers, of a.
fine plant of white lilies which grew just beneath the
window, and the long stem of blossom almost reached
the window-sill.
"What a rich perfume that white lily is shedding!"
said the mother of Catharina, as she approached the
window.
"What lily is it?" asked the traveller, with a sneer
on his lips.
"One which my Catharina cultivates every spring to-
place on the lady altar of Begona." 1
1 Begona. See Glossary.
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
171
The stranger made a rude gesture, and the old woman,
perceiving that he was in no humour for talking, bade
him good-night and retired.
The chamber occupied by mother and daughter had a
window which also looked out on the garden, and was
on the same side of the house as the room occupied by
the stranger. Before closing the window Catharina put
out her head to breathe the night breeze laden with the
scent of flowers, and great was her dismay and surprise
to see that the stranger was drawing out his right hand
in which he held a hook with which he was endeavouring
to reach the lily, no doubt to break the stem.
"Oh! what is he going to do?" asked Catharina, ia
alarm. "That man must be the evil one!"
The hand armed with the hook instantly was with-
drawn. The mother then related to her daughter how
displeased the stranger had manifested himself when he
knew that the lily was destined to deck the Virgin's
altar; and Catharina, fearing lest she should find her
beautiful lily destroyed, which she had tended and
watched over with such loving care, were she to leave it
on the plant until the morning, quietly went down to
the garden and cut the lily stem from the plant and
brought it up to her room with the greatest care lest it
should become broken.
172 THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
III.
The rain, which had partly subsided during the night,
quite ceased at daybreak, and the traveller rose early,
saying that he must try and cross the river before the
currents should swell it, and he be unable to cross over.
Catharina had a great wish to ask him why he had at-
tempted to destroy her beautiful lily, but she did not
•dare to do so, as there was something in the face and
looks and voice of the stranger which instilled fear and
terror—she knew not why. Catharina and her mother
besought him to stay a few moments until they prepared
breakfast for him, but he insisted on departing at once
and asked what he was indebted to them for the supper
and accommodation.
"You owe us nothing but a good will," both the women
replied.
"Very well, I am much obliged to you, and wish you
very good health," said the stranger, and he departed,
fording the Cadagiia along some enormous stones laid
across, which then stood in the place of a bridge, and on
the very spot where at the present day stands the bridge
of Castrejana.
The fears of the stranger were well founded that he
might find the river quickly impassable, for when he
forded it the water was already beginning to cover the
huge stones.
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
173
Catharina looked out from the side of the house which
faced the river, and divided her attention between
the traveller, who was hastening to take the road to
Iturrioz, and Martino, who was mending- a broken
paling at the further end of the garden, and through
which some goats had made their way into the field.
This paling was on the side of the high road along
which the stranger had to pass. This unknown visitor
stopped to speak to Martino as he passed him. The
distance and the noise of the river rushing down pre-
vented Catharina from hearing what they said, but she
noticed that Martino grew wrathful, and looked towards
the house of Castrejana with menacing gestures. We
know not whether it was from want of water in the
house, or to have a chat with Martino, that Catharina
lifted a pitcher to her head, and, telling her mother that
she wras going for water before the river should become
so swollen that it would be impossible to cross it, she
started off; but on reaching to the bank she had to turn
back, as the water completely hid the stones, and the
current was fearfully rapid.
A little later, Catharina, with a basket of vegetables
on her head and the branch of white lilies in her hand,
started from home, taking the road to Bilbao, as she did
evejy morning, to sell her goods in the market; but
this morning she did not trip along with a light heart,
nor did she sing as usual, but went her way silently and
174
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
sad. In going and returning from Bilbao, on passing
Altamira, she always stopped singing and knelt at the
foot of the giant chestnut tree from whence could be
descried the church of Begona. On that morning she
knelt as usual, and prayed more fervently than ever, and
she even wept while she prayed. What change was
this that had been worked in poor Catharina? She
could not tell; but she felt in her heart a deep sadness
as though some great misfortune was threatening her.
She reached the market-place of Bilbao, and while
she sold her vegetables she watched her lily so that no
one should break her branch. Many persons, charmed
by the lovely flowers, wanted to purchase them, but
Catharina would reply that she could not part with
her flowers at any price, because she had brought them
with her, not for sale, but to take them to the church of
Begona and deck the Virgin's altar with them as her
•offering.
When she had finished her sale, she went to the
church, placed her beautiful lilies on the altar of Our
Lady, and crossing again the Ibaizabal by the only
bridge which then existed—which is the one called now
the bridge of Saint Anthony—she went towards Castre-
jana. The river Cadagiia continued rising, because
during the morning it had rained in torrents all over the
Encaftaciones.
Catharina kept looking towards the fields and house
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
175
of Iturrioz, but did not see Martino. What was her
surprise and terror, when the sun was sinking behind
the mountains, to perceive the youth ascending the
slope towards Baracaldo, above Zubileta, which is on the
opposite bank of the Cadagiia, and that he was furnished
with weapons, and clad in a coat of mail such as was
worn by warriors in that epoch by various bands.
The bands called Onhacino and Gamboino were not
then devastating the seigniority of Biscay and the
Encartaciones, but were contending without ceasing
against the. districts of Castile, particularly on all the
land along the Ebro from Puentelarra to Valdivielso,
commanded by the Salazares and Velascos, and they
had constantly in Biscay agents who were charged to
enlist men, who, allured with flattering promises of
much glory and renown, had found to their cost
nothing certain but a probable grave amid the rocks.
Catharina ran to the river shore and waited for
Martino to reach the opposite margin; and in truth
Martino did arrive, but it was to fling a folded parch-
ment fastened to a stone across the water to Catharina,
and continued to walk towards the house of Iturrioz,
while Catharina in dismay read the following lines which
had been written by Martino upon the folded parch-
ment:
"I would sooner die far from hence, fighting against
the enemies of the Salazares, than die here combating
i;6
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
against your faithlessness and want of love. At mid-
night I join other young men beneath the chestnut tree
of Iturrioz, and with them shall depart to the suburbs
of Castile, where I hope death or absence will make me
forget you."
IV.
The bells of the monks of Burcena were ringing for
prayers, and Catharina was weeping bitterly in despair
on seeing that the time was fast speeding away, and
the hour approached in which Martino was to depart,
perhaps never to return, and never more to see him.
In vain did she look at the flowing water, waiting
to discover the stones which served as a bridge; the
stones remained concealed beneath the swollen currents
which every moment swept down with greater power
and roared with greater fury.
"What have I done, Holy Virgin," she would cry
out in her deep sorrow, "that Martino should thus
doubt me, and be going away to die in the wars which
are destroying the bravest knights and the most
honoured youths of Biscay? Some dreadful misunder-
standing or some calumny has no doubt taken place
which has made us both wretched. A single word from
me would at once undeceive Martino and dissuade him
from his sad resolve, yet I cannot approach him, nor
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
even speak to him, because the river, wild and swollen,
interposes between us. Ah! I would give my life to be
able to cross this furious current before the bells of
Burcena chime the hour of midnight, and each stroke
of the hour tells me that no longer will there be any
happiness, either for Martino or myself, in this world!"
Thus spoke the hapless Catharina, as she wept at the
foot of the chestnut tree, and looked towards the river
in hopes of its subsiding, and of discovering the stones,
over which she had so often merrily passed, and which
now were under water, and then turning towards the
house and fields of Iturrioz sought the well-known form
of Martino, who, alas! did not appear as was his wont
to do, frequenting the river shore to exchange a loving
%word with his beloved Catharina.
Suddenly she heard footsteps behind, and on turning
round she saw coming up to her the mysterious visitor
of the previous night, he who had sought a shelter at her
mother's house. A hope, wild, because it was founded
on an absurdity, beamed over the soul of Catharina.
"From this," she said to herself, " up to Aranguren,
which is on the boundary of the valley of Salcedo, there
is no bridge whatever, yet this man has crossed the river
at no great distance from here. Perhaps some of the
gigantic trees growing on the shores have been wrenched
by the storm and fallen down across the stream, and
enabled the man to cross over as though it were a bridge,
13
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
Should it be so, this man can tell me, and then I shall
be able to cross over and see Martino in time to prevent
him from going to the wars."
All this did Catharina turn over in her mind during
the brief moments of surprise occasioned by the appear-
ance of the man.
"By what part of the river did you cross?" she
anxiously asked of the stranger.
"I crossed over by the bridge of Aranguren," he
replied,
"How could that be, for the bridge of Aranguren
stands some three leagues from here?"
"By making prodigious efforts !" he cried.
"Prodigies indeed! Ah, would that I could work
them as you have done!"
"Which would you wish to do first?"
"I would wish to cross the river."
"In that case it would be necessary to have a bridge
to be able to cross the river."
"Most certainly."
"I can make one."
"How? perhaps by felling some of the trees and
placing them across on both sides of the river?"
"That would be impossible: because the river is very
wide, and none of the trees, however high, would reach
across to the opposite shore."
"How then?"
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES. 179
"By constructing a stone bridge."
"That would take too long a time, for I must cross
over, at latest, when the bells of Burcena strike the hour
of midnight."
"I can easily erect it by that hour."
"Do it then."
"What will you give me if I do?"
"My life."
"Your life is not enough payment for me.'1
"What more do you require?"
"I must have your soul!"
"Well, then, have it, so that you erect the bridge
•without delay."
Catharina seemed to be under some irresponsible
influence when she uttered these words, and knew not
what she said. But scarcely had she spoken these
wild words than reason asserted itself in her mind,
and she clearly comprehended the grave import of
her words, and she then wished to recall them, or at
least to explain them; but the mysterious stranger
had already departed far from that spot; while on the
river shores, obscured by the shades of night, which was
a very dark one, nothing was heard but the noise of
hatchets, pickaxes, spades, saws, and hammers, as though
a multitude of workmen, stonemasons, carpenters, and
other artificers, were digging, sawing wood, cutting huge
blocks of granite and stone, and laying the foundation,
i8o
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
erecting the pillars, and forming the arch of the
bridge.
The idea that this man dressed in black was the evil
one began to take possession of the imagination of
Catharina, and what more terrified her than the thought
of losing her lover was the conviction that she was going
to lose her soul. Catharina in her distress cried out to
that man, "Do not erect that bridge at the expense of my
soul, because I do not wish to give it to you!" But her
voice was drowned in the noise of the rushing waters of
the Cadagua, and the uproar of hammers and pickaxes
which continued to be heard on the river banks, as
though an invisible legion of carpenters and stone-
masons were working there; while amid that unearthly
roar the hapless girl seemed to hear a voice rising above
it all which replied to her, " It is too late! It is too late!"
The night advanced, and Catharina amid the gloom
saw rising on either side of the river white columns,,
which were no doubt the base or buttress to sustain the
arch of the bridge. A gleam of hope suddenly
strengthened the fainting heart of Catharina, and she at
once started towards the coast of Castrejana, and on
reaching to the foot of the chestnut tree of Altamira, she
fell on her knees, and, looking in the direction of the
temple of Begona, she invoked the protection of the
Virgin, saying, "Holy Mother of God! save my soul
which is in peril of losing its eternal salvation!"
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES. 181
The valley of Ibaizabal was as darksome as the
depths of Cadagiia; but scarcely had Catharina said
these words of fervent prayer, than it appeared to her
that a soft resplendency illumined the valley, which for
a thousand years has been protected and watched over
by the Mother of God from the heights of the hills
of Artagan. What light could it have been? Ah!
perchance it was that of hope! Enlightened and
strengthened by this light, Catharina descended the
slope of Castrejana. The soft light which shone over
the valley of the Ibaizabal1 was spreading also along
the valley of the Cadagiia, and by its gleams Catharina
saw that the two buttresses which she had seen, or
imagined she saw, rising up on both shores of the
river, and the erection proceeding on either side, were
meeting in the centre to form a perfect arch. Towards
the side of Iturrioz there shone a light similar to a
flaming torch, which began to descend to the chestnut
wood and disappeared among the leafy branches. The
heart of Catharina beat fast in anguish. That light
appeared to her to indicate that midnight was fast
approaching, and Martino must be quitting the paternal
home, and was about to forsake, perhaps for ever, his
native valley.
Catharina looked steadfastly before her, never re-
moving her eyes from the bridge, which now was almost
1 Ibaizabal. See Glossary.
182
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
finished, and nothing was wanting for its completion but
the key-stone. Suddenly a form was seen ascending
the almost finished bridge. It was the form of a
beauteous lady, who carried in her hand a branch of
lovely white lilies, and as she reached to the open gap
between the two sides of the arch she laid the stem
across the opening and disappeared, leaving a luminous
trail, which extended to a great distance, until it even-
tually became lost in the depths of the valley of
Ibaizabal.
When Catharina turned her gaze away from the east,,
where that singular vision had disappeared, and looked
towards the bridge which was constructed in such a
marvellous manner, she saw the man in the black suit
holding in his hands an enormous block of stone, which
he carried as easily as though it were a light ball, and
running up along the arch was about to place the heavy
slab in the opening and thus complete the bridge. How-
ever, in spite of all the efforts of the artificer to fix the
slab or block in the opening, the slab did not fit in. The
man hammered desperately at the stone, accompanying
each blow with an oath, but the stone resisted all his
efforts, as though it were prevented fitting in by a
strong bar of iron laid beneath. And the man in black
redoubled his furious efforts as he heard the sound of the
bells of the monastery of Burcena vibrating through the
valley announcing the midnight hour, and on hearing
THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
183
the chimes he uttered a cry of desperation, and cast
himself headlong into the river, and was carried away in
the furious currents and disappeared altogether. At the
moment when he flung himself into the seething waters a
sound was heard on the bridge like the noise of a branch
snapping in two, and in that instant the key-stone, or
huge slab which the man in black had been unable to
fit in, fell gently into its place, and the bridge remained
perfect; while a huge cataract of water now descended
roaring along the windings of Alonsotegui, carrying
down towards the Zubileta all the scaffolding and
temporary erections employed in building the bridge.
Catharina then rapidly crossed over by the bridge which
had been so marvellously constructed, and ran to the
chestnut wood of Iturrioz.
Half an hour later a number of youths, clad in mail
and armed with war weapons, ascended along the
Cadagua, lamenting that Martino de Iturrioz should
prefer the effeminate blandishments of love to the manly
and glorious exercise of war.
Martino, leading Catharina by the hand, accompanied
her to the house of Castrejana, where he bade her an
affectionate farewell, passed over the Devil's Bridge,
sped across the lands, and returned to the house of
Iturrioz.
Between the joints of the enormous blocks of stone
which constitutes the key-stone and the lateral slabs of
184 THE BRANCH OF WHITE LILIES.
the bridge, there used to spring up every year some
beautiful white lilies, which the damsels of the valley of
Ibaizabal gathered on the morning of St. John's Day,
and these flowers were called Cataloros^ a name derived
from the Basque word Catalenlorac, which means
"flowers of Catharina," but owing to the great fall of
rain and inundation which occurred on the 22nd of
September, 1523, the foundations of the bridge were
shaken and the buttresses unsafe, and it was found
necessary to substitute smaller stones to replace the
massive key-stone, which it was feared would fall down
and destroy one of the noblest and most elegant bridges
of the Basque provinces.

THE SONG OF LAMIA.1
I.
T was the first- third of the seventeenth
century. In those days the slopes of
the mountains which encircled the
valleys were densely covered with
luxuriant trees; these plantations
began to disappear during the civil
wars, and in a greater degree after the war, on account
of the increase of naval construction in the building
trade of Zurrosa, Duesto, Salve, and Ripa.
When beautiful chestnut woods and forests of oak
covered the southerly brows of Archanda and Berriz,

1 Lamia. The Basque water-nymph, or mermaid.
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
which now are almost bereft of vegetation, and also
along the base of the valley where, God be praised! they
substituted for the ancient trees the no less beautiful
embellishment, and one more useful, of numbers of
quintas, splendid houses, gardens, orchards, and manu-
factories, there lived a happy couple.
On the brow of the mountain Berriz, in the centre of
a plantation of luxuriant chestnuts, there existed, during
the three first decades of the seventeenth century, a
house surrounded by some acres of arable land. That
homestead, and the happiness of its inmates, no doubt
inspired in the people a song or ditty which I heard for
the first time in those plantations, and which runs as
follows:
Tener herencia en campo bello,
Yuna casa en la herencia,
Yen la casa pan y amor,
Es grande felicidad.
(" To possess an inheritance in a lovely land, and in
that inheritance a house, and in that house bread and
love, is indeed a great happiness.")
And in truth they were very happy, Martin and
Prudencia, as they were called by the dwellers of
Aurrecoechea. Their love began in the holy occupation
of labour.
Prudencia dwelt in the house of Aurrecoechea, whose
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
acres had to yield the sustenance necessary for herself
and her mother, the only member remaining of her
family, and she was too old and helpless to work. In
another house, close to that of Prudencia, lived Martin,,
who also had to support by his labour in the paternal
home his aged parents who could no longer earn their
bread.
Some of the work done by the tillers of land in the
Biscayan provinces demands the united labour of two or
more persons. Hence it is that a woman is never seen
alone digging or tilling the ground, because the field
labourer or farmer, who has no one of his family to assist
him in his hard work, and is too poor to hire labourers
and pay wages, digs in exchange with any of his neigh-
bours who may be similarly situated; that is to say,
they join together and work alternately on each other's
land.
When the season for digging commences, which is
that when the sky begins to clear up and shows a cloud-
less blue, the birds to sing on the trees, and the flowers
to spring up on the banks, Martin and Prudencia used
to join together and work alternately on each other's
land; and in that occupation, which I do not hesitate in-
calling a holy one, since it is a holy labour, that of him
who sows the land by the sweat of his brow in order
that it may produce the fruits with which to maintain
his family—there sprang up in the hearts of these two-
i88
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
honoured and comely beings a pure affection which grew
and became strengthened.
It is easier to comprehend than it is to explain the
sweet charm which their labour must have possessed for
those two young people, that labour shared together,
and in which they learned to love one another in a
supreme degree. Both lost almost at the same time
their parents, and both felt that they remained alone in
the world; but when Prudencia saw Martin in his house,
and Martin in that of Prudencia, a hope rose up which
smiled upon their lives, and then both felt that they were
not left alone in the world.
One lovely spring. morning Prudencia left her house
at the same moment as Martin left his, and both met on
the slope of the hill and descended to the plain, where
they entered the Church of San Pedro de Deustua. An
hour later they ascended the mountain, Prudencia
leaning lovingly on his arm, and instead of parting com-
pany to enter each one into their house, they both went
into the house of Prudencia, because it had become a
fact that love and the permission of the church had
rendered common property both their inheritances.
For two years did Martin and Prudencia live together.
Poor indeed they were as regards the riches of this
world, but rich in love and happiness, and no doubt it
was then that some versifier of the mountains of Goyerry
or of the plains of Olaveaga composed the Basque ditty
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
which I have humbly rendered into English. But as in
this world there is never complete felicity, so also was
the happiness of Martin and Prudencia incomplete, be-
cause often when Martin heard in Aurrecoechea the bells
of Santa Maria de Begona ringing for mass, he used to
say—
"We must have a mass said to beseech the Virgin to
implore our Lord to give us, through her intercession,
what is wanting to complete the joy of our home."
"Yes, we must indeed," Prudencia would reply, blushing
and full of joy.
II.
Martin and Prudencia wTere overjoyed when the young
wife felt that their desires were to be realized, but their
joy was very quickly turned into sorrow.
On one autumn evening they were both in the chestnut
wood. Martin had climbed a tall tree the branches of
which he was beating with a long stick, while Prudencia
gathered the chestnuts, as they fell, into a basket.
Suddenly a cry was heard in the chestnut plantation
where Martin was, and he fell to the ground uttering a
cry of terror, followed by another from Prudencia. She
ran to help her husband, and filled the wood with cries
for assistance; and the neighbours quickly hastened to
render help; but it was all of no avail. Martin, who
*9o
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
had fallen to the ground owing to the breaking down of
the branch upon which he was standing, had ceased to
exist. In the bitterness of her grief Prudencia heard
the bells of Begona, which happened to be tolling for
the dead; and she prayed in her agony that the Lord
might relieve her of the weight of her life, but instantly
remembering the unborn fruit of their happy union,
she repented of that impulse of despair, and cried
out—
"No! do not heed my petition, O my God! I wish
for life to dedicate it to the innocent babe which Thcu
hast given me to bear!"
Two months later Prudencia gave birth to a beautiful
boy which cost its mother fearful suffering.
Eight years passed since Ignacio was born, and for
these eight years the life of the mother had been one
long chain of anguish and deep sacrifices to preserve the
existence of that child who was born vacillating between
life and death; but at length life triumphed, thanks to
the mother's care.
"It is appalling to consider how much that child has
cost you," used the pious hermit of San Bartolomeo de
Berriz to say to Prudencia; "if there is a child in the
world who ought to love its mother, it is most certainly
your son."
On hearing these words Prudencia was unable to
restrain her tears. Was it because her son did not love
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
191
her as much as her love and great sacrifices deserved?
Most undoubtedly it was.
There are few mothers who have not the right to call
their children ungrateful! There are few sons who,
after losing their mothers, do not feel in the depths of
their hearts the remorse of not having loved them as
much as they deserved!
Ignacio seemed to view with indifference the love and
and the tender solicitude of his mother whom he treated
with disaffection, which in the unreflecting age of eight
was not a very guilty act, but which nevertheless gave
signs of that ingratitude and coldness of heart with
which the son of Prudencia would repay the hapless
mother her love and maternal solicitude and sacrifices.
Up to his seventh year the child was reared weak and
sickly, but on attaining this age his health began to
improve wonderfully, and one year later he was one of
the most robust, healthy children who frequented the
shores of Ibaizabal. It was on the shores of Ibaizabal,
and not on the heights of Goyerri, that Ignacio was to
be found at all hours of the day, against the will of his
mother; who feared that some misfortune would befall
him on the water, but she in vain opposed his descent
to the river.
Prudencia wished her son to become attached to
the paternal home, to cultivate the land and the trees
which surrounded it, and to pursue the agricultural
192
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
pursuits of his country; but the water and boats and
sailors were all in all the thoughts and love of the child.
For him there was no field so beautiful as the wide
expanse of the blue water, nor dwelling more lovely and
desirable than a ship, nor society more agreeable than
that afforded by the rough mariners, whose brows had
become bronzed, and who had grown old wrestling with
the tempest and fighting with pirates. Whenever his
mother came to seek him in Olaveaga or Zorroz-aurre,
she always found him exercising himself, rowing in a
boat, or climbing a ship's mast, or playing on the deck
of some vessel, or in the dingy alehouse frequented by the
sailors, and where they met to spin their yarns, perfectly
absorbed with the narrative of the adventures encountered
by some crew.
If it had cost Prudencia many and dire sorrows to
rear up her child, her trials were no less now when she
beheld with dismay the growing love for the sea which
he was daily manifesting.
The fond ambition of a mother can never be realized
on beholding in her children the wish to leave their
paternal home to seek the life of solitude and the
constant perils of a life spent on the seas; and the ambi-
tion of Prudencia had been that her son should always
remain at her side, cultivating the fields sown with
patient love, and cheering the hearth 'around which so
many tears had been shed by her.
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
193
Ignacio, on attaining his twelfth year, could read and
write fairly well, thanks to his natural intelligence and
the constant efforts of his mother to make him attend
school, but certainly not due to his love of study.
During the long winter evenings his mother insisted on
his reading aloud books which were of a religious
character, or such as recounted the history of the glories
of the land of his birth; but the only book which
Ignacio loved to read was a fantastic narrative of the
voyages of Columbus, Elcano, and other navigators, and
some romances, in which, for the amusement of the
public, were related incredible accounts of maritime
scenes which fired the imagination of that poor boy,
who really seemed as though he had come into this
world solely to torment and grieve his tender mother.
The romantic and exaggerated narratives which the
sailors daily recounted completed the pernicious effects
produced by the injudicious reading he had pursued, on
the vivid imagination of Ignacio. One day his mother
bade him consider that he was already of an age to
assist her in the arduous labour of cultivating the fields
and tending the cattle. Ignacio to this replied, what
his mother had long feared to hear, that he did not
like the life of an agriculturalist, and he was firmly
resolved to take to that of a sailor and proceed to
sea.
In vain did Prudencia endeavour to dissuade her son
T94
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
from his resolve; the son insisted upon it; and thus the
years passed until Ignacio completed his twentieth year,
more and more decided upon exchanging the peaceful
life, which was offered him by the surroundings of Monte
Berriz, for the turbulent life of a seaman on the vast
solitudes of the ocean.
The love of Prudencia for her son, in place of diminish-
ing by the cold correspondence it met with from Ignacio,
became, on the contrary, more ardent, deeper, more vivid,
and firmer than it had ever been! Prudencia only^existed
to love God and her son. If any maternal love deserved
the name of idolatry or madness, most assuredly it
was that of this hapless mother.
III.
The pleadings and the tears of Prudencia did not
suffice to deter Ignacio from his resolution of casting
himself on the ocean, after a few limited voyages on the
Cantabrian seas, which hitherto had only deprived Pru-
dencia of his society for a few days. She felt she could
not exist without him, and one day Ignacio ran up from
the shore to impart to his mother the sad news that he
had determined upon undertaking a voyage, which would
be of some months' duration. And this was not the only
resolution he had formed, and which he imparted to his
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
195
disconsolate mother. He had decided that they should
dispose of the house and land where his father had lived
from his birth until he came to dwell in Aurrecoechea,
and with the proceeds of the sale to purchase a beautiful
swift ship which had been put up for sale on the shoreo
of Zorroz-aurre. The tears and pleadings of his mother
to deter him from doing this were met by Ignacio with
his usual argument—that if he were to die a violent
death, it would be just the same to meet it on the sea
as on land, as had happened to his father, who met his
death in the peaceful chestnut plantation of Goyerri.
Prudencia wrestled for a long time before she con-
sented to the project of her son; but at length she was
overruled ; but what was most singular was the fact that,
instead of acknowledging and understanding the selfish
proceeding of her son, who was selling the paternal
homestead and filling his mother with sorrow merely
to gratify a caprice, her love, in place of growing
weaker, became daily more strengthened as though it
were fed by her abundant tears.
Some days after this, Ignacio, radiant with joy and
pride, was directing the management of his ship, which
had been manned and prepared for leaving the calm
waters of Ibaizabal, whilst his mother was weeping
unconsolably on the shore where a few moments pre-
viously her son had given her a cold farewell accom-
panied by these unfeeling words: "Come, come, we
i g6
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
have had enough of this crying; good-bye for six
months."
The ship slowly sailed away, carried along solely by
the wind, because, as its master already considered him-
self quite a sea hero, he would not descend to the vulgar
recourse of employing a towing rope! Prudencia did
not remove her eyes, blinded by weeping, from watching
the ship, waiting for the last sign of farewell of her son;
but the ship disappeared behind the Monte del Sepulcro
without Ignacio remembering to turn to give one last
look towards his disconsolate mother.
In those days there did not exist, as in our time,
beautiful grassy acres along the plains of Elorrieta and
Zorroz-aurre, which extended to the right of Ibaizabal
from the Monte del Sepulcro to the wrhite, well-populated
district of Olaveaga, which then could only boast of a
dozen houses, and what at the present day are fruitful
lands and orchards, dotted by cheerful dwellings, was
then sterile land overrun with rushes and washed by
the waves.
With her heart torn asunder by grief, Prudencia
crossed the place covered with bulrushes and reeds, and
with slow steps ascended the slope of Goyerri, turning at
every step to cast a look towards the north-west, seeking
the ship which carried her son.
On reaching the chestnut wood of Aurrecoechea, she
sought, as was her wont, for the tall chestnut tree, on the
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
197
trunk of which was nailed a simple wooden cross, to
shed a tear and repeat a prayer, and this day she cast
herself on her knees close to the tree, and watered with
her abundant tears the ground which had been steeped
with the life-blood of her husband. This ground was
on that occasion covered with flowers, and the blue
hues of their petals seemed to be reminding her of the
celestial Jerusalem wherein the All-powerful reserves
unspeakable joys for the sad ones of this earth.
"Blessed are those that believe!" said Christ; and
whereas Prudencia had faith and believed, she deposited
there her sorrow on the breast of an Invisible Being.
When she rose up from her knees to continue her walk-
to her sad, lonely home, she appeared quite comforted
and freed from her great heavy burthen. On approach-
ing her house she cast a last look behind. The sun,
which was fast becoming hidden behind the mountains
of the Encartaciones, was bathing with vivid rays the
turbulent waters between Cape Lucero and Cape Villano,
and, favoured by its resplendency, Prudencia distin-
guished and recognized her son's craft, and with eyes
fixed on the ship she continued motionless until it
disappeared in the mists of the evening.
Perchance the mother thought that at the same
moment as she watched lovingly the ship, that fond eyes
on board were full of tears, seeking amid the chestnut
groves of Berriz for the white house of Aurrecoechea.
198
THE SONG OF LAMIA,
IV.
The plains which at the present day are known under
the name of shores of Lamiaco were at the commence-
ment of the seventeenth century called reed plantations
of Dondiz. Dondiz was the name of the cheerful, small
village which stands on the green hills that overlook
Lamiaco, and it was in this valley that an old man
related to me the sad story of Prudencia, while he
smoked his pipe and watched the herds pasturing on
the grassy meadows.
In the Basque language, as also in Castillian, the name
of Lamia implies one of the fantastic creations of the
popular mind. Lamia is a class of water fairy which
differs from a mermaid in this: that while the latter
only dwells in the sea, and her singing allures men for
evil, the former lives both in the sea and in the rivers,
and her singing attracts men to them in order to render
them happy.
To the bed of rushes on the shores of Dondiz was
given the Basque name of "Lamiaco," which, literally
translated, means the shores of the Lamia. "But why
was this shore of Dondiz called Lamiaco?" We
shall learn further on. In the seventeenth century
those plains, which are at the present day fruitful lands,
thanks to the industrial character of the people, and
will soon rival the best cultivated acres of Biscay, were
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
199
overgrown beds of dark rushes and dismal marshes,
which the people believed were the haunts of monsters
and wandering spirits.
But let us return to Prudencia. Nearly six months
had elapsed since the departure of Ignacio, and the poor
mother had received no tidings of him. In vain did she
come down to Olaveaga and Zorriz-aurre every day,
with the object of asking the sailors who returned from
America for news of her son. No one could give her
any tidings of Ignacio, nor of his ship. But as the
term of six months had not yet expired of his absence
when he had promised to return, Prudencia still had
hopes.
"Should her son not return," said the hermit of San
Bartolomeo, " what will become of poor Prudencia, who
only lives because she expects her son to come back?"
Prudencia would every day take the high road from
the plains of Aurrecoechea, which skirts the southerly
brow of Monte Berriz, and ends on the summits which
are renowned in the modern history of Spain under the
name of Banderas. Here she would stop and spend
whole hours with eyes fixed on the ocean, always
hoping to see on that vast sheet of moving waters the
appearance of her son's ship, which she felt sure she
could not mistake for any other. But the ship of
Ignacio never appeared among the great number which
daily passed the fearful line of swelling waves that
200
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
extends from the broken rocks of Algorta to those of
Santurce.
Her hopes began to wane when at the end of six
months Ignacio had not returned. Yet Prudencia still
continued every day to ascend to the summit of Berriz,
to return more and more disappointed. In proportion
as the poor mother lost hope her life visibly declined.
One afternoon she stood as usual on that height with
eyes fixed on the far distant horizon. The sun was
setting, inundating with light the gulf which extends
between Capes Lucero and Villano, just as it had done
on the day when the bark of Ignacio had crossed that
water. Suddenly a white sail appeared in the far
distance, lit up by the sun's rays, and Prudencia, uttering
a cry of joy, descended the slope west of the Monte del
Sepulcro, crossed the stream by a high narrow wooden
bridge extending from the sombre tower of Luchana,
crossed the plain and rocks of Aspre, and entered the
reed marshes of Dondiz at the moment when the bark
was saving the bar of Santurce. Prudencia had lost
sight of the vessel behind one of the many peaks and
rocks which hid it from her sight, but she continued to
walk on along the shore, which was now comparatively
dry owing to the low tide. Her heart beat wildly, her
breathing was painfully laboured, while a feeling of
anxious expectation was taking possession of her soul
similar to that felt by the prisoner in a dungeon who
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
201
knows that the first person to enter in is to bring him
the sentence of death or liberty.
On coming out from behind a rock she suddenly
found herself close to the much-longed-for ship, and,
giving a cry of intense pain, she fell to the ground
senseless, as though she had been struck down by a ray
of lightning. Her heart and her eyes had deceived her.
That ship before her was not the one of her son Ignacio.
After some time she recovered consciousness, and,
making a supreme effort, she sadly and slowly took the
road to Ibaizabal as though she had lost the last hope
which remained to her on earth.
When she reached Aurrecoechea the night was far
advanced, and when the clock of the monks of Burcena
struck twelve the soul of Prudencia left its earthly
tenement, and was ascending to heaven.
V.
Further on than Aurrecoechea, almost on the summit
of the mountain, there existed a beautiful hermitage
dedicated to the apostle, Saint Bartholomew, and about
the year 1379 some pious men, desirous of leading a life
of prayer, and of sheltering the travellers who traversed
those plains, which in those days were bereft of habita-
tions and covered by dense forests, in which abounded
202
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
many wild animals, joined themselves together and
constituted a monastic order.
In 1429 the hermitage of Berriz was erected into a
convent of Augustinians, and in 1515 the community
removed to the neighbourhood of Bilbao, where- the
pious knight, Tristan de Leguizamor, gave them the land
for founding their new house and for erecting a new
church.
A century later—that is to say, in the first half of the
seventeenth century—a pious woman took care of the
hermitage of Saint Bartholomew, which has subsisted
almost to our days, and this holy woman often partici-
pated in the troubles of Prudencia, and very frequently
assisted her with wise counsels. The nun of Berriz >
as this servant of God was called, had great fame for
sanctity, and from her life of prayer and devout contem-
plation it was currently believed that her enlightened
spirit could pierce the veils of the future.
At the moment when Prudencia breathed her last
sigh, the nun of Berriz was kneeling in prayer before
the holy altar of the apostle, and was favoured with a
singular vision. It seemed to her that the temple of
Saint Bartholomew had disappeared from view, and that
the gates of heaven stood in its place. She saw
Prudencia surrounded by ineffable light and accom-
panied by a legion of happy mothers, whose love and
maternal sacrifices had obtained for them the aureole of
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
203
the saints, and was approaching to the throne of God,
who spoke to her in this wise:
"Thou wast saintly as a daughter, as a wife, and as a
mother; and because thou hast loved much and suffered
greatly in the world, much eternal glory shalt thou have
in heaven!"
"My God! I thank Thee!" cried Prudencia, smiling
with ineffable joy, yet a tear glistened in her eyes.
"Dost thou perchance think this an insufficient reward
for thy trials and sorrow?"
"No, my God! for this is more than I deserve."
"Why, then, does a tear glisten in thine eyes?"
"Because there yet remains in me an atom of human
weakness, and I am thinking that if my son returns to
his native shores, there will be no one left to receive
and welcome him!"
"I, who can do all things, will complete thy glory by
dispelling in thy heart that last sorrow which binds thee
to earth. Release that last atom of human nature from
thy celestial nature, and, animated by thy holy motherly
love, fly back to the shores of Dondiz!"
This brief dialogue concluded, the eyes of Prudencia,.
freed from the last earthly tear, shone with celestial joy
because Prudencia was now one of the blessed, and no
longer the earthly mother. And in an instant the
strange vision disappeared from the sight of the nun of
Saint Bartholemew.
204
THE SONG OF LAMIA,
A short time after this the people began to call the
reed marshes of Dondiz, Lamiaco, because among its
rush-beds commenced to be heard the singularly sweet
song of Lamia, which is still heard, and will continue to
be heard, as long as the sons of this land depart from
its noble shores. The song of Lamia is heard whenever
a ship leaves the waters of Ibaizabal to breast those of
the ocean, and carries in her a child of its mountains.
All the harmonies of the fatherland, beautified and
glorified by the voice of angels, are united together in
that song. The melody of the pipe and the timbrel
which cheer the valleys; the songs with which our
mothers and nurses lulled us to sleep in our cradles;
the zenzuac, the ijitijaCy and ujuju of the mountaineers
as they call each other from mountain to mountain, and
from valley to valley. Their dreams, their martial joys,
and their -love anxieties; the song of the high road, and
the murmur of the valley, and the noise of the windmill,
and the hammers of the forge, which publish their
industry. The ringing of their church bells, the thousand
distant, lively rumours which wake up the plains and
fields when feasts are held on festival days, the singing
of the birds, the sighing of the breeze, and the roar of
the sea waves as they dash against our coasts—in one
word, all the melodies, all the songs, all the noises
which constitute the breath, the life, the voice of the
Basque existence, are united together in the song of the
THE SONG OF LAMIA.
205
Lamia. And this song is sweet and alluring; and the
ears that once hear it never can forget it; and the heart
which beats on hearing it will never cease to beat for
the fatherland towards which those who have departed
far from it always yearn to return, because in their ears
never ceases to resound the song of Lamia.
In course of time the house in which Ignacio was
born, and where so many tears had been shed by his
hapless mother, was converted into a convent of Capu-
chin Trinitarians, whose melancholy ruins I am behold-
ing from the window of the room in which I am writing
this; and it is a proud fact that the Venerable Father
Matthias de Marguina, the first superior of that holy
house, was in the habit of applying the holy sacrifice of
the mass for the salvation of the son of Prudencia.
As regards the son of Prudencia, he never returned,
nor ever zvill return, to his native shores, because God,
whose justice finds a reward for all that is meritorious,,
and punishment for all that is evil, does not give to the
monster who despises filial love the sweetest felicity of
this earth—that of returning to the fatherland after he
has sighed for it in his exile. *
THE
VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.1
BALLAD.
I RAM is sad, very sad; what ails
Airam? An untiring huntsman, yet
the aurora found him in Achular2
with his bow slung over his shoulder
and the faithful Bart lying at his feet.
The thick branches of the trees of
Esquiroz 3 sheltered his sleep from the burning rays of
1 Five Towns of Aragon. A group composed of the towns of
Sos, Sadava, Uncastillo, Tauste, and Egea—all situated on the
frontiers of Aragon and Navarre, to the extreme of the Pyrenees.
2 Achular. A mountain of Guipuzcoa, close to Andoain. There
is another of the same name in the valley of Lerin, in Navarre.
3 Esquiroz. A mountain situated in Navarre, on the confines
of Bardena Real.


THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS
207
the sun, and the lasses of Sumbilla 1 rejoiced when,
coming to the spring to draw water, they heard the
merry songs of the youthful huntsman as he descended
the declivity.
But now Airam is sad, very sad; what ails Airam?
See him as he leans against the stone cross which
divides Navarre and Aragon—his eyes fixed, his coun-
tenance pale, melancholy, and pensive.
Listen, stranger. Airam hunted all one day. At
nightfall the damp beams of the white moon surprised
him as he lay on the sward of Bardena Real.2 The
habitations were distant; the limbs of the huntsman
were weary with fatigue, and he slumbered. And in his
sleep he had a dream.
The pale moonbeams illumined an angelic form. It
was that of a maiden of fifteen summers, dressed in
white, like the ancient virgins of Carmel. The tresses
of the vision were silky and as golden as the husk
which pends from the maize when it is nearly ripe; her
eyes were beautiful like those of the roe of Ollin: the
1 Sumbilla. A lovely, picturesque town of Navarre, situated in
the valley of Lerin, on the straight line with Vidassoa, about
thirty-five kilometres from Pamplona.
2 Bardena Real. A deserted arid plain cut through by rocks
and broken boulders, extending from the junction of the rivers Ebro
and Aragon to two kilometres beyond the frontier of the ancient
kingdom of Aragon, a distance comprehending many kilometres.
2o3 THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
face that of Benzozia,1 the goddess of felicity and of
chaste love. The heart of Airam palpitated visibly, a
fierce fire devoured his soul. The young man placed
his hand on his breast and found it empty.. The vision
approached nearer and nearer, and came and sat by the
side of the sleeping huntsman, and gazed upon him for a
long time in silence. The vision bent its head over the
forehead of the youth, and the perfumed curls of the
vision covered the face of the huntsman. Then in the
mysterious silence of night resounded a kiss; then was
heard a celestial voice, which arrested the course of the
moon, and made its white beams flicker. It was a voice
such as has not its equal on earth; a voice which arrests
the fury of the hurricane as it is about to break over the
heights of Canigou,2 where it dwells; a voice which stills
the waters against the promontory of Jaizquibel.3 And
she said:
"Airam ! for two years have I sought you; from the
lattices of my convent I have called you every night.
The bark of your faithful Bart was echoed in the
1 Benzozia. The Venus of chaste love of the primitive Basque
people.
- Canigou. A high and inaccessible mountain of the French
Pyrenees; part corresponds to Spain.
3 Jaizqnibel. A mountain which rises parallel to the Cantabrian
Sea from the Port of Passagens to that of Fuenterrabia. At its
extreme north there stood anciently the promontory of Olearso, in
our days the Cape of Higuer.
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
mountains, and the sound of your bugle-horn was lost
in the distance. And I would return sadly and tearfully
to my couch on perceiving that you heeded not my voice
or my calls; and my companions mocked me in the
morning because my eyes were swollen with weeping.
Airam! Airam! my mouth calls you, my heart is
breaking ; come quickly, come, because else I shall lose
you, and you me, for ever. I am Cingaya the Beautiful,
I am the Virgin of the Five Towns."
The huntsman awoke with a start. The moon was
placidly illuminating the greensward; his faithful Bart
was sleeping quietly; the silence of that calm night was
truly solemn; no figure or .form appeared amid the
fragrant bushes. Only on the road to Aragon, in the
far distance, could be felt, rather than heard, the noise of
a cavalcade approaching. The tramping of the horses
grew louder. In front of this cavalcade rode the
principal lord of Egea, of Sos, and of Verdun. At his
side, seated on a white steed, rode a maiden, her face
veiled by a silver gossamer, followed by a retinue of
relations and friends and noble Aragonese pages.
"Tell me, good page, may Our Lady guard you.
From whence come you?"
"From the neighbouring convent, gallant huntsman.
Do you wish to know more? Make haste, then, for the
cavalcade is departing."
"Tell me, good page, who is that maiden riding the
r5
210
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
white steed, and whose face is veiled in silvery
gossamer?"
"She is our mistress: she is Cingaya the Beautiful,
the Virgin of the Five Towns, who leaves her convent to
be betrothed."
"Good page, tell me more; does Cingaya the
Beautiful, the Virgin of the Five Towns, love her
promised husband?"
"She comes sad, gallant huntsman; sad and full of
tears. Her promised husband is haughty and cruel;
they wished to unite the fresh plant with the worm-
eaten oak."
"Thanks, good page, thanks. Tell Cingaya the
Beautiful that Airam the huntsman has his breast empty
because his heart has gone after the Virgin of the Five
Towns."
"It is too late," replied the maiden.
This is the reason, stranger, why Airam is sad; the
reason why he leans against the stone cross, the bounds
of Aragon and Navarre, his eyes fixed, his countenance
pale, melancholy, and pensive.
Place, place to the minstrel who comes from distant
lands! Place to him, for he comes in time to dispute
the prize at the floral games. Clemencia Isaura1 has
1 Clemencia Isaura. A noble lady descended from the nobles of
Tolosa. She lived in the fifteenth century. It was she who
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS. 211
made a sign to him; let us hear the stranger. And he
commenced:
"Noble dames, listen with indulgence to the new
rhymester: his voice is not sweet, because the hurricane
of the Pyrenees, the tempest on the ocean, the simoom
of the desert, have rendered his voice hoarse.
"I saw Zaira close to the cistern of Embrun ;x Zaira
was good and lovely. I am thirsty, I said to her, and
she lifted her water pitcher, made of clay from the Nile,
and put it to my parched lips."
"Love me, Nazarene, love me," she said, "for I love
you. Around my tent wave the branches of twelve
palm trees ; I have twelve barns full of corn, and twelve
•camels of finest hair: love me, Nazarene!"
"You are not Cingaya the Beautiful, the Virgin of
the Five Towns. She stole my heart while I slept on
the sward : I cannot love you!"
"Allah be with you, good Nazarene. There lies the
road to the West: you are right—I am less beautiful
than Cingaya."
The new troubadour flung his cithern to his shoulder
and embarked.
revived in that city the famous floral games which had fallen into
disuse for more than a century, and she left at her death, in 1513,
a fixed sum for defraying the expenses of those poetic tourna-
ments.
1 Embrun. A cistern situated in Palestine, and much renowned
in the time of the Crusaders.
212 THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
"I am Aimee, daughter of the deep; I am beautiful,
as you see ; I have necklaces of corals, bracelets of gold,
girdles of morocco: love me, good minstrel, love me!"
"You are not Cingaya the Beautiful," the Virgin of
the Five Towns. She stole my heart when I slept on
the sward : I cannot love you!"
"God guard thee, good minstrel. From Cyprus to
your land is a long journey. May love guide thee!
You are right, I am less beautiful than Cingaya."
The new songster shouldered his cithern, and reached
the land of his birth. Many years had passed since his
departure.
"Where is Cingaya the Beautiful?" he asked the
rocks of Achular. And the rocks replied, "She has
departed from hence."
"Where is the Virgin of the Five Towns ?" he asked
the tree of Esquiroz. And the tree replied, "She has
gone from here."
"Where is she who stole my heart, while I slept?" he
asked the sward of Bardena Real. And the wind sadly
murmured also that she had gone away never to return.
Then the troubadour flung his cithern to his shoulder
and came to Tolosa1 to dispute the prize in the floral
games. He will never return to his birthplace, to its.
mountains, because they have all told him that Cingaya
the Beautiful had departed never to return.
1 Tolosa. The capital of the province of Guipuzcoa.
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
213
"Noble dames, you have listened; my voice is not
sweet because the hurricane of the Pyrenees, the tempest
of the ocean, the simoom of the desert, have rendered it
hoarse."
Clemencia Isaura is shedding tears.
"How are you called good minstrel? Your ballad is
a tender one, and your strange accent lends to it a
greater value.''
"They used to call me Airam the huntsman, but to-
day I have no name."
"I will give you one, good minstrel. Behold, here is
the golden rose, because you have nobly earned it.
Sing, sing in your own beautiful language the glories of
your warriors, sing the loves of the valleys, the hurricane
of the mountains. The poet belongs to all the world;
hence all true inspirations are drawn and felt only when
close to the home which witnessed our birth."
Thus spoke Clemencia Isaura to the minstrel. The
noble dame, veiled with the fine white gossamer, then
approached the stranger.
"Have you still your breast empty and desolate?"
she asked, deeply moved.
"Yes, noble dame, it is still empty."
"Take my heart, then, in place of yours. I am the
vision of the sward of Bardena Real!"
The minstrel felt that his breast was filling with
felicity.
214
THE VIRGIN OF THE FIVE TOWNS.
"Yes, yes ; you are Cingaya the Beautiful, the Virgin
of the Five Towns," he said, clasping her in his arms.
Since that day never was Airam seen again leaning
against the stone cross, the boundary of Navarre and
Aragon, his eyes fixed in space, his countenance pale,,
melancholy, and pensive.

KURUCIFICATUAREN CANTA.1
{The Chant of the Crucified?)
BALLAD.
HE woods of Odolaga2 are sombre:
from the abyss of Guesalza issue dismal
sounds, and the Kuruceta3 veils its
face with a thick fog.
"Why do ye weep, maidens of
Izaspi?4 Why pluck your beards, ye
ancients of Errazil? What mean these tearful eyes,
and this disordered hair?"
x Kurucificatuaren Canta. {The Chant of the C?'iicified?) During
the long and sanguinary war sustained by the Romans against the
inhabitants of the Basque mountains, the prisoners who fell into
the power of the Romans were crucified on the summit of the
mountains with the object of inspiring the dwellers with terror.

216
KURUCIFICATUAREN CANT A.
No one replied-to the stranger: sorrow has no words;
it is dumb like death. The maidens wipe away their
tears; the ancients majestically enwrap their mantles
around them, and sit down, deeply moved and silent,
upon the broken-down trunks of their oaks. Yet though
their sorrow may be immense and deep, the Euscara
must not manifest himself weak to the eyes of the
stranger. To others belong the loud plaints or the cry
wrung from feeble spirits. The tree groans as it breaks
clown; the strong rock is cleft without hurting itself;
the Euscara is like the rock—he dies; but without death
being able to wrench from him a single sigh.
Out of the dense fog which is covering Kuruceta issues
from its bosom sylvan harmonies and cries of triumph.
The Basque mountain is stirred to its base, and, shaking
its granite front, flings to the winds its diadem of clouds.
It is the full moon of May; the queen of night shows
her sanguinary face towards Otsondo^ and with reel
The heroic Basque people intoned while on the cross a chant of
triumph and death, and also insulted their enemies, who witnessed
with feelings of awe such manifestations of courage and lofty in-
dependence of spirit.
2 Odolaga. A mountain which, forming a cordillera, separates the
valleys of Baztan and Ulzama. It is covered with woods.
3 Kuruceta. A mountain situated in Guipuzcoa and Navarre,
upon which some hundreds of Basque prisoners were crucified
during the wars against the Romans.
4 Izasfti. An ancient place of Navarre.
s Otsondo. A mountain on the frontiers of France, near the
Urdax, in Navarre.

KURUCIFICATUAREN CANTA.
217
beams illumines the mysterious heights. Sylvan melodies
follow, and the cries of triumph become louder. The
torrents stop their course; the winds of the forests
become hushed, and timidly retire to take shelter amid
the leafy branches. What mysterious sacrifice is about
to be celebrated on the Basque mountain? Oh! what
shadowy outlines rise up in the horizon! What a long
line of lances! Nude bodies pend from upraised crosses;
but the brows of the crucified are proudly lifted up;
their looks are haughty, and their lips curl with con-
tempt. Cries of triumph are uttered before the terrified
Romans ; the lips of the crucified are crying thus:
"Salve! moon of May, light of our feasts and of our
lives! spread thy beams and encircle our brows with
the brilliant crown of triumph and of martyrdom!
"The Romans desire to see on our faces the contor-
tions of agony; that is proper of cowards, and we are
not cowards. These crosses are the thrones of our
glory! _
"They weep like children on yielding up their spirit;
we sing the song of death, the hymn of victory!
"Your Augustus Octavius is great, you say; and in
truth he is great like yourselves—in pusillanimity and
in treachery.
"Salve! May moon, which shines over fresh valleys,
rugged mountains, and the shady woods of our land!
"Relate to our sons, to our wives, to our lovers, and to
218
KURUCIFICATUAREN CANTA.
our country, the deeds of Euscara and the cowardice of
the Romans who gaze on us.
"Tell them that we fling to the face of the son of the
Tiber the blood which gushes from our wounds. Tell
them that when our souls fly to heaven, our hearts will
still continue to throb for our country!
u Satellites of the tyrant! land of slaves! We despise
ye like the bear despises the fox; and on their faces,
pale with terror, we hurl our contempt!
"Salve! thou moon of May, look at us well: we
smile at pain; our countenances do not grow pale. The
love of liberty and of our country still fills our hearts!
"Tell our beloved fathers and our dear brothers what
you have seen; and that to the cries of triumph which
resound from Kuruceta responds the cry of extermina-
tion and vengeance throughout the Basque mountains.
"May moon! light of May! kiss the brows of our
children and of our mothers, and carry to our spouses,,
whom we received before the altar, the last throb of our
hearts!
"Oh, May moon! repeat with us the last motto of our
spirit, Viva la Patria! Hatred and contempt for
idolatrous Rome!"
To this clamour replies another, great and echoing—
terrible—a cry which fills the depths of the forests and
fills the immensity of space. Then the Basque moun-
tains remain silent; the woods of Odolaga become
KURUCIFICA TUAREN CANT A. 219,
more sombre, and from the mouth of Guesalza1 issues,
still more dismal sounds, and the Kuruceta veils her face
with a more dense fog. And the beams from the May
moon descends over the valleys, and consoles with its
cold light the maidens of Izaspi and the ancients of
Errazil.
1 Guesalza. A cave of great depth and extension, full of crystals.
It is situated near the Mondragon, in Guipuzcoa.

THE RAIDS
"Houra! Cosacos del desierto, houra!
La Europa os brinda esplendido botin.
Sangrienta charca sus campifias sean,
De los grajos su ejercito festin."
— ESPRONCEDA.
(" Hurrah I Cossacks of the desert, hurrah / Europe offers ye a
splendid booty. Bloody pools may her battle-fields become, and
vultures on her army feast")
ING, bard, sing! you who are as old
as the world, and whose head began
to whiten on the very day when the
great beech of Berderiz1 was planted.
Sing, bard, sing! Eldest of our im-
provisators; singer of our feasts, of
our warlike deeds, of our loves! Sing a welcome to our
L Berderiz, A mountain situated at two kilometres from the
town of Irurita, in the valley of Baztan.

THE RAIDS.
221
brothers of the valley of Bertizarana, of Baztan, of
Aezcoa, of Erro, and of Roncal.1 Salute with your most
penetrative and sonorous "lecayo" our brothers of
Elzupel, of Otsobide, Hernio, and Aitzgorrf.2
The night is dark, and the wind whistles across the
trees of Irati,3 compelling the wolf of the mountajnsjr)
hide its brown head. The night is darksome, and,a
whirlwind of snow is drifting the flakes in heaps. It is
a pleasant night for us, children of the mountains
and of the tempests. It is a night which terrifies the
Roman matrons, and makes the sybarite son of the
Tiber shudder as he lies on his soft couch.
We shall enter with strung bow into the gardens full
of statues, into the palaces of marble, into the bed-
chambers hung with silken draperies. We must feast
at the ivory tables, we must fill ourselves with the wines
of Syracuse and of Cyprus, quaffed in cups of gold and
precious stones. Our women will work mantles of
1 Bertizarana^ &c. Valleys of Navarre, on the frontiers of
France. The three first are narrow and surrounded by very high
mountains.
2 Elzafiel, &c. Mountains. The two first belong to Navarre
and the third to Guipuzcoa.
3 Irati. One of the principal mountains of Navarre. It is covered
by dense woods, in which are found lynx, bears, wolves, and all
kinds of large game. The circumference of the base of this moun-
tain is about fifty kilometres. One part belongs to France, and
the rest to Navarre.
4222
THE RAIDS.
purple—standards to serve as guides in the battles—and
will plait their hair with threads woven with the silver of
their cups. The chieftain of the frontiers on hearing
the "irrinzi" will mistake it for the noise of the
hurricane, and we shall traverse the plains swift as the
winds. The Romans crucified our prisoners, and we
must devastate their cities and tread down their fields.
And by the light of the conflagrations our sons, crown-
ing the crests of the mountains, will intone hymns of
victory.
Sing, bard, sing! This is the hour of our raid: the
owl screeches in the crevices, the wolf hides in the
caverns, the eagle, timorous, thrusts its beak under the
wing; because night is fearful to all creatures, save to
us, sons of the mountains and of the tempest Come,
brothers, forward! We drink our last wine, and eat
our last bread, and our children ask for more! Reach
the cup of sour milk, and let us drink our parting cup.
Forward, my sons! Let our women sleep, and hush our
mastiffs. The raid will last eight suns.
Thus spoke the chieftain of Izalzu,1 and great accla-
mations resounded among the rocks of Orbara,2 and the
1 Izalzu. A village situated five kilometres from Ochagabia, in
the valley of Aezcoa, in Navarre.
2 Orbara, A precipitous defile of the valley of Aezcoa, in
Navarre.
THE RAIDS.
223
torrent, which later on took the name of Irati, stayed its
rapid course.
An hour later, and the mountaineers traversed the
deserted parts of Montlig and Astarac.1 To the right
appear, like so many skeletons of gigantic elephants
amid the shades of night, the Druidical altars of Aste,
Sem, Nestos, and Heas.2 From thence they descend
and sally out of the darksome defiles of Zulogaraya,
Izotzce, and Asarosta,3 into the fertile plains of Novem-
populania.4 They descend silently and sinister, like the
black, immense wave, the first breath of the hurricane
which at night surprises the heedless ship.
Novempopulania slumbers in the midst of gardens and
flowers, its splendid palaces built of the marble of Paros
and of gold from Ethiopia, and out of them exhales,
from among their peristyle columns, the perfumes of the
feasts of night. And they descend, those sons of the
mountains, like bands of water birds, enveloped in the
1 Montlig and Astarac. Deserted places of the French Pyrenees.
2 Aste, Sem, Nestos, and Heas. Mountainous and deserted places
in the centre of the Pyrenees.
3 Zulogaraya, &c. Defiles or passes of the French Pyrenees,
which have their commencement in Spanish territory.
4 Nove?npopulania. During the epoch of the domination of the
Romans this district extended from the Cantabrian Ocean to the
margin of the river Garona, and from the first slope of the French
Pyrenees to the margin of the above-said river and its mouth into
the sea, forming an acute angle.
224
THE RAIDS.
dismal mantle of the tempest. The watch-guards of
the Roman fortresses are showing their bare heads
and, flinging aside their lances, sleep at will; because
the mountain is far distant—because no noise comes
from thence—because the storm increases, and the night
continues fearful and darksome. The wraters of the
Adour and of the Nive1 are filled with the multitude
that are swimming across silently, The neigh of the
war-horse is not heard; nor is the red standard of the__
Three Hands waving in the air; nor is the echo
awakened by the " irrinzi" of war.
Virgins of Leheren, of Iscilo, and Arai, repose peace-
fully. Only can your sleep be agitated by the great
voice of the tempest, or by the last chords which vibrate
from the citherns of gold. Nevertheless, during your
waking hours you will smile at the image of the patri-
cian who subjugated the heart, wearing on his brow the
diadem of triumph in the Hypic games! And you will
do well; because the mountain is distant, and no noise
comes from thence; because the storm increases, and
the night is fearful and darksome.
Towards the furthest compass of the horizon is seen
a red point; another here and there, and some nearer.
Oh, how these luminous points increase! How do the
1 Nive, &c. A French river, which springs on the declivity to
the north of the Western Pyrenees, and joins the river Adour in
Bavonne, and jointly flows into the Cantabrian Ocean.
THE RAIDS.
225
waters of the rivers seethe! What clamours are mingled
in the roar of the tempest! What shadows are those
which glide along the vast plains? What smoke is that
which rises like a funereal pall, and interposes between
earth and the firmament?
Sing, bards, sing! Sing the incursions of the sons
of the mountains and of the tempest! The lances
are dripping with blood; the men come loaded with
spoils. Sing, bard, sing! May your sonorous voice
be echoed across the woods and forests of Cahella,
of Belaya, and of Ahaide,1 singing the victory of the
sons of Aitor. Sing, bard of the silvery beard! Our
children will have white bread and^redjvins^until they
are satiated, and our chieftains crucified in Kuruceta and
Izascun smile from within their sepulchres.
The son of the Tiber remains there below, amid the
ruins of the burnt-out palaces. Next spring the lime-
tree of pale yellow flowers will cover the devastated
gardens.
Farewell, my brothers, farewell! In our next in-
cursion we shall swim across the Ebro, and our war-cry
will reach even to Moncayo.
1 Cahella, &c. High and very luxuriant mountains, close to the
valley of Roncal, in Navarre.
t6
THE HOLY WAR.
BALLAD.
T is the autumnal equinox. The
hurricane sweeps with potent breath
the leaves of the olive and the vine in
the provinces of the south, and directs
| its course, howling, towards the Basque
mountains. The night is dark; the
woods of Biscay, the precipitous cliffs of Guipuzcoa,
and the arid plains of Alava, are full of those tre-
mendous echoes which appal the manliest spirit. The
homesteads and granges are stirred to their foundations;
the lofty chimneys are shaken; and the proud chestnut
which grows near the doors shake their branches^in a

THE HOLY WAR.
227
furious manner as though engaged in a noble wrestling
with the wind. The hurricane continues its unbridled
.march. On meeting with the boulders of rocks over-
topping the mountains, it seems to wish, in its fury, to
wrench them suddenly, and cast them wrathfully down;
and then, turning round in its impotent rage, encircles
the huge bulks with mighty spirals of whirlwinds; and
•on witnessing how futile are all its efforts, it casts itself
headlong, roaring, into the valleys. Then to that fearful
noise is mingled the pitiful cries of nature assailed and
beaten.
The Echeco-Jauna1 sleeps peacefully, as well as his
faithful mastiff, without being disturbed by those dismal
howlings so familiar to the sons of the mountains and
of the forests. The mastiff, however, suddenly raises its
•enormous head, pricks up its ears, opens its jaws, and
utters a howl of alarm. The echeco-jauna lifts his head,
and, leaning his elbow on the bed pillow, lends attentive
ear, and with feverish hand grasps the bugle of war.
What was it awoke the echeco-jauna? And what
alarmed the mastiff? Amid the howlings of the tempest
a great voice was heard: this voice resounded from
beyond the Ebro. It was the cry of a whole people
•offended in its dignity and stained in its honour.
Thus did our Basque chieftain and his faithful mastiff
1 Echeco-jauna.
The head of the family, proprietor, &c.
228
THE HOLY WAR.
interpret that cry. They both ascended the summit of
the mountains, and to the roaring of the tempest is
quickly added the sound of the bugle of war.
All at once huge flames shoot up along the entire
chain of mountains from Larum, the frontier of Navarre,
to Tolosa, the frontier of Castile. And the echoing
sound of the war-bugle rises above the noises of the
storm, flies across the woods of Biscay, along the
precipices of Guipuzcoa, and sweeps the arid plains of
Alava. And the chieftains of the three tribes, from the
heights of Gorbea,1 Amboto,2 and Aitzgorri,3 repeat
unceasingly the war cry, floating the standards of war
lashed by the tempest. From Gorbea, from Amboto,
and from Aitzgorri issue the call which no Basque
ever leaves unanswered.
Ia, ia, ia, 6, 6, 6! Bill-Zaar, in Vitoria, in Tolosa,.
and in Guernica! 4
And this call vibrated throughout the whole Eus-
1 Gorbea. A mountain of Alava, which overlooks the plains
upon which stands the city of Vitoria.
2 Amboto. A very high cliff situated on the frontiers of
Guipuzcoa, Alava, and Biscay.
3 Aitzgorri. Mountain of Guipuzcoa : a continuation of Alona.
It rises i*8oo metres above the level of the sea.
4 Guernica, Arriaqa, and Guerekiz. The three camps where in
ancient times were gathered together the bill-zaars, or meetings
of the ancients. The first was in Alava, the second in Biscay,,
and the third in Guipuzcoa.
THE HOLY WAR.
229
cuara1 nation, who replied with tremendous vehemence:
u la, ia, ia, 6, 6, 6, bill-zaar, bill-zaar!"
"Rise up from your sepulchres, ye warriors and bards
of historic times! Shake off the funereal dust of ages;
tear asunder the grave-clothes, ye Zurias, ye Ayalas,
ye Lavas, and thousands of other heroes of ancient
Euscarian epic poetry! Hasten to attend the 'bill-zaar'
of Biscay, of Guipuzcoa, and of Alava. Your descen-
dants have not yet become degenerate; there you will
hear from mouth to mouth the motto of your ancient
shields—77/, edo guaraitu!"
"In what are you engaged, illustrious Alavese
matron?"
"In broidering for my son, who goes to the Holy
War, this blessed scapular of Our Lady ad Nives."
"And you, beautiful Bergarese maiden, what work
are you doing?"
"I am working for the idol of my heart, who is pro-
ceeding to the Holy War, the scapular of Our Lady of
Aranzanzu."
"What work is that which so occupies you, noble
daughter of Durango ?" 2
1 "Euscuara, or Euscara. The name given by the Basque to
those who speak it.,; See Essay on the Basque Language, by M.
Julien Vinson, in "Basque Legends," by the Rev. Wentworth
Webster.
2 Durango. Principal town of Biscay.
230
THE HOLY WAR.
"I am busy making a scapular of the Virgin of
Begofla for my beloved brother to wear as he goes to
the Holy War."
"And do you know where your son and lover and
brother are going to, noble Basques?"
"Listen, stranger: they are going across Spain, as in
the ancient days they crossed Gallias; thev are going
to pass the strait, as they formerly passed the Rhoaa.io;.
they are going to utter their cry of war and victory
from the heights of Atlas, as they once did on the
plains of Capua. They are going to assist their brothers
of Castile; they are going to wash out the affront which
stains the face of our common mother; they are going
to die or conquer as they did in Regil,1 as in Cannas,a
as in Covadonga,3 and as in Navas.
"Do you see, stranger, those three diaphanous clouds
which float on the horizon? They enclose the souls
of the ancient heroes who died for their country. Do
you hear the sweet melodies which pierce the winds?
1 Regil. The ancient Errazill. A town close to Tolosa, of
Guipuzcoa. Its inhabitants routed the Romans in the time of
Augustus.
2 Carinas. A celebrated battle gained by Hannibal against the
Romans. A vanguard of the Carthaginian army which decided
the victory was composed of Basque auxiliaries.
3 Covado7iga, Navas, and Salado. Three famous sanguinary
battles, in which the Moors were routed: in these the Basque
legions took an active part.
THE HOLY WAR.
231
They are the voices of those who are praying to God
for the victory and triumph of their descendants. Do
you perceive the wide ray of light which illumines the
whole Euscuara land? It is but the dim reflex of the
brilliant aureole which crowns the glorious brows of
those who die for their God, for their country, and for
their king.
"Our war flags, our standard of the Three Hands
shall wave by the side of the glorious flag of Castile,
and then, alas! for the standard of Mahomet!
"Should our sons perish, there yet remain ourselves
to avenge their death. If our sons die, their souls will
ascend in diaphanous clouds, intoning hymns to God,
their glorious brows crowned with aureoles which will
far exceed the sun in brightness."
Thus spoke the illustrious dames and maidens of the
Basque provinces.
"May you be blessed of God one and a thousand
times, noble women!" replied the stranger, and then
disappeared.
"Come, sons of the mountains! Rise up like one
man to the sound of the hymn of war and liberty!
Thirty ages of combats and victories have distin-
guished the three^Jxihes of the Pyrenees and cast over
them a splendour^a splendour which has never been
dimmed of its pristine glories.
232
THE HOLY WAR.
"Sus, sons of Aitor, the famous and enlightened
founder of our progeny! Go, for your brothers from
beyond the Ebro are calling ye. Grasp with powerful
arm the victorious weapon, and march towards Africa,
with your noble faces lifted up, your looks haughty,
and your countenances calm. March towards Africa,
and may your war-whoop shake the Atlas! There do
new combats await you and new triumphs. Wrestle
until you die against your enemies, and God grant
that your glory may ever shine brightly like the flames
of the three lamps in the feasts of the mysterious!"
Thus spoke the Basque chieftain; and three powerful
armies replied to the spirited call, and ran to the combat
amid the frenzied acclamations of a whole nation, who
cried out:
"la, ia, ia, 6, 6, 6, ill edo garaitu."

THE PROPHECY OF LARA.1
BALLAD.
N the height of the Alona,2 in the
district of Onate, rose up a noble
edifice of marvellous construction. In
that rugged land, far from all human
habitation, one day appeared before
the astonished gaze of Rodrigo de
Balzategui a beautiful maiden amid the thorny bushes,
1 Lara, A young bard and Basque chief of the period when the
wars were raging against the Empire of Rome. The poet, Silio
Italico, in the sixteenth book of his Epic Poem, assigned a whole
page to describe the personal combat of Lara against Scipio, in
which the Basque chief lost his right hand.
2 Alona. A mountain of Guipuzcoa, at whose southerly base
is situated the magnificent town of Onate, where, for a long period
during the seven years' civil war, the Infante Don Carlos de
Bourbon, uncle of Isabella II., held his court.

234
THE PROPHECY OF LARA,
to whom the shepherd in surprise asked, "Aranzan,
zu ?"1 The first shelter erected for this maiden was
a rustic thatch made of leaves. Towards the end of
the sixteenth century this rude hut was converted into-
the building which forms the subject of this ballad.
The convent, as well as the river which has its rise in
the neighbourhood, bears for its appellation the simple
question of the shepherd to the maiden Aranzanzu.
Any one on beholding that convent 2 would say that
1 Artisan, zu. Literally, " You, in a thorn?"
2 Convent of Aranzanzu, "Situated on the south-west skirt
of the Monte Alona. The convent was under the invocation
of Our Lady of Ardnzanzu, and was inhabited by the friars of the
Order of St, Francis. The situation of this convent was very
remarkable. It was perched, so to say, on the highest point and
most rugged and bare of the mountain, on the height of a steep
declivity, and from this may be inferred the boldness and solidity
of that capricious construction. Throughout the three Basque
provinces the holy image of Our Lady of Aranzanzu was very
famous, and the devotion of the people to it, even in our days,,
very general. During the month of May it is visited by numerous
pilgrimages, and nothing more fantastic can be imagined than the
effect produced by the glare of the fires at night, which are lit by
the multitudes encamped on the mountain, as they are unable to
find accommodation for all in the spacious inns close to the convent,
and to hear the echoes of the magnificent organ, harmonious
orchestra, and large choir of voices, with which they celebrate the
praises of the Virgin and intoned the prayers. The convent was
only visible at the distance of about fifty metres. I am sorry to
add, that this singular construction was set fire to by orders of
General Rodil during the civil war against Don Carlos—a deed of
barbarism which will always merit reprehension and condemnation.
THE PROPHECY OF LARA,
235
it must have been erected in the air by some powerful
genius, and when concluded was placed on the sharp
points of the rocks on the summit of the mountain. So
bold was its construction that it appeared to be the
work due to some supernatural agency, and not the
work of man. Its immense body sustained by arches,
extended from cliff to cliff, and across the aerial founda-
tions, could be seen the firmament from one side, and
on the other the fearful chasm known by the name
of "Leap of the Devil;" while on its highest and most
inaccessible point rose up the august symbol of our
holiest religion.
One night I found myself leaning against a rock on the
shore of the river Aranzanzu. To the right, and on the
opposite side to the small valley, rose up in the distance
the mountain and town of Urrejola, like an eagle's nest
perched on the sharp point of a rock. Almost in front,,
in the distance also, and at the base of a deep and
fearful precipice, could barely be distinguished across the
mist the village of Arraoz imbedded in the crags like
the diamond in the mines of Brazil. Throughout
space, as far as the eye could reach, no other human
habitation could be perceived. Rocks and broken,
cliffs on all sides, covered with a stunted vegetation,
leaving the sharp broken heights bare. Some vulture
of heavy flight would pass the night on the mountains
to digest in perfect quietude its nauseous food which.
236
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
perchance it had grasped in the morning on the fertile
Andalusian plains. Other birds of prey would con-
ceal themselves screeching in the fearful cavern of
St. Elias, which, according to tradition, is so deep
that its termination has never been found. The
limpid, seething, running waters of Aranzanzu flowed
on—that stream which had its rise buried in the abyss
and carried along through a wide defile, to come out
again at a distance and pay its tribute to the river
Deva; an image of frivolous youth which hides itself
joyously in the abyss of old age and pays its tribute to
death. This rugged landscape was illumined by the
beautiful moon of May which, suspended in space like
a lamp, diffused its damp silvery beams over the land.
The sudden transition from light to shade brought out
more vividly in relief the rude points of the cliffs; and
on observing so many crevices, such thick brushwood,
so deep a silence, such a marvellous calm, one would
fain have said that all that space had been a vast sea
which, rising up, agitated by the force of an equinoctial
hurricane, into huge crested waves, had suddenly become
petrified at the signal of the Supreme Creator; or else,
some fabulous city peopled by giants which had become
instantly ruined by an immense cataclysm. And, in
truth, I saw—and let it not be doubted—enormous ruins
of fallen walls, half-ruined towers of some unknown
architecture, which still preserve ramparts and loop-
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
237
holes, columns and fantastic arches, in the ruins of
which could not be discovered any vestiges of architec-
tural rules either ancient or modern.
What had all this been in the primitive ages? Into
what will it be converted when the consummation of ages
comes?
I was dwelling on all this, and my restless imagination
transported itself back to remote epochs and to other
ages. In the darksome depths of those precipices and
chasms, I saw, rising up slowly, masses of snow, white
and transparent, which by degrees were acquiring vague
forms, ending by appearing to my astonished eyes like
human forms. Venerable old men with long white
beards, and clothed in the rich dalmatics1 of the pri-
mitive Basques, silently passed before me in an orderly
procession, and directed towards me sad looks, then
continued their aerial march in the direction of the
solitary convent of Aranzanzu. Behind these, and in
the same order, followed young warriors with naked
swords in their right hands, while many of them had
1 Dalmatic, A very rich robe embroidered with gold spangles,
worn over tunics of white wool on great festivals by the ancient
Euscaros in olden times. This dalmatic was used as a sign of
authority. The shape of this robe is exactly as the vestments
worn during High Mass by the officiating deacon and sub-deacon,
with the sole difference that the dalmatic has a hood. The
"capusay" of the shepherds and country people of our time, worn
in the Basque country, is an exact copy of that very ancient robe.
238
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
their left hands pierced by nails. These were the legions
which, under the command of Hannibal, gained the
battle of Cannas. And there were also the soldiers who
had died cru ified by the Romans, intoning on the cross
the hymn of death. There were there those brave
warriors who for the space of five years had wrestled
alone and without support against the Roman legions
when the empire was at its height, and were com-
manded by the most fortunate general of that epoch.
Martyrs of Kuruceta, Iturrioz, and Altobicar! heroes
of Cannas, Regil, and St. Adrian! As such did
I salute those venerated shadows which passed before
me. At their head marched Lara, the famous Guipuz-
coan warrior, and more renowned still as a bard. His
brow was crowned by the green diadem of yew leaves,
and in his hand he carried a musical instrument of an
unknown make. The same sad look was directed to
me by the second procession as it passed before me,
following the march of the ancients who had already
disappeared. Then issued a long line of matrons and
maidens, the latter distinguished by their long flowing
hair; of children of both sexes, who, silent and sad, with
eyes bent to the ground, and arms crossed over their
breasts, were following the steps of the youthful
warriors. At short intervals succeeded other processions,
in which were seen the heroes of Covadonga, Navas, and
Salado: the Canos, the Urbietas, the Oquendos, the
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
239
Churrucas, and many more. Behind, and as though
closing the march, came a dense black cloud, in the
centre of which could be discovered a wide empty space
which was radiant with light.
That procession was a magnificent living epic poem.
Those who walked in it were men of bygone ages.
Within the empty luminous space in the centre of the
dark cloud which enveloped the huge procession, was
there perchance any place for the men of future ages?
Where did these shadows proceed to? What signified
that marvellous silence and those sad looks? Do they
perhaps see looming in the future the ruin of the
country?
I rose up as soon as they were lost to view and con-
tinued my journey. The same peacefulness, the same
silence in nature. From time to time there reached my
ears, amid the breezes, the noise of running water, or
the sad echo of the cry of agony of a gull, surprised
in its nest by some bird of prey.
On reaching one of the angles of the path I followed,
and from whence can be discovered the convent of
Aranzanzu, I noticed with surprise that the shadows
which I had seen passing before me, now occupied the
summits of the pointed rocks which on every side sur-
round the building. The white robes and rich dal-
matics in which some were robed, the brilliant corselets
and the coats of mail with which others were covered
240
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
the flowing garments of the women and children, im-
parted to that numerous assembly which, motionless
mustered together, had taken possession of the pointed
heights, a fantastic appearance impossible to describe.
I stood there in presence of that strange spectacle.
The silence of nature was unbroken, the immobility
of the shadows suffered no change.
Suddenly, he who stood on the cliff called the " leap
of the devil," raised his hand, and a soft melody spread
through space.
All the shadows knelt down. It was a novel scene.
The scenery was the primitive landscape; the musicians
and singers were invisible; the auditory was composed
of the venerated shadows of our ancestors. • The music
which reached my ears was solemn, without ceasing to
be melodious; the torrent of harmony which, beating
against the rocks, became lost in distant echoes, was not
similar to that which is usually heard in the temples.
It was a strange harmony, a singular music executed
with instruments hitherto unknown, sung by voices which
had nothing human in them.
Wailings were heard which made one shudder,
plaints that deeply moved the soul, sighs which rent
asunder the heart; and then succeeded soft airs, melo-
dious hymns that seemed to distil into the spirit a
comfort such as no doubt is reserved for the just. And
all this joined together, united, interlaced with each other,
THE PROPHECY OF LARA. 241
iri harmony like to an enormous concerted piece accom-
panied by vigorous instrumental power of sound, while
at times it vibrated in tender modulations and became
sweetly sentimental.
The eolian harps of northern countries, accompanying
the canticles of Ossian, did not possess the charm with
which I listened enraptured. At the moment when the
moon was hiding behind the top of Aitzgorri, and
simultaneously as the shadows of the ancient Guipuz-
coans were disappearing, the melodies which had ravished
my spirit also began to lose their vigour. And by slow
degrees these sounds died away, until the moon became
completely hidden, and the fantastic shadows disap-
peared also, and the music ceased in a prolonged sweet
chord.
Suddenly the magnificent scene was changed: the
light succeeded to the darkness, and to the melodies
followed the screech of the nocturnal birds. At that
very instant I felt an icy cold hand placed on my head.
I raised my eyes in terror, and J saw Lara the warrior
prophet, the Basque bard, who was gazing on me with
melancholy looks. A nimbus of soft light surrounded
the manly head, crowned with a circlet of yew leaves.
Over his tunic of finest white wool glistened a splendid
dalmatic, the symbol of authority. In his left hand rested
a stringed instrument of a make unknown to me. A
sad smile hovered around the pale lips of the bard.
17
242
THE PROPHECY OF LARA,
After looking at me for some time in silence, he said,
in a very sweet voice:
"Sit down and listen, my son."
I mechanically obeyed, and had hardly sat down when
the wasted fingers of the prophet began to strike the
chords of his singular instrument, producing plaintive
sounds similar to the sighing of a dying child Then,
fixing his eyes on the firmament, commenced to issue
from his lips murmurs which at first were unintelligible,
but which later on made themselves clear to my
attentive ear.
"The time flies, the torrents descend, the waters of the
river flow on, following their course," said the prophet.
When listening to this allegory and simple exordium
I imagined I perceived in the shadow of the bard the
image of Aitor, the ancient of ancients, the patriarch,
the father of the Indu-Atlantic race, the first and most
perfect of Basques.
"The men of my race," he continued, "populated
Hispana covered with a parasite vegetation; and that
virgin soil was cleared of those plants by means of fire.
The immense flames were reflected on the ice of the
north, and their wide columns of smoke obscured the
clear sky on the margins of the Ganges."
"Then we were happy and free."
^ JjC i}t i'fi #
"Innumerable hordes of strange people, attracted by
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
243
the gold which we despised, overran Hispana. We
abandoned the plains to those avaricious merchants,
and we retired to the mountains to follow our pure
and holy customs.
"We were then still happy and free."
The sons of Romulus arrive; the masters of the
world invade the plains. The Basque chief ascends the
top of the mountain, and his 'irrinzi' of war moved
the waters of the Tiber, which takes refuge in the
Betica to hide its confusion.
"We were even then happy; we were still free, while
all the countries of the world were following fettered to
the triumphal car of a Roman Caesar."
ij< # £ & ifi
"What rumours are those which come from all the
points of the horizon? What savage cries are those
which thus disturb the peace of the Basque home?
Does perchance the icy wind of the north bring in
its wings the sombre and malevolent genii of the snowy
regions?
"Populous and magnificent cities become a prey to
the flames, lofty towers are hurled down, strong ram-
part walls fall to the earth. Whole nations disappear
like sparks which the wind carries away, when passing
through them, that multitude of people dressed in skins,
244
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
of ferocious countries, who came uttering vociferous
cries of death and extermination.
"Nevertheless we were still happy and free, because
the swaying of that multitude becomes broken up and
dashed to pieces against our haughty mountains."
# * * % *
"This time is heard the sound of clarions and Moorish
drums, the half-moon glistens on green standards, dark
faces populate the plains, the call of the Muezzin takes
the place of the sonorous tinkle of the bells.
"Alas for Spain! Her inhabitants bend their necks
beneath the yoke of the Agareni!
"The tempest came from the south on this sad day.
"However, on this occasion also the African tribes
retreat their invading march on beholding the Basque
flag floating from the heights of Amboto.
"And even then we were still happy, because we were
free."
* i\i * * $
"But since that day many years and ages have passed
away."
$ « * * *
The bard hushed his voice. His eyes suddenly
acquired an extraordinary light; over his countenance
was spread an expression of undefined wrath; the chords
of his instrument vibrated with greater power, and the
voice of the prophet, sonorous, terrible, clove the air
THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
245
extinguishing the sighing of the night wind, and increas-
ing like the moaning of the river.
"Still more dangers for the country!" he cried.
u Yes, see there the castles and the lions! see them dis-
posed to oppress this ancient and free home with theii
threats! Numerous hordes are formed beyond the
Ebro.
"Yes, hear them proclaiming a false liberty—they wish
to deprive us of ours!"
# * * * #
"Eia! sons of Aitor, ye who have sustained thirty
ages of combats for your liberty and independence!
'""Eia! unearth your arms, and utter the ancient
formidable war cry!
"Eia! The shadows of our brothers are also joined
on the camps of Arriaga, Guernica, and Guerekiz, to
ask the God of battles help and protection as we now
meet together to implore assistance from the holiest
virgin of Aranzanzu!"
After saying this the eyes of the prophet lost their
light; his brow grew sad, and he remained silently
bending down to the ground. And from his pale lips
issued these words:
"What force cannot obtain, craftiness and bad faith
will effect. Farewell, my son ; the country is perishing
and to my noble race nothing remains but bitter weep-
ing"
246 THE PROPHECY OF LARA.
He placed his icy hand on my head, and, gradually
vanishing away, disappeared mingled with the shadows
of the night.
Four months later the Basque provinces had risen up,,
and all its sons were hastening to the war. This war
lasted seven years, and was ended by an embrace. The
great Basque chieftain died in front of his army. Peace
be to his soul! The sanctuary of Aranzanzu fell a prey
to the flames.
Should any one attain to behold the grand scene
which I have roughly depicted, he will most certainly
see, in the luminous centre of the dense cloud which
closed up the march of the procession of shadows,,
surrounded by a brilliant aureole, and with hands joined
—Jduregui,1 the shepherd-hero of the war against
Napoleon, and Zumalacarregui,2 the hero of the seven
years' wan In the temple of glory there is no entrance
for political passions. Beyond the camp there is bliss,
and peace for the good alone.
1 Jduregui (Gasftar). Field-marshal in the service of the
Queen D. Isabella II. He was a native of Villa-real, of Guipuzcoa.
He had been a shepherd, and during the war against Napoleon
was an untiring guerilla chief.
2 Zumalacarregtd {Thomas), A native of Ormaiztegui, in
Guipuzcoa. He was general-in-chief of the army of Don Carlos.
He died from the effects of a wound received in the first siege of
Bilbao, in 1835. He was one of the best Spanish generals of this
century.

HURCA MENDI .
'And wrecking off Vie splendid crown wUch encircled. Usbrow
he precipitately ran. ouj oftAe cJucrch.'
HURCA-MENDL*

RANZU! IRANZU! where are you
going to, running, speeding along the
rugged heights of Sorazu, leaping
brake ferns and broken cliffs? Per-
chance, has the fearful irrinzi of war
resounded along the denies of the
Urola, or have the heights of Mauria been enkindled
with the foreboding bonfires, the sight of which makes
the hearts of mothers and maidens shudder with terror >
No, no; your hands do not grasp the warlike bow,,
nor from your shoulder pends the quiver full of arrows,
poisoned with the sap of the tejo I You are not going
to the combat, Iranzu! The sons of your race enter
1 Hurca-Mendi. See Glossary.
248 HURCA-MENDL
the battle-field with a song, and they fall calm at heart.
Their gaze is free of fear or dread, but to-day your eyes
are sombre like the night, and your heart is agitated
like the tempest when it rages amid the woods. You
suffer and weep! Down among the chestnuts of Artadi
is likewise seen a maiden, sweet like hope, beautiful as
bliss, and she sighs sadly on murmuring your name.
Iranzu! Iranzu! why did you go to the Gara-paita1
of Artadi if your life was passing calmly and happily
dwelling in the ancient homestead of your elders?
Have you not heard, at times, that shadows of sad-
ness and mourning obscured the fate of your child?
One day, when that lovely child, a babe, still in her
cradle, was placed beneath the oak tree which shaded
the doorway, an aged Astiya2- passed by, and stayed
to gaze upon that child with deep emotion.
Suddenly her eyes were filled with tears, and . her
tremulous lips murmured with sad accents a name. It
was the name of her child—her child which she had lost
that moon, and its memory had made her heart of
mother shudder rudely! Because even the Astzyas,
when they are mothers, have loving hearts and feel
affection towards those little ones whom they have
borne!
Touched tenderly by the memory of her lost one,
1 Gara-paita. See Glossary.
2 Astiya. See Glossary.
HURCA-MENDI.
249
she endeavoured to imprint a kiss on the fresh, rosy cheek;
but the innocent babe repelled with dread and fear
her kisses and caresses. The vengeful Astiya spitefully
uttered over her brow mysterious words of cursing and
death!
Have none of those words reached to you, Iranzu?
Listen, listen. "May a curse fall on the first youth
who shall make your heart beat, and receives your first
kiss of love!" she hissed.
And you are the first, Iranzu, who has attained to
agitate the mind of that maiden; you the first who
has made her virgin soul tremble with love; you who
have won her loving caresses! Unhappy one! Better
had it been for you had you encountered on the moun-
tains of Otoso a herd of famished wolves, than have
met the blue eyes of the maiden of Artadi! How
could you dream of obtaining the hand of that rich
heiress, you, poor cadet of Biscay, who has for his only
heirloom a tile, a tree, and coat of mail ?1 Fly from
her, Iranzu! Forget that perchance she is waiting for
you at her window, listening with beating heart for the
sound of your footsteps!
But alas! the son of Iranzu will not turn back,
because he is love-stricken, and he will not return until
he has seen her, even should he have to leap across the
1 A tile, a tree, &>c. See Glossary.
250
HURCA-MENDL
black mouth of the chasm of Aitz-belz,1 which descends
down to the bottomless pit. He runs, runs, and at length
he reaches Artadi. Oh, how his heart beats on quitting
the shades of the trees which overshadow her window!
Oh, how he trembles and shudders as by the light of
the moon he discovers the sweet brow of the love-
stricken damsel!
But she is sad. Her eyes are swollen with tears, her
looks reveal much anguish, her cheeks are pale! It is
because the angel of pain, on passing swiftly, has left
on her lips a kiss of death.
"What ails you, dove of Artadi?" cries the youths
with impassioned accents.
"Iranzu?" she murmured.
"You are weeping! What is the matter;"
"Fly from hence, Iranzu!"
"What do I hear?"
"Oh, I hear my father coming—retire, Iranzu. But,,
first, one word. The Eche-jaun of Igueldo has asked
for my hand!"
"Oh! and what have you replied? What does your
father say?"
"My father has accepted him, and I"
"You vacillate?"
"What am I to do? He is my father."
1 Aitz-belz. See Glossary.
HURCA-MENDL
251
"He is your father, 'tis true. But I—I am your
lover; oh, tell me—do you lovejne? If so, come with
me! fly with me! Come, I will give you my heart and
my life. I will win for you riches and a name!"
"It is impossible, Iranzu!"
"Oh! but listen to me!"
"Silence!" cried at this moment the aged Artadi, as
he showed himself at the window. "By the love
which my daughter bears towards you, I will give you
a further term; but do not forget that if within fifteen
days you do not bring your millares,1 the maiden of
Artadi will be the bride of the Eche-jaun of Igueldo.
May heaven assist you!"
"Perhaps it will be the evil one," cried the bold youth,
in great wrath, "since heaven is deaf to my pleadings
and cries!"
A tremendous thunder-clap was the reply to this
impious exclamation, while a dart of lightning clove
in twain the massive trunk of an enormous oak tree
which grew close to him.
Iranzu raised his head, and, with a look of deepest
contempt on his countenance, glanced up at the dark
window, and began running over mountain and valley,
without aim or object, roaring with rage, and invoking
in one breath both heaven and hell. On turning round
the brow of a hill, a pale blue light appeared before him,.
1 Millares. See Glossary.
252
HURCA-MENDL
and this flame flickered in an agitated manner, as though
it shuddered at every movement. The young man stood
still for a moment, as he gazed upon it with absorbing
interest; but its pale, mysterious gleams strangely filled
his soul with superstitious dread, and he turned back to
avoid it. Yet the flame continued before him, and at
length, annoyed at not being able to avoid or depart
from it, he decided to continue his march forward; so
he impetuously ran to encounter it, in order to drive it
away. But all in vain! If he advanced, the mysterious
flame would flit before him; if he turned back, the
flame would turn back also; yet he was unable to reach
it, as it always kept at the same distance from him,
fascinating his eyes, and troubling his spirit with its
sinister, fantastic gleams.
"It must be my destiny!" he murmured, despondingly,
and he continued to. walk on, giving himself up with
despairing resignation to his fate.
And they both ran and ran; the light before him
floating amid the shadows in tremulous movements,
Iranzu following it, taciturn and sombre. When any
mountaineer approached the path Iranzu was following,
and discovered the mysterious flame, he would quickly
make the sign of the Cross and hasten his pace. The
night was far advanced when they reached to Iciar,
The flame went into the streets, and the youth still
behind it. But on turning into the open space or
HURCA-MEJNDL
253
square before the church, the light glided swiftly over
the door of the temple, and after flickering for a few-
moments with rapid movements, it vanished among the
shadows. Notwithstanding the darkness of night, the
youth observed that the church door was half open,
so he stepped into the porch to look within. Black
thoughts of crime must have at that moment risen up
in his mind, because, on drawing back from the door,
his eyes were glistening with sinister fire. Overcome,
or rather led by some undefinable emotion, he once
again looked into the interior with eager looks; but he
only discovered the shadows cast forth by the holy
images, and which moved beneath the flickering gleams
shed by the expiring light of the lamp. Meanwhile
dark thoughts assailed him each time with greater
force, and he was maddened by tempting visions, and
these temptations were dragging him towards the
temple to manifest to his avaricious eyes the riches
which were within. But he still wrestled between the
voice of temptation and the voice of conscience, and he
tremblingly murmured, without daring to enter, "That
light is the one which is guiding me here—oh, light of
my destiny! From whence does it come? Perchance
from the lower regions? But no matter! If. it affords
me the needed millares, it will give me happiness!"
He vacillated for a moment; then, making a supreme
effort, he leaped across the threshold, and with firm
.254
HURCA-MENDL
step advanced to the altar of the Lady Chapel. In
those days—as at the present time—the brow of the
holy image was encircled by a rich diadem of gold
studded with precious stones, and from the hands
pended beads of inestimable ,value.
On finding himself standing at the altar, Iranzu felt
his knees quail under him. "Oh, if I had all these
precious things!" he said, as he gazed with longing looks
at the image—" oh, if I had the courage! But it is such
a sacred image, and hallowed by so many miracles—who
would dare to raise his wicked hand to touch its holy
brow?" Nevertheless he was instinctively approaching
nearer and nearer to its side, until he stood on the altar.
A gust of wind at that moment moved the curtain
which veiled the sacred queen of the angels. The
youth trembled, yet he continued on the altar. Sud-
denly throughout the wide vaulted dome of the temple
resounded the prolonged echoes of a far distant dis-
charge of guns, and then another and another, until
they numbered twenty-one.1
It was the tender, respectful salute which from the far
distant ocean some brave sailor was directing to Our
Lady of Iciar, the Star of the Sea.
"What was I going to do—I, hapless man?" he
murmured, as he leaped down from the altar. "Some
1 Twenty-one. See Glossary.
HURCA-MENDL
255
brave one, perhaps my brother Joanes, is sending across
the shades of night his homage and prayers to the
Mother of God, meanwhile that my sacrilegious hand is
stretched forth to wrench off her crown! No, never,
never will I stain my soul with such an impious deed!
It is better to die at once! Death stifles in its arms at
once misery and sorrow!"
Saying this, he flung himself on his knees at the feet
of the Virgin and sobbed a prayer, while two burning
tears coursed down his cheeks. But these pious feelings
and emotions were of short duration in a heart puffed
up with pride.
The evil one whom he had invoked in his senseless
despair cast a deadly shadow over his better nature, and
presented before his mind and feverish imagination the
image of his beloved one, her eyes streaming with tears,
her heart agitated, and calling him in sad, passionate
tones. And he, on the wings of love, seemed to be
flying to her side, and to clasp her in his arms; but
her father appeared to come to separate them, deliver-
ing her up to his hateful rival who was taking her away
for ever. And in the midst of his delirium he heard
distinctly ringing in his ears those hateful words of the
old man—" Do not forget if within fifteen days you do
not bring your millares, the maiden of Artadi shall be
the bride of the Eche-jaun of Igueldo."
Love, jealousy, wrath, and vengeance cast flames of
256
HURCA-MENDL
fire over his proud heart, a vertigo of rage took posses-
sion of his head, and, giving a leap, he stood on the
altar and tore down the curtains which veiled the holy
image, and, wrenching off the splendid crown which
encircled its brow, he precipitately ran out of the
church. On bounding over the threshold he heard
almost in his very ears a frightful unearthly peal of
laughter which well-nigh froze the blood in his veins,
and was re-echoed in the inmost recesses of his heart
like a cry of death. Maddened with terror at what he
had done, he started in a wild career along the skirt of
Murguizabel, without noticing that the aged Astiya, who
was concealed behind one of the recesses of the porch,
was watching him with a look of sinister satisfaction.
And he sped on and on until his chest became
contracted, and his breath failed him, and his legs
tottered and bent under him. He stopped to try and
recover breath for a moment, but on attempting it he
thought to hear anew that terrible, awful peal of
laughter, and uttering a cry of anguish, he began again
to run along the broken rocks, and leaping across
torrents with senseless, fearful impetus, casting froth
from out of his mouth, and darts of fire from his eyes.
The night was dark, very dark. The hurricane was
breaking over the land, the wind whistled among the
aged oaks, and their dry branches, moving under the im-
pulses of the wind, appeared to be ill-omened phantoms
HURCA-MEXDL
257
that were putting forth their weird arms towards the
guilty youth, whilst the shadows cast by the bushes,
the broken rocks, and the briery hedges which waved
around him, conjured up in his terrified imagination
legions of devils that sprang up on every side as he trod
the ground.
And thus he walked on for one hour, and two—and
six—without stopping once, without lessening his pace,
scarcely daring to breathe, until at the dawn of the new
day he ceased to hear that fiendish laughter, as the
shades of night disappeared, and the wind became
calmed down. Exhausted and breathless, he stopped
at the foot of a chestnut tree to rest awhile; but, wish-
ing first to know whereabouts he was, he climbed the
tree to reconnoitre the ground.
"How much I must have walked!" he murmured
while he climbed up. "I must be far, very far away!"
It was the hour when the day wrestles to open a way
amid the shadows, piercing through and pouring on all
sides a dim misty light which alters every object.
"I can distinguish nothing," he said, fixing his eyes
with yearning looks towards the east, where the horizon
was beginning to be tinged with the soft light of dawn.
All at once the sun, rending the mists and fogs with
powerful impulse, inundated with torrents of light a
magnificent temple which rose up dark and sombre at
the foot of the white cliffs of Andutz. On recognizing
18
258
HURCA-MENDL
it, the hapless youth felt his heart chilled within him
with horror, and a cold perspiration overspread his pale,
weary forehead. The building which appeared before
his astonished gaze was the Church of Our Lady of
Iciar, from which he had been unable to depart more
than a thousand yards during seven hours of frenzied
speed.
Believing that he was the victim of some nightmare,
he closed his eyes to shut out this awe-inspiring vision,
and on opening them again he saw on all sides the
forms of armed men who were approaching, seeking
something among the briers and bushes. No doubt the
sacrilegious robbery had been discovered, and these
men had come seeking the thief. Convinced at that
moment of the terrible reality, he bent down his head
in deep despondency and terror. Meanwhile the men
were approaching, closely following his footprints step
by step. Iranzu, perceiving this, wished to leap down,
but the stolen jewels weighed him down terribly,
and he was unable to move a foot as though he were
nailed to the tree. Bewailing his powerlessness, he
wished at least to cast the jewels from him in order to
conceal his crime, but, on putting his hand to his breast
where he had hidden them, he felt his fingers become
charred at the contact. In this terrible anguish he
made a last and desperate attempt to tear the cloth off
his tunic; but it was in vain that he employed all his
HURCA-MENDL
259
strength. The fragile cloth resisted his efforts as
though it had been made of woven steel.
By this time the men had discovered him, and were
coming quickly to the tree, tracing a circle in order to
prevent his escape. Oh, then did he curse his ill-fated
love, his existence, and his crime; and then, unclasping
the belt he wore, he made a noose with it, and in despair
hung himself from one of the branches.
When his pursuers reached him, they found him in
the last throes of death, and he only lived long enough
to be able to recount the sad circumstances of his sacri-
legious attempt.
Since that epoch the brow of the mountain on which
this event took place is known throughout the district
by the name of Hurca-Mendi—that is to say, the moun-
tain of the gibbet. On the left extends the ancient
roadway which leads from Iciar to the sea; and if any-
one desirous of investigating these legends advances by
that side towards the deserted slopes of Arbill, the
shepherds who tend the flocks there will show him the
spot on which the unhappy, ill-advised youth put an end
to his days, adding that during the darksome nights of
winter there are heard the doleful sighs of his spirit as it
wanders among the woods.

GLOSSARY.
A tile, a tree, a?zd a coat of mail By the fueros of Biscay
the eldest son inherited all the property, leaving to the
other brothers only the mail as a knight: a tree, to
signify, no doubt, the deeply-rooted family stock of
nobility, and a tile, as representing the family house.
P. 249.
Achular. A mountain of Guipuzcoa, close to Andoain.
There is another of the same name in the valley of
Lerin, in Navarre. P. 206.
Aitz-belz. The black cliff. By this name is known a mountain
of Mendaro, in which there is a chasm so deep that the
people believe that it ends in the bottomless pit of hell.
P. 250.
Aitzgorri. Mountain of Guipuzcoa: a continuation of Alona.
It rises r8oo metres above the level of the sea. P. 228.
262 GLOSSARY.
Aloiia. A mountain of Guipuzcoa, at whose southerly base is
situated the magnificent town of Onate, where, for a long
time during the seven years' civil war, the Infante Don
Carlos de Bourbon, uncle of Isabella II., held his court.
233.
Amboto. A very high cliff situated on the frontiers of
Guipuzcoa, Alava, and Biscay. P. 228.
Aquelarre. A word composed of larre, pasture land, and
Aquerra^ buck goat; hence the word Aquelarre signifies
the pasture land of the goat. It is well known that this
animal figures in all the conventicles of witches as repre-
senting the Evil One. P. 19.
Ardnzan, zu. Literally, "You, in a thorn?" P. 234.
Aranzanzu, Convent of Situated on the south-west of the
Monte Alofia. The convent was under the invocation
of Our Lady of Aranzanzu, and was inhabited by the
friars of the Order of St. Francis. The situation of this
convent was very remarkable. It was cast, so to say, on
the highest point and most rugged and bare of the
mountain, on the height of a steep declivity, and from
this may be inferred the daring and solidity of that
capricious construction. Throughout the three Basque
provinces the holy image of Our Lady of Aranzanzu was
very famous, and the devotion of the people for it, even in
our days, very general. During the month of May it
is visited by numerous pilgrimages, and nothing more
fantastic can be imagined than the effect produced by
the glare of the fires at night, which are lit by the multi-
tudes encamped on the mountain, as they are unable to
GLOSSARY.
263
find accommodation for all in the spacious inns close to
the convent, and to listen to the echoes of the magni-
ficent organ, instrumental orchestra, and large choir of
voices, as they celebrate the praises of the Virgin and
intoned the prayers. The convent was only visible at a
distance of about fifty metres. I am sorry to add that this
singular construction was set fire to by order of General
Rodil, during the civil war against Don Carlos—a deed of
barbarism which will always merit reprehension and con-
demnation. P. 234.
Argiriduna. Fatuous fire, or Will-o'-the-Wisp. P. 52.
Articuza. Palace and stronghold close to the shores of that
name. They are situated in the centre of the mountains
of Goizueta, ten kilometres from the town, and surrounded
by dense woods and forests. P. 123.
Aste, Sem> Nestos, and Heas. Mountainous and deserted
places in the centre of the Pyrenees. P. 223.
Astiya. A Basque word which is equal to "Witch," or one
professing to possess the art of divination, or of casting
spells or charms over people. P. 248.
Bardena Real. A deserted arid plain cut through by rocks
and broken boulders, extending from the junction of the
rivers Ebro and Aragon to within two kilometres beyond
the frontier of the ancient kingdom of Aragon, a distance
comprehending many kilometres. P. 107.
Basso-jawi. Literally translated it signifies the Lord of the
Woods. The superstitious imagination of the Basques
depicts him as a horrible monster in human form,
covered with hair, and having nails long and hard as those
264
GLOSSARY.
of a wild boar. It is supposed to reside in the deepest
part of the woods, and occasionally it appears at the
mouths of caverns and in mountain torrents. Very
curious are the details which are given concerning this
popular belief, by M. Michel, in his work entitled "Le
Pais Basque," p. 154. P. 133, and p. 17 of Introduction.
Begona. The church of Begona stands in the neighbourhood
of Bilbao, on the eminence of Artagan, which overlooks
the town. It is one of the most renowned temples of these
provinces. The present temple was constructed at the
commencement of the sixteenth century, but from time
immemorial the Virgin Mary has been venerated there
under the invocation of Santa Maria de Begona. Tradition
tells us that its miraculous image appeared on that spot,
and, on endeavouring to erect a church on the summit
of the mountain, they went in procession to conduct the
image to the place where they intended to build the
edifice, but they heard a mysterious voice which said,
Bego-ona ("Keep still"), and from this voice was the
name given of Begona. P. 170.
Benzozia. The Venus of chaste love of the primitive Basques.
P. 208.
Berderiz, A mountain situated at two kilometres from the
town of Irurita, in the valley of Baztan. P. 220.
Bertizarana, Baztan, Aezcoa, Erro, Roncal. Valleys of
Navarre, on the frontiers of France. The three first are
narrow and surrounded by very high mountains. P. 221.
Cadagua. This is the most powerful river of Biscay, after that
of Ibaizabal. It has its origin in the highest part of the
GLOSSARY.
265
vale of Mena, which anciently belonged to Biscay, and at
the present day to Burgos. It flows along the Encarta-
ciones of Biscay, and joins the Ibaizabal about a league
below Bilbao. P. 166.
Cahella, Belaya, Ahaide. High and very luxuriant mountains,
close to the valley of Roncal, in Navarre. P. 225.
Canigou. A high and inaccessible mountain of the French
Pyrenees; part corresponds to Spain. P. 208.
Carinas. A celebrated battle gained by Hannibal against the
Romans. A vanguard of the Carthaginian army which
decided the victory was composed of Basque auxiliaries.
P. 230.
Cantabrians. A people of Hispana Tarraconeza, between the
Pyrenees and the Ocean, inhabiting Navarre, Biscay,
Alava, and Guipuzcoa. P. 154.
Capusay. A sort of dalmatic of very thick cloth furnished
with a hood. P. 24.
Clemencia Isaura. A lady of rank descended from the nobles
of Tolosa. She lived in the fifteenth century. It was she
who revived in that city the famous floral games, which
had fallen into disuse for more than a century, and she
left at her death, in 1513, a considerable sum for defraying
the expenses of these poetic tournaments. P. 210.
Covadonga, JVavas, and Salado. Three famous sanguinary
battles, in which the Moors were routed: in these the
Basque legions took an active part. P. 230.
Dalmatic. A very rich robe embroidered with gold spangles,
worn over tunics of white wool on great festivals by the
ancient Euscaros in olden times. This dalmatic was used
266
GLOSSARY.
as a sign of authority. The shape of this robe is exactly
as the vestments worn during High Mass by the officiating
deacon and sub-deacon, with the sole difference that the
dalmatic has a hood. The "capusay" of the shepherds
and country people of our time, worn in the Basque
country, is an exact copy of that very ancient robe. P. 237.
Durango. Principal town of Biscay. P. 229.
Echeco-Jauna. The head of the family, proprietor, &c. Pp. 127
and 155.
Elzupel, Otsobide, Hernio, Aitzgorri. Mountains. The two
first belong to Navarre, and the third to Guipuzcoa. P. 221.
Embrun. A cistern or reservoir in Palestine, much renowned
in the time of the Crusaders. P. 211.
Eskaldunac. Some authors write it Escualdunac (from escuay
hand, aide, right, dunac, those who have), a name which
the Biscayans, or Basque people, give to themselves. In
their dialect they call themselves Euskarians. This
dialect, the wise Humboldt considered, was the most re-
markable language of all he was acquainted with. P. 156.
Esqidroz. A mountain situated in Navarre, on the confines of
Bardena Real. P. 206.
Euscnara, or Euscara. The name given by the Basque to
those who speak it. See Essay on the Basque Language,
by M. Julien Vinson, in "Basque Legends," by the Rev.
Went worth Webster. P. 229.
Five Towns of Aragon. A group composed of the towns of
Sos, Sadava, Uncastillo, Tauste, and Egea—all situated on
the frontiers of Aragon and Navarre, to the extreme of the
Pyrenees. P. 206.
GLOSSARY.
267
Gara-paita. The collecting of the brake fern. This is a rustic
agricultural work in which all the neighbours and relatives
join the landowner. It generally lasts several days, and
each evening, when the day's labour is over, the young
people amuse themselves with music, dancing, and love-
making; while the old people spend the time in games,
or recounting tales or ballads. In this way they convert
what would otherwise be a laborious work into a regular
country feast. P. 248.
Gorbea. A mountain of Alava, which overlooks the plain upon
which stands the city of Vitoria. P. 228.
Guernica, Arriaga, and Guerekiz. The three camps where in
ancient times were gathered together the bill-zaars, or
meetings of the ancients. The first was in Alava, the
second in Biscay, and the third in Guipuzcoa. P. 228.
Guernicdco Arbola. The Tree of Guernica. This is one of the
patriotic songs dedicated to the tree of Basque liberties,
which is close to the town of Guernica, in Biscay. The
actual tree is nearly a century old, since it was only thirty
years old when its predecessor fell down from old age in
1811, and that one numbered more than three hundred
years when it fell. Its trunk, says Iturriza, at the
end of last century, was fifteen feet in circumference.
The origin of this symbolical tree of the Basque liberties
dates back to the origin of the Biscayan society. The
statute tree is perpetuated like the Euskarian family,, and
is succeeded by its scions. The general juntas are
materially inaugurated under the tree, and are continued
in the juridical church of Santa Maria la Antigua\
26S
GLOSSARY.
placed also materially under the shadow of the statute
oak. The actual tree is robust and beautiful, notwith-
standing that it was greatly injured in 1830 or 1850 by
the erection of the building intended for the general
archive of the province. The tree which is to substitute
the present one was planted a few years ago. Poetry and
oratory have many times enthusiastically saluted the Tree
of Guernica. The philosopher of Geneva sent it his
blessing. Tallien saluted it in the midst of the French
Convention, and many Spanish poets have written
charming odes to the tree. The lords of Biscay took
their oaths seated on a stone bench placed at the foot of
the tree. It was on that spot that the Catholic Kings Ferdi-
nand and Isabella sat, as also other monarchs. There is
a patriotic song dedicated to the tree, and runs as follows:
El Arbol de Guernica
es bendecido
Y entre los vascongados
Amado de todos.
Propaga y estiende
tu fruto por el mundo
Nosotros te adoramos
Arbol Santo!
Ha cerca de mil anos,
Segun se dice
que Dios planto,
El Arbol de Guernica.
Permanece erguido
porque si ahora
caes,
Somos completamente perdid'33s
GLOSSARY.
269,
No caerás
Arbol amado
Si procede bien
el Congreso de Vizcaya.
Las cuatro tomaremos
parte en tu sosten
para que viva en paz
el pueblo vascongado.
Viva eternamente,
Y para pedírselo al Señor
Prosternémonos todos
Al punto de rodillas:
Y cuando de todo corazón
hayamos orado
El Arbol viverá
en lo presente y lo porvenir. P. 158.
Guesalza. A cave of great depth and extension, full of crystals.
It is situated near the Mondragon, in Guipúzcoa. P. 219.
Holy Oak, The. This is the Tree of Guernica, the symbol of
the Basque liberties. P. 158.
Hurca-Mendi A Basque word composed of hurca^ gibbet,
and mendia, mountain. This is the name of the place
in which occurred the event referred to in the tale. In
past times it was called Hurca-mendi-mendia, that is to
say, the mountain of the gibbet, but at the present day the
last word is suppressed, and is only known as in the title
of the tradition. P, 247.
IbaizabaL A word equivalent to "Wide River." It is the
name given by the Basques to the river Nervion, which
proceeds from the mountains Durango and Ordima, and*
270
GLOSSARY.
passing Bilbao, empties itself into the sea at Portugalete,
or, rather, between Santurce and Algorta, which stand to
the right and left of the bar. P. 181.
Irati. One of the principal mountains of Navarre. It is
covered by dense woods, in which are found lynx, bears,
wolves, and all kinds of large game. The circumference
of the base of this mountain measures about fifty kilo-
metres. One part corresponds to France, and the rest to
Navarre. P. 221.
IrrinzL The shout, or call of war. Pp. 138 and 159.
Iturrioz. Fonte fria. The cold fountain. P*. 80.
Izalzu. A village situated five kilometres from Ochagabia, in
the valley of Aezcoa, in Navarre. P. 222.
Izaspi* An ancient place of Navarre. P. 216.
Jaizqiribel. A mountain which rises parallel to the Cantabrian
Sea from the Port of Passagens to that of Fuenterrabia.
At its extreme north there stood anciently the promontory
of Olearso, in our days the Cape of Higuer. P. 208.
Jauregui (Gaspar). Field-marshal in the service of the Queen
D. Isabella II. He was a native of Villa-real, of Gui-
puzcoa. He had been a shepherd, and during the war
against Napoleon was an untiring guerilla chief. P. 246.
Kuruceta. A mountain situated in Guipuzcoa and Navarre,
upon which some hundreds of Basque prisoners were
crucified during the Avars against the Romans. P. 216.
-Kiiriicificatnaren Canta. {The Chant of the Crucified.) During
the long and sanguinary war sustained by the Romans
against the inhabitants of the Basque mountains, the
prisoners who fell into the power of the Romans were
GLOSSARY.
271
crucified on the summit of the mountains, with the object
of inspiring the dwellers with terror. The heroic Basques
intoned, while on the cross, a chant of triumph and
death, and also insulted their enemies, who witnessed
with feelings of awe such manifestations of courage and
lofty independence of spirit. P. 215.
Lamia. The Basque water-nymph, or mermaid. P. 185,
Lara. A young bard and Basque chief of the period when
the wars were raging against the Empire of Rome. The
poet Silio Italico, in the sixteenth book of his Epic Poem,
assigned a whole page to describe the personal combat
of Lara against Scipio, in which the Basque chief lost his
right hand. P. 233.
Lecayo. A cry of joy which is used as a signal. P. 60.
Left hand of a child, The. It was a general belief among the
mountain dwellers of the Basque provinces that the left
hand of a child, if severed during sleep, and wrapped
round with curls of its own hair, became a valuable
amulet, which would deliver them of every kind of
danger, and with it philters of different properties could
also be made. There yet exists some among the rude
inhabitants of the mountains of Roncal who foster this
superstitious belief, although examples are unknown of
this cruel mutilation ever having been effected, unless by
the artifice of gipsies, agotes, or Jews, in very remote
ages, as there still exists evidence of severe provisions
having been adopted against these barbarians. It was
also a popular belief that the blood of children was useful
for invigorating the weak bodies of women. P. 88.
272
GLOSSARY.
Maitagarri. Among the Basque people this is a fairy, or hade,
which inhabits the lakes, and corresponds to the "Peri,"
or the Genius of the Persians. According to the legend,
or popular tradition, this fairy, or hade, fell in love with a
shepherd called Luzaide, and she took him to the summit
of Ahunemendi, where she had her palace made of crystal.
This legend evidently forms the basis of the narrative
which the author gives in this chapter. P. 80 and 105.
Mil lares. By this name was anciently designated the amount
of real property levied by the fueros as a tax, but later
on this term comprehended all wealth derived from
inheritance, dowries, or other bequests. Pp. 251.
Montlig and Astarac. Deserted places of the French
Pyrenees. P. 223.
Nive. A French river, which springs on the declivity to the
north of the Western Pyrenees, and joins the river Adour
in Bayonne, and jointly flows into the Cantabrian Ocean.
P. 224.
Novempopulania. During the epoch of the domination of the
Romans, this district extended from the Cantabrian
Ocean to the margin of the river Garrona, and from the
first slope of the French Pyrenees to the margin of the
above-said river and its mouth into the sea, forming an
acute angle. P. 223.
Odolaga. A mountain which, forming a cordillera, separates
the valleys of Baztan and Ulzama. It is covered with
woods. P. 216.
Orbara. A precipitous defile of the valley of Aezcoa, in
Navarre. P. 222.
GLOSSARY.
273
Otsondo. A mountain on the frontiers of France, near the
Urdax, in Navarre. P. 216.
Padura. A parochial district of Biscay. It was here that the
natives completely routed the army of Ordono the
Wicked. At the present day this spot is known under
the name of A?'rigorriaga (Red stones), an appellation
given to it, as tradition informs us, on account of the
great quantity of blood which was spilt on the stones and
imparted a red colour to them. P. 156.
Quidaria. Chieftain. P. 159.
Regil. The ancient Errazill. A town close to Tolosa, of
Guipuzcoa. Its inhabitants routed the Romans in the
time of Augustus. P. 230.
Sumbilla. A lovely, picturesque town of Navarre, situated in
the valley of Lerin, on the straight line with Vidassoa,
about thirty-five kilometres from Pamplona. P. 207.
Tejo. A very common tree of the Basque mountains, the sap
of which is poisonous. The Cantabrians used to poison
themselves with this sap rather than surrender to the
enemy. From this word Tejo was derived the name of
Toxicum, or tosigo, which, later on, was applied to all
descriptions of poison. Thousands of persons, principally
among the aged men and women, took this poison, ac-
cording to Roman historians, in Medulia and in the
Hirnio, to save themselves from slavery and chains.
P. 247.
Tolosa. The capital of the province of Guipuzcoa. P. 212.
Twenty-one. It was a custom of immemorial origin among the
Basque people for ships to fire twenty-one guns on sighting
*9
274
GLOSSARY.
the church of Our Lady of Iciar, venerated under this
invocation as the especial protectress of mariners. P. 254.
Zulogaraya, Izotzce, and Asarosta. Defiles of the French
Pyrenees, which have their commencement in Spanish
territory. P. 223.
Zumalacarregui {Thomas). A native of Ormaiztegui, in
Guipuzcoa. He was general-in-chief of the army of
Don Carlos. He died from the effects of a wound
received in the first siege of Bilbao, in 1835. He was
one of the best Spanish generals of this century. P. 246.


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