The Morgans on the Island of Ouessant

Long, long ago, perhaps even in the days when Saint Paul came from Iberia to our island, there lived on the island of Ouessant a beautiful girl of about sixteen or seventeen years old, and her name was Mona Kerbili. Mona was so beautiful that everyone who saw her would exclaim to her mother in admiration:

"What a beautiful daughter you have, Jeanne! She is as lovely as a morgans, never before has such a beauty been seen on our island. One might think she is the daughter of a morgans."

"Don't say such things," Mona's kind mother would reply. "God knows her father is Fanch Kerbili, my husband. That is as true as the fact that I am her mother."

Mona's father was a fisherman and spent almost all his time at sea. Her mother worked on a small plot of land near their hut, and during bad weather, she spun flax. Mona would go with other girls to the seashore to collect various edible shellfish, which fed the entire family.

It must have been that the morgans—there were many of them on the island at that time—noticed Mona and, just like the people, were struck by her beauty.

One day, as she sat on the shore with her friends as usual, the girls began talking about their suitors. Each praised her own for being a good fisherman, skilled at navigating a boat through the many underwater rocks surrounding the island.

"It's a shame you turn up your nose at Ervon Kerduzal," said Marguerite Arfur to Fanch Kerbili's daughter. "He's a fine lad, doesn't drink, never quarrels with his comrades, and no one handles a boat better in dangerous places—like near the Old Mare and Cape Stiff."

"Nonsense!" Mona replied with disdain (for, having heard so many praises of her beauty, she had become vain and haughty). "I will never be a fisherman's wife! I am as beautiful as a morgans, and I will only marry a prince or the son of some noble lord, rich and powerful. Or at the very least, a morgans."

As it happened, her words were overheard by an old morgans, who must have been hiding behind a rock or under seaweed. He seized Mona and dragged her down to the bottom of the sea.

The girls ran to the village to tell Mona's mother what had happened. Jeanne Kerbili was spinning on the threshold of her hut. She threw down her distaff and spindle and rushed to the sea. She called out loudly for her daughter, even waded into the water, and went as far as she could toward the spot where Mona had disappeared. But it was all in vain; no voice answered her cries and desperate calls from the water.

The news of Mona's disappearance quickly spread across the island, and no one was particularly surprised. "Mona was the daughter of a morgans," people said, "and it seems her father has taken her back to the sea."

Mona's abductor was the king of the morgans of the island of Ouessant. He took the girl to his underwater palace. The palace was a true marvel; the most beautiful royal residence on land could not compare to it.

The old morgans had a son, the most handsome of all morgans, and this son fell in love with Mona and asked his father for permission to marry her. But the king himself had plans to marry her, and so he told his son that he would never allow him to take a daughter of the land as his wife.

"In our kingdom," he said to his son, "there are many beautiful morgans maidens who would be happy to have the king's son as their husband. When you choose one of them, I will give my consent."

The young morgans was heartbroken. He declared to his father that he would never marry if he could not marry the one he loved—Mona, the daughter of the land.

The old morgans, seeing that his son was wasting away from grief and sorrow, forced him to propose to a morgans maiden who was renowned for her beauty and was the daughter of one of the noble courtiers. A wedding date was set, and many guests were invited. The bride and groom went to the church, followed by a magnificent wedding procession. For these sea dwellers, though unbaptized, have their own faith and temples underwater. It is said they even have their own bishops, and Gulven Penduff, an old sailor from our island who has sailed all the seas of the world, assured me that he had seen them many times.

Poor Mona was ordered to stay at home and prepare the wedding feast. But she was given no provisions, nothing at all, only empty pots and pans—large seashells. The old morgans told her that when everyone returned from the church, she must serve a splendid feast, or she would face death. You can imagine the despair and grief of the poor girl! And the groom was no less sad and worried!

As the procession moved toward the church, the groom suddenly exclaimed:

"Oh, I forgot my bride's ring at home!"

"Tell me where it is, and I will send someone to fetch it," said his father.

"No, no, I will go myself. No one else will find it where I hid it. I will run home and be back in a moment."

And he left alone, not allowing anyone to accompany him. He went straight to the kitchen, where poor Mona was weeping in despair.

"Do not grieve," he said to her. "The feast will be ready in time. Trust me."

He went to the hearth and said:

"Good fire, come to the hearth!" And a fire immediately blazed in the hearth.

Then the prince touched each pot, pan, spit, and dish in turn, saying:

"In this pot will be salmon, in this one—flounder with oysters, on the spit—a duck, here—fried mackerel, in these jugs—wines and the finest liqueurs..."

And the pots, pans, dishes, and jugs filled with food and drink at the touch of his hand. Mona was astonished, seeing the feast prepared in an instant without any help from her.

The young morgans hurriedly rushed to catch up with the procession. They arrived at the church. The marriage ceremony was performed by a sea bishop. Afterward, everyone returned to the palace. The old king went straight to the kitchen and said to Mona:

"Here we are. Is everything ready?"

"Everything is ready," Mona replied calmly. Surprised by this answer, he lifted the lids of the pots and pans, peeked into the jugs, and with a displeased expression said:

"You had help. But I will deal with you later!"

They sat down to eat. The guests drank and ate heartily, and then singing and dancing began.

Around midnight, the newlyweds retired to their magnificent bedroom, and the old morgans ordered Mona to escort them there. She was to stand by the bed and hold a burning candle to light their way. When the candle burned down to her hand, Mona would face death.

Poor Mona obeyed. And the old morgans waited in the next room, calling out from time to time:

"Has the candle burned down to your hand yet?"

"Not yet," Mona replied.

He asked several times. Finally, when the candle was almost burnt out, the groom said to his young wife:

"Take the candle from Mona for a moment and hold it while she lights another one."

The young morgans, unaware of her father-in-law's intentions, took the candle from Mona's hands.

At that moment, the old king called out again:
— Did the candle burn down to your hand?
— Answer: 'yes,' whispered the young morgue.
— Yes, said the morgue.

And immediately, the old king rushed into the bedroom, threw himself at the one holding the candle, and without even glancing at the girl, with a single stroke of his saber, he cut off her head. Then he left.

As soon as the sun rose, the newlywed went to his father and said:
— Father, I have come to ask for your permission to marry.
— To marry? Didn’t you marry yesterday?
— My wife is no longer alive.
— No longer alive? So you killed her, you wretch?
— No, father, it wasn’t me, it was you who killed her.
— Me? I killed your wife?
— Yes, father. Was it not you who, last night, with a stroke of your saber, cut off the head of the one who held the burning candle by my bedside?
— Yes, but that was the daughter of the land!
— No, father, it was the morgue, whom I married by your will. And now I am a widower. If you don’t believe me, you can easily see for yourself—her body still lies in my bedroom.

The old morgue ran to the bedroom and saw that his son was telling the truth. His rage was terrible.
— Whom do you wish to marry now? he asked his son, having cooled down a little.
— The daughter of the land.

The old king said nothing and left the bedroom. But after a few days, he must have realized how foolish it was to compete with his son, and he gave his consent to his marriage with Mona. The wedding was celebrated with great pomp and solemnity.

The young morgue was very attentive to his wife and spoiled her as much as he could. He fed her small, delicious fish that he caught himself, gave her jewelry made of precious sea pearls, searched for beautiful shells, mother-of-pearl and golden, the rarest and most wondrous sea flowers and plants.

But despite all this, Mona longed for the land, for her father and mother, for the poor hut by the seashore.

Her husband did not want to let her go: he was afraid she would not return. And Mona grew deeply homesick, crying day and night. Finally, one day, the young morgue said to her:
— Smile just once, my joy, and I will take you to your father’s house.

Mona smiled at him, and the morgue, who was a sorcerer, said:
— Bridge, rise!

Immediately, a beautiful crystal bridge rose from the water, allowing them to cross from the bottom of the sea to the land.

Seeing this, the old morgue realized that his son was as much a sorcerer as he was, and said:
— I will go with you as well.

All three stepped onto the bridge: Mona in front, followed by her husband, and a few steps behind, the old morgue.

As soon as Mona and her husband, walking ahead, stepped onto the land, the young morgue said:
— Bridge, lower!

And the bridge descended into the depths of the sea, carrying the old morgue with it.

Mona’s husband did not dare to accompany her all the way to her parents’ house. He let Mona go alone, saying to her:
— Return when the sun sets. I will wait for you here. But beware, let no man kiss you or even touch your hand.

Mona promised to do everything and ran to her family home. It was lunchtime, and the whole family was gathered at the table.
— Hello, father and mother! Hello, brothers and sisters! cried Mona, running into the hut.

The good people looked at her, stunned with amazement, and no one recognized her: she was so beautiful, so majestic in her splendid attire! Mona was saddened by such a reception, and tears welled up in her eyes. She began to walk around the house, touching each object with her hand and saying:
— This stone we brought from the shore, and I used to sit by the fire on it. And here is the bed I slept on. Here is the wooden bowl I ate soup from. And there, behind the door, is the broom made of gorse that I used to sweep the house. And here is the jug I carried to fetch water from the spring.

Hearing all this, her parents finally recognized Mona and, crying with joy, began to embrace her, and everyone rejoiced that they were together again.

But it was not for nothing that the morgue, Mona’s husband, had warned her not to let any man kiss her: from that moment on, she remembered nothing of her marriage or her life with the morgues. She stayed with her parents, and soon suitors began to come from all sides. There was no shortage of suitors, but Mona listened to none of them and did not wish to marry.

Mona’s father, like every islander, had his own patch of land where he planted potatoes and various vegetables, and sowed a little barley. This, along with the daily tribute of fish and shellfish from the sea, was enough to sustain them. In front of the house was a threshing floor where they threshed grain, and a stack of straw stood nearby. Often at night, as Mona lay in bed, she thought she heard, through the howling wind and the dull roar of the waves crashing against the coastal rocks, someone’s groans and lamentations outside the hut door. But she thought it was the souls of poor drowned men calling out to the living, who had forgotten them, and asking for prayers. She whispered a prayer for the dead and, pitying those who were at sea in such weather, fell peacefully asleep.

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The Morgans on the Island of Ouessant

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