SPOUTING FORTH ABOUT THE GARGOUILLE - A LETHAL WATER-SPURTING DRAGON FROM THE SEINE

Flooding the land with limitless liquid, France's water-spouting gargouille was just as deadly as its more familiar fire-breathing brethren (public domain)*

When preparing my first book on dragons, Dragons: A Natural History, published in 1995, and in which I retell the myths and legends surrounding a wide variety of different dragons, I was particularly anxious to uncover the history of the example featured here in this present ShukerNature blog article. For despite having read many books and articles on dragons down through the years, I had never once seen a detailed account of this specific one.

Thanks, however, to some painstaking but rewarding library-based research (i.e. long before the internet had transformed into the limitless online fund of facts that it is today), I finally pieced together its thrilling story, first recorded in 1394, which I duly recounted in my book. Due to space considerations, unfortunately, my coverage needed to be abridged slightly for publication, but now, for the first time anywhere, I have great pleasure in presenting the original, unabridged version. So here is my full retelling of the rise and fall of one of dracontology's most memorable subjects – the very formidable water-spouting gargouille of France.

Detail featuring the gargouille from an 1862 engraving – see later here for the entire engraving (public domain)

Not all dragons spew flame or noxious vapour - some spout fountains of water, but to equally devastating effect. It was the year 620 AD, and Rouen, majestic capital of Normandy, was under siege - not by a foreign army, not even by some debilitating pestilence, but by something much more menacing, and lethal. It had emerged one pale morning from the waters of the Seine - at first a great scaled head, equipped with slender snout and jaws, heavy brows encircling a pair of nacreous eyes that gleamed like living moonstones, and borne upon a long neck like some strange reptilian swan.

As the waters cascaded down from its shoulders, however, the creature revealed itself to be an aquatic serpent dragon - of colossal, vermiform stature, ensheathed in a fine mail of glaucous scalloping, and sporting only a pair of membranous fins in place of true limbs.

After surveying its surroundings for a few moments, the great monster opened its mouth - and from the depths of its throat a tremendous jet of water sprang forth, engulfing the countryside, on every side, in an immense wave like an inexplicably-displaced oceanic tide.

Statue of St Romain at Notre Dame Cathedral in Rouen, France (© Siren-Com/Wikipedia – CC BY-SA 4.0 licence)

From that day onwards, this terrifying creature - swiftly dubbed the gargouille ('gargler') by the local populace - mercilessly saturated the land with great fountains of water, until the entire region was imperilled by severe floods. Farmlands were totally devastated, and countless people perished. Many were devoured by the monster, others met their deaths by drowning when it wantonly capsized their boats as they sailed upon the Seine.

St Romain (aka Romanus), archbishop of Rouen, watched this unfolding catastrophe with mounting horror - and knew that he must act swiftly if the land were to be saved from the gargouille's dominion of destruction. Learning that the creature resided in a cave nestling within the Seine's banks, he decided to confront it there, and do whatever was necessary to quell its tyranny forever.

The entire engraving from 1862 portraying St Romain abating the gargouille's power, with the murderer alongside him (public domain)

Yet despite pleading for assistance from the region's besieged inhabitants, St Romain could not elicit the help of anyone to accompany him on his noble quest - until he encountered a prisoner condemned to death for murder. Mindful that his life was already forfeit, the prisoner had nothing to lose by facing a deadly water dragon in its grim lair - which is why he willingly agreed to journey with the archbishop even to what must have seemed like certain death.

Indeed, no sooner had the two brave men reached its cave than the dreadful gargouille appeared - rearing above them with jaws agape as it prepared to disgorge from its mighty gullet a teeming cataract that would blast them away to a cold, watery grave.

Procession of the gargouille into Rouen following its taming by St Romain – lithograph from c.1840 (public domain)

Even as the lethal tide bubbled upwards in the monster's throat, however, St Romain stepped forward, raised his arms high above their heads - and placed two fingers against one another in the shape of the Cross. Instantly, the dreadful beast sank down, its threatened torrent seeping harmlessly from between its jaws in an insipid trickle, its foaming fury thoroughly extinguished.

So complete was the transformation that the gargouille even allowed St Romain to bind its neck with his stole, enabling the murderer to lead it passively back to Rouen (a scenario readily reminiscent of St Martha's taming of another previously-ferocious French dragon, the tarasque - click here to read all about this six-legged, lion-headed, tortoise-shelled, flame-spurting horror!).

Following the gargouille's arrival, the vengeful townsfolk gathered all around it in droves, intent upon annihilating their onetime persecutor. And in accordance with their demands, the monster was duly put to death - though not by water, but by fire, until only a great heap of ashes remained to testify to its former existence.

The chimaera gargoyle of Notre Dame de Paris Cathedral, looking across the panorama of Paris, France, far below (public down)

These were cast into the Seine, but even today there are ample reminders of the fearsome gargouille. Deriving their name from and sharing their water-spouting talents with this infamous monster are the gargoyles, whose grotesque figures adorn countless churches and other buildings in France and elsewhere around the world. (Incidentally, not all gargoyles do spout water; those that don't are technically referred to as grotesques.)

As for the murderer, whose crime proved to have been the killing of a vicious ruffian who had vilely desecrated his wife, in recognition of his bravery and his loyalty to the archbishop he was pardoned and set free. Moreover, every year thereafter until as recently as 1790, the archbishop of Rouen was permitted by law to pardon one death-condemned criminal each Ascension Day (an act referred to as bishops' privilege).

Vintage line drawing of a dragonesque gargoyle (public domain)

From a strictly cryptozoological viewpoint, I can't help but wonder whether this legend was inspired at least in part, perhaps, by sightings of some cetacean such as a dolphin or small whale that may have conceivably found its way from the sea into the Seine, where such a creature, spurting forth from its blow-hole(s), would undoubtedly have attracted attention and possibly not a little wonder and fear from observers not previously familiar with such a beast. Alternatively, the entire legend may have been created specifically to enhance the standing of St Romain - as exemplified by those associated with St George and St Martha, it is by no means unknown for monster-featuring stories to be linked to saints, in which the latter confronts and conquers the monster, as a potent allegory of good vanquishing evil.

* This article-opening engraving actually depicts a sea serpent of the Heuvelmans super-otter category that was allegedly sighted on 6 July 1734 by Hans Egede, a Scandinavian Lutheran missionary, while on board his ship off the coast of Greenland - and not the river-inhabiting gargouille of France. However, the sea serpent's appearance as depicted in this engraving accords well with traditional descriptions of the gargouille - far better, in fact, than any image officially representing the gargouille that I have ever seen. Consequently, I have chosen to use it in this capacity here, and I did so in my 1995 dragons book too.

Statue of Hans Egede by August Saabye, at Marmorkirken in Copenhagen, Denmark (public domain)

For further dragon-related folklore and facts, please be sure to check out my two dragon books – Dragons: A Natural History, and Dragons in Zoology, Cryptozoology, and Culture.

TERROR OF THE TARASQUE!

Tarasque festival at Tarascon, in Provence, France, with girl in white and holding leash on right of picture representing St Martha (Hand-coloured postcard from 1905)

The legend of the tarasque was the very first dragon account that I wrote for my book Dragons: A Natural History (Aurum Press/Simon & Schuster: London/New York, 1995) – the bestselling dragon book of all time, translated into over a dozen languages, and still in print today, 17 years after it was first published. Now, as a ShukerNature exclusive, here is the original but never-before-published, unabridged version of that account:


Medieval France was a time and a land of lingering, legendary monsters - anachronistic abominations left over from primeval ages. Singularly horrific was a neo-dragon called the tarasque - spawned by the biblical monster Leviathan, and originally from Galatia in Asia Minor, but which had come to haunt the banks of the River Rhône.

Evening was drawing in, and a traveller named Jacques du Bois quickened his step as he journeyed along the bank of the Rhône between Avignon and Arles in southern France. Nervously, he scanned the river's sable waters and the forbidding gloom of its fringing woodlands - his eyes questing for something that he fervently prayed he would not see.

Tarasque sculpture near King René's castle in Tarascon; completed in 2005, it was created by Pascal Demaumont from a single block of marble weighing 25 tonnes!

Du Bois had heard terrifying rumours that a hideous creature called the tarasque had lately taken up residence along this stretch of the Rhône. Here it held in thrall the hapless populace of nearby Nerluc, a once-tranquil rural town whose inhabitants and livestock were now the focus of its relentless depredations. But it also devoured any wayfarer unfortunate enough to be passing this way and unwary enough not to sense the monster's proximity.

Distracted by these grisly thoughts flowing unchecked through his mind, the traveller fatally ignored a deep thunder-like rumble emanating from a shadowy glade just ahead. Suddenly, the glade seemed to erupt - disgorging from its hidden bowels a macabre vision spawned from the darkest of nightmares.

Tarasque ornament

Larger in size than the biggest horse or burliest ox, the tarasque stood on six powerful limbs equipped with the murderous paws of a giant bear, and furiously switched its long viperine tail from side to side like living whipcord. The magnificent mane of its leonine head flowed as a burnished sea of molten gold around its shoulders, and its teeth were great ivory daggers of death. Most extraordinary of all, however, was the massive carapace encrusting its back. Resembling the shell of a colossal tortoise, it bristled with an armoury of mighty spikes, rendering the monster invincible to any form of attack.

It was for good reason, therefore, that the ill-fated Jacques du Bois knew his life to be at an end - an end so swift that he did not even have time to scream. As he gazed motionless at his destroyer, like a songbird mesmerised by the hypnotic stare of a serpent, the tarasque opened its fearsome maw and let out a deafening roar - accompanied by a stream of blazing fire that curled around its luckless victim and ignited his flesh like tinder.

Life-size tarasque model at a Corpus Christi procession in Valencia (Chosovi-Wikipedia)

As time went by, the inhabitants of Nerluc grew ever more desperate to free themselves from the tarasque's unremitting tyranny. One one occasion, 16 of the town's bravest men marched out to do battle with their adversary - but all to no avail. In a matter of moments, half of their number had been incinerated by a single blast of flame belched from the monster's gullet, and the remaining octet fled back to Nerluc, fortunate to have survived their ordeal by fire.

Nerluc seemed doomed, destined for destruction - but then there came along someone who may well have seemed, at least to an outsider, to be the most unlikely dragon vanquisher of all time. One day, a small boat docked at the nearby port of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, and out of it stepped a young, lissom maiden, with fresh complexion and a simple dress of purest white. She had journeyed here from Arles, from where her fame had spread far and wide. For this unassuming figure of gentle demeanour was Saint Martha - whose inspirational preaching and acts of selfless beneficence had brought joy and hope to all who met her.

St Martha and the tarasque - an exquisite illustration from 1895

As soon as her arrival became known, the townspeople of Nerluc flocked to her and tearfully implored her to free them from the oppression of the tarasque. In reply, Saint Martha promised to do all she could for them, and, without further ado, she journeyed through the outlying fields towards the Rhône-bordering forest that harboured her fire-breathing quarry. She did not have to search for long. Within a few minutes of entering the forest's verdant interior, she spied the tarasque in a sunlit clearing - devouring the final portion of its latest victim, a local herdsman.

Tarasque bas-relief sculpture by Jean Barnabé Amy, 1880s

So intent was the monster upon its gory repast that it remained totally unaware of her presence. This enabled the saint to approach to within touching distance of its gleaming carapace and rippling mane - and also to pick up two branches that had been recently charred by its conflagrating breath. In that moment, however, the tarasque sensed her, and whirled around, its rapacious eyes ablaze with paroxysms of flame like febrile, dancing infernos.

Instantly, Martha raised the two branches in front of her, and held them before her monstrous adversary in the shape of the Cross. As she did so, the tarasque's eyes dimmed, their incandescence replaced by a mellow golden hue, and the mighty creature lay passively at the saint's feet, overcome by a welter of bemusement and unwonted peace. Martha bent down and sprinkled holy water all over the subdued dragon. Then with braids of her own hair she wove a huge collar and lead with which she led it amiably back to Nerluc.

Looking decidedly abashed here, the tarasque is soundly chastised by a very stern-looking St Martha (Angus McBride)

This astonishing spectacle - the bloodthirsty tarasque, tethered and tame as a docile puppy! - initially rendered the townspeople speechless and immobile. Once their fear of their longstanding enemy had subsided, however, they grew bolder, coming up to the beast and touching it - then hitting, punching, and kicking it, and hurling rocks and sticks at it, as their anger at its former atrocities burst forth in an uncontrollable tide of hatred and revenge. The tarasque cowered in fright at this sustained onslaught, and Saint Martha pleaded with the horde to forgive the beast and let it live in its new, transformed state - but it was too late. Whether through direct physical attack or the almost tangible weight of loathing heaped upon it, the tarasque suddenly rolled over, and died.

The 2011 tarasque parade at Tarascon

Even today, this monster's memory is still manifest here. As a lasting reminder of its former tribulations, Nerluc is nowadays called Tarascon, it stages a tarasque festival each Whitsun, and its official seal depicts this erstwhile oppressor in all its terrible splendour.

Due to its exceptional morphology, cryptozoologists rarely seek to identify the tarasque with any known type of animal, either from the present or from the past. Having said that, over the years I have encountered one or two brave attempts - in which this extraordinary neo-dragon has been variously mooted as a surviving ankylosaur dinosaur or a lingering glyptodont (gigantic armadillo-like mammal from prehistoric South America). Ingenious suggestions, certainly, but tragically flawed by the unavoidable fact that no ankylosaur or glyptodont unearthed so far by palaeontologists happens to possess six legs!

Life-size tarasque model at exhibition centre in Tarascon