At last the Wee Folk come in a great mult.i.tude to beg the release of Iubdan. On the kings refusal they visit the country with various plagues, snipping off the ears of corn, letting the calves suck all the cows dry, defiling the wells, and so forth; but Fergus is obdurate. In their quality as earth-G.o.ds, _dei terreni_, they promise to make the plains before the palace of Fergus stand thick with corn every year without ploughing or sowing, but all is vain. At last, however, Fergus agrees to ransom Iubdan against the best of his fairy treasures, so Iubdan recounts themthe cauldron that can never be emptied, the harp that plays of itself; and finally he mentions a pair of water-shoes, wearing which a man can go over or under water as freely as on dry land. Fergus accepts the shoes, and Iubdan is released.
*The Blemish of Fergus*
But it is hard for a mortal to get the better of Fairylanda touch of hidden malice lurks in magical gifts, and so it proved now. Fergus was never tired of exploring the depths of the lakes and rivers of Ireland; but one day, in Loch Rury, he met with a hideous monster, the _Muirdris_, or river-horse, which inhabited that lake, and from which he barely saved himself by flying to the sh.o.r.e. With the terror of this encounter his face was twisted awry; but since a blemished man could not hold rule in Ireland, his queen and n.o.bles took pains, on some pretext, to banish all mirrors from the palace, and kept the knowledge of his condition from him.
One day, however, he smote a bondmaid with a switch, for some negligence, and the maid, indignant, cried out: It were better for thee, Fergus, to avenge thyself on the river-horse that hath twisted thy face than to do brave deeds on women! Fergus bade fetch him a mirror, and looked in it.
It is true, he said; the river-horse of Loch Rury has done this thing.
*Death of Fergus*
The conclusion may be given in the words of Sir Samuel Fergusons fine poem on this theme. Fergus donned the magic shoes, took sword in hand, and went to Loch Rury:
For a day and night Beneath the waves he rested out of sight, But all the Ultonians on the bank who stood Saw the loch boil and redden with his blood.
When next at sunrise skies grew also red He roseand in his hand the _Muirdris_ head.
Gone was the blemish! On his goodly face Each trait symmetric had resumed its place: And they who saw him marked in all his mien A kings composure, ample and serene.
He smiled; he cast his trophy to the bank, Said, I, survivor, Ulstermen! and sank."
This fine tale has been published in full from an Egerton MS., by Mr.
Standish Hayes OGrady, in his Silva Gadelica. The humorous treatment of the fairy element in the story would mark it as belonging to a late period of Irish legend, but the tragic and n.o.ble conclusion unmistakably signs it as belonging to the Ulster bardic literature, and it falls within the same order of ideas, if it were not composed within the same period, as the tales of Cuchulain.
*Significance of Irish Place-Names*
Before leaving this great cycle of legendary literature let us notice what has already, perhaps, attracted the attention of some readersthe extent to which its chief characters and episodes have been commemorated in the still surviving place-names of the country.(171) This is true of Irish legend in generalit is especially so of the Ultonian Cycle. Faithfully indeed, through many a century of darkness and forgetting, have these names pointed to the hidden treasures of heroic romance which the labours of our own day are now restoring to light. The name of the little town of Ardee, as we have seen,(172) commemorates the tragic death of Ferdia at the hand of his heart companion, the n.o.blest hero of the Gael. The ruins of Dun Baruch, where Fergus was bidden to the treacherous feast, still look over the waters of Moyle, across which Naisi and Deirdre sailed to their doom. Ardnurchar, the Hill of the Sling-cast, in Westmeath,(173) brings to mind the story of the stately monarch, the crowd of gazing women, and the crouching enemy with the deadly missile which bore the vengeance of Mesgedra. The name of Armagh, or Ard Macha, the Hill of Macha, enshrines the memory of the Fairy Bride and her heroic sacrifice, while the gra.s.sy rampart can still be traced where the war-G.o.ddess in the earlier legend drew its outline with the pin of her brooch when she founded the royal fortress of Ulster. Many pages might be filled with these instances. Perhaps no modern country has place-names so charged with legendary a.s.sociations as are those of Ireland. Poetry and myth are there still closely wedded to the very soil of the landa fact in which there lies ready to hand an agency for education, for inspiration, of the n.o.blest kind, if we only had the insight to see it and the art to make use of it.
CHAPTER VI: TALES OF THE OSSIANIC CYCLE
*The Fianna of Erin*
As the tales of the Ultonian Cycle cl.u.s.ter round the heroic figure of the Hound of Cullan, so do those of the Ossianic Cycle round that of Finn mac c.u.mhal,(174) whose son Oisin(175) (or Ossian, as Macpherson called him in the pretended translations from the Gaelic which first introduced him to the English-speaking world) was a poet as well as a warrior, and is the traditional author of most of them. The events of the Ultonian Cycle are supposed to have taken place about the time of the birth of Christ. Those of the Ossianic Cycle fell mostly in the reign of Cormac mac Art, who lived in the third century A.D. During his reign the Fianna of Erin, who are represented as a kind of military Order composed mainly of the members of two clans, Clan Bascna and Clan Morna, and who were supposed to be devoted to the service of the High King and to the repelling of foreign invaders, reached the height of their renown under the captaincy of Finn.
The annalists of ancient Ireland treated the story of Finn and the Fianna, in its main outlines, as sober history. This it can hardly be. Ireland had no foreign invaders during the period when the Fianna are supposed to have flourished, and the tales do not throw a ray of light on the real history of the country; they are far more concerned with a Fairyland populated by supernatural beings, beautiful or terrible, than with any tract of real earth inhabited by real men and women. The modern critical reader of these tales will soon feel that it would be idle to seek for any basis of fact in this glittering mirage. But the mirage was created by poets and storytellers of such rare gifts for this kind of literature that it took at once an extraordinary hold on the imagination of the Irish and Scottish Gael.
*The Ossianic Cycle*
The earliest tales of this cycle now extant are found in ma.n.u.scripts of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, and were composed probably a couple of centuries earlier. But the cycle lasted in a condition of vital growth for a thousand years, right down to Michael Comyns Lay of Oisin in the Land of Youth, which was composed about 1750, and which ended the long history of Gaelic literature.(176) It has been estimated(177) that if all the tales and poems of the Ossianic Cycle which still remain could be printed they would fill some twenty-five volumes the size of this. Moreover, a very great proportion of this literature, even if there were no ma.n.u.scripts at all, could during the last and the preceding centuries have been recovered from the lips of what has been absurdly called an illiterate peasantry in the Highlands and in the Gaelic-speaking parts or Ireland. It cannot but interest us to study the character of the literature which was capable of exercising such a spell.
*Contrasted with the Ultonian Cycle*
Let us begin by saying that the reader will find himself in an altogether different atmosphere from that in which the heroes of the Ultonian Cycle live and move. Everything speaks of a later epoch, when life was gentler and softer, when men lived more in settlements and towns, when the Danaan Folk were more distinctly fairies and less deities, when in literature the elements of wonder and romance predominated, and the iron string of heroism and self-sacrifice was more rarely sounded. There is in the Ossianic literature a conscious delight in wild nature, in scenery, in the song of birds, the music of the chase through the woods, in mysterious and romantic adventure, which speaks unmistakably of a time when the free, open-air life under the greenwood tree is looked back on and idealised, but no longer habitually lived, by those who celebrate it. There is also a significant change of _locale_. The Conorian tales were the product of a literary movement having its sources among the bleak hills or on the stern rock-bound coasts of Ulster. In the Ossianic Cycle we find ourselves in the Midlands or South of Ireland. Much of the action takes place amid the soft witchery of the Killarney landscape, and the difference between the two regions is reflected in the ethical temper of the tales.
In the Ultonian Cycle it will have been noticed that however extravagantly the supernatural element may be employed, the final significance of almost every tale, the end to which all the supernatural machinery is worked, is something real and human, something that has to do with the virtues or vices, the pa.s.sions or the duties or men and women. In the Ossianic Cycle, broadly speaking, this is not so. The n.o.bler vein of literature seems to have been exhausted, and we have now beauty for the sake of beauty, romance for the sake of romance, horror or mystery for the sake of the excitement they arouse. The Ossianic tales are, at their best,
Lovely apparitions, sent To be a moments ornament.
They lack that something, found in the n.o.blest art as in the n.o.blest personalities, which has power to warn, to comfort, and command.
*The Coming of Finn*
King Cormac mac Art was certainly a historical character, which is more, perhaps, than we can say of Conor mac Nessa. Whether there is any real personage behind the glorious figure of his great captain, Finn, it is more difficult to say. But for our purpose it is not necessary to go into this question. He was a creation of the Celtic mind in one land and in one stage of its development, and our part here is to show what kind of character the Irish mind liked to idealise and make stories about.
Finn, like most of the Irish heroes, had a partly Danaan ancestry. His mother, Murna of the White Neck, was grand-daughter of Nuada of the Silver Hand, who had wedded that Ethlinn, daughter of Balor the Fomorian, who bore the Sun-G.o.d Lugh to Kian. c.u.mhal son of Trenmor was Finns father. He was chief of the Clan Bascna, who were contending with the Clan Morna for the leadership of the Fianna, and was overthrown and slain by these at the battle of Knock.(178)
Among the Clan Morna was a man named Lia, the lord of Luachar in Connacht, who was Treasurer of the Fianna, and who kept the Treasure Bag, a bag made of cranes skin and having in it magic weapons and jewels of great price that had come down from the days of the Danaans. And he became Treasurer to the Clan Morna and still kept the bag at Rath Luachar.
Murna, after the defeat and death of c.u.mhal, took refuge in the forests of Slieve Bloom,(179) and there she bore a man-child whom she named Demna.
For fear that the Clan Morna would find him out and slay him, she gave him to be nurtured in the wildwood by two aged women, and she herself became wife to the King of Kerry. But Demna, when he grew up to be a lad, was called Finn, or the Fair One, on account of the whiteness of his skin and his golden hair, and by this name he was always known thereafter. His first deed was to slay Lia, who had the Treasure Bag of the Fianna, which he took from him. He then sought out his uncle Crimmal, who, with a few other old men, survivors of the chiefs of Clan Bascna, had escaped the sword at Castleknock, and were living in much penury and affliction in the recesses of the forests of Connacht. These he furnished with a retinue and guard from among a body of youths who followed his fortunes, and gave them the Treasure Bag. He himself went to learn the accomplishments of poetry and science from an ancient sage and Druid named Finegas, who dwelt on the river Boyne. Here, in a pool of this river, under boughs of hazel from which dropped the Nuts of Knowledge on the stream, lived Fintan the Salmon of Knowledge, which whoso ate of him would enjoy all the wisdom of the ages. Finegas had sought many a time to catch this salmon, but failed until Finn had come to be his pupil. Then one day he caught it, and gave it to Finn to cook, bidding him eat none of it himself, but to tell him when it was ready. When the lad brought the salmon, Finegas saw that his countenance was changed. Hast thou eaten of the salmon? he asked. Nay, said Finn, but when I turned it on the spit my thumb was burnt, and I put it to my mouth. Take the Salmon of Knowledge and eat it, then said Finegas, for in thee the prophecy is come true. And now go hence, for I can teach thee no more.
After that Finn became as wise as he was strong and bold, and it is said that whenever he wished to divine what would befall, or what was happening at a distance, he had but to put his thumb in his mouth and bite it, and the knowledge he wished for would be his.
*Finn and the Goblin*
At this time Goll son of Morna was the captain of the Fianna of Erin, but Finn, being come to mans estate, wished to take the place of his father c.u.mhal. So he went to Tara, and during the Great a.s.sembly, when no man might raise his hand against any other in the precincts of Tara, he sat down among the kings warriors and the Fianna. At last the king marked him as a stranger among them, and bade him declare his name and lineage. I am Finn son of c.u.mhal, said he, and I am come to take service with thee, O King, as my father did. The king accepted him gladly, and Finn swore loyal service to him. No long time after that came the period of the year when Tara was troubled by a goblin or demon that came at nightfall and blew fire-b.a.l.l.s against the royal city, setting it in flames, and none could do battle with him, for as he came he played on a harp a music so sweet that each man who heard it was lapped in dreams, and forgot all else on earth for the sake of listening to that music. When this was told to Finn he went to the king and said: Shall I, if I slay the goblin, have my fathers place as captain of the Fianna? Yea, surely, said the king, and he bound himself to this by an oath.
Now there were among the men-at-arms an old follower of Finns father, c.u.mhal, who possessed a magic spear with a head of bronze and rivets of Arabian gold. The head was kept laced up in a leathern case; and it had the property that when the naked blade was laid against the forehead of a man it would fill him with a strength and a battle-fury that would make him invincible in every combat. This spear the man Fiacha gave to Finn, and taught him how to use it, and with it he awaited the coming of the goblin on the ramparts of Tara. As night fell and mists began to gather in the wide plain around the Hill he saw a shadowy form coming swiftly towards him, and heard the notes of the magic harp. But laying the spear to his brow he shook off the spell, and the phantom fled before him to the Fairy Mound of Slieve Fuad, and there Finn overtook and slew him, and bore back his head to Tara.
Then Cormac the King set Finn before the Fianna, and bade them all either swear obedience to him as their captain or seek service elsewhere. And first of all Goll mac Morna swore service, and then all the rest followed, and Finn became Captain of the Fianna of Erin, and ruled them till he died.
*Finns Chief Men: Conan mac Lia*
With the coming of Finn the Fianna of Erin came to their glory, and with his life their glory pa.s.sed away. For he ruled them as no other captain ever did, both strongly and wisely, and never bore a grudge against any, but freely forgave a man all offences save disloyalty to his lord. Thus it is told that Conan, son of the lord of Luachar, him who had the Treasure Bag and whom Finn slew at Rath Luachar, was for seven years an outlaw and marauder, harrying the Fians and killing here a man and there a hound, and firing dwellings, and raiding their cattle. At last they ran him to a corner at Carn Lewy, in Munster, and when he saw that he could escape no more he stole upon Finn as he sat down after a chase, and flung his arms round him from behind, holding him fast and motionless. Finn knew who held him thus, and said: What wilt thou, Conan? Conan said: To make a covenant of service and fealty with thee, for I may no longer evade thy wrath. So Finn laughed and said: Be it so, Conan, and if thou prove faithful and valiant I also will keep faith. Conan served him for thirty years, and no man of all the Fianna was keener and hardier in fight.
*Conan mac Morna*
There was also another Conan, namely, mac Morna, who was big and bald, and unwieldy in manly exercises, but whose tongue was bitter and scurrilous; no high or brave thing was done that Conan the Bald did not mock and belittle. It is said that when he was stripped he showed down his back and b.u.t.tocks a black sheeps fleece instead of a mans skin, and this is the way it came about. One day when Conan and certain others of the Fianna were hunting in the forest they came to a stately dun, white-walled, with coloured thatching on the roof, and they entered it to seek hospitality.
But when they were within they found no man, but a great empty hall with pillars of cedar-wood and silken hangings about it, like the hall of a wealthy lord. In the midst there was a table set forth with a sumptuous feast of boars flesh and venison, and a great vat of yew-wood full of red wine, and cups of gold and silver. So they set themselves gaily to eat and drink, for they were hungry from the chase, and talk and laughter were loud around the board. But one of them ere long started to his feet with a cry of fear and wonder, and they all looked round, and saw before their eyes the tapestried walls changing to rough wooden beams, and the ceiling to foul sooty thatch like that of a herdsmans hut. So they knew they were being entrapped by some enchantment of the Fairy Folk, and all sprang to their feet and made for the doorway, that was no longer high and stately, but was shrinking to the size of a fox earthall but Conan the Bald, who was gluttonously devouring the good things on the table, and heeded nothing else. Then they shouted to him, and as the last of them went out he strove to rise and follow, but found himself limed to the chair so that he could not stir. So two of the Fianna, seeing his plight, rushed back and seized his arms and tugged with all their might, and as they dragged him away they left the most part of his raiment and his skin sticking to the chair. Then, not knowing what else to do with him in his sore plight, they clapped upon his back the nearest thing they could find, which was the skin of a black sheep that they took from a peasants flock hard by, and it grew there, and Conan wore it till his death.
Though Conan was a coward and rarely adventured himself in battle with the Fianna, it is told that once a good man fell by his hand. This was on the day of the great battle with the pirate horde on the Hill of Slaughter in Kerry.(180) For Liagan, one of the invaders, stood out before the hosts and challenged the bravest of the Fians to single combat, and the Fians in mockery thrust Conan forth to the fight. When he appeared Liagan laughed, for he had more strength than wit, and he said: Silly is thy visit, thou bald old man. And as Conan still approached Liagan lifted his hand fiercely, and Conan said: Truly thou art in more peril from the man behind than from the man in front. Liagan looked round; and in that instant Conan swept off his head, and then threw his sword and ran for shelter to the ranks of the laughing Fians. But Finn was very wroth because he had won the victory by a trick.
*Dermot ODyna*
And one of the chiefest of the friends of Finn was Dermot of the Love Spot. He was so fair and n.o.ble to look on that no woman could refuse him love, and it was said that he never knew weariness, but his step was as light at the end of the longest day of battle or the chase as it was at the beginning. Between him and Finn there was great love, until the day when Finn, then an old man, was to wed Grania, daughter of Cormac the High King; but Grania bound Dermot by the sacred ordinances of the Fian chivalry to fly with her on her wedding night, which thing, sorely against his will, he did, and thereby got his death. But Grania went back to Finn, and when the Fianna saw her they laughed through all the camp in bitter mockery, for they would not have given one of the dead mans fingers for twenty such as Grania.
*Keelta mac Ronan and Oisin*
Another of the chief men that Finn had was Keelta mac Ronan, who was one of his house-stewards, and a strong warrior as well as a golden-tongued reciter of tales and poems. And there was Oisin, the son of Finn, the greatest poet of the Gael, of whom more shall be told hereafter.
*Oscar*
Oisin had a son, Oscar, who was the fiercest fighter in battle among all the Fians. He slew in his maiden battle three kings, and in his fury he also slew by mischance his own friend and condisciple Linn. His wife was the fair Aideen, who died of grief after Oscars death in the battle of Gowra, and Oisin buried her on Ben Edar (Howth), and raised over her the great dolmen which is there to this day. Oscar appears in this literature as a type of hard strength, with a heart like twisted horn sheathed in steel, a character made as purely for war as a sword or spear.
*Geena mac Luga*