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myths and legends of the celtic race
Chapter 4: The Early Milesian Kings
The Danaans after the Milesian Conquest
THE kings and heroes of the Milesian race now fill the foreground
of the stage in Irish legendary history. But, as we have indicated,
the Danaan divinities are by no means forgotten. The fairyland in
which they dwell is ordinarily inaccessible to mortals, yet it is
ever near at hand; the invisible barriers may be, and often are,
crossed by mortal men, and the Danaans themselves frequently come
forth from them; mortals may win brides of Faery who mysteriously
leave them after a while, and women bear glorious children of
supernatural fatherhood. Yet whatever the Danaans may have been in
the original pre-Christian conceptions of the Celtic Irish, it would
be a mistake to suppose that they figure in the legends, as these
have now come down to us, in the light of gods as we understand this
term. They are for the most part radiantly beautiful, they are
immortal (with limitations), and they wield mysterious powers of
sorcery and enchantment. But no sort of moral governance of the
world is ever for a moment ascribed to them, nor (in the bardic
literature) is any act of worship paid to them. They do not die
naturally, but they can be slain both by each other and by mortals,
and on the whole the mortal race is the stronger. Their strength
when they come into conflict (as frequently happens) with men lies
in stratagem and illusion; when the issue can be fairly knit between
the rival powers it is the human that conquers. The early kings and
heroes of the Milesian race are, indeed, often represented as so
mightily endowed with supernatural power that it is impossible to
draw a clear distinction between them and the People of Dana in this
respect.
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The Danaans are much nobler and more exalted beings, as they
figure in the bardic literature, than the fairies into which they
ultimately degenerated in the popular imagination; they may be said
to hold a position intermediate between these and the Greek deities
as portrayed in Homer. But the true worship of the Celts, in Ireland
as elsewhere, seems to have been paid, not to these poetical
personifications of their ideals of power and beauty, but rather to
elemental forces represented by actual natural phenomena-rocks,
rivers, the sun, the wind, the sea. The most binding of oaths was to
swear by the Wind and Sun, or to invoke some other power of nature;
no name of any Danaan divinity occurs in an Irish oath formula.
When, however, in the later stages of the bardic literature, and
still more in the popular conceptions, the Danaan deities had begun
to sink into fairies, we find rising into prominence a character
probably older than that ascribed to them in the literature, and, in
a way, more august. In the literature it is evident that they were
originally representatives of science and poetry - the intellectual
powers of man. But in the popular mind they represented, probably at
all times and certainly in later Christian times, not intellectual
powers, but those associated with the fecundity of earth. They were,
as a passage in the Book of Armagh names them, dei terreni,
earth-gods, and were, and are still, invoked by the peasantry to
yield increase and fertility. The literary conception of them is
plainly Druidic in origin, the other popular; and the popular and
doubtless older conception has proved the more enduring.
But these features of Irish mythology will appear better in the
actual tales than in any critical discussion of them; and to the
tales let us now return.
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The Milesian Settlement of Ireland
The Milesians had three leaders when they set out for the
conquest of Ireland - Eber Donn (Brown Eber), Eber Finn (Fair Eber))
and Eremon. Of these the first-named, as we have seen, was not
allowed to enter the land-he perished as a punishment for his
brutality. When the victory over the Danaans was secure the two
remaining brothers turned to the Druid Amergin for a judgment as to
their respective titles to the sovranty. Eremon was the elder of the
two, but Eber refused to submit to him. Thus Irish history begins,
alas ! with dissension and jealousy. Amergin decided that the land
should belong to Eremon for his life, and pass to Eber after his
death. But Eber refused to submit to the award, and demanded an
immediate partition of the new-won territory. This was agreed to,
and Eber took the southern half of Ireland, "from the Boyne to the
Wave of Cleena," [Cleena (Cliodhna) was a Danaan princess
about whom a legend is told connected with the Bay of Glandore in
Ca. Cork. See p.127] while Eremon occupied the north. But even so
the brethren could not be at peace, and after a short while war
broke out between them. Eber was slain, and Eremon became sole King
of Ireland, which he ruled from Tara, the traditional seat of that
central authority which was always a dream of the Irish mind, but
never a reality of Irish history.
Tiernmas and Crom Cruach
Of the kings who succeeded Eremon, and the battles they fought
and the forests they cleared away and the rivers and lakes that
broke out in their reign, there is little of note to record till we
come to the reign of Tiemmas, fifth in succession from Eremon. He is
said
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to have introduced into Ireland the worship of Crom Cruach, on
Moyslaught (The Plain of Adoration'), and to have perished himself
with three-fourths of his people while worshipping this idol on
November Eve, the period when the reign of winter was inaugurated.
Crom Cruach was no doubt a solar deity, but no figure at all
resembling him can be identified among the Danaan divinities.
Tiernmas also, it is said, found the first gold-mine in Ireland, and
introduced variegated colours into the clothing of the people. A
slave might wear but one colour, a peasant two, a soldier three, a
wealthy landowner four, a provincial chief five, and an Ollav, or
royal person, six. Ollav was a term applied to a certain Druidic
rank; it meant much the same as "doctor," in the sense of a learned
man-a master of science. It is a characteristic trait that the Ollav
is endowed with a distinction equal to that of a king.
Ollav Fola
The most distinguished Ollav of Ireland was also a king, the
celebrated Ollav Fala, who is supposed to have been eighteenth from
Eremon and to have reigned about 1000 B.C. He was the Lycurgus or
Solon of Ireland, giving to the country a code of legislature, and
also subdividing it, under the High King at Tara, among the
provincial chiefs, to each of whom his proper rights and obligations
were allotted. To Ollav Fola is also attributed the foundation of an
institution which, whatever its origin, became of great importance
in Ireland-the great triennial Fair or Festival at Tara, where the
sub-kings and chiefs, bards, historians, and musicians from all
parts of Ireland assembled to make up the genealogical records of
the clan chieftainships, to enact laws, hear disputed cases, settle
succession, and so
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forth; all these political and legislative labours being
lightened by song and feast. It was a stringent law that at this
season al enmities must be laid aside; no man might lift his hand
against another, or even institute a legal process, while the
Assembly at Tara was in progress. Of all political and national
institutions of this kind Ollav Fola was regarded as the traditional
founder, just as Goban the Smith was the founder of artistry and
handicraft, and Amergin of poetry. But whether the Milesian king had
any more objective reality than the other more obviously mythical
figures it is hard to say. He is supposed to have been buried in the
great tumulus at Loughcrew, in Westmeath.
Kimbay and the Founding of Emain Macha
With Kimbay (Cimbaoth), about 300 B.C., we come to a
landmark in history. "All the historical records of the Irish, prior
to Kimbay, were dubious "- so, with remarkable critical acumen for
his age, wrote the eleventh-century historian Tierna of Clonmacnois
["Omnia monumenta Scotorum ante Cimbaoth incerta erant." Tierna, who
died in 1088, was Abbot of Clonmacnois, a great monastic and
educational cantre in medieval Ireland] There is much that is
dubious in those that follow, but we are certainly on firmer
historical ground. With the reign of Kimbay one great fact emerges
into light: we have the foundation of the kingdom of Ulster at its
centre, Emain Macha, a name redolent to the Irish student of
legendary splendour and heroism. Emain Macha is now represented by
the grassy ramparts of a great hill-fortress close to Ard Macha
(Armagh). According to one of the derivations offered in Keating's
"History of Ireland, "Emain is derived from eo, a
bodkin, and muin, the neck, the word being thus equivalent
to
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"brooch," and Emain Macha means the Brooch of Macha. An Irish
brooch was a large circular wheel of gold or bronze, crossed by a
long pin, and the great circular rampart surrounding a Celtic
fortress might well be imaginatively likened to the brooch of a
giantess guarding her cloak, or territory. [Compare the fine poem of
a modern Celtic writer (Sir Samuel Ferguson), "The Widow's Cloak " -
i.e., the British Empire in the days of Queen Victoria] The
legend of Macha tells that she was the daughter of Red Hugh, an
Ulster prince who had two brothers, Dithorba and Kimbay. They
agreed to enjoy, each in turn, the sovranty of Ireland. Red Hugh
came first, but on his death Macha refused to give up the realm and
fought Dithorba for it, whom she conquered and slew. She then, in
equally masterful manner, compelled Kimbay to wed her, and ruled all
Ireland as queen. I give the rest of the tale in the words of
Standish O'Grady:
"The five sons of Dithorba, having been expelled out of Ulster,
fled across the Shannon, and in the west of the kingdom plotted
against Macha. Then the Queen went down alone into Connacht and
found the brothers in the forest, where, wearied with the chase,
they were cooking a wild boar which they had slain, and were
carousing before a fire which they had kindled. She appeared in her
grimmest aspect, as the war-goddess, red all over, terrible and
hideous as war itself but with bright and flashing eyes. One by one
the brothers were inflamed by her sinister beauty, and one by one
she overpowered and bound them. Then she lifted her burthen of
champions upon her back and returned with them into the north. With
the spear of her brooch she marked Out on the plain the circuit of
the city of Emain Macha, whose ramparts and trenches
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were constructed by the captive princes, labouring like
slaves under her command."
"The underlying idea of all this class of legend," remarks Mr.
O'Grady, is that if men cannot master war, war will master them; and
that those who aspired to the Ard-Rieship [High-Kingship] of all
Erin must have the war-gods on their side." ["Critical History of
Ireland," p. 180]
Macha is an instance of the intermingling of the attributes of
the Danaan with the human race of which I have already spoken.
Laery and Covac
The next king who comes into legendary prominence is Ugainy the
Great, who is said to have ruled not only all Ireland, but a great
part of Western Europe, and to have wedded a Gaulish princess named
Kesair. He had two sons, Laery and Covac. The former inherited the
kingdom, but Covac, consumed and sick with envy, sought to slay him,
and asked the advice of a Druid as to how this could be managed,
since Laery, justly suspicious, never would visit him without an
armed escort. The Druid bade him feign death, and have word sent to
his brother that he was on his bier ready for burial. This Covac
did, and when Laery arrived and bent over the supposed corpse Covac
stabbed him to the heart, and slew also one of his sons, Ailill
[pronounced "El´yill] who attended him. Then Covac ascended the
throne, and straightway his illness left him.
Legends of Maon, Son of Ailill
He did a brutal deed, however, upon a son of Ailill's named Maon,
about whom a number of legends
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cluster. Maon, as a child, was brought into Covac's presence, and
was there compelled, says Keating, to swallow a portion of his
father's and grandfather's hearts, and also a mouse with her young.
From the disgust he felt, the child lost his speech, and seeing him
dumb, and therefore innocuous, Covac let him go. The boy was then
taken into Munster, to the kingdom of Feramorc, of which Scoriath
was king, and remained with him some time, but afterwards went to
Gaul, his great-grandmother Kesair's country, where his guards told
the king that he was heir to the throne of Ireland, and he was
treated with great honour and grew up into a noble youth. But he
left behind him in the heart of Moriath, daughter of the King of
Feramorc, a passion that could not be stilled, and she resolved to
bring him back to Ireland. She accordingly equipped her father's
harper, Craftiny, with many rich gifts, and wrote for him a
love-lay, in which her passion for Maon was set forth, and to which
Craftiny composed an enchanting melody. Arrived in France, Craftiny
made his way to the king's court, and found occasion to pour out his
lay to Maon. So deeply stirred was he by the beauty and passion of
the song that his speech returned to him and he broke out into
praises of it, and was thenceforth dumb no more. The King of Gaul
then equipped him with an armed force and sent him to Ireland to
regain his kingdom. Learning that Covac was at a place near at hand
named Dinrigh, Maon and his body of Gauls made a sudden attack upon
him and slew him there and then, with all his nobles and guards.
After the slaughter a Druid of Covac's company asked one of the
Gauls who their Ieader was. "The Mariner" (Loingseach),
replied the Gaul, meaning the captain of the fleet -
i.e., Maon. "Can he speak?" inquired the Druid, who had begun
to suspect the truth. "He
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does speak" (Labraidh), said the man; and henceforth the
name "Labra the Mariner" clung to Maon son of Ailill nor was he
known by any other. He then sought out Moriath, wedded her, and
reigned over Ireland ten years.
From this invasion of the Gauls the name of the province of
Leinster is traditionally derived. They were armed with spears
having broad blue-green iron heads called laighne (pronounced
"lyna"), and as they were allotted lands in Leinster and
settled there) the province was called in Irish Laighin
("Ly-in") after them-the Province of the Spearmen. [The
ending ster in three of the names of the Irish provinces is
of Norse origin, arid is a relic of the Viking conquests in Ireland.
Connacht, where the Vikings did not penetrate, alone preserve: its
Irish name unmodified. Ulster (in Irish Ulaidh) is supposed
to derive its name from Ollav Fola, Munster (Mumhan) from
King Eocho Mumho, tenth in succesion from Eremon, and Connacht was
"the land of the children of Conn "- he who was called Conn
of the Hundred Battles, and who died A.D.157]
Of Labra the Mariner, after his accession, a curious tale is
told. He was accustomed, it is said, to have his hair cropped but
once a year, and the man to do this was chosen by lot, and was
immediately afterwards put to death. The reason of this was that,
like King Midas in the similar Greek myth, he had long ears like
those of a horse, and he would not have this deformity known. Once
it fell, however, that the person chosen to crop his hair was the
only son of a poor widow, by whose tears and entreaties the king was
prevailed upon to let him live, on condition that he swore by the
Wind and Sun to tell no man what he might see. The oath was taken,
and the young man returned to his mother. But by-and-by the secret
so preyed on his mind that he fell into a sore sickness, and was
near to death, when a wise Druid was called in to heal him "It is
the secret that
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is killing him," said the Druid, "and he will never be well till
he reveals it. Let him therefore go along the high-road till he come
to a place where four roads meet. Let him there turn to the right,
and the first tree he shall meet on the road, let him tell his
secret to that, and he shall be rid of it, and recover. So the youth
did; and the first tree was a willow. He laid his lips close to the
bark, whispered his secret to it, and went home, light-hearted as of
old. But it chanced that shortly after this the harper Craftiny
broke his harp and needed a new one, and as luck would have it the
first suitable tree he came to was the willow that had the king's
secret. He cut it down, made his harp from it, and performed that
night as usual in the king's hall; when, to the amazement of all, as
soon as the harper touched the strings the assembled guests heard
them chime the words, "Two horse's ears hath Labra the Mariner." The
king then, seeing that the secret was out, plucked off his hood and
showed himself plainly; nor was any man put to death again on
account of this mystery. We have seen that the compelling power of
Craftiny's music had formerly cured Labra's dumbness. The sense of
something magical in music, as though supernatural powers spoke
through it, is of constant recurrence in Irish legend.
Legend -Cycle of Conary Mor
We now come to a cycle of legends centering on, or rather closing
with, the wonderful figure of the High King Conary Mor - a cycle so
charged with splendour, mystery, and romance that to do it justice
would require far more space than can be given to it within the
limits of this work [The reader may, however, be referred to the
tale of Etain and Midir as given in full by A. H. Leahy ("Heroic
Romances of Ireland"), and by the writer in his "High Deeds of
Finn," and to the tale of Conary rendered by Sir S. Ferguson
("Poem's" 1886), in what Dr. Whitley Stokes has described as the
noblest poem ever written by an Irishman.]
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Etain in Fairyland
The preliminary events of the cycle are transacted in the "Land
of Youth," the mystic country of the People of Dana after their
dispossession by the Children of Miled. Midir the Proud son of the
Dagda, a Danaan prince dwelling on Slieve Callary, had a wife named
Fuamnach. After a while he took to himself another bride, Etain,
whose beauty and grace were beyond compare, so that" as fair as
Etain" became a proverbial comparison for any beauty that exceeded
all other standards. Fuamnach therefore became jealous of her rival,
and having by magic art changed her into a butterfly, she raised a
tempest that drove her forth from the palace, and kept her or seven
years buffeted hither and thither throughout the length and breadth
of Erin. At last, however, a chance gust of wind blew her through a
window of the fairy palace of Angus on the Boyne. The immortals
cannot be hidden from each other, and Angus knew what she was.
Unable to release her altogether from the spell of Fuamnach, he made
a sunny bower for her, and planted round it all manner of choice and
honey-laden flowers, on which she lived as long as she was with him)
while in the secrecy of the night he restored her to her own form
and enjoyed her love. In time, however, her refuge was discovered by
Fuamnach; again the magic tempest descended upon her and drove her
forth; and this time a singular fate was hers. Blown into the palace
of an Ulster chieftain named Etar, she fell into the drinking-cup of
Etar's wife just as the latter was about to drink. She was swallowed
in the draught, and in due time, having
[156]
passed into the womb of Etar's wife, she was born as an
apparently mortal child, and grew up to maidenhood knowing nothing
of her real nature and ancestry.
Eochy arid Etain
About this time it happened that the High King of Ireland, Eochy
[pronounced "Yeo´hee"] being wifeless and urged by the nobles of his
land to take a queen - " for without thou do so," they said, "we
will not bring our wives to the Assembly at Tara "-sent forth to
inquire for a fair and noble maiden to share his throne. The
messengers report that Etain, daughter of Etar, is the fairest
maiden in Ireland, and the king journeys forth to visit her. A piece
of description here follows which is one of the most highly wrought
and splendid in Celtic or perhaps in any literature. Eochy finds
Etain with her maidens by a spring of water, whither she had gone
forth to wash her hair:
"A clear comb of silver was held in her hand, the comb was
adorned with gold ; and near her, as for washing, was a bason of
silver whereon four birds had been chased, and there were little
bright gems of carbuncles on the rims of the bason. A bright purple
mantle waved round her ; and beneath it was another mantle
ornamented with silver fringes: the outer mantle was clasped over
her bosom with a golden brooch. A tunic she wore with a long hood
that might cover her head attached to it ; it was stiff and glossy
with green silk beneath red embroidery of gold, and was clasped over
her breasts with marvellously wrought clasps of silver and gold; so
that men saw the bright gold and the green silk flashing against the
sun. On her head were two tresses of golden hair,
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and each tress had been plaited into four strands; at the end of
each strand was a little ball of gold. Arid there was that maiden
undoing her hair that she might wash it, her two arms out through
the armholes of her smock. Each of her two arms was as white as the
snow of a single night, and each of her cheeks was as rosy as the
foxglove. Even and small were the teeth in her head, and they shone
like pearls. Her eyes were as blue as a hyacinth, her lips delicate
and crimson; very high, soft and white were her shoulders. Tender,
polished and white were her wrists; her fingers long and of great
whiteness; her nails were beautiful and pink. White as snow, or the
foam of a wave, was her neck; long was it, slender, and as soft as
silk. Smooth and white were her thighs; her knees were round and
firm and white; her ankles were as straight as the rule of a
carpenter. Her feet were slim and as white as the ocean's foam;
evenly set were her eyes; her eyebrows were of a bluish black, such
as you see upon the shell of a beetle. Never a maid fairer than she,
or more worthy of love, was till then seen by the eyes of men; and
it seemed to them that she must be one of those that have come from
the fairy mounds." [I quote Mr. A. H. Leahys translation from a
fifteenth-century Egerton manuscript ("Heroic Romances of Ireand,"
vol. I. P. 12). The story is, however, found in much more ancient
authorities.)
The king wooed her and made her his wife and brought her back to
Tara.
The Love-Story of Ailill
It happened that the king had a brother named Ailill, who, on
seeing Etain, was so smitten with her beauty that he fell sick of
the intensity of his passion and wasted almost to death. While he
was in this condition Eochy had to make a royal progress
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through Ireland. He left his brother-the cause of whose malady
none suspected - in Etain's care, bidding her do what she could for
him, and, if he died, to bury him with due ceremonies and erect an
Ogham Stone above his grave. [Ogham letters, which were composed of
straight lines arranged in a certain order about the axis formed by
the edge of a squared pillar-stone, were used for sepulchral
inscription and writing generally before the introduction of the
Roman alphabet in Ireland.] Etain goes to visit the brother; she
inquires the cause of his illness ; he speaks to her in enigmas, but
at last, moved beyond control by her tenderness, he breaks
out in an avowal of his passion. His description of the yearning of
hopeless love is a lyric of extraordinary intensity. "It is closer
than the skin," he cries, "it is like a battle with a spectre, it
overwhelms like a flood, it is a weapon under the sea, it is a
passion for an echo." By "a weapon under the sea" the poet means
that love is like one of the secret treasures of the fairy-folk in
the kingdom of Mananan - -as wonderful and as unattainable.
Etain is now in some perplexity; but she decides, with a kind of
naive good-nature, that although she is not in the least in love
with Ailill, she cannot see a man die of longing for her, and she
promises to be his. Possibly we are to understand here that she was
prompted by the fairy nature, ignorant of good and evil, and alive
only to pleasure and to suffering. It must be said, however, that in
the Irish myths in general this, as we may call it, "fairy" view of
morality is the one generally prevalent both among Danaans and
mortals - both alike strike one as morally irresponsible.
Etain now arranges a tryst with Ailill in a house outside of Tara
- for she will not do what she calls her "glorious crime" in the
king's palace. But Ailill on the eve of the appointed day falls into
a profound
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slumber and misses his appointment. A being in his shape does,
however, come to Etain, but merely to speak coldly and sorrowfully
of his malady, and departs again. When the two meet once more the
situation is altogether changed. In Ailill's enchanted sleep his
unholy passion for the queen has passed entirely away. Etain, on the
other hand, becomes aware that behind the visible events there are
mysteries which she does not understand.
Midir the Proud
The explanation soon follows. The being who came to her in the
shape of Ailill was her Danaan husband, Midir the Proud. He now
comes to woo her in his true shape, beautiful and nobly apparelled,
and entreats her to fly with him to the Land of Youth, where she can
be safe henceforward, since her persecutor, Fuamnach, is dead. He it
was who shed upon Ailill's eyes the magic slumber. His description
of the fairyland to which he invites her is given in verses of great
beauty:
The Land of Youth
"O fair-haired woman, will you come with me to the marvellous
land, full of music, where the hair is primrose-yellow and the body
white as snow ?
There none speaks of 'mine' or 'thine ' - white are the teeth and
black the brows; eyes flash with many-coloured lights, and the hue
of the foxglove is on every cheek.
Pleasant to the eye are the plains of Erin, but they are a desert
to the Great Plain.
Heady is the ale of Eria, but the ale of the
Great Plain is headier.
It is one of the wonders of thit land
that youth does not change into age.
Smooth and sweet are the
streams that flow through ii; mead and wine abound of every kind;
there men are
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all fair, without blerniah; there women conceive without sin.
We see around us on every side, yet no man seeth us; the cloud of
the sin of Adam hides us from their observation.
O lady, if thou wilt oome to my strong people, the purest of gold
shall be on thy head - thy meat shall be swine's flesh unsalted, new
milk and mead shalt thou drink with me there; O fair-haired woman. '
"
[unsalted : The reference is to the magic swine of
Mananan, which were killed and eaten afresh every day, and
whose meat preserved the eternal youth of the People of Dana.]
I have given this remarkable lyric at length because, though
Christian and ascetic ideas are obviously discernible in it, it
represents on the whole the pagan and mythical conception of the
Land of Youth, the country of the Dead.
Etain, however, is by no means ready to go away with a stranger
and to desert the High King for a man "without name or lineage."
Midir tells her who he is, and all her own history of which, in her
present incarnation, she knows nothing; and he adds that it was one
thousand and twelve years from Etain's birth in the Land of Youth
till she was born a mortal child to the wife of Etar. Ultimately
Etain agrees to return with Midir to her ancient home) but only on
condition that the king will agree to their severance, and with this
Midir has to be content for the time.
A Game of Chess
Shortly afterwards he appears to King Eochy, as already related
[p. 124] on the Hill of Tara. He tells the king that he has come to
play a game of chess with him, and produces a chessboard of silver
with pieces of gold studded with jewels. To be a skilful
chess-player was a necessary accomplishment of kings and nobles
in
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Ireland, and Eochy enters into the game with zest. Midir allows
him to win game after game, and in payment for his losses he
performs by magic all kinds of tasks for Eochy, reclaiming land,
clearing forests, and building causeways across bogs - here we have
a touch of the popular conception of the Danaans as earth deities
associated with agriculture and fertility. At last, having excited
Eochy's cupidity and made him believe himself the better player, he
proposes a final game, the stakes to be at the pleasure of the
victor after the game is over. Eochy is now defeated.
"My stake is forfeit to thee," said Eochy.
"Had I wished it, it had been forfeit long ago", said Midir.
"What is it that thou desirest me to grant?" said Eochy.
"That I may hold Etain in my arms and obtain a kiss from her,"
said Midir.
The king was silent for a while; then he said: "One month from
to-day thou shalt come, and the thing thou desirest shall be granted
thee."
Midir and Etain
Eochy's mind foreboded evil, and when the appointed day came he
caused the palace of Tara to be surrounded by a great host of armed
men to keep Midir out. All was in vain, however; as the king sat at
the feast, while Etain handed round the wine, Midir, more glorious
than ever, suddenly stood in their midst. Holding his spears in his
left hand, he threw his right around Etain, and the couple rose
lightly in the air and disappeared through a roof-window in the
palace. Angry and bewildered, the king and his warriors rushed out
of doors, but all they could see was two white swans that circled in
the air above the palace, and then
[162]
departed in long, steady flight towards the
fairy mountain of Slievenamon. And thus Queen Etain rejoined her
kindred.
War with Fairyland
Eochy, however, would not accept defeat, and now ensues what I
think is the earliest recorded war with Fairyland since the first
dispossession of the Danaans. After searching Ireland for his wife
in vain, he summoned to his aid the Druid Dalan. Dalan tried for a
year by every means in his power to find out where she was. At last
he made what seems to have been an operation of wizardry of special
strength - " he made three wands of yew, and upon the wands he wrote
an ogham; and by the keys of wisdom that he had, and by the ogham,
it was revealed to him that Etain was in the fairy mound of
Bri-Leith) and that Midir had borne her thither."
Eochy then assembled his forces to storm and destroy the fairy
mound in which was the palace ot Midir. It is said that he was nine
years digging up one mound after another, while Midir and his folk
repaired the devastation as fast as it was made. At last Midir,
driven to the last stronghold, attempted a stratagem - he offered to
give up Etain, and sent her with fifty handmaids to the king, but
made them all so much alike that Eochy could not distinguish the
true Etain from her images. She herself, it is said, gave him a sign
by which to know her. The motive of the tale, including the choice
of the mortal rather than the god, reminds one of the beautiful
Hindu legend of Damayanti and Nala. Eochy regained his queen, who
lived with him till his death, ten years afterwards, and bore him
one daughter, who was named Etain, like herself.
[163]
The Tale of Conary Mor
From this Etain ultimately sprang the great king Conary Mor, who
shines in Irish legend as the supreme type of royal splendour,
power, and beneficence, and whose overthrow and death were compassed
by the Danaans in vengeance for the devastation of their sacred
dwellings by Eochy. The tale in which the death of Conary is related
is one of the most antique and barbaric in conception of all Irish
legends, but it has a magnificence of imagination which no other can
rival. To this great story the tale of Etain and Midir may be
regarded as what the Irish called a priomscel, "introductory tale,"
showing the more remote origin of the events related. The genealogy
of Conary Mor will help the reader to understand the connexion of
events.
The Law of the Geis
The tale of Conary introduces us for the first time to the law or
institution of the geis, which plays hence-forward a very
important part in Irish legend, the violation or observance of a
geis being frequently the turning-point in a tragic
narrative. We must therefore delay a moment to explain to the reader
exactly what this peculiar institution was.
Dineen's "Irish Dictionary" explains the word geis
[164]
(pronounced "gaysh "-plural, "gaysha") as meaning "a bond, a
spell, a prohibition, a taboo, a magical injunction, the violation
of which led to misfortune and death." [The meaning quoted will be
found in the Dictionary under the alternative form geas]
Every Irish chieftain or personage of note had certain geise
peculiar to himself which he must not transgress. These geise
had sometimes reference to a code of chivalry - thus Dermot of
the Love-spot, when appealed to by Grania to take her away from
Finn, is under geise not to refuse protection to a woman. Or
they may be merely superstitious or fantastic - thus Conary, as one
of his geise, is forbidden to follow three red horsemen on a
road, nor must he kill birds (this is because, as we shall see, his
totem was a bird). It is a geis to the Ulster champion,
Fergus mac Roy, that he must not refuse an invitation to a feast ;
on this turns the Tragedy of the Sons of Usnach. It is not at all
clear who imposed these geise or how any one found out what
his personal geise were-all that was doubtless an affair of
the Druids. But they were regarded as sacred obligations, and the
worst misfortunes were to be apprehended from breaking them.
Originally, no doubt, they were regarded as a means of keeping
oneself in proper relations with the other world-the world of Faery
- and were akin to the well-known Polynesian practice of the "tabu."
I prefer, however, to retain the Irish word as the only fitting one
for the Irish practice.
The Cowherd's Fosterling
We now return to follow the fortunes of Etain's great-grandson,
Conary. Her daughter, Etain Oig, as we have seen from the
genealogical table, married Cormac, King of Ulster. She bore her
husband no children save one daughter only. Embittered by her
[165]
barrenness and his want of an heir, the king put away Etain and
ordered her infant to be abandoned and thrown into a pit. "Then his
two thralls take her to a pit, and she smiles a laughing smile at
them as they were putting her into it." [I quote from Whitley
Stokes' translation, Revue Celtique, January 1901, and
succeeding numbers] After that they cannot leave her to die, and
they carry her to a cowherd of Eterskel, King of Tara, by whom she
is fostered and taught "till she became a good embroidress and there
was not in Ireland a king's daughter dearer than she." Hence the
name she bore, Messbuachalla (" Messboo'hala"), which means "the
cowherd's foster-child"
For fear of her being discovered, the cowherds keep the maiden in
a house of wickerwork having only a roof-pening. But one of King
Eterskel's folk has the curiosity to climb up and look in, and sees
there the fairest maiden in Ireland. He bears word to the king, who
orders an opening to be made in the wall and the maiden fetched
forth, for the king was childless, and it had been prophesied to him
by his Druid that a woman of unknown race would bear him a son. Then
said the king: "This is the woman that has been prophesied to
me."
Parentage and Birth of Conary
Before her release, however, she is visited by a denizen from the
Land of Youth. A great bird comes down through her roof-window. On
the floor of the hut his bird-plumage falls from him and reveals a
glorious youth. Like Danaë, like Leda, like Ethlinn daughter of
Balor, she gives her love to the god. Ere they part he tells her
that she will be taken to the king, but that she will bear to her
Danaan lover a son
[166]
whose name shall be Conary, and that it shall be forbidden to him
to go a-hunting after birds.
So Conary was born, and grew up into a wise and noble youth, and
he was fostered with a lord named Desa, whose three great-grandsons
grew up with him from childhood. Their names were Ferlee and Fergar
and Ferrogan; and Conary, it is said, loved them well and taught
them his wisdom.
Conary the High King
Then King Eterskel died, and a successor had to be appointed. In
Ireland the eldest son did not succeed to the throne or chieftaincy
as a matter of right, but the ablest and best of the family at the
time was supposed to be selected by the clan. In this tale we have a
curious account of this selection by means of divination. A
"bull-feast" was held - i.e., a bull was slain, and the
diviner would "eat his fill and drink its broth"; then he went to
bed, where a truth-compelling spell was chanted over him. Whoever he
saw in his dream would be king. So at Aegira, in Achaea, as Whitley
Stokes points out, the priestess of Earth drank the fresh blood of a
bull before descending into the cave to prophesy. The dreamer cried
in his sleep that he saw a naked man going towards Tara with a stone
in his sling.
The bull-feast was held at Tara, but Conary was then with his
three foster-brothers playing a game on the Plains of Liffey. They
separated, Conary going towards Dublin, where he saw before him a
flock of great birds, wonderful in colour and beauty. He drove after
them in his chariot, but the birds would go a spear-cast in front
and light, and fly on again, never letting him come up with them
till they reached the sea-shore. Then he lighted down from his
chariot and took out his sling to cast at them, whereupon they
[167]
changed into armed men and turned on him with spears and swords.
One of them, however, protected him, and said: "I am Nemglan, king
of thy father's birds; and thou hast been forbidden to cast at
birds, for here there is no one but is thy kin." "Till to-day," said
Conary, "I knew not this."
"Go to Tara to-night," said Nemglan; "the bull-feast is there,
and through it thou shalt be made king. A man stark naked, who shall
go at the end of the night along one of the roads to Tara, having a
stone and a sling-'tis he that shall be king."
So Conary stripped off his raiment and went naked through the
night to Tara, where all the roads were being watched by chiefs
having changes of royal raiment with them to clothe the man who
should come according to the prophecy. When Conary meets them they
clothe him and bring him in, and he is proclaimed King of Erin.
Coanary's Geise
A long list of his geise is here given, which are said to
have been declared to him by Nemglan. "The bird-reign shall be
noble," said he, "and these shall be thy geise:
"Thou shalt not go right.handwise round Tara, nor left-handwise
round Bregia,
Thou shalt not hunt the evil-beasts of
Cerna,
Thou shalt not go out every ninth night beyond
Tan.
Thou shalt not sleep in a house from which firelight shows
after sunset, or in which light can be seen from without.
No
three Reds shall go before thee to the house of Red.
No rapine
shall be wrought in thy reign.
[168]
After sunset, no one woman alone or man alone shall enter the
house in which thou art.
Thou shalt not interfere in a quarrel
between two of thy thralls."
[Bregia was the great plain lying eastwards of Tara between Boyne
and Liffey]
Conary then entered upon his reign, which was marked by the fair
seasons and bounteous harvests always associated in the Irish mind
with the reign of a good king. Foreign ships came to the ports.
Oak-mast for the swine was up to the knees every autumn; the rivers
swarmed with fish. "No one slew another in Erin during his reign,
and to every one in Erin his fellow's voice seemed as sweet as the
strings of lutes. From mid-spring to mid-autumn no wind disturbed a
cow's tail."
Beginning of the Vengeance
Disturbance, however, came from another source. Conary had put
down all raiding and rapine, and his three foster-brothers, who were
born reavers, took it ill. They pursued their evil ways in pride and
wilfulness, and were at last captured red-handed. Conary would not
condemn them to death, as the people begged him to do, but spared
them for the sake of his kinship in fosterage. They were, however,
banished from Erin and bidden to go raiding overseas, if raid they
must. On the seas they met another exiled chief, Ingcel the
One-Eyed, son of the King of Britain, and joining forces with him
they attacked the fortress in which Ingcel's father, mother, and
brothers were guests at the time, and all were destroyed in a single
night. It was then the turn of Ingcel to ask their help in raiding
the land of Erin, and gathering a host of other outlawed men,
including the seven Manés, sons of Ailell and Maev of Connacht,
besides Fence, Fergar, and Ferrogan, they made a descent upon
Ireland, taking land on the Dublin coast near Howth.
[169]
Meantime Conary had been lured by the machinations of the Danaans
into breaking one after another of his geise. He settles a
quarrel between two of his serfs in Munster, and travelling back to
Tara they see the country around it lit with the glare of fires and
wrapped in clouds of smoke. A host from the North, they think, must
be raiding the country, and to escape it Conary's company have to
turn right-handwise round Tara and then left-handwise round the
Plain of Bregia. But the smoke and flames were an illusion made by
the Fairy Folk, who are now drawing the toils closer round the
doomed king. On his way past Bregia he chases "the evil beasts of
Cerna "- whatever they were - "but he saw it not till the chase was
ended."
Da Derga's Hostel and the Three Reds
Conary had now to find a re sting-place for the night, and he
recollects that he is not far from the Hostel of the Leinster lord,
Da Derga, which gives its name to this bardic tale. ["The
Destruction of Da Derga's Hostel"] Conary had been generous to him
when Da Derga came visiting to Tara, and he determined to seek his
hospitality for the night. Da Derga dwelt in a vast hall with seven
doors near to the present town of Dublin, probably at Donnybrook, on
the high-road to the south. As the cavalcade are Journeying thither
an ominous incident occurs - Conary marks in front of them on the
road three horsemen clad all in red and riding on red horses. He
remembers his geis about the "three Reds," and sends a
messenger forward to bid them fall behind. But however the messenger
lashes his horse he fails to get nearer than the length of a
spear-cast to the three Red Riders. He shouts to them to turn back
and follow the king, but one of them, looking over his shoulder,
bids him ironically look out for "great
[170]
news from a Hostel." Again and again the messenger is sent to
them with promises of great reward if they will fail behind instead
of preceding Conary. At last one of them chants a mystic and
terrible strain. "Lo, my son, great the news. Weary are the steeds
we ride - the steeds from the fairy mounds. Though we are living, we
are dead. Great are the signs : destruction of life sating of ravens
; feeding of crows ; strife of slaughter; wetting of sword-edge;
shields with broken bosses after sundown. Lo, my son !" Then they
ride forward, and, alighting from their red steeds, fasten them at
the portal of Da Derga's Hostel and sit down inside.
"Derga," it may be explained, means "red." Conary had therefore
been preceded by three red horsemen to the House of Red. "All my
geise," he remarks forebodingly, "have seized me
to-night."
Gathering of the Hosts
From this point the story of Conary Mor takes on a character of
supernatural vastness and mystery, the imagination of the bardic
narrator dilating, as it were, with the approach of the crisis.
Night has fallen, and the pirate host of Ingcel is encamped on the
shores of Dublin Bay. They hear the noise of the royal cavalcade,
and along-sighted messenger is sent out to discover what it is. He
brings back word of the glittering and multitudinous host which has
followed Conary to the Hostel. A crashing noise is heard - Ingcel
asks of Ferrogan what it may be - it is the giant warrior mac Cecht
striking flint on steel to kindle fire for the king's feast. "God
send that Conary be not there to-night," cry the sons of Desa; "woe
that he should be under the hurt of his foes." But lngcel reminds
them of their compact - he had given them the plundering of his own
father and brethren ; they cannot refuse to stand by him in the
[171]
attack he meditates on Conary in the Hostel. A glare of the fire
lit by mac Cecht is now perceived by the pirate host, shining
through the wheels of the chariots which are drawn up around the
open doors of the Hostel. Another of the geise of Conary has
been broken.
lngcel and his host now proceed to build a great cairn of stones,
each man contributing one stone, so that there may be a memorial of
the fight, and also a record of the number slain when each survivor
removes his stone again.
The Morrigan
The scene now shifts to the Hostel, where the king's party has
arrived and is preparing for the night. A solitary woman comes to
the door and seeks admission.
"As long as a weaver's beam were each of her two shins, and they
were as dark as the back of a stag-beetle. A greyish, woolly mantle
she wore. Her hair reached to her knee. Her mouth was twisted to one
side of her head." It was the Morrigan, the Danaan goddess of Death
and Destruction. She leant against the doorpost of the house and
looked evilly on the king and his company. "Well, O woman," said
Conary, " if thou art a witch, what seest thou for us?" "Truly I see
for the;" she answered, "that neither fell nor flesh of thine shall
escape from the place into which thou hast come, save what birds
will bear away in their claws." She asks admission. Conary declares
that his geise forbids him to receive a solitary man or woman
after sunset. "If in sooth," she says, "it has befallen the king not
to have room in his house for the meal and bed of a solitary woman,
they will be gotten apart from him from some one possessing
generosity." "Let her in, then," says Conary, "though it is a
geis of mine."
[172]
Conary and his Retinue
A lengthy and brilliant passage now follows describing how Ingcel
goes to spy out the state of affairs in the Hostel. Peeping through
the chariot-wheels, he takes note of all he sees, and describes to
the sons of Desa the appearance and equipment of each prince and
mighty man in Conary's retinue, while Ferrogan and his brother
declare who he is and what destruction he will work in the coming
fight. There is Cormac, son of Conor, King of Ulster, the fair and
good; there are three hug; black and black-robed warriors of the
Picts ; there is Conary's steward, with bristling hair, who settles
every dispute - a needle would be heard falling when he raises his
voice to speak, and he bears a staff of office the size of a
mill-shaft; there is the warrior mac Cecht, who lies supine with his
knees drawn up they resemble two bare hills, his eyes are like
lakes, his nose a mountain-peak, his sword shines like a river in
the sun. Conary's three sons are there, golden-haired, silk-robed,
beloved of all the household, with" manners of ripe maidens, and
hearts of brothers, and valour of bears.' When Ferrogan hears of
them he weeps and cannot proceed till hours of the night have
passed. Three Fomorian hostages of horrible aspect are there also;
and Conall of the Victories with his blood-red shield; and Duftach
of Ulster with his magic spear, which, when there is a premonition
of battle, must be kept in a brew of soporific herbs, or it will
flame on its haft and fly forth raging for massacre ; and three
giants from the Isle of Man with horses' manes reaching to their
heels. A strange and unearthly touch is introduced by a description
of three naked and bleeding forms hanging by ropes from the
roof-they are the daughters of the Bav, another
[173]
name for the Morrigan,or war-goddes; "three of awful boding,"
says the tale enigmatically, "those are the three that are
slaughtered at every time." We are probably to regard them as
visionary beings, portending war an death, visible only to Ingcel.
The hall with its separate chambers is full of warriors, cup-
bearers, musicians playing, and jugglers doing wonderful feats; and
Da Derga with his attendants dispensing food and drink. Conary
himself is described as a youth; "the ardour and energy of a king
has he and the counsel of a sage; the mantle I saw round him is even
as the mist of May-day - lovelier in each hue of it than the other."
His golden-hilted sword lies beside him - a forearm's length of it
has escaped from the scabbard, shining like a beam of light. "He is
the mildest and gentlest and most perfect king that has come into
the world, even Conary son of Eterskel … great is the tenderness of
the sleepy, simple man till he has chanced on a deed of valour. But
if his fury and his courage are awakened when the champions of Erin
and Alba are at him in the house, the Destruction will not be
wrought so long as he is therein . . . sad were the quenching of
that reign."
Champions at the House
lngcel and the sons of Desa then march to the attack and surround
the Hostel:
"Silence a while ! " says Conary, what is this ?"
"Champions at the house," says Conall of the Victories.
"There are warriors for them here," answers Conary.
"They will be needed to-night," Conall rejoins.
One of Desa's sons rushes first into the Hostel. His head is
struck off and cast out of it again. Then the great struggle begins.
The Hostel is set on fir; but
[174]
the fire is quenched with wine or any liquids that art in it.
Conary and his people sally forth - hundreds are slain, and the
reavers, for the moment, are routed. But Conary, who has done
prodigies of fighting, is athirst and can do no more till he gets
water. The reavers by advice of their wizards have cut off the river
Dodder, which flowed through the Hostel, and all the liquids in the
house had been spilt on the fires.
Death of Conary
The king, who is perishing of thirst, asks mac Cecht to procure
him a drink, and mac Cecht turns to Conall and asks him whether he
will get the drink for the king or stay to protect him while mac
Cecht does it. "Leave the defence of the king to us," says Conall,
"and go thou to seek the drink, for of thee it is demanded." Mac
Cecht then, taking Conary's golden cup, rushes forth, bursting
through the surrounding host, and goes to seek for water. Then
Conall, and Cormac of Ulster, and the other champions, issue forth
in turn, slaying multitudes of the enemy; some return wounded and
weary to the little band in the Hostel, while others cut their way
through the ring of foes. Conall, Sencha, and Duftach stand by
Conary till the end; but mac Cecht is long in returning, Conary
perishes of thirst, and the three heroes then fight their way out
and escape, "wounded, broken, and maimed."
Meantime mac Cecht has rushed over Ireland in frantic search for
the water. But the Fairy Folk, who are here manifestly elemental
powers controlling the forces of nature, have sealed all the sources
against them. He tries the Well of Kesair in Wicklow in vain ; he
goes to the great rivers, Shannon and Slayney, Bann and Barrow -
they all hide away at his approach; the lakes
[175]
deny him also; at last he finds a lake, Loch Gara in Roscommon,
which failed to hide itself in time, and thereat he fills his cup.
In the morning he returned to the Hostel with the precious and
hard-won draught, but found the defenders all dead or fled, and two
of the reavers in the act of striking off the head of Conary. Mac
Cecht struck off the head of one of them, and hurled a huge pillar
stone after the other, who was escaping with Conary's head. The
reaver fell dead on the spot, and mac Cecht, taking up his master's
head, poured the water into its mouth. Thereupon the head spoke, and
praised and thanked him for the deed.
Mac Cecht's Wound
A woman then came by and saw mac Cecht lying exhausted and
wounded on the field.
"Come hither, O woman," says mac Cecht.
"I dare not go there," says the woman, "for horror and fear of
thee."
But he persuades her to come, and says: "I know not whether it is
a fly or gnat or an ant that nips me m the wound."
The woman looked and saw a hairy wolf buried as far as the two
shoulders in the wound. She seized it by the tail and dragged it
forth, and it took "the full of its jaws out of him."
"Truly," says the woman, "this is an ant of the Ancient
Land."
And mac Cecht took it by the throat and smote it on the forehead,
so that it died.
"Is thy Lord Alive?"
The tale ends in a truly heroic strain. Conall of the Victories,
as we have seen, had cut his way out after the king's death, and
made his way to Teltin, where he
[176]
round his father, Amorgin, in the garth before hii dun. Conall's
shield-arm had been wounded by thrice fifty spears, and he reached
Teltin now with half a shield, and his sword, and the fragments of
his two spears.
"Swift are the wolves that have hunted thee, my son," said his
father.
"'Tis this that has wounded us, old hero, an evil conflict with
warriors," Conall replied.
"Is thy lord alive?" asked Amorgin.
"He is not aiive," says Conall.
"I swear to God what the great tribes of Ulster swear: he is a
coward who goes out of a fight alive having left his lord with his
foes in death."
"My wounds are not white, old hero," says Conall. He showed him
his shield-arm, whereon were thrice fifty spear-wounds. The
sword-arm, which the shield had not guarded, was mangled and maimed
and wounded and pierced, save that the sinews kept it to the body
without separation.
"That arm fought to-night, my son, says Amorgin. "True is that,
old hero," says Conall of the Victories. "Many are they to whom it
gave drinks of death to-night in front of the Hostel."
So ends the story of Etain, and of the overthrow of Fairyland and
the fairy vengeance wrought on the great-grandson of Eochy the High
King.
[177]
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THE CELTS