THE DEATH OF CUCHULAIN
Although Cuchulain won for himself in this war an imperishable fame,
yet he was not destined to enjoy it long, for he perished before
arriving at middle age.[1] The account of his death is preserved in the
Book of Leinster, a manuscript of the middle of the twelfth century,
which quotes incidentally from an Irish poet[2] of the seventh century,
thus showing that Cuchulain was at this early age the hero of the
poets. Unfortunately the opening of the story in the Book of Leinster
is lost, but many modern extensions of the saga still exist, from one
of which in my possession I shall supply what is missing.[3]
Cuchulain had three formidable enemies, who were bent upon his life,
these were Lughaidh [Lewy] the son of the Momonian king Curigh,[4]
whom Cuchulain had slain, Erc, the son of Cairbré Niafer king of
all Ireland, who was slain in the battle of Rosnaree,[5] and the
descendants of the wizard Calatin, who with his twenty sons and his
son-in-law fell by Cuchulain in one of the combats at the Ford, during
the raid of the Táin. His wife, however, brought into the world three
posthumous children, daughters.[6] These unhappy creatures Mève
mutilated by cutting off their right legs and left arms, so that
they might be odious and horrible, and all the fitter for the dread
profession she proposed for them--evil wizardry. She reared them
carefully, and so soon as they were of a fitting age she sent them into
the world to gain a knowledge of charms and spells, and druidism, and
witchcraft, and incantations. In pursuit of this knowledge they roamed
throughout the world, and at last returned to the queen as perfect
adepts as might be.
Thereupon she convened a second muster of the men of the four
provinces, and joined by Lewy the son of Curigh, and Erc the son of
Cairbré Niafer, both of whose parents had fallen by Cuchulain, and
having with her the odious but powerful children of Calatin, eager
to avenge the death of their father and their family, she again
marched upon Ulster during the sickness of their warriors, and began
to plunder and to burn and to drive away a mighty prey. King Conor
immediately surmised that it was against Cuchulain the expedition
was prepared, and without a moment's delay he depatched Lavarcam his
female messenger, to desire him instantly to leave his palace and his
patrimony at Dundealgan[7] in the plain of Muirtheimhne, and come to
himself at Emania, there to be under the King's immediate orders.
This command he gave, thinking to rescue Cuchulain from the possible
effects of his own valour and rashness, for there was scarcely a man
of distinction in any of the four provinces of Erin some of whose
relatives had not been slain by him.
Lavarcam found the hero upon the shore, between sea and land, intent
upon the slaying of sea-fowl with his sling, but though birds many flew
over him and past him, not one could he bring down--they all escaped
him. And this was to him the first bad omen. Very reluctantly did he
obey the call of Conor, and sorely loath was he to leave his patrimony.
He accompanied Lavarcam, however, to Emania, and abode there in his own
bright-lighted crystal _grianán_. Then Conor consulted with his druids
as to how best to keep him there, and they sent the bright ladies of
Emania, and his wife Emer, and the poets and the musicians, and the men
of science, to surround and distract and amuse him, with conversation
and music and banquets.
In the meantime, however, Mève's army had advanced upon and burned
Dundealgan, and the children of Calatin had promised that within three
days and three nights they would bring Cuchulain to his doom.
And now ensues what is to my mind one of the most powerful incidents
in all this saga--the malignant ghoulish efforts of the children of
Calatin to draw forth Cuchulain from his place of safety, and on the
other side the anxiety of the druids and ladies, and the frenzied
heart-sick efforts of his wife, and his mistress, to detain him. The
loathsome wizards flew through the air and stationed themselves upon
the plain outside Emania--
"They smote the soil and beat and tore it up around them, so that they
made of fuz-balls, and of stalks of _sanna_, and of the fine foliage
of the oaks, as it were ordered battalions, and hosts, and multitudes
of men, and the confused shoutings of the battalions and of the
war-bands, and the battle array, were heard on all sides, as it were
striking and attacking the fortress."
Geanan the druid, the son of old Cathbadh, was watching Cuchulain this
day. As soon as the sounds of war and shouting reached him Cuchulain
rose and "looked forth, and he saw the battalions smiting each other
unsparingly," as he thought, and he burned at once with fury and shame;
but the druid cast his two arms round him in time to prevent him from
bursting forth to relieve the apparently foe-beleaguered town. Over and
over again must the druid assure him that all he saw was blind-work
and magic, and unreal phantoms, employed by the clan Calatin to lure
him forth to his destruction.[8] It was impossible, however, to keep
Cuchulain from at least looking, and, the next time he looked forth,
"he thought he beheld the battalions drawn up upon the plains, and the
next time he looked after that he thought he saw Gradh son of Lir upon
the plain, and it was a _geis_ (tabu) to him to see that, and then he
thought moreover that he heard the harp of the son of Mangur playing
musically, ever-sweetly, and it was a _geis_ to him to listen to those
pleasing fairy sounds, and he recognised from these things that his
virtue was indeed overcome, and that his _geasa_ (tabus) were broken,
and that the end of his career had arrived, and that his valour and
prowess were destroyed by the children of Calatin."
After that one of the daughters of the wizard Calatin, assuming the
form of a crow, came flying over him and incited him with taunts
to go and rescue his homestead and his patrimony from the hands of
his enemies. And although Cuchulain now understood that these were
enchantments that were working against him, yet was he none the less
anxious to rush forth and oppose them, for he felt moved and troubled
in himself at the shouting of the imaginary hosts, and his memory, and
his senses, and his right mind were afflicted by the sounds of that
ever-thrilling harp.
Then the druid used all his influence, explaining to him that if he
would only remain for three days more in Emania the spells would have
no power, and he would go forth again, "and the whole world would be
full of his victories and his lasting renown," and thereafter the
ladies of Emania and the musicians closed round him, and they sang
sweet melodies, and they distracted his mind, and the day drew to a
close:--the clan Calatin retired baffled, and Cuchulain was himself
once more.
During that night the ladies and the druids took council together and
determined to carry him away to a glen so remote and lonely that it
was called the Deaf Valley, and to hide him there, preparing for him a
splendid banquet, with music, and poets, and delights of every kind.
Next morning came the accursed wizards and inspected the city, and they
marvelled that they saw not Cuchulain, and that he was neither beside
his wife, nor yet amongst the other heroes of the Red Branch. Then
they understood that he had been hidden away by Cathbadh the druid,
"and they raised themselves aloft, lightly and airily, upon a blast of
enchanted wind, which they created to lift them," and went soaring over
the entire province of Ulster to discover his retreat. This they do by
perceiving Cuchulain's grey steed, the Liath Macha, standing outside at
the entrance to the glen. Then the three begin their wizardry anew, and
made, as it were, battalions of warriors to appear round the glen, and
they raised anew the sounds of arms and the shouts of war and conflict,
as they had done at Emania.
The instant the ladies round Cuchulain heard it they also shouted,
and the musicians struck up--but in vain; Cuchulain had caught the
sound. They succeeded, however, in calming his mind, and in inducing
him to pay no heed to the false witcheries of the clan Calatin. These
continued for a long time waiting and filling the air with their unreal
battle tumult, but Cuchulain did not appear. Then they understood
that the druids had been more powerful than they. Mad with impotent
fury one of them enters the glen, and pushes her way right into the
very fortress where Cuchulain was feasting. Once there she changes
herself into the form of the beautiful Niamh [Nee-av], Cuchulain's
love and sweetheart. First she stood at the door in the likeness of
an attendant damsel, and beckoned to the lady to come to her outside.
Niamh, thinking she has something to communicate, follows her through
the door and out into the valley, and the other ladies follow Niamh.
Instantly she raises an enchanted fog between them and the dún, so that
they wander astray, and their minds are troubled. But she, assuming the
form of the lady Niamh herself, slips back into the fortress, comes
to Cuchulain, and cries to him: "Up, O Cuchulain, and meet the men
of Erin, or thy fame shall be lost for ever, and the province shall
be destroyed." At this speech Cuchulain is astounded, for Niamh had
bound him by an oath that he would not go forth or take arms until
she herself should give him leave, and this leave he never thought
to receive of her until the fatal time was over. "I shall go," said
Cuchulain, "and that is a pity, O Niamh," said he, "and after that it
is difficult to trust to woman, for I had thought thou hadst not given
me that leave for the gold of the world, but since it is thou who dost
let me go to face the men of Erin, I shall go." After that he rose and
left the dún. "I have no reason for preserving my life longer," said
Cuchulain, "for the end of my time is come, and all my _geasa_ (tabus)
are lost, and Niamh has let me go to face the men of Erin; and since
she has let me, I shall go."
Afterwards the real Niamh overtakes him at the entrance to the glen,
and assured him with torrents of tears, and wild sobs, that it was not
she who had given him leave, but the vile enchantress who had assumed
her form, and she conjured him with prayers and piteous entreaties to
remain with her. But Cuchulain would not believe her, and urged Laeg to
catch his steeds and yoke them, for he thought that he beheld--
"The great battle-battalions ranged upon the green of Emania, and the
whole plain filled up and crowded with broad bands of hundreds of
men, with champions, and steeds, and arms, and armour, and he thought
he heard the awful shoutings, and [saw] the burnings extending,
widely-let-loose through the buildings of Conor's city, and him-seemed
that there was nor hill nor rising ground about Emania that was not
full of spoils, and it appeared to him that Emer's sunny-house was
overthrown and had fallen out over the ramparts of Emania, and that
the House of the Red Branch was in one blaze, and that all Emania was
one meeting-place of fire, and of black, dark, spacious, brown-red
smoke."[9]
Then Cuchulain's brooch fell from his hand and pierced his foot,
another omen of ill. Nor would his noble grey war-horse allow himself
to be caught. It was only when Cuchulain addressed him with persuasive
words of verse that he consented to let himself be harnessed to the
chariot, and even then "he lets fall upon his fore feet, from his
eyes, two large tears of blood." In vain did the ladies of Emania try
to bar his passage, in vain did fifty queens uncover their bosoms
before him in supplication. "He is the first," says the saga, "of whom
it is recounted that women uncovered before him their bosoms."[10]
Thereafter another evil omen overtook him, for as he pursued the high
road leading to the south,
"and had passed the plain of Mogna, he perceived something, three hags
of the half-blind race,[11] who were on the track before him cooking a
poisoned dog's flesh upon spits of holly. Now it was a _geis_ (tabu)
to Cuchulain to pass a cooking-fire without visiting it and accepting
food. It was another _geis_ to eat of his own name" [_i.e._, a hound,
he is Cu-Chulain or Culan's hound], "so he pauses not, but passes the
three hags. Then one of them cries to him--
"'Come, visit us, Cuchulain.'
"'I shall not visit you,' said Cuchulain.
"'There is something to eat here,' replied the hag; 'we have a dog
to offer thee. If our cooking-place were great,' said she, 'thou
wouldst come, but because it is small thou comest not; a great man who
despises the small, deserves no honour.'
"Cuchulain then moved over to the hag, and she with her left hand
offered him half the dog. Cuchulain ate, and it was with his left hand
he took the piece, and he placed part of it under his left thigh, and
his left hand and his left thigh were cursed, and the curse reached
all his left side, which from his head to his feet lost a great part
of its power."
At last Cuchulain meets the enemy on his ancestral patrimony of Moy
Muirtheimhne, drawn up in battle array, with shield to shield as though
it were one solid plank that was around them. Cuchulain displays his
feats from his chariot, especially "his three thunder-feats--the
thunder of an hundred, the thunder of three hundred, the thunder of
thrice nine men."
"He played equally with spear, shield, and sword, he performed all the
feats of a warrior. As many as there are of grains of sand in the sea,
of stars in the heaven, of dewdrops in May, of snowflakes in winter,
of hailstones in a storm, of leaves in a forest, of ears of corn in
the plains of Bregia, of sods beneath the feet of the steeds of Erin
on a summer's day, so many halves of heads, and halves of shields, and
halves of hands and halves of feet, so many red bones were scattered
by him throughout the plain of Muirtheimhne, it became grey with
the brains of his enemies, so fierce and furious was Cuchulain's
onslaught."
The plan which Erc, son of the late High-king Cairbré Niafer had
adopted was to place two men pretending to fight with one another upon
each flank of the army and a druid standing near who should first make
Cuchulain separate the combatants, and should then demand from him his
spear, since there ran a prophecy to the effect that Cuchulain's spear
should kill a king, but if they could get the spear from him they at
least would be safe from the prophecy; it would not be one of them who
should be slain by it.
Cuchulain separates the fighters as the druid asks him, by killing each
of them with a blow.
"'You have separated them,' said the druid, 'they shall do each other
no more harm.'
"'They would not be so silenced,' said Cuchulain, 'hadst thou not
prayed me to interfere between them.'
"'Give me thy spear, O Cuchulain,' said the druid.
"'I swear by the oath which my nation swears,' said Cuchulain, 'you
have no greater need of the spear than I. All the warriors of Erin are
come together against me, and I must defend myself.'
"'If thou refuse me,' said the druid, 'I shall solemnly utter against
thee a magic curse.'
"'Up to this time,' replied Cuchulain, 'no curse has ever been
levelled against me for any act of refusal on my part.'"
And with that he reversed his spear and threw it at the druid butt
foremost, killing him and nine more. Lewy, the son of Curigh,
immediately picked it up.
"'Whom,' said he to the children of Calatin, 'is this to overthrow?'
"'It is a king whom that spear shall slay,' said they.
"Lewy hurled it at Cuchulain's chariot, and it pierced Laeg, his
charioteer.
"Cuchulain bade his charioteer farewell.
"'To-day,' said Cuchulain, 'I shall be both warrior and charioteer.'"
The same incident happens again. Cuchulain kills the second druid in
the same way, and his spear is picked up by Erc.
"'Children of Calatin,' said Erc, 'what exploit shall this spear
perform?'
"'It shall overthrow a king,' said they.
"'You said this spear would overthrow a king when Lewy hurled it some
time ago,' said Erc.
"'Nor were we deceived,' said they, 'that spear has brought down the
king of the charioteers of Ireland, Laeg, the son of Riangabhra,
Cuchulain's charioteer.'"
Erc hurls the spear and it passes through the side of Cuchulain's noble
steed, the Liath Macha. Cuchulain took a fond farewell of the animal
who galloped with half the yoke around its neck to the lake from whence
he had first taken it, on the mountain of Fuad in far-off Armagh.
The third time a druid demands his spear, and is killed by Cuchulain,
who throws it to him handle foremost. The spear is picked up this time
by Lewy son of Curigh.
"'What feat shall this spear perform, ye children of Calatin?' said
Lewy.
"It shall overthrow a king,' said they.
"'Ye said as much when Erc hurled it this morning,' answered Lewy.
"'Yes,' answered the children of Calatin, 'and our word was true. The
spear which Erc hurled has wounded mortally the king of the steeds of
Ireland, the Liath Macha.'
"'I swear then,' said Lewy, 'by the oath which my nation swears, that
Erc's blow smote not the king which this spear is to slay.'"
Then Lewy hurls the spear, and this time pierces Cuchulain through
the body, and Cuchulain's other steed burst the yoke and rushed off
and never ceased till he, too, had plunged into the lake from which
Cuchulain had taken him in far-off Munster.[12] Cuchulain remained
behind, dying in his chariot. With difficulty and holding in his
entrails with one hand, he advanced to a little lake hard by, and drank
from it, and washed off his blood. Then he propped himself against
a high stone a few yards from the lake, and tied himself to it with
his girdle. "He did not wish to die either sitting or lying, it was
standing," says the saga, "that he wished to meet death."
But his grey steed, the Liath Macha,[13] returned once more to defend
his lord, and made three terrible charges, scattering with tooth and
hoof all who would approach the stone where Cuchulain was dying. At
last a bird was seen to alight upon his shoulder. "Yon pillar used not
to be a settling place for birds," said Erc. They knew then that he was
dead. Lewy, the son of Curigh, seized him by the back hair and severed
his head from his body.
* * * * *
But Cuchulain was too important an epic hero to thus finish with
him. Another very celebrated, but probably later épopée tells of how
his friend Conall Cearnach pursued the retreating army and exacted
vengeance for his death. A brief digest of Conall's revenge is
contained in the Book of Leinster, but modern copies of much longer and
more literary versions exist, and there was no more celebrated poem
amongst the later Gael than that called the Lay of the Heads in which
Conall Cearnach returns to Emer, Cuchulain's wife, to Emania, with a
large bundle of heads strung upon a gad, or withy-wand, thrust through
their mouths from cheek to cheek, and there explains in a lay to Emer
who they were.
In the ancient version in the Book of Leinster it is only Lewy who
is slain by Conall. In my more modern recension he slays Erc and the
children of Calatin as well, and recovers the head of Cuchulain, which
he found being used as a football by two men near Tara. "If this city,"
said he of Tara, "were Erc's own lordship and patrimony I would burn it
down, but since it is the very navel and meeting-point of the men of
Ireland, I shall affront it no more."
Emer's joy and her grief on recovering her husband's head are
touchingly described.
"She washed clean the head and she joined it on to its body, and she
pressed it to her heart and her bosom, and fell to lamenting and
heavily sorrowing over it, and began to suck in its blood and to drink
it,[14] and she placed around the head a lovely satin cloth. 'Ochone!'
said she, 'good was the beauty of this head, although it is low this
day, and it is many of the kings and princes of the world would be
keening it if they thought it was like this; and the men who demand
gold and treasure, and ask petitions of the men of Erin and Alba
[_i.e._, the poets and druids] thou wast their one love and their one
choice of the men of the earth, and woe for me that I remain behind
this day; for there was not of the women of Erin, nor in the whole
great world, a woman mated with a husband, or unmated, not a single
one, who, until this day, was not envious of me; for many were the
goods and jewels and rents and tributes from the countries of the
world that thou broughtest to me, with the valour and strength of thy
hand,' and she took his hand in hers and fell to making lamentations
over it, and to telling of its fame and its exploits, and 't was
what she said, 'Alas!' said she, 'it is many of the kings and of the
chieftains and of the strong men of the world that fell by this hand,
and it is many of the goods and treasures of this world that were
scattered by it upon poets and men of knowledge,' and she spake the
lay,
"'Ochone O head, Ochone O head,'" etc.
Afterwards Conall Cearnach arrives with his pile of heads and planted
them carefully "all round about the wide grass-green lawn" upon pointed
sticks, and relates to Emer who they were and how they fell.[15]
"Thereafter," says the saga, "Emer desired Conall to make a wide very
deep tomb for Cuchulain," and she laid herself down in it along with
her gentle mate, and she set her mouth to his mouth, and she spake--
"'Love of my soul,' she said, 'O friend, O gentle sweetheart, and O
thou one choice of the men of the earth, many is the woman envied
me thee until now, and I shall not live after thee;' and her soul
departed out of her, and she herself and Cuchulain were laid in the
one grave by Conall, and he raised their stone over their tomb, and he
wrote their names in Ogam, and their funeral games were performed by
him and by the Ultonians.
"THUS FAR THE RED ROUT OF CONALL CEARNACH."
[1] He died at the age of twenty-seven years, according to the Annals
of Tighearnach, and also according to a note in the Book of Ballymote,
which Charles O'Conor of Belinagare identifies as an extract from
the Synchronisms of Flann of Monasterboice, who died in 1056. But an
account in a MS. H. 3. 17, in Trinity College, Dublin, which was copied
about the year 1460, asserts that Cuchulain died in his fifty-ninth
year. (_See_ O'Curry's MS. Mat., p. 507.)
[2] Cennfaelad, son of Ailill.
[3] This MS., which contains many of the Cuchulain sagas, was copied
about a hundred years ago by a scribe named Seághain O'Mathghamhna on
an island in the Shannon.
[4] The older form of this name is Curoi. A detailed account of this
saga is given by Keating. _See_ p. 282 of O'Mahony's edition. The saga
is also told under the title of _Aided Conrui_, in Egerton 88, British
Museum.
[5] The saga of the battle of Rosnaree has recently been published with
a translation by Rev. Ed. Hogan, S.J.
[6] Some say six children--three daughters and three sons. The MS. H.
i. 8, in Trinity College, which dates from about 1460, according to
O'Curry, relates thus: "And the sons of Cailitin were eight years after
the Táin before they went to pursue their learning, for they were but
infants in cradles at the time their father was killed. Nine years for
them after that pursuing their learning. Seven years after finishing
their learning was spent in making their weapons, because there could
be found but one day in the year to make their spears. And three years
after that did the sons of Cailitin spend in assembling and marching
the men of Erin to Belach Mic Uilc in Magh Muirtheimhne (Cuchulain's
patrimony)."
[7] Now Dundalk in the County Louth.
[8] "Ni bhfuil acht saobh-lucht siabhartha ann súd, sian-sgarrtha
duaibh-siocha draoidheachta do dhealbhadar clann cuirpthe Chailitin
go claon-mhillteach fad' chómhair-se, dod' chealgadh, agus dod'
chomh-bhuaidh-readh, a churaidh chalma chath-bhuadhaigh."
[9] Up to this I have followed the version of my own modern manuscript.
From this out, however, the version in the twelfth-century Book of
Leinster is used. Monsieur d'Arbois de Jubainville, in his introduction
to the fragment of the saga in the Book of Leinster, seems to think
that Emania was really besieged, and women and children slaughtered
round its walls by the men of Erin, whereas it would appear that the
lost part of the saga refers to some such version as I have given
from my manuscript, and that it was only the wizardry and sorcery
of the children of Calatin, who raised these phantasms. This is the
more evident because Cuchulain, when he issues forth, meets no enemy
until he has arrived at the plain of Muirtheimhne. Jubainville's words
are, "Cependant les cris de douleur des femmes et des enfants qu'on
massacrait jusqu'au pied des remparts d'Emain macha [Emania] parvinrent
à son oreille: on en verra un peu plus bas les conséquences, dont la
dernière fut la mort du heros."
[10] It was _geis_, or tabu, to him to behold the exposed breast of a
woman. _See_ above, p. 301.
[11] These are in my version the three daughters of Calatin.
[12] The belief in water-horses is quite common even still amongst the
old people in all parts of Connacht, and, I think, over the most of
Ireland.
[13] With the Liath Macha so renowned throughout the whole Cuchulain
saga compare Areiōn, the celebrated steed of Adrastus, who saved his
master at the rout of the Argeian chiefs round Thebes. The Liath Macha
returns to the _water_ from whence it came, and Areiōn, too, was
believed to have been the offspring of Poseidōn. He is alluded to by
Nestor in the Iliad xxiii. 346:
κ ἔσθ᾿ ὅς κέ σ᾿ἕλῃσι μετάλμενος ὀυδὲ παρέλθῃ,
οὐδ᾿ εἴ κεν μετόπιφσθεν Ἀρείονα δῖον ἔλαυνοι,
Ἀδρήστου ταχύν ἵππον ὃς ἐκ θεόφιν γένος ἦεν.
He appears, however, to have been black not grey. Hesiod alludes to him
as μέγαν ἵππον Ἀρείονα κυανοχαίτην.
[14] "Do rinne an ceann do niamhghlanadh agus do chuir ar a chollain
féin é, agus do dhruid re na h-ucht agus n-a h-urbhruinne é, agus
do ghaibh ag tuirse agus ag trom-mhéala os a chionn, agus do ghaibh
ag sughadh a choda fola agus ag a h-ól," etc. This was to express
affection. Déirdre does the same when her husband is slain, she laps
his blood.
[15] This is the celebrated Laoi na gceann, or Lay of the Heads, which
begins by Emer asking--
"A Chonaill cia h-iad na cinn?
Is dearbh linn gar dheargais h-airm,
Na cinn o thárla ar an ngad
Slointear leat na fir d'ar baineadh."
It was popular in the Highlands also. There is a copy in the book of
the Dean of Lismore, published by Cameron in his "Reliquiæ Celticæ,"
vol. i. p. 66. Also in the Edinburgh MSS. 36 and 38. See _ibid._ pp.
113 and 115. The piece consists of 116 lines. The oldest form of Emer's
lament over Cuchulain, "Nuallguba Emire," is in the Book of Leinster,
p. 123, _a._ 20. It is a kind of unrhymed chant. The lament I have
given is from my own modern manuscript.