to work turning his skin continually round his body, down at one side
and up at the other like a mill-wheel; but the bones and flesh did not
move.
After spending some time at this sort of exercise, he started and ran
round the island as at first, as if to refresh himself. He then went
back to the same spot, and this time, while the skin that covered the
lower part of his body remained without motion, he whirled the skin of
the upper part round and round like the movement of a flat-lying
millstone. And it was in this manner that he passed most of his time on
the island.
Maildune and his people, after they had seen these strange doings,
thought it better not to venture nearer. So they put out to sea in great
haste. The monster, observing them about to fly, ran down to the beach
to seize the curragh; but finding that they had got out of his reach, he
began to fling round stones at them with great force and an excellent
aim. One of them struck Maildune's shield and went quite through it,
lodging in the keel of the curragh; after which the voyagers got beyond
his range and sailed away.
In a wall-circled isle a big monster they found,
With a hide like an elephant, leathery and bare;
He threw up his heels with a wonderful bound,
And ran round the isle with the speed of a hare.
But a feat more astounding has yet to be told:
He turned round and round in his leathery skin;
His bones and his flesh and his sinews he rolled--
He was resting outside while he twisted within!
Then changing his practice with marvellous skill,
His carcase stood rigid and round went his hide;
It whirled round his bones like the wheel of a mill--
He was resting within while he twisted outside!
Next, standing quite near on a green little hill,
After galloping round in the very same track,
While the skin of his breast remained perfectly still,
Like a millstone he twisted the skin of his back!
But Maildune and his men put to sea in their boat,
For they saw his two eyes looking over the wall;
And they knew by the way that he opened his throat,
He intended to swallow them, curragh and all!
THE SILVER PILLAR OF THE SEA.
The next wonderful thing the voyagers came across was an immense silver
pillar standing in the sea. It had eight sides, each of which was the
width of an oar-stroke of the curragh, so that its whole circumference
was eight oar-strokes. It rose out of the sea without any land or earth
about it, nothing but the boundless ocean; and they could not see its
base deep down in the water, neither were they able to see the top on
account of its vast height.
A silver net hung from the top down to the very water, extending far out
at one side of the pillar; and the meshes were so large that the curragh
in full sail went through one of them. When they were passing through
it, Diuran, one of Maildune's companions, struck the mesh with the edge
of his spear, and with the blow cut a large piece off it.
"Do not destroy the net," said Maildune; "for what we see is the work of
great men."
"What I have done," answered Diuran, "is for the honour of my God, and
in order that the story of our adventures may be more readily believed;
and I shall lay this silver as an offering on the altar of Armagh, if I
ever reach Erin."
That piece of silver weighed two ounces and a half, as it was reckoned
afterwards by the people of the church of Armagh.
After this the voyagers heard someone speaking on the top of the pillar,
in a loud, clear, glad voice; but they knew neither what he said, nor in
what language he spoke.
XXXVI.
MAILDUNE MEETS HIS ENEMY, IS RECONCILED TO HIM, AND ARRIVES HOME.
The next land the travellers sighted was a small island. On a near
approach they recognised it as the very same island they had seen in the
beginning of their voyage, in which they had heard the man in the great
house boast that he had slain Maildune's father, and from which the
storm had driven them out into the great ocean.
They turned the prow of their vessel to the shore, landed, and went
towards the house. It happened that at this very time the people of the
house were seated at their evening meal; and Maildune and his
companions, as they stood outside, heard a part of their conversation.
Said one to another, "It would not be well for us if we were now to see
Maildune."
"As to Maildune," answered another, "it is very well known that he was
drowned long ago in the great ocean."
"Do not be sure," observed a third; "perchance he is the very man that
may waken you up some morning from your sleep."
"Supposing he came now," asked another, "what should we do?"
The head of the house now spoke in reply to the last question; and
Maildune at once knew the voice, for it was the voice of the man who
had made a boast of slaying the young chief's father.
And what he said was:--"I can easily answer that. Maildune has been for
a long time suffering great afflictions and hardships; and if he were to
come now, though we were enemies once, I should certainly give him a
welcome and a kind reception."
When Maildune heard this he knocked at the door; and the door-keeper
asked who was there; to which Maildune made answer--
"It is I, Maildune, returned safely from all my wanderings."
The chief of the house then ordered the door to be opened; and he went
to meet Maildune, and brought him and his companions into the house.
They were joyfully welcomed by the whole household; new garments were
given to them; and they feasted and rested, till they forgot their
weariness and their hardships.
They related all the wonders God had revealed to them in the course of
their voyage, according to the word of the sage who says, "It will be a
source of pleasure to remember these things at a future time."
After they had remained here for some days, Maildune and his companions
returned to their own country. And Diuran took the piece of silver he
had cut down from the great net at the Silver Pillar, and laid it,
according to his promise, on the high altar of Armagh.
From "Old Celtic Romances," by P. W. JOYCE, LL.D.
XXXVII.
TENNYSON'S "VOYAGE OF MAILDUNE."
("FOUNDED ON AN IRISH LEGEND: A.D. 700.")
Of the tale called the "Voyage of Maildune," the oldest copy is in the
Book of the Dun Cow, which was copied from older books eight hundred
years ago: but here the story is imperfect at both the beginning and
end, portions of the book having been torn away at some former time.
There is, however, a perfect copy in the Yellow Book of Lecan.[164-1] It
was translated and published for the first time in "Old Celtic Romances"
in 1879. When this book appeared, the great English poet, Alfred
Tennyson (afterwards Lord Tennyson), read the story, and made it the
subject of a beautiful poem, also called "The Voyage of Maildune."
Portions of the beginning and end of this poem are here given:--
I.
I was the chief of the race--he had stricken my father dead--
But I gather'd my fellows together, I swore I would strike off his
head.
Each of them looked like a king, and was noble in birth as in worth,
And each of them boasted he sprang from the oldest race upon earth.
Each was as brave in the fight as the bravest hero of song,
And each of them liefer had died than have done one another a wrong.
_He_ lived on an isle in the ocean--we sail'd on a Friday morn--
He that had slain my father the day before I was born.
[164-1] For the Book of the Dun Cow and the Yellow Book of Lecan,
see p. 118.
II.
And we came to the isle in the ocean, and there on the shore was he.
But a sudden blast blew us out and away thro' a boundless sea.
* * * * *
XI.
And we came to the Isle of a saint who had sail'd with St.
Brendan[165-1] of yore,
He had lived ever since on the Isle and his winters were fifteen
score,
And his voice was low as from other worlds, and his eyes were sweet,
And his white hair sank to his heels and his white beard fell to his
feet,
And he spake to me, "O Maeldune, let be this purpose of thine!
Remember the words of the Lord when he told us 'Vengeance is mine!'
His fathers have slain thy fathers in war or in single strife,
Thy fathers have slain his fathers, each taken a life for a life,
Thy father had slain his father, how long shall the murder last?
Go back to the Isle of Finn[166-1] and suffer the Past to be Past."
[165-1] St. Brendan of Clonfert in Kerry, commonly called Brendan
the Navigator: born in Kerry in 484. He sailed from near
Brandon mountain in Kerry (which is named from him) on his
celebrated voyage of seven years on the Atlantic, in which
it is related he saw many wonderful things--quite as
wonderful as those of Maildune.
[166-1] The Isle of Finn: i.e. of Finn Mac Cumaill: Ireland (see p.
92).
XII.
And we came to the Isle we were blown from, and there on the shore
was he,
The man that had slain my father. I saw him and let him be.
O weary was I of the travel, the trouble, the strife and the sin,
When I landed again, with a tithe of my men, on the Isle of Finn.
XXXVIII.
ST. DONATUS, BISHOP OF FIESOLE.[167-1]
PART I.
At page 47 of this book it has been related how missionaries and learned
men went in great numbers from Ireland to the Continent in the early
ages of Christianity to preach the Gospel and to teach in colleges. A
full account of the lives and labours of these earnest and holy men
would fill several volumes: but the following short sketch of one of
them will give the reader a good idea of all.
[167-1] Fiesole in Tuscany, Italy: pronounced in four syllables:
Fee-ess'-o-le.
Donatus was born in Ireland of noble parents towards the end of the
eighth century. There is good reason to believe that he was educated in
the monastic school of Inishcaltra, a little island in Lough Derg, near
the Galway shore, now better known as Holy Island[167-2]: so that he was
probably a native of that part of the country. Here he studied with
great industry and success. He became a priest, and in course of time a
bishop: and he was greatly distinguished as a professor.
[167-2] In the "Child's History of Ireland" there is a picture of
the round tower and church ruins on this little island.
Having spent a number of years teaching, he resolved to make a
pilgrimage to Rome and visit the holy places on the way. He had a
favourite pupil named Andrew, belonging to a noble Irish family, a
handsome, high-spirited youth, but of a deeply religious turn: and these
two, master and scholar, were much attached. And when Donatus made known
his intention to go as a pilgrim to foreign lands, Andrew, who could not
bear to be separated from him, begged to be permitted to go with him: to
which Donatus consented. When they had made the few simple preparations
necessary, they went down to the shore, accompanied by friends and
relatives; and bidding farewell to all--home, friends, and country--amid
tears and regrets, they set sail and landed on the coast of France.
And now, here were these two men, with stout hearts, determined will,
and full trust in God, exhibiting an excellent example of what
numberless Irish exiles of those days gave up, and of what trials and
dangers they exposed themselves to, for the sake of religion. One was a
successful teacher and a bishop; the other a young chief; and both might
have lived in their own country a life of peace and plenty. But they
relinquished all that for a higher and holier purpose; and they brought
with them neither luxury nor comfort. They had, on landing, just as much
money and food as started them on their journey; and with a small
satchel strapped on shoulder, containing a book or two and some other
necessary articles, and with stout staff in hand, they travelled the
whole way on foot. Whenever a monastery lay near their road, there they
called, sure of a kind reception, and rested for a day or two. When no
monastery was within reach, they simply begged for food and night
shelter as they fared along, making themselves understood by the
peasantry as best they could, for they knew little or nothing of their
language. Much hardship they endured from hunger and thirst, bad
weather, rough paths that often led them astray, and constant fatigue.
They were sometimes in danger too from rude and wicked peasants, some of
whom thought no more of killing a stranger than of killing a sparrow.
But before setting out, the two pilgrims knew well the hardships and
dangers in store for them on the way: so that they were quite prepared
for all this: and on they trudged, contented and cheerful, never
swerving an instant from their purpose. They travelled in a sort of
zigzag way, continually turning aside to visit churches, shrines,
hermitages, and all places consecrated by memory of old-time saints, or
of past events of importance in the history of Christianity. And
whenever they heard, as they went slowly along, of a man eminent for
holiness and learning, they made it a point to visit him, so as to have
the benefit of his conversation and advice; using the Latin language,
which all learned men spoke in those times.
XXXIX.
ST. DONATUS, BISHOP OF FIESOLE:
PART II.
In this manner the pilgrims made their way right through France, and on
through north Italy, till they arrived at Rome. This was the main object
of their pilgrimage, and here they sojourned for a considerable time.
Having obtained the Pope's blessing, they set out once more, directing
their steps now towards Tuscany, till at length they reached the
beautiful mountain of Fiesole, near Florence, where stood many churches
and other memorials of Christian saints and martyrs. They entered the
hospice of the monastery, intending to rest there for a week or two, and
then to resume their journey. At this time Irish pilgrims and
missionaries were respected everywhere on the Continent; and as soon as
the arrival of those two became known, they were received with honour by
both clergy and people, who became greatly attached to them for their
gentle quiet ways, and their holiness of life.
It happened about the time of their arrival here, that the pastor of
Fiesole, who was a bishop, died; and the clergy and people resolved to
have Donatus for their pastor. But when they went to him and told him
what they wanted, he became frightened; and trembling greatly, he said
to them in his gentle humble way:--
"We are only poor pilgrims from Scotia, and I do not wish to be your
bishop; for I am not at all fit for it, hardly even knowing your
language or your customs."
But the more he entreated the more vehemently did they insist: so that
at last he consented to take the bishop's chair. This was in or about
the year 824.
We need not follow the life of St. Donatus further here. It is enough to
say that, notwithstanding all his fears and his deep humility, he became
a great and successful pastor and missionary. For about thirty-seven
years he laboured among the people of Fiesole, by whom he was greatly
loved and revered. Down to the day of his death, which happened about
861, when he was a very old man, he was attended by his affectionate
friend Andrew. He is to this day honoured in and around Fiesole, as an
illustrious saint of those times. His tomb is still shown and regarded
with much veneration: and in the old town there are several other
memorials of him.
Like St. Columkille, Donatus always cherished a tender regretful love
for Ireland; and like him also he wrote a short poem in praise of it
which is still preserved. It is in Latin, and the following is a
translation, made by a Dublin poet many years ago:--
Far westward lies an isle of ancient fame,
By nature bless'd; and Scotia is her name,
Enroll'd in books[172-1]: exhaustless is her store,
Of veiny silver, and of golden ore.[172-2]
Her fruitful soil, for ever teems with wealth,
With gems[172-3] her waters, and her air with health;
Her verdant fields with milk and honey flow;[172-4]
Her woolly fleeces[172-5] vie with virgin snow;
Her waving furrows float with bearded corn;
And arms and arts her envied sons adorn![172-6]
No savage bear, with lawless fury roves,
Nor fiercer lion, through her peaceful groves;
No poison there infects, no scaly snake
Creeps through the grass, nor frog annoys the lake;[172-7]
An island worthy of its pious race,
In war triumphant, and unmatch'd in peace!
[172-1] _I.e._ enrolled in books under the name of Scotia. The
natives always called it Erin.
[172-2] Ireland had mines of gold in old times; and silver was also
found. Great numbers of Irish gold ornaments, found from
time to time in the earth, are now preserved in Museums.
[172-3] Pearls were then found in many Irish rivers; as they are,
sometimes, to this day.
[172-4] The Venerable Bede, a great English historian, writing in
the eighth century, calls Ireland "a land flowing with
milk and honey."
[172-5] Ireland was noted for the plenty and goodness of its wool.
[172-6] Ireland had great warriors, and many learned men and skilful
artists (see pp. 20, 47, and 117).
[172-7] There are no venomous reptiles in Ireland. There were then
no frogs: but these were afterwards introduced from
England.
XL.
HOW IRELAND WAS INVADED BY DANES AND ANGLO-NORMANS.
From the time of the settlement of the Milesians, as described at page
3, Ireland was ruled by native kings, without any disturbance from
outside, till the arrival of the invaders we are now about to speak of.
During all these centuries, though there were troubles enough from the
quarrels of the kings and chiefs, learning and art, as we have seen,
were successfully cultivated. But a change came--a woful change--once
the Danes began to arrive. These were pirates, all pagans, from Denmark
and other countries round the Baltic Sea, brave and daring, but very
wicked and cruel, who for a long period kept, not only Ireland, but the
whole of western Europe in terror. They appeared for the first time on
the coast of Ireland in the year 795, when they plundered St.
Columkille's monastery on Lambay Island near Dublin. After this, for
more than two hundred years, the country was never free from them, and
they plundered and burned and destroyed churches, monasteries,
libraries, and homesteads, and killed all that fell in their way, men,
women, and children. They were often attacked and routed by the native
chiefs; but this did not much discourage them and they generally landed
so suddenly, and marched through the country so swiftly, that in most
cases they got clear off to their ships, with all their plunder, before
the people could overtake them. They settled permanently in various
towns on the coast, especially Dublin, Waterford, and Limerick, which
they held for a long time.
At last they were overthrown by Brian Boru king of Ireland, in a great
battle fought at Clontarf near Dublin, on Good Friday, the 23rd April,
1014, of which a full account may be read in the "Child's History of
Ireland." After this, though no attempt was made to expel them from the
country, they gave little trouble. They became Christians, intermarried
with the natives, and settled down to industry and commerce like the
rest of the people; and there are many of their descendants to this day
in various parts of Ireland.
For about a century and a half after the battle of Clontarf, eight Irish
kings reigned: but none of them succeeded in mastering the whole
country. Some of these were O'Briens of Munster, the descendants of
Brian Boru; some O'Loghlins of Ulster, a branch of the O'Neill family,
descendants of Niall of the Nine Hostages (see p. 5); and some O'Conors
of Connaught. During this period Ireland was greatly disturbed; for the
several kings were continually fighting with each other, striving who
should be head king: so that the next invaders, when they came, found
the country ill prepared to resist them.
Those who have read the History of England will remember that the
Normans, coming from France under William the Conqueror, took the
sovereignty of England after the battle of Hastings in 1066. About a
century later, their descendants, who were now called Anglo-Normans,
i.e. English Normans, made settlements in Ireland. Their leader when
they first arrived was Earl Strongbow; but in 1171 Henry II., king of
England, came over with an army and took command. In 1172 he annexed
Ireland to the crown of England, that is, he claimed it as a part of his
dominions. The Over-king of Ireland at this time was Roderick O'Conor.
He was unable to repel the new invaders: and after his death there was
no longer a native king over all Ireland.
King Henry divided nearly the whole island among his lords, who all
went, after some time, to reside in their own territories: but they were
to remain under the authority of the king. These lords soon became great
and powerful, and ruled like princes; and from them descend the chief
Anglo-Irish families, of whom the most distinguished were the Geraldines
or Fitzgeralds, the Butlers, and the De Burgos or Burkes.
But it must not be supposed that all this was done quietly: for the
native Irish chiefs everywhere resisted these new lords. Although king
Henry went through the form of "annexing" Ireland, it was annexed only
in name. In reality his authority extended over only a small portion. It
took more than four hundred years to annex the whole country: and during
all this time there were constant wars, the Anglo-Normans encroaching,
and the Irish chiefs resisting as best they could. It was only in the
reign of James I., that is, about three hundred years ago, that the
whole of Ireland was brought under English law.
[Illustration: O'Dea's Castle, Dysart, Co. Clare. Built in the
fourteenth century by one of the Irish chiefs. See the note under St.
Finghin's Church, page 189.]
[Illustration: Bunratty Castle in the south of Clare, on the Bunratty
River, where it joins the Shannon: built about the end of the thirteenth
century by Thomas de Clare, an Anglo-Norman lord.]
These Anglo-Normans were a great and famous people, skilful and mighty
in war; and they built splendid abbeys, churches, and castles, all over
Ireland the ruins of which remain to this day. As an example of what
manner of men they were, a sketch of the career of one of them--Sir
John de Courcy--is given in this book (page 190).
[Illustration: Kilclief Castle, Co. Down. Built by one of the
Anglo-Normans in the fourteenth century.]
For hundreds of years after the Invasion, people continued to come from
England to live in Ireland both Anglo-Norman and Anglo-Saxon. After
settling down they became good friends with the native Irish,
intermarried with them, learned to speak and read the Irish language,
and quite fell in with the customs and modes of the country, so that it
was said of them that they became "more Irish than the Irish
themselves." A large proportion of the present inhabitants of Ireland
are of this race, mixed up however by intermarriage, with the older
Milesian stock.
XLI.
THE WATCH-FIRE OF BARNALEE.
During the many wars in Ireland, small parties of men had often to
traverse the country for long distances to bring messages from one
general to another, and for other purposes. They marched by day and put
up at night in the woods, choosing some sheltered corner and making a
big fire of brambles to keep them warm and to cook their food. After
supper they usually sat by the fire, amusing themselves with pleasant
conversation or by telling stories: and when at last it was time to go
to sleep, they wrapped themselves up in their great coats and lay down
round the fire, leaving one of their number to stand guard.
The following short poem--part of a much longer one--describes how a
small party of four men passed the early part of the night during a
march across country. There was to be a battle in a day or two, and
these four friends met, and each told a story by the Watch-fire of
Barnalee. And they arranged to meet again after the battle, if any
survived. But this turned out to be a sad meeting: there were only two:
the other two lay dead on the battlefield.
I.
There were four comrades stout and free,
Within the Wood of Barnalee,
Under the spreading oaken tree.
II.
The ragged clouds sailed past the moon;
Loud rose the brawling torrent's croon;
The rising winds howled in the wood,
Like hungry wolves at scent of blood.
Yet there they sat, in converse free,
Under the spreading oaken tree,--
Garrod the Minstrel, with his lyre,
Sir Hugh le Poer, that heart of fire,
Dark Gilliemore, the mournful squire,
And Donal, from the banks of Nier.
III.