Celtic Mysticism
In all Celtic literature there is recognisable a certain spirit which
seems to be innate in the very character of the people, a spirit of
mysticism and acknowledgment of the supernatural. It carries with it a
love of Nature, a delight in beauty, colour and harmony, which is
common to all the Celtic races. But with these characteristics we find
in Ireland a spiritual beauty, a passion of self-sacrifice, unknown in
Wales or Brittany. Hence the early Irish heroes are frequently found
renouncing advantages, worldly honour, and life itself, at the bidding
of some imperative moral impulse. They are the knights-errant of early
European chivalry which was a much deeper and more real inspiration
than the carefully cultivated artificial chivalry of centuries later.
Cuchulain, Diarmuit, Naesi all pay with their lives for their
obedience to the dictates of honour and conscience. And in women, for
whom in those early days sacrifice of self was the only way of
heroism, the surrender even of eternal bliss was only the sublimation
of honour and chivalry; and this was the heroism of the Countess
Cathleen.
The Cathleen Legend
The legend is old, so old that its root has been lost and we know not
who first imagined it; but the idea, the central incident, doubtless
goes back to Druid times, when a woman might well have offered herself
up to the cruel gods to avert their wrath and stay the plagues which
fell upon her people. Under a like impulse Curtius sprang into the
gulf in the Forum, and Decius devoted himself to death to win the
safety of the Roman army. In each case the powers, evil or
beneficent, were supposed to be appeased by the offering of a human
life. When Christianity found this legend of sacrifice popular among
the heathen nations, it was comparatively easy to adopt it and give it
a yet wider scope, by making the sacrifice spiritual rather than
physical, and by finally rewarding the hero with heavenly joys. It is
to be noted, too, that even at this early period there is a certain
glorification of chicanery: the fiend fulfils his side of the
contract, but God Himself breaks the other side. This becomes a
regular feature in all tales that relate dealings with the Evil One:
all Devil's Bridges, Devil's Dykes, and the Faust legends show that
Satan may be trusted to keep his word, while the saints invariably
kept the letter and broke the spirit. To so primitive a tale as that
of "The Countess Cathleen" the pettifogging quibbles of later saints
are utterly unknown: God saves her soul because it is His will to
reward such abnegation of self, and even the Evil One dare not
question the Divine Will.
The Story. Happy Ireland
Once, long ago, as the Chronicles tell us, Ireland was known
throughout Europe as "The Isle of Saints," for St. Patrick had not
long before preached the Gospel, the message of good tidings, to the
warring inhabitants, to tribes of uncivilised Celts, and to marauding
Danes and Vikings. He had driven out the serpent-worshippers, and
consecrated the Black Stone of Tara to the worship of the True God; he
had convinced the High King of the truth and reasonableness of the
doctrine of the Trinity by the illustration of the shamrock leaf, and
had overthrown the great idols and purified the land. Therefore the
fair shores and fertile vales of Erin, the clustered islets, dropped
like jewels in the azure seas, the mist-covered, heather-clad
hill-sides, even the barren mountain-tops and the patches of firm
ground scattered in the solitudes of fathomless bogs, were homes of
pious Culdee or lonely hermit. There was still strife in Ireland, for
king fought with king, and heathen marauders still vexed the land; but
many warlike Irish clans or "septs" turned their ardour for fight to
religious conflicts, and often every man of a tribe became a monk, so
that great abbeys and tribal monasteries and schools were built on the
hills where, in former days, stood the chieftain's stronghold (_rath_
or _dun_, as Irish legends name it), with its earth mounds and wooden
palisades. Holy psalms and chants replaced the boastful songs of the
old bards, whilst warriors accustomed to regard fighting and hunting
as the only occupations worthy of a free-born man, now peacefully
illuminated manuscripts or wrought at useful handicrafts. Yet still in
secret they dreaded and tried to appease the wrath of the Dagda,
Brigit of the Holy Fire, AEngus the Ever-Young, and the awful Washers
of the Ford, the Choosers of the Slain; and to this dread was now
joined the new fear of the cruel demons who obeyed Satan, the Prince
of Evil.
The Young Countess
At this time there dwelt in Ireland the Countess Cathleen, young,
good, and beautiful. Her eyes were as deep, as changeful, and as pure
as the ocean that washed Erin's shores; her yellow hair, braided in
two long tresses, was as bright as the golden circlet on her brow or
the yellow corn in her garners; and her step was as light and proud
and free as that of the deer in her wide domains. She lived in a
stately castle in the midst of great forests, with the cottages of her
tribesmen around her gates, and day by day and year by year she
watched the changing glories of the mighty woods, as the seasons
brought new beauties, till her soul was as lovely as the green woods
and purple hills around. The Countess Cathleen loved the dim,
mysterious forest, she loved the tales of the ancient gods, and of
"Old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago;"
_Wordsworth._
but more than all she loved her clansmen and vassals: she prayed for
them at all the holy hours, and taught and tended them with loving
care, so that in no place in Ireland could be found a happier tribe
than that which obeyed her gentle rule.
Dearth and Famine
One year there fell upon Ireland, erewhile so happy, a great
desolation--"For Scripture saith, an ending to all good things must
be"[15]--and the happiness of the Countess Cathleen's tribe came to an
end in this wise: A terrible famine fell on the land; the seed-corn
rotted in the ground, for rain and never-lifting mists filled the
heavy air and lay on the sodden earth; then when spring came barren
fields lay brown where the shooting corn should be; the cattle died in
the stall or fell from weakness at the plough, and the sheep died of
hunger in the fold; as the year passed through summer towards autumn
the berries failed in the sun-parched woods, and the withered leaves,
fallen long before the time, lay rotting on the dank earth; the timid
wild things of the forest, hares, rabbits, squirrels, died in their
holes or fell easy victims to the birds and beasts of prey; and these,
in their turn, died of hunger in the famine-stricken forests.
"I searched all day: the mice and rats and hedgehogs
Seemed to be dead, and I could hardly hear
A wing moving in all the famished woods."[16]
Distress of the Peasants
A cry of bitter agony and lamentation rose from the starving Isle of
Saints to the gates of Heaven, and fell back unheard; the sky was hard
as brass above and the earth was barren beneath, and men and women
died in despair, their shrivelled lips still stained green by the
dried grass and twigs they had striven to eat.
"I passed by Margaret Nolan's: for nine days
Her mouth was green with dock and dandelion;
And now they wake her."
The Misery Increases
In vain the High King of Ireland proclaimed a universal peace, and
wars between quarrelling tribes stopped and foreign pirates ceased to
molest the land, and chief met chief in the common bond of misery; in
vain the rich gave freely of their wealth--soon there was no
distinction between rich and poor, high and low, chief and vassal, for
all alike felt the grip of famine, all died by the same terrible
hunger. Soon many of the great monasteries lay desolate, their stores
exhausted, their portals open, while the brethren, dead within, had
none to bury them; the lonely hermits died in their little
beehive-shaped cells, or fled from the dreadful solitude to gather in
some wealthy abbey which could still feed its monks; and isle and vale
which had echoed their holy chants knew the sounds no more. Over all,
unlifting, unchanging, brooded the deadly vapour, bearing the plague
in its heavy folds, and filling the air with a sultry lurid haze.
"There is no sign of change--day copies day,
Green things are dead--the cattle too are dead
Or dying--and on all the vapour hangs
And fattens with disease, and glows with heat."
Cathleen Heartbroken for her People
Round the castle of the Countess Cathleen there was great stir and
bustle, for her tender heart was wrung with the misery of her people,
and her prayers for them ascended to God unceasingly. So thin she grew
and so worn that the physicians bade her servants bring harp and song
to charm away the sadness that weighed upon her spirit; but all in
vain! Neither the well-loved legends of the ancient gods, nor her
harp, nor the voice of her bards could bring her relief--nothing but
the attempt to save her people. From the earliest days of the famine
her house and her stores were ever ready to supply the wants of the
homeless, the poor, the suffering; her wealth was freely spent for
food for the starving while supplies could yet be bought either near
or in distant baronies; and when known supplies failed her lavish
offers tempted the churlish farmers, who still hoarded grain that they
might enrich themselves in the great dearth, to sell some of their
garnered stores. When she could no longer induce them to part with
their grain, her own winter provisions, wine and corn, were
distributed generously to all who asked for relief, and none ever left
her castle without succour.
Her Wide Charity
Thus passed the early months of bitter starvation, and the Countess
Cathleen's name was borne far and wide through Ireland, accompanied
with the blessings of all the rescued; and round her castle, from
every district, gathered a mighty throng of poor--not only her own
clansmen--who all looked to her for a daily dole of food and drink to
keep some life in them until the pestilential mists should pass away.
The wholesome cold of winter would purify the air and bring new hope
and promise of new life in the coming year. Alas! the winter drew on
apace and still the poisonous yellow vapours hung heavily over the
land, and still the deadly famine clutched each feeble heart and
weakened the very springs of life, and the winter frosts slew more
than the summer heats, so feeble were the people and so weakened.
Lawlessness Breaks Out
At last, even in the Isle of Saints, the bonds of right and wrong were
loosened, all respect for property vanished in the universal
desolation, and men began to rob and plunder, to trust only to the
right of might, thinking that their poor miserable lives were of more
value than aught else, than conscience and pity and honesty. Thus
Cathleen lost by barefaced robbery much of what she still possessed of
flocks and herds, of scanty fruit and corn. Her servants would gladly
have pursued the robbers and regained the spoils, but Cathleen forbade
it, for she pitied the miserable thieves, and thought no evil of them
in this bitter dearth. By this time she had distributed all her winter
stores, and had only enough to feed her poor pensioners and her
household with most scanty rations; and she herself shared equally
with them, for the most earnest entreaties of her faithful servants
could not induce her to fare better than they in anything. Soon there
would be nothing left for daily distribution, and her heart almost
broke as she saw the misery of her helpless dependents; they looked to
her as an angel of pity and deliverance, while she knew herself to be
as helpless as they. Day by day Cathleen went among them, with her
pitifully scanty doles of food, cheering them by her words and
smiles, and by her very presence; and each day she went to her chapel,
where she could cast aside the mask of cheerfulness she wore before
her people, and prayed to the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints
to show her how to save her own tribe and all the land.
[Illustration: "Day by day Cathleen went among them"]
Cathleen Has an Inspiration
As the Countess knelt long before the altar one noontide she passed
from her prayers into a deep sleep, and sank down on the altar steps.
In the troubled depths of her mind a thought arose, which came to her
as an inspiration from Heaven itself. She awoke and sprang up
joyfully, exclaiming aloud: "Thanks be to Our Lady and to all the
saints! To them alone the blessed thought is due. Thus can I save my
poor until the dearth is over."
Then Cathleen left her oratory with such a light heart as she had not
felt since the terrible visitation began, and the gladness in her face
was so new and wonderful that all her servants noticed the change, and
her old foster-mother, who loved the Countess with the utmost
devotion, shuddered at the thought that perhaps her darling had come
under the power of the ancient gods and would be bewitched away to
Tir-nan-og, the land of never-dying youth. Fearfully old Oona watched
Cathleen's face as she passed through the hall, and Cathleen saw the
anxious gaze, and came and laid her hand on the old woman's shoulder,
saying, "Nay, fear not, nurse; the saints have heard my prayer and put
it into my heart to save all these helpless ones." Then she crossed
the hall to her own room, and called a servant, saying, "Send hither
quickly Fergus my steward."
She Summons her Steward
Shortly afterwards the steward came, Fergus the White, an old
grey-haired man, who had been foster-brother to Cathleen's
grandfather. He had seen three generations pass away, he had watched
the change from heathenism to Christianity, and of all the chief's
family, to which his loyal devotion had ever clung, there remained but
this one young girl, and he loved her as his own child. Fergus did
obeisance to his liege lady, and kissed her hand kneeling as he asked:
"What would the Countess Cathleen with her steward? Shall I render my
account of lands and wealth?"
Demands to Know what Wealth she Owns
"How much have I in lands?" the Countess asked. And Fergus answered in
surprise: "Your lands are worth one hundred thousand pounds."
"Of what value is the timber in my forests?" "As much again."
"What is the worth of my castles and my fair residences?" continued
the Countess Cathleen. And Fergus still replied: "As much more,"
though in his heart he questioned why his lady wished to know now,
while the famine made all riches seem valueless.
"How much gold still unspent lies in thy charge in my
treasure-chests?"
"Lady, your stored gold is three hundred thousand pounds, as much as
all your lands and forests and houses are worth."
The Countess Cathleen thought for an instant, and then, as one who
makes a momentous decision, spoke firmly, though her lips quivered as
she gave utterance to her thought:
"Go Far and Buy Food"
"Then, Fergus, take my bags of coin and go. Leave here my jewels and
some gold, for I may hear of some stores of grain hoarded by niggard
farmers, and may induce them to sell, if not for the love of God, then
for the love of gold. Take, too, authority from me, written and sealed
with my seal, to sell all my lands and timber, and castles, except
this one alone where I must dwell. Send a man, trustworthy and speedy,
to the North, to Ulster, where I hear the famine is less terrible, and
let him buy what cattle he can find, and drive them back as soon as
may be."
"Keeping this house alone, sell all I have;
Go to some distant country, and come again
With many herds of cows and ships of grain."
The Steward Reluctantly Obeys
The ancient steward, Fergus the White, stood at first speechless with
horror and grief, but after a moment of silence his sorrow found vent
in words, and he besought his dear lady not to sell everything, her
ancient home, her father's lands, her treasured heirlooms, and leave
herself no wealth for happier times. All his persuasions were useless,
for Cathleen would not be moved; she bade him "Farewell" and hastened
his journey, saying, "A cry is in mine ears; I cannot rest." So there
was no help for it. A trusty man was despatched to Ulster to buy up
all the cattle (weak and famine-stricken as they would be) in the
North Country; while Fergus himself journeyed swiftly to England,
which was still prosperous and fertile, untouched by the deadly
famine, and knowing nothing of the desolation of the sister isle, to
which the English owed so much of their knowledge of the True Faith.
Buys Stores in England
In England Fergus spent all the gold he brought with him, and then
sold all the Countess Cathleen bade him sell--lands, castles, forests,
pastures, timber--all but one lonely castle in the desolate woods,
where she dwelt among her own people, with the dying folk thronging
round her gates and in her halls. Good bargains Fergus made also, for
he was a shrewd and loyal steward, and the saints must have touched
the hearts of the English merchants, so that they gave good prices for
all, or perhaps they did not realize the dire distress that prevailed
in Ireland. However that may have been, Fergus prospered in his
trading, and bought grain, and wine, and fat oxen and sheep, so that
he loaded many ships with full freights of provisions, enough to carry
the starving peasantry through the famine year till the next harvest.
At last all his money was spent, all his ships were laden, everything
was ready, and the little fleet lay in harbour, only awaiting a fair
wind, which, unhappily, did not come.
His Return Delayed
First of all Fergus waited through a deadly calm, when the sails hung
motionless, drooping, with no breath of air to stir them, when the fog
that brooded over the shores of England never lifted and all sailing
was impossible; then the winds dispersed the fog, and Fergus,
forgetting caution in his great anxiety to return, hastily set sail
for his own land, and there came fierce tempests and contrary winds,
so that his little fleet was driven back, and one or two ships went
down with all their stores of food. Fergus wept to see his lady's
wealth lost in the wintry sea, but he dared not venture again, and
though he chafed and fretted at the delay, it was nearly two months
after he reached England before he could sail back to his young
mistress and her starving countrymen. The trusty messenger who had
been sent to buy cattle had succeeded beyond his own expectation; he
also had made successful bargains, and had found more cattle than he
believed were still alive in Ireland. He had bought all, and was
driving them slowly towards the Countess Cathleen's forest dwelling.
Their progress was so slow, because of their weakness and the scanty
fodder by the way, that no news of them came to Cathleen, and she knew
not that while corn and cattle were coming with Fergus across the sea,
food was also coming to her slowly through the barren ways of her own
native land. None of this she knew, and despair would have filled her
heart, but for her faith in God and her belief in the great
inspiration that had been given to her.
Deepening Misery in Ireland
Meanwhile terrible things had been happening in Ireland. As in England
in later days, "men said openly that Christ and His saints slept";
they thought with longing of the mighty old gods, for the new seemed
powerless, and they yearned for the friendly "good people" who had
fled from the sound of the church bell. Thus many minds were ready to
revolt from the Christian faith if they had not feared the life after
death and the endless torments of the Christian Hell. Some few,
desperate, even offered secret worship to the old heathen gods, and
true love to the One True God had grown cold.
Two Mysterious Strangers
Now on the very day on which Fergus sailed for England, and his
comrade departed to Ulster, two mysterious and stately strangers
suddenly appeared in Erin. Whence they came no man knew, but they were
first seen near the wild sea-shore of the west, and the few poor
inhabitants thought they had been put ashore by some vessel or wrecked
on that dangerous coast. Aliens they certainly were, for they talked
with each other in a tongue that none understood, and they appeared as
if they did not comprehend the questions asked of them. Thus they
passed away from the western coasts, and made their way inland; but
when they next appeared, in a village not far from Dublin, they had
greatly changed: they wore magnificent robes and furs, with splendid
jewelled gloves on their hands, and golden circlets, set with gleaming
rubies, bound their brows; their black steeds showed no trace of
weakness and famine as they rode through the woods and carefully noted
the misery everywhere.
Their Strange Story
At last they alighted at the little lodge, where a forester's widow
gladly received them; and their royal dress, lofty bearing and strange
language accorded ill with the mean surroundings and the scanty
accommodation of that little hut. The dead forester had been one of
the Countess Cathleen's most faithful vassals, and his holding was but
a short distance from the castle, so that the strangers could,
unobserved, watch the life of the little village. As time passed they
told their hostess they were merchants, simple traders from a distant
country, trafficking in very precious gems; but they had no wares for
exchange, and no gems to show; they made no inquiries or researches,
bargained with no man, seemed to do no business; they were the most
unusual merchants ever seen in Ireland, and the strangeness of their
behaviour troubled men's minds.
Mysterious Behaviour
Day by day they ate, unquestioning, the coarse food their poor hostess
set before them, and the black bread which was the best food
obtainable in those terrible days, but they added to it wine, rich and
red, from their own private store, and they paid her lavishly in good
red gold, so that she wondered that any men should stay in the
famine-stricken country when they could so easily leave it at their
will. Gradually, too, speaking now in the Irish tongue, they began to
ask her cautious questions of the people, of the land, of the famine,
how men lived and how they died, and so they heard of the exceeding
goodness of the Countess Cathleen, whose bounty had saved so many
lives, and was still saving others, though the deadly pinch of famine
grew sorer with the passing days. To their hostess they admired
Cathleen's goodness, and were loud in her praises, but they looked
askance at one another and their brows were black with discontent.
Professed Errand of Mercy
Then one day the kingly merchants told the poor widow who harboured
them that they too were the friends of the poor and starving; they
were servants of a mighty prince, who in his compassion and mercy had
sent them on a mission to Ireland to help the afflicted peasants to
fight against famine and death. They said that they themselves had no
food to give, only wine and gold in plenty, so that men might exert
themselves and search for food to buy. Their hostess, hearing this,
and knowing that there were still some niggards who refused to part
with their mouldering heaps of corn, setting the price so high that no
man could buy, called down the blessing of God and Mary and all the
saints upon their heads, for if they would distribute their gold to
all, or even buy the corn themselves and distribute it, men need no
longer die of hunger.
A New Traffic
When she prayed for a blessing on the two strangers they smiled
scornfully and impatiently; and the elder said, cunningly:
"Alas! we know the evils of mere charity,
And would devise a more considered way.
Let each man bring one piece of merchandise."
"Ah, sirs!" replied the hostess, "then your compassion, your gold and
your goodwill are of no avail. Think you, after all these weary
months, that any man has merchandise left to sell? They have sold long
ago all but the very clothes they wear, to keep themselves alive till
better days come. Such offers are mockery of our distress."
"We mock you not," said the elder merchant. "All men have the one
precious thing we wish to buy, and have come hither to find; none has
already lost or sold it."
"What precious treasure can you mean? Men in Ireland now have only
their lives, and can barely cherish those," said the poor woman,
wondering greatly and much afraid.
Buyers of Souls
The elder merchant continued gazing at her with a crafty smile and an
eye ever on the alert for tokens of understanding. "Poor as they are,
Irishmen have still one thing that we will purchase, if they will
sell: their souls, which we have come to obtain for our mighty Prince,
and with the great price that we shall pay in pure gold men can well
save their lives till the starving time is over. Why should men die a
cruel, lingering death or drag through weary months of miserable
half-satisfied life when they may live well and merrily at the cost of
a soul, which is no good but to cause fear and pain? We take men's
souls and liberate them from all pain and care and remorse, and we
give in exchange money, much money, to procure comforts and ease; we
enrol men as vassals of our great lord, and he is no hard taskmaster
to those who own his sway."
Slow Trade at First
When the poor widow heard these dreadful words she knew that the
strangers were demons come to tempt men's souls and to lure them to
Hell. She crossed herself, and fled from them in fear, praying to be
kept from temptation; and she would not return to her little cottage
in the forest, but stayed in the village warning men against the evil
demons who were tempting the starving people, till she too died of the
famine, and her house was left wholly to the strangers. Yet the
merchants fared ever well, better than before her departure, and those
who ventured to the forest dwelling found good food and rich wine,
which the strangers sometimes gave to their visitors, with crafty
hints of abundance to be easily obtained. Then when timid individuals
asked the way to win these comforts the strangers began their
tempting, and represented the case to be gained by the sale of men's
souls. One man, bolder than the rest, made a bargain with the demons
and gave them his soul for three hundred crowns of gold, and from that
time he in his turn became a tempter. He boasted of his wealth, of the
rich food the merchants gave him at times, of the potent wine he drank
from their generously opened bottles, and, best of all, he vaunted
his freedom from pity, conscience, or remorse.
Trade Increases
Gradually many people came to the forest dwelling and trafficked with
the demon merchants. The purchase of souls went on busily, and the
demons paid prices varying according to the worth of the soul and the
record of its former sins; but to all who sold they gave food and
wine, and in gloating over their gold and satisfying hunger and
thirst, men forgot to ask whence came this food and wine and the
endless stores of coin. Now many people ventured into the forest to
deal with the demons, and the narrow track grew into a broad beaten
way with the numbers of those who came, and all returned fed and
warmed, and bearing bags heavy with coin, and the promise of abundant
food and easy service. Those who had sold their souls rioted with the
money, for the demons gave them food, and they bought wine from the
inexhaustible stores of the evil merchants. The poor, lost people knew
that there was no hope for them after death, and they tried by all
means to keep themselves alive and to enjoy what was yet left to them;
but their mirth was fearful and they durst not stop to think.
Cathleen Hears of the Demon Traders
At first the Countess Cathleen knew nothing of the terrible doings of
the demons, for she never passed beyond her castle gates, but spent
her time in prayer for her people's safety and for the speedy return
of her messengers; but when the starving throng of pensioners at her
gates grew daily less, and there were fewer claimants for the pitiful
allowance which was all she had to give, she wondered if some other
mightier helper had come to Ireland. But she could hear of none,
and soon the shameless rioting and drunkenness in the village came to
her knowledge, and she wondered yet more whence her clansmen obtained
the means for their excesses, for she felt instinctively that the
origin of all this rioting must be evil. Cathleen therefore called to
her an old peasant, whose wife had died of hunger in the early days of
the famine, so that he himself had longed to die and join her; but
when he came to her she was horror-struck by the change in him. Now he
came flushed with wine, with defiant look and insolent bearing, and
his face was full of evil mirth as he tried to answer soberly the
Countess's questions.
"Why do the villagers and strangers no longer come to me for food? I
have but little now to give, but all are welcome to share it with me
and my household."
The Peasant's Story
"They do not come, O Countess, because they are no longer starving.
They have better food and wine, and abundance of money to buy more."
[Illustration: The peasant's story]
"Whence then have they obtained the money, the food, and the wine for
the drinking-bouts, the tumult of which reaches me even in my
oratory?"
"Lady, they have received all from the generous merchants who are in
the forest dwelling where old Mairi formerly lived; she is dead now,
and these noble strangers keep open house in her cottage night and
day; they are so wealthy that they need not stint their bounty, and so
powerful that they can find good food, enough for all who go to them.
Since Brigit died (your old servant, lady) her husband and son work no
more, but serve the strange merchants, and urge men to join them; and
I, and many others, have done so, and we are now wealthy" (here he
showed the Countess a handful of gold) "and well fed, and have wine as
much as heart can desire."
"But do you give them nothing in return for all their generosity? Are
they so noble that they ask nothing in requital of their bounty?"
"Good Gold for Souls"
"Oh, yes, we give them something, but nothing of importance, nothing
we cannot spare. They are merchants of souls, and buy them for their
king, and they pay good red gold for the useless, painful things. I
have sold my soul to them, and now I weep no more for my wife; I am
gay, and have wine enough and gold enough to help me through this
dearth!"
"Alas!" sighed the Countess, "and what when you too die?" The old
peasant laughed at her grief as he said: "Then, as now, I shall have
no soul to trouble me with remorse or conscience"; and the Countess
covered her eyes with her hand and beckoned silently that he should
go. In her oratory, whither she betook herself immediately, she prayed
with all her spirit that the Virgin and all the saints would inspire
her to defeat the demons and to save her people's souls.
Cathleen Tries to Check the Traffic
Next day Cathleen called together all the people in the village, her
own tribesmen and strangers. She offered them again a share of all she
had, and the daily rations she could distribute, but told them that
all must share alike and that she had nothing but the barest
necessaries to give--scanty portions of corn and meal, with milk from
one or two famine-stricken cows her servants had managed to keep
alive. To this she added that she had sent two trusty messengers for
help, one to Ulster for cattle, and Fergus to England for corn and
wine; they must return soon, she felt sure, with abundant supplies, if
men would patiently await their return.
In Vain
But all was useless. Her messengers had sent no word of their return,
and the abundant supplies at the forest cottage were more easily
obtained, and were less carefully regulated, than those of the
Countess Cathleen. The merchants, too, were ever at hand with their
cunning wiles, and their active, persuasive dupes, who would gladly
bring all others into their own soulless condition. The wine given by
the demons warmed the hearts of all who drank, and the deceived
peasants dreamed of happiness when the famine was over, and so the
passionate appeal of the Countess failed, and the sale of souls
continued merrily. The noise of revelry grew daily louder and more
riotous, and the drinkers cared nothing for the death or departure of
their dearest friends; while those who died, died drunken and utterly
reckless, or full of horror and despair, reviling the crafty merchants
who had deceived them with promises of life and happiness. The evil
influence clung all about the country-side, and seemed in league with
the pitiless powers of Nature against the souls of men, till at last
the stricken Countess, putting her trust in God, sought out the forest
lodge where the demon merchants dwelt, trafficking for souls. The way
was easy to find now, for a broad beaten track led to the dwelling,
and as the evil spirits saw Cathleen coming slowly along the path
their wicked eyes gleamed and their clawlike hands worked convulsively
in their jewelled gloves, for they hoped she had come to sell her pure
soul.
She Visits the Demons
"What does the Countess Cathleen wish to obtain from two poor stranger
merchants?" said the elder with an evil smile; and the younger, bowing
deeply said: "Lady, you may command us in all things, save what
touches our allegiance to our king." Cathleen replied: "I have no
merchandise to barter, nothing for trade with you, for you buy such
things as I will never sell: you buy men's souls for Hell. I come only
to beg that you will release the poor souls whom you have bought for
Satan's kingdom, and will have mercy on my ignorant people and deceive
them no more. I have yet some gold unspent and jewels unsold: take all
there is but let my people go free." Then the merchants laughed aloud
scornfully, and rejected her offer. "Would you have us undo our work?
Have we toiled, then, for naught to extend our master's sway? Have we
won for him so many souls to dwell for ever in his kingdom and do his
work, and shall we give them back for your entreaties? We have gold
enough, and food and wine enough, fair lady. The souls we have bought
we keep, for our master gives us honour and rank proportioned to the
number of souls we win for him, and you may see by the golden circlets
round our brows that we are princes of his kingdom, and have brought
him countless souls. Nevertheless, there is one most rare and precious
thing which could redeem these bartered souls of Ireland's peasants,
things of little worth."
They Make a Proposal
"Oh, what is that?" said the Countess. "If I have it, or can in any
way procure it, tell me, that I may redeem these deluded people's
souls."
"You have it now, fair saint. It is one pure soul, precious as
multitudes of more sin-stained souls. Our master would far rather have
a perfect and flawless pearl for his diadem than myriads of these
cracked and flawed crystals. Your soul, most saintly Countess, would
redeem the souls of all your tribe, if you would sell it to our king;
it would be the fairest jewel in his crown. But think not to save your
people otherwise, and beguile them no longer with false promises of
help: your messenger to Ulster lies sick of ague in the Bog of Allen,
and no food comes from England."
False Tidings
"We saw a man
Heavy with sickness in the Bog of Allen
Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head
We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed
In the dark night, and not less still than they
Burned all their mirrored lanterns in the sea."
When Cathleen heard of the failure of her messengers to bring food it
seemed as if all hope were indeed over, and the demons smiled craftily
upon her as she turned silently to go, and laughed joyously to each
other when she had left their presence. Now they had good hope to win
her for their master; but they knew that their time was short, since
help was not far away.
"Last night, closed in the image of an owl,
I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,
And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,
Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;
They are five days from us.
I hurried east,
A grey owl flitting, flitting in the dew,
And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath,
Driven on by goads of iron; they too, brother,
Are full five days from us. Five days for traffic."
Cathleen's Despair
The Countess then went back in bitter grief to her desolate castle,
where only faithful old servants now waited in the halls, and
whispered together in the dark corners, and, kneeling in her oratory,
she prayed far into the night for light in her darkness. As she prayed
before the altar she slept for very weariness, and was aroused by a
sudden furious knocking, and an outcry of "Thieves! Thieves!" Cathleen
rose quickly from the altar steps, and met her foster-mother, Oona, at
the door of the oratory; and Oona cried aloud: "Thieves have broken
into the treasure-chamber, and nothing is left!" Cathleen asked if
this were true, and discovered that not a single coin, not a single
gem was left: the demons had stolen all. And while the servants still
mourned over the lost treasures of the house there came another cry of
"Thieves! Thieves!" and an old peasant rushed in, exclaiming that all
the food was gone. That, alas! was true: the few sacks of meal which
supplied the scanty daily fare were emptied and the bags flung on the
floor. Now indeed the last poor resource was gone.
[Illustration: "Thieves have broken into the treasure-chamber"]
A Desperate Decision
When the Countess heard of this last terrible misfortune a great light
broke upon her mind with a blinding flash, and showed her a way to
save others, even at the cost of her own salvation. It seemed God's
answer to her prayer for guidance, and she resolved to follow the
inspiration thus sent into her mind. She decided now what she would
do; her mind was made up, and the light which shines from extreme
sacrifice of self was so bright upon her face that her old nurse and
her servants, wailing around her, were awe-stricken and durst not
question or check her. She returned to her oratory door, and, standing
on the steps, looking down on her weeping domestics, she cried:
"I am desolate,
For a most sad resolve wakes in my heart;
But always I have faith. Old men and women,
Be silent; God does not forsake the world.
Mary Queen of Angels
And all you clouds and clouds of saints, farewell!"
With one last long gaze at the little altar of her oratory she
resolutely closed the door and turned away.
She Revisits the Demons
The next day the merchants in their forest lodge were still buying
souls, and giving food and wine to the starving peasants who sold.
They were buying men and women, sinful, terrified, afraid to die,
eager to live; buying them more cheaply than before because of the
increase of sin and terror. Bargains were being struck and bartering
was in full progress, when suddenly all the peasants stopped,
shamefaced, as one said, "Here comes the Countess Cathleen," and down
the track she was seen approaching slowly. One by one the peasants
slunk away, and the demon merchants were quite alone when Cathleen
entered the little cottage where they sat, with bags of coin on the
table before them and on the ground beside them. Again they greeted
her with mocking respect, and asked to know her will.
"Merchants, do you still buy souls for Hell?"
"Lady, our traffic prospers, for the famine lies long on the land, and
men would fain live till better days come again. Besides, we can give
them food and wine and wealth for future years; and all in exchange
for a mere soul, a little breath of wind."
"Perhaps the Countess Cathleen has come to deal with us," said the
younger.
"Merchant, you are right; I have come to bring you merchandise. I have
a soul to sell, so costly that perhaps the price is beyond your
means."
The elder merchant replied joyfully: "No price is beyond our means, if
only the soul be worth the price; if it be a pure and stainless soul,
fit to join the angels and saints in Paradise, our master will gladly
pay all you ask. Whose is the soul, and what is the price?"
Her Terms
"The people starve, therefore the people go
Thronging to you. I hear a cry come from them,
And it is in my ears by night and day:
And I would have five hundred thousand crowns,
To find food for them till the dearth go by;
And have the wretched spirits you have bought
For your gold crowns, released, and sent to God.
The soul that I would barter is my soul."
The Bond Signed
When the demons heard this, and knew that Cathleen was willing to give
her own soul as ransom for the souls of others, they were overjoyed,
their eyes flashed, the rubies of their golden crowns shot out fiery
gleams, and their fingers clutched the air as if they already held her
stainless soul. This would be a great triumph to their master, and
they would win great honour in Hell when they brought him a soul worth
far, far more than large abundance of ordinary sinful souls. Very
carefully they watched while the trembling Countess signed the bond
which gave her soul to Hell, very gladly they paid down the money for
which she had stipulated, and very joyously they saw the signs of
speedy death in her face, knowing, as they did, how soon the coming
relief would show her sacrifice to have been unnecessary, though
now it was irrevocable.
[Illustration: "Cathleen signed the bond"]
General Lamentation
Sadly but resolutely she turned away, followed by her servants bearing
the bags of gold, and as she passed through the village a rumour ran
before her of what she had done. All men were sobered by the terrible
tidings, and the redeemed people waited for her coming, and followed
her weeping and lamenting, for now their souls were free again, and
they recognised the great sacrifice she had made for them; but it was
too late to save her, though now all would have died for her. Cathleen
passed on into her castle, and there in the courtyard she distributed
the money to all her people, and bade them dwell quietly in obedience
till her steward returned. She herself, she said, could not stay; she
must go on a long and dark journey, for her people's need had broken
her heart and conquered her; she was no longer her own, but belonged
to the dark lord of Hell; she could not bid them pray for her, nor
could she pray for herself.
Cathleen Fades Away
Her people, who knew the great price at which she had redeemed them,
besought the Blessed Virgin and all the saints to have mercy on her;
and all the souls she had released, on earth and in Heaven, prayed for
her night and day, and the blessed saints interceded for her. Yet from
day to day the Countess Cathleen faded, and the demons, ceasing all
other traffic, lurked in waiting to catch her soul as she died. Night
and day her heart-broken foster-mother Oona tended her; but she grew
feebler, till it seemed that she would die before Fergus returned.
The Steward Returns
On the fifth day, however, glad tidings came. Fergus had landed, and
sent word that he was bringing corn and meal as quickly as possible;
also a wandering peasant brought a message that nine hundred oxen were
within one day's journey of her castle; and when the gentle Cathleen
heard this, and knew that her people were safe, she died with a smile
on her lips and thanks to God for her people on her tongue. That same
night a great tempest broke over the land, which drove away the
pestilential mists, and left the country free from evil influences,
for with the morning men found the forest lodge crushed beneath the
fallen trees, and the two demon merchants vanished. All gathered round
the castle and mourned for the Countess Cathleen, for none knew how it
would go with her spirit; they feared that the evil demons had borne
her soul to Hell. All had prayed for her, but there had been no sign,
no token of forgiveness. Nevertheless their prayers were heard and
answered.
The Demons Cheated
In the next night, when the great storm had passed away and the
vapours no longer filled the air, when Fergus had distributed food and
wine, and the oxen had been apportioned to every family, so that
plenty reigned in every house, when only Cathleen's castle lay
desolate, shrouded in gloom, the faithful old nurse Oona, watching by
the body of her darling, had a glorious vision. She saw the splendid
armies of the angels who guard mankind from evil, she saw the saints
who had suffered and overcome, and amid them was the Countess
Cathleen, happy with saints and angels in the bliss of Paradise; for
her love had redeemed her own soul as well as the souls of others,
and God had pardoned her sin because of her self-sacrifice.
"The light beats down: the gates of pearl are wide,
And she is passing to the floor of peace,
And Mary of the seven times wounded heart
Has kissed her lips, and the long blessed hair
Has fallen on her face; the Light of Lights
Looks always on the motive, not the deed,
The Shadow of Shadows on the deed alone."
FOOTNOTES:
[15] C. Kingsley.
[16] The poetical quotations throughout this story are taken, by
permission, from Mr. W. B. Yeats's play "The Countess Cathleen."