Chapter 1

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ESSAYS

BY

JOHN, THIRD MARQUESS OF BUTE.

BRENDAN'S FABULOUS VOYAGE.

[A LECTURE DELIVERED ON JANUARY 19, 1893, BEFORE THE SCOTTISH SOCIETY OF LITERATURE AND ART.]

New Edition.

1911.

II.

It has been thought desirable to reprint the Essays and other short Works of the late Marquess of Bute in an inexpensive form likely to be useful to the general reader, and thereby to make them more widely known. Should this, the second of the proposed series, prove acceptable, it will be followed by others at short intervals.

BRENDAN'S FABULOUS VOYAGE.

[_A Lecture delivered on January 19, 1893, before the Scottish Society of Literature and Art_.]

Brendan, the son of Finnlogh O' Alta, was born at Tralee in Kerry, in the year 481 or 482.[1] He had a pedigree which connected him with the rulers of Ireland, and thus perhaps secured for him a social prominence which he would not otherwise have enjoyed. Nature seems to have endowed him with an highly wrought and sensitive temperament. Putting aside altogether the idealism which caused him, like so many others of his time and race, to give himself to the Church, he displayed throughout life a restlessness which led him to constant journeys, sometimes of the nature of migrations, and the constant inception of projects to which he did not continue long to adhere; and in the statements about him there are elements from which I conjecture that he was probably of the class of persons who furnish good subjects for hypnotic experiments. When he was a year old he was handed over to the care of the nun Ita, when she dwelt at the foot of Mount Luachra. With her he remained until he was seven years old, when she sent him to Bishop Erc, by whom he had been baptized, but during the whole of her life, which lasted nearly as long as his own, he never ceased to regard and to treat her with all the affectionate reverence of a son. His education was continued under Erc, until he grew towards manhood, when he visited other parts of Ireland for the sake of study, but it was to Erc that he returned to be ordained to the Presbyterate. At that period there was a sort of passion among the Celtic clergy for retiring into deserts after the manner of the monks and hermits of Egypt, and the islands of the Western and Northern ocean, if they could show nothing like the burning sands of Africa, supplied deserts enough of a different sort. It was only in accordance then with a common custom of his day, that Brendan, after his ordination, set out by sea with a few companions, to find a place where to found a monastery. It is to be remarked also that this was just about the time of the migration of the Royal Race of the Dalriads to the country which has ultimately received from them the name of Scotland, and the project therefore bears a strong resemblance to that in which Columba succeeded about 60 years later. If Brendan had not failed, perhaps Columba would not have come. The wanderings or explorations of Brendan and his companions appear to have lasted several years, during which it may be presumed that they were in the habit of laying up somewhere for the winter. It was doubtless partly owing to the restlessness which was a part of his nature, that he finally settled nowhere, and returned to Ireland.

[Footnote 1: Reeve's _Adamnan_, 221.]

In Ireland he did a good deal of work, but Ita urged him to try and do good elsewhere, and he went over with some of his friends to Britain, possibly in connection with movements affected by the career of the historic Arthur, who was killed at Camlan or Camelon in 537. The Christian Irish at that time certainly made endeavours to assist the Christian party among the Britons. The nun Edana was making her attempts, either in person or by her disciples, to found her girls' schools in the south of Scotland, and it is not impossible that Ita thought that she might also accomplish some good by sending forth a male emissary. In connection with Brendan's sojourn in Britain, there is a most curious mention of the use of a Greek Liturgy somewhere in the British Church. There is a statement that Brendan was at the head of the celebrated Welsh monastery of Llancarfan. He also went over to Brittany to see Gildas the Wise, who was bewailing the woes of his native land on the shores of the Morbihan. He ultimately returned to the Western Islands, and there succeeded at last in founding two monastic settlements, one in Tiree, at a place which the writers call Bledua, and one in an island called Ailech, which it seems to me may possibly mean Islay. Then he went back to Ireland, and started another monastery in a desert island in Loch Oisbsen, which was given to him by Aedh, the son of Ethdach. Hence, however, he again moved in 559, and founded the great monastery of Clonfert, an act which is the principal achievement of his life.

He was friendly with the principal persons of his own race, time, and class. He seems, as I have said, to have possessed the peculiar temperament, which some call sensitive and others mediumistic, and which leads to the phenomenon generally known as second-sight, for, putting aside all other records about him which point in the same direction, it is recorded of him, not only by Adamnan, but also by Cuimine the Fair, that on one occasion when he came over, along with Comgall of Benchor, Kenneth of Aghaboe, and Cormac o' Leathain of Durrow, to visit Columba, who was then staying in Himba (Eilean na Naoimh, one of the Garveloch islands, lying between Scarba and Mull), and Columba at their request celebrated before them on the Sunday, he afterwards told Comgall and Kenneth that during part of the ceremony Columba had seemed to him to be standing at the bottom of a pillar of fire streaming heavenwards.

He lived to an extreme old age, and was in his 96th year when the end came. When he felt that it was at hand, he went to see his sister Briga, and I quote the sentences which follow, on account of the quaint naturalism which inspires them. 'Among other things, he taught her concerning the place of her resurrection. "Not here," saith he unto her, "shalt thou rise again, but in thine own land, that is in Tralee. Therefore, go thou thither, for that people will obtain the mercy of God by thy means. This is a place of men, not of women. Now is God calling me unto Himself out of the prison house of this body." When she heard that, she was grievously afflicted, and said, "Father beloved, we shall all die at thy death. For which of us could live when thou wast absent living? Much less, when thou art dead." Brendan said farther, "On the third day hence, I shall go the way of my fathers." Now that day was the Lord's Day. Thereon, after the sacraments of the altar had been offered, he saith to them that stood by, "In your supplications, commend my going forth." And Briga speaketh and saith, "Father, what fearest thou?" He saith, "I fear that I shall journey alone, that the way will be dark--I fear the unknown country, the presence of the King, the sentence of the Judge." After these things he commanded the brethren to carry his body to the monastery of Clonfert secretly, lest, if they did it openly, it should be kept by them among whom they should pass. Then when he had kissed them all one by one, he saith unto holy Briga, "Salute my friends on my behalf, and say unto them to beware of evil speaking, even when it is true, how much the more when it is false." When he had so spoken and foretold how some things would be in time to come, he passed into everlasting rest, in the 96th year of his age.' He died, May 16, 577.

By combining with all the collected and credible statements concerning him illustrative matter from the history of his times and the biographies of his contemporaries, it would no doubt be possible to write a life of Brendan, which would be both of considerable bulk and of considerable interest. But there would be nothing particularly startling or striking about it. Apart from the interest of public events contemporary with his long career, the monotonous variety produced by his vagabond nature, and such psychical interest as might possibly attach to stories of his mediumistic temperament, it would be rather hum-drum. Brendan, however, has had the ill luck to be selected by some unknown antient Irish novelist as the hero of a romance of the wildest kind, which has certainly spread his name, if not his fame, in quarters which in all his travels he could never have anticipated. Even in the Canary Islands, the natives apply the term 'Isla de San Borondon' to a peculiar effect like mirage, showing a shadowy presentiment of land, which is sometimes seen off their coasts. His character as an hero of romance, somewhat of the type of Sinbad the Sailor, if not of that of Gulliver, has even injured him as a subject of serious study. There has been a sort of custom, to which may be applied a celebrated phrase of Newman, 'aged but not venerable,' of confounding the hero of the romance with the real man. It would be just as proper to identify the hero of the _Pickwick Papers_ with a certain Mr. Pickwick, whom it was, oddly enough, the duty of one of Dickens' sons to call as a witness in an English law-suit not many years ago. Even Homer sometimes nods--at least according to the critics, of whose opinion Lucian credits him with so low an estimation--and the great Bollandists had their historical equanimity--much as experience must have already taught it to bear--so upset by the brilliancy of the fable that they have omitted to print the real life at all, a life which is, at the worst, no more startling than a good many with which they have enriched their pages--e.g., those of Patrick, Brigid, and Columba--and after a denunciation of what their authorities call the _vana, fictaque vel apocrypha deliramenta_, 'the silly, lying, or apocryphal ravings,' simply proceed to give a compilation of isolated notices drawn from a variety of different sources.

Prof. O'Curry, in his _Lectures on the MS. Material of Ancient Irish History_, page 289, mentions four ancient Irish romances in the form of voyages, of which the voyage of Brendan is one. He gives an epitome of that of the sons of Ua Corra, which seems at least in parts to be almost equally wild. But that of Brendan has certainly been the most popular. M. Achille Jubinal, who edited one Latin and two French translations of it, says that it also exists in Irish, Welsh, Spanish, English, and Anglo-Norman. The Spanish, English, and Anglo-Norman I have never read, and of the Welsh I have never heard. Of the Latin I once made a complete translation from the Latin text published by Jubinal, but I have lost it, and have had to do the work again so far as necessary for the present lecture. I remember, however, that from several features, I came to the conclusion that the Latin text was a translation from Irish, and the Irish text must present considerable variants, as Dr. Todd in his book on _St. Patrick, Apostle of Ireland_, page 460, cites from 'An Irish Life of St. Brendan,' but which must evidently be the fabulous voyage, four incidents, of which one is about the finding of a dead mermaid, another about one of the voyagers being devoured alive by sea-cats, and the third about an huge sea-cat as large as an ox which swam after them to destroy them, until another sea-monster rose up and fought with the cat, and both were drowned, none of which incidents occur in the Latin. However, to the Latin version my defective knowledge must confine me, and there is enough of it for one lecture, and to spare. I may, however, say that by the Latin text I do not here mean only the text published by Jubinal. The present Bollandists were good enough, some years ago, to edit for me the 'Codex Salmanticensis,' which contains both the romance and the Life, and I find in the romance serious divergences from the text given by Jubinal; they are of a kind which, in my judgment, stamp it beyond all doubt as a later and corrupt edition, but I have largely compared the texts, although not word for word.

Well, I am now going to deal with the 'silly, lying, or apocryphal ravings.' The romance relates that on one occasion when Brendan was in a place called the Thicket, there came to him a man called Barint O'Neil, of the race of King Neil of IX. Hostages. This man told him that his disciple Marnock had left him, and founded an hermitage of his own in an island called Delight some, whither he himself afterwards went to visit him. While he was there, they were one day together upon the shore, where there was a small boat, and then, to translate the precise words, 'he said unto me, "Father, go up into the ship, and let us sail westward unto the island which is called the Land of Promise of the Saints, which God will give unto them that come after us in the latter time." We went up into the ship therefore, and clouds covered us all round about us, so that hardly could we see the stern or the prow of the ship. After the space, as it were, of one hour, a great light shone round about us, and there appeared a land wide and grassy, and very fruitful. And when the ship was come to land, we went out, and began to go about, and to walk through that land for fifteen days, and we could not find the end thereof. We saw there no plant without a flower, and no tree without fruit, and all the stones thereof are precious stones. And upon the fifteenth day we found a river running from the west eastward. And when we considered all these things, we doubted what we should do. We were fain to pass over the river, but we waited for counsel from God. While we discussed thus between us, of a sudden there appeared before us a man in great brightness, who called us by our names and saluted us, saying, "It is well done, good brethren, for the Lord hath revealed unto you that land which He will give unto his Saints. For it is an half of the island up to this river; but unto you it is not given to pass over. Go back therefore whence ye are come." When he said thus, we asked him whence he was, and by what name he was called. And he said unto me, "Why dost thou ask me whence I am? and by what name I am called? Why dost thou not rather ask as to this island? For even as thou seest it now, so doth it remain since the beginning of the world. Hast thou any need of meat or drink? Hast thou been overcome of sleep, or hath night covered thee? Know therefore of a surety: there is always day here without blindness or shadow of darkness. For our Lord Jesus Christ is the light thereof, and if men had not done against the commandment of God, they would have remained in the loveliness of this land." When we heard it, we were turned to weeping, and when we were rested, we straightway took our journey, and the man aforesaid came with us even to the shore where our ship was. But when we got us up into the ship, the man was taken away from our eyes, and we came into the darkness aforesaid, and until the Isle of Delight some.' Barint goes on to relate his conversation with Marnock's disciples, and how they told him that they often knew by the fragrance of Marnock's garments, when he had been away from them for a while and returned, that he had been in that garden of God, where, as it is expressed, 'night gathereth not, nor day endeth ... for the angels of God keep it.'

Incited by this narrative, Brendan proposed to some of his disciples to set out in search of the Land of Promise, and after fasting for forty days for three days at a time, they finally embarked from the neighbourhood of Tralee. There is a very curious description of the _corach_[2] or skin-boat in which they embarked. It was, it is stated, 'very light, with ribs and posts of wicker, as the use is in those parts, and they covered it with the hides of cattle, dyed reddish in oak-bark, and they smeared all the seams of the ship without; and they took provisions for forty days, and butter for dressing hides for the covering of the ship, and the other things which are useful for the life of man.' Two of the MSS. add (and are justified by subsequent passages):--'They set up a mast in the middle of the ship, and a sail, and the rest of the gear for steering.' The voyagers were fourteen in number besides Brendan, but at the last moment three other brethren came and entreated to be taken, saying that if they were left where they were, they would die of hunger and thirst. Brendan consents, but predicts that while one of them would come to a good end, two would come to a bad.

[Footnote 2: After the manner of the antient Celts, but which is not, I believe, altogether extinct either in the Highlands or in Ireland, and of which I remember having seen one once in actual use in Wales.]

They set off in the direction of the summer solstice, by which must, I think, be meant the northerly western point where the sun sets in summer, and are forty days at sea--it will be noticed that the periods in this story are nearly always of forty days. At the end of this time they come to a very high and rocky island, with streams falling down the cliffs into the sea. They search for a landing-place for three days, and then find a narrow harbour, between steep walls of rock. On landing, they are met by a dog, which they follow to a town or fort, but see no inhabitants. They go into a great hall set with couches and seats, and find water prepared for washing the feet. The walls are hung with vessels of divers kinds of metal, and bridles, and horns mounted with silver. Brendan warns the brethren against theft, especially the three who had come last. They find a table laid, and spread with very white bread and fish. They eat and lie down to sleep. In the night Brendan sees a fiend in the shape of an Ethiopian child tempting one of the three last comers with a silver bridle. In the morning they find the table again spread, and so remain for three days and nights. Then they prepare to leave, and Brendan denounces one of the brethren as a thief. On this the guilty brother draws the silver bridle out of his breast, and cries out, 'Father, I have sinned: forgive it, and pray for my soul that it perish not.' The devil is cast out, but the brother dies and is buried on the island. As they are on the point of embarking, a lad brings them a basket of bread and a vessel (_amphora_) of water, which he gives to them with a blessing.

They start again upon the ocean, and are carried hither and thither, eating once every two days. At last, on Maundy Thursday, they reach another island, where are many abundant springs full of fish, and flocks of white sheep as large as cattle, sometimes so thick as to conceal the earth. There they remain until the morning of the Eve of Easter, when they take, and apparently kill and dress, one sheep and one lamb without blemish. The reference is evidently to an identity of custom with that which still prevails in all the southern countries of Europe, of preparing the flesh of a lamb on Holy Saturday, in honour of the Paschal Lamb, which flesh is blessed on the Saturday, and used to break the fast of Lent on the next day.[3] When all is ready there comes to them a man with a basket of bread baken on the coals--evidently meaning Passover bread. This man now becomes a regular although occasional feature in the narrative, and is called their provider (_procurator_). He foretells their journey for some time, and how they will be until a week after Pentecost in a place which is called the _Eden of Birds_.

[Footnote 3: In Italy at least, in order as far as possible to combine the strict fast of the Saturday with a fulfilment of the words of Ex. xii. 8, 'And they shall eat the flesh in that night.' It is usual to have an image of a lamb in sugar or other confectionary, which is also blessed during the day, and eaten at supper.]

Thus furnished, they go to an island close by, which he has pointed out to them as the place where they are to remain until the following noon. This island is destitute of grass, and with but scanty vegetation, and there is no sand upon its shores. All goes well until the next day, when they light a fire to boil the pot, whereupon the island becomes restive, and finally sinks into the sea, although they all manage to escape into the ship. '"Brethren," saith Brendan, "ye wonder at that which this island hath done." "Father," say they, "we wonder sorely, and great dread hath taken hold upon us." He said unto them, "Little children, be not afraid, for God hath this night shown unto me the secret of this thing. Where we have been was not an island but the first fish of all that swim in the ocean, and he seeketh ever to bring his tail unto his mouth, but he cannot, because of his length. Jasconius is his name."'

This is the only incident in the whole romance which is actually grotesque. But from the solemnity with which it is narrated, it is evident that it did not appear to be grotesque to the author. It seems to have taken the fancy of the early and mediæval public, and even of the iconographic public in a special degree. The word _whale_ has commonly been applied to the beast, and as the same episode occurs in the story of _Sinbad the Sailor_, Jubinal has set himself to speculate how that story, or the _Arabian Nights_ in which it is incorporated, came to be known in Ireland. I confess I do not agree with him. In the first place, the notion is not particularly recondite, and it has at least this possible foundation in fact, that, as I have been told by sailors, the back of a whale of advanced years, when asleep at the surface, may be and has been mistaken from some distance, greatly owing to the accretions upon it, for the top of a reef. Again, a somewhat similar notion occurs in Lucian's _Traveller's Tale_, which was much more likely to be known to the Irish fabulist. Lastly, I must observe that all this is gloss. The word _whale_ (cete) is never applied to the animal but always _fish_ (piscis) or _monster_ (bellua) or _beast_ (bestie), and the whole thing, with the notion of its vast size, and the attempt to join the tail to the mouth, which brings it into connection with the emblem of eternity, which is due, I believe, to the Phoenicians, but which we ourselves so often use upon coffins and grave-stones, seems to bring it into connection rather with the idea of the Midgard-Worm, the great under-lying world-serpent which figures so largely in the mythic cosmogony of the Scandinavians. I suggest that this is the notion, of which the romancer may have heard from Scandinavian sources; and there is even a kind of indication that it was associated in his mind with the idea of paganism, as Brendan is made to speak elsewhere of God having made the most terrible (_immanissimam_) of beasts subject unto them.

On leaving the spot where the monster had sunk, they first returned to the provider's isle, from the top of which they perceived another near at hand, covered with grass and woods and full of flowers, and thither they went.