Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race
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.
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.
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."
CHAPTER IX: CUCHULAIN, THE CHAMPION OF IRELAND
Introduction
Among all the early literatures of Europe, there are two which, at
exactly opposite corners of the continent, display most strikingly
similar characteristics, characteristics which apparently point to
some racial affinity in the peoples who produced them. These
literatures are the Greek and the Irish. It has been maintained with
much ingenuity that the Greeks of Homer, the early Britons, and the
Irish Celts were all of one stock, as shown by the many points they
had in common. It is certain that in customs, manner of life, ethics,
ideas of religion, and methods of warfare a striking similarity may be
seen between the Greeks as described by Homer and the Britons as
Julius Caesar knew them, or the Irish as their own legends reveal them.
We must expect to find in their myths and legends a certain
resemblance of Celtic ideas to Greek ideas; and if the great Achilles
sulks in his tent because he is unjustly deprived of his captive, the
fair Briseis, we shall not be surprised to find the Champion of Erin
quarrelling over his claim to precedence. The contest between the
heroes for the armour of dead Achilles is paralleled by this contest
between the three greatest warriors of Ireland for the special dish of
honour called the "Champion's Portion," a distinction which also
recalls Greek life.
Cuchulain, the Irish Achilles
The resemblance of the Cuchulain legend to the story of Achilles is so
strong that Cuchulain is often called "the Irish Achilles," but there
are elements of humour and pathos in his story which the tale of
Achilles cannot show, and in reckless courage, power of inspiring
dread, sense of personal merit, and frankness of speech the Irish hero
is not inferior to the mighty Greek. The way in which Cuchulain
established his claim to be regarded as Chief Champion of Erin is
related in the following story, which shows some primitive Celtic
features found again in Welsh legends and other national folk-tales.
The Youth of Cuchulain
Cuchulain was the nephew of King Conor of Ulster, son of his sister
Dechtire, and men say his father was no mortal man, but the great god
Lugh of the Long Hand. When Cuchulain was born he was brought up by
King Conor himself and the wisest men of Ireland; when five years old,
he beat all the other boys in games and warlike exercises, and on the
day on which he was seven he assumed the arms of a warrior, so much
greater was he than the sons of mortal men. Cuchulain had overheard
his tutor, Cathbad the Druid, say to the older youths, "If any young
man take arms to-day, his name will be greater than any other name in
Ireland, but his span of life will be short," and as he loved fame
above long life, he persuaded his uncle, King Conor, to invest him
with the weapons of manhood. His fame soon spread all over Ireland,
for his warlike deeds were those of a proved warrior, not of a child