John Patrick Crichton Stuart Bute - Brendan\'s Fabulous Voyage
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John Patrick Crichton Stuart Bute >> Brendan\'s Fabulous Voyage
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 mediaeval 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.
On the south shore of this island they found a river a little broader
than the ship, and up this they towed her for a mile, when they came to
the fountain-head of the stream. It was a wondrous fountain, and above
it there was a tree marvellously beautiful, spreading rather than high,
but all covered with white birds, so covered that they hid its foliage
and branches. (The notion is perhaps taken from a tree loaded with
snow.) 'And when the man of God saw it, he began to think in himself
what or wherefore it should be, that such a multitude of birds should be
gathered together in one place. And the thing distressed him so, that he
wept, and fell down upon his knees, and besought the Lord, saying, "O
God, Who knowest the things which are unknown, and makest manifest the
things which are hidden, Thou knowest how that mine heart is straitened;
therefore I beseech Thee that it may please Thee to make manifest unto
me, Thy sinful servant, this mystery which now I do see with mine eyes.
And this I ask not for an desert of my worthiness, but in respect of Thy
mercy." When he had so spoken, behold, one of the birds flew from the
tree. From the ship, where the man of God was sitting, his wings sounded
as with the sound of little bells. He perched upon the top of the prow,
and began to spread his wings for joy, and looked kindly upon the holy
father Brendan. Then the man of God, when he understood that the Lord
had had regard unto his prayer, saith unto the bird, "If thou be the
messenger of God, tell me whence be these birds, and wherefore they be
gathered here." And it said, "We are of that great ruin of the old
enemy; but we have not fallen by sinning or consenting; but we have been
predestinated by the goodness and mercy of God, for wherein we were
created, hath our ruin come to pass, through his fall and the fall of
his crew. But God the Almighty, Who is righteous and true, hath by His
judgment sent us into this place. Pains we suffer not. The presence of
God in a sense we cannot see, so far has He separated us from the
company of them that stood firm. We wander through the divers parts of
this world, of the sky, and of the firmament, and of the earths, even as
other spirits who are sent forth [to minister]. But upon the holy days
of the Lord, we take bodies such as Thou seest, and by the ordinance of
God we dwell here, and praise our Maker. As for thee, thou and thy
brethren are a year upon the way, and yet there await you six. And where
this day thou hast kept the Passover, there shall ye keep it every year,
and afterwards shall thou find that which thou hast set in thine heart,
even the land promised unto the Saints." And when the bird had so
spoken, it rose from the prow, and returned unto the others. And when
the hour of evening came, they all began to flap their wings, and to
sing as it were with one voice, saying, "Praise waiteth for Thee, O God,
in Zion, and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem, through
our ministry." And they repeated that verse even for the space of an
hour, and the song and the sound of their wings was like harmony (carmen
cantus) for sweetness. Then holy Brendan saith unto his brethren,
"Refresh your bodies, since this day the Lord hath satisfied your souls
by His Divine rising again." And when supper was ended, and the work of
God done, the man of God and they that were with him gave their bodies
unto rest until the third watch of the night. And the man of God woke
and roused the brethren for the watches of the night, and he began
holily to sing that verse, "O Lord, open Thou my lips." And when the
word of the man of God was finished, all the birds sang out with wings
and voices, saying, "Praise ye the Lord, all His Angels, praise ye Him
all His hosts." Likewise at even for the space of an hour, they sang
ever, and when the dawn glowed they began to sing, "And let the beauty
of the Lord our God be upon us," with the same harmony and length of
singing as in the Morning Praises: likewise, at the third hour that
verse, "Sing praises to our God, sing praises, sing praises unto our
King, sing ye praises with understanding:" at the sixth hour, "May the
Lord cause His face to shine upon us, and be merciful unto us:" and at
the ninth hour they sang, "Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for
brethren to dwell together in unity." So by day and by night these birds
gave praise to God.'