CELTIC ANTHOLOGY AND POETIC REMAINS.
There is no people, the annals of which may not be separated into three distinct periods, namely: the period of heroes and epico-poetic narration; the period of myth, fable, and apotheosis; and the period of realistic and definitive history. Or, to range the whole in the order of historical sequence, the three distinctive phases of race-annals may be formulated as follows:
1. The period of myth and apotheosis—which, among the European races especially, constitutes the beginning of history.
2. The period of heroes and poetic annals—which forms a kind of transition period.
3. The period of realistic definitive history, untinted with imaginative glories—the beginning of which indicates the point in race-history at which literary civilization commences.
To the analysis of the first we apply the term mythology; but for the second it happens that there is no term—unless we may be permitted so to deepen the sense of the word anthology as to include within its sweep of definition, not only poetic extracts, but poetic material and the logical analysis of that material. For the purposes of this paper, therefore, the word will be used in the sense suggested, as including the poetic material of a people, and the discussion of any anthological idiosyncrasies therein manifested.
The use of the word being permitted—it happens that, however intricate and various in details, the essential data of anthology are everywhere the same in classification, and everywhere susceptible of the same logical analysis. Without here pausing to specify reasons, which may be more conveniently specified hereafter—this division into classes of data, needful because as yet no logicalization has been here attempted, may be effected with tolerable precision by recurring to the usual analysis of a people's poetic material. The analysis of these data—anthological because imaginative and poetic—may, therefore, be exhibited thus:
1. Mythology and semi-historical or moralistic fable.
2. Poetic annals and ancient waifs of ballad and song.
3. Household legends, fairy stories, and superstitions.
In the region of mythology the data have been collected and collated with considerable thoroughness, especially by German savans; in the region of poetic annals, only the general details have been subjected to analytic scrutiny; and in that of household lore and legend, saving the collection of the Brothers Grimm, little has been effected in comparison with the importance of the subject. Enough has been done, however, to demonstrate, not only the applicability of the fore-made classification, but also the singular analogical resemblance in minute details which exists between the household legends of any one people as compared with those of any other, and which, in analogy at least, points to the original historical unity of the human race.
Nor is the analogy which bespeaks this unity to be limited to the general analysis of class. Amid the vagaries of mythology and apotheosis, amid the epic-annals of heroes and demi-gods, and, in short, amid the more minute imaginings and superstitions [{390}] of every people may be traced curious and often startlingly singular analogical resemblances.
The Edda, weird, Northern and Gothic in the ensemble of its imaginings, reproduces, otherwise nomenclated, the mythology of the Greek and of the Roman; the dim bat-winged Athor of mystical Egypt, who presided under the shadows of the pyramids over the creation of beauty, reappears, less mystically aureola'd, in the classical mythos of Venus; and the ghoul of the desert-inhabiting Saracen—most Arabic of all Arabs—haunts the woodlands and waste-places of Germany, as illusive and wine-dispensing Elle-maid; in short, in all forms of superstition and in all moods of anthology there is an essential unity—a unity having its root in the general unity of the human imagination. For, the imagination, however through the operation of local causes its dreams may be tipped with rainbow-tints or imbued with shadowy sublimity—is one in the ever-varying rhythm of its creations, and one in the vague palaces of fantasy which it uprears. Valleys and palaces of ideal loveliness it may evoke—visions to which Poe weds expression in the weird imagery of his Haunted Palace:
"And travellers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute's well-tunéd law;"
Or, again, valleys and palaces of lunatic ghastliness and superstition—visionary lunacies, which Poe graphically, though somewhat metaphorically, depicts in his own modification of the above rhythm-painting:
"And travellers now within that valley.
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody."
But, whether the music be discordant or well-tuned, the humanity of its note cannot be mistaken; and whether the creations of the human intellect be palaces of loveliness or pagodas of ghastliness, they still bear the unmistakable impress of man's toiling after the ideal—of the vague, restless, and unsatisfied yearning for the lost ideal of his being, to compass which he toils and struggles and dreams. In this essential unity of human imagination is grounded the essential unity of the data of anthology, and hence its marvellous and minute analogical resemblances.
Anthology having never been reduced to definitive system, it happens that no little of its critical material exists only in lumbering and uncollated masses. Indeed, not a little of that which might have been valuable as material has been permitted to rot in mildewed manuscript—for need of appreciation of its real value on the part of scholars—instead of having been (as it should have been) treasured and preserved, as the pabulum of thought and science; and yet more remains uncollected, and will so remain until a more valid comprehension of its value shall have been impressed upon the minds of spectacled professors who are usually the last to comprehend that in the comprehension of which they ought to be first. But, notwithstanding this apparent apathy and neglect on the part of the learned, there are, still, certain problems of history which can only be unriddled with this key—that of comparative anthology—as, for instance, the exploits of Joan d'Arc; a hundred riddles of mental philosophy there are, which can not be unravelled without it; and, in every language, multitudes of words are based, as to their peculiar shades of significance, upon anthological criticism. Thus the nightmare is the demon which haunts the night; the Huguenots were imps of the woods—from Hugon, the demon of the woodlands;—and not not as a learned dean supposes the people eidgenossen; and a seer is simply a see-er, that is, one who has the gift of the second sight.
A minute knowledge of anthology—we here use the term to denote that blossoming of events and moral ideas into imaginative forms, which constitutes most of that which we denominate the poetic material of a people, is, therefore, in the highest degree necessary to the proper comprehension of—
1. Historical criticism.
2. Comparative philology.
3. Mental philosophy—especially in those moods of mind of which modern civilization furnishes no examples.
To take a familiar illustration. It has been over and over demonstrated that, unless we deny the validity of the common principles of historical evidence, to admit the existence of that peculiar imaginative faculty denominated "second sight" is a necessity. Nor is the faculty, if its existence be admitted, necessarily to be accounted a preternatural gift—being simply the logical result of the cultivation of certain impulses of human intellect seldom, in the experiences of modern society, evoked into activity; being, in fact, the logical deduction of that scenery which surrounded the Highlanders of Scotland, and of that mood of mind which was their prevailing habit. Civilization develops no sublimity of mental strength, except in the region of reason. Moral sublimity is not developed by communion with streets and avenues. Neither is imaginative insight—that which, in ultimate deduction, is inspiration—an inhabiter of palaces. Born of crags, of' mountains, and of the lurid and ghastly grandeur of the tempest—the imaginative insight is the lightning of the mind, and like the lightning at midnight reveals that which to the moon and stars is wrapped in darkness. To educe the principle: the imaginative forms (anthology) into which primitive moral ideas, rude reasonings, and epic-events blossom, are essentially modified by two ever-active causes, namely: idiosyncrasies of race and scenic surroundings. And hence, in reducing the fragmentary imaginings of a people to scientific system, we are compelled to keep constantly in view the idea of answering to the conditions of three problems:
1. Given the scenery of a country and the idiosyncrasies of its people, and we may, in a general way, indicate its anthology; or
2. Given the anthology and idiosyncrasies, and we may, with tolerable accuracy, indicate the leading peculiarities of the scenery; or
3. Given the scenery and anthology, and we may indicate, with exactitude, the leading idiosyncrasies of the people.
Having indicated, by way of preface, the general scope of anthology and the value of its data, we shall devote the remaining portion of this paper to the anthological relics of the Irish race, and especially to its elfin and poetic phases.
Fairies are (among the Irish peasantry) still believed to exist, and to exercise no little influence over the affairs of mortals. They are generally represented as pigmies, and are, so runs the superstition, often seen dancing around solitary thorns, which are believed to be among their most frequented haunts. Hence the veneration of the peasantry for old solitary thorns—the peasantry believing that if these thorns are cut down or maimed, the fairies are thereby provoked, and will either maim the person who has cut the tree, cause his cattle to sicken and die, or otherwise injure his property. Places supposed to be haunted by fairies are termed gentle, as likewise are several herbs, in gathering which a strange ritual is observed. If provoked by any person, it is believed that the fairies will steal and carry away that which is dearest to that person, as his wife, or especially any members of his family in babyhood and before baptism. The castles in which the fairies dwelt were generally believed to be movable at the pleasure of the proprietor, invisible to human eyes, and usually built in ancient forths or raths. Among the principal fairy kings were Firwar, whose castle was at Knock Magha, and Macaneantan, [{392}] whose fairy palace was at Sgraba. Whistling Hill (Knock-na-feadalea), in the county of Down, is still visited by hundreds of the peasantry, who, especially on the last night in October, which is observed with singular ceremonials, aver that they can hear the music of the fairies issuing from the hill. The following verses include the names of the principal places fabled to be inhabited by fairy kings:
"Around Knock-Grein, and Knock-na-Rae,
Bin Builvia, and Keis Korain,
To Bin Eakhlan and Lokh Da-ean,
And thence north-east to Sleive Guilin.
They trod the lofty hills of Mugarna.
Round Sleive Denard and Beal-at-an-draigh.
Down to Daudrin, Dundroma, and Dunardalay,
Right forward to Knock-na-Feadalea."
Which was the route of procession on the night of the last of October, when aërial spirits were supposed to be peculiarly active. The following legend of Whistling Hill we extract from a collection of these legends in the original Irish made by Rev. William Neilson, D.D., and printed by Hogan, No. 15 Lower Ormond Quay, Dublin, in 1808:
"There was au honest, pious man, who lived formerly near the river, by the side of the hill (Whistling Hill); and the vestiges of his house may yet be seen. His name was Thady Hughes; and he had neither wife nor family—his mother, an aged woman, keeping his house.
"Thady went out on a Hallow-eve night to pray, as he was in the habit of doing, on the bank of the river; and looking up to observe the stars, he saw a dusky cloud from the south moving toward him as if impelled by a whirl-wind, and heard the sound of horses just as if a troop of cavalry were tramping along the valley. Thady noticed that they all came over the ford and round the mountain.
"Remembering that he had often heard it said, 'if you cast the dust under your feet against the cloud, if the fairies have any human being with them they are compelled to release him,' Thady seized a handful of the gravel which was under his feet and hurled it, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, against the whirlwind: whereupon fell down a strange lady, weak, faint, and wearily moaning.
"Thady started, but, imagining that the voice of the strange lady's moaning was human, went to the spot where she fell, spoke to her, and took her in his arms and carried her to his mother, who gave her food—the lady eating but little.
"They asked her few questions that night, knowing that she came from the fairy castles. Besides, she appeared to be sick and sorrowful, and did not seem to be in any mood for talking. The next morning, however, she related her story, having first enjoined secrecy, which Thady and his mother promised.
"The strange lady's name was Mary Rourke, and she had formerly lived in the county of Galway, where she was married to a young man named John Joyce, who lived hard by Knock Magha. One year after her marriage with Joyce, King Firwar and his host carried her away to the fairy castle of Knock Magha, leaving something in the form of a dead woman in her place which bulk was duly waked and buried.
"She had been in Knock Magha nearly a year and was daily entertained with dances and songs, notwithstanding she was in sorrow at having been parted from her husband. At length the host of the castle told her that her husband had married another woman; that, therefore, she ought to indulge in grief no longer; and that Firwar and his family were about to visit the province of Ulster, and intended to take her with them. They set out at dawn from Knock Magha forth, both Firwar and host; and many a fairy castle they visited from dawn till fall of night, traveling all mounted on beautiful winged horses.
"After they lost Mary, the fairies did not halt; for they were to feast that Hallow-eve in the fairy castle of Sgraba, with the fairy king, Macaneantan."
The story adds that Thady Hughes married Mary Rourke, and that a difficulty subsequently arose between Thady and John Joyce, who, having heard of the escape of the strange lady from the fairies, went to Thady's cottage and claimed her as his wife. The matter afterward came before the bishop for adjudication, who adjudged that as Mary had, to all appearances, died and been buried as the wife of John Joyce, she was under no obligation to be his wife after her death. And thus ends the legend.
The general similarity of the fairies as depicted in this legend to those of Germany as illustrated in Goethe's Erl King, is obvious, and seems to argue either historical kin or identity of origin. In Goethe's ballad a corpse is left in the arms of the father. The version subjoined is an anonymous newspaper version, but is so far superior to that of Mrs. Austin, that we quote it in preference:
"Who rideth so late through the night wind lone?
Yet is a father with his son.
"He foldeth him fast; he foldeth him warm;
He prayeth the angels to keep from him harm.
"' My son, why hidest thy face so shy?'
"' Seest thou not, father, the Erl King nigh?
"'The Erlen King with his train, I wist?'
"'My son, it is only the fog and mist.'
"'Come, beautiful one, come away with me,
And merry plays will I play with thee!
"'Ah! gay are the blossoms that blow by the shore,
And my mother hath many a plaything in store.'
"'My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
What the Erlen King doth say in my ear?'
"'Be still my darling, be still, my son,
Through the withered leaves the winds howl lone.'
"'Come, beautiful one, come away with me,
My daughters are fair, they shall wait on thee!
"'My daughters their nightly revellings keep,
They shall sing, they shall dance, they shall rock thee to sleep.'
"' My father, my father, and seest thou not
The Erl King's daughters in yon wild spot?'
"'My son, my son, I see, I wist,
It is the gray willow down there in the mist.'
"'I woo thee; thy beauty delighteth my sense.
And, willing or not, shall I carry thee hence.'
"'O father, the Erl King now puts forth his arm!
O father, the Erl King, he doeth me harm!'
"The father rideth, he rideth fast
And faster rideth through the blast.
"He spurreth wild, through the night wind lone,
And dead, in his arms, he holdeth his son."
Of this topic—the folks-lore of the Irish peasantry—we shall here take leave, merely hazarding the opinion that there is some remote historical connection between the Irish traditions of the idiosyncrasies and doings of elves and those of the Germanic races—a connection probably dating from the Danish occupation of the country about the seventh or eighth century. In the Irish poetic annals, which antedate the Danish occupation by several hundred years, no traces of elfin traditions can be detected; and the same is true of the Ossianic ballads which McPherson has rather imperfectly collated, and between which and the several Celtic manuscripts there is a singular resemblance.
The collation of McPherson, valuable in many respects, is amenable to almost fatal criticism, in that the sublimity of the Gaëlic composition is marred by being twisted from the parallelism (which, in the original, is analogous to the Hebraic) into the form of prose: the parallelism being in English—as in Gaëlic, Celtic, and Hebrew—the most effective form into which sublimity can be wrought. And to demonstrate the truth of this proposition we need only to put portions of McPherson's prose version into the parallelistic form, and shall adopt for this purpose Fingal's interview with the spirit of Loda, than which, uniquely considered, a poem of more overwhelming sublimity was never written or conceived. Subjoined is McPherson's version:
"A blast came from the mountain: on its wings was the spirit of Loda. He came to his place in his terrors, and shook his dusky spear. His eyes appear like flames in his dark face: his voice is like distant thunder. Fingal advanced his spear in night, and raise his voice on high. 'Son of night retire: call thy winds, and fly! Why dost thou come to my presence with thy shadowy arms? Shall I fear thy gloomy form, spirit of dismal Loda? Weak is thy shield of clouds; feeble is that meteor thy sword! The blast rolls them together; and thou thyself art lost. Fly from my presence, son of night! call thy winds and fly!'
"'Dost thou force me from my place?' replied the hollow voice. 'I turn the battle in the field of the brave. I look on the nations, and they vanish: my nostrils pour the blast of death. I come abroad on the winds; the tempests are before my face. But my dwelling is calm above the clouds; pleasant are the fields of my rest.'
"'Dwell in thy pleasant fields,' says the king. 'Let Comhal's son be forgotten. Have my steps ascended from my hills into thy peaceful plains? Have I met thee with a spear on thy cloud, spirit of dismal Loda? Why then dost thou frown on me? Why shake thine airy sphere? Thou frownest in vain: I never fled from the mighty in war; and shall the sons of the wind frighten the king of Morven? No—he knows the weakness of their arms.'
"'Fly to thy land,' replied the form; 'take to the wind, and fly! The blasts are in the hollow of my hand: the course of the storm is mine. Fly to thy land, son of Comhal, or feel my flaming wrath!'
"He lifted high his shadowy spear! he bent forward his dreadful height. Fingal, advancing, drew his sword, the blade of dark-brown Luno. The gleaming path of the steel winds through the gloomy ghost. The form fell shapeless into air."
Now, let us put this in the form of the parallelism—a form into which the sententious sublimity of the composition naturally falls, and in which nearly all these ancient Gaëlic and Celtic epics occur in the original:
"A blast came from the mountain:
On its wings was the spirit of Loda.
He came to his place in terrors,
And shook his dusky spear.
His eyes appear like flame in his dusky face:
His voice is like distant thunder.
Fingal advanced his spear into the night,
And raised his voice on high.
Son of night, retire;
Call thy winds, and fly!
Why dost thou come to my presence with thy shadowy arms?
Shall I fear thy gloomy form, spirit of Loda?
Weak is thy shield of clouds;
Feeble is that meteor, thy sword.
The blast rolls them together:
And thou thyself art lost.
Fly from my presence, son of night!
Call thy winds, and fly!'
'Dost thou force me from my place?' replied the hollow voice.
'I turn the battle in the field of the brave,
I look on the nations and they vanish:
In my nostrils is the blast of death.
I came abroad on the winds:
The tempests are before my face,
But my dwelling is calm above the clouds;
Pleasant are my fields of rest.'
'Dwell in thy pleasant fields,' said the king.
'Let Comhal's son be forgotten.
Have my stops ascended from my hills into thy peaceful plains?
Have I met thee with a spear on thy cloud, spirit of the dismal Loda?
Why dost thou frown on me?
Why shake thy dusky spear?
Thou frownest in vain;
I never fled from the mighty in war;
And shall the sons of the wind frighten the king of Morven?
He knows the weakness of their arms.'
'Fly to thy land,' replied the shadow;
'Take to the wind, and fly!
The blasts are in the hollow of my hand
The course of the storm is mine.
Fly to thy land, son of Comhal,
Or feel my flaming wrath!'
He lifted high his shadowy spear:
He bent forward his dismal height
Fingal, advancing, drew his sword, the blade of the dark-brown Luno.
The gleaming path of steel winds through the gloomy ghost.
The form fell shapeless in air."
For vague sublimity, for weird, dismal, ghastly, and phantasmagoric grandeur of conception and effect, the imagery of the above episode of Ossian has never been exceeded in the vast domain of fantasy-weaving; and this effect is vastly heightened by the sententious step of the sentences and the shadowy cadence of the parallelism—a cadence which is the natural expression of sublimity, and to compass which in ordinary blank verse it is impossible. Compare, for instance, the following imagery of similar ensemble, from Milton's "Paradise Lost":
"O'er many a dark and dreary vale
They passed, and many a region dolorous;
O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp;
Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens and shades of death—
A universe of death."
Or the following rhythmical painting of more than Miltonic massiveness and magnificence of imagination, from the "Orion" of R. H. Horne—a poem of more idiosyncratic merit than most poems upon the classical model. Orion thus describes the building of a palace for Hephaistos (Vulcan):
"So that great figures started from the roof,
And lofty coignes, or sat and downward gazed
On those who stood below and gazed above—
I filled it; in the centre framed a hall;
Central In that a throne: and for the light
Forged mighty hammers that should rise and fall
On slanted rocks of granite and of flint.
Worked by a torrent, for whose passage down
A gape I hewed. And here the god could take,
Midst showery sparks and swathes of broad gold fire,
His lone repose, lulled by the sounds he loved:
Or, casting back the hammer-heads until they stopped
The water's ebb, enjoy, if so he willed,
Midnight tremendous, silence, and iron sleep."
Both of which, though in their manner unparalleled, are, in a less degree, imbued with that which we may term POETIC ILLUMINATION; that which constitutes the felicitous sublimity of Ossian; in short, that for which only one simile, and that an impossible one—namely, shooting of a sun athwart the heavens at midnight—be adduced.
But—the seasons here specified being deemed insufficient—if further reasons be necessary for the adoption of of the parallelistic form in treating the ancient Gaëlic and Celtic compositions, these necessary reasons are fluent from the original form of those compositions, and from the fact that the parallelism is the only poetic form adapted to their style; which may be demonstrated by comparing the rhythmical collocation of a single poem, the Songs of Deardra, a Celtic poem in manuscript which will form the basis of the remainder of this paper, with the collocation of the parallelistic English rendering. Adopting phonographic equivalents for the Irish letters, the initial stanza of Deardra's song improvised as a farewell to Scotland, runs as follows;
"Ionmuin lioni an tio ud shoin,
Alba cona hionghantuio;
Nokha tliucfuinn aisde de,
Muna dtioefuinn re Noise."
And the parallelistic rendering, line for line, as follows:
"Dear to me that eastern shore;
Dear is Alban, land of delights.
Never would I have forsaken it,
Had I not come with Naesa."
Thus the translation is rendered exact, conveying not only the matter but, also, the manner of the original—without which last any translation is and must be defective. The song is thus continued:
"Dear are Dunfay and Dunfin,
And dear are the hills around them;
Dear is Inis-drayon,
In dear to me Dunsaivni.
"Coilcuan, sweet Coilcuan!
Where Ainii and where Ardan came.
Happy passed my days with Naesa,
In the Western vales of Alban.
"Glenlee, O Glenlee!
Amidst thy thickets have I slept,
And amidst thy thickets feasted,
With my love in Glenlee.
"Glenmessan, O, Glenmessan!
Sweet were thy herbs and bright thy greens,
Lulled by the falling stream we slept,
On Inver's banks in Glenmessan.
"Gleneikh, bright Gleneikh!
Where my dwelling first was fixed,
The woods smiled when the rising sun
Shoots yellow arrows on Gleneikh.
"Glenarkhon, dear Glenarkhon!
Fair is the vale below high Dromkhon.
Sportive were my days with Naesa,
In the blooming vales of Glenarkhon.
"Glendarua, O Glendarua!
To me were thy people dear.
The birds sang sweetly on the bending boughs
That shaded over Glendarua.
"Dear to me is that spreading shore;
Dear the sandy-margined streams.
Never would I have forsaken them,
Had I not come with Naesa."
The events celebrated in these manuscript songs, now mustily rusting in the Dublin University collection, occurred during the first century, A. C. Deardra was the daughter of Macdoil, the historian of Ulla (Ulster); Concovar being at that time king. The plot may be briefly described:
1. At the birth of Deardra it is foretold that she shall be the cause of many calamities; but the king, unappalled by omens and predictions, causes her to be taken from Macdoil and reared under persons whom he appoints; proposing to make her queen of Ulla.
2. The beautiful Deardra conceives a passion for Naesa, one of the sons of Usna; and, with the assistance of his brothers, Ainli and Ardan, elopes with him to Alban, (Scotland,) in the western part of which Naesa has large estates.
3. A messenger arrives from Concovar conveying the king's solicitation that they return to Ulla, and bearing tokens of the king's forgiveness to Naesa and Deardra.
4. Disregarding the forebodings of Deardra, the sons of Usna accept the king's hospitality; and on the voyage Deardra sings the pathetic farewell to Alban just quoted, as if foreboding the events which follow.
5. As the vessel moors in the haven Deardra ceases to sing; but, still foreboding ruin to Naesa, advises him to place himself under the protection of Cuculiin, who has his residence at Dundalgan. Naesa's confidence in the honor of Concovar, however, prevails; and they proceed to Emana, the royal seat—Deardra foretelling their fate both in conversation and in frequent prophetic song.
6. They are received by Concovar with the semblance of kindness, and placed in the castle of the Red Arm with guards to wait upon them; while a body of mercenaries are sent to rescue Deardra and burn the castle—the troops of Ulla having refused to imbrue their hands in the blood of the heroes.
7. Naesa, Ainli, and Ardan effect their escape with Deardra; but, being pursued, are overwhelmed by the king's mercenaries and slain. Deardra sings the following lament, calling to mind every circumstance which endeared her to Naesa, and reflecting with self-tormenting ingenuity upon those transient interruptions which, occasioning uneasiness at the moment, now serve to aggravate her unavailing sorrow:
"Farewell for ever, fair coasts of Alban;
Your bays and vales shall no more delight me.
There oft from hills with Usna's sons,
I viewed the hunt below.
"The lords of Alban met in banquet.
There were the valiant sons of Usna:
And Naesa gave a secret kiss
To the fairest daughter of Dundron.
"He sent her a bind from the hill,
And a fawn beside it running;
He left the hosts of Inverness,
And turned aside to her palace.
"My soul was drunk with madness
When this they told me—told me
I set my boat upon the sea,
To sail away from Naesa.
"Ainli and Ardan brave and faithful.
Valiantly pursued me,
And brought me bark again to land,
And back again to Naesa.
"Then Naesa swore an oath to me;
And thrice he swore upon his arms.
That never would he cause me pain.
Until unto the grave they bore him.
"The maid of Dundron swore an oath;
Thrice swore the maid of Dundron,
That long as Naesa dwelt on earth
No lover else should claim her.
"Ah, did she hear this night.
That Naesa in his grave was laid,
High would be her voice of wailing,
But seven times fiercer shall be mine."
8. Standing by the grave of Naesa, Deardra concludes her lamentations with the following funeral song and panegyric, which having: sung, she springs into the grave and falls dead upon his breast:
"Long is the day to me: the sons of Usna are gone.
Their converse was sweet;
But as raindrops fall my tears.
They were as the lions on the hills of Emana.
"To the damsels of Breaton were the dear.
As hawks from the mountain they darted on the foe.
The brave knelt before them,
And nobles did them honor.
"Never did they yield in battle.
Ah! woe is me that they are gone.
Sons of the daughter of Caifa.
A host were ye in the wars of Cualna.
"By careful Aifa were they reared.
The countries round paid them tribute.
Bursting like a flood in battle,
Fought the valiant youths of Sgatha
"Uatha taught them in their youth.
The heroes were valiant in fight.
Renowed sons of Usna,
I weep, for ye have left me.
"Dark-brown were their eyebrows;
Their eyes were fires beneath;
And their faces were as embers—
As embers ruddy with flame.
"Their legs as the down of the swan—
Light and active were their limbs;
Soft and gentle were their hands,
And their arms were fair and manly.
"King of Ulla, king of Ulla!
I left thy love for Naesa.
My days are few after him.
His funeral honors are song.
"Not long shall I survive my love;
Think not so king of Ulla.
Naesa, Ainli, and Ardan,
I desire not life when you are gone.
"Life hath no joy.
My days are already too many.
Delight of my soul,
A shower of tears shall fall upon your grave.
"Ye men that dig their grave.
Dig it wide and dig it deep.
I will rest on the breast of my love
My sighs shall resound from his tomb.
"Oft were their shields their pillow,
And oft they slept upon their spears:
Lay their strong swords beside them,
And their shields beneath their heads.
"Their dogs and hawks,—
Who will now attend them?
The hunters are no more on the hills;
The valiant youths of Connai Cairni.
"My heart, it groans—it groans.
When I see the collars of their hounds.
Oft did I feed them.
But I weep when they are near.
"We were alone in the waste.
We were alone in the woodlands;
But I knew no loneliness,
Till they dug thy grave.
"My sight begins to fail.
When I view thy grave, my Naesa.
My soul hastes to depart:
And my voice of wailing to be hushed."
Thus ends one of the most pathetically beautiful tales, founded upon original history, which the epico-poetic annals of any people afford. It is far superior to any single poem amid the Svethico-Gothic remains rendered famous by the masterly translations of Longfellow. In fact, to him who shall [{397}] happily combine the requisite anthological learning with the requisite skill as a translator, no literary Golconda, more prolific in the rubies and scintillant glories of poesy, could be unlocked, except with the Aladdin-key of almost angelic invention, than is afforded in the mouldering, mildewed, and musty masses of manuscript, in queer Celtic letters, which have been permitted to rot for ages in the library of Dublin University. Had they been English, they would have been magazinistically vaunted as masterpieces in the piquant pages of "Blackwood," or amid e dreary sermonoids of the "Westminster." Being Celtic, they are, so being, neglected.
Albeit, there are to be Longfellows and Tennysons hereafter who shall be cosmopolitan, and neither exclusively English, exclusively American, nor exclusively Japanese; and men of learning there are to be hereafter, who shall be citizens of the world (in a literary sense), and not especially citizens of England, or of France, or of America, who will seek for the beautiful in strange places beyond the narrow limits of London, Paris, or New-York.
Meantime, it has been the object of this paper to play the lamp to the gem-seeking Aladdin—suggesting that something may be done, rather than doing it. Hence what has been said and what might have been more cleverly and elaborately said, has here been curtly said upon the subject of Celtic anthology—using the term in a sense that suited the purposes and scope of this paper.
ORIGINAL
"QUARE TRISTIS ES ANIMA MEA,
ET QUARE CONTURBAS ME?"
Why, O my soul! art thou, ofttimes,
So faint and sad?
Life shows to thee its brightest side;
Why not be glad?
Is not the earth most beautiful,
What wouldst have more?
Filled is thy cup with life's best gifts
And running o'er.
And all the grandeur and the grace
Of noble art—
Do they not beautify thy life,
And cheer thy heart?
And love, most heavenly gift of all—
Is it not thine?
Yes, truly; yet I cannot say
Content is mine.
I feel a sadness of the soul,
A weariness,
A constant longing of the heart;
What meaneth this?
[{398}]
I know that once, when journeying far,
I felt like this,
But then they only called my grief
A home-sickness.
And so, with every gift of God,
With nought amiss,
My heart is longing, longing still;
What meaneth this?
Why is it that my soul is sad,
What meaneth this?
It panteth after thee, O God!
Thou art its bliss.
From the Reader.
THE LAKE DWELLINGS.
[Footnote 142]
[Footnote 142: The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland and other Parts of Europe. By Dr. Ferdinand Keller, President of the Antiquarian Association of Zurich. Translated and arranged by John Edward Lee, F.S.A., F.G.S. (London: Longmans.)]
Since 1854, when Dr. Keller published his first report on pile-dwellings in Lake Zurich, he, and other Swiss archaeologists stimulated by his example and guided by his counsel, have zealously explored many other Swiss lakes, and have succeeded in discovering more than two hundred similar settlements, and in collecting tens of thousands of relics of the people who during many centuries occupied them. Six reports on the "wonderful Pfahlbauten" have been published by Dr. Keller; but, being written in German, they are less known than the compilation in French by Fred. Troyon, who has absorbed Dr. Keller's facts, and mingling them with fancies of his own, has given a sensational character to his work. Excellent notices have, however, appeared, written by Wylie, Lubbock, Lyell, and others, and translations of some original memoirs have been printed in the Smithsonian Reports. Stripped though the subject be, in some degree, of novelty, the present translation of Dr. Keller's work is not the less welcome; it is indeed right, that he who gave the first exposition of these structures should tell the story of their discovery, and picture forth the state of society which their remains reveal. In this work we have a general description of the structure of these dwellings; notices of the various settlements which have been discovered, with an account of others on the Italian side of the Alps, and of the Crannoges in Ireland and Scotland; chapters on the remains of plants, by Dr. Heer, and of animals, by Professor Rütimeter; and ninety-nine plates and several woodcuts give graphic, but sometimes rough drawings of the dwellings, and of the various objects found in them. As a storehouse of facts, illustrating the character and progress of an ancient people, this work is invaluable; it will aid other archaeologists in their researches; and we think, too, that the cautious and philosophical manner in which Dr. Keller reasons from his facts will help to correct some hasty and fanciful speculations.
For the construction of pile-dwellings, Swiss lakes afford favorable sites, as along the shores there is generally a considerable breadth of shallow water. Some pleasant bay, protected by well-wooded hills, abounding in game, was selected for such settlements; and at a little distance from the land piles of various kinds of would, generally entire stems with with their bark on, but sometimes split, and from fifteen to thirty feet in links and three to nine inches in diameter, were driven into the bottom all the late, the heads of the piles rising from two to four feet above the water. At the Wangen settlement there were 40,000 piles, but all may not have been driven down at the same period. Across this substructure other stems of trees ten of twelve feet long were laid, and fastened by wooden pegs; and above them split boards were similarly fastened, for me a solid, even platform, which was covered by a bed of mud or loam. The platform of a few, which Dr. Keller calls fascine dwellings, was supported not on piles, but on layers of sticks and small stems built up from the bottom of the lake, being similar to some of the Scottish Crannoges. The boards and planks had been imperfectly fitted together, for numerous objects which had slipped through the chinks of the floor are scattered over the lake bottom; but quantities of broken implements, pottery, and animal and vegetable refuse, heaped together on particular spots, show that spaces had been left in the platform, through which rubbish had been thrown into the water, thus for me heaps analogous to the kitchen-middings of Denmark. Huts were erected on the platform, having a framework of piles and stakes, with waddle or hurdlework of small branches woven between the upright piles, and covered over with a thickness of from two to three inches of loam or clay, evidence of which has been found in pieces of half-burnt day retaining the impression of the wattle-work. As some pieces have a curve, Troyon concluded that the huts were circular, and from nine to twelve feet in diameter; but Dr. Keller shows that the curve had probably been produced by the great heat to which the clay covering was exposed before it fell into the water, while also pieces of different curves are found promiscuously on the same spot with others perfectly flat, no piece indeed exceeding twelve inches across. It is now pretty certain that most, if not all the huts, were rectangular; those at Robenhausen and Niederwyl were found to be twenty-seven feet by twenty-two feet. They stood close to but apart from each other, and were thatched with straw and reeds. From the almost universal prevalence of clay weights for weaving, it may be inferred that every one was furnished with a loom. A narrow platform or bridge resting on piles, of which a few remains have been found, connected these dwellings with the land. Room enough there was in and around these huts for all the operations of daily life, as well as for the manufacture of every implement used in household economy; and in short, this was the place where every craft or art known to the settlers was brought into play. Even domestic animals were stalled on the platform, as at Robenhausen the remains of the litter of these animals has been found.
Such sites for dwellings are not unknown to history. Hippocrates describes similar habitations on the stagnant, quiet-flowing river Phasis in Armenia, and Herodotus others on Lake Prasias in Thrace. The Crannoges in Ireland were inhabited as recently as 1645, but rather as places of refuge; and at the present time there are analogous structures in the Eastern Archipelago. Security against the attack of enemies seems to have been the chief reason of selecting such peculiar sites for dwellings, at a period when society was in a divided state, [{400}] and when war of tribe against tribe was frequent. Similar conditions were indicated by the numerous hill-forts of the ancient Britons, and even by the pele towers of the border-land in mediaeval times. From the great labor bestowed on the pile structures, and the vast number of instruments of all kinds found in the "relic bed" of the lakes, it is clear that they had not been temporary places of refuge, but permanent habitations, which had been occupied during many generations; and the relics, scattered abundantly beneath these pile-dwellings, furnish important evidence relating to different eras of civilization.
In a considerable number of these dwellings—thirty at least—no trace of metal has been discovered, the instruments having been made of stone, bone, and wood; in a much larger number bronze, without a trace of iron, has been found; and in a few, it is clear that iron has been extensively used. The three ages of stone, bronze, and iron are here established by better evidence than from any other groups of remains; for the great number and variety of relics which these lake habitations have yielded, give a broad basis for true inductive reasoning on prehistoric conditions. Yet there is evidently no sudden break in these periods, such as would prove that superior and conquering races had introduced higher civilization. "It is very certain that, at least in Switzerland," says Dr. Keller, "there was no hard line of demarcation between the three periods, but that the new materials were spread abroad like any other article of trade, and that the more useful tools gradually superseded those of less value." We have here, therefore, continuity and progress; and it may be reasonably inferred, that the advance in art from the use of stone to that of bronze, and then to iron, was made by the same race who originally took up their abode on these lakes; for during the long time the pile habitations were occupied, extending over several thousands of years, there was no essential change in the structure of the dwellings or in the mode of life. Doubtless, when these lake-dwellers first arrived in Switzerland, they had the germs of civilization; they had domestic animals from the first, such as sheep, though the flesh of wild animals was more used for food; they could spin, weave, and make cordage from beast or vegetable fibre, rude pottery they could make, some of which was even painted with graphite and rubble; fishers they were, using nets and hooks made of bone; from serpentine, flint, horns and bones they made their weapons and tools; they had brought with them cereals, and cultivated the soil with very inefficient instruments made of stag's horns and crooked branches of trees, and raised wheat and and barley, which they ground by mills of the primitive form, consisting of a round stone as a corn-crusher, and a mealing-stone with a hollow in which the corn was bruised. The stone weapons and implements are similar to those of Denmark; but several show in an interesting manner how the stone celts or chisels, which were small, from one to eight inches in length, were hafted. Some were first inserted into a piece of stag's horn, and then set in a shaft or club; others were inserted into clefts of branches and fastened by cord and asphalt. During this early age, it was the most important of all instruments, and was used for various purposes; fixed at the end of a pole, it was a lance; set into wood, it was a war-club or domestic axe; placed in horn, it was the poor man's knife; it served to skin animals, to cut flesh and hides, and to make all instruments of horn and wood.
The evidences of commercial intercourse with other people are but slight; but a bluish glass bead, in a stone age dwelling on the little reedy or "moor-lake" of Wauwyl, may show some connection with the Egyptians or Phoenicians; and knives, arrow-heads, and other implements, made of flints, not found in Switzerland, but derived from distant parts of France and Germany, [{401}] may indicate a barter trade with the north and west. Possibly, too, Nephrite, of which the most valuable celts were made, and which does not occur in Europe, but in Egypt, China, and other parts of Asia, may point to intercourse with the east, unless we suppose the Nephrite implements had been brought from the east by the lake-dwellers, when they first settled in Switzerland.
Not a few of the stone-age dwellings had been burnt by accident or by an enemy, and wore not rebuilt; but others had a continued existence through both the stone and bronze periods; and hence we see settlements in a transitional state, and trace a gradual advance in civilization. At Meilen, where a vast number of stone relics have been found, there appear one bronze armilla and one bronze celt; but at Robenhausen we probably see the commencement of the metallurgic art, for amid a profusion of stone relics belonging to three different platforms, crucibles have been found, with lumps of melted bronze, and one lump of pure unmelted copper. It may be that the lake-dwellers became first acquainted with metal through traders; but, as Dr. Keller remarks, "May we not venture to assume that the colonists, by their intercourse with strangers who were acquainted with the nature of metals, were incited to search their country for copper ore, and try to melt and cast it? Copper ore is found on the south side of Mürtschenstock, on the Lake of Wallenstadt." The age which was dawning blends itself with the age which was setting; for we find that the new instruments of bronze were copies of the old forms in stone. Even the bronze ornaments were but improved copies of analogous objects in own, showing indeed the sameness of race in both periods, and the similarity of their tastes and customs. The gradual introduction of metal gave to the lake-dwellers new powers, which enabled them to improve their condition; dwellings were now erected in deeper water; larger piles were used, and better sharpened and squared, fastened with cross beams, and strengthened by stones heaped up; pottery was better made, more elegant in form, and sometimes painted black or red, or ornamented with tin-foil plates. The bronze implements which had been made by native artisans were of excellent workmanship and form, especially the spear and javelin-heads, which prove great proficiency in casting. The swords with short handles and curved knives and armillae resemble those which have been found in Denmark; but we observe none of the graceful leaf-shaped swords which occur in Britain and Ireland. Varied, peculiar, and sometimes beautiful is the ornamentation of the period, consisting of zigzag lines, points, triangles, spiral and lozenge forms.
A transitional state there was, too, between the bronze and the iron periods. Morges settlement on Lake Geneva may be regarded of the bronze age; for not only have one hundred and thirty bronze objects been found there, but also moulds for casting bronze winged celts, showing that such implements had been made on the spot; yet here there occurs an iron poniard. But in the lake-dwelling of Marin, one of the lost occupied, the number of iron objects is surprisingly great, exhibiting to view weapons, agricultural and domestic implements, and ornaments made of iron, which in the older dwellings had been made of stone or bone or bronze. Of these iron relics the most remarkable are the swords, of which fifty and more have been found at Marin, some with and others without sheaths, all, with one exception, of iron, and every one being peculiarly yet differently ornamented. These swords are masterpieces of the smith's art, and were probably produced at large manufactories, when there were division of labor and every practical appliance, for some of them bear upon them makers' marks. They are, however, the product of Celtic art, and correspond in form and ornamentation with those of the later Celtic period of northern nations; and [{402}] this view is confirmed by the discovery of similar swords in the ditches of the fortress of Alesia, where a conflict had taken place between the Romans and Helvetians when it was besieged by Caesar. Less striking to the eye, however, is the connection between the productions of the bronze and of the iron age; but our author remarks:
"There are, indeed, some forms of implements which remind us of the previous age. But, on the whole, when the Marin objects were made, iron had taken full possession of the field, and all the implements, including ornaments, which could be made out of iron, a metal both firmer and more pliable, were manufactured out of this material. But the form of these specimens had in some measure undergone a change, for the working of iron is a totally different matter from that of bronze; and the hammer of the smith and the moulds of the founder cannot produce the same forms. The remains of the settlements of pure stone, bronze, and iron ages indicate, therefore, epochs of civilization among the inhabitants, separated by long intervals, while the end for which the lake-dwellings were erected—namely, the security of person and property—and their construction remained the same."
Of the religion of the lake-dwellers there is no certain information; but some relics made of stone and pottery, somewhat crescent-shaped, found in bronze-age settlements, Dr. Keller thinks may be representative of the crescent moon, and, therefore, probably objects of worship. According to Pliny, the Druids gathered the mistletoe with great solemnity on the sixth day of the moon; and hence it is inferred that the moon images were sacred emblems, having power to avert and cure diseases. This, however, is but a fancy, for it does not appear from Caesar that the Celts worshipped the heavenly bodies.
The fauna and flora of the lake-dwellings afford interesting information to naturalists, and throw some light on the questions as to the origin, the development, and distribution of species. During the stone age, the bos primigenius and bos bison were abundant, but they disappear after the introduction of metallic weapons; the former is now only found on the marshes of the North Sea. A very large ox, with great semilunar horns, bent forward from the frontal plane (bos trochoceros), and which had been contemporaneous with the mammoth and hippopotamus, appears to have been domesticated at Concise and Chevreaux. It is now extinct; but the marsh cow (bos brachyceros), which was most abundant in the stone age, has continued to exist to the present time, and now occupies the mountainous parts of Switzerland and its wild mountain valleys. In the earlier periods, several races of swine ran wild, which were subsequently domesticated. The fox was abundantly eaten; but the hare was not used for food, even the traces of its existence are few; neither domestic false, nor rats, nor mice appear. Wild animals predominate in the stone age, but they gave way in subsequent period. to domestic animals.
The seeds and other parts of plants lying in the lake mud, or buried under several feet of peat, have been so well preserved, that their characters can be determined. The small-grained six-rowed barley and the small lake-dwelling wheat (triticum vulgare antiquorum) were, from the earliest period, the most generally cultivated of farinaceous seeds; and, notwithstanding the rudeness of the husbandry implements, the quality of the produce was apparently equal to that of modern times; the spelt (triticum spelta), now one of the most important cereals of Switzerland, did not appear till the bronze age; while rye was entirely unknown, thus showing a connection with the countries of the Mediterranean, the lake colonists having the same cereals as the Egyptians. Cakes of unleavened bread have been found, made of millet and wheat, which had been baked on the hearthstone in the dwellings. Barley seems to have been used boiled or parched; but as corn-crushers and mealing-stones have been found in most of the settlements, grain had been extensively used for food The latest settlement, dating backward [{403}] not less than 2,000 years, and the older going some 3,000 years and more further backward still, it is interesting to observe what change this long lapse of time produced on plants:
"The dense, compact wheat and the close, six-rowed barley have undergone no perceptible change, yet it must be confessed that most of them agree with no recent forms sufficiently to allow of their being classed together. The small Celtic beans, the peas, the small lake-dwelling barley, the Egyptian and small lake-dwelling wheat, and the two-rowed wheat, or emmer, form peculiar and apparently extinct races; they are distinguished for the most part from the modern cultivated kinds by smaller seeds. Man has, therefore, in course of time produced sorts which give a more abundant yield, and these have gradually supplanted the old varieties."
With wild plants the case is different:
"The flora of the lake-dwellings announces to us that all the plants which come in contact with man become changed up to a certain point, and man participates in the great transformations of nature, while the wild plants, which surround us at the present day, still grow in the same forms as they did three or four thousand years ago, and do not exhibit the slightest change."
The final abandonment of these lake-dwellings, about the beginning of the Christian era, would result from an improved civilization and a more united and orderly state of society; but how long before that time they had been occupied has not yet been definitely determined; our chronology is still relative rather than absolute. Peat has accumulated over some settlements, but as its rate of growth varies under different conditions, we are only told by it that the stone-age dwellings lasted many centuries. At Robenhausen peat moor, there are remains of three settlements of the stone age, one over the other; two of which had been destroyed by fire, and the last had been abandoned, probably on account of the increase of peat. Between the first and second settlement there are three feet of peat and one foot of other deposit, both containing relics; between the second and third settlements the deposits are the same in character and sickness, and over the last dwelling are two feet of peat and half-a-foot of mould; so that during the stone age there had been a slow growth of eight feet of peat, and the deposit of three and a half feet of other matter. Other means have been used to obtain more definite results; the most remarkable of which is that of Professor Morlot, who from an examination of a cone of gravel and alluvium, connected with deposits of the stone, bronze, Roman, and recent periods, and gradually built up by the torrent of Teniere where it falls into Lake Geneva, concludes that the age of bronze has an antiquity of from 3,000 to 4,000 years, and that of stone from 5,000 to 7,000 years—no very startling estimate, when we remember the high antiquity which has been assigned to the drift and cave men.
Of the physical characters of the lake-dwellers, Dr. Keller gives us little information; that they had small hands is probable from the shortness of their sword-handles. Few human bones, and those chiefly of children, have been found. No crania of the stone age have been seen, but a few out of the bronze period, one of which from Meilen differs little from the skulls of the existing Swiss. It is, therefore, mainly from the relics found that we can form any guess as to the origin and relationship of the lake-dwellers, and by those it is shown that they belonged to the very people who at the same time lived on the mainland. Dr. Keller concludes "that the builders of the lake-dwellings were a branch of the Celtic population of Switzerland, but that the earlier settlements belong to the pre-historic period, and had already fallen into decay before the Celts took their place in the history of Europe."
The history of the lake-dwellers opens a hopeful prospect for those races who are now in a degraded condition; for here they start with a low degree of civilization, and yet there is a gradual rise upward to that point where great skill was reached [{404}] in metallurgic and other arts; but even this was only a step onward to that high cultivation of intellect and morals among their descendants the Swiss people. Why should not other races pass through the same stages, especially when influenced by intercourse with modern civilized nations?